Most people, upon finding themselves in an unknown place, would panic, say it was impossible, inconceivable even. More so, if said person would have found themselves in a place with bare metal walls coated with rust and with barely noticeable blood stains, they would've undoubtedly been scared, terrified or something other of the sort. But not four rather confused and curious killer robots that had been spawned from a designer that had watched too much anime.

As it was, Gipsy Danger, the newly awakened living Jaeger, found herself surrounded by her three Jaeger brothers as they stared at the writing on the wall.

"Welcome to Omega... suckers." Crimson crossed two of his arms over his chest while the third scratched the underside of his single eye, just like someone scratching their chin. "It obviously refers to a place, but where exactly I have no idea."

Cherno rumbled in a questioning tone.

"No," Crimson replied. "From what I can remember there is no place on earth called as such."

"Well that's fucking great," Striker huffed. "Stuck in a strange place with a strange name with strange words carved into the walls. Bloody cryptic ain't it."

"No," Gipsy objected, in much the same pose Crimson was in. "It's more like a mystery than anything."

Striker glanced at her. "That's what I just said."

"No, you said it was cryptic."

"They mean the same bloody thing." Striker growled.

Twisting her head so slowly you could hear the servos whine in her neck, Gipsy eyed him, visor glowing merrily. "Striker, are you making up words?"

"You tell me miss happyifying!"

"A better question is how can I pick this up?"

The two arguing Jaegers paused as Crimson knelled down and picked something up from the floor and showed it to them. It was a knife, a throwing knife to be precise, and from the looks of the dulled blade was used to stretch the words into the wall.

Striker sighed irritably. "Well I guess that answers your question. With your hands. Good job, good job. Everyone clap with me, Crimson picked the knife. Yay." He clapped a few times, ignoring the glare from the three armed cyclops.

"Yes," Crimson continued slowly, "I can pick up the knife with my hands, now look at it."

They all did. They looked for a good long while and didn't see anything else but Crimson holding it in his hand.

Cherno warbled uncertainly.

"You can't see it?" Crimson sounded incredulous. "Look at it. Look at how I am holding it."

"Oh I'm looking," Striker nodded. "Is your hand supposed to be that freakishly large?"

"I don't see anything, Crimson," Gipsy replied politely.

"Then allow me to explain-"

"No."

They all looked to Striker who stood there with a smug look about him. "I say no."

When they all kept staring he slumped. "Come on, can't you take a joke? He asked for our permission and I said... aw never mind."

When Crimson's glare finally caused Striker to fidget did he finally continue. "As I was about to say, this knife is six inches long."

After a long silence and a good deal of disbelieving staring at Crimson's skill of stating the obvious did Gipsy finally speak up. "I still don't get it."

"This knife is six inches long," Crimson repeated impatiently. "So how can I hold it if I am two hundred and fifty feet tall?"

Gipsy's visor brightened in realization as Cherno keened in surprise. Striker just stood there with an air of gaping openly.

"So," he began quietly. "We're stuck in a strange place with a strange name with strange words carved into the walls and we've shrunk."

"Yes," Crimson confirmed, dropping the knife. "Down in the seven foot nine range I believe."

"That's supposed to make us feel better?"

"No, its a fact."

"Well that's bloody brilliant. So what the hell are we supposed to do now?"

"I have an idea."

The three pails of metallic testosterone turned and saw Gipsy walking away down the hall. She stopped and turned to them, visor alight with merriment. "Lets go explore this dump."

After a moment of realizing they had nothing else better to do they all shrugged and followed her.

In the long minutes of travel that followed, Gipsy could feel that feeling of excitement come back again. She didn't know what had happened to her, why she was aware like this and, as Striker had so kindly put it, where the hell they were. The mere thought of exploring this place was sending chills down her spine and she loved it. It was all so new she couldn't help but be... happyified.

At that her visor darkened.

Why did Striker say that wasn't a real word, of course it was. At least, she thought it was.

From far down the hall a door made of interlocking metal plates was fast approaching. Before they were even close to it she saw something else that caused her to slow to a halt.

By the door, slumped against the wall was a man. His head was bare and oddly shaped, but he had two arms, legs, a head and the right amount of fingers to boot, even if they were clutching the bottle of... stuff that lay beside him. Come to think about it, there were about half a dozen of the same bottles scattered around him.

"Intoxicated," Crimson whispered behind her.

"What?" she whispered back.

"Drunk. Too many beverages. However you'd like to put it."

"Oh. Then why isn't he moving?"

"Maybe he's dead," Striker made his prescience known, whispering like the rest of them.

"Unlikely," Crimson replied.

"Well, only one way to find out," Striker muttered then gave her a hard shove in the back towards the drunk. "Go touch him."

"What?!" She tried to step back but Striker only pushed back harder. "Why me?"

"Cause your first in line. Go."

"Why do I need to touch him?"

"Cause that's what they do in movies. They touch the bodies then they come back to life as zombies and bite their heads off."

"Not helping!"

"Really? You're made out of solid steel and your afraid of a little bite."

"You said it was a zombie!"

"Oh for goodness sakes," Crimson muttered before he too started pushing. Between the two of them, and after a good deal of struggling, they finally got Gipsy going the right way.

"But why me?" she whimpered, somehow managing to do the kicked puppy look as she took a few careful steps towards the drunk.

"Someone has to," Crimson shrugged.

Hiding behind the red Jaeger Cherno rumbled in agreement, paused, then let out a worried groan.

"It's not a zombie," Crimson growled out then turned on Striker. "Where did you even get that stupid idea?"

As they started to argue, Gipsy paused just a few meters away from the slumped form. Now that she was closer she saw he was wearing a kind of blue and white armor, almost like the pilot rig she remembered her pilots wearing. His head was twisted to the side, hiding his face but as she watched she saw him twitch and let out a snore.

She perked up.

So he was just asleep and not dead as Striker had said. She would wait for him to wake up, that was the right thing to do. When you're stuck in a strange place the best thing that you can do is make friends the natives.

She stood there fidgeting as she waited for him to return to wakefulness. He snorted again and his pattern of organized snores restarted.

"What are you waiting for?" Striker shouted from down the hall.

She shushed him then replied in a loud whisper and sending him a glare. "Waiting for him to... what are you doing?"

"Hiding."

She stared, then started to giggle. She couldn't help it, the sight was just too hilarious. Striker and Cherno were doing their best to hide themselves behind Crimson's bulk and fought for room behind his broad chest. Naturally Cherno won, leaving Striker to use Crimson's oversized arm as a shield. All the while Crimson was standing there exasperated and face palming.

"It's not a zombie," she said, fighting back giggles. "He's just sleeping."

"That's what it wants you to think," Striker shot back.

Cherno warbled, nodding his massive head.

"Why do I even try," Crimson sighed, resigning himself to being a walking security blanket.

"But it's not a zombie," she pleaded.

"Then prove it. Touch it."

Gipsy sighed, realizing nothing else would convince them. Taking a steadying breath through her vents, she strode forward until she stood at the drunk's feet.

"Hello good sir," she said loudly, waving when his head twisted around to face her.

"That's not touching him!" Striker shouted, but his words fell on deaf audio sensors as Gipsy stared at the man's face.

It wasn't a man at all. It had the body of a man but the face... it had four eyes surrounded by strange ridges that travelled across it's face. The four eyed thing blinked at her in a drunken haze. Her systems stalled, her vision narrowed and her turbine thrummed within her. This thing wasn't human. Only one thought of what it could be sprang to mind.

"KAIJU!" she screamed, bringing her foot up and into it's ugly head. She expected it to fight back, to recover from her blow and come at her, teeth bared, so she was very surprised when her foot went clean through it's skin, through the skull and into the soft brain within. She froze, vents heaving as the body gave a wet gargle and went still. It didn't even try to fight back. She stood there, balancing on one leg as she pulled her foot out of it's head, stained with red blood.

"Worst. Kaiju. Ever," she muttered.

"I don't think its a Kaiju at all," said Crimson, appearing by her side. "Red blood, not blue as Kaiju are known for." Then he said over his shoulder, "so you're scared of a fictional horror plot device yet you flock to a dead alien."

"Kaiju we can kill," said Striker appearing on Gipsy's other side.

"It's not a Kaiju at all," Gipsy grumbled, half disappointed and half relived. Then she looked down to her foot and saw it covered in blood and flecks of grey brain matter. "Yuck."

As she tried to clean off what she could, Crimson reached down and picked the body up by the collar. There was just enough of the face left that he could determine what it looked like before it's encounter with Gipsy.

"Four eyes," he noted, "definitely not human but certainly not Kaiju either."

Shoving Striker to the side so he could see Cherno rumbled questioningly.

"For starters the blood is red, not blue. Second, it is humanoid and resembles the human body closely, unlike Kaiju. Third, it is only six feet tall," he finished, dropping the body. "A normal Kaiju would tower over us right now."

"What if they shrunk like us?" Striker asked.

"Nothing really. We fight, but only a different scale of property damage. Thousands instead of millions."

Before he could say anything else the strange door opened and other alien stepped out, clad in the same strange blue and white armor. It was holding something in it's hands and kept his eyes on it as random gibberish came from it's mouth. When it did finally look up the words, if they could called words, died in it's throat as it saw it's dead colleague surrounded by the four death machines.

And he stared, eyes wide. And they stared back, visors alight.

The alien's mouth opened but instead of gibberish a choked gasp emerged, but whether out of seeing his dead friend or out of shock of seeing his four killers Gipsy didn't know. But when it reached for a device attached to it's thigh did she feel realize something.

What if it was a gun?

She recalled a vague recollection of guns from her pilots in the drift and realized the damage they could cause... to a human.

But she wasn't human, she was a Jaeger, if only a fun sized Jaeger at that. But as she saw the device fold out into an unknown firearm it sparked a primal fear inside her. Without realizing it she charged, the fear driving her forward as her fist came around and knocked the weapon to the side, followed by a powerful uppercut.

Had it been a Kaiju, she reflected, it would've only staggered the monster but with this alien her blow snapped it's head back with a sharp crack and a spray of blood as it was lifted off the ground and flew back five meters before thudding to the ground.

Instinct taking over, she rushed forward as any good fighter would to press her advantage. As it turned out, the alien was already dead, so the vicious kick she gave to it's sternum that sent it flying to the feet of one of it's comrades could be considered overkill but...

Wait...

"Holy shit!"

She whirred around, instantly taking in her surroundings.

The room she had stormed into wasn't very large, more like a junction between corridors but it looked like someone had step up shop here. A few cots were set up against the walls with a few personal items scattered on top. Then she saw the six other four-eyed aliens surrounding her, weapons raised and ready.

As she dropped into a fighting stance she couldn't help but feel amused. The aliens had surrounded her in a circle and were so focused on her that they never saw Striker charge in behind. With a quick swipe, Striker decapitated one with his Sting-Blades before jumping towards the next.

After that it wasn't so much a fight and more like a massacre. The aliens didn't know where to turn as both Gipsy and Striker attacked from the front and the monstrous forms of Crimson and Cherno burst from the door. The former gutting a four-eyes with a triple armed slash of his buzzsaws in his classic Thundercloud Formation. Meanwhile Cherno made breakfast by crushing one's skull into a pancake between his oversized fists.

When the bodies finally stopped twitching, the four Jaeger were left in a scene of bloody carnage. After a few moments of aftermath silence Striker let out a low chuckle.

"That was fun."

"It was most amusing," Crimson agreed, flicking the blood off his buzzsaws before shifting them back into fingers. "Good stress reliever too."

"Duh, that's what fun is," Striker huffed, Sting-blades sliding back into place. "I got two by the way. I win.

"I got four," Gipsy crowed, "I win."

Cherno rumbled darkly, kicking his only kill who was doing a very good Flat Stanley impression, at least in one body part.

"I believe our kill counts are irrelevant now," said Crimson, knelling down by the alien he'd gutted and gingerly lifted up it's left wrist. "These things are so weak killing them doesn't feel like an achievement."

"Oh yeah," Striker crossed his arms. "What does it feel like to you?"

"Like taking out the trash, surprisingly."

Scraping the blood off his fists as best he could and letting lose a series of questioning warbles, Cherno pointed at Crimson who was fiddling with the alien's wrist.

"Investigating," Crimson replied. "I saw a holographic interface appear on this one's wrist and I am trying to find the- Oh! Here it is." With a click a small band of metal fell off which Crimson caught with an outstretched hand. He studied it for a moment then managed to slip it onto his oversized arm/plasma cannon.

Nothing happened.

Glowering, he gave the band a careful tap and hummed in satisfaction as a glowing glove of holographic light encased his arm. Instantly the three others were fighting for room, eagerly looking over his shoulder at the new toy and spouting random phrases of appreciation.

"Wow."

"I want one."

"Grrrrrrrrr."

"Only one problem," Crimson grumbled, eyeing the interface. He appeared to be on a home screen, with all the main tabs and such, only they were labelled with incomprehensible alien text.

"Crimson, if you can understand that I will be very happy," Gipsy said, her visor glowing like a sweet smile.

"As if he isn't as much of a freak already," Striker grumbled, giving one of Crimson's three arms a sharp tap.

"Why do you haft to be so mean?"

"It's my nature," the silver Jaeger shot back cryptically.

As the two started bickering back and forth about the basis of Striker's "assery," as Gipsy put it, Crimson was quite happily selecting random buttons and watching the results. Still hanging over his shoulder, Cherno let out a questioning keen.

"The settings tab," Crimson replied, letting out a pleased hum when he found a page with slider bars. "I'm getting close, I can feel it."

He tapped another button and his eye brightened when it opened a scrolling menu with at least a dozen different languages printed in boxes. Granted, none of them were recognizable, but as he scrolled down he found what he'd been searching for.

"There we go," he hummed as all the writing changed into his favourite text.

Cherno groaned, disapprovingly.

"Of course it's Chinese, what would you expect?"

After a pause Cherno rumbled in confusion.

"I don't know. Am I speaking Chinese?"

The Russian Jaeger shrugged, then looked to another one of the corpses and growled.

"Maybe. Go check."

As the green mini-titan moved off to find his band/holographic interface, Crimson began to fully explore the functions of his new device, the tab labelled 'codex' was especially appealing.

"Hmm..." He hummed to himself as he scrolled through the entries. "Planets and Locations... Planets?... Technology... Aliens?... Hmm."

He lifted his finger to touch the 'Aliens: Council Species' a sharp clang erupted from behind.

"Call me a tin can will ya!"

Another clang and a yelp from Striker.

"Oh right, I remember! You're a polished tin can!"

There was an angry yell followed by the sounds of an all out brawl.

Crimson sighed, 'shutting' his eye in frustration. "I hope this doesn't become a running gag."

Looking back, he saw Gipsy struggling in a headlock making strange growling noises while Striker did his best to hold on.

"Are you trying to bite me?!" he asked incredulously.

"Trying!" she shot back.

"You don't even have a bloody mouth!"

Crimson shook his head, exasperated. "Cherno..."

The Russian appeared beside him, one of the bands hanging from his fingers.

"...Can you please help me with this?"

The next minute found the two fighters standing in opposite corners of the room, glaring at each other, while Crimson showed Cherno how to operate his new omnitool. The 'help' tab could be such a blessing. Having shown him the basics; "tap here to go there," Crimson finally addressed the sulking pair.

"Are you ready to shake hands yet?"

They nodded stiffly.

"Then please do so. We're watching."

Grumbling, the two stepped forward and shook hands, the creaking of metal giving away the force of their grips.

"Good," Crimson nodded, stretching out one of his hands. In it were two more omnitools taken from the dead. "Because we have a lot to look up."

Gipsy soon lost track of time after she slipped the band over her wrist. After Crimson had introduced them all to the codex and soon after that the extranet, she had been lost in a whirlwind of words and research. Crimson seemed to be particularly adamant about it, giving out links he thought they should all read, and he was right about most of them too, humanity's past being one such subject.

Pretty soon they had learned three very important things. One; it was no longer 2025 as they had thought up to that point, but 2184, about a hundred years in the future. Two; humanity had made it into space and met more aliens. Fun sized, friendly aliens. Three...

"There aren't any Kaiju," Striker said softly, voicing what everyone was thinking.

"So humanity never needed Jaegers," Gipsy added.

"So we shouldn't exist," Striker finished suspiciously. "So how the hell did we get here?!"

"It makes no sense," Crimson agreed.

"Of course it makes no bloody sense! Ya want to know what makes even less sense?! We're barely the size of our own heels! You hear what I'm saying?"

But Crimson looked to be far away, his single eye was staring into the distance while a hand came up and fingered the base of his neck. As he did, a visible shiver ran through his frame.

"Crimson?" Gipsy asked, concern evident in her voice. "Are you okay?"

"I died," the red Jaeger said softly. "The last thing I remember is... dying."

Like a bursting dam, the memories came back. Cherno keened in distress as he felt his reactor tower, as if worried he would find it melted away. Striker just stared blankly ahead, getting a vague recollection of what it felt like to blow up. Pain then nothingness. Gipsy felt much the same, only she'd felt the pain of her reactor overloading, feeling like a splitting bag as energy poured out of her until it ended in a bright flash.

Another chill settled in her spine as the last few moments of her past "life" came to mind and she realized that she had seen them. She had seen the Precursors. One single glimpse, but that was all it took to ingrain the image in her mind forever.

They were doing something, she could see it now. On the floating platform, one of the insect like beings was fiddling with a glowing sphere of light. Then her reactor hod gone critical... and she woke up here.

"Well... dying is... quiet the experience. Isn't it?" Crimson stammered, the feeling of his head getting torn off fading slowly."

Rumbling, Cherno nodded, moving his whole upper body as he lacked a neck to do so.

"So... we died... then we ended up here."Striker said slowly. "Stop me if I'm wrong, but does anyone else think this whole thing is fuck up?"

"Expletives aside, I am forced to agree."

"I mean, is this Jaeger heaven? The Kaiju are easy as shit to kill and-"

"They're not Kaiju."

"You know what I mean!"

"And your second point?"

"Annnnnnd... nothing... really," Striker finished lamely. "Their easy to kill, that's the only good thing I can think of."

"Well then," Crimson said, tapping his omnitool, "you'll be happy to know I have more good news."

"Is that sarcasm?"

The red Jaeger paused in his typping. "Yes actually. As Gipsy found out earlier, we are in a place called Omega. It was rather easy to find in the codex for all the wrong reasons. Apparently Omega is the cesspool of the galaxy. A massive space station built out of an asteroid for mining purposes. When the ore ran dry it was abandoned and taken up by thieves, mercenaries and other scum."

"Lovely."

"So where are we on Omega?" Gipsy piped up.

"I don't know," Crimson admitted. "There should be map software on this thing, I just haven't found it yet."

"Good. Because do you know what I have?"

The three males paused in what they were doing and stared at her in rapt attention.

"Okay, I'll bite, what to you got?" Striker sighed.

"A plan!" she squealed excitedly.

They stared at her, in some cases with expressions ones of blank disbelief.

"That's a terrible thing to have!" Striker huffed.

"No, I think its just what we need," Crimson rebuked. "Please share."

"Right!" she clapped her hands. "Crimson, can you find us that map?"

The Jaeger in question nodded. "I believe so. Why?"

"Lets go exploring!"

"I thought we just did."

Thank you all who reviewed. I can't tell you how good it feels to know someone likes your story enough to leave a review.

Anyway, I hope I can continue to write up to your expectations and continue to give you a good read.

As for updates... well I think weekly isn't too much trouble.

As for where this story is going you'll just have to wait and see.

DJ out!