The hangar echoed with the rhythmic clanging of tools and the distant hum of cooling systems. Towering mechs stood like steel giants in slumber, casting long shadows across the floor. The Wolverine, its armor dented from the last mission, was parked near one of the far walls, its shadow stretching across the floor as Nina worked underneath it.
Troy’s mech, a Wolverine WVR-6M, stood a few meters away, its squat, powerful frame exuding the toughness expected from the 55-ton machine. This variant boasted increased firepower, fitted with a Magna Mk III large laser in its right arm, which was complemented by two medium lasers. Despite its compact design, the Wolverine was known for its excellent balance of speed, armor, and firepower. It could leap over obstacles with its five jump jets, though the strain of its enhanced heat load made it challenging to pilot in prolonged engagements. Extra armor reinforced its already sturdy frame, giving it the durability needed for strike missions deep behind enemy lines.
Nina was wedged half beneath another Wolverine, her hands busy with a wrench, while she called out occasional instructions to a tech nearby. Her toolkit clattered with every movement, a mix of metallic noises that somehow provided an odd comfort in the massive, quiet bay.
Troy leaned against a large crate several meters away from the Wolverine, idly shuffling a small deck of cards in his hands. He had one eye on Nina as she worked, her figure just visible beneath the mech's heavy armor plating, while his Thunderbolt loomed some distance away, its bulk towering like a silent sentinel.
“Honestly, I don’t know why you bother playing if you’re half-focused on fixing up that thing,” Troy said, flicking a card between his fingers.
Nina grunted, her voice slightly muffled under the mech’s thick plating. “Who said I can’t multitask?” She shifted, rolling out from beneath the Wolverine for a moment to grab another tool, her gaze flicking briefly to Troy. “I could still wipe the floor with you.”
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Troy chuckled, adjusting his stance. “Is that a challenge?”
The exchange barely registered with the rest of the crew, scattered around the hangar. Some lingered near their mechs, while others clustered by crates or repair stations. The usual playful banter was missing, the weight of their last battle hanging heavily in the air.
Nina returned to her task, tightening a bolt with a sharp twist of her wrench. As she worked, she motioned with her free hand for Troy to deal her a hand, all without missing a beat.
Troy gave a low whistle, shaking his head in mock disbelief. “You’re not even gonna look at your cards?”
Nina smirked from beneath the Wolverine’s chassis. “Trust me, I don’t need to.”
A few other techs and crew members had started their own card games by the far end of the hangar, but the usual camaraderie wasn’t there. Laughter came in half-hearted spurts, conversations trailed off, and even the clatter of cards hitting the crates felt distant.
Troy, sensing the quiet gloom hanging over them, moved closer to where Nina was working. He didn’t speak, but his presence was grounding, a silent effort to shake off the tension that hung between everyone. He tossed a card toward Nina's pile, watching it slide across the floor toward her foot.
Nina glanced at it, pausing for a moment. “You’re terrible at this,” she said with a smirk, though the comment was softer than usual. She shifted her attention back to her work, focused and precise.
The Wolverine, damaged but resilient, stood as a reminder of the chaos they’d just survived. Each scrape and scar told a story, and while the techs would soon make it battle-ready again, the crew wasn’t so easily patched up.
Troy leaned back, staring up at the towering bulk of his mech from afar.