I don't own anything.
Corruption
-Chapter One:
Shinji Ikari jerked awake and looked around his bedroom groggily. The phone on his bedside table continued to ring; unaware that it had already woken him. He checked his watch and frowned. No one had any business calling him at three in the morning. Despite his annoyance he grabbed the cordless handset and brought it to his ear. "Hello?"
"Shinji?" Shinji's thoughts froze in place at the voice, familiar even in its panicked state.
"Misato?"
"I need your help," the older woman stated.
"What's wrong?" Shinji asked immediately. Any thoughts on demanding to know why she was calling were pushed to the side.
"I didn't know how deep this goes," Misato stated. "I can't talk to anyone around here. They own everyone."
"Who owns everyone?" Shinji asked. If Misato heard his question, she didn't bother acknowledging it.
"This is way over my head," she continued. "I didn't expect any of this. I didn't know what they were doing. You have to believe me!"
"Slow down," Shinji replied, trying to keep the woman's infectious panic from spreading to him. "Who owns everyone?"
"Gemüt," Misato answered. Shinji was already on his feet looking for a pair of trousers.
"Hang on Misato," he ordered as calmly as he could. "I'm on my way."
"Thank you." The relief in the woman's voice was almost palpable. A sudden crash filtered across the line and then there was silence.
"Misato? Misato? Hello?" By the last word he was screaming. He heard another crash in the room next to him.
"I'm awake!" his roommate cried. Shinji ignored her and tossed the phone on his bed. He grabbed a pair of khaki slacks and pulled them on. His door slid in while he was searching for his shoes. "What's wrong Shinji?"
"Nothing," Shinji replied tersely. He found an ancient pair of Converses Chuck Taylors and pulled them on. "Don't worry about it." Mana Kirishima sighed in annoyance.
"Well, now I'm worried," she stated. Shinji grabbed a white Polo shirt from his closet and pulled it on. "Shinji." He turned and saw Mana holding his wallet. "Talk or you aren't getting this. What's happening?"
"I don't know," Shinji replied truthfully. "All I know is that an old friend really needs my help." Mana stared at him for a moment and finally handed over his wallet. Shinji shoved it in his pocket.
"And where is this friend in desperate need of help?"
"Tokyo-3," Shinji stated as he picked up his cell phone and stuck it in his other pocket.
"That's four hours away!" Mana exclaimed angrily. "We just got back two hours ago. You've had four hours of sleep in the past two days." Shinji had to laugh.
"I had no idea," he stated. Mana glared up at him. "I'll get some coffee on the way out of town," he added peaceably.
"The only open place will be Mimi's," Mana stated after a moment of silence.
"Leave it to a cop to know where an open diner will be."
"Don't get smart," Mana grumbled. She stared at him for a minute. "You're a nice guy. Sometimes its sweet, sometimes it's a pain in the ass."
"Thanks. I think."
"Call me as soon as you get there," Mana ordered. "Don't make me worry, Shinji. You know how I get when I'm worried."
"I know," Shinji replied. He wrapped her in a hug and kissed her cheek. "I'll call." He didn't want her to worry. He was doing enough of that for both of them.
(:ii:)
Shinji sipped his coffee and stared at the road. He couldn't help but wonder how it had come to this. There had been a point in his life where Misato Katsuragi had been his own personal Christ. She had welcomed him into her home in a way that no one had before in Shinji's life.
So, how had it come to this, a terrified phone call in the middle of the night after years and years of nothing?
Shinji stared at one of the road signs and sipped his coffee again. He was exhausted and he still had another hour's drive. The drive gave him too much time to think, time to think about Misato and the look on her face when he had told her he was leaving. To be fair, at that point she was spending more days and nights at NERV than at home. He had tried to keep in touch, but how could you call someone who was never home? After a few months of trying, he had given up. Misato had never called even once, being too wrapped up in her work. The last time he had called he had left his new cell phone number with her inbox. That had been at least a year ago.
Shinji finished his coffee and set the Styrofoam cup back in its holder. He had told her of his decision to leave on one of the few nights she had made it home for dinner. Asuka had already moved out to her own apartment. Shinji hadn't wanted to wait for the end of dinner, fearing that a cell phone call would have her scurrying back to NERV.
For just a second, Misato had looked crushed. She managed to pull herself together and set about poking fun at him. He had heard her sobbing in her room later that night. It had taken a long look at himself and his surroundings to steel his resolve. A week later he had moved out of both that apartment and the city of Tokyo-3 entirely.
A wild buzzing broke Shinji out of his musing and he snatched up his cell phone. "Hello?"
"Hey Shinji."
"Something wrong, Mana?" Shinji asked.
"Yeah," Mana stated. "I got a call and was heading in to work to check something real quick and I noticed something."
"What?" Shinji asked.
"You know my backup pistol?" Mana asked. Shinji sighed and opened the center console. The tiny SIG-Sauer sat in its white plastic sheath amongst a tangle of white nylon straps.
"Its here."
"That's a relief," Mana replied. "The last time I saw it was when I burrowed your car because mine was in the shop."
"You lost your gun?"
"I was pretty sure I knew where it was," Mana protested. "Besides, that's my pistol. I still have the one the department issued." Shinji closed the center console.
"Christ. You were in the army. Didn't they teach you to never let go of your weapon?"
"I was a psychiatrist!" Mana protested. "How far away are you?"
"About a half hour," Shinji stated. He could see the sky lightening on the horizon.
"Call me when you get there," Mana stated.
"I will," Shinji promised.
"And don't talk on the phone and drive," Mana added. "I'd pull you over for inattentive driving if I was there." Shinji flipped his phone shut and tossed it into the passenger seat. That woman could be simply irritating when she put her mind to it. Probably had something to do with knowing exactly how the human mind worked. Psychiatrists could be the biggest pains in the ass the world had even known when they wanted to be.
(:ii:)
Shinji checked his watch and knocked on the door. It really wasn't too early. The door opened and a disgruntled old man stared up at him. "Can I help you?"
"Are you the landlord?" Shinji asked.
"Yeah."
"I was wondering if you could help me get into an apartment," Shinji stated. The man eyed him suspiciously. "I lived here years ago with a friend and I wanted to check up on her, but no one was answering the door."
"I thought you looked familiar," the man stated. "I never forget a face, especially a famous one!"
"Yeah," Shinji replied, pushing his advantage. "I was one of the Eva pilots."
"It was you and the redhead," the man stated. Shinji's smile faltered. His last few days with his Germanic roommate were not among his favorite memories of his time in Tokyo-3.
"Could you open my friend's door?" Shinji asked.
"Anything for one of the guys who saved my life!" the man stated cheerfully as he grabbed a keycard and led the way towards the elevator. "It's been years since you left!"
"I guess," Shinji replied.
"Things got really quiet after you and that redhead moved out," the man continued as he pushed the call button. The doors slid open right away and they stepped into the elevator. "Those NERV guys used to pay a whole lot to stop everyone from complaining."
"That's NERV for you," Shinji replied absently. "Why not bribe all your problems away if you have the money?"
"They gave me a good cut too," the man added happily. "Kind of sad to see you all go." The doors opened and they started down the familiar hallway. Déjà vu smacked Shinji over the head like a cast iron skillet. The landlord pushed his keycard into Misato's door and pulled it out. He tried the knob and pushed. The door didn't budge. "What the hell?"
"The deadbolt?" Shinji ventured.
"The door would give a little if it was just the deadbolt," the man stated. "Something's holding the door closed."
"Mind if I try?" The man stepped back and Shinji put his shoulder to the door. It burst open and Shinji stumbled inside. The landlord followed after him.
"Holy cow!" Shinji looked around and had to agree.
"Holy shit." Misato had always been a messy person, but this was ridiculous.
"I'm afraid to walk in here in my slippers," the man stated. "See you later." Shinji nodded, glancing at the broken glass littering the floor. He looked around the room and his stomach twisted into a knot. Something had gone very wrong here. He turned and stared at the door. A length of wire had been stretched from the door to the wall. It had unwound when Shinji had knocked the door open.
"Weird." Shinji took a deep breath, frowning as the old familiar scent of cordite burned his nostrils, and took in the apartment slowly, trying to spot every detail. The floor lamp was bent like something heavy had been thrown against it. The faux wood door frame had been twisted like the door had been kicked in. This all added up to Shinji deciding that it was definitely a good time to call the cops.
(:ii:)
"And that's your story?"
"Yeah," Shinji replied. The old policeman stared down at the report and frowned. "I don't think we have anything to base a case off of."
"What about the broken in door?" Shinji protested.
"Bad part of town," the cop stated with a shrug. "This place has really gone to hell over the last few years."
"So you're admitting that the door was kicked in and you're not even going to investigate?" Shinji demanded.
"The department is really busy right now," the officer stated. "She'll also need to be missing for more than twenty-four hours before we can file a missing person report."
"I see," Shinji stated. He stood and forced a smile. "Thank you. I'll see you tomorrow." He had his cell phone out and Mana's number dialed before he had made it to the door.
"Hello?"
"Hey. It's me."
"What's up Shinji?" Mana asked. "I can't help but notice that you should have been in Tokyo-3 for a few hours and I never got a call."
"Been busy," Shinji replied. "Hey, how often is the department too busy to investigate a possible kidnapping?"
"Been having trouble with cops already?" Mana asked with a sigh. "What am I going to do with you, Shinji? I don't have any friends on the force down there to bail you out if you get into trouble."
"Tell me what I need to know," Shinji stated.
"It happens," Mana stated. "Although, it's really not that common. I heard that Tokyo-3 has really gone to the dogs. Maybe they're just really busy."
"Maybe. I'll call you later."
"How long are you going to be there" Mana asked.
"As long as it takes for me to find her."
"Alright." Shinji flipped his phone shut and was about to tuck it into his pocket when the first blow hit him. A pair of knuckles to the side of his head sent him sprawling. Before he could recover his assailant began raining blows on his sides. Years of martial arts training kicked in and Shinji curled into his ball, protecting his face and throat as much as possible.
As suddenly as it had begun, the attack was over. Shinji rolled away from his attacker. He was hurting just about everywhere. He stared up at the man, preparing himself to handle this situation. "Forget about that bitch Katsuragi," the man stated. "Get out of town." He straightened his black suit and walked away. Shinji rose shakily to his feet, considering whether or not he could chase down the man. In the end he tasted copper and decided to climb into his car. Something was definitely not how it should be in his body. Experience told him that it was his ribs again. Taking beatings was getting harder the older he got.
"Well, at least that proves something is going down," he groaned, clutching his side. "I really hope the hospital hasn't moved."
-End
(:ii:)
-Author's notes. You know, I've gotten a few reviews and personal messages about how I should do a revenge story. Well, here you go. I just know that I'm going to pay for starting yet another story At least I have a few chapters of this one squirreled away. This is a lot more my style than the Legionnaire. It's kind of funny. I do serious military stories and whimsical gorefests. Is that an off combo, or is it just me.
And now for this month's bitch session. I don't get teenagers, which is kind of odd considering that I'm actually not that far off in age from them. They dress different and say it's because they want to be individuals, yet there are hundreds of thousands of people who look exactly like them. Then there's the fact that they know they look weird, but they get pissed off when you point it out. If you know people are going to laugh at you and you get pissed when they do, you're an idiot. So, like I said, I don't get teenagers these days. Maybe it's just me.
