Next Generation Evangelion Part I: Sins of the Father
Chapter 1
Cairo, United Arab Republic, International Brotherhood
2039 AD- Nineteen years after Third Impact
The jarring beeps of an alarm clock filled the darkened room. A hand reached out to silence it, its motions betraying the grogginess of its owner. After a few misses, the alarm clock ceased its screeching and the hand slithered back under the covers. A few moments passed before the lumps under the sheets began to shift. The occupant of the bed slowly and begrudgingly accepted that they had to get up. Muttering about the incredible dream that had been so rudely interrupted by that morning's wake up call, the young woman rose from her warm, silky, nighttime cocoon and made her way to the bathroom.
The warm waters of the shower rejuvenated her from her post-wake up lethargy. The water cleansed away the aches of yesterday leaving her in the mild bliss only a hot shower can provide. Satisfied, she exited the shower and walked over to the sink. Staring into the mirror, she looked into her face and began the rigorous process of brushing her teeth. As she brushed her mind began to boot up, filling her head with the thoughts and concerns of the day.
'Remember to feed Tegteg.'
'Mom and dad still aren't home.'
'Dr. Nicolaou needs those reports by tomorrow and the first floor X-Ray machine is still on the fritz.'
'Mom and dad still aren't back.'
'Ms. Abadi is coming in today to have her right shoulder prostheses-joint replaced.'
'It's been a week and mom and dad still aren't back.'
'May Day is three days from now.'
'They haven't called or texted and none of their people have bothered to show up and tell me
what's going on.'
'Rei needs me to help her with her garden.'
'She doesn't even know where my parents are and they tell her everything.'
She was really worried. Lucille liked her parents. The whole world liked her parents. And now with them gone for a week, everyone seemed on edge. It began with a note on the fridge from her father. It read something along the lines of 'will be back soon, duty calls.' Nothing more after that. She asked Rei about it, but her adoptive aunt said she had been told nothing.
After three days the media took notice of their absence. The only information to come out from the central committee was that there was nothing to fear and that they would be back soon. Rei continued to show no signs of telling her anything new. People in the apartment block began asking about them. Even the bodyguards standing outside the front door asked about them. Politicians on public access telestreams began to bicker about their possible disappearance and its implications.
'Whatever. They gotta be coming back soon.'
She spat and rinsed. An automatic hairdryer emerged from the wall and began doing its work. After it was finished she brushed her blood red hair into a neat ponytail. Her eyes looked into themselves, into that deep violet that made her stand out in every yearbook photo. Unfortunately, her lack of sleep was starting to show. Her eyes looked tired. She smiled weakly and the reflection smiled back in equal measure.
"Lucille, you've gone out looking worse," she told herself as she headed into the kitchen.
The apartment was like any other in the city. Well decorated perhaps in comparison to the others she had visited. The place was filled with every manner of military decoration, and plenty of interesting pieces of objet d'art from around the world. Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a kitchen and a living room were arranged in a space saving and environmentally friendly box. Her parents, despite their high positions within the International Brotherhood, liked to live with some modesty. They could have lived in one of the old presidential palaces or any of the other mansions in the ancient city. Her father, however, refused the offer and had those places turned into communal housing. Cairo was not the first city her family had lived in. In all the places they stayed her father and mother were offered the extravagant place in town and they always turned them down.
"I have no right to a palace when there are still some without a roof over their heads," her father would always say. Come to think of it, the Brotherhood announced a few weeks ago that they had managed to bring the homelessness rate down to just 4%. It was no easy feat, demanding insane construction efforts by every member nation. Hard to believe that ten years ago that number was somewhere around 47%. "An incredible accomplishment for our pan-national union that spans Africa, Asia and Oceania and soon the rest of the world!" all the propaganda posters would say.
'Maybe I can talk dad into moving someplace huge when we relocate to Europe,' she thought. That day was coming. Everyone was waiting for the announcement of the invasion. Not counting North America and the piles of rubble that made up South America, Europe was the last remaining stronghold of their hated enemy. With the Russian front stabilizing on the old Polish border, the armies of the middle east and asia waiting to cross the Bosphorous, and African forces staring intently at Gibraltar; everyone waited with baited breath. Soon, Phoenix would be purged from the old world and the International Brotherhood would be poised to strike at America, ridding the world of the angelic threat forever.
'Maybe that's what they're working on,' she thought. 'Top secret battle plans for their eyes only, meeting together in a far, far away land. Somewhere so far away and isolated that there'd be no chance of any Phoenix spy stealing their work.' Made sense to her.
She made it into the kitchen, but not before first stubbing her toe on a chair next to the table. Wincing in pain and holding her injured big toe, she approached the oven and uttered the same thing she said everyday through gritted teeth, "Toast. Eggs. Milk."
The contraption hummed on and began its work placing bread to toast within its internal oven through the use of tentacle like "manipulators" which could accomplish just about any basic cooking task. The complex array itself was a black cube built into the cabinet. The pantry and refrigerator were all linked to the unit. The "manipulators" were built into every device of the kitchen and could arise to do its master's bidding at any moment. A hand emerged from the cabinet compartment of the machine and selected a small frying pan. Placing the pan on a burner, the SmartOven V3 got to work. Turning artificial protein chains to something vaguely resembling egg yolks; it splurted out the concoction into the pan and began scrambling them. Old timers often complained about how artificial egg never tasted quite right. She didn't mind them though. She he had no idea what real eggs tasted like. She didn't know what a lot of animal products tasted like now that she was thinking about it.
One of the few members of the house with the privilege of eating "real food" was Tegteg. The girl made her way across the kitchen to the living room where a large, melamine cage stood. She reached into a mini fridge seated next to it and pulled out some frozen rats. Opening the side panel, she reached in and called out to its occupant,
"Tegteg, breakfast!"
Tegteg was a four and a half foot long Argentine Black and White Tegu. In the words of Lucille's peers, "It's a bigass lizard." Hearing about how her parents used to keep a penguin in their house, she of course wanted one. Her parents refused. Her Aunt Misato heard about it on the grapevine and ended up sending Lucille "Something black and white, close enough, right?" after one of her drunken escapades. The packaged arrived on Lucille's 10th birthday and inside it was a small green lizard. Said small green lizard rapidly grew into a black and white behemoth. Lucille was tickled, her parents not so much.
Soon enough, a shiny, scaly head emerged from the shredded coconut mulch within the enclosure. His body shined from the lights in his cage. His beady scales were arranged in diamond shaped patterns of black and white. Large jowls, large jaw muscles used to crush skulls and attract mates, lay at the sides of his maw. A snakelike tongue flicked the dirt around it, picking up all the interesting scents. His eyes were golden with black irises. Lucille liked to joke that he was actually a dog with bad legs, a weird tail and a heinous skin condition whenever she took him out on walks.
"Time for breakfast!" she repeated.
The reptile launched itself from its substrate and cradled itself in her arms. Nestled in just right, she carried him over to the table in the living room, placing the rats to thaw and moisturize on a refresher unit. His tongue flicked onto his breakfast in the making. He knew better than to try and eat them before they were ready. Lucille did her best to make sure she had the most well trained lizard on the block. She certainly succeeded, but she was pretty sure that she was the only person on the block who even had a pet lizard that could be trained in any real capacity.
She pressed a button on the couch and a ceiling mounted projector began streaming the morning news upon a bare space on the wall. A blonde russian woman stared into the camera and calmly addressed the various things happening around the world. Turkish and Kurdish refugees were beginning to stream back into their ancestral homeland now that the Brotherhood's Human Liberation Army was occupying it. Stranded Phoenix units continued to make a nuisance of themselves in the swamps of the Congo. Bizarre weather patterns had disrupted rice production in the People's Republic of China. Still no word on her parents.
The oven beeped signalling that her breakfast was ready. Large reptilian beast in hand, she waltzed over to the kitchen where the oven had already assembled her breakfast onto a plate. She grabbed an extra plate for her pet as she made her way back into the living room to resume watching the news. His rats were done by then and Tegteg went to work scarfing them down. Lucille spread some margarine on her toast and continued watching the screen. The news had moved on to battle reports along the Russian front. The Red Army continued to hold the defensive line along the old Polish border and Romania.
Eventually, the news began showing images and videos of the various Evangelion units serving on the front. The screen now had Lucille's attention. The Evas, while battle scarred, looked incredible in against the burning, snowy landscape surrounding them. The camera zoomed in, catching a knife wielding, crimson Eva brutally eviscerate one of Phoenix's angels. The multi headed, polygonal beast collapsed onto the ground, casting up a plume of dust and blood.
"Too cool," she said, turning an eye to her speckled companion who was working on choking down the last rodent.
She always wanted to be a pilot, but, until recently, she was a very sickly child. Without a clean bill of health the International Brotherhood Evangelion Corps could not accept her no matter what. Her parents were fine with this. They always encouraged her to focus on her education rather than get involved in their grudge matches against the enemy.
Following in her mother's footsteps Lucille had graduated college with a degree in medicine only a few months ago. Just barely fourteen, and perhaps due to her father's influence, she managed to land a nursing job at the Dar Al Fouad Hospital. She liked working there. She helped a lot of people everyday, and that's what matters right? She told herself that every morning when she left home to get to work and every evening when she came back. When she went to sleep at night her dreams reminded her that she would be happier inside an Eva, helping people where it really matters.
She had a moment of hope a few months ago. Her health had begun to improve dramatically once she passed her thirteenth birthday ultimately culminating with a drastic reduction of her medications by her fourteenth. She had hoped that this would mean she could finally live her dream. Becoming an Evangelion pilot. Taking up the family trade as a professional, and respected, angel slayer. She'd finally be cool.
When she first mentioned this to her parents they gently encouraged her to stay the course and try to finish school first. The second after she was handed her degree she approached her father and asked again. This time her folks got angry. She did not have the courage to bring it up since.
She glanced at the clock sitting above the oven. It read 6:35. She had work at 7:30. She finished her breakfast, placed her beloved pet back in its enclosure, did the dishes, and went back to her room to get dressed. Her light blue scrubs reminded her of Rei and her promise to help her with her garden after she came home. She looked forward to that at least.
Before leaving she turned off all the lights. She faced the door and opened it, letting the hot, arid air meet her face. A body guard was already waiting at the door. He saluted, she waved and they made their way down the steps to the rail station located underneath the apartment complex lobby. And thus began the last normal day in Lucille Ikari's life.
Elsewhere, Far Away from home
The room was cold, dark, and damp. A flickering light bulb was the sole source of illumination. A concrete 6x9 cell with no windows and an old mattress placed against the wall, its occupant was waking up. Her eyes were blurry, her head spinning. As her vision stabilized she took in her surroundings. The ground and walls were stained brown from decades of spilled blood.
'Where the fuck am I?' she wondered. She tried to think, tried to remember anything that would explain just how she got here. Her memory was cloudy, uncertain. Feeling her strength returning somewhat she tried to get up and failed. Pain, hot and furious, shot through her. She glanced down to where her right leg used to be. A bloody, cauterized stump remained. She glanced to her left shoulder. Her arm was gone too.
She grimaced. It was not the first time she lost these limbs. Fifteen years ago, she had been captured and tortured. Phoenix was vicious and sadistic when it wanted information from you. She had been rescued then, obviously, and two years later was fitted with nerve connected prosthetics. The problem she faced now was somewhat different. Her prosthetics were gone, along with the nerve connectors that attached them to her body. Someone had ripped them out and had hastily cauterised the wound. Even if she had her prosthetics she would not be able to use them.
It dawned then. She had been captured. Again. She tried thinking again. Thinking of how she got here. She thought back, sifting through the dark mists of her memory.
'The central committee said that we were forbidden from activating Unit Alpha,' she remembered, trying to put the pieces together.
'Nowhere on earth would it be allowed. So Shinji decided to test pilot it in low earth orbit... And then…'
She heard something from the other side of the solid metal door. Like a rusty gate swinging open. Footsteps followed, along with a sharp metallic clanking and scraping. Her heart sank. She recognized that sound and her pulse quickened. Dread began to fill her. She could handle missing her metal limbs, she could handle being captured by an enemy that made the nazis look cuddly, but that noise sent terror spiking through her. It was the footsteps of something inhuman. A being neither angel nor man. The thing that had taken her limbs the first time around.
The footsteps stopped outside her door and she heard keys jingling. The lock clanked and the door opened. In stepped the monster. Its body was humanoid and it stood over two meters tall. Where men had flesh it had segmented aluminum paneling. It strode upon the ground on thin legs. Instead of feet it walked on thousands of tiny needles. Its arms were jagged, as if made of knives, and instead of hands it had those same miniscule needles which could form, or attach themselves into, into any tool it needed. Its head was a simple chrome sphere with three optical devices arranged in a downward triangle. Its neck long and slender with free range of motion with it being a metallic tentacle. Its "eyes" glowed red with malicious intent.
Baal, Phoenix's master of torture. A sentient, mobile MAGI unit, Baal was near the top of Phoenix's food chain. Spies and secret police within Phoenix all reported to it or one of its underlings. Its name inspired fear no matter where you went. Within Phoenix it was often called The Boogeyman; within the International Brotherhood, Baba Yaga.
Baal stood over her. The gaze from its ocular units seemed to pierce into her soul. She could hear its internal servos and gears quietly humming and buzzing within it.
"Mrs. Ikari," the beast spoke with a voice like a thousand flies buzzing within your ears. "It really has been too long."
"You still have my wedding ring you sick fuck," Asuka Soryu Ikari spat back.
The creature laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. Like nails in a blender.
"Good to see you still have your temper," said the machine.
Asuka cast a glance behind it. Three men had accompanied the abomination. All of them were wearing Phoenix's trademark white military garb. One of them carried a clipboard and was diligently jotting down notes. His insignia on his uniform, a caduceus with golden flames around it, identified him as some sort of medical scientist. The other two were clearly soldiers, both of them carrying Phoenix's standard issue assault rifle. They all looked like they did not want to be here. Baal's hands shifted together to form tendrils and it grasped her face, forcing her to look it dead in its eyes.
"No distractions now," it said. "Tell me, do you remember how you got here?"
The honest answer is that she did not, but why would he bother to ask that? Instantly, she made another connection. They had drugged her top make her forget.
"Not really," she answered. "Last thing I remember is disobeying orders from the central committee. Mind filling me in?"
Baal released her face and stood fully upright. Small beads of blood rose from where his needle "fingers" had pierced her face. The man with the clipboard breathed a sigh of relief. He must have been their chemist responsible for concocting the amnesiatic they had given her. Baal turned around to look at his aide. This sent the man back into nervous jitters. Everything about Baal was imposing.
"You thought no one would notice when you took an entire frigate and five Evas 1,993 kilometers above the planet? You Lilim really are reckless." Baal pivoted back to Asuka, "It truly is hard to predict the actions of vermin."
"Yeah, the hero's life isn't about making easy decisions. Sometimes you have to make stupid ones." Asuka glanced at her stumps. "Mind telling me where my limbs are?"
Baal turned to the soldiers and gave a nod. One of them reached into the sidebag of the man carrying the clipboard and pulled out a rectangular prism of metal. He then handed it off to his machine lord.
"Here," Baal said, dropping the hunk of metal to the floor, "you can have it back. I smelted it down and wished to give it to my master. I think it would go well on his mantlepiece next to your first pair."
Asuka's eyes widened. "You're serious?"
"Oh yes," Baal continued. "They are some of his most prized trophies. He keeps them in a large jar on his mantle just above a roaring fire. I am afraid that your ring has tarnished somewhat in the brine."
Asuka could feel the rage building up within. Anger was good. It told her that she still had a reason to be angry. After a few breaths she calmed herself down. She stared back into Baal's eyes and said, "Tell your master that one day, I'm gonna get my ring back. And when I do I'm going to put it on and shove my fist right up his-"
"Enough with your vendetta fantasies," Baal had no time for pointless threats. "My master has forbidden me from harming you any further. Besides, I have already attained everything I need from you."
With that Baal turned around, motioning his entourage to do the same, and began walking out of the cell. Its feet scraped against the floor as it went. "I have urgent business to attend to in London," it said as the door began to close. "Do not worry, I'll be back tomorrow to give you another dose of your medication."
As they left Asuka realized why they drugged her. Her stomach felt like it had been turned inside out. They knew now. The one thing they could not be allowed to know. And she must have gave it to them.
'No, I couldn't have talked,' she thought, 'There's no way I told them about Immanuel.'
"Baal!" she screamed, "What did you make me forget?!"
The door closed. Its locks bolting into place. There was silence for a few seconds before Baal answered.
"All in due time my dear. Don't worry, I am positive that you already know. It does not matter though. The Brotherhood will never be able to punish you for revealing their secret. No one is coming for you. "
Another pause. Baal still stood outside the door. Asuka waited to hear his footsteps clank away, but instead heard nothing. After two minutes, the hallway began to fill with Baal's screeching steps.
"By the way," the dark machine chimed as it continued down the hall, "Your anesthetics should be wearing off right about now."
As if on cue, which knowing Baal it certainly was, her stumps began to burn and ache. Asuka could not suppress the cry of pain. "Fucking metal monster," she grunted through gritted teeth.
'He's lying. Shinji is coming for me. He has to be.'
Hours later, trying to find sleep in her cold dank cell, she thought of home.
"Lucille must be worried sick," she whispered to herself.
More time passed. The flickering light bulb went out. The room was cast into total darkness and the cold was starting to get to her. It had been a long time since she felt this alone. She thought about her family, the one she thought she did not deserve.
"I hope you're alright. Mama loves you."
When she finally did find sleep, nightmares were waiting for her.
The IBSAF Bolivar, Somewhere above the Mediterranean Sea
Ryoji Kaji was getting too old for this shit. At almost fifty-four years old, running down the main corridor of the Bolivar was no easy feat. The ship was over two kilometers long. The massive, cybernetic beast was a wonder of modern engineering and, while the technology for it existed as far back as 2023, it still amazed Kaji to this day that the thing could fly. The Bolivar was not the only Autonomous Assault Ark ship in service, but it was one of a kind. Modified for advanced maneuvering and possessing a weaponized fusion core, it was all the rage for military `nerds and the pride and joy of the International Brotherhood Special Air interior and exterior shared the same color pallet. Brilliant crimson on jet black, the Bolivar was like a jewel in flight. Inside its 36 cm thick armor plating was a technological wonderland of cybernetics, biomechanics, and metaphysics. A hanger big enough for 12 Evangelions, an advanced hydroponics bay big enough to feed its 1,400 strong crew in a pinch, a six pairs of multi-leveled S2 reactors to provide power, and more lay within its confines.
"Now if only I could convince Shinji to install a travelator, then it'd be perfect," Kaji complained to nobody in particular. He soon regretted opening his mouth as he completely lost his breath. "Too… Old… For… This… Shit," he wheezed as he ran through the grey steel corridors towards the bow to the bridge.
He was playing the part of a messenger. The information he just received was something he had to tell the commander in person. This was not your everyday information leak. As the head of military intelligence within the Brotherhood he had to sift through a torrent of information every day and pick out the most important bits to pass on to the top brass. A spy master to end all spy masters, he preferred giving a personal touch to his work.
After running a nearly literal marathon, he finally arrived at the bridge door. Not waiting to catch his breath, he scanned his identification card and burst into the room. The bridge looked like a war room stripped from an old American cold war drama. Rows upon rows of computer terminals and desks were attended by an equal amount of technicians, each one specialized to diligently monitor the ship's vitals and systems. At the far end was a massive screen with a live projection of the night sky.
Kaji inhaled deeply and announced to everyone on the deck, "We found her!"
All the noise in the room ceased. The technicians and bridge bunnies all stopped typing and turned their attention to the man at the far end of the room watching the stars fly by. The man turned. He was tall, broad shouldered and wearing a black military issue trenchcoat. His chest was decorated with every manner of military bars and decorations. His hair was ruffled, not long, not short. His face was pockmarked with scars and stubble sprouted across it. His left eye was covered by an eyepatch, that eye itself lost at the end of the First Angel War. His remaining eye was a piercing glacial blue with a gaze that commanded respect.
"Where?" demanded the General Secretary of the Popular Front for Human Liberation, Generalissimo of the International Brotherhood Armed Forces, and Supreme Executive of State; Shinji Ikari.
Kaji had to catch his breath. The tension in the room continued to mount. Shinji continued to stare him down.
"Martigny, forty-five miles east of Geneva," Kaji gasped out.
His announcement only made the mood more dire. Switzerland had resisted Phoenix harder than any other country in western europe. Holed up in their mountains and very well armed, Switzerland engaged in an initially successful guerrilla war. As a result, Phoenix unleashed a brutal series of chemical and biological agents in an attempt to wipe the Swiss people off of the face of the planet. Their policy of genocide had in effect turned the Swiss into an endangered species. The last census tabulated that there were perhaps between 2,000-3,500 Swiss expatriates living within the Brotherhood. Phoenix claimed there were zero within their patrimony, a statistic Kaji's spy networks could not refute. There was a debate amongst military planners within the Brotherhood as to whether or not it was even feasible to liberate Switzerland and repopulate it. Many of the remaining Swiss had intermarried into different nationalities and the question of whether or not they would want to return home remained unclear. It was a story too common in this modern age.
What was left of Switzerland, a sterilized frozen wasteland, was converted into a fortress. Its current population was almost entirely military. A massive series of fortifications, military laboratories, and prisons lined the alps making infiltration tricky. Switzerland was a veritable fortress and one that Phoenix used to its full potential.
That being said, Kaji was a master of the arts of cloak and dagger. His spy network had managed to get several moles into Switzerland over the last decade. Mostly used to steal research from Phoenix for use in the Brotherhood's own military R&D, today the spy network had made a very different catch.
Shinji turned off the starry display with a swipe of his hand. In place of the night sky was a map of europe. He stared at the map, his hands stroking the stubble that had risen on his chin over the last week. He had to bust her out at soon as possible, but how? Ignoring how much she meant to him, she was an invaluable asset. When Ritsuko retired, Asuka had effortlessly taken over Project-E and, according to some of her underlings, ran it more effectively. Switzerland was a naturally accuring fortress in the middle of the enemy's strongest bastion only made more impregnable by Phoenix's fortifications and armies. This was not going to be easy.
"Hyuga!" Shinji called for the captain of the ship. Whilst Shinji used the Bolivar like a personal taxi service, it was technically under Makoto Hyuga's command. An old student of Misato Katsuragi, Hyuga had written the book for offensive AAA class ship usage. His precise and lightning quick maneuvers were the stuff of legends amongst the Special Air Force.
"Yes Commander!" Makoto responded. His bespectacled face and greying hair were handling the transition to middle age well enough. While he had the air befitting of the captain of such a massive, airborne beast, Shinji knew that he still read manga in the break room when he thought no one was looking.
Makoto was standing all the way in the back. Betraying his past as a bridge bunny at Nerv, he preferred to manage the ship at the comfort of his personal terminal located on the complete opposite side of the 25 meter room. Shinji's voice carried well enough that no one in the room, and perhaps the entire ship, that no one strained to hear him.
"Patch me through to Marshal Rykov, General Ghaffari, and Field Marshal Zhang."
"Yes sir!" Makoto replied.
Three holographic viewscreens appeared at the front of the bridge. At first showing only black, the screens gradually began to show the men and women at the receiving end. The first to answer the call was General Liesha Ghaffari. Still clad in her night clothes, and with her long black hair in complete disarray, she had not even bothered to get dressed after being woken up. No one kept Commander Ikari waiting. Next was Marshal Nikolai Rykov. One of the most accomplished officers in the new Soviet Union and an old comrade of Ikari, his uniform was decorated from head to toe in various medals and decorations. Field Marshal Zhang Wei was the last to answer. Serving on the Bosphorous front, sounds of artillery could be heard pounding away in the background. His eyes looked tired and worn.
All three gave a salute. Ikari saluted back.
"Sorry to call you all, but I have a favor to ask," Shinji began. The generals tensed up. As much as they respected the man responsible for saving the world, they knew that whatever he was going to say was going to be painful to carry out.
"Anything for you, Commander," Rykov responded. Out of the three, Rykov was always the one to answer first. Shinji was always appreciative. Rykov had been the one to get Asuka and himself smuggled out of Europe nearly twenty years ago. Rykov was only a corporal back then, but already showed signs of strategic genius. He was the first to understand the strategic value of harboring the two most famous Evangelion pilots within the, at the time, newly reformed Russian Soviet Federative Socialist Republic. Aside from their hero status, Shinji Ikari had written a book about the possibilities of Magi assisted economic planning, something the Politburo had taken to its logical extreme. Shinji could hardly be labeled a radical at the time, and Asuka had many qualms about becoming walking pieces of propaganda for the Russian state, but at the time they could not argue against their newfound patron. The first edict of Phoenix after its initial invasion of Britain was to find any of the original pilots. Things change after twenty years, but Rykov's friendship was a welcome island in the seas of time.
The other two waited. Zhang was a new commander for the People's Republic of China, having taken the place of the retired Field Marshal Tan Zheng. Shinji liked Zhang, he was competent and crafty, unafraid to modify battle plans to better suit any situation. Tall, tan and handsome, his romantic exploits were the stuff of legend.
Ghaffari had been a partisan commander long before the Brotherhood made landfall in Arabia. Acting primarily out of Palestine and Egypt, she was feared by Phoenix's local "population suppression units" for her devastating night time raids. An accomplished guerrilla commander, Ikari had nothing but respect for her. Even better, she made the transition from a guerrilla leader to a commander of a fully modernized army perfectly.
These were some of the most dangerous people on the planet. Master strategians all of them. Shinji had hand picked all of them to lead his armies. The Brotherhood owed as much of its success to these three individuals almost as much as it did to Ikari himself.
Shinji took a deep breath. He knew that what he was about to order could turn into a political quagmire after the fact, but there was no going back. He had to get Asuka out of Europe and he was going to do it tonight.
"Mobilize your forces and commence an assault on any and all high priority targets along your fronts."
They were silent at first. Ghaffari had a look of complete surprise. Even Zhang, usually calm and composed, seemed startled by the order.
As always, Rykov spoke first, "We are starting the invasion? But commander, the plans are not ready yet."
Ghaffari spoke next, "My men are positioned to attack Gibraltar, but Phoenix's navy and air forces are beyond our ability to counteract."
Zhang remained silent.
"This isn't about the liberation of europe," said Shinji. "This is a diversion. I need all of you to make as much noise as possible and to divert their forces."
Zhang chuckled. Did he foresee this? He had the tendency to guess the intent of both his enemies and his allies. Shinji liked that.
"About time we got some action!" Zhang declared, "My men were starting to get restless."
"No," Ikari continued, "We're not starting the invasion. I just need you all to raise as much hell as possible. I'm making a house call to Switzerland. I don't need any angels on my tail."
Cairo, Dar Al Fouad Hospital
Blood and pink foam danced around the drain. Lucille found herself mesmerized by the sight. Today's surgery was exhausting. The patient had been caught in a terrible car accident. Multiple broken bones, internal bleeding, and organ damage made this case look like a lost cause. Lucille jumped at the challenge, and after five hours of surgery the patient had stabilized. All her coworkers, each of them twenty years her senior, were impressed. It had been like this ever since she started working here. She was not just a doctor at 14 years of age, she was one of the best in the entire complex. The novelty had worn off for her a while ago though. She would rather be the best evangelion pilot.
Exiting the operating room, Lucille headed directly for the lounge. She needed some coffee and she needed it now. The other doctors could tell the patient's family about the surgery's success. Walking down the hallways as fast as her legs could carry her, dodging coworkers and patients alike until she reached the promised land. After walking for what felt like an eternity, she found her deliverance. Within the lounge, nestled amongst the various other refreshment options, sat the coffee maker. A large brown box, confident in its position as the most highly valued object within the lounge, the king of caffeine, she approached her sovereign and asked for a cup o'joe.
"Black as tar and sweeter than a stolen kiss," she said. A phrase her mother often used to describe how she liked her coffee.
The machine beeped angrily. "One cup. Three units sweetener," it repeated back. A small ceramic cup popped out underneath the spout and the machine started pouring. Like almost any other foodstuff, the coffee was entirely artificial. Lucille had the privilege of trying real coffee once, a gift to her parents from the premier of the Union of African People's Republics. It had almost ruined fake coffee for her.
"Yeah, that's close enough I guess," she said as she took her first sip.
"Talking to the coffee machine again?"
Lucille had rushed here so quickly that she had not even noticed the presence of Dr. Nicolaou. A Greek expatriate, he was the most senior doctor here and was the most respected. A tall gaunt man with a skinny, almost skull-like face, his brown hair was buzzed in an almost military style. He had fled from his homeland after living under Phoenix rule for nearly five years. He still had the golden tattoo of a burning bird on his arm. Lucille had shadowed underneath him when she started here and he was still her supervisor. She had nothing but respect for him.
"Yeah," she responded, "just going crazier every day."
He chuckled. "Yeah, about that."
He approached her with a sheet of paper. Lucille took it from his hands and read it over.
"You're sending me on vacation?" she asked.
"Sorta," he replied, his face turning to a grimace. "You've been working here for five months and have embarrassed my entire staff."
She blushed. "Sorry."
"Sorry?" he asked. "For being the best surgeon here? Kids your age should be worried about who they're taking to the dance, not about what horror story they're gonna find at work."
"What does this have to do with me going on vacation?"
He crossed his arms and started talking again. "You know the first patient I ever sent you?"
How could she forget? It was a little boy only 11 years old who had found himself wandering around a construction yard. A pallet fell off a crane and had crushed his ribcage. He had been rushed in during the middle of the night and the hospital was short staffed with most of its most skilled surgeons already in the middle of other surgeries. Lucille and Dr. Nicolaou were the only ones on standby. Nicolaou told her to not blame herself if the boy did not make it as his injuries were so severe that it seemed his survival was a near impossibility. Regardless, he made a full recovery after a grueling fifteen hours of surgery.
"What about it?" she asked.
"You know," he started, then stopped. He clearly did not like what he was about to say. "You know I gave up on that boy surviving before we even started, right?"
"Well, it just goes to show why being a pessimist isn't the same as being a realist," she quipped with a forced smile.
The good doctor shook his head. "No, I was being a realist. That kid had no chance of making it."
He walked closer and looked her dead in the eye, "I gave up in the middle of surgery, but you just kept going. You refused to see reason and pulled him from the edge of death." He waved his arms around the room. "All that kid had to worry about afterwards was physical therapy!"
Lucille did not quite know what to make of any of this. She got it, she was a good doctor. While she did not hate praise, receiving this much made her uncomfortable. Her parents were some of the most amazing people to ever live, so most people just hand waved her excellence away citing her pedigree. It only made sense that "the two most influential and heroic human beings to ever exist" would produce a fairly capable daughter.
Before she could say anything self-depreciating, Dr. Nicolaou continued. "I was doubtful of you at first. A fourteen year old practising medicine? Preposterous."
A ding sounded through the room. It came from the microwave oven over in the far corner. The doctor walked over to it and removed his lunch, all the while still going on his spiel.
"I've seen all sorts of people come through here," he said as he walked over to the 3-D printer designed to make eating utensils of every variety. Opting for a fork to eat his pasta. "But I've never seen a genuine miracle worker, not 'till you showed up."
He started slurping down his food. Lucille's stomach rumbled and breakfast was a while ago now that she thought of it. She started to say thank you, but was interrupted again. No one got to say anything to Dr. Nicolaou until he was finished talking.
"You come here everyday with a good attitude and even better manners," he said, mouth still busy chewing his pastitsio. "You're more skilled than anyone else here, me included, and yet you've never let it go to your head."
"I still fail to see what this has to do with me being sent off for a week," she stated. Endless praise bundled with an enforced vacation? None of this made any sense.
He wiped his mouth and kept going, "Recently, you've seemed distant. Stressed out maybe."
"Oh," was all that came out. She got it now. Ever since her parents disappeared she had felt down. It made sense that it was affecting her work.
"I want you to go home and get some rest," he said, finally getting to the point. "Take the week off. Go hang out with your friends or something."
That last comment got to her. She had plenty of friends growing up, but after going off to finish her education, her family was the only thing she 'hung out' with. She did not think of herself as the most gregarious person she knew.
That being said, a vacation sounded nice. She thanked him and took it for what it was worth. Dr. Nicolaou promised to see to everything else she had been scheduled to do. She suddenly found herself with something that she had not experienced in far too long. Free time.
She exited the hospital and boarded a train heading back to the apartments. Her stomach continued to growl. She elected to get off one stop early and head to the community commonplace to find some food. Formerly called a marketplace, the Brotherhood had effectively gotten rid of markets in the traditional sense and decided to repurpose bazaars into community gathering places where local politics could play out and anyone not interested in participatory politics, or as most folks called it 'voluntary arguing', could find some food. Lucille was firmly in the latter.
As she walked off the train and into the station, the golden tiles beneath her shimmering, the smells of street food wafting in from outside. Her mouth started watering, her stomach's growling starting to become something more like a roar. She made a beeline straight for the exit, running against the constant inflow of people.
Escaping outside did not do her any favors. Out here the smells were even more refined. Thousands of small tents and carts lined the dusty streets, with lines at every one of them. Missing her father's cooking, she decided to head over to one of the few places that exclusively sold oriental cuisine. Three blocks later, and an even angrier stomach, she found it: Mr. Kanaka's Noodle Shack..
Mr. Kanaka was an old soldier who settled down in Cairo when her father's army first liberated Arabia over eleven years ago. Kanaka was his old war nickname and Lucille, along with probably everyone else, never bothered to ask him his real name. A couple month's ago Lucille tried to order in Japanese, but Kanaka clearly did not speak the language. Whatever his true ethnicity was he knew his way around a wok and made the only stir-fry in town that Lucille could stomach. It was not even close to her father's though.
She waited in line for a few minutes before being able to order. Kanaka was a massive bear of a man who still wore his hair in a military crew cut. His Arabic was flawless and his voice stern. Lucille ordered a vegetable stir fry and took out her card. She held it in front of the receiver until it beeped. The TPD screen read '5 Labor Credits Deducted.'
About five years ago, the International Brotherhood introduced one of the most controversial edicts in probably all of human history. Shinji Ikari, in one of his few personal appearances to the International Congress of People's Deputies, made the appeal himself. With the Magi network planning the economy down to the lowest level, it made sense that humanity had surpassed its need for currency and he introduced a bill to bring about its abolishment. In its place came labor credits. Earned for hours worked and expiring after three weeks of not being spent, they functioned more as a bookkeeping system than as actual money. Instead of changing hands after purchases the credits were simply erased from your card. All labor and productive output was tracked through the Magi network with those doing the labor getting a corresponding amount of credits. These measures made 'unproductive wealth accumulation' impossible.
It was not without its controversies though, with all the opposition members of the congress screaming bloody murder. Despite the pushback, the bill passed and nowadays everyone took it for granted that money as people once knew it was gone. The few remaining rich people, meaning the few that did not back Phoenix, suddenly found their vast fortunes turned into historical oddities to be swept into the dustbin of history.
"You can either live in the New World the Revolution is building, or die in the Old," her father would say to anyone who opposed it. Very few opposed his revolution and those who did tended to not be taken seriously whenever they voiced their protests. The Magi network had managed to pull entire continents out of poverty and created jobs and a decent standard of living for everyone in the Brotherhood. Anyone who opposed it was "putting their own comfort over the ability of others to live free" as the numerous propaganda posters would say.
Even small shops like the one Lucille had ordered at were supplied and monitored by the Magi. No task was deemed too small. The Magi were capable of making incredible calculations in real time effectively solving the issues that arose from the bureaucratic nightmares of older planned economies. There was also a promise handed down from the Popular Front for Human Liberation. After this war was over, the Magi would no longer have to tabulate and ration resources for the war economy. All that computational power would be used for the direct enrichment of society and mankind would live forever in a state of plenty provided by mankind's mastery of technology. That day seemed far off though.
Lucille received her noodles and scarfed them down without ceremony. She deposited her plate into a receptacle to be recycled and reprinted into another plate, and started heading back to the train platform. She walked through the masses for about three blocks before she passed the local party cadre headquarters. Men with red armbands and red turbans passed out copies of the "Daily Liberation" newspaper to anyone who would take one. Lucille was eager to take one. The official newsprint for the Popular Front for Human Liberation, her father's global mega-alliance of various political parties, she hoped that she would find some sort of news about her parents, but found nothing but politics and revolutionary posturing inside. There was a neat editorial about Eva pilots though serving on the eastern european front though. She decided to read that part on the train ride back.
Before she could make it any further a voice called out to her. She recognized the voice and grimaced. It was Tarek, the son of Cairo's delegate to the International Congress. His father was a stalwart member of the PFHL and the two of them had been very active in its youth organization the International Youth Solidarity League. With both of their parents being high ranking government officials, Tarek figured they were made for each other. Lucille disagreed and his constant advances were half the reason she stopped being active in the IYSL. The other half, and the only reason she told her parents, was work. He was handing out newspapers to anyone who would take them. Judging by the large pile behind him, he was having significantly less luck than his comrades.
"Haven't seen you in awhile!" he said, his grin sent shivers down her spine and not the good kind.
"Yeah…" was all she could get out.
An awkward silence infected the otherwise chaotic and noisy streets around them.
"So I heard you were working in a hospital?" he said, desperate to keep her attention.
"Yup."
"Is it fun?" he asked, stepping a bit closer. Lucille took a step back. Did he have something stuck in his teeth? Oh god, he did.
"Nothing more fun than being covered in gore all day," Lucille deadpanned back,
He forced a laugh. Her face continued to be immovable. She really just wanted to leave.
"So uh," he started.
"No," Lucille finished for him, "I don't know where my parents are."
"I was gonna ask if you were free for dinner or something," he said with the most amiable grin he could manage. Lucille knew it was better described as shit-eating. She thought she had made it clear five months ago when she last came to a IYSL meeting. She just was not interested.
The International Youth Solidarity League was closely modeled after the old Soviet Komsomol and the two organizations had been merged into one in 2031. As such it was mostly used to tie up loose ends within the Magi network's economic plans with its members filling in for voluntary labor while promoting the values set out by the PFHL. Various tasks were handed out by ability and a good showing within the organization prompted easier employment into your lifelong career. Lucille had been signed up by her parents when she was eight shortly after moving to Cairo and it proved to be a steady supply of good memories and friends. When she was 10 she signed up to help out at various hospitals and it was her reasoning behind getting into medicine in the first place.
Tarek joined about two years ago and shadowed under Lucille whenever they had street cleaning duty. Tarek himself was a nice enough kid, but tended to be clingy. Lucille did not mind him so much at first, but after he discovered the opposite sex Lucille was the first he noticed. His features could probably be described as plain so it was not his looks that Lucille had a problem with. No, it was attitude. He often mentioned his father's position as a means of having favors granted. Lucille's parents had ingrained self-reliance and hard work into Lucille from a young age so she found that sort of behavior repugnant. He was also very pushy when things did not go his way. Her mother considered him "a brat just like his father" and Lucille shared the sentiment.
As she tried to walk away she felt something grab hold of her hand. She turned her head to find Tarek staring directly into her eyes. She shivered and not in a good way.
"I really do insist!" he blurted out. His voice was desperate.
Before she had time to react, several men dressed in black emerged from the crowd and the alleyways surrounding them. Submachine guns in hand, they all pointed their weapons at Tarek. All the blood drained from his face as he let go of her hand. Lucille breathed a sigh of relief. There were some perks to having a permanent security detail follow you all the time.
The largest of the group, Lucille counted five, motioned the others to stand at ease. He kept his 10mm compact automatic machine pistol pointed at Tarek. His head turned to Lucille, his helmet and face mask hiding his features, and asked, "Is there a problem?"
Lucille glanced at Tarek. His face was pale and the wet spot on his trousers explained that dripping noise.
"I don't think so," she replied as she turned around to head for the train station. As she walked away the security detail blended back into the crowd and disappeared into the sea of faces. Tarek stood mortified for a second before the other youth handing out newspapers started laughing their asses off. He trudged away to find a new pair of pants.
Before Lucille could make it back to the station, she saw something in the streets. Blood, a trail of it. Curiosity getting the better of her, she followed it. The blood trailed into an alley where she found its owner. A snake, nearly two and a half feet long, lay bleeding on the ground. Writhing in clear agony the snake had a long laceration down its side. She had memorized all the venomous snakes local to the area, of which there were plenty, and knew that this was not one of them. Lucille, already having a soft spot for reptiles, approached the animal and reached into her doctor's bag. She had these biodegradable stitches that she never seemed to have the chance to use.
She was no veterinarian, but she knew that this animal was bleeding too much to stay alive for much longer. The least she could do was stitch its wound closed, perhaps it would live if she did. There was one problem though, she had no anesthetic and no idea how much to give a snake in the first place. Her hand cautiously moved forward. The snake hissed.
"Easy buddy, I'm your friend," she said in the most soothing tone she could muster.
The snake was having none of it. It lunged out and bit her hand, its teeth tearing into her. She let out a yelp and the snake slithered away into an open sewer grate. While that particular species of snake were not venomous, Lucille was still in shock. Looking at her hand, covered in blood, she sat there in the dusty street. That snake was going to die. She tried to help it, but it lashed out. Was it instinct that doomed this creature? After a few seconds, she took out some disinfectant and treated herself before wrapping her hand.
'At least I tried,' she thought as she headed back to the train station. The words felt hollow in her mind.
(Author's Notes):
So after numerous revisions, postponed deadlines and many many hand cramps, here it is! Sorry for how long it took to make this, I was foolish to think that I could get this out in just a week. Hopefully as I keep at it I'll get faster. I'm shooting for two updates a month, but I already have a feeling that the next chapter won't be out until early June.
I ended up cutting this chapter in half. The next one with be more action centric along with focusing on Shinji and Asuka's place in the world. I'm gonna offer up small glimpses of how Phoenix runs things (into the ground) as well.
Just for the record, the International Brotherhood isn't a utopia and a lot of this story is going to be about its numerous contradictions. That being said, if this story is accused of being "pinko-commie propaganda" all I can say is keep reading. There's a quote by a fat, sweaty Slovenian philosopher that goes something like, "it's easier to imagine the end of the world than the end of capitalism" and I've taken that as an ethos while I write this fic.
Anyway, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. Next chapter is coming and with it we'll get to see what we're all here for. Giant cyborg on kaiju madness with heaping servings of war crimes.
NEXT TIME ON NEXT GENERATION EVANGELION
Shinji Ikari makes a daring rescue, but can he make it out of europe alive?
Will Lucille's life of boring monotony continue unabated, or will the hands of fate grant her wish?
Who are Phoenix? What are their goals?
Find out next time on Next Generation Evangelion!
And as always, GLORY TO THE REVOLUTION, DEATH TO PHOENIX!