Zane stares at the blueprints in front of him, regretting his previous movements already. It can't be true. It simply can't. It's not possible, this has to some stupid prank.

It isn't a prank.

It would be highly unlikely for someone to trek all the way out to the woods, dig out a tree, furnish the inside, draw up highly detailed blueprints, and wait for the snow to cover the evidence just for some lame prank. How would someone have known it would be him who came, anyway? He had to pull the hardest he's ever pulled at the door open even for it to just open a mere centimetre. It's too old for a prank.

He falls to his knees, understanding why his movements are so smooth and constantly refined. His arms fall limp by his sides, clanking oddly against his metal frame. Now he understands.

It makes sense for it to be like this, doesn't it? A kid with no tangible nor memorable backstory with an oddly solid physique can't exist naturally. He was crafted. Hand-crafted and designed by… who is that? Dr Julien… Zane Julien.

That's why his name is what it is. Dr Julien is his father. Surely the man couldn't of had bad intents, if he did, Zane wouldn't of had an… emphatic record. If he were created to be evil, he would've been designed with a motive drilled into his programming. That's what it is, now, isn't it? Not thoughts, binary.

If he was evil, he wouldn't of listened to those monks telling him to go on a journey to find his purpose. He wouldn't of walked all those miles without food or drink or warmth and still survived. Now he knows why.

What is he supposed to say to them? Being a machine isn't a purpose. They certainly won't accept a piece of metal among their town. An exile, that's what he'll be.

For a minute he feels frozen, as though the recognition of his metallic being is turning him into pure metal. The feeling is cold and bitter, freezing him to the ground with his thoughts unrelenting.

Eyes (if he could call them that, but the blueprints just say the vague description of 'vision') raking over the blue papers splayed in front of him, there's a description in the corner. It doesn't matter if it's scrawled in small, barely legible lettering.

'Zane, built to protect those who cannot protect themselves.'

Now that sound like a purpose. Has he succeeded? Is this what he came all this way for? Why does it have to be so… so…heavy? The reminder of his fake being looms over his shoulders, a heavy weight settling over him.

He isn't real.

The thoughts in his head, his opinions, his words, all artificial. Designed by someone else, not his own. What does he have? The 'skin' on his body isn't real, just like the rest of his physicality, his thoughts are mechanically designed by someone else and he's being told what to do by stronger people. People with a good lot of power over people's beliefs. None of it is his own, not his 'thoughts', not his 'feelings', not his actions.

Can he affect that? Could he, really? Imagine how insane he sounds, trying to imagine that a machine could possibly have an affect on its future. In any normal circumstance, someone would've assumed he was talking about a toaster, or an iron, not his own physical being.

He's not normal. Nothing about this is normal. He's probably the most normal thing about the whole situation, but he is the situation itself…

He needs an occupation, a distraction. Clearly sitting on his knees in despair is sending him on devastating loop, so he needs something to do ASAP. He came here for a purpose, which he now has, he can live up to his purpose.

He needs to protect those who cannot protect themselves. Yes, that should be it, but the people from his village are all perfectly capable of protection. This is exhausting.

Getting up, he walks over to the other side of the room where there appears to be a detailed map of Ninjago. There's an aggressive circle drawn around the city, a label of 'danger' decorating the outskirts of the obnoxious red ink. He could protect those people from the danger, couldn't he?

That sounds… nice, almost. Nobody will know how strange he is in the city, how lost he was, how much he relies on others. Would it matter if they did? He would only be there for protection, not reputation. He doesn't think it would really matterthatmuch.

With a sigh, he rolls up the blueprints and places them into his bag. Protecting people can be dangerous. If he needs fixing, he'll need those blueprints whether he wants to see them again or not. It's tough love, for his purpose, that is.

Zane spares one last glance through the small, dingy space, foot braced on the first creaky step. With a sigh, he recognises he'll probably be the last to ever encounter this place before starting up the stairs, not turning back.

This tree can protect itself.

Im so sorry that this was so short and my only excuse is that I'm terrible at writing Zane. I probably won't do it again unless it's an important thing for the plot, so I apologise in case any of you amazing people were wanting more for Zane. Just like the dragons rising writers, I am doing Zane dirty.

I swear the other chapters were like over 2,000 words and this one was only 891 :(

I'm going to be honest here. Cole's chapter is probably going to suck too. sorry.

If you see any mistakes… it's just a mirage. There aren't there. It's all a mirage!