#the texts amadeus is getting are mostly keysmash followed by 'he cute tho'

[moosemonstrous]

btw I have now put links to both the tag here and on AO3 in my bio bc I got sick of scrolling through tumblr 😌 Full disclosure - I have met lab people who act like small animals caught in the middle of a road whenever someone dares to enter their domain.

Ghost Rider Pacific Rim AU - sticks and stones

“Can’t promise the spot will stay open,” Kwok tells him apologetically. “But this is good, no? All the young’uns want to go to the academy!”

Robbie would bet his working eyeball that none of the young'uns would be so keen on it after ten minutes alone with Major Brooks. “So I keep hearing,” he mutters. “Sorry for the trouble. I appreciate you taking me on in the first place.”

“Navos is good people,” Kwok shrugs. The Shatterdome functions on a rather opaque network of favours and IOUs. ‘Good people’ seems to be a fairly high praise. Not quite on 'one of ours' level, but high. “You remember me when you are a ranger up in the dome and we’re even.”

And just like that, the transport maintenance chapter of Robbie’s career closes with little fanfare. Technically, he didn’t have to come speak to Kwok in person – his assignment has already gone through and the man would’ve been notified either way. He doesn’t want to leave a bad impression, though. For all he knows, the battery of tests he’d been fast-tracked through the day before will spit out some convoluted reason for why the drift activated on its own and he will be back on the job market before the end of the week. At least there are plenty of positions open – it’s easier to hire someone inside the base and train them up than wait for the paperwork to clear for an experienced worker from the outside.

He remembers the last time he let himself think things were finally turning around, though. He’s not going to make that mistake again.

At least his head is clearer after half an hour in a giant magnet and a full night’s sleep. He’s still unable to hold a conversation with Ivanov without some truly strange thoughts popping up like bubbles on the surface of a pot – the more tired or angry he gets, the harder it is to ignore them. He knew he was going to pay for running on fumes for weeks, and being sedated for nearly three days must have knocked something loose, but. Nothing proper sleep hygiene and some semblance of a routine won’t fix.

Or maybe you’re just noticing stuff, because you ain’t an idiot. Huh? Could it be that?

Or maybe this whole business with The Charger is extremely weird and Robbie should be packing up and running for the hills. Unfortunately, his and Gabe’s permits only work in Hong Kong and when he last checked how much it would be to fly back to US, he had to sit down for a long moment. Even if he was willing to risk taking a ship, where would that leave them? Back on a decimated coast, hoping the wind doesn’t blow over nuclear fallout, and struggling to find enough food for both of them? Queuing at state borders for days or weeks, hoping they’ll be lucky enough to get through on the increasingly stringent rules? Nevada already stopped letting in anyone without immediate family members or sponsors in-state.

Looks like the only way forward is through.

His wristband scans through to the R&D wing now. The soldiers standing guard give Robbie odd looks, but don’t make a move to stop him, so he forces his shoulders down and walks through the armoured door like he knows what he’s doing.

He has no idea what he’s doing. Cho said, ‘come find me in R&D before noon’. There are at least fifteen labs just in this one corridor and none of the doors have anything approaching a comprehensible naming convention. Some signs are just a piece of printer paper with a name scrawled over it, some have the original writing taped over with a KEEP OUT sticker, some seem to list the people working inside. None of those list an Amadeus Cho. It’s half past eleven.

Eventually, Robbie sticks his head in a room labelled ‘HMT DES’. Inside, there are three circular podiums with a mannequin each, showcasing variations of the PPDC hazmat suits. There are three people inside; two hide behind the middle suit as soon as they notice him, leaving the third to fend for herself.

“Can–can I help you?” she asks nervously. She has blue hair and wears fishnet sleeves over a tank top. Not exactly the nerd attire Robbie was expecting.

“I’m looking for Amadeus Cho,” he explains, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. It’s the opposite of what he usually tries to achieve, and she looks like she might be having an anxiety attack. “Any idea where I could find him?”

The girl listens to some frantic whispering from behind the suit. “In the bone lab,” she squeaks. Then blushes so hard Robbie worries she might actually pass out. “Up one floor, two doors down on the left, thankyouseeyoulater.”

What the hell.

He closes the door.

At least with the directions he finds the right room in less than five minutes. The label indeed reads ‘bone lab’. He’s pretty sure the music blasting from the inside is Dead Kennedys. When nobody answers his knocking, he prays he isn’t about to embarrass himself further and pushes the door open.

Cho is standing with his back to him at a table completely covered in… either huge chunks of dirty plaster or – more likely and vastly more disturbingly – massive bone fragments. He’s holding a metal training staff. Before Robbie can call out, he brings it over his head and smashes one of the chunks. When it doesn’t break, he adjusts his grip and tries again. And again. And again, until the greenish-grey surface cracks, at which point he gives out a little whoop.

“Cho?” Robbie risks. The music is too loud, coming from a small bluetooth speaker at the edge of the table. It’s shaped like a cat head. “Hey, Cho!”

Cho whirls around with the staff ready to smack the intruder. He’s wearing thick safety goggles. When he sees Robbie, he drops his weapon to the table with a clatter. “Good news!” he shouts over the music, like it’s normal both for people to just show up in his lab and to start a conversation from the middle. “You don’t have brain cancer!”

Well. That’s definitely good news.

“Was that a–?” He waits for Cho to lower the speaker’s volume through his phone. “Was that a risk?”

Cho is busy checking his messages, frowning. “Did you break my outfitters?”

“What?”

“Hazmat lab?” The frown becomes a grin as he scrolls through a bunch of texts. Robbie feels like that’s worse. “Good job getting on their good side, they might be designing your drivesuit soon.”

“I just–“ Can we get to the point? This kid is missing a screw. “You said to come find you?”

“Yes! Come on, take a–“ he picks up a hammer from an office chair before sliding it towards Robbie. “There you go. I was hoping we could talk without the grown-ups hovering around.”

The grown-ups. Robbie can already feel a headache coming. He takes a seat while Cho leans on the table, untroubled by a pile of skeletal remains inches from his back. “Talk about what?”

Cho scrambles around for a remote and points it at one of the screens at a wall behind Robbie. He flicks through several output sources – one is most definitely a cartoon show Gabe used to love back in L.A. – until he finds what looks like the Hell Charger’s blueprints.

“That,” he says, suddenly serious. “What do you actually know about this jaeger?”

“I already–“

“Yeah, but that can’t be all,” Cho cuts him off impatiently. “I found your records from before your mom took you and your brother off-base. You were eight. Your dad never took you to the hangar?”

Not really. Mama didn’t want you losing fingers in the machinery.

“Wasn’t a place for a kid,” he mumbles. There are records? “I don’t really remember much from that time. Weren’t all the records sealed?”

I told you Ivanov is full of shit.

“Oh, they were,” Cho smirks. “But the last guy in my role had access to some of the classified stuff, and nobody ever revoked it. You know how it is.”

Robbie has no idea how it is. “What do they say?”

“Nothing!” Cho groans. “Just that you and your brother existed. That’s why I’m asking.”

It’s both crushingly disappointing and a perfectly good reason for Ivanov to just say there was no information available. Keep deluding yourself. You’ll see I’m right sooner or later. Still, Robbie doesn’t really have much he can – or wants to – tell Cho.

“Sorry, I can’t help,” he shrugs. “I’m told we left before it was decommissioned. Mom never talked about it.”

Cho lifts up his goggles to his forehead to rub his eyes. He seems frustrated. “No weird work anecdotes? No drama about close calls?” He huffs when Robbie shakes his head. “Great. Another dead end. What did Ivanov tell you?”

“Just that my dad used to be a pilot. That he died killing Daggerblight.”

There is a long moment where Cho watches him like he’s waiting for Robbie to crack and admit to some vast conspiracy. When nothing happens, he blows the air out of his cheeks. “Bummer. Oh well, let’s go find Montesi before she starts wondering where we are.”

Robbie feels the bottom of his stomach freeze over. “We were supposed to be meeting her, too?”

Cho is already walking over to the door. He holds it open with a stupid little bow. “Yep. We better hurry.”

Robbie kind of wants to punch him. He’s beginning to suspect this will be a common occurrence.