This is a work of fiction. Any references to Hellsing, RealDolls (TM), and [REDACTED] are purely coincidental, so don't look for them.
Backlit by the noonday sun, three titanic war machines prepared for certain destruction.
"Alright you dogs, here's the gameplan." A red-haired girl in a red-armored mecha looks out over a panoramic view of the city, moving markers over a miniature city like an amateur conductor.
"I'll circle around and hit the bogey from the rear. Wondergirl, you proceed under cover to sector 7, where the Positron Rifle Kai is waiting. It's all set up just the way you like it too. Once at the position, you will lay down suppressive fire, and act as an out if Shinji McDumbass messes things up again."
"Hey, you haven't even given me orders and you're insulting my competence," the dumbass in question retorts. He's taken a position ahead and to the right of the red one, always the meat shield. He sighs, and his machine sighs with him; its shoulders slouching.
"You can't insult something that doesn't exist, dipshit. Anyway, McDumbass, you take point, act as a diversion."
"Why am I always the diversion?"
"Because you're expendable."
"But what about Rei? There's a tank full of her and we've both seen it. She's the definition of expendable!"
A slight, sickly cough rings through the commlink as a human Dollfie appears on her comrades' viewscreens. Bright red eyes stare out through half-closed lids; a silent, bored warning of unending torment. The red haired girl shudders.
"Wondergirl may be a creepy mass produced doll thing, but she can shoot better than the both of us and you know it. Besides, we all know your mommy does most of the actual piloting for you."
Shinji's head falls forward as his mecha moans in assent. Finally someone recognizes how much she sweats and struggles to keep her baby boy from killing himself. Granted, the ripping and tearing parts are more for her personal amusement, but the end results are the same.
"Gee, thanks for not only making me feel totally inadequate-"
"Which you are."
"...but reminding me that just being in this thing has all sorts of creepy Freudian undertones. I was hoping we could leave that with the last Impact." His mecha growls, making the cockpit shake like a cement mixer. "Sorry. You've gotta admit this is weird as hell though." The mecha nods.
"Not as weird as you five-knuckle shuffling to my semi-persistent vegetative state, schwein."
Tired of being ignored, the enemy takes this time to make its advance; spraying acid from the stylized eyes on the front end of its egg-shaped body. The red and purple mecha scramble, taking cover behind two conveniently placed buildings.
"Jesus Asuka, you're never gonna let me live that one down are you?"
The red headed one, now known to the three people coming in who haven't seen the source material as Asuka Sohryu-[REDACTED], puts on her smarmiest smirk. "Of course not Shinjecchi, at least, not until you apologize."
"I already did though! Three times!" Shinji shouts, leaning out of cover to take potshots at the low-budget Kaiju.
"Not good enough! You have to mean it!" The red mecha curls inwards to avoid some acid spray, tightening its grip on a metal shaft. "Get down on your hands and knees, kowtow to me, call me Queen, and then kiss my-"
"Squad Leader Shikinami."
Asuka turns to the image of that damned annoying RealDoll ™. "Sohryu dammit, and what?"
The busted up Barbie doll is already in position, cradling a totally not phallic sniper rifle like a newborn baby. Her face is smooth as plexiglass, disregarding the fact that her right eye has gone jet black and sketchy. A dim red light burns dead center. "Awaiting signal for maneuver start."
"Oh yeah. Commence Buttercup Formation in drei, zwei, eins, now!"
And they're off.
Track 1: Babylon Angel's Song
The purple and green death machine vaults over a building and into a run straight at that one Angel nobody likes. You know, the one with all the eyes and the acid and shit.
Third Child, ex-godling, and general buttmonkey Shinji Ikari sallies forth, survival mantra of "I mustn't run away" replaced with "The fuck else am I going to go?" A hatch on the back of Unit 01 opens up, ejecting a sleek looking handle. The techno-organic mecha reaches back and unsheathes a wicked looking blade; the unholy lovechild of a chainsaw, a prog-knife, and a katana. Child and Eva roar together as they come in for the kill. A looping slash is stopped cold by an array of orange concentric hexagons, force meeting force. An acidic riposte makes 01 juke right, scraping the sword along the Angel's side. Again, it meets Absolute Territory, and not the thigh-high kind. Force push comes to shove, and the many-eyed monster of the week sends Shinji flying into a residential area; paper-thin barrier scraping streets and concrete. Unit 01 coughs out a puff of smoke, shakes debris off like a dog, and runs headlong and headfirst into the AT-Field. Wide brown eyes dart around the console as 01 bangs her head.
"Asuka, hurry up! I'm getting nowhere over here."
"Can't even put up a fight against the lamest Angel? Mein Gott, you're sad."
Eva Unit-02, the Red Comet of Tokyo-3, kicks off of another conveniently placed building and into the sky. A tattered brown cloak billows behind it, prog knives flying six blades rapid. The blades ricochet harmlessly off of the AT-Field, but you knew that already. A momentary distraction is all that's needed for Unit 02 to Goomba Stomp atop the Angel. The white-hot tip of an Absurdium spear finds purchase in one of many eyes, earning a fountain of searing purplish blood for the trouble. Stray droplets eat away at armor plating with the quickness, making Asuka wince at the shared sensation. She gives the Angel a few choice words in German with a boot to the general facial area for an exclamation point. It skids a fair bit, taking Unit 01 along for the ride; the robotic oni still worrying at the AT-Field like a particularly tough piece of rope.
Meanwhile, in a secure enclave situated in an industrial park, Unit 00 waits. Rei Ayanami sits, head bowed, black right eye open. If it weren't for the erratic movement of her red light "pupil", it would look like she was fast asleep. A functional-chic music player sits in her lap, black headphone cable snaking contrast up her white plugsuit and whiter skin. If she wished, she could end this in an instant: swallow everything in light and heat and a powdered orange beverage. She could cast off this cold metal (yet oddly endearing) shell, bring the light of her soul to full bear, rend the world and gleefully absorb the Third Child into her bosom again.
She could, but that wouldn't be sporting.
So she waits.
Unit 00 lies prone: umbilical cord no longer a necessity, remade positron rifle trained directly on the poor bastard child's core the entire time. Wait for the order, make Sohryu feel important, don't wash away the agonizing work each one of her children did to reject her embrace, to leave the nest. Let the show continue.
"Wondergirl, where the fuck is that suppressive fire? Shinji's cocking it up even more than usual-"
"Hey!"
"And that bastard Angel messed up my paint job!"
"I am afraid I cannot provide adequate saturation with the current armaments." Rei opens her other eye, a normal white and red. "This weapon is a single shot, bolt action analogue miniaturized anti-Angel cannon, with a recycle time of 35.9 seconds and three shot limiter. The stream of AT-Field encased anti-matter will instantly vaporize anything it comes into contact with, and contact time lasts for 5 seconds exactly. It is not suited to curtain fire." She pauses for a moment, as if stuck on a loading screen. "If it is any consolation, I have the Angel's core in my sights, and have done so since I took this position." Rei's diction and meter is flat and unaffected; a Speak and Say with a PhD.
"Then why haven't you taken the shot?"
"If I had done so, you and/or pilot Ikari would suffer critical damage as the blast tore through your Evangelions. I do not wish to injure you."
"Bullshit, I know that freaky Angel-eye thing you can do makes it so your shots are perfect. You wouldn't miss, so get on with it already!" A lashing strike from the Angel's spindly foreleg is easily parried aside, then met with the blunt end of Asuka's spear.
"Pilot Shikinami," Rei says, with all the intensity of a man reading a grocery list, "when did I imply that the damage would be from a missed shot?"
"Oh. Ohhh. Well then, thanks for not shooting us, I guess," Asuka pauses for a beat, turning away from the screen. "Crazy bitch."
"I heard that, Pilot Shikinami."
"That's nice that Rei didn't shoot us and all, but I'm kind of being kicked in the superego here guys," Shinji chirps, clashing soul against soul with the Angel in an AT-Field duel.
Unit 01 pants and slavers, itching to get back at the mean old bully giving her darling Shinji such grief. It doesn't even have the common courtesy to drop its defenses so he can kill it easier. Angels these days, such impolite creatures.
"So could we wrap this up? My libido is starting to itch." The LCL gets hotter as his Sync Ratio rises, the bond between man and machine growing stronger. "I don't even know how that's possible."
"Alright, we'll make this quick so Shinji the Great can go back to weeping alone," Asuka chuckles, amused by her verbal thrust. She swings the controls around and Unit 02 knees the Angel's underbelly; propping it up against Shinji's AT-Field. The beast brings eyes to bear, only to get them pierced by more progressive knives. It howls in pain and disappointment as the blade vivisects it cleanly, putting its ruby core on brazen display. Asuka gives the Angel a kick in the general groinal region for shits and giggles, then dives for cover. Content with her destruction, she puts on her best authoritative voice.
"First Child Rei Ayanami, I order you to cut loose."
With those words, Ayanami spasms; both eyes turning jet black. A Cheshire grin cracks the serenity of her facial features as a low, sensuous moan bubbles from her throat. She pitches forward: eyes closed, body trembling in excitement, savoring a deep breath. On the exhale her eyes open, back to what constitutes normal for her. The smallest of smiles plays upon her lips as the Positron Rifle hums the song that ends the fight.
"Sir yes sir, my master!"
"Killer." Asuka gives a sideways glace to the image of Shinji on her viewscreen. "McDumbass, get down unless you want to die again."
Unit 01 scampers behind another building, extending her AT-Field as far as Evangelically possible away from the Angel and her Lilithian half-daughter with the very large gun. "Aw Asuka, you really do care," Shinji says with a smile somewhere between snarky and sincere.
"Fuck off, Stupid Shi-"
A swath of light quickly puts an end to the banter. And the existence of several buildings. And the top half of the Angel, core and all. The thing still manages to scream a trill of absolute terror before popping like a blood-filled balloon.
A twisted little giggle reverberates in the air around the trio. "Rei Ayanami 1: Adam: 0. Better luck next time."
Somewhere in Germany, a gray haired bisexual bishounen from for alliteration's sake we're going to say Belgium sneezes.
Somewhere in NERV headquarters, lovable drunk Misato Katsuragi will crack open a 40 of Asashi Super Dry, loudly proclaiming "That was tits!" before finishing the bottle in 35.9 seconds. She will then sloppily make out with one Makoto Hyuuga. It will be the happiest moment of his many lives.
Somewhere else in NERV headquarters, Ritsuko Akagi will burn through a pack of cigarettes while attempting to comprehend why she's not a hypersensate puddle of Tang right now. She will go through another half of a pack when she realizes that if Yui is still in Unit 01, that means Zeppelin is in Unit 02, probably egging Asuka on to be an even bigger bitch. It takes every ounce of willpower not to scream when she realizes Naoko is still in Unit 00, being piloted by a "person" of mass destruction that may or may not have completely subsumed the Second Angel.
Yet somewhere else in NERV headquarters, one Professor Kozo Fuyutsuki has been made 5000 Nuyen lighter, having been convinced that Asuka and not Rei would land the killing blow. He will have to deal with the pointed gloating of noted asshole Gendo Ikari for the rest of the day now. The man is insufferable when he's proud of something, and the waves of pure smarm that emanate from him is a grim portent of his pride towards the new scenario.
And in Rei Ayanami's lap, the music player turns from track 27 to 888.