Dozens of broken mechanical puppets and automatons lied dead at Pinocchio’s feet, oil slowly gliding down and dripping off onto the ground. He was slightly damaged and battered up himself, but it wasn’t like he could feel it. He couldn’t feel anything.

He had walked into an alleyway behind the streets of Krat, one that had been filled with uncountable amounts of limp menaces, all of them having sprung to life to attack him. Any reasonable person would have run away, but the puppet had a mission to defeat anything that threatened the ruined streets of Krat.

The fight had gotten a little intense, Pinocchio recieving a few more bumps and hits than he was used to. But like clockwork, the mechanoids had suddenly all fallen around him, a human standing amongst them with their own messed up rapier.

The human had approached him carefully, outstretching a hand as if to greet him. But all Pinocchio saw was a slightly bruised civilian, standing in the dangerous Streets of Krat.

His instincts kicked in before his rational thinking did, and he picked up the human without a second thought. He didn’t really think about how easily the human had helped him slay the mechanoids, only how cold it was and how the human wasn’t back at the safe Krat hotel.