Fragmented Lives The Parody Pieces Chapter 2: 01 Reluctant Recruit, an evangelion fanfic

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Fragmented Lives (The Parody)

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"Fragmented Lives (THE PARODY)" is Copyright (c) 2002 by DBM. This work is an Amateur, Non-Commercial work by an Anime/Manga Fan. This work was created in the Spirit of the Copyright Exemptions regarding Parodies and Satire.

If you like my work, you may keep a copy for your own personal records, but you may NOT post it on any websites/newsgroups, NOR may you include it in any printed publication for sale/public distribution. If printing out a copy for yourself or a friend, you may reformat it (paragraph spacing, page-breaks, font and font size, borders, bold/italic, etc) to fit the paper you use, but please do not change any of the actual words or wording in the document.

Sole web-posting at FanFiction.Net - Author's E-Mail address on File.

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Censorship Info and Disclaimer.

NOT Recommended for Children.

Intended for MATURE Audiences.

There are NO 'sex scenes', but, just like the original NGE series, the story will explore the results and side effects of such activities. Along the way, there'll be swearing, violence, drugs, Adult situations, and frank discussions of sex education/family planning information, as well as thoughts and opinions on the morals and ethics of sexual assault, dating, courtship, marriage, alternate sexualities, pregnancy, childbirth, parenthood, Family Values, etc.

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Fandom Alerts and Disclaimer.

AU Alert (Alternate Universe).

OOC Alert (Out Of Character).

ACC Alert (Author Created Character).

SI Alert (Self Insert - Author appears in the story as a character).

SPOILER Alert (May 'spoil' surprises in the Manga and Anime TV/Movies).

' ' denotes thoughts.

" " denotes speech

denotes other method of communication.

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Fragment - Reluctant Recruit…

It was a bleak winter day. Beneath bleak grey skies, a cold wind blew through the ruined buildings of the abandoned industrial suburb.

The lone figure of a middle-aged man carefully picked his way through the run down streets, pausing every now and then to get his bearings. The man stopped outside the fire-gutted shell of an older style brick building, his eyes looking over the crumbling wreck, silently appraising it.

Then with a cautious tread, the man entered…

Inside, the building was a mess. The fire had been extinguished before it could cleanly kill the building, and while parts of the building had been destroyed, other parts had survived the onslaughts of both fire and fire fighter.

The man frowned as he noted that not all of the damage was ancient. Obscene graffiti decorated the walls, and the place reeked of stale urine and excrement. Here and there, discarded needles gave mute evidence that drug addicts had used the building.

The man made his way gingerly through the structure, stepping over items he preferred not to recognise, and trying not to step in other items recognisable by smell alone…

A lop-sided metal staircase adorned the back wall. The man put a tentative foot on the lowest stair, testing for support. Faintly satisfied when it didn't collapse, the man warily advanced to an upper level.

It was here, in a water damaged side room partly open to the grey skies above, that the man finally found what he was looking for. A clustered bundle of stinking rags in a pile of garbage.

The man wrinkled his nose as it was assailed by the stench of a body long unwashed and uncared for. He watched the rag heap for a few minutes, as it moved to the slow rhythm of its occupant. Then the man loudly cleared his throat.

Bloodshot eyes looked out suspiciously from a face layered with personal filth.

"I know why you're here…" the man said quietly, watching the bundle of rags for any response, "I know… who you were…"

A shudder ran through the rag collection, and a skeletally thin hand produced a bottle and lifted it to unseen lips. The sound of gulping accompanied the smell of Methylated Spirits…

The man watched the Metho drinking wretch with a mixture of pity and disgust.

"Do you know why I'm here?" the man asked. Getting no response, the man continued, "I have a use for you…"

Almost immediately, the man frowned. He really hadn't meant to use those words. But despite a person's best intentions, Freudian slips still happen.

The rags began to move, the top of the heap slowly shaking from side to side.

"…no…" whispered a cracked voice, "…no more… …never again…"

"You are the only one who can do this," the man quietly urged, "You are the only one who can be what you were…"

"**NO**!" came the high-pitched, pain filled scream, "I **WON'T** DO IT AGAIN!"

The man took a step back at the force of the other's outburst.

"Y-You don't… know…" whined the rag heap, its voice creaking into sobs, "…w-what… they… I never… wanted… THEY did… n-not me… nuh mee…"

Tears made relatively clean track marks through the grime.

"…I know…" the man repeated quietly, "But it won't be like THAT… The job I want you for… It's… who you were, yes! But… it's not you as THEY wanted you to be… Things won't be as THEY want them to be… Trust me… Things will be better!"

The heap looked at the man, distrust glaring sullenly through the dirt.

"…why should I believe YOU?" the words were low and venomous, "…you're one of them… Aren't you? An Otaku?"

"Yes," the man reluctantly admitted, "I am an… 'Otaku'… But… I'm Australian…" (NOTE - Otaku = Anime Fan in Western World, but = 'weirdo/loser' in Japan…)

"…aus-Australian?" the heap blinked in surprise.

"Yes," the man nodded, "I'm NOT American… Then there's the fact that I'm middle aged, rather than being 'twenty-something', teenaged, or pre-teen…"

The heap straightened up slightly as its sunken eyes appraised the man.

The man continued, "And you know what my Nationality, and my AGE mean, don't you? The first I knew of… your kind… was through the early dubbed works of the Great Osamu Tezuka in the late 1960's, and early 1970's…"

The heap straightened up more…

"I watched Disney as a child…" the man rambled on, "And by that, I mean the 'Good Stuff', like 'Fantasia', 'Mary Poppins'… Then there were the puppet shows 'ThunderBirds' and 'Captain Scarlet'… I found the Great American comic books in my Teenage years… 'Archie' and 'MAD' comics… 'Marvel' when it was Stan Lee at the helm… 'DC' via the black and white reprints of 'Superman' and the 'Legion of Superheroes'… I read Real Books too, by Great Authors like Asimov, Burroughs, Heinlein, London, Lovecraft… Then there was 'Robotech' in my early Twenties…"

A sob escaped the heap, and it shook slightly.

"As an adult…" the man knelt amid the trash, "I became a fan of Steve Gallacci's 'Albedo'… A Sci-Fi story about Animal based Genetic Constructs… Through him, I discovered 'Furry Fandom', the Anthropomorphic Genre that covers everything from Traditional Werewolves to Extraterrestrial Aliens, and which runs the gamut from Cartoon Funny Animals like 'Bugs Bunny', to serious literary works like 'Maus'…"

The man's face fell, "That was just before the Smut Glut…"

"Have you heard of the Smut Glut?" the man asked with a weary sigh, "Sometime in the… what? Late 80's? Early 90's? Suddenly, it seemed that every second comic book in the English-speaking world had an 'Adults Only' tag. 'Adult'? Yeah, right… Wasn't because they were meant to be read by people with intellectual and emotional maturity… More like suckers with enough income to waste on the crap…"

The man fell silent for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "Not that ALL of it was poorly written, badly drawn rip-off garbage printed on 'toilet roll' grade paper… There WERE a few gems of Genuine Literature amid the sewage, such as the Modern Woman's Slice of Life comic 'Naughty Bits' by Roberta Gregory…"

"Do you know," the man asked, "What the 'Smut Glut' did to us Fans?"

The heap didn't answer.

"Many left the Fandom in tears…" the man whispered in pained tones, "What we had once seen as something intensely 'personal', had been tainted forever…"

The man paused, a sorrowful look on his face, "And as for the various Fandoms… Well, 'Furry Fandom' suffered to the extent that even now, it still has a dubious reputation on the Internet. The term 'Skunk F--KER' is used with the implication that it actually happens… Whatever species is actually involved…"

"And now," the man's voice dropped slightly as his gaze went off into the distance, "Japan is having it's OWN version of the Smut Glut… Famous characters are being used and abused in Doujinshi on the Internet… But I don't have to tell YOU that, do I?"

The heap slumped in response.

"That's partly why I'm here…" the man said as he stood, "I know how the 'Others' have portrayed you… What they've done to you… What they've made you do…

A trembling sob escaped from the heap.

"I swear I won't do any of that to you," the man promised, "Come with me… Be a part of my Fan Fiction. I'll make you into a Person you can live with…"

"…must I live?" the heap asked in a forlorn voice, "…can't you let me die?"

"Do you want to die?" the man probed, "If so, I can write that into the story…"

"…yes…" admitted the heap, "…I don't want to exist… as they see me…"

"I'll respect your wish, as much as I can," the man said, holding out his hand, "I can't give you Eternal Oblivion, but I can grant you Absolution… via Death…"

Which character do you think it would be? Read on for MY choice…

The Heap reached out a grateful hand, as Gendou's Archetype accepted the offer…

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Welcome to "Fragmented Lives", a set of vignettes and scenes that may, or may not, become solid parts of the "Altered Lives - The Parody" Alternate Universe.

…I hope you'll enjoy the read…

DBM - From somewhere in Australia, the Land of Tree-Hugging Funnelwebs

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