She tilted her head a moment then scowled. “Would you like me to bring him up here so we can have a chat?” Natasha knew that wasn’t an option, and like James, she had a feeling she already knew what this intake was.
These people weren’t fighting Kaiju. They were harvesting them. The brain they’d seen in the lab was relatively fresh, and if the experiments were to work, they’d need new supplies regularly.
If the attempts at drifting had killed pilots before, imagine what it did to an unprotected brain.
No. Scratch that. She didn’t want to imagine that.
Natasha moved next to James, looking over another computer terminal before she found what she was looking for. A few quick keystrokes and the heavy emergency doors slammed shut, the emergency lights clicking on a moment later. Sure, putting the Dome into lock down was going to tell every single person in the place what they were doing. But it bought them the time to get a Jeager that every single person in the Dome had no hopes of standing against.
Tasha leaned over, pressing a kiss to his cheek almost playfully. “You’ve got time.” She was laughing. They were in the fight for their lives, attempting to hostility take over a Shatterdome, and she was loving every single second of it.
She looked out at the bay, her gaze finally stopping on a Mark III. Not digital, and unlikely to kill them both with radiation poisoning if they decided to make its use a regular occurrence. The Jeager was a bit dinged up, the black paint faded and scratched to expose the metal under. The arms were massive, built for punching holes through anything that stood in the way. Heavy, perhaps too heavy for some. She’d be slow, but damn near impossible to take down. And,unlike most of the other Jeagers, the head wasn’t where she was piloted from. The conn-pod wasn’t even a removable pod at all, housed permanently within the chest.
Fitting. Tactically a good choice as they wouldn’t need a crew to drop them into place. A smart choice, if not dangerous. There wasn’t an ‘escape’ option in a set up like that.
You won or you died.
Maybe that was fitting, too.
"I want that one.” Natasha pointed, her voice akin to a child picking out a new toy. She hurried to the Drivesuit room, pulling out pairs of circuitry suits, battle armor and lastly the helmets. Relay gel… spinal clamps. Maybe doing this by themselves wasn’t going to be so ‘easy’.
"No…don’t sweat it. Something tells me there will be plenty more where he came from." Snorting at the alarm going off, he looked over to her just as she caught his cheek. Cocking an eyebrow at her laughter, he shook his head with a snort. "Glad to see you’re in better spirits…I’m excited; but quite honestly I’m fucking terrified."
Who’s to say she wasn’t as well?
"A Mark III, huh? Not quite top of the line, but reliable none the less…" It had it’s battle scars, but so did they. Perhaps that’s why she chose it. "The AI won’t be a problem, but LOCCENT…the protocols are proving more difficult to work through…it’ll take just a few more…done." James grimaced; cracking the ‘knuckles’ on his cybernetic hand back into place. "We’ll have to help prep each other…their may be a little stain; but hey…you’re strong enough. When you lost your copilot took the Jaeger back to shore on his own. I’ve known only one other pilot that’s been able to do that…"
Can she do it again, if necessary?
"You trust me, right?" Yes, in the wake of everything that had happened he had to ask. He had to know, that she she knew he wouldn’t intentionally hurt her. This would be their first time in an actual Jaeger together…and although they were both ready, eager…
Now it was all on him…if something went wrong, if she got hurt…
She knows the risks. It’s worth it to her.
Tucking a helmet under his arm, he looked over at her with a weak smile. It was now or never. “You ready?”
"Soon. It’s what Jesus would want…"
Wow…just. Wow. "The little baby Jesus wants you to…" She couldn’t keep a straight face. "Deck my halls and silent my night?"
"Just can’t wait to jingle your bells and falala your la."
[text] okie dokie.
[text] Do I look like I need a workout?
[text] That wasn’t a no. Sure, I’m on the way.
[text] And the solution to boredom is always ‘let’s see what Bucky’s doing’. Not sure if I should be flattered or offended.
[text] nope. Jujitsu, and kickboxing are more my thing.
[text] Someone’s bubbly today.
[text] Hm. Well if I give you some Judo pointers, it would make it easier to teach you Sambo.
[text] Which is a martial art. Not a racial slur.
Jasper was momentarily speechless. A series of rapid blinks and a few breaths later he managed to speak. His voice was low and quiet. “I’m not sure exactly what kind of internal crisis you’re having right now, but I’d rather you didn’t compare trying to give a young child a normal life to the worst day of my life.”
"The worst day of your-? Are you fucking serious right now?!” Bucky set his jaw, clenching his fist fist. “It was the worst day of my life too, Jasper; and I’ve had a lot of bad days. Just imagine how it must have been for her. I know you. Believe it or not, I trust you…but if you weren’t willing to lay your life on the line to do what’s right; why the hell did you join SHIELD?”
With a facepalm and a sigh, Bucky looked up, biting his lip. “Look, I didn’t mean…fighting wouldn’t benefit anyone. I’m sorry. It’s not a personal crisis it’s just my problem with SHIELD. That’s why I have such a problem with authority. You think you were trying to ‘help’ Schmidt, rather than just removing her from the equation. In retrospect, do you think the ends justified the means?”
That he couldn’t see her face was a good thing, since Gretchen was definitely doing her best approximation of his smirk. “I’ve decided I’m going to enjoy your meal instead, or I would have if you hadn’t pushed your chair out,” she murmured, keeping her tone placid. He brought this on himself. “I’ll have to remember that for when this happens in the future, that you ramble…” She paused mid-wriggle, glancing back at him over her shoulder. “Are you insinuating that having me on your lap is a punishment?” she asked a little too quietly, keeping absolutely still.
If he didn’t learn to choose his words more carefully then he might be right about that death prediction.
Ignoring him was going to take a fair amount of willpower; Gretchen had enough to hold out for now, but depending on what else Bucky did she might end up giving in to the mounting urge to see how sturdy these kitchen chairs could be. “Food can be reheated,” she said, shrugging imperceptibly. Slowly, doing it in a manner that involved her naked posterior having as much contact with his groin as possible, she stood up, bending over to pick up her wine glass. “I’m not hungry anymore.”
"Am I insinuating…? Hardly." Bucky wasn’t quite sure whether he was relieved or disappointed by the fact she had decided to cease her wriggling for the moment; but he certainly had no plans to stop. It wasn’t like it was a contest, with one feeling the need to out-do the other…the simple fact of the matter was; and he was willing to admit it. “Okay, I don’t know when to quit.” Hissing as Gretchen moved to stand, and then pouting as when she did so; he too moved from his chair.
So this is how she wants to play it, hm?
"Oh, well hope I didn’t spoil your appetite; my dear.. If I made you tense, you don’t need the alcohol to unwind…there are several other alternatives." Standing behind her, almost tempted to knead at her shoulders. Alright, he was tempted; but he wasn’t about to give in just yet. “All the work you put into this, and you plan to just reheat it…? Well if you aren’t going to eat, I suppose dinner and show is out…still; I think I’m going to change. Get more comfortable.
"Never even realized how lost I was without her. but I always was. just some lost soldier who forgot he ever had a home… until she gave me one.”