Chapter Text
When I was lying there in the damn hospital, with a big hole blown through the middle of my chest and my life, I started having dreams of flying. A cruel trick by my damn brain, because eventually, you have to wake up. Then, a bigger hole was made. My brother was killed. Not for any reason, just some bastard with a gun who wanted the card in his wallet. Just when I thought the universe had played enough with my life, two Suits showed up. They offered me something I couldn’t refuse. Take my brother’s place, and in turn, earn enough money to fix my spine and heart. He was the nerd, not me, I was another grunt who only knew how to resolve conflict with violence. And I had no damn clue what I was getting myself into.
You don’t dream in cryo, but I swear I dreamt of all the stupid ass mistakes I had made that led me to this moment. My eyes opened to the barely illuminated cryo pod I had been stored away in. They tell you cryo is supposed to feel like a long rest, but it feels more like I got my ass kicked. The pod slid out of it’s capsule and a tech came over to me to free my restraints. I floated up into the open air, surrounded by a hundred other cryo residents waking up just like me.
“Rise and shine everyone! You have been in cryo for five years, nine months, and twenty-two days. You will feel sick, weak, nauseous, and very much hungover. If you feel like throwing up, please use the sacks provided, do not throw up on my ship, please,” a dry voice spoke over an intercom system.
We were loaded onto a shuttle ship from the much larger one. There we were separated and briefed as we flew into Pandora’s airspace. A crew chief gave us short directions on how to put on the masks as we touched down in the human compound and the back of the shuttle opened to the poisonous air. Hell’s Gate, as it was affectionately called, filled my field of vision. 10 meter high fencing and walls topped with barbed wire separated us from the dense jungle on the outside. Inside the crater were steel buildings, sites under construction, and hundreds of vehicles or mechs milling throughout.
I pulled my useless legs into my wheelchair, tightened my respiratory mask onto my face, and rolled down the cargo ramp. You never stop being a marine. They can take you out of service, but you never lose the attitude. I told myself I could pass any damn test any other extra around me could. The mining company recruited ex-marines for hired guns, taking the lot of them and turning them into personal mercenaries. Marines were walking around in mech suits, armed with large rotary cannons. I pulled to a stop as a large dump truck rolled past me, pin-cushioned with large, colorful arrows.
“Look at that,” calls one mercenary in a mech to his other, equally as ugly compatriot, “Meals on wheels.”
”Now that’s just wrong,” jeers the other.
“What are you two bastards staring at?” I snarked back at them. I seethe and try to calm before the upcoming safety brief. Establishing dominance and shutting down the dipshits who thought they could talk in the first hour was my old MO, not anymore. I’m aware of my limitations, even if it pisses me off to roll away.
“You are not in Kansas anymore ladies and gentlemen,” boomed a muscular, scarred man. His red hair was chopped military style, and he had three large gashes running across the side of his head. This must be our commanding officer, I thought to myself, so I settled in near the back.
“This is Pandora. A fact you must respect every day if you want to survive. Every single thing past this wall wants to kill you and eat your eyes for jujubees. And those are the sweetie pies. The real threat is the hostile native population called the Na’vi. Their bones are reinforced, and they come armed to the teeth with arrows dipped in neurotoxin that will kill you one way or another.
My job is to keep you safe, unfortunately, I will not succeed. In order to give yourself the best shot at survival, you will need to listen to my words closely…” The man continued his safety brief as I zoned out, staring out the thick windows towards the dense forest outside.
“Bakugo!” I heard someone shout amidst the chaos of people unloading bags and attempting to find their designated areas.
I turned to see a brunette woman dodging past equipment and bodies.
“Bakugo? Katsuki, right?” She said in a chipper voice.
I nodded once.
“Gosh, you look so much like your brother…”
I just stared at her, used to hearing that, but it was much more painful to hear these days.
“We were in Avatar training together, sorry, and it’s just… weird. Anyways, I’m Ochaco Uraraka,” she explained, then offered her hand to shake.
I shook it once before pumping the wheels on my chair to move us forward.
“It came as a horrible shock to us all. I’m sorry for your loss.”
I just nodded and grunted, continuing towards the lab area.
“It’s lucky that you were at least identical, that way you can take over his Avatar,” she says, trying to dispel the tension.
“Yep, that’s why I’m here… Cause I’m so lucky,” I reply with a bite in my tone.
“So… wanna go see them?” She asks, a final olive branch.
A scientist stands in front of two large acrylic tanks, blocking our avatars from view. Avatars are essentially bioengineered mixes of human DNA and DNA of the natives that we will be able to pilot remotely. They are matched to our specific DNA sequences, which allows for us to link with the bodies. My brother was supposed to be one of these Avatar pilots, but since I was an identical genetic match, I got subbed in.
Ochaco drifts towards the scientist and her own avatar body. I roll past her, drawn to the blue alien body floating in the acrylic tank. I can see my brother and me in it, despite the features being alien. A large, lithe body curls and twitches in the tank. Blue skin is marked with darker blue stripes covering the skin. A tail swishes back and forth amongst the fluid. Flowing hair floats around the avatar’s face and a long braid floats beside it. A feline face with my brothers -my- features is turned towards me, relaxed in some form of sleep.
”It looks like him,” I whisper to myself.
“No, it looks like you,” Uraraka whispers near me, placing a hand on my shoulder.
“The idea is that… I link in and pilot the avatar… and we… assimilate with the people,” I say, awkwardly into a recording camera, “Hey, am I doing this right? It feels awkward as hell.”
”Ya pretty much! We just have to get into the habit of documenting everything we see and feel as we experience the avatars, ya know, for science,” Uraraka replies cheerily.
“Cool.. Great… Science…” I say before logging off.
The scientist from earlier, Dr. Hizashi, takes us through a corridor towards another lab. This one is filled with a dozen human sized pods that look a little like caskets or tanning beds.
Ochaco whispers down towards me, “Dr. Aizawa is a legend. He is the head of the Avatar program, leading expert on all things Na’vi, and literally wrote the book on Pandoran biology and botany.”
”That’s because all he does is scoot around in his sleeping bag and talk to plants,” whispered the scientist earlier conspiratorially.
Just then, a tired looking man is pushing up from one of the link pods. His black hair is long and unkempt and he looks like he could either use some strong caffeine or under eye patches. He looked around and stated in a monotone voice, “Someone find my sleeping bag. Now.”
The other lab nerds in the vicinity scattered around, with one bringing a hideous yellow mummy bag over. Dr. Aizawa. He bizarrely zipped himself inside before turning a disapproving look towards Uraraka and me. He gives me half a glance more, possibly more disapproving than the moment before.
Dr. Hizashi speaks up, ”Hey hey! Shouta! These are your new avatar pilots. Ochaco Uraraka and Katsu…”
He is cut off by Dr. Aizawa, “Uraraka. I’ve heard promising things about you. How’s your Na’vi?
Uraraka started speaking in a strange language that I assume was Na’vi.
Dr. Aizawa gives a nod of approval, “Good enough. Formal, but we will work on it.”
He starts to speak in Na’vi again, excluding me from the conversation.
“Oi! Stop ignoring me, would ya? The name is Katsuki Bakugo.”
”Yes I know who you are. I don’t actually need you, I need your brother.”
”Ya well he’s dead, asshole, sorry to inconvenience everyone,” I snapped back.
Dr. Aizawa slow blinked before replying dryly, “Any lab experience?”
”Blew up shit in chemistry a few times.”
He growled in his throat before unzipping his sleeping bag, “That’s it. I am tired of them pissing on my project and thinking they get to run my operation.”
He stalked past us and out of the lab and Dr. Hizashi turned towards me. “Tomorrow, oh eight hundred, try not to bring your normal personality.”
The next morning, I rolled in early. Aizawa said nothing, but brought Uraraka and I over to the link pods.
“You logged any link practice time?”
Uraraka smiles, “Roughly 500 hours.”
Aizawa looks over in my direction.
”None.”
I can see the irritation rise up in his dark, tired eyes, “So you thought you’d just come out here and just… try it out? In the most hostile places known to man? What the hell were you thinking?”
I growl a little under my breath, “Maybe I got sick of extras telling me what I can’t do.”
He said nothing, only going to assist me into the link pod.
”Don’t, I got it.” He held up his hands in defense as I pulled my immobile legs into the odd jelly-like substance.
“Lay back, let your mind go blank. Shouldn’t be too hard for someone like you…” he said.
”Kiss my ass, you sleepy eyed ba-“