The next day, the jaegers are tasked with cleaning up the old victorian house, including the separate garage...
"It's simple, the reason we're not living with our respective pilots right now is pure bureaucracy . There was enough red tape around us when we were jaegers but now that we're more organic in nature the PPDC is having a field day trying to keep us in the program. I read a lot of reports, seems like some countries are demanding custody of the jaeger they funded, but the Marshal doesn't want to give us up. Eh, he's probably afraid that they want to dissect us or something," Crimson shrugged from his perch on the washing machine. He idly flipped through a heavy manual on appliance repair as he talked.
"But, doesn't explain why I can't be with Mama and Papa," Cherno frowned, lifting Gipsy up so she could dust cobwebs from the low hanging rafters of the garage.
"It's because the Marshal wants to keep us under as much scrutiny as possible," Striker scoffed as he unlatched the old-style garage door and swung it open, letting in the ocean breeze. He scowled up at the grey sky. "That's why he's supervising us himself. To the PPDC, we're nothing but freak accidents. This isn't a house, it's a prison to keep us in until they decide how to get rid of us. "
"Nah, I don't think the Marshal's like that," Gipsy mused, sneezing as she accidentally dusted cobwebs into her face, "I think he's a good guy. I mean, at least he let us see our pilots before we left, right?"
"Not all of us."
The jaegers suddenly fell silent. Crimson's fingers froze on the page as Cherno slowly put down Gipsy. Her ears reddened as she realized her mistake. An awkward tension filled the room as none of them could meet Striker's gaze.
"I….I think when Chuck wakes up, they'll let you know," Crimson mumbled, crossing his legs.
"Striker, I'm sorry," Gipsy's eyes filled with sympathy.
"Shutup. I don't need pity from an idiot,' he growled back, hazel eyes boring into her.
All feelings of sympathy just got kicked out the door, "Hey! I'm just trying to be nice!"
"Ooh, getting mad now? Am I hurting your girly little feelings?"
"I'll show you girly little feelings, you…you MEANIE!" In response, she threw the duster at him. He ducked, letting it soar over his head….
…..and straight into Pentecost's face.
It bounced off his forehead, dust splattering onto his hair and mustache. A collective gasp filled the garage as they stared in horror at the Marshal. Silently, his dark eyes glared at Gipsy, who gave a frightened squeak and desperately tried to hide behind Cherno's arm.
"Striker, do you find something amusing," Pentecost intoned, turning his gaze on the Australian, who instantly swallowed his laughter.
'"Eh…no. no…um, you want something, Marshal?"
"Yes," he handed him a list and a wad of cash, "the fridge needs to be stocked. Here is a list of essential items that we need. The store is on the corner. " With that, he turned and began walking away.
"Uh, Mr. Marshal Sir, where are you going," Gipsy called after him.
"To clean up."
"But….means we go alone?" Cherno frowned, nervously tugging his hat.
"Yes, I believe a big Mark 1 like you can handle it. The others, I'm not so sure," a ghost of a smile graced the Marshal's lips as he issued the challenge.
And being jaegers, they were never ones to back down from a challenge.
"Fine, I'll do it!"
"Alright, but….none of my training has really covered shopping…."
'Woo! Does that mean we can get snacks! SNACKS ARE THE BEST!"
"Da!"
They huddled on the curb, the small, box-like store across the street. They all stared down at the asphalt suspiciously, as if it might attack then at any moment.
"We have to stick to the rules, guys," Crimson tugged at his sport's jacket. "There's an etiquette to crossing the street. "
"What happens if we don't follow it?" Gipsy looked at him.
"We all get hit by cars and die."
The jaegers gulped nervously, "alright, what do we have to do?"
"To remain safe, we have to hold hands!"
People walking down the street stopped and dropped their jaws at the four teenagers crossing the street with stony faces, hands entwined in each other's. Cherno led the face, marching purposefully across, Gipsy's petite hand dwarfed in his. Crimson came after, dragging a protesting Striker. Together, they entered the store.
The doors slid open with a clang, and the jaegers seemed to find themselves in heaven. Rows and rows of food lined up before them, making their newfound stomachs growl longingly. They were still learning the process called "eating" and what lay on the shelves before them looked more enticing then the bland rations they were previously forced to consume.
Crimson shrunk into his jacket, eyes darting left and right, "how are we supposed to find everything?"
"Tch, how am I supposed to know?" Striker suddenly spotted the cashier, "oi, what about that guy?"
"Who's that?"
"He's probably the requisitions officer in charge of the store," Gipsy responded, "remember they had one at the shatter dome? If Raleigh wanted something, he would tell the guy and he would get it. I think we just need to ask him."
"Leave to me," Cherno cracked his knuckles, "will get you snacks, little Gipsy."
"Yay!"
The cashier happened to be a zit-faced college student, working his way through the summer. He was deep into his book, not looking up till he was dwarfed by a hulking shadow. He looked up, and instantly paled.
Cherno slammed the list down on the counter with a force hard enough to shake the cash register open. Frigid blue eyes glared out from beneath his hat. "Hello comrade, would like you to get all items on this list!"
The cashier quailed nervously, "Uh-um-um….I don't know if I can do that…"
"Lie. Requisitions can get anything. Lie to me, but try lying to fists," he growled, bashing his fists together like his Mama and Papa taught him.
The cashier promptly fainted.
Coyote was in the back yard, staring out at the beach the house sat above. He was curled up in his wheelchair, hose clutched in his sleeves as he watered the dead grass. He looked up as his fellow jaegers came around the corner of the house, "h-h-hey! You're back!"
"We ran the Marshal's little errand, where is he," Striker snapped.
Marshal Pentecost got up from the flower bed he was working on, dusting off his overalls. "I presume you got everything."
"Yah, it was really fun! The req officer was really nice too, we didn't even have to pay!" Gipsy smiled cheerfully from behind the swollen grocery bag she was carrying.
"What?"
"At first I think Cherno kinda scared him, but after he woke up he was really willing to help, even though he made us promise not to hurt him. I still don't get that….he kept calling us "rubbers" too, even though that's not any of our names….."
The Marshal's frown almost fell off his face, "I think you mean robbers." With an exasperated sigh he began walking out of the yard.
"Um, where are you going, sir?" Crimson cocked an eyebrow.
"To go pay the store before you all get arrested. I severely doubt Striker can survive the prison life."
(to be continued! and thanks for reading. Reviews please? :3 ))