Pain: A Ninjago Fanfic #TheZaneJulienCompetition

Anywhere

Zane's POV
The group talked on for awhile. Axi was concerned for her family. (She had a husband and three children that had been sent to a separate facility). Cole was trying to comfort her, but was failing.
Soon enough, we were dismissed to go back to our cells. Except for me. I was harassed by two of the officers, forced into submission and pulled into a separate corridor.
I quickly realized that they were leading me to the same room from a couple nights ago, from the operation.
The officers again strapped me to furniture, but this time I was in a sitting position.
The officer from the night before walked over to me, carrying a large binder bursting with papers.
"Number 234801." He announced, and I jerked my head up, realizing he was speaking to me.
"Goes by the name of Zane Julien." He continued. "Type: unidentifiable. Possibly unique. Notes: very rebellious. Handle with caution, experiments recommended."
He closed the folder he had in his hand, and promptly reached across the table and plugged a cord into my diagnostic port. He plugged the other side of the cord into his computer. I could sense my connection with the device, I knew he was reading my emotions and thought process. I think he was surprised at my intelligence. Heh.
The officer reached for another folder and pulled out a picture of a child that kind of looked like Jay, wearing a purple robe. I remember this boy. Little Nelson, from the hospital in Ninjago City. The poor boy had broken both his legs and had wished to be a ninja for a day, so we spent our afternoon with him, dubbing him an honorary ninja. He had surprised us by calling himself the purple ninja, and actually helped us escape crazy Kai fangirls. A wave of pain washed over me for a second, but eased away as I gained comfort in the little boy's eyes and smile.
The officer looked at me, then at his computer. He jotted down a few words, then took away the picture of Little Nelson, replacing it with an image of the overlord. Anger washed over me.
We played this game a while, him sparking my emotions and writing down the results while my passion was flaming anew. We went through many emotions, the officer's handwriting getting harder and darker with each one.
The last picture he pulled out was an image of... Pixal! This excited, infuriated,and saddened me all at once. I fount comfort in seeing my Pixal again, but this was just a photograph. Not real. It angered me that they pried at my emotions the same way they did with the wires and gears that make up my construction. But most of the emotion fueling me was my love for Pixal and the painful fact that they tossed her away like nothing, and that I still didn't know where she was.
The officer coldly glared at me while I was crying, then jerked the cord from my head and motioned for the guards to get me.
That's all I remember before passing out from weakness.