Post by nualex21 on Feb 17, 2010 23:12:28 GMT -5
Much like his Zeon rivals; if Bigby had been anymore introspective his head would have been stuck up his own ass. He just couldn’t shake off the thought of that gun toting ginger.
Aside form the occasional thought of how things were, Bigby had put it all behind him. His past was just that, the past, and he hadn’t told anyone much about himself since his psych exam before becoming a pilot. Now a days he felt like he could use another. He just wasn’t himself, in battle after battle he’d become more detached from his surroundings. Luckily after a lack luster attempt to attack an enemy position he was reassigned to the 87th. If he hadn’t he would have surly lost his life sooner rather than later. Now that he had someone to do the thinking for him Bigby had become little more than a tool used to pull the trigger of his GM. His usual grunt, that was reserved for the sexiest of crew mates, had become his only means of communication with men and ugly women alike; admittedly not a notion he liked but being lost in thought had left him with a strangely functional mix of apathy and lethargy.
For now the fighting had stopped. The 87th had achieved most it its goals during there push through South East Asia and into North Africa, so that meant there was plenty of repairs that needed to be done. He’d decided that since his mechanic had begged him to not take his GM out during the last attack and he had anyway that he would go down to the hanger and help him; besides maybe using his hands to fix instead of destroy might provide him with a new perspective that could fix the slump he was in.
Bigby crossed the bulkhead into the hanger bay and he could see sparks flying from the right shoulder of his GM but his mechanic was sitting on the wing of a Tin Cod replacing one of its panels. At a lose as to what was going on he approached the mechanic in hopes of some answers.
“Hey you up there. Who the hell do you have working on my suite?”
“It’s not my doing buddy, but when your replacement armor came in so did a new mechanic; says she knows the test suite better than I do and can take care of the repairs by herself.”
For a second Bigby felt like his old self. The thought of working this close to a women and his life being in her hands brought about more fear than any Zeon war machine could ever muster. “She!? What the hell makes some dame better than a whole crew of veteran mechanics?”
“Beats me buddy, and I don’t have enough bars to ask anymore questions about it. Apparently someone pulled some pretty colored strings to get this to happen, so either your lucky to have her or she’s going to get you killed.”
Aside form the occasional thought of how things were, Bigby had put it all behind him. His past was just that, the past, and he hadn’t told anyone much about himself since his psych exam before becoming a pilot. Now a days he felt like he could use another. He just wasn’t himself, in battle after battle he’d become more detached from his surroundings. Luckily after a lack luster attempt to attack an enemy position he was reassigned to the 87th. If he hadn’t he would have surly lost his life sooner rather than later. Now that he had someone to do the thinking for him Bigby had become little more than a tool used to pull the trigger of his GM. His usual grunt, that was reserved for the sexiest of crew mates, had become his only means of communication with men and ugly women alike; admittedly not a notion he liked but being lost in thought had left him with a strangely functional mix of apathy and lethargy.
For now the fighting had stopped. The 87th had achieved most it its goals during there push through South East Asia and into North Africa, so that meant there was plenty of repairs that needed to be done. He’d decided that since his mechanic had begged him to not take his GM out during the last attack and he had anyway that he would go down to the hanger and help him; besides maybe using his hands to fix instead of destroy might provide him with a new perspective that could fix the slump he was in.
Bigby crossed the bulkhead into the hanger bay and he could see sparks flying from the right shoulder of his GM but his mechanic was sitting on the wing of a Tin Cod replacing one of its panels. At a lose as to what was going on he approached the mechanic in hopes of some answers.
“Hey you up there. Who the hell do you have working on my suite?”
“It’s not my doing buddy, but when your replacement armor came in so did a new mechanic; says she knows the test suite better than I do and can take care of the repairs by herself.”
For a second Bigby felt like his old self. The thought of working this close to a women and his life being in her hands brought about more fear than any Zeon war machine could ever muster. “She!? What the hell makes some dame better than a whole crew of veteran mechanics?”
“Beats me buddy, and I don’t have enough bars to ask anymore questions about it. Apparently someone pulled some pretty colored strings to get this to happen, so either your lucky to have her or she’s going to get you killed.”
