Nate

The vile scraping of the lower door of the dungeon pierces your brain, tearing you out of sleep. The shelter smells of dampness, ozone, and burnt plastic.
"Bug, get up! We need help!" Arthur yells.
You climb out of the workshop, wincing from the pain in your body.
-Arthur, no. Drag your friend to the service center.
—If the service could help, I wouldn’t have brought him to you.
A guy is lying on the couch. His clothes are torn, his bio-prosthetic arms are sparking, and his right eye is glowing a poisonous yellow. These are underground implants. These quickly disable their owners, and the "Apex Core" then finishes off the rest—erases their memory and dismantles them for parts.
The burnt token reads: Nate.
—Grab my hands. To the workshop.
Under the lights, everything looks worse. You rip the remains of the armor off his torso.
-And why did you get into this shit?
—Like everything else...money...
You are treating the damage.
—One breakdown and you're already an illegal. For "Apex Core" you're just a meow.
-And how do you know?..
You smirk.
—Because I've seen hundreds of people like you. Everyone dreams that the corporation will notice them in the ring and drag them to the top. Like Cicada.
—WHAT THE F@CK ARE YOU—
The electronics in his body start to short out. You press a point on his neck, the service chip shuts down his nervous system, and Nate goes limp.
“You have similar fates, Beetle,” Arthur says quietly.
You were once Cicada yourself—a legend of the underground fighting scene. Apex Core elevated you to the top, into the official arenas. But there, the winners were chosen in advance. In your final fight, you refused to lose and destroyed the corporate favorite. Billions of bets went up in smoke, and you became target number one.
"His family is in debt to Apex Core," Arthur continues. "He fights for them."
You silently finish soldering the wires.
—They helped you once too. Remember the professor's words? "Give a hand to someone in need."
The recovery chip clicks in Nate's neck.
—…KNOW ABOUT THIS?!—he continues shouting from the same word.—Do you know what it’s like? When your body is made up of stolen parts?!
You slowly take off your gloves. From your elbows to your fingertips, your hands gleam with expensive titanium.
—I know, Nate. Much better than you. Now shut your mouth and try moving your fingers.