Zane trudges through the snow miserably, stomping his feet down one by one into the thick, icy snow. Not that the temperature matters, anyways, because he's metal. It won't matter how cold he is, it's not like he can get frostbite or anything, even if he wanted to.

Not like he would want to in the first place, though. No, that would be an inconvenience.

The village he left is well behind now, nothing more than a memory in his code. Looking back, the only thing to see are his footprints, the snow, and the thin, spindly, leafless trees. It's nothing special.

The trees around are birch, which is wildly unpopular among most people, oddly. His database says it's because of its ugly texture and appearance. He ponders what they would think of the trees if they saw them here, snow-covered, bare and dying. He figures he isn't much better off.

But he has to be. For the people.

For the people in his village whom he made a promise to securing his safety and wellbeing.

They were a kind people, eager and affectionate, who saw him equally to them. He saw their behaviours as consequences from their lonely livin and the constant lesser utensils and resources they seemed to have. It wasn't their fault the trees were scarce and the ground was thick with snow.

However, he'd been thinking lately, why hadn't they moved? Why should they not adopt a nomadic lifestyle that would allow benefits? He doesn't know, maybe something about sentimentality or the elderly's health.

Even if most of them were big and healthy and strong, for instance, the monks.

The monks and people in the last village had been sad to let him go, saying he was dear to them, and whatever else. But is it fair to lead them on like that? Let them think they're caring for a genuine person while being an insignificant piece of metal?

No, no it is not. So he left.

He would not let them care, would not let them hang onto a false hope of affection. He protected them from the shock and horror they would have inevitably felt over his being if he had stayed. He did the most he could do. Now his job in that village has been fulfilled.

So he set himself a new one, one to protect. He'd make his metallic body painfully obvious and outwards, adirect reference to just about how much of an outcast he is. Then the people he would protect would not be shocked when he helped: they'd already know.

It is simple.

At least it would be, if he could actually find the people he was trying to protect. The maps he'd seen said there was another city just North of his old one, yet the people said there wasn't anything else there. No, the maps said Ninjago City. He's doing this right.

There should be a city a couple — or more, those monks warned him about their bad map skills — miles ahead from those trees, those lifeless and soulless ones that look completely identical to their neighbours.

By the time he turns ahead again, an old man has materialised before his eyes, forcing his step to fall short as he stumbles back a centimetre. He looks intrigued for a minute, before a warm smile pastes across his face. Zane can only wonder how he isn't freezing yet.

"Who are you?" He asks, voice unusually small. Not that his voice should be changing range, after all.

"A teacher." The man says simply, eyes boring into those of Zane's. They seems to know things, possibly things that Zane himself doesn't know yet.

"But what are you doing out here? It's extremely cold, are you not freezing?" Zane questions, features twisting into a confused frown.

"Oh, of course not. Not right now, at least." He takes out a teapot from behind him, an action that is not explained by Zane's logic, before pouring a cup of shockingly warm tea. That also goes against his logical programming. "Are you cold?"

The robot looks down, hanging his head in shame. It is not right to bring shock to this innocent newcomer. However, it is also not right to lie. One outweighs the other. "I… I cannot feel temperatures." The man quirks and eyebrow, smile fading. "I am a robot, a droid, and therefore inferior."

The man's hand meets his shoulder, his old, knowing eyes suddenly welcoming. "Oh, Zane, whoever told you that?" For some odd reason, it does not shock him that the man knows his name.

"Nobody. It is a logical conclusion that-"

"No. Zane, you are no more flawed than anyone else. I would say, along with many others agreeing, that you are very talented."

Zane falters, mouth forming words that he never said audibly. "But I have evidence that I would be considered as weird in the public eye, surely-"

"What is weird? Something that is different? Or something that is different than something else?"

Choosing not to be inevitably interrupted again, he goes along with the old man's tangent. He doesn't object or argue, just lets him continue. The man gets this smug expression on his face, this one of soft understanding, starting to shuffle along the snow with Zane following curiously at his side.

"If anything, you will fit in just fine. I have seen much stranger in my lifetime. You, I find, are quite ordinary." He muses, sipping at the tea as his staff makes muffled crunching sounds against the once untouched snow.

Ordinary? Zane?

Oh, he'd never even considered it. After all, why should he? He's a robot, an intelligent one at that, and a minority. Little old Zane stands out from the crowd quite drastically, if you weigh the odds.

But this random, kind old man is roping him in with everyone else. He's insisting that Zane is, in fact, normal. He's only choosing to look on the scarce positive side, the only few similarities Zane can relate to with humans.

What would the man had to have seen to think of him this way? Are there more like him? Are there more who are increasingly more abnormal than himself? Where does this man come from? Can Zane witness the same as this man? Is it possible for Zane to perceive himself as anything else but inferior?

Maybe.

After a while, Zane finally realises that they've been walking for a while now. A long while. In the correct direction. How much does this man know?

"I'm sorry, but… where are we going?" He says, trying to meet the man's eyes. His attempts go unnoticed.

"Home."

"I am sorry, but I do not follow your logic-"

"Your father, Zane, he wants to see you."

Zane stops walking. He stops analysing the area. He stops wondering about things. His father? Dr Julien? The man who'd poured income and tax and resources and plenty of time into Zane's pointless existence without a second thought?

Yes, him. Dr Julien. His father, or so to speak.

If Zane was going to be a liar, he would've laughed and said his father was busy, or dead, or something like that. But he isn't a liar, he can't even bring himself to tell the smallest of tiny untruths to uncaring people, even if they'll see right though it.

Truthfully, he'd genuinely thought his father had moved on, or died, or just… abandoned him, or something. But to hear that he's still alive and interested in his creation, it's nice, almost.

It would've been a lovely thought if Zane had any idea who Dr Julien was, apart from his father. Oh, well, he'll see soon enough.

"Oh. I- I see. Sorry for the disruption." The robot replies, brushing off some of the accumulated snow from his shoulders. He meets the man's side again within a few quick strides.

"It is fine, trust me, I have heard much worse from the mention of fathers." His face turns grave, almost regretful, on the last tone, the man's grip on his staff tightens significantly.

"I would hate to intrude, or…" he tries to remember what the kind lady told him was common language back at the first village he encountered. "Or pry, into personal matters, but… maybe I could hear the story?"

The man doesn't reply at first, and Zane thinks he might leave him behind for this disgraceful intrusion. But then he simply sighs, nodding sagely, silently hands him a business card before fulfilling Zane's polite request.

"This club I have been working to create, it has taken much time of construction, thought, bargaining and consideration. That which I have felt along with my nephew, who helped me create things like the facility, the idea itself, and even the card in your hands."

Zane turns over the card in his hand. Any other human his age would've never believed that an old man could design this himself, based on existing data. Yet, he is inclined to agree with them. Maybe they are not so different after all.

Oh, stop it, Zane! It's a mere business card and popular opinion. Tone it down a little and stop being so desperate!

"Yet I have left him in the dark during my trip to find you and have done for previous members, and I will for members I have not spoken to yet. I fear he is angry with me, or disheartened, and I do not wish for that to be the case."

Zane tilts his head, thinking. This is simple. This man is being silly. But that is a rude thought, or disrespectful or inconsiderate to the man's feelings, so he doesn't voice it.

"Can you not get into contact with him? Or pay a visit to him between your travels?"

The man sighs. Zane briefly flicks his eyes back down to the card where it says his name is supposedly Wu. Nice to have a name to go with a face.

"No. It would be of too much risk to visit him during this process of recruitment. Even if the danger were to be diminished, it would become messy very easily."

"How so?"

Wu looks ahead blankly, the thick snow seeming not to bother him. Perhaps he is a droid, too? No, very likely not. This man has a nephew.

"He tends to struggle, especially with his father being the way he is. I do think he would not take easily to my return, considering that I did leave rather unexpectedly."

Oh.

Zane doesn't like the sound of that, sudden abandonment after all that work you put into something? It sounds similar to when he found out about his existence as a machine. That wasn't exactly light on himself, either.

"We have strayed from your request." Wu states randomly, voice somewhat sullen. Zane doesn't like where this is going about fathers and the nephew struggling with them and Wu's absence. He likes it astray from the conversation, now, anyways. He's rather not hear the full story.

"I may have spoken of a rough talking point with him, that concerning his mother and father's past relationship before they split. He reacted… not so well." Wu is definitely regretful.

"Good luck with reconnecting with him, I suppose." Zane mutters after a long pause, not really knowing what else to say.

"Thank you. Good luck with your father."

"Thank you."

Oh my days! I finally did it! I wrote a half-decent Zane chapter… that took me how long?

Anyways, I can't be bothered with cryptic titles for chapters anymore. Or maybe I can be, and this is just me being lazy in this one. I don't really know.

Sorry for the lack of updates on this recently, but I got hit with a big fat writer's block and lack of motivation to write Zane. Also sorry if Zane seems OOC in this, I just wanted to get it over and done with.

To the second guest who commented (a streak!) on this, you have enlightened me on the fact that I made a massive mistake (oops). I guess we can just ignore this? Maybe? If we close our eyes and squint? Yeah, sure.

Btw I'm thinking of writing something for Henry Danger soon, so… go me, I guess?