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Lloyd leaned against the kitchen counter and stared blankly at the letter he’d found in the mail. Well, he called it a letter, but it resembled a ransom note, if anything.
The paper was engraved with harsh scratches and sharp angles of black ink from a dying ballpoint pen. The handwriting itself triggered a foggy, distant memory… but he couldn’t seem to put his finger on what exactly it was.
Lloyd Garmadon. 6 pm. 619 Donguri Street. Come alone.
The envelope was blank. No stamp. No addresses. Whoever left the letter in their mailbox must have done so themself. Their mailbox. At the top of a mountain .
Lloyd sucked a hiss through his teeth and read over it yet again. Not even a date, only a time.
“What…”
Going alone would be a horrible decision, let alone going at all . Knowing his luck, there would be some world-ending threat to deal with and he’d end up kidnapped and locked in a cage. The usual. Bringing his team along wasn’t an option, either. Vania had called them all away to deal with some emergency in Shintaro.
They’d kept the departure a secret from the public. Letting all the weirdos bent on destroying the world – and his personal sanity – know when they weren’t in town would be an atrocious idea overall. So, Lloyd was left alone to hold down the fort, all but forced into the role when his siblings insisted he needed a break more than any of them. Kai, against his protests, had not-so-subtly threatened to chain him up with vengestone if he didn’t stay home and “take a damn break”.
He didn’t need a break, and now he was stuck in an empty house, useless and sedentary. It was a fate far worse than mere exhaustion.
Did whoever sent this letter… know he was alone? It was morning, and he’d checked their mail every day. Whoever this was had likely left it in the box overnight.
His eyes flicked back to the address, and he pulled out his phone. 619 Donguri…
A restaurant. Not some tucked away hole-in-the-wall or obvious mob front either. It looked like a cute family restaurant with great reviews bearing photos of perfectly constructed hamburgers and smiling faces. Apparently, they were famous for their milkshakes. He double-checked the address. Unless the writer had made some strange error, this was the right place.
“ What …” He mumbled to himself again, eyes glued to his phone as he grabbed the coffee pot and poured himself a cup.
Zane had forbidden him from using the coffee machine while they were away, citing some statistics about sleep schedules and increased anxiety before spiriting away all the beans in their cupboard. A good effort, but he hadn’t accounted for the stash Lloyd kept beneath his floorboards for situations much like this one. He added a few heaping spoonfuls of sugar and scrolled through the pictures as he stirred, spoon clinking against the rim of the mug.
A restrained snort escaped his throat when a selfie of Dareth, giving a thumbs up at the camera beside a scowling Ronin appeared in the reviews section. The man had left a lengthy five-star review, though he was sure to add an addendum to the end assuring readers that his karaoke bar was way better .
Was this a prank? Some obsessed fan slipping a note into his mail, hoping he’d show up so they could get a dinner date with the Green Ninja ? No, that seemed unlikely. Their most determined fans would have trouble climbing all the way up to the monastery, and even their diehard supporters had grown somewhat jaded to the fantasy of their lives due to… recent events. Unless the obsessive fan in question was their local mailman, Lloyd doubted it.
No, this was something else.
Yet another detail he found odd was the lack of actual threat if he didn’t show up. No long diatribes about how they’ll unleash an ancient evil soon, no boasting about some powerful artifact they’d stolen. Just a time and place.
And he still couldn’t figure out why the shape of the handwriting itched at the back of his brain.
He pulled out a chocolate muffin, lovingly baked by Zane a few days earlier, and took a large bite. He sipped his coffee and gazed across the empty kitchen, the house still and silent. No movement, no training or frantic rush at the breakfast table, none of his siblings’ loud antics or the smell of Kai burning yet another batch of pancakes. Alone, with an echoing house and his own thoughts. He tapped his foot to occupy the desolate silence.
A peek wouldn’t hurt, right? He’d go in casual clothes, wear a hood, bring concealed weapons, and he’d keep his distance. He could handle himself.
Besides, what if this person decided to hurt people if he didn’t show up, to get his attention? No. This was his responsibility. He’d be a sorry excuse for a ninja if he didn’t follow up on this, right?
He drummed his fingers against his mug and checked his lock screen. Twelve hours. Plenty of time.
He dressed at four, throwing on the least remarkable ensemble he could produce while avoiding the color green. As much as he loved his signature color, it would be too obvious. One of Nya’s leather jackets over an old red hoodie from Kai’s closet would do just fine. Throw in a black beanie from Jay’s dresser to cover his near-white hair, and no one would recognize him.
Sure, the fangs and slit pupils could give him away, but most people didn’t look that close. Thankfully.
He moved on to the next, arguably most important step. Holsters loaded with throwing knives strapped beneath the legs of his baggy jeans, a wakizashi sheathed beneath the hoodie, a bag of caltrops in his hat, and a pair of tanto against his hips.
It would have to do.
On his way out of the half-finished monastery, littered with construction equipment, he couldn’t help but glance over at the plant . It drooped more than usual today, a lone weed sagging atop the hill. The tips of its fronds were turning brown, and the soil around it cracked. The thing looked pathetic.
Not his problem.
He forced his eyes away from the plant and summoned his elemental dragon, flying off toward the city.
He dropped down from his dragon and into an alleyway on the outskirts of town at five o’clock, taking the bus the rest of the way. He arrived on Donguri Street twenty minutes later and got to work.
It was mid-summer, so the sun wouldn’t set for another three hours. The heat of midday had begun to ease away from the streets, allowing relieving gusts of fresh sea breeze to ruffle the strands of hair that stuck from his hat.
He sunk onto a bench and pulled out his phone, pretending to fiddle with it as he eyed the restaurant from the opposite end of the street.
It looked exactly like the photos online, but in motion, the place held a special charm. Families entered and exited the glass double doors, kids with wide gap-toothed smiles bouncing on their feet in anticipation. Loud groups of teenagers left the building with giant milkshakes in hand, laughing amongst themselves.
No one suspicious… yet.
The smell of fries wafted from the restaurant’s constantly swinging doors. His stomach growled. Nope, not the time for that.
He checked the clock. Five forty-three.
He looked back up at the restaurant, and his heart stopped.
There, coming to stand in front of the building was the towering form of his father , two-armed and missing his usual ostentatious helmet. Instead, he donned a neatly ironed haori and wore his stark white hair in a wild ponytail. His piercing red eyes surveyed the street with such startling intensity that civilians gasped and ducked away from him as if the gaze would kill them instantly. His mouth was moving like he was speaking to himself.
A drop of sweat trickled down the back of Lloyd’s neck as he struggled to keep his face straight and his posture unassuming.
He thought back to the letter, mentally scanning through it once again. He released a low, pained groan.
The handwriting. It was near-unrecognizable. Scratchy and brash. He only knew one person who wrote their “G”s like that. The other oddities began to stick out in his mind, one by one. The way the writer never seemed to lift the pen from the page, little lines flowing between each letter, how the “U”s looked more akin to upside-down sevens.
“Shit,” He hissed under his breath.
His father’s head snapped towards him, staring past all the busy street traffic and terrified passersby to look. Right. At. Him.
He froze, unable to tear his eyes away.
His father murmured to himself again, and a much smaller man popped out from behind him. He spotted Lloyd and gave a bright smile, waving. It looked like he was holding Garmadon’s hand for… some reason.
Was that… the camera guy his father was staying with? Vinny something?
First Master, he was gesturing for Lloyd to come over there.
His father still hadn’t moved, save to shift on his feet and bring his hands behind his back. His gaze remained as intense as the moment they’d locked eyes. Lloyd was certain neither of them had blinked.
He stood up and crossed the street, if only to make the staring stop .
“Father.”
“... Son,” Garmadon replied, face unreadable.
“What are you doing here ?” Lloyd hissed, watching a businessman stumble over himself and drop his coffee to avoid the Dark Lord.
“I sent a letter.”
“A letter ?!” Lloyd said, casting a self-conscious glance around the sidewalk and lowering his voice, “It looked more like a threat.”
“Were the instructions not clear?” Garmadon frowned.
“Hey, uh, what did you write exactly?” Vinny asked, brow furrowing as his eyes darted between them.
Lloyd sighed and pinched between his eyes, in a poor attempt to keep a headache from forming, “‘Lloyd Garmadon. Six pm. Six-nineteen Donguri Street. Come alone.’ No return address or postage.”
Vinny chuckled nervously, “Probably thought this was some kind of hostage situation, huh?”
Lloyd grimaced.
Vinny forced a smile and placed a gentle hand on Garmadon’s arm, “Donny, you’ve got to work on your communication skills.”
While Garmadon shrugged and grunted, averting his eyes, Lloyd’s brain stuttered and reeled.
Donny?
Lloyd shook off the shock and narrowed his eyes, inspecting the two, “So, what’s this about, then?”
Vinny nudged Garmadon with his elbow and shot him a smile, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head towards Lloyd. Garmadon parted his lips before closing them again, lips pursing.
“A family dinner,” His father said.
“What?” Lloyd felt his face contort, his mind failing to formulate a single coherent thought.
His father scowled, “A family dinner,” he repeated.
“With your roommate.”
“Yes,” This father nodded and stood up straighter.
“Will they even let you in?” Lloyd mumbled.
“I made a reservation!” Vinny chimed, “I told them ahead of time. They offered us a private room, free of charge!”
“Gee, I wonder why ,” Lloyd dragged a hand down his face. He inspected the two from between his fingers, his headache beginning to pound behind his left eye. He should turn around and go back to the monastery. This was ridiculous.
Images of the empty hallways and overwhelming quiet came to mind unbidden. He sighed.
“Fine. Let’s get this over with,” He said, stomping over to the restaurant’s door and pulling it open. He gestured into the building.
His father’s eyes widened for a split second, before settling back on his usual indifference as he stepped past Lloyd into the waiting area. Vinny followed close behind, slowing to lean in beside him.
“Thanks for going along with this. It means a lot to him," he whispered.
Lloyd looked at his father, standing at attention in the lobby over a petrified young hostess as she frantically flipped through the reservation list. A family of four sat in the waiting chairs nearby, all but huddled into the corner furthest from Garmadon. Their baby broke into screeching sobs.
“ Right ,” Lloyd mumbled, stepping into the lobby behind Vinny.
“F-Folson? Party of three?” The hostess stuttered, eyes lingering on Lloyd for a moment, “Right this way.”
With tiny, uncertain steps, she led them all to the very back of the restaurant, and into a party room. The space was clearly meant for more than three people. Sunny yellow walls and large, floor-to-ceiling windows. The curtains had been drawn before their arrival, cutting off the natural lighting that streamed in from the street outside. A karaoke machine had been shoved into the far corner, along with an assortment of multicolored disco ball lamps, and a stack of folded tables leaned against the wall. A small, circular table with three chairs sat at the very center, comically dwarfed by the sheer amount of empty floor space in the room.
They settled down into their seats, Lloyd adjusting his chair to sit opposite his father. Menus were placed before them with shaking hands, the imprints of sweaty fingerprints left along their laminated corners.
“C-can I get you started with any drinks?” The hostess asked, pouring them all cups of water and spilling a few drops in the process.
“Water’s fine, thanks,” Lloyd responded automatically.
“Oh,” Vinny’s eyes lit up, “How about a root beer float.”
“Wonderful choice sir,” Her quivering smile turned into a near grimace as she turned toward Garmadon, “a-and f-for you?”
He hummed and glared at the menu.
“Milkshake.”
“What flavor?” Vinny asked, seemingly to spare the employee the gray hairs.
“Chocolate.”
She nodded vigorously and jotted it down, before bolting from the room and slamming the door behind her. Lloyd sunk into his chair with a sigh and dug around in his pocket. He pulled out a pair of ibuprofen tablets and swallowed them with the water. This was gonna be a long night.
He forced himself to look up at the surreal pair across from him. An utterly forgettable civilian, curly-haired and in need of a shave, even shorter than Lloyd himself. The man’s eyes met Lloyd’s and gave an apologetic smile, as if the sanguine-eyed Emperor of Darkness and Lord of Destruction wasn’t towering directly beside him.
“So, Lloyd, your father tells me you like comics. Read anything good lately?” Vinny asked.
Lloyd scrunched his nose and looked up at his father, “You remember that?”
Garmadon averted his gaze toward his menu. Lloyd shook his head.
“No, I haven’t. It’s kinda hard to get invested in Starfarer’s plotlines when you’ve been through too many weird things yourself.”
Plus, all the ‘fantasy’ scenarios tend to remind me of events I’d rather forget.
“So do you have any more recent hobbies?” Vinny tried.
“Not really. Zane tried to get me into baking with him, but I sucked at it,” Lloyd rubbed the back of his head, sighed, and took off the beanie, not bothering to disguise the suspicious metallic clinking the caltrops made as he set it down. “Just because I like sugar doesn’t mean I’d be any good at that stuff, but I could tell he was trying, so…” Lloyd shrugged.
His father dropped his menu, “Vinny of-” He frowned, “ Vinny and I enjoy video games.”
Then, the man cracked an unnatural smile that crept wide across his face, razor-sharp teeth glinting. He stared directly at his son with unblinking eyes and Lloyd resisted the urge to shudder. Vinny patted the warlord’s arm.
“Oh, yeah! I think the Dark Spirit games were a little too much for him, though. Must’ve evaporated like five controllers trying to get past the first boss.”
“Why would those infernal designers make that putrid demon so difficult to kill ?” Garmadon spat, his creepy smile crumpling into a sneer, “It’s the first boss. Do they not wish for anyone to see the rest of the game?! What are they hiding ?”
Vinny snorted, unphased by the outburst, “We play a lot of Creature Crossing now.”
His father’s anger vanished, and he nodded, “Yes. We put our houses next to each other. I have produced many blue roses.”
“Oh,” Lloyd cracked out, becoming more certain by the minute that he’d overdosed on Zane’s chocolate muffins in a boredom-induced sugar bender and this was all a hallucination, “That’s… nice.”
“Yes,” Garmadon said, “My therapist tells me it is calming.”
Lloyd spat his water back into his glass, choking and coughing, “Your what ?!”
His father frowned, but did not break eye contact, “My therapist.”
Okay, this had to be a hallucination. There was no way this was happening.
“How did you… what doctor would… who?” Lloyd sputtered.
Vinny smiled at him and shrugged, “When you’re a wartime reporter, you tend to make a few connections. I helped him find a good match.”
A good match? A good match ?! Lloyd rubbed his face and stilled his hand over his mouth, gawking at the two. They weren’t talking about some garden-variety Ninjago citizen who’d lost their family to the Overlord. This was Emperor Garmadon . A good match shouldn’t be possible, let alone a match at all.
It’s not like there was much left in there to give therapy to .
“Perhaps your therapist could help you find a hobby as well,” This father said.
Lloyd resisted the urge to roll his eyes, choosing instead to divert his attention to the menu. “Don’t have one.”
“Huh?” Vinny squeaked.
Lloyd spared a glance at the man. Vinny looked dumbfounded, his mouth flailing open and closed with the start of several aborted sentences. Finally, he drew an audible breath and laughed nervously.
“Oh. Oh, you must mean you’re between therapists, huh? I could help you find a new one if you want. Must be hard to find anyone qualified enough to treat the Green Ninja.”
Lloyd raised a brow, “No. I mean, I’ve never had one.”
The color drained from Vinny’s face. Even his father was giving him a puzzled look. Vinny opened his mouth.
“Wh-”
The door to the party room burst open. From the doorway, several pairs of wide-eyed employees watched their coworker – a young waiter with a patchy beard and acne – stumble towards the table, milkshake and root beer float wobbling precariously on his serving tray. It was clear they’d pushed the boy in as some sort of sacrificial offering. The hostess leaned in and slammed the door shut.
The gangly waiter righted himself, knees knocking together as he took in his surroundings with the urgency of a cornered prey animal, “Uh.”
“Finally!” Garmadon shouted, pointing at the milkshake, “Hand it over.”
Vinny elbowed the Emperor of Destruction.
“Please,” His father added.
The boy nodded frantically and set down their drinks, shivering as he pulled a notepad from his apron, “What can I g-get for you?” His voice cracked.
Lloyd swore internally and scanned the menu. He’d forgotten to read it. If he was stuck in this hallucination, he might as well eat a nice burger, right?
“I’ll get the classic, thank you,” Vinny said, shooting the server a reassuring smile.
“A double, but burn one of the patties and leave the other one raw,” Garmadon said, “and don’t skimp on the pickles.”
Ugh, Lloyd wrinkled his nose. Oni cravings. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t have similar tastes from time to time, not that he ever actually indulged in them. The thought alone made him ill. He grimaced. The waiter was staring down at him, wide-eyed, silently pleading for the Green Ninja to save him .
“Just… a normal burger. Cooked the normal amount.”
The waiter nodded emphatically and sprinted from the room. His father slurped on his milkshake, oblivious to the waitstaff’s fear, or the glare Lloyd was aiming at him.
Vinny shifted in his seat and stood up, shooting Lloyd a troubled smile, “I need to use the bathroom. Hold tight, I’ll be right back.”
Lloyd watched the man leave, heart sinking. No, absolutely not. There was no way he was going to sit around in a quiet room with his evil, undead father. No fucking way. He tightened his jaw, painkillers doing little to fend off the stabbing in his skull.
His father stilled his slurping, “So, um… do you–”
Lloyd stood, chair squeaking against the tile floor, “I’ve gotta use the bathroom too.”
He speed-walked towards the door before skidding to a stop, spinning on his heel and landing his father with a glare, “No funny business. Don’t move from that spot.”
His father opened his mouth to reply, but he rushed from the room before he could hear whatever the man had to say. He doubted it was important.
A gaggle of waitstaff had gathered outside the door to their room, casting nervous glances at each other and eyeing the entrance. Despite it being dinnertime, few customers remained. The majority of the restaurant’s booths, once brimming with life and energy, were dead silent. Lloyd sucked in a breath and shot the staff what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
“Sorry about all this. I promise. He’s under control. You’re safe.”
A few of them looked down at their feet, and one winced. None of them looked convinced in the slightest.
Lloyd turned away before they could see him frown, and dashed off toward the bathrooms. This farce had gone on long enough. He found the men’s room and threw open the door, catching Vinny washing his hands. The man’s eyes snapped to the mirror, and his eyebrows shot up when he noticed Lloyd.
“Oh! Hey there,” Vinny said. Then, his eyes softened, “How’re you holdin’ up?”
“What’s this really about?” Lloyd snapped.
“What?”
“I mean,” Lloyd sucked in a breath through his nose, slow and steady, before letting it out, “Why now? Why any of this? Was it your idea?”
Vinny pulled a paper towel from the dispenser and dried his hands, a tight, lilted chuckle escaping him.
“Well, it was more of a team effort. Donny missed you, but he was struggling to think of a way to spend some time together, so I suggested dinner,” Vinny scratched at the scruff on his cheek. “I think he wanted us to meet and get to know each other, too.”
Lloyd scoffed before he could think better of it, “Are you sure about that? I don’t think he cares much about anyone these days. Well, no one besides that stupid plant.”
Vinny shook his head vigorously, “That’s not true at all! He’s really been trying. He still cares about you a lot. He just… doesn’t know how to express it.”
“And what would you know about it?” Lloyd bared his teeth, “he’s using you. You’re some roommate . You barely know him.”
Rather than retorting, or defending himself, Vinny looked down at his shoes and blushed .
“Well, we wanted to talk to you about that, actually. You see, we ah…” Vinny cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck, “Your dad and I…”
Where was this going ? The man was clearly stalling for time, unsure of himself as his face grew bright red.
“We’re not ah… we’re not just roommates.”
Lloyd’s eyebrows scrunched, his mind drawing a complete blank. What was that supposed to mean? He stared Vinny up and down, as if any detail of the man’s appearance would give him the last clue he needed. Vinny peeked away from the floor and blinked at Lloyd’s dumbfounded expression.
“Well, maybe you should hear it from him too,” Vinny said, “he was so excited when we made it official, he’d run up to random people on the street and tell them ‘ that incredible man over there is my boyfriend ’. It was sweet—“
Lloyd’s brain stalled around the word ‘ boyfriend ’ and refused to move beyond that single, terrible phrase. Vinny’s mouth was still moving, smiling as he rambled, but he couldn’t process the words.
He must have heard wrong. Even a chocolate and boredom-fueled hallucination wouldn’t be this outlandish. Through the mental haze he’d work himself into, Vinny’s voice slowly filtered back into focus.
“—And, it was so funny, you know what he said to me when I told him I was trans? He looked at me and said,'' Vinny cleared his throat and mimicked Garmadon’s deep voice, “ How wise you are, Vinny of NGTV News, so certain of your true form. Most days I cannot decide how many arms I wish to have ,” Vinny chuckled as he reminisced and shook his head, smiling.
“H-How?!” Lloyd managed to choke out, “Why?!”
He found himself reassessing the man in front of him. Sure, he seemed normal, but had he ever looked into the guy? He could be another enemy plotting to use the resurrected remains of his father for some world-ending scheme. Was Vinny…. capable? Of that? In the past, before her , that would have seemed impossible.
Nothing was impossible, though. No one should be underestimated.
“Why?” Vinny’s brows popped up, “Well, lots of reasons! He makes me laugh, makes me smile, and he has this way of speaking his mind that I appreciate, ya know? Being around him, well gosh, it makes my whole life feel more vibrant, and he’s only improving by the day. You can be honest with him. You tell him what’s wrong, and he always tries to fix it.”
Lloyd hadn’t anticipated the bubbling pit of anger that built up in his stomach as Vinny spoke. He was lying . He had to be. There was no way his father wasn’t being used in some way. Hadn’t he gone through enough?
He realized with a shock that he felt… protective of his father.
“You’re lying.”
“H-huh?” Vinny stammered, stepping back until he bumped up against the line of sinks.
“What do you want from him, huh? Some super-powered Oni puppet you can use to rule over Ninjago? I’m onto you. What’s your angle? Spill,” Lloyd took a step towards Vinny, hoping the threat was clear.
“What? Nothing! I don’t have an angle! No angles here! I’m a sphere! Real round, no sharp edges or nothin’!” Vinny sputtered, leaning backward over the sinks.
“Really? Because the way I see it, either you’re manipulating him, or you’re the most gullible man alive. The only thing my father loves is that plant .”
“Come on kiddo, that ain’t true! He’s had a rough time. He’s readjusting! Isn’t he helping you guys rebuild the monastery? He’s trying. He really is! Your dad’s a wonderful, caring guy.”
Lloyd scoffed. Out of all the words in existence, “caring” would be the last word he used to describe his father’s current incarnation. It hurt to look at the Oni that had replaced him, so different in every conceivable way. He’d avoid him while they worked on the monastery and watch from afar as he spoke with uncle Wu. Sometimes, a wooden beam would fall, or he’d stomp around the construction site looking for some tool he couldn’t find, or he’d be inconvenienced in some other, minor way, and the Oni would fly into a fit of frustration and disintegrate a slab of drywall. All the while his uncle would work to calm him, to care for him. He never once made an effort to approach Lloyd, to talk to him.
Lloyd’s real father, imbued with venom or not, would never avoid him like that. He’d never make his son feel so afraid and alienated, he’d never be so poor with his words. He’d never play dead and toy with his child’s emotions to force some monstrous transformation.
Wasn’t it obvious? His father was never coming back.
“You didn’t know him before,” Lloyd finally said, the fire behind his rage flickering into embers. “He’s not the same.”
“Well, everyone changes sometimes. I’m sure you have too, with all you and the ninja have been through. I sure know I have,” Vinny sighed, his mouth forcing itself into a strained smile. “He wants to improve. He does. He just needs some support and patience. Don’t we all, at times?”
Lloyd snapped his mouth shut and scanned Vinny’s face. The man’s shy, nerve-ridden smile didn’t waver. Maybe it was how overwhelmingly bland and normal he was, maybe it was the way he spoke so earnestly. But against his better judgment, and the pessimistic voices that hissed in the back of his brain, Lloyd found himself trusting the guy.
“He really wanted to be here? This wasn’t just your idea?” Lloyd asked.
“Of course! Come on, you can ask him yourself,” Vinny pushed away from the spot against the countertop that he’d pressed himself into, and walked to Lloyd, gesturing to the door with a jab of his thumb.
Lloyd took a deep breath and pushed through the door, stepping from the cold fluorescent light of the bathroom and back into the warm incandescence of the restaurant proper. Across the building, in front of the party room, the entire staff had gathered, whispering amongst themselves and throwing furtive glances toward the closed door. The lanky teen from earlier was holding up their orders on a large tray, his arm quivering with the strain of it. How long had they all been waiting there?
“Sorry, everyone,” Lloyd smiled at them, “We’ll take it from here, don’t worry about it.”
Lloyd reached up and took the tray from the waiter. The poor guy’s eyes flashed with relief.
“You… you are the Green Ninja, right?” The hostess from earlier whispered.
Lloyd nodded, “I am. Which means it’s my job to protect all of you. There’s nothing to worry about.”
The hostess frowned, nodded, and scurried away.
Lloyd pushed through the door with Vinny close behind. He’d half-anticipated the room to be a wreck when he opened it. He’d pictured the walls missing, revealing a panic on the streets as Garmadon stormed after civilians, cars overturned and the entire landscape set ablaze. But instead, his father sat, right where they’d left him, looking bored and flicking the tip of his straw around his empty milkshake glass, the room still very much intact.
Garmadon’s head snapped to attention, “Ah, there you are. You took quite a while,” he hummed, low and graveled. “Was there any trouble?”
“Nope! We’re all good here. Lloyd had some questions for me,” Vinny sidled down next to Garmadon. “He was a little confused. You should be more specific the next time you send a letter, Don.”
Garmadon eyed Vinny and nodded slowly. “Yes... I suppose I neglected to mention the specifics of this meeting,” He looked at Lloyd, who had to suppress a flinch at the man’s blood-red eyes, fixed with a look of appraisal, “I apologize.”
Lloyd didn’t know what to say to that, so instead, he clamped his lips and worked on setting the plates down.
“Where is the waiter?” Garmadon asked, squinting down at his burger. The raw meat had leaked juice down into the dish, turning the bottom bun into a repulsive soggy mess.
Before Lloyd could begin to struggle for an excuse, Vinny piped in.
“The staff are scared of you, hon.”
“Hm. I… see. I suppose that is… a reasonable reaction.”
Garmadon frowned deeply and picked up his soggy burger, chunks of burnt meat crunching between his razor-sharp teeth.
Lloyd hesitated over his seat, wavering for a moment in surprise before sitting down. It couldn’t be that easy. Surely he couldn’t just… speak his mind to his father?
It couldn’t get any worse. What would it hurt to try?
“So you two are…” Lloyd trailed off. It was too strange.
“We are in a romantic relationship, yes. Vinny is very dear to me. I love him.” Garmadon said, and he smiled. It wasn’t one of those calculated, impossibly wide sharklike grins, either. It was a gentle smile, the kind that he’d seen his father make many times before, but not with this face.
Lloyd’s thoughts caught in his throat. He couldn’t seem to look away.
“Do you even know what dating is?” Lloyd blurted out.
His father’s grin cracked wider, and he laughed, deep and maniacal. Lloyd flinched back in his seat. It seemed that no matter the form, his father’s distinctive cackling always remained the same.
“I’ve been married, son. I may be different than the man you remember... but I still recall such basic concepts,” the Oni snorted. “It is the recall of... specific memories that still eludes me.”
“Does mom know?” Lloyd found himself asking.
Garmadon’s smile fell, and he hummed, “She does.”
“She does?!” Lloyd’s eyes widened.
“Yeah,” Vinny said, setting down his burger. “She said she was happy for us.”
“When did this happen?!”
“About a week into our relationship. A few months ago. I had the day off, so we called her office and invited her to the apartment for lunch.”
“She… she didn’t mention that,” Lloyd said.
Garmadon grunted, “Clearly.” He took another bite of his horrible, wet, burnt, pickle-infested burger.
Lloyd looked down at his own food, untouched and tepid. The fries on the side had probably gone cold too. He sighed. His mother was always so busy. Had she hidden this from him, or had she been unable to find the time?
When it came to her, the two often felt interchangeable.
Was he seriously the last to know about this? His father must have been avoiding bringing it up with him specifically, if Vinny’s earlier description of Garmadon’s excitement over their relationship was accurate. Lloyd shivered. His headache returned with a vengeance. Relationship .
First Master, he needed a milkshake. This was too surreal.
“You seem... troubled,” His father’s deep voice derailed his train of thought.
“I’m fine. This… isn’t how I was expecting this night to go. It feels more like some sort of weird dream, or a trap, or… something…” Lloyd trailed off, absently circling a finger on the tabletop.
“Well, gee. Is there anything you need? Any questions you have?” Vinny asked.
Lloyd hummed a negative and prodded at his untouched burger. “Honestly? A chocolate milkshake.”
“Alright then, I’ll—“ Vinny didn’t finish his sentence. Garmadon stood, chair groaning against the floor. He placed a clawed hand on Vinny’s shoulder.
“I will do it.”
Lloyd’s spine jolted out of its hunch, his head whipping to Garmadon, already halfway to the door. No. Fuck no . The hammering pain in his head spiked. Useless ibuprofen.
“You’re going to scare them,” Lloyd said, dashing to block the door. “Let me do it. It’s fine.”
His father let out a low growl from the pit of his chest. “If they never see me, their fear will only persist…” He shook his head, releasing a short, deep hum. “Let me do this for you… Please.”
Garmadon stared down at him, otherworldly red eyes piercing. Neither of them said a word, the silence of the oversized room overwhelming. He wouldn’t be dissuaded, Lloyd knew. His father had always been stubborn to a fault.
Why insist on this of all things?
Lloyd looked back into his father’s eyes, unflinching, and tried not to think about how lucid they seemed, compared to the monster that had tried to kill him, so many years ago. Slowly, he righted himself from the defensive stance he’d fallen into and stepped aside.
“Okay,” He sighed, rubbing a hand across his pounding temple, “okay.”
Garmadon hesitated, searching around his face with some distant, unreadable expression, before opening the door. The resulting gasps and shrieks made Lloyd wince in pain. He pressed the heel of his palm into his eye.
“Restaurant workers. My son requires a chocolate milkshake… bring one here at your earliest convenience. That is all,” Garmadon swung the door shut without waiting for an answer. He observed Lloyd once more, frowned, and reached for the dimmer switch on the wall.
The lights in the room grew blissfully dark. The tension in his skull eased ever so slightly.
“I see you inherited my weaknesses as well as my powers,” Garmadon said, his voice lower and softer than Lloyd had thought possible. “Do you need ice?”
“No, no I’m fine,” Lloyd whispered, returning to his seat, still massaging his eye.
“Ough, migraines are nasty business,” Vinny whispered, “If you need to go home–”
“No, it’s fine. I get them a lot,” Lloyd shook his head and forced a smile, “Besides, I’m looking forward to that milkshake now.”
His father sat back down next to Vinny and threw an arm around the man. He nodded at his son and settled into a tense, yet sedate silence. Vinny finished off the rest of his burger, occasionally whispering to Garmadon, too quiet to make out. His father would respond in kind, leaning down to the shorter man’s height. It was so… normal.
Lloyd ate through his cold fries slowly, figuring the calories were better than nothing. He hadn’t eaten with the pills earlier. Now that he could think more clearly over the stabbing pain in his head, he realized that may be making the problem worse.
He remembered, back all those years ago, during the brief period of his father’s life, untainted by the venom, when his dad would take care of him like this. A migraine would strike him, and his father could tell the moment it hit. Without a single exchange of words, he’d take Lloyd to his room, draw all the curtains, and give him a large glass of water and some ice for his head. As he left, he’d close the door with the practiced silence of a master, and tie a little note to the doorknob so he wouldn’t be disturbed.
Fuck. When had his eyes started watering?
He rubbed a hand over his eyes and took a deep, deliberate breath. It was easier, before tonight. He could keep to himself. Nothing needed to change. He had been safe in the knowledge that his father wasn’t really alive anymore, not in the ways that mattered. He’d been content to mourn, to keep his distance and turn a blind eye to the wicked Oni across the table and pretend he didn’t exist.
Maybe he’d been scared. He didn’t want to know whether his father had still been in there somewhere. Giving up that hope was simpler than the gut-wrenching alternative. Whenever he got too close to the man, when their paths crossed for a moment too long, when their eyes met across the courtyard, there was always that painful flicker of hope. It burned. He was sick of it. He knew from experience that such notions were foolish. All that he loved would be torn away from him in little time.
But now… all those heartbreaking thoughts came rushing back to him with the horrible vengeance of an emotional debt he’d long ignored. It made his frown quiver and his sinuses wet. He scrubbed away tears with his palms before they could spill.
He’d need a tissue soon.
Instead, he moved his plate aside and lay his head down on the table, cushioned with his arms. His face hidden, and his eyes relishing in the shadows, he allowed a few tears to fall.
Someone knocked on the door, and he heard Vinny stand to answer it. It was probably his milkshake, then. He breathed in slowly, focusing on the way the air filled his chest. He held it… and released it. Breathe, hold, release.
Don’t think too deeply. You’ll only get more emotional. You need to distance yourself.
The door closed, and a glass clinked on the table in front of him. He took another breath.
“Hey, your shake’s here,” Vinny said quietly.
Lloyd braced himself, pushed the inconvenient emotions to the back of his mind, and sat up. First Master, the milkshake looked heavenly. Rich, thick chocolate, dark chunks swirled throughout, and a twirling peak of whipped cream to top it. The cream was dusted with spiraling flakes of shaved cacao. A pair of wafer cookies, cut in the shape of stars and half-coated in a chocolate shell stuck out from the top beside a thick, lime-green straw.
This. This was what he needed .
He latched onto the glass and started drinking it with the urgency of a dehydrated man lost in the desert. It was delicious. They used good ingredients here, that much he could tell. This wasn’t some cheap chocolate syrup or bargain-bin ice cream. This was the good shit . He chomped down on an icy chocolate chip and sighed with relief as the temperature dulled the sharpest peaks of his migraine.
“Thanks,” He finally found the cognizance to say between slurps.
“Feelin’ any better, there?” Vinny asked.
“A lot, actually. Yeah.”
His father hummed and leaned forward, glowing red eyes flitting around his face, his pupils retracting into slits. “Hm… Have I upset you?”
“No! No, I’m fine, dad. It’s nothing,” Lloyd said.
“You need to tell me directly if I do something wrong,” His father said, easing back into his chair. His pupils relaxed, broadening. “I… apparently I find it difficult to pick up on… subtleties.”
“It’s fine!” Lloyd said, his voice lashing out much louder than he’d intended, “It’s fine. What I’m upset about isn’t really your fault.”
Garmadon hummed and scowled at the table, looking thoroughly unconvinced. In that moment, hunched over a chocolate shake, fighting his migraine through the low light of a quiet room, Lloyd’s heart dropped to his stomach as the final puzzle piece finally clicked into place. Vinny hadn’t been lying. He was actually here, sitting across the table from his dad and his boyfriend , and they’d been comforting him . His father looked at him with a glint of concern behind his eye, his mouth worrying into a crooked frown, bushy brows drawn together. It was an expression he never dared to hope he’d see again.
He was still in there. The shape of his soul had been warped and beaten down by the hands of destiny, and still, he was here. He was trying. He was fighting .
If there was one thing his father had always been good at, it was fighting.
In lieu of crying, Lloyd forced a hysterical fit of laughter to bubble its way from his throat. His head throbbed in protest. What had he been doing ?
“Uhh…” Vinny looked around the room, eyebrows scrunched up. “What’s so funny?”
The laughter ebbed away as he clutched at his knees beneath the table. He brought a hand to his hairline and pushed the bangs from his eyes, shaking his head.
“Nothing… nothing,” He pulled his straw to his mouth and took another gulp of the best milkshake he’d ever tasted. “I just remembered something funny.”
They stood outside the restaurant, idling on the sidewalk as civilians scurried around them with a wide berth. The sun had nearly set, and the last rays of deep orange light clung to the peaks of stonework apartments. Streetlights buzzing and buildings lit up in an array of warm-tinted windows, a mosaic of life.
“You’re sure you didn’t need help with the bill?” Lloyd asked, takeout bag crinkling in his hand.
“Nah, we’re doing fine. Thankfully I didn’t get charged for all the damage done to the company van during the whole, uh, crystal apocalypse like I thought I would,” Vinny laughed nervously, “Apparently the company charging me for all that stuff in the past wasn’t even legal, so…”
“Vinny fought for himself in the court of law and vanquished his enemies.”
“I was reimbursed… for a lot of money,” Vinny clarified. “Don’t think I could’ve done it without Don tellin’ me to stick up for myself.”
Garmadon placed a hand on Vinny’s shoulders and kissed the top of his head. Vinny’s face grew red. Lloyd felt his eyes bulge but otherwise squared away the worst of his gut reaction.
“You devastated their forces,” Garmadon said, “It was impressive. Vinny is not only wise, but has the heart of a warrior.”
“T-Thanks hon.”
Lloyd’s gaze darted between the two. Surely, he’d wake up from this weird dream soon, back aching on the kitchen floor, surrounded by piles of empty muffin liners scattered around the tile. His dad would still be a mostly-empty shell, and none of this would have ever happened.
“What if we did this again?” He found himself asking.
His father’s head snapped to attention, eyes round with unrestrained shock. His mouth opened, lips wavering uncertainly. Vinny’s face brightened into a blinding, wide smile.
“That sounds great! Here, I’ll give you the home phone,” Vinny said, pulling out a little, beaten-up notebook from his pocket and scribbling down the number. He ripped out the page and handed it to Lloyd.
Lloyd took it and folded it neatly, tucking it into his back pocket. It was clear what the guy was doing, giving him their number without asking for his own. He wanted Lloyd to feel safe enough to come to them first. It was subtle, but he appreciated the thought.
“You…” His father hummed, the shock on his face relaxing. “Do you mean that? You’d want to do this… again?”
Lloyd couldn’t bring himself to speak, so he nodded, and tried his best to smile.
“Maybe… you could choose the location, next time,” His father took a step forward but drew his hands behind his back. He shifted on his feet.
“Sure. I’ll uh, I’ll show you this dumpling shop I like. It’s on the other side of town but… uh… yeah,” Lloyd finished lamely, scratching his neck and fixing his eyes on a flash of yellow and green. A dandelion poked out from the pavement along the seam of the restaurant’s wall. How did those weeds always seem to grow, in the worst places? “I’ll see you guys later.”
“Have a good night, kid. Get home safe, okay?” Vinny said.
“Yeah… yeah, I will. Goodnight Vinny, it was nice to meet you,” Lloyd looked up at his father, standing stiffly before him, face a mask of careful neutrality. Before he could talk himself out of it, Lloyd pulled him into a quick hug and turned away before the man could react.
“Goodnight dad.”
“Goodnight son,” The man said, almost too quiet for Lloyd to hear.
Lloyd arrived back at the temple in a dreamlike haze, landing on the large hill that overlooked his home. The moon was full that night, illuminating the incomplete skeleton of the monastery in a warm-blue glow. No lights were lit. Shovels and bags of cement sat in the dark, crickets chirping noisily. Piles of wood and bricks lay against verdant patches of grass, overgrown and swaying in a warm, midsummer breeze. Only the scent of fresh mountain air carried on the wind.
The plant sat beside him, frail and limp with dehydration, dried tips rattling against each other in the night air. He took a deep, refreshing breath, made his way down to the courtyard, grabbed a watering can, and carried it back up the hill.
Christofern looked like it needed the love.