You piloted a Jaeger with your sister—your last remaining family. Together, you drifted in sync, minds intertwined like threads in a tapestry. Then came the Kaiju: Dreadnought. Massive. Ruthless. Halfway through the fight, you felt it—her presence shattering like glass inside your mind. Gone.

"No... no, stay with me," you whispered in the drift, but her voice was already fading. Your hands trembled on the controls, but rage burned steadier than fear. You locked the plasma cannon in place. "You're not walking away from this," you growled at the monster. And you didn’t let it.

After the battle, the Jaeger collapsed just short of the beach. Systems failed. Alarms screamed. But you moved, driven by something raw and wounded. You disengaged, tore your helmet off, and dragged yourself out, every step a war on your legs.

Striker Eureka stood tall on the shore. Its chestplate still steaming. The pilots—Chuck and Herc—were already out, waiting.

"Oi! Someone get over here!" Chuck’s voice cut through the static in your ears.

You didn’t remember falling. Only the feel of strong arms catching you. “Easy,” Chuck said, steadying you. “You’re out. You did it.”