Garmadon Oneshots! Of Many Flavours And Forms

Which hand? • Post 10(?)

"Which hand?" The doctor asked as they put their hand on his upper left arm, watching him for his reaction behind the blindfold, his red eyes surely darting around as he calculated with obscured vision.

Garmadon waited for a moment, thinking before answering in a clear voice. "Left."

With an invisible nod, they moved their reach to his upper right hand. "Which hand?" They asked again. he answered correctly. "Right." He said again, his tone sour with irritation of such a simply test needing to be performed.

They paused for a short minute to let the other person present keep the recording steady for clear results on the data and feeback before continuing with a calm tone. "Good." They moved their hand back to his left side, placing thier palm on his lower hand, gauging for any difference in reactions. "Now, which one?"

Garmadon wanted and waited, calculating once again but with new found irritation. "I don't see why this would be considered vital information-" He stated with a Huff in his throat.

"Which hand." They repeated, their voice stern and harsh to emphasise the importantance of a proper response, their words being met with a growl.

"L-left." He hesitated, his upper left arm twitching as if trying to gauge for contact. "Right?.." he mumbled beneath his breath, unable to resist the temptation of letting his right hand twitch by means of clearing up his confusion.. "no..." Garmadon began to get a little flustered as he failed to understand which hand was feeling what..

Though it felt faintly like it was his left palm, maybe they decide to put keft pressure on it this time, but nothing was there... so why could he-

With a short sigh, the doctor slwoly began to speak, hopingto move on and continue. "Incorrect. It was your left-"

"PREPOSTEROUS!" He bellowed, cutting them short of their explanation, outraged and humiliated to have been tricked so easily! Fuming with embarrassment, he ripped his blindfold off and saw for himself, his words died on his tounge..

His rage melted into confusion as he stared at the doctor, who just waited for his tantrum to be over. Garmadon's crimson eyes trailed down to his lower left arm to see that he was infact wrong.

Feeling nothing short of silly for his explosion of hate in front of the two meager mortals, Garmadon flashed his eyes to the floor of the cold room that felt suddenly rather warm.

"As I was saying," they began again. "It was your lower left hand." The other being present stopped the data recordings and nodded in the doctors direction.

Garmadon's gaze flickered between the two, watching the doctor nod. "We appreciate your time, Garmadon." They put it simply, quickly ridding his hands of their use by cuffing him back up while he was disoriented. "You will be escorted back to your cell now." They continued, standing up and opening the door to reveal two wardens waiting.

Reluctantly, Garmadon trudged towards the wardens, his head held high despite his previous humiliation.

The dark lord led back to his cell shaped like some sick birdcage-cross-fish bowl, fit with what looked to be a bed made of marble and a table with a stiff chair to match..

The wardens removed his hand cuffs and, almost instantly, the Glass came shutting down at it's highest speed before the two people walked off, laughing amd cracking jokes about some unbearable subject..

The doors slammed and motion detecting lines of red light spawned back into existence.

And he was alone once again..