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They have been fighting for the better half of the evening, Manila Bay set alight with engine fire and Kaiju blood. The monsters evolved from human attacks unexpectedly fast, growing stronger with each wave sent through the Breach. In the past three months alone, the Earth has seen more Kaiju events than in the last ten years, and their merciless visits have whittled Jaegers and pilots down to a remaining handful.
Now, they come to collect recompense— multiple Kaiju sent through the Breach at the same time to settle their war once and for all.
Sitting in the world’s largest Jaeger, Neve and Freyja are humanity’s final line of defense.
There can be no mistakes.
Freyja already watched as Saber Knave— the technological masterpiece they’ve meticulously engineered for the last five years— was felled in five minutes by a well-timed electromagnetic pulse.
Even their quickest Jaegers can’t get a foothold within the five-mile radius of the Breach, but all they needed was one. A single unit to slip through their ranks and seal the Breach forever. Freyja watches her peers’ continued attempts at the corner of her vision, but that is all she can afford.
Beside her, Neve Gallus is drenched in sweat. Steaming. Despite hours of fighting, they still manage to predict each other’s thoughts with pinpoint accuracy. Two halves of the same whole. Well-oiled and perfectly matched.
“About to have a problem,” Neve calls out, breathless. They jab their elbow into the throat of the Category IV charging towards them, the blades affixed to Grave Horizon’s joints shooting out to deliver a quick blow.
The Kaiju digs its claws into their hull in retaliation, the sound of breaking metal echoing in Freyja’s ears like a bullet. They can’t shake it free. It scratches up the mechanical ridges of Grave Horizon’s spine, but she is far from helpless. She is five times the size of a regular unit, and Freyja alone has enough strength to lift a Leatherback over their head.
“Trouble …” Neve warns with an arched brow, but Freyja is already hooking their arm around the Kaiju’s leg and running at full speed, digging their shoulder into its stomach and pushing the monster back until its foot snags on high breakwaters.
When you drift with someone, you are immediately privy to most of each other’s thoughts. Neve was the only one quick enough to keep up with hers.
As the Kaiju stumbles back with a screech, Neve resists the urge to laugh. “That’s one way to do it.”
Her smile is enough to fuel Freyja for at least two more hours. “Oh, ‘ye of little faith.”
They drive their sword down at its chest, but the Kaiju rolls out of reach. Not without tearing its shoulder, luminescent blood— bright and blue— mixing with the disturbed sediment of the ocean like ink through gravel.
Their radio hums to life and Varric’s voice rings through the speakers. Rogue Corinthian descending, he says, Horizon, stay alert.
Of course Victoire and Lucanis would manage to slip past the other Kaiju. There had to be a reason they earned the moniker of god-killers.
But it’s too early to celebrate.
Several feet away, the angered Category IV clutches at its injured arm— still hanging desperately onto its shoulder by a few thick tendons.
Freyja plans on relieving it of all its limbs.
Digging their feet into the ground, the pair of them raise their fists to their face, ready for a fight. Horizon, brace yourself! Harding’s voice is lost as another Kaiju barrels into their side, smaller than the first, but quicker.
They lose their balance and topple to the ground, arms still lifted in defense as the smaller Kaiju jabs repeatedly at their helmet.
A hundred meters to the Breach. Varric’s voice drips with worry, but all Freyja can hear is the blaring alarm of their systems failing. Something has punctured their engine and as the Kaiju above them rears back, Freyja can see three or four tentacles piercing aimlessly at their Jaeger.
“Frost it, Neve!” she shouts through the chaos, and Neve acts before Freyja could even finish— manually detonating the coolant tank in their right arm. Liquid nitrogen spreads out and up the Kaiju’s limbs, and they shatter it easily with their left arm.
It screeches in pain and perforates Grave Horizon with one deft stroke before Harding and Taash can get to it, cutting its head off with their chainsaw blade.
Bomb deployed. Core meltdown in T-minus 60. Somebody check on de Riva now!
In all the commotion, Freyja didn’t even realize that the spike of the Kaiju’s tentacle caught her side. She tries to move, but the burning pain flares outward from her torso, unbearable and all-consuming. Like holding her hand over an open flame. Despite trying to play it off, her breaths start coming in quick and shallow.
She can see three Kaiju dead through their dashboard. Probably more near the Breach.
They’ve put up a good fight, and the chuckle Freyja releases is bitter and bloody.
“No, no, no,” Neve mutters, running to release her from the rig. Freyja falls into her arms, the warmth of her neck familiar. Comforting. Faintly, she feels a hand pressed to her rib where the bleeding is worst.
“Just a flesh wound, mi vida,” Freyja whispers, refusing to look up and see the damage for herself. If she pretends long enough, she may still make it.
“Rook’s hit! We need help!”
Neve pulls her to her feet and out of the Jaeger, which quickly fills up with fuel and briny water. In their struggle, Harding and Taash are nowhere to be seen. Victoire and Lucanis have gone radio silent, too.
And as the pair of them stumble onto a nearby shore, the first rays of sun begin bathing the sea in glitter and light.
She imagines the warmth of it on her skin. Enough to stave off the creeping cold of the ocean and death.
“It’s not that bad, Trouble,” Neve starts, and Freyja immediately knows she’s lying. Tears cloud her eyes and there’s an uncharacteristic waver in her voice that Freyja has only heard once— back in the training rooms, right before Neve simultaneously professed her feelings and didn’t.
But with the way they worked, she never really had to use her words. Freyja understood her love just as much without them.
“You need to stay with me, okay? Stay with me.”
Even on the terrifying edge of the unknown, Neve’s voice remains a beacon. Freyja focuses her whole existence on it until her thoughts and pain are blasted away, leaving only the exhilarating feeling of being held.
Her bloodied fingers reach for Neve’s, holding it to her cheek.
“We make a fine team, Neve Gallus.”
The last thing she sees is the horizon painted in dawn.