This story starts out as a retelling of Legends of Metru Nui, but expect it to diverge from those events rather quickly. Now, without further ado…
Chapter 1
He stared at the metal surface in awe. He was a traveler in this desert, searching for answers, but all he had discovered was more questions. This metal ridge went as far as the eye could see. Was it some natural occurrence? Some intrusion by some strange dimension? Perhaps, or perhaps not.
He was a theorist, though he preferred to call himself a philosopher. How much philosophy he actually knew was questionable, but he had read the two words as synonymous in a thesaurus and stuck with it. He was currently occupied with determining the precise cause of the current predicament facing his realm, and to think on it, he had decided to wander.
But finding new mysteries did the opposite of assuaging his concerns. He was more convinced than ever that something was now fundamentally wrong with the makeup of this universe, that something was always out to get his people.
He rapped his hand on the metal once, and then immediately pulled it back. This was a hard material—and it was hot! He cursed himself; of course it was hot! They were in a desert!
But then, he noticed that some of the metal, near where he had rapped his hand, had taken on an orangish glow. He stepped back, and then stepped back a little more when a yellow glow began to emit in a circular shape. And just in time, too, for, only moments later, the circle of metal burst from its location in the wall and flew towards him at a rapid speed. He leapt out of the way and concealed himself behind a sand dune as two tall figures walked out of the metal wall. They were heavily-armored and wore strangely-shaped masks.
“I still don’t see why we’re doing this,” said one, who was red-armored and whose hand was currently glowing—the same color as the superheated metal, the theorist noticed.
“You know full well,” said the other, who had blue armor and a female voice.
“You’re the last person I’d expect to want to leave the Matoran, Nokama.”
The blue figure—Nokama, perhaps—took on an annoyed posture. “We aren’t leaving. You know that as well as I. But we can’t do anything in the city. We have to get out, before he finds and kills us all.”
“He’ll find us anyway,” muttered the red-armored figure. “Running won’t help.”
Nokama’s eyes narrowed beneath her mask. “Saying that won’t help either.”
“No,” the other figure said, “but maybe it will help you see the truth.”
The theorist clenched his hands together tightly and stepped out from behind the dune. “H-hello?” He stuttered nervously. “C-can I help you?”
Both figures immediately drew their weapons. “Who are you?” Nokama bellowed, drawing two long, elegant pitons that she began to swirl around dangerously. The red-armored figure had drawn a fire-like sword and was brandishing it as well.
“My name is Angonce,” the theorist said. “What’s yours?”
------
Some time ago…
Nokama watched the students file out of her classroom as she sighed. She had just finished teaching them about the history of the Spiriah-Kojol Coalition and the Kulta Wars, but it was exhausting. The students were loud and rowdy, and ever since Turaga Dume had instituted budget cuts, she had hardly been paid for her labors. Even just a few widgets more would help… but no, all the mask makers got the budget.
Everyone knew why the mask makers got all the attention, of course. It was an open secret that Dume had a special project for them, Project Vahi, though knowledge of the project’s purpose was unknown to all but the mask makers. Still, Nokama couldn’t help but think, wouldn’t just a little more investment into the future vastly improve society?
One of Nokama’s friends, Vhisola, walked in the classroom. When Nokama was still just a teacher assistant, just a few years older than those she taught, Vhisola had been a standout student; now, Vhisola was one of Nokama’s colleagues, a teacher by day and chemist by night, researching the applications of mysterious substances unearthed from deep below. “Nokama,” Vhisola said, eyes bright beneath her mask, “Kivoda told me to tell you that Principal Amaya’s got some package for you, and wants to see you in the front office.”
“Thanks, Vhisola,” Nokama said. “I’ll head there in a minute. How were your classes today?”
“Great,” Vhisola said, “although I was a little concerned by how many of them were distracted by that big alikini game later today.”
Nokama sighed. “I know what you mean. How am I supposed to teach them Metru Nui’s history if they won’t stop talking?”
Vhisola groaned in agreement. “When I asked, they couldn’t even name one property of energized protodermis! One!”
Nokama laughed. “That’s the one that either transforms or destroys, right?”
“Yeah. I told them, if you don’t pay attention, one day, you might get it mixed up with normal protodermis, and you wouldn’t like what happens then!”
“Did they listen to that?”
Now it was Vhisola’s turn to laugh. “Yeah, right.” Then, her eyes brightened. “I was wondering…”
“Yes?”
“Oh, well, it’s nothing, really…”
“Vhisola?”
“Do you want to go to that alikini game tonight with me? I’ve got tickets…”
“You got tickets to the alikini game?”
“Yeah… Do you… do you want to go?”
Nokama smiled. “I’d be delighted.” Then, she stood up. “Well, Vhisola, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d better go see Ms. Amaya about a package.”
“May the three virtues be with you,” Vhisola said.
Nokama walked out of the classroom. A few moments later, Vhisola pumped her fist in the air. “Yes!”
------
“Who was this package left by?” Whenua asked. He was an archivist, one of the many curators of the great museum of Metru Nui known as the Archives. And, right now, he was here to see his boss about a delivery.
“Listen,” said his boss, Tehutti, “I’m gonna be frank with ya: I got no clue who left it here. I just get in here this mornin’, and I find this big ugly box sittin’ here with yer name on it.” He glanced down at the package: “Here, I’ve got what it says: “To Whenua: Don’t Archive It”. There, ya happy? I got nothin’ else for ya. I just want it outta my sight.”
“I’ll take it off your hands,” Whenua said.
“Great. Now, can ya get out?”
Whenua sighed. He had been friends with Tehutti once, but then Tehutti had been promoted to Chief Archivist, and things had soured ever since. He stood up. “Yes, Tehutti.”
He was almost halfway out the door before Tehutti said: “Are ya gonna take the package?”
Whenua sighed again. Of course. Because more humiliation was just what he needed. “Sorry, Tehutti.”
------
“We need more explosions.”
That was what Sanso had said, Matau remembered. It really had seemed like a good idea, too. Metru Nui needed more excitement, more engagement, and, Sanso reasoned, it might be best if that excitement began with Matau.
Of course, explosions amounted to nothing if nobody saw them. That was why, with Makani behind the cameras and Taiki behind the mics, Matau was preparing for a one more test of his mettle.
Sanso strode out, eyes wild with anticipation. When he got close enough to Matau, he said: “This is gonna be great… I can feel it!” He put his hand on the front of the experimental speeder, saying: “You ready to explode?”
Matau chuckled dryly. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Sanso smiled. “I’m glad, ‘cause, before we begin, I’d like you to answer a few questions for the Moto Hub News.”
Matau groaned. “Not the journalists!”
Sanso’s smile took on a little wryness. “Yes, the journalists. And it’s Orkham again.”
Matau rolled his eyes. Orkham had managed to wriggle his way into every single test, making snide remarks even as he implied their experimental speeder could never actually succeed, and maybe it would be best if it stayed experimental for now, and the competitors definitely didn’t have a majority stock in the Moto Hub News and that definitely wasn’t why these questions were being asked. Exhausting.
And then, Orkham was there, his ever-present camera crab Pewku right behind. “I’ve heard your engineer has made vast improvements in the engine quality, but there are still concerns about his ability to mass-produce such an engine. What can you disclose?”
“Well,” Matau said, “I’m no Nuparu, so I can’t tell you anything about how well they’ll work ’till we test ‘em. But I’ve heard there’s been lotsa progress since the last test.”
“Ah, yes,” Orkham said. “That was the test where your exosuit was damaged, correct? How have repairs progressed since?”
“Sanso tells me it’s fully repaired, but I guess we’ll find out soon enough!”
Sanso shot him a look. “Nuparu’s been working nonstop to ensure the safety of the experience for our valued rider. It is one hundred percent ready for the test.” Orkham opened his mouth as if to pose another question, but Sanso held up a hand. “Now, I know you want to ask more questions, but why don’t you hold off until after the show? Matau needs time to calibrate the exosuit, after all.”
Orkham protested, but he quickly found himself on the other side of the door. Satisfied, Sanso turned to Matau and frowned. “Are you sure?” He asked, his mouth pursed in silent frustration.
“I’m sure,” Matau said. “Last time was too close.”
“We’re so close to getting where we need to be, though. Just a little longer?”
“Tell you what,” Matau said. “If this explosion’s even bigger than the last one, I’ll stick ‘round for a bit more. But you’ve gotta give me more warning before ya throw something like last time at me.”
Sanso nodded. “Deal.”
Matau smiled and began to put on the exosuit, which was the same dark green shade as his armor. It was meant to protect him from the dangers of the flames, which sometimes burst from the engines when they exploded. The public was only interested in the program because of the explosions; cut those out and it just became a bunch of boring engineers. But someone had to be riding the speeders, and that person was Matau.
Of course, there was still nothing that could have protected him from the explosion that was to come.
It was a problem in the protodermis energizer. Nuparu had recommended that very morning that the broadcast be postponed until the issue could be fixed, but Sanso had brushed aside his complaints and ordered that the show go on. Of course, Matau knew none of this, which was why he was so much less worried getting on the speeder than he should have been. All he wanted was a big explosion.
And it was a big explosion. A big enough explosion, that is, that shrapnel from the speeder flew in every direction, breaching deep into walls of solid protodermis that had never been so much as scratched before. The explosion was bright and really quite exciting, but none of that mattered to Matau, who was simply trying to figure out how he was still alive.
He really shouldn’t have been, he knew. That explosion was huge, bigger than any he had ever seen before. Spectacular, maybe, but only from an outside perspective. He had felt shrapnel bite into the exosuit, tearing its defenses apart, and yet he never felt the tongue of the fire.
And then, the flames were gone, and in their place was a conspicuous package by his side. Matau looked at the package, confused. On the top, there was a note.
“Don’t drop it.”
------
Nuju traced his hand across a worn carving, feeling its ridges and marking them down. The ancients of the far southern islands had written in a strange, touch-based language that was almost impossible to decipher. But Nuju knew he had to, for only the people of the southern islands had written of the histories and prophecies he and the other seers so desired.
He momentarily glanced out the window, consumed by a sudden urge to take in the view of the orange and yellow sunset lacing through the crystalline Knowledge Towers that rose above the city like icicle spires on the floor of a frozen cave. The city of Metru Nui had many wonders, and this was not nearly the greatest of them. And yet…
He looked back down at the carving. It was a faded emerald color with many faint bumps across its surface, both of which were telltale signs of the rare stone material used almost exclusively by the ancients of the southern islands. He was having trouble reading this one. It was almost as if the ancients had given up on prophecies and begun spouting nonsense. It kept going on and on about a red star, as if there were any red stars above the skies of the known universe, saying that this oh-so-special star had all the secrets. In fact, if he translated this carving based on his first impression… it would almost say the star was alive.
Nuju snorted. He was reading it wrong. The star was not alive. This was surely just strange meteorological patterns observed by the people of the islands during this time period. Just like that one carving he had seen last week. The sky was not going to be ripped apart in a few days’ time! Whoever these ancients were, they needed to stop going on about some “Great Cataclysm” before his superiors made him write an essay about it.
Oh, but now he couldn’t stop thinking about it! He called in his assistant, Ehyre, who he considered rather excitable. “Would you fetch me carvings FSI-GC-4002 through FSI-GC-3202?”
“Why do you need to see those?” Ehyre asked. “I thought you hated those ones and never wanted to see them again!”
“Well, if you must understand,” Nuju said, “this carving - FSI-GC-1102 - seems to speak of a red star. Now, I hardly remember any red stars in any of the other carvings, but I certainly remember the red skies of the Cataclysm entries. I am looking to see if there is any correlation.”
“Red stars?” Ehrye asked. “But we haven’t got any red stars!”
“We haven’t got any red skies either, but that didn’t stop the ancients from blabbing on about them! Now, would you be so kind as to fetch me them?”
Ehrye bowed. “At once, Seer Nuju.” Then, she turned slightly. “Oh, someone left a package for you—”
“Leave it by my desk. I am preoccupied, and can handle it later. After all,” he said, “it’s not as if it’s critical to the fate of Metru Nui, or anything such as that…”
------
Her name is not important. Nobody ever remembered her enough to even know she was missing.
It was a little sad, that, but it made her killer’s job all the easier. There was a mission to complete, and failure would not be tolerated. The Shadowed One had made that very clear.
Be as a warrior of the gloom, he had commanded. Be as the darkness. Be the Dark Hunter you were chosen to be, the Dark Hunter you can never leave behind, not now that you are already so deeply entrenched.
And if that meant killing innocents, well, they had it coming. Living in splendor while the other species of the universe suffered, ignoring their plight while keeping the streets bright. Why shouldn’t they die? There were so many of them, after all. The people of Metru Nui. The Matoran.
------
Inside the boxes, there was a map, a pass, and a stone. The map pointed to The Great Temple, the center of worship to the Great Spirit who descended from the heavens long ago to bring life to a barren universe. The pass was to gain entry to the Great Temple, which had been closed recently for renovations by order of the revered hero Toa Lhikan. And each stone looked like it would fit perfectly inside the altar in the center of the temple, where Nokama and Matau found themselves presently.
There was one other Matoran there—a mask maker, given his red armor. He was also holding a package, identical to the ones held by the other Matoran. And he was looking at his feet as if they had just whispered treason.
Matau walked over to him. “Take a wrong turn… fire-spitter?”
The mask maker sagged. “No turn worse than you, I suppose…”
Matau’s eyes narrowed. “Huh? What’s that meant to mean?”
“Leave off him,” Nokama said. “He must have received the same strange summons as I—and you, I presume. Nokama’s my name, incidentally.”
Matau took a small bow. “Matau,” he said, “actor extraordinaire—or so Sanso tells me.”
“What does this all mean?” Nokama wondered. “The summoning, the package, the stone…”
“I guess we’re gonna find out,” Matau said.
“We must place the stones in the altar,” said the mask maker.
“What’re you talkin’ about?” Matau said.
“That’s what Toa Lhikan said… before he was taken in front of my eyes…”
That caught the attention of the other Matoran. “What?” Nokama said, as Matau gaped.
The mask maker stared up at them, eyes dark and haunted. “He came to me… In my forge… He told me that the city will fall to darkness unless the stones are placed in their spots… and then, Dark Hunters took him…”
Matau rolled his eyes. “Yeah right. Like the greatest hero of Metru Nui could be snatched up by a few paltry crooks.”
Nokama’s eyes, though, narrowed. “Dark Hunters are not to be underestimated. Don’t forget they nearly released the Great Mask Dragon.”
Matau snickered. “Years before any of us were born!”
“So imagine how much more powerful they must be now? They could be watching us this very moment!”
The mask maker nodded vigorously. “And that is why you must know! They DID take him! I swear it! He plead with me… The heart of Metru Nui will fall unless the stones are put in the altar…”
Grand stained-glass windows stood above the altar, depicting important tales of the Matoran. The legendary elements of power, life, creation, and time, which presided over all… The Great Spirit, gone off to beyond… And the dark shadows that ate away at the edges, desperately clawing in an effort to destroy all.
No eyes were focused on the windows now, though, for all were staring at the altar. At the four panels, each with a hole the exact size of the stones they had found in the packages.
“Well,” Nokama said, “we may as well give it a try.”
------
She stirred. There was noise above… Terrible, loud, surface-dweller noises. Why couldn’t they just stay away? This was her place! Not theirs!
She had lived down here for years, and years, and years… She did not have a firm grasp on time, but she knew she had been here all her life, and she knew her life had been long. Well, long compared to the surface-dwellers, at least; she was sure she had a while left to go.
A scraping of claws against the wall. This was a tiny noise… not hers. A creature? She snapped a long, sucker-covered tentacle at the unfortunate thing. It was a tiny lizard, she discovered, moments before she opened her jaw and bit it to pieces with razor-sharp teeth. Well, anything was food down here.
She heard a voice far away. Were the surface-dwellers getting closer? Unacceptable! She would not allow them any closer… closer… no closer…
A few minutes later, she roared, and they were afraid. But not for very long.
------
A bright, blinding light came from the altar where the three had placed their stones, and their vision was suddenly gone. In their minds, they could see a mask, the mask of the venerated Toa Lhikan. “In the time before time,” the mask said, “all was nothing, until the Great Spirit came, bringing the elements to the world. And so began creation, and so began time, and so began life—we, the Matoran. And he created the Makuta to feed us, to make our food, to build more life even when the Great Spirit could not. And then, he departed to another place.
“And the Makuta did as he asked, and we prospered, until one Makuta betrayed the rest with his heretic experiments. He made evil, the forces of destruction that even now assault our civilization. They are known by many names. The Dark Hunters. The Evil Ones. The Scourges of Spiriah. But they are opposed at every turn by those Matoran who are chosen to defend others: the Toa, empowered warriors of the elements. Toa are strong, brave, and wise, and I have now chosen new heroes to join their ranks. There is a threat to Metru Nui’s very core, but I am too old to find it.
“Rise, Toa of Metru Nui. Rise to defend the city from the evil that threatens to overwhelm it. And follow the light…
Thoughts, theories, feedback, criticism and more are all welcome. Also, I promise it’ll get better later on–I started writing this chapter all the way back in November, and my writing has improved greatly since. Unfortunately, I will likely be updating this less frequently than my Ninjago fanfiction, since it’s got far longer chapters.
When this story’s done, these characters’ll wish they were in those movies… Kathleen Barr and all…
