A pop, a hiss, and that decadent scent of coffee. That’s how my morning should of started. Instead it was a grinding, a creak and the stench of stale air from a tomb. Maybe it was more a mausoleum. It’s hard to say, given I’m not one for the the peculiarities of the grave digging and interring profession. Not that I don’t see my share of death as a mechanic.
And this morning that’s just what I got - an old man wanting to remove some tank he found out in a wadi on the range. I didn’t even recognize the model. Let alone what war it’s from. But the customer wasn’t having it and at least he was paying. Which meant I could buy some coffee.
Cracking that thing open I should have asked why he wanted it moved. Not like there was much out here. But when there’s a paying customer you don’t rifle em with questions. And I was just as soon to get answers from him as I was the pilot of this mech. The latter at least had a better smile.
Course the pilot wasn’t complaining bout my presence. But the customer sure was. He thought I’d just roll up, tow the thing off and be done for the day. When you got a warmachine things ain’t so simple. For one, who knows what kind of ordnance this sucker has in it - live or otherwise. I can’t just go banging it about. It’s liable to go boom. And then I’m not getting paid, or my coffee.
Plus, something killed this and the pilot. Not like they just wandered off into the desert to die. And sometimes what killed a mech can still kill a mech if you ain’t careful. Hence opening the hatch. And getting a whiff of what’s inside. I just wish it smelled as good as coffee.
Today’s art is courtesy of Cameron Sewell from St. Petersburg, USA.