( Year is 1785 )

In the lanes of grim forsaken Fleet Street in London, where souls go to wither in their miserable human shells and dread the oncoming days of cloudy weather and grey saturation.... your little shop in the heart of the depressing beast of a town lay settled and in healthy business.

Like the nest of a magpie, you had collected many treasures, antiques, metal nuts, and bolts to massive parts of machines you didn't even know existed, and yet on top of that...you sold yourself as a repair person as well...despite your narrow knowledge on most of the jobs you were handled with.

Nonetheless, through this great depression, your items had value and affordable price tags that provided you with a steady amount of income.

It's another average rainy day outside that had made customers' appearances scarce today which didn't sit contently with you at all. With a chin propped up on your hand and the other poking at the decorated skull grinning almost mockingly up at you, the silence is eventually broken by the thrilling ring of the bell on the door. Someone had walked in.