Deep Beneath the Pacific (Pacific Rim)

Chapter One: On My Own

February 29th, 2020 - Thursday - 5:21AM.

I laid in my bed, staring up at the ceiling, unable to fall back asleep. I was deep in thought (as I usually was). It was still dark outside - early morning, I presumed. A glance at my clock beside my bed confirmed my guess: 5:21AM. It was a little chilly, so I hugged myself as I lay underneath my blanket.

I always woke up early. I didn't want to, honestly. I usually ended up just laying there and thinking for an hour or so, just lost in thought. It was like a curse - I am very nostalgic and think a lot. It can be helpful sometimes... and other times... well... let's just say it doesn't work out.

But finally, I couldn't take it any longer. I swung my legs over my bedside, throwing off the blanket. I sat there for a few moments, my eyes pressed closed. "Another day, another chance." - that's what my father used to say. What does it mean? Well, honestly, I have no clue - at least, what it means to me and how it applies to my life... There are many answers for that saying, but none really clicked with me... yet.

Since falling asleep again wasn't an option, I washed up and changed. I walked to my window, gazing outside as I braided my dark brown hair into its usual fishtail braid on my right side. There were a few people walking the streets, but not much activity - it was still early in the morning, so not many people were actually up and about.

Today was the third Thursday of the month. What did that mean? It meant the merchants were in town. I love to go to "Merchant Street" where all of them lined up on a street and sold various items and supplies. I liked to browse, but I also bought a lot of things. Like cheap necessities (sometimes if I got lucky, some sweets!) to mechanical parts for a few projects of mine that I liked to work on.

Oh, you're wondering what happened to me? How come I'm not working for Uncle - er, Dr. Jasper Schoenfeld or at any Shatterdome? Well, listen up - I quit. I can't handle being near any Jaegers anymore. Not after what happened to my father. Jason still is a Jaeger pilot... but I worry for him every day. We haven't talked in such a long time...

I grabbed my backpack which was full of various items - money, mechanical parts, tools, snacks, etc. I walked to the door of my small home on the second floor of an apartment building. It was quite large (compared to other people I knew who only had tiny homes or no home at all) with a bedroom, full kitchen, full bathroom, and a living room that connected to the kitchen. I felt lucky and guilty at the same time in this age of struggle.

Walking to the door, I slung my backpack over my shoulders, and sat down to slip on my combat boots. Standing up, I was finally ready to go and see what Merchant Street had to offer. The merchants should be just setting up or finishing setting up at this time of day - perhaps I could get some of the good things before they were all taken by the rush. My mind immediately thought of mechanical parts: gears, old radios, bolts, etc - those were all gold to me.

I unlocked the door by flicking a switch on the door's lock. I heard gears whir and then a click as the tiny machine unlocked the door. Yes, I made that little contraption myself. What? You can never be too safe around these parts. In my family, my mother and I were the cautious and thoughtful ones. My father and brother were more reckless and brave. A perfect balance.

I closed my door behind me, waiting a second for the whir of gears and a click as the contraption locked the door by itself. I took the stairs, walking down them in slight hurry. When I opened the side alley door, I was hit in the face with a cold blast of air. Boy, it sure is chilly! I zipped up my brown leather jacket then, hugging myself as I walked down the practically empty streets.

I lived in Los Angeles - the edge of it, really. Near the ocean, as a matter of fact. Was I near the Los Angeles Shatterdome? Sort of... I avoided it and ignored it the best I could though. Everytime I thought of it, or even saw it, my mood would immediately drop and I would think of the reason why it did. I didn't want to be involved anymore. I just can't do it. I can't...