"Hey Monkey are you over there?" called a Raven from the distance. "Yeah just give me a minute and I'll help you out." I was in the middle of repairing some small damage to an AC during the preparation for an important operation. We were about to attack a base that had been known to deploy ACs and MTs in large scale terrorist attacks against small, peaceful corporations. With no other choice but to fight, Ravens were called in to stop the violence…if that makes sense. Politics meant little to me anyways. I was just an AC mechanic. I made enough money to live comfortably and aspired to be little more than a working man for the rest of my life. Sure I enjoyed watching AC battles and sometimes daydreamed about the glory of being a Raven. But it was not something I would have ever chosen to be. The funny thing about life is that things often happen regardless of what you ever imagined for yourself. And when times like these come, the best thing to do is to embrace them and drive on. Who would have thought that life would be like this? For the safety of me and anyone who reads these journals, I am calling myself Monkey (as in Grease Monkey or mechanic). All other names of ACs and descriptions of my daily life will not be censored. Welcome to my world.
"Wow that AC looks thrashed! I would rather you not take it out like that." Of course he will not listen to what I say, but at least I warned him ahead of time. "Come on buddy! You can get it fixed up in no time flat! I can always count on you Monkey." Although it was true that I would do anything for anyone, I had to sit down and discuss why his AC would not be fully mission capable for tonight's raid against the terrorist group known as The Iron Fist. He would be taking one of the spare ACs that we kept for emergencies. We had two or three Ravens that were staffed by our group and countless mercenaries that we contracted out when we needed help on a mission.
I told him to take the AC in spare hanger 3. The AC in hanger 1 was just a standard AC. It was lightweight and sported only a light missile launcher, radar, a standard blade, and a small rifle with low power. The AC in hanger 2 was a side project of mine built of rebuilt/battle damaged parts that no one else wanted. It had some old middleweight reverse joint legs and a frame to match. I managed to throw a few spare weapons we had around the base on it in case the shit ever hit the fan. Junker, as I affectionately called it, held a beat up MWG-MG/350 machine gun, a standard left arm blade, and a heavy GNL-15 grenade launcher for back weapon. I managed to recover this grenade launcher off of a destroyed enemy AC that attacked the base. The AC in hanger 3 was kept as a backup for situations like this. It was a quadruped with a CWG-BZ-50 Bazooka and napalm howitzer. It also had dual back ammo magazines so it could fire volleys of explosive shells at enemies for long periods of time. AC Barrage would be perfect for getting the entry team into the terrorist base.
A team of 2 normal ravens and a mercenary would be leaving soon to attempt our employer's daring attack. I wiped the sweat from my face, removed my coveralls, and sat in front of our large television screen that would broadcast the AC's views and aerial surveillance. I decided to grab some food and sit down to watch the mission. I anxiously waited as the Transport ship left the base and headed towards his mission. It was a cold, almost eerie night. Mission time 1145: It would be just like any other night…