A flutter of snow was trickling through the dark night, twinkling on its way to the frosted ground below. The full moon shined through the curtains of a dusty window. It was late at night when the blond man was playing around with a pair of keys on his bed. His fingers crossed and turned as he flipped the keys through the ring repeatedly, and he stuck his tongue out in concentration. There wasn't much to do on an Alaskan night, especially when a silence gleamed through the frigid air outside. Raleigh felt like the only person in the world sometimes. He never had company, for only a few people knew where he lived. "Pull the keys through the ring" became a popular game for him before he went to bed.

Every night had brought nightmares, and he found it hard to sleep, anyway. They all had similar themes, either surrounding Yancy, Gipsy, or Kaiju, and that loneliness he had become so accustomed to grew closer with each passing hour.

I'm walking through the streets, and I hear a soft booming sound from behind. It grows in depth until it's right behind me. I look up to see Gipsy staring down at me, and she picks her foot up over my head. I run out of the way as it comes crashing down at my previous spot, leaving a gash in the pavement. I continue running through the alley as Gipsy's lights blare over me, and I hear her footsteps thudding closer and closer. Eventually, a dark shadow looms over me, and I glance up to find the massive foot above me again. She steps down with force, crushing my bones and splattering my blood in a squished mess. As she pulls her foot up, part of me sticks to the metal and sloshes back down to the ground, joining the rest of my ruined self. Gipsy's visor glows red, and-

Raleigh shook his head, letting the thought disappear from his mind. Alongside the nightmares, he'd often find himself thinking of scenarios like that, his body freezing as his subconscious took over. He convinced himself he was suffering from PTSD as a result of the Kaiju War, but there had to be something more. The blond man jumped at the sudden ringing of his home phone, and he clutched a hand over his chest. He let out a small sigh as he got up and positioned himself in front of the phone, noticing the caller ID as Mako Mori.

"I blocked you..." Raleigh muttered to himself, stretching his hands up.

The ringing continued, and he considered picking the phone up. He had not spoken a word to his former co-pilot in months, but he was getting tired of all the callers trying to reach him, after all. He rubbed his fingers against his thumbs, staring at the caller ID name. With a short tap of his toe, he grabbed the phone, clicked "talk," and brought it up to his ear.

"Hello?" he asked.

There was no reply, just a static undertone on the other end.

"Hello, is anyone there?" he added with a sterner voice.

Still, there was nothing.

"Mako, did you call me?" the blond man pressed, getting annoyed with the situation.

He gripped the phone tighter and bit his bottom lip. After finally picking up a call, this is how they treated him? The static churned in and out like a wave, and it hurt his ear to listen to. Instead, he pulled the phone away from himself and looked down at the caller ID screen. It was blank, and there was no one on the other end. Raleigh instantly felt stupid for picking up and answering a dormant phone, but he could have sworn he heard it ringing. He set it back down and looked around the dark room. Not only did he have PTSD, he thought, but he was also hearing things.

Raleigh shuffled over to the window and drew the curtain back slightly. It was snowing hard outside, and he remembered when he used to sit and watch snow fall at the window as a kid. For whatever reason, he really wanted to step outside. Just for a moment, only to test how cold it really was. The blond man yawned on his way to the closet, and the door opened with a creak. He could barely make out the jackets and coats inside without much of a light source, but he didn't need to be too choosy. He stuck his hand into the closet, grabbed ahold of whatever he could, and yanked it out. The jacket came out with a puff of dust, and he began coughing as the dust hit his nose.

Raleigh shook the jacket out, letting more dirt fall from it. From what he could make out, it was well put together and somewhat heavy. He slung it around himself, sliding his arms down the sleeves, and headed to the door.

"Let's take a look out here," he stuttered, sticking his feet into a pair of slippers.

The blond man pushed his door open, and a blast of cold air hit his face like a bullet. It swamped his hair back as he stepped farther onto his porch, giving a chilling howl by his ears. He grabbed the railing nearby and looked out into the wilderness, watching the snow gather on the tree leaves. Even though he was alone, maybe it wasn't too bad. Alaska was a beautiful place, and it was perfect for a retired Jaeger pilot. He gave a huff, a cloud of mist blowing out of his mouth and nose. He caught a view of the twinkling stars overhead, and a wave of calm moved through his body.

Raleigh positioned his hands in the jacket's pockets, and the calmness dashed away in favor of an uneasy feeling. He wiggled his fingers around within, feeling the worn threads and grainy texture. With furrowed eyebrows, he titled his head down and caught a glance of red on the jacket's left chest area. His heart beat faster, and he wasted no time removing the jacket from himself despite the freezing temperature. It was fading and dirty, but it was also unmistakable. The red came from a logo, one of a woman holding a gun. Across from it were four white figures he didn't dare to look at.

"Oh, my God," he heaved, breathing heavily at the clothing.

With a flip of his arms, he turned the jacket over. His eyes widened, and he yelled out into the quiet night. Without much of a thought, he dropped the jacket and ran back inside his house, clicking the lock shut. The sheath remained motionless on the wooden porch, flecks of snow hitting it and melting away. A white star glowed on its back, wings stretched out on its sides. Raleigh thought-no, he knew-he had burned it to nothingness in his fireplace just six months ago.

Cherno and Crimson were still in their bays, watching the engineers shuffle back and forth. Most of them knew about their sentience by now, but for the new hires, it was always a shock to see the Jaegers twitch for the first time. They had been practicing talking outside of the drift, a skill that took lots of dedication and patience. Cherno's biggest word had been "welder," and Crimson's had been "brothers." Their voices were creepily deep and robotic, but everyone had faith that their vocabulary and speaking abilities would improve with time. It was getting annoying talking to only each other now. After all, there were only so many times they could beg for their dead pilots to return.

Just as Crimson went to communicate through the drift, a large fanning of sparks erupted from Cherno's nuclear reactor tower, and his systems suddenly went blank. The engineer who caused the short jumped in surprise, and his cheeks swelled red. The Russian Jaeger stood lifelessly, the other engineers staring up at the dull frame. Crimson decided not to speak to him-he wouldn't respond, anyway. She watched the small humans scatter around like bugs trying to get the Jaeger running again. She instead turned her Conn-Pod to the other side, scanning the commotion coming from Striker's bay. He looked much better now, save for the lack of a Conn-Pod, different body colors, some rough-looking metal juts, and no Angel Wings. His chest piece was open as some engineers worked on the missile launcher.

Crimson actually noted that Striker's Conn-Pod was nearby his body, but it was positioned up by some ceiling catwalks. A ramp connected to the back of his Conn-Pod, allowing techs to walk in and out. It definitely wasn't finished yet, but it was getting there. Herc was very attached to his Jaeger, and he did all he could to help the engineers. Max sat by Striker's large, metal foot, occasionally being patted on the head or snorting at the passing carts.

The Chinese robot figured it was time to power down. She began shutting lights off her body, starting near her feet and heading toward her Conn-Pod. Her engines slowed, and the world became distorted. Well, that is before she felt a "push" in the dark place, causing her engines to hum back to life. Crimson ran her sensors to check the source of the "push," as she thought it would have been a glitch. Her system ticked as she ran diagnostics on herself. If it wasn't her, then how did Cherno do that if he was offline? The push knocked her in the drift again, equating to another flare of her engines.

"[Who is here?]" she asked in the dark place.

There was, unsurprisingly, no reply. The engineers must have been testing something new, and that had to have messed with her technology. That wouldn't be the first time a newbie messed up her wiring, but she didn't mind. She enjoyed the humans' company, and they found her fascinating, too. Strangely, a short burst of color appeared in the drift before splitting in several directions, leaving the place dark again. No, there was someone there, and whoever it was wanted to make contact.

"[Speak to me,]" Crimson pleaded in her deep voice.

Finally, a low growl came through. It was a robotic noise that shook her sensors with its pitch, and it lingered for a few seconds before cutting off. She really didn't know how to respond, so she remained silent. That was not the voice of Cherno, and it was not her own system glitching. A quiet growl began again, soon ballooning into a loud wail.

"[Please, what upsets you?]" Crimson choked, struggling to deal with the loud noise.

The robotic groaning continued on, growing and quieting like waves. The red Jaeger hummed softly into the dark place, trying her best to calm down the other drifter.

"[If you process hard, you will speak,]" she added.

She had never heard a noise like that before. Cherno really only ever spoke, and the few times he made a different noise were when he hummed for his lost pilots. Crimson heard the humans make a variety of sounds, though. They laughed, sang, cried, and even yelped at each other. She wondered if, despite the robotic undertone, this voice came from a human. She couldn't explain how one got into the drift, but it made a bit of sense. The wailing sound eventually tinkered off, coming to a quiet resolution. A low vibrating noise replaced it, some static jutting in every once in a while. All was mostly silent for a moment as the red Jaeger scanned through the drift.

"[Crimson...]" a voice came, startling her.

"[You speak my name?]" she responded.

"[Ay,]" the voice noted. "[I can talk.]"

This was unusual, to say the least. Crimson shuffled in her bay slightly, padding her heavy feet up and down. An engineer patted her arm to get her to remain motionless again.

"[You cry to me,]" she said in the drift.

"[No,]" the voice was quick to correct. "[Couldn't get my words out.]"

"[Who speaks to me?]" Crimson demanded.

A light rumble emitted through the dark place, similar to a human's laugh. More static chirped through.

"[Can't ya see?]" the deep voice asked.

Crimson felt-what did the humans call it?-pissed off. The other drifter quickly identified themself as a smartass despite yelling loudly for help just moments before. Besides, she couldn't quite see anything in the drift besides the occasional burst of color.

"[See what?]" she quipped.

"[Look above ya,]" the voice called.

Crimson let out a robotic grumble before tilting her Conn-Pod up, allowing her view to fall on Striker's Conn-Pod above. She flashed some colors on her body.

"[You are inside Striker?]" she questioned.

"[Bloody...]" the voice trailed off. "[No, I AM Striker. Ay, 'nd I got a LOT taller.]"

Crimson flicked her light on her Conn-Pod, excited to hear from her old friend. He may have been in pieces, but he could talk just fine.

"[You are not that tall. Your body is below. Conn-Pod is detached,]" she corrected.

"[I can't see anythin', just feel it. And I know yer lying. I can feel how tall I am,]" Striker reasoned. "[Ay, wait. Where am I?]"

"[You are in Shatterdome. Repairs,]" Crimson explained, releasing some steam from her back vents. "[No, rebuild.]"

Striker's voice didn't immediately come through. He must have been processing this, although it was hard to tell on Crimson's end. A low growl came through the drift again.

"[I am in water. Many pieces. And that's where I sleep, yeah?]" he said.

"[No, you are awake. This is your new body,]" the Chinese Jaeger claimed, looking between the pieces of her friend. "[You will be full soon.]"

"[No, wait. I do not want this. I 'ad Chuck with me, protecting 'im. Please-]"

"[This is a new body,]" Crimson repeated, cutting Striker off. "[You have been rebuilt thanks to friends.]"

"[What friends? I don't understand. How am I 'ere?]" Striker pleaded.

"[You will know. Your parts are from friends,]" Crimson replied.

She watched some humans step out of Striker's Conn-Pod. One of them was definitely Mako, and she didn't recognize the rest. Mako wrote some stuff on a piece of paper, and she waved at some technicians below. The head tech gave her a thumbs-up, shouting word salad at his co-workers. He spoke through a walkie talkie, hitting his hand against a metal pole.

"[You will sleep now,]" Crimson said through the drift.

Striker didn't have much time to ask any more questions. A tech in the LOCCENT pulled his plug, and everything went dark. If he was still with Chuck, he'd feel much more at ease with his rebirth. For now, there was a lot of sleeping to be done.