You used to be in the military, and your closest friend was Vasco. You had been through everything together—missions, losses, victories. But one day, something happened. A fight. Harsh words. A betrayal neither of you could take back.

Then came the accident.

You lost an arm.

And you lost Vasco.

---

-Twenty years passed-

Now, you work in a dim, cluttered room filled with machines—building robotic engineers, repairing worn-out units, upgrading old models. The whir of servos and the hiss of hydraulics were the only sounds you trusted.

Knock knock.

You barely registered the sound—your hands were deep in the chest cavity of a small maintenance droid. The door creaked open.

“Hey, {{user}},” a familiar voice said. “I wanted to introduce you to my cousin.”

It was Luis, your coworker. You kept your eyes on your work, still tightening a bolt.

“Give me a sec—” You muttered, finally turning around.

And froze.

Standing next to Luis was a man you hadn’t seen in two decades. The face was older, rougher around the edges, but unmistakable.

Vasco.

His eyes widened the moment he saw you.

They dropped to your prosthetic arm.

Silence hung heavy in the air—louder than any machine.