[h3]OSDT [i]Jannah[/i] - Martian Sphere[/h3]
"Total write-off."

Aglaea Akechi stared up at what remained of the Yukine, evaluating the state of the prototype machine with experienced eyes. Of course, it did not require several years of working as a HFV mechanic to conclude that the mech before her had been brutalised to the extent where performing any repairs would be pointless, but the unfortunate financial circumstances of the OSDT meant that the half-Japanese woman needed to be [i]extra[/i] careful when deciding whether or not to scrap a HFV for being unusable. Fortunately, however, the damage inflicted upon the Yukine made her decision a lot easier.

"You sure about that?" asked one of her colleagues, the olive-skinned young man casually sidling up beside her to the sound of metal clinking against metal. "The torso's relatively intact, so we could hook some new limbs onto it without too big of a glitch."

She glanced towards the younger mechanic, a tall brunet whose most noticeable feature was the metal prosthetic that had taken the place of his lower left leg. He was gazing intently at the Yukine's wounds, likely trying to think up a way to create some Frankenstein'd creature from the 'corpse' of the prototype. It wasn't likely his intention, but in her eyes, any attempt to fix up the thing would only spawn some ugly patchwork.

"No way," she replied with a snort. "We don't have any spares, and the Americans sure ain't going to make more parts for a defunct prototype like this thing. That's without mentioning the unique thrusters. We just ain't equipped for its repairs. At the very best we can probs salvage the cockpit."

"Damn. Not even the Rook parts'll work?"

"Buddy needs them."

Her colleague closed his eyes and groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose between his the index finger and thumb of his left hand. "Did he lose [i]another[/i] limb?"

She smiled humourlessly. "Yeeeep."

"Every goddamn time," muttered the other mechanic under his breath. "Am I in charge of doing its repairs again?"

"Unfortunately not, Stronin!" declared an exuberant voice from behind him. A well-calloused hand placed itself on his shoulder, and if he were to turn around, he would come face to face with the shades-sporting visage of their chief, an aged man who was colloquially known to them as Steakhouse (for ... reasons that were actually quite unknown to them now that they thought about it, but his real name was just Tobias). "You're in charge of the Bradley today. After all, you have the most experience with them out of us!"

The crestfallen expression that had developed on Stronin's face after the chief dashed his hopes was a source of amusement to Aglaea, a touch of mirth clearly dancing upon her creased lips. How unfortunate it was to have escaped dealing with the ever-dense Buddy Wang, only to be forced to work on a machine where he would need to dance around the meat jello remains of a well-done pilot. Luck wasn't favouring her colleague today.

"Have fun with the burger," was her offer of ... 'encouragement'. "Try not to eat him though."

Her daily quota of socialisation now complete, Aglaea began walking closer towards the Yukine, ignoring the annoyed cursing of her colleague behind her. There was a mech to be dismantled, and if the pilot was to remain with the HFV squads ... then there was also a mech to be procured.

It was going to be a busy day.