Chuck Hansen (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
wearethehunters) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
all_inclusive2013-10-06 01:26 am
wearethehunters) wrote in all_inclusive2013-10-06 01:26 am
Entry tags:
(no subject)
“Like my father always said. If you have a shot, you take it.”
The whole plan’s gone FUBAR. It was supposed to be a four-team drop. He was supposed to walk through the wreckage with his dad and drop the bomb right into the jaws of hell and then walk away. Apocalypse over. World saved. Instead there’s two of them against three Kaiju and his only way out of this is in pieces.
It’s easier, neater this way. Poetic even. Maybe he wasn’t born in a Jaeger, but that’s where he grew up, became a man. Seems like the right place to die too. Maybe, if he’s lucky, he’ll become a hero for it.
In some cowardly lizard brain part of himself Chuck’s almost grateful. It means not having to worry about ‘after.’ He’s spent his whole damn life single-mindedly working to end the apocalypse to the point he’s never thought of what he’ll do when it’s done. No mates, no partners, nothing other than the enemy and the weapons humanity had at its disposal. It’s a strange weakness of character that makes him accept his own death with a semblance of grace.
Going out like this means he won’t be a Jaeger pilot in a world with no need for them. He won’t have to fade into obsoletion like a wreck into Oblivion Bay. His dad, the people in the Shatterdome, and–hell–the two lovebirds down in Gipsy Danger have tomorrow. Chuck has now. Now is all he needs.
Distantly, he can hear Mako and Pentecost saying their goodbyes. His dad doesn’t say anything and Chuck can’t blame him. Their whole life is made up of things gone unsaid. Goodbyes now will just be forced. More to the point, they’ll be painful. So instead they have actions. He has a shot and he’s going to take it. He’s going to clear a path for the lady.
“It’s been a pleasure serving with you sir.”
As one, he and the Marshall reach out, hit the button, detonate the payload. If anything else is said he doesn’t hear it. His heart beats hard and he swears he can hear it, hear his whole body panicking against the forced tranquility of his brain. They’re not gonna survive and that’s okay.
For a second, everything burns. Chuck doesn’t close his eyes. He’s going to look death in the face when he goes, like a real Ranger.
When the metal and smoke and light clear, Chuck finds himself lying on his back, staring up at floating cliffs. His whole left side feels ravaged and his mind feels carved–the echo of a broken Drift. Everything hurts and he has no idea where he is. He tries to sit up, stares around uncomprehendingly, and then lays back in the grass.
“Well shit.”
The whole plan’s gone FUBAR. It was supposed to be a four-team drop. He was supposed to walk through the wreckage with his dad and drop the bomb right into the jaws of hell and then walk away. Apocalypse over. World saved. Instead there’s two of them against three Kaiju and his only way out of this is in pieces.
It’s easier, neater this way. Poetic even. Maybe he wasn’t born in a Jaeger, but that’s where he grew up, became a man. Seems like the right place to die too. Maybe, if he’s lucky, he’ll become a hero for it.
In some cowardly lizard brain part of himself Chuck’s almost grateful. It means not having to worry about ‘after.’ He’s spent his whole damn life single-mindedly working to end the apocalypse to the point he’s never thought of what he’ll do when it’s done. No mates, no partners, nothing other than the enemy and the weapons humanity had at its disposal. It’s a strange weakness of character that makes him accept his own death with a semblance of grace.
Going out like this means he won’t be a Jaeger pilot in a world with no need for them. He won’t have to fade into obsoletion like a wreck into Oblivion Bay. His dad, the people in the Shatterdome, and–hell–the two lovebirds down in Gipsy Danger have tomorrow. Chuck has now. Now is all he needs.
Distantly, he can hear Mako and Pentecost saying their goodbyes. His dad doesn’t say anything and Chuck can’t blame him. Their whole life is made up of things gone unsaid. Goodbyes now will just be forced. More to the point, they’ll be painful. So instead they have actions. He has a shot and he’s going to take it. He’s going to clear a path for the lady.
“It’s been a pleasure serving with you sir.”
As one, he and the Marshall reach out, hit the button, detonate the payload. If anything else is said he doesn’t hear it. His heart beats hard and he swears he can hear it, hear his whole body panicking against the forced tranquility of his brain. They’re not gonna survive and that’s okay.
For a second, everything burns. Chuck doesn’t close his eyes. He’s going to look death in the face when he goes, like a real Ranger.
When the metal and smoke and light clear, Chuck finds himself lying on his back, staring up at floating cliffs. His whole left side feels ravaged and his mind feels carved–the echo of a broken Drift. Everything hurts and he has no idea where he is. He tries to sit up, stares around uncomprehendingly, and then lays back in the grass.
“Well shit.”
no subject
It's nauseating to think about that, the fact that he's somewhere at the bottom of the ocean at the consistency of chunky salsa. if that.
"I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to be dead."
no subject
"And yet, talking to me," Raleigh says, shrugging again.
"I would just go with it and see what happens. At least this is a mostly decent afterlife, if that's what it is. No kaiju, no mayhem and destruction, a pretty decent bar."
no subject
It's the first, of course it's the first. That makes it worth it, sort of. Hopefully the rest of the worlds follow suit.
"Always wanted to retire before I was thirty."
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"You're still young enough to enjoy it," Raleigh says, laughing a little.
"It's pretty calm here, all told. I don't mind that."
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The hell with the infirmary, right now he feels like a stiff drink will do him better.
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"Might not be the best thing if you just crawled out of a jaeger but I'm no doctor. I'm not going to call you out if you want something to take your mind off it."
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He says it with an attempt at a smirk but then a misstep sends pain through what he thinks are cracked ribs.
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"Are you sure you don't want the infirmary?"
Broken ribs hurt like a bitch and Raleigh isn't sure he wouldn't want to go get his taped up before having a drink but that's just him.
no subject
"Don't want it, mate, but I'm pretty sure I need it."
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"We could do that first," Raleigh offers.
"Then we can get drunk." Not too drunk, he doesn't carry around enough spare change to get Hansen drunk, but drunk enough.
no subject