You wake from the nightmare with a scream, hands twitching for a rifle that isn't there. You take a calming breath, stare at the ceiling for a single second, and then - "Fuck." It's the same dream you have every night, and it ends at precisely the same time every morning- 0512 hours. It's better than a goddamned alarm clock. You roll off the bed and head to the shower, where your morning ritual of a shit, shower, and shave carry away the remnants of sleep and the nightmare.

The rest of your morning ritual isn't as cleansing. You throw on all the accoutrements of a business suit except for a coat. That goes on after you put on a shoulder rig for your pistol, and spare magazines. Keys, phone, wallet, and you're good to go.

Considering that you're stepping from a Spartan room and into a Spartan hallway in a Spartan facility, you wonder why you even bother keeping keys on you anymore. Your feet carry you down the hall to a bank of elevators, where you select the direction you're heading for, up. The elevator dings open almost as soon as you press the button.

"Agent," your immediate boss, Captain Thierry greets you. "Have a pleasant night?"

"Yes sir," you respond quietly, wishing you had a goddamn cup of goddamn coffee to start your goddamn day and his goddamned mustache is staring at you and it's a goddamned porno mustache.

"It's about to get worse. Word from above has come down. We're swapping protection duties for the Children with Section One. The Commander doesn't think they're up to snuff." Of course not, you silently agree. Section One is good for intimidating children and conspiracy theorists. All they need to do is wear uniforms and look scary. Captain Thierry makes it even worse. "To that end, guess who drew the straw of shadowing Captain Katsuragi to pick up the Third today."

Oh goddamn it. The elevator dings, and Captain Thierry gives you a cheerful wave as you punch the doors as they close.

You ride the elevator up to the cafeteria, one level below the entrance lobby to the Geofront, two levels above Section Two's offices. This early in the morning, the cafeteria is empty save for the first bleary eyed cooks stumbling in to begin their day's labor. Someone, God bless them, got a pot of coffee going. You find a cup, somehow, and fill it to the brim. The first sip is like the nectar of the Greek gods, and leaning against a support pillar, you sigh. Now your day can begin. "Agent," someone says from behind you.

Mindful of your coffee, you turn slowly, unwilling to greet whoever it is. It's another Section Two agent. "Agent," you greet him, and he nods in confirmation.

"I heard you're riding with the TacCom to get the Third. Care to confirm or deny?" You shake your head and take another sip of coffee.

"I can neither confirm nor deny my current or future participation in events and activities involving the Third or the TacCom." You're mighty in the way of Agent-craft, mightier than this mere pleb, attempting to throw you off your morning coffee. Knowing he's outclassed by a master such as yourself, he retreats, and you enter the line for breakfast with a satisfied smirk. Now that the cooks have had time to reheat yesterday's breakfast foods while they cook most of today's, a veritable buffet spreads out before you.

"Agent Smith," you call as you head for your desk. "I need someone to drive for me. You're it." At your desk you turn on the computer monitor sitting on it, and pull up the Third's file. Pressing the print button, you shut you monitor back off and stand, to find Agent Smith shifting from foot to foot.

"Sir," he ventures warily, eying you as a young doe eyes a wolf, "sir, wouldn't a more experienced shooter be better for this operation?"

"No. You're inexperienced, I've been doing this in one form or another since 2004, during the Impact Wars. Don't be a bitch, Smith. Shut up and go get us a car from the motor pool." He swallows, nods, and leaves, doing his best to walk quietly. You open a drawer in your desk, take a nip from the flask stored there, and follow Smith up to the motor pool, warmth in your belly helping you cope.

He's silent the entire ride up to the motor pool. You are as well, and you spend the time reading the Third's file. It's nothing new. Well, at least he has decent taste in music. You let Smith pick out the car, an armored Mercedes-Benz.

The drive to the secluded campsite where the cultists have set up shop is quiet, with only the sound of the air conditioning running. Except for a few questions from Smith regarding the plan, which you answered with, "Shut up and drive, I've been doing this for ten years, I'm going to go in and shoot them," it's wonderfully peaceful, if long.

By the time you get there it's about two in the afternoon.

You step out of the car and into a deadly silent forest, as Smith's cut the engine to the car. Nodding approvingly, you slip out of your shoes and draw your pistol and a far more deadly weapon, your cellphone. Texting Smith to keep his phone on silent and not to distract you, you ready yours to speed-dial the air support all Section Two agents have access to at all times. Just in case. Dropping low, you begin shuffling forward, careful to not disturb any undergrowth or sticks on the ground.

It's silent, and not even birds are talking to each other. It's a tense walk forward, down a semi-cleared deer path. You finally make it to where the cultists are camping, and they've got a clay statue of ADAM set up. Their priest is sitting beneath, chanting something in Latin. Ignoring him, you check over numbers. There's about fifteen of them that you can see, but there might be more.

Air support's on speed-dial, Smith's back at the car, and you've got six magazines for your pistol.

You hit the "Call" button on your phone, and it connects you to UNS Panama Canal, named for the UN Peacekeeper's most successful battle, where they kept a group of Catholic insurgents from destroying the Panama Canal over a siege that lasted seven weeks. "UNS Panama Canal, thank you for calling NERV Section Two Air Support, how can we help you?"

"Afternoon, guys. Agent Declan Cryan, NERV Section Two. Authorization Code Romeo Alpha Lima Fiver Niner Six Three Seven Two Eight. Requesting two attack helicopters to come to," here you read off the map grid coordinates, "and do a little pest removal, thanks."

"Hold one minute, please, Agent Cryan." The cheerful voice switches to Muzak. You fucking hate Muzak. Thankfully, your torture is brief, before a new voice comes on the line.

"Agent Cryan, are you absolutely sure? I'm looking at satellite imagery and that doesn't, uh, look like a justified use of UN resources, Agent."

"I'm positive," you insist, and the voice sighs before telling you you'll get your air support. You place them on hold this time, and wait for the attack helicopters. Black Hawks in a gunship configuration, with missile pods on stubby wings and mini-guns hanging out the sides, proceed to turn the clearing, and statue, into so much smoking flame. You wave at the helicopters, and then there's a phone call on your cell for you.

"This is Black Eagle 1-1. How was that, Agent?"

"Pretty fuckin' awesome, Black Eagle."

"Afternoon, Captain. I hear you're expecting someone?" She glances at you from behind her sunglasses, adjusts her beret, and nods sharply.

"Not you, Agent. You know no one likes anyone from Section Two except the QRF guys." You press a hand to your breast and gasp dramatically.

"That hurts, Captain. You know I'm one of the guys that rotates on and off of the QRF, right?"

"Yes, but you're not on it right now, which is what's important. Bitch." Her tone is threatening now, and you're intelligent enough to shut up.

"Yes ma'am," you say, cowed by a superior officer getting threatening. The ruddy Third still isn't off the train yet. Wanker.

"So," you begin as you reach into an inner pocket and retrieve a lighter and metal case of cigarettes. "What do you know about the Third?" You select a cigarette, Turkish tobacco in a slim white tube with a gold circle separating the butt from the tobacco, place it in the corner of your mouth, and light it.

"Not much. He's the Commander's son," you pale noticeably at that, but make a game effort to recover, and you're fairly certain it's successful. "Psych profile states he's got problems, but then we all do. His are probably pretty serious, what with his dad abandoning him at four."

"So? My mother raised me by herself after Second Impact up until I joined the British Army. She a did a good job of it, I like to think. Sounds like a puss."

"Western ideals of manhood and Eastern ideals of manhood differ, Agent. Don't forget that. As well, the younger Ikari didn't have his mother. You did."

"So? I doubt he's seen what I saw during the Wars. Or did what I've done during the Wars. He needs to sack up and tough it out."

"We can't all be manly former Special Air Service, Cryan. Learn to empathize, you dick."

"I'll learn to empathize as soon as I'm ordered by Captain Thierry or Commander Ikari. 's not in my job description, Captain."

"Jackass," she mutters, before giving up. You flash her a shit-eating grin and she scowls. Finally, FINALLY the Third steps off the train, holding a folder and a tote-bag, wearing a backpack. Captain Katsuragi waves at him, he waves back, and you go to start the car.

It kicks on with the purr you love so well. "I'll never leave you, Mercedes. Never. You're my one true love," you declare quietly. The car doesn't respond. Just like you expected. Oh well. Katsuragi and the Third both walk up and get in the car, each quiet.

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You turn to stare at the Third from behind your sunglasses. He swallows nervously. Katsuragi looks like she wants to tell you stop intimidating a fourteen year old. She doesn't. "Buckle up, kiddo," you smile at him. He smiles back and does, indeed, buckle up. Fishing for your phone, you call NERV.

"Yo, this is Cryan. Enroute with TacCom and Third. Clear the roads, baby. We're born to run." You hang up on whoever's on the other end, and turn the radio on. Revving the engine, you turn the music up as loud as it'll go, and take off.

Both passengers begin screaming as you turn a corner on one wheel, and idly you wonder if an armored Mercedes-Benz is even supposed to be able to do that. Shrugging, you press the pedal to the floor, working every bit of speed from her that you can.

Something heavy lands beside the car with a WHUMP and it's there beside you for a moment, looking like a foot. You look in the side mirror as the car keeps screaming down the road, and quietly cross yourself. Ten fighters scream overhead, going the opposite direction.

"Poor bastards," you grunt out around the G's you're trying to pull, attempting to emulate a fighter jet. You always wanted to fly F-16s. Something huge explodes in the back ground as you're trying to eat road, and then the car is tumbling tumbling tumbling. It lands right side up, and you're pretty sure you just lost eyebrows, but thankfully your sunglasses are still intact.

You check Katsuragi, and she seems alive, and so does Ikari. Grinning, you gun the engine again, glad NERV shelled out for the roll-resistant model.

You finally make it to NERV, vehicle semi-intact, both passengers still breathing and not bleeding. Smacking Katsuragi to wake her up, she becomes alert with a jolt.

"Your lead, TacCom. What do you want me to do?" You ask, with the biggest shit-eating grin you can muster. She nods with determination as though she's made up her mind and gets out of the car while you do the same.

"Follow me. We've got to get Ikari to the Cages."While her back's turned, you hood slide over the Mercedes-Benz and pop open the door the Third's leaning against. Picking him up, you sling him over one shoulder and take off after Katsuragi, deeply regretting the loss of your eyebrows. And they were so beautiful, too.

Eventually Katuragi gets lost in the maze that is the GeoFront. Shrugging, you shoulder past her and take the lead, descending ever downwards to the ominously named Cages. Glancing down under your sunglasses, you note that the Third is oddly feminine. Huh. You just realized you were still wearing your sunglasses. Taking the opportunity, you chance a glance out the corner of your eye to Katsuragi's chest. Yeeeeeeah. That's the stuff.

Shaking your head roughly, you force your mind back on-task. Er, back to the task at hand, even. When you finally make it to the Cages, Katsuragi is panting from the pace you set and the Third is awake and you're pretty sure trying to ask you to let him down. You lift him up to where he's hanging upside down, twirl him right side up, and gently lower him to the ground. With another grin at Katsuragi, you fire off a salute in the direction you figure the Commander's in.

The Commander raises his hand slowly, and then when he drops it, you drop your salute as well. "Well done, Agent. Captain Thierry informed me of your handling of the cultists, as well. Quick and efficient. That's always needed, Agent."

"Thank you, sir," you respond, squirming on the inside to be away from his all-knowing gaze. Your attention turns to the Third when he and the Commander begin discussing piloting Unit 01. Boiling it down, it appears the Third doesn't want to drive it. If you were capable, you would love to drive it. Having the vengeance of an entire species at your command would be pretty sweet, you think.

Katsuragi and Dr. Akagi set in on the poor kid, trying to get him to drive. What you said to the TacCom at the train station was partially true, you could empathize- you'd never known your father and your mother died during the Impact Wars, leading you to join the British Army for lack of anything else to do. You discovered you were a fair hand at killing, and you've never looked back since. Except for the darkest nights and blackest moods, when you drink yourself into a stupor and throw bottles at the wall. But no one needs to know about that.

Looks like the Commander is getting ready to order the First to pilot. Due to her injuries, that would wind up with her dead. Oh sod it all.

TacCom looks slightly concerned, you can smell the fear coming off the Third, and the Commander is almost having an orgasm with how his plans are coming together. Or would be, if the man had any goddamned emotions. The Third isn't wanting to get into the robot.

"Okay," you say loudly. "Listen here, you little shit. I've been up since 5:12 this morning and I've only had one cup of coffee. You're going to get into the goddamned robot, or I'm going to put you into the goddamned robot. You're going in either way. Then you're going to kill the thing trying to kill all of us, and I'm going to buy you a goddamned beer. Now get in the GODDAMNED ROBOT!" He falls backwards, startled by your anger, but it seems to work- frightened of the foreign devil, he scrambles to try and get into the robot. You settle back onto the balls of your feet.

"Thank you, Agent," the older Ikari allows. You nod your acknowledgment, and then feel guilty for bellowing at a fourteen year old kid just trying to figure out what's going on.