04: You treat me like a Stranger and that hurts so much (1)
June 22d, 2015
"It's my understanding that they lost a child?" Caitlin Lightcap thumbed through the folder on her desk.
"Yes, a little over a year ago in Sydney."
"Why is she here? From the looks of the evaluations, she's not even had time to grieve. She's taking it out on most of the class which rather against the point of your "Jaeger Bushido"."
"You can grieve for the rest of your life, Miss Lightcap. The problem is focusing that grief into something more productive."
"Duly noted, and I don't mean to presume how to tell someone to grieve, Marshall, but most of her handshakes- they're erratic at best. Not exactly weak, but they could be stronger."
"Perhaps you can help her in that matter."
"How?"
"Find someone who knows how to take a punch."
Angela's first steady partner is a woman named Miranda "Hardlock" Kauffman, a MMA Bantamweight. One look at her on the Kwoon mat and Angela felt criminally under qualified for just about everything the Academy was training her for. Preconceived notions were quick to reinforce the idea that woman of her stature was intimidating, someone to be scared of.
The origin of the nickname baffled her, at least until she ended up in a headlock she couldn't break out of and passed out. Miranda was disciplined for that, but Pentecost seemed content that they were "getting along" so well.
Outside of the headlock incident, Kauffman was a reasonably mild-mannered and charming woman. No less dedicated than Angela to what she committed to in the Academy.
They're not puzzles to each other, Miranda's empathy is derived not from pity or obligation, but understanding. They respected each other boundaries, never pried further than they needed to if they approach a particular conversation. Drifting didn't get any easier, it was often hard to tell where her ill-begotten feelings began and Miranda's ended. Angela was still too used to the idea of a single identity, the thought of sharing a headspace with anyone was fairly daunting despite her willingness to apply to the program.
Their personalities bleed into each other, but it's probably the first time Angela doesn't mind feeling like someone else.
August 14, 2015 –
Herc is hyper-aware of every date that passes. Every fiber of his being seems hardwired to remember how many days past from any particular event - nationally celebrated or otherwise noted.
Angela chooses to forget the dates and the months; every day is another day, a series of actions and movements dedicated to memorizing educational rhetoric required to do her job. The world around her frozen, mannequins surround her until enters the Jaeger facility, classes and Pentecost, the latter being the oddest part.
Once upon a time she might've taken the joke that she was jealous of his friendship with her husband, now, it was hard to look the man she felt was equally responsible for her situation. Herc's continued loyalty baffled her, but she knew well enough of the allegiance shared by soldiers that it would be a pointless endeavor to try and challenge it.
When Herc wakes up on the fourteenth feeling sore, he's lying in an odd angle, as though he were bracing himself for a hit. Instead he remembers Max is sleeping beside him, taking up half the bed space. He doesn't remember when the dog started scratching at his door, only that he'd done it long enough that he let him inside the room just to get him to be quiet. Angela certainly wasn't going to open her door for him once she stared through that peep hole. Max commandeered his bed, not really caring if Herc objected to it.
Scott was the first to jump out of bed, there's a cigarette in his mouth already, but he can't find the lighter. "Big man's birthday t'day," He spoke past the cigarette. Herc pulled his face out from behind his arm and sighs.
"I know," Herc drags his hands across his face. "He'd be twelve today, I think."
"You gonna talk to her?"
"No, no, I'm not."
"Oh, c'mon, I think she'll be squishy enough that she'll let a hug or two past, yeah?"
Herc's eyes caught his brother's as he discovered the lighter. "You've no idea what you're talking about, Scott."
"Probably not," He removed the cigarette from his mouth, exhaling as he did. "I just hate what she's done to you, man."
Herc sat upright, his muscles relaxed only slightly. "What has she done me, exactly, Scott?"
"Are you serious? She blames you for what happened, and you take it. You take it because you don't wanna come off looking like her old man if you fight back."
Herc shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not her old man, she knows that."
"She doesn't act like it."
"Look, she's not afraid of me, she's upset with me. Maybe I deserve it."
"Now that's just guilt talking, mate," Scott inhaled, the end of the cigarette burned. "I understand she's hurt, but her pain doesn't outweigh yours."
"Scott, what kind of father leaves their son to die just save his wife?"
"Oh, well, there's God," The diplomatic answer he thinks. He regrets the words once they fall off the tip of his tongue. Herc looks like he wants to punch him. "I'm not—I'm even sure why we're having this conversation," Herc rose from the bed and stumbled into the bathroom, Max trotting behind him. Scott shrugged himself; his attempts his come off as some enlightened creature always fell flat on their arse.
"Put that thing out."
Scott chokes on the smoke curling in his mouth in mid-exhale; he puts the cigarette out on the desk.
Herc intends on avoiding Angela for the remainder of the day. His plan works, she's chosen to leave the Academy for a drink and ladies "night" out with Miranda and Kaori.
December 6, 2015 –
Angela does her best to keep her sister up to date with her progress in the Academy with e-mails or old fashioned letters. Margret returns the show of appreciation by sending her little things from home. She doesn't to think to open them, afraid of what she might find inside.
If Margret asked if she liked her present, Angela was quick to reply with "yes, thank you", "very thoughtful of you", or "hope you're good (smiley face)" somewhere in her letter.
Angela knew her sister would figure it out eventually, but for now she could keep playing possum.
When she meets Duc, it's the early in the end of the year and Kaori has been assigned to Tacit Ronin. Angela reframes from acting as though she's been reunited with an old relative when she finds out part of his parentage lies in Australia, tries not tease him when chooses to keep his lips sealed about the cowboy hat sitting on head. Kaori lights up around him, even though her exasperation over his bad jokes diminishes her overt affections. The Jaeger stands tall within the facility adjacent to the academy, its hull unspoiled by battle. It's hard to think of the machine as beautiful, considering its purpose, but the thought crosses all three minds.
They stand on the scaffolding across from the Mark-1, Angela sandwiched between the two Jessop's. "How do you think it'll walk on those heel feet?" Duc asked, more to himself than anyone next to him. "Doesn't even look like it'll hold its own weight." Angela and Kaori apprised the long angular feet of Tacit Ronin. The Jaeger was suspended just a few feet off the ground, supported by thick cables as its crew continued working on its armor. "I'm sure they'll hold our weight fine. I mean, Brawler Yukon isn't exactly a picture of balance," Kaori answered her husband. "Angie, have you found out which one you've been assigned to?"
"They won't say, but I think it's the one after Romeo Blue. Tango Tasmania," Angela answered.
"That brute?"
"I like the design," Duc added. When Angela smiled Kaori made a face. "It's headed for Auckland, you know that, right?"
"I know," Angela responded. "It's why Miranda and I requested the assignment. We probably won't get it, but it doesn't hurt to ask."
"Feel like stretching your legs a bit?"
"Yeah. Kodiak is the only place I've been to in America, maybe someplace close to home won't be such a bad next trip, yeah?" Angela bumped her shoulder. "I mean, what am I gonna when my friend leaves for Japan?"
December 8th, 2015 –
She missed Max. She only saw him every morning and every night, where he went when she fell asleep or got up and fell into her routine she didn't know. He hardly seemed bothered by the fact that Angela was preoccupied with herself. And when he did, he stole boots, most of which he didn't return. Everyone in the academy blamed her for it, but she was hardly responsible for Max's bad habits.
She didn't think so, anyway.
"What did you use to do for fun? I mean, before the Kaiju, I mean?" Kaori inquired, stealing a French fry from her plate.
"I used to surf," Angela responded distractedly, eyes wandering the expanse of the mess hall. She spotted Scott a few seconds ago. His brother couldn't have been far.
"No kidding? Were you any good?"
"I entered a few competitions when I was younger, got a bronze medal in one of them," She recounted somewhat nostalgically. Miranda and Kaori nodded simultaneously, eyebrows raised in appreciation of this new found skill. Kaori leaned in closer at the same as Miranda, fry hanging limp in her hand. "How's the water?"
"They're still trying to get that blue blood shit out of it," Miranda said. Angela wasn't surprised; the number of Kaiju killed tallied up so far numbered over six, but the amount of damage left behind by their bodies was still considerable. Water had to be purified in cities before it was actually allowed to be used in plumbing, even there was still a chance of contamination. Cities were closed down for airborne contamination in the immediate area. Most beaches were closed on principle. Cities resorted to using bottled water, stored what they had and rationed in light of their diminishing circumstances. "Anything else?"
"No, surfing was an end all be all for me, then I had Chuck and I couldn't get out as much," Her brow creased. The three of them turned to respond to the low whistle that beckoned behind them. Scott Hansen stood behind them with a tray in his hand, typical smile on his face. "Angie, you didn't tell me your partners were so pretty… and defined," He added when he noticed Miranda's arms. "I approve."
"Who is this creep?" Miranda muttered.
"Is he the ex?" Kaori inquired.
"No, he's my brother-in-law," Angela answered.
"Unfortunately, my brother jumped on this ship before I did. Though, I think, given the circumstances-" A hand came out from behind him and slapped him upside the head. Scott ducked his head like an errant child and turned to glare at his older brother. Herc's expression was irate. "Go and poach someone who isn't married," He ordered.
"Oi, I was just kidding around," Scott protested.
"I wasn't," Herc said. Scott stared his brother down for all two seconds before walking away. Angela ignored the finger that ended up clamped between Miranda's teeth as she allowed her eyes wander downward. Max sat next to Herc's left leg with her boot in his mouth, tail wagging happily. Traitor. "Mangy mutt, what are doin' with him?"
Max said nothing, not that he could with a boot in his mouth. "He's been followin' me around lately, I'm not sure why," Herc explained with a sheepish sort of shrug. Angela shot Max a dirty look, he whined, moving to hide behind Herc's other leg.
"I could probably give you two," Kaori grinned. "First one's in his mouth."
"Eh?"
"He's a total Pongo," Kaori elaborated. "All we need now is a Perdita." Out of the three present, Miranda was the only one who got the reference and shot her friend a "too soon" look.
"Anyway, I came to return him and the boot he took," Herc nudged Max with his foot. Max hunkered to the floor, his teeth remained enclosed around the boot. Angela snapped her fingers, Herc frowned at the dog's continued disobedience. "I see you found your ring," Herc said. Angela withdrew her hand, nervous. "Uh, yeah, customs finally got back to me and delivered it," Angela lied, making the mistake of fooling with her hair.
"So, why is Max wearing it?"
"I, uh, safe keeping."
Miranda and Kaori grimaced, the look on Herc's face said it all.
"I was gonna wear it again, I just-"
"You don't need to explain yourself to me, Angie. I get it," Herc walked away, Max trailing behind him despite his effort to shoo him. Angela felt her skin prickle with embarrassment and anger; she pressed her hand to her forehead. "Fuck."
December 22d, 2015 –
Hera Mars and Tango Tasmania stand side by side next to Romeo Blue. Up on the catwalk, the Hansens could see Bruce and Trevin Gage conversing with their intended crew. At least Bruce was. Trevin was preoccupied with getting a better look at his Jaeger while his brother held him by the collar of his jacket so that he didn't fall over the railing.
Kaori was right. Tasmania was a brute of a machine, arguably bulkier than Coyote Tango, but armed just as similarly. Oppositely, Scott and Herc's Jaeger, Hera Mars, was sleek, the definition of a sports car if it stood upright and had legs. Scott was understandably envious of Tasmania's muscle verses Hera's athleticism. "There's gotta be some kinda mistake," He said aloud, not caring what anyone thought. "How do a couple girls end up with a machine like that?"
"What's the matter Scott? I thought smooth and sleek were your thing?" Angela jabbed. Scott shot his sister-in-law a dirty look. "I bet you couldn't handle her," He said.
"I handled your brother, they're about the same, I think," Angela retorted. Scott regarded his brother, Herc responded with by watching him in the corner of his eye, his expression was nothing but a reproof. 'I didn't do anything' Scott mouthed, pointing to her. He knew better than to expect his brother to actually reprimand his wife, that sort of thing only happened twice in time he knew her.
"When are you being deployed?" Herc inclined his head toward her.
Angela shrugged. "Auckland's Shatterdome is in the middle of construction, it won't be done until the following month, maybe later. I don't think I'm going anywhere until then."
"And you're sure you wanna go there?"
"It's not about certainty, Hercules. It's where my Jaeger is going, where it goes, I go," She said. "Miranda too." There's a look on Herc's face that suggests that he wants to protest, but he hangs his head and looks elsewhere.
December 31st, 2015 –
"Let's not do this in a big way, okay? Please?"
Getting a divorce is not as a simple as it looks on television. It's expensive for one, but they have the advantage of having no children (anymore), no property or real estate (it's all in ashes), just the clothes in their dormitories and a dog that's chosen to adopt Herc as his new best friend.
Angela thinks it's what she wants. She's angry with him after all and it hurt to be around him. Herc knows it's not what he wants, but he doesn't want to be tied to someone who needs to so badly to get away from him that it's starting to affect how he sees himself. "What about a separation?"
"Separation?"
"It's the same as a divorce, only we stay married."
"Doesn't that- isn't there some stipulation that we have to not live together for twelve months?"
"There might be more to it, but I think it might be better for us."
"Wouldn't a divorce be simpler?"
"…Do you want a divorce?"
Angela's eyes flicker with uncertainty, but she says, "Yes."
January 8TH, 2016
Angela leaves for Auckland without fanfare, husbands or siblings to wish her well.
Miranda is quicker to get onto the helicopter than she is, glad to be out of the Academy.
Angela and Max walk just slow enough to not hope he doesn't show up.
And he doesn't.
Which is fine with her… because it has to be.
January 18TH, 2016
"Aeris" emerged from Waitemata Harbour sooner than LOCCENT had initially predicted with the data provided by the K-Science division. Its wail comes when no one expected it. The city was frozen with terror as the Kaiju bypassed the city altogether, instead choosing to take to the skies and disappear into the clouds.
No one knew what to make of its behavior. It reframed from actively attacking, choosing instead to glide through the clouds like a bird. The city scrambled to evacuate civilians as the Kaiju dove in and out of the clouds, sweeping over the city to evade or destroy fighter jets that pursued it. The first direct hit was to its underbelly, bloated and sac like. Instead of blood, it bled blue gas, right over the civilians.
The result was not pleasant. They couldn't attack it with ranged weapons lest they wanted a repeat of the incident just moments ago. The only good that came from the attack was that the Kaiju was brought to the ground. It dragged its body towards the waters again, gaseous fumes pouring from its body.
They had a Jaeger, it couldn't fly, but they deployed her anyway.
Out in the middle of the Harbor, Tango Tasmania stood out like a sore thumb. Even the Kaiju seemed to regard it as an oddity as it approached the edge of the harbor shore. Angela had never seen a Kaiju up close before; she'd certainly felt its strength, seen what it could and what they could in attempt to destroy it.
She merely assumed that the creature that destroyed her home looked no different from the one crippled on the ground across from them. "Hey," Miranda broke her train of thought. She looked to her partner, Miranda raised a fist, and Tango did the same, its left fist charged with electricity. "Don't think, just let it flow."
Angela felt the woman's determination and adopted it unconsciously, raising her own fist. The guncanon fastened to the right arm began to charge. "Don't think, let it flow."
You've got it.
There was no one alive to cheer them on, reasonably no one should expect crowd, but Jaeger's instruments were quick to pick up helicopters, none of which were under orders to be there. Anyone who wasn't present watched it on their television. They dragged the Kaiju off the shore and tossed it into the harbour.
The creature rolled unceremoniously through the water, its bleeding sac losing more its form. It moved quicker in the water, its rage and frustration made evident by the fact that Tango continued to doge it like its attacks were nothing. It moved just like a wounded animal would, leaping from the water and attempting to claw the eyes of its attacker out with no accuracy.
Tango was content to beat it to a pulp, tripping over the creature's split tail whenever it tried dive under the water. The Jaeger and Kaiju were restless. Aeris' claw tore at its armor in its mad scramble to get out from under the Jaeger's weight as it fell on top him. Tango took the punishment, Miranda and Angela shouldering every bit of its body that was torn away as they pummeled the creature's face. Aeris used its hind legs to push away from the Jaeger, Tango Tasmania stumbled backward and fell to its knees its tail rose from the water and wound itself around the Jaeger's neck. Aeris rose up into the air, its long leathery arms batting against all odds to escape.
Tango's head swerved to the left, the alarms went off in succession with the sound of Tango's neck being crushed under the force of the tail. Tango Tasmania's left hand grabbed the end of its tail. The right drew back, fingers together.
Aeris screamed as the canon the Jaeger's right arm fires. Aeris' mangled head exploded as the final bout of pressure applied to the Jaeger's neck separated it from its body. Tango Tasmania crashed into the water at the same as Aeris', the head landed upside down in the harbour.
January 22, 2016
There wasn't anything anyone could do about the Kaiju's toxin spreading across the city, except pray they could do something to protect the neighboring cities nearest to the "chemical spill". The city was uninhabitable. Getting the pilots and their Jaeger out of the area was a task in and of itself.
The bottom of the Conn-Pod had been compromised. The clamps that kept their feet in place sent them falling toward the top of the head, hanging awkwardly from their harnesses. Miranda suffered a blow to the head when Tango's head landed in the bay, one that left her unconscious, with only enough strength to dip in and out of awareness when they tried to bring her around. Angela received minor bruising around her ribs, a mild concussion and a twisted ankle.
She woke up four days later, contemplating her physical attraction to hospitals and trauma. Miranda lay across from her. A breathing apparatus covered her face. The right side of her forehead was stitched up. At first glance, Angela thought she was merely sleeping.
Her face was completely still, devoid of pain or any sign that she was conscious. A nurse walked into the room as Angela tried to sit up. She turned her head slightly in Angela's direction, smiling. "Hey, at least one of you is conscious," The comment was so offhanded, that Angela assumed the woman was simply joking. Instead she found out her partner was comatose.
The next day, she woke up on her side and spotted the familiar green and brown tones of a jacket she hadn't seen in years.
"Herc?" She almost reproaches herself for how happy she sounded. His face comes into focus and it's like all the time spent apart vanished between them. He leaned over the bed and kisses her roughly, but no less loving. She grabs him by the lapels of his jacket and tries to draw him nearer to her body, teeth sinking down on his bottom lip.
There's this sound, loud and obnoxious. She recognizes it as the stupid heart monitor and turns. It's in the middle of the night, there's not a soul around besides Miranda. The palms of her hand ache; her fingernails are pressed into the center and leave impressions when she finally relaxes her fingers. The bedroom light floods her vision as one of the nurses walk toward her bed, concerned. Angela hid her face behind her hand, embarrassed and cursed whatever medication they put in her IV, if any.
Where had that come from?
She and Tango returned to Kodiak Island half conscious and yearning for their other half.
May 22, 2016 –
Entrenched in the affairs that are so disconnected from the concept childhood and motherhood, Angela almost forgets what it's like to have children as a constant presence. The maternal/parental instinct, that never leaves her, but the familiarity with children does.
Stepping out of her room, Angela doesn't expect to hear the sound of a little giggle. She didn't expect find Max indulging in the affectionate hands scratching him under the jaw. Angela felt her heart jump into her throat as her feet moved forward and her hand rises from her side. Chuck? She almost says his name. Maybe she did say it because the little person looked up from Max.
The door across from her opened, the little girl was on her feet immediately and bounded up the stairs without consideration of who was coming out. Herc stumbled down the stairs, long legs dodging the considerably smaller body that squeezed past and ducked behind Pentecost to enter his office. "Mako," The name comes from Pentecost's mouth and sounds so much like a father admonishing their errant child.
There's a response from the girl, but Angela doesn't understand any of it. Both men look in her direction, Pentecost's expression remains natural but Herc recognizes immediately why Angela was staring as though she saw a woman walk through a wall.
"Max, c'mere," She snaps her fingers and hates how strangled her voice sounds. Max whines, looking over to the door. Angela doesn't wait for him to respond. He can stay for all she cares. Turning her back to all three men, she starts down the opposite end of the hall, not caring if it would take her straight into the Jaeger facility.
She heard the jingle of Max's collar and footsteps following close behind, Angela did him the respect of stopping. Max trotted over to her, Herc close at his heels. Exhaling through her nose she said, "I'm fine."
"I wasn't going to ask," Herc lied, adjusting the sleeve on his arm. "I wanted to-"
"Why is there a kid here?" She interrupted him. "Is Stacker mental? It's not safe."
"Considering how things are now, she's probably in the safest place imaginable," Herc remarked. "The girl's a survivor from Tokyo." That gave Angela pause; she'd heard all about Tokyo's misfortune, the little girl with red shoe, but never thought she'd end up here. "Where's the rest of her family?"
"Her family doesn't want her. Stacker says they blame her for the deaths of her parents," Herc recounted.
"That's big of them," Angela muttered. "She's just a kid. There was nothing she could've done."
"Yeah, well, they don't see it that way," His eyes wander up from Max and meet her gaze. The dots connected themselves, Angela's jaw shifted as Herc held her glare. Her weight shifted to the right, she crossed her arms and raised her chin. "I hope you aren't insulating anything Hercules," She said.
"I'm-"
"Miss Hansberry," Both Angela and Herc jumped at the sound Pentecost's voice. Herc stepped out of the way, bringing Pentecost into her line of sight. Pentecost was as imposing close up as he was at a distance. Mako stood behind Pentecost, not exactly hiding, but it was clear she wasn't comfortable around people who weren't the Marshall. Angela braced herself for reproach as she said, "Look, I'm sorry if I scared her, I didn't know she was there-"
"On the contrary, Miss Hansberry," There was humor in his eyes despite the seriousness of his expression. "Miss Mori wishes to know when she can play with Max again." Angela's mouth made a small 'o', her cheeks burned as she shifted her gaze down toward Max. The bulldog snuffled, his droopy eyes embodying the essence of an overeager child wanting to play with his new friend.
"Oh, well, she can play with him now, I don't need the mutt," Angela kneeled and scratched Max behind his ears. "G'on, go play with your new friend, Maxie." Max barked appreciatively, slipping out of her grasp he trotted over to the little girl. Mako stepped out from behind Pentecost, a smile playing on her lips. "Arigatou gozaimasu," Mako bowed.
Angela knew enough about Japanese through pop culture marginalization to know she was being thanked. She returned the motion, albeit clumsily and likely incorrectly. She watched Max chase after Mako as she disappeared down the hall. Her chest felt warm and her hands tingled. That was normal, right? Pentecost nodded his thanks to the woman. "Now, about your assignment-"
"Sir?" Her hands fell behind her back as she straightened her posture. The moment itself, was weird for Herc, who was still having trouble seeing his wife so rigid.
"In any circumstance we might pair you with someone you know, but you enlisted on your own, roughly a month after your… ex-husband, am I correct?"
"Yes, sir," Angela answered. "I asked my sister to come, but she didn't think she was qualified."
Pentecost nodded. "Based on general observation and your psych evaluation, you're compatible with at least one other person in the academy."
"Who is she?" She asked. Herc raised an eyebrow at the assumption of gender. It could be a man for all she knew, but he hoped not. He wasn't the jealous type (he didn't like to think so, anyway), but wasn't crazy with the idea of his wife sharing a headspace with anyone that wasn't him - not that she'd allow that.
"Jessica Hardwick," Pentecost pulls the manila folder tucked under his arm out into the open. Angela took the folder when offered, flipping it open without hesitation. Jessica Hardwick was only eighteen years old; her features were still round from adolescence, only just bordering adulthood. Her eyes drifted across a particular line in the psych evaluation and she raised her head. She wanted to demand whether or not Pentecost was making a joke at her expense. The man's expression was as serious as the last time she checked. "Well, alright, when do I meet her?"
"0026, next Monday," Pentecost answered. "Same time as your Jaeger."
"Tango Tasmania?" She really hated that name. "Is she ready for deployment?"
"Almost, repairs are nearly complete. We'll let you know which 'dome you'll call home next. …You're dismissed."
"Yes, sir."
May 27, 2016 –
Jessica Hardwick is quiet, disturbingly quiet. Some part of Angela understands why, but when confronted with a face young enough to her son at the edge of adolescence (give a take or few years plus), she expected - wanted - a loud and rambunctious teenager. She wanted someone she could grab by the ear and discipline, focus her frustration on. Jessica didn't give her that.
Instead, she got a girl who followed her lead or moved against it when required. They get used to each other in Kwoon, Jessica tried to mimic her walk, which led to more than a few inappropriate wolf whistles from the other Ranger hopefuls. Angela did the most talking she'd ever done in her entire life when in the presence of Jessica. The girl seemed appreciative of it; she was always listening, even if her attention appeared to be elsewhere. In the Drift, Jessica was loud; her memories were oversaturated, full of yellow light bleeding from a pair of lifeless eyes, red that stood out against her green Harvard hoodie and soot too blue to be actual ash from anything human.
It was the first time Angela had been overwhelmed by anything that wasn't coming from her and the resulting hangover made it hard to focus on anything except the little details she left behind. She'd never been in the middle of a Kaiju attack, she'd been close, but this girl had the misfortune of being in the thick of it and surviving at the expense of everyone else. The story of just about everyone else's life if you wanted to be cynical. Jessica wasn't exactly a picture of perfect composure, she cried about it almost every time and Angela allowed it for a time.
"Don't cry. The Kaiju aren't going to care if you're scared of them."
"I don't cry because I'm scared," Jessica remarked, her watery eyes blazing with anger. "Did you?"
"No."
The cadets, they made fun of the girl, put bets on how long she'd last in a fight if she ever got the Ranger status. Were it not for the fact that she was the adult, Angela would've put a stick to their asses and chased them out of the Academy. Jessica deserved more respect than she got, but what did she expect from little boys? It took more than a few times to connect with each other properly, but they got there.
Jessica asked whether or not they were still intended be co-pilots. "Yes, it's what Pentecost wants," Angela replied unquestioningly.
"Yeah, but is it what you want?" Jessica reworded the question.
"Yes, yes is," Angela replied without the slightest bit of hesitation.
May 31, 2016 –
"I heard you were leaving," Angela looked up from the duffle bag when she hears him. Herc was wearing that silly vest of his that framed his modestly defined arms in her favorite gray shirt. Max sits at his feet, panting happily with a ball clamped between his teeth. Traitorous dog had yet to return to her, he spent all his time with Mako now.
Angela pulled the sleeves of her red cardigan over her fingers out of habit, something she was comfortable with doing whenever he caught trying to sneak around him about something. "Yeah, command wants us back in Auckland," She replied smoothly. "Shatterdome's finished, and the Academy's kind of crowded enough already without non-students cluttering things. I heard you and Scott got Sydney."
"Fingers crossed," Herc grinned warily. "I miss home. Don't you?"
"Not really," Angela said it without averting her gaze from her bag. "I miss my family, but I don't miss Sydney." Herc watched her slam each shirt from her closet into the bag; he'd hit a nerve by merely expounding on the subject she breached. The act itself was not difficult, everything set Angela off. It put him at an extreme disadvantage on what exactly to talk about with her.
When they had gotten the divorce, he hoped that the time they spent separated would open some form of dialog between them. They jumped over the hurtle of a literal separation, they were arguably becoming different people because world circumstances and a post-marriage perspective. Instead, Angela Hansberry was still unwilling to communicate with him on the most basic of topics. "When I was in the hospital… you didn't come to see me," He looked up, blue eyes wide open.
Angela stood in the middle of the floor, everything was packed and the bag hung low at her feet. Was she really doing this? Tango Tasmania's unfortunate mishap of a victory wasn't something that could be ignored. He saw the news footage, listened to the LOCCENT report. He thought of nothing except jumping on the nearest mode of transportation and reaching her.
"Exclusion zone was too hot, we couldn't enter Auckland until the quarantine was lifted," Herc explained. "Besides, would you have seen me?"
"I was out for four days," She remarked. "I figure if you came, I wouldn't be awake to see you."
"That doesn't answer my question, Angie."
"I don't know," She said. Herc paused, the automatic retort dead before it could even circulate in his mouth. He watched her, her face was masked by her hair, but her slouched posture and bowed head told him everything. "Anyway, it doesn't matter," Angela shouldered her bag and tried to move past him. Herc let her walk away, not sure what he could say or do that wouldn't make the situation between them any worse.
Max stays with Herc and that almost hurts Angela more than the tatters she called a former marriage.
April 25, 2017 –
They return to Auckland with Tango Tasmania. Jessica is eager to go sight seeing once they get settled into the Shatterdome, Angela chooses to sleep in. Miranda is as unresponsive as she was once Angela was strong enough to move around in a wheelchair and talk to her. Angela thinks she can hear her voice in her heard the clearest whenever she visits, but brushes it off as her imagination despite what she knows. The doctors still have hope that she'll wake up, Angela tried to keep hers tapered but thanked them for being optimistic.
With Jessica at her side, Angela is the senior pilot and far more comfortable in the boots of a Jaeger (so to speak). Tango Tasmania is already considered one of the golden oldies once the Mark-3's start rolling out of the Jaeger facilities, maybe past its due date.
The media eats up the idea of an estranged husband and wife, separated, but compliant in the war effort. They eat up the idea of an all-female team piloting what is considered a masculine machine. Talk shows are unbearable exercises in torture, but she manages to keep her temperament and play the happy woman who wears silky dresses with chunky curls that frame her box head. In the midst of dizzying fame and attention foisted upon pilots, Angela and Herc are two sides of the same coin. They are wary of the attention. They chose to retreat from it most of the time, but are careful not to come off as curmudgeonly toward those who were merely grateful to have their help.
(Angela found it hard to believe they were considered "old timers", and at thirty nine and eight).
Angela got more unwanted letters requesting sex favors than she cared to remember. She stock piled them on the off chance that she needed evidence (you never know). Occasionally, a letter from Margret would pop up in the pile, apparently she was engaged and wanted her at the wedding (mandatory, not optional), but her mailbox was fairly stuffed with creeps, trinkets and women thanking her for merely being who she was in spite of her loss. Herc likely received the same kind of letters, but she wasn't under the obligation to care anymore considering their divorce.
Jessica and Scott seem to absorb the attention like sponges. Jessica thrived off the unadulterated (or adulterated) attention so long as it veered from her personal life. She got a kick out of her thank you letters. Particularly the ones addressed to her from little girls no more eight or nine years old. The glue would still be wet on some homemade cards. "I'm like their superhero or something," Jessica smiled. "And to think I wanted to be an accountant."
As for Scott? This was a natural element for him, the only thing that had changed was the social status. He and Herc were God's gift to women, their fame simply increased his chances of landing a date or a one-night-stand. He took any woman that Herc rejected, content to show her a good time on his behalf. Herc still wasn't quite over his ladyfriend, which was fine with Scott, it just meant more for him on all sides of their situation.
He forwarded any e-mail or letter that started or ended with "I want your babies" to his brother. Scott of course, was over the moon, baffled at the number of pregnancy requests they were getting. "I if knew this would happen, I would've set up a business." Herc just hid his face behind his hands, embarrassed.
It wasn't all sex and fame, of course. If they so much as stepped outside, there was a chance of getting pelted with an egg or some ungodly projectile meant to tarnish their image. Apparently a few animal activists saw Jaegers as an affront to Kaiju rights to co-exist in their environment. Coupled with the relgious movements that rose up around the Kaiju, Rangers like Herc and Angela didn't know where they weren't wanted until they stepped through the door or someone saw their jackets.
August 10, 2017 –
Angela returned to Melbourne as quietly as possible on the fourth anniversary of K-Day. The task itself was difficult because she has a sister who's immensely proud of her older sister despite her reservations and wants to announce her presence to all of Melbourne. She has to beg Margret to keep quiet about it when she steps into the airport, Margret does what she asked, frustrated she can't flaunt her appreciation to the world.
It was roughly eight hours before the wedding ceremony itself began. It was in the middle of the night, but Margret is just happy to have her sister home.
Australia, however, feels unreal to her. She felt disconnected from the world, even when she stared out at the waves and remembers life before the end of the world. Now the water was home to the Kaiju; it was their territory and she was eternally landlocked.
"Where's Maxie?"
"He left me for my husband, if you can believe that."
November 1st, 2019 –
Something was wrong. He knew that even before they stepped into the Conn-Pod. Scott was uncharacteristically quiet, morose. "I'm just tired," Scott brushed his concern and suspicions off with a shrug, messaging the back of his neck with one gloved hand.
If he's thinking about it immediately, it never shows in the Drift, but the apprehension is there, even as his mind fumbles to cover it with sarcasm, legs and tits.
Herc just doesn't know what it is.
"So, I hear your lady and her joey accompanying us on this drop," Scott, ever the conversationalist, decided to go with the touchy subject.
Herc spared his brother a glare and just shook his head. "She's not my lady, she's a pilot," He said. "And you'll show her some respect."
"She could be both," Scott yawned.
That time Herc did glare at Scott. His brother just shrugged as Hera Mars was lifted out of the Shatterdome.
A Two Jaeger team wasn't an unusual occurrence. Circumstances often necessitated more than two Jaegers defend a particular city or coastline. Places such as Asia were always sending two teams out. For Angela and Jessica, it was just the first time they'd ever been called on to participate with another team.
Category II Kaiju were slowly beginning to become a thing of the past. Angela theorized whenever they appeared, the creatures only seemed content with causing more trouble than actual damage. The science division disagreed of course, citing that none of the Category II's so far have been mere troublemakers.
The Category III's on the other hand, they felt and fought more like a focused fighting machine at the risk of being larger and heavier. Mark-1's couldn't keep up with the latter in terms of punishment. Tango was being repaired more frequently than she liked to contemplate, CIII's tore through her armor like it was nothing. She could see the looks of envy in Jessica's face whenever Mark-4's were mentioned. Were it not for the fact that the Defense Corps needed all of their Jaegers, Angela believed Tango would be decommissioned in a heartbeat.
I've never seen Hera Mars in action, are the pilots any good?
Hera's got the best pilots the program could ask for. She's more than good.
Oh, well, that's good.
Don't worry Jessie, they're professionals.
"Good morning ladies, the Gods of war have arrived."
"Are you serious, right now, Scott?"
"Though I'd lighten the mood, Herc, don't have a cow."
Angela felt a ripple of uncertainty through her connection with Jessica. Mostly professional, she amended. Tango Tasmania waded into the water at a casual pace as V-50's flew overhead, Hera Mars hanging idly the harness in preparation for the drop.
Plexus looked up from the water, its jagged teeth placing emphasis on its overbite. It looked to Tango Tasmania as Hera was released and crashed into the water. The Jaeger stood upright, water running down its shoulders and over its person.
Plexus, a Category II Kaiju, topped the general classifications of a CII, setting itself apart from its brethren with the highest toxicity levels and water displacement yet. It made no move to enter the city yet, content with swimming through the water like a shark waiting for its prey. The behavior put some in the Shatterdome off, but there wasn't any time to assess its behavior fully without risk to the civilians.
Plexus' shoulders hunched as it lowered itself back into the water until nothing except its crowned head remained visible. "The hell is it doing?" Herc asked.
"Maybe it's scared?" Jessica ventured. "I've seen my cat do the same thing."
"No. Not a chance," Angela said.
Both Hera and Tango moved through the water toward it, on guard. Plexus moved to the right, its long legs powering it away from the Jaegers now in pursuit. Hera Mars gained on the Kaiju first, its light armor working in its favor as opposed to against it. Tango moved back toward the shoreline.
The Kaiju veered toward Hera Mars, with a roar it leap out of the water and on top of the Mark-1. Plexus' legs seemed to force the Jaeger down into the waters; instead of destroying it, it leaps again. Hera managed to grab its tail. Hera was pulled out of the water, its weight fudging the Kaiju's attempt to sail across the expanse between itself and Tango. They spun the creature around by the tail, Plexus' claws drag across the water in a futile attempt to halt its momentum.
It twists as Hera's grip releases its tail and thrusts its leg back. The Mark-1 goes down and Kaiju rolls through the water, irate. Both Jaeger and Kaiju scramble toward each other, the harbor water slows Hera down enough that Plexus' lands the first blow with its head, sending Hera down to its left knee. Hera's movement is clumsy, unfocused. Its head shakes wildly as though dizzy and out of sorts, a second blow knocks the Jaeger over. Angela watched as the Kaiju crawled up onto their side and hooks its claws into the socket of its right arm.
Why aren't they moving?
Something's wrong.
Hera bucked under the weight of the Kaiju, but its movement remained clumsy, out of sync. Then they started screaming and she was sure it was each other, not at the Kaiju about to tear them apart. Angela, shouldn't we do something? Angela let her actions speak for her. They moved as one, powering through the water. Plexus doesn't look up from gnawing at the arm Hera. It's vindictive in its intentions and doesn't see the massive armored hand coming for it until it's too late to react.
Tango Tasmania's hand wraps around the base of its throat and heaves the Kaiju off its partner, the creature howls, clawing furiously at its arm. Angela and Jessica thrust their arms downward, slamming the Kaiju into the water. They kneel on the Kaiju's stomach and proceed to punch it with their free arm.
"What -the fuck, Hercules!"
Plexus' head jerked up and out of the water, trying to angle itself to bite Tango's wrist.
"The hell was that-!"
Tango raised its right arm and charged its guncanon. Plexus' screamed furiously, allowing the barrel of the guncanon entrance of the mouth.
"You wanna talk about this now or would rather we kill the Kaiju in front of us!"
Tango Tasmania stood over the scorched corpse, blue blood spattered across its chest and face. The barrel of gun canon was still burning hot from the volley fired into the gut of the Kaiju's head.
Jessica didn't need to be connected to Angela to know the woman was livid.
Fucking amateurs.
Auckland's Shatterdome wasn't terribly different from Sydney's and he was curious to explore it, but the last thing he wanted to be doing was standing in the hall outside the office of the Marshall. When he saw Angela and Jessica storm off the elevator of their bay area, he should've expected she'd do something.
He just didn't expect her to chuck two helmets at them and actually nail them in the same succession. That time, he did lose his temper and if it weren't for their respective Jaeger teams, he was sure he and Angela would've done more than just throw helmets at each other.
They were not on friendly territory. Everyone in the Shatterdome watched him and Scott like a pack of wolves that weren't terribly happy that a pair of dingo's just walked into their house.
"Are you gonna stare at us like that the whole time?" Scott muttered, adjusting the ice pack on his head. "Your face is gonna get stuck like that you keep it up."
Angela's expression, loathing incarnate, remained steadfast. Jessica seemed to be mirroring her emotions, likely a result of the hangover.
"Shut up, Scott," Herc muttered, right eye twitching when he shifted his gaze toward his ex-wife.
"I can't believe you're defending her," Scott muttered. "She almost put your eye out with that damn helmet."
"Exaggeration, much? She did not," Jessica protested, stepping forward with her fists raised. Both Scott and Herc regarded her, unimpressed. "Don't entertain them, Jessica," Angela responded, guiding the girl back against the wall. "They're being brats."
"Yeah, because throwing helmets at us was so mature," Herc mumbled.
"I'm sorry?" It was Jessica's turn to put a hand on Angela's arm. Her eyes were wide as saucers, practically begging, please don't hit him again.
The door to the office opened, everyone fell silent.
November 2, 2018 -
Herc proved loyalty to a paramilitary organization mattered more than blood.
Scott learned he hated snitches.
They had it out one last time once they got back to Sydney. Even in the enclosed space of their bedroom, Herc was still the better fighter, but Scott gave as good as he got. Their faces and limbs were bruised and bloodied once by the time they were done. If anyone heard them, no one made no move to stop or break them apart.
Max situated himself under the bed, more irritated than scared by their behavior.
Sitting on the bed, Scott messaged his jaw and spat his blood where he may. Herc busied himself with washing the blood out of his mouth in the bathroom. When he stepped out of the bathroom, he was barely able to dodge Scott as he comes storming into the bathroom, his swollen raccoon eye a mirror reflection of his own on the left.
His things were packed and everything that was remotely related the Defense Corps was lying somewhere in a corner in a pile, a show of his contempt. He stepped out of the bathroom just as roughly, pushing him out of the doorway. Herc grabbed his brother my arm, stopping him short of reaching the bed. If he was going to say something, Scott never gave him the chance. "You lay your hands on me again it won't end well for you."
"I think you got that backward, Scott," Herc remarked.
Scott pulled his arm from his brother's grasp. Shouldering his bag, he spat one last time on the floor and walked out of the room.
Author's Note: Sooo, yeah, how that? This final chapter got a bit long and I had to separate it for the sake of coherency and pacing. I didn't feel quite right jumping straight onto Striker Eureka without establishing some kind of basis for Herc and Angela coming together (I figure she'd want to avoid him at all costs if she could help it), so I kinda expounded on her pilot career and comrades. Expect the second part of the final chapter once I can find the spare time. I really hate the school year.
Notes:
*"Hera Mars" is name I ended up with the Jaeger name generator on blindal's tumblr. I thought it was cute.
*I've never liked the name "Tango Tasmania" (said dislike has extended itself to mine attempting to kill the Jaeger on numerous occasions in this story), luckily for me, it apparently isn't a canon name because reasons.
*I initally thought it would be extremely weird for Auckland, New Zealand to have a Shatterdome (the maps literally make it look like a hop and a skip away from Australia), but Los Angeles and Anchorage are to US established Shatterdome and word has it Japan are more than one as well.
*Apologizes for any errors you come across. I'll correct them as soon as I am able.