Fractures, a bionicle fanfic

Death was an inconvenience.

No, he supposed, that was selling it short. Death was an extremely unpleasant inconvenience. More than that, there was something personal about it. Death, he decided, was an insult. Yes, that sounded about right. Tens of thousands of years spent trapped on a little island, broken up only by a jaunt in that Toa of Air's body, and what had been waiting for him at the end? Death.

He could have gotten used to death, he supposed, if there was more to it. Some sort of afterlife would have been acceptable – some mindless, incomprehensible plane that would drive anyone still alive stark raving mad just by looking at it. He would have fit in just fine there. Instead most of the time he found himself – or actually, didn't find himself, he supposed. Most of the time wasn't time. It took a sizable amount of effort just to keep himself aware of what was going on around him – it seemed to him that he was keeping himself in existence by sheer force of will; he felt as though he were pulling back pieces of himself from some very distant place and trying to hold them together.

It really was obnoxious. Still, if you had to know how to keep immeasurable, unknowable bits of yourself together to get by around here, living as a many-formed abomination of tentacles and ichor really was very good practice.

Even so, as the fragments of spirit of the being known in life as Tren Krom pulled themselves together once more, they had a particular thought in mind: this would not do. He watched the Toa of Ice and the Toa of Stone examining his remains and idly toyed with the idea of letting them know who had killed him. He concentrated for a moment on the Toa of Ice, calling on the telepathy he'd so often made use of while alive, and was disappointed but not particularly surprised to find himself unable to make any sort of connection. Perhaps if he really tried, he would be able to, but the more he concentrated on the figure in front of him, the more he felt himself breaking apart, the pieces of his spirit being pulled away from each other.

Well, it wasn't that important who had killed him, he supposed. They would be found out sooner or later. There was nothing for him to gain from finding justice for his death – instead he ha d to fo cu s o n

Nighttime. Tren Krom cursed as he came back into existence – an act not to be underestimated considering it came from a being who'd had millenia of practice. He needed to be done with death on his part, and the sooner the better; which meant he needed something that could either make him a new body, or something that could repair his old one. He watched some sort of small animal nibble on what had been one of his eyes and decided that the latter option was off the table. There were two options, he supposed; the Mask of Life and the Mask of Creation. They would be fairly easy to get to in this form; the trouble was their owners. Artakha would do nothing more than lecture him about destiny before putting an end to what little consciousness he had now. As for the Ignika, he could feel someone embodied within it; whoever they were, they had to be quite powerful to exist in such a state, and if his brief experiment with a lowly Toa was any indication, he was in no state to try any sort of psychic assault on a living being.

Frustration seeped through him. He could wait for some fortunate turn of events; perhaps whoever was sleeping in the Ignika would wake up, or perhaps the one who had caused this whole situation had Artakha in mind next. But that was unacceptable; he might be able to maintain this form as long as was necessary, but it would be another era of imprisonment. The irony was not lost on him; he'd gone from being trapped on a piece of rock over which he had total control to being free to roam the universe, provided he never interacted with it and spent his time making sure his mind didn't fall apart.

He paused. Why wait? There was a third legendary mask, after all. A moment's concentration was enough to feel its influence, a piece of time itself trapped within a mask. He could feel it throbbing; it had been damaged once before, and since then it had quietly raged, waiting for another chance to be released onto the world and leave its mark.

Tren Krom would have smiled if he hadn't long since lost anything analogous to a mouth. Why, it was like they were kindred spirits.

Lewa Nuva had had better days, weeks, and quite probably months. Teridax taking over the universe had been bad enough; spending a few days trapped in the body of something that hurt to even look at hadn't improved his mood. Being captured by what appeared to be a group of Matoran that had been hit with the ugly stick was, he decided, the last evidence he needed to prove his theory that somewhere along the line the Matoran had gotten the words for "Destiny" and "Comedy of Errors" mixed up. As he trudged along he supposed it wouldn't be that difficult to escape; a quick gust of air to lift him up and he would be off flying before the spear-lovers knew what had happened.

Yet somehow he found himself not particularly keen to put in the effort. The truth was, he'd been able to deal with everything that had come before: Teridax's reign was bad, but the Toa had pulled through – okay, not worse, but still pretty bad situations before; his sojourn as something that had had far too many tentacles was possible to ignore provided he tried very very hard to not think about it; there was probably a better than even chance these junglewalkers weren't going to kill him. The trouble, really, was that not thinking about his time in the body of Tren Krom had gotten extremely difficult when the being had forced itself back into his head in the form of a scream. It had been impossibly loud; the villagers so kindly escorting him had been startled, but for Lewa that scream had superseded the rest of the world. He could feel it echoing in the back of his mind as he walked; it wormed its way into the gaps between thoughts, reminding him of the days he had spent trying not to even think.

It did more than that; it seemed like it was splitting apart his mind, fragmenting it into pieces he'd long since buried. He smelled the slightest hint of something sour, a stench he'd hoped to leave behind forever in the Nui-Rama hive; he heard the quiet murmurs of the Bohrok, sleeping now somewhere far away; he felt rage and frustration that would vanish for hours at a time and then return. It was all he could do to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Night fell as the group reached a small village. Lewa smiled weakly at the patchwork huts sequestered amongst the jungle. Ah, it's a little bit like old Le-Koro – except they weren't trying to kill me there most days. He stood wearily as several of his captors spoke to a group that seemed to have been waiting for them to return; even as one of the beings he'd been trudging alongside pointed angrily back towards the fortress in the far distance, he was shouted down by one of the others. Something big had happened while the group had been away, it seemed, and Lewa had absolutely no idea what. A minute passed as the groups argued; eventually, two of the villagers stepped forward, spears at the ready, and gestured for him to follow them into a small hut. It was no surprise to him when his captors left him there, secured the door, and posted a guard outside the window.

The Toa of Air let out a lengthy sigh as he slid down against the wall. He had no idea where he was, what had happened, or who those villagers were, he could barely move from exhaustion, and his mind was busy trying to convince itself that it was either a mad Rahi, a Bohrok, or a dead nightmare, depending on how it felt at the moment. His head flopped forward; his body had decided that sleep would probably be the best course of action for the moment. After all, he was a light sleeper; at least he could be sure nothing was going to happen while he was asleep without his knowing.

Something was wrong. Something was extremely, dangerously wrong. Voporak tried to focus on the Vahi in his hands, pushing to restrain its power, but it was as though there was something inside it pushing back. It didn't make any sense – one moment it had been dormant as always, and in the next he'd felt it come alive in his mind, eddies of time forming around it. He struggled to concentrate on the mask, willing what little power he had over it to be enough.

It wasn't. As the mask fractured in his hands, he felt something deep with in him start to scream, and then

Lewa opened his eyes. The room around him buzzed with activity; the casualties in the final battle against Teridax had been many, and there were many with wounds far worse than his. All things considered, he'd gotten off lucky, scorched by a Rahkshi but otherwise undamaged.

A familiar, warm voice called out to him. "Ah, you're finally awake, brother." Lewa turned to see Onua walking towards him, seemingly undamaged. That was Onua for you – he'd always seemed the most on top of things of all of them.

Lewa smiled at him. "What, I don't deserve a quick-nap after all that? We did just save the universe, after all – and for real this time."

Onua chortled in response. "The fact you have to quantify 'save the universe' says more about the history of the Toa than every book in the archives put together." His face contorted into a frown. "And much as I'd like to say it's all over and done with, I have a feeling there's still plenty of work to do. It's a shame Kopaka isn't here; Tahu could use some backup getting things organized."

Lewa paused for a moment. There was something wrong with that sentence. It made sense factually: Kopaka had set out to Artakha on the Order's behalf, but hadn't been heard from since. More than a little concerning, all things considered. But still, something else was... off about it. Onua seemed to sense Lewa's trepidation. "Something the matter, Lewa?"

Lewa opened his mouth to answer, to say that something was wrong, something was very wrong, when suddenly a scream, unending and echoing, pierced its way into his mind. He grabbed his head in agony, a sudden fury filling him. Onua reached out a hand in surprise, and

The Vahi pulsed in anger. A small change hadn't been enough; more was required. Much more.

Lewa blinked. For a moment, just a moment, he'd seen something completely impossible: he'd seen Onua reaching out towards him from a room he'd never seen before. He shook his head; the weeks spent on the run must have started to catch up with him. He finished putting together the small fire in the center of his campsite, and looked around his surroundings. Bleak. A small cave, inconspicuous enough to be easily passed over, and far away enough from any major locations that nobody would come looking anyways. It was as close to an ideal hiding spot you could get when your enemy was literally the universe you lived in.

It had all gone so wrong – Matoro's death had done nothing but give their greatest enemy exactly what he wanted. Resistance had been strong, at first, but little by little it had fallen apart. If he really wanted to think about it – which he hardly ever did – he could pinpoint the event that had really shattered their chances: Tahu's death at the hands of Teridax's Exo-Toa. Onua had arrived too late; his voice had shaken with sorrow when he'd told Lewa of realizing there was nothing he could do. They'd all parted ways eventually; killing Tahu had emboldened Teridax even further, and it was clear that staying together would do nothing but get them all killed.

Lewa morosely threw a stick on to the fire. It had all gone so wrong; looking around him, he felt as though there had been some cosmic mistake, that there was somewhere else he should be right now. Suddenly, he saw something move in the distance beyond the cave's entrance, he stood and drew his weapon, extinguishing the fire with a controlled gust of air. Suddenly, a silhouette filled the cave's entrance; Lewa stepped forward to look, and then

A scream. Horribly, impossibly familiar; it was all-encompassing, coming from inside his head rather than outside it. He fell to his knees. The figure above stepped towards him, the moonlight reflecting off his white armor, and then

Ridiculous. The branch he'd chosen was utterly different from his original death. How could he still die? He had to make greater changes. The world could change for him. The world would change for him.

A sickly green glow permeated the nest far beneath the surface. There was a clean, precise order to it: the Tahnoks here, the Kohraks there. Silence permeated the space; not a single creature moved. There was no reason to, after all. They had finished their mission exactly as needed.

Before each section of slumbering Bohrok stood a sentinel, unmoving, prepared to lead should additional orders be received. They had been repurposed; there was no need for guardians of an island that had to be removed. They had made for excellent leaders of the swarm once they had been subdued.

One of them stiffened, just for a moment. Something was wrong. He had felt, just for a moment, as if he were somewhere else, as if he were someone else. Except that wasn't quite right either – he was a different piece of the same person. He was missing something important. Which was impossible. The swarm had finished its job. Nothing important could be missing. Of course. The moment passed.

And then it suddenly fell forward, covering its ears against a scream that somehow, impossibly, none of the rest of the swarm heard. It remained that way even as the other five sprung to life, each taking aim at the bizarre being that had stepped out of thin air, a manic grin across his face.

"I've been naming these, you know. This one's particularly good, I think. How about, 'The Bohrok Ascendant'? It's got a sort of ring to

Impossible. Impossible and unacceptable. How could he still be failing? He'd erased everything from the past that could have led to his death. Everything!

Something different, then. He would try something different.

Lewa jolted awake in the hut in the jungle. The guard outside his window didn't seem to notice. He felt violently ill; the Bohrok murmurs in the back of his mind had risen to a chatter. A dream, that's all it was, a stupid dream that doesn't mean anything. Oh, Rahi breath it doesn't, what is going on here? Standing and trying to ignore the chatter, he walked to the window and looked out. The guard continued to ignore him. From here he could see the stars, entirely different from the ones he'd looked at so often back home.

There was something wrong about them, as well. Something that didn't make sense. He looked up at them, the moons catching his eye. Moons? Yes, two moons, from the looks of it, one quite bigger than the other. From this distance it was impossible to make out any detail, but one shone blue, the other tan and brown. Nothing wrong with that – wherever he was, it had two moons.

And yet looking at them he felt suddenly uncertain. Two moons; why was there a problem with two moons? Because, oh great-thinker, there were no moons when you went to sleep. He jerked back from the window; the sick feeling surged within him. That simply didn't make sense. He went up to the window once more and knocked on it to get the Agori's attention. "Sorry, but how many moons can you see?"

The Agori frowned and looked up. "Well, there's two moons, of course. There's always two moons. That's Bara Magna, and that's Aqua Magna; the moons of Spherus Magna." Lewa nodded appreciatively. He must have been mistaken. The guard continued, "Though of course, we don't have them anymore since the planet pulled back together a day or two ago." Lewa froze.

"Sorry, could you clear something up for me? Can you see... Bara Magna and Aqua Magna right now?"

The guard smiled. "Of course, they're right up there in the sky."

"And you say the planet we're on is made of..."

"Aqua Magna, Bota Magna, and Bara Magna. Least that's what it looked like to us." The guard suddenly stopped and frowned, as though there was something in what he'd just said that bothered him, then shrugged.

Lewa stepped back into the hut. Something was very, very wrong indeed, and it wasn't just the fact he suddenly knew that his guard was an Agori, or that he could speak the language fluently when he'd not understood a lick of it a few hours ago. It was probably best, he decided, to start with the fact he was standing on a planet from which you could see part of that same planet hanging in the sky.

And then, impossibly, inevitably, he heard the scream.

Close, this time. He understood what he had to do now; it was no good just looking at the branches of time. One had to trim them and connect them as necessary. All he needed was a little more time, and his own death would never have existed. It was a necessary change.

In Voporak's hands, another fracture appeared in the Vahi.

A staff smacked across the side of Lewa's head. Stunned for only a moment, he rolled away from the direction of the attack and leaped up, facing his attacker. Were the Agori trying to do him in after all?

Vezon looked at him, a look on his face that he would consider "self-satisfaction" and others would call "extremely dangerous". "Oh good, you're awake. It really is a pain tracking you down, you know, so I figure, why waste time once I do? Least you're not a Bohrok this time. You couldn't carry a conversation to save your life."

Lewa stared blankly. "Did you follow me from the fortress?"

The half-Skakdi chuckled, a sound that should be avoided if at all possible. "Oh, you know, bit by bit, brick by brick. You should've stuck around, you could've seen their faces when it started. Our gracious host just started screaming. Not that he didn't do that before. We've got a lot in common, you know. He can outscream me on most days, which really is impressive."

Lewa felt a familiar frustration rising within him. "Look, Vezon, what are you doing here? I've got enough to deal with already."

His companion grinned, an action in fact illegal under common law, and leaned forward on his staff. "Like what, pray tell? Helping tend to the sick and wounded after your last big battle? Protecting the swarm? Figuring out what to do with these savage kidnappers of yours? Ooh, maybe you're busy helping the rise of the Toa Empire. Or are you dead in that one? That always was trouble, when you were dead. Had to wait for another go-around. It was sort of nice, though. Disposable universes! Nothing better. Did you know your friend Onua can only hold his breath underwater for thirty seconds? I mean, I guess I rigged it a bit what with dropping a few Rahkshi in to swim with him, but I believe improvisation is a virtue. Which he apparently did not possess."

Lewa's eyes narrowed. "What in the name of the Great Beings are you talking about? Have you harmed Onua?"

Vezon laughed, which the guard outside took for an Agori reliving last night's dinner out back. "Come on, you can't be this dumb, can you? I mean I'm sure you can be, but I really hope you don't need to go look at the moons again to figure this out. Your pal Tren Krom's gone and broken time. I mean really broken it, not just made it speed up or slow down, which, may I add, can be quite nice depending on how far you are along putting your spear through your enemy's throat."

Lewa tuned him out. Memories were rushing back to him – impossible memories, memories that didn't make sense, memories that he couldn't possibly have. A deep-seated dread began to rise in him. He was suddenly aware of the seconds ticking by, of time marching on yet being slightly out-of-step. Vezon had miraculously gone quiet and was now watching the Toa intently. Lewa looked up at him. "Why us?"

The half-Skakdi shrugged noncommittally. "Other dimensions are old hat for me these days – and really, that's all that's happening now. Lots of alternatives that show up and then get swept aside for the next. Fun, really, and easy for me to keep track of. Being crazy with a dimension-hopping mask for a head does have its advantages. As for you, I'm guessing spending a couple days as big, fat, and ugly made you see things his way, even if you don't realize it."

Lewa let out a breath. It wasn't a pleasant thought, but it was a disturbingly accurate one. Living in Tren Krom's body, he'd tried to shut out everything that came with it – he'd felt like he'd suddenly possessed senses he couldn't consciously understand, and that his very body was in flux, shifting in ways he was at a loss to comprehend. Closing his eyes, he felt almost like he was back in that body – he could remember the lives he hadn't led, the thousand days he'd woken up and found himself in the wrong world. His eyes snapped back open. "Vezon, how long has this been going on?"

Another grin. "Good question. Haven't got a clue. I was alright with it at first, you know. I got any number of universes to play with – and I was the only one who was in on the game. Besides you, I suppose, but you never really picked up on it in time. But then he had to go and ruin things, had to try and start welding history together instead of just going with the flow. Moron, just like every other ancient all-knowing being out there. He hasn't got a clue what he's doing. Thinks he can just wipe away his own death. It's always snapped back in the end so far but if he gets lucky, I'm going to guess something very bad will happen. This is all assuming the Vahi doesn't just explode, of course."

A familiar determination had begun to build up within the green Toa. Powerful beings messing with the building blocks of the universe for their own ends that had to be stopped – this was Toa territory. "How do we stop him?"

The grin widened. "You mean, how do you stop him..."

Tren Krom was beyond furious. He lashed out mindlessly, throwing everything he had into channeling the Vahi's energy. It had been easy, at first. Entering an empty mask was child's play, and by the time that fool Voporak had realized what was going on, it was too late. He'd been delighted to find he had much more control over time than he'd expected; he could alter history itself. But nothing worked. No matter what he did, no matter who he had die or vanish or turn left instead of right, his death remained. It was impossible. Each time it seemed he was safe – he would be on his island, or long since escaped, his killer nowhere near, and suddenly he was in that damned clearing, being torn apart, sending out that last scream. He was close, now, but something was still stopping him. Something refused to be changed. Impossible. Unacceptable. Whatever it was, the Vahi's energy would wash it away in the streams of time.

Lewa and Vezon materialized near Voporak's camp. The Order member stood stock still, the Vahi in his hands all but disintegrated, glowing with an angry light and spewing energy out of the cracks running down it. Vezon poked Voporak with his staff, to no response. He smiled. "Someone completely sensitive to time energy holding onto something like that at a time like this – oh, he's long long gone. Must make me look sane!"

Lewa said nothing as he approached the mask. He'd felt his mind fracturing before, pieces of it returning to states outside his control. He'd lived the life of a Bohrok slave or an infected Toa many times over as Tren Krom had ripped through time; now it was time to make use of the other connection that lingered there. Silently, he removed his mask and handed it to Vezon, whose grin was now wide enough that it needed its own time zone. "Oh, this is going to be great. I couldn't ask for a better show if I tried. If you get left a gibbering idiot, can I be the one to tell your friends? I love the despair on Onua's face whenever he finds out you're dead."

Wordlessly, Lewa took the mask from Voporak and affixed it to his face. For a moment, nothing. And then,

Death was an inconvenience.

Lewa's fist connected with Tren Krom's face, which was impressive on several levels, including but not limited to strength of punch, posture of fist, and the fact that a physical being had just punched a ghost that did not have anything resembling a face. The sight would have been comical to Kopaka and Pohatu if it weren't also entirely impossible. The Toa of Ice regained his composure first. "Lewa, what in the name of-"

"Not now, Kopaka!" Lewa stood over the spot where the pieces of Tren Krom's spirit were gathering themselves together again. In the distance, he could feel the Tren Krom trapped in the Vahi screaming incoherently at him to stop. Suddenly, he felt a familiar presence in his mind as the spirit of Tren Krom drew itself together.

"You. Why? How?"

Lewa panted, trying to keep both Tren Kroms under control in his mind. "You made a mistake, Tren Krom. You decided to swap bodies with a Toa who's had more than his fair share of mind-madness. You didn't think a Toa was capable of keeping up with you, did you?"

He could feel Tren Krom's spirit bubbling with anger. "So I gave you a new perspective on the world. Wonderful. You've yet to tell me why you're here."

Lewa was unhesitating in his response. "Because you can't accept your time. The fact I'm talking to you right now must make you so proud, doesn't it? You're putting off death, and you think you can beat it."

Scorn. "And if I have the power, why shouldn't I? Don't I deserve more than the life I had?"

Lewa scowled. "I'd tell you no, that you're just ignoring your destiny, but I know you won't listen. So deep-listen to this: whatever life you think you deserve, you've used it up. By the time you're through with this, you'll have taken more lives than the Makuta could even dream of. And here's how it ends for you. Me, telling you this. Telling you that you fail."

The spirit in the Vahi rebelled. I HAVE NOT FAILED! I AM NOT FINISHED YET!

Tren Krom's spirit was defiant. "Tell me what you like, Toa, but this one encounter hardly means I fail. You're barely keeping that mask on. Tell me, how am I doing in there? I must be very close to success indeed."

Lewa smiled a bitter smile. "Why don't you find out yourself?"

He closed his eyes and drew everything he had into bridging the minds of the two Tren Kroms. A torrent of images and words poured through him. What he'd seen was only the smallest fraction of what had been done; he could feel the memory of all those worlds flowing from the Vahi into the spirit of Tren Krom. Thousands upon thousands of timelines created, evaluated, and thrown away; universes of contradiction brought into being, madness an inevitable result. He felt Tren Krom's spirit break away, and quickly tried to quiet the Vahi's voice in his mind. Tren Krom's spirit radiated denial. "That is – that cannot be – I am not that! That is not me! That is not life!"

Lewa's bitter smile remained unchanged. "That's where this ends for you, Tren Krom. Did you really think you could control time itself? Did you really think that forcing your way into the Vahi would save your life? All you've done is end yourself. You've torn apart the very spirit you're trying to hold on to."

Tren Krom's spirit spoke now with despair. "Why, then? Why do I have to die now? How is that fair?"

Lewa's voice was sharp. "You saw all those timelines you created. Were any of those fair? Why should fair just apply to you? Everything has its time, Tren Krom. You're no different."

He could feel the Vahi cracking on his face, time energy seeping from within. "But listen to me. You need to quick-choose. When I came to you, I asked you to help save our world, and you agreed. You don't want this world to end, even if you can't be there for it. Help me stop you. If you die now, none of this will have happened, but the Vahi will still be damaged, I can feel it. But if you give yourself to the Vahi, you can fix it. Please. Your time is up, but there's still so much more waiting for everyone else."

The spirit was silent, and for a moment Lewa thought it was gone. Then it spoke. "This world – should have been mine to explore. It should have been mine to live in." A pause. "But I decided a long time ago that I had no quarrel with it." Lewa felt him move towards the Vahi. "Perhaps I have changed one thing, at least. I have given myself a better death."

UNACCEPTABLE.

The word was forceful enough that Lewa buckled to the ground. Kopaka and Pohatu rushed forward, but the storm of energy around the Vahi all but froze them the moment they entered it. Lewa heard what was left of the original Tren Krom screaming from the Vahi.

YOU WILL NOT END ME. I SHAPED THE WORLD YOU EXIST FOR. MY WILL IS NOT TO BE DENIED. DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG, LITTLE TOA? DO YOU THINK YOU UNDERSTAND THE TRUE SHAPE OF THE WORLD BECAUSE YOU BORROWED MY BODY? I AM PART OF THIS UNIVERSE. IF ENDING ME ENDS IT, THEN SO BE IT.

Lewa was vaguely aware of Tren Krom's spirit struggling against the overwhelming voice from the Vahi. He held his hands to the mask, desperately trying to hold it together, but he could feel it fracturing in his hands. He needed something more. It couldn't just end like this – all those different universes, created and obliterated for nothing?

No. No, that was impossible. He closed his eyes and forced himself to think; the memories of the lives he hadn't lived flooded back to him. He had come this far by denying the true shape of the things he'd seen; he understood now that they were the only chance he had. It was becoming impossible to tell what was real and what was memory – he was Lewa, sentinel of the Bohrok, he was Lewa, rebel against Teridax, he was Lewa, warrior of the Battle of Spherus Magna – and suddenly he was whole. He was Lewa, and he was not going to let the universe end here.

Within the Vahi, the spirit that had once been Tren Krom raged. But it found itself limited; the voices of the Bohrok swarm poured into it, the rage of an infected Rahi attacked it, the despair of a thousand dead heroes subdued it. And suddenly, they were all secondary to one voice; a voice that was hauntingly, impossibly familiar to the madness that raged within. A single phrase rang throughout the spirit of the Vahi.

"I end myself."

Lewa's eyes popped open. It was morning now, and sunlight was streaming in through the window of the hut he had been imprisoned in. To his amusement, the guard outside was clearly asleep; he supposed it wasn't the most thrilling job to have. Outside, he heard a commotion, and the guard roused himself. Ahead, a group of other members of his captor's species had arrived in the village, with – his face broke into a smile – Onua among them. He grinned and leaned out the window to tap his imprisoner on the shoulder. "Hey. Could you have someone go tell the dark-tall Toa-hero over there that I'm fine? I'd appreciate it."

The guard looked startled. "When did you learn how to talk?"

Lewa's grin widened. "Oh, I'm a fast learner."

Voporak shook his head. He felt sort of ill today; he couldn't put his finger on why. On a hunch he took the Vahi out of the bag he carried it in, but the mask was as impassive as ever. He sighed and started to return it to the bag, then frowned. He could've sworn there was a chip on the back corner before...

Vezon smiled, shattering a mirror across the room in the process. He was having quite a lot of fun watching miss high-and-mighty Helryx try to reason with a completely insane Great Being. It was a bit of a shame, really. He'd had quite a lot of fun with all those disposable universes, but he supposed continued existence was a fair trade. Still, he'd always have the memories. He leaned forward and tapped Axonn on the shoulder. The Order member turned and regarded him with disdain.

"Did you know," Vezon said conversationally, "that when push comes to shove - and I do mean that literally - that axe is in fact too big for you to swallow?"