Molly's - Chapter 4 [Tankiverse Fanfic]

[Hippin_in_Hawaii 639]

Molly’s - Chapter 4

Fanfic in the Tankiverse by Hippin_in_Hawaii

 
If you use something like G!World to look at it from space, you’ll see that Molly’s is really big, around five square kilometers, although the funky shape makes it hard to be sure. It’s sort of like a long, skinny trapezoid that’s bent in the middle. Then you tried to draw it on top of the washing machine while the spin cycle was running and the load was off-balance. I didn’t know much about zoning and such at the time, but it was clear to me that Molly’s had been there first, and the warehouse district had just grown around it and swallowed it whole.
 
That first day, when I came to the locked gate and turned right, that was either dumb luck or providence. If I’d gone the other way, I’d have spent more than an hour getting around to the open gate. Although, to be fair, I would have passed a few others along the way, including a proper front gate with a proper, well-paved, extra-wide driveway, and a proper sign.
 
The warehouse was shaped like a capital L with a couple of small bits sticking out. The long hallway I entered every day ran through the short leg. There were several rooms on either side, and I became familiar with their functions and contents as I single-handedly cleaned out that hallway and found the source of the smell (The details aren’t important, but there were rats and a broken toilet involved. Gross.)
 
Wandering around the outside of the warehouse, I could see that the outer wall of the long leg had several roll-up doors. The original building had probably had a dozen bays for stripping cars, but you could see by the paint and patching that half of those had been ripped out and replaced by three larger entrances. Much larger. With reinforced concrete ramps. Bays for tanks.
 
My imagination ran wild, wondering what was inside, but that portion of the building was always locked. The only access that was open was from behind the counter, past Molly’s office. If that was Molly; I still didn’t know for sure.
 
I spent the first few months mostly on custodial duty, cleaning areas that probably hadn’t been cleaned in my lifetime. I did some sorting of parts and rearranging of crates, simple stuff like that. I do remember the day I got “promoted” to actual mechanic’s work, though.
 
Hanging just inside the showroom door, where I tended to drop my backpack everyday, was a heavy black rubber apron and a gas mask. I guess they’re actually called respirators, but it looked just like something out of a war movie. I looked towards the counter where I heard her typing; she paused and nodded towards the front door.
 
Outside, there was a wheelbarrow full of track pieces. There was a large bucket, sealed, with some scary-looking warnings on the side. There was a pair of huge black rubber gloves. And there were a dozen bins. I squatted down to read the warnings. Nothing sounded friendly. I nodded to myself and went back inside.
 
She actually spoke to me while helping me don the mask. It happened sometimes. We never had a conversation, but she would sometimes break the silence by giving me instructions.
 
“Make sure that the seal is good. You should be able to draw a vacuum. Always make sure to have the mask on before you touch the gloves, and not to take it off until the the gloves are off and you’ve scrubbed your hands. Do not get it in your eyes.”
 
That was the most she’d said to me in a month.
 
So, dressed like a butcher from a horror film, carrying a chair and some stiff-bristle brushes, I went to work.
 
The first thing I learned was that being outside, away from the air conditioning, while being dressed in heavy rubber was hot. The second was that this particular style of tread had four distinct pieces: I dubbed them the pad, the link, the link pin, and that other thing. The third was that this tread had been, as my grandpa used to say, “rode hard and put away wet.”
 
As I cleaned each piece, I’d also evaluate its condition. Was it good? Not really good, but usable? Or junk? Then I’d toss it in the appropriate bin. Four different pieces, three different conditions, twelve possibilities total. Since she’d provided me with a dozen bins, I felt confident I was on the right track, so to speak.
 
It took all weekend to empty that wheelbarrow. When I came back the next weekend, there was another wheelbarrow waiting for me. Before I started, I walked around a couple of the tank hulks that still had their treads attached, trying to get an idea of how many individual links there were, then extrapolating from how many I’d cleaned just how much longer this would take. Assuming it was just one tank I was doing, and that the tank was medium sized, a little basic algebra told me I had about four more weekends of this at the pace I was moving.
 
Sigh.
 
I sat down, and started scrubbing with gusto. With a little elbow grease (holy cow, I sound like my mom!), I told myself, I could get that down to three.


 

Mahalo (thank you) for reading; I hope you enjoyed! This story is part of a series. Information on the series, and links to the other stories, can be found here.

[LOLKILLERTOTHEDEATH 1,921]

Approved!

 

Particularly well written! I didn't see any mistakes, so if there are any please do let me know.

[tweezers 1,034]

I wonder what Molly(?) sounds like...

[Hippin_in_Hawaii 639]

I wonder what Molly(?) sounds like...

Like fresh-baked pie!

[thethiefofvictory 339]

Wait a - I haven't read this yet?!

 

Anyways. Wonderful as always, keep it up, I'll be waiting for more! I wonder when, if ever, our protagonist will drive a tank?

[tweezers 1,034]

Like fresh-baked pie!

Crisp, warm and deliciously thick? 

 

Genius.  :lol:

[Hippin_in_Hawaii 639]

Wait a - I haven't read this yet?!

 

Anyways. Wonderful as always, keep it up, I'll be waiting for more! I wonder when, if ever, our protagonist will drive a tank?

Driving a tank, if that ever happens, clearly is a ways away. Driving a forklift, on the other hand...

[thethiefofvictory 339]

Driving a tank, if that ever happens, clearly is a ways away. Driving a forklift, on the other hand...

Forklifts? Mmm, better than tanks. Much better!

[shafter9 156]

Forklifts? Mmm, better than tanks. Much better!

The lower your goals are, the more happiness you can find in life.

[Viking4s 10,791]

"G!World" what is the meaning here?

[Hippin_in_Hawaii 639]

"G!World" what is the meaning here?

In the parallel reality that is the Tankiverse, Yahoo! and Google end up merging and rebrand the new corporate entity as G!. The product they offer that lets you view satellite imagery of the Earth is renamed G!World.

[Viking4s 10,791]

In the parallel reality that is the Tankiverse, Yahoo! and Google end up merging and rebrand the new corporate entity as G!. The product they offer that lets you view satellite imagery of the Earth is renamed G!World.

Lol. Ok, thanks for the clarification.