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Brilliant green eyes flickered open. Golden hair, messy and tangled, curled down to his ears and obscured his vision, making him blink the strands away and struggle to focus on his unfamiliar, blurry surroundings. He was in some sort of shack, he realized. Some abandoned place in the middle of absolutely nowhere, judging by the state of disrepair it was in. The exhausted teenager forced himself to prop up on his elbows, wincing at the light that streamed through a lonely lantern on the windowsill. He glanced around, biting his lips momentarily as even that small movement caused his muscles to scream, clenching and unclenching his fingers rapidly in a vain attempt to calm himself down.
Ow.
His entire body hurt. Like, really hurt – not like the bruises he got when sparring, but more like a ‘did someone hit me with a fucking truck’ kind of hurt. He tried to breathe in, maybe try and calm his racing heartbeat, but something caught in his throat – something dry, something flaky, something that tasted ominously like dried blood. Unable to help it, he choked, devolving into a fit of frantic coughing, each involuntary jolt of his body making bolts of white-hot fire race down his neck to his lungs and then to his feet. His fingers curled in agony as he let out a strangled gasp, hands scrabbling for something to hold onto; no, no, no, ow, stop! Miraculously, his desperate plea worked, his body shuddering to a reluctant halt. He inhaled shakily, all too aware of the uncomfortable feeling of liquid on his back, staining the lumpy bedspread he was on. Was there blood there too? Just how badly was he injured? His arms shook as they came up to trace newly torn scars, and he bit back a cry as his trembling fingers brushed against bleeding injuries. He pulled his hand away sharply as hot blood steamed on his icy skin, red against white in a sickening display of violence. His breaths started to come in short gasps as he stared at his bloodstained digits, unable to stop the scared whine from tearing free of his lips. Who’d done this to him?
He hurriedly put the hand away to avoid looking at it any longer, placing a hand on his chest and clenching it tight against his torn gi, breathing heavily to calm himself down. It didn’t really work, though, because after a few seconds of numbing peace, his mind spiraled right back into an endless pit of dark thoughts. He looked down and squeezed his eyes shut at the atrocity that met his gaze, feeling the urge to puke get stronger and stronger for every moment that the horrible smell of copper hit his nose. He placed a hand on his forehead and groaned deeply, sinking down and staring up listlessly at the decrepit ceiling. He had to admit, this… this was one of the worst things he’d ever felt, and that was counting every other battle he’d been in. He felt exhausted and weak and hurt, his entire body trembling from the aftershocks of First knows what – not to mention that his brain felt quite literally fried to the Cursed Realm and back. He tried to swallow, but his stomach had finally given up on keeping its contents down, rebelling at the sight of his own blood staining the walls and the sheets and most of his immediate surroundings. He felt his face pale rapidly as bile rose to his throat, throwing himself to the side of the bedspread in a panic. He heaved like a dying man, squeezing his eyes shut as pain exploded through his shivering body. By the First… He hacked and coughed, clutching the sides of the frame like his life depended on it. What the hell happened to him? He lay there for what seemed like hours, and briefly went limp as the onslaught of feelings and sensations stopped, struggling to understand his situation. Eventually, he forced himself to sit up, leaning heavily against the wall and swinging his bloodshot eyes around his surroundings. He couldn’t see anyone else around the tiny room he’d been stashed in. As he’d noticed before, it looked like a rundown shack in the middle of nowhere – only now, he could see that it was complete with spiderwebs and ugly mold lining the walls. He suppressed the urge to let out a groan as his vision started to swim at the sight – great. More disgusting things for his empty stomach to rebel at. His fingers clenched tightly around the splintering frame as a familiar acidic taste invaded his mouth, squeezing his eyes shut again. No. He swallowed hard, unwilling to repeat that terrible experience over the side of the bed, shaking his head frantically. No, no, distract, distract – He froze, bile fading away abruptly as a question hit him so hard that he nearly forgot to breathe. There was no way the Ninja had decided to leave him in such a place, even if he had been involved in a horrible fight. Well, he said fight, because that was the only way to explain his sudden, incredible soreness: an exhausting battle with some bad guy that probably did him in. He certainly wouldn’t have done brought himself over to this disgusting shack – even that old creaky apartment they’d had in the city was better than this.
So, who had brought him here?
And, more importantly: where were they now? Tensing, Lloyd cast a glance around the room, only to flinch back as a dark… thing… “Feeling tired, Green Ninja?” a horrifyingly familiar voice crooned, and he gasped, forcing himself to his feet, muscles burning like he’d just tossed himself into lava. Memories flooded back to him: the museum, the Allied Armor of Azure, possessions – A trembling arm pointed upwards, accusing tone ringing out from a hoarse throat.
“You!”
A cruel laugh echoed in his ears as a shadow passed over the lantern, and he tried his best to follow its obscure path, a chill descending onto his already exhausted body. “You – You’re the ghost from the museum! What –” He staggered, knees buckling as a wave of weakness washed over him. He slid pathetically against the wall, choking into the putrid stench of rotting wood, before forcing his green gaze up to where he felt the ghost watching him. “What did you do to me?” “Wouldn’t you like to know,” the ghost sneered. He felt goosebumps erupt across his skin as the thing floated closer, a bone-piercing cold accompanying his very presence. “Look at you. A pathetic child, sniveling on the floor. And you were supposed to be the prophesized savior?” The ghost scoffed. “What a joke.” Lloyd felt himself bristle, anger spiking in his gaze. He hadn’t wanted to be the Green Ninja, if that was what this ghost was so hung up about. He’d been forced into the role as much as he’d been forced to be in this stupid moldy shack. And a joke? He wanted to scream. Did that ghost really think that the loss of his childhood, the reason why his parents were completely absent in his life, the thing that made him a target for the most evil, darkest thing in the universe, was funny?! His mouth opened defiantly to give the ghost a piece of his mind, but it only waved a hand, narrowing its poisonous green eyes. His words cut off with a gasp, hands reaching for a throat that no longer had any air inside. What the – he choked, eyes flickering side to side desperately, struggling lungs searching for oxygen. Panic thundered through his veins, fingers scrabbling for any kind of weapon; anything to stop the ghost from killing him, only to grasp thin air and realize that this was to be his fate. A strangled scream tore free of his throat. He couldn’t breathe, he was going to die and he couldn’t even do anything about it, where were his stupid powers when he needed them –?! “Zip it. ” The venomous tone made him jerk, wide green eyes staring up at the ghost, before the thing let out another sneer and rushed straight through him, disappearing into the wall. He let out an oof! Of pain and surprise, grabbing himself tightly as an agonizing cold bit at his skin, unable to process what had just happened, black spots dancing across his waning vision. “Who said you were allowed to pass out, Lloyd?!” The ghost snarled from somewhere beyond the wall. “You’re not escaping me that easily!” Crash! The window shattered, scattering pieces of glass everywhere, some catching on Lloyd’s wounds and dragging the injuries down further – but he didn’t care; he could only reach weakly for the precious air, gulping it down greedily and sounding like a dying man, wheezing and coughing. But it was only about to get worse. He barely managed to get some semblance of coherent thought again when he froze, feeling the breeze from the broken window blowing around his shivering body in a definitely not normal way. He felt tendrils of wind curling around every individual strand of hair he had, and with a millisecond of warning, threw himself off the bedspread, fighting and flailing against a breeze that seemed to laugh derisively in his ear. He felt cold fingers curl into his limbs, digging into his sensitive skin, drawing blood and only reveling in his pain. He twisted and scrambled away, anything to get away from this – this psychopath –
“Keep still, little ninja.” A voice taunted mockingly in his ear, a soft undertone of hate in its words. “Wouldn’t want you to get hurt now, would we?” He only had a brief moment of fear to think, what did that mean – And then he felt a freezing presence slither inside him and screamed, thrashing helplessly on the floor. Emotions, thoughts, actions of someone else overloaded his brain, nerve endings lighting on fire as the foreign consciousness began to force its way inside. He fell back on the lumpy mattress, twisting and flailing, trembling and shaking, screaming and crying, trying with all his might to stop the thing from accessing him.
No! Leave me alone, leave me alone, stop, please, don’t do this –!
But it was no use. A freezing agony descended upon his spasming muscles, before his entire body stilled unnaturally, emotionless eyes staring straight at the ceiling.
Now I control you.
A menacing laugh echoed inside his head, and he fought the urge to scream at its wrongness, like nails scratching against chalkboard. He couldn’t move. It was like he was forced into the passenger seat of his own body; like he’d been thrown to the back of his own mind, feeling the ghost do horrible things through his body, able to only watch, helpless and weak. He felt violated, the sanctity of his inner self invaded and abused. He could feel the ghost’s delight at his confusion; his fear, and felt its presence fade away briefly, though the aching cold still lingered deep in his bones. The ghost’s release was like gulping down fresh air for the first time, and he was so completely overloaded from all the sensations that he suddenly felt that he could only let out a whimper, curling into a ball and burying his hands in his hair, shaking and shivering and crying. A hum. You don’t understand what’s going on, do you? The ghost asked rhetorically, his tone a patronizing, mocking tone. Pathetic. Thought you’d have figured it out by now. A pause. Clearly, you don’t have the mental capacity to piece together some simple words, so I guess… The ghost let out a sinister chuckle. I’ll just have to show you instead. And suddenly his hands were no longer his to control. Fingers wrapped around his pale throat, gripping hard enough to cut off all circulation and surely leave bruises for later. He let out a strangled scream, agony spreading from his halting lungs to his raw throat as he desperately clawed for air. Really, what was with this guy and choking him every five seconds?! He could only wonder, a flicker of irritation sparking within him – which was quickly crushed by the incessant panic of dying from a lack of oxygen.
“S – Stop! Stop it!”
The ghost raised an arm – Lloyd’s arm – and caressed his skin with a faux gentleness that made the blond teenager shiver, terror pooling in his gut. He couldn’t move. Every action that his body made was because of that thing, the ghost that was… touching him in ways that made him feel scared of what was coming next. Why? The voice tossed carelessly in his head. Lloyd’s eyes had nearly rolled to the back of his skull. “What…did I ever – do to you?” His voice was raspy from the lack of oxygen, gaze half-delirious and foggy. A dangerous hum, and the fingers on his skin froze, the ghost digging them in deep enough to incite a weak cry from the teenager.
You stole what was rightfully mine. Don’t you think it’s only fair that I take it back?
The hand holding his throat suddenly let go, and Lloyd doubled over, coughing and shaking. His chest rose and fell faster than he’d thought possible; the world spinning dangerously around him. “I didn’t steal anything!” He cried, feeling his uncontrollable hands wrench and twist behind his back. “What are you –?!” Did Wu really never tell you? A sneer echoed in his head. Lloyd shook his head frantically, but the ghost ignored him and answered his own question. Of course not. The old man’s too proud to admit his own mistakes. But it is no matter. I’m the Green Ninja now.
His hand skimmed lightly along his face, tracing his jawline. Lloyd bit his lips and squeezed his eyes shut, shivering at the unwanted touch. “Stop,” he pleaded.
This is the only way I can fulfil my mission, the ghost said uncaringly. Your mind resists me when I take control, and I can’t have that. Thanks to your meddling, I almost got beat by some idiotic fruit-coloured ninja. Pathetic. I need to stop you. And the only way to do that, I’m afraid… His fingers trailed down his sides, making Lloyd want to puke, …Is to break you. He felt his heart clench in his chest, but it was overshadowed by the fierce protectiveness that surged through his veins; a fire flickering in his core, so warm that it flooded his entire body. “I’ll never stop resisting you,” the teen snarled softly. “I’ll never let you use my body to hurt my friends. You’re not breaking me.” The wind howled outside the shattered window, angry and so very, very cold. The ghost only chuckled.
We’ll see about that.