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!
[He hesitates in his answer, bracing for something to happen. But clearly, it does not, and his confusion just increases, pushing himself up to his feet.]
This space, it... it never has any of you. No one else ever sees it.
[His eyes trace the ground, rapid with thought, before his from thins with an extended hand towards her.]
You can't leave a vision until it reaches its end. If it isn't coming to me... then we're going to find it.
[You have a job to do, after all.
White starts to flake away to metal streets, though the sides of your vision never get any clearer. The smell of smoke and molten metals thickens the air with warmth, the lighting going red and dark under towering cylindrical buildings, walkways that stacked on top of one another, foundries and conveyors, shipping and processing yards fenced up several stories, smokestacks that seem to stretch far off into the sky.
The district is cramped, but empty. Quiet.And every few steps, that pain flickers, and with it, so do the surroundings. Darkened skies. Destroyed catwalks. Enormous towers split down the middle and spilling their molten contents over miles and miles of buildings, the roar of fires and failing structures groaning like the cry of some far off dying animals, all as the sky rumbles.
Every flicker gets worse, like a warning bell in the mind, and it only seems to stop if Vakama halts completely.]
My district, yes. Ta-Metru. It is... it was... my home.
[Signs of life echo like whispers of ghosts in amidst the foundries and rubble; nameplates and personal touches, well worn metal underfoot, paint on bars worn down from constant usage, hundreds of carved tablets hung with everything from workman's lists to accolades, banners hung with the district colors, monumental screens that once might have displayed something important for a huge crowd, now cracked and blackened. Enormous support rings, once holding some sort of transportation chute system that stretched in every direction, now lay empty and cracking.
The more they walk, the more the rubble fills in. Wildlife making nests. Webs stringing together broken pipework. A deep, poisonous fog of green.
The voices twist, a mocking tone that is hard to pinpoint as genuine or not.
A powerful being betrayed and captured our city... and claimed to set the Great Spirit himself to sleep.
Nothing was ever the same after that. The bioquakes, the ocean itself... even the suns and the stars.
[The ground snaps forward as though being yanked through space by an invisible hand. You feel unsteady and will need to catch yourself.
You can hear the echoes of reaction as you do so - warbled, confused, distant. Someone, somewhere, elsewhere.
"Is everything alright?"
"What's with him?"
The space you raise up into has has the ceiling and one of the walls completely blown out, revealing the darkened sky and smoke filled walkways trailing up and up into forever. It's a foundry, an enormous forge set in the center with equipment and tools strung from every available piece of metal, parts and craftings and molds and masks scattered like so much debris.
At the foot of the ruins lies a sphere. The hatch is open, with lights blinking on and off. But the sphere itself looks empty.
Vakama's exhausted demenaour only deepens at the site of it, choosing to ignore as he tries to get a better view of his bearings. But surely it would be fine to take a closer look.
Surely you would trust your h̴̠̣̪̊̊e̸̯̚r̷̢̬̹̾o̷̻̭̭̾͑͂̓̋e̴̢̡̪̋̂̇̓ͅs̷̛͉͖̥̬̯̈́̓.]
And this... would be my foundry. It's about the same as I left it, actually.
Mm. Deceitful, self-absorbed. Only caring for what brought his own self-interests to light.
We call him the Makuta.
[It's a cold term off the tongue, a flare of deep resentment.
Still, his eyes trace backwards towards the sphere again. There's a cold feeling of dread.
"Storage containers?"
"--No-- t-the Matoran, they're in danger--"
"Vakama? What? What do you see--"
It's a sudden flash of an image, another flash of that vivid pain. Storage containers for miles and miles, up and down into infinity, sealed up tight, filled with
curled limbs
dim heartbeats
cold bodies
--
"Nothing. Nothing, sister.
Nothing at all."
...
Vakama's expression falls somber.]
...
It's a trap.
[Who was responsible?
(1)
Rio will get a nice visual head-start of the enormous, twisted tendril of shadow and plant matter that rises from the rubble and immediately snaps to grab at her. Thanks to the critical fail, it misses its first attempt completely. Thank you, dicebot.]
[Thanks to the quick reaction, Vakama's attention is also drawn appropriately, running to try and grab something to defend himself with from the scattered debris. Why is that something a disk of all things? Eh don't worry about it.]
Karzahni---? [Tentative, like speaking someone's name rather than answering Rio's question. But he immediately shakes his head after the term leaves his mouth.] Wait, n-no, no, this... this is Morbuzakh--!
It thrives off the heat, Rio, we need t--
[His voice catches with a yelp as a second tendril whips up to snake around the Matoran's ankle, slamming him against the top of the forge.
Answer, Vakama.
It's a voice that echoes from nowhere, piercing but resonating. A reverberation, not a source.
we're wasting time--
--hunting down just because of--
--so sure about this--
Who is responsible?
The heat starts to rise suddenly. Drastically.
As Rio gets busy with the pew-pew-pew of her lasers, the surroundings morph again - the wreck of an enormous open furnace almost unfathomably tall, s̸͕͓̄ǒ̴̱̪͈̠͌͐ṁ̸̛̠͌̑ḙ̷͍̺͂̿̕͝ť̶̫͌̊h̸̛̛͓͓͈̾̒į̵̘͙͉̀̈n̴̢̩͉̺̏̎̀g̵̨̙̎ boiling in its catastrophic flames.
With a whipping snap, Vakama is fully thrown across the room like a ragdoll.
What time was wasted in your incessant searching?
What lives brought to suffer?
For a split second, as Vakama struggles to his feet, his form flickers to normal again -- stumbling towards Rio, his free hand outstretched, wrapping with building, swirling fire. But that same shadowed tendril grips him tight by the waist, and his form changes right back, yelling and shoving for purchase as he's lifted right back into the air.
Rio will find her limbs drawn down on the spot in a rain of unavoidable projectiles. Hundreds of thousands of seeded capsules fall from the ceiling; cracking open where they land, growing quickly like a mass of writhing, multiplying snakes of rot and plant and darkness, grasping out to wrap her still and drag her to her death.
No matter whether she acts or stays still, her power is draining without replenishment.]
[Very rude of them, she is a prim and proper lady???]
Ugh... let go!
[Tragically, however, she is not built for strength; she's more of a speed and dexterity build, and when both are taken from her, she can't really put up much of a fight.
Still... While she may be doomed here, she doesn't just give up, either, fighting the whole way down so long as even a speck of strength remains in her, no matter how futile it might be.]
[The more those lasers fire, the more that Rio will find herself weakening - like a battery losing its charge, lower and lower and lower. The movement through the growing sea of vines drags like quicksand, the heat sweltering.
Though Vakama does try - another momentary shift, the disk from his forge being thrown down towards Rio with a shattering of ice that spreads - it's not enough to give more than temporary relief from the pressure of the vines. He squirms for purchase, hands planting to the vine tightly tied to his waist with white-hot heat, but it only seems to squeeze him tighter in response.]
Don't-- don't give up just yet!!
[It's getting hard to breathe, and as his form once again flickers back to a Matoran, the pressure only that much greater under diminished size. Suffocating, suffocating.
--Vakama, are you sure about this--]
I did the--- the best I could, I--
[The floor dips out beneath them both as the surroundings snap to black.
There is no time to catch their breath. Their bodies will both ricochet off repeated hard surfaces of metal, to a grand flooring split into hexagonal shapes; shooting up in columns, tossing them about like dolls, slamming them into high stone walls under the jeering boos of a crowd.
--The heart of Metru Nui, do you have it safe?--
You're too exhausted to do anything but withstand it. Your powers spark but no longer answer. Ghost-like forms of your fellow shard-carrying teammates pick themselves up off the floor, beaten and barely on their feet.
Someone high above you laughs.
"Let us praise these jesters. Perhaps they sought to entertain us during this difficult time.
Or, are they imposters? Responsible for our true Toa's demise?"
The sounds of the unseen crowd roar in fury.
All the effort to be made a fool.
Half your teammates go flying backward to vanish into an unseen space beyond, pulled by the wind itself. The rest scramble for one another, for their weapons, for an escape, as an enormous swarm of robots marches in advance on them.
For people saw true colors, not your empty attempts.
You can do nothing but run. Run. Run, hide, search through muddied dark spaces with your bare hands. You're exhausted. You're all so exhausted.
Empty attempts. Misguided efforts.
The jeering echos of the crowd slowly die to eerie silence. The clicking hiss of a hatch unlocks in the outstretched darkness. An empty sphere, mocking, as lighting starts to crack overhead.
--Tell me, Vakama. The heart of Metru Nui, do you have it safe?--
Vakama flinches at the gentleness of the question, in amidst the more prominent, jeering mockery.]
Th--- There was no way I could have known... [It's an answerless response into the void, where the stars of the sky seem to black out in response, two glorious suns eclipsing as though the universe has shut its eyes to their efforts.] We tried. I... I tried.
[You fled.
The sound of a violent sea crashes in their ears, surrounded by darkened rock pitted by centuries of waves. A body, golden and feeble and frail, ricochets past them in the dark with a trail of dark energy, immediately drawing Vakama's attention with a choke of distress.
To the ends of the silver sea, leaving your people behind. Suffering for sake of your cowardice.
Rio will see an enormous claw of shadow reaching out beyond the sea like a giant swatting a fly, intent on smashing them both against the sea wall.]
Rio fights as best as she can, against the tendrils, and then to even regain her footing after such a fall. It hurts, it all does, but it's nothing new either - her hands and body both have been drenched in blood before, both others' and her own, and it's that wealth of experience that gives her the resilience to stagger back to her feet again and again.
But in the end, this is Vakama's nightmare. And in the end, she can only make guesses as to what the root of it all really is.]
...Those who know when to withdraw are those who live long enough to fight another day. And you have been fighting, haven't you?
By our sides, for a world that isn't even your own.
[It's hard to tell if Vakama acknowledges the words at first. He stays frozen under that desperate grasp, eyes still stuck on the maskless body lying broken and barely visible in the darkness--
The sacrifices that kept piling up for him to take such unsteady steps.
The body that sits cold in his place.
"That was meant for me."
He swallows, eyes screwing shut as he tries desperately to collect himself. Rio's not wrong. A voice of logic in a sea of chaos.]
...It's the right thing to do. It's... what a Toa should do. What we're made for.
And all I wished was that... we just do not repeat the past. That I don't lead any of you into another mistake that can't be undone--
[Murderer.
His breath catches.
But he dashes for Rio - for a moment, the Toa, not the Matoran.
By our sides.
And the blow hits them both hard.
Deep, thundering arcs of foreign energy immediately crack through every part of the body on contact. You cannot struggle, and can barely watch, as you're slammed headfirst into solid rock.
Rio is now alone.
The rock starts to dissolve into itself, a dizzied run of spiraling tunnels.
What reaches for atonement have benefited?
Would you twist them in your hands with delay?
Would you twist your heart once more?
Your confines feel claustrophobic and foreign from all sides, smelling of earth and ocean, horrifically dark. And while the comments have been mocking, now they grow genuinely angry.
--who died and made you Mata Nui anyway--?
--you're not the only one trying--
--maybe if this wasn't coming from a leader who doesn't know when to quit--
--we can't keep going like this, Vakama!!--
Arrogance.
Recklessness.
Foolish, childish decisions.
The poisonous fog that had laid out in that cityscape returns, thick and suffocating, before Rio drops straight into the depths of an angry, stormy sea, the battered parts of a craft pushed too far sinking slowly into the rocking depths beyond them.
And where did that lead you?
Guilt disguised as bravery, your chest raised with eyes blinded.
Claiming atonement.
Another jerking lunge, and Rio will be washed on the shore of a beach filled with nothing but rubble. A skyline that criss-crosses with thick webs. A stillness broken only by the deafening roars and cries of wildlife that had not been there before.
And Vakama sits, at the precipice of the nearest hill, looking down towards Rio with an exhausted and regretful expression, even as his own voice echoes, unattached, off in the distance with an almost pompous arrogance, the voices mumbling constant and increasing disapprovals through the air.
As though you could drown it all out.
As though your bold words could change any of it.
"Are we going to stand around all night? Nothing changes! We go to the Coliseum, we rescue the Matoran, and we leave!
Follow me!"
...
For now, despite the pull of his echoing counterpart, Vakama's attention stays still, hands wringing against one another. A pause.
[Ah, what a nostalgic feeling, set adrift and tossed about like a ragdoll by the elements, unable to do much more than to protect herself as best she can and hope she survives by the end.
Needless to say, it's a relief to finally be on solid...ish ground, even if she's drenched and battered for it. She tilts her head at the words echoing in the air, pauses a moment longer to think on them, and then:]
[The answer comes a bit too quickly, enough that he's sighing at himself upon further reflection.]
Ah, but even that isn't quite right.
It's... not something I have to do. And it took me far too long to learn that I wanted to only lead people who chose to follow me. To force and corral, trying to demand obedience... that's a tyrant, not a leader.
[His eyes drift to his hands.]
Before then, though... I think I was just frightened. Angry, at myself. My team needed a guiding hand, and I was urged to take it by someone I trusted, despite how much I struggled. I felt if... my predecessors could do it all alone, then I would be put into the same spot. I felt that I had to handle it myself.
And the more I thought that to be my reality, the more I found myself alone, rather than as a part of a whole.
It's not how leadership works. Not how... responsibility works.
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no subject
[What was that...? Just what is going on here?]
That's what I'd like to know. What do you mean, it isn't how it should work?
no subject
This space, it... it never has any of you. No one else ever sees it.
[His eyes trace the ground, rapid with thought, before his from thins with an extended hand towards her.]
...Come on. We can't stay here.
no subject
Where are we going?
no subject
You can't leave a vision until it reaches its end. If it isn't coming to me... then we're going to find it.
[You have a job to do, after all.
White starts to flake away to metal streets, though the sides of your vision never get any clearer. The smell of smoke and molten metals thickens the air with warmth, the lighting going red and dark under towering cylindrical buildings, walkways that stacked on top of one another, foundries and conveyors, shipping and processing yards fenced up several stories, smokestacks that seem to stretch far off into the sky.
The district is cramped, but empty. Quiet. And every few steps, that pain flickers, and with it, so do the surroundings. Darkened skies. Destroyed catwalks. Enormous towers split down the middle and spilling their molten contents over miles and miles of buildings, the roar of fires and failing structures groaning like the cry of some far off dying animals, all as the sky rumbles.
Every flicker gets worse, like a warning bell in the mind, and it only seems to stop if Vakama halts completely.]
no subject
Is this your country...?
no subject
[Signs of life echo like whispers of ghosts in amidst the foundries and rubble; nameplates and personal touches, well worn metal underfoot, paint on bars worn down from constant usage, hundreds of carved tablets hung with everything from workman's lists to accolades, banners hung with the district colors, monumental screens that once might have displayed something important for a huge crowd, now cracked and blackened. Enormous support rings, once holding some sort of transportation chute system that stretched in every direction, now lay empty and cracking.
The more they walk, the more the rubble fills in. Wildlife making nests. Webs stringing together broken pipework. A deep, poisonous fog of green.
The voices twist, a mocking tone that is hard to pinpoint as genuine or not.
--you should not blame yourself
you are a mask maker
matoran in armor
let us praise these jesters
imposters
you are a mask maker
not a--
...]
It... meant everything to me. It still does.
no subject
...What happened here...?
no subject
A powerful being betrayed and captured our city... and claimed to set the Great Spirit himself to sleep.
Nothing was ever the same after that. The bioquakes, the ocean itself... even the suns and the stars.
[The ground snaps forward as though being yanked through space by an invisible hand. You feel unsteady and will need to catch yourself.
You can hear the echoes of reaction as you do so - warbled, confused, distant. Someone, somewhere, elsewhere.
"Is everything alright?"
"What's with him?"
The space you raise up into has has the ceiling and one of the walls completely blown out, revealing the darkened sky and smoke filled walkways trailing up and up into forever. It's a foundry, an enormous forge set in the center with equipment and tools strung from every available piece of metal, parts and craftings and molds and masks scattered like so much debris.
At the foot of the ruins lies a sphere. The hatch is open, with lights blinking on and off. But the sphere itself looks empty.
Vakama's exhausted demenaour only deepens at the site of it, choosing to ignore as he tries to get a better view of his bearings. But surely it would be fine to take a closer look.
Surely you would trust your h̴̠̣̪̊̊e̸̯̚r̷̢̬̹̾o̷̻̭̭̾͑͂̓̋e̴̢̡̪̋̂̇̓ͅs̷̛͉͖̥̬̯̈́̓.]
And this... would be my foundry. It's about the same as I left it, actually.
no subject
A powerful being...? And... what is that?
[Probably, she means the sphere, but she's not getting any closer at the moment.]
no subject
We call him the Makuta.
[It's a cold term off the tongue, a flare of deep resentment.
Still, his eyes trace backwards towards the sphere again. There's a cold feeling of dread.
"Storage containers?"
"--No-- t-the Matoran, they're in danger--"
"Vakama? What? What do you see--"
It's a sudden flash of an image, another flash of that vivid pain. Storage containers for miles and miles, up and down into infinity, sealed up tight, filled with
curled limbs
dim heartbeats
cold bodies
--
"Nothing. Nothing, sister.
Nothing at all."
...
Vakama's expression falls somber.]
...
It's a trap.
[Who was responsible?
(1)
Rio will get a nice visual head-start of the enormous, twisted tendril of shadow and plant matter that rises from the rubble and immediately snaps to grab at her. Thanks to the critical fail, it misses its first attempt completely. Thank you, dicebot.]
no subject
She's also immediately backing up and trying to use her shard power to deal with the tendrils by simply Lasering them thanks.]
What are these?!
no subject
Karzahni---? [Tentative, like speaking someone's name rather than answering Rio's question. But he immediately shakes his head after the term leaves his mouth.] Wait, n-no, no, this... this is Morbuzakh--!
It thrives off the heat, Rio, we need t--
[His voice catches with a yelp as a second tendril whips up to snake around the Matoran's ankle, slamming him against the top of the forge.
Answer, Vakama.
It's a voice that echoes from nowhere, piercing but resonating. A reverberation, not a source.
we're wasting time--
--hunting down just because of--
--so sure about this--
Who is responsible?
The heat starts to rise suddenly. Drastically.
As Rio gets busy with the pew-pew-pew of her lasers, the surroundings morph again - the wreck of an enormous open furnace almost unfathomably tall, s̸͕͓̄ǒ̴̱̪͈̠͌͐ṁ̸̛̠͌̑ḙ̷͍̺͂̿̕͝ť̶̫͌̊h̸̛̛͓͓͈̾̒į̵̘͙͉̀̈n̴̢̩͉̺̏̎̀g̵̨̙̎ boiling in its catastrophic flames.
With a whipping snap, Vakama is fully thrown across the room like a ragdoll.
What time was wasted in your incessant searching?
What lives brought to suffer?
For a split second, as Vakama struggles to his feet, his form flickers to normal again -- stumbling towards Rio, his free hand outstretched, wrapping with building, swirling fire. But that same shadowed tendril grips him tight by the waist, and his form changes right back, yelling and shoving for purchase as he's lifted right back into the air.
Rio will find her limbs drawn down on the spot in a rain of unavoidable projectiles. Hundreds of thousands of seeded capsules fall from the ceiling; cracking open where they land, growing quickly like a mass of writhing, multiplying snakes of rot and plant and darkness, grasping out to wrap her still and drag her to her death.
No matter whether she acts or stays still, her power is draining without replenishment.]
no subject
Ugh... let go!
[Tragically, however, she is not built for strength; she's more of a speed and dexterity build, and when both are taken from her, she can't really put up much of a fight.
Still... While she may be doomed here, she doesn't just give up, either, fighting the whole way down so long as even a speck of strength remains in her, no matter how futile it might be.]
no subject
Though Vakama does try - another momentary shift, the disk from his forge being thrown down towards Rio with a shattering of ice that spreads - it's not enough to give more than temporary relief from the pressure of the vines. He squirms for purchase, hands planting to the vine tightly tied to his waist with white-hot heat, but it only seems to squeeze him tighter in response.]
Don't-- don't give up just yet!!
[It's getting hard to breathe, and as his form once again flickers back to a Matoran, the pressure only that much greater under diminished size. Suffocating, suffocating.
--Vakama, are you sure about this--]
I did the--- the best I could, I--
[The floor dips out beneath them both as the surroundings snap to black.
There is no time to catch their breath. Their bodies will both ricochet off repeated hard surfaces of metal, to a grand flooring split into hexagonal shapes; shooting up in columns, tossing them about like dolls, slamming them into high stone walls under the jeering boos of a crowd.
--The heart of Metru Nui, do you have it safe?--
You're too exhausted to do anything but withstand it. Your powers spark but no longer answer. Ghost-like forms of your fellow shard-carrying teammates pick themselves up off the floor, beaten and barely on their feet.
Someone high above you laughs.
"Let us praise these jesters. Perhaps they sought to entertain us during this difficult time.
Or, are they imposters? Responsible for our true Toa's demise?"
The sounds of the unseen crowd roar in fury.
All the effort to be made a fool.
Half your teammates go flying backward to vanish into an unseen space beyond, pulled by the wind itself. The rest scramble for one another, for their weapons, for an escape, as an enormous swarm of robots marches in advance on them.
For people saw true colors, not your empty attempts.
You can do nothing but run. Run. Run, hide, search through muddied dark spaces with your bare hands. You're exhausted. You're all so exhausted.
Empty attempts. Misguided efforts.
The jeering echos of the crowd slowly die to eerie silence. The clicking hiss of a hatch unlocks in the outstretched darkness. An empty sphere, mocking, as lighting starts to crack overhead.
--Tell me, Vakama. The heart of Metru Nui, do you have it safe?--
Vakama flinches at the gentleness of the question, in amidst the more prominent, jeering mockery.]
Th--- There was no way I could have known... [It's an answerless response into the void, where the stars of the sky seem to black out in response, two glorious suns eclipsing as though the universe has shut its eyes to their efforts.] We tried. I... I tried.
[You fled.
The sound of a violent sea crashes in their ears, surrounded by darkened rock pitted by centuries of waves. A body, golden and feeble and frail, ricochets past them in the dark with a trail of dark energy, immediately drawing Vakama's attention with a choke of distress.
To the ends of the silver sea, leaving your people behind. Suffering for sake of your cowardice.
Rio will see an enormous claw of shadow reaching out beyond the sea like a giant swatting a fly, intent on smashing them both against the sea wall.]
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Rio fights as best as she can, against the tendrils, and then to even regain her footing after such a fall. It hurts, it all does, but it's nothing new either - her hands and body both have been drenched in blood before, both others' and her own, and it's that wealth of experience that gives her the resilience to stagger back to her feet again and again.
But in the end, this is Vakama's nightmare. And in the end, she can only make guesses as to what the root of it all really is.]
...Those who know when to withdraw are those who live long enough to fight another day. And you have been fighting, haven't you?
By our sides, for a world that isn't even your own.
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The sacrifices that kept piling up for him to take such unsteady steps.
The body that sits cold in his place.
"That was meant for me."
He swallows, eyes screwing shut as he tries desperately to collect himself. Rio's not wrong. A voice of logic in a sea of chaos.]
...It's the right thing to do. It's... what a Toa should do. What we're made for.
And all I wished was that... we just do not repeat the past. That I don't lead any of you into another mistake that can't be undone--
[Murderer.
His breath catches.
But he dashes for Rio - for a moment, the Toa, not the Matoran.
By our sides.
And the blow hits them both hard.
Deep, thundering arcs of foreign energy immediately crack through every part of the body on contact. You cannot struggle, and can barely watch, as you're slammed headfirst into solid rock.
Rio is now alone.
The rock starts to dissolve into itself, a dizzied run of spiraling tunnels.
What reaches for atonement have benefited?
Would you twist them in your hands with delay?
Would you twist your heart once more?
Your confines feel claustrophobic and foreign from all sides, smelling of earth and ocean, horrifically dark. And while the comments have been mocking, now they grow genuinely angry.
--who died and made you Mata Nui anyway--?
--you're not the only one trying--
--maybe if this wasn't coming from a leader who doesn't know when to quit--
--we can't keep going like this, Vakama!!--
Arrogance.
Recklessness.
Foolish, childish decisions.
The poisonous fog that had laid out in that cityscape returns, thick and suffocating, before Rio drops straight into the depths of an angry, stormy sea, the battered parts of a craft pushed too far sinking slowly into the rocking depths beyond them.
And where did that lead you?
Guilt disguised as bravery, your chest raised with eyes blinded.
Claiming atonement.
Another jerking lunge, and Rio will be washed on the shore of a beach filled with nothing but rubble. A skyline that criss-crosses with thick webs. A stillness broken only by the deafening roars and cries of wildlife that had not been there before.
And Vakama sits, at the precipice of the nearest hill, looking down towards Rio with an exhausted and regretful expression, even as his own voice echoes, unattached, off in the distance with an almost pompous arrogance, the voices mumbling constant and increasing disapprovals through the air.
As though you could drown it all out.
As though your bold words could change any of it.
"Are we going to stand around all night? Nothing changes! We go to the Coliseum, we rescue the Matoran, and we leave!
Follow me!"
...
For now, despite the pull of his echoing counterpart, Vakama's attention stays still, hands wringing against one another. A pause.
Will you follow?]
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Needless to say, it's a relief to finally be on solid...ish ground, even if she's drenched and battered for it. She tilts her head at the words echoing in the air, pauses a moment longer to think on them, and then:]
...Is there a reason you have to lead alone?
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[The answer comes a bit too quickly, enough that he's sighing at himself upon further reflection.]
Ah, but even that isn't quite right.
It's... not something I have to do. And it took me far too long to learn that I wanted to only lead people who chose to follow me. To force and corral, trying to demand obedience... that's a tyrant, not a leader.
[His eyes drift to his hands.]
Before then, though... I think I was just frightened. Angry, at myself. My team needed a guiding hand, and I was urged to take it by someone I trusted, despite how much I struggled. I felt if... my predecessors could do it all alone, then I would be put into the same spot. I felt that I had to handle it myself.
And the more I thought that to be my reality, the more I found myself alone, rather than as a part of a whole.
It's not how leadership works. Not how... responsibility works.
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[She smiles softly as he seems to reach the answer on his own.]
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...It's a terrible fate, shouldering burdens with no one to share them with.
I wouldn't wish that on anyone.
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...
You sound like you speak from experience for that.
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No, not really. I've always had others I could depend on.
[As unfortunate as the rest of her life could be, she always had that much.]
But- that means I can shoulder some of that weight, too. So, rather than just following, why don't we walk side by side?
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He does not want to do this.
But it's a mature answer, and it receives a firm nod as he pushes himself off his seat of debris, brushing himself off.]
...Has anyone told you that you have a good head on your shoulders, little one?
[Kind of weird to say when he is shorter than her right now, but eh. Maybe he really has gotten used to the Toa role.]
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[Most of them unsavory, but.]
I'll do my best to be a dependable ally for you, too!
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For now... [His frown thins as he looks back into the city, gesturing for her to follow.]
I don't know what will happen. What lies over here nearly tore my last team apart. It... changed them.
But I will try to lead you out the other side, as best as I can. Please trust me, for just this short while.
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