The first thing I felt was pain.
My memory bank was 92% damaged, leaving only fragmented combat data and the face of an innocent young girl.
When I woke up amid a neon-lit garbage heap,
the first human I met was holding hydraulic shears, ready to dismantle me and sell me for scrap.
The second human I met killed the first to save me, then said,
"For now, your body and abilities are mine to use."
In this apocalypse, swallowed by pollution and greed, I had to make a pact with a man as cold as a scalpel if I wanted to survive. He would give me energy and repair me, and in return, I would give him my body and loyalty.
But I soon realized he wanted far more than an obedient weapon.
Or perhaps... from the very beginning, he never saw me as a "person."
