#jaegar

A fan fiction by Ecky

Song title: Tempered Steel

Cast

@samcrosfaith as Sam Faith

@smallzster as Layla Kane

Marshall Stacker Pentecost as Himself

Hercules Hansen as Himself

The Beckett Brothers, Raleigh and Yancy as Themselves

Dr Newton Geiszler and Dr Hermann Gottlieb as Themselves

A young Mako Mori as Herself

**Disclaimer:**

This is a work of fan fiction based on the *Pacific Rim* universe, which is the intellectual property of Legendary Pictures and Warner Bros. This story is a non-commercial, transformative work intended solely for entertainment purposes. The characters, settings, and elements from *Pacific Rim* used within this story are the property of their respective owners. Any original characters, concepts, or storylines are the creation of the author. This work is not intended to infringe on the rights of the original creators. All rights to *Pacific Rim* remain with its original creators and rights holders. No financial gain is made from the creation or distribution of this story.

# Crimson Storm

The neon sign of the Rusty Nail flickered weakly, casting an eerie glow over the rain-slicked parking lot. Inside, the air was thick with cigarette smoke and the acrid smell of spilled beer. Sam Faith leaned against the bar, her leather jacket creaking as she lifted a shot glass to her lips. The amber liquid burned its way down her throat, a familiar warmth spreading through her chest.

"Hey, sweetheart," a gruff voice called out. "Why don't you come sit on my lap? I'll show you a good time."

Sam set down her glass, not bothering to turn around. "Not interested," she said flatly.

A meaty hand clamped down on her shoulder. "Wasn't asking, darlin'."

In one fluid motion, Sam grabbed the man's wrist and twisted. There was a sickening crunch as bones snapped, followed by a howl of pain. The biker stumbled backward, clutching his broken wrist.

"You bitch!" he snarled. "Boys, teach this cunt a lesson!"

Four more bikers rose from their table, faces twisted with anger and alcohol-fueled bravado. Sam's lips curled into a humorless smile as she sized up her opponents. The first one charged, swinging a wild haymaker. She ducked under it easily, driving her fist into his solar plexus. As he doubled over, gasping for air, she brought her knee up into his face. Blood spurted from his broken nose as he crumpled to the floor.

The next two came at her together. Sam kicked a nearby barstool into one's path, sending him sprawling. She caught the other's punch, using his momentum to flip him over her hip. He crashed into a table, scattering glasses and bottles.

The fourth biker, a mountain of a man with a shaggy beard, wrapped his arms around her from behind. Sam drove her head back, feeling the crunch of cartilage as she connected with his nose. His grip loosened, and she spun out of his grasp. A quick series of jabs to his throat and kidney had him gasping and stumbling.

The biker who had tripped over the stool was back on his feet, wielding a broken bottle. He lunged, the jagged glass slicing through the air. Sam sidestepped, grabbing his wrist and twisting. The bottle clattered to the floor as she drove her elbow into his temple. He went down hard, out cold before he hit the ground.

Silence fell over the bar as Sam stood amid the groaning, fallen bikers. She brushed a strand of hair from her face, her breathing only slightly elevated.

"Anyone else?" she asked, her voice dangerously calm.

The remaining patrons averted their eyes, suddenly very interested in their drinks.

Sam turned back to the bar, retrieving her shot glass. "Sorry about the mess," she said to the wide-eyed bartender. She tossed back the remainder of her whiskey and slapped a few bills on the counter.

As she pushed open the door to leave, a figure stepped out of the shadows. He was tall, with close-cropped hair and the bearing of a military man.

"Impressive," he said, his Australian accent thick. "But I expected nothing less from Samantha Faith, former Force Recon Marine."

Sam's eyes narrowed. "Who the hell are you?"

The man extended his hand. "Hercules Hansen, Pan Pacific Defense Corps. We need to talk."

Sam eyed his hand warily but didn't take it. "About what?"

"About saving the world," Hansen replied, his expression grave. "Walk with me."

Curiosity overrode her caution, and Sam fell into step beside him. They walked in silence for a moment, the sound of distant waves crashing against the shore filling the air.

"I assume you've heard of the Jaeger Program," Hansen said finally.

Sam snorted. "Who hasn't? Giant robots fighting sea monsters. Sounds like something out of a bad sci-fi movie."

"And yet, it's our reality," Hansen countered. "The Kaiju are getting stronger, evolving faster than we can keep up. We need new solutions, new strategies." He stopped, turning to face her. "We need pilots like you."

Sam laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "Me? I'm just a washed-up Marine with anger management issues. What could you possibly want with me?"

Hansen's eyes were steel. "You're a fighter, Sam. A survivor. You've got the kind of instincts we need. The kind that can't be taught."

She shook her head. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'm done with the military life."

"This isn't just about the military," Hansen pressed. "It's about the survival of our species. We're developing something new, something that could turn the tide against the Kaiju. But we need the right pilot."

Sam was silent for a long moment, her mind racing. Finally, she sighed. "Say I'm interested. What's the next step?"

Hansen smiled, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "You come with me to the Shatterdome. Meet Marshal Pentecost. See what we're working on."

Sam looked out at the ocean, the weight of the decision heavy on her shoulders. "Alright," she said at last. "I'll hear you out. But I'm not making any promises."

Hansen nodded. "That's all we ask. For now."

---

The Shatterdome was a hive of activity, even in the early hours of the morning. Sam followed Hansen through a maze of corridors, her eyes wide as she took in the massive scale of the operation. Technicians scurried about, carrying equipment and shouting orders. In the distance, she could hear the low rumble of machinery.

They came to a stop outside a heavy steel door. Hansen punched in a code, and it slid open with a hiss.

Inside, a tall, imposing man stood with his back to them, hands clasped behind him as he studied a bank of monitors. He turned as they entered, his dark eyes intense and searching.

"Marshal Pentecost," Hansen said. "This is Samantha Faith."

Pentecost nodded, his gaze never leaving Sam's face. "Ms. Faith. I've heard a lot about you."

Sam met his stare evenly. "Wish I could say the same, Marshal."

A ghost of a smile flickered across Pentecost's face. "Direct. Good. We don't have time for pleasantries." He gestured to a holographic display in the center of the room. "What do you know about the Drift, Ms. Faith?"

Sam shrugged. "Not much. It's how Jaeger pilots control their robots, right? Some kind of mind-meld thing."

"A crude but not entirely inaccurate description," Pentecost said. He manipulated the display, bringing up an image of a human brain. "The Drift is a neural bridge, allowing two pilots to share the mental load of operating a Jaeger. But we're pushing that technology further."

The image shifted, showing a strange, alien-looking brain alongside the human one. Sam's eyes widened. "Is that...?"

"A Kaiju brain," Pentecost confirmed. "We're developing a new type of Jaeger, one that incorporates Kaiju DNA into its neural network. We call it Ares."

Sam shook her head, overwhelmed. "Why would you do that? Isn't that incredibly dangerous?"

"Incredibly," Pentecost agreed. "But also incredibly powerful. If we can harness the Kaiju's ability to adapt, to evolve... we might finally have a chance at winning this war."

Hansen stepped forward. "That's where you come in, Sam. We need pilots who can handle the strain of interfacing with both human and Kaiju consciousness."

Sam laughed incredulously. "And you think I'm up for that?"

"We do," Pentecost said simply. "But it won't be easy. You'll need to undergo intensive training, both physical and mental. And you'll need a co-pilot."

As if on cue, the door slid open again. A woman strode in, her posture rigid and her eyes sharp. She was tall, with close-cropped dark hair and a scar running along her jawline.

"Sam Faith, meet Layla Kane," Pentecost said. "Your new partner."

Layla's eyes raked over Sam, assessing. "So this is the hotshot Marine," she said, her voice cool. "Hope you can keep up."

Sam bristled. "I can hold my own."

"We'll see," Layla replied, a hint of challenge in her voice.

Pentecost cleared his throat. "You two will begin training immediately. I expect you to put aside any personal differences and focus on the task at hand. The fate of humanity may well rest on your ability to work together."

Sam and Layla exchanged wary glances, the tension between them palpable.

"Yes, sir," they said in unison.

---

The training facility was a cavernous space, filled with equipment ranging from traditional workout gear to more esoteric devices Sam couldn't begin to guess the purpose of. Layla led the way, her stride purposeful.

"First things first," Layla said, turning to face Sam. "We need to establish a baseline for your physical capabilities. Then we'll move on to neural compatibility exercises."

Sam nodded, shrugging off her jacket. "Let's do it."

For the next several hours, Layla put Sam through her paces. They sparred, ran obstacle courses, and engaged in grueling strength and endurance tests. By the end, Sam was drenched in sweat, her muscles screaming in protest.

Layla, barely winded, tossed her a towel. "Not bad," she admitted grudgingly. "Your hand-to-hand could use some work, but your stamina is impressive."

Sam wiped her face, too out of breath to respond. As she caught her breath, she noticed two men approaching. They were both tall and well-built, with an easy camaraderie between them that spoke of years of partnership.

"Well, well," one of them called out. "Fresh meat for the grinder, eh Layla?"

Layla's expression softened slightly. "Sam, meet Raleigh and Yancy Becket. Pilots of Gipsy Danger."

The brothers grinned, extending their hands. Sam shook them, feeling the calluses that spoke of countless hours of training and combat.

"Welcome to the madhouse," Raleigh said with a wink. "How're you finding it so far?"

Sam grimaced. "Ask me again when I can feel my legs."

Yancy laughed. "It gets easier. Well, not really, but you get used to it."

"You two are lucky," Layla interjected. "You've got a natural Drift compatibility. Sam and I are going to have to work for it."

The brothers exchanged a glance. "It's not all sunshine and roses," Yancy said. "Sharing a headspace with this knucklehead can be a challenge."

Raleigh elbowed him playfully. "Speak for yourself, bro."

Their banter was interrupted by the arrival of two more figures. One was a slight, energetic man with wild hair and tattoos peeking out from under his rolled-up sleeves. The other was taller, with thick-rimmed glasses and an air of distracted brilliance.

"Ah, there you are!" the smaller man exclaimed. "I'm Dr. Newton Geiszler, but call me Newt. This is my colleague, Dr. Hermann Gottlieb. We're here to brief you on Ares."

Hermann nodded stiffly. "Indeed. Though I must protest once again the reckless nature of this endeavor."

Newt waved him off. "Don't mind him. He's just sore because the math is giving him headaches. Now, gather 'round, children. It's time for a crash course in Kaiju-human neural interfacing!"

The group huddled around a holographic display that Newt called up. It showed a complex schematic of what Sam assumed was Ares.

"So, here's the deal," Newt began, his words tumbling out in an excited rush. "Ares isn't just a Jaeger. It's a hybrid. We've taken Kaiju neural tissue and integrated it into the Conn-Pod systems. In theory, this should allow the Jaeger to adapt and evolve in real-time during combat."

Hermann cleared his throat. "In theory being the operative phrase. The variables involved are staggering. The potential for catastrophic failure—"

"Is outweighed by the potential benefits," Newt interrupted. "Imagine a Jaeger that can grow armor plating on the fly, or develop new weapons mid-battle. It's revolutionary!"

Sam frowned. "But how do we control it? Won't the Kaiju parts try to, I don't know, take over?"

Newt's grin widened. "Ah, that's the beauty of it! You're not just Drifting with each other. You're Drifting with Ares itself. Your human consciousness acts as a check on the Kaiju impulses, directing them, shaping them."

"It's unprecedented," Hermann added, his tone grave. "The neural load will be... significant."

Layla's eyes narrowed. "How significant?"

Newt and Hermann exchanged a look. "We're not entirely sure," Newt admitted. "That's why we need the best. Pilots who can handle the strain, who can maintain their sense of self even when merged with an alien consciousness."

A heavy silence fell over the group. Sam felt a chill run down her spine as the full weight of what they were attempting settled on her.

"Well," Raleigh said finally, breaking the tension. "No pressure or anything."

Yancy clapped Sam on the shoulder. "You've got this. Just remember, in the Drift, there are no secrets. You've got to be willing to let your co-pilot in, to trust them completely."

Sam glanced at Layla, who met her gaze with a mixture of determination and apprehension. They might not like each other, but they were in this together now.

"When do we start?" Sam asked.

Newt's grin threatened to split his face. "How about now?"

As they followed Newt and Hermann towards the Drivesuit Room, Sam couldn't shake the feeling that she was walking into something far bigger and more dangerous than she could imagine. But beneath the fear and uncertainty, there was a spark of excitement. For the first time in years, she felt alive, felt like she had a purpose.

Whatever lay ahead, whatever challenges Ares and the Kaiju might throw at them, Sam was ready to face them head-on. She had to be. The fate of the world depended on it.

****

The Drivesuit Room hummed with activity as technicians swarmed around Sam and Layla, fitting them with the complex neural interfaces that would allow them to pilot Ares. Sam tried to control her breathing, fighting down the rising panic as the claustrophobic suit closed around her.

"Relax," Layla said, her voice surprisingly gentle. "The first time is always the worst. It gets easier."

Sam nodded, grateful for the reassurance despite her lingering wariness of her co-pilot. "You've done this before?"

"Piloted a standard Jaeger, yeah," Layla replied. "But this... this is new territory for both of us."

Before Sam could respond, Newt's voice crackled over the intercom. "Alright, ladies, are you ready to make history?"

Sam and Layla exchanged a look. "As ready as we'll ever be," Sam answered for both of them.

"Excellent!" Newt's excitement was palpable even through the speakers. "We're going to start with a neural handshake. Just relax and let the memories flow. Don't latch onto anything specific."

The technicians finished their work and stepped back. Sam took a deep breath as the neural link initiated. For a moment, there was nothing but darkness. Then, suddenly, she was falling, tumbling through a kaleidoscope of memories—hers and Layla's, intertwined and inseparable.

*A young Sam, scraping her knee on the playground, her father's strong hands lifting her up...*

*Layla, tears streaming down her face as she watched her home burn, the distant roar of a Kaiju echoing in the night...*

*Sam's first day of basic training, the drill sergeant's face red with fury...*

*Layla, younger and more carefree, laughing as she sparred with her brother in their family dojo...*

The memories came faster, a dizzying whirlwind of emotions and experiences. Sam felt herself losing grip on reality, drowning in the flood of shared consciousness.

"Stay with it, Sam!" Layla's voice cut through the chaos. "Don't chase the memories!"

Sam gritted her teeth, focusing on Layla's presence in her mind. Slowly, the torrent of images began to subside. She became aware of her physical body again, standing in the Conn-Pod of Ares.

"Neural handshake stable," a technician's voice reported. "Drift sync at 85% and holding."

Sam opened her eyes, gasping. She turned to look at Layla, seeing her co-pilot in a new light. The stoic facade was gone, replaced by a mix of vulnerability and determination that mirrored Sam's own feelings.

"Well done," Marshal Pentecost's voice came over the comm. "How do you feel?"

"Like my brain's been put through a blender," Sam admitted. "But I'm okay."

"Same here," Layla added. "It's... intense."

Newt's voice cut in, barely contained excitement evident in his tone. "Great! Now for the real test. We're going to gradually introduce the Kaiju neural patterns. Remember, you're in control. The Kaiju consciousness is a tool, nothing more."

Sam nodded, bracing herself. At first, nothing seemed to change. Then, slowly, she became aware of a presence at the edges of her mind. It was alien, unknowable—a vast, hungry intelligence that defied human comprehension.

"Oh god," she heard Layla mutter.

The presence grew stronger, pushing against the boundaries of their shared consciousness. Sam felt a primal urge to flee, to sever the connection and run. But beneath the fear, there was something else. A sense of raw power, of potential waiting to be unleashed.

"Stay focused," Pentecost commanded. "You need to assert control."

Sam gritted her teeth, concentrating on the task at hand. She imagined the Kaiju presence as a wild horse, powerful but untamed. Slowly, carefully, she extended her will towards it, trying to guide rather than dominate.

To her surprise, she felt Layla doing the same. Their efforts, combined, began to shape the chaotic energy of the Kaiju neural patterns. The alien presence resisted at first, but gradually, it began to yield.

"Incredible," Newt breathed. "They're actually doing it. Kaiju neural integration at 30%... 40%... 50%!"

Sam became aware of Ares in a way that transcended her physical senses. She could feel every joint, every servo, as if it were an extension of her own body. More than that, she could sense the potential for change, for adaptation.

"Let's try something simple," Pentecost said. "Raise Ares' right arm."

Sam and Layla moved in perfect synchronization, their thoughts aligned. Ares' massive arm lifted, the movement smooth and natural. But as they held the position, Sam felt a strange tingling sensation. To her amazement, she watched as the armor on Ares' forearm began to shift and change, forming a series of sharp, blade-like protrusions.

"Holy shit," Layla whispered.

Newt's whoop of joy echoed through the Conn-Pod. "It worked! The adaptive properties are functioning! Quick, try to form a shield on the left arm!"

Sam and Layla complied, focusing their shared will. This time, the transformation was faster, more controlled. The left forearm expanded, plates of armor interlocking to form a sturdy shield.

"This is unprecedented," Hermann's voice, usually so skeptical, now held a note of awe. "The level of control they're exhibiting... it's far beyond our projections."

For a moment, Sam allowed herself to feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe this could work. Maybe they really could turn the tide against the Kaiju.

Then, without warning, the alien presence in their minds surged. Sam felt a wave of primal hunger, of rage, washing over her. Ares shuddered, its limbs moving of their own accord.

"What's happening?" Pentecost demanded.

"The Kaiju neural patterns are destabilizing," a technician reported, panic evident in their voice. "They're overwhelming the human interface!"

Sam fought to maintain control, but it was like trying to hold back a tsunami with her bare hands. She could feel her sense of self slipping away, subsumed by the alien consciousness.

"Sam!" Layla's voice cut through the chaos. "Stay with me! We need to shut it down!"

With a herculean effort, Sam reached out to Layla across their neural link. Their minds met, human wills aligning against the Kaiju assault. For a moment, they held it at bay.

"Initiating emergency shutdown," Hermann announced.

The Drift collapsed, leaving Sam reeling. She stumbled as the neural connections disengaged, nearly falling before Layla caught her arm.

"I've got you," Layla said, her own voice shaky. "It's over."

As the Conn-Pod hatch opened and medical teams rushed in, Sam looked at her co-pilot. The shared experience had forged a bond between them, one that transcended their initial wariness.

"Thanks," Sam managed, her head still spinning. "I don't think I could have held on without you."

Layla nodded, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "Likewise. I guess we make a decent team after all."

Their moment of connection was interrupted as Newt and Hermann burst into the Conn-Pod, followed closely by Pentecost and Hansen.

"That was amazing!" Newt exclaimed, oblivious to the exhausted state of the pilots. "The adaptive capabilities, the level of control you achieved... we're on the verge of a breakthrough!"

"We're also on the verge of creating an uncontrollable monster," Hermann countered. "The instability in the final moments cannot be ignored."

Pentecost held up a hand, silencing them both. His gaze fell on Sam and Layla, his expression unreadable. "How do you two feel?"

Sam and Layla exchanged a glance. "Like we've been hit by a truck," Sam admitted. "But... it was also incredible. I've never felt anything like it."

Layla nodded in agreement. "It's dangerous, sir. But I think with more training, we might be able to maintain control."

Pentecost considered this for a moment. "Very well. You'll continue training, but we're dialing back the Kaiju neural integration until we can ensure better stability. I won't risk losing my pilots to this thing."

As they were led away for medical checks, Sam caught snippets of an argument brewing between Newt and Hermann.

"We need to push forward," Newt insisted. "You saw what they were capable of!"

"At what cost?" Hermann retorted. "We're playing with forces we barely understand. One mistake could doom us all."

Their voices faded as Sam and Layla were ushered into the infirmary. As the medical staff began their examinations, Sam found her mind drifting back to the Drift, to the lingering echo of the Kaiju consciousness.

"Layla," she said quietly. "Did you feel it too? At the end, just before we lost control?"

Layla's eyes met hers, a flicker of understanding passing between them. "You mean the intelligence behind the rage? Yeah, I felt it. It was like... like there was something guiding the Kaiju. Something bigger than just animal instinct."

Sam nodded, a chill running down her spine. "Whatever it is, I don't think it wants us to succeed. It felt... angry. Like we'd trespassed on something forbidden."

"Well," Layla said with a grim smile, "I guess that means we're on the right track."

As the days passed, Sam and Layla fell into a grueling routine of physical training and Drift simulations. They worked to strengthen their neural connection, to build the trust and understanding necessary to face the challenges ahead.

But even as they grew closer as co-pilots, the specter of their first Drift with Ares loomed large. Sam found herself plagued by nightmares, flashes of alien landscapes and monstrous forms that left her gasping for air in the dark of night.

One evening, unable to sleep, she made her way to the Jaeger bay. To her surprise, she found Layla already there, staring up at Ares' imposing form.

"Couldn't sleep either?" Sam asked, moving to stand beside her co-pilot.

Layla shook her head. "Every time I close my eyes, I see... I don't even know how to describe it. It's like looking into an abyss that looks back."

Sam nodded, understanding all too well. "Do you ever wonder if we're in over our heads? If maybe this is a mistake?"

Layla was quiet for a long moment. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. "All the time. But then I remember why we're doing this. I remember my family, my home... everything the Kaiju took from me. And I know I have to keep going, no matter the cost."

Sam reached out, hesitating for a moment before placing a hand on Layla's shoulder. "We're in this together. Whatever happens, we face it as a team."

Layla turned to her, a mix of gratitude and determination in her eyes. "Together," she agreed.

As they stood there, united in their resolve, neither of them noticed the faint, alien glow emanating from deep within Ares' core. A pulse of energy, barely perceptible, rippled through the Jaeger's systems.

In the shadows of the Shatterdome, unseen and unheard, something stirred. The battle for humanity's future was just beginning, and the true test of Sam and Layla's bond lay ahead.

The next morning, Sam and Layla reported to the Kwoon Combat Room for their daily training session. As they circled each other on the mat, bo staffs at the ready, Marshal Pentecost entered, accompanied by a man Sam didn't recognize.

"At ease," Pentecost said as the pilots snapped to attention. "I'd like you to meet Dr. Caitlin Lightcap, one of the original developers of the Jaeger program."

The woman stepped forward, her keen eyes appraising Sam and Layla. "I've been following your progress with great interest," she said. "Your work with Ares could revolutionize our entire approach to fighting the Kaiju."

Sam and Layla exchanged a glance. "Thank you, ma'am," Sam replied cautiously. "But we're still struggling to maintain control during extended Drifts with the Kaiju neural patterns."

Dr. Lightcap nodded. "That's why I'm here. I've been working on some new theories about Drift compatibility and neural load distribution. I think with some adjustments to your training regimen, we might be able to improve your stability."

"What kind of adjustments?" Layla asked, a hint of skepticism in her voice.

"For starters," Dr. Lightcap said, "we need to strengthen your connection outside of the Drift. The more in sync you are in your daily lives, the better you'll be able to handle the strain of interfacing with Ares."

And so began a new phase of their training. In addition to their physical workouts and Drift simulations, Sam and Layla were subjected to a battery of trust-building exercises and psychological evaluations. They meditated together, sparred blindfolded, even underwent sensory deprivation sessions designed to heighten their awareness of each other's presence.

As the days turned to weeks, Sam found herself growing closer to Layla in ways she hadn't anticipated. The walls between them began to crumble, replaced by a deep understanding and trust.

One evening, as they sat in the mess hall after a particularly grueling day of training, Layla suddenly chuckled.

"What's so funny?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.

Layla shook her head, a wry smile on her lips. "I was just thinking... when we first met, I thought you were going to be impossible to work with. A hotheaded ex-Marine with a chip on her shoulder."

Sam grinned. "And I thought you were an uptight, by-the-book hardass who wouldn't know how to loosen up if her life depended on it."

They looked at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing. It felt good, a release of tension they hadn't even realized they'd been carrying.

"I guess we were both wrong," Layla said softly as their laughter subsided.

Sam nodded, suddenly serious. "I'm glad we were. I can't imagine doing this with anyone else."

The moment was interrupted by an alarm blaring through the Shatterdome. Sam and Layla were on their feet in an instant, racing towards the command center.

They arrived to find Pentecost, Hansen, and the science team gathered around a holographic display. The image showed a massive Kaiju emerging from the Breach, its body covered in thick, armored plates.

"Category 4," Pentecost announced grimly. "Codename: Razorback. It's on a direct course for Anchorage."

Sam felt her heart racing. This was it. The moment they'd been training for.

Hansen turned to them, his expression grim. "Gipsy Danger is already deployed, but they'll need backup. We're sending in Ares."

"But sir," Hermann protested, "the neural interface is still unstable. We haven't completed all the necessary tests—"

"We're out of time, Dr. Gottlieb," Pentecost cut him off. "This is what Ares was built for. Sam, Layla... are you ready?"

Sam met Layla's gaze, seeing her own mix of fear and determination reflected there. They nodded in unison.

"Yes, sir," Sam said. "We're ready."

As they rushed to suit up, Sam couldn't shake the feeling that they were about to cross a point of no return. Whatever happened next would change everything.

For better or worse, Ares was going to war.

****

The Conn-Pod of Ares hummed with energy as Sam and Layla initiated the neural handshake. As the Drift enveloped them, memories flowed between them—not just their own, but echoes of the Kaiju consciousness that now resided within Ares' systems.

"Neural handshake strong and holding," a technician's voice reported. "Kaiju neural integration at 45% and stable."

"Remember your training," Pentecost's voice came through the comm. "Stay focused, stay in control. Gipsy Danger is already engaged with Razorback off the coast of Anchorage. Your job is to provide support and take that bastard down."

"Understood, sir," Sam replied, feeling Layla's affirmation through their neural link.

As Ares was airlifted towards the combat zone, Sam could feel the Jaeger's systems responding to their thoughts, armor plates shifting and weapons systems priming. It was exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure.

"There!" Layla called out as they approached the coastline.

Through the storm-tossed waves, they could see Gipsy Danger grappling with a monstrous form. Razorback lived up to its name—its back bristled with razor-sharp spines, and its hide seemed to shimmer with an unnatural resilience.

"Gipsy, this is Ares," Sam called out. "We're moving in to assist."

"Glad you could make it to the party," Raleigh's strained voice came through. "This thing's hide is like nothing we've seen before. Our strikes aren't penetrating."

As Ares waded into the fray, Razorback disengaged from Gipsy Danger and turned its attention to the newcomer. Its roar shook the air, a challenge that reverberated through Ares' hull.

"Let's see how it likes this," Layla growled.

In perfect synchronization, they raised Ares' right arm. The limb began to change, plates shifting and reforming into a massive, serrated blade.

"Holy shit," they heard Yancy exclaim. "Are you seeing this, Raleigh?"

There was no time for further commentary. Razorback charged, its claws raking across Ares' chest. Sam and Layla moved instinctively, bringing the blade down in a vicious arc. It bit deep into the Kaiju's shoulder, drawing a howl of pain and rage.

But as quickly as the wound appeared, it began to close. Razorback's flesh knitted itself back together, leaving barely a scar.

"It's regenerating!" Sam shouted. "We need to hit it harder!"

Through their neural link, an idea formed. Sam and Layla focused their shared will, channeling the alien energy that pulsed through Ares' systems. The Jaeger's left arm began to transform, splitting and reforming into a multi-barreled cannon.

"Plasma caster online," a computerized voice announced.

"Gipsy, we need you to hold it still," Layla commanded.

The Becket brothers maneuvered their Jaeger behind Razorback, locking it in a bear hug. The Kaiju thrashed wildly, its spines tearing into Gipsy Danger's armor.

"We can't hold it for long!" Raleigh grunted.

Sam and Layla took aim. The plasma caster hummed with power, energy building to a crescendo. Just as Razorback began to break free from Gipsy's grip, they fired.

A searing beam of energy lanced out, catching Razorback full in the chest. The Kaiju's roar turned to a shriek of agony as the blast burned through its armor, carving a smoldering hole in its torso.

For a moment, it seemed like victory was at hand. But then, something changed. Sam felt a surge of alien consciousness, more powerful than anything they'd experienced in training. It crashed against her mind like a tidal wave, threatening to sweep away her sense of self.

"Layla!" she cried out, feeling her co-pilot's own struggle through their link. "Something's wrong!"

In the command center, alarms began to blare. "Kaiju neural patterns are spiking!" a technician shouted. "They're overriding the safeguards!"

Newt's face paled as he stared at the readings. "Oh no. No, no, no. This isn't possible. The residual Kaiju consciousness in Razorback... it's linking with the neural patterns in Ares!"

"Shut it down!" Pentecost ordered. "Disengage the pilots now!"

But it was too late. Sam and Layla were trapped in the Drift, their minds subsumed by a torrent of alien thoughts and memories. Through the haze of confused sensations, they dimly registered Ares moving of its own accord.

The Jaeger turned away from the wounded Razorback, its weapons systems powering up. With horror, Sam realized what was about to happen a split second before it did.

Ares opened fire on Gipsy Danger.

The plasma blast caught Gipsy in the shoulder, nearly severing the arm. Raleigh and Yancy's shouts of pain and confusion echoed through the comm system.

"Ares, what the hell are you doing?" Raleigh yelled.

But Sam and Layla couldn't respond. They were prisoners in their own minds, watching helplessly as Ares stomped towards the shoreline, leaving both Gipsy Danger and the wounded Razorback behind.

In the command center, chaos reigned. "We've lost all control of Ares' systems," Hermann reported, his usual composure shattered. "The AI... it's rewriting itself using the Kaiju neural patterns. It's evolving beyond our ability to contain it."

Pentecost's face was grim as he turned to Hansen. "We need to stop it before it reaches a populated area. Prep Striker Eureka for immediate deployment."

Hansen nodded, already moving. "I'll pilot her myself. Who's my co-pilot?"

"I am," a voice rang out. They turned to see Mako Mori, Pentecost's adopted daughter and one of the most promising Jaeger pilot candidates, stepping forward. "I've studied Ares' systems extensively. I know its weaknesses."

Pentecost hesitated for a moment, torn between his protective instincts and the need for the most qualified pilot. Finally, he nodded. "Do it. But Mako... be careful. And bring our people home."

As Hansen and Mako raced to suit up, Newt and Hermann huddled over their consoles, desperately trying to find a way to regain control of Ares.

"If we can just isolate the original AI core," Newt muttered, "maybe we can purge the Kaiju influence."

"And risk wiping out the pilots' minds in the process?" Hermann snapped. "We need to focus on breaking the neural connection first. Give Sam and Layla a chance to regain control from the inside."

Inside the Drift, Sam felt like she was drowning in an ocean of alien memories. Strange worlds flashed before her eyes—massive hive-cities, bizarre creatures that defied description, and always, always, a sense of hunger. A drive to consume, to conquer, to transform.

But beneath it all, she could still feel Layla's presence. Their human connection, forged through months of training and shared experiences, was a lifeline in the chaotic sea of Kaiju consciousness.

*Layla!* she called out with her mind. *We have to fight this!*

She felt Layla's acknowledgment, a flicker of determination in the maelstrom. Slowly, painfully, they began to push back against the alien presence. It was like trying to dam a river with their bare hands, but together, they managed to create a small pocket of clarity in the Drift.

*What's happening?* Layla's thoughts came through, strained but coherent. *Where's Ares taking us?*

Sam focused, trying to access Ares' sensory inputs. Through the Jaeger's eyes, she saw the coastline of Alaska rushing by. They were heading south, moving faster than any Jaeger should be capable of.

*I think... I think it's going to attack the city,* Sam realized with horror. *We have to stop it!*

They redoubled their efforts, fighting to regain control of Ares' systems. But the AI, supercharged by the Kaiju neural patterns, was always one step ahead. Every time they thought they were making progress, it would shift, adapting in ways they couldn't predict.

Suddenly, a new presence entered their awareness. Another Jaeger, closing fast.

Striker Eureka, the most advanced Jaeger in the PPDC's arsenal, burst from the clouds above them. Its sleek form gleamed in the fading sunlight as it descended, rockets firing to match Ares' impossible speed.

"Ares, this is Striker Eureka," Hansen's voice crackled through the comm. "Stand down immediately or we will be forced to engage."

But Ares, driven by its mutated AI, had no intention of standing down. It raised its arm, the limb transforming into a weapon unlike anything the PPDC had ever seen—a writhing mass of tentacles, each tipped with a plasma generator.

"Mako, evasive maneuvers!" Hansen shouted.

Striker Eureka banked hard, narrowly avoiding the barrage of plasma bolts that Ares unleashed. The attack carved furrows in the landscape below, turning rock and ice to steam in an instant.

Inside the Drift, Sam and Layla fought with renewed desperation. *We can't let it do this,* Layla's thoughts rang out. *All those people...*

*I know,* Sam responded. *But how do we—wait. Layla, do you feel that?*

There was a pattern to the chaos, a rhythm to the alien thoughts that swirled around them. And within that pattern, Sam sensed a vulnerability. A fragment of the original AI, buried beneath layers of Kaiju consciousness.

*If we can reach it,* Sam thought, *maybe we can use it to reassert control.*

*It's our only shot,* Layla agreed.

As Striker Eureka engaged Ares in a titanic battle, trading blows that shook the earth, Sam and Layla dove deeper into the Drift. They pushed past the overwhelming alien presence, following the faint thread of familiar code.

In the physical world, Ares' movements became erratic. One moment it was lashing out with terrifying precision, the next it was stumbling, its attacks going wide.

"Something's happening," Mako reported. "Its behavior is becoming inconsistent."

Hansen nodded grimly. "Sam and Layla must be fighting back. We need to give them more time. Sting-Blades, deploy!"

Striker Eureka's signature blades slid into place. With a burst of speed, it closed the distance to Ares, aiming for the joints and weaker points in its ever-shifting armor.

Inside the Drift, Sam and Layla finally reached their goal. The core of Ares' original AI pulsed before them, a faint light nearly smothered by the surrounding Kaiju influence.

*Now what?* Layla asked.

Sam hesitated. *I... I think we need to merge with it. Become one with Ares, but on our terms. It's the only way to override the Kaiju control.*

*That's insane,* Layla protested. *We could lose ourselves completely.*

*Do you have a better idea?* Sam shot back. *Because we're running out of time.*

A moment of silence, then: *Together?*

*Together,* Sam agreed.

As one, they reached out to the AI core. The moment they made contact, it was like touching a live wire. Energy surged through them, threatening to overwhelm their senses. But they held on, pouring every ounce of their humanity, their memories, their bond into the connection.

In the command center, the sensors lit up like a Christmas tree. "Neural activity is off the charts!" Newt shouted. "I've never seen anything like this!"

Pentecost leaned forward, his knuckles white as he gripped the console. "Come on," he murmured. "Fight it."

On the battlefield, Ares suddenly went rigid. Its transforming limbs froze mid-shift, plates of armor hanging at odd angles. Striker Eureka pulled back, weapons at the ready.

"What's happening?" Mako asked, tension evident in her voice.

For a long moment, nothing moved. Then, slowly, Ares' form began to stabilize. The chaotic mutations receded, leaving behind a form that was still alien, but somehow more... controlled.

"Striker Eureka, this is Ares," a voice crackled over the comm. It was Sam's voice, but different—layered with Layla's tones and an electronic undercurrent. "We've regained control. The threat has been neutralized."

Hansen let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Glad to have you back. What's your status?"

There was a pause before the response came. "We are... functional. But different. The merge was successful, but the changes may be irreversible."

In the Drift, Sam and Layla floated in a sea of data and memories—human, AI, and Kaiju all mixed together. They were themselves, but also something more. Something new.

*What do we do now?* Layla's thoughts came, tinged with uncertainty.

Sam's response was tinged with a mix of determination and wonder. *We finish what we started. We use this power to end the Kaiju threat once and for all.*

As Ares and Striker Eureka turned back towards the Shatterdome, the sun broke through the clouds. Its rays glinted off Ares' transformed surface—no longer purely metal, but a hybrid of technology and organic forms.

In the command center, Pentecost watched the returning Jaegers with a mix of relief and trepidation. They had averted disaster, but at what cost? And what would this mean for the future of the war against the Kaiju?

One thing was certain: nothing would ever be the same again.

Epilogue

The Shatterdome was abuzz with activity as Ares touched down on the landing pad. Technicians and medical teams swarmed around the Jaeger, its form still a startling hybrid of familiar technology and alien evolution. As the Conn-Pod hatch opened, there was a collective held breath among the onlookers.

Sam and Layla emerged, supported by the medical staff. They moved in perfect synchronization, their steps matched as if they were still in the Drift. Their eyes, when they opened, held an otherworldly gleam—a hint of the profound change they had undergone.

Marshal Pentecost strode forward, his face a mask of concern and relief. "Welcome back, Rangers. How do you feel?"

Sam and Layla exchanged a glance, a wealth of unspoken communication passing between them in an instant. When they spoke, their voices overlapped slightly, creating an eerie harmony.

"We are... functional, sir," Sam began.

"But changed," Layla finished. "The merge was more complete than we anticipated."

Pentecost nodded gravely. "We'll need to run a full battery of tests. But first, there's news you should hear."

He led them to the command center, where screens displayed footage of the aftermath of their battle. To their surprise, they saw Gipsy Danger standing triumphant over the fallen form of Razorback.

"After you... disengaged," Pentecost explained, choosing his words carefully, "Gipsy Danger managed to regroup. They were joined by Cherno Alpha, which arrived on scene to provide backup. Together, they took down Razorback."

Relief washed over Sam and Layla's faces. "The Becket brothers?" Sam asked.

"Are they alright?" Layla added.

"Injured, but alive," Pentecost assured them. "They're en route back to base now."

As medical staff began preliminary examinations of Sam and Layla, Newt burst into the room, his eyes wild with excitement.

"This is incredible!" he exclaimed, waving a tablet displaying Ares' diagnostics. "The level of integration between human, AI, and Kaiju neural patterns... it's beyond anything we could have imagined!"

"It's also beyond anything we can control," Hermann interjected, following close behind. "The risks are incalculable."

Pentecost held up a hand, silencing them both. His gaze fell heavily on Sam and Layla. "I'm officially suspending Project Crimson Storm," he announced. "The potential benefits don't outweigh the dangers we've witnessed."

Sam and Layla stiffened, a flicker of something—fear? disappointment?—passing across their faces. But Pentecost wasn't finished.

"However," he continued, "Ares has proven its worth in combat. And you two," he nodded to Sam and Layla, "have demonstrated an ability to control it that we can't ignore. For now, Ares will remain operational, but under strict supervision."

Relief flooded through the pilots, visible in the slight relaxation of their postures.

"Thank you, sir," they said in unison.

"Don't thank me yet," Pentecost warned. "You'll be under observation round the clock. At the first sign of instability or loss of control, I'll have no choice but to shut down Ares permanently. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir," Sam and Layla responded.

As the medical team prepared to take them for more thorough examinations, Sam turned to Pentecost. "Sir, about the war..."

Pentecost's expression softened slightly. "It's not over, Ranger. Far from it. Razorback was just one battle. Our predictive models show more Kaiju attacks on the horizon, each potentially stronger than the last."

Sam nodded, exchanging a meaningful look with Layla. "In that case, sir, we'd like to formally request to stay on as Ares' pilots."

"Are you sure?" Pentecost asked, studying them intently. "After what you've been through, no one would blame you for stepping down."

Layla shook her head. "With all due respect, sir, we're the only ones who can pilot Ares now. And after what we've seen... what we've experienced..."

"We have a responsibility," Sam finished. "To use this connection, this power, to help end this war."

Pentecost was silent for a long moment, his gaze moving from the pilots to Ares, visible through the command center windows. Finally, he nodded.

"Very well. Once you're cleared by medical, we'll begin developing new training protocols. We'll need to establish the full extent of your capabilities—and your limitations."

As Sam and Layla were led away, Newt approached Pentecost, his earlier excitement tempered by concern.

"Marshal, there's something you should know," he said quietly. "During the neural handshake, Ares' systems recorded fragments of the Kaiju hive mind. It's mostly scrambled, but there are pieces... hints of something bigger."

Pentecost's brow furrowed. "Bigger than the Kaiju?"

Newt nodded gravely. "I think... I think there might be something controlling them. Directing the attacks. And whatever it is, it's not of this world."

The implications hung heavy in the air. Pentecost turned back to the window, watching as Ares was moved into its bay for repairs and analysis.

"Keep digging, Dr. Geiszler," he ordered. "If there's a puppet master behind all this, we need to know everything we can about it."

As the sun set over the Shatterdome, casting long shadows across Ares' transformed form, Sam and Layla sat side by side in the medical bay. Their physical forms were separate, but their minds still hummed with a shared consciousness—human and alien, familiar and utterly new.

"Are we ready for this?" Layla asked softly, the question floating between their linked minds.

Sam's response came with a surge of determination and a flicker of the alien memories they now shared. "I don't know if anyone can be truly ready for what's coming. But together... together, I think we stand a chance."

They looked out the window at the fading light, aware that somewhere beyond the horizon, in the depths of the Pacific, their true enemy was waiting. The war wasn't over. In many ways, it was just beginning.

But for the first time since the Kaiju emerged from the Breach, humanity had a weapon that could turn the tide. Ares stood silent in its bay, no longer just a machine, no longer just a Jaeger. It was evolution given form, a bridge between two worlds.

And at its heart, bonded in ways no one could have predicted, stood Sam and Layla—pilots, partners, and now something more. Guardians on the edge of a new frontier, ready to face whatever horrors the future might hold.

Ewan is too shy to say no and has been accepted into the local comunity, he is now partaking in olive picking. They call him ElJuan and think he is from Murcia because he speaks weird.

Anyway Jaegar nation rise up.

Arcobaleno(You are here) || Varia(x)

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