"... Ja... N..."

"Jas... On..."

"...Jason..."

"Jason!"

It was happening again- he was being teased by dreams of his memory. It wasn't fair that he had amnesia...!

The youth sitting in the grassy fields awakens from his dream, eyes wide, a stolen watch on his wrist. His hair was as black as darkness, eyes a silken brown. He sighs and puts a piece of straw from a hay bale into his mouth. What was that dream about again...? He constantly was taunted by dreams that shouted his name, feeling smothered, pain racing through the scar beneath his left (right from his perspective) ear. He never remembered what happened except for his name... Or what he believed to be his name.

Sitting up, his thick head of hair in his face, he observed himself. A very thick, long t-shirt in very attractive shade of orange, tied with a rope as to keep it out of his way. A pair of khaki shorts. He also wore a pair of belts that hung from his waist and were very fashionable, being thick leather and with silver buckles. He wanted to wear a hoodie and jeans, but he didn't have the money for clothing...

"Jason, are you tired of stealing?" Jason asks himself, pretending to do a sales pitch.

The heavy silence answers that, and he sighs, "You gotta get ahold of yourself, Jason, or you'll go to jail for being a thief. Well, what thief tries to repay their debts? Of course, me. One day, I'm not gonna be able to evade the cops, and... Bam! They'll catch me.

"It's impossible to get a job without a memory, man. I probably sound like a nutcase, don't I?"

Jason sits there in the silence. He felt like he was playing the wrong part, being a thief, but he ridiculed himself for having that thought. If he wasn't playing the part of a thief, then what part was he going to play? He was no hero, and he would rather die than become a victim of robbery! After a few minutes, he sat up and went back to the alley to turn in today's upkeep. He picks up a small sack full of silly, worthless trinkets that would sell fairly well, and heads to the gang territory.

Brent looked like he could laugh at Jason, sputtering, "Look, if it isn't the hero!"

"Um, what?" Jason asks, one thin eyebrow raised.

Trey roars, "You got in the way of my lawful duties! How dare you!"

"I, I don't understand! What are you all talking about?!" Jason gasps out loud.

All of them had on black cloaks, hair dyed red as blood, and all wearing stolen red eye contacts. They painted their skin grey. They looked like devils, and Jason knew what was going on here: they were dressed for execution. One of his gang members was going to kill Jason for breaking the street law. They even had a fake jury and judge to mock the laws of normal men and women.

Brent smiles, "We all saw you. Trey was going to rape a young girl of about three years of age. You stopped him."

"Trey," Jason gasps, "That would've killed her! We're sixteen! If that's my offense, I'm taking credit for it even though I didn't break the rules!"

Trey snorts, "Then you fully admit to your crime. Leave now, or I call the executioners in here with us."

Jason stares, and backs away slowly, never turning around until he was in the streets, running for the nearest place to hide. He would look for another gang, a different place! Suddenly, he walks into a small tea shop. Mystake's Specialty Teas, if Jason knew what he was reading. Funny, he never was paying attention long enough to read a sign... He had no idea he could read.

Mystake glances at him, and gasps, "Oh! Jason! I thought you'd never arrive!"

Jason looks at her funny, asking, "What? Who are you, and how do you know me?!"

"What game are we playing now, Jason?" Mystake growls, humor suddenly dry.

Jason snaps, "This isn't a game! I don't remember who I am!"

"You said you were a runaway, and that you weren't going home. That's all you ever told me." she sighs, obviously reminiscing.

Jason repeats, "Who are you?"

"Emily Mystake, remember? I let you stay here, and you organized my tea." Mystake- or Emily- laughs softly, though her voice is hoarse, "You were always a better organizer than me... Too bad you left a few years back. I had to replace you with Michael, my little nephew."

A young man with glasses appears from behind her, his eyes green, face freckled. He asks, "Where have you been? You told me you were gonna carve me a tea pot!"

Jason insists, "I'm sorry, but I don't know who either of you are! I don't remember who I am!"

"A shame. You would have made a fine tea shop owner." Mystake muses aloud.

A rather old man walks in, wearing a bamboo hat and a kimono. It was white, just like his humongous beard, and he merely glances at Jason before he speaks.

The man says, "You seek answers. I can't supply them. You are a thief. I can fix that."

"... I-I... What do you want, you random old cripple!" Jason shouts.

The 'old cripple', as Jason labelled him, points out, "That isn't very nice, you know."

"But you are some random old dude holding a staff... That has to be noticed." Jason points out.

The cripple informs, "My name is Sensei Wu, also known as Wu Garmadon. You are...?"

"Jason! Just plain Jason!" Jason cries out, stamping his foot, "I will go by Jase, if you would like to actually be heard!"

Sensei wonders, "Why be so defensive?"

"B-because, I am!"

"You are strange..."

"You're ugly!"

"You're a criminal!"

"You're frumpy and stupid!"

"You need a lesson in manners!"

"YOU'RE A HOBO!"

Sensei says the ultimate insult: "Jason, you're a greedy creeper in a box."

"..." Jason had no idea what to say.

Sensei smugly laughs, "So there!"

Jason sighs, "A-alright, I'll train to be a... what do you want me to be?"

"A ninja." Sensei Wu tells him.

Jason agrees, "Teach me."

"I'm telling your teammates that you have greedy-creeper-in-a-box-syndrome. GCIAB syndrome!" Sensei laughs.

Jason yells, "NOOOOOOO! DONT CALL ME A GREEDY CREEPER THAT LIVES IN A BOX!"

Sensei chuckles evilly.