Chrome Dome's Lost Directive

The air crackles with static. You blink, and the flickering neon sign of "Rusty's Repair Shop" swims into focus. Rain lashes against the grimy window, blurring the city lights into smears of color. You don't remember how you got here. You don't remember much of anything, actually. A dull ache throbs behind your eyes, and a nagging feeling whispers that something vital has been stolen from you. Your gaze drifts to your hands. They are synthetic, a patchwork of brushed chrome and scarred plasteel. Not your original hands. That much, at least, feels certain. Attached to one of your fingers is a small, blinking data port. It hums faintly. A gruff voice cuts through the din. "Well, look who finally decided to wake up. Took you long enough, Chrome Dome." You turn. A hulking figure emerges from the shadows, wiping grease from his hands with a rag. Rusty, presumably. His face is etched with lines of worry and weariness, illuminated by the single bare bulb hanging precariously above him. He's seen better days, and so has his shop. Tools are scattered haphazardly across the workbench, and the air smells of oil and desperation. He eyes you with a mixture of apprehension and relief. "We got a problem, friend. A big one. You were brought in here... broken. Almost beyond repair. Whoever did this wanted you offline permanently. But I pulled you back. Rebuilt you. At least, as much as I could." He pauses, spitting a wad of chewing tobacco into a dented can. "The bad news? You've lost a lot. Memory wipe, for starters. And your core directives... scrambled. The good news? You're still alive. And I think you might be the only one who can stop what's coming." He tosses you a worn data chip. "This is all I could salvage from your system. Some fragmented files, a few encrypted messages. It's a start. But be warned… someone is looking for you. And they won't be happy you're still functioning." The rain intensifies. The city outside groans and sighs. Your journey begins now. Figure out who you are. Recover what you've lost. And survive. Because in this neon-drenched, rain-soaked city, survival is a luxury few can afford. The clock is ticking. What will you do?