Five years ago...
Sometimes, a being does something so completely unexpected, so totally surprising, that it shocks even them. On this day, that being was Vultraz – and what he did was wake up.
After falling off a cliff, Vultraz fully expected to be very dead. Instead, he was lying on a slab in a darkened chamber, being tended to by... well, they were Rahi of some kind, and he preferred not to know just what type or why they were prodding him. He wondered if he had somehow survived the fall, only to be dragged off by wild animals as an evening snack.
He tried to move, thinking maybe he could make a quick escape. But his arms and legs were tied down with some kind of vines. These were either really intelligent Rahi, or else there was someone else involved.
That someone else chose that moment to walk in. Vultraz gasped. He had only caught a fleeting glimpse of her a few times, but he knew Makuta Gorast just the same. He tried to pretend he was still unconscious, even though he knew it would not fool her.
“I can read your thoughts,” the Makuta hissed. “And your fear, little Matoran. But you have nothing to be afraid of... you are safe here.”
If he had dared, Vultraz would have laughed. No one knew what happened to Matoran who wound up in Gorast’s clutches, but there were plenty of rumors. Each of them was worse than the last and some were downright revolting. Vultraz had done some pretty bad things in his life, but he was a cuddle-Rahi next to Gorast.
“If that were true, I would have let you fall, instead of having Rahi there to save you,” Gorast said. “True, you were damaged... badly... but you survived.”
“Why...?” Vultraz stopped. His voice did not sound like his voice. He looked down at his hands – the armor on them was completely different. What had happened here? What had she done?
“You are well known on the peninsula,” Gorast replied, once again reading his thoughts. “Too well known for my purposes. But your enemy is busy spreading the word of your death, and the changes I have made will insure no one will recognize you.”
“Just... just what is it you want me to do?” Vultraz asked, already knowing he wouldn’t like the answer.
“I want you to find a Matoran for me,” said Gorast. “A Matoran named Krakua... and when you find him, here is what I want you to do...”
Mazeka returned to his village, bringing word of Vultraz’s fatal fall. Some greeted him as a hero, though he did not feel like one. He had failed to regain what Vultraz had stolen, failed to capture him – and while the Ta-Matoran’s death brought his evil to an end, it was still not something he could bring himself to celebrate.
He was seated alone in his hut that night when someone rapped on the door. When he opened it, there was no one there. Annoyed, he slammed the door and went back to his sleep mat. It was then that he noticed the chair in the center of the room had moved out of position. He went to move it back to where it was, and found he couldn’t – it was as if it were rooted to the ground.
“I wouldn’t do that,” said a deep, rasping voice. “You’re only going to hurt yourself.”
Mazeka jumped back a good four feet. There was no one else in the room, but someone was talking to him. He grabbed a weapon and spun around. “Who’s here? Show yourself!”
“Ah, if only I could,” the voice replied. “Unfortunately, not every experiment has happy results. By the way, the only thing you will get from spinning is dizzy. I am in the chair.”
“Who are you?” demanded Mazeka, half-convinced he was just hallucinating the whole thing.
“My name is Jerbraz, once one of the most handsome and dashing members of my little circle of friends... that is, back when I could be seen. Now I have to rely on my charm alone to make an impression... that and this nasty sword that conveniently turned invisible with me. If you see someone’s head just suddenly go flying off for no reason, it’s not your imagination.”
Mazeka backed up against the wall, trying to get as far from the chair as he could. “Is that why you’re here? To kill me? But I’ve done nothing to you.”
“No,” Jerbraz replied. The chair moved back, as if he had risen and pushed it away. “But you did do something quite permanent to a foul little fellow named Vultraz. And the people I work for appreciate that kind of initiative. We want to hire you.”
“Who do you work for?” asked Mazeka, still not fully willing to accept the reality of invisible beings offering jobs.
“If I told you, and you declined the offer, I would have to... well, you know. So I guess you will just have to accept or reject...” Jerbraz gave a low chuckle. “...Sight unseen.”
“Then can you tell me what the job is?” said Mazeka.
“Yes,” replied Jerbraz. Mazeka could tell his visitor was standing right beside him now. An instant later, he felt an invisible hand resting on his shoulder. “It’s stopping people like Vultraz – there are more of them than you might think – and protecting their would-be victims. Specifically, to start with, one potential target – a Matoran named Krakua.”
Mazeka thought about Vultraz, all the evil things he had done, all the people he had harmed. If there were others out there like him, stealing and killing and ruining lives, how could he turn down a chance to stop them?
“All right,” said the Matoran. “As long as I don’t have to turn invisible too... I’m in. Just tell me what I have to do...”