• Published 30th Nov 2016
  • 1,415 Views, 73 Comments

The Legend, Rebuilt - Caldoric

A tale in which a human is Displaced, and charged with managing the progression of both Equestria and the Bionicle universe. And, to top it all off, all is not as peaceful as it seems...

  • ...

Upon The Olethros (Or, "The Fuck's A Space Hulk?")

Author's Note 1:

OK, bear with me for a bit. Things are gonna get a bit wierd in this chapter, but there are reasons as to why that is so. So... enjoy!

Hakann groaned, his eyes slowly opening, before adapting to the darkness of the hallway. Massive pipes moved across the hall, mixed with stone walls and metal walkways. A dim blue glow from below was the only source of light in the hallway, and the Crimson Piraka heard the dripping of water nearby.

“Where in Mata Nui…..?” He groaned, getting up from the uncomfortable floor. Glancing around, he found the rest of the Piraka laying on the ground as well, only just beginning to stir from their slumber.

“Hey, you idiots, wake up!” Hakann growled groggily, kicking the closest one, Vezok. “We ain't in the base anymore.”

3 Minutes Later

“So where the hell are we?” Zaktan asked, once everyone had gotten up.

“Hell if I know. This place looks like some sort of industrialized castle catacomb or something.” Hakann replied, looking around again.

As he did so, the world seemed to freeze in place for a moment. As they watched, what could only be described as the three-dimensional outline of a humanoid clutching their lower abdomen seemed to shrink into existence from everywhere at once in a fraction of a second. As it did this, everything "outside" of it became obscured by a wash of emerald green light, though everything directly on the other side of it from the viewer seemed completely normal.

This lasted until the inverse silhouette had reached the size of a Piraka, at which point it immediately ceased shrinking and turned a completely opaque black. This new darkness quickly faded into the form of a new Toa, who was indeed clutching his abdomen, whilst the wash of green light turned white for an instant, then faded.

All of this had taken place in less than the blink of an eye.

This new stranger, whose armor's color scheme matched no element recognized by those present, was similar in build to the old Toa Mata, though there were some noticeable differences. His torso, mask, feet, hands, and left shoulder were midnight black, with his Mask of Quick Travel bearing a stylized green image of an eye over the left eyehole. His legs,
hips, and fingers were a dark gunmetal grey, while his arms were a stark white below shoulder level. The only things that broke the aesthetic were the silvery plate seemingly bolted to his outer right forearm, and the silver plates on the same arm's shoulder.

His eyes and heartlight were a pleasant lime green, which closely matched the color of the symbol emblazoned upon his mask.

The newcomer blinked and looked around a little. "Ohhh..." He groaned, facepalming, "what now?" His gaze finally settled on the six other occupants of the unfamiliar hallway, and his glowing eyes filled with fear and… was that recognition?

“Gyaaah!” He cried, skipping backwards a few steps before he finally managed to trip over his own feet and fall on his back. “P-Piraka…!”

“Oh great. Like we didn't just get done with a bunch of Dark Toa.” Reidak groaned, rolling his eyes. “So, who in Mata Nui’s name are you?” The other Piraka aimed their respective weapons at the newcomer.

“Um…!” He said. “I-I’m Caldoric… I'm familiar with you guys, though; you’re a bit famous amongst a certain crowd where I come from…” 'Caldoric’ then clamped a hand over his own mouth.

“Oh, he's another one of those ‘Displaced’.” Avak sighed, and lowered his weapon. The others did the same.

“So, you're familiar with us former humans running around the Multiverse?” The Toa asked, hands held in a sort of “I surrender” gesture.

“Well yeah, we are also Displaced.” Hakann replied, examining Caldoric. “Though I thought we were supposed to ‘summon’ you for you to appear.”

“You mean… you didn't summon me?” Caldoric asked. “That might explain the lack of a portal appearing under me back in the vault… but why am I here, then?”

Before the Piraka could reply, a sudden burst of light appeared between the Piraka and Caldoric, illuminating the dark corridor and temporarily blinding the group. When the light faded, there was a tall and heavily armored humanoid standing there. His armor was black and bulky, likely strong enough to take a tank shell with little more than a dent. His head sat in a little sort of box area, while a amber eye was engraved in the chestplate area. He was also bald, his eyes white, with an odd ripple pattern around the pupils. He was taller than anyone else there, maybe two meters tall. His left hand was encased in a massive claw, with a large gun-like box on top, while in his other he held a massive mace, with a light energy field surrounding it.

When he spoke, his voice was deep and seemed to carry the weight of age with it.

“Greetings, Piraka.” The being said, before turning to Caldoric. “And greetings to you, Toa Caldoric. I am Ahriman, Warmaster of the New Black Legion, and the reason you are here.”

Caldoric made a choking sound as what seemed to be a Bruteshot from Halo appeared in his hands, before he disappeared in a flash of light. Seconds later, he reappeared behind Reidak, using him as cover while he half-heartedly pointed his unusual weapon at the newcomer.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” Reidak growled, glaring at the Toa behind him.

“That’s Ahriman…” Caldoric said, crouching. “He’s bad news, or so I've been told. Not to mention, I'm getting some massive bad vibes off this guy, and he’s bigger than I expected.”

“That's not the point.” Reidak growled, grabbing the Toa and placing him in front of him. “I'm asking why you are using me as a meat shield!”

“You looked like the friendliest of the bunch, and I seem to remember that you’re impossibly strong. And you adapt to anything that’s thrown your way, correct?”

“Only if it defeats me! And I'd rather not test if I can survive a Void Dweller!” The black Piraka growled.

“Oh.” Said Caldoric, as the weapon in his hands disappeared again. “I forgot about that. We’re screwed.”

“Worry not, I'm not here to fight you.” Ahriman interrupted, waving his power claw-encased hand. “I'm here to give you a little….mission, of sorts.”

“What sort of mission?” Caldoric squeaked, his voice cracking a bit.

“It's sort of a recovery mission, though it's also helping another group save an entire system. But that last part isn't important.” Ahriman explained, walking around the group, though his armor made the hall slightly cramped. “Right now, you are on the Sanctum Imperator, a ship that belonged to a group known as the Black Templars in this galaxy. This ship is currently part of a Space Hulk, which is a large combination of lost ships within the Warp-”

“Get to the point.” Zaktan groaned.

“...Anyways, there is a relic somewhere aboard this vessel. I want you to find it.” Ahriman finished, giving a slight glare towards the emerald Piraka leader. The vessel shook for a moment, then went still again.

“Ok… two questions…” Caldoric said, hesitantly. “What are we most likely to run into on this… Space Hulk, or whatever? I mean, I've seen enough movies where there turns out to be some sort of freaky alien genotype running amok on board the long-abandoned ship, and fate likes it’s tropes…”

“Well, besides the constant swarms of Genestealers running amok in this Space Hulk, not much. Though there is the chance of running into the Deathwing Terminator squadron….” Ahriman replied, waving his claw dismissively.

”Well, there goes the old neighborhood…” remarked the lone Toa. “Second question: if you're one of these mystical void dwellers, why can't you get this unidentified relic by yourself? Purely out of curiosity, that is.”

“Hmmm. I have two answer for that one.” Ahriman replied. “For one, where's the fun in that? And secondly, I want to see how well beings from one reality battle against creatures from my own origin.” He smiled. “I have an interest in experimenting on these things.”

“Alright…” Caldoric gulped. “Though it would be nice to know what it is, exactly, that we’re looking for. Unless any old ‘relic’ will do…?”

“Hmmm….” Ahriman was silent for a moment. “I believe the Relic in particular is a Warhammer of sorts, with a odd power inside. Of course, any other relics you find along the way are yours to keep.”

“And what do you want with this Warhammer, whatever it is?” Caldoric asked.

“That, unfortunately, is not required information.” Ahriman replied, before three spherical objects appeared around him, floating over to Caldoric, Thok, and Avak. “These contain maps of the Sanctum Imperator section you are currently in. Use them to navigate the ship. It also has a motion sensor, so you can identify where enemies are coming from.”

Caldoric hesitantly took hold of the grapefruit-sized sphere, while the other two did the same. The Toa began turning the device in his hands, trying to figure out how it functioned.

“Press the bright red, and obvious button.” Ahriman said, as a red button popped out of the top. Caldoric did so, and the device opened up, revealing a holographic map of the area they were in, which sprung upwards. Up ahead was a large, cylindrical room, with odd cylinders all around the center. Pings popped up all around the area, which Caldoric guessed was movement.

“Shiny…” he muttered, distractedly. “Let’s be bad guys…”

“Well, if that is all, I shall be on my way.” Ahriman said, a vortex appearing behind him. “Word of warning though, if you encounter anyone somewhat similar in armor to myself, do run. They will kill you, and I doubt you want to be a corpse riddled with bullets.” With that, Ahriman vanished.

Caldoric visibly relaxed, though was still a bit tense, since he was in the presence of six of the most devious non-Makuta beings the Bionicle universe had to offer, short of Roodaka, the Barraki, or the Shadowed One. The fact that they used to be human only served to make things worse.

“All right then, let's get a move on!” Reidak said, moving towards the door at the end of the hall. He found a button on the side that said ‘open’, and the metal door slid up, revealing the area beyond.

However, Reidak instead got a close-up look at a creature not even a Makuta could dream up, though they’d certainly appreciate it greatly.

It's head was somewhat like an egg, if that egg was rotten and fleshy. Four tiny, yellow eyes glared at the Piraka, as four arms waved in the air, appendages with razor sharp claws at each end. A mouth covered in teeth hissed angrily, a tongue hidden behind them. The creature was hunched over, a large, armored carapace on its back. It's skin was a grey-blue color. Reidak closed the door suddenly, looking back at the group with wide eyes.

“What in Mata Nui’s name was that?” The black Piraka asked, backing away from the door. Suddenly, the door was sliced into bits as the creature lunged at Reidak, only to be split in half by the black Piraka’s buzzsaw, the opposite sides falling behind Reidak, smashing the split halves of its head against the wall with an audible squish of flesh meeting solid metal.

Caldoric had stood, silently frozen in place, eyes wide, through the whole encounter. Seconds later, he blinked and turned his head away, looking almost as if he was about to test whether or not Toa could puke. “Good thing I'm not still human at the moment,” he muttered, “otherwise, I would've just shit myself…”

“Okay….” Reidak growled. “I don't know what the fuck that was, but I think there are a hell of a lot more coming. Put on your big boy pants, grab a weapon, and beat the shit out of everything that isn't us!” With that said, the Black Piraka launched a series of explosive Zamor spheres out the door, before rushing in with his buzzsaw screeching through whatever was outside.

The other Piraka glanced at each other.

“I don't think we’ve seen him like that before….” Vezok said, prepping his Harpoon.

“Most definitely not. But hey, he can handle himself pretty well, but let's give him some help, eh?” Hakann replied, his Magma Launcher at the ready. The Piraka rushed outside to find Reidak burying his Buzzsaw in the chest of another of the creatures, raising it in the air before throwing the corpse at an oncoming group of enemies, it’s blood dripping off of the black Piraka’s weapon as it smashed into its brethren. Hakann launched a ball of magma at the fallen creatures, melting them even as their screeches of pain echoed through the chamber. Thok took notice of their surroundings.

Walkways lined the sides of the chamber, while massive, bullet-like cylinders sat in the center, going down into the abyss below.

“Must be some sort of Missile launch silo…” the white Piraka muttered, freezing an incoming Creature, which he guessed was one of the ‘Genestealers’ Ahriman had warned them about.

He noticed more of the creatures crawling down from tubes leading up to the ceiling.

“Of course they can climb…” he groaned, switching his Freeze Gun for the Ice Pick to block a Genestealer from digging it’s claws into his head. He then blasted it with spell-binding vision, before kicking it into the abyss below.

“Caldoric! Hurry up or else we will leave you behind!” Avak yelled, using his Seismic Pickaxe to fire into the Genestealers coming from the right side of the room. Energy blasts shot into the creatures, ripping them apart. “Mata Nui, why couldn't Avak have had better eye powers!”

“No,” Caldoric muttered to himself, trying to fight the overwhelming fear, “this is not my fucking ending. I have the blood of Vikings in my veins, I’m not just going to let these Xenomorph wannabes take me out.” With that, his fear was replaced with determination and righteous fury, and two narrow metal cylinders appeared in his hands. “Twelfth Legion, Fulminata!EULALIAAAA!!!” he cried at last, charging full-on into the fray as a blade of pure plasma erupted from each of the rods he was holding: one was an almost eye-watering, radioactive lime green, whilst the other was an orange so deep it was almost red.

He surged forward into the chamber, wounding a couple Genestealers with a few careless swipes as he ran, before he jumped up and used Hakann’s shoulders to springboard into a good-sized cluster of the monstrosities. He rolled upon landing, only to pop back up and seemingly blossom into a flurry of seizure-inducing strikes as his blades sought flesh all around him, then began cutting a path through the morass, following a random catwalk. Said catwalk quickly dead-ended against a wall.

“Well that's one way of doing it.” Vezok said, looking at the carnage indifferently. “Not sure why you needed the speech, or the DBZ style scream though.” He shrugged, walking through the door.

The other Piraka followed, Thok examining the map, which happened to show them their location, as well as movement pings in a 15 meter radius. So far, there was none in the vicinity.

Caldoric rejoined the group seconds later, covered in alien gore, and looking like he had something uncomfortable weighing on his mind. “I really hope there’s a working locker room somewhere around here, because I need a shower.” He muttered.

“Might be, might not.” Reidak shrugged. “I'm guessing that the relic would likely be in that massive room beyond the one up ahead. It's a hunch, anyway.” He shrugged, before narrowing his eyes. “Something's….not right.”

Before anyone could say anything, a loud shriek erupted from in between the group members. A spot of the air shimmered, and a genestealer appeared, slashing one of its claws at Zaktan. The claws simply passed through Zaktan’s body, his protodites shifting out of the way, before his triblade was rammed into the creature’s gut. He lifted it up into the air, staring at it as it struggled against his weapon.

“Next time, pick a better target.” Zaktan growled, his eyes glowing. Twin beams of energy launched out, piercing the genestealer’s head, killing it. Zaktan dropped the now dead corpse to the ground, staring at it.

“Well, guess some of them can turn invisible.” Thok groaned, ripping off one of it’s arms. “I'm guessing some sort of gel substance that reflects light. Keep your guards up.” The white Piraka guessed, tossing the limb aside as the group continued.

After another encounter with a Genestealer swarm, which was just barely fought off, Avak glanced around the door, examining the cathedral-like room.

“Looks like some Genestealers managed to arm themselves with some weapons.” He stated, noticing some shorter-looking versions, with some sort of robes around their bodies, with four arms clutching some sort of heavy assault rifle, while others held obvious missile launchers.

“My turn…” Caldoric sighed, and a Bruteshot once again appeared in his hands. As he twisted the firing mechanism, he closed his eyes and turned his head away slightly. An unusually long streak of explosive projectiles spewed forth, peppering the area with detonations and forcing the alien freaks to fall back a bit.

“That was…” the Toa said, “not as effective as I had hoped.”

“Well, let's try clearing it out.” Hakann sighed, readying his magma launcher. As he rushed out, the creatures poked out and let loose a large torrent of bullets, their weapons similar to machine guns. Multiple bullets smashed into Hakann, knocking him off his intended course and into the side of a pillar, the crimson Piraka groaning.

The other Piraka sighed, dispersing through the room and into cover. Then the firefight began, the Piraka taking potshots at the creatures, and even managing to take down a few, but the constant stream of bullets, and the occasional missile, kept them pinned. Zaktan had the most luck, dispersing into a cloud of protodites and reforming behind the Genestealers, cutting into them from behind, before dispersing again. Eventually, however, the Genestealers all fell to the ground, dead.

Caldoric looked around the doorframe, which he’d used for cover whilst providing occasional support with the Bruteshot. “Y’know, I'm kinda surprised how effectively you guys work together as Piraka, given the original group's lack of unity.” He said as he rejoined the group. He then stiffened briefly, before turning around and thrusting the bladed end of his current weapon back the way he'd come.

With a slick squelching sound, it pierced something unseen, which quickly turned out to be another one of those invisible Genestealers. “...How did I know you were there?” Caldoric muttered to himself, his gaze focused far behind the monster as the light died in its eyes. He removed the blade from its throat, letting the corpse fall to the floor and faintly flicker in and out of visibility.

Taking a few steps back, he fired off a round at the dead alien, removing the top half of its body, and hopefully any chance of it recovering and biting them in the ass.

“Well, we know just how badly the Piraka worked separately.” Zaktan said, stabbing a dead Genestealer to make sure it was dead. “And we don't want to end up dead or captured because we can't work as a team.”

Before any more conversation could be made, an ear splitting roar split the silence of the cathedral. A massive Genestealer beast marched towards the group, and a fresh wave of Genestealers crawled down from the pillars supporting the room. This new beast was hunched over, it's massive scythe arms tucked in as it walked. Before anyone could move, it changed pace, roaring as it ran straight towards Avak, extending it’s scythe arms and swinging them into the brown Piraka’s side, sending Avak flying into a wall. The beast roared again.

“Avak!” Hakann roared, launching flames from his claws, burning the other Genestealers to a crisp. He focused a mental blast on the larger Genestealer, distracting it with a splitting pain in it’s mind. Thok rushed forward, swinging his Ice Pick to jump over the Genestealer, latching the Pick onto it’s head. He pulled, struggling as the Genestealer thrashed and tried to knock him off of it. The Ice Pick slipped into the beast’s mouth as it roared. He pulled again, hearing the sound of the monster’s flesh tearing. The top of it’s head flew off, and the monster dropped to the floor, dead.

Once the rest of the Genestealers were dealt with, the group reconvened, Hakann supporting a limping Avak.

“I'll be fine in a bit. I think that thing broke an arm and maybe the leg.” Avak growled beneath gritted teeth.

“You’re lucky to be alive.” Hakann replied.

“This is the room. Where is the relic?” Zaktan asked. Reidak glanced to the other end of the room. There was a massive statue of what looked like a man in bulky armor, holding a sword. A blue-green energy field glowed behind it.

“Probably back there.” Reidak pointed. The others sighed.

Thok’s map began beeping, and an image of Ahriman’s face appeared, looking at the group.

“It appears that the relic is behind the energy field. I detect three Power Generators within the area currently active. I'm guessing these are what is powering the energy field. Deactivate the generators and retrieve the relic. I must warn you that our scanners have detected a squadron of Deathwing Terminators aboard the Sanctum Imperator. You are in fact helping their cause here, but they do not know you exist. And they kill anything not human without hesitation, so avoid them at all costs.” The image faded, and three new blips appeared on the map, noting the three generators.

“Huh. Wonder what the Deathwing are.” Hakann shrugged, accidentally dropping Avak on the ground. The brown Piraka groaned in pain. Caldoric jogged over to him, sliding the last few feet on his knees.

“Eagle Scout, coming through.” The Toa said, slowing to a stop by Avak’s side. “Alright, I'm gonna try something stupid here, since we’re in a hurry. And if those ‘Deathwing Terminators’ are anything like what Viktor turned into yesterday, then I'd say they’re not fun to be around.” Then, before anyone could ask what he meant, Caldoric closed his eyes and bowed his head in concentration, holding his hands in front of himself, about a foot and a half apart. His brow furrowed and his jaw set itself into a teeth-grinding snarl as he focused harder, the electricity of his determination becoming almost tangible in the air around him. In fact, this was literally true of the space between his hands, as sparks of energy leapt to and fro in the gap betwixt his palms.

Suddenly, with a decently-loud BAMF!!, a Kanohi that none of those present had seen before appeared in Caldoric's hands. “Behold, the Mask of Healing,” he proclaimed, placing it over his own face, “I hope.” With that, he rocked backwards on his knees as the power flooded through his frame, then returned to the task at hand. He closed his eyes again, running his hand through the air a few inches above Avak's leg as the Mask began glowing gently. After a moment, his hand stopped over a portion of the Piraka's shin.

“A minor fracture, thankfully nothing serious. It’s fixable, but it’ll smart a bit.” The Toa said, before the mask glowed more intensely, and a beam of golden light surged forth from his palm, bathing the afflicted area and causing Avak to tense for a moment. The beam faded, and both Avak and Caldoric relaxed.

“Now, for your arm.” Caldoric remarked, and turned to the other five human-turned-Skakdi, who made up the remainder of the Piraka. “This is the point where shit hits the fan, and something shows up while I'm trying to heal Avak here. Protect us as best you can… uh, please?” He then turned back to Avak and resumed his ministrations, Mask glowing gently, hands seeking the break in the Piraka's arm. “So, Avak, two questions: first, what're you guys’ real names? Second, d’you guys really trust this Ahriman guy?”

“Of course not.” Zaktan replied, examining the architecture. “I'm quite certain he contracted us before, but I cannot seem to remember. But he is definitely someone you should never trust.”

“Huh? I thought he looked familiar, but I don't remember him contracting us.” Hakann said, turning to the emerald Piraka.

“That must’ve been when you guys fought for him in the War of Shadows or whatever, if what Sebaste and his crew told me is accurate.” Caldoric suggested, taking the opportunity to set the break in Avak's arm whilst said Piraka was distracted. “If I live to see them again after this, I'll tell 'em y’all said hi. I’ll probably omit the fact that our meeting was arranged by a certain crazy, sociopathic, hopped-up space-wizard from the future with a God Complex and an Egyptian iconography fetish… OK, Avak, you’re all set.” Caldoric stood up, helping the Piraka to his feet, then turned to the energy field and statue.

“Now, how’re we gonna get through that…?” He muttered to himself, walking across the room. He reached out to touch the field, only to jerk his hand back as an arc of electricity discharged from the field, momentarily grounding itself in his arm. “Ok, not fun.”

“Egyptian Iconography..?” Vezok asked, scratching his head. “Anyway, Ahriman did tell us that there were some generators that needed to be deactivated to disable the field. Why don't we just go do that?” He snatched the map from Avak, examining it. “Oooh, there's some sort of armory nearby.” The other Piraka grinned. “I think we ought to make a detour…”

Heading over to the the specified area, Hakann kicked the metal door open, his feet busting through with surprising ease. Inside, rows upon rows of large, assault rifle-looking weapons lined the small room. Up ahead there were storage racks full of ammunition, likely for these weapons. Ammo boxes were scattered throughout the place, too big for the Piraka to carry. Grinning, Hakann grabbed one of the assault rifles and some ammunition for it. Inserting the ammo clip into the gun, he took aim, and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

“The hell?” Hakann asked, looking at the gun curiously. Avak snatched the gun from the crimson Piraka, examining it in detail. His eyes widened.

“Wow, this gun has a device in the grip that only allows people with a certain genetic signature to use it. That's some impressive technology. I'll have to study this for later, try to reconfigure the guns genetic signature to us.” He grabbed a couple more of the rifles, as well as some clips, and stored them away. Checking the map again, he shrugged. “Well, we would have had to go through here to get to the generators, so let us continue!”

When they returned to the chamber where they’d left Caldoric, they found him hunkered down, investigating one of the three field generators Ahriman had mentioned… from inside the semi-transparent field itself. “Hey guys!” He said, as he noticed them returning. His voice was slightly distorted by the field as he spoke. “Turns out this Mask lets me teleport through anything I can at least see through, like windows and stuff. Going off of what limited technical knowledge I possess, it seems these generators appear to run on some form of electricity. Good news is, I can have 'em offline in half a tick. Nice guns, by the way.”

And with that, as well as a smile, he touched the generator before him, which vanished. He then used his Mask power to teleport to both of the remaining generators in quick succession, each of which disappeared as he placed his palm upon them. No sooner had the third one vanished, then the field itself cracked and shattered into thousands of small, glowing shards of floating energy, which soon dissipated. “Best part is, I now have three functional forcefield generators for Twilight to look at once I get back h-- to Canterlot.” Caldoric said, pulling a strange brown-edged card with what looked to be a missing corner seemingly out of nowhere. On its face, the Piraka could just barely see an image of the three missing generators. A second later, the card itself seemed to vanish back into thin air.

“Huh. Well, all right then.” The Piraka walked over, looking around the statue to find a large warhammer. The handle was gold, with red cloth in the middle, while the hammer part itself was grey with an outline of gold. In the center of it, the image of a skull, with wings waving out from the skull’s sides, was carved proudly, daring all who would oppose the wielder of the hammer to come and die. The group could almost feel the power contained in that Warhammer, energies emanating from it.

“Well done.” Ahriman said, appearing behind them. “I'm surprised you found the relic so quickly, or that you lowered the field in so quick a time.” Glancing up, his eyes narrowed. He snapped his fingers, and the energy field came back to life as a group of humanoids in marble white armor entered the room. “The generators should keep them busy for now. We don't need them shooting us to pieces.” He turned back to the group. “I shall take the relic, now, and you will all be able to return to your home universes.” He held out his hand. As the Piraka turned to remove the glorious weapon from its resting place, Caldoric sprung into action.

Utilizing his Mask power, he warped himself right up next to the ancient hammer and seized it. The Toa then began spinning it somewhat awkwardly, ending the gesture by extending his left arm forward, now holding a single fearsome spear instead of the now-absent hammer; the new weapon’s tip bore a sharp, wickedly curved blade that the Piraka (especially Vezok,) immediately recognized as the Spear of Fusion. Caldoric held it with his grip choked up near the blade, his thumb hovering over a few controls built into the shaft.

In his other hand, however, he now carried what seemed to be a strange, swoopy fusion between a sniper rifle and a harpoon gun. The main part of the gun's body was a deep, slightly purplish blue, whilst the harpoon-shaped “barrel” itself was a translucent, brilliantly-glowing magenta. This weapon was known as Ahab’s Crosshairs, a legendary rifle capable of punching a hole in theoretically anything, in addition to being able to take down an angel (given a full minute of sustained fire, that is.)

“It seems you’ve mistaken me for a simple pawn in your little chess game, Ahriman.” Caldoric challenged, a sort of three-part mouthguard sliding into placr on his Mask as the ivory-armored Terminator Astartes began trying to break their way through the field around them all. “Or have you forgotten that I'm a Knight of Space? Either way, I'm not letting you have that hammer.” His focus was directed almost entirely towards the Void dweller before him, with the remainder dedicated to the six Piraka nearby in case something crazy happened.

“Heroes.” Ahriman sighed, a Rahkshi spear with arrowhead-shaped caps on each end appearing in his hand. “I have done my research on the universe of Bionicle. Hell, I'm good friends with a Makuta Teridax Displaced. So I am guessing you know what this is.” Ahriman pointed the spear at Caldoric, rings of pure hatred flowing from it and into the Toa. “Do you think that someone who once served the Architect of Fate himself would not learn to anticipate or predict any possible event? In fact, even before then, as a Legionary of the Thousand Sons, it was my job to read the Great Ocean to learn of potential futures. Do not test me.”

Caldoric took a single step backwards during Ahriman's brief monologue, head momentarily dipping as he looked at the floor. “Please, sir, may I have some more?” He sarcastically asked as he looked up again, a slightly crazed look in his eyes, both of which now had an orange tint at their core. “I would like to rage…” And with that, he fired off an anti-fusion blast from the spear and took a pot-shot at Ahriman with Ahab's Crosshairs. As the Void Dweller dodged both attacks, (the Spear’s beam nearly clipping Vezok,) Caldoric switched the rifle to its widest beam setting and swung it around in an arc behind himself annihilating the three new field generators in what he would've called “one swell foop,” allowing the small crowd of elite alabaster Space Marines to mob the previously safe area.

This proved to be a bad idea on their part, for Caldoric then dismissed the Crosshairs and made a sweeping gesture towards Ahriman, after which the Terminator-Armored Astartes found themselves literally falling towards the crazed demigod: the anger-fuelled Toa had changed the personal gravity for each and every one of them in less than a second. That done, he made his escape towards the door, taking impossibly large leaps and bounds as he crossed the room. On an unrelated note, the various weapons that the Piraka had left in the armory vanished in a brief flash of orange-tinted green light. The Terminators, meanwhile, suddenly vanished, teleported away by Ahriman.

Several cards appeared in his hand, the staff vanishing. “I sacrifice my three monster cards to summon Obelisk the Tormentor.” Dark energies spiraled out of the cards in his hand, three of them vanishing entirely. A glowing white figure appeared between Ahriman and Caldoric, before the white light broke into pieces, and a massive blue monster rose, red eyes glaring at Caldoric. A red gem sat in it’s forehead, while the rest of it’s body was a dark blue. It was massive and bulky, it's blue body rippling in muscles.

“Surrender now, or be crushed.” Ahriman growled, his patience gone.

Caldoric stopped, one hand on the doorway, and turned around. His eyes, now completely orange, widened at the sight of the cerulean monstrosity. “Really?” He asked, incredulity momentarily setting his rage aside as he subconsciously sized it up. For a brief moment, he found himself longing for his own deck of Yu-Gi-Oh cards back home. “An Egyptian God card? I mean, you could’ve at least used the Winged Dragon of Ra, but I guess that's the luck of the draw… nevertheless, if we’re playing games of chance, be warned: I make my own luck.” And thus, he held out one hand, in which appeared eight identical cerulean d8s. He dropped them on the ground, using his newfound control over his abilities to ensure they all landed on “8”.

The words “Ancestral Awakening” appeared over his head, and he was momentarily surrounded in flashing lights. Once the seizure-inducing display had abated, the Toa stood physically unchanged for all present to see, save for the form-fitting Pirate-style outfit he now sported, including a rather splendid tricorn hat on the top of his mask and an impressive-looking saber at his side. “Sir Francis Drake: Vice Admiral, sea captain, privateer, navigator, slaver, and politician, at your service.” Caldoric then bowed deeply, and drew the saber as he straightened. “How may I fuck your shit up today?”

“Obelisk, destroy him.” Ahriman growled, pulling up another card. “I activate the Spell Card: Mist Body. I equip it to Obelisk, making him unable to be destroyed by battle.” The massive creature raised it’s fists, smashing them down where Caldoric was, destroying the door. As Caldoric jumped out of the way, he felt the presence of an intense heat. Flipping over, he narrowly dodged the flaming Greatsword swinging towards him, and he got a look at the person holding it. The being was encased in charcoal black armor, with black and gold limbs stretching from his back, blazing with wings of fire. His hair flowed like the flames that coated his massive Greatsword, which he held with one hand. A red cape flowed beneath his wings, seemingly immune to the flames around it. His red eyes glared underneath a helm piece protecting his forehead, and he hefted his Greatsword once again, ready to strike.

He hovered above the ground as Ahriman chuckled. “Caldoric, meet Vargas, the Hero of the Agni Empire, and the one I have chosen as my Champion.” The flaming warrior bowed slightly. “Vargas, use Dandelga and destroy this warrior!” Vargas nodded, shifting into a combat-ready stance, his flaming sword poised for an attack. He launched forward, his blazing wings speeding him along as he brought his greatsword low, scraping against the ground as he grew closer to Caldoric.

The Toa, for his part, tried something desperate. Readying his saber, and drawing a second blade that, at first, seemed to be made of Specular Hematite, he entered into another flourish, spinning at the last second and bringing both blades forward in a scissor-cut, aimed low. With a clang, both of his blades met Vargas' Greatsword near the hilt, effectively stopping it. “Nobody ever considers leverage,” Caldoric sighed, and then nutted Vargas squarely in the nose, sending him staggering back in mid air a couple of yards.

Shards of blue crystal had earlier burst from the point where their blades met, before floating into Vargas, vanishing as they were absorbed.

“Vargas.” Ahriman said, a small grin on his face, “Ragna Break.”

Vargas quickly recovered, lunging forward once again, though this time his entire body was covered in flames. He brought his sword down again, slashing upward before he ran into Caldoric. The flames rushed forward, enveloping Caldoric in flames before he could react, and while he was distracted by the flames scorching him, Vargas rushed down, his sword seeking Caldoric’s head.

The Toa, his new clothes little more than charred tatters at this point, his shiny Tricorn hat still ablaze, vanished from the inferno just as Vargas was about to make contact. “Alright,” Caldoric said, from outside the ring of fire, “you’re annoying me, flameboy.” With that, as Vargas turned to face his target, Caldoric swapped out the pirate saber for a thinner, longer sword and unleashed a new series of attacks.

“Gravity pillar,” he muttered, making a motion similar to an uppercut, as Vargas was suddenly thrust upwards into the air. “Diagonal chase.” Caldoric shot forward and upward, the new blade in his hand seeming to fragment into a chain of sharpened pieces just before he took several slashing strikes at the airborne foe, who blocked most of them. “Combat switch,” Caldoric declared, green energy arcing along the whip-blade as he entered a near-blinding flurry of swirling strikes before he backed off for a moment.

Setting both swords aside for the briefest of moments, the dark-armored Toa cupped both hands together in a sort of cage, then slowly began drawing them apart. Bands of distorted air arced between his fingers, forming an oblong sphere that stretched with his hand motions. A similar ethereal-looking construct had appeared around Vargas, who began visibly gasping as the air pressure radically dropped inside the cage. Even as his flames began flickering, trying to keep from dying out from lack of oxygen, Vargas raised his sword to try and somehow disrupt what Caldoric was doing.

“Nope!” Caldoric admonished, brow furrowing, and both of Vargas’ arms dropped to his sides, held by orangeish-green energy. “I admire your determination, but the only place you’re going is dreamland. Nice sword, by the way, though I think I'll take it for safekeeping.” With that, Vargas’ Greatsword was ripped from his failing grasp and flew to Caldoric's side, where it vanished.

The Toa then waited a few seconds for the blazing youth before him to stop moving, then dispelled the energy cage that held him. “Telekinetic Anchor,” Caldoric remarked coldly gazing at Vargas as he fell to the floor, probably unconscious, before the human-turned-Toa made a seemingly ineffectual palm-heel strike in the direction of his own feet. “Now, Ahriman, stop this madness. I’m not letting you have the hammer, and if you kill me, you’ll never find it again, immortal though you may be.” He then glared at Obelisk the Tormentor, as if concerned about something.

When he looked back at Ahriman, he barely got out of the way of the massive Lightning Claws rushing down to skewer him alive. Ahriman rose, lifting the claws out of the metal floor with ease. Caldoric met Ahriman’s eyes, which had an odd ripple pattern to them, before suddenly the world went black. Immediately after, sight returned to him, and he found himself and Ahriman in a different location, with an empty sky, and a white, blocky floor, with some blocks rising above others.

“Do you think I would allow a pathetic hero defy me?” Ahriman growled, his mouth morphed into a sinister grin. “I have already sent the Piraka back to their universe, with a copy of your token.” He rose to his full height. “But really, did you think I wouldn't be able to find it? It will be simple enough to do. But now, I am going to settle this, by crushing you.”

“You can try, but hear you me; there will be a Reckoning.” Caldoric said, as a white scepter appeared in his hands, bearing a strange, glowing orb at its top that seemed to hold a world of clouds. As he held it up to the sky, he said, “So you read up on the Bionicle universe, yes? Then let me tell you about Homestuck…”

“There has been enough talk.” Ahriman growled. He blinked, sighing. He lowered his hand. “What am I doing? I don't need to fight so pathetic an ant.” Before Caldoric could say anything, Ahriman suddenly appeared in front of him, smashing his clawed hand into the Toa’s chest, before opening fire with the Combi-Bolter built into it, the explosive bullets pounding Caldoric and sending him flying back. Ahriman’s grin was almost maniacal. “But it's been too long since I've done anything entertaining! He reappeared above Caldoric mid-flight, smashing his the Toa with his Lightning Claws, which had been curled up into a fist. The blow sent Caldoric right back into the ground, leaving a decent-sized impact crater.

“I'm going to enjoy this.” Ahriman grinned. His armor vanished, and as his skin slowly turned bleach-white, eight black orbs formed around him, lazily circling behind him. He remained floating as the transformation completed itself, and he waited patiently for Caldoric to get back up. “Come on, Toa. Give me a good fight.”

Caldoric awkwardly and slowly climbed out of the small crater, coughing, with a small trickle of silvery-red “blood” dripping from his mouth. His eyes had reverted to their original radioactive green glow. “There is no good or evil…” he muttered, “only beings with power: those who use it for the benefit of those around them, and those who abuse it for their own ends. Obviously, we’ve both got power coming out the wazoo, but… what’s the point of using it like this?” Caldoric shook his head, and stood up shakily as he raised his voice to a more audible level. “Let’s end this peacefully. I’m no real hero, I'm just a guy who bought the wrong stuff in the wrong place at the wrong time while dressed as an overpowered OC. Despite the stories I'd heard of folks vanishing at Conventions, I never asked to be Displaced, and I'm pretty sure you’re in the same boat.”

The Toa staggered slightly, even though Ahriman could clearly see with his Rinnegan that Caldoric was slowly recharging his elemental energies. Nonetheless, after a few coughs, Caldoric carried on. “But, if you’re just going to allow the character you were dressed up as to control who you are, whispering in your ear and driving you to destroy the Multiverse or whatever, then who the fuck am I to stop you?” He asked, his guard completely down. “As far as I'm concerned, you can have your damn hammer, on one easy condition: I’d like to have your assurance that you’ll let me go back, and that you’ll leave the particular corner I've been ‘assigned’ to ‘protect’ alone until after I've found a way back home… back to 21st-Century Earth, that is. Scout’s Honor.”

As he finished this request, Caldoric held up his right arm, elbow bent at a crisp 90°, his index, middle, and ring fingers extended in line with his vertical forearm, whilst his thumb and pinkie formed a loop over his palm, facing Ahriman. It was a textbook Scout sign, usually used when reciting the Scout Oath and/or Law, in addition to making a promise.

“And here I thought I could actually find a real challenge beyond Sebastian….” Ahriman sighed, lowering to the ground. “Though you have clearly misunderstood a few things regarding me.” He grinned. “Right from the moment I was displaced, my memories of whatever life I lived were gone, replaced by the memories of Ahzek Ahriman.” He sighed again. “But one thing I don't understand is why you would wish to return to Earth.” He stepped forward. “You are no longer human, and are likely presumed dead by your family. You have no ties left, and I doubt humanity will welcome you back with open arms.” At this point, he was stood face to face with Caldoric. “So, I ask, why would you wish to go back?”

“Let’s just say I'm somewhat hopelessly optimistic.” Caldoric said, nervous at being so close to such a powerful being. “From what I've been told, time flows weirdly between dimensions, and I've only been Displaced for less than a week, so if I find a way back before too long, perhaps I can return before I even left, and can help end the war back home. However, if you're looking for a fight, I'd probably be happy to oblige at a later date, once I've fully figured out how to actually use my powers, instead of relying purely on raw emotion like I was doing before you hit me just now. In the meantime, have you considered fighting the Merchant? After all, he did drop us here, and I think that perhaps it’s high time someone dumped a can of whoopass on that asshole's pretty little head.”

Caldoric then sat down abruptly, his head spinning. “That said, your last attack would've killed an ordinary man, and I myself barely survived it at my current power level or whatever. Hell, I probably need a hospital as is. Not to mention the fact that I'm not normally a fighter, but hitting me with that Kurahk staff flipped some sort of switch in my head, shoving my mind into the back seat and allowing something else to take control…” He looked up into Ahriman's disapproving gaze. “I don't want that thing in control ever again, lest it do something I'd regret later. If we do fight, one-on-one, it’ll be me behind the wheel. After all, you want a real fight, don't you? Then let me go, let me get stronger, and I'll make it more than worth your time.”

Ahriman was silent for a while, glaring at the Toa. After a full minute had passed, he sighed. “Very well, I agree to the terms of this contract. It wouldn't do for me to have what could be a good fighter slaughtered long before he reached his full potential.” Ahriman looked up to the empty sky. “But I suggest you give up your hopes to fight the Merchant. As I have stated, a normal Displaced such as you couldn't hope to defeat a Void Dweller. I know not his power, but I know better than to start fights with Void Dwellers I know little about.” He sighed. “Keep the Daemonhammer. I can get it from other places. Perhaps God Splitter will do well in the hands of a hero.” Caldoric’s vision faded, and they once again were in the Space Hulk, though it seemed much more quiet.

“I have lifted the dimensional barrier keeping you and the Piraka here.” Ahriman said, a vortex appearing behind him. “I will be keeping an eye on you. But for now, I have a war to end, and a Chaos Warlord to defeat.”

Caldoric raised an eyebrow, head slightly cocked to one side. “Really?” He asked, deadpan to the world, but incredulous on the inside. “Heh. Well, you certainly are a strange one. Nonetheless, good sir, I thank you for your generosity. Best of luck, safe travels, and, uh… watch out for stairs, they can strike at the worst of times. Also, be wary of involving pumpkins in any of your plans, because they have a nasty habit of vanishing at strange moments.”

Ahriman raised an eyebrow at his odd advice, but still left through his vortex. The vortex vanished soon after.

Caldoric was left standing, alone, in the room where he’d first made off with the warhammer and caused so much trouble for himself. Obelisk the Tormentor had vanished, in addition to Vargas, though the dented and scorched deckplates from earlier were, alas, still dented and scorched. The Toa gulped, and wrapped his arms around his midriff, taking in the environment. “Looks like a good place for a horror game,” he idly remarked, before being interrupted by a familiar jerking sensation behind where his navel had once been.

For a microsecond, the space he was occupying abruptly flashed a shade of black so deep, one would swear he had just become a Toa-shaped hole in reality itself. The next, his silhouette flashed a brilliant white, then became a window to a raging field of neon green plasma and yellow electricity, and everything outside his silhouette was bathed in a brilliant emerald light. His physical outline seemed to swiftly grow, and had anyone been there to witness the occurance, they would have noted that everything seemed to return to normal once Caldoric's outline had expanded beyond their field of vision… except that there was no longer anyone in the room.

All of this happened in less than half a second.

A few moments later, during which time one could hear the sound of dripping liquids and the creaking of the massive ship, a grating in the floor popped up, revealing the head of a Genestealer, which swiftly crawled up and into the room, where it looked around furtively. Seeing that it was alone, it uses one of its four hands to reach behind its back, and pulled out what looked like a saxophone. Placing the reed to its lips, it began to play a short, not-very-well-practiced bit of music that was, nonetheless, a bit catchy.

As it finished, the heads of hundreds of Genestealers suddenly popped out of numerous unlikely places, all of them exclaiming “Hey!” and startling the one with the sax. Moments later, they were all on the ground, dancing, as the tune the musically inclined Genestealer had played began to ring out from nowhere, only more refined, and in an almost orchestral style. A few seconds later, they all exclaimed “We are number one!” and proceeded with dancing in their weird manner.

Meanwhile, a few Terminator Astartes stood by the doorway into the room, cautiously peeking in on the impromptu party. “Brother,” said one over the Comms to his squad leader, “What in the Emperor’s name is this?”

“I know not, Brother Barachiel. All I know is that they are filthy Xenos, and must be purged.” The Librarian growled, and the Terminators began purging the filthy xenos from the room.

Author's Note:

Yeah, like I said. Things got hella OP there for a bit, and I'll make sure to elaborate on the issue in the next few chapters.

This is a crossover with Chaos Lord Reiuji Kirito's Piraka Don't Play Fair, a fellow Bionicle-themed Displaced tale, so go check him out! Ahriman is also one of Kirito's characters, who has previously ascended to the level of Void Dweller in the Displaced Multiverse. Basically, what I'm saying is "go check out Kirito's stories if you're curious where the hell they came from," because I kinda to that myself ever once in a while.

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