On The Wall
AN- You have no idea how much it killed me that Mutavore's attack was the second of January. I really wanted to use the phrase 'Winter is coming' but Winter's half over by this point. Dying here! Also worried I've got too much British/Scottish slang. Let me know your thoughts. This is based on the movie, not the novel, although I took some minor details from the novel/wiki.
There wasn't much opportunity for chatter on the Wall- or anywhere, really, working along the coastlines. Becket though, he was quiet. He was more careful of his words than of his rations- and given the pittance they earned with their work, that was saying something.
Or perhaps careful wasn't the word. Perhaps he simply had nothing to say- the difference between a miser and a beggar. They'd all lost something to the damn beasts- Becket wouldn't be the first to withdraw from the world.
There were rumours about the man- that one day, he'd been somebody. A big shot in the Pan Pacific Defence corps, a soldier, or some kind of corporate golden boy. That he'd lost his family, which wouldn't be unusual, that he'd lost his fortune, for those who believed he'd had one, and the worst- that he'd lost his will to live.
The rumours were quiet- there wasn't anything interesting in a broken man. There were too many of them on the Wall already. They didn't usually last long- the Wall was dangerous enough for those who wanted to live.
Becket though- he didn't act broken. There were times they'd see him take a break from his work, and simply stare out at the ocean- the ocean that separated them from the monsters. He'd simply stare for a moment, one hand loosely clinging to his support rope, and then get back to work. It'd be simple enough to die- he'd just have to disengage the rope and take a step. He never did.
Rumours or no rumours, there was something about Becket that drew the eye. He didn't walk tall- just drifted from shift to shift with the rest of them, more steadily than most. Even so, there was a presence about him- shades of who he used to be. No one had any trouble believing he'd once been somebody.
He never told them who.
Turned out, Becket had been someone. A Jaegar pilot, if certain eavesdroppers had heard correctly. Raleigh Becket, one of Gipsy Danger's pilots. The American Jaegar had gone down outside Anchorage five years before, taking at least one of her pilots with her.
It had taken a while to match the words Jaegar pilot with what they knew of Becket- a reserved, nearly soundless man. Most of them had never heard him speak before he'd strode out to greet the man from the helicopter. And he'd supposedly been a Pilot, a big time hero and media golden boy- it was hard to believe.
Jaegar pilots were like rock stars- a fast dying breed, burning bright and burning out- or more usually, burning up.
Becket must have been pretty burnt out to end up on the Wall of Life the way he did. They didn't pity him- heading out to Hong Kong, where the world knew the last three Jaegars were gathered. There had been two more only yesterday- Echo Saber and Vulcan Spector had been killed in the Sydney attack. Becket didn't stand a chance, no more than the rest of them.
That Marshall bloke had been right- the world was ending. If Becket had the option to go out fighting? Good for him.
In the meantime, they had a wall to build. An utterly useless wall, as the footage of Mutavore's attack had shown. But they needed to eat, and the wall paid in rations. There was nothing to do but push on, and hope the monsters could be held off a little while longer. Hope that they'd see Winter's end, before their half built wall was broken into dust.
There was nothing else they could do.