This world is definitely... Well. 'In the middle of a war' might be an understatement. They're dropped off in a ruined city with shattered bedrock that's sliding gradually into a fluctuating, violent sea. Heavy clouds race overhead, causing frequent storms and rains feeding the massive waterfalls cascading down jagged cliffs and running over the faces of ruined skyscrapers. 

There's signs of more recent activity, though. A pretty new looking missile silo just off shore. And a distant figure of someone wrapped in a heavy cloak who turns around the edge of a building as they watch - the person in question doesn't seem to have noticed them. Flying machines patrolling the skies, though they're starting to corrode in the salty humid air. Otherwise... Wildlife, mostly. Rather abundant wildlife. 

Martin eyes the clouds and tugs the brim of his hat down to shield the brass plates of his face from the rain. 

"I hope it's not like this the whole time we're here, or I'll be solid green by the time we get off this planet." 

"Given the data I downloaded about this planet's weather patterns, the likelihood of it raining the whole time we're here is one point seven percent. The likelihood that it will rain tomorrow, however, is..." 

Ivy is very good at calculating probabilities and less good at knowing which ones will be reassuring to her crewmates. She continues to give Martin weather predictions as the two of them follow Kit through the streets. 

Kit, for his part, is following the cloaked figure, because that's the most interesting thing he's seen so far that he can get to by walking. 

The cloaked figure: seems to be heading towards a very weird sort of back alley formed by a jagged cliff and a half collapsed skyscraper...

Which contains an elevator buried in the cliff.

"Ooo, an elevator! I wonder where that goes," Kit whispers, all faux innocence. 

They'll wait for it to come back rather than try to catch up before the doors shut. 

In the long-suffering tone of someone who knows for a fact that he's going to be ignored, Martin says, "I feel compelled to remind you that it is most likely private property, and the owners may not take kindly to our intrusion." 

"Trespassing and potential violence?" (In very much the way another person might say, 'Cake and ice cream?') 

"This just keeps looking better. Of course, if you'd rather stay out here and rust..." 

As he speaks, he's looking around, trying to spot hidden cameras, speakers, or anyone else hanging around in the area. 

No one else in the area! Which is honestly a little weird. There's pretty clearly a place for someone to hang out when guarding the entrance. It's just empty. (If they look really closely there's faint signs of a struggle, though the person who went down earlier didn't seem suspicious of the lack of a bouncer.) No obvious cameras or speakers. 

Also they hear a very faint rumble and clunk that might indicate the elevator has let whoever out.

Then there's nothing to keep him from strolling up and calling the elevator.

Despite Martin's protests, the other two follow. 

The elevator seems old - it's made of metal that's started to corrode, and it jerks and shakes and groans as it's moving. But it works, and it takes them down what's probably two stories or so, opening in an underground lobby. There's electric lights, groups of human-like beings standing around talking to each other, what might be a stall to buy things from, and a few less humanoid robots are apparent...

And there's a distant sound of a fight and a crowd cheering. 

"Oh, great, an underground fighting ring!" 

"Oh. Great. An underground fighting ring." 

"Yes, we are most likely below ground level at this elevation," Ivy comments distractedly.

She wanders over to get a closer look at the nearest robot. 

Nearest robot: comes up to about waist height, with a cylindrical body and a spherical head and comically small limbs. Its eyes glow a bright yellow, and it's currently just standing there, a humanoid android looming over but not looking directly at it - the android's talking to a different android about the fights and if they need to upgrade anything or capture a new combatant.

While two of the androids nearish the entrance turn to Kit. "Where'd you capture a machine lifeform like that?" one asks, gesturing at Martin. He sounds impressed. 

Oh? Well now, isn't that a revealing assumption for them to be making?

"Would you believe, I found it hanging upside down from a rope around its foot, half covered in rust."

Martin doesn't love where this seems to be going. But since Kit's statement is technically true—he has, in fact, found Martin in that state before, and it was rather embarrassing—he doesn't speak up to correct the record just yet. 

"Hah! So you're here to enter it in the fights?"

Martin is going to hate this and it'll be hilarious. Kit can't wait to watch. 

He spreads his arms wide in an exaggerated shrug. "Why else would I be here?"

If the androids are paying attention, they might notice that his right arm (up to at least the forearm, the rest being covered by his sleeve) is made of brass clockwork. It's not identical to Martin's, but it clearly runs on the same technology. 

Eh, it's unfortunate, but sometimes you can't find a good prosthetic, let alone a new arm entirely. Honestly you're lucky when you get one that even works. They'll overlook it. 

"You'll want to talk to the receptionist over there then," one says, gesturing across the entry hall - where there is indeed a woman with bright, almost neon purple hair leaning idly on a desk. 

Though there's three androids - two men dressed pretty plainly, in faded combat fatigues with old guns slung across their backs, and one woman dressed in a rugged getup that manages to squeeze an impressive number of shades of black into one outfit. It looks better quality than the two men's clothes, an impression reinforced by the exceptionally nice white swords floating crossed behind her and the very fancy guns she has at her hip and the daggers she has strapped to her leather boots for good measure. The only thing that doesn't look quite as nice is a battered wooden mask with fading paint that she's wearing slightly askew so it hides only a third of her face. 

There's also a machine - squat, but looks bipedal - on its knees next to them, currently sobbing and saying something mostly incoherent about its mother.

The partially masked woman seems to be arguing with the other two androids. There's a quiet, intense anger building in her expression. 

Martin's attention is drawn by the crying robot. He breaks away from following Kit towards the reception desk and drifts closer.

—oh, hey, an argument. And wow, nice outfit, someone's got a sense of style.

Kit will wander in that direction as well, trying to make it look casual and like it was his idea in the first place for both of them to come over here. What are these people arguing about? 

It possibly started as some variant on 'Hey you asshole, cut it out.' May or may not have involved attempts at diplomacy or playing within the system. 

It's rapidly becoming about if machines can have 'mothers.' If their tears matter. If this is fun or not. 

The woman seems - not just angry, but conflicted - 

"It's a piece of trash," one of the men says. "We got some money off of it and the other one. And they're not useful anymore. Maybe we can get a few pennies out of scrapping them, so may as well dispose - "