CHAPTER 1: About His Past
"Alright everyone," he says with a sheepish tone. He waves a tattooed hand at the screen. "Be good, do good, and have a great day! I'm Oscar, you're beautiful, and I'll see all of you later. Bye!"
He turns off the video player, and uploads it straight to his website. An 'OSCAR TELLS ALL' logo written in graffitti letters is pasted to the top of the webpage. The screen displays his upload.
A smile.
The screen closes, encouraging Oscar to get off the chair and onto his feet. He pushes the swivel chair away, and stands tall and proud before the mirror.
Puffing out his lungs with pride, he drapes a cardigan over his shoulders. Black and red stripes.
Muscle poses.
"Yeah, you look great today," his reflection insists. "Just like every day."
Just don't look at the tattoos. His eyes do whatever fancy pupil-parkour they have to, to avoid acknowledging those darn tattoos. Creeping across his skin, up his neck and out his sleeves and over his face. The only place without the marks are his eyes, but THEY'RE too empty.
Into the bathroom.
Hands gripping the porcelain sides of the sink, he stares long and hard at himself. The squiggly lines that cover his whole body. He adjusts the black hairband holding a tuft of hair up, purple shaggy locks falling to the sides of his face.
Onward to the kitchen.
Vegan, gluten-free, non-GMO, organic bread. Phone in hand. The views on his vlog episodes keep skyrocketing, and this one seems to already be no different.
A pleasant, soothing view of the sea. Crashing, rocking waves against sharp rocks that stab their way through smooth sands. What would it be like to feel sand between his toes?
Probably exactly the way tiny shards of rock and sand would, like sandpaper but without the paper. The smell of seawater invading his nostrils. The potential that the ocean could overcome him and wash him far away.
Maybe it's better if he just stayed indoors, like every other day of his new life.
Now to work out.
On the treadmill, in sweatpants and a hoodie, jogging at a pansy pace. But it's not pansy. It's strong. It's powerful. The news blare on and on about the depressed world he refuses to visit in person.
"Come on Oscar, you can do it," he chants. "Put a little power to it!"
Sweat rolls down his body, sticking to the thick sauna called his clothes.
Shower time.
Back to wearing the white shorts, black leggings, off-white shirt, black and red striped cardigan.
Now, to tend to the axolotls.
A whole room stuffed with tanks of axolotls. Some holding babies, some holding adults-of all shapes and sizes, perfectly sized and designed to fit the individual needs of all his beloved amphibians.
"Hey Stanny," he says, greeting the whitish one with pink feathery, fern gills. His absolute favourite. "How you doing today? Yeah? Yeah. Another good day for me, too. Life is just so great, isn't it."
Stanny doesn't respond, nor does Stanny care.
Feeding time for all his pretties. Each axolotl has its specific dietary needs met, based on what they like and how much they eat.
Snap, snap. Photo time.
Now, to relax. Watch some TV. What's on the news?
"Breaking news," the tucked-up news woman says. "The question on everyone's mind is 'Jay or Cole' these days, but this love forecaster says Nya may choose RONIN. Here's why."
Images of the ninja. Flashing on the screen before him.
Gold, green, black, white, blue, red.
Mixing together, transforming into a murky pool of black and brown.
Black.
Darkness.
What he is.
What he shouldn't be.
A creepy, raspy voice screeching about how it wants to take over the world.
The good, noble forces trying to keep that from happening.
"I am a nindroid...and ninja never quit."
No. Not the cold. Not the ice. Not that day. Not any day. Not the ninja, ninja aren't real. Yeah, they're all just a dream. Fakes, phonies. Nothing is real. He was never the Overlord. He was never evil. He was never that monster.
Nothing is wrong, life is good.
Yeah, life is great.
Maybe he should stop watching so much news. How about he just forget about the outside world and its problems and-
Knock knock knock.
Who's that at the door? He doesn't have any friends. Maybe another fan. Yeah, that's it. But if they're his fan, they should know he's not really...comfortable...with opening the door. Or the window. That nasty outdoor air would wreak havoc on his sensitive lungs.
Alright, FINE. Just this once.
Step. Step. Step. Down the hall. Heart screaming. Nerves pounding. Clammy fist clenching.
Hand on the doorknob.
Twist.
Who's there-
A flash of colour. A bag over the head. Who turned out the lights?
Darkness. Get it off, get it away! Oscar moans and struggles, the foreign viruses migrate from the hands that grab at him to his very skin.
He was a virus once. A computer virus, but still. Same thing.
Don't think about that. He shouldn't think about anything involving who he DEFINITELY never was.
Voices speak, as they carry him around.
"This doesn't feel right..." one whines.
"You know what that tip told us," another says. "That this guy here is secretly the Overlord."
"But what if he's not?"
"What if he IS? We can't risk it, can we?" a third voice asks. Dang, how many people are here trying do abduct him? And why?
"Haven't you ever heard of 'guilty until proven innocent'?"
"Actually," contradicts a robotic voice. "The statement actually goes like-"
"Shut it Zane, not helping."
Wait, did they just say ZANE? As in...ZANE?
Closed eyelids display dreams of death. Dreams that never should be thought of or dreamt.
"Go ninja..go!"
No, probably just has the same name as the guy who killed him. ONE of the guys who killed him. He's not a well-liked person, is he? Given that he's been killed twice and all. Does he need to be nicer? Cheerier? Happier?
"Why don't we just ASK him if he's the Overlord?"
"Your innocence amuses me, Lloyd."
Lloyd AND Zane? Together? No, just another coincidence. Why would the ninja be after him?
...
Well, there are quite a few reasons actually. Not that any of those matter anymore. He's not the Overlord he used to be.
"I don't want to be rude, we're a symbol of hope."
"Yes, I agree with Lloyd. We should just ask him about the circumstances."
"Alright. But I'm knocking him cold if he struggles. You hear that?"
Oscar nods. Just get the bag away.
Removed, and on the floor.
Red, white, black, blue, green.
They're actually here. They're actually real.
The ninja have him hostage, and are asking some dangerous questions about his past.
Hey all! Erio here. You may notice this is the third fic already, and none of them are done or longer than five chapters. Yeah, I'm just getting my feelers out to see which one people like the most. If you've read any other of my stories, comment below which one you think I should continue writing.
Also, comments are amazing! Comments encourage me to write the most, if I see comments I will probably write.
And let me know about your Ninjago fics, I wanna read them!
