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There's a crowd around the set up so large Herc and Scott can barely see the machine itself. They manage to push their way far enough through to be within range of Bruce and Trevin, who watch the contestants with a mix of fascinated amusement and something bordering on pride. The kaiju come in intervals, but they're getting closer, not further apart. The PPDC needs all the people they can get, and in an effort to cast a wider net, several compatibility gauges were set up publicly. The general public have no idea that the new craze is in fact a way to judge drift compatibility. To them, it is a new, highly complex interactive game that is both fun and challenging. So much so, that the craze has swept several nations, with bragging rights, betting rings and local hero status to every pair who consecutively score higher and higher. With an international rating system, the urge to prove themselves drives many to play the game professionally. Too many fail in the initial rounds, making a name for themselves only in how often they can succeed in multiple tries of particular levels.
Reaching level five is a standard requirement for all pilot hopefuls. It shows a level of body competency, quick reflexes, and connectivity. Most people who play and fail to succeed push on in attempts to win through sheer practice. Never knowing that the only way to fix the issue is to try again with someone else. The few that do realize inevitably end up squabbling, rotating through endless partners, growing more and more frustrated with each one as they fail to level up.
The PPDC changes the programs randomly with great regularity to weed out those who have just worn the strokes down to full body memory. It takes more than muscle memory to pilot a Jaeger. More than memorized choreography to take on kaiju.
The crowd roars, clapping and jumping and cheering as the pair on the high pressure pad, before the super sensitive laser regulators and two way camera connection breeze through the end of one level and start another.
"What level are they on?" Scott shouts, eyes still on the pair now forced to move quicker and more erratically. Every move in mandatory synchronization.
"Eleven," reply the Gages.
Herc and Scott tear their gazes away to stare at them.
"Did you say-?"
"Eleven," they reiterate, with wide grins.
"We only made it to nine," Scott points out.
"We were lucky to pass ten," Bruce says.
"Has anyone ever made eleven?" Herc asks, looking to the pair again.
"In the program? Only the Kaidanovskies."
"And in the public?"
"No one's made it past seven. Well...until now."
"Who are they?" Scott queries, gripping Herc's shoulder to lever himself a little higher in an attempt to see the pair furiously moving together in front of a giant screen.
"Local boys," answers Bruce.
"Their dad helped engineer the 'Dome," adds Trevin.
"Do they have names?"
"Becket." The twins point. Oldest to oldest, youngest to youngest.
"Yancy."
"Raleigh."
"Stacker must be beside himself," Scott quips.
Sirens go off as level twelve begins.
"They're slowing down," Herc notes.
"They've done eleven rounds straight. They're bound to run into trouble at some point."
But it's more than that. Herc can see the younger one, Raleigh, seems to be struggling, gulping in large breaths and coughing them out roughly. His brother slows automatically to match pace and make it easier on him. Yancy's talking to him, though it's difficult to make out what's being said. Raleigh nods and the pair change strategy, adjusting movements to counter their handicap.
"Smart," Scott comments, to nods from his fellow pilots.
Few people realize the format responds to shifts in game play. It is subtle, to be encouraging, but not directly obvious. The moves the Becket boys are performing aren't nearly as flashy or speedy as the ones they'd begun the round with, but they continue to match the computer's elaborate series of required movements. The display lighting up encouragingly, revving their audience.
They manage to finish the level, to uproarious cheering. And while the crowd shouts for more, the pair are done. Level thirteen begins and abruptly ends as Yancy steps out of alignment and into his brother's space. He throws an arm about him, relaying something rushed into his ear. They stumble down the platform, accepting pats, slaps, hand shakes, and what looks suspiciously like monetary exchanges.
Scott notices about the same time Herc does. "Those sneaky devils."
"They can't help it," Bruce says as Trevin waves one of Romeo Blue's J-crew to hand off bright red ration cards to the kids. "Orphans," he says. "On their own now."
"They do this to eat."
"And they work construction."
"They should be in the program," Herc points out.
"Not old enough."
"That's a damn shame," Scott sighs. "That's talent we could use running out that door."
"They'll make it in eventually," Bruce soothes. "Give them time."
"I think Raleigh's sick," Trevin says, bringing all of their attentions back to the boys.
They're arguing fiercely. Flushed and winded, Raleigh is shaking his head, pushing at Yancy, who ignores him and wraps his own scarf about the one Raleigh is already wearing. Yancy tugs his brother's jacket up and frowns, before pulling his own off and forcing Raleigh's limbs into it while another coughing fit sends him face first into his brother's chest.
They're still arguing when Herc closes in on them. "Oi!" he shouts in his best captain's voice. It works better on them than it does on Chuck. They freeze like any wild thing caught head on out of nowhere. "Stay right there."
There's a moment where Herc is damn sure they're going to bolt. They surprise him by straightening, lifting their chins. Yancy makes a better picture than Raleigh, who is still trying to catch his breath. He's mostly slumped against his brother's side. Mouth open, causing bursts in the cold air coming in through the door akin to any bellows.
"Is there a problem, sir?" Yancy asks smoothly.
He has to hand it to them, they've got the stones for it. Anyone willing to exploit their drift compatibility for survival is someone Herc wants at his back one day. He pauses in front of them, noting they're almost level with him. Might even be taller than him by the time they're Rangers. "Your brother needs a doctor."
"I know," Yancy replies, tugging Raleigh to him, shielding him with his body. "It's why we came."
Herc sighs and feels his heart ache. Kids shouldn't have to be taking care of themselves. He'll admit he isn't the best father, but his son is still fed and clothed, and while not necessarily as safe as he could be - not with being raised in Shatterdomes around the world, kaiju hunting - he's still cared for. Has medical attention, an education - even if the definition changes 'Dome to 'Dome - and two people who would rather die than see him suffer to care for him. These two are barely that much older than his own child, and the father in Herc wants to hit something in response to their situation.
"What were you planning to do, pay in rations?" he asks.
"Whatever I have to," Yancy snaps.
"Doctors....like...good rations..." Raleigh wheezes. "Every-one does."
"You're not going out into the cold after going twelve rounds," Herc informs them. "You'll both catch pneumonia."
"Pretty sure the kid already has it," Scott comments, having caught up.
Something wild and desperate flashes in Yancy's eyes for a moment, before he's tugging his brother back a step. "We can take care of ourselves."
"I don't doubt that," Herc responds. "But, it's supposed to be a bad one tonight. You'll never make it back to Anchorage in time."
"Yance..." Raleigh pleads.
Herc doesn't know what he's asking for, but his brother understands him clearly. He swallows, but doesn't respond.
"You're staying here tonight," Herc informs them. "He's seeing a doctor no one has to bribe. You're getting something good and hot into you, taking a nice shower, and going to bed."
The boys look at one another, clearly distrusting.
"Come on," Scott encourages. "No one's ratting you out, and all our crew hasn't settled in yet. No one's going to notice two more techs on Lucky's crew."
"Why do you care what we do?" Yancy responds. It's the tone of a child who's had to fend for a family too long on his own. Forced to grow up fast and protect those younger than him, to be steady when everything inside him has gone and upended so he can barely know himself.
Herc and Scott meet eyes. The wrong answer will send them bolting for sure. More than likely costing the world promising futures it is so desperately in need of.
"Ever thought about doing what we do?" Scott asks.
"What...do..." Raleigh doubles over in coughs, Yancy dipping and wrapping both arms around him to rub his chest and pat his back at the same time. There's worry in his face, fear in his stance, but his eyes are reassuring.
"Didn't even introduce yourself," Scott sighs. "I'm Scott Hansen. This is m' brother, Herc. We're-"
"We know who you are," Yancy interrupts. "Everybody knows who you are."
"Well, that's flattering," Scott responds, turning a grin on his brother.
"You've got a gift," Herc says, meeting Yancy's eyes. "Let us do you this favor. You can pay us back when you get a Jaeger of your own."
Two sets of eyebrows rise.
"You really....think...?"
"Not going to do anyone much good if you don't get that taken care of first."
"Yance," Raleigh whispers.
Herc meets Yancy's eyes. "No charge. No bribes. Consider it an investment."
Yancy looks over their shoulders and around the hangar.
Scott bites his lip.
"Okay," he concedes. "But, only 'til Raleigh's up and then we're out of here."
"No one's going to force you to stay," Herc promises.
"But if you do stay," Scott lures. "We'll let you see inside Lucky's conn-pod."
"DEAL!" Raleigh squeaks, before hacking again.
"Come on," Scott says, "Let's get you settled in."
As he walks off, talking animatedly at the pair, Bruce and Trevin pause on either side of Herc.
"An investment?" Trevin asks, amused.
"Some kids need to make their own way."
"It's not exactly a lie," Bruce adds.
"We've been trying to get these kids to stick around for two months. You're barely here two hours and you've got them spending the night."
Herc shrugs. "You do what you have to."
"You went all dad on them didn't you?"
Herc doesn't respond.
"Thinking about keeping them?"
"Chuck is enough."
"You don't sound sure."
Herc snorts. "Let's just get through tonight first."
"Admit it, you like the Becket boys."
"Not afraid to admit it. They're scrappy. Survivors. No shame in being who you are."
The Gages smile.
"Might be some hope after all," Trevin comments.
Bruce nods.
"For who?" Herc asks, brow furrowing slightly.
"Hey, Scott!" Trevin shouts. He throws up an arm and flags it around before pelting after them like a kid.
Bruce smiles, shakes his head and follows.
"For who?!" Herc shouts after them. But, it's a lost cause. With a sigh, he moves to follow. After all, if it were up to Scott...Herc has a sudden, unpleasant image of three boys in a shouting match and abruptly picks up his pace.