Disclaimer: This is a Fanfiction based on the Anime Series Neon Genesis Evangelion and some of Marvel's X-Men Origins: Wolverine fused in one timeline. I do not own the characters.
RATED M ... for Sexual Content, Violence and the like ...
Neon Genesis Evangelion: Shinji is... Weapon X
PROLOGUE: Nightmares, Nightmares,...
Straggler Town
Mindanao, Philippines
0300H
On a makeshift futon, a young man in his early twenties sweating heavily with half-thrust breaths and suppressed screams thrashed about violently; as deep within the throws of his sleep, he is once again haunted by ghosts of both the past and the present. It took a good four minutes until his mind could no longer hold in the torture, jump-started and kicked his physical form to wakefulness. The young man's body instinctively jackknifed, his form dropped into his normal savage attack-ready position. Relaxing a few moments later; upon the realization that it was another night with those twisted dreams. Still breathing heavy, the young man realized that his claws, made of the strongest steel the human mind could forge were extended fully. These claws of steel that gleamed in the moonlight that was pouring in abundance into his "sleep-hole" as he would fondly call it, claws that were used in every mission that he was given by his former controllers- and those missions were those kinds that you just did not care for unnecessary violence.
The young man's breathing by now had returned to normal; he flopped down on his crumpled futon, and looked around. The sight before him would not be quite pleasant to normal people, but in his case he just did not care. His shelter had once been a home for a family, abandoned because of the civil war that had taken over after the third impact wherein the survivors of the cataclysmic phenomenon turned on each other for survival. It was like the once proud human race had been degraded to the level of becoming uncivilized savages. In this war torn place, this young man oddly enough found shelter. After a quick scan of his room, his vision returned to the claws still extended; staring blankly at the artificially imbued blades. The gleam from the moonlight reflecting on the shiny surfaces of the blades started bringing memories; memories in which he was trying to forget. Yet those memories still haunt his battered conscience, though he had gotten over the tremendous guilt; the memories still echo through. He stared at the blades before him for a couple of moments before willingly retracting the six blades and fixed a pillow against the wall behind him and rested his back. He was quite sure that sleep would no longer befall him, he reached out from his position to a familiar place to his left and retrieved a pouch which contained an oil lighter and a pack of Camel. Taking one from the pack and lighted it, he took a long drag and lazily blew a billow of smoke.
"I'll just go to the Den later then..." he muttered to himself. "That might get some things off my back temporarily."
The Den was a drinking place, a small establishment wherein you could find the lawless and the rough survivors with enough money to spare. Mostly mercenaries or the average straggler that had returned from Instrumentality litter the place and throwing whatever they could spare to drown their misery at the bottom of a glass.
"Yeah, that should be enough." He softly spoke as his thoughts slowly drifted like the smoke from the cigarette on his lips. He stayed in this position, calmly puffing smoke and staring blankly into the far wall opposite from where he had retired. The young but battle-scarred young man continued to stake blankly as memories from another time flowed through; memories that oddly enough would drive him nuts a few years ago. He stayed contemplating until sunlight replaced the gloomy aura that was brought in by the moon to his room.
Straggler Town, Outskirts
Mindanao, Philippines
1000H
Two men in black suits with emotionless faces turned their backs to an old man they have just tipped with a thick wad of US bills that made the grouch to sing like a tenor. They entered the lead of two black SUVs that were parked nearby and casually sped away towards the town center, inside the lead SUV were four men in black suits and stoic expressions. Neither men talked, though each of them were alert for unforeseen events, the one seated beside the driver fished out a cellphone from the inside pocket of his coat and dialled a number then pressed the receiving end of the gadget to his right ear.
"Commander, this is Satoshi. We have a location and a witness that positively ID'd the subject and are currently on our way to requiring the target." The agent spoke in a cold tone. He then regretted turning over his report as the person on the other line was almost screaming with excitement that his eardrums stung.
"Yes, Ma'am. We are on our way, we will call in if we have acquired the subject." The agent replied calmly then restored his phone to where he previously kept the gadget. He shook his head in disbelief at the sudden outburst from his superior. Agent Satoshi withdrew the folder which contains every written data about the person that the organization had been searching for the past nine years. Opening the white cardboard folder with the usual red ink-stamped TOP SECRET on its facing leaf, he gave the file another quick run through; hoping that he did not miss a detail...
SUBJECT NAME : IKARI, SHINJI
AGE : 23 years (present)
SEX: MALE
DESIGNATION: 3rd CHILD, Pilot – UNIT 01
MILITARY RELATED TRAINING: None
SPECIAL SKILLS: None
TALENTS: Music; Cello
REMARKS:
Subject is withdrawn and mentally unstable, caution is advised when confronting subject; might try to escape and evade ANY personnel from NERV.
Subject went AWOL eight years ago; accounts and statements point to subject's lack of self-esteem but the possibility of capture by third-party organizations still stands.
Reacquiring subject unharmed is TOP priority.
The agent then closed the file and replaced it back in the SUV's glove-compartment then turned to look at the view from the front window of the vehicle. Surprised that one person with the said characteristics ended up in the last place in anyone "civilized" would want to tread, He continued his survey of the area; shanties that were made up of almost anything that could pass as a wall or roof lined the streets, vendors that sold kebabs which you would not want to know where the meat came from, and every man, woman and child that strolled along the dust and beat-up road had the glint of steel in their eyes; taken from the harshness of living each day- If it was called living.
Finally,... done editing,...