4
Somewhere in Nerv's bowels, Rei Ayanami sat in a locker room. Waiting for her next set of orders, she studied the smartboard on the wall. Tied into the C4 system, it received real time positions on friendly forces, EVA, the Angels, as well as pilot data. The notebook on her lap gradually filled with notes and observations for the engineers at the next test session. She glanced over at her plugsuit, sitting folded on the bench, then back at the board. She moved to the back of the notebook, filling it with questions for Shinji.
Half an hour ago.
As the elevator made its slow decent Rei stood in front of the door, not really looking at anything. Shinji stood behind her leaning against the sidewall. He stared at a coin on the ground trying to figure out which country it came from when Rei whispered, "why?"
"Huh?"
"Why did you get involved earlier? In class?"
"Umm I didn't mean to offend you or anything. It's just we should watch out for each other, right?"
"…"
"Cause, ah, we're friends, comrades. Co-workers?"
"..."
"Sorry."
"..."
"So. You didn't need to pull the knife, I could have handled that guy. He just needed to let off some steam."
"There was risk of injury to you. An injury would compromise your ability to pilot, and weaken combat readiness."
"…oh."
With that, the doors opened and the two went to work. Before Rei turned to enter the female locker room, she told Shinji, "Friends require mutual affection, comrades a common purpose. You are Mithril and I work for Nerv. At best we are neighbors, at worst strangers."
She caught Shinji off guard, closing the door before he could reply. All he could do was press on.
Now
Topside Shinji noticed the feedback system did more than share EVA's pain with him. He could feel the noontime sun beating down on him. He felt the building at his back and the breeze across his face. It was almost as if he was EVA.
Breathe. Focus. It doesn't know I'm here yet. Don't rush, my gig, my pace.
Shinji closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath. He let go of his self, and with it doubt, thoughts of Rei, and of home. Will remained, and a cool sensation flowing through his mind, like a sudden rainstorm in a desert. The Angel hovered just to the rear of his position. If it had eyes, one would think it was surveying the city. Shinji turned and fired, using the building for cover. The first volley engulfed the Angel in smoke. Shinji peeled off the building and ran down a parallel street on a hunch. Seconds after he left the building, tendrils flew out of the smoke burying his former position in concrete.
Sheaat. When did they get tentacles? Fine, distance. Shoot. Move. Let it chase, draw it out.
Running at obliques, Shinji fired when he could. Hot on his heels the Angel came out of each volley unscathed. He wanted to double back but was afraid of snagging the umbilical cable. How much do I even have? Changing tactics, Shinji stopped in a construction zone and cleared out his rifle. Misato took his actions to mean he was out of ammunition and began directing him to a fresh cache. "Don't need ammo, hold on," was his reply. As soon as the Angel entered the site, he began to club it with the rifle. Things were beginning to look up until the Angel used its tendrils to shatter the rifle, sever the cable, and impale Unit 01. Misato called for a retreat as Shinji rolled and used what was left of his rifle barrel to stake the angel to the ground. With the Angel immobilized, he had the advantage, but not for long. With each moment the tentacles burned hotter, boiling the boy from the inside. Shinji pulled his progressive knife, stabbing a few times before he was able to pierce the Angel's hide. Once in, he leveraged himself, twisting the knife, shattering the core. In the two seconds between the Angel's death and EVAs loss of power, he noticed Capt. Katsuragi raging at him.
On top of a hill on the other side of town, two boys had stood witness. One dreamed of the kind of bloodless glory known only to children, Hollywood, and politicians. The other, son of a street fighting man, was beginning to understand there was no war. It was nothing even remotely organized. Just a barroom brawl, No one notices the peanuts on the floor 'till it's time to sweep up he thought.
Notes
C4: Command, Control, Communications, and Computers. One of the many acronyms the US Military loves. Basically an information network similar to the Movement Tracking System truckers use, or the Sprint/Nextel network. It's a system that allows for the command/control (C2) of units in the field, tied into a communications network (command/control/communications or C3) coupled with computers. This allows you nifty tools like real time mapping of positions; and the ability to contact multiple users at the same time. Best used for motorized/mechanized units for various reasons. This is not to be confused the explosive Composition 4 (C4), also nifty.
I'm using italics to denote thought. I'll fix the earlier chapters to reflect this change. I apologize for the spacing between sentances, I will fix it as soon as I figure out how to keep the double spacing.