Year 2027, Year 14 of the Kaiju War
Sydney Shatterdome
"As you very well know, the Yellow Banshee was this part of the world's top assets and first defense. You and your brother did an incredible job protecting against the kaiju and we couldn't ask for better. However, without the Banshee and her pilots, we are at a loss for what to do," the UN representative explained, his hazy image flickering marginally on the holo projectors. Despite having little to no experience or rank, Chuck was able to stand in on the meeting. Along with him was his father, uncle (the tall man sitting glumly in the wheel chair that he had been caged to), the Marshal and three other pilot teams. Listening to all this bull shit about what had happened to the Banshee and her pilots was tiering and had begun eating away at their nerves shortly after it began. And that had only been about ten minutes ago.
"We understand that, Sir," Herc acknowledged from his seat. He hadn't been as severely injured as his brother, but he was still unable to walk without a cane or assistance. The doctors said that would get better within a few weeks, but that he should still take it easy for the next two to four months.
Yeah right, Chuck remembered thinking.
"With the Kaiju coming out faster than before and jaegers falling just as quickly, there is call for new ideas as to how to keep the kaiju out and our people safe. We have considered undertaking the most viable option, the Wall of Life Program, offers. However, we still need jaegers to keep the breach under watch until it can be completed, " the American representative explained, his severe face looking sharply out of place among the older men surrounding him. Though, not as much as the three other Marshals on the screens. Pentecost included.
"So what is it you are suggesting?" Persy snapped, irritated with the banter and the pitiful attempt of trying not to look desperate.
"Persy," Herc whispered to his brother, casting as sharp glare at the elder. He just huffed in response, making Chuck stifle a smile behind his hand by running it though his hair in an attempt to look exasperated.
"We have proposed the advance in the building of five new jaegers. The first of the Mark Vs. With any luck, the first one should be completed within the next six months. Of course, the jaegers that are currently at the Sydney Dome should be enough to protect the area in the meantime," the Australian representative announced. "The first of these new machines will be transported to your dome to help fill the gap in protection of the area. We would like you to find and train its pilots," he finished. Chuck thought his expression look too close to beaming for comfort and worked to keep his sneer under control. A small flick of Stacker's eyes and the twitch to his lips revealed that he wasn't doing a good job.
Chuck was never so happy to be out of a meeting in his life. He knew his uncle appreciated the haste he sped them down the hallway with. Max barked begrudgingly behind them as he stuck close to Herc.
"We haven't even seen the specs for the Mark Vs and they expect the two of you to find a couple of pilots who just might have what it takes to operate a backhoe and train them how to fight in a jaeger. And in six months?! Are they fucking stupid?"
"Fancy ties and flashy smiles. That's all they are, Chuck," Herc sighed. He was sitting at the desk in their quarters where he rubbed his face in his hands. The dark circles under his eyes sagged with his tiered lids and shoulders as he tried not to fall asleep. "They don't know what it takes to be a pilot. To fight kaiju and win every time."
"They're suits. All they know how to do is push paper and drink champagne," Persy grumbled from where he lie on his bed with his arm covering his eyes. Neither of them had slept well since they had woken from their comas. Persy the least. His back ached and his legs went numb if he didn't move them after an hour. The doctors said it was a good sign for his recovery and ability to walk again. That didn't stop him from complaining. Of course, just like the rest of their little family, he was too stubborn to tell the doctors about his pain or take the medication they gave him. Chuck had to admit that he admired his uncle for that. Of course, the echoes of pain filtered through the shared link the two still had from drifting with each other. And that kept Herc awake. He supposed it didn't help much that Max had decided his legs were the comfiest to sleep on when Chuck's chest wasn't available.
"What do they expect you to do? Pull a couple of them from your arse? Nobody is entering the academy anymore, and those that graduated are all dead or ran away. Or their like me and too young to drift with anyone."
"We know that!" both pilots roared at him. He flinched, but refused to back down. Whatever energy it took for them to shout at him like that was short lived and they both sagged further into their respective perches. Chuck did the same, sitting on the edge of his bunk and resting his hand on the prone form of his bulldog. He didn't mean to wear them out, he was just furious that they were the ones who were tasked with this.
"It's not fair," he mumbled. Running his hand down Max's back calmed him, gave him courage, so he continued. "You should be resting, recovering, and they want you to do this. It's like a slap in the face. Like they enjoy shoving what you had to do in your faces. Like loosing Banshee was easy. It's not fair. You two almost died! I almost lost..." He trailed off, gruffly brushing the tears from his cheeks with the heel of his hand. He hadn't cried in years. Not even when they had almost died, when they almost didn't wake up, when they did wake up. He had been too shocked for that. Perhaps now it was all starting wear off. Like a weight was being pushed down on him and all he could think of to do was cry until it went away and he felt better.
He had been so lost in his thoughts that he didn't hear his old man get up from the desk and hobble over to him. He sniffed, forcing the tears back. But, one look into his fathers eyes and the damn burst. The mans blue eyes were glittering with his own tears and a few of them had escaped to his scraggly chin where a red beard was forming. Taking a seat next to his son, Herc held him tight. Persy grunted at the display, frustration evident on his own grief stricken face.
Chuck didn't feel like arguing anymore that night. He want them to sleep. He needed them to get better. He needed to be close to them.
Prying himself gently from his father's arms and pulling their respective boots off, Chuck moved to the other side of the three bunks and pushed them all together into a single unit. When his task was complete, the three of them wrapped their arms around each other, letting their grief flow and their body's to quake with sobs. It had been a long time since they had sobbed like that, but sometimes there was nothing they could do and when life kicked the floor from beneath your feet, all there was left was to cry and rage and hope that tomorrow would be better.
"I've decided," Herc announced suddenly. The three of them sat at a table in the mess, enjoying a quiet brunch by themselves. Across from him, Chuck looked up from his plate, eggs and fork sticking out of his mouth. Persy sat in his chair at the end of the table, similarly struck silent. But with bacon.
"What?" Chuck asked around a mouthful of egg. Herc scowled at his son. The teen swallowed hastily and shifted on the bench under the disapproving glare. Persy coughed after a second, rescuing his nephew.
"Who will pilot the new jaeger."
"Who?"
"Us."
Chuck watched the silent battle between his father and uncle. A contest of stares that he was loath to disrupt. If he even had half a mind to do so. His father couldn't be serious. He just couldn't be. Persy would be lucky if he ever managed to walk again; he would never be able to pilot a jaeger! And Herc was in no condition to be fighting kaiju after what had happened to Banshee. Granted, in the next six months he could heal and be able to pilot the new jaeger, but that still left the question of who his co-pilot would be. He wouldn't let just anybody drift with him. And anybody he trusted enough for that was already dead or unable to fight, like Persy.
"He is not old enough to pilot, Herc," Persy exclaimed, slamming his hand on the table. Silverware jumped with Chuck and a realization dawned over the teen when both brother's eyes flicked over him.
Him?
"Don't give me that shit. You know as well as I do that he is. And he is already trained. He graduated the academy at the top of his class and he has spent his whole life wishing he could be a pilot. Preparing for that day. So cut the crap."
"They won't let you! They'll take him away: claim child abuse or brainwashing!" Persy snarled.
"I don't give a damn what they think. He's my son and if he wants to pilot a fucking jaeger, than by God he will. It's his choice, Persy. He doesn't have to say yes," Herc roared back. Chuck remained where he was, blinking as he watched the argument turn particularly vicious. The fact that it was over him piloting a jaeger still hadn't sunken in all the way.
"And what if he gets killed?"
"Then I'll die with him."
"And what about me?!"
Herc said nothing as he considered this new avenue of thought. He hadn't considered what it would do to his brother if he had to sit on the sidelines and do nothing while his younger brother and nephew were out fighting kaiju. It would kill him to be unable to help. To be stuck in LOCCENT with nothing to do except sit with his thumb up his arse. And if they died? Herc could already feel the indignation and hurt as it radiated off his older brother.
"You're right," he muttered in defeat.
"I'll do it."
Both brothers turned to face the teen as he sat quietly on the bench, his panting dog half in his lap, half in his plate.
"No," Herc began, Persy shaking his head in agreement.
"Yes! There are fucking kaiju out there, Dad! I can fight; I can help. People will die if I don't. I don't want that, Dad, Persy. I don't want anyone else to end up like us," he finished quietly, resolutely. He wouldn't back down from this. It was the reason he had joined the academy. The reason why he had worked so hard to be the best fighter and the sharpest strategist. He would never give this up. Even if his father chose someone else to drift with him. (That thought terrified him more than anything)
"Chuck," Persy started, latching on to one of his arms. Herc had his other, a calm, worried expression etched into the wrinkling skin and graying red hair.
"I want to do this. Those bastards killed mum. They almost killed you. I don't- I can't let that happen. And not fighting in that jaeger will be just as hard for me as it will be for the two of you."
Both men sighed in resignation. Casting weary glances towards each other before critically staring the teen up and down. They both knew that the stubborn nature of their family would make changing his mind like hell, and neither were foolish enough to assume it was even possible.
"Alright," Herc murmured, letting go of the boy's arm in favor of pushing Max off the table. "You're now my lead candidate for the new jaeger. Of course, I'll have to at least pretend like I'm considering all my options," he muttered conspiratorially to them both. A bright gleam of anticipation and amusement lighting his blue eyes.
"Yeah, yeah," Persy muttered, but he smiled as well. "So, what are we gonna call it?" He continued after a moment of watching a beaming teenager try and salvage his breakfast. The kid just shrugged, looking into his plate for an answer.
"Striker," Herc answered, stabbing a chunk of potato with his fork.
"Eureka," Persy suggested. Chuck smirked.
"And a bulldog to match," he joked, patting a happy Max on the head. The three laughed.
A/N: So, originally this was just supposed to be a simple little story about Chuck being a fan boy over Raleigh and Yancy, but it spiraled WAY out of control. And, of course, I'm adding a whole bunch of stuff in here that isn't cannon and probably very oc. Also, I know it seems like there is a lot of mushy gushy going on with the three Hansens, but if you think about it, each piece is only one day or so of the year. They still fight for the rest of it.
