New Emergency Response Vector:
EV₳N₲EⱠION
Episode 1
Japan\\Tokyo-3\\District 7N\\1932 Hours (7:32 PM)\\03082017 (August 3rd, 2017)
Shinji Ikari had never been a violent person. Indeed, one might say he was the exact opposite of violent. Shinji watched very little television, cared nothing for the modern trend of violent video games, and any time he saw fighting, real fighting, he was simply left with a bad taste in his mouth. Shinji avoided watching the news for similar reasons; the various wars and crisis situations around the world.
The Rhages Incident had ignited the world it seemed, and Shinji felt privately upset that such an event coincided with the year of his birth. Sensei had often accused him of being so altruistic as an attempt to make up for that fact. Usually didn't reply; what could he say that wouldn't be a lie?
No, Shinji Ikari was not a violent person at all. He was gentle, kind, and generous, if not entirely gregarious or outgoing. Still, it was to his great regret that he was unable to volunteer more; Sensei had told him of the value of service, after all, but their often mobile and busy lifestyle left little time for it.
Instead, he spent much of his free time reading, practicing his martial arts or other drills, or playing the violin. He had intended to take up the cello, but it's size made it impractical for his lifestyle. It was fine, though; he'd grown to love playing the violin. Shinji had somewhat expected Sensei to push for something more traditionally Japanese, but had been pleasantly surprised when he instead brought Shinji a number of music sheets with classics from around the world.
This morning, he'd boarded a train and headed for Tokyo-3. It was his home, and yet at the same time was not his home. He'd been born there, and spent his early years, but it had been ten years. Since he was six, it had been his uncle, a career military man, who had raised him.
He had learned a lot from his uncle, even if all his lessons didn't seem to take as much as the man would have wanted. Now, though, he had received a message with that single word. Come. Now staring down the barrel of a gun, he was very much regretting doing just that.
Faced now with something his brain could only barely comprehend, watching in slow motion as the man raised his gun to shoot him, Shinji found his mind going back to those fond memories of playing violin, Sensei plucking at his shamisen, and the odd melody that formed from the combination of east and west.
It was a good memory, of a good time. Like the first time Shinji scored a hit against Sensei during their sparring, or when he helped the lost little girl find her parents. Good memories. He had some. Not many, but he was young, so was he supposed to have many?
Of course, introspection at the moment of ones death might be odd. Then again, Shinji often found himself turning inward. Sensei had told him to try not doing it as much. Look at people, learn from them, even little things. Never stop learning, Sensei had said. So Shinji did, even in his dying moments, stuck here in the middle of the street, he would learn. Of what, he wasn't sure...
The man who was going to kill him had his face covered. Hooded with a black veil that hid his mouth and nose, and a another cloth covering his hair. His eyes, though, seemed odd to Shinji. They weren't filled with hate, or anger, really. They weren't even filled with anything negative at all. They seemed... happy. The man was very happy, it seemed, to be doing what he was doing. He had found joy in killing, apparently. Shinji found that sad.
He had a gun. Obviously he had to have one if he was going to shoot Shinji, of course. This one seemed... almost ramshackle, though, all stamped metal with crude welds, a flat plate for a buttstock connected with a simple metal rod, long and straight magazine feeding up into it. It was not a pretty weapon, but Shinji didn't doubt it's effectiveness. His brain worked to figure out what it was, but drew up nothing; homemade, perhaps? Shinji had heard of that, and the Deceivers were nothing if not crafty.
Shinji had heard gunfire all across the city, and seen others with weapons just like this one. It was crude, but it worked. They wouldn't have come so far unless they were ready, Shinji knew. How had they gotten in?
Tokyo-3 was the most secure city in the world, it was said, and he'd passed into the city proper before his train simply lost power and stranded him. In the distance, Shinji heard a series of heavy blasts, explosions? Pillars of smoke rose all around the city. And this man was going to kill him.
What was Shinji trying to learn again?
Then the man died. It was violent. The gunman had been there, right there in front of him about to shoot Shinji, and then he was flying back, robes covering his body suddenly perforated. They seemed sticky, and Shinji realized it was because the black was soaked with the man's blood.
The gunfire had come from behind, Shinji realized. He turned back just in time for the source to leap forward, passing him. He stood, dumbstruck, struggling to grasp what he was seeing.
It was humanoid. Not human, because it looked far from that. It was nearly eight feet tall, at least, looking like some combination of samurai armor and alien creature, armor plates over what looked like muscle, two large fins rising from it's back, up past a head that bore a single cycloptian eye that glowed fiercely blue.
The body was white in color, marked with dozens of small labels and warning signs, and accented with bars of orange. In it's hands was a gun, a large and heavy rifle at that, with a carrying handle on the top and a stubby box magazine, the entire thing nearly a third as large as the armored figure holding it.
Shinji recognized the gun; he'd seen it several times, fired it even. His uncle had thought it wise to give Shinji a rundown of gear, for some reason. One of his many military-minded exercises. The FN FAL, locally known as the Type 64, had been the standard weapon of the JSSDF for several years, since replaced by it's smaller cousin, the FNC, or Type 89 in common vernacular.
It was big, heavy, and had been phased out in mainline service for years, though stocks of them where common. Japan had intended to develop a domestic weapon at first but opted instead to both invest in the Belgian Herstal Group and adopt designs from it instead. Shinji knew all this, and his brain latched onto it; familiarity, even with a subject wasn't entirely keen on, kept him from freaking out any more than he already was.
More robed gunmen rounded the street corner, five in all. The front one had a red band around his arm and a white mask, one that evoked both an avian style and something like the old plague doctors of old. These were symbols that signified nothing to Shinji but marked him as a leader to the others. The man raised form of the ubiquitous Russian export known as the AK, shouted something unintelligible and then opened fire.
This time Shinji found his training and hit the deck. He could hear the thing firing back, he could hear it moving. Not servos or the like, as if it was some robot, but simply the odd footfalls it made. It's pace was... alien, inhuman. Other fire joined the leader's rifle, smaller weapons, like the one the first man had. Shinji heard odd shouting, and an oven odder sound he couldn't place, like something striking glass but not fully shattering it. He laid there, face first on the pavement, until the firing stopped.
He heard a click, and then a clattering of metal against the ground. Mustering up enough courage to look, he found the thing slotting another boxy magazine into its weapon. He noticed it had a number of magazines in slots on its leg and chest, and some other tube-like device attached to one of the fins on its back, which the back side of his brain registered as a anti-tank weapon of some sort. He heard another click, this one digital, and watched as it looked back at him. Then it spoke. Or rather, she spoke.
"Control, Eva Zero; I have found the Third Child. Requesting extract, over," she said. It sounded like a girl? A young girl at that. Why would they make a robot sound like a girl? There was a small whir and click, followed by a sound that was as much organic as mechanical as the front of the figure's face slipped forward and then folded up. Beneath it was, amongst other things, the answer to why a robot would sound like a young girl.
Namely, there was a young girl in it.
Shinji stared dumbly at the girl, or at least the face of one. From what he could see, she was something of an albino, skin pale beyond belief and eyes as red as blood. Her hair, though, was a shade of blue that seemed... odd. Dyed, perhaps.
He couldn't couldn't make out much given the way only part of her face was revealed. For all he knew, it could simply be part of a robot. Shinji was lost in his odd thoughts they he didn't even seem to notice that her eyes swept him up and down, appraising him.
"You are Shinji Ikari," she said, tone making it clear it was more a statement than a question. He said nothing in reply. She continued staring at him for a moment, and then apparently was done. She let out a curious hmm and the mask snapped back shut, leaving Shinji both confused and oddly indignant. What was that supposed to mean?
"Get up, we need to move," she said, voice unsettling soft given the force she was putting into it. Lacking better options, he complied.
After a moment to brush himself off, he turned to find she'd already taken off down the street, long strides carrying her farther in shorter time than he could manage. He ran to keep up, and then came to a stop as they passed the bodies of the gunmen. He looked down, staring at the riddled corpse.
The mans skin was bloody and his robes were soaked, but beneath it Shinji could see skin, pale in a way totally unlike the face in the machine. Where she had been a porcelain color, soft and clean, this was a dark, dingy pale, more gray than white; the former seemed to be as if it was free of color, while the man seemed to have had the color stolen from him.
Black lines ran under it's skin, and Shinji realized those were the man's veins. Up close, he realized that their blood was dark, almost tar-like really. This was the effects of the syndrome, that little understood warping brought on exposure to uncontrolled zero-point energy.
He stared down at the assault rifle that had fallen next to the man, covered in places with his thick, black blood. He wasn't sure how long he stared at it, torn between decisions and indecision. His hand twitched. It was at that moment he felt the hand on his shoulder, inhumanly large yet warm to the touch, gentle like a parent. Shinji looked over his shoulder, finding the girl staring at him, expression as blank as before... and yet.
"Don't," she said, and he paused, glancing back down to the weapon. She waited a moment before releasing his shoulder. She turned and continued on her path, slower this time.
He moved to keep up with her.
Japan\\Tokyo-3\\District 7E\\1953 Hours (7:53 PM)\\03082017 (August 3rd, 2017)
It lurched forward, it's very gait reflecting its alien nature in this place. A body of blackness, less the color and more as if there was simply no light there. It existed as an abscess in the world, form realized more through what wasn't there than what was. A thick, inhuman ribcage wrapped around the creatures torso and the baleful red gem that sat at the center of it, as if containing the absence of light and giving it form. The ribs connected to a finned spine that running up it's hunched back and disappeared into it's inky body. The twin plates on his shoulders were more like pauldrons than true bone, thick and making the beast seem even more hunched and grotesque.
The creature moved through the streets, towering over the robed gunmen that swarmed around it. It was not truly leading them, not directly at least; the robed men and women were directed by those amongst them with red bands on their arms and the vaguely avian masks that seemed to be crude representations of that of the creature they followed.
The mob had a mix of arms; crude, workbench carbines and submachineguns mixed in with Soviet bloc rifles, simple shotguns, and more than a few handguns. Many carried crude blades and cudgels, and fire followed their path as the mob threw firebombs indiscriminately; this was not their home, and such was their belief that it would unlikely to matter if it was. They sought destruction for it's own sake.
It was, like the masks of their leaders, a crude approximation of the motivation of the beast they worshipfully followed. This was to be expected; belief and ideals did not themselves beget the mind of destruction that the beast was borne both from and with.
Though corrupted, the human mind was still birthed from creation, rather than wrought in destruction as the beast was. It reveled not in meaningless savagery or destruction; that, too, was a crude approximation of true sacred destruction. In truth, the beast found these humans distasteful; some showed promise, but this rabble had few and far of those between them. Still, they were a means to an end.
He could feel the presence here, that oppressive light. Yet the beast, whom the mob declared as Sij as they moved and chanted, found perverse glee in the chaining of that light; it was here, inglorious in it's radiant splendor and heat, but shackled deep below.
Still, as much as the creature found this to suit itself, it likewise could not help but be driven by the imperative to tear the splendor from it's prison-throne and rend it into nothingness. It was what Sij was birthed to accomplish, and it seethed with that purpose.
The mob continued to advance down the metropolitan streets, burning and destroying as they passed. In the rear, following the rabble, the true soldiers of the faith followed. These men, those with the inklings of the mind that Sij found lacking in the rest, seemed an amalgamation of soldier and cultist; they wore clothing that was cinched around their bodies, flowing overcoats in place of robes, and wore body armor beneath and with helmets covering the cloth wrappings of their head.
They had forgone the masks, instead wearing a single red jewel, about the size of a marble, as a necklace, along with balaclavas and wraps to cover their mouth.. These men where equipped with true gear, and possessed the true mind, or at least approximation of it. These would be Sij true tools, in addition to its own great power. The mob was a screen, nothing more.
Their destruction was inevitable, but suited the beast just fine. Or something like suitability; that which was called Sij did not think like men. This was simply the closest approximation that could be drawn. Perhaps some solace could be found that, in at least one regard, the philosophy of cosmicism could be done away with; this beast, which was something alien yet not utterly so, still found itself concerned with the actions of men in one fashion or another, and was driven by a kind of malevolence, as we would understand it. A small solace to the tortured philosopher, perhaps, if he had a way to know it. Little solace to the soldiers.
The beast perceived them in the distance, and saw them soon after. The creature had entered this iteration of existence hours before in the outskirts of the city, amongst the flooded ruins that had become a haven for undesirables and insurgents. It was there that the men with the red marbles had come and requested Sij to come, and he had complied.
Since that time, the beast had made no attempt to communicate or command, nor had the men who had requested it; this attack on the city was an organic thing, destruction borne through the creature's presence alone. This was as it should be, it had thought. After all, it had been born much the same way.
The soldiers were members of the Japanese Strategic Defense Force, a group two squads strong with armored support. They'd been ordered to hold this point, one of the District interchanges that was usually little more than a formality of navigation for the people of the city; part of the address or a landmark and little more.
Now, swiftly transformed from bustling metropolis to city-sized bunker, the districts became key aspects of defense in depth, as was their actual purpose. The buildings in the outer rings where highly reinforced, and had locking systems that prevented simply bypassing the designated checkpoints easily.
The assembly wasn't too shabby, either; twenty four infantry from two squads had assumed position in the checkpoint; the gates, unassuming structures that quickly transformed into a full fledged entry control point, bristled with guns. Concrete fighting positions had rose from concealed slots in the ground.
The infantry were augmented by two Type 89 Infantry Fighting Vehicles, each mounting a 35mm autocannon in its turret. The commander of the emplacement, in this case a young First Lieutenant, eyed the approaching mob with a mix of apprehension and confusion; what did they hope to do? It was unthinkable to him that they'd throw their lives away.
It was then that he noticed the figure at the center of the mob, full in its long stride and the baleful glow of the red orb on its chest. The lieutenants heart stopped in his young, inexperienced chest. Briefings came back to him, warnings and dire portents hammered into his mind during his training rising up from the depths.
With it came the jokes and sneers of he and his fellows; the patent ridiculousness of the idea that mob rabble could somehow conjure up monsters fueled all the humor that the students needed to get through their training. Now, though, reality began to catch up with him. He knew, in an alien way of knowing, what he was now facing. And he was terrified.
The mob advanced slowly. The lieutenants second, a sergeant first class that was as experienced as the lieutenant was not, stepped up next to him. The young and terrified man turned to the sergeant, who looked back with a sour expression; he did not begrudge the man his fear.
When the sergeant was younger he had been no different, and he hadn't the weight of command. The sergeant inclined his head, just a small movement. The lieutenant stared for a moment, then nodded. The sergeant moved without another moment to spare.
"Hiro," he said into his radio, receiving a snappy affirmative from the soldier manning the Howa Type 96 40mm grenade launcher up in one of the towers. The sergeant paused, eying the advancing mob and the towering figure at its center.
"Big chap," he said, "Five rounds rapid."
The resulting conflagration scattered a large portion of the assembled mob. Dozens were skilled, rendered down by the barrage of high-explosive rounds. Two struck the ground in front of the creature, the next three impacting across its body in rapid succession. A baleful moan, echoed through the streets, deep as a foghorn. Dust filled the air, and each man at their post held their breath.
Up went a cry, this time human. Fierce and indignant, it swept through the streets, followed soon by the sound of several hundred feet striking pavement at once. The sergeant did not wait any longer.
"Open fire!" he shouted, bringing his own weapon up to his shoulder and flicking off the safety. "Remember, short controlled bursts!"
The cry was instantly covered up by the roar of gunfire. The standard arm of the Japanese Strategic Defense Force, a variant of the Belgian FNC produced locally by Howa Machinery Company, was not a loud weapon by any stretch of the imagination. However, the cacophony of nearly two dozen rifles, joined by that of the FN Minimi and MAG machine guns also mixed in.
Even the IFV's joined in with their main guns, heavy pounding of 35mm cannon fire nearly drowning out all the rest. Return fire was near instantaneous. It was blind and furious, lacking any precision or aiming. The mob was firing on the run, often from the hip. Thus, it was not the mob itself that was the soldiers true foe, but rather the law of averages.
Hundreds in the mob died within moments, clogging the street and tripping up the rest. Yet the continued their charge. They were closing fast, fueled on their righteous anger as they charged several hundred meters in open terrain without any concern. It was admirable, in a blind idiot sort of way. The conflict quickly became less a shooting match and more a test of will, one that the soldiers at the checkpoint found themselves only barely winning.
If the mob had the will to go with the men, they could simply soak the fire and overrun the checkpoint by sheer numbers. Unfortunately for them, their wills proved the weaker, as the dead began to outnumber the living they quickly wavered and then broken. They fell back in the same disorganized way they'd charged.
Sij observed, reveling in the destruction and death wrought by both sides. The streets were choked with bodies and wreckage, many of which where aflame from the explosives lobbed by the defense forces. That these dead were his supposed allies meant nothing to him, for their sacrifice was irrelevant to a creature such as him. His senses perceived that the humans who had called him here had disappeared under the cover of the mobs attack, and Sij found this as irrelevant as the rest of things; their deception was theirs, and theirs alone.
The defenders watched, and waited. Each man found himself of a mixed mind, unable to fully revel in the feel of success at pushing back the mob's attack. The creature, that baleful creature, had not joined the attack. The lieutenant found his senses, and his voice. He eyed the creature, its slow stride not having been changed in the slightest, even as the mob fled around it.
Some rallied, rejoining their towering icon in its advance, but many simply fled from the charnel scene. Many would return to their slums amongst the flooded ruins of Old Odawara, others would group up to strike at other locations in the city. The lieutenant found himself unable to care about this.
He lifted his arm, bringing the tactical computer on his forearm into view. He tapped through the channels, routing video from his helmet feed as he radioed back to command with an urgent tag.
"BDOC, this is ECP-7E-Charlie," he began, waiting only for the brief acknowledgment before he continued. "BDOC, requesting a Pattern check on my location."
The controller at BDOC went silent for a moment, weight of the Lieutenants words sinking in. The controller, a young woman, radioed back, asking the lieutenant to confirm his request, praying that she'd somehow misheard.
"BDOC, I repeat," the lieutenant said again, mouth growing dry as he watched the creature move, unhindered by barrage. "Requesting Pattern check on my location. I have visual on a DIV, and-."
The receiver never got her confirmation.
Japan\\Tokyo-3\\District 0, Level 2G (Geofront Command)\\1959 Hours (7:59 PM)\\03082017 (August 3rd, 2017)
Located in Hakone, in the Kanagawa Prefecture, and replacing the ruined cities of Odawara and Yugawara, Tokyo-3 was the first full-scale implementation of the Fortress City in the world. A concept laid in the early 90s by leading GATO officials. It was an integrated city and military facility, fully both at the same time.
As a result, it was one of the largest, if not the largest, military facilities in the world, housing multinational forces from nearly every GATO member nation large enough to have overseas contingents. It was a launching point for operations throughout the Asia Pacific region, particularly into the hotly contested Chinese states on the mainland.
It was also a sovereign state, declared as such by a GATO agreement in 2000, the same year ground was broken on the first district. The full extent of Tokyo-3's 'sovereignty' was enumerated gradually in various extraterritoriality agreements until reaching it's current point, granting it and it's controlling body status as an anomaly on the global scene.
The de facto leadership of the city fell to Nerv, a paramilitary organization established from the amalgamation of a number of other groups, notably the GATO research organization Gehrin, itself a growth of the joint Artificial Evolution Laboratory.
Still, despite being a paramilitary organization and having an armed force drawn from both direct recruiting and seconded forces from GATO affiliated nations, and despite its declared sovereignty, the supreme commander of Nerv still had to gracefully allow the leading regional commanders step in when they demanded it, turning over his command facilities as a result.
This was technically a violation of the various treaties and agreements that had established Tokyo-3's sovereignty, but Gendo Ikari had held his tongue for two main reasons amongst many.
Firstly, he'd no desire to start a pissing match with these men. Though sovereign, Nerv and Tokyo-3 still required substantial income from their global sponsors. Nerv had established Tokyo-3 as a corporate and research haven, a fact that irked a number of activists as they had no legal recourse to complain about the often reported and rarely confirmed shady or, perish the thought, unethical practices of the companies that had set up in the city.
However, the corporate operating and licensing fees, along with tax kickbacks, could only buoy Nerv so much. They relied on external funding, and much of that meant they needed to play ball with the big three and other member nations.
Secondly, and perhaps most importantly, he needed the inevitable success of Nerv's greatest assets to have full weight. He allowed the generals to direct the defense, for now; there was much that conventional forces could do to stop this attack, and the supreme commander was more than willing to let them handle that aspect of it.
After all, Gendo knew full well there were several things that the generals simply had no chance in dealing with, at least not without losses far beyond acceptable means. It was a cold gesture to allow them to throw lives away, but necessary to ensure that there would be no further conflict of power in the future. That would save lives. Such was the nature of game Gendo was forced to play.
The command center had multiple tiers, the highest of which remained the seat of power for Gendo Ikari. He sat, hands steepled, and watched the massive holographic display that gave a full topographical representation of the city he reigned over. Tokyo-3 was his domain; it was his principality.
He took no joy in noticing the lines of red that cut through the green wire-frame of the city, representing enemy pushes that had penetrated through the outer defensive later. He glanced below, watching as the three generals attempted to micromanage the deployment of defensive forces. Gendo frowned behind his hands; had they forgotten all the lessons of the last seventeen years? Of even before that, during the conflicts in the Sinoasian region?
Gendo had access to all the same information that was coming to the generals, and he liked none of it. One thing, however, stood out. A request for a pattern analysis. That meant one of two things: either trained Deceivers with metaphysical talent had joined the attack, or something as dire as it was overdue had occurred, and the DIVs had arrived at long last.
Gendo found the feeling of eagerness that welled up in him somewhat distasteful, but it was hard to stop. After all, they'd been waiting for this for so long. Seventeen years had only begun the final countdown to plans set in motion decades before, plans Gendo had married into and inherited.
The generals noticed the pattern request not long after Gendo had. To their credit they seemed to realize the implications of such a request and began to scramble.
"What do you mean we've lost contact with the requesting party?!" one shouted into his headset, eliciting a startled yelp from the communications NCO on the other side.
"Reroute a UAV to the area," another stated, somewhat more calmly. She frowned as the sensor readouts fed to the generals consoles. The report was not good.
"Pattern Blue confirmed," a voice echoed out through the command center, massive capitalized letters flashing into existence above the wire-frame of the city. For the briefest of moments the center simply stopped as the sensors began to triangulate the location, model of the city shifting and rotating as the location was determined The quiet voice reporting that a UAV was now overhead, video feed kicking onto the main screen.
"Mother of God," whispered one of the generals. The carnage was boggling. Not only the corpses that littered the streets in front of the defensive position, but the position itself, now a burning wreck. The drone camera panned around, letting the assembled get a full feel for the sheer scale of the devastation. The infantry fighting vehicles were smoldering wrecks, internal ammo stores having been detonated.
Bodies, or parts of them, were scattered about. Members of the mob were picking through the remains, but found themselves hampered by the lack of bridge crossing the canal that served as the demarcation of district zones.
The creature seemed to have no such issues. A low rumble of warped trumpeting rolled through the air, kicking up dust and shattering what few windows hadn't already been destroyed. The creature leaped then, held up by ethereal wings for a moment as it jumped the ten meter gap before impacting with a heavy crunch. The defense forces on that side of the canal opened fire, but they were even less prepared than the first position had been. They died screaming.
"Goddammit, what the hell is that thing..."
"I want a full package spun up," the calmer of the speaking generals said, glancing to her silent companion. The third of the force commanders had remained silent throughout the entire battle, for the most part, using his console to relay any commands or comments he might have had. This was not out of his character, but it didn't make it any less unnerving.
"What do we have in the air? I want to the bastard hit it now," the more energetic of the three said, slamming his fist down to punctuate his point.
"Little to nothing; drones, mostly, and all unarmed. I've already directed ground support craft up; we weren't expecting to need aircraft against a massed infantry attack like this."
"What about armor? Tanks?"
"Is that wise, given we know it managed to take out the Japanese armor?"
"An IFV is not a tank," the man said with a scowl, tone carrying malice that could come only from someone who was once a tanker themselves. He checked his console and grinned, "Alright, JSDF has some Type 10s rolling towards a hotspot in the north. Redirect them to intercept the bastard and deal with this before they manage to get the bridge in that area down; we need to push back before the entire 7th District is lost."
"What are the civilian figures like?"
The calmer of the three turned to the new voice. He had waited this long to speak for that? Pausing, she ran through her console, knowing full well he could have done the same and chose not to.
"The vast majority of the citizens made it to their shelters; the system here works. They were ready.
"There is a squadron up in the air," the more excitable of the generals said, ignoring the small exchange as he scanned the battlespace. The VTOL squadron had left from the central launch field a few minutes ago according to the numbers, and was heading off to the north as well. The general thought nothing of issuing the order to redirect this V Squadron to support the tanks, yet found it odd when he got a message saying he couldn't redirect them; priority one mission had already been issued.
The man glanced back, staring up at Gendo for a moment; what was that man playing at. With a scowl, he instead returned to his command deck, noticing that a group of jets had just launched from the NS Eclipse Phase carrier that was sitting not far off shore with the rest of its carrier strike group. The jets, F35C fighters from Nerv's own wing, already scrambled and on standby orders for area commanders. The general paused, glanced back at Ikari. The man continue to sit, motionless, hands steepled...
"I have a group of jets moving in for a support run on the target. The tanks are rolling in. Relief troops are routing to help plug the gaps," he said, pushing the thoughts from his mind. It was irrelevant. Only winning mattered right here, and right now. The UAV continued to watch from a distance, recording the loathsome creature and it's slow walk directly through the heart of the city.
It was obvious where it was headed; unless stopped, it had every intent to walk straight into the Geofront. The question of why escaped the general, however. It was, ironically, the very reason he'd been allowed to command. Sometimes, they just didn't want you to ask questions.
It was the tanks that arrived first, rolling thunder in the streets of the city. They deployed through the underground access tunnels. There had been several photo ops of the heavy armor bursting from the tunnels, a very dramatic sight all in all.
However, drama here was replaced by sheer practicality; a Mitsubishi Heavy Industries Type 10 third-generation main battle tank could move at 70 km/h, and was putting that ability to good use in its rapid deployment. The crew, apprehensive but eager, had only the slightest clue what it was they were driving into.
The beast known as Sij to its worshipers and as DIV-B to the various members of the command staff at the Geofront continued its slow march forward, perceiving and then seeing the tanks as they rolled down the streets; District 6 was largely residential, and its streets were narrower than those of the largely industrial District 7.
The tanks ran in a standard formation, a staggered file four tanks long. The lead tank had a round in the breach before they even saw the creature, and had gotten authorization to fire at will at the same time it was told to load up.
Type 10 main battle tanks carried a 120 mm smoothbore cannon that was a little over five meters in length. When fired, it propelled its charge at a speed of around 1,600 meters per second. An autoloader reduced the crew to three and could load a shell in around five seconds.
It was a good tank, with a good gun. Against some creature, even one that stood almost three meters tall, there should have been no contest. This was overkill to the nth degree.
They opened fire at 500 meters while on the move. The first round missed, the creature shifting at the last moment and sending the round tearing off into the distance. The second vehicle took its shot then and struck, delivering the high-explosive anti-tank round but only glancing its shoulder.
The formation stopped, first gun already back up and loaded as the creature lurched from the smoke cloud. Its body was wounded, though not in the same way a human body might be. The creature seemed more plastic than that, melted and slagged in places around the upper right of its torso. A large indent showed where the round had hit, but the blast seemed... contained. Still, the creature moved as if he felt nothing from the strike.
Gone was the slow lope, replaced with an impossibly fast run; the beast barely seemed to be touching the ground. The lead vehicle second shot missed as the creature swerved and then leaped up. The .50 caliber guns mounted in turret cupolas fired as one, peppering the beast with fire as they kicked into reverse.
A significant portion of the rounds seemed to glance off some invisible wall, the others leaving harmless indents across its utterly black body, looking like soft fingers in clay. The beast landed on the top of the lead vehicle with a heavy crunch. The tank served and ground from the extra weight; the beast seemed far heavier now than when it had been running.
Sij appraised the vehicle with a momentary glance before slamming a hand down. A pink lance of energy shot from its palm, piercing the ammunition storage. The vehicle rocked once as the creature leaped again, and then a second as the vehicle exploded from the inside out. Sij's leap carried it full over the second tank, lance shooting down as he flew to strike the ammo inside that vehicle before he rebounded off an apartment building and landed on the third tank.
The commander screened as the hand came down, rendering him into meaty bits. The lance retracted and slammed back into the vehicle two more times, neatly tearing the chests of the crew to pulp.
The fourth and last tank got a shot off. This time, Sij knew quite well what he was dealing with; it would not be caught twice. He flicked his arm, shimmering field sending the shot careening into an empty apartment building, assuring that it would continue to be depopulated for the foreseeable future. Another twist of the wrist caused the follow up shell to impact a barrier erected right at the exit of the barrel and transformed the weapon into scrap.
Sij surveyed its destructive handiwork for a moment, letting the feeling that a human might mark as appreciation or pride wash through it for a moment before it pushed off, landing behind the final tank a light step and continuing its path towards its goal.
Distantly, beneath the hardened surface of the Geofront facility, the three generals stared at the feed coming back from the overhead UAV with varied reactions. The mostly silent of the trio remained as such, letting his two younger compatriots react more openly.
The woman seemed simply shocked into awed silence, while the final was consumed in impotent rage. The beast had simply torn through, literally in some cases, a unit of some of the best main battle tanks on the planet.
"Hit the thing from the sky..." the angry one of the trio said, slamming his fist down as he did. "Hit the bastard now!"
He didn't have to wait long. One of the F35C fighters was all lined up for just that, weapons bay door opening long enough to deploy a Brimstone anti-tank missile. The munition accelerated quickly. Sij, however, had learned.
The creature perceived the missile more than it ever really saw it, and its hand raised up to meet it as it came screaming in. The lance of energy shot out, spearing the missile moments before impact. And the the beast caught it.
The generals could only watch in further shock as the beast brought the missile up to its face, and then casually checked the now inert munition to the side. The two younger generals said nothing. What could they say? The oldest, and most decorated, of the three chose this moment to make his first, and only, order.
"Brigadier Ikari," he said, turning to look at the man sitting on high. Gendo, for his credit, lowered his steepled hands, locking eyes with the general for just a moment, "Control of this battlespace is returned to you; you say your toys can stop this thing? Well then go ahead and do it; we're out of options."
Gendo waited only a moment to confirm the general was finished speaking before he stood. The elderly general made his way out of the room, leaving his two, younger compatriots behind to gawk for a few more moments before they quickly fell in step behind him. Gendo, on the other hand, turned to his own companion
"Tell Rei to hurry," he said, heading towards a private elevator, "I will have Doctor Akagi begin preparations."
"Is this really the wisest course, Ikari?" the white-haired man said, long-suffering look crossing his face; so much had been done, and yet so much was left.
"It must be this way, sensei," Gendo said, stepping into the small elevator. He spoke once more before the door closed.
"Mankind is at a crossroads; it will be his job to guide us to the right path."
The ground shuddered under him as the elevator lurched into motion. Kozo waited only a single heartbeat before turning back to his post; he had to get Rei on the line. A quick glance up at the screen, where the DIV had once again assumed its slow loping gait towards the Geofront. Ikari was right; they hadn't much time left..."
Japan\\Tokyo-3\\District 7N\\2007 Hours (8:07 PM)\\03082017 (August 3rd, 2017)
Rei blasted around the corner, rifle up at the ready as she moved. The barrel swept in small, deliberate motions, scanning the long, narrow hallway with practiced precision. The concrete hallway was long and dark, but her suits optics were more than sufficient to render that a moot point. Silence reigned, no contacts. She waited two beats before speaking.
"Clear."
Shinji poked his head around the corner, peering into the hall. His eyes strained against the darkness, and he warily stepped out, only to stumble over a small change in elevation. He made a strangled cry before feeling a strong hand grab him.
The girl in the suit had reached back to stop him. She stared, causing feelings of self-consciousness to well up before she let go. He rubbed where she'd grabbed him; it wasn't exactly painful, but nor was it gentle. Shinji had never experience a grip he could call utilitarian until now.
A moment passed before the hall was bathed in light. Panels along the armor flared, and then settled into a more dull, soft light. Shinji was about to say thank you when she began moving again, assuming her squared-off stance as she moved down the hall. Shinji watched as she swept each door; the hallway had a handful of them, all closed.
Shinji stood only for a moment before moving to catch up; though quiet she had snapped, in a fairly direct way, that he needed to keep up, that they were needed urgently, and a number of other statements that only served to further confuse the sixteen-year old.
"Where are we?" he asked suddenly, trying his luck once more. The girl had been unsurprisingly not forthcoming for the most part; he'd managed to get her rank and name (Warrant Officer Ayanami, respectively), and that she was leading them to the Geofront, not that he knew what that was.
All his other questions, and there had been many, had been rebuffed by the taciturn girl. Shinji had given up, but the new surroundings brought back the curiosity that had waned as they made their way through the city.
Apparently the automated transit was offline due to the state of emergency, or at least Shinji thought as much. He couldn't think of many other reasons that she'd be leading him on this strange path otherwise if they were trying to get to somewhere at the center of the city. Shinji followed along, because the letter he'd received had directed him to get to the center of the city, including both an access card and directions.
They had pushed through the seventh district fairly quickly; it was an industrial ring, for the most part, where the factories and warehouses of Tokyo-3 produced all sorts of goods, everything the city could need and more. It was a mix of automatic manufactory facilities alongside workplaces for a large section of Tokyo-3's thirteen million inhabitants.
Shinji knew all about Tokyo-3, in abstract; the self-sustaining arcology, a 'city of the future,' was the subject of a lot of praise and educational instruction. An integrated industrial, agricultural, residential, and military city that was designed from the ground up (and below) for population size, divided into seven districts that looped around the city, with the magnificant Geofront pyramid at the center.
Thus far, all Shinji had seen was the train station and industrial sites, and now these dark, long hallways. He noticed overhead lights and wondered why they weren't on, instead the hall being illuminated only by weak running lights that did little but mark the walls and the light from Ayanami's suit.
Large metal doors lined the hall, but Shinji couldn't make our their marking given how fast Ayanami was moving. She moved surprisingly quickly in her squared off shooters stance. Shinji simply followed as closely s possible. Ayanami slowed and glanced back. Then, to Shinji's surprise, she responded.
"Access tunnels for the defense grid," she said, stopping at a large opening, making sure to stay back somewhat as to not flag her weapon at the door. "There is a transit system here that can get us to the Geofront."
The first burst of fire ricocheted across Ayanami, scattering off her body and impacting the concrete walls. Shinji huddled down, throwing his hands over his head as Ayanami swept her rifle up and began to return fire. The sound of bullets impacting packed glass once again filled the air, this time giving way to a full on shatter and a scream of pain. Shinji pushed himself up and against the wall, trying to fit into the corner and give himself some cover.
Ayanami wasn't sure how the Deceiver's had gotten into the tunnels. It was a hasty ambush, from the looks of things; they'd opened fire the moment she came into view and seemed to stop. That told the Eva operator that they liked hadn't been intending to find her down here.
Which, of course, meant they were attempting to utilize the tram system, a faulty prospect given the entire outer ring had been removed from the primary power grid. Without authorization from the command, the process to get power to a section was colossal.
Which is, of course, when she noticed that the tram as moving already, and carrying with it five heavily armed operatives, right into the heart of the city; they would likely get stopped, but with the element of surprise there was no telling what they could do.
And, these were not simple militia; she had seen the flare of an AT Field. These were operatives in the advanced stages of the syndrome, capable of manifesting and manipulating a weak AT field for various purposes as a result. Her heavier 7.62x51 GATO rounds had hammered through, but that level of defense, and that level of infection...
She dropped her FAL, the weapon slinking back on single-point sling connected to her chest, adhering there as she took off into a full sprint, drawing the metal tube off her back and ignoring the sound of bullets on glass as the remaining Deceivers held their positions to fire at her.
She ignored the twinge of pain in her side where one of the earlier rounds had managed to lodge itself between plates but was stopped by the tightly packed fibers of the suits artificial muscle. She had no time to drop to a knee and get a better solution, the tram was beginning to accelerate. And so, she simply aimed once she had a clear shot, and fired.
The MK153 launched off an 83mm novel explosive rocket that impacted the tram within moments of being fired. The back blast from the launcher fried one of the operatives that attempted to move around behind her, and the overpressure wave caused by the thermobaric charge in the warhead quickly eliminated the others, as well as blew Ayanami backwards, even with her suit, where she landed heavy near the doorway to the tram room. The tram was scrap, as was the line itself.
She pushed herself up, wincing despite herself; the Evangelion suits were impressive, but not infallible. She felt the life support systems kick in, regenerative properties induced by its more exotic elements fast at work to repair the damage. She glanced back to find Shinji still covering behind his cover, but thankfully unscathed. It would have been bad if he had gotten killed; Commander Ikari would have been quite disappointed in her then. There was a soft click in her helmet as she accessed the radio grid.
"Control, this is Eva Zero. Original extraction route unfeasible, attempting to redirect to alternate."
Then she stood up, grabbed Shinji, and kicked down one of the metal doors that lined the hallway they'd come down. The door flew a few feet before landing with a thud, not even skidding. Shinji, despite everything, still looked shocked. Ayanami didn't notice.
"Come, we must hurry."
She pushed thought he door, restoring the launcher to its place on her back after affixing another round to its rear, and then bringing her rifle back up to the ready. She winced inside the suit at the movements; regeneration was slow, and the pain in her side was growing. She did not show it, however. There was no point to that.
They moved on through yet another dark hall, unaware of the plans they'd just ruined.
Japan\\Tokyo-3\\District 0, Level 7U (Terminal Dogma: Expression Vector [Throne Room])\\2030 Hours (8:30 PM)\\03082017 (August 3rd, 2017)
Gendo rode the cramped, narrow lift for nearly twenty minutes. Keyed to his personal biometrics, the lift was one of the few direct routes down to the lowest segment of the Geofront, a mythical place within the already mythical Terminal Dogma, itself a myth inside the Geofront itself. A nested hierarchy of legends and rumors, near gnostic in nature, surrounded the black pyramidal structure.
Located at the very core of city, the Geofront was thought by many inhabitants of the city to be just the black pyramid and its underground segments. What most people didn't realize was that the black structure was mirrored beneath the earth twice over, with another black pyramid hanging from the cavern ceiling.
The third pyramid, on the other hand, was located on the ground of the cavern, connected at its tip to its surface and subsurface cousins. The above ground Geofront, designated with a G on the levels, was a primarily military facility, while the inverted pyramid, designated S, was scientific in nature. It was there that Nerv's many projects dedicated to fighting metaphysical threats were developed and technology was unlocked for the betterment of all mankind.
The third pyramid, entrance restricted to only those with Unknown level clearances and with levels marked with the letter U, was not even publicly acknowledged. It existed, and anyone who ever went into the Geofront cavern could see that, but mentioning it had a habit of rendering the speaker a persona non grata in Tokyo-3 circles.
It was to this secret, guarded place that Gendo rode. Nominally, to enter the pyramid one would have to the facility from the top; in a gross violation of safety standards there were no access routes except from the tip of the pyramid. Procedures were lengthy, with no entrance likely to take fewer than sixty minutes as credentials were checked and double checked, biometrics were scanned, and people were contacted to clear it.
Many people who worked in the facility, few though they were, simply lived in the pyramid for years at a time, including the guards. The entrance was guarded by both automated and manned guards on both sides, rotated on six hour shifts. These guards were not even part of either the Nerv security forces or tactical forces, not even the 81st Autonomous Mobile Infantry. They existed only for the security of the darkest secrets of the Unknown level.
Gendo bypassed all of this. It was a glaring hole in the security, one that he implemented personally for reasons he felt disinclined to explain to anyone of note. The shaft ran all the way to the very bottom, after which he exited. The rooms where bright here, and Gendo adjusted his glasses in the sharp glare as he walked down the long, white corridor and exited into what was arguable the most important place on the planet for humanity.
The room was massive, taking up parts of both the sixth and fifth layer of the pyramid to give massive clearance for the structure in the center of it. It was quiet, sparing a low hum; one of the small miracles amongst many of zero-point generators was there near totally silent running, earning them the name Towers of Silence, and this one was no different. Gendo strolled forward, dwarfed by it, but he had long since lost any wonder of the structure.
It was white, like the room itself, a perfectly square tower that measured ten meters on each side and four times that in height. The sides were slightly indented, and its surface was marred only by the irregular placement of large cables that streamed from its sides and fed into the wall.
It was a beautiful structure, in a way, but most people wouldn't realize that it was also supplying nearly 50% of the power to the city and all its thirteen million people. The rest of the slack was supplied by a network of four aneutronic fusion reactors in the second district.
What people also wouldn't realize was that the white tower could power not only the entire city, but likely the entirety of Japan without even hitting maximum output. This was the greatest of all zero-point generators. This was the king, and it was for that reason that this room was called the Throne Room.
Gendo approached the structure with more haste than he usually moved, but it was not the tower proper that he was going for. Rather, it was the smaller structure on the north side of the tower, a smaller mirror of the larger one that differed in that it was only two meters tall, and had no cords stretching from it. Rather, it had a pedestal in front of it, and on that pedestal was a chalice.
The Nerv commander stood in front of the altar, staring at the chalice for a moment before taking it up. It was a perfectly shaped piece, completely white in all ways. The liquid inside, on the other hand, was a deep red-orange, swirling and eddying despite the cups stillness. Gendo stared into it, and through it.
"I... understand," he said suddenly, despite his his solitude, "I will proceed as planned."
He paused, as if waiting for a response, and then a small frown grew across his face.
"My personal feelings have been clear from the start," he said, inflection implying he found saying it distasteful, "Feelings are nothing compared to the reification of the credenda. This was proven in 2006."
He waited again, and then closed his eyes.
"I know that Jinjiang was part of the path, now," he said, opening his eyes afterward, "We now know the course to take, where once was simple guesswork. Knowledge has replaced faith. Certainty has replaced ambiguity."
Another pause, and an oddity; Gendo smiled, turning on his heels as he did.
"Yes, I will fulfill the promise," he said, heading back towards the lift. He keyed it for the operations deck, where Dr. Akagi would no doubt be waiting. He glanced back at the smaller tower and the chalice in front of it.
"I swear it; he will be the greatest of us all."
Japan\\Tokyo-3\\Tokyo-3 Subterranean Highway System\\2033 Hours (8:33 PM)\\03082017 (August 3rd, 2017)
Misato had two ways to drive. Most people hadn't a need to break it down the way she did, on account of the fact that most people didn't have to regularly drive through a war zone, regardless of how one might feel about their morning commute. Now, however, the foresight to do so was proving wise, because she needed to get to the north section of District 5 right fucking now. She felt the electric vehicle shift, a military oddity given most cars these days didn't even have a clutch, and continued to accelerate through the tunnel.
Tokyo-3 had been planned for rapid transit; the roads were nearly entirely underground, connecting the districts through an intricate network. There were some that were exclusive to military use, others more jointly held, and there were zones for clearing roads when an alarm was sounded, meaning that her path was mostly clear. This was good, given her flagrant disregard for road safety. She threw the vehicle through a corner and felt the acceleration pull on her body
She grinned; enjoying it far more than was likely proper. In the passenger seats, the other members of the her unit sat in calm silence, despite their commander's driving. The 81st Autonomous Mobile Infantry was known to recruit the oddities of Nerv's other military units, as well as take recruits from GATO member nation forces with enough experience facing metaphysical threats to warrant it, but the members of 1st company, 1st platoon where hand chosen by the lieutenant-colonel herself.
The 1st company and, to an even greater extent, the 1st platoon, where known for their eccentricities. It made sense given their leader. Misato refused to stay anywhere but the tip of the spear when it came to operations, having earned her way up the chain for her direct and effective leadership. Earning her commission straight out of college, Misato made her way into the JSDF's Special Operations Group, often referred to as 'Japan's Delta Force,' and distinguished herself in several campaigns and 'action situations' that had developed following the Rhages Incident.
Misato was still a few minutes out, but she'd finally reached a straightaway where she could shave off some time. She slammed the pedal all the way down, electric engine whining as it felt the strain. Electric cars were the standard in Tokyo-3, and most of the western world. Unlike many places, however, Tokyo-3 had an absolute ban on combustion driven vehicles for non-military use, and even the military preferred the logistical problems non-electric vehicles had.
The Nerv officer didn't much care; it gave her a hobby. She'd managed to her prized Renault up to Tokyo-3 standards while actually improving its performance. She wished she could have taken it instead of the truck she was driving now; she'd have been there already if she had.
She was pleasantly surprised that the truck managed to get airborne as she raced up and out of the exit, enjoying the rough impact. She let out a whoop, her companions grinning at the antics... and immediately piled out of the vehicle the moment it came to a stop. They'd proceed on foot from here out; Misato was pushing it driving an unarmored or armed vehicle as it was.
The three troopers, two men and a woman, unfolded the stocks on their Type 89 rifles and formed up, barely stopping enough to adjust their combat gear; the standard Nerv combat uniform was a digital camouflage pattern, in this case colored for the urban terrain, along with a set of light, multilayer plates. Helmets had eye-displays built in, each one linking both to the squads distributed computing and the digital sights on their weapons.
Misato retrieved her own weapon, a german GR-3, and pulled its stock out, falling into the second-man position of the fireteam. They pushed away from the vehicle and towards the walls. Misato scanned as she moved; District 5 was the commercial district, both the last of the outer districts and the only one with above-ground roads. Misato could see the digital overlay of streets, feeding information from her team as well as the city's own network.
The ping from Rei wasn't far; she was waiting at a defensive network exit. Misato tapped into her vitals and frowned; she'd failed to report the injury that was showing up. The Evangelion Units had impressive self-medical capabilities, but that still was no reason to ignore it. Not to mention that Mistao had been briefed on the dangerous of relying too much on the Eva's regeneration.
Misato whispered into her mic, commands being interpreted and displayed as waypoints for her team. The point man moved, and Misato stayed on his ass at a distance that would be harassment in any other job. Misato privately didn't mind the closeness; Horaki had a nice ass, even in the uniforms.
She checked the location of the rest of the team; still several minutes out. However, the TACNET was saying that the OPFOR had breached District 6 and 5, meaning they were getting far too close. Although Nerv had the overall tactical command back, they were apparently choosing to fall back to the fourth district to break the attack, and then push forward. Tactically sound, given the gap between inner and outer districts was a more defensive position. It only brought up problems in that Mistao had to extract the package right now, or they could get swept up in the wave of Deciever militia.
How they'd managed to get this many people into the city was something else entirely; Misato knew that the Deciever's were resourceful, but even recruiting from the massive influx of refugees and illegal migrants from the mainland wasn't enough to explain all of this. Worse, they'd attacked at the lowest ebb of Tokyo-3's defensive posture, which meant they were either extremely lucky or they had a better intelligence capability than expected. Neither boded well.
Of course, the presence of the mob didn't even touch the surface of the problem that the DIV presented; when it rained, it poured, though in this case it felt a lot less like rain and a lot more like God was pissing on them.
She set another waypoint and tapped sergeant Horaki's shoulder. The NCO moved and the fireteam followed, bounding from point to point as they moved through the streets. She checked on the location of the rest of the team; their Type 96 APCs had fallen behind Misato's spirited driving. It wasn't exactly the most tactically sound thing to race that far ahead, but time was of the essence here.
Her team reached the final leapfrog point; Rei and the package where within a few meters now. Misato could see the sealed exit to the defense network. The cellar doors opened up after Misato sent a signal to Rei, and the power armored girl emerged. She was followed, tentatively, by who the lieutenant-colonel quickly recognized as their package.
The two Type 96 APCs approached, and Misato let out a small sigh. She stood, team following suit, and headed out to meet the young girl and her charge.
"Colonel," Rei said in a clipped, digitized tone. Even with the suit, Misato could tell she was wound up. That was, perhaps, to be expected; she'd seen combat in the Eva, real combat, for the first time. Sergeant Horaki smiled and nodded to the girl, though Rei did not return the gesture.
"Well, you found him; good work, Rei," Misato said, turning to the package as she did. He was taller than she expected, likely as tall as his father, though that wasn't saying much. In fact, sparing the facial hair and glasses, Shinji Ikari shared a lot of similarities to his father, though his face was slightly more feminine and his build slightly more toned; the kid didn't look like he was much of an athlete, but he wasn't out of shape either. That was good. Or as good it could be.
Misato kept herself from frowning; she knew full well why Shinji was here, and she also knew that meant that she would be his field officer and trainer, likely. He sixteen, barely old enough to drive, she was going to be the one teaching him to kill. It left a bad taste in her mouth, but she kept it off her face.
Two more fireteams deployed from the APCs, these ones armored in what looked like almost a cruder version of the suit Rei was wearing; both bulkier and not fully enclosed. LITEs, or light infantry tactical exoskeletons, where the favored toy of GATO these days, and Nerv was no different, which made sense given they'd invented them, a side effect of Project E. The troops were carrying heavier weapons; FN MAG machine guns and Type 64 battle rifles rifles.
The armored troops took up defensive positions, but Misato was watching the boy instead. He seemed aware, eyes sweeping around; that was good, at least he was taking things in, though Misato could tell he'd rather be anywhere else.
"Right, well, lets get going, we need-"
Rei moved faster than humanly possible, stepping in front of Shinji moments before the blast filled the streets. Mere meters away, the lead Type 96 was blasted open. Misato's eyes and weapon flew up, scanning the streets. She spotted the enemy just in time to watch them open fire, and took cover behind a raised concrete flowerbed. The package scrambled into cover as well, Rei already returning fire as the enemy moved from the buildings and took up firing positions.
Misato snapped off a few shots over the barricade, gritting her teeth as the telltale packed-glass sound of round impacting an AT field told her all she needed to know about the foe. Her TACCOM overlay was quickly updating with enemy positions; they were streaming out up the streets, coming out of a building or alleyway somewhere. The gun on the remaining Type 96 began to scream right before another RPG flew in and silenced it.
"Charlie!" someone shouted, vocalizing what Misato's shots had confirmed. The rest of her team was in cover and returning fire as well, and the LITE troopers were doing the same. Two had been knocked down by the blast, and the crew of the APCs were gone. She made a split second decision, grabbing Shinji's arm.
"This is Katsuragi, I'm getting the package out of here. Covering fire then bound back, move!" she shouted, yanking Shinji up after the Nerv forces let off a massive fusillade of fire. She pushed him ahead of her, keeping her hand on his back to keep him moving fast. The boy complied, driven as much by fear as anything. Misato kept the hand on to keep him from shutting down entirely.
They crossed the distance back to the jeep in record time, and Misato damn near threw Shinji into the back seat before she slid into the drivers, cranked the ignition and quickly headed back through the tunnels, blatantly ignoring concepts such as 'one-way streets' or 'reasonable speeds.'
Somehow, it was less enjoyable this time around.