Note: This is story is based on a piece I started years ago, back when everything I wrote was crap. Some of the characters may be slightly OOC, as it's been a long time since I watched the series. I'm looking to become a bona-fide author, and writing fanfiction is essentially practice for me, which I'm sure will come back to embarrass me the day I become (in)famous. Rated M for mild language, (mild for me, anyway,) and violence. Comments, criticism, marriage proposals and death threats can be sent to bstrangler(at)yahoo(dot)com
Spirited Away
by The Boston Strangler
All non-original content is a copyright of Gainax Company, Limited
Chapter One
"SHINJI!"
Major Misato Katsuragi grimaced into her morning coffee as the the girl's shriek rang through her apartment like breaking glass. Right on cue, the owner of the voice burst into the tiny kitchen like a tornado.
"MISATO!"
She didn't bother looking up. "Good morning, Asuka."
Asuka Langley Sohryu, the 14 year old pilot of Evangelion Unit Two, tossed her flaming red hair and stamped her foot. "Good morning? Like hell! We're already late and that idiot Shinji will NOT HURRY UP!" she shouted back at the doorway she'd just entered, obviously for the benefit of the object of her wrath.
Misato's only response was to suppress a groan and wait for the rejoinder. Sure enough...
"THAT'S NOT TRUE!"
Pilot of Evangelion Unit One, Shinji Ikari, a slim, dark haired boy also 14 years old, dashed in on the heels of his enraged flatmate, albeit somewhat more sedately than the redhead. He pointed an accusing finger at her. "I was ready half an hour ago! It's not my fault you spend so much time in the stupid bathroom."
"Women need longer to get ready," Asuka retorted, "something a little boy like you wouldn't understand! Why weren't you waiting in the hall?"
"How was I supposed to know how long you'd be?" he shot back. "I was on the couch, watching television. You walked right past me!"
And so it went. Her head now in her hands, Misato listened until their bickering got on the last of her frayed nerves. Her chair skidded violently away from her as she suddenly stood and slammed her hands down on the table.
"ENOUGH!"
The feuding pair fell instantly silent and turned in shock as the bellowed command broke into their argument. The fury in their guardian's eyes actually made both of them take a step back. "If I hear another word out of either of you," Misato growled, "you won't need to worry about school, or anything else, ever again. Leave. Now."
The obvious danger in her voice instantly transformed the two combatants into the meekest of children.
"Yes, Misato."
"Sorry, Misato."
They bowed their heads and filed out of the room with the Major's flashing eyes following them the whole way. Only when she heard the front door close behind them did she slump back into her seat and let out the frustrated groan she had been holding back. She rubbed her face with her hands and took another sip of her coffee.
"Kids," she muttered.
After a few more sips she reached for the cordless phone receiver on the table beside her. She dialed a number and took another sip while she waited for the call to connect. After a few rings there was a click and youthful-sounding female voice spoke in her ear. "Command centre, Corporal Sasaki speaking."
"Sasaki, this is Major Katsuragi. The Second and Third children have just left for school. They should be leaving my building any moment. Are the teams in place?"
"Yes, sir. All agents are checked in and waiting. I will inform them of the children's status. Is there anything else, Major?"
"No, that's all. Goodbye."
"Goodbye, Major."
Misato put the receiver down with a sigh and tried the coffee again. Grimacing in disgust, she got up and poured it down the sink. She rinsed the mug, opened the fridge and rummaged around inside until her hand closed around a beer. The familiar, satisfying hiss of the can being opened immediately lifted her spirits. She sat back down and took a long pull, letting the heavenly liquid slide down her throat. By the time she came up for air the can was almost empty. She leaned back in her chair and stared listlessly up at the ceiling.
"Kids."
***
A muggy, overcast day greeted the children as they exited their building and began their daily walk to school. Unbeknown to them, two blocks away to their right, a pair of dark-suited men in a nondescript black sedan were watching their every move through powerful binoculars.
Inside the car, a radio crackled into life."Central to all Stalker units, Second and Third are leaving Home Base One. They should be in view any moment. Over"
Agent Kimura, the Nerv intelligence operative in the driver's seat, picked up the portable radio while his partner continued to monitor the children. "Stalker One. We see them, Central," he reported. "Looks like they're going the usual route. We'll take it from here. Over and out."
"Roger. Over and out."
Agent Kato, the man in the passenger seat, lowered his binoculars "Here we go," he murmured to himself. His partner spoke into the radio again.
"This is Stalker One," he said authoritatively. "All Stalker units check in." He lowered the radio and waited. He didn't have to wait long.
"Stalker Three, checking in."
"Stalker Two, checking in."
"Stalker Four here, checking in."
"Good," he continued when they had all responded. "Second and Third have left Home Base One and are headed south. Looks like they're taking Track One to the Database. Stalker Two and Three, head to starting positions and check in once you're in place."
"Stalker Two. Copy that, Stalker One."
"Stalker Three. Copy."
Kimura turned to his partner, who'd gone back to his binoculars. "How are they traveling?"
"Almost out of sight," the other man replied. "We'll need to get closer."
Kimura handed the radio to his partner as he put the car in gear and pulled out onto the road. "Raise Stalker Four and ask them what's going on. She should have left by now. They'd better not have missed her," he stated grimly.
Kato took the radio and depressed the call button. "Stalker Four, this is Stalker One, do you copy?" He lowered the radio as they pulled in at the far corner of the next block and stopped. Neither agent saw the dark grey SUV three blocks behind them creep forward as well, mirroring their movements.
"Stalker Four here," came over the radio a moment later, "we copy."
"Stalker Four, what is the status of the First?"
"No activity yet, Stalker One," came the reply, "Home Base Two is still silent."
The two agents looked at one another. "Maybe she called in sick," Kimura offered.
Kato shook his head and sighed. "Hold your position, Stalker Four. Looks like you might be stuck there for the day."
"Bad news, Stalker One. We'll keep you posted."
"Who pulled Four today?" Kimura asked as they resumed their surveillance of Asuka and Shinji. "Sounded like Ito."
"Yeah, Ito and Yamata," his partner replied, "They can't seem to catch a break, those guys."
Kimura chuckled. "Looks like they just caught a long one." He turned and grinned. "Good thing too – they could use a nice rest!"
There was silence for a minute or two, then radio came on again. "Stalker Two to Stalker One. We are in position."
"Stalker Three to Stalker One, we are in position and ready to go."
"About time." Kimura picked it up. "Copy that, One and Two. Stalker Two, have you sighted the primaries yet?"
"Negative, Stalker One, we – no, wait." There was a brief silence."Yeah, there they are. They've just come into view. We've got them, Stalker One."
"Good. Stalker Two and Stalker Three, proceed according to instructions. We'll meet you at the rendezvous point."
"Stalker Two. Copy."
"Stalker Three. Copy that."
He put the radio down and both agents put their seat belts on. "You ready?" he asked his partner.
Kato nodded. "Let's go."
Tyres squeaked as Agent Kimura dropped the clutch and pulled the car into a U-turn. They raced back down the road to the T-intersection at the end and turned left, heading for the rendezvous point outside the children's school. They spared only a glance at the apparently unoccupied grey SUV parked across the road as they sped past it.
Inside the other vehicle, a pair of black-masked eyes peered over the windowsill from behind the driver's seat, watching them go. As soon as they were out of sight the man sat up, quickly joined by three others as they rose from their hiding positions. The SUV, too, made a U-turn, speeding after the other car and darting into a side street that ran parallel to the road the agents had taken.
***
"Here they come."
Roughly three kilomteres away along the top of another T-intersection, two more dark suited men, agents Suzuki and Shimizu, watched the approach of the children from a dark blue hatchback with heavily tinted windows. Suzuki, the driver, lowered his binoculars. "How long, do you think?"
"Not long." Shimizu replied, "Two, maybe three minutes. They're moving pretty fast."
"Well, they are late."
Suzuki scratched his shoulder, looked around and yawned. These early starts were killing him, not to mention interfering with his social life. And there was the waiting. Suzuki had always hated waiting. It made him wonder – not for the first time – why he had signed up for Surveillance detail in the first place. The little extra money just didn't seem to make it worthwhile anymore. Maybe he could get a transfer to Security Intelligence? No, he was still in Nakamura's bad books. She'd probably dump him on the round-the-clock surveillance of Commander Ikari's apartment, just for asking. The thought of twelve-hour shifts cooped up in a hot car or van almost made him physically sick.
An elbow in his ribs interrupted his musings. "Here they come," Shimizu informed him. "Get ready to move." He spoke into the radio. "Stalker Two. Second and Third have broached our sector. We're moving out. Stay sharp, Three, they should reach your position in a few minutes."
Suzuki started the car with a sigh and turned out of the junction and into the main street, heading towards the children. His eyes flicked over a tall, scruffy looking man and a slender woman in a business suit standing on the opposite corner, then they were past.
Without appearing to turn their heads, man and woman both watched the blue car until it was out of sight. They waited.
Stalker Two proceeded at a leisurely pace, rapidly closing the distance between them and the children on their left. Shinji and Asuka barely acknowledged the car as it rolled by.
"Alright, they're well enough behind us. Pick it up a bit," Shimizu urged after they had traveled a little further. Suzuki complied, nudging the accelerator. The vehicle started to gain speed. When they we sufficiently far enough away as to remain inconspicuous they would double back and surreptitiously tail the children to school.
Still further up the street, well past the Katsuragi residence, on the crest of a rise, a radio tower bordered the road. On a maintenance platform roughly two-thirds of the way up the tower a man in black fatigues lay prone, watching the progress of Stalker Two through the telescopic lens of a long-range rifle.
The barrel of the weapon rested easily on a small sandbag. Raising his head, the man reached around the gun and gave the bag a light squeeze. He checked the scope again, and, apparently satisfied, sought out the blue car once more. He took his time, choosing his target carefully before zeroing in. Keeping his breathing low and steady, he disengaged the trigger lock with a practiced flick of his finger. Patient and unmoving, he waited for his cue.
Back at the intersection the tall, scruffy man, dressed in worn and faded khaki slacks and a grimy-looking orange hooded sweatshirt, was leaning casually against a building, smoking a cigarette and looking bored. The woman, a few metres to his left in a conservative grey pinstripe jacket and skirt and an equally conservative pair of black, flat-heeled shoes, was talking quietly into a mobile phone and looking rather irritated. If one could get close enough to each of them, a tiny wireless radio receiver could just be seen nestled in one ear. Together they made up Stalker Three, a plainclothes unit.
Kudo gave his partner a sideways look as her feigned conversation became more and more animated, until, with a curse and an angry gesture, she terminated the 'call' and slipped the device into a jacket pocket. From the other pocket a PDA came out in place the phone and she tapped at it with the attached stylus.
Suddenly he caught a flash of auburn hair in the periphery of his vision as the children came into view. "Maruyama, heads up," he said in a low voice. The woman gave no indication that she'd heard him speak, only shifting as if by chance to face the approaching pair, the stylus tapping away as busily as ever. Kudo reached up as though to scratch his neck, grasping his lapel as he did so. "Stalker Three here, primaries are approaching. Proceeding according to instructions," he said quietly.
The man across the road piqued Asuka's interest as they approached the junction. He looked somehow familiar, though she couldn't recall where she'd seen him, if in fact she ever had. A dreamy look came over her as she observed his handsome, disinterested face and unkempt facial stubble, though she turned her nose up at his clothes.
She looked back in disgust at the boy trailing several steps behind her. What she wouldn't give to have a few more real men in her life. Shinji was so changeable, even more so than her, and that was saying something. It was one of the main reasons he irritated her so much. Their argument had petered out on the stairs of their apartment building and he seemed to sink almost immediately into a sullen, brooding attitude. Jeez, just looking at him was making temper rise. She shook her head and tried to put him out of her thoughts as she increased her pace.
It was about then that a lot of things started to happen at once.
Stalker One was passing a large, walled-off building containing an Evangelion umbilical cable, just a few blocks from the rendezvous point. Kimura picked up the radio and handed it to Kato. "Try unit Four again, ask them what's going on. If she hasn't left yet I doubt she's going to."
His partner took the radio and depressed the call button. "Stalker One to Stalker Four, come in Stalker Four." He lowered the radio and waited. When ten seconds had passed with no response, he tried again. "Stalker One to Stalker Four, do you copy? What's going on, guys?" Another ten seconds passed, then twenty, and he tried once more.
The radio remained silent. He turned to Kimura and shook his head. "Still nothing."
"Damn it," Kimura said, sounding irritated. "It'd be just like something to go wrong on my watch. Alright, call the command centre, tell them to get someone over there. Maybe their radio's busted or- shit!"
Kato started, then cursed as well when he saw what his partner had seen. On their left a dark grey SUV barreled down the side street they were about to pass. Kimura slammed on the brakes with a screech of tyres, almost sending their car into a fishtail. Anticipating the move, the driver of the other vehicle swerved towards them as they slid by the corner. He added to the noise as he jumped on his own brakes just metres from Stalker One. The agents in the sedan caught a brief impression of black-masked faces as the other car impacted on the passenger's side, almost dead centre.
There was a ear-splitting crash of shattering glass and a sound like a clap of thunder as the vehicles met. The front of the SUV rose high into the air with the impact, its shock absorbers shrieking in protest as it came down, hard. The sedan was lifted almost off the ground, skidding sideways at an angle of nearly ninety degrees to land against the wall that bordered the road. There was another loud crash as the roof impacted with the reinforced concrete. The car teetered unsteadily on two wheels before coming to rest upright with a groan of twisted metal, scattering broken glass and other debris over the road.
A thin blanket of white smoke hung heavily around the mangled wreck of Stalker One, filling the air with the acrid stench of burnt rubber as Kimura came to in a haze of shock and pain. He could feel a warm trickle from his ears and nose as he looked groggily around the blood-spattered cabin. He turned to his partner. Agent Kato lay slumped against his door, his head and face a mess of rapidly congealing blood. His head rested at an odd angle and Kimura could vaguely make out what looked like bone protruding from the torn skin of the other man's neck.
It was then that he became suddenly aware of the men approaching the car. Through his blurred and unsteady vision they looked like two slashes of malevolent darkness swimming against the almost unbearable brightness outside. He groped instinctively for his weapon, uncertain even of what he was doing. A flash of what looked like sparks issued from the middle of one of the dark shapes and he cried out in agony as a bullet struck his face, entering just below his left eye and blowing his brains out. The last things agent Kimura saw and felt were his gun resting in his lap, and a searing pain in his head as he slumped forward.
The gunmen, clad in identical black fatigues, each fired two quick bursts through the broken windshield of decimated sedan, their heavily suppressed submachine guns making little more noise than small firecrackers being set off in rapid succession. Once they had made certain of the downed agents they did an about face, jogged back to their car and piled in. Before the doors were even closed the driver had pulled the car into a tight turn. He gunned the engine and laid rubber and the SUV roared back the way it had come.
About the time Stalker One realised they were being ambushed, Stalker Two were preparing to turn and follow the children. Agent Shimizu was turned almost completely around in his seat, looking through the back window. He could just see the children as they passed Stalker Three's position and moved toward the corner of the junction.
"OK, far enough. They're passing Three. Turn now," he said. The words were scarcely out of his mouth when he heard the sharp crack of something breaking and a surprised grunt from the seat beside him. Puzzled, he turned back just in time to see his partner's head appear to sag and collapse inward like a punctured basketball as the faint sound of a gunshot drifted through a small, neat hole in the windshield. He watched in horror as Suzuki's eyes rolled back in his head, the entire side of which seemed to peel away, coming to rest gruesomely on his left shoulder. Blood and brain tissue dribbled down his body, his twisted, white-eyed death mask leering at Shimizu all the while.
At a certain point instinct and training must have taken over. Even in his total shock Shimizu found himself lunging at the steering wheel, fighting for control of the vehicle as he tried to get his dead partner's foot off the accelerator. He heard the other car before he saw it. Suddenly it was there, filling the rear view mirror, a grey SUV with indistinct black shapes inside. He barely had time to brace for the impact as it accelerated and braked sharply, slamming hard into the back of the other car.
The rear window imploded with a loud pop, showering the cabin with safety glass. The transfer of kinetic energy caused the smaller car to lurch forward and swerve out of control. Shimizu jerked the wheel hard left. The car veered sharply, mounted the curb and came to rest against a sloped retaining wall that ran along the footpath. The agent barely noticed the warm, wet spatter of blood and brain matter on the back of his head and neck as the hatchback came to a sudden and violent halt.
Shimizu raised his head cautiously, turned and froze when saw the SUV bearing down on him. He braced himself again, certain they were going to ram him. They didn't, instead screeching to a halt a few metres short. He scrambled desperately for the radio at his feet as the assailants swiftly exited their vehicle and assumed firing stances alongside it. He had no doubts as to what they were after. He had to warn Nerv.
He flinched as he felt a bullet whiz by and impact somewhere near his head. He abandoned the radio and made a dive over his partner's blood-soaked knees. The driver's side door was twisted and warped from the attack. More bullets whined viciously around him as he burst through to the other side of the car and hit the ground rolling. In a flash he was on all fours, pistol in hand as he scrambled for the rear wheel and wedged himself against it, desperately trying to make himself as small a target as possible.
The small car shuddered and groaned under the onslaught of continuous automatic gunfire. Whatever glass had survived the crash quickly disintegrated into crystalline fragments that scattered over the surrounding area. Shimizu ducked his head to protect his eyes as the window above him exploded and showered him with more glass.
He desperately conceived and rejected various plans of action as bullets clattered against the car like hailstones. He could feel them whipping through the air above him and hear them as they bounced off the road beside him, spraying him with stinging flecks of asphalt. Few seemed to be passing through the body of the car, though. The heavily muffled reports from their submachine guns and the suppressors he had seen told Shimizu that the enemy were almost certainly using subsonic rounds, which would have great difficulty in penetrating the entire breadth of even a small car like Stalker Two's. That was a point in his favor. Another was the fact that they clearly hadn't expected him to find cover, evidenced by their attempt to bring him down by filling the air with a lot of bullets. That was sloppy. Their low-velocity pistol calibre rounds were strictly antipersonnel. Devastating to an unarmoured target taken by surprise, but not too effective in a firefight.
Less than two minutes had passed since his partner had been murdered before his eyes, but to agent Shimizu it seemed like a lifetime. Antipersonnel or not, he knew that short of divine intervention or fabulous luck, the enemy's four automatic weapons against his one pistol could only result in a single outcome. It'd be a matter of seconds before they realised their current approach wasn't working and simply walked around the car on both sides and cut him to pieces. At that moment, getting his hands on his radio – on any radio - became his one and only goal in life. He knew he was going to die. He only prayed that he could raise the alarm before they took him down. If they took those kids it would be over his dead body.
Shimizu seemed to suddenly remember something and reached behind the collar of his shirt, removing a small diamond studded crucifix on a thin silver chain. He kissed it and fingered it briefly. He wasn't particularly religious, it was more of a keepsake than anything. But he sensed he needed all the help that was going.
There was a lull in the shooting as he slipped the pendant back into his shirt. He took a risk and raised his eyes over the ledge of the door he was crouched against. Through the broken windows he had a pretty clear view of all four of his attackers. There were two on each side of the SUV, clad entirely in black – boots, fatigues, ski masks. They leered menacingly at him through eye and mouth holes. Their whole appearance was designed not only to hide their identities, but also to intimidate.
Well, Shimizu was not so easily impressed. In his eight years with Nerv he had seen things. Things that were never meant to be seen. Things that could make a powerful man wake at night in a cold sweat, afraid to go back to sleep. Four thugs in black pajamas paled in comparison. He only hoped that confidence in this fact would give him the edge he needed to achieve his objective.
When he'd had a good enough look he sank back down against the wheel and waited. The men at the front of the car were each down on one knee. The men behind them stood, flattened against the vehicle. They had just ejected empty magazines and were reaching for the fresh ones strapped to their belts, with the two in front preparing to follow suit. This was his chance. He inhaled and exhaled rapidly to facilitate the flow of adrenaline though his body. The seconds crawled by until finally there came the click of fresh magazines being slapped home, followed almost instantly by the clatter of empty ones hitting the asphalt.
Now.
In one swift, fluid movement Shimizu rose and brought his pistol up in a rock-solid two handed grip. Before the enemy could ready their weapons, there were a series of deafening reports as he squeezed off three tightly spaced shots at the first black-clad figure he saw. The man crouched by the right front wheel of the grey car grunted and dropped his weapon as two of the ten millimetre bullets found their mark, striking him in the collarbone and in the neck. His legs kicked out from under him in an involuntary spasm and he went down in a mist of arterial blood. The three other men dropped out of sight as they threw themselves flat against the road. Their companion thrashed around in obvious agony, gurgling and clawing at his throat.
***
Agents Kudo and Maruyama turned to each other in alarm at the unmistakable sound of gunshots from the north. "The car. Get to the car!" Kudo snapped. Maruyama was in full sprint before he'd finished speaking, around the corner and up the road to where their car was parked in a small garage under one of the buildings as Kudo spoke rapidly into his lapel mic. "Attention all Stalker units," he said urgently. "This is Stalker Three. Code Red. Shots fired. I repeat, shots fired." Seconds ticked by but there no answer. "All Stalker units," he repeated desperately. "Shots fired – Code red, Code red. Stalker units, respond!"
The radio remained silent. Something was very wrong. He was struck by a sense of dread. "Come in, Central. This is agent Kudo, Stalker Three. Code Red, I repeat, Code Red. Shots fired. Central, please respond."
He was relieved to hear the receiver crackle and a voice speak in his ear. "Agent Kudo, this is Central. Code Red acknowledged. What is your status and the status of the primaries?"
Down the road Asuka and Shinji had heard the shots as well and were looking around in puzzlement. They turned and started walking back to the corner.
Kudo watched as they came towards him, looking between him and the direction of the noise they had heard. "I am currently at Stalker Three observation point for Track One," he reported. "Primaries are forty-five meters due west and approaching my position. Agent Maruyama is retrieving our vehicle. Other Stalker units are not responding. Awaiting instructions."
A reply came after what seemed like an eternity, but a different voice this time. "Agent Kudo, this is Dr. Ritsuko Akagi. Are you still there?"
"Yes, Doctor."
"Good, now listen very carefully. Get the children to your car. Agent Maruyama will drive them to the nearest security checkpoint to wait for an armed escort. Backup is on the way - you are to hold your position until it arrives. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
"Good. Under no circumstances are you to engage any hostiles by yourself. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Doctor."
"Very well. Continue as instructed, then wait for your backup. Over and out."
"Affirmative Dr Akagi. Over and out." Kudo turned and waved at Shinji and Asuka as they reached the corner. They pulled up short and eyed him warily as he started towards them with his ID held aloft in front of him. "Shinji, Asuka," he called out, "I am agent Kudo, Nerv intelligence. You may be in danger, we need to get you-" he broke off as a faint scream reached his ears and was suddenly chocked off. It had come from up the road behind him. Maruyama. "Wait there!" he shouted back at the confused children as he turned on his heel and sprinted away.
***
Shimizu was heartened, even elated, by his thoroughly unexpected success. For the first time since the attack had begun he was bolstered by a faint hope. He was almost certain, now, that he could reach that radio. Maybe he'd even get out of this alive. But he had to move now, while the enemy were distracted.
Maintaining a firm two-handed stance, he stepped deliberately from cover and moved cautiously around the car in a wide arc. The attacker closest to him, behind the man he'd shot, had started to pick himself up. He froze suddenly and cursed when he spotted the agent. Before he could bring his weapon to bear he was forced to throw himself flat again by the bullet that slammed into the SUV just millimetres from his face. Another one tore a chunk out of the road where he'd been lying as he rolled desperately for cover under the car.
He was so close. Just a few more steps and the radio would be in reach. With a little luck he'd be able to raise the alarm. With a lot more luck he might even get back to cover and hold the attackers off until help arrived. He sent two spaced shots after the retreating gunman, then two more at the ground on the other side of the vehicle, hoping it would make the others keep their heads down for the few seconds he needed.
He sidled between the two vehicles, keeping his weapon trained on the SUV with one hand, doing his best to keep both sides of it covered. His other hand groped for the handle of the hatchback door, found it and wrenched it open. He risked a quick glance behind him and immediately spotted the radio on the floor of the car. He crouched and scooped it up. He sensed movement to his left as he stood, turning just in time to see a shadowy figure creep out from behind the SUV, weapon trained. Shimizu hastily raised his own gun and they fired almost simultaneously.
Shimizu was a fraction too slow. His shot went wide as a raking burst from the submachine gun tore up the right side of his torso and knocked him off balance. He fell hard against the open door of the hatchback, bouncing off it and collapsing in a heap next to the car. He managed to keep a grip on his weapon, but the radio clattered just out of reach. Seemingly unaware of his injuries and the blood pooling around him, Shimizu crawled weakly towards it, hissing and wheezing as he tried to draw breath through his ruptured left lung.
A shadow fell over him as his fingers closed around the radio. He fought to raise his gun, but was too far gone to manage anything but a feeble groan as a combat boot pressed down on his wrist and ground it into the asphalt, forcing him to drop the weapon and then kicking it away. Another kick sent the radio skittering across the road to dash itself to pieces against the curb. What had been agonizing pain at first rapidly became numbness as his body started to shut down. He barely felt the toe of the boot in his ribs as his attacker kicked him. With the last of his strength, he rolled onto his back and looked up into a pair of cold blue eyes as the man called for his companions to come out of hiding. All three men stood over him for a moment before two turned away and went over to their injured teammate. The man who had shot him delivered another vicious kick to his ribs and reached for the pistol holstered against his thigh.
***
Agent Kudo skidded to a halt just short of the alcove where Stalker Three's car was parked. After a quick look back to reassure himself that the children were where he had left them, he steadied himself and drew his weapon.
He could hear muffled grunting and the sounds of a scuffle as he poked his head around the corner, his weapon ready. He squinted, but it was too bright outside and too dark inside to see anything, so he crept forward as quietly as he could, his ears pricked and his eyes darting in all directions. As he moved deeper under cover the glare disappeared suddenly. As his eyes adjusted he could clearly make out the car and the outline of two people standing alongside it, locked in some kind of struggle. The smaller one had to be Maruyama. She was pinned against her assailant by his arm across her chest and the hand clamped tightly over her mouth. She kicked and struggled desperately but her attacker was lifting as well as holding her, keeping her from gaining any kind of purchase.
Kudo silently holstered his weapon and crept towards them. There was a dull but unmistakable glint of light reflecting off polished steel as the attacker raised his free arm.
"Maruyama!"
Kudo abandoned stealth and vaulted around the trunk of the car as the attacker plunged the knife into her chest. She moaned in agony through the hand over her mouth, a moan that became a ghastly whistle as the knife sliced through her windpipe. With a snarl Kudo was upon them, grabbing the other man around his neck in a choke hold and tearing him away from her. A fine spray of blood settled on his face as the knife was ripped from the wound and the attacker was sent spinning into the ground behind them.
Maruyama sank to her knees, wheezing frantically through the blood that bubbled from the gash in her throat. Kudo drew his weapon and pointed it at the man on the ground. "Do not move!" He shouted. But before he could say or do anything more there were three deafening reports as a pistol spoke from the darkness behind him. He cried out in pain as the bullets tore into his back. He stumbled, then pitched forward to sprawl heavily on top of the man on the ground.
Another man stepped out of the deep shadows at the back of the garage as his teammate struggled out from under agent Kudo's dead weight. He casually fired two more shots into the writhing Maruyama as he walked past, silencing her for good. He holstered the weapon and helped his partner to his feet. They wasted no time, exiting the dark garage and running up to the end of the block and another dark grey SUV parked around the corner.
***
Shimizu's laboured breathing rapidly became more and more faint as darkness seemed to envelop him. He could just make out the shape of another heavy silencer as the gunman's sidearm was leveled at his face. In an accent that sounded American, the man a uttered a single English word;
"Bastard."
As death loomed over him Shimizu felt no fear or anger – only an overwhelming shame. Every person on Earth knew that the Evangelions and their young pilots were mankind's only hope for a future. And he had failed to protect them. Shimizu's last thoughts were of his own daughter and what would become of her as his would-be killer squeezed the trigger. His body twitched and shuddered as the hollow-point bullet tore through his head.
The masked man put his gun away and turned unceremoniously from the person he had just executed. He went over to where his companions were milling around their fallen comrade, muttering uncertainly between themselves. He brushed them aside and dropped to his haunches. The fallen man's eyes flicked rapidly between them with a frenzied desperation. He gurgled wetly as he tried to speak through the blood hemorrhaging from his mouth. The man crouched beside him gently removed his bloody hands from his throat so he could check his injuries. After a brief inspection he stood and turned to his companions. He shook his head in response to their questioning looks and ordered them back to the car.
He followed them over, walking to the back of the vehicle and opening the rear hatch. He grabbed a plastic fuel canister which he took back and set down beside to the injured man. The man shook his head pleadingly as the other drew his sidearm and positioned it over his heart. With a muttered apology, he pulled the trigger. The man on the ground convulsed once and lay still. He fired once more to be certain and put the gun away.
Working quickly, he stripped the dead man of his weapons and equipment, putting them to one side. Then he stood, raised his boot high over the dead man's face, and brought it down hard on his mouth. He repeated the process until the lower face and jaw were a bloodied mess. With that done, he opened the fuel canister and up-ended it over the body, soaking it with petrol. It pooled around and ran in rivulets from the corpse, following the downward slope of the road. By the time the container was empty, the body and the area around it were drenched. The masked man wasted no time, scooping up the dead man's gear and dumping it and the empty container in the back of the SUV. He closed the hatch with a bang, walked to the front of the car and vaulted into the driver's seat.
The engine roared to life and he pulled carefully around the body to the other side of the road. An unpleasant-smelling vapour hung heavily in the air as the man in the passenger's seat passed him a box of safety matches. He struck one and pushed it into the box which hissed and sputtered violently as the matches rapidly ignited into a long tongue of flame. He tossed the box out the car window and stepped on the accelerator. The fuel ignited with a loud rushing noise as they sped back down the hill.
***
Shinji and Asuka were thoroughly alarmed now. They had heard yelling and gunshots coming from the place where the tall, scruffy man had disappeared, then two men dressed entirely in black had emerged from the same place and jogged up the road away from them. Then there was silence.
They looked at each other with rising panic. "I think we're in trouble," Shinji said.
"Yeah, no kidding," Asuka retorted, turning in all directions as she instinctively backed away from the source of the commotion. "Let's get out of here. Should we run for the school? It's pretty far away, though. Maybe we should go back home."
Shinji shook his head. "That's the direction the first shots came from," he reminded her.
"Oh, yeah," she replied, then thought for a moment. "Maybe we should try and find that Koda guy? He did tell us to wait for him."
"Kudo." Shinji looked uncertain. "He said he was with Nerv, but we didn't really get a good look at his ID. He could be anyone. Besides," he added, with a nervous glance up the road, "if he is from Nerv I'm pretty sure that he's- uh, that he wouldn't be able to help us."
"The school, then," Asuka said decisively. "We should call Misato too. Give me your phone."
Shinji shook his head again. "I forgot to bring it. It's on my bedside table."
It was Asuka's turn to shake her head. "Typical idiot Shinji," she snorted derisively, seeming to forget that she'd left hers behind too. "OK, forget it. Let's get out of here in case those guys in black come back here."
The end of her sentence was drowned out by the roar of a powerful diesel engine from behind them. They turned and saw a dark grey SUV, its bull bar and front end warped and dented, screech to a halt in the middle of the road. They looked on in disbelief as two men in black fatigues with submachine guns slung over their shoulders exited the vehicle and walked towards them, weapons raised and pointed at them.
"Stop! Do not move!" one of them shouted as they started to back away. "Stay right there or we will shoot you!"
"Shinji, run," Asuka whispered urgently, doing her best to disguise the tremor in her voice. "Back home, it's our only chance."
"No," Shinji replied, sounding unreasonably calm. "They'll shoot us, Asuka."
"But- but we're kids," Asuka blurted out as they came closer and closer. "They wouldn't shoot kids, would they?"
"Why not?" he snorted. "They must know who we are. Besides, why would they point guns at us if they wouldn't use them?"
"Then they must be here to kill us. Shinji, we have to run. At least we'll have a chance."
He shook his head. "If they were here just to kill us they would done it already," he pointed out. "Besides, we'd be dead before we could take three steps. Our only chance is to do as they ask."
"No," Asuka said firmly. "There's no telling what they want to do to us. You can stay if you want. I'm getting out of here."
"Asuka, stop!" Shinji hissed as she started to back away again. "They'll kill you. Stop moving!"
"Hey! I just told you to stop!" The black-masked man shouted again as they reached the children. "Now STOP!" His hand shot out and grabbed Shinji roughly by the shirtfront. The other man reached for Asuka. She turned and bolted, up the road toward home.
"Goddamn it!"
"Asuka, don't!"
She didn't get far before the roar of another powerful diesel stopped her in her tracks. Another dark grey SUV came into view at the top of a rise and screeched to a halt, cutting off her retreat. She slumped in defeat as three more men got out of the car and raced towards her, weapons leveled. She felt an arm snake tightly around her chest and she was jerked roughly off her feet.
A roll of duct tape was produced from somewhere, strips of which were placed over the mouths of the children and wrapped around their heads several times as they were half dragged, half carried to the SUV back at the intersection. They were dumped unceremoniously into the back seat, with two of the men from the other car climbing in on either side, wedging the children between them.
Both vehicles roared to life and turned left at the intersection, heading east at top speed.
***
Meanwhile, on the other side of town, a light green van stood in the road in front of a shabby-looking tenement block. The front seats were raised and a man was leaning over the engine, his left arm in a cast and his right foot bandaged. He cursed and muttered to himself as he struggled to stay upright an a single wooden crutch.
He looked up at the sound of a door being opened and closed. He backed unsteadily out of the cabin and watched as a pale skinned girl with blue hair cut just above her shoulders exited the tenement and crossed the road.
Rei Ayanami, 14 year old pilot of Evangelion Unit Zero, was running very late for school. It wasn't her fault, though. She'd been on her way out the door when she got a phone call from headquarters telling her to stay where she was, as Commander Ikari would be calling her with some very important information. The woman on the phone had instructed her to wait at least two hours. If the call hadn't come by then, she said, Rei was to go to school as instructed and she would be contacted there. Not at all perturbed by the strange request, she waited dutifully for exactly two hours. There was no call within that time, so she had left.
"Excuse me, Miss?" Rei stopped in her tracks at the sound of the man's voice and turned to face him. Red eyes stared blankly into his as he hobbled up to her. He looked down at her with a pleasant smile. "Sorry to bother you, but I'm having some trouble with my car," he gestured back at the green van. "But I can't do much with this arm. Do you think you could help me?"
Rei blinked at him for a moment. "I am very sorry," she finally said, "but I am under strict orders to avoid association with strangers."
He looked at her strangely. "That sounds like a very serious thing for such a pretty little girl to say. Are you sure you can't help me? It will only take a moment, and I'm running very late for my daughter's birthday party."
"I am sorry, but those are my orders."
"If you say so, Miss." The man shook his head and sighed. "May I borrow your phone to call a tow truck, then? I left mine at home."
"I am sorry, but I am very late for school. If you wish I will telephone a breakdown service for you." She pulled her mobile phone from her pocket and turned away.
The phone flew from her grasp as she felt herself grabbed roughly from behind. A plaster cast pressed hard into her throat kept her from screaming as she kicked and clawed at her attacker. Her eyes widened at the sudden sharp sting of a needle piercing her neck, then closed as she weakened and finally went limp.
The man tossed the empty syrette carelessly aside as the rear doors of the green van burst open. Two men in black fatigues emerged and ran over, taking the unconscious girl from him and bundling her into the back of the vehicle. The man tore the fake cast from his arm and kicked the bandages off his foot. He gathered them up along with the abandoned crutch, tossed them into the back of the van and slammed the doors shut. The front seats fell into place with a bang as he moved to the drivers door and released the catch. With one last look around to see if they were being observed, he got into the van and peeled away with a squeal of tyres. The odour of burning rubber hung in the air as the grey sky rumbled, and it started to rain.