"That's it; time to go to work." - Gendo Ikari.

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Neon Genesis:Immortals

Episode 0:1

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Opening Act: Death from Above!

Disclaimer: Characters contained herein are not property of the author, hence this work is non-profit. All rights reserved by Squaresoft, Viz Video, Gainix, ADVision, and all other respective copyright holders of Final Fantasy VII, DragonBallZ, and Neon Genesis:Evangelion.

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[June 20th, 2015.]

It was a normal spring day in Japan. The air was relentlessly humid, a weak breeze offering a mild reprieve from the stifiling heat once associated only with the summer months in the Pacific Rim. Since Second Impact, the seasons had become little more than fancy names to remind people of a time only just recently passed.

The sun was perched in its lordly position high in the brilliant azure sky. A handful of white clouds scurried across the heavens as a pack of animals lost in the Sahara desert--many scalded into place by the hot, unforgiving sunlight.

The oceans had risen far in that disaster of more than a decade ago. What was once nearly considered mountain territory had been farmed to feed the survivors on this volcanic island. At one such farm, one of a hundred green fields dotting Japan's innumerable foothills, laid upon land that resisted farming as the fires of Hell resisted snow, a man was bent to work over his tractor.

He was a short fire plug of a man, with arms like cargo cranes and stout legs that held his torso up like a beer keg set upon a pair of saw-horses. His arched back was covered in the cloth of a worn blue T-shirt, the neck skin above his collar tinged a deep red from many days like this spent under the driving whip of the sun and the relentless march of the new seasons.

The man stood back from the open engine bay of the tractor, pulling back his dirt-covered hands and absently wiping them on his worn trousers. He looked to the sky with a weathered sigh, black eyes peaking out from under the brim of an ancient Giants baseball cap. He had lived in this area most of his life; his father making a living at a small factory nearby that used to make plastic parts for toys he had never seen in his life. The factory was now a bare spot in the ground, and this once rock-hard ground bore crops every year. Like father, like son, he worked his body to the bone every day of the year, now merely tied to a different profession.

And yet, nothing was the same. Not after that day fifteen years ago, when the modern worlds had been turned on its head. The land had seemed to swell in anticipation as the seasons stretched, shrunk, and blurred into one another. The world was changing around him, and although he felt that he might never catch up, that suited him just fine. After all, not all change was good.

The air moved around him again, drawing some of his sweat away. Spring had just begun, when the rains fell every day like spears sent from the heavens to murder his crops, and the heat was like a vicious animal, calling none its ally. He watched the clouds for a second longer, knowing that a little moisture would make his work easier and perhaps his equipment wouldn't break down quite so often, but he didn't really believe it was so. The rains would hold out for one day while he was stuck working on his tractor, and the ground would harden and the work would be back-breaking.

And once again, nothing would change.

He bent back to his work. Silence followed the short-lived breeze like a cat stalking its prey.

For a moment all was well with the world, the farmer left to the elements, sharing a comfortable moment of silence as the one shared by very old friends.

However, the silence did not stop as silence normally did. It did not leave the eternal chirps of cicadas. It did not leave the sounds of grass swaying in the nonexistent breeze. It spread across the field, then across the hills themselves like a living thing, choking off the sounds of nature.

The farmer's hands paused in their work.

A flock of birds broke from the nearest grove of trees, scattering into the sky, desparate to escape something only they felt coming. The evergreens swayed from the force of their departure, the gnarled limbs moving up and down slowly.

Shortly, they were followed by a matching flock from the next hill. Yet another flock came alive, even further away, and the next, and the next, until the sky was flecked with the beating black wings of thousands of birds.

Then the screaming began.

The first call was a scream of pure, soul-rending fear. It had no voice; it had every voice. What it lacked in the black bird's usual complexity of notes it more than made up for with raw emotion. Emotion backed by a primal meaning that the farmer could understand as plainly as human speech. No, understand was not the right word; it was more as if he _felt_ it, at gut level.

The sound played at the mind, like a cat cornering a mouse, trapping it, focusing its nameless message deeper and deeper into the subcon- scious, where it pulled at the emotions of generations past, back to a time when man feared everything around him and death was a single misstep away.

And with that understanding, the call leapt from one beak to next, like ripples from a stone tossed into a still pond. In seconds, every bird in the sky was screaming that same unearthly scream of terror. Fear tainted with the frenzied promise of pure violence; horror colored by the need to fight for their survival, all over a back drop of heart- stopping fear.

The farmer was frozen in place, one hand still wrapped around the steel side of his blue tractor as the cry suddenly rose in volume from ten thousand birds in perfect unison. He suddenly doubled over as if a giant, unseen hand had punched him in thef stomach. His eyes, once a clear and gentle brown, turned a sickening red. His body stayed in a bent-over position, held frightfully still for one second. Then, as if being manipulated by a skilled puppeteer, he was shaken suddenly, his body jerking like he had grabbed onto a high-voltage wire. A third and final convulsion struck with so much force that it threw him clean off of his feet.

The body landed smoothly on its feet and righted itself, hands hanging loosely at its sides; open, ready. Ignoring the screams from overhead, it looked up to spy the birds, this time heedless of the sun's blistering glare. The new face held not a hint of malace or displeasure; the sun striking its features was ignored, treated as if it never was. Its gaze was calm, impassive, and utterly, utterly devoid of life.

A calloused hand was raised to the air, fingers extended like spears, and the birds were cut from flight as a single animal. The flock changed shape suddenly, as if it were a whole entity, writhing in pain, just before it lost shape altogether and fell to the earth like so many rain drops.

They plummeted to the ground all at once, falling in a cloud, raining down around--but not directly upon--him. Each tiny, fragile body was death before it hit the group with a wet crunching noise, a sound overlayed upon itself thousands of times.

The flood of dead animals rose almost the man's knees.

Then came the grin. Like the impossibly blank gaze it framed, this grin was not something human, not a facial expression any human could make. The grin completed the thing's face--an understated visage of pure malice, as if violence itself had been handed the paint brushes for a self-portrait.

Lastly, it turned to face the nearest urban center, staring into the distance as if it see the city it seeked through hills and trees.

The city called Tokyo-3.

------

The breeze which blew through the foothills north of Tokyo-3 was normally a pleasant respite from the rising temperatures of the spring season. Today was no different, though it was harsher, more insistent, like a child desperately wishing to tell a secret that it alone knew. It played a lonely symphony in the hills, bounding through deep forests and empty fields. The many farms in its path, the great open spaces, where trees were traded for edible plants, and the many roads that connected them--evidence of human inhabitants--only added to its terrifying tone.

Almost fifty kilometers from the furthest out-lying district of Tokyo-3, in the hills west of Japan's fortress-city, sat a modest Shinto shrine. Over a hundred meters through tangling underbrush and up a flight of stairs that would make Olympic athletes pale, it did not invite casual visitors. The only road in the area was in excellent repair, a lane of durable asphalt wide enough for a tank to drive down comfortably, though certainly a tank would make for an odd sight this far outside of the city.

The only visible item of interest was an ordinary phone booth set off the side of the road. Painted a sickly green color that marked it as public telephone, it was the only sign of modern life which could be seen from below the shrine.

A young Shinto temple maiden stood before the phone booth, perfectly still. Her head was cocked to one side as if listening for a train whistle in the distance.

What she heard was nothing.

Not a single living thing made a sound. Not the birds. Not the ever- present cicadas... nothing. The wind swam through the tree limbs, it's lone cacophony all around her, plying at her senses as if reaching from the trees with ethereal fingers.

The girl who stood alone and listened to this nothingness looked to be on the younger side of fourteen. She had the pale complexion of an albino, and hair that gleamed--almost glowing--blue in the early afternoon light. That hair was bound into a long pony tail that hung nearly to her waist, and she wore the thick traditional robes of a Shinto priestess. Beneath the loose bangs that hung over her forehead, a pair of crimson eyes peered out at the world, precisely scrutinizing every feature and detail that came to their attention. However, those eyes now looked frozen in place, as if the girl had just witnessed some extraordinary horror and those blood-red orbs, ringed with white, could not get her mind to acknowledge what they had seen.

The wind pulled at her robes, tugging at the heavy material in that brisk, spring-breeze sort of way. To most, it would bring to mind lunches in the outdoors and children playing in the grass without a care in the world. But this breeze did not bring fond memories to the young girl who listened to its tone, its depth. She felt as if her heart might stop in place, the wind covered in something filthy and evil, as if she should take gather it up and burn it as one would a set of clothes covered in the blood of an innocent human being.

Finally, she leveled her head, a look of disbelief slowly growing on her pale face. She walked to the phone booth with a determined stride, pulling the door open with much more force than necessary, and ripping the receiver from its hook as if it might run away. She commenced a vicious pounding on the device, dialing a long number from memory.

For an unbearably long time, she listened to the phone on the other end ring, until the other end picked up, and a short conversation took place.

"It's Rei. I felt it... no, just a few minutes ago. Even the birds have stopped chirping! They know it's coming! ... of course. I'll be there soon.... Well, can't you send a helicopter or something? Uh-huh. Yeah. Yes, I understand.... Who? Never met him; don't know him.... Damn." But the voice at the other end was gone.

"Damn!" Rei swore.

She hung up the phone with a delicate huff and continued to look through the dusty glass panes to the ouside world. The phone booth was new. Very new. Wasn't more than a year old, in fact, installed by the government. Installed here, just for her.

*Just for me.* She thought to herself. *They put me up here, complete with a temple and a trainer... and for what? I'm fifty kilometers from the city, for crying out loud! Spread out their forces. Right, who gave them that idea?*

Another gust of wind picked up, the light dimming suddenly as a cloud passed over the sun. She stopped laughing and looked aimlessly into the sky, a single thought echoing in her mind.

*Time to go.*

She stepped out of the booth, a single sweat-drop drawing a line down the side of her face. It was here; it was close. She could feel it, but all she could tell was that it was in the direction of the city, and it intended to kill people.

*It wants to kill.* Rei thought to herself. *Well, not on my watch.*

She bolted for the stairs, taking the 100+ meter uphill sprint like it was second nature to her. She did this run ten times every day, and it showed. She moved with a fluid grace that few athletes could hope to match, covering the distance from the base of the hill to the temple in just under fifteen seconds.

Had any sporting scout saw this, Rei would have earned herself an instant ticket to fame and fortune before she reached the top step. However, jaws would have been bouncing off of the stone walkway if these same scouts remained to see her leap the eight meter tall entry arch in a single bound... without so much as breaking her stride.

------

Elsewhere on the continent of Japan, other curious feats of physical ability were being demonstrated to the wilderness.

Consider Goku Son.

Already known the world over as one of the best martial artists on Earth, Goku had spent most of his life studying the art. Scratch that. He _had_ spent all of his life studying the art. His abilities should not be very surprising, but it was Goku Son, and a small company of close friends, that had developed martial arts techniques that were magic to the rest of the world.

To some, the group were demons with powers granted by the darkness. To others, they were the heroes of this planet, granted supernatural powers at birth. To Goku, none of the talk and rumor about his life really mattered. He did what he wanted to do, raised a family that he loved, and practiced the art... all that was good enough for him. Being different was often a heavy burden to live with, but Goku didn't mind; he was a man full of heart and he cared about those he defended: Even his generosity to his opponents was legendary.

Right now, however, he had no time to concentrate on his fond memories, or even to consider the bad ones. He was quite occupied flying through the air at an incredible speed, heading towards Tokyo-3.

Flying without an external means of propulsion.

One of the many techniques Goku and company had mastered was the ability to focus ki--the body's energy--in a way such that one could soar about the skies as a plane can, or hover in place like one could walk upon air. Despite its recreational possibilities--few in number, since it took great skill an a considerable amount of ki to do it--flying was most useful as a rapid means of transportation, a means of getting somewhere fast.

At the moment, Goku was very, very interesting in getting somewhere fast, for the same force which was winding its way into the mind of a certain young albino girl was also alarming his senses. If it was as powerful as he felt, then haste was most definitely needed. So, he raced toward the great city of Japan, the pride of the country, with a sinking feeling in his heart. Would he make it in time? Would he be fast enough to save the people in its path?

Would he?

His senses called again, drawing him from his brief revere.

He looked down, to the right. Hundreds of feet blow him, he could see a darkened circle, like a bruise on the earth, a dot of black ink surrounded by light green and dark brown fields that ran together into the horizon like a patchwork quilt. After a few seconds of looking at the spot on the ground, Goku dropped a few hundred feet quickly, intent on getting a better look as he passed overhead.

He was still a hundred meters distant when he felt a sudden chill, like a hand of ice wrapping its frosty fingers around his still-beating heart. He stopped far short of the farm, hovering in place. Shock played over his tanned features, drawing a pale mask over weathered skin, as he took in the scene before him.

Dead birds. Hundreds of dead birds. Thousands of dead birds. Thousands upon thousands of little dead black birds.

*So many birds dead? In such a small space? What could have possibly caused this?!* Goku wondered in a fright. It was... unnatural; terrifyingly so. He paused like a cobra sniffing the air for its prey.

A lone sound answered him; only the cold, unfeeling wind, clawing at his clothing with phantom fingers. Something was wrong here, something was seriously, deadly wrong. Something far more sinister than he had first suspected was now at work... and he knew exactly where it was headed.

Steeling himself, Goku fell the rest of the distance, flexing his ki at the very end of his fall to come nearly to a stop. His booted feet touched the ground in near-silence. Here the wind cut through the trees like a banshee, but Goku was not detoured by the frightening sound. He made his way towards the field slowly, on foot, often turning left and right to observe his flanks. His dairokan was listening quietly. There was life here... he could feel it. It wasn't much--only a few small insects and some burrowing animals--but there wasn't a single living bird within his range of sense. There were no people nearby either, and something else was tickling his senses.

The taste of fear.

The city south of him still burned with human life, flickering and pulsing with fear like a tiny campfire in the distance. He broke out of the dense woods into the clearing. He stopped far short of the circle of dead bodies that littered the area, however, choosing to remain back in the shadows of the huge trees that stood around the tiny valley. They stood shoulder to shoulder, like ancient sentinels, with Goku standing low amongst them, as a small child surrounded by his elders.

After a minute of just looking, Goku reached into the small pouch hanging from his belt, and extracted a compact electronic device, not unlike a modern cellular phone in size and function. It featured only five large buttons, all pressed in red plastic to contrast against the black metal frame of the device.

He looked at the kanji engraved into the metal for a moment; words he had read a thousand times before made new again, as fear suddenly robbed him of such memories. He pressed the one labeled 'science,' and brought the phone to his ear, listening to ringing on the other end, counting under his breath.

"Five... six... seven... Come on, Ritsuko-san, pick up the phone!"

And in the moment of his complaint, she did, "Moshi moshi?"

"Doctor?" He said, quickly.

"Hai," She snapped off. He was about to announce who was calling when he remembered that this particular device identified him, in advance, to anyone he called with it. Goku wasn't much for technology, but this was simple to use, and the perfect tool for contacting someone like Ritsuko, who didn't share his extraordinary abilities or peculiar communication preferences.

"Something bad has happened here, Ritsuko-san."

"Goku, listen carefully. We're on alert status here. Since you're in the area, can you come to Tokyo-3 straight away. And keep to the west."

Goku's skin suddenly felt prickly all over. "It's no longer here." He said, barely breathing the words out. Ritsuko heard him clearly though, without the sounds of the wilderness to mix with his soft, deep voice.

"What? What's no longer there?"

"The Angel." Goku said. "The Thing. Its coming right at Tokyo-3." He had never seen an Angel of this sort before. No one had. The first Angel ever known to exist had killed everyone that laid eyes on it; not even photographs remained. But Goku, he remembered. He remembered it more clearly than any other event in his life. The sounds of a soul screaming, screaming at all of humanity. The pain there, the rage that ripped through his consciousness as he heard its death-scream in his mind. He still had no idea what sort of creature this Angel was, but he knew what it would do.

At the first opportunity it had, it would start killing people. And it wouldn't stop until it had killed everyone, wiped the planet clean of them, much like--

*Stop, Goku! STOP!* He shook himself, his mental discipline reasserting itself. He calmed down enough to speak again after a few seconds.

"It was right here." He continued. "It killed black birds, lots of them, right in this field." His voice wavered a bit at the end, and he gestured helplessly at the corpses piled before him, as if he could show Ritsuko over the phone.

"There's a bunch of birds corpses where you're standing?" Ritsuko said, replacing his words with the objective, clinical terms the doctor loved so.

"The Angel killed them. I know it." He said flatly, his throat suddenly dry.

"But no human bodies? Just birds?" Ritsuko probed.

"Just birds." Goku finished. He set the phone on the ground, leaving it on so NERV could come out and investigate what he had seen by chance. Perhaps they would explain away this under a mountain of circumstantial evidence. Perhaps they would have an easy-to-swallow explanation, worded in their scientific language, stripped of the feeling that was all too real to Goku, but little more than pointless details to them.

But he too, could not find many words to describe what he had truly seen in that field. All he could say for certain was that whatever had done that was unlike anything he had faced before, and whatever it was, he could not treat it lightly.

He left the ground in a flash of light and took to the skies, his leap lengthening impossibly into full flight. In seconds he was back to his original heading, flying straight for Tokyo-3. Behind him, a tiny voice came from the tiny cell-phone laying on the ground, calling out, unheard, to his receding form.

"Goku? Are you still there? ... Goku?! Goookuuu!!!"

------

The sounds of slow, even breathing consumed the room.

In. Out. In. Out.

The room was spartan, and catered well to small nuance-like sounds, such as breathing. It was a modest space built for sleeping, and perhaps a little reading. Boxed in by four wooden walls, a high ceiling and a window to the south. A polished wood floor added a touch of luster to the otherwise drab space. Furnishings were limited to a tatami mat and a small wooden chest.

Rei was kneeling before the wooden chest, looking at the item sitting on top of it. A tanto. Her eyes beheld the sight without emotion for a moment, then narrowed slightly. The surface of the chest, dark from wood stain and smoothed by a lacquer finish, gleamed in the dull sunlight streaming through the room's open window, the reflected rays meeting her eyes harshly.

She had changed out of her robes and into a pair of black shorts that looked like they had been painted onto her skin, her chest covered by a halter top that allowed for a good viewing of her cleavage and left a large section of her lower torso uncovered.

The knife held her vision for a moment, then her hand came down and picked it up, her fingers cradling the weapon delicately. Looking it over with a critical eye, she took in the mirror-polished blade and its razor-sharp edge. Then she gripped its handle tightly in her right hand, and took up her loose pony-tail in her left.

There comes a time, in every person's life, when they are given the opportunity to cast aside everything familiar and journey down a new path, where they can see the world differently.

The people who go, all go for different reasons.

The blade's sharpness was never in doubt to Rei, but she still breathed a sigh of relief when it easily cut her hair without catching on a single strand. Setting the knife aside, she opened the chest and removed a pair of shears from the top drawer. Working from memory, she made quick work evening out the cut, so as to make it more presentable.

Though she had no mirror, leaving even the tanto sitting on the chest, she took a moment to regard herself.

*A warrior? ... Perhaps.*

*A priest? ... Of sorts.*

*A woman? ... To the core.*

The path now laid before her did not allow for the possibility of return, but she did feel she had to look back, even now, when the past was so close. She had people to protect, a world to save, and an Angel to kill. _This_, the new person she had become, was the future.

Placing the shears in their storage space, along side a ball of twine, a roll of tape, some nails and bevy of other useful trinkets, she looked back to the tanto. The sheath was quickly placed over the blade, and the knife was properly put away but a moment later.

Taking to her feet, Rei walked to the far end of the room, her feet gliding across the bare floor soundlessly, only the light rustle of cloth left indicating her passing.

The closet contained a small but mostly normal, contemporary wardrobe next to a few martial arts gi, and but two pairs of shoes in the bottom. From the top shelf, Rei retrieved a canvas traveling bag, and soon had it full. Four changes of clothes, two outfits for exercising, a picture, a postcard, and some sundry items all went into the carry-all, which she zipped closed in a deft bit of motion. Standing, she looked about the room in a full circle, taking in every corner of the room where she had lived most of her life.

"Good bye." She said quietly, and walked away, leaving the door open behind her.

Down the stairs, Rei found herself at the ground floor of what she had called home for pretty much her entire life. Anything that came before her arrival at the shrine was a blank slate in her mind. This was the only home she had ever known, and she was about to leave it, permanently.

"Sensei!" She called out, her voice ringing clear in the quiet woods.

"Hai," Came the expected response. "Leaving so soon?" Rei didn't bother looking about for the source of the voice, she just stepped aside the rapid series of attacks that came from behind her immediately after the words.

The man who came at her, obviously an experienced fighter, was dressed in temple robes similar to the clothes Rei had been wearing only a few minutes ago. His brown hair was cut extremely short, not unlike a Marine's high-and-tight and his brown eyes seemed to sparkle. Even as he attacked, he smiled at Rei, his movements swift and sure despite his years. Compared to Rei, he looked like an old man, although one's best guest to his age would put him in his late forties.

Her teacher for eleven years, Sensei Miyamoto, had made it his personal mission to keep Rei on her guard ever since she came into his care. These little attacks were the only formal greetings they had given each other in many years. Her reflexes, well-trained in this exercise, allowed her to easily dodge a continuous flow of attacks that would overwhelm all but a handful of expert martial artists.

As she moved backward, parrying Miyamoto's strikes, her feet scarcely seeming to touch the ground in white slippers, she bid her Sensei farewell. "Yes, it is time for me to go fight. I can feel it... like a storm on the horizon."

"Ah-ha." He said, throwing a few spinning kicks into his pattern of attack and grinning widely as the girl moved around the blows like water flowing over rocks. "Something you feel in your dairokan, ne? Something you can't put words to, but know right to your core."

"That's about what it is, Sensei." Rei replied, her voice only a little bit uncertain.

Miyamoto stopped at the same instant Rei did, their moves and intentions choreographed with infinite precision over the many years they trained and lived together. His fist was only an inch from her face, but Rei didn't blink, merely smiling slightly as he pulled back his hand, opened it, and peered at the lines in his palm as if divining the future.

"I'll try to visit, Sensei, I promise." Rei bowed to him, a movement she had not made in years.

"Yes, well..." The teacher said absently, dropping his hands to his sides loosely and returning the bow. "Good luck, Rei-san."

"Thank you, Miyamoto-san." Rei said, a light blush shading her cheeks as her eyes turned to examine the ground. "Good bye,"

"Good bye," He replied.

With that and a tiny wave, Rei bounded back over the open gates and tore down the stone steps she had practically worn out over the years. Miyamoto stood without moving for several moments after she left, after she reached the road and ran past the far bend, even long after she had left the valley, looking into the distant horizon in the direction of Tokyo-3. He could feel it as well, the fortress city was about to get a very unpleasant visitor dropped off at it's doorstep. As he turned his head to look at the mountains to the North, the sun revealed a patch of scar tissue beginning at the base of his neck, which seemed to extend well below the collar of his robes. It was an old scar, worn with time, and only a few people remembered how he got it.

But Miyamoto remembered. He remembered very well. Hashi Miyamoto remembered everything, and soon, that photographic memory would come in handy.

"Good luck indeed, Rei-san," He said to the mountains, a grim smile on his weather-beaten face, "You'll need all that you can get."

------

He cut the sky like a knife, leaving a scar of glowing white over soft blue. The buildings far below seemed to gaze up at him as he passed. They were spread sparsely throughout the city, with its wide roads and extremely wide sidewalks, but slowly growing larger and appearing more and more densely packed. The clouds in the sky were few, but on the distant horizon, visible only to someone at his altitude, a storm was coming.

It would not take long in getting here.

Goku turned his attention from the dark edge of the sky to the green land below, watching as the brown stripes of roads and grey dots of concrete bunkers passed below. Here, only the wind spoke to him, whistling through his clothing, roaring in his ears--not an entirely unpleasant experience, all in all. Goku didn't care much for city life, with the car horns and people packed practically shoulder-to-shoulder (though, truth be told, Tokyo-3 was quite a roomy city for being in Japan), the big machinery that made the concrete jungle work smoothly could keep him from sleep even when the weather wasn't a humid and damp mess that made his sheets a tangling prison.

Still, he had promised the doctor he would stay here if he was needed, provide them with support if necessary, and generally stay out of their way if all else went well.

After what seemed like an eternity of flying in no particular direction, Goku finally spotted the landmark he had been looking for: a green sign with a strange symbol that was meant to be a helicopter, right above the number seven.

He landed quickly, briefly thankful that he would have something to keep him distracted. It was time to find Ritsuko-san and tell her in detail about what he was sensing. The enemy... it was on it's way.

He walked past a man wearing a NERV Internal Security uniform, barely noticing the olive-drab color just as he passed by. The tall warrior thought about saluting for an instant, but since he wasn't in the military, he was worried it might be taken as an insult. Besides, he didn't know how to salute anyhow.

------

In the shadows, Gendo Ikari scratched his chin thoughtfully. This was not a day he'd looked forward to. There was, yes, a sense of relief now that the moment had arrived; and they could stop worrying about things that _could_ go wrong and focusing on doing their best to make things go right.

Of course, this _was_ the moment, and now that they were here, they couldn't afford any mistakes, especially with no time to fix them.

Fuyutsuki spoke, his voice low and gravelly. "This does not bode well."

The other man stopped the scratching motion and dropped his hand to the desktop. "My son is adequately trained, if that will assuage your worries, Fuyutsuki."

Ikari turned to look at his one-time mentor and long-time friend. Fuyutsuki was a lanky man, and carried himself in such a way that had he been the one saddled with poor vision, he would be called a nerd. It was, Ikari mused, something the man would not feel bad about either. He carried himself well and his manners were excellent, but his bookish behavior and often pale looks left one wondering just who he worked for. In a primarily military organization such as NERV, Fuyutsuki would surely fit in better in the science department, as opposed to the command staff.

Gendo Ikari, however, would have none of that, and a man like Gendo Ikari was not easily refused. The older man's wisdom and experience could be counted on in any situation they might encounter. A mind not dulled by his years studying ancient tomes and rotting texts was a massive storehouse of useful knowledge, especially given what they were facing.

Besides, the man's utterly atypical behavior was refreshing in a place were saying 'sir' was a way of life and one needed magnetic keycards and DNA scans just to get into work every day.

"We can only hope he can tap the power before we're all horribly killed."

And his sense of humor, thought Ikari. An insufferable smirk appeared on the Commander's face. "Why is everyone suddenly so depressed around here?" He asked out loud.

As only he and Fuyutsuki occupied the small office Gendo called his own, the answer came from a rather predictable source. "Probably just looking death in the eye, old friend."

Ikari chuckled, his mellow voice slightly scratchy and echoing within the confines of the office. "Yes. Probably. But we _must_ win, you know."

"Yes, I know we must. If we don't defeat the Angels..." Fuyutsuki trailed off.

Ikari tilted his head, his dark hair hanging over his glasses, which glinted in the room's low lighting. "Exactly. It is for that reason NERV exists."

The phone rang. Ikari's hand was on the receiver in a flash. A second ring sounded before he picked up though, raising the phone slowly to his ear. "Yes? ... I understand.... No, we are ready.... Thank you, sir."

He dropped the phone receiver into it's cradle with a loud clatter.

"That's it; time to go to work."

And for the first time that day, Commander Ikari grinned.

------

The military base Goku had passed less than an hour ago was under attack.

He knew nothing of this, as he had used one of the many trams that ran through NERV's underground installation to get to the core of the complex, near the science area.

"It's comin' right for us!" Screamed Sergeant Hiroshi Takona. His squad, dressed in combat fatigues, wasted no time jumping to their assigned tasks. In a matter of seconds, three members of his squad had pulled out a portable machine gun, and the remainder of his men had entrenched themselves behind some cover. He was right behind them, pulling out his pistol and firing at the approaching object, giving the machine gun crew time to set up a more formidable weapon.

They had nothing to do but hold it off, as the other JSDF forces had been alerted and would be here in a matter of minutes. Still, being in command of the first military unit to engage a confirmed Angel, Takona was not feeling optimistic about their chances of survival. Maybe it was the way the Angel seemed to glow a deathly red as it hovered above the ground like a UFO from all those old Science Fiction movies he watched as a young man. Perhaps it was the way it seemed to look at them through its lifeless, pale eyes. Its eyes looked like nothing else he had ever seen, and he didn't care to look at them ever again.

Then again, perhaps it was the way is casually raised one emaciated limb and flexed its extra-long fingers, causing the machine gun crew to simply explode in a shower of entrails and fresh blood.

Perhaps.

It was then Sergeant Takona realized someone was screaming

A second later, he realized that someone was him.

------

Shinji Ikari was not having a good day.

The sun was shining, a light breeze was camped out in the city, keeping the noon temperature from climbing too high; in short, a beautiful day.

He was walking down a street near the heart of Tokyo-3, a well-used canvas bag slung over one shoulder, his feet taking him aimlessly about the city. Shinji wasn't a very tall boy, maybe five foot four, with a slim build. His black hair was long and unkept, hanging loosely over his dark brown eyes. Shinji hadn't been to the city since he was a very small child, but he still found it disturbing that nothing here looked familiar; if he had seen this city before, it had simply changed too much to be recognized.

Then there was the sound of distant combat. The deep sputter of machine gun fire, the echoing roar of jet hover craft, the distant thunder of mortar shells and exploding missiles. If it were night time, he would have been able to easily spot the area of combat with the flashes from both sides lighting up the sky. But this far away, the sounds of battle echoed off of the buildings and the noises seemed to come from every direction at once.

*Great, I come all this way and nearly walk into the middle of a war. What's going on over there?*

The boy lifted one hand to shield face from the harsh sunlight and looked up, searching for anything suspicious on the mountains that lay past the enormous concrete buildings that reached to the sky. For a moment, although the sounds of battle still drifted down into the sprawling city, he looked and saw nothing. Turning to the east, he saw that the line of dark clouds he saw that morning had expanded into a band of grey rising over the horizon. With the small radio he kept, he had heard nothing of a rainstorm in the area.

Dropping his hand, the boy sighed. "Looks like I'll have to use the phone. Shit. It's not like I know where he lives."

Continuing down the sidewalk, Shinji looked absently into the distance as he reached into his pocket for some change. His concentration, already worn from the long train ride he had endured to get here, was consumed so completely by his coinage quest that he wandered clear out into the abandoned street before he realized the sidewalk had changed color. Blinking, he looked down at the pavement, then to the sidewalk.

Before his brain could shift gears, a loud squealing noise suddenly erupted from behind him. Shinji nearly jumped out of his skin as he looked over his free shoulder to see what the noise was. A blue sports car was sliding towards him nearly sideways as the driver tried desperately to stop the car before it made parts of him a permanent addition to the paint job. Shinji shut his eyes at the last second, expecting to be road kill the next.

Nothing.

He peeked one eye open to see the car stopped mere inches from his legs. The driver side window rolled down, a mass of purple hair coming out. Wait, that wasn't just hair...

"Shinji? Shinji-kun, is that you?"

Shinji turned to face the driver of the sports car. The driver was a young woman, twenty-something, wearing sunglasses and sporting purple hair. The package also featured a wide smile, and a very large bosom, framed by a red dress that looked like the designer had run out of material while working on the top half.

After a tense second, Shinji found part of his voice. "Misato-san?" His heart rate, which had been pushed to its limit, was hardly able to fall back to something normal, what with Misato's cleavage in his clear view.

"Get in!" Misato shouted.

Shinji had meet Misato Katsuragi several times in the past. Being a military officer in charge of NERV security, she had come to visit him often, telling him what his father was up to and asking him what had been going on lately. In a way, they had grown to be friends. Some years ago she had changed jobs. She still worked within NERV, but was too busy to visit Shinji personally. She wrote the occasional letter, and when asked by his few friends, Shinji always told them they were from his mother. He was proud to have someone as intelligent and caring as Misato-san to call a friend, and in a way, she was like a foster mother, watching over him when his father refused to.

Shinji wasted no time in getting into the car from the passenger side, but as he did, he asked her if they were in a hurry.

"Yes, Shinji-kun, we are." She answered.

Shinji set his bag in the back seat, again willing his heart to slow down. Misato's dress must have come from the discount rack; it seemed to be missing an awful lot of material. She could never wear something that revealing in the military. He thought back; was she still an officer now?

"Buckle yourself in."

Shinji did so, then looked at her, forcing his eyes up to her head, even though she was staring firmly at the road. "Why?"

"It's bad. Really bad."

Shinji rubbed the bridge of his nose, adjusting his grip so that he wouldn't jab his own eyes out as the car took off. "Is this Ritsuko- san's fault?"

Misato didn't even pause at the question. The many disasters her long time friend had dragged her through had been tough, but this was something else entirely. Besides, it really wasn't her fault, this time. "No." She pointed out of her window, to the mountains in the distance. "See that?"

Shinji squinted, still seeing nothing. Then, a speck came over the top of the mountain. It was kind of hovering at first, then it seemed to drift to one side, slowly moving down. After a few seconds, it was lost in the tree cover, where a sudden ball of fire erupted. "Yeah..."

*Looks like a damn war to me.* Shinji thought to himself.

"That is an Angel."

"Angel?" Shinji blinked, trying to process the words. Wasn't an Angel a messenger of god? "Angel? Don't you mean some kind of monster?"

"Very much so, Shinji-kun. That's just what an Angel is."

"But an Angel isn't a monster. An Angel is more like an agent of mercy." Shinji argued. This just didn't make any sense. Why would an Angel be fighting with the JSDF?

"This isn't an Angel of mercy, Shinji." Misato responded, fingering a tiny silver cross that hung over her chest. "This... this is more like an Angel of death."

The remainder of the ride was spent in the company of their own thoughts.

------

Goku was lost.

Not much more could be said about the situation. He had walked into NERV with a clearly defined goal: Find Ritsuko and tell her about the Angel. Well, there wasn't much to tell, but he felt better offering his help in person. If he just waited outside for the thing to land, the military might come after him. And then he'd have to stop them...

Unfortunately, he had been lost since he set foot inside the underground complex. A passing group of men in camoflauge had been nice enough to give him directions to the underground train that took him to NERV HQ, but once he got off, he had no idea where to go. Most of the signs were in English, and even then they had more numbers than letters. Section 'L-46'? What did that mean?

At last, he had to do something. The Angel was much closer now, burning at the edge of his senses like a chunk of molten steel pressed into his flesh.

*That's it then. I'll have to figure out how to use this 'intercom' Ritsuko-san told me about.*

Goku stopped, having finally reached a major junction of two hallways. There were at least a dozen doors visible to him from where he stood, but he couldn't figure the meaning of any one of them. The small panel laid into the wall near the intersection looked promising. Walking up to it, he pushed the largest button on the panel, ignoring the numbered buttons grouped together like on a telephone.

"Ritsuko?"

He waited. The doorway behind him opened. Goku was about to call the doctor's name out again when a female voice yelled out behind him.

"Not now!"

Goku jumped a foot off the ground before spinning on his heels to find out who had yelled. He didn't even take the first step. "What?!"

Doctor Ritsuko Akagi grinned at him. "Gotcha!"

The doctor was a slim woman with blond hair and luminous blue eyes. A white lab coat that looked right out of an old science fiction movie cloaked her figure, which would otherwise be eyed very closely by much of NERV's male staff. Compared to Goku, she looked short, but actually stood a respectable five foot seven inches, which was now telescoped to around five-ten with her high heels on. The sleeves of her white coat were rolled up, her hands stuffed into the wide pockets on the sides.

Goku put a hand over his chest, pretending to be shocked. "You scared me!"

"Yep." The doctor responded, feeling assured of her superiority. "I'm still the Master." She look at him out of the corner of her eye as she closed the door to the lab she had just come out of. He had showed up in his blue and red fighting attire, which meant he was ready for battle. *Perhaps...*

Out loud, "Goku, can you come with me?"

"Sure. I have something important to tell you first."

The doctor stopped, giving the tall man her full attention. "Go ahead."

"The Angel. It's here; very close."

"I know. We're running out of time and Shinji isn't even here yet."

With that, Dr. Akagi sped down the hall. Goku, behind her, wondered aloud, "What's a 'Shinji'?"

------

There was little to be said about the room Shinji stood in, apart from the fact it was very, very dark.

"We lost power again." Came Ritsuko's voice through the blackness.

After a moment of standing still in fear of doing something morally unacceptable to Misato-san or Akagi-san, or potentially harmful to his persons, Shinji blinked. The lights didn't switch on and blind him suddenly, as he had expected them to. Instead, the lights came on one row at a time, each row of lights adding a little bit to the room's illumination as they switched on with an audible click.

"Son..."

Shinji knew that voice. He could identify it in his sleep.

"Father..."

He couldn't place the source of the voice, though. The room was empty, little more than a large box with a table and chairs set at one end. They reminded Shinji of props for a doll house, the great scale of the room dwarfing the furniture it contained.

"How are you doing, Shinji?"

The boy lifted one hand to shade his eyes as he looked up, then to the far wall. "I'm doing fine, father." He said, his voice carefully neutral. He lowered his gaze to the far wall, and swept it left and right, searching for the sound of his father' voice, the ends of his dark hair sweeping gently over his knuckles.

"The speaker's in the ceiling, son."

Shinji placed his hand at his side, it's mate slowly curling into a fist. Shinji tried to put steel into his tone, almost daring his father to show his face. "Why aren't you here, father?"

"I'm rather... occupied at the moment. Shinji, I have a task for you to perform."

"There is a monster attacking the city, father. What do you have in mind? Pilot of a jet fighter plane?" He laughed, his voice harsh and slowly beginning to fill with anger and scorn. "Or perhaps a giant robot, like the models you loved so much as a child."

"Nothing of the sort, son. I--"

"Then why don't you come to see me? What's with this charade?!"

"Now listen, boy."

"Don't _BOY_ me, father! What do you want?!" Shinji finally screamed, releasing a little tantrum in the enormous room.

"Shin-chan..." Misato chided gently. Shinji ignored her, ignored everything else in the room, his vision slowly obscured by a red haze. The veins on his forehead began to stand out in sharp relief, casting shadows the color of deep bruises across his skin, like a network of injuries from a severe beating.

"Son, the monster out there is an Angel. An enemy humanity has little chance of defeating without your help."

Shinji's teeth slowly began to grind, his jaw muscles adding more shadows to the lines of his face. Misato watched helplessly as his shoulders hunched over, his fists shaking by his sides.

"I thought... I thought you wanted to say hello."

"I called because I need you to be here."

"I thought you cared about me."

"I called because I have a use for you."

"I thought you _loved_ me! Don't you even care about your only son?!" Shinji exploded. He held up one hand, five fingers stiffly extended. His other came up and started counting his points off with so much force that it seemed he might accidently break several bones in his hand.

"Can't you even tell me straight? I get some stupid phone call out of the blue--" Shinji began, his voice rising.

Gendo's voice also rose in volume, the added power of the room's speakers giving it physical force as he countered his son's arguments. "I go through the trouble of getting you an escort here to be insulted?!"

"--pack my clothes, buy a train ticket, ride on that uncomfortable, worthless box of tin for--"

Ritsuko, unobserved by any of the people in the room, had taken out a pair of hand-puppets, carefully fashioned from a pair of gray socks, and was making them 'talk' at one another.

"--try to get backup, but nooooo. Then my worthless son shows up, wanting to--"

"--missiles flying, like some god damn _war_ has started at the edge of town--"

"--and I just want to ask for _one_ little favor,"

"--but that IDIOTIC, HEARTLESS--"

"--help to _fight_ an ANGEL!!!" Gendo roared, finishing his end of the father-son tirade.

The loosely held fist stopped inches from a suddenly slack hand, one finger of each extended but slightly bent. Color drained from Shinji's face, as he seemed to become but half of himself, shock pushing aside the force of his anger.

*_Fight_ an Angel? ME?*

Misato and Ritsuko blinked in unison, their ears filled with an intense ringing sound. Before them, Shinji stood, his only movement the involuntary act of breathing as he considered his options.

"The Angel is engaging the JSDF as we speak." Gendo continued, his voice slightly raspy.

"Angel?" Shinji said, barely above a whisper. "Fight it?"

"The 'monster' you saw the JSDF attacking." Gendo said by way of explanation.

Shinji's mouth worked for a few moments like a gun being dry fired. He finally opened his hands, looking at them, staring at them, memorizing every detail before he let them set motionless at his sides.

*Fight an Angel?*

He thought of the hover gunships and helicopters shot down and knocked aside with such ease it seemed to be a measured kind of carelessness on the Angel's part. He saw the beast destroying as it wont and expressing only a kind of tireless, childish glee.

*Fight that _thing_?*

"Well son, how is your karate?"

*He wants me to fight it?* The thought went through Shinji's mind over and over again, examining the words carefully, picking his way through them like a miner panning for gold.

"You want me to fight it?" Shinji asked at last.

His words hung in the air, a dried tree leaf dropping in an autumn breeze, pausing for the barest instant just before touching the ground.

"You can't!" Misato suddenly shouted.

Shinji didn't hear the interruption. His eyes remained focused on a fixed spot, an imaginary point on the far wall.

"Rit-chan, he--" Misato's voice died in her throat as she turned to Ritsuko for support. The blonde woman had two hand puppets, one at the end of each arm, looking at one another. Ritsuko was apparently turning her head to look at Misato as the Major called her name, and there she stopped, a slightly guilty look on her face.

Misato's mouth closed, an action requiring considerable concentration in her current state.

"Okaaay," She said slowly, looking back to Shinji.

"Father," The boy said, finally speaking. "Can you say it?"

The tension in the room was palpable. Shinji's mere presence was like standing near high voltage power lines to Misato. Whatever had set the poor boy off still had his heart in an iron grip, and he backed it with his voice, giving it an almost supernatural feel.

"Father..." His tone demanded an answer.

There was the sound of a sigh, the feel of a soldier dragging himself from the trenches one last time, to face the Hell of a battlefield he could no longer forget. It was the sound of a draw, a two-way defeat; no victory to be gained today.

"I love you, son."

"I love you too, father." He felt it like a dam breaking. His father wasn't totally heartless. It felt so good inside, knowing he was wanted and not just...

*Waitaminute.* Shinji frowned, ever so slightly. Then, in a firm voice, he finally gave his answer.

"I'll do it."

The speaker clicked off without a response. For perhaps another minute, the trio stood in the fluorescent solitude of the 'meeting' room, their eyes drawn to the empty table set a dozen meters away from them.

In this place, a decision had been made.

There would be no turning back now.

"I guess I'm ready. Let's go." Shinji said, picking up his bag and turning to face the two women.

Misato glanced in her friend's direction; the scientist had hidden her puppets... somehow. She turned her attention back to Shinji. "Yes," she said, "Let's go."

------

Shinji followed the blond doctor into what looked like an ordinary locker room. Nestled deep in the halls of his father's great work, Ritsuko had led him into a long rectangular room with a row of lockers on one side, a shower cordoned off at the far end, and a couple of benches in the open area. There was a floor-to-ceiling mirror near the showers. The only door to the room slid shut from above. Shinji had looked at as they entered; it was at least four inches thick and made of solid steel.

Ritsuko went up to a locker labeled '1.' The number seemed to stick leap out at him, challenging and faintly ominous. Inside the locker was a middle shelf, about waist high, and a couple of hangers near the top. A small package wrapped in clear plastic set on the shelf.

"This is your locker." Ritsuko began her lecture. "And this, obviously, is the locker room." She said, sweeping one arm around the room as she handed him the package.

Shinji looked at the plastic-clad bundle. A slash of dark purple over a luminous orange looked back at him. "What's this?"

"That's a tac-suit." She looked at him, keeping quiet. Shinji looked at the suit again, then looked at her expectantly. After a moment, she folded her arms. "Well?"

Shinji held the package at arms length. "What does it do?"

"It monitors your vital signs, tracks your position, provides communication facilities, and a few other useful things."

"Why put all this stuff in a suit?" Shinji asked, slowly pulling at the wrapping.

"Well, there are radios topside, along with a few weapons, but there was no sense in weighing you down with useless equipment."

"Like a gun, right?" Shinji dead-panned.

Ritsuko poked a finger in the air and shouted, "Right!"

"Well, can I have one?"

The doctor paused abruptly, looking at him like he'd just crawled out from under a rock. "You? I don't think so. Now" Ritsuko took a deep breath. "GET IN THAT SUIT!!!"

Shinji shook his head, a motion honed by habit, letting his hair fall back into place. He ripped the package open and looked at the 'suit' inside of it. *Skintight Spandex. I figured the doctor'd go for something like this. And the color, GAAH!*

"Something wrong, Shinji-kun?" Ritsuko said, popping up behind the boy while he hesitated. "Just slip into it and you'll be fine, trust me." Her voice took on a slight purr and Shinji had to fight to keep his blood pressure from rising.

His self-control straining, the boy broke free of the doctor, removing an arm that had almost made it to the waistband of his pants with some difficulty. "Look, Ritsuko-san, I'm not going to wear the damn suit. It's... it's..." He stuttered. "Not... going to work, er... very well."

"Well, fine." The doctor hummfp'd. "Then get your ass out there and start fighting."

"What?!"

It was then that Gendo's smooth voice came into the room, sounding distant and boxy over the intercom's speakers. "Doctor, is my idiot son ready to go yet?"

"Hey!"

Shinji could almost hear his father form a proper apology in his mind before speaking in that agonizingly calm voice. "Son, I did not realize you were there."

*No shit.* Shinji thought to himself. *That old bastard. I oughtta...*

"He's not going to wear the suit."

"I didn't hear you, Akagi-san."

"It's not going to fit, sir." Ritsuko answered, winking at Shinji.

There was a moment of silence from the other end. "Yes. I see. Well, the Angel is coming quite near the city. _Now_ would be the most appropriate time, doctor."

"Hai, hai." Ritsuko said absently, grabbing Shinji by the arm. "Let's move, small stuff."

The walk to their next stop was but another short jaunt compared to Shinji's hike through the city earlier. The second room was colored much the same as the first; drab grey, like a military base. However, this room was very small, with just enough space for the doctor and himself to fit comfortably. Well, maybe comfortable for the doctor, who didn't seem to mind brushing herself up against Shinji as she adjusted various arcane controls in the tiny space. Shinji, making an effort at being modest, kept his eyes glued to the floor. He noticed that is seemed to split down the middle. Glancing up, he saw the roof had a matching line to it.

*Now what's that for?* Shinji asked himself.

"Enjoying the view?" Ritsuko asked, paused in her work.

Shinji blinked, realizing that his head was practically resting between the doctor's breasts, with him look up between them, past the side of her head, while he gazed at the ceiling. Blushing, he tried to shuffle back a bit, only to run into the wall directly behind him.

The doctor laughed disarmingly. "Don't worry about it. Just don't let the Major catch you slacking in your duties."

"I wasn't... I didn't..." Shinji tried to defend himself.

"Whatever. Listen closely." She wrapped a piece of stiff cloth around his wrist. "This is a communicator, it'll keep you in touch with our command center--allow you to communicate with us, if you will. That being the function of a piece of communications equipment, and--"

"I get the point, doctor." Shinji interrupted. He did remember the doctor being absent-minded the one time he met her. When was that? Five years ago? But, he did not remember the... playful side of her. Best just to let her get it out of her system.

"All right, Mr. Smarty-pants. You don't have to push any buttons, either. Just talk and we'll hear you."

"Who is 'we'?" Shinji questioned.

Ritsuko began counting on her fingers. "The Commander, the Major, myself, the command staff, which consist of Maya, Sheigeru--"

"I thought my father ran this place." Shinji interrupted.

"Who do you think is the Commander?" Ritsuko countered.

Shinji made a little 'oh' sound, his face showing his surprise. Ritsuko punched the little green button by the door, which opened obediently for her. Shinji made a mental note; that button was the 'out' button.

"Will I be okay out there?" He asked.

The doctor looked serious, stopped in the doorway. She turned to him, meeting his eyes. "You know some martial arts, right? You'll have to defend yourself."

"Ritsuko-san," Shinji said thinly. "That thing was blowing up helicopters and dodging missiles when Misato-san and I got here. Do you seriously expect me to fight that thing in hand-to-hand combat?"

Ritsuko leaned towards him, bringing her face within inches of his. "Yes."

Shinji felt his face growing hot, the doctor's breath moving across his face sensuously. "How long do you think I'll last?"

"Five nano-seconds." She replied, matter-of-factly.

Shinji's voice temporarily abandoned him. "And I'm... and I'm supposed to beat it?" He squeaked out.

Ritsuko smiled. "Of course, dummy." She kissed him on the cheek, winking again. "For motivation."

"Wait, how about some body armor!" The door was already closed in his face. He noticed the green button change to a glowing orange, then to red before he dared to push it.

Nothing happened.

"Umm... Ritsuko-san? Hello? Anybody? HEY!"

"You wanted to wear your street clothes, Shinji-kun." Ritsuko's voice said from the other side of the door. "Suit yourself. Get it? 'Suit' yourself? BUWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"

*I'm going to die at the hands of a madwoman.* Shinji thought to himself as the entire room was bathed in red light. The door started _sliding_ towards him, taking the rest of the wall with it. In a matter of seconds, he was down the far half of the room. He noticed the line on the floor had been covered by the mobile wall before him. His heart leapt into his throat as the entire space started to shake violently.

"H-hey! This isn't funny!!!"

The room, quite clearly an elevator, suddenly shot upwards, nearly forcing the boy to his knees. Shinji screamed and his life flashed before his eyes, centering briefly on the doctor who had put him here, and then on his worthless father, who seemed to enjoy a personal hobby of making his only son's life a living Hell.

His last plea, a prayer, before reaching the surface, was that he might visit the proper vengeance upon his father before he died.

After this, of course. It was time to kick some serious ass.

- TbC