IT'S NOT A PLEASANT ARRANGEMENT

Yeah, so we form the crotch.  And no, it's not a pleasant arrangement.  We're mech soldiers in a gestalt unit based off of one of Jupiter's moons.  We're out here patrolling space for any invaders, rogue comets or other natural interstellar disasters.  It's not a bad gig, except for the fact that I drive a taint.  My unit is made up of three separate ships.  We can fly out as separate crafts, we can also tool around as individual battlesuits when combat protocols are being observed.  That part of the job is pretty sweet.  But that usually only happens for about three or four minutes before the tool who drives the Heartship calls for us to form Galaxor.  Then myself, Ken, and Hitomi have to form the pelvic area.  It sucks.  It sucks!  It truly does.  As Galaxor's pelvis we're the foundation, the solid base from which Galaxor swings his mighty Six Star Sword to vanquish enemies and quell disasters.  That's how the song goes.  That's how the song literally goes, they always pump that hideous piece of J-pop through the intercoms during the linking process.  I hate it.  Twenty five ships come together to form the most advanced gestalt 'mech in the fleet, and we're lucky enough to form a gigantic blue and white neutered crotch.  It's great, especially when the other limbs talk smack at us in the cafeteria.  They blame us for everything.  "Those Andromedan Racers wouldn't have tagged us if the crotch hadn't been so slow on the stabilizers!"  "Maybe if the crotch had been faster at venting the overflow of hydraulic gases we could have stopped that asteroid!"  "You'd think they'd be better at venting gas, considering how they're such gigantic assholes!"  Jerks.  especially the fucking forearm pilots.  Hitomi cries herself to sleep every night.  Ken drinks.  I'm just angry, all the time.  I suppose we could just suck it up and be proud that we play such a vital role in the defense of the system, but really?  I'm sick of being the asshole.  Literally.