Counterfeit Hero

Chapter 110: Revised: Volume 3, Chapter 20 The Status of the Mechanic

Fatty and Milan turned their heads, only to see a middle-aged man with several bodyguards arguing intensely with a short young man. The topic of their debate was the effect of the Mecha’s size and weight on its speed. This issue is actually very simple; the Mecha’s shape, weight, engine power, energy distribution, electronic systems, transmission, and drive system, as well as the initial focus of its design, all affect its speed. It’s just like humans and horses: horses are heavier and larger than humans but humans can’t outrun horses, while elephants are larger and heavier than cheetahs but can’t outrun cheetahs. This is a very clear logic, but when it’s applied to Mechas, it changes the point of view.

When it comes to Mechas, the speed of off-road travel and road travel are two different concepts. Long-distance travel at full power and short-distance burst speed are also different concepts. The drive modes of humanoid Mechas, beast-shaped Mechas, and insect-shaped Mechas are fundamentally different and can’t be debated using such general principles.

These two guys were obviously beginners, stubborn and clueless. The rich middle-aged man argued that greater power equates to faster speed, with larger Mechas taking longer strides, while the short young man loudly rebutted, asserting that the smaller size faces less gravitational and inertial impact, thus being more agile with better burst speed. They fervently interrupted each other, vehemently accusing each other of ridiculous notions.

Fatty laughed so hard his stomach hurt. The two argued loudly, heedless of those around them, their debate was completely misaligned. The middle-aged man talked about speed while the young man discussed burst speed; one ignored agility while the other ignored endurance. Yet both argued passionately, with the crowd listening intently, with even some troublemakers joining in just to stir things up.

Since their understanding of speed concepts differed, naturally the rationale followed suit. But these two gained momentum, personal attacks became evident, and more people joined in the fray. Short people mainly sided with the young man while tall ones sided with the middle-aged man. Some seasoned Mecha enthusiasts tried to intervene multiple times to explain, but were rebuffed. Fatty secretly asked Milan, ”Why are these people at this level?”

Milan, listening and laughing with a hand over her mouth, said, ”Those who can afford Mechas are usually wealthy. Few truly understand Mecha maintenance. Do you think everyone has your luck, getting to see blueprints in labs? Nowadays, top mechanics are recruited by major corporations. Mecha maintenance and modification involve many disciplines; it’s hard for anyone to master them all. Mechanics and modifiers in the civilian sector, regardless of skill, call themselves masters. Most are newcomers, and those with some fame are elevated high. This repair center’s strength lies not in the skill level of its mechanics but in its large, cooperative team.”

Fatty pondered this, and it seemed true. Without his military training in the Repair Camp or being forced by Boswell to study theory and blueprints in the lab, he might be worse than these two. They are at least experienced Mecha players, while he had never even touched a Mecha before, only liked buying Mecha books. He was completely ignorant of internal structures and parameters. The speed concept of Mechas and Flying Cars is entirely different. The structure and drive modes are of two distinct types. With the vast array of private Mechas, even models of the same size and weight perform differently in speed. It’s extremely difficult for a novice to grasp the principles without systematic study.

Seeing no staff intervening in this heated argument, Fatty thought, ”No wonder this repair center is so busy, daring to call itself unbeatable. Compared to these players, it indeed seems unbeatable. If I retire, I’ll open a repair center and claim to be super unbeatable. Wouldn’t that be cool?”

Both sides were getting heated, the short young man said, ”Don’t believe me? I’ll show you. Let’s race, you’re taller, let’s see who’s faster!” This confused logic left the middle-aged man speechless. He was used to being pampered; now someone wants him to race! Fortunately, one of his well-built bodyguards stepped forward and said to the young man, ”I’m taller than you, why don’t we race?”

The young man didn’t expect to be caught in his own challenge. He was confident against the middle-aged man but facing this bodyguard, built like a sprint champion, he felt unsure. His eyes roamed, hoping someone among his companions would step in to replace him.

Fatty, tired of the noise, decided to join in, loudly saying, ”I’ll race you!”

This was directed at the young man, who was furious. ”Championship physique bullying me is bad enough, but why are you a fatty getting involved? Fine! We’ll race! You’re taller and heavier, let’s see who’s faster!” The middle-aged man, seeing victory within grasp, was suddenly interrupted by Fatty, and said, ”No, no, my guy will race. You can’t!” Fatty retorted, ”Why can’t I? I’m taller and heavier, my stride counts for two of his. I insist on racing!”

”Not only will I race him, I’ll race your guy too!” Fatty proclaimed, ”It’s unfair to bully us short people!” The crowd erupted, wondering where Fatty stood, as he challenged both sides, clearly looking to have fun. The bodyguard confidently shook his head, ”You can’t outrun me; you’re too fat!” Fatty retorted, ”No way, I’ll race! You’re bullying me for being short and underestimating me for being fat. I’ll show you what a nimble Fatty can do!”

The middle-aged man, fired up, declared, ”Asan! Go, make him lose completely!”

Milan, laughing so hard she clung to Fatty, the two were carried along by the crowd to an open area in the Mecha repair waiting area. Fatty pretended to do warm-up exercises while Milan struggled, trying to pinch him to death amidst the laughter.

A bystander marked a starting line, measured a hundred meters, and brought a Mecha to act as referee, using its optical scanner to time the race. Standing at the starting line, the middle-aged man shouted, ”Wait!” Everyone paused, watching him approach Fatty. He said, ”Originally, you shouldn’t be involved, but since you insisted, if Asan loses, I’ll give you a [Hurricane]. If you lose, what will you do?” The crowd buzzed; a brand new 2059 [Hurricane] private Mecha was a coveted treasure.

Fatty hesitated, not knowing what to say and ready to denounce gambling when Milan boldly declared, ”We’ll give you a [Hurricane] if we lose!”

Immediately, two voices echoed simultaneously, ”I’ll provide the [Hurricane]!” Fatty and Milan turned to see two people staring at each other in surprise, one of whom was a familiar face—Mills, the Young Master of Simai Hotel. Beside him were his usual companions, smiling broadly.

Fatty didn’t recognize the other person. Puzzled, he wondered if he had ever seen this person before. Mills supporting him was strange enough, and now an unknown old man looked serious about it. When did Fatty’s running become so popular?

Mills came up to Fatty, saying, ”Brother Tian, I was childish before. Regardless of winning or losing today, consider this an apology. I wanted to speak with you last time but missed the chance.” Among those present, Mills and his friends were most aware of Fatty’s identity. Despite being somewhat naive, growing up in a business family gave Mills a quick understanding of appropriate actions. Plus, they genuinely wanted to be friends with Fatty.

The unknown old man stood aside, smiling silently.

Fatty helplessly nodded at Mills, feeling cornered yet determined. Damn it, I’ll give my all. Losing would be really embarrassing.

At the signal, the three dashed forward like arrows. Fatty, with special training, left the agile young man behind within thirty meters. By seventy meters, even the bodyguard Asan couldn’t keep up with Fatty’s frenetic pace. When Fatty, like a raging rhino, crossed the finish line first, everyone was speechless. No one expected Fatty to be so formidable.

The middle-aged man was stunned, never expecting Asan to lose. Worse, he had willingly offered up a [Hurricane]. Though he didn’t mind losing a Mecha, as a supposedly charming and elegant high-society figure, his pride mattered. Fatty cheerfully returned, easily winning a [Hurricane] Mecha, feeling eager to race again.

Unfortunately, the middle-aged man didn’t plan on being a sucker twice. He angrily called over a staff member from the repair center and said, ”Bring him a [Hurricane] and put it on my tab.” Fatty seriously said to the middle-aged man, ”See that? The real speedy one is Fatty’s Mecha! You should focus your modifications in that direction from now on!”

Upon hearing Fatty’s words, the onlookers who understood laughed. An old stranger couldn’t hold back and loudly said, ”This gentleman is just joking with everyone. Modifying a Mecha involves many aspects, not just the influence of its size and weight. If you’re unclear about it, our center regularly holds Mecha lectures. You’re welcome to attend.” After speaking, he smiled wryly and whispered to Fatty, ”Master, please don’t tease us. If we really modified Mechas to be like Fatty’s, our reputation would be ruined by these nitpickers.”

A bit startled, Fatty asked, ”What did you call me?”

The old stranger laughed, ”Master! You are definitely a master of Mecha modifications! I was just listening behind you for quite a while. Everything you said about each Mecha was spot-on. Your insights truly impress me. Look, I even recorded it.” As he spoke, he took out a tiny recording device and pressed replay. The voices of Fatty and Milan discussing the pros and cons of various Mechas played back.

”You are...?” Fatty found it odd that this person had been recording him for no reason. The old stranger smiled, ”I’m Hescoe, the owner of this repair center.”

Fatty was shocked to find out that their commotion had drawn out the boss himself, and he smiled, flattered, ”Wow, the mighty boss! I hope I didn’t cause you any trouble?”

Hescoe knew the name of his center might offend experts, so he laughed, ”The name was chosen out of spite. Sorry if it amused you.”

Fatty thought for a moment, recognizing the favor Hescoe had shown, and waved his hand, ”Haha, just joking. But... although the modified Mechas you have on display are quite good, they aren’t exactly unbeatable. Arguments about these issues are quite simple. It’s just that when your staff doesn’t bother to explain, it makes things seem off.”

Mills and his friends, who were also listening, were stunned. When did Fatty Lieutenant become a Mecha modification expert? But thinking it over, rescuing so many people from behind enemy lines must take some skill! Hearing that the old man was the boss, Mills said, ”By the way, my Mecha has been here for modifications for about a month. Why isn’t it done yet?”

Hescoe hesitated, glanced around, and said, ”Well, some things shouldn’t be discussed here. Let’s go to my office.”

Fatty and Milan, already eager to learn more about private Mechas, agreed. They followed Hescoe to his office. Once the door was closed, Hescoe smiled wryly and said, ”There’s nothing we can do. Nowadays, skilled mechanics are rare. I can barely keep this center running because my team is solid. Skilled mechanics don’t stay long; they get poached by big companies with formal training systems and high pay. No one wants to work in small modification shops anymore. We can hardly keep up with the workload these days.”

Fatty curiously noted, ”But your business seems good!”

While pouring tea for them, Hescoe explained, ”I’m the tallest dwarf. People come here because they don’t have other options.” He sighed, ”In a few days, I’ll lose a few more skilled mechanics. The East District is opening a new repair center, bigger than mine, backed by a Mecha manufacturing company. Even newbies flock there. Forget about old masters.”

One of Mills’ quicker friends chuckled, ”You’re hoping this master will be your top mechanic, aren’t you?”

Hescoe’s face reddened, seeing his thoughts exposed, and said, ”Well... I don’t know where Master works, but if he’s willing... It’s just that I’m desperate, and I must have seemed foolish to you all.”

Fatty and Milan exchanged a knowing smile, thinking, ”This old guy has a sharp mind.”

Mills shook his head and said, ”Better forget about it. You wouldn’t believe who he is... better drop it. Saying it would scare you.” His look of pride suggested knowing Fatty’s identity was a big deal.

Hescoe, savvy from decades in the repair business, quickly changed his approach, smiling as he handed Fatty a card, ”This is our VIP card. Your expenses here are on me. If you’re interested, feel free to drop by for tea and give us some tips!”

Fatty was bewildered, only now realizing the high regard in which skilled mechanics were held in these private repair shops. Just by discussing with Milan, he was almost treated like an idol. The reception was overwhelming. Uncertain, Milan smoothly took the card from Hescoe, smiling, ”Sure! As long as you don’t mind the trouble, we’ll come by anytime. It’s not about giving tips; we all learn together.”

Fatty understood Milan’s plan. Despite their lab’s comprehensive blueprints and data, their main focus was on military Mechas. [Logic] would need to incorporate experiences from private Mechas for future modifications. What place could be better for research than a center dedicated to private Mecha repairs? Not only could they encounter various Mecha types and modification ideas, they could examine internal structures and system components firsthand. This opportunity was indeed valuable.

Seeing Milan agree, Hescoe grinned ear to ear and said to Mills, ”I’ll call the workshop about your Mecha right away and make sure it’s prioritized!” He picked up the phone, ready to ask for Mills’ Mecha repair number, when suddenly, the office door burst open. A staff member rushed in, out of breath, shouting, ”Mr. Hescoe, someone’s causing trouble!”

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Five thousand words! I’ve given my first piece. Charging for the top four, brothers, cast your monthly votes. (To be continued. For more, please log in to WWW.CMFU.COM. Support the author and official reading!)