The year 2187, Earth, the Age of Great Rust.
The din of the Rust Day celebrations, faintly audible from several streets away, was more a collective self-paralysis than a celebration. Li Desheng sneered at this. He was currently hunkering down and walking through the mecha graveyard outside the Seventh Refuge. The place is filled with the remains of the steel behemoths of the past, and now only the rusty shells remain. His target was blue glaze, a rare rust-resistant coating material that fetched exorbitant prices on the black market.
"It's almost there, Xingchen." He murmured to himself and caught a glimpse of the target - a palm-sized piece of blue glaze attached to the breastplate of a deeply buried mecha. He carefully reached out and tried to pry it off with a special knife.
