My name is Ian Sharp. The team of Jäger pilots I was on called me Raptor because I like to use my Jäger's jump rockets to get above a Kaiju and then land on its head, killing it by crushing its brain. They were killed in combat.
You might be wondering what I mean by "my" Jäger. What I mean by that is this: I am in a special team of Jäger pilots that are using specialized Mark 7 Jägers that are smaller and only require one pilot.
The war "ended" thirteen years ago when the pilots of the Gipsy Danger, a Mark 3 Jäger with a nuclear reactor for a core, took it into the Breach, and caused the reactors to overload… or something like that. Then about a month later, the day before the last of the Jägers in Hong Kong was to be scrapped, another Kaiju came through the Breach. It was small, a category 2, but it was fast. And it attacked Hong Kong. Thankfully, the Captain Ahab was there, pike sharper than anything I have ever seen, and it finished the Kaiju off in a matter of minutes. That was when the governments of the world realized that we would need to take the fight to the Kaijus' home world… whatever the techs have named it.
Then they brought in all of the metal they could find, and started building specialized Jägers. Including my Jäger, the great Typhoon. A small Jäger, only about fifty feet tall. But damn is it armed. Chain swords, plasma cannons, lightning cannons, shoulder mounted rocket racks, and many, many other weapons. The greatest weapon on the Typhoon is its core, a Tesla coil. I can vent the excess energy as lightning from any point on the body. That one has saved my life more than I can count. The techs say that the jump rockets are powered by compressed oxygen, so I can use it underwater. I wouldn't care if it ran on dead humans, as long as I could use my jump rockets.
Two months ago, my entire unit of elite warriors was killed in combat with a category 10 Kaiju. The first, and so far last, of its kind. Thank fucking God for that one. I am being moved to another team of mark 7 pilots. They recently lost their team leader, and the government apparently ate their brains for breakfast, because they know damn well that I don't work well with people trying to tell me what to do. Hell. I just hope I get a good wingman. Or woman.