Breakers!AU

Mako strides home along the sidewalk.

Someone reels out of an alley into a stand of rubbish bins, goes down in a crash and flying garbage.

She pauses, watches carefully.

They heave themselves to their feet and dust off their clothes, wobbling a little as they do.

She /**should** keep walking, but—

A step, windmilling arms, and the someone hits the concrete again.

She squares her shoulders, crosses the street, crouches beside the someone. "Are you alright?" she asks.

"'m fine," they slur.

"You're not fine. You're having trouble walking."

"/**'m** /**fine.**"

"Really," drawls Mako.

"Totally. /**fine.**"

She stands, straightens her coat. "Then I'll be on my way."

They sniff, get up on one knee, heave—pitch forward.

She catches them under the arm, holds them in a firm grip.

"Thanks," they grump.

"What happened?"

"/**Nothing**," they snap, wrenching their arm loose.

Mako raises a flawless eyebrow.

They sigh. "Took a shot t' the head. Equilibrium's a bit off."

"You should be in hospital."

"/**No!**" Jazz hands. "No hospitals!"

Mako narrows her eyes, seizes their hand—

"What're ye—"

—frowns, releases it. "You're a machine," she declares.

"'m /**not** a—"

"I can feel the airflow from your trans-dermal heat exchangers."

The android slumps. "Okay. Yea." They sway to their feet, straighten, glare down at her defiantly. "So what?"

"You shouldn't be out alone. Especially not in your condition."

"Got no choice," they mutter.

"My home is two blocks away. You are welcome to spend the night."

They blink rapidly. "This some sorta trap? You a Breaker or something?"

"Only a citizen concerned about another in obvious distress."

The android grunts, takes the supporting arm she offers, lets her lead the way.

.

She indicates a well-worn padded chair in a workshop of some sort. "Make yourself comfortable."

The android remains leaning on a bench covered in tools, scans the space suspiciously.

"I'm not a Breaker, nor is Sensei," assures Mako.

"Who?"

"My caretaker. He will see to your damage in the morning. In the meantime, you are free to recharge your batteries and put yourself into standby mode. You will be safe here."

They rub the back of their neck, mumble thanks.

Mako nods sharply, snaps a turn, flicks off the light, and moves into the main part of the house.

.

The next morning, Mako turns on the workshop lights, waits in the doorway for the android's dawn sensor to bring them out of sleep mode.

Their eyes flutter open and their fingers twitch as their systems diagnostics run. They wince.

"The damage is severe?"

"Two gyros, a mirror circuit, and a—" A huff. "—memory sector're wrecked."

Mako hums, moves to a locked storage cabinet. "What are your manufacturer and model?"

"Those questions don't apply to him, Mako," intones Sensei, entering the workspace. "He's one-of-a-kind. A Jaeger, if I'm not mistaken."

"You know what your machines. 'm kinda impressed."

Mako turns back to the android. "Jaegers are banned by UN convention." Her eyes narrow. "All the remaining units were decommissioned and disassembled months ago."

"Clearly they missed a couple," snarls the Jaeger.

Sensei almost smiles. "What's your name, young man?"

"Chuck," he replies. "Charles Victor."

"Quite the name."

Chuck preens.

"Mako tells me you're damaged."

"Broke a few internals—" Chuck waves a hand near his head. "—and I can't walk straight anymore."

Sensei hums. "We hopefully have the parts to repair you." Pushes to his feet. "You're, what, a Mark-four?"

Chuck scoffs. "Mark-five—"

Sensei's eyebrows climb.

"—the first and last."

「He's different than I expected,」 states Mako.

「Better or worse?」

"You two wanna speak English?"

「More ... annoying.」

"Mako ...," chides Sensei.

She hangs her head.

Chuck smugs.

"Now, let's see if we have something that'll suit or if Mako will have to build new pieces from scratch." Nods to Mako.

She slides open the hidden door.

Sensei offers Chuck an arm and helps him into the secret room.

.

>the following are scraps with lots of missing bits between<

.

Jackson attends something off camera. ""Uh, send me scans of the bits you have and I'll do my best to reconstruct the missing ones. No guarantees, though.""

"Understood. What about the synaptic fluid flow control valve?"

""Yeeeaaa, about that—""

A crash, the camera shakes, and Jackson winces. He spins his chair, bends—""C'mere, Booklet""—spins back around, plunking a flooffy-haired toddler in his lap. ""Right, uh, where was--control valve!" Deep breath. ""Charlie and I both tried to reverse-engineer it from the in- and outputs and, well, we couldn't get it to work right in simulation.""

"How badly did it fail?"

""Install our version and, best case, they're epileptic. Worst case, a massive stroke and the entire nervous system crashes."" Nuzzles Booklet's hair; Booklet kisses his chin. ""Sorry.""

"I'm sure you did your best." Stacker drums his fingers on his desk.

.

""I, umm, /**might** know someone who can help,"" says Jackson.

Stacker raises an eyebrow. "Are they trustworthy?"

""Kinda?"" Rubs his neck. ""I mean, if you pay him enough, he'll do the job, but if someone gives him enough later, he'll /**un**-do it.""

"How do I contact him?"

""You, uh, don't. I'll have him find you.""

Stacker grunts.

.

"Nice setup you've got here," says a voice in the darkness.

Chuck raises his guard.

Stacker turns on the lights.

A person: tall, skinny, white-passing, masculine-presenting, and sprawled in the central chair.

"Logan Jones, I presume," drawls Stacker.

The person tips an imaginary hat. "The one and only."

Chuck rolls his eyes.

"I hear you have a proposal for me," says Jones.

Stacker pulls over a desk chair, straddles it. "I do, Mr Jones."

Chuck leans on the wall beside the door.

Jones wrinkles his nose. "'Mr Jones' is my old man. I prefer my given name."

Stacker nods. "I need an item and certain paperwork retrieved from the headquarters of Shinohara Heavy Industries."

Logan whistles. "That's a hell of a job. That joint's a fortress."

"I'm told you have the skills and the connections to pull it off."

"Maybe I do, but I have a stronger desire to stay the hell outta prison."

"I can get you whatever you need."

"Like a fancy car, a pony, and a villa in the south of France?"

Chuck grumbles, "Why are you dealing with this asshole? Me an' Mako can—"

"He's dealing with me, Clockwork, because your metal fingers—" Waggles his hand. "—don't have the finesse for this sorta thing."

"Why d'you think—"

"Be/**cause** you smell like machine oil."

"Maaaaybe because I'm a goddamn /**mechanic**, ay?"

Logan smirks. "Someone also left your schematics on the table in your back room."

Chuck greys. "You saw ...."

"Don't strip yer sprockets, I won't tell anyone." To Stacker: "Quite the collection you've got there."

Stacker concedes.

"You want me to nick things to help patch up the rest of 'em?"

Stacker nods.

"I'll need to bring in sub-contractors for this."

"Such as?"

"An electronics person, a safe-breaker, and a distraction, at /least." Cocks his head. "Maybe Clockwork to provide some muscle."

"If you think I'm workin' with—"

Stacker holds up a hand.

Chuck shuts his mouth with a click.

"If he's not willing, I've got someone else I can call. No big deal."

.

>TBC<