Your success in retrieving Knuckles has brought your three colorful allies back together, thus marking it a resounding success. Still, it's highly unlikely Eggman is going to overlook the destruction of his robots at that base or Knuckles going missing... But strangely, it seems as though life goes on as usual in Chicago.
The patrolling robots have had their numbers cut; a sign that you're doing something, at least. Unfortunately, the humans of this world still don't react to your presence at all, and there's no stopping the chroma slowly overtaking the city. More buildings and wildlife have been affected this week, even though Eggman hasn't set foot here. It's not exactly the most encouraging thing even if this weekend was a success.
THE CITY
Now that you're familiar with Chicago and how to find your way back to the base, you're free to explore as you see fit. You want to venture out into the suburbs? You want to take a day trip to wander even further out? Sure thing! Just be sure to let Tails know where you're going so he doesn't have a heart attack if someone goes missing.
While you're out exploring, you'll likely run across Knuckles or Sonic - both of whom will immediately beeline into the nearest robots to smash them with extreme prejudice. Regardless, they'll gladly help you if you need a hand with anything, or will otherwise carry out their tasks for Tails.
Unfortunately, the rest of the city is as lifeless as it was last week. The humans will scarcely pay attention to you, wildlife will go about lifelessly, and Eggman's unique white chrome slowly overtakes more of the city. In fact, some buildings seem to have been entirely renovated from last week - you'll find more and more "Eggman" versions of stores, attractions, and landmarks.
NIGHTMARES
The biggest difference this week has nothing to do with the world around you at large, however. Instead, you'll find your nights are far more difficult - for absolutely no reason that anyone can pinpoint. If you're lucky, you'll have unsettling dreams that leave you feeling a little worried when you wake, but otherwise fairly well rested.
If you're unlucky, you'll have horrific nightmares.
You may dream about an unwinnable battle - is it against hordes of robots? is it against your enemies back home? - where you simply don't have any choice but to fight, even though you know you can't win. The odds are stacked too high against you, no matter what you do. Will you give in? Will you fight?
You may dream about your fears - the things that threaten to seize you in a vicegrip and never let go. Are you scared of failure? Then you will experience your greatest failures in detail. Even the simplest, most mundane fears will be wildly twisted out of control - and you're powerless to wake yourself up, trapped within the dreams until the night is over and you finally, finally wake up.
You may dream about your past - whatever horrible incidents that haunt you or frighten you to think about will return in full force. These are never perfect recreations of the past, instead twisted facsimiles that only make those thoughts worse. Reliving it is one thing, but having the experience changed on you may be even worse.
Regardless of your dreams, you may find that you're not alone. Others here can be pulled into these dreams - trapped with you until either the dream ends and you wake up... or you die in the dream. Those seem to be the only ways out, no matter what you do. Still, having a buddy with you to help fight might help, right?
When you do wake up, you'll see blood red and you'll feel tired no matter how long you slept. Perhaps a nap is in order - but these dreams are just as likely to infect your naps as well.
SHARDS
You should feel fairly comfortable with using your shard power by now. You may also find that the more you use it, the more things you're able to do with it. Starting this week, your shards' powers are more pronounced, allowing you to do more with them than you could before.
As you fight with your allies - particularly those you have a close bond with, positive or negative - you may feel the tug of something in the back of your head; it tells you that you can do more. Together, you can become more powerful. You can use your shards together. Doing so will grant you a new power, or strengthen the one you already have. The more you trust one another, the easier this power will be to use.
It might be good to experiment with these new powers; after all, you never know when you may need them.
TAILS' TASKS
As mentioned to some of you, the rings that Sonic and friends use to hop between worlds have been dwindling in number, given how many were used to visit all of you and bring you in to begin with. Your job - should you choose to accept it - is to track down more rings. Tails will grant you with a tracking device that will allow you to find the exact locations of these rings. All you have to do is figure out how to get them.
Rings, as it turns out, are not quite as easy to collect as one would expect. They can appear anywhere throughout the city or the surrounding areas, but they always appear in some sort of frustrating place. Perhaps one has manifested at the top of a tree, or on top of the bean. Maybe it's hiding behind rows and rows of items in the W*lmart. Maybe you'll have to break into an employees' only room or a restricted area for one. Regardless, no ring is going to be simple to collect, and it's up to you to figure out how to get it. Every single ring counts, after all.
ENEMIES
This week's enemies are the same as last week's, though lesser in number. Like last week, you shouldn't let them escape, but you're growing stronger: they should be easier to beat than last week.
Badnik Surveillance Units are primarily made for reconnaissance. They can be found flying overhead, observing the people go about their lives and following scheduled flight paths and patterns to ensure every inch of the city is being observed. Well, mostly. You can find some back alleys and hidden spots here and there, and these Badniks usually won't go into buildings or out into the woods. They will immediately try to flee upon spotting you. They're easy to take down, though a bit more durable than one would expect, given Eggman's designs. If cornered, they are capable of shooting a simple laser beam that will hurt and possibly leave a burn.
Badnik Drones are the most common combat robot you will find. Small chrome white orbs with red eyes, they are capable of scanning and detecting abnormalities. They are not quite as common as the Badnik Surveillance Units, but you'll still spot several of them floating through the city at any given point in time. Unlike the Badnik Surveillance Units, these come ready for combat. They can fire lasers as well as shoot small homing missiles. The homing missiles thankfully aren't very fast and can be outrun or otherwise blocked, but they pack a punch if they do hit! These robots will stand their ground and fight if they spot you, but they will call for backup - if you aren't fast enough, you'll find yourself facing many of them!
The Badnik Transformer Model B33, more affectionately called Buzz Bombers by Tails and friends, is... well, it looks like a bee. A hornet, rather, as that stinger is actually a precision laser that moves fast. These robots typically look like Badnik Drones, but are capable of shifting and uncoiling themselves to become the B33 units. They are fast, they hit hard, and they are relentless, pursuing you nonstop until they've been destroyed. They will not call for backup, which is possibly the only saving grace about fighting them. Unfortunately, it's impossible to tell if a Badnik is a Drone or a B33 until you're actually in combat - and by then it may be(e) too late.
Badnik Tanks are mini... well, tanks. They stand about the size of a large dog and roll around on treads through the city. They're much rarer than the other robots, but it seems some have been sent to Chicago after the destruction of the base. These tanks are capable of shooting a large laser that deals significant damage to anyone it hits, and they're quite durable. When severely damaged, they start sparking - they'll explode when hit, and you probably don't want to be in melee range!
[A thin frame of steel and organics crashed to the ground, staff landing nearby in a clatter of metal. Curling in on himself, thin hands grasping at his head as if in rction to an indescribable pain threatening to rip it apart. Blinding, white-hot like a brand pressed into his forehead, violet light sparking along his body like a massive short circuit.]
[In shuddering hesitance, skipping and cracking like a shattered machine, a voice rose from the wreckage:]
The final--glori-i-ous evolution--
[Weak. Broken. Humanity aches for better lives, peace that can only be found without...without...]
[But you were never broken, Viktor.]
[Again, a voice from his memories.]
[There is beauty in imperfections. They made you who you are.]
[No. No. No, this was wrong. This was wrong, thousands and thousands of golden threads each leading to a person he was all but strangling to death with it. That was...that was why he was here, because Viktor had to kill the Herald permanently. He had to atone for the damage he had done and the lives he had ruined, exiling himself from his own world to save another.]
S...stop--I am not--I want to re-re-remain Viktor-
[Pain was his oldest companion. It was human, and the intense agony now was almost a reassurance. A metal fist slammed into the ground, heavy breathing amidst modulated and reverberating words whirring and screaming like gale force winds threatening to rip apart a steel structure. His head was burning, but the pressure was...retreating. Slowly, the sparking lights running along his body began to calm to a less frantic glow, leaving a thin form like a broken doll struggling to pull himself off the ground.]
[As Viktor's peripheral shudders and shifts from the change, the Matoran keeps his hands up -- a slight give of relief in his expression when he hears the push back, that same flicker back to Toa, on his knees in front of a suffering Viktor.]
You will. You... have worked too hard for this to end here, my friend.
...It will be all right.
[--how are we supposed to--
--you call THIS all right???--
The sounds of others crawling to unsteady feet seems to echo. In pain. Confused. Horrified.
Furious.
Moving away, further and further.
Not from Viktor, for Viktor will find that foreign hands twist against his pale frame, urging him backwards. Stay with the group. Stay together.
It is Vakama that is left to stand alone.
As his form flicks back from Toa to Matoran, he still tries to break the distance, a sharpness in his distress as he scrambles to try and grab for Viktor's arm.]
No - No, I won't repeat this. I can't. Not like this.
[The hold reaches. But something gets to Vakama first.
You know that isn't how this works.
The pain flashes. A twist of the space, the light, and a disformed figure drops down from the webs with frightening speed, snapping gnarled fingers onto the Matoran's skull, hoisting him up off the ground as he yelps.
[His head shrieked and ground with the noise and pressure of misaligned gears, Viktor reaching back in hope to see this nightmare reach its end--then everything burst in motion and chaos, in a snarling voice that mocked him just as much as it did his companion.]
[So that's what this is. I see it now--you inflict your own punishment just as I do.]
You are right. [His voice scraped on modulators of steel, worn by pain and exhaustion as Viktor forced himself to stand with both hands gripping his staff.] Clarity at the end of all things...is no comfort for the lives ended. There is no true way to balance the equation, not even in death.
[The joints in delicate metal hands creaked in a tightening grip on what had once been an immaculate crutch, Viktor forcing himself to stand straighter.]
But the attempt must be done. Even if true atonement is an impossible task, the effort must be made. Even if it should mean dragging oneself inch by inch out of hell.
There will always be those willing to forgive. The only way to bear guilt is to let them. If your hands find only destruction...let them be guided by others.
Always the others. Always what's BEST for the OTHERS--
[Spitting, snarling, from a different shadow than before. Circling.
The air starts to blur with shadow.
You are being hunted.
A deliberate self-isolation.]
The others show their hands soon enough. What would they possibly understand?
[Flashes plague your peripheral.
-skies with spiralling stars blotting out like ink to paper- -angry seas swallowing the streets- -the press of a cold sky with the earth shuddering like the final breath of a corpse-
hauntings, without clarity
forever]
Belief runs dry. I will not be a waste again!
[With a crack of heat, Viktor will feel the slash of a weapon that just barely misses him from behind (7) as Vakama slams back to the ground in a furious hail of sparks. He pivots, snarling with sharpened eyes tinged the same sickening green as the fog, launching himself bodily to try and tackle Viktor to the ground.]
Edited (oh my god nik read dicebot correctly) 2025-01-30 15:22 (UTC)
[Before he could think of an argument, there was a flurry of heat and motion, Vakama crashing into him (5) and metal or not, he was still both snaller and slighter. Desperation sparked along with pain as the pair of them collided with the ground, and he debated with himself for only an instant before his eyes burned a solid glowing white, thin hand shooting upwards to grab Vakama with fingertips burning opalescent marks into metal-]
[Flashes in return, each instant and fleeting as the power of the Herald struggled against an overpowering resistance. Forcing clarity, pushing back with the concept of compassion and forgiveness-]
[In the pursuit of great, we failed to do good. We have to make it right.]
[Fingers meet skull with a shockwave of white and an immediate roar of agony from the creature under Viktor's hand as he tries to pull away. A whipping and smearing of reality, the white of space streaking away at the dark mirror of memory and staining backwards in spiraling shapes of light; of words fallen out of lips and echoed in kind from foreign voice, to someone not Vakama, not Viktor.
The image of that frail broken body of gold, discarded.
"Compassion was always your weakness--"
Claw meets metal and yanks with enough physical strength to crack - shoving Viktor off only to pounce right back on top of him, grappling for his neck with nothing but anger--
-- Only to be knocked aside as a mirror image of the creature charges, knocking Viktor's captor off and to the side.
There is not much difference at first glance. The absence of the light left behind from Viktor's touch, and the color of the eyes. But Vakama still stands overtop him - the Matoran missing, now clearly crouched overtop the herald with his teeth bared towards the double. It sinks back, a dissolving as it stalks back into the shadow, but Vakama doesn't move his position.
A beat passes, of breath and tension. His defensive posture doesn't change. But there's a softening, as his head tilts just so. Apologetic.]
...All I ever wanted was to find a way to save them. [His eyes don't meet Viktor, but it's still a response - an acknowledgement, of his challenge.]
Even if I made the wrong choice... even if I was a failure.... even if I was never understood, and only knew this angered heart for the rest of my days. If it was still for them... if it would earn them their freedom... I felt it was all that mattered.
It... frightens me. Angers me. That this could repeat, with nothing else I could do but watch.
["Had someone not reminded me--"
His eyes flick back out towards the dark as it slowly evens out - a contrast to their beginning, a voided field. And as Vakama slowly removes himself from Viktor, his form shifts back - not to the Matoran, but to himself. Fully, unchanging, knelt to offer him a hand up.
The voices protest. They always do.
What kind of Toa ARE you?]
...
My friend. I will not ask you to suffer any more of my own battles. This is not a fight to be won.
[That power was heavily taxing in this form; finite, it had been called. Because of the limitations of humanity--as a machine, it had been simple. As Viktor, it drained his energy rapidly. Even if it had been necessary to fight back, he would not have had the strength left to try. Stars burst in briefly blurred vision as if to illustrate the point that Viktor had gone well past his limits in all of this, dream or not.]
[So as Vakama talked, he simply listened and made no move to get up. His leg would more than likely had given out on him instantly if he tried, anyway. For a moment, he just let the other keep watch as he laidd there trying to catch his breath.]
Our ambitions...aimed too high. We could have achieved so much with so little, but we...focused on the world instead of the afflictions so close at hand.
I am afraid. Afraid of extending my reach too far once more, and falling short as a result.
[He took Vakama's hand, the other reaching for his staff as he shakily pulled himself to his feet.]
...Foolish. This is as much my fight as yours, whether it can be won or not. What is the point of trying to save the world, if we do not help those right in front of us?
[The air grows cold and thick. Something grows large and ominous behind them, formless and horrifying. It seems to reach up into the very skies. To place out constellations in a specific pattern, twisting the heavens.
But Vakama keeps his eyes to Viktor, both hands bracing to help him up and steady him. In the coldness of it, there's a warmth - a flicker of a conversation amongst the normal voices that mock.
Former friends. Tch. If they think taking over as the leader is so easy, they can do it themselves.
True. But they won't get far without you. Nor you without them.
And how do you know that?
I don't. But the Great Spirit does.
Unity. Duty. Destiny. It starts with Unity.
If you are to rescue the Matoran, you must do so together.
This is something you cannot change.--
...]
...Then, Viktor.
May this fool of a Toa ask for your ambition - your strength - if only for the moment?
[He knew better now; Singed, unfortunately, had been right. Evolution was forever in flux, and fate was...immaterial. Reality was as chaotic and unknowable as the web of wild magic which ran beneath the fabric of existence; ever-shifting, beyond prediction or evaluation.]
[...And maybe such uncontrollable chaos--bringing forth strife and pain and joy and love--maybe that was alright.]
I fear I have never held much in the way of strength, Vakama.
[Despite everything, there was a thin smile on Viktor's face as he steadied himself; exhausted and worn, but still standing.]
Ambition, though...that I have to spare. I could stand to do with a bit less of it, so take as much as is needed.
[It's subtle, the flicker of energy that snaps between them as Vakama nods, turning towards the towering void in front of them. Enormous wings spread, a building spiral that threatens to take the stars itself.
A fake to the end, Toa.
"You are a mask-maker, not a Toa."
"Vakama your destiny no longer lies in this, you are a Toa."
"It's time you realized that you are a Toa!"
"So? I'm a Toa. All we do is destroy--"
"If all of this was a lie, I deserve to know--!!!"
...
A rattling exhale, in and out. But his posture stays firm, even as gold and purple start to spark against his fingertips and limbs.]
Keep your faith, Viktor.
[Fire sparks and flickers to life in his palms, spiraling in a swirling pattern against his arms, even as the mask on his face starts to glow.]
We're going to make it right.
[No matter what it takes. No matter the mistakes behind them. No matter if it was truly real or not, truly destiny.
Just one more time, before it all ended.
The Toa launches forward, body and element vanishing completely into the space a split second later, the bare form of a shadow the only evidence of someone darting forward at full speed.
And Viktor's vision will finally fade as though sinking backward - to the consuming black, to the warm blanket of white... and finally, to the sharp sea of red, as the dream releases him.]
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no subject
[In shuddering hesitance, skipping and cracking like a shattered machine, a voice rose from the wreckage:]
The final--glori-i-
ous evolution--[Weak. Broken. Humanity aches for better lives, peace that can only be found without...without...]
[But you were never broken, Viktor.]
[Again, a voice from his memories.]
[There is beauty in imperfections. They made you who you are.]
[No. No. No, this was wrong. This was wrong, thousands and thousands of golden threads each leading to a person he was all but strangling to death with it. That was...that was why he was here, because Viktor had to kill the Herald permanently. He had to atone for the damage he had done and the lives he had ruined, exiling himself from his own world to save another.]
S...stop--
I am not--I want to re-re-remain Viktor-[Pain was his oldest companion. It was human, and the intense agony now was almost a reassurance. A metal fist slammed into the ground, heavy breathing amidst modulated and reverberating words whirring and screaming like gale force winds threatening to rip apart a steel structure. His head was burning, but the pressure was...retreating. Slowly, the sparking lights running along his body began to calm to a less frantic glow, leaving a thin form like a broken doll struggling to pull himself off the ground.]
no subject
You will. You... have worked too hard for this to end here, my friend.
...It will be all right.
[--how are we supposed to--
--you call THIS all right???--
The sounds of others crawling to unsteady feet seems to echo. In pain. Confused. Horrified.
Furious.
Moving away, further and further.
Not from Viktor, for Viktor will find that foreign hands twist against his pale frame, urging him backwards. Stay with the group. Stay together.
It is Vakama that is left to stand alone.
As his form flicks back from Toa to Matoran, he still tries to break the distance, a sharpness in his distress as he scrambles to try and grab for Viktor's arm.]
No - No, I won't repeat this. I can't. Not like this.
[The hold reaches. But something gets to Vakama first.
You know that isn't how this works.
The pain flashes. A twist of the space, the light, and a disformed figure drops down from the webs with frightening speed, snapping gnarled fingers onto the Matoran's skull, hoisting him up off the ground as he yelps.
Familiar enough, and yet not - twisted painfully, stalking like some great cat against the ground.
With incredible violence, the Matoran is tossed aside past rock and web, rolling to an unresponsive stop against the ground. And the voice that rolls out falls heavy on unnatural breath and predatory rumbling under every syllable, slipping right back into cover.]
You of all people should know.
[It's almost incredulous. So incredibly bitter. Animosity building, amplified.]
Intention. Atonement. [Spat out, pained.] What good does it do when we destroy all we touch? When we're destined to fail from the start?
[--who have you been TALKING to, who's put these thoughts into your head--
A breath rolls out, a rolling growl. Ignoring the voices. Uncaring.]
...Clarity. Things you only see for the truth at the end, with your eyes unclouded.
no subject
[So that's what this is. I see it now--you inflict your own punishment just as I do.]
You are right. [His voice scraped on modulators of steel, worn by pain and exhaustion as Viktor forced himself to stand with both hands gripping his staff.] Clarity at the end of all things...is no comfort for the lives ended. There is no true way to balance the equation, not even in death.
[The joints in delicate metal hands creaked in a tightening grip on what had once been an immaculate crutch, Viktor forcing himself to stand straighter.]
But the attempt must be done. Even if true atonement is an impossible task, the effort must be made. Even if it should mean dragging oneself inch by inch out of hell.
There will always be those willing to
forgive.The only way to bear guilt is to let them. If your hands find only destruction...let them be guided by others.no subject
Always the others. Always what's BEST for the OTHERS--
[Spitting, snarling, from a different shadow than before. Circling.
The air starts to blur with shadow.
You are being hunted.
A deliberate self-isolation.]
The others show their hands soon enough. What would they possibly understand?
[Flashes plague your peripheral.
-skies with spiralling stars blotting out like ink to paper-
-angry seas swallowing the streets-
-the press of a cold sky with the earth shuddering like the final breath of a corpse-
hauntings, without clarity
forever]
Belief runs dry. I will not be a waste again!
[With a crack of heat, Viktor will feel the slash of a weapon that just barely misses him from behind (7) as Vakama slams back to the ground in a furious hail of sparks. He pivots, snarling with sharpened eyes tinged the same sickening green as the fog, launching himself bodily to try and tackle Viktor to the ground.]
no subject
[Flashes in return, each instant and fleeting as the power of the Herald struggled against an overpowering resistance. Forcing clarity, pushing back with the concept of compassion and forgiveness-]
[In the pursuit of great, we failed to do good. We have to make it right.]
[There must be some part of you still in there-]
[Why do you persist after everything I've done?]
[Because I promised you.]
no subject
The image of that frail broken body of gold, discarded.
"Compassion was always your weakness--"
Claw meets metal and yanks with enough physical strength to crack - shoving Viktor off only to pounce right back on top of him, grappling for his neck with nothing but anger--
-- Only to be knocked aside as a mirror image of the creature charges, knocking Viktor's captor off and to the side.
There is not much difference at first glance. The absence of the light left behind from Viktor's touch, and the color of the eyes. But Vakama still stands overtop him - the Matoran missing, now clearly crouched overtop the herald with his teeth bared towards the double. It sinks back, a dissolving as it stalks back into the shadow, but Vakama doesn't move his position.
A beat passes, of breath and tension. His defensive posture doesn't change. But there's a softening, as his head tilts just so. Apologetic.]
...All I ever wanted was to find a way to save them. [His eyes don't meet Viktor, but it's still a response - an acknowledgement, of his challenge.]
Even if I made the wrong choice... even if I was a failure.... even if I was never understood, and only knew this angered heart for the rest of my days. If it was still for them... if it would earn them their freedom... I felt it was all that mattered.
It... frightens me. Angers me. That this could repeat, with nothing else I could do but watch.
["Had someone not reminded me--"
His eyes flick back out towards the dark as it slowly evens out - a contrast to their beginning, a voided field. And as Vakama slowly removes himself from Viktor, his form shifts back - not to the Matoran, but to himself. Fully, unchanging, knelt to offer him a hand up.
The voices protest. They always do.
What kind of Toa ARE you?]
...
My friend. I will not ask you to suffer any more of my own battles. This is not a fight to be won.
no subject
[So as Vakama talked, he simply listened and made no move to get up. His leg would more than likely had given out on him instantly if he tried, anyway. For a moment, he just let the other keep watch as he laidd there trying to catch his breath.]
Our ambitions...aimed too high. We could have achieved so much with so little, but we...focused on the world instead of the afflictions so close at hand.
I am afraid. Afraid of extending my reach too far once more, and falling short as a result.
[He took Vakama's hand, the other reaching for his staff as he shakily pulled himself to his feet.]
...Foolish. This is as much my fight as yours, whether it can be won or not. What is the point of trying to save the world, if we do not help those right in front of us?
no subject
But Vakama keeps his eyes to Viktor, both hands bracing to help him up and steady him. In the coldness of it, there's a warmth - a flicker of a conversation amongst the normal voices that mock.
Former friends. Tch. If they think taking over as the leader is so easy, they can do it themselves.
True. But they won't get far without you. Nor you without them.
And how do you know that?
I don't. But the Great Spirit does.
Unity. Duty. Destiny. It starts with Unity.
If you are to rescue the Matoran, you must do so together.
This is something you cannot change.--
...]
...Then, Viktor.
May this fool of a Toa ask for your ambition - your strength - if only for the moment?
no subject
[Evolution has a destination.]
[He knew better now; Singed, unfortunately, had been right. Evolution was forever in flux, and fate was...immaterial. Reality was as chaotic and unknowable as the web of wild magic which ran beneath the fabric of existence; ever-shifting, beyond prediction or evaluation.]
[...And maybe such uncontrollable chaos--bringing forth strife and pain and joy and love--maybe that was alright.]
I fear I have never held much in the way of strength, Vakama.
[Despite everything, there was a thin smile on Viktor's face as he steadied himself; exhausted and worn, but still standing.]
Ambition, though...that I have to spare. I could stand to do with a bit less of it, so take as much as is needed.
no subject
A fake to the end, Toa.
"You are a mask-maker, not a Toa."
"Vakama your destiny no longer lies in this, you are a Toa."
"It's time you realized that you are a Toa!"
"So? I'm a Toa. All we do is destroy--"
"If all of this was a lie, I deserve to know--!!!"
...
A rattling exhale, in and out. But his posture stays firm, even as gold and purple start to spark against his fingertips and limbs.]
Keep your faith, Viktor.
[Fire sparks and flickers to life in his palms, spiraling in a swirling pattern against his arms, even as the mask on his face starts to glow.]
We're going to make it right.
[No matter what it takes. No matter the mistakes behind them. No matter if it was truly real or not, truly destiny.
Just one more time, before it all ended.
The Toa launches forward, body and element vanishing completely into the space a split second later, the bare form of a shadow the only evidence of someone darting forward at full speed.
And Viktor's vision will finally fade as though sinking backward - to the consuming black, to the warm blanket of white... and finally, to the sharp sea of red, as the dream releases him.]