Against the Storm/Volume IV

Against the Storm: Volume IV is the fourth volume of Against the Storm. It was written by CaptainLandr0ver and released on April 17, 2018.

This volume follows the recovery of the Toa Powai after the incident at Obodosara.

Liberty
Detras awoke. He was not where he remembered. The world around him, if it could be considered existent, was an endless vastness devoid of all light and color, save for his own body, which was lit as if he were standing under a white sun. The only way he could tell that there was ground underneath him was due to the fact that he did not feel like he was falling. The air around him was cold and raw, burning his heat-adapted lungs with every wheezing, wavering breath he took. For short periods of time, he held his breath in order to escape the mild throat and mouth pain it caused.

Hearing only his breathing echoing off of apparent and unseen surfaces, Detras lifted up his foot and stomped on the ground. To his surprise, it made no noise, adding to the eerie feeling building up inside of him. While repeating the action to try and generate noise, he accidentally clipped the armor of his inner leg with his foot. The loud clang this emitted echoed just as his breaths did, albeit much louder and lingering for longer. As the repeating noise seemed to grow stronger, he placed his hands on the sides of his head to spare his ability to hear. However, he stopped this when he realized that, despite the noise being incredibly loud, it did not hurt his ears at all. The noise changed throughout its journey, now circling him like a predator and sounding more akin to a muffled scream than the metallic banging it once was. Within a dozen seconds, it had evolved into a scarcely recognizable and abrasive voice.

“Hello.”

Startled, Detras turned around to see Tetradon standing in the blackness mere meters away. The Toa of Fire instinctively began to back away, remembering how the Falqãta gradually advanced on his opponents to intimidate them. Despite this, Tetradon did not move, standing still in one spot like a statue.

“Where am I?” Detras asked.

“There’s no time for such a question,” Tetradon asked without his jaw moving. “If you should ask anything, you should be asking who you are. You are not who you seem.”

“I am a Toa,” Detras stated. “I don’t know what I’m, but you’re going to let me out of it.”

“That is something you should be able to do on your own,” Tetradon replied. “But seeing as you haven’t yet figured out how to, I’ll take the opportunity to discuss something with you.”

Tetradon’s still figure rocketed forward, stopping a mere meter away from Detras. The Toa of Fire cowered behind his left arm, having thought that he still had his shield with him.

“You are going to be their leader, as most Toa of Fire are destined to.” Now, Tetradon’s jaw could be seen moving under his mask. It was more like a puppet’s jaw than anything characteristic of him. “It is the way of most Toa of Fire to lead their teams. But you’ve dealt with leaders before, especially horrid ones, haven’t you?”

“If I do end up being a leader,” Detras breathed calmly, “you can bet that I’m going to be the best one I can be.”

“Is that so?”

“Why should I let someone like you question me? I can tell you’re trying to get into my head.”

“Fool,” said Tetradon, and suddenly his figure became fully animated. Still with robotic movements, he bent down and looked the Toa of Fire square in the face. “I already have.”

“Then you’re not staying for long,” Detras said with a relaxed defiance. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“Don’t lie to me, Toa. I know that you fear what you can’t control.”

“How would you know?”

“Because I do too. I’ve seen chaos first-hand, Detras,” said Tetradon, causing the Toa of Fire to shudder at the mention of his name, “in the Brotherhood, in my colleagues, and most frighteningly, in myself. I can’t live in a world I can’t predict. I don’t want to be a part of a universe that remains ungoverned. No-one should have to live in a world with such awful lawmakers as the Great Beings, who they’d be better off without.”

Now it seemed to Detras that Tetradon was not as crazed and malicious as he had thought him to be. He had witnessed chaos too, and he had always wanted to see more order brought to the island of Powai Nui. The island had had several civil wars, all of which took a toll on Detras, among many other Po-Powains. Their region had always been the central battlefield of all of the wars due to its strategically important geography. On top of that, there was always at least one organization in the region that was radically opposed to the thought of remaining a part of the PNGC.

“I know chaos as well,” Detras said, backing away slowly, “but if I ever try to stop it I’m not going to kill my way to order. Conflict only creates more chaos.”

“That is what one would think,” said Tetradon, “but the truth is very counterintuitive. It is true that a minor contention could spiral into discord and schisms, but as soon as one power starts winning, chaos begins to fade. With immense power comes the ability to create order. Don't you agree?”

“I do agree,” Detras said. “But that would forgo the rights of everyone forced into order. The prime of life is a perfect balance of liberty and justice.”

“Perfection can never be achieved, however,” Tetradon argued, begin to steadily advance once more. “Which is more important, and which is better to sacrifice, liberty or justice?”

“That’s a hard question to answer. To someone like me, they should be equally important.”

“Some things cannot coexist if they conflict, Detras. I bet someone like you who’s been conflicted before has known that a conflict doesn’t truly end until one of the parties is left in a pool of its own blood.

“I can tell just from your past that, despite anything you say against it, you’d take liberty over justice without hesitation. You’d feel quite obliged to lead your teammates not by whatever morality fantasy you hold, but by the anti-authoritarian within you.”

“I could say such a thing about you. I don’t know how you treat this Wraith Syndicate, but I can tell what kind of leader you are.”

“What kind of leader?”

“One who relies on fear more than anything else.”

“That does seem like me. And, it seems, you would be quite the opposite. Although you haven’t led anyone yet, I’d say we’re both the antithesis of the other.”

“One of us relies on fear, the other on faith.”

“And which one of us completely outmatched the other in a one-on-seven fight? Surely it wasn’t the one who stands as a paragon of liberty.”

“I would not choose liberty over justice!” the Toa of Fire said, raising his voice.

“That is where you are wrong,” said another voice from behind Detras. Tetradon’s figure faded into a column of white smoke, and another green and black cloud materialized behind him. As it approached him, it grew sturdy legs, vicious arms and a mean head with a ravenous expression fastened to it. Detras turned to see that it had turned into the shape of Pretadix, who was now stampeding toward him with a look of bloodlust in his eyes. With little time to react, the Toa of Fire was clutched by his throat and pressed violently against an invisible wall. With Pretadix putting his face close to his own, he could feel the mad Makuta’s breath sting his eyes as if it were as vitriolic as the voice that it helped to produce. “Liberty, you say? Liberty is more important?”

“I didn’t say that!” Detras spat out the moment he was able to produce much more than a choked mess of noise.

“You said it not, but you sure did think it, didn’t you? So, anarchy is the way of life?”

The sound he made, although clearly not a decipherable word, was one of radical disagreement.

“Yes, yes it is! I concur, my fellow mutineer. Your head is filled with dreams of rebellion, visions of insurgency, and, most interestingly of all, rather nihilistic beliefs, it seems.”

“You can’t tell me what I think,” Detras said between desperate breaths.

“Now, what would happen if your team felt the same way?”

“Then so be it.”

Pretadix recoiled his head. “You are a lot more alike to Tetradon than I thought; so much so that it scares me, honestly. Very uncanny, to say the least. Say, would your comrades not question your authority just as they have begun to question Maroona’s?” He tightened his grip on the Toa of Fire’s neck, causing him to be completely unable to speak. “It can be assumed that Corduk would be the first, yes? His boldness seems to make him forgo any reason he has under his thick skull, and on top of that, he seems to be a natural at conspiring against anything or anyone he doesn’t particularly favor. Navahko, on the other hand, is driven by reason. He wouldn’t want a leader with such extremist ideas as yours, would he? And that Salvina, she would think the same. Lewok, my, that ghastly recluse, he would leave altogether, wouldn’t he?” Upon saying this, Pretadix’ expression tightened and showed a mix of confusion and interest. “Or rather, he would go along with you, only to betray you at the last minute to join his tree-hugging friends who somehow established themselves a niche in this island’s government. What about Wreshi, my dear Toa? What would he do?”

Detras only choked as he reached despairingly for one small breath of frozen air. Pretadix finally relieved his grip, only slightly, so that he could breathe. “You’re hysterical,” said the Toa of Fire vindictively.

“Me? Hysterical? Blasphemy! And hypocrisy, at that, seeing as you are the accuser. One person’s hysteric is merely another one’s leader.

“Do you not fear your team? Are you not afraid that they will betray you because of your actions? Are you even qualified to lead them or are you doomed to fail?”

Now enraged by his inability to retaliate, Detras simply roared in the Makuta’s face.

“You should not have to fear your team. They should fear you, instead. It’s what Teridax did, it’s what Tetradon does, and it’s the only way a true leader can ensure they will never be betrayed.”

The world began to shake violently. Detras couldn't see or hear it shake, but he could feel that was rapidly oscillating back and forth. The more intense the shaking became, the more Pretadix’ visage seemed to fracture and slough away. After the tremor had stayed for some time, he completely disappeared, leaving Detras attached to the invisible wall with nothing visible holding him there.

The Toa of Fire was blinded by light. The air was still cold, but it felt different, almost like it was more real than whatever he was feeling in the black void. He gasped for it voraciously before realizing that he hadn’t needed to, as his body had all of the oxygen it needed. Despite still feeling like he was pinned down, the feeling in his throat gave no signs that he had been choked.

A fuzzy navy blue head watched over him, bobbing as if it were speaking words he could not understand. As his sight and hearing came back to him, he realized that it was Salvina, shaking him into complete consciousness and telling him to wake up.

The Foundry
“You’ve been comatose for about a week-and-a-half, now,” Maroona told Detras as she handed him a mug full of a warm, viscous liquid with a suspicious green color. “Drink some of this. Lewok made it; he says it will help you recover from being unconscious for so long. Not sure what he made it from, but it doesn’t smell too bad.”

Detras sipped the beverage and was surprised to find that it was delectable. At least, that’s what his body was telling him; he was aware that hunger could drive one to find anything appetizing, and he hadn’t eaten in over a week from what Maroona implied.

“A week-and-a-half?” he repeated, staring at the drink. “What was it that made me go unconscious again?”

“A weak point,” said a voice from above the Toa of Fire. It was Salvina, looking down at him. “Tetradon seems to have a suspiciously good knowledge of what you can strike— or in your case pinch—  on a Toa that will pretty much deactivate them. Like flicking the ‘off’ switch on a machine.”

“And so he did that to me? He found that point on my shoulder?”

“That’s what it seemed like. I couldn’t really tell, seeing as I had been flung backward.”

“Yeah, about that,” Detras said as he gently laid his mug on the grass and looked up at her, “are you okay?”

“I actually am, surprisingly. Unfortunately, Lewok didn’t seem to fare too well when I slammed into him. Poor guy had to empty his first-aid kit’s bandage supply just to start feeling better.”

“And Corduk?”

“He’s been poisoned, from the looks of it. Lewok said it wasn’t lethal, but that he’d have a painful recovery. Luckily he's seemed to mostly have recovered from it, as it doesn't affect him most of the time, although the pain he initially felt does come back somtimes.”

“I’m not sure I have the ability to do that,” Detras said. “I haven’t even thought about activating my powers, actually. Anyways, Wreshi broke his arm, right?”

“Not so much broken, at least from what I can tell, but definitely injured. Possibly dislocated. He’ll need a sling the minute we can get one.”

“Bother,” muttered the Toa of Fire. By now, the drink in the mug had cooled significantly, as evidenced by the absence of the trails of steam that it once emitted. He sipped it again and found that the drop in temperature made it bitter and distasteful.

“You don’t have to drink all of it, if you’re wondering,” said Maroona, causing Detras to realize the look of slight disgust on his face which he then replaced with a vacant expression.

“It loses its taste after it gets cool,” he stated, studying how swishing the liquid stirred flecks of dark green leaf to the top which would only settle back down once it was undisturbed for long enough. “I could say the same for being a Toa.” “What do you mean?” Maroona said, moving closer to him. “If you’re talking about how Tetradon defeated all of us, then I’d like to remember that none of you were properly trained for that situation. We’ve just had a setback, that’s all. None of these injuries are permanent. We’ll recover fairly quickly.” “I beg to differ,” said Tesudin from far away, standing and observing a bush. “Physically, nothing of this will last very long. Our bodies will recover. However, our minds might not.”

“He has a point,” Detras said, finally deciding to put the mug in the grass. “When we were first transformed into Toa, we all had the feeling that we had become invincible. I felt it, Wreshi surely felt it, and I don’t think it’s wrong to assume it was, to some extent, present in everyone else. But when Navahko rolled his ankle, we didn’t see just an unfortunate start to his life as a Toa of Ice, we saw an omen of what was to come. We grew fearful of Tetradon, and rather than opposing that fear and recognizing that it was his weapon, we ignored it and let it get to us.

“Then the moment of reckoning came, and I guess he wiped us all out in what was effectively one fell swoop.

“You told me that there were people out there who were completely unpredictable, right? You said Pretadix was one of them?”

“Yes.”

“I’m beginning to think Tetradon is one of those types too. But, unlike, Pretadix, or you, he can use others personalities against them. Following with the weather analogy you used, he uses the vagaries in his own atmosphere to adapt to those of others, to influence them. It’s a creatively cruel method I’ve seen in use before.”

“How do you know this, Detras?” Maroona asked after an interval of thought. “You barely knew him for more than a couple minutes.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he replied with a slight laugh which faded as fast as the false sense of joy it had begot did. “While I was unconscious, he visited me in a weird and uncomfortable vision. He tried to use my past against me, trying to accuse me of being a radical or something. I could tell that he was the kind who uses his own enemies as his greatest weapon.”

“What past did he talk about? How did he know about it?”

Detras grunted. Maroona was about to retract the question and ask him not to worry about it before he reluctantly began his explanation.

“A lot happened before you got here, even after the Coalition was established. Chaos has always existed on this island, and it was anything but absent during that time period. In the wake of some poor decisions made by the government, a brilliant Ta-Matoran named Ulex had the idea of fixing the kinks in the system that had caused the mistake to come up.

“Ulex was an influential, to say the least. Whenever he said something, people heard it. Sure, he was a natural-born leader, something all too common among those of his element, but when compared with others, leadership seemed even more natural with him. He proclaimed that he had a dream of fixing the government, taking it by force and reshaping it to run smoother and better. Those who followed him, which I was one of, loved this idea, as for the past century Ta-Matoran had gotten the short end of the stick by socioeconomic standards. He wanted to bring all the hardship brought upon us Ta-Matoran by superstition and discrimination to an end, a cause which I gladly supported. And as soon as he made his statement that he would ‘hammer out the flaws in the Coalition,’ his followers deemed themselves ‘The Foundry.’

“For a while, The Foundry seemed like the highlight of my life. I did humanitarian work, fixed things as always, and engaged in some peaceful protesting every once in a while. As far as anti-establishment organizations went, I saw it as the best out there. I, too, wasn’t very fond of how my kind had been treated, even though I’d only experienced mild amounts of discrimination. I still wanted what was best for where I lived, and at the time, the Foundry was respectful and amiable to those who didn’t agree with them, much better than the smaller and more extremist groups that had been spawned from nowhere.

“That resistance against discrimination was what caused the earliest problems, however. Even though at first we accepted members of all sorts of Element types, the distrust we felt for them caused us to shut them out and ignore anything they said about us. This isolation created a sort of ideological echo chamber where our increasingly radical ideas were exposed to nothing but praise, agreement and support. Free from any outsiders to tell us that we were going too far, we kicked out anyone who wasn’t a Ta-Matoran and began to believe that our kind deserved to be better off than others.

“Now I see the fault of my ways, but back then I was too caught up in the moment to realize that I was promoting the idea that I and other Ta-Matoran were the ‘dominant Matoran breed.’ Like everyone else, I was consistently fed propaganda on how other Matoran had been oppressing us not only because we were the least common type of Matoran, but also because they were aware that we were superior to them. According to what I heard, they were unwilling to give in to common sense and let the natural-leader Matoran of Fire do all of the governing. No matter how absurd the claims were, as long as Ulex was there to verify them, I ate them up and obsequiously accepted them as undeniable fact.

“That was until the day they engaged in their first battle, or ‘siege’ as they called it. It was against an opposing organization apparently, and although there were no fatalities, it was bloody, chaotic and prone to casualties. From that day on, as Ulex translated lessons of dominance into actions of war, I grew more and more wary of the Foundry and the direction in which it was going. Future battles were infrequent but still remained as brutal and uncivilized as the first.

“Then, Ulex himself, knowing of my skill in weaponsmithing, commanded me to create custom firearms for an upcoming battle. In his owns words, which I somehow remember, he said, ‘I know these last few battles have been tiring for both us and the enemy, but tiring is not the fate we need to bring to them. Where there be a tired foe there should lay a wounded one, and where a wounded one lay there should be a corpse.’”

The mug tipped over, spilling the remainder of its cold contents into the grass.

“I’d had it at that point. I began to question what I had been told and realized that it was all wrong, that whatever respectability the organization had had before was now gone completely. Unfortunately, I was in too deep. I knew that if I left altogether that that would not be the end of it, as stated by the recently established motto ‘once a Founder, forever a Founder.’

“I contacted Lewok, who I knew from a minor emergency and recognized for his decent marksmanship, and told him about my dilemma. I said that I didn’t want to hurt anybody, but at the same time that if I chose to flee I knew I would be hunted down and either dragged back in or killed. He promised that he would assist me, and so we began collaborating to build something that would end the violence altogether.

“I had told him that I had felt very spiteful of the Foundry, and so he suggested that we design the weapon the backfire on the user. I was so furious with them that I cared not if each unit rendered itself unusable or exploded completely. I only wanted it to work so that it could carry the message I wanted to tell and ensure it got across.

“When the day came that the siege was led, I went out there with pride in my heart, ready to see my treacherous sabotage unfold on the corrupted Foundry members. The first weapon was fired, and it failed. Then the second one did, and the third, and so on and so forth until every weapon wielded by a Founder was completely unusable. One had even exploded, permanently scarring the mask of one member.

“Unfortunately, I was unaware that the supposed enemy had had the same idea as the Foundry. They too wielded Divurgo-based firearms, but unlike the ones I designed, theirs worked, and flawlessly at that. What had been planned to have been a creative display of betrayal and defiance against a corrupted cause soon turned into a massacre of Ta-Matoran. I was one of the few Ta-Matoran to be spared, since I hadn’t brought a weapon, and before the opposing organization could keep track of their captured enemies I had escaped with the few Founders who escaped.

“Among those was Ulex, who had taken a severe wound to the chest and was not expected to live. I was there for the very moment he died, and despite having intended to betray him, I felt all of the guilt that came with the knowledge that he, along with other Ta-Matoran who I once called allies, were dead or dying because of my actions, all because I hadn’t realized soon enough that I shouldn’t have tolerated their behavior.”

After Detras finished this, there was a whole minute of silence between him and Maroona. The Toa of Lightning looked at him and, after expecting a look back but not garnering one, looked back into the sky she had been staring at throughout his account. Salvina had left to tend to the injured Toa before the story had even begun, as had Tesudin. Maroona was too tired and stressed to find out why, and she reckoned that they were better off not having heard the story for now.

“So,” she began, her voice nearly cracking due to the period of disuse it had been in, “how did he figure all of this out?”

The question shook Detras into a more awake state; he required her to repeat herself in order for him to answer appropriately. He seemed a bit disheartened about the question, seeming to have wanted one that was more directly related to the lengthy story he had told. “I don’t think he learned all of the small details I gave you, but I’m confident that whatever trickery he used to appear in that vision he also used to search my mind and learn about that part of my past. It could be related to the way he made me go unconscious or it could be something else entirely.”

“I doubt it’s related,” Maroona replied. “Although, I could be wrong. We may not know the full extent of his strange powers. There’s a possibility that he could have gained new powers since whenever Tesudin knew him.”

“I didn’t feel like my mind was being invaded when he made me go unconscious,” Detras said. “Of course, I’ve never known what that feels like.”

“I don’t think it matters, anyway,” Maroona said. “All we need to keep in mind from this is that he has a way of getting inside our heads.”

“What will we do with that information?”

“That wasn’t him,” said Tesudin from some distance away. He had been scraping rime off of his shoulder, and when he was done he walked a bit closer to the two. “I don’t know who or what allowed him to get into your head, but it was not his doing. I know for a fact that whenever Tetradon played mind games with another, he only did it the old-fashioned way.”

“The old-fashioned way?”

“Without the use of telepathy. On top of that, I doubt he has the capacity to have telepathic powers on top of the other abilities he already possesses.

“And Detras, do not linger on what he has figured out about your past. From what it sounds like he’s discovered, there is not much he can do with it other than to try and distract you.” Tesudin placed his bow on his back and went off to answer to Navahko, who had hollered for him.

“It took me this long to notice that we’re in the Plains,” Detras said. “I assume we’re not far from Obodosara?”

“Quite the opposite,” Maroona answered. “We’re closer to Ko-Powai than we are to Le-Powai now. I reckoned that we needed to get away from Tetradon and crew lest he ambush us again. Hopefully, they’re still hiding out in the forest where they can’t bother us.”

“I don’t feel like that will help much, considering that Tetradon can get into our heads.”

“It’s the most we can do, at least until we recover.”

The Wraith Syndicate
It had only been mere seconds since his and Tetradon’s arrival and already Pretadix was feeling incredibly unsure about where the two had ended up. There were striking dissimilarities between the gravelly, flat, Fa-Matoran-populated island they had been tasked with destroying and the barren landscape they now rested on. It was cold, dry, and devoid of anything except reams of dirt which were broken up only by lifeless hills and dirty rivers. The only signs of life on the island were the wooden shrapnel scattered across it and minuscule plants desperately trying to sprout through the coarse, hardened dirt. What appeared to be snow was flitting down from the looming overcast sky, at least this what one would think until they say it hit the ground and refuse to dissolve like most snow would. When Pretadix delicately slid one of these white particles onto his claw, he was unable to identify it as anything else other than a shred of ash or a flake of some white compound. Having a hunch about the latter possibility, he was proven right when the flake disappeared suddenly, revealing itself to be the deathly white sulfuric virus that he and Tetradon had used to transport themselves. It had been designed by Teridax himself, a property of it which previously seemed to be so incredibly sentimental to Pretadix that he had been filled with fanatical joy upon learning about it. He had seen it as a metaphor for his beloved Brotherhood leader finally returning to him a speck of the unwavering loyalty and obsessive admiration that both he and his friend had poured on top of him every day of the past few dozen millennia. It had been, only to him, not even to his close friend, an omen of the forthcoming acceptance of his devotion to him, a sign that he was giving in to everything Pretadix had done for his great leader.

Now, this same symbolic substance drifted down from the skies, scattered by its first usage, which had seemingly stranded the two on a strange and assumedly inhospitable island. It was strange seeing the emblematic virus bring them to such a contradictory setting. There could have been an error, Pretadix thought. Obviously, it wasn’t one caused by Teridax, for he was much too intelligent to make such an error, even if the virus he had created was as complex as it was. Nobody except him, Pretadix, and Tetradon had handled it, however. That meant it must’ve been either himself or his comrade. “Where are we?” Tetradon asked stupidly. He seemed to have had a hard landing, something which normally wouldn’t daze him. Pretadix guessed that the effects of the virus might have weakened his body in some way; his species didn’t tend to take lightly to Makuta viruses. “I was wond’ring the same,” Pretadix said. “This isn’t the island Teridax described to us.”

“How is that?”

“There is dirt where there should be gravel, and it is quite uneven. Not flat as we were told.”

“Maybe this is simply another section of the island,” Tetradon said as he lifted himself off of the ground and began to scrape the dirt off of his upper body. “We should look around and see if we can’t find the place where we were supposed to end up.”

“Isn’t it a little odd,” Pretadix said, “that a virus made by Teridax would fail to bring us where he wanted?”

Tetradon stopped cleaning his armor when he heard this. In fact, he stopped everything, save breathing, standing still like a statue. Finally, his eyes drifted up to Pretadix, who was somehow even dirtier than he had been seconds ago.

“Something like this wouldn’t happen by accident, would it?” Pretadix added. “Especially considering who made this darned virus.”

Tetradon finally decided to move again and said, “I’m sure that whatever happened is inevitable, considering long-range teleportation is a bit unpredictable when pulled off with viruses.”

“That seems like something Teridax would consider when trying to bring us somewhere,” Pretadix said. “He is all but unintelligent. Hit is likely that he knew the risks of using a teleportation virus for such a long distance as from Destral to one of the northernmost islands off the coast of the Northern Continent.”

Tetradon thought about this for quite a while. Just from the expression on his face, Pretadix could see that there was a great amount of dissonance in his head. “Are you suggesting that Teridax brought us to the wrong location on purpose?”

Pretadix began to shake his head, but paused and replied, “I’m not sure if that is what he intended, but much evidence is pointing toward it.”

“Why would he?”

“I have no idea.”

“We were among his most loyal subordinates. Why would he choose to rid his lives of us?”

Pretadix’ hands began to twitch slightly. From his experiences with him, Tetradon knew this to be a sign that the Makuta was becoming increasingly angry.

“He could not have abandoned us!” he said suddenly, his lip quivering violently. “He valued us, I know it!”

“Pretadix, I’m not sure he ever did.”

“You don’t know him!” the enraged Makuta spat. “Not as well as I ever did! One day, he saw potential in me, he said it to me, and from that day I knew he would never forsake me like he has other of my kind!”

Tetradon abandoned the argument and tried to calm Pretadix down. Despite having known him for millennia, he had never learned how to efficiently calm him whenever he became angry about something. Something inside of Pretadix, and inside of all Makuta for that matter, was always keen on not listening, constantly wanting to resist what anyone else said. Tetradon had observed that this trait was the most prominent in three beings: Teridax, Krika, and Pretadix.

“Pretadix, I know you don’t want to believe he’s betrayed us,” Tetradon said solemnly, “but neither do I. However, I’ve come to accept it despite that. You need to as well.”

His strange partner looked at him with indignant eyes. Now, as Tetradon had overcome the dissonance in his mind, it had escaped and found refuge in Pretadix, where it was presumably wreaking havoc.

“I don’t know,” the Makuta finally said.

“You don’t know what?”

“I don’t know anything anymore, Tetradon. What else is a lie? What else have I been tricked into believing?”

“Only that Teridax valued us.”

“If I could have believed some so blatantly erroneous to be incontrovertibly true, what else have I been taught to believe that follows a similar pattern?”

“You’re taking this too far, Pretadix.”

“Does anything exist, Tetradon? Is this universe free? Do its inhabitants really have the agency they think they have?”

Unable to find any other way to stop his ally’s rambling, Tetradon disheartenedly activated his mask.

Several decades later, the two had found refuge, although some may not have called it that. Some may have called it something along the lines of “voluntary captivity,” but as long as nobody could get to them they found themselves to be relatively safe from the Brotherhood. Odina was scarcely a welcoming island, but with Tetradon passing as a Makuta they were able to make themselves feared enough to deter anyone who might try to steal from them. As long as they could hire a Dark Hunter or two, they decided, they would be safe from the supposed full punishment of having discovered the island by accident. They both knew that a Dark Hunter would do anything for a large sum of money.

Unfortunately, they had no money at this time. The odd Nynrah-native Su-Matoran they had coerced into collecting money for them hadn’t reported back to them in months, although given the fact that they were practically unfindable this could be forgiven.

Practically imprisoned in a decrepit construction area and forced into labor, the pair used their scarce break periods from work to figure out how they were going to escape from the island. They had spent around two hours discussing these plans in the past week, far from enough for anything to come of it. Most conversations strangely tended to morph into far-away chats, typically about the numerous experiments they had ren in their attempts to impress Teridax.

With their last break only having barely begun, Tetradon was so tired from working that he knew not what to talk about. As a Makuta, Pretadix did not tire, nor did he sleep, eat, or do anything his ally considered to be living. However, he often acted tired, usually claiming that he had been thinking so hard during his work that it had tired his mind, the only part of him which could be affected by anything resembling pain or fatigue. He felt that now he had only the strength to comment on how much he despised being told what to do. As he said something related to this, he studied a piece of his thigh armor which had mysteriously fragmented off. Tetradon concurred, and after that, a minute of silence came between them. “Our time is still being squandered,” Tetradon said to break this silence. “Our plans are falling apart, our powers are useless.”

“I agree,” Pretadix said with a grunt. “Every day I have the greatest temptations to use my immense power to blast this place to smithereens. I’m confident I could do enough damage for the two of us to escape.”

“But we need the trust of the Dark Hunters,” Tetradon said. “They are our only hope for servants if we’re going along with this syndicate idea we proposed.”

“Syndicate idea?” Pretadix repeated, confused and with a dazed look on his face. “I thought we were going to construct a fortress of sorts on that dirt island.”

“We decided against that just yesterday,” Tetradon, “do you not remember?”

“I suppose I don’t,” Pretadix said. “Remind me again what the syndicate plan was?”

“We form a syndicate, name whatever we want, and advertise it as simply a branch of the Brotherhood. After we draw in enough followers and servants, volunteer and Dark Hunter alike, we tighten our grip on them suddenly and force them to work for us.”

“And who, in that situation, under our command, wouldn’t choose to retaliate the moment we ‘tighten our grip?’”

“Anyone who we’ve used the Mask Maker’s Tool on.”

“I forget what that is.”

“Of course you do. We’ve been discussing it for the past week, Pretadix, do you not remember?”

The Makuta shook his head.

“It was created by one of those blasted Great Beings, the one rumored to reside within this very universe. According to legend, it has the ability to control Kanohi powers in any and all ways its user desires, whether it be to enhance them, change them, or remove them entirely.”

“I do believe I remember. How are we going to find this artifact?”

“Dark Hunters.”

“And how will they even be able to come close to capturing a Great Being?”

“They will. Never underestimate the power of a Dark Hunter.”

“Just as one should never underestimate the abominable guile of Teridax?”

“To a lesser degree than that, for sure, a much lesser one. As soon as I get my hands on that Tool, the first thing I’m going to do is get to Destral and imbue myself with the power to blow that wicked grin off of his body along with the rest of his head.”

“And that would be it?”

“What?”

“He deserves a much more gruesome way to die.”

For the next couple of minutes, the conversation continued about how exactly one could kill Teridax in the most sickening way possible, which, by way of discussing torture, brought up the question as to whether Makuta could feel despair.

“Well, yes,” Pretadix said casually before looking quite confused. “Although it’s hardly that simple. The full range of our emotions is suppressed, whether by us having exuded our moral light, by some other fault or by default. They can manifest, however, it is hard to get them to do so, either by the fault of someone else or the Makuta himself.

“Of all of the Elemental powers you’ve learned to control, which one is the hardest to use?”

“I’d say that Plasma is. It’s incredibly hot, so much so that I can scarcely use it for more than a couple of seconds.”

“Compare that to the full range of my emotions. The moral darkness in me is so strong that it suppresses a certain part of my emotional spectrum. Because of this, I feel it especially hard to feel several emotions, most notably empathy and grief.”

Tetradon was about to reply when he was interrupted by the arrival of a being wearing dark silver and brown armor. He had a large firearm strapped to his back and was twirling a glinting throwing knife in between his fingers.

“Are you ‘Sunder’?” asked Tetradon.

“Sure am. You paid up, so you’ve got to tell me what to do.”

“I need you to find a Great Being for me.”

“Sunder” was shocked. “I know the rules are that if you pay you get to choose what I’ve gotta do, but I ain’t chasing a Mata Nui-forsaken Great Being for only a thousand widgets.”

“Say,” Pretadix said as he scraped a brown flake from his armor, “you look like someone who’s interested in chemistry, yes?”

“How did you figure that out?” the Dark Hunter replied suspiciously. Pretadix simply tapped his skull with his finger.

“Then I’ll give you some extra pay,” Tetradon said. He grabbed a stray jar he had kept with him for some time and placed it under his left wrist, making sure that the two red spines on his arm were dipping into it. An orange fluid discharged out of the spines and did this continuously until the jar was a quarter of the way full with the fluid. He then handed it to “Sunder”, who liked like he was holding back a gag. “Have fun with that. Don’t drink it.”

“What is this?” asked the Dark Hunter. “Venom? Blood?”

“Both,” Tetradon said, “and among that it has some chemical properties I think you’ll find quite useful.”

“Such as…?”

“Being one of the only known substances capable of dissolving Protosteel.”

After hearing this, “Sunder” looked very excitedly at the jar, a sly grin growing across his face. “This’ll do. So, where do I find this Great Being?”

Chords and Riffs
Firmly gripping his spear in his hand to push himself, Navahko hobbled up the hill at a sideways angle. Wind was blasting the area, as it always did when Powai Nui’s cold season ended. This meant that Navahko’s recovery would be harder than it had before, as not only did he lose the comfort the cold brought him, but the wind would also prove to be a challenge to him whenever he needed to walk on his ankle.

He considered using his mask, which as far as he knew was likely an oddly-shaped Miru, but remembering that it had gotten him into this state he dismissed the idea almost immediately. Imagining himself rising to the top of the hill, the wondrous image abruptly turned malicious when he saw himself falling down and further damaging his ankle. He shook the thought out of his head, trying to stay focused on ascending the hill. As Salvina had explained, the focus of this exercise was to see what his ankle could do without trying to push it past its limits.

Navahko shielded himself against the fierce wind as he approached the top of the hill. Having expected to see more dirt, bushes, and grass, he was surprised to see a series of small wooden shops. They were devoid of Matoran, and of any signs of life for that matter, and because of this they were grey and decrepit. He looked around to see what they had been selling: Various fruits (as evidenced by the putrefying brown splats), rusted springs, torn cloth, dust-covered ceramic amphoras, buckets of paint, stained glass. One item, an acoustic jetah, caught his eye.

Navahko hobbled over to the shop to observe it. He hadn’t seen one in years, and he had assumed that their former popularity had died out. This theory still held up, as evidenced by the freckles of rust on it and the fact that one of the strings was missing entirely. He reached and grabbed it, disturbing a solitary brushwasp who ferociously attempted to sting him through his armor but retreated after she realized she could not. Laying his spear down, he held the instrument up to his chest as if to play it and observed it’s guitar-like design and brilliant engineering: Two metal blades positioned parallel to one another, each lined on its inner edge by a series of alternating tabs; a string was fastened tight to each and connected them all to the opposite end of the neck of the instrument, which was lined with frets.

Searching the shop for a pick of some sort, Navahko found only one, leading him to assume that the shop was a booth where one would have played music to collect money. It was carved from a type of blackened metal called darksteel, which was normally used for chains and outdoors equipment. It was rare to see it used for something like a pick, especially considering that it darksteel picks were notorious for becoming deformed when used extensively. One side of the pick Navahko was now holding was severely warped, a sign that its previous owner had played thee instrument aggressively, rigorously and frequently.

The Toa of Ice wandered away from the shops and into a meadow as he cleaned the instrument off. Resting its neck on his shoulder, he lifted the pick up to the bridge and plucked one of the strings. A shrill screech resulted that stung his ears. Several meters away, a noisy flock of birds unanimously evacuated a dead tree. After fiddling with the tuning devices and adjusting the metal tabs, Navahko plucked the string again, and a less discordant sound came out. It was a sound that began with a brief, painful noise but left in its wake a soothing, formal tone. This sound, which was familiar to him and many others on the island, was characteristic of a jetah.

Pressing his fingers onto the frets, he strummed the jetah and played a harmonic chord which lacked the harsh beginning that the individual note had. One of the most notable properties about the jetah was that it sounded tranquil and elegant when chords were played but energetic, caustic and electrifying when notes were played individually and in succession. It was capable of playing an alleviating melody or a heart-pounding riff, and for this reason Navahko had learned to play it. He looked up when he heard someone walking over to him and saw a slender black figure.

“I’m not disturbing you with this, am I?” Navahko asked awkwardly.

“Not at all,” Tesudin said. “You’ve done quite the opposite, in fact. I found it intriguing, hearing music for the first time in decades.”

“You’ve never heard anyone here play music?” Navahko asked as he sat down on a boulder and prompted Tesudin to do the same. Tesudin sat down and shook his head, and the Toa of Ice replied, “Most say that you can’t spend a single minute inside Le-Powai without at least hearing it echoing through the canyons.”

“I suppose not all sayings are entirely true. What kind of instrument is this? I’ve never seen one like it.”

“Is that so? I’ve heard they’re common, even outside this island. It’s called a jetah. I remember there being a meaning to its name, but I can’t remember it.”

“Jetah, jetah… I too feel like I’ve heard that name before. Most instrument names tend to sound like the instrument, I’ve noticed. How does this one sound?”

Navahko played a couple of chords and then a metallic riff to express the duality of the instrument.

“Strange,” Tesudin replied with interest. “Do you know any songs?”

“I used to know several, but I’ve been slowly forgetting how to play them. I remember one which was played during funerals; I believe it’s called the ‘Ballad of the Fallen’ or something similar. Of all of the funeral songs on this island, it seems to be the most enigmatic because it was never written with any lyrics. Those who play it say that vocals are unnecessary when the song already sings words.”

“Can you play it? I might’ve heard it before.”

Navahko played a string of chords. They were sorrowful, perfectly tuned to go along with the mourning of someone who had been tragically lost. There was no set tempo, instead, it seemed it was up to the musician to determine when each chord was played. It was as if it were designed to be customizable so that everyone it was played for; as if one could expertly control which chords came at what time to give a level of personalization to it. “I’ve heard this before,” Tesudin said, swaying along with the next chords Navahko played. “Not with this instrument, of course, but the tune is familiar.”

“Is it used for funerals where you’re from?”

“I believe so, although I rarely heard it during such events. Having heard music from many places around the universe, I’d assume that the tune’s more common here and possibly originated from here.”

“Nonsense.”

“I— what? How so?”

“We’ve never maintained contact anyone else long enough for them to adopt our music.”

“Why is that?”

“We’re still not sure, but we all assume it’s related to the stigma that is attached to the Southern Islands. Most other see us as primitive or otherwise not worth bothering. It’s quite a good thing, I think, because I doubt we’re completely ready to contact other islands. We’ve never been good at first impressions.”

“From the sounds of it, it’s not entirely your fault. If other islands don’t choose to trust you, that’s their choice.” After a moment of silence, Tesudin looked around at the swaying trees. “It’s windy today, but that shouldn’t stop us from continuing your training.”

“More elemental training, I suppose?”

“That sounds good. I must say, you’ve been improving since when I first began training you.”

“I know that this may sound a bit, well, lazy, of me to say,” Navahko said, “but I’ve been training quite hard the past few days. Do you think we could put this off until later?”

“Why would you want to do that?”

“I— I did tell you.”

“But that was not the reason, you see. What is your reason?”

“Well, I’d just like to sit here, relax and enjoy the scenery for some time.”

“I thought that you didn’t like wind.”

Navahko tried to respond, but couldn’t think of anything to say.

“I too enjoy having time to myself and nature. But, as much as I wish I could, I cannot do that forever. Mastery over one’s powers— and life itself, for that matter— is not constant such that we can do one enjoyable thing indefinitely. In fact, we must work indefinitely, in preparation for the times when we will face challenges, expected or not.

“Consider it like learning an instrument such as this one. What is the outcome of a single round of practice?”

“You become better at playing it.”

“Correct. Your abilities with it are refined. Now, what would happen if, say, you practiced every day for at least half of an hour?”

“As I said before, you would become better at playing it.”

Tesudin nodded slightly. “What if you practiced once every week?”

“You would become better, just at a slower pace.”

“For once, you are wrong.”

Navahko, who had been studying the jetah, looked up at Tesudin with disbelief.

“As one practices, the skill they must achieve during each round of practice increases gradually. Practicing every day will likely ensure that you can adapt to this, but once a week will not produce the same result. That schedule cannot adapt to the increase in the required skill.

“However, skill is nothing, really. It’s not anything that can be considered truly worthy of its own concept which can stand independent of others. Instead, skill is but somatic memory. It is as to the body as remembering how to read is to the mind.”

A loud bang succeeded his sentence and caused all of the birds in the area to vacate their trees. As it echoed across the hilly grasslands it shook the two, Navahko also suffering from an intense jolt. Several more bangs were heard, each louder, closer and more ear-splitting than the last. Tesudin, wincing, seized the sides of his head.

“What’s going on over there?” Navahko asked distressedly.

After the echoes of the banging subsided, Tesudin slightly lifted his hands and focused on the horizon. However, he clasped the sides of his head again when he heard another bang. This time, a flash of white light flew out of the trees, careening upward and beginning to unevenly gyrate as it slowed down before dissipating. Several more of these strange entities came out, at which point Tesudin’s eyes widened.

“I recognize that noise,” he said. Instinctively, he reached over his shoulder to grab his bow, but could not find it. “I’ve left it back at the camp. I don’t know what’s happening, but we need to get Maroona.”

“What was that? What was making those noises?”

A loud yell came from the trees, causing Tesudin to lurch forward with alarm and curiosity. “What was your Earth friend’s name?”

“Corduk.”

“I believe that was him.”

At this remark, Navahko grabbed his spear and shambled as fast as he could toward the trees. After nearly tripping, he was forced to slam his left foot into the ground, causing him only a slight bit of pain. At the discovery of this, he lifted his spear’s bottom off of the ground and began jogging toward the forest, signaling for Tesudin to come along with him.

Du Sel Hila Ujara No
As the two entered the forest, the loud banging, which Tesudin reckoned to be gunshots, continued. In between these, the Toa of Sonics would lift his hands off of his head to momentarily observe other abnormal sounds. He was able to identify heavy breathing, Corduk’s voice, and a shrill, continuous noise before one bout of banging rendered his hearing compromised. Even without the aid of his expert hearing, he was still able to roughly locate where the noises were coming from. Between them he attempted to give information about what they were, but was only partially successful, leaving Navahko with an amount of information which approximately was, “they are the sounds of an enemy I know.”

Much to Navahko’s dismay, the noises now appeared to be moving about rapidly. One second he would be making a straight line for them and the next they would be to his right or left. How and when the noises changed positions he was completely unsure of, but this mattered not to him. The only thing that mattered to him besides Tesudin’s safety was Corduk. Even though he was brave, he wasn’t invincible.

Finally, Navahko arrived at a grassy meadow. He tried to beckon Tesudin out of the trees, and the Toa of Sonics slowly emerged with his hands still fastened to the sides of his head. After opening one hand to try and listen, he claimed he was unable to hear anything except ringing and loud noises. With a sigh, Navahko looked around, trying to find any evidence as to what was creating the sounds and where Corduk was. Several more bangs came from his right before Corduk flew out of the trees and tumbled into the grass. His large battle axe, which was covered in dirt and fragments of greatgrass, gyrated through the air and embedded itself into the ground beside him. He tried to push himself onto his knees and ignore the pain and fatigue he seemed to be suffering from. After a short moment, even more bangs came from the trees, and a flurry bright lights flew out, traveling vaguely in his direction. One came scarily close to clipping his armor and would have done as such had he not ducked. Backing away, he laid down on the ground, dragged himself toward his axe, picked it up, and held it in front of his so that the blade was facing to his right. Another bolt of light flew at him, however, this one struck his shield and ricocheted off, landing somewhere in the edge of the forest with an explosion of dirt. Several more projectiles flew out and met the same fate.

Navahko called out Corduk’s name, grabbing his attention for a brief moment. “Go get someone!” the Toa of Earth yelled immediately.

“Corduk, what’s going on?”

“Run!”

“I’m not leaving you here!”

It was at this point that Navahko noticed the short, tan figure who had now emerged from the woods. The tip of the cannon on her right arm was glowing red and smoking profusely.

When Navahko asked, Tesudin confirmed that it was Phi. One hand still on his head, he used his free hand to grab a short, silver blade from his left hip. He then held it in both of his hands and closed his eyes as if to focus on something in his mind. “Distract her,” he said. Navahko was about to question what Tesudin meant, but decided that he could figure it out. He took a few steps in Phi’s direction and called her by name. When she looked at him and made eye contact, he was struck with fear and immediately began to regret his decision.

“Another Toa joins the fray!” she said excitedly. “Phi will have quite the meal this evening!” She began to run at him, the large thruster on her back trailing white energy. Originally running on two legs, she then began to run using her arm as a leg as well. When she had covered half the distance between her and her enemy, her thruster discharged a blast of flame and propelled her forward even faster.

Not having expected this, Navahko was unable to think of a way to avoid her in the split second she had taken to engage lock on to him. He found that his only hope was to lay on the ground and hope for the best and went along with the idea. Phi flew over him, her claw clipping his shoulder and removing the spine-like gold armor piece from it.

As soon as she reached the edge of the forest, Phi grasped a tree and used it to swing herself around in Corduk’s direction. The Toa of Earth rolled sideways in an attempt to dodge her and was successful. However, rather than turning as she had before, Phi began to ascend rapidly into the sky. After gaining sufficient height, she turned her thruster off and allowed herself to fall momentarily before restarting it to propel herself back down. Corduk again began to run, however, Phi aimed her cannon behind her and ejected flames from the barrel, allowing her to quickly turn herself in the direction of him. With no other choice, Corduk tucked himself behind his shield and muttered “Du sel hila ujara no,” an Archaic Matoran phrase translating to “Please allow my faith to save me.”

Phi abruptly diverted from her route. A scarcely visible shock wave appeared to be pushing her, causing her to lose control of her flight and tumble through the sky. Screaming unintelligibly, she fell into the trees, which now swayed according to the compression wave that had redirected her rather than the wind. A final loud noise was heard, this one followed by smoking pieces of metal and clouds of dirt flying up and out of the forest. Navahko looked back at Tesudin before a blanket of opaque dust erupted from the forest. After this, there was a relieving stretch of silence as it settled underneath the flattened greatgrass.

“What was that?” Corduk asked as he looked up from behind his axe. He looked over to Navahko, who shrugged. “Is she… is she dead?” Corduk asked again.

“Not sure,” Navahko said, “but Tesudin’s gone. We should find him before we do anything else.”

“I’m assuming it was him that caused Phi to lose control.”

“Most likely.”

Corduk brought himself off of his knees and brushed himself off a bit. “Then we should go and find him. Phi landed in the same part of the woods you came out of, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m guessing she’s responsible for his disappearance.”

Navahko nodded, and the two Toa both headed into the trees in search of the Toa of Sonics. They ran for some time until Navahko said that his ankle had begun to hurt again, and Corduk opted to search on his own and told Navahko to get back to the meadow in case Phi came looking for him. The Toa of Earth searched for him for some time, and made a sigh of relief when he came across him lying in the woods. He helped him up and asked him what happened.

“That billow of dust,” he said, “Phi used it as cover to abduct me from the trees. She had some sort of grappling hook that dragged me in here.”

“Where has she gone?”

“Her thruster pack exploded, and that’s likely what caused the explosion. She’s long gone, now, seeing as she can phase through solid matter, so there’s no point in trying to find her.”

“Are you okay? Are you injured in any way?”

Tesudin shook his head, and the two headed back to Navahko, who seemed to have many questions to ask Tesudin. As the three exited the forest, Corduk began to get a tingling sensation in the back of his head.

“Do you guys feel anything?” he asked, and Navahko and Tesudin denied that they felt anything. They did, however, note something else strange.

“You mask,” Navahko said, “it’s glowing, or at least it appears to be.”

“What does that mean? Does that mean it’s working or something?”

“I think so. That’s what my mask did when it first activated.”

When he looked to Tesudin for answers, Corduk was shocked as to what he witnessed. To him, he looked and acted similarly to how he always had been. However, something about him didn’t feel right, something which Corduk couldn’t quite figure out.

All of the subconscious traits he associated with the Toa of Sonics were not there. As he had learned recently, Tesudin constantly emitted low-frequency sounds for a form of echolocation due to the fact that his hearing had been damaged and made worse than others of his Element. Corduk had always been able to detect this sound, despite it being outside of his hearing range. However, this sound was now absent, something which irked him. There were other cues telling him that everything was not as it seemed, but he put those aside and decided his course of action as he stared at him.

“What is it?” Navahko asked distressedly.

Corduk lashed out at Tesudin, striking him in the head several times. The Toa tried to retaliate by throwing a punch, however, Corduk swiftly blocked it and grabbed his arm. With one powerful move, the Toa of Earth lifted him off of the ground and threw him into a tree, causing his visage to flicker and sporadically show a small tan figure in place of him.

Frightened and appalled, Navahko threw himself at Corduk and tried to pull him away from the Toa while commenting about how his rage had taken him over.

“That’s not him!” Corduk argued, shaking him off. He repeated himself enough times for Navahko to stop, and he explained, “my mask, Navahko. It’s allowing me to detect things or something like that.”

“Well, what about him that you can detect gives you reason to attack him?”

“Because that isn’t him, Navahko.” Corduk prepared himself as “Tesudin” stood back up, faced him and backed away. Fearing that Navahko would think he was insane, Corduk explained, “I can see evidence that he’s not who you think he is. The way that sound reflects off him doesn’t match his appearance.” He was about to say more but stopped himself when he saw “Tesudin” charging at him. Anticipating another punch, Corduk held his fists in front of his face and prepared to block. However, “Tesudin” instead whipped out his right leg and aimed it towards his stomach. Corduk reacted accordingly by moving quickly to the side, trapping his leg under his arm, and swinging him around into another tree.

“Tesudin” flickered out of existence, and in his place, an impish figure Corduk recognized as Phi appeared. Her armor was dented, damaged, blackened and battered from both the explosion of her thruster pack and her unsuccessful fight with Corduk. The remains of her thruster pack lay next to Navahko, smoldering and smoking, looking as if it wished to start a bushfire. Before a finger could be laid on her, however, she turned semitransparent and disappeared into the earth.

“Looks like she’s retreating,” Navahko said as he began to walk away. Rather than following him, Corduk stood still. When Navahko looked back at him, he saw that he was looking at the ground intensely.

“What is—”

Corduk shushed him and held up an open hand with his thumb against his palm, a signal that it was important that he remain silent. The fact that his mask was still shimmering gave Navahko a faint idea of what he was doing. It didn’t seem like he could see whatever it was underground that he was following, rather that he could hear it. His head moved as if he were a large-eared Rahi positioning its head to better listen to an alarming sound. Suddenly, he turned to Navahko and gestured for him to move. The Toa of Ice did as such, and Phi rose up from the ground and turned tangible. As she was facing away from Corduk, having likely intended to surprise attack Navahko, she was unable to counter the flurry of punches that the Toa of Earth inflicted on her. Unable to recover from the quickly enough, Corduk walked up beside her and removed her mask to reveal a Rahi-like face embroidered with unusual gadgets and metal plates. She attempted to turn intangible again, however, a small device on her abdomen malfunctioned and spat out a few sparks instead. Corduk picked her up by the shoulder, allowing her to pointlessly kick and flail aggressively for his own amusement. As soon as she stopped, he dropped her to the ground beside her broken thruster pack and observed her Kanohi.

“Not too tough when you gadgetry doesn’t work?” The Toa of Earth said. He then looked at Navahko and added, “Now, all we have to do is find Tesudin and get bring this pest back to Maroona.”

Characters

 * Detras
 * Tetradon
 * Pretadix
 * Lewok (mentioned)
 * Wreshi (mentioned)
 * Salvina
 * Maroona
 * Tesudin
 * Navahko
 * Teridax (mentioned)
 * "Sunder"
 * Corduk
 * Phi

Trivia and Story Notes

 * This was the first of Cap's stories to have pictures that were chroma-keyed.
 * Initially, chapter 4 and 5 were supposed to be separated, with 4 documenting a discussion between Navahko and Tesudin surrounding the former's training and 5 seeing Corduk, who had deserted the Toa due to trust issues, defend Omakah and Arvos against Phi. Cap later decided to bring these chapters together, as not only did Corduk deserting for such a reason seem out-of-character to him, but he also saw opportunity in expanding more than just Corduk's character during the fight.
 * Chapter 3 was inspired by the 35th episode of the animated web series RWBY, titled "Beginning of the End," which spends a large portion of its runtime with flashbacks of the show's villains.