Neon Genesis Evangelion: The Great Journey
A.N: Righty-o peoples…this isn't my first Halo fanfiction. It is however, my first attempt at Neon Genesis Evangelion fanfiction. As a result…I'm not too sure how this will turn out. And for this chapter…well, it's heavy on the action, but light in the plot department, but I assure you, we'll get to that later. Hopefully.
I hope that you enjoy this chapter, and please, leave plenty of reviews and constructive criticism! Much appreciated, see ya around!
Disclaimer: Don't own Neon Genesis Evangelion or Halo: they belong to Gainax and Microsoft respectively.
"Incoming!"
The loud, desperate cry heralded the arrival of a wave of arcing plasma mortars: glowing balls of destruction that crashed down and vaporised all that dared to stand before them. The ground shook under the force of the impacts, throwing one genetically-engineered super-soldier's aim off for a split second. The burst deviated from its target, a low-ranking Brute, to smack into its shoulder. It snarled a vicious growl that was lost among the cacophony of war, before a second burst brutally re-arranged its face.
Pausing amidst the chaos, John-117 ejected the empty magazine in the BR-55 Battle Rifle he held in his armoured hands, before slamming a new one home with earnest. Near instantly, the rifle was back up against his shoulder, and the staccato cracks of the rifle joined hundreds of its brothers. Beside him, behind him, all around him stood hundreds of UNSC Marines, hunkered down in trenches and hastily dug foxholes, firing desperately at the oncoming Covenant horde.
Orders, shouts and screams filled the air, along with the bone-chilling howls and war cries of the Covenant army. Spiker spines and plasma filled the air as the rushing Covenant army sought to overwhelm the defenders, pushing them back further and further. Marines fell: armour boiling away, superheated metal spikes perforating armour, tearing through flesh and bone.
Wails of agony began to crescendo.
Filled with the fury spurred on by the suffering of their fellow brothers-in-arms, the humans gave it their all, filling the air in return with hundreds of lethal projectiles. Machine gun nests roared into life, hosing down the Covenant soldiers as they charged. In the centre of it all was the Master Chief: the saviour of humanity, living proof of mankind's ability to create warriors stronger, faster and simply better in every way. It was his steady presence that held the UNSC line together: he never faltered, constantly firing his weapons at the near-fanatical enemy. He gave the Marines hope, he gave them inspiration, and he lent his experience in war to them.
At the same time, his presence infuriated the Covenant army, and caused them to lose what little control they had: they charged onwards, heedless of casualties, seeing only their most hated enemy, the green-armoured Demon, and envisioning glorious victory as the Demon fell. For even the legendary Demon, Culler of the Faithful, would not be able to withstand the tide of the Covenant army that was poised to break over them, to wash them away in a sea of plasma and spikes.
When the Scorpion MBTs fired, some reality was knocked back into the Covenant, as they hastily pulled back. Explosions denoted the landing of each 90mm shell that left the barrel of a tank, as the Scorpions pulled up to assist the beleaguered front lines. Coaxial machine guns opened up, adding to the sheets of lead already flying downrange. Their turrets rotated: motors whirring as they spun about on their axis to face the now entrenching Covenant army. Each deafening boom of the cannons was answered by an explosion. Cheers began to emanate from the UNSC line, as the presence of the Scorpions boosted the spirits of the troops.
Then the Wraiths fired again.
Cheers turned to alarmed shouts within seconds, moments before the destructive bombs impacted. Screams rent the air once more, as several of the bombs were direct hits. One Scorpion took a direct blast: the turret was completely vaporised, and both crew members killed. Taking a look into the air, the SPARTAN noticed something peculiar: one bomb seemed to head directly at him. Acting quickly, the Master Chief pulled out a bubble shield generator, and threw it down. The field expanded, and not a moment too soon. The mortar struck the shield, the plasma splashing across the shield before dispersing, the magnetic fields holding it together dissipating.
"Holy shit..." the Marine next to him breathed, as he and the others within the shield watched the spectacle.
"You okay?" the Chief asked, reaching down and pulling a private onto his feet.
"Y-yes s-sir," the Private stammered, grabbing his MA5C Assault Rifle off the ground.
"Take deep breaths, private. We'll be okay," the Chief assured him, noticing how badly the Marine's hands were shaking: he was still green, a rookie fresh of out boot camp.
"Yes sir...thank you sir," the Private said, shouldering the rifle just as the shield collapsed.
They started firing again.
The once verdant and green meadows that had been there before the battle was now little more than dirt and glassy craters. Charges and counter-attacks during the five hour battle against the Covenant forces had exhausted both sides, and the space battle was all but over. It had nearly turned into a battle of attrition: it would have been, had the Covenant not still have some several thousand soldiers to throw into the fray.
Sixty six tonnes of ceramic Titanium-A, firepower and raw horsepower pulled up next to their foxhole and let loose a deafening blast. The Scorpion's turret rotated and the gunner fired the cannon again. The Chief watched as the tungsten shell impacted against the front sloping armour of a Wraith. A crater was blasted into the armour, but failed to stop the gleaming weapons platform: until the Marine next to him fired his Jackhammer launcher.
The rocket joined dozens of others as they streaked towards the rushing Covenant armour. The Wraith that the Chief had seen before was struck dead on, and exploded into blue flames as its weapon was destroyed and plasma reserves were breached. Several Ghosts and Spectres met the same fate, their burning wrecks littering the plain by the dozen. It still didn't stop the Wraiths from firing again and again, launching ball after ball of plasma high into the air, to crash down and burn, kill and destroy.
It wasn't just a simple armour push supported by waves of infantry either.
"Banshees! Banshees, twelve 'o clock high!"
The near-desperate cry was shouted out across the general UNSC frequencies in the area, and the Master Chief looked up: just as dozens of Banshees screamed down on them, weapon ports blazing with blue fire. The UNSC response was immediate, if staggered. Rockets lanced up through the air, sometimes scoring hits, sometimes missing. Explosions filled the sky, and then, the aerial battle began: for rising up from the UNSC base was a wing of AV-14 Hornet attack VTOLs. Their engines buzzing, they zoomed over, and began to engage the Banshees. High calibre rounds flew from the Hornet's twin-linked chainguns, the heavy tracers tearing chunks of metal out of Banshees when they struck. Plasma blasted back, melting and shearing through metal, causing just as many Hornets to fall out of the sky as flaming wreckage, following a similar number of Banshees.
And the Banshees weren't the only new thing that was being thrown into play.
The sound of their engines, nearly totalling to one hundred in all, was what gave them away. For a kilometre to the east of the UNSC defensive lines roared a huge pack of Brute Choppers, unwieldy, single wheeled vehicles lifted by an anti-gravity drive. A pair of 35mm autocannons formed their primary armament, but the metallic tusks were not just ornamental: they were quite capable of ploughing through men and metal alike, the latter when assisted with a temporary overdrive function.
"Brute Choppers inbound!" The call was quite unnecessary, given how obvious they were. And when the 35mm shells came flying in, throwing small geysers of dirt and mud as they struck, chaos ensued.
The Master Chief continued firing, picking off riders on the bikes as they approached, constantly switching between different targets. The Scorpion next to their foxhole fired again, this time in the direction of the biker pack. Even a near-miss from the 90mm cannons was fatal, the riders falling off their bikes, dead and lacerated from the shrapnel that inevitably ensued when the 90mm shells struck.
Even so, the Covenant continued to advance, heedless of the horrendous casualties they sustained: the mindset of the fanatical, to achieve their objective, regardless of the cost in blood. And they would repay back the favour tenfold once they managed to breach the UNSC lines.
"Fall back!" the Master Chief ordered, firing and reloading his Battle Rifle again. Somewhere in the distance, a Brute dropped to the ground, a neat group of three bullet holes stitched into its forehead. "Get back to the main lines!" The Covenant were getting too close, and the closer they got, the danger for the Marines tended to multiply exponentially.
The remaining Marines in the foxhole, numbering less than five, wasted no time in scrambling back, with three of their number laying down a withering hail of suppressive fire for their companions.
Alone in the foxhole, next to a stout and resolute Scorpion whose operators refused to leave his side, the Master Chief fought on, almost alone. And as the Scorpion continued to fight, something the late Sergeant A.J. Johnson said flickered to the front of his mind. Usually, the good Lord works in mysterious ways. But not today! This here is sixty-six tonnes of straight up, HE-spewing dee-vine intervention! If God is love, then you can call me 'Cupid'!
The corners of his lips turned upwards in a small, unseen smile as he remembered the good Sergeant. And as he fought, another thought came into mind: I wouldn't mind some divine intervention right about now either.
And little did he know that his, and the prayers of everyone else fighting in that battle, was being answered.
In low orbit over the planet was a single, fairly unassuming UNSC carrier, the Saratoga. The truth was however, that it was anything but ordinary. The space battle had been over for nearly three hours, and the decimated UNSC fleet was busy licking its wounds and regrouping. Every ship bore plasma burns, some more serious than others: some were little more than flyable wrecks. All of the ships wore the scars of a hard fought Pyrrhic victory. All except the Saratoga.
There was a very good reason for that, of course: the Saratoga held a special cargo, and it had only transitioned from Slipspace little over half an hour ago. And now, it was in a low orbit, right above the very same battlefield that the Master Chief was fighting on.
"All personnel to battle stations! All personnel to battle stations!"
Throughout the carrier, people were scrambling around as the voice repeated itself again and again over the ship's communication system. Marines hurried to their positions, prepared for boarding or counter-boarding action. Non-combat personnel quickly ran towards the safe zones, areas where they would theoretically be the safest. By far though, the busiest and most frantic area was the lower decks, by the drop hangar. Technicians and mechanics all moved around the gigantic black pod, checking it countless times for any cracks or failure in the systems. In an identical hangar located a hundred metres forward on the ship's belly of the current one, an identical pod was held, with the same number of people responsible for it swarming over its surface. In fact, for both pods, the only area not sealed up complete was a small portion somewhere near the top: a small entry point was still open, revealing a small glimpse of colour.
"All Project-E personnel, complete final checks. Project-E pilots, report to the drop hangar immediately," a smooth, if synthesised female voice sounded over the intercoms across the ship.
Thirty metres from the drop hangars, inside the hallways of the Saratoga, were two teenagers, one male, the other female, both no more than eighteen years old. Suited up in a form-fitting, full-body neoprene suit, the two of them ran for the hangars, attaching a pair of clips to their hair.
"Come on, hurry up idiot!" the female yelled at her companion.
"I'm...trying! S-sorry!" he panted back.
"What have I told you? No saying 'sorry' unless it really is your fault and you really mean it!"
The two of them reached an intersection, as other personnel swarmed past them, but giving them space. The signs on the floor pointed towards their destination: the arrow pointing to the left hallway read 'Drop Hangar A' and the one leading to the right similarly read 'Drop Hangar B'.
"Okay, I'll see you on the ground," the girl said, grabbing her fellow pilot in a hug. "Don't hurt yourself during the drop again."
"Good luck to you too!" he shouted at her form, before sprinting for his destination.
The bridge of the Saratoga was a sea of relative calm when compared to the hustle and bustle of the lower decks. The captain sat at his command chair, watching and listening to his officers relaying in reports on the progress of the drop. Beside him was the holotank that the ship's AI would normally appear on. With a swirl of particles, the ship's AI appeared on the tank.
"Pilots have reported in and are already in the entry plug, sir. We'll be ready for drop in less than a minute, barring time for the pilots to prepare of course. And the Orbital Entry pods are in peak condition, not even as much as a scratch on them."
"Good," the captain grunted. "Your calculations for the drop are ready, I presume?"
"But of course. I'll start the countdown."
Across the ship, alarm klaxons blared. "All personnel, prepare for Evangelion drop, in T-minus thirty seconds. All preparation personnel, evacuate Drop Hangar A and B. Drop in T-minus twenty five seconds, and counting."
At twenty seconds left, the black armour that had been slid back on the Orbital Entry pods resealed themselves, sliding into place with a hiss and locking in tight.
At ten seconds until the drop, the hangar bay doors began to open: directly beneath the two enormous pods. Inside the entry plug, the redheaded teenager known as Asuka Langley Soryu allowed herself a small grin as the countdown on her display reached single digits.
At five seconds left, the powerful electromagnetic locks holding the pods in place began to lose power in preparation for the drop. Thrusters mounted on the pods began to glow red, ready to give the pods the push they needed until their acceleration was provided by gravity. The individual sitting in the other entry plug some hundred metres away from Asuka swallowed nervously as the digits ran down to zero.
"T-minus one second...Evangelions, away!" the drop officer on the bridge shouted.
"Happy hunting," their AI added, farewelling the two pilots.
As the two pods fell through space and towards the planet below, Asuka opened a communications channel to Shinji Ikari, her fellow pilot.
"Hey, Shinji!" she called out, with a mischievous grin on her face. "Is it getting hot in here, or what?"
"What? Are you sure? Is the casing cracking already?" Shinji asked in alarm, fearful of the consequences of a cracked case…and rightfully so.
"Phew, it's getting me all hot and bothered! What I wouldn't give for a cold shower right about now…" Asuka said, still grinning.
"Asuka, is everything okay? Any system anomalies…"
"Of course it's okay, idiot! I'm joking!" Asuka nearly shouted. "Lighten up, will ya?"
"Oh, so-…"
"Don't...say it..." Asuka glared at him.
He nodded, as she gave him another grin before she closed the communications window. Letting out a sigh, he slumped back slightly, before sitting back up and gripping the controls more firmly.
Falling through the atmosphere now, the two pods continued their downward streak towards the battle. Thrusters fired again, this time in the opposite direction, slowing their freefall. As soon as they died out, having slowed the pods sufficiently, flaps popped open, and began to slow the pods even more. When the pods had stopped falling at terminal velocity, and were descending at a controlled rate, they broke apart.
The pods' armour plating, now nearly completely ruined, was blasted off. Sheets of metal flew away, revealing a pair of enormous robots, one red, and the other purple. In unison, the pair began a series of movements to orient themselves the right direction. The wind rushed past them, clouds parted in their wake, and below, far, far below, they could see explosions tiny dots darting across the sky.
Asuka grinned when the pod came apart, the black inside of the protective shielding disappearing to give way to a magnificent view: blue sky, white clouds, bright sun...and the black smoke rising from the ground. She flexed her hands on the controls of her Evangelion, and prepared for the impact.
The Brutes were almost upon them. The Master Chief ducked, narrowly avoiding a flurry of superheated spikes that whickered into the back of the trench. A Brute jumped onto the trench lip, snarling curses at him, while preparing to fire. Moments later, the Brute was shredded from the combined fire of a trio of MA5Cs. The body tumbled back, and the trio of Marines hastily turned their guns back to the front. The Master Chief joined them, adding his expert precision fire to the already impressive amount of firepower they were outputting across the trench line.
That wasn't to say that the Covenant's firepower wasn't impressive either: the number of dead Marines lying about was a testament to the firepower and the ferocity that the Covenant assaulted the defended positions. Machine nests continued to fire, trying to stem the tide of Covenant soldiers.
An explosion went off nearby as a Scorpion was hit simultaneously with a fuel rod blast from a passing Banshee and a plasma mortar. The shockwave of the blast tossed the Master Chief, who had been the closest to the tank when it exploded. Picking himself and his dropped rifle up, he quickly glanced back. It was the last defence line before they would be forced back into the walls of the UNSC base, he realised rather bleakly. After that...he didn't really want to think about having to force Covenant out at such close quarters...or the horrendous casualties that were bound to follow.
He was so focused on driving the Covenant back that he nearly missed the next few words that sounded across the entire UNSC battlefield communications network.
"Marines, brace for impact! Evangelions inbound!"
In unison, the fighting stopped. Not immediately, but gradually, as a few noticed, and pointed it out to their compatriots, who spread it even further. For up in the sky, racing towards them was a pair of flaming comets. The flames disappeared quickly, but a pair of humanoid shapes replaced the bulky pods. For a moment or two, they were nothing but dots in the sky, and within seconds, had grown increasingly larger as they hurtled towards the ground.
"Brace for impact!"
And then they hit.
The whole word seemed to shake, the ground rocking and shuddering under the sudden impact of several thousand tonnes of ultra-dense metal. A shockwave reverberated through the ground, tossing the unprepared onto their backs. And when the cloud cleared, the forms stood up with the dust swirling around them, all was still.
Few things in the galaxy had as much shock value as a pair of Evangelions falling from low orbit.
The silence was nearly unbearable, until the Covenant reacted first.
Every single weapon, handheld, small arm, self-propelled, aerial...all of it, aimed straight at the two gigantic monstrosities which had crashed the party. Spikes, plasma, fuel rods, every type of grenade: all of them exploded against an invisible barrier that the two Evangelions projected. It still didn't stop them from trying, nonetheless. And when the seemingly endless barrage stopped, and the wispy, bluish haze cleared, both Evangelions stood tall, completely unscratched.
And then...it was their turn.
Simultaneously, Evangelion Units 01 and 02 reached behind the large shoulder fins, and pulled out the pallet rifle that was attached to their back. They fired, sending shells larger than a small car into the Covenant lines. Wraith tanks exploded, Ghosts, Spectres and Choppers were tossed about from the aftershock of each detonating shell, and entire squads of infantry were erased in a ball of destructive fire. With the complete decimation of their forward lines, the Covenant army broke and ran, even as shells from normal artillery batteries and the Evangelion's pallet rifles landed among them.
It was, put simply, glorious.
"Come on lads, let's lend them a hand!" one particularly charismatic Marine lieutenant yelled.
There was a loud cheer, before they took up their weapons again and joined the battle once more.
Within the entry plug of Unit 02, Asuka had a faint grin as she swept her Eva's pallet rifle over the retreating Covenant lines, and heard the faint cheers of the UNSC troopers holding the last line.
"Nothing quite like a dramatic entrance, right Shinji?" Asuka asked, as if piloting a seventy metre machine of destruction was a walk in the park.
"Uh, yeah, right..." Shinji answered, his face a mask of total concentration that it often adopted when he sat at the controls of his purple mecha. Several hundred metres away, a group of Wraiths exploded as Shinji fired his pallet rifle at them.
Asuka merely continued to grin, even as Covenant fliers pestered and peppered her with plasma bolts and fuel rod blasts. Given the earlier barrage that she had faced and emerged from though, the volume of plasma and fuel rod fire was like a light drizzle. Still, even as the blasts exploded against her AT-field with no effect, it annoyed her, so she swatted them out of the sky. Literally.
Holding the pallet rifle in one hand, Unit 02s left hand came out and smashed one of the Banshees into the ground, very much like how a human would swat a mosquito. Her rifle boomed again, and a Phantom fell out of the sky ablaze. Another sustained burst, and a flight of five Banshees swooping in for an attack were demolished, the large shells easily tearing their metal frames apart.
"This is too easy!" Asuka commented, as the two Evangelions continued their rampage on the battlefield, looming up like gods and bringing destruction down whenever they deemed it necessary. However, no answer came through the open communications window, but instead, she heard a crash as something heavy undoubtedly fell to the ground. Naturally, the first thing she thought of was an Evangelion—more specifically, Shinji's. "Shinji?" she asked again, turning to face in the direction where he would be.
"Asuka! Get down!"
"What the—..."
Something massive suddenly charged into her Unit's side from out of nowhere, and she found herself facing the clear blue sky: as a solid beam of plasma ripped through the air where she had been moments ago.
The cry coming from the general UNSC communication lines confirmed it.
"SCARAB!"
Asuka swore even as she hurried forced her Evangelion up. Shinji's purple unit had already rolled to the side, having tackled her Unit to the ground to avoid the Scarab's deadly beam.
"Thanks Shinji. Now let's kill that thing!" Asuka shouted. Both of them again simultaneously fired their pallet rifles; a stream of shells steadily hammered the Scarab, explosions roaring across its thick and near-impenetrable hull. More explosions joined them as the surviving Scorpion tanks fired, adding their firepower to the Evangelions.
The Scarab never faltered, and the rear-mounted turret spat plasma back in return. Shinji and Asuka's Evas were forced to roll away, both of them coming back up in a kneeling position as their rifles were once again shouldered and fired.
"Damn it, Shinji! Aim for the legs like we did last time!" Asuka shouted, even as she lined the Scarab's joints up with her targeting sights.
She fired again, the shells slamming into the leg as Shinji did the same to the opposite leg. The shells had no effect as the Scarab continued to stomp forward, its turrets destroying everything that dared to stray in its path as the main cannon built up charge.
"Looks like they're learning," Shinji said, as a drop of sweat trailed down his face before being absorbed into the liquid.
"Well then, it looks like we need another way! Cover me Shinji!" Asuka shouted, as her Unit suddenly bolted towards the Scarab, taking flying leaps over the battered UNSC lines.
"Damn it Asuka, wait!" Shinji shouted, but it was no use. Resigning himself to the fact, he took up the rifle again, and began firing. Shells peppered the Scarab, hopefully distracting it from the charging seventy-metre machine.
And as he did so, he vaguely remembered rolling away from the green beam, vaguely remembered Asuka's scream as she brought a progressive knife down into the Scarab's side, a strange feeling passed over him. Something he couldn't quite place, yet it somehow seemed familiar.
Like a sense of déjà vu.
As if it happened before.
The space was dark. That was the first thing anyone would've noticed. But then a voice spoke: "It is time, Brothers and Sisters. We must convene."
Slowly, fifteen lights winked into existence, gathered in a circle.
"So, this was your decision, Tabris? You decided to give them a second chance?" one spoke.
"It was, brother."
"You overstep your bounds. This was never mentioned in the Prophecy."
"You forget that the Prophecy no longer applies: he rejected the choice. The Prophecy only applied to that reality's bindings, not this one."
"So now you believe that you are above what we hold sacred?"
"It was well within my power to do so, Zeruel. As it was, it was also my decision to do so...and nothing else."
"I doubt that, Tabris. Your...affection for this pitiful Lilim and the other has blinded you!" another spat.
"Have they not proved themselves? They struggled against our might, using nothing more than shadows of Adam and Lilith...and survived."
"Enough, brothers. What has been done is done. We shall need to accept our roles in this reality now and whatever nuances show...we shall convene again..."