This was originally going to be a short story, but it proved to be much longer than I intended it.
PART I
Kyrehx rarely got nervous. Countless years spent living in Mahri Nui and the dangerous seas that had surrounded the underwater city had hardened her and made her tougher than the average Ga-Matoran. She had braved a number of wild Rahi and had even survived more than one encounter with the Barraki. While she didn’t think of herself as being as brave as Idris or even Dalu, she liked to think of herself as being a formidable Matoran warrior.
And yet, stepping into the tavern, she found it hard to ignore the voice in her head telling her to turn around and walk away.
The tavern was still technically in New Atero, albeit on the outskirts that toed the border between it and the rest of Spherus Magna. The city was still in the process of being construction, and there were still debates about whether its location was ideal or not. But the beings tasked with working on it needed a place to relax and recreate, and so more than a few places had already been established to suit their needs.
The clientele of this particular tavern was not the sort Kyrehx was used to seeing around New Atero however. While the others were frequented by other Matoran, Toa, Agori, and Glatorians, this one was home to a number of beings of species Kyrehx barely recognized, most of them being from the Matoran Universe. A Steltian of the laborer variety operated the bar and watched her with a keen eye as she walked in. Avoiding his gaze, Kyrehx pulled the hood of cloak to hide her mask better as she willed herself to navigate past tables to get to the being she had come here for.
At the far end of the room, seated alone at a table, was a being clad in black and silver armor, one leg propped up on the table. His head was lowered slightly, indicating that he was sleeping, but as Kyrehx got closer she saw his green eyes glow to life and microscopically moved up to glare at the approaching Matoran.
She hadn’t come within seven feet before she found herself staring at the barrel of a Cordak Blaster.
“Leave me alone,” the being growled.
Clearing her throat, Kyrehx squared her shoulders and made herself look more confident than she was actually feeling. “You are Hydraxon, correct?”
“Don’t make me repeat myself.”
“I have a job for you.”
Hydraxon did not lower his weapon, but he didn’t fire it either. Kyrehx wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not. “Get a Toa to do it. Or one of those Glatorian. I don’t take jobs from Matoran.”
“You’ll take this one.” Kyrehx dropped a sack of widgets onto the table. Hydraxon’s gaze briefly flickered to it before returning to the Ga-Matoran.
“Is that all or just the advance?”
“We can make it an advance,” Kyrehx replied, internally hoping she would be able to scrounge enough more money to support her bluff.
Hydraxon continued to stare at her before finally lowering his weapon. “What’s the job? And why don’t you get a Toa to do it?”
“Because it concerns a former prisoner of the Pit,” Kyrehx said. “I’ve been told that you used to be its jailer.”
“Not used to that being common knowledge,” Hydraxon muttered. “Especially for a Matoran.”
“Times have changed, clearly.”
The former jailer narrowed his eyes, and Kyrehx couldn’t tell if he was annoyed or amused by her bravado. “Let me guess. It’s one of the Barraki.”
“No. It’s someone by the name of Zakron.”
“Zakron.” Hydraxon slowly nodded. “I remember him.”
“Then hopefully you remember how to defeat him. Last week, he abducted six Matoran—including a couple of friends of mine. Some of the Toa and Glatorian did try following him, but lost him in the White Quartz Mountains. Apparently, some of the prisoners that escaped a few months ago have taken over the village of Iconox after the Agori abandoned it. No one knows what any of them are doing up there, but it can’t be anything good.”
Hydraxon snorted. “And you expect me to liberate the whole village?”
“Obviously I would like to, but I doubt it’s in your pay grade,” Kyrehx remarked. “All I’m asking is that you free my fellow Matoran and bring Zakron to justice.”
Hydraxon was silent for a long time, his eyes going from Kyrehx to the sack of widgets on the table. The longer the silence persisted, the more she worried that he was going to turn her down. Finally, he lowered his legs from the table and stood up to his full height, taking the sack and putting it away.
“Fine,” he grunted. “Not like I have anything better to do today.”
Kyrehx’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Thank you so much. You have no idea how much this means to me.”
“Thank me when the job is done,” was all Hydraxon said as he strode past her.
Hydraxon rarely had second thoughts. But as he trudged through the snow leading up to the White Quartz Mountains, he was beginning to wonder what exactly he was doing.
For thousands of years, the only life he had ever known was working as the jailer of the Pit. A job that didn’t change even when the universe collapsed around him. But now the universe he had known had ended for the second or third time and apparently that mean the life he had known was no more. The Pit was long gone and replaced with a far more rudimentary jail that could barely hold more than a few dozen prisoners and had already had its first breakout a few months ago. Due to the Toa and Glatorian being stretched thin due to their other duties, he had agreed to take on the role of bounty hunter to help track down these escaped prisoners as well as handle jobs that the Toa and even the slightly more brutal Glatorian were uncomfortable with performing.
The work had been satisfying enough, but lately he had been pushed to his limits. Because he was one of the few bounty hunters in service to the New Atero Council (and probably the only one who actually did a decent job), it had given a good number of the escapees to group together and establish power bases throughout the uninhabited regions of Spherus Magna, dominating the Wastelands and even taking over some of the abandoned villages. There were already rumors about the Dark Hunters having expanded their ranks and the Barraki being in the process of rebuilding their kingdoms. And to add on to that, there were beings from this strange new world such as the Skrall that were allying themselves with such foes. Between these various enemy states and the unaccounted for escapees, Hydraxon had his work cut out for him… and as far as he was concerned, his usual pay didn’t really cover it.
Still, something in him always pushed him to end up taking these jobs; some sort of inherent nobleness and naivete that he thought only Toa had, and was typically beaten out of most members of the Order of Mata Nui. He wasn’t sure where this nobleness came from, as he did not recall ever having it during his time in the Pit. Perhaps it had something to do with the new world he found himself living in; the Matoran hadn’t been wrong about times having changed.
He shook his head to clear these thoughts. Up ahead, he saw a small building up ahead in the difference, no larger than the tavern he had departed from. Standing guard were a pair of Skakdi, and upon seeing the approaching Hydraxon, they raised their Zamor Launchers in his direction.
“Turn around,” growled one of the Skakdi. “This is a private club.”
Hydraxon said nothing and continued walking towards them. The two Skakdi kept their weapons raised while exchanging nervous glances.
“Did you hear what I said? Turn around now or else—”
“I heard you.” Hydraxon took two long strides to close the distance between him and the Skakdi. He then grabbed each of their heads with both hands before smashing them together. The pair dropped like stones into the snow as he proceeded to kick the door open. As he stormed inside, he found himself staring down a number of weapons, ranging from Zamor Launchers to Rhotuka spinners. The clientele at this place was even more varied than the one at the tavern, and there were more than a familiar faces that he recognized from the Pit.
“Ah, let him in,” a voice said from the back. “I knew he’d show up eventually.”
The weapons were reluctantly lowered. Hydraxon traced the voice to a white and green being sitting in the corner of the room, arms resting casually on the back of his seat. His appearance was slightly different from what Hydraxon’s recent memory recalled, no doubt due to the effects of the Pit’s mutagenic waters having been reversed when Spherus Magna had been restored. Then again, it didn’t make Zakron any less hideous than he had been during that time.
Brushing past the other glaring denizens of the tavern, Hydraxon stormed up to his quarry, making sure his Cordak Blaster was locked and loaded. Zakron did not so much as flinch, smiling wickedly from beneath his emerald helm.
“You know why I’m here,” Hydraxon said darkly as he stopped at the table.
“I have a decent idea,” Zakron said casually.
Hydraxon narrowed his eyes, studying him carefully. “Where are the Matoran?”
Zakron shrugged, waving a dismissive hand. “Not here. I’ve already handed them off.”
Hydraxon slammed his hands down onto the table. “Handed them off to whom?”
“Not for me to say.”
“I’m not leaving until you tell me.”
“Then you’d better grab a seat, because you’re gonna be here for a very long time.”
Hydraxon raised his left arm and brandished a pair of blades. “There are two ways this can go down,” he growled. “Your way or my way. Which one do you think you have better odds of surviving?”
Zakron chuckled darkly as he glared at the bounty hunter. “I’m not scared of you anymore, ‘Hydraxon.’ Especially now that I know you’re just an impostor.”
Hydraxon scowled. It wasn’t the first time he had heard the accusation, and they had only increased in frequency over the past few months. Around that time, the Red Star had exploded in the sky above Spherus Magna and the Toa Nuva Pohatu and Kopaka had survived to tell the tale. According to them, they had encountered a number of beings aboard the Red Star who were supposed to have been dead… including, if the rumors were to be believed, the original Hydraxon.
But there was no “original Hydraxon.” Because he was Hydraxon. He remembered everything, including the fact that he had trained Kopaka and Pohatu himself all those years ago. How could he have those memories if he wasn’t the real Hydraxon?
It didn’t help that Pridak had planted the seed of doubt in his mind, trying to tell him he used to be some Po-Matoran named Dekar. Hydraxon didn’t believe him then. He still didn’t.
And yet still the thought gave him a pause. And it was that pause that gave Zakron the window of opportunity he was looking for.
With a powerful leg, Zakron kicked the table into Hydraxon’s abdomen, sending the bounty hunter falling off his feet and onto his back. Before he could get back up, Zakron was already on him, pointing a spear at his neck.
“We’re not in the Pit anymore, jailer,” the former prisoner cackled. “This is my turf now. Our turf.”
Snarling, Hydraxon raised and swung his right arm, pointing his Cordak Blaster right at Zakron’s face. The other’s eyes went wide and he barely dodged in time as the bounty hunter fired off a rocket. It hit the wall behind him and the resulting explosion sent them both flying.
The next thing Hydraxon knew, he was outside, laying face-first in the snow. He quickly got up in time to see Zakron charging towards him, spear raised high. With a flick of his wrist, Hydraxon sent one of his throwing blades flying at him, which Zakron swatted aside with his weapon. This gave Hydraxon the opportunity he needed to raise his Cordak Blaster and line up another shot. Before he could fire, a large claw grabbed his arm and wrenched the weapon off, pulling it with enough force to make Hydraxon wince in pain. He looked to see a tall and lanky being standing there, green spikes lining their chest and arms.
“Drewdika,” Hydraxon growled. “Long time no see.”
“Last time will see,” the dim-witted being retorted as he lunged at the bounty hunter. Hydraxon quickly stepped aside before delivering a powerful kick to Drewdika’s side, sending him into the path of Zakron and causing the two to collide with each other. By now the other patrons of Zakron’s tavern had come out to join the fight, but upon seeing their boss fall into the snow, they seemed rather hesitant to try their lot at fighting the jailer.
“Looks like your way isn’t working out for you,” Hydraxon remarked, stepping around the fallen ex-prisoners as he picked up and reattached his Cordak Blaster. “Want to try my way now? Not too late to tell me who you gave the Matoran to.”
Zakron snarled as he shoved Drewdika off him and got back to his feet. “It doesn’t even matter. Even if I told you now, they will be long gone by now.”
“Just give me a name and I’ll be the judge of that for myself.”
Zakron glowered at him and seemed to consider taking another stab at fighting the bounty hunter. Instead, he signaled acceptance of his defeat. “Sahmad. He said his name was Sahmad.”
“Thank you,” Hydraxon said. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Zakron tilted his head. “Does that mean I can go free?”
“No. It just means you can take a nap on the trip back.”
Zakron barely had enough time to react as Hydraxon threw a first straight into his face.
“Sahmad.” The Glatorian known as Ackar leaned against the wall, arms folded over his chest. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in a while. Here I was hoping I never would again.”
“I take it he’s one of your kind?” Hydraxon asked, mirroring Ackar’s stance at the opposite wall.
“Well, he’s an Agori rather than a Glatorian. But that doesn’t make him less dangerous. Back when this was Bara Magna, he would capture Agori and sell them as slaves to the Skrall. If what this Zakron says is true, then it sounds like he’s expanded his selection to include Matoran as well. Although I’m not sure he could be selling them too.”
“Not the Skrall?”
Ackar shrugged. “They’re not as powerful as they used to be, especially with Tuma out of the picture, so I doubt it. Maybe he’s working for beings from your universe. These Dark Hunters I’ve heard about sound just as bad as the Skrall.”
“It’s possible,” Hydraxon muttered. “Any idea where I can find this Sahmad?”
“Best guess I can give you is the Wastelands; that’s where we always sent most of our outcasts. Although, I believe his tribe used to hail from the Great Jungle—what we used to call Bota Magna. I’m not sure if he would return there after the Restoration. Probably gives him bad memories.”
Hydraxon briefly considered asking Ackar to elaborate on that but decided against it; he was here to complete a job, not to learn his quarry’s background. He turned away from the Glatorian and started to head out. “I’ll start with the Wastelands then.”
“Can you find your way around them?” Ackar asked.
“I can manage.”
“Well, you’ll need transportation. Best way to get around the Wastelands is with a Thornatus. You know how to operate one?”
Hydraxon stopped to glare over his shoulder at the Glatorian. “I’ll ask for help when I need it. Which I don’t.”
Ackar rolled his eyes as he raised his hands. “Just thought I’d offer it….”
NOTES
This story was written to expand on the suggestion by Greg Farshtey that Hydraxon became a bounty hunter on the reformed Spherus Magna.
This story eludes to events from Vision of the Great Beings/Myths and Legacy’s continuation of The Powers That Be and The Yesterday Quest, including the crashing of the Red Star and the escape of various evildoers.
Zakron and Drewdika from the Prisoners of the Pit contest partially canonized by Greg sans names. I know Drewdika’s name is silly, but I felt it wouldn’t be fair to keep Zakron’s name but change Drewdika’s. Besides, we already have characters with names derived from real people names (Tobduk, Johmak, etc.)
Hydraxon’s confrontation with Zakron is inspired by the opening scene of The Mandalorian.