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This article was written by Starscream7. Please do not add to it without the writer's permission.
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| BIONICLE: Universe: The Prequel | |
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Starscream7
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The BIONICLE: Universe Prequel is the prequel story to BIONICLE: Universe. It follows the adventures of various characters during the Core War, and how some would become part of Toa Tahu's ragtag team that would go on a search for the Kanohi Ignika.
Story[]
"Elements; swirling energies; forests; everything is ancient. Sacred; protected; forbidden; a world long lost. Power; darkness; and a craving for destruction: the Makuta. Above and beyond all, life. Life. A term used to describe all of us. Not thought by other races to belong to ours, life crawls through the most tiny cracks, bringing hope everywhere. To us, and to others—yet life belongs to two things. Our god, Mata Nui, and a mask, the Kanohi Ignika. One sentient, one an object, both ancient, long cast away, possibly never to be seen again.
"I am Toa Tahu. A hero—that is how I am recognized, but I am truly what seems to be the head of a final hope to resurrect the shattered emblems of our race. Emblems, yet only ones that are good, alongside the Great Spirit, Mata Nui. If only Makuta Teridax hadn't changed, hadn't become so dangerous to others, such a threat, then maybe this wouldn't have happened. All that I know is that he must pay for his crimes.
"The Cold War of Spherus Magna was an enormous impact on our society, and our guardians were defeated. The Great Beings had a single goal: to save us all. Some exiled from hope, and those who couldn't find it—they fought for it. They fought to live. They fought for their rights. They fought for life. The building blocks of us all. Biomechanical beings, pulled in a chain of harmony—yet a chain rattled and disturbed. Now, the hopes of of our race lie in ruins—yet we will do anything to repair them.
"Here we go—a journey long awaited, and an adventure long forgotten."
Prologue[]
Location: Spherus Magna
A metal claw moved through the fertile soil in the Arena Iconox. The three claws displayed on it met together after a handful of the soil was clutched. The lonesome Agori looked up at the sky, as if he was waiting for something to come down. He looked off in the near distance, as the fight raged on.
Glatorian battled each other, weapons of all kinds swinging violently through the air. Swipes were traded with blades, and shields were bashed with pleasure. The sound of metal screeching up against metal sent shivers down the Agori's smooth spine. The sound of bolts grinding against the pushing force of larger and more powerful beings was truly an eerie thing to hear—as well as the sound and sight of these nuts and bolts shooting out of their place, allowing armor to slide off of the now vulnerable Glatorian.
The Agori knew that this was no park to be playing in. However, he was no child. He was a worker from secret tunnels underneath Roxtus. Skrall warriors never knew and still don't know of the underground workers, harvesting precious metals used for something—yet the Agori didn't know much as to what it was. No matter what it could be, the plan that anyone could currently have could be shattered under the might of the war that was occurring.
"But why sit around?" the Agori asked himself. "Why act like this when such things are happening?"
The Agori began to stand up, metal sinews and muscles moving skillfully. Stretching out far, the Agori stood tall—around twenty-five feet tall. Yet this was no match for the size of the arena's walls, which stretched out hundreds of feet in length and stood several hundred feet tall.
The Agori looked at the exit of the Arena. His sensors scanned his surroundings before he began walking toward the giant gate. Sinews moved again as he began walking.
Suddenly, the ground behind the innocent Agori erupted—and a giant creature with tentacles shot out halfway. Outspread wings waved around, sending the Agori hurtling off of his feet with the massive gales produced.
Than, behind the Agori, the ground exploded some more. Cracks formed—and more tentacles shot out. Now on the ground and crawling away slowly, the Agori was horrified. At that moment, a tentacle grasped his legs. Violently, it flung him back and began to crush him. A sinister cackle came from under the crack in the ground.
Viewing the Agori, bolts showered down onto the tentacles as he was crushed into oblivion. The tentacles retreated back into the ground. Shifting, metal plates could be heard sliding past others. The ground erupted again—this time, a sandstorm of dust was spewed everywhere. An armored ship rapidly hovered out of the large crack. On it was an oval-shaped cockpit. In mere moments, millions of tiny iron shards slid past each other, and finally, revealing a black and green figure inside.
The figure sprung out onto the ships deck, as it was suspended in the air in auto-pilot mode. The figure slid his claws back up his arm, and claw-like hands grasped the handles of a missile launcher on the deck. These missiles soon met the Arena's fence, blasting a large hole in it. The ship retracted its tentacles into small vessels on its side. Each time one went in, there were two clicking sounds and a hissing once they were finally stored.
The ship sped out the gaping hole in the Arena's fencing. The figure on the deck continued firing missiles at the beings below, causing massive craters to appear in the ground. To many, it seemed like the end of the world. Yet to be exact, it might as well have been. Hope was being lost - and as much as they wanted it restored, it wasn't coming back so quickly. Settling differences with the opponents wasn't going to help. War had to come to fruition, for the most intelligent Glatorian suspected that war would help them succeed in winning something: a liquid. Energized Protodermis, both a rare and a dangerous material.
And the war went on, a quest for the greedy feeling of claiming the material—but did all wish to have this material? No. There were some who wanted to cause damage for the sake of causing it.
Too late—a plan had been formed!
The Makuta were plotting to capture Glatorian, and throw them into groups surrounded by Skrall warriors. No Glatorian could bring down a Skrall quick enough to have a moment to escape the menacing grasps of the Makuta warriors.
Makuta Condin was supervising the plan, alongside his new ally, Skrall warrior Zarik. They had, alongside a group of thirty Skrall, managed to capture about twenty Glatorian. They were planning to execute the warriors one by one. One of the Glatorian was named "Gresh," another "Ehironn" and another "Pohatu". This plan of execution was one that Ehironn had known of before, and such fear sent a shiver down his rusted spine. Sadness loomed over him, as this may be the last day that he would live on this planet. Dying in front of his friends was not a favor that he wanted to accept—but he felt that, as a final revenge, mocking the Makuta for their greed would provie not only himself, but several of his comrades, with slight revenge on the Makuta.
"You really think we'll make it out of here alive?" Ehironn asked Gresh.
"There's a chance in everything," Gresh said, "Including that."
"But we can't fight back," said Ehironn. "Condin's orders."
"And who says we need to follow them?" Gresh asked with a grin. Yet Ehironn was to distressed for his friends and him to take the slight joke. The Makuta and Skrall were too strong at this point. They had ships and large guns. The Glatorian had blades and Thornax Launchers—and perhaps a few small ground vehicles. Yet nothing much that would help win the war.
"I think that we need to cheer up a bit," said Pohatu.
"And for what reason?" Ehironn asked.
"Well," Pohatu began. "Maybe this isn't the end of the world. Maybe we can survive this conflict. After all, Zeta's got to have a plan."
"Yes Pohatu—but that's only if Zeta's still alive. He'll send out his plan to everyone, only if he's still alive."
"And if he isn't, someone out there will always take charge," said Gresh.
"Exactly," said Pohatu. "Now, let's see just how darn angry we can get these boys." Pohatu smiled, and looked at Ehironn. "You ready for this one?"
"I'm with you, brother," said Ehironn.
Condin walked over, a ghost in the wind. His armor as shining as obsidian. Walking around, as if suspicous of the Glatorian, he froze behind Ehironn and Pohatu.
"Too good to be true," said Pohatu.
"By far," said Ehironn.
"Prisoners, I've insisted to my overlords that I not take you alive. You should be dead by now." Condin crept up behind Pohatu.
"Do you understand me, Toa?" Condin growled. "Your fighting shall prove no efforts if you are plotting now. If I could, I would be striking into your mind right now." Condin's fingers ran down Pohatu's back, screeching his armor. "But, of course, these things don't just have to happen so quickly. They could happen very, very slowly."
"Ah, I understand," said Pohatu.
"Comply further, Toa, and await the upcoming commands," said Condin.
The black Makuta walked over to Zarik, slapping him on the shoulder. "Keep an eye on those three," he said, pointing to Ehironn, Pohatu and Gresh.
"As you wish," said Zarik, and the Skrall warrior walked forward toward the trio.
"Well-well-well," said Pohatu. "Look who's finally come over."
"A big coward, that's what you are," said Ehironn. "You run away at the last minute—but today, you won't be so lucky."
"It is you that will be unlucky," said Zarik. Imagine a Sandstorm Viper, stalking you silently, than at the last minute, it bites you in the back. I am the viper. You are the prey. And I am—"
Ehironn swung around, and punched Zarik across the face. Chunks of black rocks went flying everywhere. Ehironn's hand was now covered in black soot from the impact.
Condin came running over. "Fool," he said to Zarik. "Idiot Glatorian. My ally is not meant to be injured. Only you are. Illusions these are, soon to strike you back ... hard. In the head. Zarik, rest by that tree."
Zarik weakly stood, shards of his broken helmet still falling to the ground.
Condin walked around Gresh, Ehironn and Pohatu, in a slow, stalking fashion.
"You know," he said." "Funny you've lived this long—all of you, actually. I'm surprised one of you hasn't blown your mind and ran. It won't help you. It only helps the death toll. And believe me ..." Condin discreetly took out a large Plasma launcher from behind his back, and held it by his side. "... we've spent quite a long time in the company of death."
Silently, Condin loaded the launcher. The missiles were specially designed to send out small disintegration pellets, which would clog up the victim's breathing system. One bullet could kill anyone on the battlefield Toa/Glatorian-sized—yet the weapon was very rare.
"We Makuta have a way of doing things. We do everything quickly, and as quick as these things happen, they mean the same affect as the average force needed to complete that very objective. Trust me—we take prisoners, but some, not for long. You three have proven to be true comedians—but, I'm sorry ..."
Condin swiftly rose the launcher—and flicked three switches before firing a yellow bullet, around three feet in length. As the bullet flew forward, a dozen small disintegration pellets shot out from all sides.
In a sharp moment of terror, the bullet struck Pohatu in the back—and actually came out through his chest, armor and bolts shooting everywhere. Ehironn and Gresh watched in horror.
Pohatu recklessly fell toward the ground, at the pellets gripped his armor. Some on his back, some on his chest—and some inside of the crater where the bullet had gone through. Pohatu coughed without end, his circuits rapidly failing. Condin grinned delightfully.
" ... but the show's over," he said, concluding his sentence.
Pohatu sputtered, fluids spewing out of his mouth. He could not speak—a pellet had gone off and destroyed his voice box. Seconds later, the pellets began going off rapidly, as his armor began to shatter more. Pohatu flipped over, his twin propeller blades spinning for an unknown reason, and so hard, that they flew off.
Condin flicked some of the switches, and fired another, normal missile at Pohatu—yet it would have no effect. As the second missile impacted him, his glowing eyes had already gone out ... forever.
Gresh staggered, shivering from the horrific sight. All he could say was ...
"What to do now?"
Condin smiled evilly, and took a giant step foward toward Pohatu's corpse. His giant foot came crashing down on the Toa's head—and it was shattered into tiny shards.
Ehironn looked at Gresh, and Gresh looked back.
"We need to act ... now." said Gresh.
"But we're trying to save so many—all of these Glatorian," said Ehironn.
"Since when?" asked Gresh.
"Just a thought," said Ehironn. "Now come on—suicide or not, we need a plan."
On the other side of the crowd, Condin loitered behind several other Glatorian, and charged his launcher. As quick as a Fire Barracuda, he shot the launcher at a jungle Glatorian, and again, in the back. The pellets shot everywhere, and moments later, the Glatorian coughed rapidly before succumbing to the threatening missile.
"I'll throw my blades at some Skrall—which should severely wound four. Than I'll fire at the others," said Gresh.
"Sound's good," said Ehironn. "I'll use my electro-blade thrower and hopefully get two. I'll fire at some more as well."
"We'll get down nearly half a third of the group—fair for a hole to escape. You ready?"
Ehironn charged up his blade launcher. "For Pohatu—and more than ever."
Quickly, Gresh and Ehironn spun around, firing their Thornax Launchers and throwing their blades. Immediatly, the Skrall began falling. Gresh and Ehironn ran toward the gap in the group, still firing back, as the other Glatorian fought back.
"Great job, my friend! Great job!" shouted Gresh.
"No problem," said Ehironn.
In a jolt of light, a tentacled-hovercraft homed in on the two warriors. Tentacles emerged, grasping several of the Glatorian and crushing them. Unlike before, the green figure inside stayed in the cockpit. Still, missiles fired at the beings below, scattering their remains everywhere. Gresh and Ehironn kept running, until ten feet ahead, they jumped over several giant wooden planks, and in front of them, a large pit. However, they hadn't stepped into safety—just more trouble.
At the bottom of the pit, a large craft sat on the ground, and a silver Makuta stood on it's deck, charging up the fuel holders on the sides. After inspecting damage on the craft and not noticing Gresh and Ehironn, he got back into the cockpit of the craft - and it was than in which he saw the two warriors. The sides of his helmet opened up and clicked as they were attached to bolts at the top of the helmet. On each side of the head, five worm-like dreadlocks squirmed out, grabbing the top of the cockpit as it closed up, thousands of digits clicking together until it was seeled shut.
"We should run," said Gresh. "Now."
Both Gresh and Ehironn bolted backwards, and turned at the sight of incoming Skrall troops. Just as they thought their lives would cease, they stumbled down a hill full of fresh weeded foliage, until they finally landed hundreds of feet down from the battle, and right in front of a rusted Thornatus vehicle. However, the projecting-pincers at the sides were jammed together due to its rusted features—yet the wheels seemed fine. Probably due to their material they were made out of.
"Should we try it out?" asked Gresh.
"It's worth a shot," said Ehironn. "Is it good on fuel?"
"How am I supposed to know?"
"You're not. It should—"
"Say it? How and where?"
Ehironn scanned the features of the old vehicle. "The sensors are broken—but it can be driven. The launcher on top of the wheel is still good. We'll load it up nicely, shall we?"
"Anything that'll help us get somewhere right now is something that I'll be happy to use," said Gresh.
TO BE CONTINUED
Current Characters[]
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