It felt...incomplete. He was alone now. His family and friends, dead. Allies, dead. Hope, dead. Only his enemies remained, stronger with every loss he suffered. He wondered if this is what it felt like when his grandfather faced the omnipresent Overlord. At least there had been the hope of dividing the land to quarantine the evil. There was no solution here.

He was weak. Helpless. Vulnerable.

The city was a hellscape. They had tried to rebuild what the Colossus had destroyed, but between getting aid to civilians and avoiding the Sons of Garmadon, very little had been done. Neighborhoods further away from the Temple of Resurrection were fairing somewhat better. They had taken the docks as a base of operations, the ocean was an easy escape route and they were connected to the various waterways running through the city. Some of the canals had been destroyed or blocked by the SOG and they were typically in plain sight, but it was the easiest way to get supplies to those in need.

Some shops and factories were allowed to stay open as long as they were overseen by an SOG member. Harumi was smart. The people were angry at her betrayal, but as long as she left the survivors someway to continue their lives, they were hesitant to rise up. So many had been killed in the chaos following Garmadon's resurrection. Too many. Yet, the city's hope burned as embers. A few brave souls joined the rebellion. They placed their faith in the remaining saviors of Ninjago.

Their faith had been foolish.

Pixal had been the first to go. They had been patrolling a section of the city that had remained relatively untouched by the madness. Very few, if any, SOG patrols had been seen in the area. The civilians living there had needed medicine and food. Skylor had offered to stay with them to help them organize and ration what supplies they had while Pixal and Nya returned to base for immediate necessities. He was to keep watch.

They were ambushed before leaving the sector. Somehow the SOG had known that they were coming and had prepared. He didn't know how word had gotten out - he still doesn't know. Skylor and Nya had immediately rushed to protect the civilians while he and Pixal faced off against the bikers. He hadn't seen Mr. E appear further down the street, he hadn't seen the nindroid charge at him, he should have seen it coming. He only heard Pixal's war cry. He spun around, panic rising in his throat. Pixal's optics flickered from calm green to hateful red. She had taken Zane's death hard. He should have been there for her-

He couldn't keep track of everyone. He only kept his focus on the civilians. They had to be kept safe at any cost. Nya would appear next to him when his injuries would start to hinder him, but otherwise he only was able to follow her by the sound of her viciously cutting down enemies. Skylor was there then gone as she ushered people away from the fighting. The occasional hiss of machinery behind him would alert him to Pixal's position. He should have been paying more attention.

Nya's warning came too late.

Pixal shrieked. The noise turned to static when Mr. E pulled a sword out of her chest. Sparks flew and metal groaned. He didn't know who got there first - him or Nya. He lunged at Mr. E, vision red. Nya fell to her knees at Pixal's side, hands flying over the gaping hole in her chest. And then...he just saw fury.

He doesn't remember much after throwing himself at the nindroid. Pixal had collapsed, optics white as coolant pooled underneath her. Nya was crying. She always seemed to be crying when she thought no one was watching. Sparks erupted from Pixal's wound. He remembered meeting her frantic gaze when he turned away from what remained of Mr. E's frame. He didn't remember violently tearing wires from the offline nindroid or the burning of the coolant on his hand. It was Nya's look of horror after Pixal had shut down that brought him back.

Next was his mother.

He didn't know where she had gone. It was a week or so after losing Pixal and the grief was still heavy on the team. He knew he should have tried to do something about it instead of letting the pain fester and grow. It was his fault that the infection had spread to Misako.

He had gone to talk to her about something trivial. He couldn't remember what it had been anymore. When no one had answered his repeated knocking, he let himself in to find his mother's room in disarray. A light breeze stirred the papers still scattered on her desk. It didn't look like anything had been taken. The duffel bag Misako kept under the bed in case of emergencies was still there. The nightstand had her worn photographs of their family.

There was no note. There was no ransom. She simply disappeared.

The last time he had seen her, he had told Misako what he had done to Mr. E in his rage. She had gently taken his face in her hands and smiled at him. That does not make you a bad person, she had said with that horribly sad smile she only wore when talking to him. You have been so strong for everyone, but that doesn't mean you have to always be. You are allowed to break down, Lloyd.

He didn't believe her.

Skylor was taken from them while trying to dig for survivors after a building collapsed. She found a brother and sister hiding in what remained of the stairwell. He had come over to help coax the children out as the building had only been pushed further off center with every floor that crumbled. They did not have much time.

There was an ominous rumble that rattled the stair railings. The noise only made the children cry harder, the brother shaking his head as he clung to his trembling sister. It hurt to see them so scared. How could Harumi do this to others when she knew that pain all too well herself? He tried to reach in for them, but recoiled when the sister's sobs grew shrill. He was useless.

Skylor fished out a few pieces of candy from her jacket pocket in an attempt to bride them. It was enough to get the children's attention. With a gentle smile, Skylor held out the treats for them to take. With shaking hands, the brother took the candy and gave it to his sister. The young girl's dirty face lit up. Her eyes darted to him and he smiled at her.

The sister pried herself from her brother's grip and took a few unsteady steps towards Skylor. She wailed in pain when Skylor swept her into her arms. While she checked over the little girl for what had hurt her, he smiled at the brother.

It's dangerous under there. Won't you come with us? We'll take you and your sister someplace safe, I promise. Promises were hopeful lies, but he was in no position to deliver such harsh truth to the young boy. There was another groan from the ceiling.

He tried to reach in to help the boy come out when the ceiling gave out. The sister screamed as plaster rained down on them. Skylor thrust the girl into his arms.

Go!

He spun on his heel and ran. Heavier debris fell around them as he dodged out of the way of the bigger obstacles and braced himself for any impacts. He leaned over the young girl who had begun to sob and scream for her brother. Just behind him was the answering calls from the boy. Skylor's heavy pants were a relief to hear. They ducked out of a hole in the wall just as the building finally completely collapsed.

A scream rose over the sound of the collapse.

He turned to see the young boy laying a few feet from the wreckage, curled on his side. A nasty gash had opened along his arm, but otherwise he was in one piece. The sister wriggled her way out of his grasp to run to her brother's side. There were others picking their way towards them, eyes set on the dirty children. Nya appeared at his side. She smiled sadly at the children.

She turned to look at him, but then frowned. Where's Skylor? He froze.

The two ninja threw themselves at the nearest pile of concrete and plaster. Their panic attracted others who helped shift through the heavy material. Skylor's bloody and dirty face appeared when they moved a large piece of concrete. Blood was pooling under her head and had splattered on some of the debris. Her eyes were utterly lifeless.

He could only stare at her body in shock as Nya turned away to vomit.

Watching his loved ones be ripped away from him one by one had hurt, but it was Nya's death that shattered whatever was left in him.

Harumi never left the Temple anymore. The rebellion's activity had all but stopped and there was no need for her to be walking the streets with the Mask of Hatred. There was no reason for her to be this far away from the Temple without Garmadon.

Yet, there she was. Standing on the opposite side of the street from them with a hideous smile splitting her face. Nya snarled at her. It had only been Harumi. They could have fled, ran away and never looked back. The Mask didn't improve her speed and he knew that they could outrun her.

Harumi had launched into some speech, but he hadn't been paying attention. He thought he could end it there and then. Nya obviously thought the same. When they reached for their weapons, Harumi shifted the Mask closer to her face. All three froze. Critical eyes searched the other for any weakness. Only the rustling of papers being blown down the street and the rushing water of a nearby canal could be heard.

How sad it's only you two left, Harumi said with a pout.

Nya took a step forward, only stopped by his hand on her shoulder. I'm going to kill you.

Oh? Please try. I've been awfully bored stuck in the Temple lately and there's nothing quite like a revenge-driven ninja trying to run you with her spear to liven things up.

Shut up! Nya snarled even as tears dripped down her cheeks. She lunged forward, managing to catch Harumi off-guard and knock the Mask from her hand. She collided with the former princess and toppled both of them over. Nya was on her feet first, spear already gripped in both hands and thrust towards Harumi's heart.

Harumi barely managed to dodge the attack. She wasn't quite fast enough to fully avoid it and the speartip ripped through her clothing and drew a thin red line along her side. She stepped out of another swing of the spear and glanced at the Mask. Nya saw her gaze and immediately dove for it.

She missed.

He ran towards Nya, panic bubbling up. He couldn't lose her too. He couldn't lose her too. He couldn't. He couldn't. Harumi rolled to her feet, Mask firmly grasped in both hands. She gave Nya a terrible smile before putting on the Mask. A knife flashed in her hand.

Nya! He threw himself at Harumi in the hopes that he'd distract her or knock her over or something - anything to get her away from his sister. There was no time for him to try and draw back when Harumi turned towards him. She must have expected his reaction. The knife gleamed in the street light as she drove it at him.

Searing pain erupted in his right side. His hands flew to the wound, one hand stabilizing the knife while the other clutched at his side in agony. Harumi leaned forward, forcing him back or risk having the knife driven deeper.

What a shame, she said. Even with the Mask's rough voice, there was a sing-song lilt of triumph.

He went to step back again when he tripped over something. He went down hard. The sudden movement dislodged the knife and made him cry out. Harumi leaned forward to pick up the weapon. The twisted smile on the Mask seemed to grow. She raised the knife over him, aiming for his heart. Goodbye, mouse.

He threw up his arms as a wail echoed around them.

When there was no bright agony, he cautiously opened his eyes - when had he closed them? - to see what had happened. He was afraid it was trap, to lure him off guard before Harumi buried the knife in his heart again. When he found himself staring at the back of a horribly familiar gi, he couldn't understand. How could she do it?

Nya was crouched in front of him. Harumi stared at her in shock. The knife. Where was the knife? His sister slumped back against him. He hurriedly laid her down, heart clenching at the sight. The knife was buried up to its hilt. Blood was darkening her gray gi and it wasn't stopping - he couldn't stop it - there was too much! He pressed already-blooded hands to her wound. Please please please please-

Harumi's laughter echoed around him. A hand on his shoulder, her voice in his ear, the heavy presence leaning over him. She surrounded him as he watched the last of his family fade away. All alone now. What will our hero do now? He didn't need to see her face to know her eyes were alit at his weakness.

Nya tried to speak past the blood bubbling from her mouth. All that she managed was a horrific gurgling noise. A threat towards Harumi, some comfort for him - he'd never know.

Once Nya's attempt tapered off and it was clear that she was gone, Harumi pressed a kiss to his hair and left. He was left at the side of his sister with mangled last words and Harumi's laughter echoing in his ears. He clutched Nya's body to him and sobbed.

He was alone.

The rebellion was gone. Only he remained and one was not enough to carry the flag - not any longer. He was so tired. Tired of death and hate and the destruction that followed his family. There would be no victory, no last-minute saving grace. He was alone as he had always feared. No brothers to lean on when exhaustion had set in. No sister to grasp hands when grief coursed through his body. No uncle to ask for wisdom. No mother to cry with. No father-

He knew what had to be done. He watched as the last safe house ignited and knew. The brilliant flames were in stark contrast to the darkness that had taken him. He was empty.

It was short work to find a SOG patrol. He told them he wanted to see Harumi. At first, they only laughed. Nice joke, one of them said. Who'd want to willingly go to their death? He watched with apathetic eyes as the laughter faded away and the bikers surrounded him. Every instinct was screaming at him to drop into position, get ready for a fight, but that's not why he approached them.

I need to talk with Harumi, he said. Something about his tone made a few of the SOG hesitate.

A man with a blue-streaked hair snarled, I don't believe you. You're just trying to draw us into a trap or somethin'.

He held up his hands as the man grew closer. No tricks.

There's no need to go to the Temple if you have a deathwish, another growled. Those who had seemed reluctant before perked up at the support.

No point in wasting the Quiet One's time.

We can handle one ninja.

Their loyalty was surprising, but not an obstacle. He shifted his weight, waiting as they moved closer. Streaks stepped up first to throw a punch. He had trained with the best fighters in all of Ninjago - this sloppy excuse for an attack was too easy. Streaks shouted in surprise when he blocked the punch and swung under the biker's arm to bring it snugly up against his back. A hard kick to the back of his knee had Streaks going down. It was almost an unconscious decision to wrap his arms around Streak's thick neck and snap it.

There was nothing. He stared down at the dead man. Numb. Empty. The other bikers drew back in fear.

I didn't think they…

He's dead?

First Master, he killed him!

He looked up to meet the wide eyes of one of them. Take me to Harumi.

The route the SOG took back to the Temple was familiar if only because he was watching the rooftops. There wasn't much else to really look at to distract himself - and that's what he was doing, trying to force out the snap of the man's neck and looks of horror-alarm-terror all directed at him. Where was the horror, the guilt? Why was it numb? What had finally broken? The devastation of the street-level only seemed to make the thoughts loop around his head. Buildings were in ruin or entirely missing. Streets were full of hazards and void of life. Burst pipes had created pools and streams, some of which were steaming. Everything was dead.

The rooftops, however, were still alive. Little gardens were still being tended, a few children were playing but ducked down when the SOG roared by. There was a broken ladder hanging from a second-story apartment building that he turned away from. Some lights hanging from windows and balconies still defiantly shone against the darkness that Harumi had ushered in - that he had helped with, if unknowingly.

He traced the rooftops back to the smoking remains of the Palace. He didn't wait for his ride to stop, just slid off. It was easy to ignore the stinging that came with it. Storming through the gate and demanding that they get Harumi was likely to kill him - it was tempting - so he waited until one of the bikers stepped forward as his escort. Mission first.

Whispers preceded him. Venomous glares were sent towards him, some people shrunk back when he passed, his escort kept a few feet between them and encouraged passers-by to disappear. Murderer - just like them. They could say what they wanted, they're now the same. The SOG was willing to do whatever it needed to reach its goals.

There was nothing holding him back anymore.

His escort led him down a singed hallway. A large opening at the end revealed a familiar stone staircase. The hair on the back of his neck rose as they got closer, only to then turn off into a side room. He hadn't even noticed the other doorways the first time he'd been dragged through. The small side room had a door to another staircase leading up and opposite of the Resurrection Altar.

Is my - is Garmadon here? A stupid slip-up, but the escort ignored it or was too terrified to say anything.

The escort hurried up a few more stairs as if there wasn't enough space between them before answering, No. Emperor Garmadon is not here. The Quiet One said he prefers to stay apart from us.

Then where is he?

The Quiet One would know. The escort pulled a heavy door open to reveal a large room full of tables and SOG. When they walked in, the bikers all looked up. Vicious whispers circled around them. He ignored it. He had to focus. Mission first.

Led through another door opposite where they entered and he found her. It was no surprise that Harumi had her own room, full of dark fabrics with a large window overlooking the north of the city. There was no Mask. She was working at a desk, pen rushing around the paper. The escort spared a nervous glance between him and the hunched figure still focused on her work before fleeing.

When Harumi continued to ignore him, he rasped his knuckles on the wall. She tucked her pen behind one ear - not unlike Nya, his mind supplied - and turned to smile at him. The smile was sharp and predatory.

What a surprise! Harumi rose from her chair and approached him. Carefully holding him at arm's length, she looked him up and down. Hm, I heard you murdered someone. I thought you'd be tearing yourself up over it.

I have no time, he said as he pushed her away. She brushed off her jacket before pinning him with a glare.

Then what can I help you with? Surely you didn't just drop by to say hello to dear old dad.

Something warm coiled around him as she spoke. Not familiar and calming like his former powers or comforting and gentle like watching his family. It was something new. He lifted his head, empowered by the strange feeling. I'm here to end this.

Harumi's look of panic made the coiled warmth grow. Just as quick as it had appeared, however, did the panic disappear for contempt. So you say. These assassination attempts are pathetic. The shark-like smile reappeared. Didn't work out for Nya, did it?

The warmth was building, using the venom in her words, the mocking tone, her mere presence as kindling. The emptiness inside him was a perfect vessel for the odd feeling. When he didn't immediately respond, there was another flash of panic in Harumi's eyes. Something akin to glee sparked and died within him. It felt good to feel something past faded tendrils of pain. He could use whatever this was.

Where is he?

She matched his step forward, bringing them closer. Something sly slid across her face. Who? Daddy dearest? I honestly don't know. I'm not his keeper. Her smile grew. I won't try and hold him back from his true potential like you did. Then Harumi said something, something awful, something that would have made his blood boil if he hadn't been consumed by the strange, calming warmth. The words still demanded he take action so he lunged for her.

She screamed when he tackled her to the floor. There was no Mask for her to cower behind. When she reached for the knife at her side, he grabbed it. Tore it free and in the gleam of the metal, he saw her fear. The warmth again bubbled with not quite glee. There was a banging on the door, someone yelling if Harumi was okay.

She surprised him.

I'm fine! Harumi called, her eyes never once leaving his. When the fussing outside quieted down, she quirked a smile. You've come far, but this is the end.

The end, he repeated. His hands were shaking.

You can't kill me. You love me, remember? We fit together so well. Harumi's smile was soft and kind.

He couldn't keep the knife still. You've tried that one before.

We were both abandoned, both made to pretend to fit in with a family that wasn't ours. We're the same, Lloyd.

No. We are not the same. He raised his hand over her, the knife's gleam erratic from his shaking.

Harumi's laughter startled him, making him tighten his grip on the knife. Look at you! You've been consumed by hatred. I can see it in your eyes. You hate me, you hate your father, you hate yourself. Hate that out of everyone, you're still alive.

He drove the knife down. Harumi's body lurched with the force, but her laughter never stopped. It grew in pitch and intensity until it was hysterical. He twisted the knife. The manic laughter died down to hiccuping gasps. Even as blood soaked through her jacket, Harumi managed to murmur, We're the same. She smiled, showing bloody teeth. Let hatred...control us.

The knife came free with a squelch. There was blood on his gi. He was briefly confused as to why it was crimson, not pitch. Harumi was lying dead before him. The warmth in his stomach swirled in excitement. He was halfway done.

Someone pounded on the door. He dropped the knife in favor of taking the desk chair and shoving it under the door handle. Crossing the room, careful not to get more blood on himself, he fiddled with the window's latch. It clicked and the window opened. He swung himself over the ledge. Without a backwards glance, he jumped down to a lower balcony. There was a panic above him as the SOG broke down the door and found their Quiet One.

Maybe they weren't so different. His hands were covered in blood now - blood that he had spilt voluntarily. But he was doing this for his city. For his family. There was no revenge driving his actions. Only a single-minded desire to keep people safe.

Who would keep them safe from him?