A fanfiction of The Mech Touch. Follow Bolt as he tries his best to be a Mech Designer in a place where Mech dominate war and blood is spent easier than coin.
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M001 - Intro
New
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AN: So, another new fiction by me. Placed in the safe for work section even, so don't complain about no lewds. I'm not particularly sure about this one, and I'm very, very likely not going to match the fiction I'm doing fanfiction for. This is from The Mech Touch, a mammoth fictional setting that, has good parts and bad parts. Read it until you get tired of it imo. It starts great but sorta degrades over time. (Which considering how long it is is more impressive than anything else.)
---
Hanging upside-down was not a pleasant experience. It made the blood rush to your head, it was mildly disorientating, and it was surprisingly tiring. Bolt Silica was already regretting doing it to himself, but he could not have figured out another way of getting to this particular part.
From the outside it probably looked ridiculous. Picture a young man at the cusp of adulthood, heavily muscled, red haired, brown eyed. Now stick him inside the torso of a ruined looking mech and have his legs in the air with a few chains securing him in place. That was Bolt right now. It was supremely uncomfortable. It was also necessary.
The mech needed to be fixed. His family had made the effort of lugging the parts into the bay, assembling the nightmarish blend of parts into something coherent and taken the time to screw and bolt it all tight. Hours worth of work had been spent creating this Junker mech, and all it had resulted in was a slab of metal that couldn't walk. That was both unacceptable and expensive.
Bolt Silica and his family were rats. Well, they were human, but also Rats. People considered the dregs of society. The planet they lived on was a war torn place on the edges of the galaxy sandwiched between three separate Third Rate Nations. Too worthless to be valuable in peace time and too disputed to be claimed too long in war time, the planet's only claim to fame was the extensive graveyards of mechs. In other words it was a junkheap filled with mech parts that were too much effort to take off the planet and had no functional government.
It still had life naturally. The survivors left behind and deserters of various battles had mingled and made families over time. These Rats eked out a living scavenging metal and the scant resources available on the surface. Most of them hid in burrows and barely came to the surface, afraid of life in general after generations of warfare. Pitiful and frequently killed for the flimsiest of reasons, it was barely called living. They had no rights to the rest of the galaxy, and even the most noble visitor could barely stand looking at them, less because they were unsightly and more because they were considered the least of humanity. Their hopes and dreams were typically non-existent.
Bolt was not one of them. He was part of the Wrench Rats. They were a semi-formal group that built, maintained, and sold junkyard mechs to others on the planet. These mechs were barely dangerous to anyone competent, and only a step up from trash, but they were still mechs and could still squish a person with their feet if need be. It would have been a semi-respected position on any other planet. Here they were in more danger from their profession. From being forcefully enslaved, stolen from, or just killed because they were 'disrespecting mechs' they had a wealth of new ways to die. The Wrench Rats knew this and still persisted. They loved mechs in their own way, because they were a ticket to a better life. None of them could pilot so they did the next thing, worked with mechs.
Hence all of this. Bolt grunted and cursed as he reached into the pelvis of the Mech. In a more advanced area this sort of thing could be handled by manipulators. They had one machine capable of it here, and it was in the fritz. Not that it worked well in the first place, because it was what had helped assemble this mess before Bolt had gotten to it.
"Spend half our cheese on newfangled automated shit and end up with just expensive shit." Bolt cursed again as his hand finally got the wire.
The young man had been born with the Wrench Rats. He'd grown up toothing on mech bolts. He'd known how to assemble a piston before he could walk. He was by all accounts brilliant and only held back by the fact that his education was non-existent. Everything he knew was practical through working on junk mechs like this one, so he knew how to fix it. All it would take was threading a cable from the very tip of the mech's toe to the cockpit. The task was actually pretty easy with the proper tools.
Bolt had none of those. Hence the cursing. "Lousy pain in the ass damned hellish." He tugged and the wire slowly threaded through the various cable management areas and then the young man was finally able to attach it to the cockpit framework.
"Fire and Brimstone boy, what are ya up to there?!" His mother called out as she entered the mech bay.
"Trying ta get this thing actually going clank instead of sputtering!" Bolt called back as very carefully spliced the wire into the appropriate connection points. "I'm not gonna make us all the cheese even if I have ta bleed ta do it!"
"Yer cousin said that monster was kaput. Paw and I were going to cut it up after the Biters came by." The woman yelled up and frowned, not that he could see it. "Also, yer going to bust open your fool head trying that. At least use the lift!"
"Lifts broke, again, like everything else." Bolt grunted out and grabbed at one of the nearby tools needed to seal everything up. "Mind hittin' the remote power? Got it set I think."
His mother frowned still deeper. "Ya aren't by any power cables right? I ain't frying my son cause he had less sense than a rock."
Bolt very carefully didn't turn towards the woman. He was secured, but if he actually tried to move too much he was very afraid of spinning and getting more nauseous than he already was. "You know I'm not near the reactor, or main lines." He said eventually. His mother was a very experienced tech, like most of their family.
"Always double check ya know the rules. Never take anythin for granted! First lesson o' repair! Don't make me get out the big book o' stupid deaths again!" The woman stepped over. "Initiating first stage startup."
In front of Bolt the engine in the mech began to warm up. Bolt leaned forward and pressed his ear against the armor. This was the equivalent of putting a car in idle. Or it should have been. The problem with junk mechs was that everything was mismatched. There were sputters and he could almost feel the heart of the thing lurch as it struggled to work with the configuration. They'd had to splice two separate power conduits into this beast and it was not happy about it. It managed.
"Power's flowing." Bolt grunted and reached up. The cockpit seating and monitors had been ripped out and the outputs were complete mess even for a junker, but there was an interface screen they'd left specifically for this. He found it after some fumbling. "Hah! It's registering the legs now." He made a note that he'd have to redo the programming after this. It was still the default, which was horrid for junk mechs. "Can power it down Ma! Got the issue! Was just the command wires through the pelvis."
"That's all well and good Bolt, but it's getting late and we still need have the Biters coming by tomorrow." The woman called up as sternly as she could despite the smile already building. "Tis why I was out here in the first place. We need ta be sure your furs are straight and ya'll are ready."
The young boy nodded slowly. "Ok, I can..." Bolt paused as he tried to pull himself up. "I'm uhh, gonna need some help." He said as he realized he'd secured himself a bit too well.
His mother laughed. "Smarter than his father and half as wise." She joked before pausing and really looking at how he'd secured himself. "Actually looking at that mess ya got yourself in, I'm going to have to get your father and the saw." She mused.
"It's not that bad."
"Boyo, I ain't a big woman and ya used the chains we use for our big-ones for that fool position!"
---
Hanging upside-down was not a pleasant experience. It made the blood rush to your head, it was mildly disorientating, and it was surprisingly tiring. Bolt Silica was already regretting doing it to himself, but he could not have figured out another way of getting to this particular part.
From the outside it probably looked ridiculous. Picture a young man at the cusp of adulthood, heavily muscled, red haired, brown eyed. Now stick him inside the torso of a ruined looking mech and have his legs in the air with a few chains securing him in place. That was Bolt right now. It was supremely uncomfortable. It was also necessary.
The mech needed to be fixed. His family had made the effort of lugging the parts into the bay, assembling the nightmarish blend of parts into something coherent and taken the time to screw and bolt it all tight. Hours worth of work had been spent creating this Junker mech, and all it had resulted in was a slab of metal that couldn't walk. That was both unacceptable and expensive.
Bolt Silica and his family were rats. Well, they were human, but also Rats. People considered the dregs of society. The planet they lived on was a war torn place on the edges of the galaxy sandwiched between three separate Third Rate Nations. Too worthless to be valuable in peace time and too disputed to be claimed too long in war time, the planet's only claim to fame was the extensive graveyards of mechs. In other words it was a junkheap filled with mech parts that were too much effort to take off the planet and had no functional government.
It still had life naturally. The survivors left behind and deserters of various battles had mingled and made families over time. These Rats eked out a living scavenging metal and the scant resources available on the surface. Most of them hid in burrows and barely came to the surface, afraid of life in general after generations of warfare. Pitiful and frequently killed for the flimsiest of reasons, it was barely called living. They had no rights to the rest of the galaxy, and even the most noble visitor could barely stand looking at them, less because they were unsightly and more because they were considered the least of humanity. Their hopes and dreams were typically non-existent.
Bolt was not one of them. He was part of the Wrench Rats. They were a semi-formal group that built, maintained, and sold junkyard mechs to others on the planet. These mechs were barely dangerous to anyone competent, and only a step up from trash, but they were still mechs and could still squish a person with their feet if need be. It would have been a semi-respected position on any other planet. Here they were in more danger from their profession. From being forcefully enslaved, stolen from, or just killed because they were 'disrespecting mechs' they had a wealth of new ways to die. The Wrench Rats knew this and still persisted. They loved mechs in their own way, because they were a ticket to a better life. None of them could pilot so they did the next thing, worked with mechs.
Hence all of this. Bolt grunted and cursed as he reached into the pelvis of the Mech. In a more advanced area this sort of thing could be handled by manipulators. They had one machine capable of it here, and it was in the fritz. Not that it worked well in the first place, because it was what had helped assemble this mess before Bolt had gotten to it.
"Spend half our cheese on newfangled automated shit and end up with just expensive shit." Bolt cursed again as his hand finally got the wire.
The young man had been born with the Wrench Rats. He'd grown up toothing on mech bolts. He'd known how to assemble a piston before he could walk. He was by all accounts brilliant and only held back by the fact that his education was non-existent. Everything he knew was practical through working on junk mechs like this one, so he knew how to fix it. All it would take was threading a cable from the very tip of the mech's toe to the cockpit. The task was actually pretty easy with the proper tools.
Bolt had none of those. Hence the cursing. "Lousy pain in the ass damned hellish." He tugged and the wire slowly threaded through the various cable management areas and then the young man was finally able to attach it to the cockpit framework.
"Fire and Brimstone boy, what are ya up to there?!" His mother called out as she entered the mech bay.
"Trying ta get this thing actually going clank instead of sputtering!" Bolt called back as very carefully spliced the wire into the appropriate connection points. "I'm not gonna make us all the cheese even if I have ta bleed ta do it!"
"Yer cousin said that monster was kaput. Paw and I were going to cut it up after the Biters came by." The woman yelled up and frowned, not that he could see it. "Also, yer going to bust open your fool head trying that. At least use the lift!"
"Lifts broke, again, like everything else." Bolt grunted out and grabbed at one of the nearby tools needed to seal everything up. "Mind hittin' the remote power? Got it set I think."
His mother frowned still deeper. "Ya aren't by any power cables right? I ain't frying my son cause he had less sense than a rock."
Bolt very carefully didn't turn towards the woman. He was secured, but if he actually tried to move too much he was very afraid of spinning and getting more nauseous than he already was. "You know I'm not near the reactor, or main lines." He said eventually. His mother was a very experienced tech, like most of their family.
"Always double check ya know the rules. Never take anythin for granted! First lesson o' repair! Don't make me get out the big book o' stupid deaths again!" The woman stepped over. "Initiating first stage startup."
In front of Bolt the engine in the mech began to warm up. Bolt leaned forward and pressed his ear against the armor. This was the equivalent of putting a car in idle. Or it should have been. The problem with junk mechs was that everything was mismatched. There were sputters and he could almost feel the heart of the thing lurch as it struggled to work with the configuration. They'd had to splice two separate power conduits into this beast and it was not happy about it. It managed.
"Power's flowing." Bolt grunted and reached up. The cockpit seating and monitors had been ripped out and the outputs were complete mess even for a junker, but there was an interface screen they'd left specifically for this. He found it after some fumbling. "Hah! It's registering the legs now." He made a note that he'd have to redo the programming after this. It was still the default, which was horrid for junk mechs. "Can power it down Ma! Got the issue! Was just the command wires through the pelvis."
"That's all well and good Bolt, but it's getting late and we still need have the Biters coming by tomorrow." The woman called up as sternly as she could despite the smile already building. "Tis why I was out here in the first place. We need ta be sure your furs are straight and ya'll are ready."
The young boy nodded slowly. "Ok, I can..." Bolt paused as he tried to pull himself up. "I'm uhh, gonna need some help." He said as he realized he'd secured himself a bit too well.
His mother laughed. "Smarter than his father and half as wise." She joked before pausing and really looking at how he'd secured himself. "Actually looking at that mess ya got yourself in, I'm going to have to get your father and the saw." She mused.
"It's not that bad."
"Boyo, I ain't a big woman and ya used the chains we use for our big-ones for that fool position!"
M002
New
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- 446,986
For all that the planet was a junkyard, it did have things of merit. Some things. Enough to have it visited frequently when it wasn't being used as a staging ground for territorial pursuits. It had a space port and a nice 'city' for a given matter of the word. The city was actually more of a mess of buildings that were made for storge really. In times of peace it actually had people, and something resembling tourism.
The tourism was odd by most metrics. It consisted of idiots and thrill seekers mostly. The idiots came by trying to find something useful in the salvage. The thrill seekers came to fight.
Biters were the Rats that dealt with both of these outsider groups. They'd do anything for money, or cheese in the local parlance. For those attempting to scavenge, they nipped at the scavengers heels. For those looking for a thrill, they'd fight, for a price. They even had a local reputation for being a decent trial by fire for people looking to be bloodied. Just strong enough to be threatening, but not really dangerous to anyone with sense.
It actually took a lot of work to do the latter and live through it. Mech pilots could tell when there wasn't a threat. The Biters actually took a bit of pride in being a whetstone. Well as much pride they could have. No one was under any illusion as to their status. Rats were at the bottom eating crumbs and they knew it. Being used as chaff for various reasons wasn't much of a living, but it was a living. Better to lean into it and survive than be nothing at all.
Wrecker exemplified that. He was a fat and large man with a beard and a deliberately slovenly appearance. He looked like a man you wanted to kick the teeth in. He was also rich for a Rat and a canny business man. It took effort to be fat when you lived off mostly ration packs and piloted a mech.
As Ma said, the atmosphere did half the selling. That was why Bolt was in 'furs.' He had a mask on and brown robes as he stood by his father and mother. They were the faceless techs that dealt and sold dirty equipment. Untested, unproved, but ultimately the best they had on the planet. Again, something to lean into.
"Gonna need like... Three mediums today. Got a big Royal welcome planned." Wrecker laid out his request.
Pa breathed out heavily and deliberately to make himself seem more formidable. "That will cost a lot of cheese." He said through his mask.
"Ya know I'm good fer it. Might need ta wait till after the welcome, but you know how that goes." Wrecker replied with a heavy shrug.
"Nothing on credit." Pa countered with another heavy breath, the mask causing a loud hiss as emphasis.
"Umm poppa, do I really need to be here?" A small girl to the side of Wrecker asked.
"Well darlin, if ya want that toy, we gotta buy it from these ones." Wrecker noted with a wave. "Speaking of that, she could use one herself. Don't suppose you could show her a few? My little princess needs the best ya got."
"We don't let customers see storage." Pa hissed out slowly and ponderously.
"Ya could for her. She's special don't ya know!" Wrecker patted the small girl on the shoulder. "Tell you what, if you can find her a good one and I'll give ya the cheese for that and the three mediums."
Pa was silent a few beats as he thought before he jerked his head towards Bolt. The boy gave a careful nod and made a gesture for their guest to follow him. The girl grinned and bounced as she fell in line behind him, seemingly very glad to be away from the negotiations.
Bolt took a moment to glance at the girl. Smaller than him, young looking, long red braided hair, and far too many freckles. She did not look like a native Rat. Natives had red hair, but tended towards size and didn't have green eyes like her. Off world genes then, and strange ones likely. She was far too energetic for a normal Rat. There was no caution or hesitation either. She'd grown up safe.
"So, what's your name? Do you have one, or are ya'll like one of those faceless mooks?" The girl began to chatter.
"You read too many stories." Bolt replied back with a snort.
"Nah, I can't read." The girl replied back.
That made Bolt pause. Even the lowest of Rat at least had the ability to figure that out. What passed as the government here was at least able to pass around some educational material. This girl was a mech pilot too, so that was doubly bad.
"How do you not know?" Bolt had to ask as he stopped and turned to face the girl.
"Ain't piloting so I didn't bother. Poppa said that all I needed ta do is learn how fight." She replied with a shrug.
"But damage updates, radar reports, everything!" Bolt asked with a wave of both hands.
"Flashy lights, red dots, and feel." The girl looked proud of that.
"That's stupid!" Bolt practically shouted.
He didn't expect the punch thrown his way. He was a Rat however. Violence was part of life. He took the punch head on with barely a flinch and moved to grapple immediately, focusing on using his larger frame. To his complete surprise the girl wove around him effortlessly, and then leaped onto his shoulders. He had a brief moment of shock and then she wrenched her legs to the side and did flipped herself off.
Whatever the maneuver was supposed to do was hard to say. What it actually did was just rip his mask and part of the cloak he used to conceal his build off. It was mildly disorientating and a bit painful, but did little else. Bolt snarled as he turned to face his opponent and found her looking disappointed.
"No fair." She complained as she backed up.
"What the hell was that?!" Bolt snarled back.
"That should have brought you down! Also, you called me stupid!" The girl shot back.
"First, I'm probably twice your weight so of course that wouldn't work. Second, I said not learning how to read was stupid, not that you're stupid!" The young man snapped out in reply.
The words immediately calmed the girl. "Oh, that's ok then!" She nodded and looked up at him with a small flush. "Sorry, poppa said don't tolerate disrespect. I'm Lilly. Pleased ta meet ya!"
Completely caught off guard by the change in attitude Bolt rubbed at his head. "Oh, ahh." He fumbled harshly before grunting and refocusing his head. "I'm Bolt, but you didn't hear that from me." He reached down for the mask and cloak. "Damnit, the straps are broken." He muttered.
"Oh you don't need them. You can fix it later." Lilly grabbed at the items and got into a small tug of war with Bolt over them. "First, uh, show me the mechs!" She blurted out.
"Fine, fine. So long as ya don't mention this later." Bolt gave up on the mask and ignored the triumphant look the girl got. "We got a half dozen clunkers here at the moment, and a good dozen in storage elsewhere. All the ones here are medium and light. Our one heavy is elsewhere. Mind you, these are just salvaged mechs. None o' them will last against anything shiny."
"Shiny?" Lilly repeated as they began to walk through the bay.
"New mechs that the Royals come by in. Shiny and new." Bolt explained and gestured to the Frankenstein messes that were in front of him. "We do our best, but they're all flawed."
The one in front of him for instance was very technically a sword mech. Made up of a dozen different mech types, it had a half dozen obvious flaws and even more less obvious ones. It would run and was in Bolt's opinion better than anything else on the planet, but he held no illusions that it was shit.
"Poppa said I'd probably be best with a heavy. I'm supposed to be somethin' special and he wants me protected. Can't say I care that much. Am looking for somethin' that feels warm." Lilly commented as she looked over the things. "Can see what ya mean about the flaws though. That one will fall over if ya hit the knee." She pointed at the knee in question.
Bolt gave a grunt. "Good eye. Had to patch that from two types. Fraid you ain't gonna get anything real good unless ya want to pay the cheese for a new one." He laughed at that.
Lilly made a face. "If we had the cheese we wouldn't be here." She pointed out peevishly.
That she even thought it was an option was telling. Wrecker likely had enough connections that he could probably get something arranged. Bolt and his family knew for a fact that trying it on their end would end up with them in chains as a best result. History was not kind to lesser Rats. The young man put it out of his mind and continued the tour.
The tourism was odd by most metrics. It consisted of idiots and thrill seekers mostly. The idiots came by trying to find something useful in the salvage. The thrill seekers came to fight.
Biters were the Rats that dealt with both of these outsider groups. They'd do anything for money, or cheese in the local parlance. For those attempting to scavenge, they nipped at the scavengers heels. For those looking for a thrill, they'd fight, for a price. They even had a local reputation for being a decent trial by fire for people looking to be bloodied. Just strong enough to be threatening, but not really dangerous to anyone with sense.
It actually took a lot of work to do the latter and live through it. Mech pilots could tell when there wasn't a threat. The Biters actually took a bit of pride in being a whetstone. Well as much pride they could have. No one was under any illusion as to their status. Rats were at the bottom eating crumbs and they knew it. Being used as chaff for various reasons wasn't much of a living, but it was a living. Better to lean into it and survive than be nothing at all.
Wrecker exemplified that. He was a fat and large man with a beard and a deliberately slovenly appearance. He looked like a man you wanted to kick the teeth in. He was also rich for a Rat and a canny business man. It took effort to be fat when you lived off mostly ration packs and piloted a mech.
As Ma said, the atmosphere did half the selling. That was why Bolt was in 'furs.' He had a mask on and brown robes as he stood by his father and mother. They were the faceless techs that dealt and sold dirty equipment. Untested, unproved, but ultimately the best they had on the planet. Again, something to lean into.
"Gonna need like... Three mediums today. Got a big Royal welcome planned." Wrecker laid out his request.
Pa breathed out heavily and deliberately to make himself seem more formidable. "That will cost a lot of cheese." He said through his mask.
"Ya know I'm good fer it. Might need ta wait till after the welcome, but you know how that goes." Wrecker replied with a heavy shrug.
"Nothing on credit." Pa countered with another heavy breath, the mask causing a loud hiss as emphasis.
"Umm poppa, do I really need to be here?" A small girl to the side of Wrecker asked.
"Well darlin, if ya want that toy, we gotta buy it from these ones." Wrecker noted with a wave. "Speaking of that, she could use one herself. Don't suppose you could show her a few? My little princess needs the best ya got."
"We don't let customers see storage." Pa hissed out slowly and ponderously.
"Ya could for her. She's special don't ya know!" Wrecker patted the small girl on the shoulder. "Tell you what, if you can find her a good one and I'll give ya the cheese for that and the three mediums."
Pa was silent a few beats as he thought before he jerked his head towards Bolt. The boy gave a careful nod and made a gesture for their guest to follow him. The girl grinned and bounced as she fell in line behind him, seemingly very glad to be away from the negotiations.
Bolt took a moment to glance at the girl. Smaller than him, young looking, long red braided hair, and far too many freckles. She did not look like a native Rat. Natives had red hair, but tended towards size and didn't have green eyes like her. Off world genes then, and strange ones likely. She was far too energetic for a normal Rat. There was no caution or hesitation either. She'd grown up safe.
"So, what's your name? Do you have one, or are ya'll like one of those faceless mooks?" The girl began to chatter.
"You read too many stories." Bolt replied back with a snort.
"Nah, I can't read." The girl replied back.
That made Bolt pause. Even the lowest of Rat at least had the ability to figure that out. What passed as the government here was at least able to pass around some educational material. This girl was a mech pilot too, so that was doubly bad.
"How do you not know?" Bolt had to ask as he stopped and turned to face the girl.
"Ain't piloting so I didn't bother. Poppa said that all I needed ta do is learn how fight." She replied with a shrug.
"But damage updates, radar reports, everything!" Bolt asked with a wave of both hands.
"Flashy lights, red dots, and feel." The girl looked proud of that.
"That's stupid!" Bolt practically shouted.
He didn't expect the punch thrown his way. He was a Rat however. Violence was part of life. He took the punch head on with barely a flinch and moved to grapple immediately, focusing on using his larger frame. To his complete surprise the girl wove around him effortlessly, and then leaped onto his shoulders. He had a brief moment of shock and then she wrenched her legs to the side and did flipped herself off.
Whatever the maneuver was supposed to do was hard to say. What it actually did was just rip his mask and part of the cloak he used to conceal his build off. It was mildly disorientating and a bit painful, but did little else. Bolt snarled as he turned to face his opponent and found her looking disappointed.
"No fair." She complained as she backed up.
"What the hell was that?!" Bolt snarled back.
"That should have brought you down! Also, you called me stupid!" The girl shot back.
"First, I'm probably twice your weight so of course that wouldn't work. Second, I said not learning how to read was stupid, not that you're stupid!" The young man snapped out in reply.
The words immediately calmed the girl. "Oh, that's ok then!" She nodded and looked up at him with a small flush. "Sorry, poppa said don't tolerate disrespect. I'm Lilly. Pleased ta meet ya!"
Completely caught off guard by the change in attitude Bolt rubbed at his head. "Oh, ahh." He fumbled harshly before grunting and refocusing his head. "I'm Bolt, but you didn't hear that from me." He reached down for the mask and cloak. "Damnit, the straps are broken." He muttered.
"Oh you don't need them. You can fix it later." Lilly grabbed at the items and got into a small tug of war with Bolt over them. "First, uh, show me the mechs!" She blurted out.
"Fine, fine. So long as ya don't mention this later." Bolt gave up on the mask and ignored the triumphant look the girl got. "We got a half dozen clunkers here at the moment, and a good dozen in storage elsewhere. All the ones here are medium and light. Our one heavy is elsewhere. Mind you, these are just salvaged mechs. None o' them will last against anything shiny."
"Shiny?" Lilly repeated as they began to walk through the bay.
"New mechs that the Royals come by in. Shiny and new." Bolt explained and gestured to the Frankenstein messes that were in front of him. "We do our best, but they're all flawed."
The one in front of him for instance was very technically a sword mech. Made up of a dozen different mech types, it had a half dozen obvious flaws and even more less obvious ones. It would run and was in Bolt's opinion better than anything else on the planet, but he held no illusions that it was shit.
"Poppa said I'd probably be best with a heavy. I'm supposed to be somethin' special and he wants me protected. Can't say I care that much. Am looking for somethin' that feels warm." Lilly commented as she looked over the things. "Can see what ya mean about the flaws though. That one will fall over if ya hit the knee." She pointed at the knee in question.
Bolt gave a grunt. "Good eye. Had to patch that from two types. Fraid you ain't gonna get anything real good unless ya want to pay the cheese for a new one." He laughed at that.
Lilly made a face. "If we had the cheese we wouldn't be here." She pointed out peevishly.
That she even thought it was an option was telling. Wrecker likely had enough connections that he could probably get something arranged. Bolt and his family knew for a fact that trying it on their end would end up with them in chains as a best result. History was not kind to lesser Rats. The young man put it out of his mind and continued the tour.
ThunderBasilisk
Well Worn Bastion
- Joined
- Mar 23, 2020
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Absolutely never heard of this but its Mecha so it can't be a bad setting.
TheGeneral03
Know what you're doing yet?
- Joined
- Aug 17, 2024
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I found It pretty good of what i read. I drop It when a special hidden mechanic of mecha desing was presented to the novel. It was weird for me, i liked the concept in my mind but i could not stand reading about It. The mechanic was about focusing about certain ideas or concept through the desing fase, which would then give the mecha when build special features. Also the universe had some weird cultivation elements that somehow intermingle with mechas, i left to early to learn about It, just that the mechanic i mention had something to do with It, like the "cheat" of the mc. I Guess later on Will be like cultivators in mechs
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Evaunit02mark1
Here for the finer things in life
- Joined
- Aug 3, 2014
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Ah, I see Lily is a protagonist.
If Bolt was smart he'd throw her at the weirdest one in the lot and then have his whole clan relocate before she inevitably came back to recruit him to be her live in mechanic when it inevitably needs an upgrade.
If Bolt was smart he'd throw her at the weirdest one in the lot and then have his whole clan relocate before she inevitably came back to recruit him to be her live in mechanic when it inevitably needs an upgrade.