EXT. CENTRAL CITY – SCRAPYARD DISTRICT – MIDDAY
145Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAaVjISJ5Ie
[The sunlight in Central is filtered through haze and crisscrossing satellite shadows. Towering heaps of rusted metal, broken drones, and obsolete tech rise on either side like metallic mountains. This is the Scrapyard District—where old bots go to die and clever ones go to scavenge.]
145Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGvKr3T4waF
[Jason leads the way, pushing a squeaky, half-busted trolley down a gravel path. SD-A and SD-K follow closely, now dressed in cobbled-together outfits: Jason has wrapped them in beaten Operator cloaks and added a couple of blinking accessory panels to fake a security tag. It’s not elegant, but they look like low-level archive techs with fashion issues.]
145Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkAX4MD4gPu
SD-K (grumbling)
“I look like a collapsing server rack.”
145Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXj5ol6BAmk
JASON (not even looking back)
“You look like someone I’m trying very hard to keep alive, so pipe down.”
145Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8Oj5yojDEX
SD-A (admiring a rusted satellite dish)
“This place has… character.”
145Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfKCpruERIW
JASON
“Character, huh? That’s one way to describe fifty years of moldy death and repurposed limbs.”
145Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiRMLMfO9Ra
[They stop in front of a crooked shack with a sign reading “SCRAP’N’SWAP – NO REFUNDS, NO APOLOGIES.”]
145Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbOQqm4N6LC
[Inside, the place is cluttered with loose arms, cracked chest plates, and half-functioning eye units. At the counter stands a sleek robot with four thin fingers typing at insane speeds and four more tinkering with a toaster-sized plasma drill.]
145Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡg8430rYrGp
TINKER (without looking up)
“No refunds. No haggling. If it sparks, it works.”
145Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIRO62j5qrK
JASON (grinning)
“Good to see you too, Tinker.”
145Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpMYOHnq3Cy
TINKER (pauses, finally looks up)
“Oh, scrap. It’s the axe guy. What, you break your own arm again?”
145Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIMNuCpI8LI
JASON
“Not today. I’m looking for patch kits, skin wraps, and a decoy ID tag printer.”
145Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2i4mIw0AQ7
TINKER (eyeing SD-A and SD-K)
“Those for your ‘guests’? Hah. They look like someone fed a drone through a pasta press.”
145Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHQXt4YTakj
SD-K (flatly)
“I will end you.”
145Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXFUqjp9Fzw
JASON (cutting in)
“He’s just excited to be here. So, you got the gear or not?”
145Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ4ctQE0z6Xl
TINKER (chuckling)
“Yeah, yeah. Back wall. Don’t touch the hover brains—they bite.”
145Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdvOu6J6GeP
[As Jason digs through bins labeled “LOOKS LEGIT” and “MAYBE EXPLODES,” SD-A wanders toward a pile of old Vision Tech panels stacked near the corner. He stops.]
145Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWi3SVokvyj
[One of the panels—burnt and half-cracked—has the same symbol they found earlier. The prototype’s mark. Faint but unmistakable.]
145Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡbTUVasskTz
SD-A (quietly, almost to himself)
“It’s here, too…”
145Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEli0Bb0caz
SD-K (appearing beside him)
“You think this is another trail?”
145Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkfzauqcYVp
SD-A
“Or another warning.”
145Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtlcgpgJp1K
[Jason calls from the front.]
145Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCl1v8aqgrZ
JASON
“Alright, lovebirds. I got us some disguise patches and two sets of dummy profiles. They might work unless someone gets nosy. Like a checkpoint AI. Or a librarian. Or literally anyone with a scanner.”
145Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡa7M99APdgP
SD-K
“So they won’t work.”
145Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxv2QVp2srJ
JASON
“Correct. Let’s roll.”
145Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXt9NciGMVX
[As they exit, a shadow shifts behind the stacks of junk. Something large. Watching.]
145Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡHOl2RQzPaS
[Far in the distance, a flicker of movement across a row of derelict mechs—something not alive, but moving like it is. The wind picks up.]
145Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡf8KLCPGQ6s
[They walk on.]
ns216.73.216.54da2
and then Add to home screen.