Disclaimer: I do not own BIONICLE, but I do own all OCs/MOCs that appear here.

CH6: Breaking The Chains

Subject HS2197

NAME: *Scratched out*

HAIR COLOR: Red

EYE COLOR: Red

GENDER: Male

HEIGHT: 5'9

AGE: 29-years-old

RACE: Puerto Rican, Japanese(?)

SPECIES: Human

NATIONALTIY: Puerto Rico (or at least a pocket dimension similar to it)

Notes: Now this is rather unusual. A universe built up of smaller ones, or "Worlds", as the inhabitants call them. Wielding swords shaped like…. What was their word for Makoki? "Key"? Ah yes, Key... Not very many of them left, though. Seems as though a war occurred some decades ago, whipping out most of their numbers. They've repopulated a bit, but that's not what surprised me. It's their Makoki weapons. I might be going mad, but I could've sworn I heard thoughts coming from them. Some form of sentience. Disposing of it was a great challenge. Had to use a virus to cutoff their mental link. Mgahlr will have to look into this later. In the meantime, I'll examine this being myself. That collection of energy inside is rather curious. It seems to be similar to that of Elemental Energy, there are some notable differences. This might be useful in the future.

LOCATION: Mexico City, Mexico, (Planet) Earth, Undermined universe…

A young mixed lad, hailing from a line of Native and African Americans, stood alone at a bus stop. Among him were a blonde-haired man with blue eyes, an Asian girl of at least 6-years-old, an elderly Serbian man in black-and-lime green clothing, and an English speaking tourist. The last one had trouble understanding anyone. Alejandro sighed, a slight silver of sorrow escaping from his lips. First his love rejected him, now he has to be with these strangers. They weren't bad really, but they're hard to understand. Vocally, at least.

Just what brought these persons from different cultures here? Mexico City certainly is a beauty, but one haunted by lust and wrath. Greed especially roams these parts, under the guise of taxis. Speaking of that, two green ones just pulled up. Why two though, was uncertain. Something screamed 'robber' about them. He didn't want to do this, but only one way to find out. Seems he doesn't have to anyway, as something grabbed his foot.

Said 'something' was really some sort of elastic substance. No wait, they were actually arms. The foreigners weren't faring well either, as an invisible grasped them, pulling them into the taxis. Forget robbers, greedy backstabbing trash! This was abduction! The arms wrapped around him like serpents, yanking him and the bystanders inside. When they were inside, they were introduced to a new horror.

The 1st car's driver was a being in various shades of green, orange eyes glaring at the Homo sapiens. He wore a slim helm, resembling an animal of somesort. His armor was spiked, imaged after thorns. Everyone could sense a dark aura in the vehicle.

What went on in the 2nd cab was beyond the 21-yr-old's eyes. If he were there, he would've seen the humanoid, serpent-like creatures inside. He would've also seen its driver, clan in cyan-and-red armor. He, the Asian, and the blond were in the front cab, the American and Serbian in the back one. The front cab's driver grabbed the walkie-talkie, speaking in an alien language. The responder spoke in that same tongue too. When the short conversation was done, he quickly poked the college kid on the shoulder. The moment it left, his body froze, locked in his current pose. He tried to rise from his seat, but he couldn't such as move a muscle.

"You belong to us now, glass jaw." Growled the driver, though his Spanish was not perfect.

Both taxis jumped without warning, speeding back into the highway. One car nearly had a wreck because of the sudden movement. The drivers could care less if a bystander was killed, if not wounded. Two whirring sounds came from behind them. The cyan-and-red armored driver looked at the rearview windows. Two police cars, giving chase no doubt. Tridax instructed them to refrain from using their powers.

Then again, it was implied on the test subjects, not the 'bystanders'. He also didn't include anyone else besides his brothers. Lastly…. He laughed at the idea. Who'd believe a bunch of madmen?

"One of you," He instructed a brown, reptilian creature. "Dispose of the…. organic Vakhi."

The creature hissed in acknowledgement. Rather than lowering the window down like most people would, it smashed it into tiny fragments, reflecting light like microscopic mirrors. The Panrahk aimed its staff at one of the vehicles before unleashing its energies. The target exploded into sharp scalpels and charred cloth and flesh. The second chaser drive through the flames, though panic was visible on the driver's face. The hostages bore the exact same look as well. On the passenger's side, something small and fast struck the Rahkshi in the right eye. The creature screeched to the void above, nearly causing the ears of the humans nearby to bleed. Its master felt pity, but not toward the monster. Rather, to the machinery that it just blasted.

Aw well, he thought to himself. I could just steal one from another dimension. Still, he couldn't leave any witnesses alive. He sent a telepathic message to a nearby Rahkshi, though not visible in the backseats. Rather, it responded in the form of a ghostly figure emerging from the trunk. The black-green Rahkshi flew towards the police car. It drew near the passenger's side, holding out its staff. The weapon phased through the man's heart…. And remained locked there. The man's eyes rolled back upon this realization. The bladed tool's wielder removed it from the body, leaving a gaping hole. It swung it toward the other man's head, turning into mist before making contact. Surprised, the man soon forgot about the road. He swerved right, driving off of a bridge. The man didn't realize his error in time to avoid drowning into a canal.

The misty monster returned to its former position within the cab, sensing its master's smile.

"Hmpt, just as pathetic as the enforcers to the North." Laughed the Makuta. His radio buzzed to life, alerting him of an incoming message.

"Mgahlr, this is Ayramex. Are you and the gatherer at the extraction point?" Spoke a commanding voice.

Both cabs arrived at the place: A cold, god-forsaken alley. Where there were once people, there was moss and webs. A bright light blurred into creation, a silhouette approaching. The green-armored driver exited his cab. He narrowed his eyes, and then turned to stare at a group of trashcans. Heeding the goon's warning, his master launched a Shadow Hand, grabbing them and a new voice. The latter was revealed to be a mere smuggler. Or rather, fuel for the fire, since he was already absorbed into his essence by then. Mgahlr yet out a soft sigh, as if he just rose from slumber. All of the prisoners gapped at the sight, and then looked to the portal. What surprised them ever more was the silhouette's true being.

The new arrival appeared to be feminine, though not in the pleasant or seductive sense. She was more of a Gorgon. No wait, scratch that; she'd make the Gorgons look like sweet little girls. She was around seven feet tall, clan in a moldy-yellow and an ash gray. Her face was covered in a messy mass of thorns, twin hollow-yellow eyes gleaming through them. Two stinger-like limbs were sprouting from her back, sharp as her tri-fingered claws. In one of them held a fang-shaped scythe, with a red tube slithering around it. Looking at her was like standing before some monster from a horror film.

"Bring them through," She hissed in Matoran. The armored reptilians nodded, pushing the humans through the portal. They kicked, screamed, even bit. None of that did any good on cold iron, though. The hunch-backed grunt followed suit, wielding a black sword with an emerald blade. Once they left, only the two Makuta remained.

"Tridax requested that I'd collect more technology for my research," Said the machinist. "I will stay behind for the moment. Why don't you look after the Homo sapiens?"

Aryamex nodded, backing into a portal that spawned during the conversation. When she was inside of it, it faded from reality. Mgahlr tapped his chin, thinking of whatever type of machinery would be useful to the Brotherhood. As he did so, he couldn't help but think of one of his brothers.

"I wonder how Nzavokh is fairing." He muttered to himself.

Meanwhile on Unoyr…..

A blue-and-black being stood guard near a prison cell, grumbling at an unseen force. He wore a gasmask of sorts, along with spiked armor. In his hands were hook-like blades. As entertaining as these things might be, he had nothing to practice on. He heard a noise behind him, and looked at the cell to his back-left. It was a blond-haired white girl, around 5'5 feet tall. Her ocean-blue eyes were closed at the moment, hiding their beauty. Or at least, what the humans call beauty. The guard thought they weren't that special. Nor was he surprised that she lay still on the ground. The number on the cell was 514. Was she dead? Personally, he could care less. Then again, Tridax might get on him for not informing him. Sighing, the guard opened the gates.

The next thing he knew, the world went black. His unconscious body was flung through the stone wall, opening up another cell. Emerging from the entry was a large African man, around 6 feet tall. His once chocolate brown eyes were now a fiery orange. Below his neck was a light of sorts, perhaps for measuring one's heartbeat. He had hydraulics along his sides, fused into his flesh. The back of his shoulders and lower-legs had these as well.

"Damn," The man laughed. "Are they really that stupid?"

The teenage girl frowned. "The guards yes, but not the masters. You ready for stage two?"

The man slammed his fists together. "Oh HELL yeah!"

The girl smiled. "Alright, grab one of his weapons, and meet me at cell 626. It's down our left."

It didn't take long for HS37 to find one, though he'd much prefer something else. Regardless, it'll have to do. As he ran toward the rendezvous point, another cell exploded. He could make out a guard scream, then a sickening squish. He turned to see a white male, possibly at the dawn of his adulthood. A college kid, no doubt. He wore brown and forest-green armor, bearing one of those strange masks. Kanohi, he believed they were called. He bore glowing, crystalline, lime-green eyes. In his exposed hands were vines, materializing from nothingness. He didn't know where they were coming from, and he didn't intend on finding out. He could make numbers on the newcomer's hands: 047.

The figure turned to the man, than nodded. He soon joined the party, reaching their destination. Among them was another man, clan in purple-and-black armor. Come to think of it, he looked like that alien from last year. What was his name? Yagvi? Didn't really matter much now, since his disappearance. No doubt killed by his captors.

"Alright, that should be all of us," Sighed the girl.

The purple sneered. "Yo, what about duh others?!" He snapped. "We can't just leave 'em!"

"We ain't," Said James. "We've gotta clear the way for them, though!"

"He's right," Said the teen. "Not many of them can hold out against even a single guard."

The purple street-speaking man stood silent. "Point taken'," He admitted in defeat, joining the fray as they fought through the wave of grunts. One grunt lost his head (literally), an orange fluid spraying out of its decapitated body. Another was impaled through the chest by some form of bark. The female human slammed her hands together, unleashing a deafening screech. The remaining guards dropped their weapons, clapping their hands to their ears. This left them wide open for an attack by the purple one. Through invisible strings, he yanked the squad from the ground and into the ceiling. Then he brought them back onto ground level, knocking them out.

After another wave of pawns, the group began ripping open the cells. 047 used some vines to tear one up, a blood-red blur speeding by him. He didn't fully see the thing, but he could tell it was a female. The damn thing was nowhere to be found, though. Before he could pursue it, though, the girl called out for everyone. They were all in for surprise then they heeded her summons.

Behind one set of bars was a biomechanical entity, clan in black-and-silver armor, with small traces of gunmetal grey. He was perhaps about 4 feet tall, wearing a Noble Tryna. (Of course, the humans would know nothing about Kanohi.) His eyes burned a fierce lime-green, as if ready to vaporize anyone who dare approach him. In his hand was a bladed staff, though it served as little more than a walking stick. Given whatever organic tissue they could find on him, he must've been ancient. And judging by the look on his face (Err, mask maybe?), he was rather surprised by their appearance. He was even more surprised when HS047 removed the cell door. The female of the group lent her hand toward the elder, who (reluctantly) took it.

"I guess we're on the same side, huh?" She said. The old one tilted his head. She mimicked the notion.

"Is something wrong?" She asked in concern.

This time, the being's "eyebrows" ascended as he gave her a "WTF" look.

047 stepped forward. "Lass mich das machen."

Everyone in the group didn't respond to that. Rather, they were just as confused as the silver one. The British girl and African man recognized the language though: It was German.

"I'm sorry, but could you repeat that?" James asked.

Everyone (save for the alien) was off-guard when his mask started to glow. When he spoke, it was in (nearly) perfect English.

"I said, 'Let me handle this'," the German replied politely.

He approached the ancient one, kneeling down to face him. The entity stepped back, staff hoisted as though it were a spear. The blade was aimed directly at his heart. Many of the humans became uneasy, but the young man didn't show any signs of fear or mistrust. His mask glowed once more, and this time, the language was something drastically different. This time, none of the humans knew what he was saying, let alone comprehend the words that escaped his lips. The being, though, seemed to understand every last one. It replied in the same alien tongue, slowly opening up to the college kid. The two seemed to have quite a conversation, though there were signs of annoyance from the elder.

"He said that his name is Lisfek," The German lad said, mask glowing. "He was once a Toa of Iron, until a Makuta called "Xociv" abducted him."

The purple-armored one spoke out, "Mahkutuh? They duh ones dat brought us here?"

The lad nodded. Now it was Shalyn's turn to raise her voice. "Toa? What're they?"

The alien spoke to 47, who acted as his translator. "It'd be complicated to tell us. All he says is that Toa are supposed to be heroes and protectors of the Matoran."

James raised an eyebrow. "And what the hell are those supposed to be?"

A brief conversation later, he had his answer. "They're the dominant species of this world."

"Alright," Said the large man. "And I take that our friend is one?"

The short one spoke to the translator, whom preformed his job. "No, he's a Turaga. They're the elders of the Matoran species."
"Uh dudes," The purple one interrupted. "We gotta get movin'."

The group turned to see a mob of serpent-like entities, each wielding a two-sided staff. A blue one fired a laser from its fork-shaped staff, disintegrating part of the wall behind them. They skedaddled, dodging more blasts. The girl used her Elemental powers against the creatures, but it only slowed them down. Growing tired of her failures, she instead brought part of the ceiling down. One of them was crushed under the rubble, the rest blocked off. From there on out, the rest was smooth sailing. Sure, there was the occasional grunt, but they were quickly dispatched. It didn't take long for them to find their next point: The end of the hallway.

"A dead end?!" The purple one complained.

The Turaga shook his head. He walked up to the wall, tracing his hand on it. Eventually, it slid against something. The old one pressed against the hidden button, the scrapping sound of gears turning. Hidden behind stone was a door, made of an alien metal. His hand began hovering over it, radiating a strange aura. His other hand soon joined, and his eyes closed. After a minute or too, he stopped. When he turned, the Homo sapiens could clearly see defeat in his eyes. The African placed a hand on his chin, then took a turn at it. He took a deep breath, and then held out his palms. To everyone's surprise, the ground beneath him began to shift and twist. Dirt and stone slithered up his body and around his arms. He yelled, his hand rocketing into the door. One punch, two- no, three-punches later, the obstacle gave out. It creaked in pain, falling on its back. When the group entered, they were introduced to a new horror.

Within a black-and-purple vortex was an unusual being. He appeared to be a human child, but striped of his skin. In its place was cold iron, a crystalline substance covering his eyes. He had a strange light attached to his chest, mechanical implants attached to his sides and limbs. Even his own head was wrapped in steel, the back of it replaced with more of the strange glass-like material. Beneath it, one could even see his own brain. His feet were shaped like metallic boots, teeth and finger tips sharpened like blades. If it weren't for the occasional patch of organic tissue, he looked more like a machine than he did human. The abomination dangling above his cage, though, was another story.

Fused to the ceiling was a mess of flesh and iron. Its body was but a crimson stump, covered in silver spikes. Within the center was an eyeless head. In fact, sticking out of the Noble Matatu's eyeholes were rusted shards. It head two long, tentacle-like arms. One had another head, shaped like a club, its eyes a dim lime-green. The other ended in a battered blade, stitched to the wrist socket in a crude manner. Winter turned to a corner, vomiting outside of everyone's eyesight. What few of them didn't know was that this being was one a Fe-Matoran. Once, he had a name and life. Once, he was known as "Frekaz". Now, he was another abomination for display. The thing twisted its head, fixing its gaze toward the group of horrified fleshlings.

"You not master," The mutant spoke in a strange mix of growls and hisses. "You not belong here!" At that moment, it flung a storm of thorns at the beings. Everyone scattered, taking cover behind various machinery and equipment. 047 created a barricade of vines, shielding himself and Lisvek from the toxic projectiles. Shayln deflected them, only to find that the backfire had no effect. The creature responded by screeching, launching a wave of dark energy from its center head. It hit James in the chest, sending him flying into a pile of scrap metal. The purple armored looked around fanatically, until he found a large hammer of someform. Grabbing it, he flung it at the monster. Decreasing the gravity between it and him, the hammer hit the roots of the abomination. With the supports destroyed, the creature fell on top of the Dark Elemental energy field. An abnormal screech thundered from Frekaz's throat, though it only lasted for a few seconds. By the time, the body slid off of the dome of death, the victim-turned-mutant was already dead, burnt to a crisp. Nobody knew which side of his mortality was more disgusting: His time in life, or in death.

They never got the chance to decide, as the "arm" with the hammer-like head had detached itself from its body. It turned to face them, then to the shield. What surprised everyone was that there no longer was a barrier. Staring at them was a child, imprisoned with the body of a Matoran. The metallic serpent-like entity made a mad-dash for him, its eyes glowing brighter. The boy ran the other direction, only to find himself at a dead-end. The mutant's true head arched back, bond to leap. Before it could do so, a hand of stone trapped Frekaz within its palm. It squeezed, creating the sickening sound of flesh and iron being crushed. A silver fluid leaked from between the "fingers" of the hand. Said object weathered into dust, burying the corpse within it.

Everyone turned to 037, whose hands were brushing against the ground. They could make out clouds of energy dripping from the tips of fingers. Face glossed with sweat, he slowly walked toward the kid. Unfortunately, a guard came in, charging at the group. Something unexpected happened, though. The boy crouched down on all fours, like that of an animal. He ran like one, leaping onto the guard's face. The brute yelped, grabbing for the knife at his belt. He attempted to stab the lad, but the wild one was able to grab his wrist. A good twist later, and the grunt howled as he was forced to drop it. The boy caught it before it hit the ground. Then the real scary came. He leapt stabbed the blade into one of the eyes, then quickly repeated the process on the other. The crimson-armored being pushed the human off, covering the spots that once held his eyes. A thick orange-red fluid leaked from the eye sockets, covering his face. His pain intensified when the boy slashed at his knees, causing him to collapse backwards.

"Mercy,MERCY!" The guard begged.

The boy never heeded the dying one's words. Instead, he sank his teeth into an opening within his armor, where his neck was exposed. The first ripped a good chunk of the organic tissue within out, the alien screaming at the top of his lungs. Next, the child drew back out the dagger, and began stabbing him in the chest frantically. Even after the brute's heartlight flickered out, he kept slashing at the body.

James looked down at him, in horror and dismay. "Kid…" He whispered.

Stab, stab, slash, slice, cut, punch….

"Kid…"

Kick, stab, slash, punch, stab….

"KID!"

H1 paused, then looked back at the corpse he sat upon. He noticed that it wasn't breathing anymore. Not only that, but the body was as cold as ice. He dropped the dagger, whimpering as he slid off of the remains. He bumped into the African's legs, though his eyes didn't leave the soul that he just butchered. He hide his face against the ground, hands over his head. When the man bent down to question him, he saw a small puddle forming beneath the boy's face. The man lifted the child back onto his feet, Shayn lifted his chin up. Their theory were confirmed when they saw water leaking from his crystalline eyes. The purple one picked up the dagger, placing it in a pouch that he recently attached to his waist. The teenager wrapped her arms around the first captive, letting his tear escape onto her robes. She shushed him, patting him on the head. It didn't help much.

"Just what the hell did they do to him?" She whispered to the Turaga. The ancient one spoke to the German, who then said, "They broke him, that's what."

AN: Sorry for the long wait, but lack of inspiration, writing for my other fanfics, and high school kept me busy. I have found inspiration from Edgar Allen Poe, along with videogames such as Dead Space, Eternal Darkness, and Amnesia: The Dark Descent. Speaking of Videogames, guess which series is mention in Tridax's file at the top?