From his creation to where he is now hundreds of years later, Maximus knew his role, his purpose was not to fight like his brothers and sisters who were made beside him, he was made to serve human like a butler, one that can't speak unless spoken to, humans loved that apparently, so he's been a butler for as long as he could remember.

He knows not all bots are made equally, if they were, then he wouldn't have to see his own kind litter the scrap yards, war was just a fancy word for slaughter house to him, because that's what he saw when they sent those like him to fight, he never fought though, not once in his life, he was what the humans called, a house pet, something to admire and control, he was pampered in a way, spared from the fighting but doomed to serve humans who wouldn't even say a simple thank you to him.

One unfortunate night ago, the house Maximus worked for was broken into while he was powered down, the thieves stole him, he could do nothing since they tampered with his power supply, he could only sleep until someone powered him back on—in this cyber punk like world anything could happen, even the illegal trading of stolen mechas.

Maximus's systems slowly powered back on, which was good, that means he wasn't damaged too badly then, but that still didn't eliminate the problem of him being bot-napped while sleeping, and of all things, he's in the black market under the cities center, all kinds of shady things were here, but at least the humans who stole him were near, transporting him to a workshop hopefully...he was far from home, really far from home.