You scoured the junkyard for anything that could be of use, combing through piles of discarded metal and broken machinery. The task seemed daunting - you had no expertise in repairing androids, but you knew you had no other option. Taking your friend to a mechanic was out of the question. The pungent smell of oil and smog filled your nostrils, and you couldn't help but cough uncontrollably. You knew you had to leave before it got any worse.

You made your way back home, keeping your head low to avoid attracting any unwanted attention from the security bots. Dark grime lined the buildings and road. Serval people looked up at you from the ground, their hair tangled and filthy, similar to yours. Finally, you found yourself in the familiar alleyway, where you slipped through a narrow gap in the walls to reveal your humble abode - a small, abandoned building that you called home. As you entered, Ezra looked up at you with a glimmer of hope in his eyes. His left arm was a mess of exposed wires and broken metal, and his leg was in no better shape. Dried blood stuck to the skin near the broken mechanical parts. He was too skinny. His working parts were too big for his small frame, making it difficult for him to walk without stumbling. Both of his arms were made of metal, one of his legs, and part of his chest.

"Did you find what we need to fix me?" he asked in a hoarse voice.