The Bitch-Queen Of Mech Techs, All Across The Galaxy
@thehangarqueen
Your local mech tech, lover of sniper rifles, pile bunkers, and projected shields.
warning: blog contains mechsploitation and general NSFW shitposting. if you aren't 18+, you should prolly turn back.
They/Them She/Her
Bisexual(I like mostly Fem, but men like Udyr and Kong Qiu could destroy me)
Writer of Third Gen Blues, a mechploitation series about love, trauma, and angsty gays trying to heal.
Blogger of Tales From The Hangar Crew, a mechsplo shitpost about the various mech techs that have to deal with mechsplo bullshit in the setting of Third Gen Blues.
May shitpost about whatever I feel like.
Do you like mechsploitation? Do you like gays being absolute disasters? Do you like people overcoming their trauma and punching their former abusers in the face till it more resembles marinara? Do you like pile bunkers?
Then read my story, Third Gen Blues.
As per usual, read Warhound, that shit is legendary and horrifying, but will help you understand the genre better if you start there. My story is a much lighter take that's about former Hounds getting good endings, hopefully.
I will say, please read the tags first before reading, but y'all already knew that: it's a mechsplo story, shit gets fucked up.
Edit: for some reason when i posted this at 3am, even though i added the link it didn't work, let's try again.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
204 here, again. Still thinking on that callsign. But anyone listening to this probably already knows that. Just got done with dinner at the mess, had some cheesy bread that they probably defrosted before it went too bad. I mean, it’s still one of the better warm things to eat, but it is practically cardstock with cheese on top. Can’t complain too much though.
That’s not really relevant, though. Reason I’m recording this log is because I realized something kinda funny. I saw two Handlers sharing a bottle of wine over dinner, and it sorta just now struck me that in these territories, it’d be illegal for me to have a drink like that right now. I got the whole nine yards on me - neural ports, IV connectors, failed ocular mods, enough circuitry in my brain to fry me near a large enough magnet - I get pumped with enough stimulants to kill your average NCO on a near daily basis.
And yet,
Imperial law in this sector means the only alcohol I’m allowed is the medical grade stuff to clean up anything nasty that happens in the field. I can’t drown my sorrows like the older hounds, or sample some overpriced grape juice if I ever manage a date, but I can go into the field and be turned into a bloody pulp if I ever let my guard down.
Fox stood in front of Chief Administrator Tessa’s window – his office, unlike hers, was placed high up in the base, and overlooked the plains beyond. The Administrator, a red faced man in his forties was stood behind his desk, hands planted either side of the transfer forms she had come to request.
“I’m sorry, Fox, could you repeat that?”
“I want to try and recreate Kaya’s damaged Ego Pillar. For that I need a new hound.” Fox simplified. “Kaya relies on an external connection for stability, and that connection has been severed. I intend to create a new external relationship to bring her back to stability.”
“Doesn’t she have you? Why aren’t you suitable as an ‘external relationship’?”
“I’m her handler, Tessa, I can’t fill that role. I’m too distant, Too controlling,” she sighed.
Tessa took a long drag from his cigarette. Paused.
“Why bother? Kaya is just a failing dog. Just replace her like all the others.”
Fox’s response was dismissive. “Kaya knows the swamps better than any of our pilots. It would take years to train another to operate at her level in that environment.”
Chief Administrator Marcus Tessa narrowed his eyes at the handler. “And how do you intend to complete this project. She should be deploying again in a few weeks. Hardly enough time for you to foster her a ‘relationship’.”
Fox smirked. “Like you said earlier – Kaya is falling apart. She’s not suitable for field work. I’ve already put in an internal transfer to get her out of active service for a few months.”
“So why are you here, Fox?”
Another smirk. “I need your approval to transfer my candidate and begin the process. Normally I wouldn’t need to involve you – it’d be an internal affair – but my best chance of success is with a pilot on your roste-”
“You want me to black-bag a military pilot to condition into one of your animals?” Tessa cut her off, indignation rising in his voice. “You want me to stick my hands into that kind of business to keep your Mutt alive? Sacrifice one of my pilots to your program? I won’t give my approval to that kind of busine-”
“I’m not asking you to disappear a pilot, Tessa,” Fox laughed. “I just want to transfer the girl into Kaya’s quarters for now. Check to see if she’s suitable,” - She turned to the window, knitting her fingers behind her back - “There shouldn’t be any problems with that – it’s been standard for a while to try and set up mixed hound-pilot bunks. Helps cohesion in the field if people are familiar with the dogs.”
Sharply, “I know the logic. Only a room transfer?”
“Only a room transfer,” she confirmed.
She paused. Waited long enough for his concerns of illicit requisitions to subside. Let him break the brief silence himself.
“But you still want to condition whoever it is - you mentioned needed a new hound, not an assistant.”
“If everything goes smoothly, you won’t need to life a finger,” she reassured him, “the subject should volunteer for the program of her own free will.”
“You mean you’ll coerce the girl into volunteering?”
“Of course not. I doubt anything so crude would be necessary.”
A pause.
“I’m not going to ask for one of your aces, or your officers, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Oh? You just want one of the grunts?” his relief was almost palpable.
Fox fought to keep the smile from spreading across her face. She nodded, her back still to the Administrator. She heard Tessa sit and pull his chair forward. Heard him pick up a pen.
“Who is it then.”
Handler Fox smiled softly into the window. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had an office with a view, and the plains could look quite lovely this time of year. She was still holding her hands behind her back, but now she relaxed and brought them together in front of her.
Tessa heard her crack her knuckles before she turned to give him the relevant details.
Fox stood in front of Chief Administrator Tessa’s window – his office, unlike hers, was placed high up in the base, and overlooked the plains beyond. The Administrator, a red faced man in his forties was stood behind his desk, hands planted either side of the transfer forms she had come to request.
“I’m sorry, Fox, could you repeat that?”
“I want to try and recreate Kaya’s damaged Ego Pillar. For that I need a new hound.” Fox simplified. “Kaya relies on an external connection for stability, and that connection has been severed. I intend to create a new external relationship to bring her back to stability.”
“Doesn’t she have you? Why aren’t you suitable as an ‘external relationship’?”
“I’m her handler, Tessa, I can’t fill that role. I’m too distant, Too controlling,” she sighed.
Tessa took a long drag from his cigarette. Paused.
“Why bother? Kaya is just a failing dog. Just replace her like all the others.”
Fox’s response was dismissive. “Kaya knows the swamps better than any of our pilots. It would take years to train another to operate at her level in that environment.”
Chief Administrator Marcus Tessa narrowed his eyes at the handler. “And how do you intend to complete this project. She should be deploying again in a few weeks. Hardly enough time for you to foster her a ‘relationship’.”
Fox smirked. “Like you said earlier – Kaya is falling apart. She’s not suitable for field work. I’ve already put in an internal transfer to get her out of active service for a few months.”
“So why are you here, Fox?”
Another smirk. “I need your approval to transfer my candidate and begin the process. Normally I wouldn’t need to involve you – it’d be an internal affair – but my best chance of success is with a pilot on your roste-”
“You want me to black-bag a military pilot to condition into one of your animals?” Tessa cut her off, indignation rising in his voice. “You want me to stick my hands into that kind of business to keep your Mutt alive? Sacrifice one of my pilots to your program? I won’t give my approval to that kind of busine-”
“I’m not asking you to disappear a pilot, Tessa,” Fox laughed. “I just want to transfer the girl into Kaya’s quarters for now. Check to see if she’s suitable,” - She turned to the window, knitting her fingers behind her back - “There shouldn’t be any problems with that – it’s been standard for a while to try and set up mixed hound-pilot bunks. Helps cohesion in the field if people are familiar with the dogs.”
Sharply, “I know the logic. Only a room transfer?”
“Only a room transfer,” she confirmed.
She paused. Waited long enough for his concerns of illicit requisitions to subside. Let him break the brief silence himself.
“But you still want to condition whoever it is - you mentioned needed a new hound, not an assistant.”
“If everything goes smoothly, you won’t need to life a finger,” she reassured him, “the subject should volunteer for the program of her own free will.”
“You mean you’ll coerce the girl into volunteering?”
“Of course not. I doubt anything so crude would be necessary.”
A pause.
“I’m not going to ask for one of your aces, or your officers, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Oh? You just want one of the grunts?” his relief was almost palpable.
Fox fought to keep the smile from spreading across her face. She nodded, her back still to the Administrator. She heard Tessa sit and pull his chair forward. Heard him pick up a pen.
“Who is it then.”
Handler Fox smiled softly into the window. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had an office with a view, and the plains could look quite lovely this time of year. She was still holding her hands behind her back, but now she relaxed and brought them together in front of her.
Tessa heard her crack her knuckles before she turned to give him the relevant details.
A protocol was enacted for the first time in a long while (I was barely in my second year under Leones's command. I had a pack)
The dreaded but cathartic Midnight Audit.
Had some help from another base courtesy of @thehangarqueen and their group brought in.
Some may have have questions
.where's Handler######? (Not a problem anymore)
.was that one of Leones's older hounds running around the hangar topless covered in blood laughing? Chasing a handler down the bay with a pistol? Yes. I haven't been let off the leash in a long while...
The blood? Leones's didn't tell me she had some explosive rounds in her sidearm when sending me to take care of her list of troubles
None of the blood was mine.
Despite being bed ridden for a day afterwards it was worth it.
.the hounds and others are enjoying having a proper meal and clean bedding
.the senior Handlers transfered here are a respectable bunch they know the book
They know Give and Take....
What happened to Handler Emmerson?...
Emmerson....oh Emmerson.
Kept a few trophies..
How does it feel knowing a Hound now has the exact pistol you used to put down perfectly good hounds? Your remaining hounds adore Handler Rose.. she has a cold but motherly demeanor i respect.. combat efficiency logs from Emmersons former Hounds have come back clean and perfect..
Speaking of which. If you see a Harpie with her old signature shades please complement her. Cus ngl...her old shades look better on them(also thank you for delivering their left hand intact so I can grab my Handler. Emmersons old watch as a trophy.
It was a mess.
It was a fun mess.
Im noticing less shitty complaints regarding Handlers.
We decided new handlers will be sent to FOB Bravo Snowsong instead....the commander there is a cold bitch. So good luck~
The later end of the fiasco was a blur.
I remember waking up one point in the corner of the bay covered in shop towels and Leones's sitting next to me.
And later waking up again in med bay disoriented as fuck...
I remember the remark she had when I came too and got to walk to the messhall for breakfast seeing she lent me some clothes including some Handler leathers and a tacky ass t-shirt. I looked like a Very hungover Handler...
"Yknow this isnt what id think when thinking of you getting into my pants mutt"
...my clipboard is not gonna survive this Quarter....
To the Handlers remaining and the transfers.
This base has now had 2 Midnight Audits
Dont
You
Fuckin
Dare
Enact a third? Ok?
Also to whatever staff members left the "GET WELL" message written in messhall Hotsauce packets.. I owe you a drink.
That made me laugh and cry a bit. Good cry.
I sure hope "Hotsauce " doesn't need to be pulled out of slumber for a while cus fuuuuck
Handlers need their egos checked before handling animals, and last I remember on top of the Commander being fucking ruthless, the mech techs are even more brutal than me!
(Sound of quiet music in the background accompanied by the whirring of a mech’s generator)
This is 204, er, Puff? On another night patrol in Stargazer. System data’s telling me it’s a little past 2am currently here. I got some time to kill, and nothing out of the ordinary is showing up on radar, so I figured I’d just, start talking to keep myself entertained. So, listener, how’s your day or night been? I can’t hear you, so I hope it’s been good. If this is future me listening, get out of the den and at least get something to eat, you’ll thank me later.
I don’t know who’s listening to this, but I’m sure you prolly got a couple questions, huh? Well, I dunno what rank you’re holding or which of my files you have access to, so I’ll answer something that isn’t in the records tonight.
Why the name ‘Stargazer’ for my frame?
Simple enough. She’s my first ride that has these new seamless monitors. Really took some getting used to - I still feel kinda exposed even now. It’s like sitting in the nose of one of those old bombers you’ll see on the omninet occasionally. The ones with the props and enough guns aboard to be considered a flying armoury. But anyway, the name came from just, the fact it’s so easy to look up and see the stars. When you’re this far away from any light pollution, it’s friggin wicked.
Oh, and the music you’re hearing? Just an old disk player that I bartered with one of the techs for. It’s well worth the couple of chilli mac rations I had to give up, especially with some of the disks included.
Anyway, you probably got more important things to do, dear listener. Till we meet again.
