Chapter Text
It was odd. Morro could’ve sworn he’d been asleep. That would be ridiculous, though. He was dead. Dead people didn’t sleep.
Yet, when his eyes snapped open, he was met with a clean white laboratory ceiling instead of the familiar dark mist of the Departed Realm. And unlike the cool breeze that constantly shifted the fog around the Departed Realm, and even unlike the icy cold of the Cursed Realm, this room was hot . Unbearably hot.
“It worked!” a shrill voice shouted next to him, followed by maniacal laughter. Too loud. Morro’s head was pounding.
The thought was followed by a wave of confusion. His head was pounding? Dead people didn’t get headaches.
The owner of the voice entered his field of vision as he leaned over where Morro was laying.
He had a long, thin face with dramatically pronounced cheekbones. White-streaked brown hair stuck up from where it’d clearly been greased down. He wore safety goggles around a pair of bloodshot eyes and a lab coat that hung off his skeletal frame. He grinned widely.
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” he said, giggling hysterically.
Living.
Morro shot up. His head swam. He stared down at his body. His body . Not see-through or spectral. Not even the green that tinted his arms when he fully possessed someone.
Olive-toned, normal skin. It almost looked foreign. His own skin. And it was too hot. Burning just underneath, and through his veins. His blood. It was so hot . The raggedy gi he’d been wearing when he died clung to his skin. He could feel every inch of it, every tear, every spot of dried blood that bunched up the fabric. His hair hung in his face. It tickled his nose. He could feel it.
A hand landed on his shoulder. Morro lashed out without thinking. His fist connected with the man’s face, sending him sprawling back onto the laboratory floor. And it hurt . He stared at his knuckles. Sure, things still hurt as a ghost and in the Departed Realm, but not like this. Not a sharp, stinging, hot flash.
His gaze snapped up to the man as he stood. Despite the blood trickling out of his nose, he laughed. “Apologies, Master of Wind. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“What-” His voice sounded normal; it didn’t have the weird distortion that came from not truly having vocal chords, or not using the vocal chords he had when possessing someone.
It sounded normal and ordinary and soft . He coughed. FSM, his throat felt weird. Everything felt weird. Even the saliva in his mouth nearly made him faint. Water was touching him.
“Where am I?” he said, trying very hard not to sound like he was panicking. “Who are you?”
The man spread his arms wide. “I am Dr. Franksen! This is my laboratory. And you, my dear Morro, have just been resurrected from the Departed Realm! All thanks to yours truly, the greatest mind to ever live!”
Resurrected-
A thump jarred him out of his spiraling thoughts from the other side of the lab. He whipped his head around to look.
As if the day couldn’t get any worse, the green ninja - Lloyd Garmadon… he was inside a large glass cube, on his hands and knees, shaking.
“What- why is he here? How-“
Franksen hummed, then spoke into his watch, “First subject, Morro, Master of Wind. Resurrection was successful, though it seems as though the process leads to intense confusion.”
Morro couldn’t tear his eyes away from Lloyd’s crumpled form. Lloyd looked up at him. Morro couldn’t hear the scientist’s babble anymore.
He looked awful. His hair stuck to his sweat-sheened face. Heavy bags hung from his eyes, and his gi was rumpled and torn. His eyes were flickering with what Morro swore was neon green light. He had to have been imagining it, though, because it faded after a split second.
“Morro,” Lloyd said, his voice filled with an emotion Morro couldn’t place. Terror? Anger? Confusion? Relief?
Franksen put his hand on Morro’s shoulder again. “I will explain everything. Our guest needs time to recharge before we move to the next phase of the plan.”
“Recharge? Plan?” Morro echoed.
Franksen nodded enthusiastically. “Come, come. We will right the wrongs destiny handed us. We will destroy all who wronged you.”
A familiar anger cut through the confusion. Now Franksen was speaking his language. He took a long, deep breath. He was living . He had another chance. Another chance to do everything right this time.
He swung his legs off the table and stood before Franksen could try to help him down. They wobbled. He caught himself on the edge.
Another chance.
Franksen wrapped an arm around his shoulder and steered him towards the door on the other end of the room.
“This is the start of something great!” Franksen said, laughing again.
Another chance.
“You don’t have to do this, Morro,” Lloyd said from the glass box. Morro froze, but didn’t turn to look at him. Lloyd kept talking. “I know destiny hasn’t worked out for you - believe me, I know how that feels. But that doesn’t mean you don’t have a choice.”
Morro could’ve heard a pin drop, if not for the blood roaring in his ears.
Franksen laughed. “Strong words from someone who stole your destiny. Wouldn’t you agree, Master of Wind?”
Morro stared at the door. It was so hot.
“...yeah,” he agreed tersely.
---
His stomach shouldn’t have been churning when Franksen told him the plan. He should have been excited. He should have been grinning maniacally, silently telling everyone who’d ever tried to teach him to be better than this to eat dirt.
But it was. And he wasn’t. And he couldn’t.
“The Temple of Resurrection is truly fascinating,” Franksen said breathlessly as he paced across the floor. “At first, it was theorized that one could only resurrect an Oni or a Dragon with it, but through years of study, I’ve discovered anyone could be brought back by harnessing the power of the Green Ninja. He is the element of life and energy, after all. Although, since he is unfortunately mortal, the number of resurrections is… limited.” He laughed. Morro tried not to throw up.
“It would’ve been much easier with a body for you,” Franksen continued, shaking his head. “I scoured the Caves of Despair, but only managed to find a few bones I could confirm were yours. If only those meddlesome ninja hadn’t tampered with the sight. But, ah well. It all worked out in the end.”
Morros stared down at his arms crossed across his chest. He wanted to ask where everything had come from, then, if it wasn’t his actual body. Could the green ninja make something from nothing? Or did Franksen get the organic material from something - or some one - else?
He blew air out of his cheek to keep from shuddering. Think about something else… The only thing that came to mind was how weird it felt to have air in him rather than through him. His fingers fiddled numbly with the hem of the shirt Franksen had given him. He should probably just make a list of things that didn’t feel weird. It would be a much shorter list.
Franksen paused in his pacing for a moment. He tapped his chin. His lips twitched as he thought, but Morro couldn’t make out anything.
Turning on his heel, Franksen resumed wearing a trench through the floor. “With your help, acquiring the necessary materials to bring back the Quiet One should be trivial.”
“Am I not enough for you?” Morro snapped. Breathe. He knew how to do this. How to be the bad guy. He should want this.
“Ah, well, with all due respect, the ninja managed to stop you. If we want our revenge, we require all the help we can get.” Franksen ran a hand through his hair. “Besides, I get the feeling you will much enjoy the Quiet One’s company.”
Morro crossed his arms again. “You still haven’t told me why you’re doing this. The ninja aren’t gonna be happy you’ve caged their little bird. You’re painting a rather large target on your back, and for what?”
Franksen whirled and stomped up to him. Morro didn’t flinch as he loomed over his head.
“Vengeance,” Franksen snarled with venom. The happy - if slightly off his rocker - scientist disappeared completely, absorbed by the glassy hollowness of his eyes and swallowed by the huskiness of his voice. “The ninja destroyed my realm. All of Djinjago, crumbled to dust.”
Morro took a step back. His breath smelled like he only vaguely knew what toothpaste was. “You don’t look like a Djin to me,” he said flippantly.
“I studied realm travel before resurrection,” Franksen said in a calmer voice. “I lived there for many years, and wished myself to safety as it was being destroyed. But I have not forgotten. No, no, I will never forget.”
This close, Morro could see every movement of his face, including that flash of pure, gut-wrenching hatred that defined every fiber of Franksen’s being.
Of Morro’s being, too.
It made him want to puke.
---
Franksen had given him a tour next, barely taking a breath in between his words. Morro mostly tuned him out after the third time he explained the type of batteries the nindroids ran on.
The entire building was a labyrinth of hallways and rooms. Various labs, libraries, and storage rooms filled a majority of it. The most important rooms took up three hallways: the main labs; the lodging hallway; and the “tech” hallway.
The Resurrection lab, where Lloyd was being held, turned out to be the cleanest of any lab in the entire complex. The bookshelf only had a few necessities, the table covered in runes was polished, and there weren’t any stray papers.
Morro could send a tornado through the lab next door and it wouldn’t make much of a difference. Empty coffee mugs dotted every available inch of space, and many inches that weren’t. Thousands of papers, covered in chicken scratches Morro was only partially sure was in a language he spoke, littered the floor. Morro couldn’t tell what the floor was made of. Maybe it was paper all the way down. Pens popped out of pools of paper like pansies. Morro wasn’t the tidiest of kids, but even looking at the room gave him a headache.
Five rooms lined the hallway next to the labs: Morro’s room and The Quiet One’s future room, both consisting of a plain gray bedspread and a short chest at the foot of it; a spare empty room; Franksen’s research-flooded room; and one for Franksen’s partner, who Morro was unfortunately already acquainted with.
“It’s a pleasure to formally meet you,” Pythor greeted with a bow. “I am-”
“I know who you are,” Morro interrupted. “We met on the Day of the Departed. You went to kill Lloyd.” He raised an eyebrow. “Good job there.”
Pythor scowled, dropping all pretenses of nicety. “And you went to kill Wu. Stones and glass houses, dear boy.”
Morro liked Serpentine more than the average person. The war that had sown so much animosity (great, he was stealing lines from that old fart again) between his species and theirs happened after he died, so his only experience with them had been when he was still out on his own. Serpentine tended not to care when he stole food from their trash, unlike humans who could be bafflingly possessive of it.
But Pythor was a dick, plain and simple. He would never forgive the world for letting “gillie-wet-foot” drop as an insult, especially before he was born, because it described Pythor perfectly. A swindler who got themself into debt and then took off. Morro had seen enough of Lloyd’s memories to know he wasn’t above conning a ten-year-old. He’d found the phrase in one of Wu’s old books, and he’d never met a man who embodied the term like Pythor. If he could call him that without having to explain what he meant, he would.
Point was, Morro didn’t trust the snake further than he could throw him, and he was not looking forward to dealing with him.
Franksen pat both of their shoulders. “Now, now. We’re all on the same side, here. No need for antagonism.” He heaved a yawn so large, he practically unhinged his jaw. “I almost forgot to take readings on the Green Ninja. I need to be sure he’ll have the power for three more resurrections. Pythor, would you be a good man and finish the tour for me?”
Pythor grinned slyly. “Gladly.”
“Excellent. Morro, if you need anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask Pythor or one of my nindroids.”
Morro nodded. Franksen stumbled down the hall back towards the labs. Morro raised an eyebrow at Pythor. “Does that guy always have bats in the belfry?”
Pythor eyed him. “I almost forgot you were alive before the Serpentine War.”
“You want me to say ‘effing crazy’ instead?”
“You should be grateful to us. You are the first human soul to ever escape the Departed Realm, let alone come back with their body in-tact.”
“If you wanted gratitude, I was probably a poor choice.”
Pythor slithered ahead of him, muttering under his breath, “Why am I always the one stuck babysitting?”
Morro followed him towards the nindroid charging stations. Pythor had to be taking him through the longest, most annoying route possible. He swore they made five left turns in a row.
The room almost made up for it. It was at least three stories tall, lined with rack after rack of nindroids. Each hung limp on their hook with wires snaking out their back and across the floor. They looked a lot like Cryptor had on the Day of the Departed - black and silver steel dotted with glowing red… what were they called again…? LEDs! Or were these ones holograms?
Trying to decipher the complicated web of modern technology had been hard enough as a ghost, when he occasionally had to possess a device and figure out how it worked. Now, all he had to do was keep it all straight in his head, but he couldn’t even manage that. FSM, what did food look like these days? Pubs were largely the same, but Lloyd had complained loudly in his head about being underage last time he went, whatever that meant.
The thought of Lloyd sent a twinge of pain through his chest. Not guilt. Definitely not guilt. Contempt. That was it.
The garage was right next door to the charging room. Most of the vehicles looked fairly small and unimpressive, like the ones Morro had seen on normal highways. Probably so they could get supplies or sneak around without attracting attention. However, a few tanks and mechs were hooked up to massive gas tanks near the back of the room. Preparing for Franksen’s plan. A long tunnel stretched out beyond what Morro could see, but he figured it was a runway that led to the surface.
“Well, you’ve seen it,” Pythor sighed.
“Yeah, it’s all really impressive. This will all definitely be of use stopping the ninja from kicking down the walls, shorting out the power, and busting Lloyd out,” Morro deadpanned.
“We have a plan for dealing with the ninja.”
“Care to enlighten me?”
“It doesn’t concern you.”
Morro gave him the widest puppy dog eyes he could manage. “Oh, but it would so help me sleep at night. I’m a growing boy again. I need my sleep.”
Pythor rolled his eyes. “You’re welcome to go find Franksen. I’m sure he’d love to tell you all about it.”
Morro turned on his heel and started down the hall before Pythor had even finished his sentence. Pythor had a way of getting under his skin, and it would be a shame if he got in trouble his first day.
Ha. Trouble was his middle name. He didn’t end up in the Cursed Realm by making good decisions.
He didn’t look for Franksen. If he heard the plan again, he might actually vomit.
---
Morro couldn’t sleep. He stared at the darkness. It wasn’t like the darkness of the Departed Realm. In fact, the Departed Realm wasn’t dark at all, but every surface absorbed the light that came from nowhere. The soft green of the souls could be seen clearly, as if it was the middle of the day.
This was closer to the darkness of the Cursed Realm. Cold, true darkness that hid danger around every corner, not the cool, comforting darkness that had no secrets.
He shouldn’t be thinking about it. He was free of it. And if Franksen’s plan worked, he’d never go back.
Maybe it was homesickness. Morro had the same ache in his chest that had sprouted when he left the monastery.
He shouldn’t feel homesick. The Departed Realm wasn’t his home, and it had never been kind to him.
But it was honest in a way people rarely were. Sure, Morro had to relive every horrible decision he’d made as the mists swirled and distorted to show him the way things could have gone, but it never sugar-coated the consequences or tried to tell him how he was supposed to feel. It simply showed it.
It was impossible to lie in the Departed Realm - to each other, or to yourself.
The Cursed Realm couldn’t be more different. For all forty years he’d been there, Morro couldn’t remember a single time anyone had spoken an unfiltered truth, including himself.
‘You could be the green ninja.’
‘No one can stop you.’
‘Garmadon’s son is weak.’
‘I hate all of them.’
Morro shook his head. It would be so easy to go along with this plan. He didn’t even have to do much. Simply sit back and watch the world burn, just like he always wanted.
Yeah, lies were easy, but they always came back to bite him.
He’d have to watch Franksen drain Lloyd dry. He’d have to watch the Preeminent destroy Stixx again, and likely all of Ninjago. He’d probably have to die again, because she had no use for someone with a pathetic mortal body. He’d have to watch the world burn, just like he said he always wanted.
The truth hurt. It was going to hurt, and it was going to keep hurting for a long time.
He sighed.
“You still have a choice,” Lloyd had said.
Morro chuckled and swung out of bed. The moment he realized he had a choice, there really wasn’t one.