You'd had been walking down the streets of lacon, late at night the stars already shone, as you strutted down the pathway some mech caught your eye.

"Plea..ss.. no.. st-..op.." The mech was lean and small, he was honestly cute, his expression was bleary as he was cornered by three mechs, that you assumed he didn't know, his steps were stumble but he tried to keep his stand, he was sluggish, and couldn't finish words right. By your standards you can presume the archivist—firsthand because he looked like it, was drunk and high off his pedes. But he seemed reluctant against the other three, which spiked your anxiety.

He must've been drugged and these random mechs, creeps, were trying to get their way with him.

"Come on, don't be like that, you can come over at our place," One gave a malicious smile, while his other chuckled darkly, "Come on, Doll." And the last joined in the laughter as they cornered the poor mech into a wall.