Left, down, pinch and pin.

I want to make it perfect, but the perfect keeps changing. Sometimes the armor is too weak, while speed would have helped in other cases. While a balance could be found, I wanted some way to make combat adaptation feasible.

Before me stood a mech in all its stoic metal glory. A Goliath, no, something different. I used Goliath schematics as a base, though I've edited and changed each part repeatedly. This machine is practically its own make by this point.

It's one-of-a-kind, just like its pilot.

It's pilot...

The wrench in my hand shook as a heavy sigh let loose his name.

"Warren..."

My heart cringes and strains whenever we go out, and his machine requires extensive repairs after.

It's my job to ensure this mech will not fail him when he needs it most. An extension of me, in the form of a nearly unstoppable monstrous machine.

From various side repair jobs during the few years after the invasion. I heard firsthand when these machines began production. Heard stories of these mechs completely changing the power dynamic with humans.

At first, I thought this was a good thing. Though the military nature of the first ones made sense, I was very much on board with civilian models.

But the stories would sour...

I know that humans are trained and screened before even getting near one of these machines. Though their guardians, when the humans were away, would tell horrifying stories.

In defense of a Guardian, of us, nothing will stop a human...

Harm was never a fear of mine before the war. After all, I worked on weapons and armor and knew what it all did.

Though to be crafting such a machine... Day in, day out... Adding upgrades, removing faulty parts, changing systems to work at near-optimal performance...

I've only 'pulled the trigger' once during the invasion.

It was to save him, Warren...

I keep telling myself that... And remind myself that Warren does the same for me when the time comes. But sometimes, I wonder if it even bothers a human when they take a life...

I know they feel, though sometimes I wonder how close they can be to the Falashai...

But I feel I cannot bring up my pain about what we do. Because even though I am a field engineer, we see a minimal amount of action. The little we do see keeps me up at night.

I'm starting to think Warren sees past my smile, my peppy attitude...

Did my dad feel the same way, working on my mother's fighter? Each time was replacing the guns, making sure they were charged and loaded...

These mechs can be beaten, but they are the winning card of almost every tiny skirmish in average use.

They uphold the peace and make sure their friends are safe. Though to those on the other side, in the instances where they have to fight...

I just need to keep my head level. I have to keep responsibilities as a mechanic, a Guardian, and a friend.

I'm open as much as I can be for my little Pippy, and he always tells me what's on his mind. Even if sometimes he's a bit hard to read. He has such control over his emotions that it's almost staggering.

But my pain is something I need to face myself. I have to enjoy wholeheartedly the moments we share. Because one day this armor could fail, a wire could melt, or something could pierce his cockpit an-

Warren, Pippy, will be fine... I'm his engineer, and he trusts me for a reason...

Locking in a plate of his suit's armor, I tested its functions. All cameras and sensors were working. Limbs could bend appropriately while still providing excellent protection.

As I worked, almost on auto pilot, I began humming...

The humming was one of the first things Pippy understood from me. He even does it. In these cases, he needed to calm me down.

I let out a shuddered breath before bottling up my worries. Locking them deep down, I can't let them stop me when Warren needs me the most.

I'm an engineer, a Guardian...

And Pippy is my protector, Charge, and closest friend.

I need to keep strong for him...