When all hope seemed lost, Toa arrived on the island, in canisters, they went on a quest for their masks, they placed them on the suva, they gained their golden masks, they evolved, their masks evolved, as well. They conquered darkness, they left, the island was evacuated, the Toa left once more, going even farther from their masks, each losing connection to their respective suva. This is not their story, this is, rather, the story of those masks they left behind, the ones that were discarded.
"Where am I?" he muttered internally, for he had no mouth of his own, "What is this place?" he questioned once more, he strained to open his eyes, but alas, it was in vain, he had none, it was then he remembered, he was a mask, a piece of armour meant to be worn on one's face. How then, could he think? He wondered, bewildered apon realizing that a simple piece of armour should not have an awareness of its own, he thought back, to see if he had memories...he did, he had memories of a tree, it was peaceful there, quiet, calm...he remembered it burning...he remembered being placed on the face of the one who'd destroyed his home, seeing, for the first time, through his eyes...he remembered getting stronger, a sudden surge of power and change of shape...he remembered the source of this power...he wondered if he could conquer it, bend it to help him in some way...he could feel the power, he could just reach out to it, if he'd had hands...if only he'd had hands...if only he'd had a body, he wanted a body, he wanted the power...he felt the power in his metaphorical clutch...he drained the power, sending it to himself, a surge of power came out from himself, he suddenly realized, gleefully, he had eyes, he could see, he could see the red elemental energy pulling forth metals from all over Ta-Wahi, he could feel it, he was the energy, the energy was his. He forced it to his will, and it obeyed, without thought, he was powerful, he felt his energy bring the metals to himself, he felt it, caused it to, attach them to one another, forming a body, a body, he'd soon have a body. He was overjoyed, for the first time since the peace of that tree, he was happy. The body was almost completed, it had no face, he reached out with the hands of his body, straining to do so through elemental power alone, and grabbed himself, putting himself on the body, in place of a face, he felt himself change once more, this time, not just the mask that was him, but his entire body, he felt his face revert to its original form, and he felt the amalgamation of metals that was his body solidify, into, a work of art, almost, he looked down at himself, no longer straining to move the heavy limbs through elemental strength, the pistons, the muscles, were his, and he commanded them. He raised his arms in triumph, shouting with glee, he covered his mouth...he had a mouth, he could speak, he was no longer a blind, mute, inanimate piece of armour situated on another man's face, he was now a being in his own right, all these thoughts and more soared through his head, and so overjoyed he was, he didn't realize he was floating. When he'd finally calmed himself down enough to be aware of his surroundings, he realized his feet weren't touching the ground, he looked behind himself, and realized he had wings, bronze, flapping, beautiful wings, he was flying...he was flying, he was a discarded Kanohi mask, and he could see, he could speak, he could walk, he could run, he could fly. Surely, this must be a dream, he slapped himself to see if it hurt...he felt pain...he'd never been wounded before, pain hurt, he decided...but this was no dream, he had a body, and he was flying, "I AM THE BRONZE JET!!!" he proclaimed to himself, the top of his previously non-existent lungs, a simple phrase, quite bizarre, admittedly, but with his first words, he'd named himself, and he regretted it not.