"What you have heard is true," Tasuneviir said, "I lost one of my arms in the last major government mission I was assigned to. The rogue mech had killed most of my team as they were distracting it from me so I could disable it. It took a very long time to do so, but it was done. It fell over and pinched my arm off because of its weight and how hard it fell. It wasn't clean. A very, very messy event. After that, I never wanted to work for the government again. They could easily have sent a missile to destroy it, but no. They had to send us. Now they're dead and I faked my death after starving on the streets." He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with his mechanical hand.
"Sorry, I'm still angry for what they caused. I don't know why they built us, really, but I hate them for it." He paused. "I'm only four years old, you know. Most my age would be starting their first day of school soon, and here I am discharged from the military, missing an arm and walking in a heavy suit of armor.
"I'm sorry I ranted a bit, I've only told this story once before, to my AI, Roland, and he was there!" He took a deep breath, gripping his rifle tighter, then loosening his grip.
"It was a horrible event," Roland said. "He won't say it, because it hurts him, but his team was his family. They grew up together, faced the same hardships together and usually came out stronger."
"Please don't say anymore, Roland."
"Ok." He fell silent.