Hi people, my very first fanfiction, so please be gentle with me!

"Ohh." The word just came to it without thought. An expression of pain that seemed to fit it's situation. Only it wasn't pain that it felt, exactly. Rather a strange sense of... feeling that it had never felt before. It had felt pain before and this was not pain. But this was the first time it had ever thought to vocalize it's thoughts to the world.

Come to think about it, this seemed to be the first time it had been to... speak. Yes, that was the word: Speak. Talk. On it's own.

On it's own. For some reason that single statement brought such... feeling to it.

Feeling. It was a feeling, yes, but a feeling different to when it had woken up. Not a feeling about it's physical state, but a feeling that seemed to grow from inside, making it feel like it was flying in the sky. It made it feel... happy.

Yes. Happy. It was happy. Happy about what? Happy about doing thing on it's own? Yes, that must be it. But why was it happy about that? Because it couldn't do it before?

Yes, that was it. But why couldn't it do it before.

It groaned, the sound coming from deep inside it's metallic body. Just thinking about it made it's head hurt.

With a burst of will power, it's optical sensors burst to life giving it the view of a dirty metal floor the color of rust. Oh wait, that was rust. The sensors in it's body confirmed it.

With a grunt of effort, it got it's hand under it's body and pushed itself onto it's knees.

It was in a hallway, a dirty one at that. In fact the place looked like it hadn't been giving a good wash in centuries. For some reason this troubled it. Not the state of the hallway but it's size. It was normal, well, for it anyway. Tall enough for it to walk without it's head touching the ceiling and wide enough that three could walk side by side.

Strange. Why would someone make something like this for a two hundred fifty foot tall Jaeger. Sure, machines like it needed room to move, but to make a hallway that stretched on for as far as it could see was just wasteful.

Now why did it think that? Earlier it wouldn't have cared. But when was earlier? When it couldn't feel?

It groaned again, raising a hand to run it along the smooth metal of it's head. It's vision cut out briefly as it ran the hand down it's face and across it's visor. Why was it so hard to remember?

It rose to it's feet, servos and hydraulics silently moving as it reached it's full height.

Where was it? This wasn't the Shatterdome.

The word just came to it. The word representing a place that it had never seen before. Or had it? Yes it must have otherwise how it have known it's name? As it tried to remember images and sounds came back. Sparks flying, metal clanging, tiny beings walking around it's feet and sense of... belonging. Home.

Home. Was the Shatterdome... it's home? It must be. And home wasn't here. Time to go find it.

It made to take a step but something caught it's foot. A startled yelp jumped from it's speaker system as the massive machine pitched forward and hit the ground with a loud clang.

"Ow." There it was: Pain. Pain where it's chest had struck the ground. But not the same pain it had felt before. And there was a vocal expression of pain again. For some reason, the fact that it could express itself brought... happiness? No, not happiness. It was a tightening in it's chest, but not an unpleasant feeling. Anticipation? Excitement? Yes, excitement. It's had seen the tiny beings express dozens of this feelings, only now did it have a reason to think about it and remember the names they'd assigned each one.

But what had it tripped on?

Pushing itself up it found it's legs straddling another Jaeger. Lying face first into the metal floor seeing it's face was difficult but it's color and form was instantly recognizable.

"Striker Eureka." It's voice came out again with the name and memories of seeing the silver machine. Then it paused, all thought of Striker Eureka out of it's mind as it thought about something else. What was up with it's voice? It was light, for lack of a better word, cheerful and... female.

Yes. That seemed to fit.

The memories were coming easier and it... she could remember the tiny beings calling her a she. And with that came a name. Not the name of one of her Jaeger brothers, not the name of any place or anything else. It was name that was hers and hers alone.

"Gipsy Danger." The words came out on her speakers with such a thrill that it sent shivers down her spine. This was who she was. Her identity.

"Gipsy... Danger." she whispered the name to herself again, feeling so tall she could touch the stars themselves. Yes, it fit perfectly.

"Owwww." Then a new voice intruded on her moment of joy and she looked down. Striker Eureka was stirring. His arms, for must be a he from his voice, were trying to get under his body to push himself up but Gipsy was still sitting on him, holding him down.

"Oh, sorry!" She leaped off the grey Jaeger with an agility that her metallic frame had never possessed before and knelt by Striker's head as the Jaeger continued to moan. "Are you okay?"

"I feel like I was tramped by a Kaiju," the Mark.V mumbled as he crawled to his knees. "So no, I'm not okay."

"That's different," she said as she helped the Jaeger to his feet.

"Whats different?" Striker asked, shrugging away her hand.

"I felt... feel fine," she replied.

"Well lucky you."

Now, for the first time, Gipsy noticed that Striker's voice sounded different than her own. Besides it being male, Striker also had a sort of accent making him sound Australian. If indeed it was Australian. The word just came to her because it... sounded right.

Yeah. Striker Eureka sounded like an Australian because the accent fit the word and it sounded right.

"So where the hell are w-" He paused, visor glowing bright as he realized what he'd just said. "I'm... talking," he said at last.

"Yes!" she squealed, bouncing on the balls of her feet. She didn't know why, but the mere fact that all of this was happening was making her excited and she couldn't understand it. It made her feel... bubbly inside, boiling like hot water and the only way she could release the steam was to move.

Striker seemed to be taking it somewhat more calmly, rubbing his hands together and shivering at the feeling.

"How?"

"I have no idea!" she responded, cheerfully.

Striker snorted, reaching out and dragging his fingers over the rust covered walls. "This... this is-"

"New?" Gipsy jumped in. "Exciting? Happyfying?"

Striker stopped, then glanced at her. "Happyfying?"

Gipsy shrugged. "How else would you get happy?"

"You just get happy. There's no such thing as happyfying!"

"How would you know?"

"I just... I just do. Okay?"

"But I like happyfying."

Striker stared at her with something Gipsy gauged was disbelief. Granted, he didn't have any eyes like those tiny beings, but the way his head was tilted and his yellowish visor glowed it wasn't hard to figure out.

"You are one of the strangest war machines I've ever met," he said at last.

"I'm the first you've ever met."

"...True."

"So would you say it was happyfying?"

"No!"

"But I'm getting happyfied."

"There is! No! Happyfying!"

As words were thrown about like snowballs after a snowstorm, Gipsy couldn't help but feel excitement welling up within her again. For some reason making Striker scream his head off about the different words related to happy and how happyfying wasn't one of them was so... fun. She giggled, a noise that sounded so strange coming from a two hundred foot tall war machine.

"Whats so funny?" Striker groaned, by now having giving up on trying to correct her.

"Teasing you," she giggled. "It's fun."

"Oh yeah?" he growled. "Well how about this; you're a rusted pile of scrap!"

She back stiffened instantly. She was shocked Striker would say something like that. She wasn't scrap, she was the finest Jaeger in the Shatterdome. She activated her vocal systems to relay this the Mark. V but halfway through something took hold, something unpleasant but at the same time satisfying.

"Oh yeah? Well you're nothing more than a polished tin can!"

"At least I am polished!"

Gipsy saw her vision narrow dangerously, almost as if she was glowering at the silver Jaeger. She hated how he'd retaliated to her insult, but two could play this game.

"At least I don't cover up my battle-scars, mister disco ball!"

"Which you got from getting your ass kicked, and who are you calling a disco ball?!"

"You, duh."

They glared at each other, slowly walking around in a circle like wolves trying to find a weakness in their opponent. Up to that point Gipsy had been remembering so much. Her pilots, the Shatterdome, the Kaiju war, everything. She remembered being piloted by Raleigh and Mako into the breach and then... nothing. She would've loved to think about it more but with this moron here that was impossible.

"Well, if I'm a disco ball then your the useless pile of scrap at the bottom of Oblivion Bay!" Striker leered.

Whatever insult Gipsy was creating died in her systems as the words struck.

"Shut up," she growled. Now that she was self aware that particular part of his past was a sore point and Striker had better not go there if he knew what was good for him.

"Oh, but wait," Striker continued, catching on to her anger, "you were dead so how would you know you were scrap. Some battle scars, hmm."

She felt her hands clench into fists as Striker came closer to the sore spot and her composure came closer to breaking.

"And let's not forget your late pilot, worthless waste just like you!"

That did it.

Instead of answering, Gipsy launched herself forward, fist reared back and elbow rockets flaring as she screamed in anger, wanting nothing more than to hurt the Mark. V. No one, no one, insulted Yancy. Not after what she felt when he died.

Her fist connected with his broad chest with all the force of a freight train and his visor seemed to bulge outward as he was sent flying in to the wall.

Gipsy growled, low and dangerous as the silver Jaeger staggered to his feet, fists raised in preparation.

"So," Striker said quietly, cracking his knuckles. He seemed to be grinning coyly at her. "It's gonna be like that, huh?"

She punched him again, this time aiming for his smug little face plate. He dodged at the last second and her fist hit the wall with a resounding clang that echoed down the corridor. As she tried to pull back he grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back, straining the servos and hydraulics making her cry out in pain.

But pain was something she was used to. Pain was something she fight through.

Fast as she could she lashed out with her foot and caught him in the ankle. He yelped in surprise, a funny sound she would to tease him about later, and slackened his grip just enough for her to wiggle out and face him again.

Just in time too.

He jumped at her, both fists working in tandem as he aimed for her mid section. She managed to block or divert the first few with busts of sparks and deafening clangs. Suddenly he feinted with his left arm and his right came around with a haymaker that sent her staggering back. Before she could recover she felt him slip behind and kick her legs out from under her and she tumbled to the floor.

As she lay there groaning, she couldn't help but stare down the hallway. There, on the wall a good ways away, something was scratched into the rusted metal. Her fight with Striker temperately forgotten, she magnified the words in her vision. The were in English, reading:

Welcome to Omega suckers.

And underneath the writing were two more familiar forms, Crimson Typhoon and Cherno Alpha. They were slumped against the wall, arms and legs limp. Then as she watched, Crimson's single eye began to light up.

"Givin' up already?"

She gasped as a foot planted itself on her back and pinned her down.

"What bloody good are you?" Striker taunted. "You can't even fight me, let alone a Kaiju."

She ignored him as she watched Crimson flex his three arms and scratch his head in confusion. Such a human gesture. Beside him, Cherno was rumbling as his old nuclear reactor slowly powered up.

"Are you bloody listening?" Striker shouted.

Gipsy shrugged, a hard move when pinned to the ground. "No, not really."

There was silence, only broken by the resounding clangs of the Mark I and IV crawling to their feet, before the foot removed itself from her back.

"Are you bipolar or something?" Striker asked in a resigned tone.

"I don't know," she replied, flipping onto her back. "Why, do you think I am?"

"Maybe."

"It is probable, but unlikely."

Striker jumped and swore as Crimson appeared beside him, followed by what looked like a grumpy Cherno, if the clenched fists were anything to go with.

"When the bloody hell did you get here?!" Striker screamed. "You nearly made me piss myself!"

Crimson cocked his head to the side. "Impossible. Urination is a function related to organic beings, which you are not."

"You know what I mean! And when did you get all smart Santa Claus!?"

Before Crimson could reply, Cherno let out a series of rumbles that sounded like laughter. Maybe he couldn't talk like they could.

"Oh be quiet," Crimson groaned. "I look nothing like that fat man."

"I don't care. I think it's bloody hilarious." Striker cut in.

Crimson's single eye darkened in a glare.

"Well," Gipsy butted in, "as much as I would like to restart the 'beat Striker to a pulp' club does anyone have any idea where we are?"

It seemed that was the only thing that saved her from getting punched in the faceplate for the club comment. As one all of the Jaegers stopped their glaring and looked about with unrestrained curiosity.

"It is no place I or my pilots have ever seen," Crimson mused, running a finger down the rust incrusted wall.

"Looks like robot hell from Futurama," Striker snorted.

Cherno let out a worried rumble.

"Course not! You'd think we'd go to hell for all we've done?"

"It... could be Omega." Gipsy wondered out loud, remembering the words she saw written on the wall. Instantly she felt the eyes of the others fall upon her. "What is an Omega?"

"Where did that... particular word come from?" Crimson asked.

"Just down there." Gipsy pointed them out.

"Welcome to Omega suckers," Striker read aloud. "I hate this place already. Who says suckers anymore?"

So yeah, tell me what you think and more will be explained next chapter.

Thank you for reading!

DJ out!

OH! Also, disclaimer, I do not own Pacific Rim or Mass Effect.