for ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
driftcompatible
Aug. 26th, 2013 09:59 amThere is absolutely no worse feeling than knowing that your child died from a direct result of your actions.
Herc had watched Chuck fall to his death screaming, Leatherback's angry roar not enough to drown out the terrified noise that ripped from his son's throat before the ocean swallowed him up and his armor dragged him down. It left Herc shell-shocked, useless even without his broken clavicle, and he was honestly surprised when Stacker left him in charge of the final mission.
He wouldn't have.
But somehow he managed, somehow he was able to stand there in the LOCCENT, was able to direct the last two Jaegers to finish the mission and seal the breach forever. They knew they were going to die. Every pilot does when they strap themselves in. Herc had stepped up to that microphone knowing that he would listen to the death of his best friend and his maybe-girlfriend, and it was only what he deserved for killing his son. He had to listen to Chuck die, too. It seems fitting.
Striker Eureka detonated in a giant nuclear explosion and Herc felt what was left of his heart shatter, leaving him a hollow man-shaped shell.
He was only able to get through the press dockets and the paperwork and ordering the decontamination protocols because he had done all this before and his autopilot instincts were good. But if anyone were to look at the footage, they would see a broken man, haggard and grieving, the light gone out of his eyes, every fiber screaming he'd given up.
Most days now, Herc drinks himself into oblivion with cheap moonshine, hoping to numb the agony he feels with every breath. It never works.
Herc had watched Chuck fall to his death screaming, Leatherback's angry roar not enough to drown out the terrified noise that ripped from his son's throat before the ocean swallowed him up and his armor dragged him down. It left Herc shell-shocked, useless even without his broken clavicle, and he was honestly surprised when Stacker left him in charge of the final mission.
He wouldn't have.
But somehow he managed, somehow he was able to stand there in the LOCCENT, was able to direct the last two Jaegers to finish the mission and seal the breach forever. They knew they were going to die. Every pilot does when they strap themselves in. Herc had stepped up to that microphone knowing that he would listen to the death of his best friend and his maybe-girlfriend, and it was only what he deserved for killing his son. He had to listen to Chuck die, too. It seems fitting.
Striker Eureka detonated in a giant nuclear explosion and Herc felt what was left of his heart shatter, leaving him a hollow man-shaped shell.
He was only able to get through the press dockets and the paperwork and ordering the decontamination protocols because he had done all this before and his autopilot instincts were good. But if anyone were to look at the footage, they would see a broken man, haggard and grieving, the light gone out of his eyes, every fiber screaming he'd given up.
Most days now, Herc drinks himself into oblivion with cheap moonshine, hoping to numb the agony he feels with every breath. It never works.
for suicidemission
Aug. 16th, 2013 12:39 pmIt had been jarring, to lose the Drift mid-fight like that. Herc had been left reeling, feeling like a rubber band that'd been snapped back into place too quickly, his synapses left stinging and raw. The silence in his head where Chuck's constant low-level mental grumbling had been is oddly oppressive. To cover for his discomfort, he had fallen back on old, somewhat stupid habits, looking a no-win scenario right in the eye and then shooting it there with a flare gun because fuck you there was no goddamn way he was going to let some ugly bastard like Leatherback destroy half of Hong Kong and kill millions of people, not if he had anything to say about it.
Herc knew they were going to die, but they were going to die with a snarl on their face and flare guns in their hands, their sacrifice would allow the people of Hong Kong maybe a few more minutes to get to safety and it would be worth it.
But then Gipsy Danger arrived at the eleventh hour (typical Americans, god) and their imminent demise was averted.
Which meant a lot of time wasted waiting for the choppers to come pluck them off of Striker's bowed head.
"So," Herc begins, cradling his hurt arm to his chest. Time to needle Chuck to distract him from the searing pain spreading across his chest and shoulder. "You and that pretty little scientist, huh?"
Herc knew they were going to die, but they were going to die with a snarl on their face and flare guns in their hands, their sacrifice would allow the people of Hong Kong maybe a few more minutes to get to safety and it would be worth it.
But then Gipsy Danger arrived at the eleventh hour (typical Americans, god) and their imminent demise was averted.
Which meant a lot of time wasted waiting for the choppers to come pluck them off of Striker's bowed head.
"So," Herc begins, cradling his hurt arm to his chest. Time to needle Chuck to distract him from the searing pain spreading across his chest and shoulder. "You and that pretty little scientist, huh?"
for driftcompatible, driftsolo
Aug. 12th, 2013 11:10 pmIt's been a long day. His head's pounding again — probably not from his hangover, just from a stress headache, fucking paperwork, he hates it — and his face aches dully and all that Herc wants to do now is go back to his room and read a book or something, watch some TV, do anything other than focus on what's going on in his life.
But he hasn't seen Mako all day, hasn't had a text from her, hasn't heard her voice down the corridor, and he's a little worried. Not that she's hurt herself or anything, but that... Well. He's not really sure.
All he knows is he wants to see her.
So instead of going to his rooms, he turns left instead of right and heads down towards where she's still living. He could walk this route in his sleep, he's so used to it, and it factors into why he only knocks briefly on her door as a courtesy before pushing it open and letting himself in.
"Mako, sweetheart?"
He can feel the tension leaking out of his spine already as he steps into her room—
She and Raleigh are curled around each other, clinging to each other, their heads tucked in close. And while Hercules knows you'll always be physically close to your copilot, always want to touch and reassure yourself that they're really there, always want to be around them, to talk to them, to hear their voice and feel their presence beside you, that doesn't stop his heart from stuttering in his chest, a tiny voice in the back of his head crowing, hah I told you I knew this would happen you're never going to be good enough why do you even try anymore you should just give up already.
"Oh." Wow, is that really his voice? He doesn't remember sounding like that. He tries again, clearing his throat, his eyes dropping to the floor so he doesn't have to see them wrapped around each other. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you'd still be here..."
He's backing up now, reaching for the door.
"I'll...try later."
But he hasn't seen Mako all day, hasn't had a text from her, hasn't heard her voice down the corridor, and he's a little worried. Not that she's hurt herself or anything, but that... Well. He's not really sure.
All he knows is he wants to see her.
So instead of going to his rooms, he turns left instead of right and heads down towards where she's still living. He could walk this route in his sleep, he's so used to it, and it factors into why he only knocks briefly on her door as a courtesy before pushing it open and letting himself in.
"Mako, sweetheart?"
He can feel the tension leaking out of his spine already as he steps into her room—
She and Raleigh are curled around each other, clinging to each other, their heads tucked in close. And while Hercules knows you'll always be physically close to your copilot, always want to touch and reassure yourself that they're really there, always want to be around them, to talk to them, to hear their voice and feel their presence beside you, that doesn't stop his heart from stuttering in his chest, a tiny voice in the back of his head crowing, hah I told you I knew this would happen you're never going to be good enough why do you even try anymore you should just give up already.
"Oh." Wow, is that really his voice? He doesn't remember sounding like that. He tries again, clearing his throat, his eyes dropping to the floor so he doesn't have to see them wrapped around each other. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you'd still be here..."
He's backing up now, reaching for the door.
"I'll...try later."
for driftcompatible
Aug. 10th, 2013 01:04 amTrue to his word, Hercules had gone as soon as he was able and found Mako a ring to make this whole engagement thing official.
There's still times during the day when he can't quite believe this is happening to him — pregnant, Mako's carrying his child, he's going to be a father again — but Herc has spent pretty much his whole life adapting to situations that throw him for a loop, and this time is no different. He's already set the paperwork into motion that will reassign her into the officer's quarters, her as well as him.
The ring burning a hole in his pocket, Hercules clambers down from his helicopter and nods to the pilot, striding across the tarmac like a man on a mission. Which he is. It's just about lunchtime, which means he'll be able to find Mako down in the mess hall, and while there's a part of him that balks at the idea of such a large audience for what he's going to do, the rest of him is grateful for it. He was really ashamed by the realization that Mako thought he was hiding their relationship because he didn't love her, and he's determined to prove her wrong.
Proposing in front of the entire 'dome will do that, right?
There's still times during the day when he can't quite believe this is happening to him — pregnant, Mako's carrying his child, he's going to be a father again — but Herc has spent pretty much his whole life adapting to situations that throw him for a loop, and this time is no different. He's already set the paperwork into motion that will reassign her into the officer's quarters, her as well as him.
The ring burning a hole in his pocket, Hercules clambers down from his helicopter and nods to the pilot, striding across the tarmac like a man on a mission. Which he is. It's just about lunchtime, which means he'll be able to find Mako down in the mess hall, and while there's a part of him that balks at the idea of such a large audience for what he's going to do, the rest of him is grateful for it. He was really ashamed by the realization that Mako thought he was hiding their relationship because he didn't love her, and he's determined to prove her wrong.
Proposing in front of the entire 'dome will do that, right?
for driftcompatible
Aug. 6th, 2013 07:56 pmHercules is the type of man to wear clothing that doesn't quite fall within regulation guidelines — nowhere in the PPDC rulebook does it say that leather boots like his or henleys and heavy canvas vests are within uniform regulations — so seeing him in civvies is no real surprise for most people around the 'dome.
Usually his civvies aren't quite as...suggestive, though. It's nothing overt, but someone as powerfully built as Hercules can wear a burlap sack and make it seem sexy if he tries, so the well-worn jeans that hug his thighs and make his ass look like that of a man twenty years his junior are a little indecent. As is the tight olive-drab tee shirt he's wearing, his dog tags disrupting the way it stretches across his chest. He's taken to wearing Chuck's bomber jacket most days when he needs to leave the 'dome, but since he's making an effort for them to have some semblance of privacy on this outing, he's left it behind and is wearing the old, worn leather jacket he got when he was still in the RAAF.
It could be purely psychological, but dressing in clothes he hasn't really worn since peacetime makes him feel...much more at peace.
Max is off with Tendo, which means he's got nothing to do while he waits for Mako to show up; nothing to do, that is, but run his hand absently over his vintage Waratah motorbike.
Usually his civvies aren't quite as...suggestive, though. It's nothing overt, but someone as powerfully built as Hercules can wear a burlap sack and make it seem sexy if he tries, so the well-worn jeans that hug his thighs and make his ass look like that of a man twenty years his junior are a little indecent. As is the tight olive-drab tee shirt he's wearing, his dog tags disrupting the way it stretches across his chest. He's taken to wearing Chuck's bomber jacket most days when he needs to leave the 'dome, but since he's making an effort for them to have some semblance of privacy on this outing, he's left it behind and is wearing the old, worn leather jacket he got when he was still in the RAAF.
It could be purely psychological, but dressing in clothes he hasn't really worn since peacetime makes him feel...much more at peace.
Max is off with Tendo, which means he's got nothing to do while he waits for Mako to show up; nothing to do, that is, but run his hand absently over his vintage Waratah motorbike.
