The discouraged Matoran continued in their work of rebuilding the ruined citadel. Things had gotten tough since the earthquake. Many of them had been killed, along with the village's Turaga. They were downcast (to say the least). Downcast, and open to help. Help that did not come from the most noble of sources.
"Is this satisfactory?" the robed figure asked the tall, slim Dark Hunter. He eyed the stranger with only a small amount of interest. He had dealt with his kind before, and they were all the same- clever, bloodthirsty, and well-armed; this one seemed no different.
After a moment of thought (or perhaps hesitation), the stranger spoke grimly: "Yes. You will receive your payment when the Shadowed One wills it, and no later", his smooth voice surprising the cloaked figure. This answer did not satisfy him (seeing how the Dark Hunters were); He would probably not see the coins he was promised for a very long time. He did not speak his thought, however, because the strangers' kind did not take kindly to opposition to their master's will.
"As long as I get them," he managed to spit out. The stranger turned around and said: "Don't worry, you old fool. You will get your just reward." He turned around and walked back to the vessel in which he came to the island and left. The robed
It's apparently some kind of Bionicle fanfiction. I always have adored the novels...
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"We all wear masks, Spider Man. But which one is real? The one that hides your face? Or the one that is your face?"