Updated: Feb 25
Received by Akutana Chronicler Demak [as Metru Nui Task Force Case #0451]
Log Entry 01
If you’ve ever been to Le-Metru, you’ve probably heard the loud, thumping music coming from the dance clubs in the Metru at all hours of the day and night. If you frequent Le-Metru often, then you might have even been to the loudest, thumpingest dance club in all of Metru Nui: Kamaduisi. Not exactly the most famous club, but it also has a very dedicated clientele due to its unique music selection, played only at that location. The records are one-of-a-kind too, not for sale from any merchant. The records themselves were produced in Le-Metru; however, the artist who performs them apparently isn’t familiar to anyone. As far as I can tell, no one knows who “Watercolor” is. Three Onu-Matoran, all wearing wearing Noble Rau, have also been reported to visit Kamaduisi once a week. These were what gave the Task Force a reason to send me to stake out the Kamaduisi and see if it was linked to any criminal activity related to the Jaga’s Stinger.
There has been an increase in presence by various gangs across Metru Nui. Groups like the Kopen Stingers and the Tarakava Syndicate have been tied to the illegal pastimes in the Jaga’s Stinger, or thefts of resources meant to supply the city with work, such as Kanoka to be made into Kanohi. The Metru Nui Task Force was given the directive by Turaga Bomupar himself to weed out the criminal underbelly that's been attempting to influence the city from the shadows. Any small amount of suspicion, and someone was sent to stake out the area before calling in a raid on whatever criminal activity was being perpetrated. That was why I spent three weeks in an empty, smelly enclosed Ussal Cart that let me view their movement from a distance without being seen.
For three long weeks I sat in that cart, watching through one-way glass for any sort of pattern, any suspicious characters, anyone with a previous record that visited Kamaduisi frequently. I was a week and a half into the stakeout, beginning to think this correlation of possible criminal activity was paranoia until a pattern finally formed. Those three Onu-Matoran came in the middle of the first and second week, only to leave carrying a record after a few minutes of being inside. By the third week, I was convinced that that group was up to something odd; no one just walks out with a free record every week on the same day, especially not from a place that prides itself on its exclusive music. These patterns were enough probable cause to allow me to investigate the building itself. I’d wait until the middle of next week to investigate the record they take each time and trail them to see what they do with it.
Log Entry 02
So, it took me three weeks to figure out that the three Onu-Matoran were doing something with a musical record every week, but what was so special about it? Some might just assume they were friends of the DJ and got some of their music, but generally, they keep the records and circulate them every other night or so. It just didn’t make sense to give away a unique product so regularly, or else they’d be out of music to play. I was given permission to investigate the inside of Kamaduisi by the Task Force higher-ups. A quick wave of my badge was all it took for the bouncer to let me in with little hesitation. The other Matoran in line might think it was just another Task Force member flaunting their status to get in somewhere popular (I won’t name names), but this was official investigation work.
As soon as the doors opened, my ears were violently assaulted with a loud, booming bassline that seemed to vibrate the whole building. I waded through crowds of partying beings to the front, where the DJ hyped up his audience for his next song. From what I could gather, this was the last play of that record for the week. No doubt this was the record that’d be taken away today. The music was odd - hard to tell over the cheering crowds and the cranked-up bass, but I swore I heard a voice in the music. I figured it was just lyrics at the time, but it still felt off in regards to how almost subliminal they sounded.
Once the song had ended, another DJ took “Fresh Beats'” place on stage while he went to the back. I shoved my way to an employee entrance to catch up with Fresh Beats, who had already put away the disk by the time I got to talk to him. I asked if I could look around the back, make sure everything was up to standard. He seemed nervous upon my asking, but ultimately said yes. One thing I’ve come to learn about Le-Matoran is that most of them are terrible liars. The only lies they seem to be able to tell are ones regarding their own talent and ability - anything else, and their mask is an open book. It was apparent to me by now those suspicions about the Kamaduisi had some merit, and hopefully the backroom would give me the answers I needed.
In the backroom, I found an extensive library of records, each in sleeves with the name of the record. A stamp of a Metru was on the center of each one, letting the listener know where on the island the tracks were made. I was flipping through each of them when one caught my eye: a sleeve with the Le-Metru insignia but colored blue like Ga-Metru. This was the one I wanted, I felt it in my heartlight. That was when I got grabbed by the mask and thrown to the floor by one of the Noble Rau-wearing Onu-Matoran; all three of them had come in to collect their goods and clearly weren’t happy to see a Task Force official snooping around. It was right about when I snapped off the ground and grabbed my shock baton that I realized this was going to get ugly.
Log Entry 03
The standard-issue shock baton is a useful non-lethal tool, designed by an Onu-Matoran named Nuparu. Typically, it’s used to render a noncompliant criminal unconscious with a harmless discharge, but you have to get them on the neck or head for that to work. The beautiful thing is that if you need something that works as a general deterrent, like I did when being pummeled by three other Matoran, you can crank up the amount of electric charge given off by the baton. Sure, it doesn’t knock them unconscious as quickly, but a nice zap anywhere on the body tends to make a Matoran think twice before trying to land another blow on you.
I used my baton to shock the leg of the Onu-Matoran closest to me as I got up; as he tripped over himself, the other two rushed me. They must’ve figured I couldn’t hit both of them at once, and while that was true, I took another route of defense by ducking and rolling in between them. They couldn’t steer away from the shelving unit of records in time and slammed into it with full force. Before I could worry about the record I needed and if it was damaged, the Onu-Matoran I temporarily crippled had found his feet long enough to ram me. The momentum carried us both through the door of the backroom and out to just behind the DJ’s stage. We were separated from the stage by a thin wall where which the DJ walked around to the front to keep some form of privacy. That privacy wouldn’t last much longer as I kicked my assailant off me and through the center of the wall, right onto the stage.
Everyone stopped dancing, the needle slipping off the record being played; for a moment it was nothing but silence as they witnessed a Task Force Member and burly Onu-Matoran come barreling through on-stage. I took the brief moment of quiet to announce that the Kamaduisi was closed under the investigation of the Metru Nui Task Force, this was my official way of saying “everyone needs to leave right now because things are going to get messy”.
Everyone on the dance floor began streaming outside to give my new friends and I some space. Fresh Beats stumbled out from the DJ table as he tried to run with the others, causing the music to start back up, but since he was a suspect for questioning and he wasn’t very bright, I was able to smack him unconscious with my baton as he ran past me. This was the only thing I was able to accomplish before the two Onu-Matoran I left in the backroom came to join their friend, now brandishing firework revolvers - not a common weapon on Metru Nui. It looked like any attempt to keep this quiet was gone, so now they were just trying to prevent me from getting to the record left amongst the other scattered albums from our tussle. I dashed for cover in the form of the overturned tables on the edge of the dance floor as they began popping off rounds of searing-hot fireworks; sure, the heat didn’t bother me as much compared to other Matoran, but the rounds still disorient you with their bright lights and colors. The strobing club lights that were still going didn’t help either.
The two gun-wielders stayed on stage, keeping me pinned down while the third made his way towards me with his own revolver. It was here I had the realization that the vibrant strobe lighting disoriented them as much as it did me, as Onu-Matoran have sensitive eyesight. It’s why they weren’t shooting as their buddy made his way towards me; if they let off a volley of rounds, he wouldn’t be able to so much as see a Muaka if it was standing right in front of him. I was able to use this to my advantage as he approached; when he shoved the table aside to shoot me point-blank, I waved the brightly-electrified baton in his face, which gave me a precious few seconds to knock the gun from his hand. As it clattered to the ground, the still-blinded Onu-Matoran didn’t even see me as I went for his neck at a stunning charge.
As he toppled downwards, his friends panicked. They let off the last of their firework rounds to keep me from coming closer, but I wasn’t planning on closing the distance just yet. I grabbed the revolver from their fallen comrade and pointed it just above them, fired - thankfully I had a good aim that day - and it soared across the stage, exploding in front of them in a shower of light. They cried out upon the world going a blinding white, frantically swiping at the air and desperately trying to fire at a target they couldn't see. I dashed up to where they were trying to hold out and got them with my baton; they each went down like a bag of rocks. I signaled for backup from my datapad to book the thugs and question the Le-Matoran, and used my time waiting for them to turn off the lights and blaring music that had been assaulting my senses. Mata Nui, I hope I never have to step into one of those clubs again.
Stay tuned for the Kamaduisi Bust Part 2...