2025, January 6 – 13:55 – Hong Kong, China
News of the kaiju breaking through the Wall in Australia still hadn't ceased. Even after nearly a week, the world still buzzed with fear, terror, anger. However, the bay workers off to the south of Hong Kong weren't particularly in the mood. Many more were only worried about their own well-being.
It was not a question of morale; nor was it asking much from the world, because people just began to detest the idea of a deemed "Wall of Life" that any kaiju could mow through. It was, however, true that those in China had known before—even when the Plan was still in the works. The situation was like being forced between a rock and a hard place: In this case, the hard place was the Kaiju War and the rock was merely a pebble; the small, yet annoying prick that symbolized the idiocy, daftness, and arrogance that oozed from the ears and nostrils of the United Nations.
Of course, that was only one side of the argument Donald Ressler always favored to discuss with anyone who'd lend and ear.
See, there was some particularly lengthy story about him, from a few years back (that of which included why he responded to an alias from that Blacklist show). Something about nearly dying in the Pacific Ocean, but he didn't quite like talking about it.
Donny wasn't sure where his hatred of politics came from. He figured it must have been something from a previous life, if anyone actually believed in those kinds of things. In that prior life, he must have been some sort of ninja, too, Donny assumed; he didn't think he knew tae kwon do, or was any good at the arts his friend, Roland Kincaid, ever taught at his dojo.
The Kincaids had taken him into their impressively large Hong Kong flat when he needed it most, having lived inside a local hospital for nearly a year after an accident he couldn't remember. Rory even went as far as recommending Donny for a job at the port. It also wasn't long thereafter when he fell in love with Rory's younger sister, Felicity—Flick, as she preferred—who initially volunteered at said hospital.
Long story short, his life was going pretty well since the old days of struggle.
Mondays weren't so bad. The three of them alternated cooking breakfasts, and today was Flick's. She always made the best congee and crullers (plus: she made him French toast—and Donny apparently loved his French toast).
Their loft was spacey—enough for three, at the least. Flick had a room to her own whereas he and Rory shared the master. Rory had chosen to take the queen-sized bed by the window because he liked to "rise with the sun" or whatever, but Donny didn't mind.
He sat up in bed that one Monday, propping himself up by the palms of his hands and trying to wake himself up. With one hand, Donny began rubbing the sleep from his eyes, letting go of a loud yawn. Hopping to his feet, the strawberry blond man searched around the room for a shirt to wear. He found one of his thinner, long-sleeved shirts; the black-and-grey stripes. The man groggily threw on the piece of clothing, and then shuffled his way out of the room, following the faint, though delicious, smell of food.
Donny dragged his feet across the hall's carpeted flooring and to the kitchen and dining area's furnished wood floors. His arms came around Flick's waist, resting on her hips, while he placed his chin on her shoulder. Donny kissed her curly blond hair. "Morning," he managed to get out groggily.
"It's almost two in the afternoon, Galileo. And the morning didn't miss you." Rory called out. Because their flat was open-spaced, Rory could be seen from their living room, sprawled across the couch with a bowl in his lap filled with something Donny couldn't quite recognize.
"Well, I missed you, Copernicus," Donny retorted, playing along and shouting in Rory's general direction. He thanked Flick for his brunch and plopped himself at the quaintly sized dining table.
"Noses down, Science Nerds." Flick pulled out a chair singlehandedly and sat down in it as well, shaking her head at the exchange between her two boys. After a moment: "You know, I love having Mondays to ourselves." Flick cupped the warm mug in between her hands. The blonde pressed it to her lips, taking a careful sip. "It makes me not hate Mondays."
"Yeah," Rory guffawed, "but it makes us hate Tuesdays."
"Touché," Flick replied, nodding her head to her brother.
Donny hummed in agreement, still chewing.
2025, January 7 – 23:03 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China
When Newt Geiszler was released from the Med Bay earlier in the evening, the Marshal sent him out to the Kowloon bone slums to go find Hannibal Chau. Greyson Darcy had supplied him with a blacklight before he headed out.
The techs had spent the last couple of days fixing up the Jaegers in Scramble Alley, while others like Greyson and Tendo reengineered the consoles in the Local Command Center. Chuck made her leave the place when dinner came around because she had skipped lunch on accident, and he definitely noticed her absence.
It had been two days and she still hadn't told anyone else about the baby. The little raspberry-sized thing growing in her belly. She wasn't sure how to.
Tendo had found her walking the corridors back to the LOCCENT at some point, pulling her from her own thoughts. He had a Manila folder tucked under his arm, two mugs of hot coffee in hand, and a giant bagel between his teeth. The officer handed the lieutenant one of the mugs.
"You've been awfully quiet lately, G," he commented as they walked through the doors of the command center.
"Just lots of things on my mind," she dismissed, masking her worry with a smile.
They went to their respective consoles and fired them up to go over additional diagnostics. Greyson sipped at her coffee as readings started coming onto her feed. Her brows furrowed. "Uh… Ten, the consoles were recalibrated, right? Can you come look these over?"
She was met with silence.
"Ten—?" Greyson turned her head to holler at her partner, but then saw the alerts popping up onto his feed as well. A chill shot through her veins.
"It's—it's just misinterpreting the feed. That's all," Tendo stuttered out, staring at the data screens and remote sensors. He pushed his chair towards the other instruments. "There's probably something wrong with the—"
She watched him mess around with the broad-spectrum visuals, which was unusual. Tendo often liked the non-visual instruments because he understood the numbers, and the sights of the Breach didn't have a chance to distract him. But he likely didn't trust the equipment anymore. She rolled up beside him, seeing the presence of two kaiju being reported. The visuals of the console confirmed they were in the Marianas Trench.
Greyson blinked, in a silenced awe. "Are those—?"
Tendo seemed to sigh as deep as the trench itself. "Gottlieb was right."
In one swift motion, he called the Marshal via video chat. The two of them caught the tail-end of the AI's evaluation. Marshal Pentecost never said anything to anyone, but he was slowly dying from the inside out. Those closest to him figured it out early and kept it to themselves; wasn't their place to question because they knew better. Greyson frowned when she saw the circuitry burns in his dark skin, burns that mirrored Raleigh's.
"Mr. Choi?" Pentecost said, beginning to put his dress shirt back on.
"Movement in the Breach, sir," sighed Tendo. "Earlier than we thought."
"How strong is the signature?"
Greyson jumped into the exchange, answering, "Hate to break it to you, sir, but there are two giant monsters heading straight for us."
A moment passed before: "Sound the alarm."
2025, January 8 – 04:36 – Hong Kong Shatterdome, Hong Kong, China
By the time Herc, Chuck, and Gottlieb walked into the LOCCENT behind Pentecost, the other Jaeger teams had already been called in. Everyone could see that the place was barely getting itself under control. Half of the machines and instruments were still undergoing power-ups. People were everywhere. The kaiju threat wasn't loosening anybody up, and the screens that depicted a map of the Pacific Rim, which scanned the Breach and the two signals, weren't helping.
Raleigh and Mako were standing off to the side like they were the outcast-teens at their prom who were waiting for someone to ask them to dance. Greyson fired up more instruments and the main console.
Tendo called out to him the moment he laid eyes on Pentecost. "Marshal. Breach was exposed at twenty-three hundred. We have two signatures."
Protocol. Completely unnecessary in the current case, Greyson thought, but Marshal Pentecost liked to run things in a certain way, and Tendo never liked to see their commanding officer mad.
"I love being right," Gottlieb said in delight.
Greyson took a second to throw a look at him from her
seat at the console. "You love being right more than not having kaiju going through the Breach?"
The doctor waved her off. "Semantics."
While the tech chief officer explained to the Marshal about the Category IVs, the lieutenant brought up visuals of the two kaiju's appropriate likeness. One was round and blocky in profile, while the smaller one, as Tendo described earlier, was "all jagged angles and claws."
Greyson introduced, "Codenames: Otachi and Leatherback. They'll reach Hong Kong within the hour."
Someone moved behind her, and then she felt the heat radiating off of Chuck's body. When he squeezed her shoulder, she reached across and placed a hand over his. The lieutenant looked up at the Ranger comfortingly, even if he was the one trying to do the comforting.
Pentecost fired off a bunch of orders and questions, all with the precision of a long-time leader. All Jaeger Ranger crews were in the room, watching it all unfold. Stacker's authority oozed out of him.
One of the Wei-Tang triplets suggested on going out to the bay to take care of their two new friends. "…We are going out there. No matter what."
"So are we," Sasha Kaidonovsky inclined, and then proceeded to gesture towards Raleigh and Mako in turn before adding, "But not with them."
"Lucky thing that Mako's still grounded, then," Chuck snorted.
"Chuck," Greyson warned.
Raleigh gave them a glance from the corner of his eye, and under his breath, he muttered in astonishment, "You are so whipped."
Greyson huffed in emphasis, "Raleigh—"
"Sir," Gottlieb said to the Marshal, ending the evident verbal fight before it even began. "You have to hold off. My parabola was right. We may lose a city, but we must preserve the Jaegers for the mission. We need to hold ground."
"Hey." Herc stood his own ground, countering the scientist's argument. "It's a city of ten million people against numbers on your chalkboard."
Greyson interjected, raising a hand up. "Gottlieb's got a point; there is no way we can go through with the op without all of our Jaegers. We lost eight mechs last year and only taken out fourteen KJs." Greyson's attention shifted from Gottlieb to Herc. "But we can't exactly stand off to the side, while those monsters terrorize and destroy all of Hong Kong. The numbers—"
"My numbers are correct," the former man stiffly huffed. "A city of ten million or the world? We cannot save everyone. If we don't have the Jaegers to deliver the bomb, protecting one city will not matter."
There was nothing but silence. Tendo glanced at Raleigh and Greyson who were staring directly at the Marshal. All four of them appeared to recall a similar conversation, albeit on a definitely smaller scale, five years prior back in Kodiak Island. What was the name of that boat? She knew it had '-chuck' in its name because she had told Chuck that story before.
Because the crew members of that boat came to the Alaskan Shatterdome to give thanks to the Rangers that weren't there anymore.
Because the boat's crew stayed for Yancy's memorial.
"You can't save everyone," Raleigh repeated. "Right?"
Marshal Pentecost didn't answer. Greyson could sense and see the weariness in him. He was… not well, worse now than before. Tendo prompted the Marshal with an option to which he took his sweet time answering.
However, when he finally did speak, Pentecost looked at the seven Jaeger pilots who weren't part of the Becket-Mori duo. "Crimson Typhoon, Cherno Alpha, frontline the harbor. Stay on the Miracle Mile."
To the Hansens, he added, "Striker Eureka, stay in the back and guard the coastline. We cannot lose you, so only engage as a final option."
Hercules, like the veteran he was, responded with a firm: "Yes, sir."
Pentecost turned to the others, ordering, "You two stay put." Upon laying eyes on his lieutenant: "Greyson, I want you to keep an Eagle Eye out there for your team. I expect nothing less."
She had kept her hands firmly over the keys on the console, eyes glued to the console's screens. "History won't repeat itself, Stacks." Hearing a scoff, she spun in her seat to give him a less than sarcastic salute. Greyson held back a laugh due to the acute annoyance in the Marshal's expression; he absolutely loathed the use of his nickname in public.
Solemnly, Greyson said instead, "You have my word, sir."
In no time at all, Chuck had stolen a kiss from her before he and his father left the LOCCENT. No sooner after that, since the Wei-Tangs and Kaidonovskys had also walked, Cherno Alpha and Crimson Typhoon were being prepped. The two mechs were already at the end of Scramble Alley by the time Striker Eureka got off her conveyor belt from the hangar.
Greyson ignored the usual droning of Tendo's voice over the comms. He made sure to keep protocol, made sure everyone was on the same page. It was done by the book, the same way it was had always been done for the past decade.
Like two people who had spent way too much time together, Tendo and Greyson both rhythmically and swiftly moved from each other's spots. (She wouldn't be surprised if they were found to be even Compatible, now.) They switched off every few minutes to make sure certain things were running smoothly as they come, to watch the scanners; staring at the clock; staring at the screens; drinking more and more coffee.
It wasn't long thereafter that Otachi and Leatherback came within the premises of the Miracle Mile.
"I have a really bad feeling about this."
"We all do, G."
Greyson huffed at Tendo's bluntness, shaking her head slightly. "No. I have a bad feeling." She didn't bother to look at him again. Her eyes scanned the screens and they showed levels of the three Jaegers crews; Drifting was initiated. "Connections strong and holding," she muttered distantly.
"LOCCENT, near positions and awaiting orders," Herc told the 'Dome center from the cockpit of Striker Eureka.
They watched the feed coming in from Striker's ConnPod. Both Hansens were so focused, so steady. No one would believe how dysfunctional their two-person family was outside of the Drift.
Marshal Pentecost held the mecha at bay. Everyone waited and monitored until Typhoon and Cherno got to their designated positions. After a few heartbeats, Sasha spoke up through the comms' speakers. "Reaching target zone. Disengaging transport."
As the Jaegers were released from their fastenings to the Jumphawks, they landed down a mere second apart. Waves of the sea settled after a few moments, which then caused the crew to turn on their search lights.
Tendo was main dispatcher; took care of all the particularly tedious, semi-difficult procedures. Greyson was supervisions—though, that was only one thing that was also a smidge off of the Marshal's job description.
Everyone was doing their job the way there were supposed to be doing them: Making calls. Making sure everything was working to their fullest potential. Making sure that nobody would end up dead. Tendo called out to the frontlines, advising them to turn on their search lights and prepare for the inevitable battle.
It took two minutes. Two damn minutes.
She froze when Crimson Typhoon's signal died. One, two, three—out like a light. Gone, all three of them. Hu, Cheung, and Jin. Otachi had torn open Typhoon's torso, held her in place, and crushed the cockpit. The entire scene unfolded before their eyes. The Wei-Tang triplets were assumedly crushed in their own rigging. The kaiju ripped her head off the plant and hurled it across Victoria Harbor.
One doesn't get attached. One should never get attached. Before, when there were dozens among dozens of Rangers and Jaegers, it was easy to forget about them all. There were four of the Rangers left; two crews. They were an endangered species.
Whoever or whatever that was making the monsters had been creating them with more stamina, more speed, more power… The K-Science reports were imprinted into Greyson's head, on the insides of her eyelids. Silicon copies of the last. Adapting.
Humanity was royally screwed.
A heavy tension blanketed the LOCCENT when Typhoon's head hit the water: the ConnPod feed flickered more before disappearing completely from the monitors.
"Sonny." She didn't respond to the call of her name. "Sonny—hey, Greyson, c'mon." Raleigh pulled Greyson by her elbow, drawing her attention to him in that moment.
Her eyes scanned over his, reading and assessing the expression he donned. Whether it was for her or the current situation, Greyson couldn't be sure.
The lieutenant never answered his silent question.
Greyson managed to pull herself together after a few lengthy breaths, just enough to sit tall in that damned chair and pull the damned headset back on. In a hoarse voice, she muttered, "Crimson Typhoon… is down." From the corner of her eye, she saw Marshal Pentecost nod.
It was protocol. That damned protocol. Greyson never figured that she would ever really question it until now. She guessed it was because they had too much to lose. She never wanted to admit it; probably wanted to believe something could be done. But the Wei-Tang triplets were long gone from where she sat.
Through her comms, Greyson heard Herc over from Striker. "LOCCENT, Typhoon and Alpha are in trouble. We're moving in."
"Ten-four, Striker. You are good to advance your twenty—"
The Marshal cut her off. "You are to hold your ground," he ordered. "Do not engage. Hold your position!"
Greyson gripped the underside of the desk. "With all due respect, Cherno needs back-up, sir." The views from the belly cameras on the Jumphawks reinforced her statement. Feed from the Jaeger's ConnPod did the same.
Once the Russians pushed Otachi off, Leatherback would come out of nowhere. The Kaidonovskys were sitting ducks, and Crimson was half underwater—what was left of her. It may prove to be only a miracle that any of them would survive.
Marshal Pentecost asked for a recovering team to scan the seas for any survivors. There was a breach in Typhoon's hull that the boys could potentially get out from, given the circumstances. Plus, all Rangers knew how to swim. It was a long-shot, but it was a shot worth taking.
The Russians weren't doing so hot; both kaiju were on top of them; their systems were all messed up. Cherno's turbines had gone dark. The pilots were driven under the water because of the weight atop them. Even with the combined hands of both Greyson and Tendo, there was no way to disable the reactor.
It was one disaster after another. There was a reason the disasters had a silver lining: it proved that the world was about to end.
Greyson and Pentecost shared a look, and she said, "Striker Eureka, you are cleared for back-up combat. Advance your goddamn twenty."
"Very much obliged," Chuck replied before turning off the comms. Soon enough, Striker Eureka stepped forward, and there was a new sense of hope in all of them that Greyson felt radiating throughout the room.
It was gone in a heartbeat. One.
Otachi didn't go down.
Two. Striker Eureka retaliated.
Three. Aleksis and Sasha went down fighting.
The feeds went dark, but Greyson knew they would fight to the last breath. Drowning wasn't a nice or ideal way to go, but she also knew that they would end up going down fighting. Struggling in the rigs, so close to escaping. So close, if only—
Four.
The Jaeger exploded; there was no doubt about it. But did the husband and wife duo survive? They were warriors, and there had been too much Russian blood spilt atop the uses of the American brawn and British brain.
Leatherback stopped fighting. Why'd it stop?
"What the hell is that?!" Greyson inquired loudly, her head whipping forward to gawk—stare—at the Jumphawk feed. "Is that an electrical organ?"
The shockwave spanned out of said organ. An energy wave hit Striker Eureka, shut her down, and went on its way for miles.
"Damn…"
It was the last thing we heard through the feed before the pulse reached the Shatterdome. It scrambled the signals. Anything. Everything.
Greyson pulled her headset off when it started going haywire and spewing sound pollution. Then, everything just stopped. "It's some kind of EMP," Greyson started out. She didn't bother to check the instruments; they were all dead anyway.
"It jumbled the Jaeger's electrical circuits!" Tendo finished.
Gottlieb was just as shocked as Greyson.
"They're adapting," she muttered. "This isn't a defense mechanism. It's a weapon!"
"Striker?" Pentecost said, hoping for some good news. With two Jaegers down, one held as a punching bag, and two kaiju still roaming the surface, it was time to panic.
"Nothing, sir," Tendo answered sadly. "The Mark Vs are all digital. It's fried. In fact, all the Jaegers are digital."
"Not all of them." Both Greyson and Raleigh had spoken at once, having reached the same conclusion.
Hope had rekindled. Everyone anticipated what Raleigh was going to say, but more wished he'd say something miraculous. He wasn't a left-over anymore; Raleigh was the last Ranger they had.
And, in fact: "Gipsy Danger's analog. Nuclear."