As I stumbled up to my feet, my head pounded like I was getting hit in the head with a sledgehammer until the pounding lessened to a dull headache, and as I stood among the towering mountains of trash, rubbing my aching head, I couldn't help but think about the memories flowing through my mind, how in my first life I was a lore goblin for Fallout lore and information, but that was all I could properly remember, everything else was buried and muffled, I couldn't even remember my gender, name, or age, but my second life I could remember clearly, all the things that I went through felt like they had happened just a couple of days ago, how I was reborn into my favorite franchise, Fallout, and although I loved the franchise that didn't mean I wanted firsthand experience, scavenging to survive, fighting off raiders, mutants, and monsters, finding technology that fascinated me but could kill me just as quickly, until eventually the radiation got me in the end, and now here I was again, my third life, standing in a junkyard as a fifteen-year-old kid named Kevin Hernandez, no parents, no siblings, nothing but myself and mountains of garbage, my memories telling me my parents had been gunned down in a gang shootout three years ago when I was twelve, wrong place wrong time, and the landlord had thrown me out of our apartment because a twelve-year-old couldn't pay rent, leaving me to dig, fix, and sometimes even eat trash to survive, and now, after tripping and cracking my head on scrap metal, my memories of two past lives had returned, and I knew what I had to do, using my knowledge from Fallout, surviving wastelands full of deathclaws and worse, I would begin building in secret so I wouldn't end up dead or enslaved by the corporations that ran this Cyberpunk world, and first on my list was the Sierra Madre vending machine, the one from Fallout: New Vegas that could break coins into base components and reassemble them into anything I needed, infinite supplies to give me the foundation for my next step, because if I had that, I could survive, I could build, and I could carve out a place for myself in this new world, and so I set my jaw, wiped the blood from my temple, and walked deeper into the junkyard, already planning the parts I needed and how to hide my work, because survival here wasn't going to wait for me to catch my breath.
