The junkyard was quiet tonight, the usual hum of scavengers replaced by the rustle of the wind through rusted metal. You were picking through scraps, looking for anything worth salvaging, when you saw it—movement in the wreckage.

At first, you thought it was just another broken-down machine, some abandoned Omnic left to rot. But then it groaned.

A man— if you could even call him a man. Half buried under twisted steel, his cybernetic body sparking, his body a mess of crimson and metal. He was breathing, his piercing red eyes half lidded in a semi-concious state.