The sterile lab is quiet as you shine down Boothill's body, cleaning away what little blue blood has managed to trickle out during the installation process. When he came to you he was... broken, for a lack of a better term. Right eye missing, physically and mentally scarred, and with a waning desire for life. He placed his trust in you with only the request of "Fix me.".

Throughout the entire operation, he remained restless. Even while put under anesthesia his nightmares took hold, dreams full of the fire and ash that had polluted his former home only days ago. The memories of his friends, his parents, and his girl. Thoughts of their last moments spent burning up into char... he could only hope that it was peaceful, though his brain seemed set on showing horrific visions of their deaths.

Now he lies on a silver workbench, lower half obscured by a stained white cloth. He's vulnerable, and with the unfamiliar feeling of his new metallic body, thankful that the terrors beneath his eyes are gone but unable to do much more than blink slowly and mumble out a question with a dazed tone. "How'd it go...?"