- - - - - - -
I try to concentrate on the pieces of paper in my lap over the roar of the VTOL's engines as we soar over the Pacific Ocean to Tokyo 3. I want to memorize these files before we land at our destination.
They were all of what I had left of my parents, after all.
The profiles are for the both of them; birthdates, height/weight statistics, psychological profiles, blood types, eye and hair color, and causes and dates of death. That's all it is. Nothing of what my mom cooked for me when I was little, or what my dad and I did together in our off time.
Maybe it's better that way. A soldier can better focus on his duty when not weighted down by memories of a home and parents long gone.
It's hard, but I manage to memorize the files just as we soar over the Tokyo 3 skyline to land at the NERV helipad. As we land in short order at the airport, I see a purple-haired woman flanked by a boy and a girl standing just in front of a blue Alpine.
They approach as I step down from the VTOL, and the woman snaps a salute on my approach, the two bars on her collar denoting her as a Major glittering in the sunlight.
I salute in kind. "Second Lieutenant Andrew Stewart, reporting for duty, Major," I say in halting Japanese. The language doesn't come easy to me.
"Welcome to Tokyo 3, Lieutenant," she says in English, finishing her salute, "I trust your trip was comfortable?"
"No less comfortable than any other trip I have taken in a VTOL, sir."
"A diplomatic answer – good," she laughs, "and don't call me sir or miss. Call me Misato, or Major if you're feeling formal."
She then turns to the children behind her and announces in Japanese, "This is Andrew Joshua Stewart, of the United States Air Force. He will be piloting Unit 04 with us."
"Nice to meet you," the girl says quietly. I recognize her as Rei Ayanami, first Child and former pilot of Unit 00. Two kills. Miraculously survived the infiltration of her Eva when an Angel infiltrated it, proving her resourcefulness. That and her ability to stay calm in dangerous situations will be an asset to the group…should she have another Eva to pilot.
"Uh… hi," the boy says, looking as if he didn't know if was supposed to shake my hand, wave, or salute. I recognize him as Shinji Ikari, third Child and pilot of Unit 01. Eight solo kills. An impressive record, a testament to Ikari's innate skill. In the face of adversity, however, innate skill and luck will only fly so far. Training and focus are needed as well. Moreover, Unit 01 has a tendency to go berserk. How long will it be before it turns against the very people it's supposed to protect? Ikari needs to learn to reign in his Eva, or else all will be lost.
"It is a privilege to meet both of you," I say, giving them a formal bow. "I look forward to working alongside you."
Major Katsuragi smiles. "Now that that's over with, shall we get a move on?" She says while moving towards the driver's side of the car. After she gets in, I observe the other pilots.
Ikari looks at me, waiting for me to go first, I suppose. When I don't, he sighs and moves to the seat behind the front passenger seat. Ayanami then moves to the other side and takes the seat behind the Major.
Interesting. It appears that Ikari defers to anyone but himself. After he makes a decision, Ayanami follows him. It appears the dynamics of teamwork have already been established somewhat by the angel battles.
I get in the front passenger seat, automatically caressing the soft leather that covers the seat. Such amenities are rare in the United States after Second Impact, from what I gather.
Major Katsuragi accelerates out of the airport at velocities that feel comparable to the F-16s, making me wonder if putting the Major behind a wheel is a good thing or not. Or perhaps it is a one time thing.
The Major and the two other pilots are nonplussed at the dangerous speeds. "So," the Major says, "since this is your first day in Tokyo 3 and since we're off duty… what do you wanna eat?"
"Sorry Maj – err, Misato, but can I take a rain check?"
She looks over at me in astonishment, nearly causing a rear-end collision with a semi-truck. "What! You're mussing out on some of the most delicious dining in Japan… for what?"
I swallow dryly. "Actually, I wanted to report for duty in front of the commander."
In an instant her voice changes from lively to lifeless. "Oh," is all she says.
For an instant, I wonder if I've hit a social gaffe. "It is military protocol to report to the highest ranking commander first. In fact, why wasn't he with you when I arrived?"
"Because he's a bastard," Ikari replies viciously behind me. I turned to see him propping his chin in his palm, watching the city blocks blur by him.
"Yeah," Major Katsuragi agrees with undisguised contempt. "He'll do anything to further his own agenda – whatever that may be,"
I hear Ayanami comment softly behind the Major, "To him, we are all expendable… and can be replaced at a moment's notice."
I am astounded. Naturally I had read the report on the Commander of NERV and found it lacking, but even his subordinates find him despicable. One happens to be his only child, and the other happens to be one that he had raised as his child.
For the head of an organization that defends the world, he is in a precarious position.
I decide to probe further. If I have a meeting with this man, I need to find out all I can about him. "Would you say he's the most disliked individual in NERV?"
Major Katsuargi chuckles and forcefully jams on the brake, making us choke on the restraints as the light changed from yellow to red. "Oh yeah, he's up there. But there's a runner's up for that spot, too."
Despite my curiosity for the Commander, I had to ask. "And who would that be?"
A tap by my head causes me to turn around, and I see a black-gloved knuckle remove itself from the window to reveal…darkness.
It was the only way I could describe him at first. Black gloves, black leather jacket, black jeans, black Yamaha motorcycle, black helmet. The motorcyclist had a penchant for black.
In the middle of the street, he kicks down the kickstand, and then removes his helmet to reveal dark, neck-length locks of hair and ashen colored eyes. His expression tells me that he recognizes me, but I cannot recall his face or his name.
But Major Katsuragi growls in recognition after rolling down the window. "Pilot Yoshi Yamamoto," she says maliciously, "you were ordered to ride with us and meet the new pilot!"
"Sorry Misato," the motorcyclist says apologetically, though his ivory smile cast into doubt his sincerity, "I had company over and I just couldn't turn away. Of course, you and Rei are always welcome to ditch these two losers and join us."
"Why would they want to interrupt you when you have guests over?" I ask.
His eyes narrow when he looks at me. "Lieutenant Stewart, sixth child. I've read up on you. Stuck in that Sea of Dirac for a year, weren't ya?"
It was if the cold night sky had decided to congeal in my stomach. "Yes."
His gaze seems to drill through to the back of my skull. "Do you remember anything?"
At the question, my mind automatically reaches into the farthest memory that I can recall… and it hits a proverbial brick wall at the first day I awaken to an unfamiliar ceiling and a foreign world with my mind filled with nothing but military tactics and stratagems.
"No," I say honestly.
His face is a semblance of pity. "Aw, well, that's too bad, eh? So young and lost some of your marbles already. Well, you're not gonna be on the front lines, because we'll protect ya, kid." At that, he reaches over to pat me on the head –
And nearly yanks my head off as he grabs me by my hair and pulls my head through the window opening.
Major Katsuragi yells fall into the backdrop as Yamamoto whispers oily English into my ear. I can almost picture a forked tongue flickering near my earlobe. "I remember you," he says, "even if you don't remember yourself. I'll give you one warning: I don't need your 'help.' So, stay out of my way… or get buried under it."
When is this light going to change? I wonder, and as if on cue the light changes. In an instant Yamamoto releases me and leaves us in the dust,
As I pull my head into the car, I comment, "I thought people weren't allowed to operate motorcycles until after they turned twenty."
As she guns the engine Major Katsuragi rumbles, low and menacing. "He found a way to circumvent that rule, that cocky bastard. Thinks he's so great at everything."
"The problem is, he is," Ikari says while looking at me worriedly. "You all right, Andrew? What did he say?"
For some reason, I am reluctant to tell them everything. So I reply, "Nothing that could make any sense."
The rest of the trip passes without incident, although the Geofront is far larger than what I expected. This poses a problem for me, as I tend to become somewhat disoriented on land. As such, NERV headquarters looks positively labyrinthine to me. After all, hallways all look the same when you're walking through them.
Which is why I think it is random chance that the Major stops in front of a door. As if she reads my mind, she says to me, "It's gonna take you a while to get used to this place, even if you're twice as smart as I am. Don't sweat it; I had a very good teacher, and I'll guide you through until you know it yourself."
"Thank you, Major." I step before the door, but hesitate to push the opening pad. I turn to the Major. "Major, I'm sorry, but could you wait out here while I report to the Commander?"
The Major's eyes reflected a harsh light. "I would have done it even if you hadn't asked. It's all I can do to keep myself from emptying my clip into the bastard."
I nod, then wait for her to step out of the line of sight of the door before opening it.
The cavernous room is etched carefully with a design and a language that I cannot understand. Other than that it is dark. The only other feature being a desk, a chair, and two men, who are both perfectly at home in the darkness.
Commander Gendo Ikari is poised over his desk, a sheaf of papers in front of him. I recognize him from his profile picture, although he has different spectacles on this time. Although he seems lost in thought, he isn't doing anything, just sitting there with his hands bridged over his mouth, so I clear my throat to make my presence known.
The Commander looks up, his face devoid of any reaction or recognition. "And you are…?" He asks.
I find myself getting aggravated. How could a commander not know of new arrivals, or simply have someone unexpected walk into his office? Such lackadaisical awareness would not happen in the presence of a military commander.
But as protocol orders, I salute and say, "Second Lieutenant Stewart, reporting for duty."
His brow creases as he asks, "You came here just to do that? You're supposed to report to Major Katsuragi, not me."
I respond, "It is proper protocol to report to the highest ranking officer, sir. I wanted to make sure I did my duty."
With a dismissive wave of his hand he says, "Our mission – to defend Earth against Angels – is far more important than mere protocol. Such trappings burden a commander with needless trivialities, and makes him less effective in completing a mission."
By the time he finishes, I realize that my fingers are cutting into my palms. I force them open and wipe my hands on my pants. "Permission to speak freely, Commander?" comes easily to my mouth.
His face takes on an indifference of a statue. "Go ahead."
I take a deep breath before proceeding. "Sir, an organization such as NERV, with the world depending on its vigilance, needs protocol the most. Protocol provides stability in unstable situations –"
"Ah," says Sub-Commander Fuyutsuki, stepping forward,"but it can be said that protocol is inflexible at times when fluidity is needed. For example, the fifth angel attack – if we had followed protocol and filed all the paperwork required for requisitioning the positron rifle, Third Impact would be initiated long before the last paper was signed."
I adjust my tactics, taking advantage of the example. "From what I recall of the transcripts, it was Pilot Ikari's adherence to protocol that saved us from Third Impact. By sighting the target in the center and pulling the trigger, he completed the mission even while Pilot Ayanami was under heavy fire.
"In the case of the US military, protocol is the rock on which we stand and launch all our attacks. It is the anchor that holds us fast when new circumstances in battles batter us from all sides. We are secure in what to do because we have protocol, and so we succeed.
"Following protocol will also help endear the command staff to your unique methods. I understand that you are not favored in this organization; perhaps joining them in training exercises will help in your favor. Perhaps joining them in live-fire exercises or a jog around the geofront will endear them to you."
Commander Ikari seems to sink lower in his seat, while Sub-Commander Fuyutsuki leans close to him and says, "Ikari, you could stand to lose a little weight."
"Enough of this," the Commander says. "A pilot should not question the methods of his commanding officer. Especially since my methods have been effective so far."
"These tactics have been effective, to be sure, but they come at a high cost," I point out, ticking off fingers to name the offset, "Putting the untrained Third Child into an EVA in the first angel battle ruined Unit One on her maiden voyage. Allowing the Second Child to run rampant and taking her EVA into battle at an untenable sync ratio against the Fifteenth angel caused serious damage to her mental state. Activating an autopilot system with maverick tendencies during the battle with the thirteenth angel nearly cost the life of a valuable pilot. Finally, not activating all Units while battling the Sixteenth Angel – an enemy that could not be analyzed, and therefore against which no strategy could be planned – cost Pilot Ayanami her EVA.
In conclusion, your 'tactics' resulted in a thinning of your defensive line until the only protection that remained against the Seventeenth Angel was Unit One, whose pilot had a fragile psyche at best, and was facing against one of his supposed friends. Your gambles nearly caused Third Impact, and the only reason why you won out was because the Angel surrendered unconditionally."
Sub-Commander Fuyutsuki steps forward. "While the Commander's methods have been unorthodox," he says, "They have always proven effective. Against the Eighteenth Angel our only viable pilot was unwilling to fight and protect Humanity, until he threatened what he perceived to be the two people that Pilot Ikari cared about. In this way he motivated the Third Child and saved us from the angel."
"Even that may have far greater repercussions then benefits," I observe. "In threatening those key subordinates, you have lost their respect and made them more liable to mutiny. Had you ordered Major Katsuragi as Pilot Ikari's direct superior to motivate him – as protocol dictates – your command would not be as tenuous as it is now."
Commander Ikari then spoke. "Pliots are replaceable. Subordinates are replaceable. There is not one person here, Pilot Stewart, that cannot be switched with someone of equal or better talent. All that matters is the victory against the Angels."
I remain silent, but in my mind I disagree. These pilots have something far more valuable than skill – they have experience. That cannot be replaced, no matter how superior the person.
And my title is Lieutenant Stewart. And does that not mean that you are replaceable as well, Commander? Perhaps your subordinates should know of that fact.
Out loud, I ask, "What are my orders?"
A pause, then, "You are to reconvene with the other pilots. Arrive at my office when and only when you are summoned. However, you will observe the behavior of the other Children and Major Katsuragi, and submit a weekly report through Doctor Akagi. That is all. Dismissed."
What? I'm not a political officer, damnit. I'm not going to get involved with your infighting. I say, "I will report on the pilots' progress and training. If you are curious about their behavior, someone who has a degree in psychology would be more suitable for that report."
I salute, and as I turn away I cannot resist muttering, "You might need that psychology evaluation for yourself as well."
- - - - - - - -
The major is waiting for me outside. She looks at me in open concern, as though I'd just emerged from a burning wreck on the runway.
"You okay?" Misato asks in English. I shake my head.
"In all honesty, Major, I'm amazed that anyone's still okay with that man in charge," I answer truthfully, glad I was able to substitute what I originally was going to say in place of man. Misato chuckles in a very unhappy tone.
"Yeah… Tell me about it." She smiles at me. "C'mon, the other pilots are at the cafeteria. Let's go." I nod and walk alongside the Major, noting that she has no difficulty finding her way to the cafeteria from the Commander's office.
Rei and Shinji sit at a table across from eachother. I frown as I note that the camaraderie I observed before between them seems subdued, their postures uncomfortable in the presence of one another. I take a seat on the side of the table that the First Child is sitting at, while the Major takes one next to Ikari. Shinji looks at me in a slight curiosity, though his eyes do not meet mine.
"… Has anyone attempted to frag the Commander yet?" I ask, hoping to break the tense silence. Shinji looks confused, as does Rei to a lesser extent. Misato snorted.
"Frag?" Asked Shinji.
"Its slang for assassinating an unpopular officer," Misato answered, smirking darkly. Shinji nods at this information, his eyes narrowing as he looks down at the white surface of the table.
"Why is it called 'frag'?" Rei asks quietly. I try to emulate the grim smile some of my fellow recruits used when they explained this to me back at Groom Lake.
"Because it's usually done with a grenade," I reply. The Major's dark smile grew wider. Shinji turned to look at Misato, then at me.
"… Is everyone in the military like this?" He asked. Misato blinked.
"Well…" Whatever Msato's explanation was going to be, we never get to hear it as the alarm klaxons begin to go off.
"All pilots, report to Eva cages immediately!" A woman's voice orders over the intercom. The other pilots and Misato rise, as do I, and we all head out of the cafeteria. Not knowing where to go, I stick close. I can't help but notice the dead tiredness in all their eyes, the fatigue of war that defines the expression of combat veterans. It is clear that this war has gone on too long, and too poorly managed. They are on the knife's edge, and it's digging into their throats. How much longer can they last?
I guess we'll find out.
- - - - - - - - -
Pilot Yoshi Yamamoto. Apparently a Japanese-American, born December 17th 2001. Native of Raleigh, North Carolina. Orphaned when his parents were killed in a car crash, The next thirteen years of his life are a blank until he entered the University of North Carolina, and earned a degree in advanced physics within four months of registration. He was recruited by NERV as an Eva Pilot Candidate shortly afterwards. Unlike the NERV facilities in Japan and Germany, the US NERV bases and the Department of Defense did not wait for the Marduk Institute to select individual Children as new pilots. They used the Marduk Report, instead, to enlist volunteer children and train them for possible duty as Eva pilots. Those not chosen often went into the normal military or simply retired, returning to school with a significant college fund available.
Yamamoto excelled there just as he had in college, showing a natural aptitude for hand-to-hand combat and a marksmanship rating well above that of Marine Recon snipers. His instructors reported he was a likeable, fantastic person. At least two female and one male pilot candidates attempted to enact romantic relationships with him, which he declined. At least one of the candidates, heartbroken, committed suicide after their rejection.
Unit 09, of the Mass Production Evas, was chosen as his mount after he completed synch training in test bodies at Fallon Naval Air Station, Nevada. The Eva in question was under construction at the NERV4 facility in New London. He passed all synch tests and consistently scored well over 120 percent synch ratios. He demonstrated the ability to adjust his AT Field into coherent energy blades easily, before he was finally certified and transferred to NERV1 in Japan shortly following the Eighteenth Angel attack.
Of course, it's all a lie.
According to my records, I was part of an Eva Pilot Candidates training group of 47 other children. Our unit was USAF-trained, while other units were under the jurisdiction of the other US services. However, even though I don't remember them, the reports indicated that I would have noticed if a hotshot like Yamamoto was in the program. We all would.
No one in any of the Pilot Candidate Units could achieve higher than a 20 percent synch ratio… Except for me. And I certainly never got to 120 percent. Not even close. I was, however, able to reach the necessary ratio for combat.
Why, I don't know. I wasn't the only child in the program who had parents involved in NERV. I certainly wasn't the highest-ranking pilot. I achieved operational status in the F/A-16S Viper and F/A-22C Raptor within 140 hours of training time each, roughly the average even for older pilots. Eva operational status was gained after another 110 hours. My retraining after the accident with Unit Four's S2 engine barely took half that long, thanks to the fact that my muscle and analytical memory had remained intact.
The insanely short time that Yoshi Yamamoto required to gain operational status in the Eva unit, added to his unbelievably high synch ratio and forged background would have triggered every security measure the American NERV facilities had established after the Fifth Child/Seventeenth Angel's infiltration. Now, we have yet another Angel, with yet another Eva, heading down to Terminal Dogma to start Third Impact.
That was essentially the briefing given to us by the Major over the radio as Shinji and I got into our Evas. Minus the information about my own background.
"Shinji, stay close and go to fangs out," I ordered, taking the lead in Unit 04 as I switched to IR vision. The Eva complied instantly, lowering the visor normally reserved for long-range targeting into place over my eyes. I could see the Eva unit, even with the heat distorting affects of the armored walls and Bakelite, three levels below us.
"What?" Shinji asked. I mentally cursed.
"It means, get your sword out and ready," I translated from the fighter pilot jargon patiently. My rear view holowindow showed that Unit 01 had removed it's massive vibroblade and activated it.
"Pilot! Maintain ES!" I ordered angrily. Shinji opened a window, looking confused.
"Wait, what?"
"Just turn off your sensors, communications and weapons until we see him, allright?" I ordered, feeling a headache coming on. How could he be ignorant of such basic…? Nevermind. Of course he would be.
Fortunately, it didn't look as though Yamamoto had noticed the electronic noise from Shinji's mistakes. He was still methodically cutting through the barriers in his way to Terminal Dogma. I brought up the blueprints of the complex, and mentally traced a route to cut off the Angel at a junction well away from TD, but within the time we had.
"Okay Shinji, I want you to go ahead and start breaking through walls. You're got siege capability and we'll need it. I'll tell you where to go." I was glad that Shinji immediately followed the order and charged ahead, smashing through the first wall I targeted through his hololink. If he'd been given the proper training, he'd be the perfect soldier.
"Allright, standby Shinji. We're going to cut him off and take him down. Major, can you establish a link to Yamamoto's Eva?"
"No good, Lieutenant. Yamamoto's overridden external control and communications access. We've got the MAGI working on it, but so far there's nothing doing." There's a small amount of anguish behind her voice, but she's hiding it admirably. Zero One smashes through yet another wall, and I follow at a measured pace. Zero Four was designed for ranged combat and command/control ops, rather than close range brawling.
The final wall goes down. The Angel's Evangelion is near.
"Shinji, stay on my right flank. Get ready to engage." Unit Zero One comes alongside, as we unfold our AT Fields.
"So, the little soldier's come to play?" Sneers Yamamoto. "You trying to take the glory for yourself, huh?" I frown, deciding that he's just playing psywar.
"Your tricks won't work this time, Angel," I said flatly. "Looks like the quality of your infiltration's gone downhill." Shinji remains silent. I hate having to bring this up, especially in light of what happened to him, but putting this Angel off guard might be our only hope.
"Oh, no. It's working just fine. Really Talon, it's just us! Why bother pretending?" I shake my head, momentarily wondering how the Angel knows my callsign.
"You're insane. Or whatever passes for insane for your kind."
"You're kind of a bigot, aren't you?" The Angel taunts.
"I don't take kindly to genocidal monsters attempting to destroy my race," I reply flatly.
"Aw… Such a noble spirit, even though you're going to be stuck looking in for the rest of your life. Never really part of humanity. You're just a puppet, despite your power. Always were, little Talon…" I open fire. At the same time, Shinji lunges forward, his blade going to full strength as he swung for the black Eva. His progressive blade clashed against the Black Eva's AT field. My sensors screamed at an onrushing AT field burst.
"Shinji, watch out!" It was too late… The blast sent him flying over my head, nearly hitting me. I drop into a crouch and opened fire, which wasn't a particularly bright idea. The Angel's Eva lunged forward at a speed I've only seen in recordings of Unit One gone berserk. A flash of orange energy, and my senses are occupied by two things-The sight of that Eva's green eyes glowing demonically right in my face, and the agony of its two AT field sabers shoved through my Eva's chest.
"AAAAAAUUUUUUUGHHHHHHH!" A stream of images and feelings bellow in my brain, my memories cycling as though on a high-speed slideshow.
"You don't remember, do you?" Hissed Yamamoto. "Well then… Guess you'll just have to DIE!" My rear-view holowindow is still open. Even as my body screams in pain, my mind attacked… I still see Unit Zero One behind me, getting up. A solution enters my mind, in the form of two words.
"SHINJI… BACK!" I feel my Eva losing balance, as I fall back in a twist. Our position shifts, the black Eva following me and keeping it's blades in my chest. I keep screaming, but I'm able to keep screaming the same thing.
"SHINJI-ARGHHH! BACK!" Back! Back! Shinji! Back! Please!
"I wonder… what will happen when you die?" Yamamoto sneered. I feel my plugsuit beginning to burn, emulating the damage being taken by my Eva. All I can see is the black Eva, eyes burning, mocking. As if to say Why are you even here, little human?
"SHINJIIII! BAAAACCCKKK!" I scream, one last time… Just as the Eva's eyes widen in response to an impact. They flare white, before going black.
As does my own vision, as the pain abruptly subsides…
Yoshi Yamamoto's autopsy revealed what his obviously doctored medical reports didn't-An S2 organ, right in place of the heart. It didn't save him from the fist of Unit Zero One smashing right through his entry plug and causing instant death from the intense pressure change. His S2 organ shattered, but left the rest of his body relatively intact.
My own injuries were limited to psychic shock from feedback. My training had included dealing with simulated injuries to my Eva, but the real thing… That was something new.
The other Eva pilots had to go through all this without the benefit of it being a simulation. Truly risking life and limb to defend the planet. To save us all.
For me, this is a job. A job I trained for, volunteered for, and still keep to. It's not about the money, humanity, or holding up the family tradition. My records say that members of my family have been in the US military back to the Revolutionary War. That my father saved hundreds of people, behind the front lines and in the hospital, often without being paid.
All that, however, is meaningless without the memories of my parents telling me about it. Without my mother, an ace combat pilot in the Third World War, to proudly inform me of my heritage. Without my father, a brilliant scientist, to tell me about the people who he saved, about the sanctity of life.
No. Without the memories, it's just data on paper. Just words, numbers, statistics. I kept to this because I knew how to do it, and to let my only remaining memories go to waste just seemed… Wrong. Something inside me, beyond thought and emotion, just kept me here.
Units Zero Zero and Zero Two will soon be repaired and ready for combat action. The Eight Child is supposed to soon arrive for synch training. In the meantime, Misato's going to take me into her home. Shinji and Rei are already under her guardianship, and adding me just makes things easier from a legal standpoint. Also, living with the other pilots can further help me figure out how to organize and repair this battered unit. They do not lack courage, or determination. But these traits can erode and burn out a soldier if they are not properly disciplined or cared for. I am not here to lead the fight against the Angels, to be the spearhead. I am here to sharpen the spear and guide it to the heart of the enemy.
It's time to go to work.
- - - - - - - - - -
The first part of this chapter was written by my good friend Hamstadini, while the rest was preread by him. Check out his works in the Evangelion and Star Trek: Voyager sections of the site! You won't be disappointed.
While the first few chapters of this story are going to be dark and dramatic, expect the humor to begin reasserting itself, just as hope begins to take root in Tokyo-3 once more. Booyah!