"No Life 'Til Leather"

Sister Midnight

note: remember how i said no more 10k word chapters? guess someone lied lmao,

enjoy >w<

(sidenote, i couldnt find a fitting metal song for the chapter, so i figured sister midnight off iggy's "The Idiot" would be perfect here. very good album, on another note. go check it out, it was featured in "Trainspotting" even >///<)

Mechanics!

Saviors of all that is steel - traders of sweat, flesh and tears for the premise of each cog running smooth, each screw tightened to its very limit. Where the black rivers of ori-fuel run wild, where sparks fly and no weak-willed dare - where only a real man reaches and holds - fixes and triumphs! Motors, motorized amphibian lake-crawlers, makeshift artillery mopeds, high-aimed tanks, and living chimeras of many faces and barrels, a real mechanic could and would fix them all up without question. In the dark of night, somewhere near a somewhat warm and questionably cozy merc-safehouse, two mechanix sat huddled together and slouched over a broken generator. An engine. And what an engine it was! Missing the shine of its grand, former glory, it lay on the frozen ground and catched dust. Hidden beneath a little roof of steel sheets, it was somewhat sheltered from the rain and all the corrosion it'd bring, yet it still didn't stop Mother Nature from coating the outer layer in a thick blanket of dark rust. "Rust in peace, my little engine!" Andy thought to himself, before an annoyed sigh along with a light slap to the back of his head brought his thoughts down to the more earthly matters at hand.

"Can you... Andy, for gods' sake, can you hold the flashlight straight?" Hoederer choked through gritted teeth, while fighting back a snaking flurry of cables and nozzles separating him from a tiny, little valve resting beneath all that mess. His fingers slithered and wriggled, yet couldn't quite grasp it through the forest of rubber and metal branches.

"I AM holding it straight." He threw back, a little timid now, having endured a couple scoldings in the past hour or so. He had to admit, off the battlefield, Hedley was a much different person. Especially when the situation called for it, he could get REALLY unpleasant. Hell, Andy was sure he saw the merc acting much kinder towards captured prisoners of war than he was right now. Still, messing around with captives and desperately digging into an old piece of machinery were two completely different circumstances to find oneself in, so he couldn't blame him too much.

"Straight? This is straight to you? You call THAT straight? I can't see shit, Andy, I can't see the goddamn valve, I can't see anything! Just-..." He groaned in exasperation. "... More to the left. Left. My left! My-... Okay, better. Now hold it like that."

Having maneuvered the flashing beam of light narrowly past all the obstructing cables and wires, Andy sighed and did his best to keep it steadily in place. His tail shuffled somewhere around the floor, playing shyly with a couple leaves that had somehow managed to make their way beneath their little shed. Not a fan of scoldings either, seems like.

"... Let's see... Let's... Ah, I see you. Can't hide from me like that." Hedley chuckled with a hint of pride. Like a hunter setting his sights on a trophy-beast, he stuck his tongue out and reached out to Andy with one hand, the other still buried in the cable-y mess. "Andy, wrench. Victorian."

"Victorian..." Andy repeated, before making an effort to grab and open a toolbag at his feet. With one hand occupied, he clumsily slid the zipper open and gazed into the steel filled abyss inside. "... Which one?"

"Victorian, I said." Hedley murmured back, his eyes focused on the prize like a hawk-fowl. "C'mon, and don't move the flashlight. Calm and easy does it. Can't lose your grip on things, okay?"