Myra wasn't even alive when the first ever kaiju broke surface of the Pacific ocean.. but she knew the panic that ensued well. Stories of the devastation and destruction that it brought was a huge chunk of human history. Children heard it in schools, watched time-stamped replays on television as a cautionary tale of ignoring the unknown. Even second hand, the panic was palpable. For about twenty years after that, humanity's primary defense were their own monsters. In Myra's infancy and well into adolescence, she admired the massive machinery that had been developed to defend humanity. The war had been won. They'd figured out a way to stop the threat and life went on..
..until a different, larger rift bubbled open. Very quickly, it became abundantly clear that the world was going to have to once again pull it's shit together to push old differences aside. This time their efforts clearly had to be bigger and badder.
Becoming a pilot of one of those things had never been her target. She studied martial arts as a hobby; some girls danced, some liked to paint water colors, Myra liked to throw punches (in good form, of course). Her love of sparring and the art of ass-kicking had an impact on her personality in the sense that she developed a deep love for challenges. So after graduating high school, the woman enlisted in the army and gained enrollment in a leading military academy.
When top Jaegar Program pilots and other recruiters made their rounds of military type universities, Myra applied for the hell of it. She went through the preliminary sit-down interviews, logic and psychological evaluations, the individual fitness and stamina tests and finally the sparring competitions. Myra held her own against men twice her size, using her raw talent for ass-kicking to her advantage. Some of the people going through the same motions she was were so driven and determined; becoming a pilot was literally all they wanted out of life. She wasn't on that same level, but she somehow made all of the cuts and became one of the first of several rookies in nearly a decade.
Many new American mechs were created using models that had proved to be effective. Old Jaegers were reused, modified and re-built to suit new needs. Myra was assigned to Nova Hyperion. Co-pilots were tested, but she hadn't been totally drift compatible with any of them. To pilot with someone, it meant that she needed to feel like she was a part of them and they were a part of her. So far, calibration with other pilots hadn't been air-tight. Time was ticking, she needed to meet her match.
So Myra leaned against the control panel of buttons and switches, looking through a big clear glass that displayed Nova on the other side. She was huge; chrome, navy blue and canary yellow. Hearing footsteps behind her, she stood and turned to face several people. Marshals and army types.. would one of them be her co-pilot? She seriously hoped so, because she was desperate to take Nova Hyperion on her maiden combat mission.
..until a different, larger rift bubbled open. Very quickly, it became abundantly clear that the world was going to have to once again pull it's shit together to push old differences aside. This time their efforts clearly had to be bigger and badder.
Becoming a pilot of one of those things had never been her target. She studied martial arts as a hobby; some girls danced, some liked to paint water colors, Myra liked to throw punches (in good form, of course). Her love of sparring and the art of ass-kicking had an impact on her personality in the sense that she developed a deep love for challenges. So after graduating high school, the woman enlisted in the army and gained enrollment in a leading military academy.
When top Jaegar Program pilots and other recruiters made their rounds of military type universities, Myra applied for the hell of it. She went through the preliminary sit-down interviews, logic and psychological evaluations, the individual fitness and stamina tests and finally the sparring competitions. Myra held her own against men twice her size, using her raw talent for ass-kicking to her advantage. Some of the people going through the same motions she was were so driven and determined; becoming a pilot was literally all they wanted out of life. She wasn't on that same level, but she somehow made all of the cuts and became one of the first of several rookies in nearly a decade.
Many new American mechs were created using models that had proved to be effective. Old Jaegers were reused, modified and re-built to suit new needs. Myra was assigned to Nova Hyperion. Co-pilots were tested, but she hadn't been totally drift compatible with any of them. To pilot with someone, it meant that she needed to feel like she was a part of them and they were a part of her. So far, calibration with other pilots hadn't been air-tight. Time was ticking, she needed to meet her match.
So Myra leaned against the control panel of buttons and switches, looking through a big clear glass that displayed Nova on the other side. She was huge; chrome, navy blue and canary yellow. Hearing footsteps behind her, she stood and turned to face several people. Marshals and army types.. would one of them be her co-pilot? She seriously hoped so, because she was desperate to take Nova Hyperion on her maiden combat mission.
