Macguyver's Mech and Auto Repair

He bravely went on mission for the CORSAIR his fathers had loved before him, and went down fighting.

We here at Mac's Garage had known Mac for many, many years. He was diligent, hardworking, and one hell of a mechanic.

He will be dearly missed.

Booker, darling, I do know it is a bad time but I rather need a place to stay. Just me and my wife. It shall not be for long.

Zero~

@broken-lovestreak

[There's an audible sigh. The voice message is rather out of character for Booker, his voice echoing as if in a bare room.]

Zero, the length of your stay is a non-issue. I have had worse houseguests than you, and though I imagine you might see that as a challenge, I encourage you to try.

If nothing else, it will make things livelier here.

I must warn you that my daughter will be over the moon to see you, though I will remind her to double-check before entering one's space.

However, in exchange for residing at my home, I'm afraid you must pay a price - allow Mira to pay her respects to Ashana. Otherwise she'll be simply insufferable.

[A second brighter voice interrupts, seemingly from far away.]

Oh! Father, who are you speaking to?

[There's another sigh.]

I'm recording a message for Zero. He may be staying with us for a while. You may say hello, but remember to control your volume.

[An excited gasp comes through.]

OH- Oh, oops, sorry. Hi Zero! I have drawings for you! And I've been working on my braids! And-

[Booker interrupts.]

Nora, have you finished cleaning your room?

[There's a pause. Then, sulkily,]

....No...I'll go....

[Booker responds, and there's a smile in his voice.]

Thank you, starlight.

[He then clears his throat as there's scampering in the background, Nora seemingly leaving the room.]

My apologies. If you need a place, you may stay here. The mother-in-law cottage is as it was, and I can make sure it remains...peaceful.

The walls are worn, their once delicately painted florals chipping away with the progression of time.

The countertops are worn, the wood beginning to darken with age, although some places are bright with new butcher's block.

All of it is covered in flour.

A young girl, maybe early preteens, grins up at the camera. Her long hair is braided into two loops behind her ears, her sleeveless turtleneck poking out from underneath a too-big apron.

Her eyes are bright, and her hands are deep in a bowl of batter. Baking sheets rest nearby, waiting to be used.]

Mira,

Nora says hello.

It is the first thing she bade me to write in this letter. She misses you dearly, along with her "Kiki" and "The prince".

I know you well enough to know you're laughing about that. I wish I could say I have no idea why the latter of those nicknames has occurred, save for the fact that Wendy and Cameron bought her a number of books with knights.

There is a blonde, snooty prince in one of those novels. I'm sure you can draw your conclusions.

Regardless, she seems determined to be a knight at the moment.

(You'll find this endearing - she said "Kiki and I can travel around and fight dragons for him. He's always wearing pretty things, there's no way dragons don't want to steal his treasure, so I think he could use the assistance.")

She can be whatever she wants, for all I care. As long as she's happy. That may mean I need to find some dragons for her to fight in the future.

Her drawings go well. I've included a few with this letter, most of which are for you. You'll see very quickly which ones are for our... acquaintances.

Mother purchased several books on drawing, and has offered to pay for a tutor of my choosing for her.

I...I don't know how to feel about that. She's surprisingly warm towards Nora.

I wish I could quash down this resentment that she has more time for her granddaughter than she ever did for me. It's unseemly. And not fair to Nora.

As for my surprise guest- well. You remember her from the video call. We've been...discussing things.

Give my love to the dogs, please. I miss them dearly. Nora has been playing with a stray lately, and she reminds me of Arthur.

We'll be home before you know it. After I send this letter to you, we'll begin packing.

Remember to prepare the necessary documents, and we'll work on what we discussed upon my return.

And if those two have returned - give them the drawings. And also one of the two sets of cookies that arrived with this letter. Nora insists they're "magical" and have "healing properties so Kiki and the prince can kick ass."

I did not teach her that word, but she's plenty old enough to swear. You remember where she only ever said "blast and damnation!"? I miss those days.

I ramble, partially because I loathe packing.

I'll see you soon.

Signed,

It shows a young girl in an overalls dress, holding onto her oversized sunhat as she points to a little crab on the beach. The weather overhead is overcast, and the long pale grasses seem to sway in an unknown wind.

A tall man crouches beside her. His golden hair is in striking contrast to her own white locks, his forearms a dark golden tan. He wears a fitted button-up with the sleeves rolled up, and worn blue jeans. He seems to be explaining something to her. His expression is tired, soft, and sad.]

[A postcard is included.]

"Mira,

I hope you're doing well. I received your last letter, and I'm unsurprised at the state of CORSAIR. Morse was a good placeholder, but a leader...not so much. Just because someone can lead a rebellion doesn't mean they can lead an entire company.

Regardless.

I find my matters on Signal to be... complicated. As you may remember, it was my handler post-Deuces. Not that I bore any particular loyalty to it, and certainly not now.

I don't wish for its death. People may disagree on that statement, point out the death of my husband, but you know as well as I did why Mac Ricky went in there.

He didn't intend to come out.

So I am hard-pressed to pin the blame on Signal. Beyond that, so many people have done so many horrific things in the name of this bloody fucking company that it's hard to point at Signal alone without sounding like a complete hypocrite.

Ugh. Matters continue to be complicated, in that regard.

As for here - Nora and I are...getting our feet under us. She's met Wendy and Cameron, and they dote on her as much as they did on me when I was little. That, I'm relieved to say, has not changed.

I also saw my mother. Less delightful, even moreso considering the company she kept.

I'll explain more in person upon my return.

Should Zero and Khione

Nevermind.

Just tell those idiots not to get themselves killed. They've grown on me, like barnacles keeping a lobster from performing its necessary tasks for survival.

Keep well, Mira. You and the dogs.

Sincerely,

He has goggles on, and his tongue is lolling out in the wind.

His white, patchy fur gleams almost translucent in the sun, revealing his splotchy skin beneath.

He has three teeth.

He looks like the happiest dog alive.]

Arthur and I went for a drive! He gets so excited when he gets to ride in the sidecar.

In light of recent events, Booker is taking some time for himself.

So meanwhile, I'm in charge of the blog!

This doesn't change a whole lot, just means that I'll be the one answering any questions.

Have a good one!

- Mira

I didn't know Mac well. But it was an honor to fight beside him. Not an honor I reckon I deserved. Without him we wouldn't have made it through that gate. Prolly woulda died like dogs throwin' ourselves against it.

If it's worth anything... I shot the bastard that did him in. That's... prolly small comfort. I'm sorry. I ain't good at this.

Apologizin'... been doin' a lot of that lately...

//Pinkerton\\

Small comforts, but a comfort nonetheless. I watched until the end, although I was advised not to.

Your efforts were valiant, and you're one hell of a shot.

Thank you, Pinkerton. Turns out old dogs can learn new tricks, hm? Or at least learn new masters, so to speak.

The memory will not die.

Till Legends Bleed.

As it is, as it shall be.

I am no mechanic myself, but discussions have already been had. The garage itself will be settled into the hands of Mac's first student, Mira. She will keep his memory alive.

Thank you.

-Booker

Rest assured, the name will never change. He was my mentor and my friend. He helped me through some of the toughest times of my life.

I'm glad there are other people who will remember him fondly.

Til Legends Bleed!

My sincerest condolences.

- Max of Otia

I apologize it has taken so long for me to respond to this message. My mind has been muddled, these past few days. It is only now that I attend to so many of these messages.

Your condolences are received and welcomed. It is good to know my husband made such an impact, and that his memory will live on.

You have my gratitude.

You shall forgive me the curtness of this message. Both you and I have more important things to be doing than dancing around this, but Khione insists that it would be rude not to inform our hosts of our departure first.

Zero~

Unsurprising. You and Khione may find letters, my daughter apparently snuck them in while I wasn't looking.

All things considered, terrifying that she's this good at sneaking. Consider this my apology in that regard.

Do not die. Do not mistake this for caring, but there is only so much that she can deal with at this age.

For some reason, she's grown attached.

Stars guide you two.

- Mira

I...Christ the Buddha.

This wasn't how I wanted-

I...

Fuck.

EAT IT GRAVY

Safe travels, safe skies, and may the stars light your path home.

It'll be an honor to have an Innes under my care, just... I hope you know what you're doing signing up for this operation.

//Miss Morse\\

Ah, Aimee.

It is hoped that you will do well by him, and keep him in your care. He's in his workshop at the moment, and the glow of his tools can be seen from the house.

Rest assured, he knew.

He knows.

An Innes will sail with CORSAIR again, as is tradition.

As any Lancer knows, once the stars ingrain themselves in your blood, you will never leave them.

May this be the last crusade of the old guard.