Peter’s eyes anxiously wandered around the cabin, trying to latch onto… literally anything. Everything was better than what was right in front of him.
Stares.
Hateful, contemptuous gazes of people that would eviscerate him in an instant if given the chance. Thankfully, it was not meant to be – both the seatbelts and the armed escort prevented any injuries, accidental or otherwise.
Was he a coward for refusing to lock eyes with the woman whose son he killed? Or with the lad who had to endure Ni’s constant ‘affection’ for a week on top of that? He tried to pass it off as pragmatism, simply avoiding conflict but… His mind wasn’t as easily fooled.
He glanced at Michael in hopes that he was done talking over the radio, and finding his wish still unfulfilled, returned to idly enduring both the stares and the rumble.
Peter struggled to say if the fact that helicopters were not much faster than dragons surprised him or not. On one hand, he subconsciously expected a machine to be better – on the other, dragon wings had quite the surface area. Now that he thought about it, he wondered what they were even made of. Regular skin would have snapped in an instant, even being as thick as it was on them.
He decided he would need to ask a titan biologist and cut this train of thought, feeling his mind steering into sustainable extraction of dragon wing membranes.
“Did something happen?” Michael’s voice rang in his headphones.
A bit startled, Peter snapped back to him, finding the man curiously observing both him and the family. “W-what?”
“I see how they look at you and how you don’t look at them. Care to share?”
Peter took a deep breath, figuring out if doing so would be relevant to anything or not. In the end, it was pointless to keep a secret when everyone knew he was hiding something – it just made them imagine even worse things.
“They kidnapped me, I escaped. Her… husband tried to kill me for it, and I pushed him off the roof,” he summarised.
Michael’s eyebrows twitched ever so slightly, while the spark of curiosity in his eyes got partially replaced with a hint of caution. “You threw him off a building?”
“Well, he stabbed me.” Peter pulled his shirt up, revealing the stab wound that wasn’t yet a scar. “And I kind of… panicked?”
Michael scratched his cheek, glancing between his face and the wound, before slowly nodding. “I see… And yet, you still took them from… it was Taiwan, right?”
“Yeah…” Peter hid the wound. “They just hate me now and that’s that.”
“… Have you tried talking with them?”
“Of course I did,” Peter scoffed. “Through automatic translation. I explained everything to them and apologised… And got told that they will never forgive me, to which I replied that I wasn’t looking for it.” He shrugged. “It is what it is. Not everything can be mended.”
“I guess there’s some truth to that.”
Peter glanced at the mute woman sitting across the cabin, instantly lost his newfound courage, and returned to the conversation with renewed vigour. “Do I get to know where do I have to get over for the expedition?”
“It’s not an expedition, it’s a simple mission,” Michael corrected. “I probably shouldn’t be saying that over here, but…” He glanced at other people else in the cabin, confirming that everyone was disinterested. “… it’s not like they hear us anyways. We’re taking off from Dallas in a week.”
“Dallas? Wouldn’t it be better to start from Mexico? Closer and all?”
“No.” Michael shook his head. “Government is suppressing this, but southern territory got hit hard. City is basically leveled. We’ve lost control and a huge wave of refugees is about to hit Texas. Another reason why we’ve managed to persuade the council – it very well might be the last chance to do this.”
“I see you’re an optimist at heart,” Peter commented snidely.
“Call it whatever you want.” Michael shrugged. “I know I’m right.”
Peter nodded, stopping himself from drilling a hole for fun and looked out the window. They were finally flying over land, though the landscape’s colour told him it was still the exclusion zone. Still, even with the recent extension to its width, it meant that he will soon have to deal with another problem he had been ignoring for the last few weeks…
His phone buzzed, making him deeply inhale. His uncanny ability to remember issues right before they hit was vindicated yet again.
He slowly extracted the device and turned it on. Sixty-three unanswered calls, spread almost evenly between three numbers. His mother, his father, and Andrew.
Peter knew he had no way to contact them before – if there was one thing the government was great at, it was installing kill switches into everything and internet was no exception. As much as it vindicated his decision to buy Swedish hardware and never connect to American satellites, it still stung – he almost felt as if he forgot about them.
A price for not being as paranoid as him.
Not a minute later, his phone rang – his mother got notified that he was reachable now. Great, now what? Answering it inside a flying chopper was impossible – he didn’t even hear it ringing, despite literally holding it in his hands – and not answering in this situation would probably qualify as an asshole move. But rejecting the call…
He did just that, which he hoped would signify to her that he was alive, before doubling down and sending a short text message.
Can’t talk right now, will call you in an hour.
Hopefully, that would be enough.
***
They’ve reached their destination in what was closer to one and a half hours. The huge cargo choppers landed in the titanic base. The spinning blades slowed down at last, ending the enormous rumble that probably managed to relocate some of his internal organs via vibrations alone. Deciding to enjoy the blessed peace for a few more moments, he took a few deep breaths, before taking off the headphones and stepping out into the scorching sun of the desert.
“Lovely,” Peter commented, covering his eyes from the relentless sun.
“You’ll get used to it,” Michale replied.
“I lived in New Monica specifically because I didn’t want to live here,” Peter snarled. “I like being able to go out during the day.”
“It’s no bigger a shithole than Angeles nowadays.”
“Yeah, well, one was just fucking leveled,” Peter commented, already feeling more than droplets of sweat travelling down his neck.
“Exactly.”
With that, Michael turned around and made for one of the buildings, leaving him alone on the landing pad.
Well… Alone, except for… certain people that more than likely were the reason Michael left in such a hurry.
The mute woman… Stared at him with nothing but murderous intent, restrained only by the child in her arms. But the others… Zhou anxiously glanced around, visibly uncomfortable with seeing so many people at once, which made at least some sense – after all, he was stuck his entire life with only his close family for company. The old woman’s reaction was a mix of disbelief and relief, as if she had convinced herself long ago that she would never see anything resembling civilisation again and was getting a severe whiplash because of it.
Her legs suddenly trembled and gave way, causing her to fall… If Zhou and Peter didn’t rush to catch her, almost in unison. With a temporary truce in place, they hauled her to a nearby bench, letting her rest for a bit.
“Zhou, wǒ shì zài zuòmèng ma? Zhè shì zhēn de ma? Wǒmen ānquán ma?” the old woman asked, tearing up.
„…Nǎinai, wǒ juédé nín méi shuìzhe,” Zhou replied, hugging her.
Suddenly realising he was facing away from the mute woman, Peter withdrew until she came into view again.
“I’m sorry,” Peter sighed. “And good luck.”
With that, he left the family, hoping someone would soon express any modicum of interest in them, choosing to focus on his own problems.
Peter knew what he wanted to say, but despite having more than enough time to think it through, he still struggled to think… how to. A twitch of his initiated the call without his consent, forcing him to wing it.
“Peter? It’s you?”
“Yes, mom… It’s me,” he replied.
“Oh, thank God…” she sighed with immense relief. “I… We… Peter, we… We all thought you were dead…” she whimpered. “Why… why didn’t you call anyone? Why?”
“I…” he hesitated. “I don’t think it’s a subject for a phone call… But I could visit if you’re home.”
“Yes, please…” she snapped. “I’ll call your father and… j-just tell me, when…”
“I’m in town right now. I can be there in an hour or two,” he cut her off.
“You’re in Vegas?! Why didn’t say anything!”
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“It’s not a phone call subject, mom. I’ll be home soon, then we will talk.”
“… Right… I will ready everything.”
With that said, he ended the call, hating himself for being so cruel to his own mother. Still, the subject really wasn’t something to be discussed like…
“I will be damned, it IS you!” a familiar voice rang behind him.
Peter turned around witnessing an old visage hidden behind the extremely recognisible shades – a man he owed a lot to, and who was currently focused on an ice cream cone.
“Major Clarence? Is that you… Sir?” he added that last part after a bit of hesitation.
“In the flesh, son.” The man nodded. “It shouldn’t be that surprising, I’m not the one trespassing here.”
Peter laughed. “Well, technically, I’m not trespassing either, since I’ve just landed… Unless we go by airport rules, of course.”
The Major smirked and patted him on the shoulder, before rushing to save a droplet about to fall off his ice cream. “I’m sure we can find a lawyer who could arrange that.”
“Yeah, surely…” Peter shook his head, remembering about the self-imposed deadline. “I’m sorry, but I’m in a bit of a rush, so…”
“Where are you going?” Gregory interrupted him.
“… Just to visit family and tie some loose threads, basically.”
“Well, that sounded ominous enough for me. I’m in, let’s go.” The Major waved at him to follow, making for the parking lot.
It took a few seconds before it clicked that he was serious – maybe because of the heat, or maybe because he was again astonished that anyone associated with the government could be helpful… Anyways, he soon found himself observing the old man forcing his way into a Humvee which’s keys he basically stole from one of the guards.
“I can take a cab, you know. No need for that,” Peter mumbled, not sure what to do.
“And I have literally nothing better to do,” the Major announced, slamming the door shut. “Get in.”
Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, Peter climbed into the passenger seat, and – after realising the Major disregarded his seatbelt – fastened his own with a very ominous feeling.
It was vindicated immediately – Gregory apparently learned driving from watching crash tests and stuntmen shows and tried to convince everyone on the road that his style was the correct one. Something that most drivers were reluctantly agreeing with when confronted with his armoured brick of a car.
If there was one thing he noticed – aside from constant near-death experiences – it was that the sidewalks proved exceptionally busy. Hordes of people rolling from one place to another, seemingly following the fluid mechanics more than any conscious choice. Every parking lot, every free spot on the grass, and every otherwise unused plot of land was filled with trailers, campers, and tents, with the ever-present trucks and cranes going around and distributing house trailers. Not a societal collapse yet – just an aftermath of coming way too close to it.
“Pretty busy today,” Peter murmured.
“It’s really not that bad today.” The Major shrugged. “It was bad the day everyone came. People sleeping on the streets, breaking into houses, rampant stealing, murder over bread… We had to deploy troops to curb the riots.”
“Mhm…”
“Exactly why I didn’t want you walking alone – you’d get killed or robbed at best.”
“How does that differ from regular Vegas?” Peter joked.
“Hah! Truth to that…” The Major yawned. “Still, just a bad idea, especially during election week.”
“Wait, are they really trying to host elections right now?” Peter glanced at him incredulously.
“Why not? They already picked the winner.”
“Truth to that…” Peter snickered.
“Still, what are you planning to tell your mother?”
Peter got thrown out of balance with the sudden whiplash… which was probably the intent. “I mean… Tell them that I was and still am working with the military on a project I can’t disclose anything about…” He scratched his head. “What else could I tell them?”
“I don’t know, something about your golden friends?”
“Oh yes, I’m going to tell them that I’m fucking a titan,” he scoffed. “Believable, right?”
The Major nodded, focusing on driving for a short while, before loudly clearing his throat. “You’re doing what?”
Peter cursed himself, realising that the Major’s ploy did get something out of him, even if not exactly what he expected. He met Major’s eyes with something approaching defiance. “It’s private.”
Gregory stared at him for a few seconds, almost running someone over, before finally focusing on the road again. “I… don’t know if it’s something to congratulate for? Is… this the one you came with, or…”
“The one that was running from the camera on my recordings.”
“… Ichi, right?”
Peter glanced at him again. “…Yes… How many times did you watch those videos?” he asked cautiously.
“Lost count, but I guess they’ve played them at least fifty times during questioning.”
Peter inhaled, the weight of unintended consequences catching up with him at last.“… Sorry?”
“No need to. You’ve done everything I asked for.” Gregory glanced at him. “And it worked out in the end. I don’t think you realise how much you killing that thing helped everyone… One big strawberry shake.”
Peter shook his head and noticed that they were at a drive-through. “And one big vanilla,” Peter added.
“Ah yes, now you’re normal,” Gregory scoffed without any real bite to it.
Despite the restaurant being more than crowded, they got their drinks in at least somewhat reasonable timeframe and continued on their merry path of destruction. Peter tried to go over the bullshit he was planning to sell his family, before something struck him – the exact circumstances of their meeting… “You got moved to Vegas permanently, Major?”
“Yes… Me and whatever remains of my unit after Angeles fell. And yes, I’m very unhappy about it,” he sighed, pushing his shades back. “But what you’re gonna do, eh? It now classifies as a frontline city for the morons in the White House…” The Major took a deep breath, his hands twitching on the steering wheel. “If I were a bit younger, I would go to pay them a visit in Detroit and ‘persuade’ them to rebuild and reclaim, instead of dumping everyone here.”
“You’d want to rebuild New Angeles?” Peter asked incredulously.
“Of course. Think about it, son – if we do not, it means that we had to fall back again. That we lost again, and it is only a matter of time before this place falls too, forcing us even further back. No one wins a war by only defending – you have to attack to deal the killing blow.”
“Sure,” Peter scoffed. “Worked really well for Germany in France, or Russia in Ukraine, or for us in Iran, or China in Taiwan…”
“You know what I mean,” he replied grimly. “This isn’t a war about some useless dictator getting too greedy for their own good – we are fighting for survival here.”
“I’m sure it would work great.” Peter rolled his eyes, focusing on the view outside the window that was slowly getting more and more familiar.
Maybe they could make it before his shake would run out. Gregory took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and almost inaudibly murmured to himself. “Just a year more, Greg…”
Rotating the sentence in his mind, Peter deducted that it must have been about his imminent retirement, since… realistically, what else could it reference? Looking at him now, he could see that Gregory appeared younger than he was mostly because of the lively and jovial persona he was putting on. Physically though… Yeah, he was definitely pushing seventy.
It hit him how strange it was – Gregory appeared, behaved, and gave off an overall feeling of an old man… Yet the dragon sisters, being literally a million times older, did not. He subconsciously classified them as almost contemporaries… Okay, that was a lie – Kendall was about twelve in his mind, Ni in early twenties, and Ichi around thirty-five. Mom, daughter, and the crazy aunt…
But it had one more implication.
He looked at his own hands… and then at Gregory’s. In forty years, he would look the same as him, IF he was lucky… but most likely, he’d die before reaching that age.
How… How important would those decades be? His life would be a blip to them – something that popped in and disappeared after a blink. Would he… be remembered? Would they mourn him? Or would his presence be too brief to truly register… Their minds were static, yet he couldn’t determine which extreme would materialise.
He pulled in some of the holy liquid, cooling his brain a bit more than intended, producing a different thought. What if them forgetting was ultimately a good thing? Would he really be happy knowing that Ichi would be crying herself to sleep each night for millions of years?
He let out the air, supporting his head on his fist. No. Certainly not. He would rather her forget him quickly. That fleeting happiness he could give her wasn’t worth the torment following it…
“Here?” the Major’s voice snapped him out of the sulking session.
Peter glanced at the neighbourhood that turned from vaguely familiar to instantly recognisible. They were around a hundred meters away – in fact, they overshot a little.
“That green house with a white Ford sticking out to the sidewalk.”
The Major reversed and stopped right in front of the entrance – just enough time to decide that worrying about a future that remote was pointless, seeing how they were still unlikely to survive the next few years.
“Here you go… See, after all this talk, I forgot to ask you about that secret operation,” the Major commented.
“I couldn’t tell you much anyways. It’s secret for… some reason I guess.”
“I have ways of extracting things, son,” he smirked, before speeding off to terrorise more civilians before the day ended.
Once again greeted by the harsh sun, Peter took a deep breath, finished his drink, and turned around to find a trash can… Instead finding himself smothered by the brown-haired, middle-aged woman he had expected to meet inside.
“Oh God… It is you…” she whimpered between ragged breaths, cuddling into his chest.
“Yes mom… It’s me.” He embraced her back, feeling awful for how much she trembled.
They cuddled like this for long – long enough for random pedestrians to start taking note of them, which predictably didn’t have the slightest effect on her. In the end, Peter was the one to relent first, once the heat got him sweatier that he was comfortable with.
“Anyone’s home?” he asked, looking over her head and instantly answering his own question. Two faces oscillating between mild relief and major anger stared at him from the inside.
His question didn’t seem to reach her consciousness though, which forced him to basically lift her and reach the door with her dangling from him. As soon as the door closed, his father peeled her off of him and… smacked him in the face with less than friendly force.
Peter grunted when his head got forcefully turned away. “I guess I deserved that,” he huffed, massaging his jaw. “Good to see you too, dad.”
“Yes… Good to see you,” his father replied, before embracing him as well.
What it made up in strength, it lost in duration, and soon he found himself staring at the last link – the most unfortunate link in the family chain.
“Hey, prototype,” Andrew said snidely.
“Copy’s still salty? Good,” Peter replied, crossing his arms.
“At least I’m not homeless.”
“Hah… Nowadays, it’s almost true…” he sighed, turning to face his parents again and… earning a sucker punch to the gut from Andrew.
“That’s for making mom worry,” Andrew announced, looking at his bent in half brother.
The urge to obliterate his brother and every living memory of him hit his mind just a tad bit lighter than the pain.
“Fuck… Right in the stab wound…” Peter wheezed.
“In the WHAT?!” his mother screamed, instantly helping to haul him away to the couch, leaving the two men somewhat stunned.
“It’s fine, really…” Peter huffed as his shirt got rapidly removed. “It almost healed already, it’s just that…”
“Where did you even get it?!” she panicked, seeing just how wide it actually was and rushing for the counter with medicine. “HOW did you get it?!”
“Mom, please, stop. It’s old and it’s almost healed – bandaging it won’t…”
Of course, he could talk for as long as he liked to, but it wouldn’t have pushed past the first trenches of her mind, never mind actually reaching the decision-making parts of it. Soon, he found himself drowning in salves and ointments, while herbal teas of all varieties piled on the bench in front of him. Only after the fourth glass almost made him puke did his mother relent and sat down across the table.
“Are you finished now?” Peter asked, exasperated.
“Maybe a little more respect, boy?” his father growled.
Something that once upon a time would have made him cower in fear, but after months of facing kaijus, kidnappers, titans with mood swings, and combinations of all the above, it just earned a counter stare from him. One of boredom, exhaustion, and hardening so immense that it nigh instantly shattered the fatherly confidence and sent him into a state of confusion Peter had never seen him in before.
“How did you get it?” his mother repeated, breaking the awkward silence.
“Well, it was in Taiwan.”
His mother sighed and rolled her eyes.
“Dude, are you serious?” Andrew’s stoicism melted in an instant. “You come here after putting mom through all of this and then you just LIE again?! And not even believably?!”
“I am working for the military,” Peter lied, though not fully. “Taking part in important projects. Usually SECRET projects, imagine that. This much I can disclose without getting summarily executed.”
“You…” his father hesitated. “You’re what?”
“Have you not noticed how I got here?” Peter seamlessly incorporated random goodwill into his bullshit. “Yeah, exactly.” He gave them a few seconds to process his words, before trying to continue, but got instantly cut off.
“… Taiwan?” Andrew spat out.
“Yes.” Peter nodded.
“Why?!”
“Equipment scavenging?” He shrugged. “This much I can tell you, but it didn’t really accomplish much.”
“What equipment?” his father chimed in curiously.
“Old Jaeger carcasses,” he replied truthfully this time. “Mostly failure… But the other thing I can tell you is that I was… partially responsible for killing one blackscale, so there’s that.
“Right…” his mother began after another awkward pause. “You know what, why not discuss it over dinner? It’s… almost ready…”
Once everyone quietly agreed, Peter began systematising the rest of his lies so they would make sense with his slight spill. After all, he had a few days to spend here…
***