Disclaimer: Bionicle belongs to TLC. Only thing that is mine here are the Dark Hunter's HB designs.
Plot: The Shadowed One is losing. Not only the war with the Makuta, but with himself. When Helryx assigns him to seek for a mythological island in hopes to slow the Makuta's conquest, he must also decide where his alliance truly lies. Sometimes, the most vicious battles are within the soul.
Notes:
-This takes place during the war with Makuta, in a somewhat 'alternate' universe where characters are human and the current storyline has been slightly changed. Oh, and lots of grammar mistakes and awkward sentences. You have been warned.
-Characters are portrayed in human form.
-The quality of this work isn't high. Not to mean I was lazy, but because I'm using this story as a test-dummy per say. Experimenting on ideas, technique, etc.
Finally...I hope you enjoy. I'm not new to writing, but I am here, so I hope I'm doing everything correctly.
Preface.
When the storms and wars surfaced, they slunk cunningly across an unexpected world in shadows. Those small forgotten little islands with only slums and filthy crowds to comfort its lonely shores were trapped, like hostages, when it struck without warning. Little islands out in the distant sea, watching hopelessly as the mainlands were to be consumed first—and those frightened inhabitants waited for their undeniable doom, time became a slow ticking bomb—a bomb to release unreserved chaos as a mad tyrant with misplaced powers expressed his shrewdness and revenge.
Former enemies of significant power were no more than insects, and during this war, all were equal. Warlord or lowly matoran, they were all the same in a tyrant's eye. The Shadowed One, as conniving and as sly as he was knew this as he had hid amongst the crowds of suffering Xians. They all ran in a frenzy, matoran and vortixx, crying and collapsing—they wanted no more of the torture as their unwanted God lost patience of his squabbling bacteria. The Shadowed One's sharp red eye watched the clear skies be overtaken by the gloom of thick circling clouds, swirling in this lust as it darkened the dome. Through the clouds, there was a faint glimmer of light—but it was not welcoming. A light like a portal twisted into a maze, mesmerized within circling smoke. As the insensitive wind caused a shiver down the spine of the Dark Hunter leader, he almost saw an eerily grinning Kraahkan mask, just for a second in the sky. It had been staring right towards him.
Makuta knew everything now; he had gotten his long awaited rule, and now he would toy among the ones that once had the audacity to challenge him.
The Shadowed One stood there in the bloodied battlefield of the polluted island in Xia, as the sky seemed to give the skyscrapers a cold green gleam; an unwanted fear tingled in him as he tightened his grasp on his staff. Islands to control and hide within were growing slim. Alliances were shredding, innocent were dying, and both heroes and former villains disappeared, forgotten among conquered rubble. Mata Nui was gone, most likely dead—abandoning his people when they needed him the most. The Makuta was winning.
It was best to move on, and find a sounder place to stay hidden until he could regain his stature. And he would, if it would be the last thing the Shadowed One would do.
The lines between good and evil completely blurred away into a type of oppressed slaves; no more squabbles over land and petty materials, things were now much more insignificant. The Makuta betted against the universe and won. The screams would continue, until wills were cracked and blood covered the streets, and the entire world draped with a curtain of stillness. That time was coming closer, very close.
Chapter I: Reign
I am the spy
Before the blade
I am the raindrop out at sea I cause
The ripples that becoming crashing waves
I am the rain, rain oh, rain oh, rain (reign) all day
I am the rain
~Reign - UNKLE
:::
It was suddenly then, of all the places, that Lariska realized that she probably wouldn't make it out of the war alive.
Lariska stood on a beach in the early morning haze glaring out into the darkness, still in this lost sentiment that had grew on her over the months. Unsettled and lifeless as much as the ruins that lay about her, it was a disturbing emotion for the headstrong dark huntress.
Short black hair wisped around the front of her face, momentarily blocking her view from the despicable view of the dark atmosphere. She was at a small outpost that had been always owned by the Dark Hunters for years. The small trading post hid among clusters of empty island chains, forgotten to the rest of the world. Daxia was gone, Xia was conquered, Metru Nui unreachable, and no Matoran island wished for Hunters, they always seemed to attract trouble—which, they did. She didn't blame them. Now, however, no where was safe.
It was ironic how the least interesting place that the Dark Hunters controlled was one of the few sanctuaries. Though he had worded it differently, in his pitiful underhanded way, it was one reason why the Shadowed One chose this wretched place to hide and plan his next move—or just to hide, waiting until doom had befallen him. From what Ancient had told her when she had arrived the day before, he had not left his tent in days. Claiming to seek ways to end the war—he was sulking, she knew it. The coward.
She had only returned to this small unnamed island the night before, after assisting the resistance in the north with a ragtag team of rebels and the Toa Nuva. The ignorant heroes thought they were making a difference, but Lariska knew better. It will only be time until the Makuta can take full control.
Lariska's eye's flashed, and her senses tingled. She released herself from the pessimistic thoughts and swung around, clasping her dagger. But when she faced what had disturbed her meditation, she spat on the sandy ground, scowling.
"The Shadowed One is wondering where you are."
She hated when Ancient did that. Sneaking up on her, always around when she least expected it. He was too furtive for someone as sturdy and old as he.
"Tell him to look himself instead of sending you around; you're not his pet muaka." Lariska shot back, and returned her eyes to the unsettled dark waters. Finally, with a moment of hesitation she swung around and strode toward Ancient's form, his mischievous orange eyes studying about her.
"He's in a foul mood," he added.
"Do I look any better?"
He didn't reply, and instead extended his hand from his blue cloak he hid under, pointing toward the camp. Lariska immediately started walking, not giving a second glance to the second-in-command.
Like a ghost awakening from its grave, thunder rumbled from above. The skies continued to be suffocating and dark ever since the unending war began. The camp was small, quiet, and soiled. Only a handful of Dark Hunters worked from this station, and every time, less came back.
Some people might had found her cruel—she of all people knew she was, and had to be—but this didn't excuse her emptiness and singe of defeat. It had grown on her especially after they lost Odina. A single raindrop hit the tip of her nose, and she cursed the monster who had started this. It was his fault, all of it.
She came to one of the larger tents, in the centre of the small encampment. More droplets of water began to fall; the rain started to pad against the trees and tanned camp fabric. She removed aside the flap and entered in, followed by the towering Ancient, covered in his blue cloak and taupe hair in a frizz by the island's cruel humidity.
A plainly made desk at the far end of the tent with simplistic needs of what the Dark Hunter leader needed, and nothing else. The room felt somewhat uncanny, how the lamp light's flickered and casted shadows in the room. It was like being ushered into a physical form of misery; the misery all Dark Hunters had haunted the leader. Lariska's eye caught a sudden glimpse of Darkness, before he disappeared again into the shadows of the tent—behind the Dark Hunter leader, the Shadowed One.
For a second, it was quiet, but Lariska had no patience for it that morning. She butted straight to the point.
"Hello there, mighty one," Lariska spoke with a hint of mockery, breaking the silence. "It's not very polite to pull a girl straight from one mission, to a droll meeting with one like yourself, without even rest. What do you want?"
The Shadowed One was leaning in his seat, his head resting against his chest, his dark brown hair unkempt and ruffled into a rushed ponytail. For a moment, one might assume him asleep—that was ridiculous, however. One eye was forever mysterious behind his eye patch, and the other glared solemnly at a map sprawled across his desk.
Removing his attention from the chart, the Dark Hunter leader slowly looked up at her. Vagueness of his age seemed to lean more on the aging side at the moment. He was one to rarely sleep and always appear to be within a neutral, unchanging state over hundreds of years. Now, however, she wasn't sure what to make of this. Every time she saw him, he seemed to age more and more—the streak of grey in his hair and faint purple under his eyes became more dominant than ever.
"Lariska," he finally responded in the voice that hinted no weariness, unlike what his appearance illustrated. "I'm glad you could finally show up. How was the assignment?"
"If you're asking if I picked up any souvenirs, I did not. I departed with some of those Toa Nuva after fending off an attack of Rahkshi," she paused, and placed two trinkets on his desk—an insignia of sorts that all Dark Hunters wore. "We lost Guardian and Savage."
"Hmm," the Shadowed One mused, "not an extreme loss, yet, it is becoming quite a mess."
Rising slowly, the Shadowed One stood to full height and placed his hands behind his back, continuing to stare at Lariska. He suddenly pulled a letter out of his coat pocket and handed it toward Lariska's robotic hand. She glared at him, and snatched it away. Pulling out the tattered letter, Lariska skimmed casually over it. Her dull grey eyes faced the Shadowed One's impassive mood.
"And you really plan to work with her?"
"Helryx is a valuable asset," he said. "And of course, she is very persuasive."
"Oh," Lariska said, "I see. The Dark Hunter leader, getting threatened by an old Toa." She grinned savagely.
Usually, he would put up with her charade, but the Shadowed One did not look amused. He walked casually around Lariska, and then glanced at Ancient.
"Ancient brought it by this morning as he was doing an errand for me. She's called me for aid," he suddenly stopped pacing and faced Lariska, "she is getting desperate."
"Oh, gotcha. You're taking advantage of the situation, for a second I thought you really wanted to help."
"I have thought this over for a long time…we all want that abomination out of our universe—just some more than others."
His voice faded as thunder boomed menacingly, as if he was listening. But it quieted down again, and the rain continued to pour.
"We leave in a few hours."
"Excuse me?"
"We will be leaving today, to the set meeting spot, to discuss what she is need of. Is this a complicated request?"
"I mean, you're going yourself? Are you really running out of stooges to hire?" Lariska scoffed. "Who's getting desperate, again?"
The Shadowed One leaned warningly towards her, his cool demeanor replaced with a crack of anger.
"I do not have the patience for your mockery, Lariska. Do as I say, or you may find another limb missing."
The threat took her off guard. Lariska stood there in abrupt stillness, her body stiffened, and a hand slipping closer to her belt that sheathed a kukri. Another moment in the uncomfortable silence, and she swung out of the tent.
The uneasy hush continued as the Shadowed One stared off at where she left. Finally, he slowly brought himself back in the chair, almost collapsing. His gloved hand rubbed his temple. He eyed up toward Ancient, who still stood beside the entrance.
"Watch her. She isn't acting like herself."
"She is more loyal than you think," Ancient replied, "anyone would be overwhelmed, Lariska is only human. Many have betrayed and disappeared into hiding. She still stays."
"And those who do try to betray me will face my vengeance when we dispense with Makuta." The Shadowed One fell silent, and continued to glare at the tattered map.
Ancient glared at him a long time, his face expressing mild frustration from his taut, dark-skinned features. The Shadowed One was in no state to argue with him.
"Leave me," he said finally with a wave of his hand, not even looking up at his subordinate.
It almost appeared he wasn't going to budge, but finally bowed, leaving the tent without another word. The Shadowed One was alone now with his thoughts—or that is what he liked to believe, as he eyed the shadows dancing in the room, almost playfully—almost mocking him. His hand clasped the desk ruthlessly; his red eye appeared to glint.
"You are testing my patience, Teridax. I lost once, I will not lose again."
:::
The island wasn't but a mile long and less than a half mile wide. It was barren and desolate. Nothing alive, and the only movement were dirt devils and unfriendly looking bugs that burrowed into the sand. Rumors had it that a small little Matoran village was on this island before Rahkshi ate through the land like acid. There was nothing but death here.
None of them expressed inviting appearance as the sun tried to shimmer through thin grotesque storm clouds. Toa Helryx, leader of the Order of Mata Nui, stood before the three in all her callous pompousness and cold hearted demeanor. Behind her, was the powerfully built agent Axonn, and the strange Johmak.
The Toa had summoned these dark hunters to assist her yet again, in this destiny war. Times were getting desperate, Ancient had pointed out to Lariska one day. She didn't really believe it was until lately—this confirmed it. Facing the Toa, and realizing for once in that moment of tensed silence, things were not all games. The Dark Hunters power was faltering, slipping away from the bloodied fingers of The Shadowed One like the sand on this Mata Nui forsaken island.
Helryx had taken matters into her own hands—to such grave obsession that no one was sure if she was all there since the war started. This was the first time they had met since the Dark Hunters had taken control of Xia.
She studied each of them carefully, with her ancient and keen blue eyes. Her mask power was not of mind-reading, but it was particularly supernatural how her gaze seemed to study into each soul without a moment of indecision.
She firstly faced Lariska, who seemed to hide behind the two towering males counterparts. Her frail body was deceiving. Her grey eyes, barely visible under the mess of her short black hair glared at her like a hawk. Belts covered her jumpsuit, and they all contained vicious forms of daggers; it would not be surprising that the assassin was likely the most dangerous.
Ancient simply stood there, obviously the tallest of the three. Shielded in his golden armor and wrapped in a large blue cloak, those eternal sharp orange eyes glared at the leader in an inexplicable way. Finally, Helryx slowly turned to face the one that stood a few feet before her.
The Dark Hunter leader was surprisingly cool as she seemed to look down upon him, and he allowed it—he could see her disgust in the way she frowned behind wrinkles and scars.
"Well," she finally started. "I am surprised you came at all. I'm glad you got the message."
"I was in the neighborhood."
"Is that so?"
"To business, Helryx."
"So polite," she said, "To business then. Are my previous threats for you to cooperate really that successful?"
A gust of wind came, whistling and moaning, stirring up the sand around their feet. The Shadowed One didn't respond, but the impatience kindled in his eye.
Helryx shrugged, and raised her hand. Axonn brought out a small scroll, placing it firmly into the woman's hand. She began to open it, took a few steps forward, and brought it a foot before the Shadows One face.
"This," she started, "this is what I need you to do."