Punishment

This article was written by Chicken Bond. Please do not add to it without the writer's permission.

Punishment

Story
Setting	Matoran Universe
Date Set	1,001 years ago
Timeline
Previous	Hunted
Next	The Voyager

Punishment is an incomplete story written by user Chicken Bond. The tale revolves around the Zeverek bounty hunter Skorr, when he is hired by the Brotherhood of Makuta to embark on a perilous mission to the darkest depths of the abandoned island of Metru Nui.

Teaser[]

The Dark Times have begun.

The Makuta have successfully enacted their coup against the Great Spirit Mata Nui and plunged him into a deep eternal slumber. Now, the denizens of Mata Nui's prosperous kingdom have spiralled into misery as the Makuta's grasp over their world tightens. As the shapeshifing masters of darkness finally complete the first stage of their grand plan, their oppressive rule seems inevitable. But only if their leader is freed from his impenetrable prison first...

Whils thousands fear this new era, some have actually begun to profit from it. One of thes is Skorr, a cutthroat Zeverek turned bounty hunter with a love for all jobs risky and dangerous. He will take up any job for the right price, even when the job comes from the ones who have betrayed the trust of the Great Spirit himself. When Skorr is hired to retrieve something of value from the deserted city of Metru Nui, he does not expect much other than an easy job and a big reward. But how quickly things can change.

What is locked away in the deepest recesses of Metru Nui? Why is it so important to the Brotherhood that it requires Skorr to get it? And what is the meaning of the last words of a gruesomely murdered Makuta who died nine weeks ago? As Skorr finds himself locked in a job outside his field of expertise, perhaps even he will come to realise that not everything is worth risking for the love of money. As old sins lash out at him, Skorr will be confronted by the menaces of his toughest job ever as he travels from the valleys of the Tren Krom Peninsula to the seedy corners of Stelt. And when everything has fallen into place, he will be posed a mystery that will torture his soul for years to come...

Story[]

Prologue[]

It was dark.

But then again, it was always dark here. The place was a hazy and shadowy nullity, as if some kind of illness had struck his vision and disorientated him to the point where it seemed like he had no balance or proper sight. This place reminded him of the darkest tunnels of Onu-Metru and the deepest Lightstone mines found in the region.

There were words for places like this; words such as vile, dreadful, unearthly, ghastly and foul all filled the bill when it came to describe the awful nothingness of this black abyss. It would be a paradise for the demented, but perdition for the sane. And at the heart of the twisting and webbed emptiness, a lost soul drifted in its endless expanse.

As he stood there in a blurry void of black, which both felt and looked like a wisp of smoke, he tried to remember how he had gotten here. He saw these strange blurry images of times that may have been long ago every now and then in this place. He saw a tall, marvelous building, with spires that reached out and scraped the skyline of the heavens above. He saw a crowd of bustling Matoran, all of different colours and Kanohi masks. He heard a vaguely familiar voice echoing around them, saying words with that was meant at reassurance.

“For today, will be a momentous climax to your history.”

He heard those words, and he looked to his left. He saw lines of mechanical beings with bladed weapons attached to both arms, snarling in a mechanical, rasping voice. They looked familiar, but he couldn’t name them. He then remembered standing in front a metallic sphere, looking at the mechanical beings beside him for reassurance and then looking back at the sphere after getting none. He then remembered getting inside the strange pod, and closing his eyes tightly as he felt himself fall into a deep, dreary sleep. And then there was nothing.

“It is important that you cooperate with the Vahki enforcers.”

Vahki? What were they? He was so close to remembering everything, yet somehow so far. Why couldn’t he remember?!

Abruptly, he felt a cold aura wash over him, and he then sensed an alteration in the wind currents around in this cold void, if they could be called wind currents.

His eyes widened as the darkness seemed to focus in on one particular spot, and it swirled and swirled around like a vortex of shadows. The strength of the currents grew stronger and stronger until it seemed there was a storm of death shimmering around him. As the chaos and anarchy grew, he heard a loud cackling over the roar of the wind. A terrible voice that made his entire body go cold to the sound.

“Come! Join me, little one! Be part of my power! Bow before the Master of Shadows!”

And as the horrible voice continued to laugh in the face of the chaos, two shimmering, crimson embers that were eyes formed in the heart of the vortex.

And the innocent and oblivious Matoran screamed in terror.

A Visorak Boggarak examined the Matoran pod in curiosity. For a second, it could have sworn it had heard some kind of scream coming from within. Activating the sensor pad that unlocked the sphere, the Boggorak watched as a panel slid back to reveal the face of one of the numerous Matoran trapped in the brainwashing pods in Metru Nui’s great Coliseum.

The Matoran wore a purple Kanohi Pakari, and his body was adorned in deep black armour, obviously an Onu-Matoran. The Boggarak scanned the Matoran’s breathing rate, noting it had returned to a regular level. It was not uncommon to see fellow Visorak guards scurry around here and there to attend to a number of minor problems with the sleeping Matoran and their pods. They all knew they couldn’t afford to let even one of these Matoran suffer from some kind of breakdown or mental issue. They were, after all, their dark master’s greatest prize. And when he returned, he would not tolerate mistakes or flaws with his new subjects.

Retracting the panel to seal the Matoran’s metal prison again, the spider turned to restart its duties, and the sleeping form of Onepu remained drowned in his nightmares.

The halls of the Coliseum were dark and bathed in half-light. The building had once been the pinnacle of Matoran architecture, the crowning jewel of Metru Nui. Now, it was powerless, ruined, and the heart of one of the most destructive forces in the known universe. This force was the Visorak Horde.

A savage army of spider-like Rahi,, the Visorak Horde was a powerful division of the dreaded Brotherhood of Makuta; a malevolent faction of shadowy warriors and scientists known as Makuta, whose leader had recently masterminded a grand scheme that had not only brought Metru Nui and the rest of the world to its knees, but also Mata Nui himself.

All across the universe, workers and labourers everywhere had trembled in fear when a mighty earthquake struck their lands and symbolized Mata Nui’s downfall, and all felt cold as they sensed Mata Nui fall into a deep, endless sleep. Of all the places in the universe, Metru Nui had suffered the worst.

The Makuta assigned to the city had dared to seize power that was not rightfully his, and the only thing that was known about his coup was that he had struck Mata Nui quick and hard, drained Metru Nui of its power supply, imprisoned its inhabitants in metal spheres for some kind of brainwashing, then was imprisoned himself in an unbreakable Protodermic prison by a team of novice Toa.

Needless to say, this had been a setback for the Brotherhood and its conquests, but they had been swift to take advantage of Metru Nui’s defenselessness and sent their Visorak armies to occupy the empty city of Metru Nui, and claim the sleeping Matoran for themselves. The most important and strategic location in the universe, a symbol of hope and freedom, had fallen under the banner of an external threat for the first time in its entire history. There was no doubt that the inhabitants of Mata Nui’s kingdom had felt fear and terror when the news hit them. And that was exactly what the Brotherhood wanted. The great city had been webbed by the Visorak, and inhabited by loose, wild Rahi. This was worse than domination; this was downright treason towards Mata Nui.

The powerless and ruined city had remained shattered, perpetually bathed in lime-green light and darkness. One of the Sun Holes above Metru Nui had been completely blocked out with darkness, and the other had been obstructed somehow, now reflecting nothing more than a dark lime-green light. Some called this a reminder of how hard their world had been struck.

And the dust still settled in the dark, pale halls of the Coliseum, once the very heart of marvel and joy, but now, the heart of fear and dread. The large corridors were empty and bare, aside from the odd Matoran pod, and nothing dared move through them. And deeper into the Coliseum, in the former private chambers of the wise Turaga Dume, a titanic figure leaned back into a mighty, antique throne, shaped in the likeness of a mask-less Matoran face. His head was hidden behind a thick blanket of shadow, save for two menacing red eyes.

Bowing before this throne, was a thin, sleek and jet-black armoured creature, almost beautiful in appearance, whose very gaze gave off a feeling of superiority and power. The jet-black armour this one wore was so deep that it even gleamed and sparkled in the darkness of this room, and it almost seemed this character had been drawn from the darkest shadows themselves.

“Are you certain that what you heard was a message?” inquired the being reclining in the throne. His voice radiated with a pompous, arrogant aura with a snobbishly unpleasant feel to it.

The second being let out some kind of hiss that was strangely seductive yet almost as bone chilling as a Doom Viper’s whistle, before she then spoke in the softest, coolest and most charmingly feminine voice one would hear in a lifetime. It was as soothing and as gentle as a lake of still water, yet at the same time, as menacing and threatening as a Shallows Cat’s purr.

“Yes, my King. I am not one to hear voices in my head, for that would be a sign of madness. And you know me well enough to realize I am far from mad. Regardless, it was definitely some kind of telepathic contact. I was instructed to meet with you in your chambers for some kind of meeting. You wouldn’t doubt my claim now, would you Sidorak?”

Sidorak shifted uncomfortably in his throne, yet quickly swept it away under his disguise of dominance and detachment. But the eyes of Roodaka could still easily read the previous gesture.

“And who exactly are we supposed to be meeting here, other than each other?” he sighed with a mildly bored voice.

“That would no doubt be me,” hissed a new, cold voice.

Roodaka spun around; dark purple energy swirling at her fingertips, and Sidorak rose from his throne, blade at the ready and charged with violent red energies. Almost a second later, he lowered the tool and stood to his full, intimidating height as he stared at the figure before him. Clearing his throat aloud, Sidorak spoke.

“Makuta Krika. What brings you to my domain of Metru Nui?”

The recognizable lean, mildly armoured form of Makuta Krika was still and motionless. His eyes narrowed steadily once he met Sidorak’s gaze.

“May I remind you, Sidorak, that Metru Nui is the Brotherhood’s property. Not yours. You are simply here to watch over it in our stead. It is by no means yours.”

“Yes, yes. Of course, master Makuta,” Sidorak replied, struggling to fight back the look of embarrassment on his face. “But regardless of your outlook, what brings you here? You must have come here for a particular reason.”

Krika paused for a second, and his subordinates noticed it too. Of all the Makuta they’d met, Makuta Krika was by far the strangest. He seemed to inattentively generate an ambience of secrecy and mystery that almost compelled Roodaka herself.

“Through much research, the Brotherhood has determined that a valuable artefact is stored away here in Metru Nui. And our leader wants this artefact most dearly.”

“You mean-?”

“Yes,” hissed Roodaka sharply as she bluntly interrupted Sidorak. “The Makuta who currently bears the title of leader amongst the Brotherhood. The Makuta of Metru Nui.”

The Xian female turned to face Krika. “I assume he contacted you?”

Krika nodded. “Makuta Chirox received a telepathic message from him not long ago, informing him of what he desired and what he wanted us to do. After sharing this information with myself and a small number of other Makuta, I volunteered to tell you both of the relic that lies here.”

“And that relic would be…?” inquired Sidorak cautiously as he arched an eyebrow.

Krika hesitated, almost as if he was reluctant to share the information with anyone who wasn’t a Makuta.

“There is a legend, or myth, that hidden somewhere in this city, in the Maze of Shadows to be precise, is a gemstone. A crystal that has the unique ability to “unlock” the Protodermis cage a Toa can form with their elemental energies. Though the legends are vague, we assume it may have been some kind of object left behind by the Great Beings, if they ever did actually exist. With an object like this in our hands, we could release our leader and end the delay that plagues the Plan. We can resume progress, without any setbacks.”

For a second, Roodaka thought that she could detect a hint of resignation and guilt in the Makuta’s words, though she couldn’t be sure. Makuta were exceptionally hard beings to read, as one could only wonder if the emotions they were currently displaying were genuine or were being half-heartedly presented for another purpose. Krika chose to continue.

“The artefact can be used to unlock Makuta’s prison. For many centuries, we have known about the legends of this stone, but have had no reason to seek it out before our leader was imprisoned. And now, we need it desperately.”

“I presume this is because of the threat now posed by all Toa,” observed Roodaka coolly. Krika nodded before continuing.

“Indeed. Any number of Toa or their teams could have heard the rumours about the success that these seals have on detaining we Makuta, and they then might start using them more frequently against our number. Therefore, we will need a quick and efficient solution to counter those measures. We retrieve this stone before the Toa or any of our other foes get it first.”

Sidorak stroked his chin thoughtfully, whilst Roodaka clasped her hands behind her back, staring both of Krika’s piercing crimson eyes. The Makuta said nothing.

“Very well,” replied Sidorak, as he paced towards his superior. “I will assemble a battle squad of Visorak to attend to this matter. I shall use every weapon in my arsenal to ensure they succeed, ranging from Colony Drones to keep the soldiers going to Visorak Battle Rams to break past the Maze’s defences.”

“But that’s not the point,” Krika snapped. “The Brotherhood does not want a full-scale operation being pooled into the recovery of one stone. The Maze is equipped with an unknown number of dangers that would easily decimate any number of Visorak. We would be wasting time, resources and energy on recovering this artefact. We do not want the Hordes decimated by focusing it on recovering the object.”

“I fail to understand how anything could be powerful enough to slow the Visorak Horde,” answered Sidorak in a relaxed, yet still cautious tone. “They have conquered entire lands effortlessly, and I sincerely doubt that a few booby-traps stashed inside a half-forgotten maze would pose any challenge to them.”

“That was our belief as well,” replied Krika, the ghost of annoyance echoing in his words. “And that belief was evident when we sent a female member of my race to recover the stone personally. She did not return, and it became obvious she was killed during the task.”

There was a long pause. Finally, Roodaka stepped forward and spoke.

“And what would you have us do? If a Makuta cannot recover it, nor the Horde, then what can we use to recover this… stone?” The Xian female’s tone was soft and dangerous.

“We want you to hire a team of specialists for us.” Krika said coldly. “We want you to seek out any worthy freelance warrior with enough skill and power to hunt down and recover the relic, and we want some who’s ruthless, experienced, but above all disposable and expendable.”

“You want use to hire thieves and mercenaries?” barked Sidorak, with a smug chuckle. “We do not need to utilize such common rabble to achieve our goals. Mercenaries are cheap and worthless scum. I think—”

Sidorak’s words were cut off a twin beams of laser vision struck and seared his armour, sending him staggering backwards. Roodaka smiled slyly at her superior’s pain. As warm smoke rose from the eyeholes of Krika’s mask, the Makuta spoke again.

“I am not talking about the average cutthroat murderer, Sidorak. I am talking about the very best killers in the universe. The elite. Under normal circumstances, we would hire a pair of Dark Hunters for a job like this, but seeing as how relations with the Shadowed One are currently strained, we would like the services of a warrior with a formidable enough reputation who is totally freelance.

“If they fail to complete their mission, it will have come to no cost to us, and we would have lost nothing. Viceroy Roodaka, I trust that since Sidorak is busy attending to the matters regarding the Horde and Metru Nui’s occupation, that you will be more than capable of efficiently filling in his duties, and selecting someone suitable for our purpose. A number of members amongst the Brotherhood speak highly of your ability to carry out your assignments.”

Sidorak looked at her sheepishly, whilst Roodaka ignored his stare and smiled sinisterly as she bowed her head respectively to Krika.

“I will do as you ask, master Makuta.”

Krika chose not to reply. Instead his body shimmered slightly and he faded out of existence before the two leaders of the Horde. Roodaka turned to Sidorak, and inclined her head to him before turning and walking off.

“I will be making my way to my chambers,” Roodaka said softly. “I have much to contemplate.”

“And what exactly would you be thinking over?” asked Sidorak as he tried to gather his dignity and regain his sense of command. Roodaka stopped dead in her tracks and looked over her head, her eyes narrowed as an untrustworthy smile decorating her face.

“About who would in this world would be the best to face certain death for the right price, and be able to emerge victoriously.”

Chapter One[]

The waves crashed like towering walls of molten Protodermis against the jagged, outstretched spikes that aligned the thin shoreline. Notably, these spikes made up the lower lip of a massive cliff face that seemed to rip itself up above the ground like an obscene growth. The clouds were grey and bleak, and would remind anyone of the shadowy haze that had emerged above the Metru Nui Coliseum when the event referred to as Great Cataclysm had struck and crippled the Great Spirit.

Unpurified water sprayed in the air, and the wind blew around the thick smell of the sea. The area was desolate and barren, and no form of settlement or village would be seen for at least several miles away from this spot. Of course, that was apart from the dark castle that sat at the very edge of the massive cliff, its design reminding any visitor of one of the dreadful fortresses that had be seen during the days of the League of Six Kingdoms. It had the stench of death about it, and the grey, sinister clouds grumbled and rumbled above the nightmarish stronghold.

Raindrops fell like hailstone on the weathered, jagged rocks and the sea flew everywhere else as it coughed up a thick spray. The closest Matoran villagers refused to come to this place, it was taboo, and even Rahi beasts as large and as predatory as the Tahtorak had enough sense to avoid this place.

Not only was the area lifeless and barren, but the castle planted here just gave off the feeling of evil. The fortress was of a modest size, and its foreboding walls were enough to intimidate anyone. It was connected to the rest of the land by a small, dusty pathway that led straight through the toothy maw of the front gate. The place was called Valmai's Keep, which translated into “Cursed Place’s Keep” in the Matoran language. And the name was accurate.

The place was said to host only one occupant, whose name was smeared and soaked in the deaths of hundreds of beings. Or more. He lived in this place, and it served as a grim reminder of just how darksome many aspects of life could be. No one trailed on that winding, dusty pathway. No one passed through the gates unless they were death’s guests or victims. No one dared to have build up the courage to set foot near this place.

Until now.

A lone figure strode across the weary pathway, whose dark armour glimmered and shone through the darkness of the sky. It shimmered what little light there was, and the light flickered across the surface of rocks and boulders. The mighty being strode through the clearing until coming to a halt, standing directly in front of the toothy gateway.

Without even bothering to take into consideration the horrific folklore this building was shrouded in, the being casually flicked a hand as if one was trying to swat at a Fireflyer. In sync with that same motion, the metallic gates were sliced apart by some invisible force that acted like a sword, then crushed the bars together and dropped to the floor, a simple gesture for a user of the power of magnetism.

The being walked into the courtyard confidently, and after a few steps inside, activated another ability. The world shimmered around the stranger, and the surroundings suddenly changed and altered into a completely different room. The stone walls of the chamber were ancient and musty; the room was miserable.

There was no viewport of the outside world except for one barred window that was fairly small. The violent intruder strode over to the window, looking out, and saw he was in one of the high spires of this dreadful castle. It was almost a 60-meter drop from this tower, and the jagged rocks below on the shoreline stuck up like iron knives.

The intruder turned around to examine the new surroundings. The room was fairly empty and drab. Of course, that was if you didn’t include the dozens of Kanohi masks, weapons, armour pieces and shields that aligned the walls, held up by thin, rusty nails. These served as grim victory trophies from their collector’s past hunts. Normal beings would be disturbed seeing such a vast collection of trinkets, but the intruder did not feel anything. The intruder had expected to find such a stack of trophies in this fortress. Its occupant was said to enjoy looking over these masks and tools as a reminder of his success.

Suddenly, a thick, iron door in the far room was kicked open, nearly off its hinges, and a figure darted into the room. The being was short, and was coloured in green armour that was as dark as the thickest jungle vines. A Kanohi Mahiki was covering his face with matching colours, and as soon as he saw the intruder, his eyes widened in shock.

The dark-green newcomer, obviously a Le-Matoran, drew some kind of tool that looked like it was from a crafter’s kit box. The intruder chuckled lightly as the Matoran aimed the tool at him, but was cut off when a surprisingly strong amount of yellow electricity hammered forwards and made its mark. Sparks flew off the trespasser, whose armour sizzled and hissed in response.

The infiltrator growled angrily, and raised a clawed hand and point at the Matoran, channeling an amazingly powerful blast of power from a pointed index finger directly at him.

With surprising agility, the Matoran leaped and dodged the sharp blast, which caused the ground and part of the nearby wall to fragment and violently explode into a thousands tiny pieces of shrapnel and rubble. The Matoran dived and scraped across the floor, narrowly avoiding a head-sized rock piece that would’ve crushed his skull, only to then get back to his feet and raise his device again to fire another bolt of crackling energy at a staggering speed.

The bolt would never meet its target.

The intruder simply activated yet another ability, and immediately, the physical form of the being was stretched so dramatically, that it completely bent backwards with almost effortless flexibility. Some kind of power over elasticity it seemed.

The infiltrator quickly regained a proper pose and posture and, with lightning-fast reflexes that dazzled the Matoran’s eyes, fired a beam of black and crimson power that swirled like sinister clouds of doom. The Matoran reeled backwards crying out in pain as the dark energy scorched his armour, and was then knocked completely off-balance and onto the ground by a twin pair of extremely hot beams of power coming from the intruders eyes. The Matoran’s weapon clattered to the ground, well out of reach, even as the Matoran feebly tried to muster what little strength he had left and claw his way to the weapon.

A thin smile stretched across the intruder’s face that seemed more of a crease on a mouth-less Kanohi than an actual smile. The stranger then opened that crease-like feature and screamed. A scream so loud it made the rocky walls crack, caused deep scars to web rapidly across their surfaces. The wall of trophies shook unstably, and a spiked mace fell to the ground whilst a blue Kanohi Pakari literally exploded from the sound into millions of tiny shards.

The Matoran clutched his audio receptors tightly, his eyes shut tightly and his face riddled with pain and agony. His fingers looked like they were literally drilling into his Kanohi mask. Even after the intruder had stopped, this almighty power scream continued to echo for several seconds, and the sound was still enormously high as far as the decibel system was concerned. The intruder expected that even the deepest sleeper on the outskirts of this entire region and beyond would hear this sound.

When the noise was finally over, the intruder looked at the stunned and very unconscious form of the Matoran. His eyes were closed, but in some peculiar and odd way, the body may as well have been blessed with a deep, peaceful and dreamlike sleep. Of course, the Matoran was still alive, and the intruder knew that the petty being should be thankful for the mercy expressed. After all, Makuta weren’t famous for their goodwill.

The intruder’s line of thought was suddenly interrupted when another figure charged into the room, a frenzy of gold and blue. A scream escaped the mouth of this bizarre, heavily armoured warrior, and he drew a wicked three-bladed sword and attempted to slice at the trespasser’s torso. The attack was blocked by the armour on the invader’s elbow, and a sold punch with the palm of the his other free hand.

The warrior, obviously a Skakdi, growled loudly in frustration as he struggled to overcome his opponent, but remained so focused on his struggle with sword and fist that he remained unaware of his foe’s plans. And then, in one swift motion, a well-timed and extraordinarily powerful kick to the chest sent the Skakdi flying backwards at the speed rivaling a freshly launched Kanoka disk.

The Skakdi didn’t have time to scream as he was pounded into one of the already horrendously fragmented walls, sending the whole barrier collapsing on top of him and burying him. The intruder grinned like a hungry Kinloka before sensing something unusual in the air currents. Then the silence was broken by the sound of a throat being cleared rather impatiently. The intruder whirled around to confront another potential enemy, only to meet a hard fist to the face which made the whole world spin like a Rhotuka spinner in flight.

The intruder blinked once. Then twice. Then thrice.

And once all senses had finally been gathered and recollected, it was now noticeable that the trespasser was lying on the cold ground and looking down a steaming barrel of some kind of firearm, a red beam being focused in-between the intruder’s eyes. And looking down the scope of this weapon was a grim-faced creature. He wasn’t smiling.

“Identify yourself, moronic blockhead! What makes you stupid enough to break into my base? Were you planning on looting my riches or just looking for a sweet suicide?”

The trespasser’s face was empty and impassive. And when a voice left the invader’s lips, it was feminine.

“I am not here for either reason, Skorr. I am here for a proposal. Though it is below my standards to be carrying out such errands, I have nonetheless been assigned by higher powers to deliver a message to the loosest subject under my reign here on the Tren Krom Peninsula.”

In a fast motion that seemed almost perfectly rehearsed, Skorr had pulled away the weapon and slid it back into a holster strapped to his waist.

“Makuta Gorast,” he murmured in a deep, gravelly voice that was tinted in a strange, foreign enunciation. Gorast recognised it as fairly standard Mevockian accent.

The Makuta sneered as she rose to her feet and stood at her full height. She was in a particularly tall form with a lean build that was coloured black. She bore spikey shoulder armour that made it seem as if a number of Rahi horns had violently jutted out of them. Her hands ended in thin, nasty-looking talons. Skorr fought back the uneasiness that he felt. Across the universe, Makuta Gorast was known for her ruthlessness and cruelty.

She was malevolent, and even made some of the most ruthless Dark Hunter operatives seem mild and friendly. Skorr had bumped into her once during his days in the criminal society known as the Shadow Syndicate, a mission that ended with Skorr needing to be at the Syndicate’s healers for roughly two months. The two had been drawn into a dispute over Skorr’s lack of permission to hunt in Gorast’s territory. After finally recomposing himself in front of the shadowy dictator, Skorr decided it was time to address her.

“What brings you to my… humble abode? I see you have already made yourself at home by trashing my personal trophy room.” Skorr flexed his hand uneasily. After all, punching a Kanohi mask forged from Protosteel could possibly crush someone’s fist in one go. It was lucky enough his fist was only a little sore instead of entirely broken.

“As I already said, I am here to give you a job. The Brotherhood requires your services.”

“Things must be desperate if they’re sending you instead of one of your moronic goons to tell me this,” Skorr chuckled smugly as he folded his arms. “Just goes to show how unreliable your little circle of associates are. What is it this time? More Toa bodyguard insurgences?”

Gorast growled as she activated her Mask of Disruption to make the systems in Skorr’s gauntlets go haywire, sending an electrical discharge through his body that shocked the Zeverek before he managed to regain control of his pads.

“Your employment by my brother Makuta was not officially authorised by the Brotherhood as an operation. You have no right to use that as leverage against us.”

Gorast’s eyes flashed with red energy, and her claws swirled with crimson power.

“Especially against me.”

Skorr didn’t bother conjuring another snide and witty remark. He didn’t want a chunk of his charismatic face removed from his head, after all. The silence was broken by the sound of rubble and rock being shuffled, and the two turned to see the gold and blue Skakdi who had been buried earlier digging his way out of the rubble. He looked up at Gorast, and immediately, his eyes were ablaze with the infamous Skakdi rage.

“You!” he growled in an almost primal tone as his rush to dig his way out of the rubbe; increased. In mere seconds, the brute had almost completely dug his way out of the remnants of the wall, and after salvaging his menacing blade from the ruins, charged forwards towards Gorast with unparalleled fury in his movements.

“I will kill you! I will snap your head off and feed your body to my—”

The Skakdi’s words were cut off when the solid fist of Skorr slammed into his jaw and sent him flying backwards into one of the still intact walls. Skorr rolled his eyes in an annoyed manner as the Skakdi slumped to the ground again.

“Try not to attack our clients, Arzok. That usually has an impact on my deals and my operations.”

There was a gap in the conversation where nothing but utter silence ruled. Skorr then briskly turned back to Gorast, a sinister smile decorating his toothy, skull-like face.

“Shall I take you on the grand tour whilst we discuss business?”

Gorast didn’t smile back, but began following Skorr as he passed through the door the Matoran had charged through earlier. Gorast stepped over his still unconscious body.

“You didn’t kill him, did you?” asked Skorr as he passed through the door, a hint of concern in his tone. It was quickly buried underneath the cool and smug disguise of Skorr’s voice. “Invex is pretty critical to the efficiency of my gear, so I’d prefer him alive.”

“He is not dead,” Gorast replied. “But his ears will be a little sore when he wakes up.”

Skorr smiled back. “If there’s no pain, there’s no gain. That is how the saying often goes, correct?”

Gorast didn’t bother replying. Skorr chuckled in return.

The two wondered through the narrow corridors of Skorr’s fortress for roughly two minutes. Stone Rats scurried across the ground, their feet making a gentle pitter-patter sound as they dashed around the floor.

“What is this place?” inquired the female Makuta as they continued to pace through the dark, almost lightless corridors. Skorr chuckled.

“It was originally an outpost for the Barraki warlords when the League of Six Kingdoms was still around, and was used to mark their territory on the Northern Continent. When they disappeared and the League collapsed, it was looted, plundered and abandoned. Its amazing it wasn’t reduced to rubble.”

“I agree,” answered Gorast, as she thought back to the occasion where she and another of her brethren, Mutran, had been sent to clean up the mess in the kingdom of Barraki Kalmah after his fall.

“It then gained status among the superstitious locals as a cursed and haunted place; one where the dark spirits of the world would gather to plot against the Great Spirit. Honestly, I’ve never heard of such utter rubbish in my whole life. Nonetheless, I was eventually attracted to this place by its reputation and decided that with a few… homey touches, it would suit me nicely.”

The narrow corridor they were walking down then broke out into a modest-sized room, but it looked more like a padded dungeon than a room. There was a caged Doom Viper in the far left-hand corner that was hissing and snarling angrily with all six of its heads. Metal chains and shackles dangled and clanked together as they hung from the ceiling. In the centre of the room were a few pieces of basic furniture, none looking particularly comfortable. The black, metal armchair that rested in the middle of the room looked suited only for a Vahki drone.

The steely side table had a Lightstone embedded into its surface, and beside it was what looked like a kind of weapons stand. Behind these furniture pieces was a large, circular door, which looked thick enough to withstand a blow from a charging Kikanalo’s horn. Obviously, the doorway led to some kind of vault or safe, no doubt a place to store the bounty hunter’s numerous riches and treasures.

Skorr leapt into the iron chair and stared down at Gorast, his red eyes gleaming with selfish desire and sinister curiosity.

“So tell me, Makuta Gorast. What job do you require me to fulfill?”

Gorast fought back an urge to snarl at the mercenary. She despised those that showed disrespect towards the Makuta. Had Skorr been a Brotherhood servant, he would have no doubt been decapitated by now.

“I have no doubt you have heard of the Visorak Horde’s occupation of the ruined island of Metru Nui. The Brotherhood’s military holds the city in its grasp at last, but now we are faced with a complication. Our great leader has been sealed in an impenetrable cage of Protodermis, one which cannot be unlocked without the same elemental powers used to create being used to break it.”

“I know more than enough about Protodermis cages,” Skorr said disrespectfully, as he examined the tips of his fingers. “Skip the physics lesson, and tell me why you need me.”

Gorast was now trying her absolute hardest not to disrupt the molecular structure of Skorr’s body and painfully split it apart.

“The Brotherhood believes that hidden deep inside Metru Nui’s Maze of Shadows is a keystone with the power of unlocking these Toa cages, which we can utilise to free our master, who is currently bound in a cage.”

“Ah, yes. I heard of your leader’s legendary defeat by those novice Toa. But enough on that, where in Metru Nui will I find this object?”

“I do not have all the details,” replied Gorast. “you will have to discuss those matters with our main operatives in Metru Nui, Sidorak and Roodaka. They will tell you what you will need to know. All I need is your word to take up this job.”

Skorr laughed; a truly horrible sound. “Hold your Rahi, Makuta. We haven’t even got down to the discussion of a small matter of payment for this job. I don’t work for free.”

Gorast growled. “The Brotherhood is willing to pay you handsomely with a high amount of Lightning Emeralds fresh from the underground mining tunnels of the Southern Continent.”

“How much are we talking about?” inquired Skorr as he stroked his chin in a manner that all but revealed his curiosity.

“Two hundred pounds of that mineral will be given to you upon completion of the job.” Gorast answered. “You will receive this deposit from our servants in Metru Nui. But be silent for now. Will you take up this task?”

Skorr’s smug and playful demeanor had suddenly vanished, and his features were now hard and serious. After a second of contemplating, he looked up to meet Gorast’s gaze and made his decision.

“No.”

Gorast’s almost broke her calm look by throwing on a truly baffled look. “No? What do you mean ‘no’?”

“It’s means I’m not taking up this job. Do I look like an idiot? This is a fool’s errand and those are the jobs I do not do. If this artefact is so valuable, why not hire one of your archeologists to retrieve it?”

“We already tried,” replied Gorast. “They all failed.”

“Exactly my point,” snapped Skorr. “This is a suicide mission and you know it!”

Gorast had already lost her patience long ago, though she still had one final card to play in this mercenary’s debate, one that could well turn the tables into her favour.

“Come now, bounty hunter. I know you need the money. You are living in relatively pressuring times at the moment, are you not? Perhaps a little bit tight on money as well?”

Skorr tensed and shifted uncomfortably in his char, his steely eyes breaking off from Gorast’s gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, don’t deny it, Skorr. Ever since Mata Nui fell, you’ve been falling in debt. Your career is spiraling into a violent free-fall! The chaos that has followed Metru Nui’s fall is putting every job you want on hold until some form of order is established in the world. I think I’m right in assuming your work is on the line, and you are entering a downtime.”

Skorr now looked heavily displeased. “My financial problems are none of your business, Makuta!”

“Oh don’t try to hide it. You’re virtual bankruptcy is as well known as the tales of Artakha. I suspect you’ve also lost a fair deal of money gambling haven’t you, or perhaps you’ve been involved in one too many bets on Steltian gladiatorial matches that went the wrong way? I’m guessing you’re spending the last of your fortune trying to maintain the services of your contacts, aren’t you?”

Skorr slammed his fist on the arm of his chair in anger.

“This is merely one stage of my career. Yes, I’m in a depression, yes I’m nearly broke, yes I’m living in poverty! But no successful bounty hunter can go through a good life without experiencing some kind of low point in their career.”

“Which is why I am offering you a fast and painless way to get out of your downtime!” hissed Gorast impatiently. “A substantial reward for a job that will take you into Metru Nui and out. How many more chances to regain the economic high ground will you get? This fee could easily pay off any debts you may have and still leave you considerably wealthier.”

“The risks on this job are many,” insisted Skorr. “This mission is dangerous.”

Gorast smiled sinisterly, as she said the one thing that she knew would infuriate Skorr the most.

“Is it fair for me to assume that perhaps your infamous reputation has been a little… Overstated?”

Skorr was about to explode with barely contained white-hot anger, but he knew he had to think logically. Could his desperate need to resolve his financial crisis outweigh his strong urge for self-preservation? When Mata Nui had allegedly fallen, Skorr had decreed that he would be the consummate survivor; he had become determined to comfortably sit out the storm provoked by the Brotherhood’s grand strike and maintain his position in the universe.

But plans, as they often do, change. With his funds drying out, the Brotherhood’s chaos had thrown his job in anarchy. No one was willing to contract him whilst they were dealing with the problems caused by the doomsday scenario of the Great Spirit’s fall. But now, he had a chance to regain some control of his situation.

After looking away from Gorast for an entire minute, Skorr forced himself to meet her gaze, heavy reluctance in his eyes, and he said the words that concluded their business behind a mask of smug detachment.

“I’ll take on any job you throw at me for the right price, Gorast. So I’ll accept your bounty and promise to complete it to the best of my ability. As long as I get paid to the full, it makes no difference to me.”

“Excellent. You will have to go to Metru Nui first,” said Gorast as she began to shimmer and disappear. “Gather your resources and meet with Viceroy Roodaka. She will tell you what to do from there.”

And without another word said, Makuta Gorast, ruler of the Tren Krom Peninsula, mistress of the acid falls and conqueror of the Visorak Horde, completely phased out of existence. Skorr snorted childishly as he activated his sensor and scanned his fortress.

“She didn’t even bother to clean up afterwards.”

Invex grumbled as he sat at the metal workbench Skorr had provided him, subconsciously fiddling with some of the inner circuitry of his associate’s Plasma Launcher. Though manufactured by the Xians, Invex could clearly notice the design aspects that belonged to the elusive crafters known as the Nynrah Ghosts.

Though production of the weapon had been forcibly outlawed by the Brotherhood due to the hazards they posed to Makuta, a few models still existed, and Skorr had purchased his own one in a shady auction via a Vortixx arms dealer he had become particularly infatuated with named Aretha. Though they were undeniably drawn to each other, Invex knew the two of them purposely played on each other’s passions to manipulate them for their own ends; it was hysterical to watch one of the two so subtly influence the other without realising that the other was also toying with their emotions just as much.

It was some kind of obsessively manipulative, parasitic relationship.

And it was in one such manipulative game that Skorr had managed to buy his Plasma Launcher at an especially discounted price. He had then handed the weapon to Invex, who had analysed the weapon and learned how to replicate it, should Skorr’s current model be destroyed. Each of these replicas were now 100% handcrafted.

As he continued to tamper with the weaponry, he heard the sound of Skorr and his Skakdi thug Arzok screaming at each other, both obviously in some kind of argument; probably over Arzok’s fist-to-the-face encounters with both Gorast and Skorr.

“You punched me in the face!” he heard Arzok cry out in fury.

“You threatened a customer,” retorted Skorr, who had decided to counter Arzok’s aggression with coolly passive attitude.

“How was I meant to know that an armoured female battling Invex and destroying the trophy room was a customer?!”

Invex rolled his eyes in annoyance as he returned to his tinkering. Unlike the Brakas-brained brute over there, he honestly didn’t care whether he had received injuries from Gorast or not. In fact, he was quite proud that he had held off Gorast and lived to tell the tale, yet now that he thought about it, his audio receptors were rather sore now. Though even with his earache, he could still hear Skorr’s witty repertoire of retorts. As he listened, the Mahiki-wearer didn’t notice his finger cross over the wrong circuit.

“Simple: you actually ask them what they’re doing! Use that bruised brain of yours to actually think rather than headbutt rocks and ram through walls! You...”

Skorr’s words were abruptly cut off, as a small implosion of electrical force sent the green-armoured form of Invex flying across the room and against the far wall. The crumpled Matoran slouched down before looking up.

“L-looks like the electrical immunity systems of your weapon are yet to be perfected,” mumbled Invex in a slurred voice, his eyes half closed. “S-seems like an… overload in the forward channeling circuitry.”

Arzok took his eyes off Invex and swirled back to face Skorr. “Skorr, this job ain’t worth it. I can feel it in my teeth. Whatever the Brotherhood wants you to do is probably near suicidal. Plus, it was also offered by one of the most psychotic Makuta around. Surely that’s an indicator this is a bad job!”

“Arzok, I didn’t become as well-reputed as I did by cowering away from certain missions. If the pay is good, then the job is mine, and you know just as well as I do that we really need this reward. We still owe a lot of finances to several people out in this big cesspool of a universe.”

Arzok muttered some foul Skakdi curse. Skorr happily ignored it.

“Fine, have it your way. But I’ll still be expecting double my normal rate from this mission.”

“Of course, of course,” replied Skorr as he waved his hand dismissively. “We’ll get that reward and cut the shares fairly between us three. That way we can pay off our own problems and jumpstart our careers again. Now, you two start making your way to Metru Nui. I’ll meet your there.”

“W-where are you going?” croaked Invex as he supported himself on a small stool. Skorr looked over his shoulder and gave them his signature, untrustworthy grin.

“I’m off to pick up some information.”

Chapter Two[]

Stelt was quiet on this night, a rare occurrence for the desolate, lawless island. It was no secret to anyone that Stelt was a chaotic and dodgy place, as well as a hot spot for criminal activity. Conspiracies were cemented here every day, as were seedy deals that were best kept from any number of nameless vigilantes or the Toa. The employment of the universe’s worst scum often occurred in this port.

And in one of those shabby, crumbling streets of this crooked crossroad of fates, there was shouting, jeering and cheering which could all be heard echoing down the block, coming from a small worn-out inn that looked like it had definitely seen better days. Two large blue and white armoured bruisers stood outside the wooden door, their arms crossed and their expressions blank. Members of this brutish species were not famous for their intelligence or wit, but were usually employed more for their brawns than their brains.

They took all the simple, easy jobs that were offered, ones that didn’t require exceptional brainpower. However, tonight wasn’t a night that would be easy for them. As they stood guard in front of the tavern, which looked slightly tilted to one side as if it was slouching against something, it soon came to their attention that someone was approaching them. The two bruisers clenched their fists, and their knuckles instantly crackled. Their muscles bulged menacingly.

“Inn’s full. Nobody in tavern ‘till next day. Go away.”

The figure approaching them didn’t falter in his confident paces through the filthy street, making one of the bruisers punch his own palm to make himself look even more intimidating. Unfortunately, it did nothing but make him look an idiot.

“Go away now! Boss no want people in!”

As they continued to threaten, they could finally make out the being walking towards them. He was tall, with a lean and vaguely reptilian physique due to a bladed tail that swished gently on the ground. His armour was jet-black and silver, with a pair of two-toed feet and a hard, rough features. Two red eyes seemed to stab through their thick armour like a dagger through silk. His skull-white face was a pale white that itched with a sinister, toothy grin. Skorr’s smile widened.

“Sorry to bother you two. But I’ve got a meeting with your employer, and I’d rather not have to go through two hollow-headed halfwits to get to him.”

“You calling us stupid?” asked one of the thugs menacingly.

“So you do have a degree of intelligence after all!”

Instantly enraged by an insult they didn’t fully understand, the two bruisers charged forwards, their fists ready for a shot that would shatter rock. The first thug lurched forward when Skorr moved with unexpected speed and dodged the hit, before dealing a fist of his own to the hired thug’s dull face. Skorr finished him with

With his ally stunned and out, the other paid muscleman flung his fists around like lifeless tools as he tried to hit the foe in front of him. His first shot missed, then his next, but his third one struck Skorr’s shoulder blade and sent him lurching backwards. The thug roared as he attempted to flow up with another punch, only for his fist to meet a wall of pure red energy. The thug growled as he clenched his fist in pain whilst his opponent deactivated the circular energy shield that had protected him from the attack.

“You can’t blame someone for having too many gadgets. Speaking of which…”

Skorr raised his opposite arm, and before the bruiser could react, he found himself inhaling a foul gas that was striking deep into his conscious state like a poison-tipped knife. Even the witless thug could figure it was some kind of nerve toxin. The thug took a sharp gasp of air as he fell to one knee, and hit the ground with a loud thump. Then his shoulder was impaled with the sharp blade of Skorr’s tail. The poisonous venom laced on the tail spike instantly coursed through the thug’s systems, and in mere seconds, he had collapsed into a coma.

Skorr raised an eyebrow as he examined the two bodies on the ground. Whether they were alive or dead was anyone’s guess. He shrugged sarcastically.

“Why do these thuggish rabble always get beaten the same way by me?”

Without another word, he walked passed the two bodies, and pushed open the crumbling, wooden door of the Tahtorak's Talon. Immediately, Skorr found himself almost overwhelmed by thick, gaseous tentacles of smoke, the sound of loud, slurred shouting and the heavy smell of odd concoctions. There were few lights in the battered interior of this shabby establishment, the only real traces of light coming from the wide windows, which were boarded up with shutters.

His two-toed feet creaked against the wooden floorboards of the shabby inn, and he pushed his way deeper into the crowds of cheering crooks, cutthroats and thieves as they formed a fight circle around a raging Skakdi and a member of Sidorak’s species.

Skorr struggled to the other side of the foul-smelling tavern, rolling his eyes in annoyance as he continued. How people managed to make their shady deals in such noise was a mystery to him. Though he often fought dirty and dealt with the bloodiest jobs, he still preferred to deal his business in a straightforward, civilised manner.

After reaching the edge of the room, Skorr pushed through another door that revealed a dim, filthy staircase. Skorr quickly ascended them to the next floor, even as the unstable set creaked and wobbled dangerously under his own weight. Upon reaching the landing, he made a left turn and strode down a surprisingly clean and orderly corridor, with dull metal doorways aligned on both sides. It was on this floor that the inn’s wealthier and more influential visitors stayed, in order to avoid the racket downstairs.

It was therefore much more expensive to stay in these rooms, but they were much more secure and comfortable. After all, Skorr himself had residence on this level whenever he was making stays on Stelt. The other, poorer and more desperate visitors of the Tahtorak’s Talon were forced to reside on the floor below, where someone had a higher chance of getting stabbed in their throat whilst in a deep sleep.

Skorr inked his way down the corridor like a Bog Snake on the hunt, and slithered closer to a thick, bolted door that looked more like a bunker hatch than an actual entrance. He rattled his fist on the metallic doorway three times when a panel opened up, and two red eyes that were as hard as steel beamed through.

“Who is it?” barked an impatient, testy voice, which was as chilling as it was nerve-wracking. Skorr had heard it enough times to not be intimidated or toyed by it.

“Relax, it’s only me.” Skorr replied coolly, and almost instantly, the door flung wide open on screeching, rusty hinges. At the door stood one of the most repulsive and disgusting things he had seen ever in his life.

The person standing before him was adorned in metallic grey armour, which seemed like the forces of gravity had crushed it to ruins ten times over. The figure was short, and was hunched forward like a Furnace Salamander. It was amazing he wasn’t relying on some kind of cane or walking stick to support himself.

His bent, deformed frame allowed his absolutely hideous head to hang forward. His cranium was long and thin, while his manipulative and untrusting crimson eyes sunk deep into recesses of his skull’s eyeholes. His deathly stare seemed to resemble the gaze of a starving Zivon. His mouth was missing several teeth, and his lower jaw hung forward as two unnaturally long fangs protruded upwards. He looked more like some failed experiment in a Makuta’s laboratory than a sentient being.

“Is this a social call or are you here to deal?” he said in a mildly calm tone.

“Jekart, when do I ever come for social calls? Bounty hunters with a high body count, good reputation and a tendency to get people killed don’t have friends. We only have assets.”

“Whatever you say,” snorted Jekart. “Come in and make yourself comfortable.”

Jekart’s quarters were surprisingly crammed and small, as one would have thought that being the owner of the inn, Jekart would have given himself the largest and most spacious room available. The room was lined with large bookcases filled with countless tablets of information and records that Jekart no doubt used as references and sources for his thoroughly researched information.

There was a desk in the centre of the room, with two seats positioned on the opposites sides. The battered wooden table, like the establishment’s architecture, slumped to one side slightly, in this case the left. Lining its surface were countless carvings and plaques that were messily piled on top of each other.

“You could’ve called at an earlier time or warned me in advance,” grumbled Jekart as he seated himself behind the desk. “You know I’m busy. Wealthy clients are always queuing up for my information. Besides, I was just reading an interesting story. I heard a gang of Skakdi just raided a tavern belonging to one of the local traders.”

“I’m surprised you can read so peacefully with that racket downstairs,” replied Skorr, ignoring the informant’s complaints.

“Racket?” retorted Jekart in a tone that hinted a small amount of amused bewilderment. “What do you mean? That’s a normal night in that eyesore of a social gathering downstairs, but back to business. What do you want to know?”

Skorr sat down in the chair and leaned in close towards Jekart’s ugly face. His voice was cold and empty and no louder than a whisper.

“I want you to tell me what you know of the Maze of Shadows.”

There was a moment of silence before Jekart let out a hoarse laugh that sounded more like the dry scream of a dying Ice Bat. “The Maze of Shadows? Are you being serious? Come on Skorr, don’t tell me your going up there.”

Skorr titled his head onto an angle that seemed unusually casual. “When do I ever joke when it comes to my contracts?”

Jekart’s grin faltered somewhat but still remained. “Give me a minute, Skorr. I think I may have the information you desire. You may as well get my pay ready.”

Immediately the informant began digging through the piles of tablets lying on his desk. It took several seconds of cursing, groaning and grumbling before Jekart’s face remerged from the piles with what Skorr wanted to know. Clearing his throat, Jekart scanned his tablets and began to read out his knowledge.

“Based on my research alone, the Maze of Shadows is an extensive and desolate series of shadowy tunnel systems that run deep above Metru Nui, somewhere through the island city’s dome. Little is known about the Maze itself, other than it’s an extremely complex network and that it is extremely easy to get lost or killed in it. No one truly knows what’s inside it. No one knows exactly where the entrances to the tunnels are, but I’m sure your employers can give you more details into how to enter the Maze, if you still want to take up this bounty, that is.”

Skorr sneered. “Why is this job so untouchable? You’re the second person to warn me against taking up the Brotherhood’s offer.”

“Most mercenaries wouldn’t take up a suicide mission for the pay, Skorr.”

“Most mercenaries don’t find themselves in my current situation and get an offer like I did. So tell me, what makes this job any different from any other?”

Jekart’s features shifted uncomfortably as he leaned back in his chair. “Ever since the Brotherhood took out the Great Spirit, if he even properly exists, people have become more reluctant to sign up and do jobs for them. The jobs are just getting too suspicious and too unusual. No one knows what the Brotherhood will gain from these odd jobs. There are quite a lot of people out there who don’t want to see the Makuta reigning supreme.”

“Jekart, I’m not here to talk about the morals of my work. I don’t care who reigns and who rules. I just want to get paid and I want to live comfortably. I’m sure the rumours of my financial difficulties have reached your ears.”

Jekart sighed. “Well, if your still convinced to do this mission, then you’re in luck. I may have an item of interest that may aid you.”

The informant then laid a strange object on the table, which glittered slightly in the dim light. It was obviously some kind of compass, but its design and function was unknown.

“Mind telling me what this oddity is and what it does?” asked Skorr flatly.

Jekart rolled his eyes. “Its an ancient object a Dark Hunter client of mine recovered from the Onu-Metru Archives quite some time ago. Traded it for a bit of information I had on a barricaded fortress. According to him, the object was some kind of navigator designed to lead its user through the Maze of Shadows to any chambers set on the compass. If you program it to hunt out a certain room, it will lead you there.”

Skorr smiled as he snatched up the compass and placed it in his utility belt, which snapped shut again with a sharp click. Amongst the many compartments of his belt, he had stored everything ranging from bolas to escape gadgets for this mission. One would be surprised how much he could keep in such a belt, considering it was made from the hide of a Muaka he had personally hunted.

“Thanks for the relic, Jekart. Pleasure doing business with you, as usual.”

Skorr was about to stand, when Jekart grabbed his arm tightly, forcing the Zeverek to meet his gaze. That hard, selfish look that had shattered peoples’ wills many times in the past.

“Now Skorr, I’m sure you wouldn’t just get this information without considering paying me. After all, I’m sure you wouldn’t want the gentlemen outside this room to be forced to give you an escort, would you?”

The Zeverek sneered. “We both know they wouldn’t last ten seconds against me. But since you are such a reliable source…”

Skorr tossed a small sack onto Jekart’s desk, which the informant scooped up in his hand with haste, his eyes glittering with greed. Untying the strap that bound it together, Jekart cupped his hand as he deposited the bag’s contents into his hands. The deep blue diamonds shimmered with an otherworldly glow.

Skorr fought back the urge to express his disdain at the expensive payment he had just given up. Jekart’s terms for information were considerable, but his information was too reliable to pass up. The payment Skorr had just given away was the last of Skorr’s primary funds, so this information definitely had to be worth it. He brought his eyes back to Jekart as he examined the gemstones with a look that seemed romantic. Not surprising, considering Jekart’s love of profit.

“Why do my customers always think exotic blue gems will cement their business with me?” Jekart said gleefully as he examined the diamonds in his hands.

Having finally had enough of him, Skorr decided to leave the informant to indulge in his own greed. As he turned to leave, Jekart looked up again, this time with a vague look of concern; a look most uncharacteristic for one such as Jekart.

“Remember Skorr, the Maze of Shadows isn’t for the faint-hearted or the foolish. Be careful and have your wits about you.”

Skorr stopped and peered over his shoulder, a cold grin on his face. “You haven’t started developing a soft spot for me, have you Jekart?”

“Of course not!” The information dealer said as he huffed a bit. “You’re a good client who pays well. I see nothing else from there on.”

Skorr chuckled. “Thanks for the information.”

Turning his back away, the Zeverek entered the main corridor again and began making his way towards the stairs. Less than five steps into the corridor, Skorr had noticed a towering giant, silhouetted behind an inky hooded cloak, striding gracefully towards Jekart’s chamber. The person gave Skorr the shivers. The giant passed Skorr passively, and the bounty hunter heard Jekart sigh irritably as he approached the door.

“You again,” he grumbled. “Look, I already told you, I haven’t found out anything about your…. unique condition. What you ask of me is impossible.”

Skorr overhead muffled whispering and the sound of Jekart’s groaning. “Alright then. Come inside so we can discuss this in private.”

He then heard the door to Jekart’s door slam shut again. Whatever that dialogue meant would probably be irrelevant to Skorr or anyone else. He doubted it was anything important beyond Jekart and his client.

It took a few minutes for Skorr to push his way through the crowd of thugs and cutthroats, and even longer to get passed the two bruisers who he had blocked him off earlier. By the time he had reached his ticket off the miserable cesspool, it was already midnight. Skorr passed by the shabby inns and trader’s shops as he made his way through the large Steltian docklands.

The coasts of this land were in many ways the universe’s crossroads, a place where the good, the bad and the ugly all met and mingled, because out of all the lands of Mata Nui’s kingdom, Stelt was the best place to lay low in. From this desolate war-torn land, shady kingpins and corrupt masterminds spearheaded much of the world’s criminal activities. The ports and docks here were significant to Stelt’s ability to flourish and profit; after all, the Steltian sea channels often swallowed up almost anything that came its way: rogues, thieves, murderers, cutthroats, traders or refugees. All of them contributed to the state of anarchy and lawlessness that ruled Selt’s boundaries.

Skorr slipped around another bend of the dilapidated streets, and finally reached his destination as the ground changed from rough gravel to coarse sand. Striding onto a small and empty beach, he approached a crude shelter. It was nothing special, not even half as good as a cheap Matoran’s home. In fact, all it was really was a small wooden shed lying out on the polluted waterfront, with the only interesting thing about the outhouse being the large thug laying in front of the door with his legs outstretched and snoring loudly.

Skorr strode up to the dreary guard and gave him a sharp kick in the chest. The enforcer wheezed himself awake, his eyes almost bursting out of their sockets as he tried to cope with the winding hit he had just received.

“Sleeping on the job?” inquired Skorr callously. “I pay you to safeguard, not rest! You weren’t really sleeping, were you?”

“N-no boss,” groaned the thug as he forced himself onto his feet fearfully. “Just havin’ quick rest.”

“Yes, well I’m not paying cheaply. Is my vessel secure?”

“Y-yes boss,” stuttered the thug. “Not a shiny piece out of place.”

“Good,” whispered Skorr as he slipped a few numbers of Stelt’s adopted currency into the bruiser’s hands. “Buy yourself some medical supplies to fix up that chest wound. I think I may have broken a thing or two in your body. Honestly, when will my tally of hurting your kind ever end?”

With a dull look in his face, the labourer greedily grasped the payment in his large clumsy hands and lumbered off. Skorr didn’t even bother to look after him; instead his attention was on the thing inside the shack when he opened the door. A quick scan of it would tell anyone it was of Xian origin; the design just possessed that sleek air and menacing feel that was a trademark of Vortixx technology.

The other thing the viewer would notice is that it was obviously some kind of modified aerial vehicle, and any excessive buyers of Vortixx goods would identify it as the Kualsi X3, the prototype model of an intended breed of fast courier crafts. The vehicle was a historic Vortixx product, and its infamy was only brought to new levels when it fell under Skorr’s command.

Considered by many to be the fastest innovation the Xian blacksmiths had ever produced (with its own name being derived from the Matoran term for “quick-travel”), the X3 had been Skorr’s primary method of transport for many years. The bounty hunter chuckled as he gently moved the vessel out of the shack.

Normally, he wouldn’t bother using brainless thugs over a sophisticated defence mechanism to protect her, but times were getting tough on him, and he hardly had the money to invest in an expensive protective instrument. Besides, the X3 was far too valuable to be left in the care of a simple lock or gadget.

The craft was small and nimble, with a sharp, pointed build that vaguely resembled a Kahu entering a dive. The two aerodynamically tilted wings were perfectly paralleled with each other as they reached out from the cockpit, which had been built at the rear of the vessel, just above it’s mighty rocket-like engine.

Slotting himself into the pilot’s seat, Skorr tapped a key on the control board and felt the X3’s motor roar to life. As he built up further momentum whilst attending to the numerous flight calculations, Skorr punched a button and steered upwards, launching the mighty aircraft up into the skies of Stelt.

Chapter Three[]

The evening clouds eclipsed the light behind a thick blanket of dark grey. Another day had passed, allowing the dark void in-between the time of light to sweep in and take control. But in this particular place, light never truly shone the way it did for other lands across the world; this place was one of shadow. A barren rock in the eye of eternity; yet a rock which represented the true breeding ground of injustice, the nest of shameless sin.

Destral was more than just a symbol of corruption; it was a symbol of evil. It was within the looming walls of the island’s main fortress that a conspiracy was plotted against the Great Spirit, and where that conspiracy was met with roaring approval. Ever since that day, Destral had been busy. Legions of Rahkshi and Exo-Toa came in regularly, and the Makuta’s servants monitored the day-to-day activities.

Their Makuta masters rarely made appearances on the island, preferring to remain isolated in the solitude of their lairs and strongholds, scattered throughout their assigned territories. Despite this, Destral served as the headquarters of the Brotherhood of Makuta. It functioned both as their beacon of power and their symbol of strength. Without it, the Brotherhood would be perceived as little more than an army of overambitious rabble.

Surprisingly, however, for an island that was so black and so dark, Destral was peaceful today. Like Stelt, it was silent. Other than a few Rahkshi patrols, the island had been deathly quiet, as if a lethal epidemic had spread out and wiped out all life on the island. It had been like this ever since the fall of Mata Nui, and this could be read easily through the cold winds of the night. Even though Destral was still in ruins after the Great Cataclysm had reduced the main fortress to a pile of rubble, the work to rebuild it had been as silent as a haunted grave.

A single living thing stood in front of obscene ruins of the castle, which a pair of red eyes stared at with venomous intentions. His body was a twisted form of black and silver, a pure perversion of nature. The stick-thin build of the monster was bone-like and sharp, while a pair of hands ended with scrawny blades. With the blazing eyes as an added touch, this person was a representation of chaos and the personification of nightmares.

Then suddenly, he was quietly joined by another figure, whose form was equally corrupt, though not to the maddening extent her colleague’s was. They spent a minute in silence, staring at the ruins of their home. Then finally, the nightmare spoke first.

“Is it done, Gorast?”

“Yes,” hissed the nastily detached voice of the female Makuta. “As anticipated, the bounty hunter accepted our proposal and is being expected in Metru Nui. I have already alerted Roodaka of his impending arrival.”

“Is this mercenary really worth it?” asked the walking terror. “Is he worth hiring to do a job that one of our own brethren couldn’t do?”

“Makuta Scarla was an overambitious fool. Most of all, she was an obnoxious plotter. She couldn’t take three paces down a corridor without looking over her shoulder six times to make sure she wasn’t being followed. If anything, it was her paranoia that killed her. Regardless, her failure was not a surprise, and this Zeverek has enough power to retrieve what we desire. According to his reputation, at least.”

The nightmare shot her a sharp look.

“Don’t lecture me! You know that anything with the power to kill a Makuta is a true danger to us. Whatever is opposing us is powerful, and it is obviously going to get more dangerous if we leave this threat unchecked. You know as well as I do how worrying Scarla’s last telepathic cry was.”

Gorast found herself lost for words in the face of her brother’s statement, though quickly found her strength and snapped back with a shattering resolve that was as sharp as a dagger.

“I know what her last words were. But what do they mean? What do you do think it means when we find the ruined shards of our sister Makuta’s armour lying by Metru Nui’s sea gate, with traces of her essence drifting in the air. What does it mean when we learn that her will was dominated by an outside force, and torn apart from within?”

Her comrade inclined his head in a way that showed he wanted her answer.

“I think it means we need to bring out a wildcard in this game. I think we need to bring out something that is expendable and costless, but unpredictable. This bounty hunter has allegedly done things that even we ourselves would struggle to do. So when his services are available, we should enlist them if it means we get what we want. We need to use something our faceless opponent will not expect.”

“But this matter is delicate. Things can so easily spiral out of control and shatter everything we have in motion. This is much more than just recovering some some mystic gemstone, and you know this all too well. Something is waiting in the Maze for us, and it’s analyzing us. Whilst it seems to know us, we don’t even know the face of our enemy. That knowledge was lost to us when Scarla’s investigations met their abrupt and sticky end. Whatever secrets she knew died with her.”

“But this is not us trying to unmask our foe,” answered Gorast spitefully. “This is merely another twist of the knife to judge are enemy’s moves. The bounty hunter will be the perfect test subject. He is of no consequence.”

Silence filled the void that lay in the gap between the two’s plotting.

“If the bounty hunter fails we will have lost nothing. The Makuta’s great plan will continue as it has and as it must. We have struck down the Great Spirit, all we need to do now is consolidate our power.”

Her nightmarish ally snarled sinisterly. “Then let’s hope our experiment produces decent results. I myself do not tolerate failures from my tests; that is something only Mutran does. But we can only hope your little soldier will play out as he is expected to in our game.”

Gorast didn’t bother to reply to her foul brother’s face. Instead, the female Makuta turned away from her brother and began walking away, flinging her words into the open air as carelessly as one would discard a pebble.

“I guarantee our success, Makuta Chirox. Our handiwork will go beyond our foreseen expectations.”

Chirox sneered as Gorast drifted off into the darkness, no doubt in search of something to butcher. The scientist turned his gaze to the blackened skies of Destral, which churned with infectious black clouds and corrupted smoke. In particular, he took note of the frightening bat-like creatures that circled above, hovering above like a dark mark.

They were of Chirox’s own design, created as a new breed of vulture Rahi. He was particularly pleased with the edgy feel of death that these things radiated with. Soon, every land would share this image of dark order. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not in ten centuries time, but one day the people of the world would know the iron clench of the Brotherhood of Makuta, and they would know it as it choked all hope out of its Matoran residents.

Darkness would reign supreme. But it’s coming would be far from silent.

A faint light drifted across the smooth surface of eroded stone. The light peered in from a shining sea of silver water, uncorrupted and untouched. The smooth, cold water rushed past at a steady, yet calm pace. The elegant and cool ripples shimmered brightly in the low light, with the reflective rays of the sun breaking through the watery calm of the sea to produce a shining aura of elegant sparkling light. In the almost eerie nighttime mist, the twinkling water glowed and glittered in simplistic and dull manner, like a grand sea of crystal and diamond. The water was still, and so was time itself.

Then suddenly, the calm was broken. There was now a low whistling sound, and mechanical gears were grinding with it too. Very quickly the still waters quivered as the engine of a fast-moving craft began to slow its pace as it approached the smooth stone of a small beach. The craft landed softly, as two frontward legs stretched forward and magnetized to the ground with a light clank. After checking all the navigational equipment, Skorr dismounted from the Kualsi X5.

Finally, he was here.

As he took his first steps towards the cove’s inland, the Zeverek instantly took note of the weathered stone barrier. Skorr recognized this as one of the walls of the dome that contained all of Metru Nui, and it didn’t take him more than to notice a gapping big hole in that wall. Dim light flooded from within, and on the other side, he could make out the rocky labyrinth that was the city’s Great Barrier.

For some strange reason that he could not comprehend, Skorr felt a feeling of reverential respect mixed with fear and wonder as he stood in front of this place. He had heard accounts where travellers and wanders alike had called Metru Nui the “City of Legends”. He was beginning to understand why. The mercenary took more slowly paced strides, each one making a soft pitter-patter sound as he continued to approach the hole in the dome.

He had never been to Metru Nui before. He had purchased some of the goods sold by a few of the city’s numbered smuggling rings in the past, though that hardware had always been exported to ports like Stelt and Xia, and he had never actually gone to the island city to deal with its smugglers.

However, he knew of the significance of the city. Though he disregarded its importance to the Great Spirit, he was aware of the massive quantities of energy it had channeled to other lands, feeding them the power required to facilitate entire cities. There was not a doubt that Metru Nui was undeniably important to the universe’s health.

As these thoughts past through his head, Skorr finally passed through the giant gap; he wasn’t sure is this was one of the city’s sea gates or just an actual opening in the dome. As soon as he had entered into the region that could now be considered Metru Nui, he found himself standing on a wide ledge, which overlooked the entire Great Barrier.

Before him lay the intricate maze of rocky pillars and cliff faces, all as dark as the visibly lime-green sky of the island city. Beyond the barrier, Skorr could see the towering spires and buildings of Metru Nui in the distance, merely sitting there on the horizon line. Even from this distance, Skorr could see the visible amount of destruction that had been dealt to the city when the massive earthquake that marked the Great Cataclysm struck the world. Everywhere had suffered, but Metru Nui clearly had done so the worst.

One of the island’s two sunholes was completely blacked out, and the other was visibly darker than before, now only producing sickly lime light. In addition to the horrendous destruction, the city seemed virtually deserted; he could see no lights or power coming from the collection of buildings and towers that gathered in the distance. Perhaps this was the doing of the Visorak Horde, or maybe the Great Cataclysm had a hand in all this. Either way, Skorr knew he would find out eventually.

Freedom.

Skorr heard an icy voice slip through his audio receptors, the whisper of which slithered through them and sent the most horrible chill run down his spine. Instinctively, the bounty hunter drew his launcher from its holster and spun around to face the speaker, but all he was confronted by was nothingness. There was nobody there, and even if there had been, he would have detected him or her with his sensor. That narrowed things down to two possible options.

Option one: He was descending into absolute insanity and was hearing voices in his head, which he severely doubted. Option two: Something had sent a telepathic message to him, though that was nearly impossible with the natural mental protection his race possessed. It would take an exceptionally powerful telepathic mind to break passed his protection.

Then, the horribly soft voice spoke again. Freedom

Instinctively and without question, Skorr slowly felt the muscles in his neck being wretched in the direction that his subconscious mind believed the voice was thinking of. It took a full five seconds to realise what he was doing, he almost felt hypnotized. He definitely did not like this. Suddenly, in his view he could see something that resembled a red diamond flattened against one of the dome walls, roughly five kilometers to the right of the ledge he was standing on.

As if some external influence was commanding his body, Skorr felt his mechanical wing blades spring to life and soundly protrude him into the air. He didn’t need to think about where he was going; he just seemed to be letting his body do the thinking rather than his brain. Normally, he would feel worried and even scared that he was doing things without his conscious consent, but right now, Skorr just felt tired. His eyes were heavy and his thoughts were shrouded in a heavy fog.

He felt his wings angle to the right, and he felt himself curve and gently float down towards the spot where the crystalline structure was, and he touched down with unusual grace. He didn’t care. He was in a daze, and no longer had the faintest care in the world. All he wanted to do was continue in this state of thoughtlessness.

Then abruptly, Skorr felt a thought come to the forefront of his attention. It was an unusual thought, as it was one that had been spawned from the depths of his dreary mind in the last minute. And what that thought was shattered everything, though it took him a second to recognise what it was. It was an emotion; an emotion that was so very strong and intimidating, yet so very energizing and desperate at the same time. It made the heart race fast and the mind sharpen like a blade.

After gently stroking the emotion with what was left of his conscious, Skorr felt something prickle in his head; sharp spikes that inched away at the false sense of peace like a pickaxe on stone. Finally, Skorr recognised the emotion, and he could now coin a word to it too. It was fear.

Skorr took a sharp breath of air, as he finally broke free from the last chains of his hypnotic trance. He felt his mind regain some sense of time, place and awareness and it felt good. But even so, Skorr now found himself looking at the shining structure in front of him.

It webbed the wall like a mesh, but it was clearly no ruby or diamond. It was shrouded in a dark aura of crimson, with the glow shimmering like inking through the air like wispy tentacles. And behind the surface of the crystalline construct, was a winged titan that was rigidly frozen, a perfectly preserved monstrosity.

Freedom.

When the voice returned to his head this time, Skorr could make out it qualities much clearer. It was sinister and cold, and had a horrendous grating ring to it. However, what he noticed most was the powerful arrogance it radiated with. It was a vain and narcissistic voice. And now that he could pin the frozen creature with the voice, he identified who it was quicker than a heartbeat. Given, he had never seen the monster behind the glass before, but the mask that lay on its face was perhaps the most well known in the entire universe.

It was the Kanohi Kraahkan, the Great Mask of Shadows.

Skorr gasped as he realised just whose presence he was in. He was standing before Makuta himself, and he didn’t mean just any Makuta, but the Makuta of Metru Nui. The very Makuta who led the rebellion against the Great Spirit, the Master of Shadows, the ruler of the Brotherhood and the power behind a thousand evil plots. And also the only Makuta who had found himself wound up as a living protodermic carving.

For the first time in recent years, Skorr felt scared. Of course, he wasn’t quivering with downright terror like a Matoran would, but he still was in fearful awe. This dark being was responsible for a staggering number of evils and crimes, and that wasn’t including his massive part in the Great Cataclysm. Skorr was a tame, domesticated Ussal Crab in comparison to him.

Though his voice had not returned, Skorr could still hear a number strange whisperings circulating around his prison; most likely the ghosts of his thoughts and dreams being left to drift and freely roam through the minds of those close by.

And that, by extension, meant Skorr as well. Suddenly, he felt the whispers turned against him. He felt them trying to slip into his mind again, trying to take control again. Trying to dominate his will and make him his slave.

“No!” groaned Skorr as he desperately tried to fight against Makuta’s power. “I will not let you in!”

In an effort to shatter the Makuta’s concentration, the desperate Zeverek drew out his launcher and let four devastating bolts of bright plasma make their mark on the tyrant’s prison. They didn’t even so much scratch the surface of the protodermic cage. As Skorr fell to his knees in agony, he finally heard the voice of Makuta speak into his mind.

Freedom! The time will come for it, because the Maze is waiting for you...

Skorr fully collapsed on the ground he felt the mental link the imprisoned Makuta had established being snapped in two. The telepathic backlash was horrendous, as if someone had taken a sharp pike ad stabbed it through the side of his head. The effects lasted for only a few more seconds, but those seconds felt like hours to Skorr.

When the effects had finally worn off, the Zeverek forced himself to rise above his exhaustion and stand on two legs. Usually, this would be impossible for anyone who had just received this kind of cognitive disorientation, but the natural toughness and the level of psychic protection that his race possessed had prevented him from suffering any real hurt.

The bounty hunter stared at the crystalline seal one last time, staring at the evil that was encased behind its surface. It suddenly came to Skorr’s attention that it was this very evil who he had come to help free. His mission would help free this tyrant, a mission that’s foundation was most likely organised by this Makuta.

Though it was only his speculation, Skorr was now under the impression that Makuta’s attempts at controlling him were a test how strong he would be in the face on this new mission. Or, alternatively, he may just be wishing to see if the Zeverek’s weapon would be powerful enough to punch a hole through his cage. It was entirely possible that he could never know.

What he would know, however, was the sensation that came to him when he felt two silent halos of pure energy slam against his body, both of which released their devastating powers on his already weakened form. For the second time in the last five minutes, Skorr fell to his knees.

This is getting really annoying, thought the hired gunfighter. First I’m mentally tested by an iced evil who I’m indirectly working for, and now I’ve been struck by two energy blasts? This should be the dictionary’s definition to a very bad start to the day.

With nothing better to do, Skorr decided to analyze the energy that was currently detaining his movement. He could immediately identify these energy wheels as Rhotuka spinners, natural rings of energy that possessed a power based on the attributes of its creators’ personality or race. At the moment, he was experiencing the abilities of two such spinners, one that was causing strong numbness, and another that was disrupting all his capabilities – both natural and artificial – through an energy drain.

Further deductions into the nature of the Rhotuka spinners were interrupted by the sound of a monstrous, high-pitched shriek that reminded Skorr of the death cry of a Tarakava. When he looked up (a considerable effort due to the numbness in his neck), all he could see were scores of the spider-like Rahi called Visorak scaling down from the cliff faces and coming to surround him. Their pincers were snapping viciously and their eyes were fixed solely on the defenceless mercenary.

Skorr clenched his teeth in anger. They probably heard the shots from my launcher, he noted. I knew I should’ve packed the blasted silencer!

In seconds, the near paralyzed the bounty hunter had been completely surrounded by the Visorak, which was primarily a combination of the Oohnorak and Roporak breeds.

Guess that explains my current condition, observed Skorr as he recalled their respective Rhotuka powers. It was at that point, the circle of spiders separated to allow a single member of the species, a battle-scarred Keelerak, to come forward and confront the disabled hunter. By the way he walked – or crawled – it could clearly be deduced that he was the group leader. The commander came straight up to Skorr’s face and snarled savagely, allowing trails of venomous spit to dribble onto his face.

Oh, I really hope that comes off, whined Skorr in his mind. My face is too ruggedly handsome to be damaged by Visorak slobber laced with Hordika venom.

The Keelerak exchanged several words his fellow Visorak in their native tongue, which ended with a Boggorak being ordered off from the main group to go on its own way, presumably to report their finding to a higher authority. When the Keelerak turned back to snarl at Skorr so to try and prove its superiority, the gunslinger simply chuckled a raspy laugh with a smile before speaking.

“I’ve always wanted to say this in a scenario like this before,” he said in a surprisingly enthusiastic voice. The Visorak merely stared at him. Skorr eyed the monsters for a second more before throwing out his order.

“Come on then, you bitter bunch of four-legged morons, take me to your leaders!”

Chapter Four[]

It was fair to say that Arzok had seen better days.

Granted, he had seen many worse days than this, but this one still stacked high on his ongoing “days I do not like” list. Unfortunately, there were many people out there in the small world that they all lived in who considered the Skakdi thug a moaner and a whiner who was never satisfied with his current situations.

Of course, he’d be sure they’d all agree with him that being hung upside down from the ceiling in a Visorak cocoon alongside a Le-Matoran tinkerer would definitely count as a bad day. If the didn’t, he’d be certain that they would eventually come to see things his way when it was mentioned that they were being hung up inside the throne room of the Viceroy of the Visorak Horde.

By this point, Arzok would have spoken. In fact, he probably would have filled the entire room with the vilest curses and profanities known to the Skakdi language, which one would assume would be a lot. Unfortunately, Arzok’s ability to shout obscene language had been extremely handicapped by the thick layer of webbing that covered his mouth, which had forced to instead curse in his mind and shake in his cocoon angrily.

Invex sighed irritably. It was not only the pressure building up in his head that was bringing about this sigh, but also the fact that he just naturally found his Skakdi companion annoying. It had been four hours since the pair had arrived, by boat, to the shores of Metru Nui and a day and half since they parted ways with Skorr to go on ahead whilst he attended to different matters.

What many would find surprising was that Invex and Arzok knew very little about their money-motivated employer. They obviously knew of his species and homeland, but beyond that hey seemed to know virtually nothing about his backstory though. There were rumours, however, and Invex had heard them all in his time.

They ranged from a tale that described Skorr as a serial killer who wished to aspire to more in his life, to an account where the Zeverek had once been a wandering defender and hero who was forced to turn to a life of crime when the Toa were introduced and discovered he had a liking for it. But in any case, the only real Invex knew about his employer was that he had been around in his business for a fairly long time.

It was at this moment that the door to the throne room was opened and in strode a tall, lean black-armoured individual, clearly female. Only an idiot wouldn’t recognise her as Roodaka, the Viceroy of the Visorak Horde. At her feet scurried a number of Boggorak, the Visorak breed that Invex had heard served as the personal bodyguards of this notorious Vortixx. As the dark female seated herself in a throne that radiated status and power, Invex decided it was time to talk.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t mind cutting us down from here,” he said somewhat sarcastically. “The pressure in my head isn’t exactly doing wonders for my ability to communicate.”

Roodaka chose not to reply; instead she was too busy whispering something to one of her bodyguards who had entered a minute later than the rest of its kin. Words couldn’t be made out clearly, as Roodaka’s whispers were too quiet and the Boggorak’s communication was simply impossible to understand. After a brief dialogue, all Visorak were quietly dismissed from the Vortixx’s chamber.

Now alone in the throne room of an ambitious conqueror with no way out, Invex decided that now may be the best time to strike up a conversation.

“These cocoons aren’t poisonous, are they?” he inquired. “It’s just that I wouldn’t want to come out looking like some mutant freak with emotional problems.”

“The webs are not venomous,” replied Roodaka, her voice as soft and deadly as a Bog Snake. “I instructed your capturers not to infect you with their venom.”

“Fantastic,” replied Invex calmly. There was a slightly awkward pause in-between his words. The Le-Matoran then decided that it would not be wise to treat her as an equal.

“Excuse me, your highness. I think there has been some kind of misunderstanding. We are associates of the bounty hunter Skorr, who I am assuming you know has been hired to help you in a particular matter.”

“I know who you are,” snapped Roodaka in a way that would send shivers down even Arzok’s spine. “I have ordered your detainment so we can better keep an eye on you two.”

“Fair enough. And the reason for being suspended upside down?” the Matoran inquired curiously.

Roodaka looked up to him and smiled sinisterly at him. “Because it is simply so much more amusing that way.”

Invex fought back a scowl. He could hear Arzok’s muffled growling and raging from his cocoon. This Vortixx definitely knew how to keep herself entertained in the most creative of ways. Clearly, Invex and Arzok didn’t share her sense of humour. The Matoran’s head bulged from the pressure of his suspension.

It was going to be a very long day.

Skorr couldn’t help but chuckle as he was “escorted” down one of the dimly lit corridors of the Coliseum. Captured as a prisoner-to-be-executed then designated as an important ally of Sidorak and Roodaka once word of his significance reached the ears of the Visorak who had captured him. After all “misunderstandings” had been resolved, he had spent the last few hours being taken on a small tour of Ga-Metru as they had made their way towards the Visorak’s main base.

On the way, Skorr had come to the conclusion that the scenery of Metru Nui was a bit of an exaggeration. Toppled buildings, shattered chute systems, ruined monuments, collapsed quarters, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. It was fair to say Metru Nui was not what it once was, and with all the accursed green Visorak webbing everywhere and the lack of power in the place, it was literally an urban nightmare.

The earthquake that had shook the universe had done much worse to this place than anywhere else in the universe. As they had approached section of Ga-Metru that linked the district to the Coliseum, Skorr could’ve sworn he had spotted six small Rahi/Rahkshi-like beings with staffs from a distance.

They hadn’t done much; all they really did was zip across the broken chute systems and watch him and his Visorak patrol from above, though they had disappeared by the time they neared the Coliseum. Skorr had just passed them off as some strange Rahi beast that had escaped the Archives.

Skorr was reminded of the present moment when he heard a Boggorak screech loudly at both him and his patrol as they neared the Roodaka’s chambers. In fact, it was blocking the main door into the chamber, snarling and growling at them with its large teeth. Skorr tapped his foot in annoyance as the Keelarak commander who had captured him earlier tried to sway its kin into allowing them to enter the next room. It was at this point that the Zeverek lost all his patience.

“Well then, soulless spiders of the night, I must thank you for escorting me here. Do send my regards to Sidorak and to the rest of your peace-loving kind.”

Without bothering to look at the expressions of the multiple Visorak, Skorr barged passed the Keelarak and attempted to pass the Boggorak, who defiantly tackled him back with a growl. In retaliation, the blue spider let an ear-killing sonic hum emanate from its mouth that even hurt some of its fellow kind. Skorr just laughed when he felt none of the pain the others were feeling. Sometimes, the Zeverek immunity to all sonic-based attacks came in handy.

When the Boggorak stopped its screech in puzzlement, Skorr decided to talk.

“My apologies, bad-breathed spider! It appears you’ve gotten yourself the wrong species to use that attack on.”

And with that said and done, Skorr launched himself forward whilst raising his right leg in the air, clasped the Boggorak by its head crest with his toes and then booted it through the door of Roodaka’s chamber. The Visorak wailed as it skidded across the floor, which ended when it was slammed hard into the far wall of the room. Skorr sighed merrily as he walked in the room.

I’ve got to be the fittest Zeverek on this side of the universe.

Skorr wandered into the room whilst whistling an old Le-Matoran tune to himself as he came in. Usually this level of confidence intimidated his employers to a certain extent, which in turn, granted him a much more potent ability at bartering better prices for himself. But for those with really sharp minds, it could be viewed as naked recklessness.

The room he was now standing in was circular and bore a floor design that resembled a spider’s web. In the midst of it, there was a towering black throne in towards the centre of the room, with a round table set next to it. On that table, were a number of tiny stone figurines that all set in specific locations around the table. It could be assumed that it was some kind of strategy board.

When Skorr turned around, he found his eyes fixated on the figure sitting on the throne before him. As a female Vortixx, Roodaka naturally appeared very graceful and slender, with an amazingly thin and beautiful physique. She in particular, however, was notably more obsessive and seductive than others he had encountered before. Skorr couldn’t help but let a grin stretch across his face. Vortixx always had a certain… charm about them, and he knew this one all too well.

Dear, dear, what would Aretha think of me? thought Skorr sarcastically as he remembered the female Vortixx who he regularly associated himself in a manner that appeared quite romantic to some. Of course, no such feelings properly existed between them; Skorr simply used her for his own ends. Still, the overall relationship was quite fun in the end.

Roodaka smiled as she rose from her throne, placing a single hand on her hip and pointing the other to right side of the room. “I believe these two belong to you.”

Skorr followed the direction Roodaka was pointing in until he saw two familiar faces encased in green cocoons, which were currently being suspended upside down from the ceiling. The slightly irritated face of Invex spoke.

“Finally cared to drop in, have you?”

Skorr looked at Invex’s face then at Arzok, who looked much angrier than normal. He then looked at Rooaka, whose expression told him she didn’t care what he did at this point. Drawing his Plasma Launcher, the bounty hunter aimed his signature weapon at the thin stands of web connecting his allies’ cocoons to the ceiling. Invex’s eyes widened.

“No, wait Skorr! Don–”

His cry came too late, and Invex and Arzok came falling down from the ceiling and crashing onto the floor, their strange green prisons cracking open and shattering into a thousand pieces. His two companions lay there, both of them completely out cold. Skorr turned back to Roodaka without even a glint of remorse.

“Now that that’s out of the way, let’s talk business. After all, it’s been such a long time since the last time we met, Roodaka.”

“Ah,” the Vortixx replied as she took several steps towards Skorr. “You still remember that little incident all those years ago?”

“How could I ever forget it,” the Zeverek said in a dangerously serious tone.

“But it was so long ago,” replied Roodaka, putting on an especially seductive voice that was silky and absorbing. She took two more paces forwards. “I’m sure we can put that little affair to one side.”

“For now.”

Roodaka stopped still. She was now exceptionally close to Skorr, to the point where she was almost toe-to-toe with him. The bounty hunter was keeping his ground good, but she was sure that given time, she could completely break him.

“Makuta Gorast informed me that there is an object of value here in Metru Nui that will assist you in freeing your leader. I have been hired to retrieve from the area you call the Maze of Shadows, meaning I will have to bypass all the tunnel’s defences to reach this object. I have been informed you have more all specific details.”

“That I do,” replied Roodaka in a gentle tone. “The stone you are after is located very deep inside the Maze, and as far as we know, there is no direct route into the zone that it is contained in. This means you will have to take the longer, much more dangerous route to it.”

“I always enjoy the scenic routes,” added Skorr. Roodaka ignored the remark.

“The Maze itself bears an unknown number of threats and dangers inside it. We ourselves have no idea what the defences and traps it may have, but we know they are extremely powerful; almost all of them are guaranteed to be lethal deathtraps.”

“How lethal are we talking about?” inquired Skorr.

“Lethal enough to kill a Makuta,” answered Roodaka in a deathly serious voice. “To be specific, Makuta Scarla.”

Skorr recognised the name immediately. Makuta Scarla had been the Makuta assigned to the western region of the Southern Continent. She was said to have been a particularly nasty Makuta, always plotting to climb the ladder of power. Scarla was to be an exceptionally paranoid individual; always thinking everyone was conspiring against her.

She had been an adequate Rahi creator, though not particularly skilled; she was apparently the Makuta who had created the Stone Rat, meaning every last person in the universe had a reason to hate her. Usually, her kin assigned her to the most mysterious and obscure missions, and now it appeared that this one had been her last.

“So I’m guessing this stone is very well-protected,” said Skorr, more to himself than to Roodaka.

The Vortixx let a snake-like hiss escape her lips. “Indeed. Scarla was found near the outskirts of the Maze’s known entrance about nine weeks ago, completely torn apart in both her essence and body. Her last words seemed to reflect that she had been driven partially insane.”

“What were those last words?”

Roodaka paused for a second. “The only hope one can find within the Maze is the secret from the heart beneath.”

“What does that mean?” asked Skorr cautiously.

“We don’t know,” replied the Visorak Viceroy. “But perhaps the words will make sense to you in time. Assume that is a riddle you have to solve while you’re down there.”

Skorr smiled. “Very well then. Now then, let’s get down to the subject of my payment. This job’s more dangerous than Gorast originally informed me, and I think it’s fair that we begin negotiating new terms. I want an increase on my services, to be precise, double my usual rate.”

Roodaka let a heart-melting smile stretch across her face then spoke in a voice that was so lulling it would draw even someone like Arzok in.

“Oh, come now, Skorr. I’m sure you’ll be content with the reward you’ve been offered. It’s a most… generous offer.”

Roodaka traced a gentle finger across Skorr’s jaw. The Zeverek, for his part, simply let her do so as she began to circle him like a predatory Rahi.

“My new terms remain,” he said as he tried to keep his ground. “I want extra, unless you want me walking out on this job.”

“I’m sure we can make a deal from this. A slight increase will not hurt anyone.”

Skorr grinned. “But a business opportunity comes like this once in a lifetime. I want to grasp it with both hands. So a slight increase won’t do. I want double!”

“Whilst I would insist you negotiate these terms with the Makuta who hired you, I assume you already know Sidorak and I hold the reward you desire.”

Skorr was beginning to lose his patience. The Vortixx was purposely dodging his demands.

“Of course I know that. But in the past few weeks, I’ve been experiencing a bit of a downtime, and now I’m getting a bit desperate. Almost all my operations are beginning to shut down. I need the pay.”

Roodaka hissed nastily. “You want Sidorak to pay you more?”

“You are very correct. Speaking of which, where is your superior? I would have assumed he would be here now, lecturing me in his deep, rich voice over how my price must stay as it is.”

“A king such as Sidorak has many duties to attend,” replied Roodaka. “Whilst he spearheads the efforts of the Horde, I oversee matters that of slightly less importance.”

“A shame,” commented Skorr. “ I would have loved to humiliate a person as pompous as him. Now then, about my price, how about we settle on triple? Double just isn’t going to cut it for a deal like this.”

Roodaka face abruptly changed from playful to icy serious. The change of emotion startled even Skorr, who had honestly expected the Vortixx to give in to his demands. He had just potentially made a very bad move, and when she spoke, it was chilling and fear-inspiring. The atmosphere dramatically tensed.

“Your salary is not going to change, bounty hunter. We have already raised your pay considerably, so you had best respect that. Double is the furthest you pay will go. You can either accept this or allow me to find someone more willing to take up this price. That is the final say.”

Skorr paused for a second as he considered his next words. The last thing he wanted to do was to leave Metru Nui wounded, half insane and without even half of his fee.

“Oh, very well. I suppose I could accept your conditions at this point in time. It is a most generous offer for a job like this, but I’ll need a few more details before I begin. Primarily, I want to know where your recommended entrance into the Maze is.”

“The passage you will go through is in tunnel through a cliff face of the Great Barrier. The tunnel is particularly unstable, however, and the old stone may collapse on top of you, though I’m confident that won’t happen. From there, you and your allies will begin your mission.”

If there was going to be any silence, it was broken by the groaning and moaning of Arzok and Invex as they began to recover from their fall from the ceiling. Take this as a sign it was time to wrap up this conversation.

“Right then, it looks like we’ve discussed everything we need to discuss. The specifics have been given, the complications set aside and the pay has been established. Thanks for the information, Roodaka. Next time you see us, we will have the stone you want.”

“Good,” replied Roodaka in a flat tone. She had clearly lost her patience with him a long ago. In fact, her left hand was clearly much darker than her right, because a mist of powerful shadow energy was swirling around her fingertips as an indicator that every last term of Skorr’s job was set in stone. Measures like these were always necessary when it came to dealing with mercenaries.

Invex looked up, his face groggy and dazed. He looked at Roodaka, then at Skorr and then noted the very tense standoff they appeared to be having. As his senses began to collect themselves, he finally chose to speak what was clearly on both his and Arzok’s mind.

“Did we miss anything?”

Chapter Five[]

Arzok moaned to himself as he trudged after Skorr and Invex, who were almost eagerly pacing ahead of him. Despite his insistence to use the Kualsi X3 to go straight to the Maze’s entrance, Skorr had gone against Arzok’s wish, claiming that directly flying into into a tunnel so unstable would bring the whole system down on top of them. Though effective, Skorr had grudgingly come to accept that his prized vehicle still needed refinement.

As such, the group had been going on foot after using the Kualsi X3 to get them to the Great Barrier, passing patrol after patrol of Visorak and even a few mutant Rahi. As they continued to travel further away from Metru Nui, Arzok found his dislike for the city was growing even more. After leaving the Coliseum, the streets of the abandoned city districts were littered with shattered glass, metal, debris and chunks of building. The area was clouded in a thick green fog, and the three of them could barely see five meters in front of them before they had got to the Great Barrier.

This had proven to be a massive complication, as the disruptive earthquake that had ruined Metru Nui had also upheaved a huge amount of the ground, which combined with the fog, made it unbelievably difficult to navigate through the tangled, urban wastelands until they found a clear spot where they could fly directly to the great Barrier.

As they continued to walk along the shores of the Barrier, Arzok opened his toothy mouth to say something, but Invex immediately butted in and shut him up.

“If you are going to ask ‘are we there yet?’ then your answer is a flat out no. We’ve got a little bit more to go. So shut it and be patient. They’re both skills really aren’t that hard to master.”

“It’s a valid question, Matoran,” the Skakdi grumbled miserably. “Because I think I just in something a Rahi would vomit.”

“There!” barked Skorr as he pointed deactivated his unique head sensor. “I’ve spotted the tunnel. It’s approximately six minutes north and three kio away from us. The tunnel can be entered through a cave opening, indicating we’ll very quickly be moving out of these wide spaces.”

“Any other details,” inquire Invex.

“Even without my sensor, this tunnel looks very unstable. I’m surprised the place is still holding itself together under the conditions its in without some kind of structural adjustments.”

“Great,” grumbled Arzok sarcastically as he stepped over a nasty-looking insect Rahi. “If the conditions out here don’t kill us, then the station itself will.”

In the end, Arzok’s statement was proven false. It didn’t take the trio much longer to reach the cave. Of course, the Skakdi’s moaning slowed them down to a very limited degree, but overall the three reached their destination in very good time. As they stood before the old, decrepit cave, standing a few steps away from its gapping maw, each of them couldn’t help but feel a little unsure about the idea of entering the tunnel.

The cliff face the cave was burrowing through towered far into the air, nearly reaching one of the higher remnants of a chute system. The cliff itself was remarkably wide, whilst the stone that made up the cliff were worn and weathered; even from the distance they were standing, they could hear the ancient rocky foundation grumbling and groaning. It was a place only a very brave or very foolish person would dare to go in, and Skorr himself was neither.

His companions on the other hand did not quite into the same category as him.

“Skorr,” began Arzok. “I really don’t like the look of this place. Blast it; I don’t like the look of this crazy job at all! None of us are fools here, you know. This mission is well over our heads. This is our last chance to turn back and let some other poor sap do this suicide mission.”

“I kinda have to agree with Arzok here,” said Invex. “I don’t think we should be doing this. Maybe we should…”

“Do you two want to get paid or not?” snapped Skorr coldly, a hard look on his face. “You can turn back now and head on your way whilst I get rich. Oh, and if you leave now, I’m getting your cuts of the deal as well. So are you two in or not?”

Hesitantly, the two nodded and gave the silent ‘we’re in’ look.

“Good,” the Zeverek said roughly as he began to make his way to the building. “I would hate to say to my future clients that my entourage is made up of cowards.”

With all that said and done, Skorr marched up to the cave opening and booted a jagged rock that was blocking his way into the mouth of the tunnel. As they all came inside, the triad found themselves instantly cloaked in absolute darkness. With no power left in Metru Nui, none of the buildings except maybe the Coliseum were running on any of the island city’s energy reserves. And when it came to try to navigate in a pitch-black tunnel that had the potential to collapse on them at any second, no power was a bit of an inconvenience.

“My sensor isn’t working,” said Skorr in a hushed tone as he tapped his sensor repeatedly. If there were Rahi beasts in here, then it would be best to both be able to see them and keep quiet.

“Something appears to be jamming my scanning gear. I suspect the interference might be coming from something within the Maze of Shadows.”

“Don’t worry,” whispered Invex. “I brought something just in case this would happen.”

There was a moment of silence where all that could be heard was the sound of a Le-Matoran crafter fiddling through his travel pack as his hands passing over thousands of mechanical pieces and devices.

“Got it!” he cried quietly as he sealed up his pack. The next sound that came was rather unusual. Arzok and Skorr had been expecting to hear some kind of buzzing or electrical sound, but instead, they heard a sharp clicking noise flood the void of blackness.

It sounded as if Invex was winding up some kind of Matoran plaything, but the moment they heard the ticking stop to be replaced the sound of the object whirring through the air, they began to get an idea of what he was doing.

Suddenly, the tunnel’s scenery changed from pitch-black darkness to overwhelming bright light that blinded all three of them for several seconds. Skorr clenched his eyelids tightly as he tried to recover from the light that had just seared his eyes.

“Mata Nui!” roared Arzok. “Are you trying to kill our eyesight, Matoran?! That probably would’ve blinded a Toa of Light if one actually existed!”

“Quiet,” Skorr barked as he slowly began to regain his sight. “My sensor can partially detect all kinds of rodent Rahi scurrying around this place, but I can’t identify them because of whatever is scrambling my scanners. So we’d best keep our voices down if we don’t want to call in the Visorak as pest control.”

The others obliged soundly before their eyes were attracted to the source of light that Invex had just created. In the heart of the underground room was a pure force sphere that was trying to compress into itself. And inside this force field, was a ball of light that was desperately trying to expand out, though to no avail. The force sphere cancelled out the light implosion, whilst the light implosion cancelled out the sphere’s compression, a most effective stalemate.

“Mind me asking what exactly that was?” asked Skorr, whose voice was mingled with a notable degree of awe and amazement.

“It’s a device I’ve been working on back at Xia,” replied Invex proudly.

“Recently, the Vortixx mutated a number of normal Lightstones, which then gained the ability to created a blast of solid light if they were shattered; basically releasing all the light it once contained. I thought this experiment could be put to better use.”

“That’s for sure,” added Arzok sarcastically. “Why buy Xian goods when you can degrade them and make them ten times more unstable than before?”

Ignoring the Skakdi, Invex decided to continue. “After getting my hands on these stones, I created a container that would explode upon being activated, yet would generate a force sphere that would compress anything inside, even solid light. But since the two forces are so powerful, they eventually balanced themselves out.”

“So you just invented the perfect light generator,” said Skorr, a smile decorating his face in light of his ally’s ingenuity. “I’m impressed. How long does the light last for?”

“Only for as long as the Lightstone’s implosion will,” replied Invex. “Since the blast is being contained, the light will slowly burn up its energy as it tries to expand. I say we have about six hours until the light dies out.”

“Then we need to get moving,” replied Skorr, raw determination in his voice. “Because we’re coming out of here without that stone.”

Truth is a lie. There is only perspective.

Good and evil are illusions. They are the words of hypocrites.

History is not established. It can be morphed and bent.

The future is not unchangeable. The present is in flux.

Few knew these four morals, though fewer still knew their context. The heretics and the hypocrites of the world had rejected the meaning derived from these words many times, perhaps because the defied the beliefs established by the entity of Mata Nui.

No, what some people had faith in was a much more firm power; easily firmer than some mystic, peace-loving Great Spirit. What some people had faith in was the guardian who brought truth to reality, the one who would bend the laws of the world to prove a point: That nothing was set in stone, there was only the flux in the world; flux that could be manipulated to change everything.

Absolutely anything was possible. The believers of this concept were scattered and varied; there was no set race, background or personality type required to believe in this unique theory.

Anyone with the courage to embrace something so elevating and so challenging was welcome, though very few people would dare to embrace such beliefs. Together, only the bravest and most independent souls had the strength of will to broke off from the horrible grind of the hypocrites and truly be free to serve a greater purpose.

And at this present moment in time, one particular individual had been tasked with a most important mission. The majestic master himself had tasked him with running the trials, though to call it a duty would be a sign of ingratitude. No, it was an absolute honour.

As he lay seated with his legs crossed in a circle of symbols, some both familiar and unfamiliar to the common eye, he began to contemplate his role in the grand design of the foreseen future, though found himself unable to determine his true his significance. Perhaps the true meaning of his fate would come in time, when his task was over.

It had not been so long since he had been tasked with overseeing the trials, possibly only a century or two ago. But despite the “short” period of time he had spent with this assignment, the individual was already dramatically behind schedule. External influences had been at play with the trials much to his irritation, inconstantly delaying things and displeasing the master.

But in the time that had followed the end great earthquake, which had struck the world like a Rock Lion’s claw, his mission had begun to catch up. There had been many subjects to go through the challenges he had laid out as part of these trials, though no of them had passed.

The latest one, a powerful female warrior, had come exceptionally close to succeeding, though like those before her, inevitably failed. But now he had new test subjects, each powerful in their own respect, but each with their own fallible flaws.

They would make excellent playthings in the games he had established, and if they succeeded, then more questions would be raised than answered. He found it ironic that as they travelled through the unique challenge that had been set up so many centuries ago, they would all have no clue whatsoever as to the real reason they were within this land. His master had thought it would be easier this way.

The figure finally rose from the circle of symbols, walking away in a manner that told a tale of madness and absolute devotion to the order he believed himself a part of. It almost seemed as if he was skipping merrily around his chamber, though his reflexes were atrophied and weak, so he appeared more to be stumbling horribly than skipping.

The figure came before a bank of machinery, and with one great pull with both his hands, pulled down a lever that would send out a series of events that could possibly spell the doom or salvation for the ones compelled to go through the trials. In any case, from this moment forth, their fates would be sealed. Mechanical gears began to grind, indicating that some of the more elaborate traps had been activated.

The new challengers thought they were coming in to recover the stone, his stone that he was safeguarding for the sake of the coming future. They were coming for this stone, and yet they had no idea what they were really playing a very dangerous game.

Chapter Six[]

Skorr was uneasy.

Though for the sake of his career, he always felt uneasy. He loved the thrill and stimulation that came with taking risks, so this could just pass off as him invigorated by this job, yet this time it was a different type of uneasiness. It was a weary kind, the kind that made you reluctant and unwilling to do something, not the kind were you felt both excited and worried when taking perilous circumstances.

He had never felt this uneasy before whilst on a job and he couldn’t understand why he was so now. Perhaps it was because he was simply concerned about his current debts. Perhaps it was because he knew that if he failed, his career might never soar again. Or perhaps it was because they were all standing before an intimidating sculpture of a Kanohi Hau, the Great Mask of Shielding.

The mask was carved into the rock wall before them, the detail of which was as staggering as much as the carving’s age. The monument looked like it had been carved millennia ago, and the rock itself had faded away slightly from centuries of erosion. But this was no ordinary rock carving. This was one of the main gates that led directly into the Maze of Shadows. And yet, for such a weary and old entrance, the fate itself radiated with menace.

“Okay,” began Arzok in a voice that was only a little louder than a whisper. “Remind me what the plan is again.”

Skorr opened his mouth, but found he was unable to break off his gaze on the Maze’s entrance. It was like he was being hypnotized. Again.

“The plan is we go in through here, and cover a certain amount of ground as we make our way through the Maze. We cover as much ground as possible and terminate any and all threats that come our way. Whilst we cover our own ground, we must keep close so we don’t split up and get lost. Using a rough map given to us by Roodaka, I can determine a rough route through this labyrinth. However, it is best not to rely on it.”

“And just how do we plan to navigate our way through this twisted deathtrap?” growled Arzok roughly. “A vague map and our navigation skills aren’t exactly the most reliable methods to use. What else can we use to get us to this stone?”

“We can use this,” replied Skorr as he unclipped one of his belt’s comportments and pulled out a strange, oriental contraction. It was coloured a dull bronze and bore odd patterns and inscriptions that were obviously

“Not the most detailed plan in the world,” added Invex in a skeptic voice.

“No, its not. But it’s the best we’ve got. Now, do we have any more questions? I really do want to get paid at this point in time. We’re in this for money, remember?”

When Invex and Arzok didn’t reply, Skorr summoned his pride and discipline and walked towards the looming Hau carving. Each step brought irritatingly greater amount of worry and doubt, but Skorr brushed these thoughts aside. He would have his reward, one way or another.

As the trio approached the mouthpiece of the giant carving, they felt the ground tremor slightly as the mouthpiece opened up like a door to reveal the entrance of the Maze of Shadows. They braced themselves for the worst, but they saw nothing inside; no nightmarish horrors; no icons of terror. All they saw was the black and the dark, and that itself was enough to inspire fear in all them. It was like they were walked into the void itself, the pit of nothingness.

They were heading into a place of shadow. Light just simply wasn’t permitted to go beyond this point. Skorr shrugged to himself. Oh well, I’ve seen worse. He thought in an effort to reassure himself.

With steely resolve, the mercenary passed through the shades of darkness and entered the black. Arzok followed after him cautiously, and Invex entered last. Before doing so, the humble crafter looked back one last time, and he gazed at the shimmering glow of the Silver Sea through the mouth of the cave, which now seemed so far away. Praying to Mata Nui that this would not be his last sight, Invex turned away from the shining sea and passed through the looming gate of the Maze of Shadows.

Then, as sharply as it had opened, the doorway remerged from the ground and the three were sealed within. To an outsider, this would be considered a suicidal decision. To the bounty hunters, it was just another job.

Sidorak rattled a clawed hand on rails of the large private box of Turaga Dume, staring down at the specs of red, white, brown, black, blue and green that littered the floor of the Coliseum like dust. From up here, the specs were indistinguishable, though Sidorak clearly recognised the coloured dots as the Visorak Horde, the legion of spider-like Rahi that he had been burdened with commanding as their king.

Here, he allowed them to pit themselves against each other – in a non-lethal manner, of course – so as to keep the Horde’s skills and savagery sharp. By his own expectations, Sidorak had predicted that someone would notice sooner or later the fall of Metru Nui, and some disgruntled Toa or vigilantes would try their best to stir trouble and try to take the city back.

Sidorak always laughed at that notion. What were the chances of a single band of Toa retaking an island city held in the grasp of the Brotherhood’s most powerful army?

The Visorak King was abruptly pulled out of his trail of thought by the sound of a pair of feet clomping against the metallic floor of the observation deck, a sound that was followed closely by the pitter-patter sounds of at least eight blade-like toes.

Sidorak turned to look into the eyes of Roodaka, who made a respectful bow before him. The two of her Boggarak bodyguards who flanked her on both sides replicated the gesture.

“Is it done?” Sidorak inquired in a firm voice.

Roodaka nodded. “The bounty hunter willingly accepted the deal after negotiating a higher price for his services. He is already on his way to the Maze of Shadows.”

“He negotiated a higher price?” asked Sidorak suspiciously. “I fear you are becoming too… generous, my dear viceroy.”

Roodaka hissed menacingly. “It was the only way to convince him to accept the assignment. You know how this mission is practically a suicide mission. The Brotherhood can cover his fees easily… If he survives.”

“I was most surprised he took up this mission,” added the Visorak King. “Surely he is aware of the massive risks and threats he will be faced with.”

“Most in his line of work don’t get the offer we are presenting him with. These kinds of jobs aren’t good business for any hired thug or bounty hunter, but present them with a big enough reward, and their greed will override all forms of common sense and drive them to succeed. This Zeverek is perhaps the best example of these types of people. It is possible he may actually recover the object our masters seek.”

“And if he doesn’t?” asked Sidorak. “What if he fails?”

Roodaka walked over to the railing and stared down at the Horde below. After five seconds of silence she spoke again, cold disinterest present her voice.

“If he fails, then I suppose we can just as easily fool another mercenary into taking up such a deathly mission.”

Sidorak chuckled. “I like your way of thinking, Roodaka. When you become my Queen, the Horde will be unstoppable!”

Rooaka simply smiled. Oh, it will be, Sidorak. It will once I give up all pretense of sharing my future position with an incompetent fool like you.

Scarlet eyes snapped open sharply, as if someone had abruptly experienced the deduction an age-old mystery. He had felt the sensation ripple through his mind, like rock being hurled into a pond. He had felt the gate open, and he had felt it close again. It was an interesting feeling; it felt like a gap had been ripped open in his body, only to be sealed again the second he had become aware of it.

Had he related this experience to anyone, he would surely have been deemed mad, though he knew that he was far from it.

“They are here,” he whispered to himself. “The testing can begin.”

Whilst it was true that he lacked any real control over the maze itself; the elusive Great Beings had built the structure many centuries ago for a purpose that was at this time unknown. But he had established himself in a small portion of this ascending labyrinth, and he would soon have control of the whole domain. However, in a place as dark as this, there were always places that even he dared not venture. A region of this maze, more an insect hive than a structure, was just too… alien.

Everything about that place felt wrong; the area an odd union of flesh and metals. A fusion of organic protrusions and metallic superstructures. The hybrid technology was bizarre and unknown to him, but he would learn its purpose one day. What the Great Beings had intended was this place was equally unknown, though perhaps the extensive pipe systems buried in the walls would have something to do with it.

But alas, he was distracting himself. He now had three new playthings to use in his lovely little… home. And he was really looking forward to seeing how long they would last in his games. And when he was finally done with his testing, his master would be very pleased. Yes, very pleased indeed.

Chapter Seven[]

Silence.

It was the scream of nothingness, the song of the dead and the domain of every predator. And what came with this silence were shadows. For centuries, the depths of the darkest pits had been shrouded in mystery and eeriness. Some believed the element of Shadow represented the curse of corruption, immorality, and selfishness. With it, came the promise of an empty black heart. Others thought the darkness was a means to an end, one that would lead to power.

Regardless of these varying opinions, there were always those who walked the line between light and dark. Skorr himself proudly admitted he was a rogue; a suave renegade whose job had forged him into a ruthless weapon. He had done many questionable things in his life, but he was merely a tool, a conduit through which his employer’s intentions were channeled.

He was but the messenger, and no deaths he caused could be pinned on him. Of course, he had committed his fair share of ‘collateral damage’, like every bounty hunter, but most of the time he was a refined weapon. If people wanted to criticise him, they’d be criticising his employers, and it wasn’t Skorr’s job to defend their interests unless he had been paid accordingly.

His current mission was admittedly rather unusual, though he would still carry it out with as much efficiency as possible. If all went bad, he would still get paid for ‘sabotaging’ the stone, which was a cute way in economical with the truth. By ‘sabotage,’ he meant blow it up when everything went haywire. Sure, he’d make his employers’ fury blaze brighter than a foundry in Ta-Metru, but at least he’d stop the Toa from getting it.

The Zeverek tread carefully through the Maze, his strides neither overly cautious nor overly confident. The space was dark and quiet, which brought with it an illogical paranoia that nibbled away at his morale bit by bit. Though he was not properly armed right now, Skorr’s left hand hovered dangerously close to his holster.

Better safe than sorry.

Behind him, Skorr heard Arzok and Invex trodding on after him, though the two had chosen to arm themselves with their weapons of trade. It had been an hour or so since they had made their way into the Maze, and all they had encountered were long, creepy pathways and extremely wide chambers. The Maze was far from the archetype of life-sized labyrinths; rather, it was a series of underground passageways that were as enigmatic as they were baffling.

Suffice to say, he wasn’t even sure if the accursed compass Jekart had given him was doing anything apart from leading them in the wrong direction. For the last five minutes, the three of them had come to a standstill pondering on why the compass was telling them to go east before a whack from Arzok made it point north. Once this mission was over, he’d not only be demanding a refund for faulty gear, but he’d also make it very clear that he wouldn’t tolerate it. His chat with Jekart would be done in Skorr’s typical “bash-down-the-doors-whilst-pointing-a-gun” style. The bounty hunter smiled to himself.

Well, at least I’ll have something to look forward to when this job’s done.

For the fourth time, Skorr tapped his head sensor. Again, nothing seemed to pick up in his mind, nothing but blurry images of his general surroundings. Usually, when activated, the sensor would change Skorr’s vision, allowing him to see everything from within a fifty-meter radius, including living creatures. Whatever was tampering with his sensor’s scanning abilities had dramatically increased their chances of getting ambushed. And Skorr hated ambush.

Suddenly, a bone-chilling screech filled the air that made Skorr jump higher than a surprised Brakas monkey. Instinctively, he drew his launcher, his finger itching on the trigger. Arzok took a defensive stance, whilst Invex’s tool charged with electricity. All three of them stood back to back, their eyes fixed ahead so they could not be caught by surprise.

“What was that?” Invex whispered in an nervy voice.

“Something that needs killing,” chuckled Arzok, a disturbing grin etching itself across his face.

“Keep your voices down,” growled Skorr as he flexed his fingers. “I don’t want some foul creature charging at us without me getting my bearings first.”

“You take the spontaneity out of battle, you know!” his Skakdi companion barked irritably.

“And you take chunks out of my pay when I bring you on missions that specifically require stealth.”

Another high-pitched cry radiated out from everywhere and nowhere. Arzok stamped a foot in aggressive eagerness.

“See?” Skorr complained.

Invex rolled his eyes as he tried to block out his comrades’ bickering. His eyes flickered left and right, yet all he saw was more fog and blackness. Whatever this creature was, it knew its surroundings well and it knew how to toy with its enemies. Suddenly, Invex picked up another noise; a remarkable achievement considering the loudness of Skorr and Arzok’s arguing.

It was a strange sound, made up of odd humming and flat tunes. As Invex listened closer, he found it sounded like a pair of wings flapping, though the noise they made sounded like they were being made by an unusually large insect. It was at this moment Invex decided to alert his allies of his discovery, pitching in as Arzok’s rage got the better of him.

“Next time you need me for a job, Skorr, I’m leaving you to fend for yourself! See how you like that!”

“Guys.”

“And how do you expect to make a profit for yourself without the large cuts that come from my missions? You’ve known for years that my jobs offer the best pay.”

“Guys.”

“Have you examined Stelt’s economy lately? Good bodyguards with actual experience are in short supply these days.”

“GUYS!”

Skorr and Arzok stopped for a moment, and both turned to look down at Invex. It was a sign that they had dedicated their full attention to him instead of their argument. Invex then spoke, his voice hushed.

“Listen closely; listen to the background. Can you hear that noise? That alien hum.”

They listened, and suddenly the room went deathly quite. None of the three dared to move a muscle as they listened to that horrendously repetitive noise. Invex’s heartlight began to flash more rapidly this time.

“Sounds like the wings of some Rahi,” said Arzok. “A big one at that.”

“An insect, to be specific,” added Skorr. “But where is it? It sounds like it’s coming from all around us. Maybe it has some kind of invisibility ability or maybe a….”

“Guys, the noise has stopped.”

“What?”

“The noise; it’s just stopped.”

“Well, if we can’t see it in and the air, and its not approaching us by a conventional means, then that means it’s coming at us in a different manner.”

Suddenly, the sound of the disgusted groan of Arzok filled the room. Skorr and Invex whirled around to see the Skakdi pulling a face at a thick trail of ooze that had landed on his shoulder.

“What is that?!” he roared.

Invex examined the sludge as best he could without being in range of its smell “If I’d take a guess, I’d say it’s some kind of Rahi saliva.”

Abruptly, all three of them looked up at each other in realisation, their eyes wide with shock. In unison, the trio slowly raised their heads to look up at the ceiling, where a thousand eyes met them in return. Upon the ceiling rested an enormous wasp-like creature, its hideous limbs outstretched so it could stick. The monster seemed to bear a resemblance to the Nui-Kopen, yet some of its features, like its wings, did not match that of the standard Rahi. It was an oddity at best.

Upon realising it had been seen, the Kopen let out another high-pitched screech and detached from the ceiling, causing its prey to dive apart as it tried to ensnare them in its claws. As it neared the floor, it flapped its wings and circled up into the air at a staggering speed. Invex was on his feet first, quickly firing several sizzling bolts of electricity that all missed their target due to its surprisingly fast reflexes.

The Kopen hissed savagely, disregarding Invex and Arzok as easy prey before taking a sharp dive towards Skorr with frightening agility. Lacking the time to take a good shot, Skorr activated his wing blades and leapt up into the air, though the Kopen was far from done. With its eyes locked onto the Zeverek, the Kopen gave a foul hiss as it gave chase to Skorr.

Skorr attempted to pull himself away with a sharp turn left, though the monster mimicked the twirl with ease. The two continued to fly further up into the surprisingly large chamber, zipping this way and that in a fast game of cat and mouse. Had the room been smaller, the Kopen would’ve caught Skorr by now. As it gradually drew closer, Skorr found himself becoming increasingly unnerved.

“Arzok, Invex!” he cried at the top of his lungs. “A little help, per chance?!”

Arzok tried to get a good glimpse of the Kopen, even as Skorr continued to weave this way and that up in the high reaches of the room.

“I can’t see that thing from down here, and I’ve got a sword! You’re gonna have to lure it down here so I can get a clear hit!”

Skorr growled in frustration as he dived down towards the ground, air racing past his face. The mercenary continued to plummet downwards, though as soon as the floor became clearly visible, he sharply pulled up and zoomed off in the direction of Arzok. As expected, the Kopen copied his descent.

Arzok’s eyes traced both friend and foe as they approached him at an extreme speed. Raising his blade into the air, he waited for one the two to zoom past him so he could deliver the killing blow. He knew there was fifty-fifty chance he’d hit Skorr instead of the Kopen, but that was a risk he was willing to take.

As they finally drew close enough, Arzok closed his eyes, raised his sword arm into the air and thrust downwards with tremendous speed and force. As his blade fell, he felt its sharp ends strike something solid; he felt his sword slice deep through armour and steel. When he opened his eyes, he found himself staring deep into the eyes of a very angry Nui-Kopen.

Leaping backwards, Arzok ripped his weapon out of the insect’s body and prepared for another strike. The Kopen flexed its claws eagerly as it hovered off the ground, hissing more viciously than an angered Doom Viper. Having lost interest in Skorr, the Kopen snarled then lunged, tackling the Skakdi to the ground and allowing it to land on top of him. As Arzok desperately resisted, the Kopen opened its mouth, ready to finally consume its prey, only to screech in pain as a bolt of electricity struck it in the back.

The monster turned around and found itself surprised to the see smallest of the three, the Matoran, charging another bolt of energy from his weapon. Invex fired three more crackling shots of energy, forcing the Kopen to leap off Arzok to dodge. As the beast turned to gain some distance, Invex fired a shot that struck it on the back, not far from the spot where Arzok had hit it. The insect howled in pain and then glared at Invex with newfound hatred.

“Err, Skorr…” cried Invex as he slowly backed away. “Care to lend your special talents? I didn’t sign up to become a Rahi’s dinner.”

The Zeverek bounty hunter floated above in air, watching his allies combat the Nui-Kopen with interest. The two had faired well against the monster, but even he knew when a game as fun as this had to be drawn to a close. Drawing his Plasma Launcher, Skorr aimed down the scope, his eye fixed on the Kopen. With a look of something resembling boredom on his face, Skorr pulled the trigger and fired two bright red bolts of plasmatic energy at his target. The Kopen looked up in time to see the bolts approach it before they hit it in-between its eyes.

And finally, with a loud, bone-chilling howl, the Nui-Kopen collapsed on the floor and died. Deactivating his wing blades, Skorr drifted down to the ground and looked at his companions, both panting heavily. The looks they gave him informed him they were fine.

It was Invex who broke the silence. “Look at the Kopen.”

Arzok and Skorr turned to look at the large lump of dead Rahi. Though he hadn’t noticed it earlier, it was now very clear that it was no ordinary Nui-Kopen. Whilst it generally shared the same physique, some aspects were far too different. The wings, whilst having an instectoid membrane, were bat-like. Also, whilst the teeth of a standard Kopen were sharp, these were extremely so, and seemed out of place with the Rahi’s physiology. The claws stood out too; they were designed for snatching up prey quickly and easily.

At this point, Arzok examined the edges of his blade. Coated on the prongs’ tips were signs of organic tissue, which must have been lodged their when he slice its back. However, the green substance that covered the tissue looked far from healthy.

“It’s flesh is poisonous,” Arzok deduced aloud. “I’m no Rahi expert, but I know Nui-Kopen don’t have toxic tissue.”

“I think I know what it is,” said Invex as he crouched in front of the Kopen’s face.

“These unnatural aspects of its physiology come from another Rahi. The logical deduction would be a Lohrak mutated by Hordika Venom. Skorr, I think that whatever’s down here is fusing Rahi beasts together.”

The Zeverek let out a poorly feigned gasp, which only made him look uninterested in light of this disturbing revelation.

“Now that is just downright criminal!”

“Skorr, you’re considered a criminal on about thirteen different islands in the northern half of this universe,” retorted Invex.

“Yes, but only the nice, sunny islands. The rest just adore me.”

Arzok leaned forward, looking at the fused creature’s body. “What was a creature like this doing down here? What purpose does a rabid Rahi have down here?”

“I’m not sure,” replied Invex. “Maybe its just an experiment gone wrong, and its creator left it to starve to death in here. Or maybe it was left here to be a sentinel.”

There was a pause as the three mercenaries considered this possibility carefully.

“Come on,” said Skorr uneasily. “Let’s get moving. I don’t want to be sticking around when this thing’s friends come here to find it dead and rotting.”

Characters[]

Onepu (not mentioned by name)
Visorak
- A Boggarak guard
- A large Visorak patrol
Sidorak
Roodaka
Krika
Gorast
Invex
Arzok
Skorr
Two unnamed thugs
Jekart
An unnamed cloaked being
An unnamed hired guard
Chirox
Teridax (Not mentioned by Name)

Trivia[]

An alternate banner for Punishment designed by Jman98

Throughout the story, Makuta Teridax is only ever referred to as “Makuta” or any number of the titles associated with him. This was because Chicken Bond felt it would be better to maintain the canon fact that very few outside the Makuta knew his actual name.
Though Invex is an Av-Matoran, throughout the story he is identified as a Le-Matoran. This is intentional, as it was meant to reflect that nobody (not even Invex himself) knew of his true origins of him being one of the Av-Matoran relocated during the Time Slip.
During the story, several references are made to Hunted, an earlier short story meant to focus on Skorr.
- The first one is a reference to Skorr’s earlier employment by Makuta Dredzek to eliminate Toa Arrea, which would have been the primary focus of Hunted.
- The second one is a sarcastic comment made by Skorr on how easily he defeated or injured members of Krekka’s species, which relates back to Skorr’s swift defeat of two Steltian bodyguards during the beginning of the earlier story.
Another reference was also made to BobTheDoctor27’s character Gribrak through a passing comment made by Jekart ("Besides, I was just reading an interesting story. I heard a gang of Skakdi just raided a tavern belonging to one of the local traders.").
Chicken Bond has confirmed that Jekart's meeting with the mysterious cloaked figure will play an important part in the future of his storyline.
Though unnamed and unidentified, the Rahaga are mentioned by Skorr as he recalls his travel through Ga-Metru, noting that they appeared to be watching him.
Chicken Bond has confirmed that the previous meeting between Roodaka and Skorr will be explored in one of his ongoing stories.