Chapter Two

A lone Visorak crawled swiftly toward the Coliseum. It struggled not to surrender to a run, for that might be seen by other members of the horde as a sign of weakness. Instead, it did its best to look purposeful but not panicked.

It scuttled through the gateway and into a massive hallway lined with silver spheres. The Visorak had discovered these in the vaults below shortly after taking possession of this structure. The spider creatures were at first unsure of what they were, but Sidorak, king of the hordes, had instructed they be treated with care.

Sidorak. The name reminded the creature of just why it was in such a rush. If Sidorak learned the news from some other source, he would be sure to take it out on his unfortunate courier for being late. Or worse, he might turn the offending Visorak over to Roodaka for her amusement.

The Visorak reached the throne room. Sidorak sat in the chair once used by Makuta, Master of Shadows and mentor to the horde king. He looked at the approaching creature with a combination of boredom and cruelty in his eyes. “It’s nothing important, I hope,” he said. “Seeing as you’re late.”

The Visorak courier bowed and began to gnash its mandibles together, conveying in its native language that there was news to share.

Sidorak leaned forward. “This had better be good.”

The spider creature took a breath and made a single, sharp sound. It was enough to get the horde king’s undivided attention.

“Toa?” Sidorak said. “So, they have returned for the Matoran — Matoran that now belong to me. I assume your telling me this without twitching uncontrollably means the Toa have already been captured?”

The Visorak nodded in the direction of the great window that dominated one wall of the room. Sidorak rose to look out over the city he now commanded. His eyes immediately focused on a new element that had been added to the scene: six cocoons, each containing a Toa Metru, hanging suspended from web lines far above the streets of Metru Nui.

“Thank you,” said Sidorak. “Kill them.”

The Visorak nodded again and turned, happy both to follow the order and to have an excuse to leave the throne room. Sidorak was known for his sudden changes of mood and might reward a Visorak one moment and crush it the next. The creature had almost made it to the exit when a new voice brought it up short.

“Is it to be so simple, Sidorak?”

The Visorak courier did not dare turn around. It knew to whom that voice belonged. Every member of the horde knew, and feared, Roodaka, and with good reason. But in Sidorak’s eyes, she was a figure to be trusted and coveted.

“My queen,” he said, reverence in his voice.

“No, not your queen,” replied Roodaka. “Not yet.”

“Of course. Formalities,” said Sidorak. “You have something to say?”

“Only that leaders are judged by the quality of their enemies. History teaches us this.”

It took Sidorak only a moment to realize to whom she was referring. “The Toa?”

“A fantastic adversary, my king,” Roodaka said, gesturing to where the six hung helplessly, watched by Visorak on every rooftop. “Worthy of your rule — and therefore worthy of a demise that will be remembered for all time.”

Sidorak considered. Now that he sat on the ebony throne, he found that it suited him well. True, it did not really belong to him — it was Makuta’s rightful place, after all — but the Master of Shadows was not here, and Sidorak was. Perhaps, with the right additions to his legend, a Visorak king could hope to become much more. After all, where was it written that the shadows could only serve Makuta?

He smiled. “I suppose I could allow the situation to become more… legendary.”

“I have always admired your judgment,” Roodaka hissed approvingly. “Only be sure your method allows for some proof. For posterity’s sake…”

“Proof?”

Roodaka’s answer came in a voice as cold as the ice that capped Ko-Metru Knowledge Towers. “Bring me their bodies.”

Atop the Coliseum, Visorak jostled for position. After days of capturing nothing but Rahi, finally there was to be an “M and D” (mutation and disposal) worth watching. Toa were a rare prize — most were too smart to walk into a Visorak trap, or strong enough to fight their way out of them. Fortunately, for all their victories, these Toa Metru were evidently still new to their roles and prone to making mistakes.

One too many Boggarak tried to secure a good viewing position. When the Oohnorak next to it refused to move, it gave a shove and sent the spider creature tumbling into space.

Toa Whenua watched this happen from his unique vantage point. He would have gladly given up his place for a Visorak, if he’d had the opportunity. But it was unlikely any of the horde would want to be hanging miles above the city in a web cocoon, dangling precariously from a web line, as Whenua and his fellow Toa now were. Whenua watched the Visorak fall through a narrow gap in the webbing until the creature was lost from sight.

“That’s encouraging,” he muttered.

Matau glanced toward where Vakama hung, shrouded by webbing. “Well, fire-spitter, we can’t say you didn’t show us the city,” he said, his voice rising in anger. “Course, we can say that you got us captured, poisoned, and, and seeing as I don’t think we’ve been brought up here for the view, imminently smash-dashed!”

Onewa was about to say something when he noticed the strands of webbing that held his cocoon to the line were beginning to give. When he did speak, it was muffled by the webbing that covered his mouth. “Mmmmpfff!”

“He agrees,” said Matau.

“This is not Vakama’s fault!” snapped Nokama from her cocoon. When four pairs of eyes all shot skeptical looks at her, she added, “Well, not entirely.”

“Don’t bother, Nokama,” said Vakama. “I tried to lead you as best I could. I wish I was better at it, but if I’ve learned one thing from all we have been through… it’s that I am what I am. And no matter how much I might want to, I can’t just change.”

A spasm shot through the Toa of Fire’s body at that moment. An instant later, a bizarre-looking limb burst forth from his cocoon. It was a twisted mix of a powerful Toa arm and something other, something that horrified the other heroes of Metru Nui.

From the balcony of the Coliseum, Sidorak and Roodaka watched as Vakama’s transformation began. Smiling, the viceroy of the horde slipped a hand onto Sidorak’s shoulder, signaling her approval of the nightmare to come.

Now the strange metamorphosis was spreading to the other Toa as well. They jerked and spasmed inside their cocoons as the venom of the Visorak changed their bodies and minds. Their masks stretched and fused to their faces, their limbs grew more powerful, even as their minds were flooded with raw fury.

“I’m not liking this!” shouted Matau.

Nuju glanced downward. His transformation had the nasty side effect of shredding much of the web cocoon, and he could see the same was happening to the others. In a matter of seconds, they would be plunging to the ground and certain doom.

“You’re going to like it even less in a moment, Matau,” said Nuju.

Nokama glanced at Vakama. He had been the first to change, and so his cocoon was in the worst shape. “Vakama!”

The Toa of Fire locked eyes with his friend even as the last of the webbing shredded and fell away. “I’m sorry I let you all down,” he said. Then he fell, to the sound of wild cheers from the Visorak.

Whenua felt himself losing his grip. The webbing could no longer support his increased weight. He tried to think of something profound to say before he dropped, but could only manage, “Uh… bye.”

Matau watched as Whenua, Onewa, and Nuju plunged toward the ground. It was hard to believe this would be the last moment of his existence. He looked at Nokama, saying, “Nokama, I want you… no, I need you to know that I’ve always —”

But before he could finish his statement, he, too, fell. Nokama closed her eyes, preferring not to see herself follow the lead of her brother Toa. Then she fell, feeling the wind rushing up to greet her, and knowing the pavement was doing the same.

Vakama reflected for a moment that he must have gone insane. Here he was, dropping hundreds of feet to hard, unyielding ground, and he was bracing for impact. As if that will make any difference at all, he thought. Even Toa armor cannot survive a fall from this height… and I am not even sure if Toa armor is what I am wearing now.

He saw a blur of motion out of the corner of his eye. At first, he thought it was one of the other Toa passing him on the way to the pavement. Instead, he felt an impact in his side as something snatched him in midair. The jarring knocked the wind out of him and the world went black.

High above, Nokama saw it happen. “What was —?” she began, before she, too, was grabbed and saved from a crushing death.

One by one, the other Toa followed, each saved by a mysterious rescuer. Matau was the last, and at the first sign of a motion blur, he shouted, “Easy! Don’t snatch-scratch the armor!”

Vakama stirred. The ground was moving underneath him, but he was not walking across it. No, he was being carried by someone… or something. He couldn’t make out quite who it was, or where they were heading.

“Wh — what’s happened to me?” he asked.

His rescuer said nothing, just continued putting distance between them and the Coliseum. Vakama wondered if perhaps he had fallen out of the molten protodermis vat and into the furnace. What if his new “friend” was some pawn of the Visorak, carrying him off to a fate even worse than death?

“Answer me. I am a Toa!” said Vakama.

The strange figure who carried him chuckled softly. “Not exactly,” was the reply.