Chapter Three

The hunter made his way through a dark metal corridor, dragging the unconscious body of Hydraxon behind him. His journey had taken several hours, but at last, he had returned home, with a prize in tow for his master. As he pulled on the chain that bound the jailer, he looked up ahead, and locked eyes with his fellow hunter, a red armored being standing guard at the end of the hall.

“Gatherer,” the guard acknowledged, “you’ve returned. State your business.”

The hunter known as Gatherer smiled. “A gift for the Shadowed One, Lurker. The former jailer of the Pit.”

Lurker nodded, and smiled as well. “I’m sure your efforts will be rewarded. Here, I’ll take this trophy to the dungeon.”

Just as Lurker’s armored hand reached to take Hydraxon’s body, Gatherer stopped him. “Just a moment,” the captor said as he knelt down beside the jailer. Resting a hand on Hydraxon’s helmet, he gently began to lift it off of his face, taking great care not to damage it. With a shaky hand, he removed it and rose back to his feet.

“I’m sure he won’t be needing this,” Gatherer remarked.

The crimson hunter shook his head wordlessly, and picked up the former jailer, slinging the body over his right shoulder. “Did Shadow Stealer enjoy the hunt?”

“‘Disappointing’ was the word he used,” Gatherer remarked. “He’s gone off to brood, as expected.”

“Of course. I’m surprised he’s even rejoined us, given his attitude. Make your way to the grand chamber,” Lurker said, “the Shadowed One wants everyone accounted for. I’ll return once this one is locked up.”

Gatherer nodded, and the two hunters parted ways.

✴        ✴        ✴

Sitting in her confined cell, Roodaka perked up upon hearing the chamber door open. Descending the steps, her captor entered, dragging behind him an immobile body. Meeting her gaze, the crimson armored Dark Hunter stared her down as he dropped the body off in a cell of its own.

“This is a mistake, you know,” she said, with a tone so calm she may as well have been talking to a close friend. “This isn’t punishment, it’s just preparing new enemies for him.”

Lurker growled as he locked the gate. “Be quiet, scum. You know nothing of his plan.”

Roodaka chuckled to herself as he departed. “Now, where have I heard that before?” Once the hunter had exited, she made her way to the edge of her cell, and peered at the newcomer.

“Hey!” a voice from the cell next to hers shouted. “We have a new friend!”

“How lovely,” another voice came, “perhaps our ticket out of here?”

As Roodaka examined the unconscious figure, she saw a face she recognized. After her service to Brutaka on a renegade team of prisoners was up, she was sent back to Daxia, and later taken to a high security prison known as the Pit. There, she had been held captive by a towering, black and silver armored warrior, known as Hydraxon.

Now, she had escaped captivity only to land in another prison, and her former captor seemingly lay before her, beaten and unmasked. It was almost cathartic to see.

“More than you may think,” she finally responded. “How ironic! The great jailer, finally brought into a cell of his own. How does it feel on the other side?”

The first voice rang out once more. “Roodaka, what is it you’re babbling about?”

She smirked. “I forget, Tyrant, that not all of you have had the pleasure of spending a vacation in the Pit.” As the body began to stir, she continued. “If you had, you would’ve been able to meet Hydraxon, the mighty jailer and member of the Order of Mata Nui.”

“What in Karzahni is an Order of Mata Nui?”

Roodaka laughed even more heartily than before. “He’s never heard of the Order. Fantastic. To think that a Dark Hunter defeated him…”

At last, a groan emanated from the newcomer’s mouth. Slowly, the black and silver armored warrior rose to his feet, clutching the nearby wall for balance. “Where… Where am I?”

To Roodaka’s right, another prisoner stirred from their cell, this one bound tightly in a large metal tank. Some strange energy pulsated through the wiring, and only the figure’s blue Kanohi mask was visible from within. “You’re in a dreaded prison,” she spoke, “something you should apparently be used to.”

But Hydraxon looked confused. “A prison? For what? I don’t understand, I-” he suddenly yelped, falling back to the ground as he caught a glimpse of his own hand. Sitting on the metal floor, he carefully examined his right arm. “By Mata Nui…” he whispered. “What has that mask done to me?”

Roodaka looked confused. “Mask? What mask?”

The jailer arose at once, rushing to the front of his cell and clinging onto the bars of his door. “The mask.” His voice suddenly became dark. “Where is it? Tell me what’s going on! What’s happened to me? Where is Pridak? And why…” he lost himself in thought, and slowly looked around the room.

“Why in the name of Mata Nui are we on land?” he finally asked.

Tyrant chuckled. “Someone’s confused. Gatherer must’ve hit him with the mind scrambling kanoka disk.”

But the Vortixx found no humor in this situation. Stepping as far forward as the bars would allow, she locked eyes with Hydraxon. “Who are you?” she asked.

The warrior at first didn’t seem to have an answer. A concerned look spread across his face, which turned to a scowl as he spoke. “My name is Dekar.”

✴        ✴        ✴

The grand chamber of the Shadowed One was in chaos. Hundreds of criminals from various walks of life now populated the massive theater of the makeshift fortress. Skrall and Glatorian disgraced from society. Fallen warriors seeking revenge. Skakdi warlords looking for more power. Various experiments and freaks of nature. The one thing they all shared in common? A devotion to the Shadowed One, and to a life of crime. Some out of inspired loyalty, and some out of fear.

The crowd was bustling, various conversations sparking throughout. Gossip, veiled threats, mission reports, they all shared the same roof. The room was almost like a capsule, containing the worst possible behavior from each piece of society on Spherus Magna.

Through the bustling crowd, a cloaked figure moved stealthily. Weaving between drawn weapons and heavily armored warriors, she slowly progressed to the center, at which there sat a great tower, upon which sat the Shadowed One himself.

Overlooking all, the master of the Dark Hunters watched as the crowded room slowly filled even more, as the hunters he had sent out throughout the planet trickled in. To his right stood Sentrakh, his assigned guardian, as well as the Recorder. Behind them lurked Darkness, keeping to the shadows. In the event that their leader became soft, Darkness had specific instructions to usurp him, while Sentrakh would remain loyal to the end. At many times, the conflict seemed like an inevitability. But as the Shadowed One prepared for war, it now seemed that Darkness would never have to take action.

Soon, his army would be in attendance, and the final preparations would be complete. Soon, the old way of life would be gone, and a new society would take its place. And he fully intended to be in charge.

From below, the cloaked figure observed the Shadowed One. She stared intently at the being seated upon his throne, as though looking away would cause him to vanish. She was desperate to gain some kind of insight to his plans, but she could glean nothing from his malicious glare.

He’s serious about this, she thought to herself. He really believes in this empire.

Shaking her head, Lariska departed back into the seemingly endless crowd.

✴        ✴        ✴

“Well, this is rich,” Roodaka sighed. “We get an expert on prisons thrown in one himself, and he’s lost his memory.”

The warrior calling himself Dekar looked to the other cells with fear in his eyes. None of them looked like anything he had ever seen in Mahri Nui. It didn’t make any sense to him. Moments ago, he had been underwater, fleeing from the Barraki warlord Pridak. He carried with him the Mask of Life, having seen the mask’s transformative powers, and knew better than to let it fall into the hands of someone like Pridak. He had fallen for a long time through a dark abyss of water, until the mask started glowing. Just as soon as it started, all had gone black, and he woke up in a strange prison. His body had changed, he was no longer underwater, and he was surrounded by an odd crew of misfits in the cells nearby.

His head raced with questions. Where had the mask gone? Did Pridak have it? Was he taken away from Mahri Nui?

At last, he voiced the first of his concerns. “The Mask of Life,” he said softly, “where is it?”

In the cell across from him, Roodaka stared blankly for a moment, then laughed. “Whoever you are, you must’ve been gone for a while.” She sighed, and eyed up the warrior. The body he was in possessed strength, she was sure, but the mind was weak and afraid. If she wanted him to be useful, she would need to ease his fears. “You mentioned someone named Pridak. I imagine you’re from Mahri Nui or the Pit, then.”

Dekar nodded. “Mahri Nui.”

But not before Pridak was let out, she mused, interesting…

Roodaka began to explain the events of the past few months, from the resurrection of Mata Nui, to the reformation of Spherus Magna. As she spoke, the face of the warrior slowly became very much like that of a scared Matoran.

“Nice summary,” Tyrant remarked, “don’t suppose you wanted to ease him into it at all?”

“He can handle it,” she shot back, “can’t you?”

At last, Dekar responded. “What about the mask?”

“It vanished shortly after the battle. I imagine the Toa have kept it under lock and key.”

Another pause. “And… the Barraki?”

“They were released from prison to aid in the war against Teridax. Now they run free, their mutations reversed by some spell Mata Nui sent out before he went to sleep.”

Dekar slowly took a seat on the cold metal floor, taking in the information of the past few seconds. His world was gone, by all accounts. His body had been transformed. And the most dangerous people he knew roamed free.

No, he thought, I can’t focus on that right now. I need to get out of here, find someone. That Matoran, what was her name, Kyrehx? She could help me. If she’s even still alive, that is. His gaze slowly turned to the prisoners in the other cells. But if I want to get out of here, I think these guys are my best bet, for now.

“I know this all must be quite confusing, but I hope I can help you however I can,” the Vortixx purred. “My name is Roodaka, former queen of the Visorak horde. I hope that you can come to see me as an ally.”

A boisterous laugh came from the next cell down. “That’s rich!” the crimson armor warrior guffawed. “Trusting Roodaka is the last thing you’d want to do, friend. Believe me.”

“And who are you?” asked Dekar.

“That’s Tyrant, a former Dark Hunter,” Roodaka explained. “He once plotted to overthrow the Shadowed One, their great leader. In return, the Shadowed One left him for dead in a city full of Toa. I believe it was Lhikan who shoved him into the Silver Sea.”

“A loss I fully intend to repay,” the crimson armored warrior growled.

“Lhikan is dead,” she replied plainly, “there’s no revenge to seek.”

“So I’ve heard. I suppose I’ll have to take my revenge on the Shadowed One, then. If not him, eh, I suppose some other Fire Toa will have to do.”

From within the large metal tank, the other prisoner squirmed. “How pathetic, really. You’re lucky the Shadowed One didn’t put you out of your misery.”

Tyrant was about to speak up, but Roodaka cut him off. “And her, I’m unsure about. For whatever reason, she’s bound in that tank, something none of us had to deal with.”

“It is all the Shadowed One can do to hold back my power,” she spat back. “Were it not for this infernal machine, you would be dead by now, witch.”

“So, it’s someone who wants Roodaka dead,” Tyrant snickered. “You’d think that would narrow it down. It really doesn’t.”

“What are you, a Toa?” Roodaka asked. “Last I checked, the Shadowed One already has a trophy Toa. Why would he need you?”

“Same reason he keeps us all in here, rather than killing us,” Tyrant said softly, “we’re leverage.”

The others turned to his cell.

“Isn’t it obvious? We’re all powerful opponents, but none of us he can trust. Roodaka and I have both betrayed him in the past. Hydraxon, or Dekar, whichever he is, is a notable member of the Order, whatever that is. And obviously, this Toa would never join him.”

It all clicked for Roodaka. “He wants to ransom us back to our captors.”

“If he didn’t,” Tyrant replied, “we’d be dead by now.”

Dekar looked at this misfit band, and sighed. All of them seemed powerless to escape, that much was obvious. But a name kept popping up in each of their stories. The Shadowed One.

“Who is the Shadowed One?”

The room went silent.

“The one responsible for your captivity,” another voice said.

In their cells, each prisoner’s eyes darted to the gate. From the shadows, a hooded figure, clad in teal armor, approached the center of the hall, standing between Roodaka and Dekar.

“I don’t suppose you want revenge?” she asked.

Roodaka hissed. “Lariska. Decided to pay us a visit, have you?”

Lariska smirked. “No. I’ve come to break you out.”

“You’re a fool,” Roodaka snapped. “The Shadowed One is too powerful. He’s been manipulating the universe since you were playing with cutlery. Why break us out now?”

“Believe me, I know,” she shot back. “I taught him his table manners, after all. I was one of his most trusted agents for some time, and for the most part, I was loyal to him. But this new world has filled his head with delusions of grandeur. He thinks he can be an emperor. I know he’s not powerful enough to do that, but he is powerful enough to get both his forces and the Toa’s destroyed.”

Pausing for a moment, she locked eyes with Dekar. “His war would only guarantee the end of our people’s lives. I don’t intend to allow that to happen.”

Dekar’s mind raced at the thought. He had only just returned to life, and he had no intention of dying, nor letting anyone else die. Still, it seemed far fetched to him that one being could possess so much power.

Without another word, Lariska made her way over to the gate, and pulled a lever. At once, all the bars that had restrained the prisoners now flung open. “Now,” she said calmly, “are you in?”

In the cell on the far right, the massive tank popped open with a hiss, the pulsing blue energy that ran through the wires dulling to black. Coolant fluids poured out onto the floor, as the figure within was freed from the binding of several mechanical arms.

She resembled a Toa in shape, clad in blue armor and wearing a Kanohi mask. Stretching her limbs, she strode out of her cell for the first time in a while. “Finally,” she said with bliss, “room to breathe.”

As she spoke, the other prisoners watched in confusion as she seemingly grew in size, her armor plates shifted, and her features seemed to change and distort. Within a few moments, she had taken on the appearance of a large, winged Rahi.

Roodaka stepped out of her cage, fuming. “Krahka,” she said, as though it were a curse, “you survived.”

The large Rahi turned to face the Vortixx, baring her teeth as she leaned in close. “You call this survival?” she demanded, in the voice of all three of her fellow prisoners at once. “I have been hunted down, my abilities repressed by that infernal machine, all to be used as a piece in some twisted ruler’s game.”

She turned, facing Lariska this time. “And you. I aided you during the Makuta’s reign. This is how your organization thanks me?” She let out a terrifying laugh. “I should kill both of you and burn this place to the ground.”

The Dark Hunter was quick to respond. “I didn’t have any say in it. I’m sorry that they did this to you, but I need you to wait for just a moment before burning everything. Not until the right time.”

“I demand justice!” the Krahka roared. “I have waited too long to see it enacted!”

“I know,” said Lariska, in a voice that was unusually calming, “and you’ll have your chance. Trust me.”

Krahka was pensive for a moment, before shrinking back down, assuming the form of a blue Toa of Water once more. “Very well,” she sighed in one voice this time, “I will aid you in your journey, so long as you promise me vengeance against that monster.”

Roodaka hissed at the open insult. “You may try.”

“Yes,” Lariska said enthusiastically, “you may. Once we’re done with her.” With that, she turned to the other prisoners in attendance. “What about you all? Care for a suicide mission?”

Tyrant stepped forward, placing his right hand over his chest. “I’m at your service.”

Roodaka groaned, shaking her head. “I suppose if death is my alternative, I’m in.”

Dekar was about to answer, before the gate to the hallway flung open once more. Turning around, he saw a gray and blue armored Dark Hunter standing in the doorway.

“Lariska? What are you-” Before he could finish speaking, a dagger flung from Lariska’s hand struck him between the eyes. In an instant, the hunter fell forward, collapsing to the ground with a loud thud. The blade dug into his skull upon impact.

The stealthy hunter moved forward, and bent down to the fallen body, carefully wriggling her blade free as she watched his lights go out. Standing up, she looked back at the prisoners. “Someone definitely heard that. We need to move.”

Dekar thought for just a moment. Was it really the best decision, working with these criminals?

Only for now, a voice rang in his head. But they’re going behind bars later.

The voice was unfamiliar, but he opted not to question it for now. He stood up, and nodded his head to Lariska. “I’m in.”