Author's Note: first, and foremost, let me apologize for the obscenely long delay. Back in September, my brother decided that it was time to upgrade the computer without asking for anyone's input. He swapped it out for a new one--neglecting to inform me that he would be doing so--and then promptly threw it out. Needless to say, this threw a massive monkey wrench into everything, as that's where I stored all my assignments, documents, essays, etc. As a result, I had to spend the better part of a month trying to redo everything, and by the end of it I was stuck playing catch-up for pretty much the rest of the semester. Rest assured, I won't be making that mistake again--I'll keep hardcopies of everything, whenever possible.

Second, I would like to offer my humble (and long-overdue) apologies to Orionpax09. At the time, It had seemed fitting for the two devils to eventually be at each other's throats, and I wasn't thinking. Should you wish, you may completely disregard the story; the decision is yours.

Thirdly, the contest is now over. To those of you who participated, you all had excellent ideas, many of which had me scratching my head and wondering, "now why didn't I think of that?" Alas, none of you managed to get the perfect reponse, but that's good--it'll keep you guessing. And Animefan29, the questions referred solely to the OC, though I understand how you made that mistake.

Finally, merry belated Christmas, everyone! I hope you all had a good time, because I sure didn't.

Disclaimer: Neon Genesis Evangelion is the property of Gainax. The Lizard is the property of Marvel Comics. I claim no ownership of either series and am not affiliated with them in any way. This story is not intended for profit; it is an entertaining diversion, both for the author and the readers.


The future; date unknown

The tyrant stood atop the parapets of his fortress, looking down on the ruins of civilization. Dry winds, heavy with tons of ash, whipped his cape as he turned his helmeted head, his eyes blazing like the fires that still ravaged much of the globe. The city in which he had built his keep was utterly devoid of life, as it had been for the last decade; the tortured hulks of skyscrapers hung in supplication to his will, a grim reminder to the rest of the world¾resistance would not be tolerated.

One sound stood out amidst the howling winds, drawing his attention to the east--a keening whine, growing louder and higher-pitched with every millisecond. Seconds later he spotted the quintet of tiny specks on the blood-spattered horizon. The view magnified ten times, revealing that the approaching objects to be intercontinental ballistic missiles--packed to the brim with N2 mines, no doubt, or perhaps even a few nuclear warheads.

Had the tyrant remembered what compassion felt like, he might have been able to generate a spark of admiration for those insects across the sea: despite being defeated again and again, despite their troops being slaughtered by the thousands and millions, they refused to give up without a fight. Tenacious, to the last; like cockroaches.

But he was no longer capable of emotion.

His domain possessed a vast automated security system, although it lacked anything capable of countering aerial attacks. This did not matter; he was more than enough to overcome any such threats. The tyrant stretched out his arm, a dull gray in the nuclear winter, and reached for the ICBMs as if to grasp them from such a great distance. The missiles wavered in his invisible grip, unable to escape from a multitude of telekinetic and electromagnetic forces. He closed his gauntleted fist, and the night sky briefly turned to day as all five of the missiles exploded under the pressure of his AT-Field.

The tyrant turned from the sight and strode back into his scrap fortress; he had far more important things to attend to than wiping out the rest of those insignificant creatures. The device was nearing completion, and he could not trust the final stages of its construction to his primitive mechanical thralls. For a moment, he felt what might have been a twinge of satisfaction at the imminent completion of his plan…but then it was gone. Even walking past the mummified corpses of his enemies, hanging from the walls like gruesome works of art, did nothing to incite his glee as it once did. In fact, the preservation of their remains--forever frozen in a state of agony, like the death throes of a patient with Huntington's--was a frivolous waste of energy and resources; soon, he would have to discontinue it altogether if the device was to be completed without difficulty.

The tyrant might have been bothered by this, had he still possessed a heart. But his veins transported raw energy rather than blood, and his heart beat with the fires of Super Solenoid energy. Emotions were for those born of Lilith, not the sole remaining heir to Adam's legacy. He descended into the bowels of his laboratory and looked upon his towering creation with cool detachment.

It was time to go to work.


Chapter 2: The Coming of the Beast

2015 A.D.; Tokyo-3

"Ow!" Toji winced, straining against the leather straps in protest as the doctor stabbed a hypo into the soft skin of his left elbow. His new arm, still pink and covered in a layer of fine, colourless hair, was extremely sensitive, and even the slightest hint of pain brought his mind back to that mind-boggling instant when it had erupted from his stump like a popping zit.

Kyoryuu shot the boy an odd look, and Toji realized with embarrassment that he had said that last bit out loud. "That's hardly the simile I'd have used to describe this incident," the scruffy-looking man said, his mechanical hand pinning Toji's arm to the cot. "Oh well. To each his own, I suppose. Now stop struggling for a minute--I need to take more samples." He turned to a nearby nurse and motioned for her to give him a scalpel.

This didn't sit well at all with the Fourth Child, who began to thrash violently. These people must be nuts--he'd managed to get his arm back through a freak accident, and now they wanted to carve it up like a side of beef? Not in this lifetime! "Screw you, man! Do you have any idea what I just went through?! It felt like my arm and my leg were on fire! an' watchin' em grow back wasn't exactly pleasant!"

"I know," the doctor said in his wet and raspy Kyoto-ben, struggling to suppress a sigh. The boy had been in a state of agitation ever since regaining consciousness, and he had been markedly uncooperative for the last hour of tests. Had Iruka been in his shoes, he probably would have felt the same--confused by this unusual turn of events, scared that he might lose his limbs again or worse…but Kyoryuu was not a man particularly given to sentimentality or genuinely sympathetic gestures. "Relax, Suzuhara; I'm just going to make a small cut in your arm, so that I can reach the muscle tissue. Blood samples can only tell us so much, after all, and we need to be sure that this…improbability isn't the result of neural contamination." He leaned in close to the boy's face, trying to get the point across. "You wouldn't want us to have to put you down, now would you?"

Toji fought the instinct to recoil; the doc's scraggly beard looked like it hadn't been shaved in weeks, and his greasy black hair was even worse. His brown eyes, almost hidden beneath thick glasses and a pair of bushes that even a caveman wouldn't mistake for eyebrows, regarded him with a cold and sallow intelligence. Just by looking at him, it was easy for Toji to see that this guy wasn't in this business solely out of the goodness of his heart; maybe he got some sort of sick pleasure from tormenting his patients. It certainly seemed that way, if the pain shooting through his bicep was any indication--that high-class sonuvabitch hadn't even bothered to give him an anaesthetic before stabbing him, and the only thing preventing Toji from flailing around like a violent drunkard was the iron grip of the doc's left arm.

Toji shuddered. If he hadn't been unconscious while ripped apart by Unit One, the clicks and whirs that it made would no doubt have replaced that beating in his nightmares. The design of the limb was damn unusual, too: with a hand that ended in bladelike talons and a jutting shoulder, it looked like it might have been some uninformed cosplayer's take on an Evangelion's arm, albeit more bestial.

The doctor noticed his interest. he's probably afraid he'll end up like me, Kyoryuu thought absently as he poked around inside the wound, nodding in satisfaction when he managed to cut off a piece. He quickly flicked the blade to dislodge the piece of musculature, his synthetic limb an implacable mountain against the boy's agonized screams and thrashes, noting that the wound closed up within three seconds, leaving a faint scar. He placed the meat within a nearby tray and handed the scalpel off to the nurse, then cast a critical eye over the boy. Rapid healing, regeneration of limbs, and--if the boy's inability to succumb to pain was any indication--a healthy resistance to shock and fatigue…all were symptoms of a successful application of Re-Genesis. He should have felt elated; the first human test subject was a success!

However, there was something…off about the boy's symptoms. Blood and tissue samples indicated that the reptilian DNA had dispersed throughout Suzuhara's body at a much faster rate than originally predicted; worse, it appeared to have spread beyond his immune system and regenerative faculties. A single glance at the first sample had shown Iruka that approximately ninety-seven percent of the boy's cells had been infused with Re-Genesis; none of the subsequent samples had done anything to dispel this conclusion. Thankfully the majority of the cells were inert--only those in the heart and bone marrow were showing signs of increased activity. He would have to doctor the results before Akagi managed to get her claws into them…make it seem like something else was responsible.

Iruka abhorred situations where he had no control, as they made him feel powerless and weak. If his suspicions were incorrect, and the so-called 'foreign contaminant' was not responsible for this unusual proliferation, it would mean that something in his formula was flawed. his face contorted into a mask of anger at that thought. He would not allow anything to threaten whatever chances he had of regaining his arm; he would find some pretext, and give the boy a far more thorough examination--even vivisection, if such was required.

So intent was he on this train of thought, and so thoroughly was the boy caught in the throes of his pain, that neither of them noticed when the hunk of muscle in the tray twitched slightly, as if caught in the grip of some spasm…


"So how long was I out for?" Toji asked, glad to finally be out of that freaky cyborg's clutches. He sat on his bed, clad in a smock similar to the one he had previously worn (the previous one had been too drenched with sweat, blood and a number of other fluids to ever be considered 'sanitary' again), and a thick gauze covered the scar on his left bicep. Thankfully, he'd been given a chance to shower, so at least he didn't look or smell like the living dead.

None of that really mattered to Hikari Horaki; she only cared that he was alive, and in one piece. "You had been unconscious for about a day when it happened," the class rep replied, the relief in her voice almost tangible. Shinji woke up when you screamed, and they discharged him a day after you lapsed into your fugue. You woke up shortly afterwards, if I understand correctly." She paused, a note of hesitation evident in her expression. "Did you really…?"

"Yeah," Toji said in response to the unfinished question. "And it sure as hell wasn't pleasant, I can tell you that." He failed to repress a shudder as the visceral memory of his arm's regrowth flashed unbidden before his eyes. "But enough about that. Have you heard anything about my sister?"

"She's perfectly fine," Hikari assured him, relieved that he had decided to change the subject. "The doctors told me that her injuries are healing perfectly; within a month, she should be well enough to go home."

"That's good. What happened to Shinji?"

"I don't know, but Asuka and Ayanami think he might be in trouble…"


The door slid open with a clang, allowing the harsh light of halogen lamps to flood the room through a chain grate. The cell's only occupant did not care, fixed as he was on burning a hole in the far wall with his eyes. Such was his anger, and such was the intensity of his stare, that given sufficient time he might have succeeded. Alas, that was not to be, if the nameless shadow standing at the corner of his vision was any indication.

"Shinji Ikari," the faceless Section 2 agent fairly drawled. "The commander wants to see ya."

The Third Child's eyes narrowed considerably. Oh, yes; that wall was as good as perforated.

Three sets of cuffs were slapped onto his wrists, none too gently. Then he was roughly yanked from his cell and dragged across the mammoth sprawl that was headquarters. For once, Shinji was glad that the walk took so long to reach the commander's office¾it gave him time for his anger to fester and boil, like a pot left over the fire for far too long. By the time they reached his father's office, the boy's anger had percolated to the fore, tingeing his vision with a red lens of hate. He stood in the cavernous room, his gaze boring into the seated, steeple-fingered bastard that was Gendo Ikari.

The commander wasted no time in bringing up the boy's list of transgressions. "Disobeying orders. Using an Eva for personal vendetta. Childish intimidation. These are all criminal offences." Commander Ikari peered out at his son over his fingers, his expression unreadable behind the lens flare of his glasses. He paused to allow the words to sink in, then continued. "Do you have anything to say?" he asked, his tone indicating that the question was both mocking and rhetorical.

Shinji fought back the urge to spit on the floor. How could I have ever wanted this man's respect? he thought, his vitriolic train of thought accompanied by the past eleven years of complete and utter neglect he'd been forced to endure. And for what? To gain the fleeting praise of a heartless man who cared nothing for the people under his command, who would spend them all like currency in an attempt to defeat the Angels?

Gendo sickened him. Prior to the Thirteenth Angel, Shinji had been able to overlook some of his father's faults, and had even basked in his fleeting praise after saving them all from the previous Angel. But what he had done to Toji was inexcusable…and he had used his own son's hands to do it! The fact that his friend had miraculously regenerated his severed limbs was inconsequential.

"Yes," Shinji replied after a moment, his voice utterly devoid of any emotion whatsoever. "I don't want to pilot an Eva anymore…and I don't want to stay here, either."

"Well, then, you may leave," the commander hissed, knowing that his son was too cowardly to rise up to the challenge.

"Yes. I'll go back to my old teacher," said coward concluded with a note of finality, turning sharply on his heel and heading for the door.

"So, you're running away again," his father called out, as if attempting to goad him into a confrontation. "You disappoint me. I assume that we'll never meet again."

Shinji paid him little heed. There was a time when such words would have flayed him to the bone, left him wallowing in self-pity for days if not weeks. But his father's words no longer bore power; they had no hold over him anymore. "Yes, that's my intent."

And with those words he left, slamming the door with considerable force.

Gendo sighed in annoyance, wondering what could have possibly transpired that would allow his son to grow a spinal cord. He was angry and defiant, and far more so than the scenario required him to be; sooner or later he probably would unleash Unit One on NERV headquarters.

It must have been because of the anomalies. These 'Superwomen," as the press and internet forums had labelled them, had been nothing but trouble since they first appeared: fighting crime, saving lives, overcoming the Angels when the Evangelions had failed, and assisting the Children whenever they could. And now there were at least a half-dozen of them running around his city! A greater monkey wrench could not have been found that would have screwed up the scenario to a greater extent than they.

The commander brought his palm up to his temple, rubbing his creased brow in exhaustion. It almost made him nostalgic for the days when Spirit was the only thorn in his side…

That brought a smile to his lips. Spirit. If nothing else, her failure to remove the Thirteenth Angel from Unit Three during the last battle would no doubt serve as a blow to her self-confidence. To have the boy she apparently cared for, savagely beaten and crippled while she was within figurative arm's reach, would be a wound to her morale that she would probably never overcome. As far as she probably knew, the Fourth Child was in critical condition and not expected to survive.

This tangentially brought him back to his original concern: the head physician's report on the Pilot's miraculous convalescence. Its author--a man whose name the commander could not be bothered to remember, despite his having arguably the seventh highest payroll in the Tokyo Branch--had clearly doctored the results. Did the man honestly expect his employer to read that the Fourth Child's physiology was that of a normal adolescent, despite the fact that he had recently regrown two blasted arms, without a significant amount of neural contamination?

What kind of idiot did this man take him for?

Section 2 would be keeping an eye on both of them--especially the doctor, but especially the boy! He had enough problems on his hands, what with his rebellious son and the accursed metahumans; the last thing he needed was to allow a potential threat to spring up from under his nose and throttle him at the most inopportune moment. This was one threat that he was going to nick in the bud immediately.

Gendo smirked, barely suppressing the sudden and inexplicable desire to throw back his head and cackle like some insane fool. No matter what fate chose to throw at him¾be it dissenting pilots, super-powered women, or the Committee's treacherous schemes--he would persevere. He would complete his scenario, and then they could all rot in hell!


The Fourth Child's eyes snapped open, and he sat up immediately, all vestiges of his nap gone in an instant. He was alone; Hikari had left a few hours before, promising to let his sister know that he was alright on her way out. but something was wrong. He could feel it in his bones; he could smell it in the air. Something was nearby, something so wrong, so unnatural, that every part of his very being recoiled from it in fear and disgust. Nausea overcame him, and he leapt from his bed to the bedpan, vomiting up his last meal. he brought his hand up to steady himself, stop the world from spinning…

His hand was translucent.

He could see the vein and the bones, see the blood pumping through them, see the heat radiating from it in shades of red, green and yellow. Toji, stunned, raised his other hand and saw that it, too, was similarly exposing its contents.

"What…the…hell…?" he whispered in confusion, wincing as a sudden pain shot through his head. Whatever that thing was, it was getting closer. He had no idea how he knew this, it just seemed readily apparent…and that scared him. It got closer every second, and his fear rose in direct proportion to the amount of time that went by.

It is coming, he thought, the panicking voice in his head not his own. It will kill me…I must escape!

Toji turned to the walls of his room, scrabbling at them frantically with fingers that suddenly seemed very stiff and very heavy. Gotta be a way out, has to be. His fear gave way to frustration, and he began to knock the beeping, utterly redundant machines aside. Stupid things. What good are now, anyway?!?! With no other option, he brought his mouth to a seam in the wall and began to gnaw at it. It was close…so very close…can't run, gotta fight…gotta fight!

"What the hell is that noise, Stooge?" the voice of a certain arrogant little witch demanded, muffled by the door.

Toji froze, the hackles on the back of his neck standing on end. He could see a red-and-green blob that was unmistakably Asuka Langley Soryu, standing in front of his door with her hands on her hips. And there was something else…a presence that hung over her like a black cloud, one that was somehow familiar and fearsome. This was the source of his terror, and now that it was hear, he had no choice but to fight. But he was determined to avoid it, if possible.

"Leave me alone, Devil," the boy said on suddenly raspy breath, noticing that he was hyperventilating. He paused to scratch an itch on his back, snarling when the inflammation began to spread faster than his hand could catch it. "I really don't want to see you right now!"

"And you think I do?" she snapped back, her blob reddening with anger. "I'm only here because Hikari wanted me to check up on you, you ungrateful little--"

"I said leave me alone!" Toji bellowed. He brought his fist down on the wall in frustration, leaving a noticable dent in the sterile surface. "Now go away! Tell her I'm fine and leave me be!"

Asuka paused, shocked at his inexplicable anger. True, they didn't get along--never had--but for him to explode like this was damned unusual. She reached for the handle with some concern and some anger, only to stop when a howl of agony split the air.

Toji had fallen to the floor, clutching his left arm. The limb felt as though it was being dunked in lava; every single nerve in the arm was suddenly on fire! all three of his other limbs--scratch that, his whole body--were wracked with similar sensations. The pain continued to build, the itch having now spread everywhere, and the sensory assault made him scream in agony. his hair began to fall out in clumps.

Then all four of his limbs split open as the bones extended to twice their length, muscle and scaly flesh rapidly flowing across the exposed bone. He winced as his hospital gown ripped, torn to shreds by the spear of vertebrae that erupted from the seat of his pants. Then he screamed a gain as his skull began to compress, and darkness took him.

"Are you--" was all that Asuka had time to say before the door exploded in her face, and something green and hissing the size of a truck burst out of the room. She leapt back at the last instant, taking the creature's charge in the side instead of head-on. Rather than being smashed into the wall behind her, she merely got knocked off her feet as a consequence.

The creature loomed over her, its pebbly lips peeled back to expose a vast number of knife-sized teeth and a long, forked tongue. Despite the fact that it was hunched over, the beast stood nearly eight feet tall, and the powerful, muscular tail flicking behind it extended for at least twenty. Its enormous feet ended in saurian talons, spikes jutted from its elbows, and its twelve-inch fingers each bore a claw the size of a banana. Its ribs and vertebrae were painfully pronounced, as if they were trying to erupt from the constraining flesh. The beast's horrible eyes, red, slitted and catlike, leered at her with a cold fury. "Fiend," it hissed in a cruel parody of a human's voice, green flecks of saliva dripping from its tongue as it spoke. "Fallen One…I shall sssssslay you…"

Well, this isn't good, Asuka thought glumly. I just had this suit cleaned…thanks a lot, Toji!

Flames began to coalesce around her fingertips.

Kyoryuu stepped around the corner, in the midst of his rounds, and froze. Not only was there a giant, somewhat-anthropomorphic lizard standing in the middle of the room, but it seemed as though the second Child was bursting into flames--and she was completely unperturbed.

"That wasn't supposed to happen," he deadpanned under his breath, watching with interest as she suddenly transformed into a flaming demon with a skull for a face. "Thank God I had the foresight to unplug those security cameras."

The lizard lunged at the fiend, teeth gnashing and claws flailing.