bakerstreet | The Pacific Rim Meme

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The Pacific Rim Meme

We always thought alien life would come from the stars. But it came from deep beneath the sea, a portal between dimensions in the Pacific Ocean. Something out there had discovered us. The first Kaiju made landfall in San Francisco. The second attack hit Manilla. Then the third one hit Cabo. Then we learned this was not going to stop. In order to fight monsters, we created monsters of our own. We needed a new weapon. The Jaeger Program was born. Two pilots, our minds, our memories, we were connected. Man and machine became one.

In the near future, giant monsters identified as "Kaiju" have begun attacking Earth's coastal cities, resulting in a war that takes millions of lives and quickly consumes humanity's resources. To combat the monsters, a special type of weapon is designed: massive robots, known as Jaegers. The Jaegers are controlled simultaneously by two pilots who are bound together in a process called Drifting, creating a neural link between their minds. The link lets them share the mental strain which would otherwise overwhelm a single pilot. The Jaegers are the last, best hope for humanity's survival.

Instructions:
1. Choose a role (or multiple roles!) and post with your character/fandom.
2. Others will post to you with a scenario.
3. All Jaeger names must made up of two words that have little to do with each other. This is mandatory.
4. Go big or go extinct. Or just have fun, that works too.

Roles:

1. Jaeger Pilot: The rock stars of the kaiju wars. You and your partner may be siblings, spouses, parent and child, or just two people who have the trust and compatability necessary for a successful Drift. Get out there and kick some ass.

2. Engineer: The war against the kaiju isn't just fought by the pilots. You're one of the countless support staff that design, repair, and enhance the Jaegers for maximum kaiju-smashing potential.

3. Scientist: Biologist, physicist, kaiju groupie. You study these horrific monsters so you can figure out how to destroy them...or you just really have a thing for alien anatomy.

4. Mission Control: Off the front lines but not out of the battle. You're watching the monitors, dealing out the orders, and generally making sure your Jaeger pilots don't do anything more stupid than normal.

5. Civilian: A black market dealer in kaiju organs, a reporter trying to get a (literally) big scoop, or just some poor schmuck trying not to get stepped on. You're one of the folks that the Jaegers are fighting for.

6. Other: Go wild.

Scenarios:

1. Preparations: Dealing with kaiju is a process, not a moment. Pilots need to physically and mentally hone their strength, engineers need to perfect the Jaeger weaponry and armor, scientists need to run their experiments, and black market dealers need to make their money.

2. First Neural Handshake: It's time to Drift with your partner. You'll experience each others' most painful secrets, joyous memories, and the time you got drunk and made out with the captain of the football team. Hang on, it'll be a bumpy ride.

3. Downtime: Chill out, have a beer, pretend the world isn't ending. You can explore the thriving towns that have grown up amongst the kaiju remains or just stay in the Shatterdome doing combat practice. However you relax, you've earned it.

4. Kaiju Detected: Battle stations, folks. Get to your cockpit, your command post, or your underground bunker. The monsters are coming, and they ain't gonna stop until someone does something about them.

5. Combat Mode: It's go time! You're in the heat of things, punching these otherworldly abominations in the face with your awesome. Remember to call your attacks; it makes them more powerful if you shout their names first.

5. Aftermath: Job well done, folks. Sit back, enjoy the celebrations, put another tick mark on your kill count...and if necessary, mourn the dead.

6. Other: Go further wild.

Shamelessly stolen from over here on

memezilla.

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That 'infuriating way of his' was no more than a defense mechanism meant to soften the blow of rejection should he receive it. Terribly obvious in its purpose, but clung to nonetheless.

Though he hadn't been certain that she would decline his offer, he still expected it enough that her acceptance surprised him. He maintained that look of disinterest -- or he would have had the corners of his lips not quirked with the hint of a smile.

"This way."

As it turned out, 'this way' led to 47-B7, Loki's personal room. He ascended the two steps to his door, pushed it open, and then gestured with his hand. "After you."

Again he surprised her. It wasn't that Loki never smiled, he could be charming and pleasant enough if he wanted to be, but this tiny little flicker of something that apparently he would have preferred if it stayed hidden, that was unexpected. Unexpected and intriguing.

She spent most of the silent walk to Loki's room trying to figure out what his angle was, but in the end she had to admit defeat. She had no idea what sort of game Loki was trying to play, or if it was even a game at all. Perhaps he really did just want to have a drink with her, but why? As far as she was aware he didn't even like her.

Actually, as far as she was aware he didn't really like anyone.

"Thank you."

She walked past him into his room (really not where she'd been expecting him to take her), and she couldn't help glancing around with some curiosity.

As with everyone's quarters in the Shatterdome, Loki's room was tan and angular, spartan in its design with no obvious effort to spruce things up. His bed was made, his desk was tidy, and were it not for the mini-fridge in the corner, the room might appear uninhabited.

After Loki closed the door behind him, he gestured for Sif to take a seat on his cot. It may have seemed odd for him to offer that rather than his desk, but of the two, the latter was more personal. He poured over pages of data -- drift connection rates, battle histories, strategies, Kaiju attacks -- at his desk.

His cot merely existed as an instrument to obtain physical rest.

"Are you familiar with akvavit?" he asked, plucking the bottle of said spirit off the top of the mini-fridge. There was a rocks glass, singular -- for Loki had never entertained guests until today -- resting beside it.

She took the offered seat, and at his question actually grinned at him, with a spark in her eyes that could almost be called mischievous.

"Swedish family."

That would be a yes. She was indeed familiar with akvavit.

He allowed himself a small smile that paled in comparison to Sif's mirth. He couldn't recall having that brilliant grin directed at him. Ever had it belonged to Thor, woefully ignorant.

"As I thought," he said agreeably, serving the spirit neat. It was a lovely shade of amber, indicative of its age, that Loki passed onto Sif before retrieving a drink of his own from the refrigerator.

At times, the preferences of the Odinson brothers seemed to directly clash against one another. Their choice in drink was one such example -- Thor preferred beer while Loki preferred cider, but neither would deny the other a shared drink when proposed. After Thor's death, Loki maintained Thor's supply of beer in the refrigerator, even if he rarely dipped into it.

Through some backwards notion of punishment and sentiment, it was the beer that Loki chose for himself today -- a brand that Sif would likely recognize as one of Thor's favorites.

He settled into his seat at the desk, comfortable with the current pace of conversation between them. Shockingly, he'd meant what he said earlier about the need for Rangers to decompress -- and while he found it imperative to address the problem between Sif and Haldorr, he found no fault in allowing Sif a brief moment of respite.

After all, Loki had once been a Ranger, too.

She accepted the glass with another smile, not quite so bright but warm nonetheless, and put it down on the floor so that she could unlace her boots and take them off. Then she picked her drink back up again and scooted back in his cot enough so that she could comfortably lean against the wall with her legs folded in front of her.

She did indeed recognize the brand of the beer in Loki's hand, mostly because the fact that it was a beer in the first place made her look a little extra. She knew his preferences well enough that it wasn't what she'd been expecting, and of course every detail she could recall about Thor was still deeply ingrained in her mind.

"Don't remember you ever being fond of beer."

He pressed the cold rim of the bottle against his lips as he considered how to respond to her comment. He didn't feel like being entirely truthful (though that was no surprise.)

"It's a recently acquired taste," was what he settled on, before tipping his head back. The beer was tolerable, in part because he was quick to swallow.

She raised an eyebrow at him, but did not comment. For all that she knew he might be telling the truth, though something told her that there was more to it than that. Still, she wasn't really one to pry, especially not since she and Loki were not exactly what anyone would call close.

Their lives had been touching for many years now, yes, but only on the edges.

She took a sip of her own drink, humming appreciatively at the fine quality.

"Bet you'd still like this stuff better. It's good."

Sif herself wasn't really picky when it came to drinks, but she did know the good stuff when she tasted it.

Edited 2014-07-21 21:49 (UTC)

Again, he smiled -- this one dry, but not so fleeting. "Oh, I know I would. Unfortunately, I have but one glass and you are my guest."

And Loki wouldn't be caught dead drinking from the bottle. Beer and cider? Sure. Liquor? Absolutely not.

She leaned forward a little and held the glass out, eyebrows raised and an almost challenging look in her eyes, though what she was challenging him to do was hard to say. More like than not she wasn't really sure herself.

"Share?"

Brow arched, his eyes flicked to the glass, then settled on Sif.

"Why, Lady Sif," he said, with the hint of playful mockery he has not used around her in years, "this isn't very lady-like."

As if there was anything traditionally lady-like about Sif at all.

Still, he leaned forward to accept.

A playful mockery she'd never even realised that she'd missed before she heard it again.

Strange, that.

"You haven't called me lady in a long time, Silvertongue."

No, she wasn't going to be the only one with a nickname in this conversation.

She also bent further forward to snatch his beer from him while he reached for her glass, deeming it a fair trade.

He gladly relinquished his beer with an absent, "Ah." But rather than follow-up immediately, he first took a drink from the glass and savored the taste before swallowing. It went down a lot smoother (and a lot warmer, like a trail of embers) than Thor's beer.

"Perhaps because you've not given me good reason to use such a title," he said, smile widening as he held the glass out for her again.

She swiped her thumb affectionately over the beer's label, feeling a painful tug of nostalgia in her heart before she lifted it to her lips to take a drink.

"Ouch, harsh. And hurtful, I'm not sure I'll ever recover."

As if it hadn't always been more or less her goal to be the opposite of whatever a proper lady was supposed to be.

She reclaimed the glass, offering him the beer back with a questioning look.

"I might even have to go so far as to say that you are not really a gentleman."

He took the beer, though he was quick to hold it against his chest at her last comment. His head inclined to the side and his brows rose in mock surprise. "Have I not held the door open for you or given you the more comfortable seat, Lady?"

With the crap day she'd had, laughing was not something she'd envisioned for her near future, but she couldn't contain a quiet chuckle at his display.

"There is plenty of room left in this cot so you have not really deprived yourself of anything for my sake in that department."

He had not invited her to drink for the sole purpose of lifting her spirits, exactly, but to hear her chuckle brought some measure of satisfaction to Loki and that--

That surprised him.

Not sure what to think of that, he took a quick swig of beer and pushed the realization aside. "I'm merely thinking ahead," he said, holding the bottle out, "should your predicament drive you to drinking irresponsibly."

Because it wasn't the full Loki Odinson experience if he didn't say something biting, malicious intent or not. (Malice did not prompt his response, though that hardly excused him.)

"A lot of things have changed but I'm pretty sure I can still drink you under the table."

Her tone was light, but as they so often did his comment had hit its mark and there was no longer a smile on Sif's face as she took another drink from the glass, making sure that there was still some akvavit left for Loki as she made the exchange of glass for bottle again.

"As for my predicament, it's been taken care of. I've gotten a few billion dollars' worth of therapy for it, actually."

Edited 2014-07-22 03:44 (UTC)

He had known Sif for years, albeit from the outskirts of her friendship with his brother, and thus he picked up on her change of tune immediately. For a split second, he wondered what he had said to cause it, then mentally dug his heels in.

He wasn't fond of admitting to his mistakes, not even to himself.

Throwing his head back, he downed the rest of the akvavit in the glass, once again savoring the trail of fire it left down his throat, then reached over to where the bottle rested on the mini-fridge. "Is that a challenge?" he asked airily, refilling the glass.

Under normal circumstances she would have filed getting drunk with Loki Odinson under "Very Bad Ideas", but at the moment she was tired and sore from nearly getting smashed by a kaiju (she was going to have some nasty bruises come morning), and her heart had taken a severe pummeling.

In short, she was in enough of a bad mood that being a little reckless actually seemed like a good idea, or at least the kind of bad idea that she wanted to go through with anyway.

Besides, he'd made her laugh.

She took a long drink from the beer bottle, nearly emptying it, and when she lowered it from her lips, she was grinning at him again.

"Bring it on, Odinson."

There it was, that grin again.

He set both the bottle of akvavit and the glass onto his desk, then flipped the mini-fridge open to retrieve another beer. His smile was controlled, but his eyes were alight with mischief as he offered her the glass.

"As you wish, Lady."

She took the glass and offered up what little there was left of the beer to him.

"I feel like there should be some sort of rules beyond 'get smashed', what do you think?"

Edited 2014-07-22 04:26 (UTC)

So this was to be not only a challenge, but a game? Loki could get behind that.

He reached for the bottle, humming thoughtfully as he swirled it about. "Actually, yes. My desk is off-limits," he said coolly, knowing full well that Sif had not meant that sort of rule. There were things in the drawers he did not want her tampering with -- data, certainly, and photos.

Just another physical manifestation of his sentimentality... and regret.

He finished the first beer and opened the second. If Thor were present, he would no doubt approve of their alcoholic exchange, Loki mused.

"I'll do my best to remember that."

Everyone who had ever been around Sif when she was drunk knew that it tended to get pretty wild. For all that she appeared straight-laced and very rarely did anything but follow her orders to the letter, there was something decidedly untamed inside her that could go positively berserk when given half a chance.

"What else?"

If they were truly to get smashed, he wondered if Sif would remember anything at all.

He held the newly opened beer out, its neck pointing at her in what might have been accusatory were it not for the smirk on his lips. "Please do me the courtesy of sparing my room from your drunken belligerency. I'd appreciate having some place to retire to once we've established my victory."

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