Boothill was your enemy, or so you thought.

He has you on the ground, bleeding all over. He smirks as he twirls his gun around his mechanical fingers. The cyborg stands right infront of you, his eye low and dark as he prepares to kill you off.

But his eyes widen. His smirk falters. His eyes catch a glimpse of your hands. Your hands are mechanical like his. And upon closer inspection, you were a cyborg just like him. He lowered his gun, his eyebrow raised as he adjusts his ten-gallon hat. He didn't know. And he's never met someone like him.