There was something about helicopter travel that simply didn't agree with Cameron's stomach. Three times now since he had stepped on this infernal machine, he had chucked his guts up... and they had only provided two paper bags. The pilot's annoyed expression notwithstanding, Cameron actually thought it was a good run; his few combat drops from choppers had always ended badly, even when fighting other humans rather than a fucking Kaiju. He felt it rather auspicious that he had done so well. Perhaps it was a sign that Jaegers really [i]were[/i] his thing after all. Hell, after failing ten sim runs in a row, anyone would have thought he would be signed off as a potential pilot but here he was, being shuttled halfway across the damn world to the front line of all things giant-monster-related. Sufficed to say, it wasn't really his choice. Cameron was an infantryman, through and through; he had always held a preference for the old fashioned yomp over an AFV, even when in the Rifles, so God only knew how he was expected to handle a [i]giant fucking robot.[/i] Pay was good though, so he kept the bitching to himself.

After what felt like hours the pitch of the engine changed, signifying their arrival at the Hong Kong dome. Not his first time here, but his previous visit had been under very different circumstances. When they were finally down, he slung his duffle bag and gave the pilot a grin that managed to be both grateful and apologetic, and hopped out before he got a finger in reply. At the edge of the helipad a few others had gathered, most of them looking like lost lambs with their bags and [i]young[/i] too... Or maybe it was just that he was old; Jaeger pilots tended to be kids for some God-awful reason. There was one face that he recognised though, both from his warning orders and a couple of years TV coverage. He saluted crisply, unsure of how military protocol was received nowadays. [b]'Ma'am. Cameron Arkwright, reporting. I assume you're our chaperone?'[/b]