Ninja's Creed: Awakening

Chapter Two: The Attack

  "Ugh..." Lloyd opened his eyes, but everything he saw was a blur. Am I dead? he wondered, hoping for a sign that indicated he wasn't. Slowly, he attempted to raise his head from the heated tile flooring—or at least what was left of it—and looked around. The explosion had demolished the majority of the school, leaving most of it behind as rubble that reached his knees or nothing. There were pieces of what he hoped was a model skeleton strewn about the wreckage, along with shards of broken, melted glass and charred wood, both of which were stuck in the wall, dangerously close to Lloyd's head. When he tried to think of a possible explanation for the destruction, there was only one name that came to Lloyd's mind. His dad was behind this.

So that was why he suddenly felt sick to his stomach.

  Lloyd knew he should probably try to escape the area, before something blew him to smithereens or crushed him, but he knew he was gonna have to stand to do that. tried to stand up, grasping an especially huge piece of debris to steady himself. "AAH!" he cried, nearly breaking his neck on another piece of rock in front of him. He sighed. This was going to take a few minutes.

  Five tries and thirty seconds later, he could stand with no complications and the ringing in his ears had stopped, which Lloyd was grateful for. But the satisfaction didn't last long. As soon as he looked up, his eyes widened with terror.

  He was in the center of a full-on Garmadon attack. The sky above him was a mess of explosions, his father's Manta Ray attack bombers, and missiles, while the ground level was even worse. There were warriors in Garmadon's Templar army everywhere, terrorizing citizens, knocking off military and police personnel, or holding hostages. Dammit! Lloyd thought, looking up at everything going on around him. This city can't even be attack-free on the leader's son's birthday, can it?

  And that was when he heard it. A sound so small, he was only able to detect because his senses were heightened by all the commotion around him: a tiny piece of rock falling—and hitting what would've been the floor—behind him. He whipped around, and the source of the noise made him freeze in terror. There, standing atop a pile of rocks that gave the appearance of a mountain, was a Templar solider, holding a sword that gleamed in the pre-afternoon sunlight.

  Lloyd slowly backed away from the soldier, who had started to advance on him with a murderous, wicked smile on his face. "Be a smart boy and don't make this hard on yourself", he cackled, waving the blade around menacingly. "It'll be over with just a swipe..."

Terrified at these words, Lloyd did the only intelligible thing he could think of; he ran.

  He sprinted away, praying that he'd surprised the solider and had gotten a headstart, but five seconds later, the sound of rapid footsteps behind him dashed this hope. Two minutes, fourteen sharp turns, and one car roll later, Lloyd realized he couldn't go on much longer. His lungs burned like flaming hell, causing his eyes darted everywhere, hoping to find a place to hide, or somehow lose his follower, when he finally found one: an alleyway, just up ahead, came into view. Given a new surge of adrenaline by this sight, he kept running straight for another twenty feet. Then, hopefully unexpected to his follower, he jerked right into the alley.

  Unfortunately for him, the Templar solider had been expecting this, and threw a nearby glass whiskey bottle at Lloyd's feet. The impact sent the glass flying in every direction, and—as luck would have it—one piece found its way into his heel. Lloyd cried out, falling to the ground. As the solider slowly advanced on him, he desperately scrambled backwards, finally backing into a garbage bag and unable to go back any more. The solider chuckled evilly. "Nighty-night, brat", he whispered, raising his sword to deal the final blow. Lloyd raised his head, praying his death would be quick and painless.

  But oblivion never came. Something had jerked soldier back and was now fighting him! Thank you, God! Lloyd thought (even though he'd never been a very religious person), watching the scene before him unfold.

  The soldier slashed at his opponent, who countered with a block and abruptly lowered his arm forcefully. The soldier screamed, dropping his blade and stepping backward, and now the blonde teen could see someone in black-lined white robes, with some kind of concealed blade on his—or her—arm.

  The soldier refused to give up, kicking out at the assailant's head. The hooded figure caught his leg easily, and, in one swift movement, snapped the bone beneath the flesh. The solider almost shattered the glass with his screams. Then, in one fluid motion, the hooded figure threw the solider's leg away, causing him to spin, while the assailant himself turned in a half-circle, popped out his hidden blade, and finally plunged the weapon into the solider's neck.

  The Templar's features were forever frozen in a mask of horror, covered in blood and with its throat torn open. The killer shoved his prey's corpse away, then trained his eyes on Lloyd. Lloyd, obviously, was so shocked, he didn't even feel his burning foot (he'd actually lost a half-pint of blood by then, so that could've been a contribution to that). He took one last look at his savior, then promptly blacked out.