<div class="floatleft">(http://i286.photobucket.com/albums/ll98/thetragicfragments/the_water_element_by_audreydutroux-d3rqf1w-1.jpg)<br/>Oberon<br/>Tagging: Open</div><br/><br/>“Ugly piece of shit, nothing in this fucking place does what it fucking is meant to, have to fucking find a real mechanic and not let that bastard touch anything important again... look at the mess!” Oberon snarled to himself, his gloveless hands moving over the exposed wires of his helmet. It was all wrong, wrong, wrong. It had stopped working a week ago, and that had left him without any means to call in support, without nightvision and heat sensing, or anything. The only upside was the GPS was no longer displaying - telling him that he was somehow a hundred and seventy miles away from where he actually was. Whatever satellite spoke to the electronics had been knocked off course.  He had given the helmet, reluctantly, to the ‘mechanic’ to see if it was just something simple, but he should have known better than that. The inbred piss sniffer didn’t have the skill, just the tools he had looted some time ago and the arrogance to say he was good with them.<br/><br/>Oberon undid the shoddy wiring, cursing under his breath as he did, until he had taken the helmet to bits and spread them out over the table. Slowly, and with great frustration he rebuilt it, having to stop when his fingers began to shake or when someone came too close and threatened to disturb his work.<br/><br/>He wasn’t good at fixing things, but he could remember with stark vividness how the wiring had looked before the idiot had made it worse, and he could recreate that if he was persistent.