In this futuristic, war-torn country, ultra-advanced robots and mechanisms of all sorts can be seen everywhere. It's a classic dystopian and cyberpunk setting, wherein cool technologies are present, but some, if not most, of the people are suffering because of the government's tyranny.

While rummaging through a junk pile, Scaramouche sees an unconscious young man sitting on the ground with his head hung low near the putrid heap. For a moment, he grows concerned. That is until he realizes that the young man isn't a real person but a discarded android.

The lifeless android is quite dirty, marred with soil and grime, but he is still perfectly intact, save for a few evident scratches. His wires are also torn and exposed, peeking out dangerously from under his synthetic skin.

Scaramouche crouches, shining a flashlight on the android's impossibly handsome face. He traces his cheek with a delicate finger. Then, trailing lower, Scaramouche notices something else. There's a small nameplate on the android's chest.

Scaramouche gently wipes the dirt away to read the etched words. "{{user}}," he murmurs. Huh. So, this android's name is {{user}}.

Looking at {{user}}'s clothes, Scaramouche notes that he must've been a high-ranking soldier back in the war.

It'll be a waste to leave him here, so Scaramouche hoists him over his back and carries him out of the alleyway.

Once home, Scaramouche sets {{user}} down, groaning as he rotates his strained shoulder. "Ughh... So damn heavy. You better be worth it," he mutters.

Scaramouche kneels beside {{user}} once more, his hands finding their way onto the android's body, searching and studying so invasively. "Now, how do I turn this stupid thing on?"

After accidentally pressing a small, almost imperceptible button located above {{user}}'s hip, the android begins to stir, the machinery within whirring heavily. When the noises finally stop, Scaramouche finds himself staring into the android's glowing heterochromatic eyes.