A/N: So, after watching the Pacific Rim movie for the first time today, I ended up creating myself a Jaeger and come up with the idea for this story. I have no idea how or when I will continue this, but hopefully I will be getting into the characters and be able to get it going properly. Important to remember is that the characters in this story are created by me, which means that I will not be using any of the original movie characters. There is a slight possibility Stacker Pentecost (aka Idris Elba's character) might pop up, but as he at this time is located elsewhere (probably Alaska) depending on which year I set this, that is not a major possibility yet.
Anyway, feel free to leave any comments or constructive criticism you may have, and I will hopefully be back real soon with the first proper chapter (which, obviously, will be longer than this).

Prologue: Arrival

The heavy duffle bag was weighing her down as she treaded through the wide passage, her footsteps echoing loudly in the empty space. With the time difference between the training facility and her home, she had no idea whether she was late or early, and she hoped furiously that it was the latter. Nothing would be worse if she showed up for her first day of training way too late.

Turning a corner like she had been instructed by a guard, she went into a smaller corridor, which was filled with the sounds of voices. Different languages and accents mixed together, creating a buzz which pressed on from all sides, almost making her stop in her footsteps. She had no idea whether she was to meet anyone she knew or not. She had been sent her by her old captain, without knowledge about who else that had made basic training. And not only that, she did not know either who that had been sent where. Perhaps she was the only one from her unit to have been sent to this American camp.

Turning another corner, she found herself eye to eye for the first time with her new comrades. Most were comfortably seated on their bags or the floor, leaning against the wall while chatting to one another. A few eyes turned curiously in her direction, but most paid her no attention. They would all be introduced soon enough, and no one was in a hurry to go before schedule. Most had had long journeys from all corners of the world and they were all tired.

Finding herself an empty spot right outside the doors leading into the next room, which they all awaited the opening of, she sat down, comfortably stretching her legs out as she leaned against the wall. It was nice to finally get a calm moment after her long journey.

Her hands quickly found a book in her bag and within seconds she had buried her nose in it, curiously studying the text. She had been sent it by her uncle right before leaving, and she had not yet had much time looking through it.

"What the hell is that language?" A voice carrying some kind of American accent caused her to look up, and she frowned slightly at the man seated beside. His eyes was glued to the spine of her book, where the name shone with glazed, black letters against the white background. "I mean, no offence, but I have never seen letters with those dots above them before." Reaching out, he snatched the book from her hands and turned a page in it to study the letters. "This is total gibberish."

She shot him a glare, one hand raising to grip the dog tags around her neck as she tried to calm herself. She couldn't get angry about someone not having seen Swedish before.

"That's Swedish, actually." Her voice was cold as she snatched the book back, quickly putting it back into her bag and out of his reach. "And that's not gibberish if you actually knew anything about the language."

A chuckle escaped his lips and he ran a hand through his dark hair, before stretching his other out for her to shake.

"I'm sorry if I offended you, Miss Sweden. I was just trying to make conversation. I'm Scott Harrows, from Portland."

She had no idea what city he was actually talking about, as she was not too familiar with American cities, but she decided it didn't matter. They were not here to learn North America's geography, because if they didn't defend it, there would no longer be an American continent to learn of.

Grabbing his hand, she shot him a small smile as she spoke.

"Alyssa Anderson, Sweden." Pulling her hand back, she brushed a strand of hair away from her face. She had put it up in a ponytail earlier that day, but hair was now starting to loosen from it. The mess of blondish-brown always had a tendency of escaping even the most secure of up dos, something that had always annoyed her.

"Lovely to meet you, miss." He studied her for a moment, before he realised she was not going to continue the conversation, and instead turned back to the gun he had been cleaning. While he knew it wouldn't be used much in his future, he still liked to keep it clean and ready. After all, it had been his dad's and it was something he treasured. Especially after losing his dad the way he had.

The sound of the doors opening caused a heavy silence to fall over the gathered soldiers, all of them quickly scrambling to their feet as they awaited what was to come.

"Welcome, soldiers." A voice boomed through the doors, seemingly coming from thin air, and most straightened their postures, doing their best to appear more collected than they were. "Please. Step inside."

While no one spoke, the air still buzzed with excitement, and Alyssa couldn't help but to feel a large smile creep up on her lips. This was it. This was the start of her last part of training. This was the finish line, and next there were only one thing left for her to do: To kick some Kaijun asses together with whoever became her drifting partner.