Cohost writing prompt: @Making-up-Mech-Pilots — Mech Pilot who wants to know who is giving out these call signs that are so fancy
"Oh, that's easy, kid," Sun-Walking Smiler said to this kid, face straight as a razor. "The callsign fairy brings 'em. It's like the teeth gig, ya wise? Money for teeth. Only ya man, now. You want a ferocious name, you gotta bring teeth from a ferocious pilot."
Next night, idiot kid goes AWOL. Five days gone. Comes back, mech's had an arm ripped off, hydraulics gushed damn near dry, legs seized, one foot shattered from its jump jet exploding, sensors out, comms out, barely enough computing online to keep swaying along: foot-stump, foot-stump, foot-stump. Kid's face is swole twice its size from bruising, broken arm, broken leg, shrapnel long as your thigh jammed through him and out the back, two gunshot wounds.
Two bloody molars from Blackhole Samedi's mouth clutched in his fist.
Three months in sickbay. Never even remembers how he got those fuckin' teeth.
What? Hell no, transferred him out to the Sixteenth as soon as he was up and about, you don't want that kind of stupid on the frontline. Told him the Callsign Fairy came while he was in critical care, told us to call him Holy Fool.
Went off happy as a clam.