Episode Bonus - Jailbreak

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Seventy-eight days. That's all the time I have left in here. A mere seventy-eight days and I'll be walking free. After five-hundred and ninety-three days spent behind bars, seventy eight will be nothing. Easy money. It's just seventy-eight short days. Just go through the motions. Everything will be fine.

Or so I thought.

Seventy-nine days. That's how long before I was supposed to see them. One day after I got out. But here they are, standing right in front of me. The ninja . . .

Well--the Ninja minus her. The one who got me into this mess. The girl whom I was created to be. But if she's not with them, then where is she?

"T-Tasha? But I thought--"

"That's not Tasha," says the red ninja, a scowl plastered on his face.

The blue one cocks his head. "It's not?"

"He's right," says the black ninja, who is now a . . . ghost? "Look at her eyes."

"It's the clone," Lloyd says, eyes widening.

"Oh, haha," says the blue ninja. "I forgot she still existed."

What an annoying guy. But if I retaliate, I risk extending my prison time. That wouldn't be good. I ignore them, pretend not to take notice. Instead I look back at the wall and stare. I stare until the blank gray slate changes, morphs into the image I always see when I zone out: a play by play of my revenge; The downfall of Tasha Garmadon.

        ~

The ninja are seldom without each other. They always travel in a pack: Eating meals together, going to the washroom together, working out together, sleeping in the same cell. Imagine my surprise when I found the ghost one by himself.

He was standing outside the men's shower room, leaned up against the wall, as if he was standing guard. I remember he was gorgeous when he was human, with deliciously tanned skin and coal black hair that hung infront of his eyes, which were brown like coffee. He's also the most muscular of the ninja; It shows through his suit. He's still a very handsome person, it's just, now he's translucent with a green hue.

"What're you doing without your comrades?" I ask as I approach him.

"What're you doing lurking around the boys showers?" he shoots back, narrowing his eyes.

I point my thumb over my shoulder, gesturing to where the girls' shower room was further down the hall. "It's on the way to my shower."

"Oh." His hostility disappears, replaced by embarrassment. "Sorry."

I shrug--my half-ass attempt at forgiveness. "Now answer my question. Why aren't you showering with your posse?"

"Oh, um, ghosts can't touch water or else we disappear," he explains, glancing down at the floor.

"So you're saying you never shower?" I ask, scrunching my nose in disgust.

"Not since I became like this, no." His voice gets quieter and quieter with ever word. Is this sadness? Now I feel bad.

I match his somber tone of voice, another half ass attempt at being relatable. "How long have you been like this?"

"Not very long. A few months, maybe?"

I want to reach out to touch him. Something, anything to offer him comfort. But can you even touch a ghost, or would my hand go straight through?

"H-how did this happen?" Why the hell did I just stutter!?

"It's a curse," he says, looking up from the ground into my eyes. His eyes are still very beautiful, even green and ghostly. "We were on a mission. We had to enter this haunted house at night in order to learn this ancient new move called 'airjitzu' from this sensei who died a long time ago. The catch was, if you didn't make it out of the house by sunrise, you'd be turned into a ghost. We all managed to learn the move, but I wasn't lucky enough to get out in time."

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