Some content warnings: This story will have graphic violence, but this prologue is the worst it ever gets. There will be some suicidal thinking (mostly just hinted at, not explicitly stated), so please be aware of that before you continue. I never try to bring my readers down though, so be assured that it isn't all dark (:

The Serpentine War~

The black darkness in his mindsuddenly vanished. Garmadon blinked. His hands were shaking, still clutching the katana. And then his eyes landed on his victim. Blood soaked the snow, and the motionless, mangled figure.

Garmadon gaped, stumbling back. What had he done—

He sucked in a sharp intake. His breathing sped up, rapid, heart thumping wildly.

No no no— Had he just…?

Murderer. Monster.

I told you so. He'll amount to nothing but a criminal. A villain.

"No, that's not— It's not true—"

Garmadon stared down at the body, unable to take his eyes away. It suddenly seemed as if every detail popped out at him, screaming at him.

The face seemed twisted, bloodied, with five slash marks crossing over each other, leaving large gashes. He was pretty sure it revealed the white of the skull, and…parts of the gooey, blood tinged brain. More blood covered the victim's features, if he even had any left. The eyes were intact, though. Wide and lifeless. Dim.

Dead.

His black hair was matted, some sticking to his forehead, sweat—mixed with blood—beading down his face. The corpse was mangled, cuts and slash marks littering it, blood still pumping out and staining the mahogany and crimson gi. The snow was stained around the body, no longer pure white.

Garmadon's throat closed up and his mouth went dry. He stumbled back, eyes wide as the reality suddenly slammed into him.

You're a murderer. And this is only the beginning.

"Ichor—"

Current time~

Garmadon walked through the tall trees, his four hands folded behind his back. Christofern had been doing quite well in his new home, and this was now the third time he was going to visit him. The plant had settled in nicely, already taller than when he'd planted him. He seemed to be greener, too.

That was good. At least he was doing well.

Garmadon's thoughts traveled back to the ninja, his brother, and his son. It had been interesting, to say the least. They'd let him stay for now. He still wasn't sure why—or why he was even trying to be good. He had this…urge. An urge to be good. To understand these frail humans. He really didn't know why, nor did he care too much.

You're an oni. What are you doing?

He shook his head. Why did these thoughts plague his mind? It seemed that no matter what he did, there was always something. Something vying for what he should do.

Be good, it said. Be bad, it said. It couldn't seem to make up its mind.

Or maybe that was just him, and he was just going insane.

He immediately shoved the thought away. It didn't even matter, really. Why was he even having a conversation with himself?!

Garmadon growled, his footsteps growing quicker. He didn't care. The leaves crunched softly as he walked, branches swaying slightly.

His thoughts traveled back to his son. Things had seemed to be going well, during the whole Overlord takeover. But then…he wasn't sure what had happened. Lloyd seemed to be…angry at him one moment, then he was suddenly apologizing, and then he was acting as if everything was fine. And then the cycle happened again. He was snappy. Unpredictable.

Garmadon shook his head.

And then Wu was being kind to him. Which was odd, since he'd tried to murder him. Why did he care, anyway? He'd started to notice that Wu seemed…insecure. Unsure around him.

How pathetic.

He didn't know why, though he assumed it was because he'd taken over Ninjago City, tried to murder him, and had killed lots of people. He was a murderer and a criminal, after all. Wu knew that.

Misako had mostly been avoiding him. Which he didn't mind. He could care less.

He slowed his pace slightly, staring at the ground. A few birds chirped nearby.

The ninja all had different reactions to his being there. Jay avoided him like the plague. Kai he was positive followed him around, even spied on him. Cole kept his distance, but his eyes were always on him. Nya was just like her brother, never leaving him alone, though not as violent. Zane…was a curious one. He kept an eye on him, but he was always kind. He supposed it was a nindroid thing. Though P.I.X.A.L. was more passive around him, keeping an eye on him, but for the most part just ignoring him. That was a little frustrating, but he supposed he preferred to be left alone.

He'd always preferred to be alone.

Vinny hadn't come to visit. Which he didn't mind either. He barely even knew him. But…he was…grateful, was the word? for his help.

His gaze narrowed, pace slowing even more.

And then there was Harumi… She was alive. When he'd first seen her, he couldn't believe it. He…had so many emotions about her, so many—

Garmadon straightened, pace quickening again.

He shoved them down. Sentiment was irrelevant. Survival was what was important—

Then he slowed again. Wait, no, survival wasn't what it was about. Survival wasn't living, Lloyd had said.

Garmadon shook his head, closing his eyes. It didn't matter. He was good now.

A zipping noise reached his ears, like a—

Something suddenly pricked his neck. His hand immediately went to see what it was, pulling it out. He blinked. A dart…?

Who dared—!

Garmadon whipped around, letting out an animalistic growl. His eyes narrowed, scanning the trees. This had better not be that pesky red ninja—

Then his head suddenly swam. He swayed, stumbling to the side, blinking rapidly. His muscles weakened, loosened, like liquid.

"What in the…?" His eyes fluttered, and he blinked rapidly.

Panic slammed into him. No!

His power flickered to life. Garmadon shot it every which way, at trees, at bushes, the ground, the sky, anything that moved. He yelled, sounding more like an enraged roar. A tree collapsed. The sounds of his power firing into foliage and trees blasted in his ears.

Though his hearing seemed to be clogging up. Things seemed muted, and far off… His vision blurred. Everything was suddenly tilting to the side.

He landed with a thud, leaves crunching softly. He blinked, squinting, trying to see through the fog.

Feet stepped into his line of sight.

"Who…?"

"Hello, Garmadon. Remember me?"

Blackness engulfed his mind, and he succumbed to unconsciousness.

Garmadon blinked open his eyes, confusion immediately bombarding him. A bright florescent light shone above. "What…?" He tried to move, but found that his wrists and ankles were being held down by what felt like metal.

And…his mind…what…? Why did he only have two arms…? His breathing sped up.

A face appeared above him. "Hello, Garmadon."

He sucked in a breath, eyes widening. "Ichor?"

Ichor smiled menacingly, a mad sort of look in his gaze. "Or should I say, Sensei Garmadon? Welcome back."

Garmadon frowned. What?

Ichor's face looked almost mangled, and five large scars ran across his features. His black hair looked slightly unkempt, expression cold. The last time Garmadon had seen him, his face was sliced apart in the red stained snow. He had been dead. Forty years ago.

"What do you want?" He tried to control his sudden shakiness. His chest felt tighter, constricting, as the memories came back to him. Of what he had done to him. "How are you alive?" He tried again to free his wrists, but it proved futile.

Ichor's grin turned into a scowl. "Iamthe Master of Blood, remember? I pulled myself back together."

Garmadon frowned. Wait, what was…? What had happened to him? He blinked uncomprehendingly. His mind was spinning. Something wasn't right.

Ichor chuckled. "Why do you look so surprised?" He shook his head, frowning mockingly.

He suddenly sucked in a sharp, tight gasp. "What did I…?"

Lloyd.

A single name made its way through the chaos of his muddled mind. His eyes widened, mouth going dry. "N-no… NO!" He struggled madly, twisting, his situation suddenly seeming insignificant. "My son—"

Ichor smirked. "Oh, don't worry. He's very not-fine." His gaze narrowed, darkening. "Not after what you've done."

He sucked in a breath, choking on a sudden sob. "What do you want?" His vision blurred, and a tear slid down the side of his face. How could I…? How could I have HURT him? My own SON?!

Ichor grinned, a dangerous look in his eyes. "I want you to suffer. I am going to break you, Garmadon, just like you broke me."

Garmadon coughed, lungs suddenly seeming to not work. He was on his hands and knees, the cell seeming to close around him. He clutched his chest, trying to push himself away from Ichor, backing himself into a corner. His heart beat rapidly as he trembled uncontrollably.

Ichor took a step towards him, a dark, evil grin on his scarred face. He kicked him in the ribs again, and this time Garmadon was sure something cracked.

He curled in on himself with a strangled gasp. He clutched his chest harder, trying to BREATHE—

A sharp CRACK rang through the room. Garmadon gasped, choking, sharp, agonizing pain springing through his left leg like fire.

Ichor laughed, taking a step back. He'd just snapped his leg.

Garmadon blinked, vision fading in and out. He tried to curl into himself, clutch his leg, but the pain was all he could think about.

Ichor then roughly kicked his now-injured leg.

Garmadon let out a tortured cry.

A fizzling crackle echoed through the room. Electricity zipped through the metal table. Garmadon stiffened, tensing, body arching upwards in pain, to try and ESCAPE—

He screamed. The pain increased.

He could see the light dance, even with his eyes tightly shut. Feel the cold metal on his wrists. Ichor's laugh reverberated in the background.

He choked, his throat tightening. He wouldn't give Ichor the satisfaction. No. He couldn't.

"Stop!" he suddenly found himself pleading. "Please, stop—"

All he got in return was a dark chuckle.

A sharp feeling cut like fire. He felt the wetness of blood.

"Monster," Ichor hissed at him.

Sharp.

"Murderer."

Pain.

"Savage."

Fire.

"Oni."

Sting.

"Traitor."

Cold. Wet.

Ichor's voice echoed in his mind, the names imprinting themselves into Garmadon's memories. He really was all of those things… He was right. He WAS a monster…

Garmadon struggled, once again cuffed down to the cold metal table. The room was dark, small, and a single light shown above him, into his eyes. Equipment lay around the room, some in piles, others scattered on a counter that lined the wall.

Ichor appeared above him, a cold, disappointed frown on his face. "You shouldn't have done that."

Garmadon just struggled harder. His breath came in sharp gasps, desperate. His right arm was trapped, chained down onto a table next to him, through an opening in some…machine.

Ichor straightened, hand on the lever now. "Maybe this will teach you." He started to pull it downwards.

A loud whirring sound filled the room.

Garmadon felt his breath catch. He caught a glimpse of silver in the machine, spinning too fast for him to make out. It looked flat, round, and metal. It glinted off the light.

His eyes widened as it suddenly hit him. What it was. What Ichor was ABOUT TO DO—

"No, please, no—"

A sharp, fire-like agonizing pain swept through the beginning of his arm and partly into his shoulder.

He struggled harder, a sharp scream suddenly echoing through the room. He writhed. Blood spurted everywhere. Garmadon choked outa sob, whimpering pathetically. Then he screamedagain.

Blackness tinted the edges of his vision, though he had his eyes screwed shut.

"Look."

Garmadon gasped, breathing heavily. He turned his head slowly, in a daze, his eyes only partially open. He blinked. Blood still poured from his arm—

Shoulder. His arm was gone. The machine had been moved over.

His mouth partially opened in a gape. Exhaustion held him in a firm grip, squeezing.He realized he felt cold. Distant.He was sweating, shaking. Trembling. He felt his will start to waver, and then his eyes rolled back and everything went dark.

Garmadon stared at his new "arm". He tried to move his new fingers. It felt…weird. Different. He couldn't help but eye it, taking in the metal, the wires. It moved smoothly enough…but he couldn't feel a thing. He noticed he could feel pressure, though. He could tell when he touched something. But otherwise…it felt cold. Lifeless.

He shivered. What had Ichor done to him…?

He rolled his sleeve back down, one hand on his robotic one. He looked away, cringing. He curled up in the corner of his cell, trying to keep the emotions down. Lock them away.

Two people dragged him into the lab. Ichor was in the front.

Garmadon struggled desperately, breathing labored and raw. The table came into his sight. He struggled harder, gasping, trying to turn away. "No, no, no—"

The two men dragged him over, regardless of his struggling. They shoved him onto it, metal cuffs immediately being closed onto his wrists and ankles.

"No, no, please, don't!" Garmadon whimpered, writhing, sucking in fast and ragged gasps.Run. Get out. Flee.

Ichor's hand hovered over the dial, standing to his left. He grinned at him. "Ready for today's session?"
Garmadon trembled, mouth open but nothing coming out. His mind raced a million thoughts a minute, pure PANIC—

Ichor turned it.

Electricity immediately zipped through his body.

Garmadon screamed.

"Care for some dissection today?" Ichor chuckled above him.

Garmadon tensed, the metal cuffs holding him tightly down. That didn't sound good.

Ichor chuckled again, suddenly pulling out a knife. "Let's do some surgery. What do you think?"

Garmadon started to struggle. "No, please, don't—"

His captor just grinned. To the two men, "Hold him still."

Garmadon lay on the metal table again, trembling. The light shown down into his eyes, threatening-like and blinding.

Ichor's face once again appeared above his own. He was scowling. "I told you not to try that again."

Garmadon swallowed. "I…I'm sorry… Please…"

Ichor smirked. "'I'm sorry' doesn't cut it." He suddenly lifted up an ice cream scoop. The edges of the metal scoop glinted coldly in the light.

Garmadon stared at it in confusion.

Ichor grinned. "Ever wondered how pirates feel?"

He frowned uneasily, eyeing it. His mouth went dry, not understanding—or not wanting to understand—what he was implying.

"Grab his face."

At Ichor's words, two men suddenly grabbed his face, holding him in place.

Garmadon struggled madly, gasping sharply. A fearful whimper escaped him. "W-what are you doing?"

"You're about to find out." The ice cream scoop was suddenly going towards his face.

He screamed, struggling, writhing, trying to GET AWAY—

It pierced the skin, and then he heard a crack as it pierced his skull.

He screamed again, everything suddenly sounding muted.

Ichor didn't seem to care, digging into his eye. Wetness—blood—started pouring down his face. There was a muted chuckle, laughter, taunting—

His right vision was suddenly gone. It was just…dark. Black. Though he'd had his eyes shut tightly, he's still been able to make out the light. But now, on his right, it had vanished.

Pain swept through his face like fire. Though the metal of the scoop felt cold.

Ichor moved the scoop, cold and fire screaming across his right…eye…? And then the scoop was gone. His captor chuckled darkly.

The hands suddenly left Garmadon's face. He jerked away from them, still writhing as blood ran down and onto the table.

"There we go. See what I have? It technically belonged to you. Except that you are mine." Another chuckle.

There was a beat of silence.

"Hold him still again."

Garmadon felt overwhelming panic grip him, stronger than he'd ever felt before in his life. He whimpered, thrashed, tried to jerk free—

He couldn't breathe.

Something cold was suddenly being pressed to his face, into his wound—

Pain, pain, pain—

He screamed again, whimpered. Was he crying…? He couldn't tell.

Something pounded into his face. And then there was a crack.

Was that his skull again? How was he not dead yet…?

Sharp pain pierced his face. Something metal was being…nailed into him. Where his eye had been.

"There we go."

Garmadon's facewas released. He struggled again, but his strength was all but gone. So was his will.

"Now you know how pirates feel. Congratulations."

Garmadon stared at his reflection. The small bowl of water didn't reflect very well, but he could still make out his face. A long scar ran across his features, going from the left of his forehead, over his nose, and to the right of his jaw. Other scars littered his face, scattered and uneven. His grey hair stuck to his forehead. Another, smaller scar sat on his left cheek. And then there was the metal nailed into his face, where his right eye had been.It was dark grey in color. You could see the round heads of the nails in it, where it attached. His right eye was completely gone. He still had his eyebrows though. He could still move his face decently well, though it throbbed, burned, like fire. His other eye was still intact. There was no light in it, though. He almost looked…dead.

He realized he had dark circles under his eyes. When was the last time he'd slept? He found he couldn't remember.

He looked away, leaning against the cold, cement wall. He pulled his good leg closer to himself—the other he didn't dare to move with the amount of pain that would course through him. He stared down at himself, at his bloodied gi. It had been the old one he'd worn, during the Serpentine War. The one he was banished in. But now, it was tattered, worn, and pretty much ruined.

He was a mess. He sighed, closing his eyes.

No one's coming for you. You're all alone. You don't deserve to be rescued, either. This pain? You deserve it—every bit.

For Lloyd.

Author's note: Ichor is an original character I came up with, so please don't use him without permission. Or he may come after you ;) (jk)