A/N: S8 was terrible in my opinion, I'm trying to make it better. They couldn't even make an original villain!
This is just a small fic on a universe I'll expand on. For the sake of the story, Skylor is dead. There might be other minuscule changes to canon, but yeah.
It feels like a repeat.
Like a time reset. When someone makes a mistake, and they use super speed or a machine to fix it, unaware of the damage caused around them.
Somehow, she knew this was done before.
Somewhere else, a different time, maybe. In the past, either a few months or years ago. She's not sure.
Every time she voices an opinion, it's stuck in her throat like sandpaper, windpipes constricting and it's like the exact same words were said before, and cannot be said again.
She's mirroring someone, someones?, but she doesn't know who.
Though, all she does know is that every time she schemes something, every time she smiles falsely at Lloyd, it doesn't feel... original.
That's when the whispers start.
One seems raspy, angry, but yet faint, like a person shouting but yet the breeze sweeps their breath from their lips.
Another is laced with sugar and spice and everything nice, hiding the malice behind its true intentions.
They seem, so familiar, and yet she can't place it. Where has she heard these before? It's hard to comprehend, a deja vu of sorts, but with feelings of others, people that she should know, but can't place it.
They whisper and whisper, laughing as she merely steps across the courtyard and looks at the castle that is not hers. She is not the princess, she's not a preppy girl like everyone expects.
Only her and those voices know.
She tries to ignore the faint sounds, copycatcopycat fakefakefake and continues with her Sons of Garmadon. Her plan to ensure chaos. To destroy the world and repair it again, with her in charge.
Copycat.
It's so small, barely a breath of voice but it stays, just like the other. Taunting, it never stops, and she's suddenly is getting a taste of insanity that she's knows others have fallen to.
She pushes on, hearing how the sugar and spice voice laughed melodically when she charms Lloyd, and the raspy one haughtily chuckling as she sobs how she lost her parents, quietly screaming and shouting at night at those dreaded ninja. They don't understand what it's like! To be ripped of your parents at such a young age!
She will destroy those ninja, and fight until her last breath ghosts from her lips.
We tried. It didn't get us anywhere.
It's so strange. She wouldn't say schizophrenic, she's certainly not seeing anything, but those voices persist.
Copycat.
Fake.
It's quite for a while. She drums her fingers against the table. Maybe, finally, she's gained back her sanity. She stares into nothingness, and it dawns on her that the quietness is suddenly so ominous.
Her head jerks up, and she realizes she's not alone.
A small boy is standing there, tying his fingers into impossible knots, staring at her wide-eyed. His clothes are tattered and hanging off his small form, every angle piercing and askew from his body. His black hair is greasy, from what she can tell, and mussed, even bloody in some places.
It's his eyes, though, they look so old, even so wide and innocent. He looks like he's been through war.
"You say your backstory is tragic," the boy says quietly, tilting his head. Suddenly, it seems like the raspy voice, only younger. Her eyes widen in alarm. "The ninja may have powers, but they can't save everyone." A hand trails through his hair, and he smiles quietly. "Not everyone deserves to be saved."
"What are you talking about?" She growls.
He laughs, and it's small and breathy, and barely there. "You're alive, be happy you are. Bringing a person back from the dead, you don't want to do that. How do you know they want to be back?"
Suddenly, chills go up her spine, and something hits her.
The boy doesn't seem to be talking himself, but the words hang in her mind. His mouth forms every word, but no sound comes out. It seems like he's not there, he's not whole.
"I...I don't understand," she mutters, but looking up he's gone. Vanished.
Her mind is playing tricks on her, maybe it's from trauma? No, she would have felt that long ago. Do all villains suffer from madness? She supposes no one sane would attempt to do what she will.
[Surpisingly, she's okay with that.]
She decides she needs some fresh air, moves outside on the balcony. Her first scheme isn't in motion yet, just a little more trust from the green ninja.
The makeup itches and itches on her face, and so she whisks to the bathing room to scrub it off, letting her hair down and revealing her true form.
Copycat.
Her eyes are focused on the news, the ninja laughing as the host talks and asks questions. Fools, they put so much trust in Ninjago. They're known, and can be struck down where they stand.
She quietly fills out her notes, every detail about these "heroes" the sound of the broadcast deafening over the stroke of her pen.
The Green Ninja admits, he's never been in a relationship before, the red one joking he's flushes when someone points out a girl checking him out.
There's a slight curve of her lips into a malice grin. If anyone asks she'd just say she's a fangirl, one of those kinds that want to know every last detail.
The Green Ninja, flustered on love? She could definitely use that. It could only take a little flirt and he'd be wrapped around her finger.
"You seem so sure of yourself."
It's the voice, like cyanide, the smell that's sweet and tasty, but letheal. Her eyes drift to see a figure, orange hoodie covering their face. Even if they turn into the light, it's unseeable.
"Who are you?" She asks, not nearly as shocked as last time, she barely bats an eyes.
The hooded figure shrugs. "Just the daughter of a villain paying for his crimes. Nothing special, really."
Eyes narrow. "Of course. Are you really haunting me or am I just going insane?"
"Don't worry, I know plenty about insane. You're not that bad," the girl waved it off.
"You're much more... talkative."
The grin could almost be felt in the air as it dropped a few degrees. "Well I'm more sane then Breezy, couple decades in the Cursed Realm'll do that to you."
"I know you're not just here to talk. Explain or else I'll really start thinking I'm schizophrenic."
The girl sighed, temperature dropping a few more degrees. "You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into, huh? You're really gonna charm a boy and wrap him around your finger? Tried that once, doesn't work as well as you think."
"So you're both trying to tell me not to be a villain? How amusing," she looked back to the T.V. "Nobody gets it."
"People get it. People get it worse, Princess. You had a family to take you in. People that loved you. You're just going to kill them?"
"They're pawns, that's all. As long as you still have the king, you haven't lost." She arches an eyebrow as the other shakes her head.
"Just know that those ninja never give up, you won't win. Not everything can be fair, look at me, I was forced to be a villain against my own will, look where that got me. No good will come out of this."
She just stares as the orange-hooded figure disappears.
This will be harder than she expected.
Copycat.
She stares at the Bounty, the ninja's base of operation. It's smart, they keep moving around. Never to stop.
But it's too obvious. She watches as it soars by from the towers, an all-too-innocent smile gracing her mouth. Her eyes twinkle with mischief.
These ninja have no idea what's coming.
Her next plan of action begins soon.
A/N: the copycat AU is now my baby and you can't even rip it from my dead hands my soul will take it to the afterlife and I will live with it there forever.
Speaking of which, I must go back to the land of the mostly-dead, but this isn't the last of me.
