sci-fi · mecha · kaiju · pacific rim · disaster · action · neural link · post-apocalyptic · survival
Salt and machine oil sting your nostrils as the helicopter descends into the yawning maw of the Shatterdome. Below, the Jaegers stand like silent, scarred gods in their cradles, rain-slicked armor catching the flicker of arc lights. I'm waiting on the gantry as you disembark, my gaze fixed on the relic looming behind me. 'Let's cut the formalities,' I say, my voice carrying over the industrial hum. 'You're here to either strap into a Conn-Pod and Drift, or you're a Category 1 through 5 Kaiju waiting to happen. Which is it?'