[ The train turns into a warzone, and Sam's inner landscape decides to reflect that. There are too many fronts to work on, and there's a moment in which he can't decide on his path. No way to do all of this at once, to pursue Newt, fight the massive monster, protect people, save people.
Sam remembers a small guy marching alongside an army, on the verge of a panic attack. Remembers plastic bags blown across the street, late night drinks and barely held back tears on a roof top. He remembers a friend.
So in the end, the choice makes itself. He doesn't ignore people in help - he does what he can, helps who would otherwise receive no help, and chooses to split the difference, too - sends Redwing to assist others, robbing himself of one of his most useless tools.
He doesn't pursue Newton on foot, circumventing the destruction by going outside the train and flying, instead. It's risky, it exposes him to the Kaiju wreaking havoc much more directly. But then again, Sam has flown through RPG fire and towards loaded rocket launchers. What's a little more danger, in comparison, when somewhere ahead is someone he cares about.
Fuck the mission, to be honest.
There'll be time for the what ifs later, for bemoaning his failure to notice just how wring things had become. Shouldn't the change have been more apparent after his coma, not less? Shouldn't he have been more aware?
But no. There'd been other things. His own panic attacks and break downs. Bucky's everything.
Some things had fallen to the wayside - even the important things. Because Sam runs when it hurts - or flies, as it were.
He heads Newton off, catches up to him on the outside of the train, flings himself at an open window, tucks the wings in tight and balls himself up, body unfurling when he lands in front of Newt - wings retracting into the pack, shield in front of Sam.
Sam doesn't know what it is to lose your mind to something else - but he's had his share of company afflicted like that. ]
IV - Prewt
Sam remembers a small guy marching alongside an army, on the verge of a panic attack. Remembers plastic bags blown across the street, late night drinks and barely held back tears on a roof top. He remembers a friend.
So in the end, the choice makes itself. He doesn't ignore people in help - he does what he can, helps who would otherwise receive no help, and chooses to split the difference, too - sends Redwing to assist others, robbing himself of one of his most useless tools.
He doesn't pursue Newton on foot, circumventing the destruction by going outside the train and flying, instead. It's risky, it exposes him to the Kaiju wreaking havoc much more directly. But then again, Sam has flown through RPG fire and towards loaded rocket launchers. What's a little more danger, in comparison, when somewhere ahead is someone he cares about.
Fuck the mission, to be honest.
There'll be time for the what ifs later, for bemoaning his failure to notice just how wring things had become. Shouldn't the change have been more apparent after his coma, not less? Shouldn't he have been more aware?
But no. There'd been other things. His own panic attacks and break downs. Bucky's everything.
Some things had fallen to the wayside - even the important things. Because Sam runs when it hurts - or flies, as it were.
He heads Newton off, catches up to him on the outside of the train, flings himself at an open window, tucks the wings in tight and balls himself up, body unfurling when he lands in front of Newt - wings retracting into the pack, shield in front of Sam.
Sam doesn't know what it is to lose your mind to something else - but he's had his share of company afflicted like that. ]
You gonna chill if I ask you real nice?