Pacific Rim: Legacy

Chapter 10 - Ezra

Ezra's fists hit the punching bag in a steady rhythm, the sound of his gloves thudding against the leather filling the room. He focused on the movement, letting the physical exertion drown out the whirlwind of thoughts that had been building since Mako's funeral. The tightness in his chest from the service hadn't gone away, and pounding the bag was the only thing that made him feel somewhat grounded.

Nearby, a few of the cadets were scattered around the quarters, the usual banter flying back and forth. Amara was sitting with her tablet, scrolling through the news with a frown etched on her face.

"They're calling it Obsidian Fury," she muttered, her eyes glued to the screen. "There's never been a rogue like this."

Ezra's punches slowed for a moment, his attention drawn to her words. Obsidian Fury. The rogue Jaeger. The name sent a chill down his spine. He hadn't been there during the fight, but he'd heard enough about it to know it was bad. Really bad.

Meilin, sitting on her bed with her journal in hand, glanced up. "News feed said they were posting a dozen Jaegers at the memorial." Her tone was casual, but Ezra could hear the weight behind it. Even the mention of the memorial felt raw.

Suresh, who had just come out of the SIM training, helmet in hand, grinned. "When I die, I want that many to send me off."

"Your pop's gonna make you work with boobs when you wash out," Renata shot back, her arms crossed as she leaned against the wall, smirking.

Ezra chuckled quietly, his rhythm picking up on the bag again as he listened to the back-and-forth.

"Jaegers do not show up when the boob guy dies," Ilya chimed in with a snort, shaking his head.

Amara looked up, confused. "Wait, your dad works with boobs?"

Suresh's face flushed, and he quickly tried to clarify. "He's a plastic surgeon. He doesn't just work with... I'm not gonna wash out. I'm gonna be a pilot."

Jinhai laughed, leaning back against his bunk. "Still. You die, meh, I post one Jaeger at your funeral. Maybe half a Jaeger."

Ezra caught a glimpse of Amara smiling before Viktoria Malinkova's voice cut through the chatter from her spot on the top bunk. "I heard that's where they found Amara. In half a Jaeger."

Amara had been holding her ground, seated on her bunk with her tablet, but Viktoria wasn't the type to let something like that slide. She slammed her book closed, the sharp snap of the pages echoing off the walls. Ezra's stomach tightened as Viktoria jumped off the top bunk and marched straight toward Amara, her eyes blazing.

Ezra could see it coming—the way Viktoria's fists clenched, the way her jaw tightened with that barely contained fury. She towered over Amara, her shadow falling across her as she leaned in, voice low and dangerous. "Bigger is better."

Amara, to her credit, didn't flinch. She met Viktoria's stare head-on, her expression cool, as if the bigger girl didn't intimidate her at all. Without missing a beat, Amara fired back in Russian, her voice smooth and mocking. "Kiss my ass."

The room collectively held its breath. Ezra froze, his hands still on the punching bag, the tension between the two girls crackling like electricity in the air.

Viktoria's eyes narrowed, her face twisting in disbelief. "What did you say?"

Amara smirked, her gaze steady. She repeated it, this time slower, deliberately, as if she were daring Viktoria to make a move. "Kiss. My. Ass." She glanced at Ezra briefly, asking, "Am I saying that right?"

Ezra, sensing the escalation, nodded quickly. "Yep."

That was all it took. Viktoria moved like a flash, her hand shooting out to grab Amara by the collar and yank her off the bed. In an instant, she had Amara in a headlock, her arm tight around her neck. The room erupted with noise—shouts of surprise and encouragement from the other cadets, everyone pushing to their feet to get a better view of the fight.