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Fragmented Lives (The Parody Pieces)
"Fractions of Twelve"
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Copyright Info and Disclaimer.
"Neon Genesis Evangelion" is Copyright (c) 2003 by Gainax. All OTHER material is Copyright (c) 2003 their owners. All materials used for PARODY purposes.
"Altered Lives (The Parody)" and "Fragmented Lives (The Parody Pieces)" are Copyright (c) 2003 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 emphasis, or electronic communication.
denotes other method of communication.
--- denotes letters deleted for censorship reasons.
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Author's Ramblings - Based on the words of Doctor Ritzy Akatlover, the Rave Clones can 'prove' to their OWN satisfaction, that since they are not of Human origin, then they are not Human.
But… If the Clones aren't Human, can they truly hope to find happiness with the Human they love?
For one Clone at least, 'hope springs eternal'…
These are some thoughts on what might be, focusing on the interactions of the Clone known as 'Twelve'…
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Fragment - Therapy? (after Twelve leaves Hospital - 2016?)
Mazurka lay beside the pool in the Clones' apartment block, soaking up the special peace and tranquillity that could only be found in this place.
A peace and tranquillity that was not marred in the slightest by the dozens of Clones using the pool for exercise and physio-therapy purposes.
As was their habit, the Clones went about their duties with silent efficiency, not bothering to speak unless necessary, and making little fact of their presence. Even the injured bore the pain of their therapy with silent faces.
The sound of their splashing, added an oddly relaxing ambience to the poolroom, similar to the effect of surf on a beach, or the trickle of a waterfall.
Or at least, until Shakey walked in, pushing Twelve in her wheelchair…
Mazurka felt a change ripple through the 'ambience' of the pool area.
It was a sensation that was hard to define scientifically, but any Real Woman would instantly recognise the effect.
That of a group of teenage girls suddenly aware that a boy they liked was near.
Any Real Woman would also know what such a change could mean…
All through the poolroom, the female Clones suddenly changed slightly in their attitude, subtly changing position, as if to be able to watch Shakey better.
'Hmmm,' thought Mazurka, trying not to grin, 'I think things might just get interesting around here…'
The cause of the change, one Shakey Atari, was blissfully unaware of the effect he'd just had on the occupants of the Pool room. This was partly because he was being overly attentive and concerned for the health and well-being of the crippled Clone in the wheelchair. The Clone who'd been crippled saving Shakey's life, weeks before…
"Shakey, will you please help me into the water?" Twelve softly asked.
"Sure," Shakey agreed with a chivalrous smile. His smile became rather strained as Twelve removed her wrap/bathrobe, to reveal she was wearing a navy and white striped bikini. Shakey blushed…
The bikini was by no means skimpy, and certainly covered as much of Twelve's figure as Aesir's bikini did hers. However, compared to the one-pieces the Clones usually wore, it did appear rather 'revealing'.
Mazurka couldn't help but grin at Shakey's reaction. She'd told Twelve that a bikini like Aesir's would certainly get a boy's attention. She'd even helped Twelve pick this particular one out in the shop, with help from another Clone…
"Well?" asked Twelve.
"Sorry," Shakey apologised, reaching out to help her out of her wheelchair.
"Shakey," Twelve said, as the embarrassed boy gingerly put his arms around her.
"What?"
"Are you getting in the pool dressed like that?" Twelve asked, indicating Shakey's current getup of house slippers, shorts, and t-shirt.
"Ah… Heh!" blushed Shakey, "Just a minute…" He quickly pulled his t-shirt off, and shed his slippers. Then he lifted Twelve out of her wheelchair and carried her over to the ramp that led down into the shallow end of the pool.
For her part, Twelve put her arms around Shakey and clung on with more strength than was needed in the situation…
Shakey sloshed his way down into the water. When it reached past his stomach, he told Twelve, "You should be able to float from here…"
Twelve loosened her grip on Shakey, letting the water support her body weight. She kept a firm hold on Shakey's arm though, using him as an anchor point as she floated on her back in the water.
"Will you help me with my therapy?" Twelve asked.
"Uh…" Shakey hesitantly answered, "I don't know much about Physio stuff…"
"We can show you," offered another Clone nearby.
"But…" Shakey tried to argue.
"Your help will be appreciated," another Clone stated, "Despite our numbers, we are always short-handed when it comes to helping the injured."
Mazurka tried hard not to laugh at that, 'Yeah! Right!' she thought to herself, 'Tell him another one! That's only if they ALL try to do their Physio at once…'
"Well… Um… If it's something easy…" Shakey was torn between his desire to help the Clones, and his fear of fouling things up.
"Do not worry Shakey," said Twelve, "We are in a pool, I can not fall over and break."
"So what do I do?" asked Shakey, feeling sheepish.
"Stand there," instructed another Clone, "And let Twelve use your arms to help keep her steady in the water when she kicks her legs."
So it was, that Shakey Atari stood for over an hour in a swimming pool, helping a crippled girl get back the use of her legs.
Unaware of the social therapy he was also providing to the Clones…
Mazurka was more than satisfied with events, 'A few more sessions like this,' she thought, 'And the Girls will be ready to hit the beaches for real…'
Mazurka looked wistfully at the Clones, 'Going by the 'looks' and 'figures' the Girls have now, they'll be real heartbreakers when they grow up… Sooner or later, the males around them will realise that, and they'll start being asked out on dates… It's best if they're not totally unprepared… Good thing they know a nice boy like Shakey… He'll help them get used to boys…'
Mazurka picked up a clipboard beside her, and made a note, 'Bikini okay… Contact manufacturer for bulk order… in different colours…'
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Fragment - Lord of the Dunces. (after Twelve leaves hospital - 2016?)
Shakey Atari had endured more than his fair share of stressful situations in his brief 15 years of life…
He'd experienced severe emotional hardship, and agonising physical pain…
He'd been seriously injured, and had woken up in an intensive care ward more times than he wanted to remember…
He'd had to fight to the death over a dozen times, in valiant attempts to save the entire Human race…
He'd been 'lost in Action', and 'written off' as dead at least twice…
He'd looked the 'Grim Reaper' in the bony orbs, and LIVED to tell the tale!
None of which helped him now, as he endured one of the most harrowing rites of passage ANY teenage boy could expect to face…
…Learning to Dance…
Or, more correctly, learning to Dance by helping LOTS of pretty young girls learn how to dance…
…Girls that 'liked' him…
In the main Clone Zone training hall, Shakey was currently engaged in helping a small group of Clones learn how to do the 'Waltz'.
Mostly, the Clones twirled around the floor on their own. They moved in perfect synch to music from a small 'boom-box', learning the basic moves by heart.
However, as part of their lessons, the Clones had insisted that Shakey honour a promise he'd made previously. Namely, that he would dance with EACH of them…
Shakey didn't really mind, after all, he DID like the Clones, and he DID want to help them develop normal lives. Although, he wasn't sure if his own clumsy efforts to dance were of any help to the graceful Clones. His own talents were a source of embarrassment to him, but at least the Clones were polite enough to ignore his mistakes.
Still, if the truth were told, Shakey would gladly endure any embarrassment for the Clones. He'd even sacrifice his own life for theirs, or heroically endure any tortuous hardship he could imagine.
…But that didn't stop Shakey from wishing the Clones wouldn't hold him so 'close', or squeeze him so **HARD** as they danced with him…
"Er…" Shakey squeaked at his current dance partner, "Not so tight… Please?"
"Sorry," the Clone whispered, easing the 'death-grip' she had on Shakey.
The pressure on his rib cage relented, allowing Shakey to breathe once more. 'They mustn't know their own strength…' he thought.
Soon enough, the short dance lesson was over, and the Clones had to go to their other assigned studies and duties.
"Thank You, Shakey," the Clones all chorused softly. Shakey nodded silently in acknowledgement, wheezing slightly as he sat on the lowest row of a set of raised seating benches.
The Clones began trooping out, although some stayed behind to help tidy the place up.
"I'll take care of that," offered Shakey, "You go to your next class."
The Clones hesitated, then nodded their acceptance and left, leaving Shakey alone in the Training Hall.
"Let's see now," muttered Shakey, running through a checklist, "Music disks? Check! Dance instruction booklets? One, two, three…"
Shakey came up a few short of the number he was supposed to have. Looking around the hall, he realised that some of the booklets had fallen down between the raised seating benches. As luck would have it, he couldn't quite reach them, and had to partially crawl underneath to get them.
'Almost there' thought Shakey reaching for the last booklet, 'Just a bit more…'
"Shakey?" asked a soft voice from behind him.
The sudden surprise caused Shakey's battle-honed, cat-like reflexes to kick in. His graceful response involved him hitting his head on the underside of the bench above him with a dull MEATY thud.
"OWWwww!" Shakey groaned, as stars swam before his eyes.
"Are you all right?" asked the soft voice in concerned tones.
Shakey slowly opened his eyes, and looked towards the source of the voice.
…And saw a blue-haired Clone with a worried look on her face… In a wheelchair…
"Twelve?" Shakey croaked, "Is that you?"
"Yes. I am me," replied Twelve, smiling at their 'private joke'.
"What brings you here?" asked Shakey, crawling out from under the bench with the last of the instruction booklets.
"I…" Twelve suddenly looked nervous, "…wanted to ask… a favour…"
"Sure!" Shakey didn't wait to hear what the favour was. He'd do anything for the Clones, especially Twelve, the Clone who'd been crippled saving his life.
"Then close your eyes," Twelve murmured.
Shakey suddenly wasn't too sure about things.
"I have a little surprise for you," added Twelve.
Shakey **REALLY** wasn't too sure about things. He began to sweat drop as a sudden apprehension swept over him.
"Trust me," Twelve smiled at him.
Shakey gulped, then did as Twelve had asked, and closed his eyes.
The sudden lack of vision, coupled with Shakey's apprehension about things in general, considerably boosted the sensitivity of his other senses. He heard sounds of exertion, the rustle of cloth, and the squeak of the wheelchair as Twelve obviously moved about. Doing something…
"You can look now," Twelve's voice was tinged with the breathy aftermath of physical exertion.
Shakey cautiously opened his eyes.
There before him, stood the crippled Clone known as Twelve.
Stood… The crippled Clone… By herself… Without crutches…
"Twelve!" exclaimed Shakey, a sudden grin of wondrous joy marking his face, "You can stand!? How? When?"
"Yes," Twelve had more than a hint of pride in her voice, "I have healed enough to stand, and walk unaided for short periods. Since last week…"
"That's GREAT!" enthused Shakey, ecstatic that his friend was recovering.
"Now," breathed Twelve, a sudden shyness in her voice, "About that favour…"
Shakey blinked, realising that 'closing his eyes' must NOT have been the favour Twelve wanted from him…
"Would you dance with me?" Twelve asked quietly, dispelling Shakey's doubts.
"Sure… I'd be glad to," Shakey confirmed with a smile, "No matter how long your convalescence takes, I'll dance with you."
"I meant now," Twelve barely breathed.
"B-but," Shakey spluttered, obviously caught off-balance by Twelve's request.
"Please Shakey," Twelve pleaded with tears in her eyes, "You do not know what it has been like… Lying in bed, unable to move, dependent on other people… Knowing that the Others are doing things you can not…"
Shakey was only 15, and the sight of someone he cared for, practically begging him to treat them like he did other people moved him…
"A-all right," Shakey conceded.
Twelve looked at him with relief in her eyes.
"But only on two conditions!" Shakey cautiously asserted, not wanting to make things worse for Twelve.
Twelve looked at him expectantly.
"One! We take things slow and easy, and if you have any problems, or are in any pain, you tell me! All Right?" Shakey knew that the Clones dealt with pain by the age-old method of 'grin and bear it'. Although the Clones didn't so much as 'grin', as use a 'poker-face' instead.
Twelve nodded meekly.
"Two! We do a simple dance! The ones the others are learning would certainly strain you too much. All Right?"
Twelve nodded, a faint smile on her face.
Shakey breathed a sigh of relief, then rummaged through the music disks, looking for some music appropriate to the situation. Something slow and easy… He smiled as he found what he was looking for, and popped it into the boom-box.
"Okay Twelve," Shakey turned to the Clone, "We'll do what's known as a 'cheek' dance. It's set to slow music, and there's no sudden or demanding movements. Basically, we stand close together, and sway in time to the music."
"All right," agreed Twelve, satisfied with the fact she'd be dancing at all, even if it wasn't the same dances as her sisters were doing.
Shakey pressed 'play' on the boom box, then surprised Twelve by stepping up to her and taking her in his arms, pressing her firmly against him. "Don't worry," he murmured by way of explanation, "I'll help support your body weight. Don't be afraid to lean on me if you have to…"
Twelve gratefully looped her own arms around Shakey, and firmly hugged him back.
The music started, and Shakey began to move, swaying gently from side to side, in time to the slow relaxing beat of the music. "Take it slow and easy now," he said quietly to Twelve, "Don't rush, just relax and find your own pace…"
The slow beat of the music and the gentle swaying motions began to affect Twelve. She began to relax, and sway in time to the music. She rested her head on Shakey's shoulder, and closed her eyes as she let the magic of the moment wash over her.
True, the dance wasn't much more than a standing hug that swayed from side to side. But for Twelve, who had spent long weeks in a hospital bed, unable to move about, or in a wheelchair, or struggling on crutches, it felt like freedom itself…
This physical proof of her rehabilitation caused a sense of accomplishment to run through Twelve, and her spirits soared. After all that time suffering, able to experience 'real life' only through her sisters 'second-hand' memories, Twelve was finally on the brink of a whole new life of her own.
Unnoticed by Shakey, tears of joy welled in Twelve's eyes.
…And sharing this moment of triumph with her, helping her to have that moment, his actions giving that moment to her like some sort of personal gift, was the boy Twelve cared for. A boy that Twelve knew, cared for Twelve and her 'sisters'.
'He cares for us…' Twelve thought, a smile on her face, 'He wants to help us feel better… Even this dance… He is trying to protect me… He cares… for ME!'
Twelve's face pinked slightly as she realised that her heartbeat had changed to match that of Shakey's.
'Two hearts…' she mused, 'Beating as one… Is this how two people start to 'become one'? Would he want… me… as his 'girlfriend'?'
Twelve's face got pinker as a memory of the Second Rave arose in her mind.
The Second Rave and Shakey had been in an elevator, and Shakey had made a comment about how the Second Rave would 'make a great mother'…
'Would he want me… as the Mother of his children?' Twelve wondered.
Mazurka's 'Life Education' lessons had covered some of the morals and ethics of Dating, Romance and Marriage. In particular, how every child deserved a caring family. Mazurka had been quick to point out, that it didn't matter whether the family was a 'traditional' one, an 'extended' one, a 'tribal' one or a 'village' one, so long as the child was properly cared for, and had proper 'Role Models'…
And one of the MOST important of those 'Role Models' was the one the Parents of the child provided. That is, did they treat each other with love and respect?
…Or as Mazurka had put it, "Raising Children requires COMMITMENT from those involved in creating the child in the first place. In our current society, the proof of that commitment is formalised by the ceremony known as Marriage…"
'Would he want me… As his Bride?' Twelve's heart skipped a beat at the thought. With a deepere blush on her face, Twelve lost herself in an indulgence that girls her age often enjoyed…
…Day-dreaming about marrying the one they loved…
Shakey meanwhile, was having second thoughts about dancing with Twelve…
'Did I do the right thing?' Shakey worried, 'I asked her to tell me if she had problems… But… Would she? The Second Rave was always putting others before her own well-being and comfort… Would Twelve ignore things and 'Soldier On'?'
Shakey was mindful of his own lack of expertise in doing things properly. Aesir had OFTEN reminded him of his 'klutz' status, in NO uncertain terms… The fact that he might foul up somehow, was always in the back of his mind. All in all, the situation was not making Shakey happy. Instead, he increasingly began to see possible dangers to Twelve's health and well-being.
It was all making the rather slow and relaxing dance, to Shakey at least, seem to drag on for far too long.
Eventually, the music came to an end, and Shakey breathed a small sigh of relief.
Twelve hadn't said anything about pain or suffering, no accidents had occurred, and she was still holding him firmly, so things must be all right…
'Still,' a worried Shakey decided, 'It won't hurt to check…'
"How are you feeling Twelve?" Shakey murmured softly.
Twelve had been lost in a very pleasant day-dream, and Shakey's softly spoken words had the effect of jolting her back to reality.
Realising that she was holding the boy she'd been day-dreaming about marrying, made her already pink cheeks flame a darker shade of red in shy embarrassment. Unsure of what to say, Twelve merely lifted her head from Shakey's shoulder, although she didn't have the courage to look directly at him.
…The fact she didn't answer him, or look at him, caused Shakey's apprehensions to bloom anew…
Shakey mistook the red cheeks for a sign that Twelve had over-exerted herself, and the teary eyes as a sign that Twelve was in obvious pain. Her not answering or even looking at him, Shakey mistook as the Clones habit of 'suffering in silence', and trying not to show it.
"I'm sorry!" Shakey apologised, "I shouldn't have put on such a long piece of music! Your wheelchair's over here…"
Shakey's caring attitude didn't help Twelve's sudden bashfulness. She silently allowed Shakey to help her into her wheelchair.
With Twelve in her wheelchair, Shakey was able to make a proper job of feeling like an idiot, "I'm sorry," he repeated, "Is there any thing I can do for you?"
"No," Twelve finally spoke, "I am fine."
"Would you like me to wheel you back to your room?" Shakey persisted, his sense of guilt trying to find some way of atonement.
"That is not necessary," replied Twelve, "I am going to the Canteen…"
"Then I'll take you there!" offered Shakey, "It's the least I can do…"
Twelve merely nodded, uncertain of what else to do or say.
Shakey wheeled Twelve into the Canteen, where he got her a meal and generally continued to fuss over her. It was only after Twelve had reassured him several times that she was fine, that Shakey's conscience allowed him to leave her be.
Of course, the other Clones in the Canteen had noticed such events…
Shakey had barely left the room, before Twelve was being bombarded with messages from her 'sisters'…
Well? What Happened? Details! !!NOW!!
Twelve paused, collecting her thoughts about what had happened, before 'sending' her impressions to the others.
All around Twelve, the spirits of the Other Clones soared as their minds were instilled with a powerful sense of new-found freedom and personal hope.
…And hearts fluttered and beat faster, as impressions were received of soft music… kind words… being held firmly in the arms of the one they loved… and the gentle attentions of a caring soul…
Mindful of the happy bliss her sisters were feeling, Twelve waited a good two minutes before giving an Evil Smirk and 'sending' in oh-so-innocent tones…
I think that next Time… I will try doing the Lambada with him…
The mental response was uniform, overwhelming, and outraged…
!!Twelve!!
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Fragment - Acting in Self-Defence. (after the Final Battle, 2016-2017 ?)
Hospitals are places where the most extreme of Human dramas are played out. Everyday, one can see the bright sparks of new lives being born, the bitter clouds of broken lives in pain, and the fading shadows of lives making their farewell performances.
Lurking behind these scenes of wondrous joy, sour recriminations and heart breaking despair, is the never ending emotional tension that such things create. Some days, it appears as a faint zephyr, tasting of relief and hope. Other days, it hangs around, a stale miasma reeking of grief and doom.
On this particular day however, it was going to try yet another flavour, care of Mazurka and a squad of fully 'armed to the teeth' Rave Clones…
Mazurka scowled as her squad surged into the Hospital where Shakey was being treated after the terrorist attack.
"D--N IT!" Mazurka swore under her breath, "I should have seen this coming! Let your guard down for a second, and THAT'S when the creeps always strike… ALWAYS!"
The Clones with Mazurka said nothing, but the alert way they moved, and carried their loaded weapons spoke volumes.
Mazurka barely paused at a Nurse station to bark at the Nurse on duty, "YOU! I'm Major Kutsarug from NERVIS! Seeing Shakey Atari! Make a note!"
The Nurse didn't protest at the breach of Visitor Log-In protocols, or even Mazurka's gruff way of addressing her. This was a professional trait born of long experience of how a person's emotions affected their ability to interact in a polite, harmonious social manner…
Then it agin, it might have had something to do with the quietly menacing attitude of the Clones that had already 'secured' the Hospital. Let alone the 'no-nonsense' attitudes of the heavily armed squad with Mazurka…
Mazurka strode briskly down a corridor that already had several Rave Clones guarding it. She stopped outside a room guarded by another two Rave Clones, one of whom opened the door for her…
Inside, Mazurka found another two Rave Clones standing 'close watch' over a familiar young man in a Hospital bed.
"Mazurka?" Shakey asked sheepishly, "Can I go home now?"
Mazurka glared at Shakey for a few seconds, then slumped and breathed deeply in relief, "When I heard about the attack… I was worried about you…"
"I was fine…" Shakey mumbled, "The Clones kept me safe…"
Mazurka smiled, "Yes… I did hear HOW Twelve 'kept you safe'…"
Shakey suddenly seemed even more embarrassed…
The smile left Mazurka's face, "You were lucky this time Shakey… If the Clones hadn't gotten there…" Mazurka trailed off, not needing to explain further.
Shakey looked down at the sheets in front of him, ashamed at the truth in Mazurka's unspoken observation.
All through his life, Shakey had defended himself by the tried and true method of 'Running Like H--L' away from any confrontation. Such a basic strategy had always served him well.
But then the day came when he found out the hard way, that there were some things you just couldn't run away from…
…The day he tried to save an injured girl by piloting an AVE in her place…
Afterwards, he'd gone on to save the Human Race by being a reluctant AVE pilot.
After his piloting days were over, Shakey had gladly returned to his old method. He'd never really had the heart of a fighter in the first place, and he'd been too sickened by the war he'd had to fight to want to learn about 'self-defence'.
…Then a group of terrorists had attacked the remnants of the NERVIS Base, trying to kill what key personnel remained…
When all H--L had suddenly broken loose around him, Shakey turned tail and ran.
…Only to find that the fight he ran from, chased after him…
After the first bomb blast had taken people by surprise, the terrorists made themselves and their true target known, blasting away at Shakey and relentlessly pursuing him when he ran away.
Shakey's intimate knowledge of the city was the only thing that saved him. He had run for his life, using every winding alley, every nook and cranny he could think of to throw his pursuers off his trail.
Shakey's attempt to escape saw the buildings in the wake of his flight peppered with the bullets that sought his flesh, with several walls falling to explosive blasts that caressed the fleeing youth with shrapnel. Despite his terrified best efforts, Shakey had eventually run out of room in which to run…
Other groups of terrorists appeared, cutting off intended avenues of escape, forcing Shakey to go in other directions, herding him towards the gaping hole blasted in the dome over the underground NERVIS Base.
Finally cornered between bullets and a drop into an abyss, several Clones had arrived on the scene, and quickly wiped out the threat to their beloved Shakey.
…But not before the terrorists had used their last weapon… Poison Gas…
Seeing the danger wafting towards them, a Clone had grabbed Shakey, yelling "Hold on tight!" at him, before leaping with him over the edge of the precipice.
Facing a miles long fall into the darkness below, Shakey had screamed in fear and reflexively grabbed the Clone in a death grip. The Clone had merely tightened her own grip on Shakey, and spread her E.T. Field, flexing it into a facsimile of a Hang Gliders aerofoil.
It had been a long slow glide down to a recovery team at the bottom of the drop, but the Clone known as Twelve wasn't in any hurry…
The hardy Clone was only too willing to misinterpret Shakey's nervous 'death grip' on her as being some sort of 'romantic' clinch. Which partly explained the 'death grip' Twelve happily inflicted on Shakey's physique on the way down…
…As Twelve said in her Official report later, "I held Shakey Atari firmly, so that there would be no chance of his accidentally falling away…"
As well as how diligently Twelve had 'patted' Shakey down, looking for any injuries on their slow way to the ground…
…As Twelve recounted to the envy of the other Clones later on… So ripe, so firm, so fully packed…
The entire situation had been more than somewhat embarrassing for poor Shakey…
In the time since the incident, the mostly uninjured Shakey had been 'secured' in the Hospital under the watchful eyes of the fretful Clones.
"Oh, Shakey," Mazurka shook her head as she looked at the young man before her, "I'm afraid that you'll HAVE to learn to defend yourself!"
Shakey nodded silently, he couldn't find any way of arguing against it, not after what had just happened.
The Clones in the room said as one, "We will be happy to help train him."
"You are?" Mazurka smiled at the offer.
"Err," Shakey wasn't overly thrilled at the prospect of being trained by a bunch of pretty young females, "I'm not sure that's such a good idea…"
"Would you rather Aesir trained you?" Mazurka replied dryly.
"Aesir? NO!" Shakey turned pale as a vision of Aesir mopping the floor with him sprang into his mind.
"Then it's settled," Mazurka said in her Command voice, "You'll start training with the Clones as soon as you leave the Hospital. NO buts!"
"…all right…" sighed Shakey, still not convinced but resigned to his fate.
That afternoon, Shakey found himself in the Clone Zone Training Hall, with a dozen Clones dressed in various Martial Arts uniforms.
"…err…" Shakey felt the need to ask the first of the many questions he'd have on his way to Warrior Enlightenment, "How do we do this?"
"One on One Training," chorused the Clones.
"One on One Training?" Shakey felt more than a little confused, given the number of Clones in the Training Hall.
"Correct," confirmed the Clones.
"Okay, so… Which of you is first?" Shakey asked the obvious question.
"She is," clarified the Clones pointing behind Shakey.
Shakey slowly turned, feeling more than a Vague Feeling of Impending Doom.
Behind him, stood the Clone known as Twelve.
Dressed in a rather 'figure-flattering' string bikini.
"Err?" squeaked Shakey, turning more than slightly red, "Sh-shouldn't you be in your tr-training clothes?"
"These are my training clothes," Twelve advised in a soft voice.
"B-but," spluttered Shakey, "You're not dressed anything like the others!" he turned and pointed at the other Clones for emphasis.
Shakey suddenly froze dead, his jaw hitting the floor as he saw that the other Clones were now dressed in outfits similar to Twelve's. Their various Martial Arts uniforms folded neatly on the floor beside them.
"…wha??" Shakey wheezed in shock, not understanding what was going on.
"We have analysed your situation," advised the Clones, "And we have devised 'Special Training' exercises, to rapidly develop the skills you need."
Shakey blinked, "Special Training exercises?"
"Yes," confirmed the Clones, "We will start with one of the most basic of self-defense techniques, that of 'grappling'…"
"G-grappling?"
"Yes. One of the first things you must learn, is how to get and maintain a hold on another person, and how to break out of a hold they may get on you…"
Shakey gulped, he had a BAD feeling about where this was going…
…And Shakey DEFINITELY didn't feel any better when he noticed Twelve was rubbing Baby Oil on herself.
"…b-baby oil…?" Shakey asked in disbelief.
Twelve nodded, "Yes. Each Special Training exercise will provide you with an extra level of challenge, that will help develop your skills."
The Clones took the stunned Shakey by his arms, and gently guided him towards a children's wading pool set up on the floor.
Shakey took one look at the contents of the pool and went chalky white.
"…th… th… this is…?" Shakey stuttered, pointing at the pool.
"Well," clarified Twelve, making soft squelching noises as she entered the pool, "Grappling IS sometimes referred to as 'wrestling'. So we thought…"
Shakey's anguished wail of Mortal Embarrassment echoed hauntingly throughout the building. Then he turned in one blindingly fast fluid move, and ran like H--L out of the training hall.
The Clones tried to stop Shakey, but it appeared that their brief lesson had been VERY effective in teaching him how to get out of someone's grasp.
We do not understand… thought the perplexed Group Mind of the Clones, We have followed Popular Human Culture on these things to the letter…?
Twelve looked at the contents of the wading pool she was standing in, then sent, Perhaps he does not like Lime flavoured Jelly?
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Fragment - Push Comes to Shove… (2022, before Shakey's 21st Birthday)
Despite their own feelings for Shakey, the Clones decide it would be best if Shakey 'married' one of his own kind, someone who could be to him, all that one of his own kind could be…
…But NOT without serious 'internal debate' in the Group Mind…
To prompt Shakey along his life's path, the Clones send him their newest album, (Clones are several Singing Groups by now) along with a message written in German.
Shakey can't read the message so he gives it over to Aesir. Aesir takes one look, and nearly blows a fuse…
Put simply, the message from the Clones goes something like this…
"Dear Aesir, is it true that in Europe an unmarried man becomes a Bachelor on his 21st birthday, while an unmarried woman becomes an OLD MAID?"
Aesir proposed to Shakey that very night, and asked that the wedding be as soon as possible…
…Or to put it mildly, before Aesir had her 21st birthday at the end of the year…
…And THAT, is when the Effluent met the Aerofoil…
Note - Aesir has her birthday on December 4, some months AFTER Shakey has his on June 6. In the NGE TV series, Asuka didn't actually appear until early 2016, some time after her 14th birthday in late 2015. Going by Gainax's release of Rei's 'birth date' as being March 30 2001, Rei is some two months older than Shinji, and Shinji is some six months older than Asuka…
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Fragment - Fencing Fiancées. (2022, Shakey and Rave are 21, Aesir is 20)
It is the hope of every parent, that their child will grow up healthy and strong…
It is the dread of every parent, that their child will grow up sooner rather than later, and no longer be the innocent babe of memories dear…
Shakey Atari had grown into a Fine Young Man by the time of his 21st birthday, despite the long odds he had faced in the AVE wars of several short years ago.
Shakey now looked much like many other young men his age. Sporting a 'low-maintenance' hairstyle, his shaven face often wore wrap-around sunglasses and a couple of day's worth of stubble (just like a friend from his younger days). His tall and slender frame was usually garbed in casual clothing that hid the wiry muscles he'd developed as an amateur long-distance runner. His Mind and body honed by Tai Chi and Yoga, disciplines he pursued more for Psychological Harmony and Well-being than mere Physical health.
Although 'Harmony' was a thing Shakey needed more of on some days, than others…
Aesir sat at the kitchen table in Shakey's apartment, scowling at the pile of papers she was sifting through…
Shakey, for his part, was trying not to do or say anything to upset his intended wife as she sorted out the final details of their wedding. Although Aesir had mellowed out a lot over the last few years, her legendary quick temper had replaced the slapping hand of old with a sharp wit and matching tongue.
The sudden sound of the doorbell rang through the apartment.
"I'll get it!" Shakey yelled, glad for the excuse to be elsewhere.
Shakey opened the door, his usual greeting cut off as he saw who was there…
…Which in THIS particular case, was a well-dressed woman in high heels, a veiled hat, and a snug fitting silky dress with the sort of plunging neckline that drew attention to her chest rather than hid it.
"Shakey!" the mystery woman husked, her smile accented by a fashionable shade of lipstick, "Come to my arms and rest your weary soul in the bosom of my love!"
Whereupon Shakey was unceremoniously 'bear-hugged' by the surprisingly strong woman. And because of the High Heels, quite-a-bit-taller-than-Shakey-was woman…
"…mmpfff!" said Shakey, his face and words muffled more by warm feminine flesh than the clothing that barely contained it…
"Oh Dear!" the icy-toned words came from somewhere behind Shakey, "It appears my FIANCEE has become stuck in your cleavage… Please, ALLOW ME!"
A short 'tug-of'war' ensued with Shakey playing the part of the rope, and Aesir and the 'Mystery Woman' the opposing teams. Aesir however, was the winner of what proved to be only another round in a long-running battle…
"HUSSY!" Aesir declared as she finally extricated Shakey from the other woman's embrace, "What so you mean by hitting on MY Fiancee like that?"
"Just because he's YOUR Fiancee," the other woman replied in a honeyed voice, "Doesn't mean he need fear a dull life, bereft of Passionate Lovemaking…"
"WHAT?" Aesir asked in the sort of 'mild' tones that had Shakey backing away unobtrusively WITHOUT any prompting from his 'Vague Sense of Impending Doom'…
…Which, by the way, was not only giving Shakey timetable information for the next buses and trains out of town, but an updated traffic report so he could get to the Transport terminal faster…
"Well," the mystery woman continued, "You may be the one who's going to be his wife, but I can at least apply for the position of his Mistress… Whatever 'positions' that may entail…"
Shakey stopped trying to be 'unobtrusive' and ran like H--L…
"TWELVE…" Aesir growled in tones that would warn off a Tiger, "Is that YOU?"
"What CAN I say," the Clone known as Twelve purred in haughty tones, "Like my Bust line, my Fame precedes me, unlike SOME people I could mention…"
Shakey meanwhile, was in his 'Den', a small room that he'd specially modified for events just like this one. Well, perhaps not EXACTLY just like this, but definitely for any situation that fell into the 'Oh S--T! I must get out of here Right D--N Now' category…
From a wardrobe, Shakey grabbed a large carry bag and a smaller backpack. Donning the backpack, he dragged the carry bag over to the single window that the room had, and pulled a lever on the window frame. With a click, the entire window frame lifted up and away, leaving a large rectangular shaped hole in the wall…
It was a matter of mere seconds to extract a long coil of rope from the carry bag, and attach it to a hook just outside the windowsill. A quick yank to ensure the rope was secure, then Shakey threw the entire length of coiled rope over the edge of the windowsill.
As the rope uncoiled on its way to the ground, Shakey took a rock climbing harness from the carry bag and put it on… Snapping it onto the rope, he hoisted himself out the window and began to abseil down the side of the apartment block…
Meanwhile back at the apartments door, Aesir and Twelve were escalating their level of interaction from 'Friendly Chat' to 'Amiable Conversation'…
Twelve and Aesir stood facing each other, each giving the other the sort of look best described as a 'Glare of Death', and which would make superstitious people murmur about the 'Evil Eye' before going for their protective talismans…
"He's MY Fiancee!" Aesir asserted in louder tones than needed, "I'll thank you NOT to go trying to confuse him!"
"Confuse?" Twelve retorted, "I should think it more a case of talking him back to his senses!"
"Yeah," Aesir sweetly agreed with a not-quite-sneer, "NON-sense!"
"Seriously though Aesir," Twelve said in normal tones, "He's just TOO much man for a woman like you to handle…"
"I can handle him just FINE!" Aesir insisted with a toss of her head.
"Not from what I've heard…" Twelve said under her voice.
"What was that??" Aesir demanded as her eyes narrowed in suspicion.
"Still," Twelve allowed condescendingly, "When you come to understand him and his… 'needs'… as well as WE do, you'll see just how much help you REALLY need…"
"I don't NEED your help!" Aesir stated through gritted teeth.
"Oh you will," Twelve said dismissively, "I mean just look at the facts, he's young, handsome, well-off, a pleasant personality, well-spoken, a NICE body… Overall, ALL the things any woman with half a brain looks for in a man…"
"And he's going to be all MINE!" Aesir fumed, her temper starting to boil over, "So stop talking about him like he's 'available', because he ISN'T!"
"Aesir dear," Twelve said sadly, "There are ANY number of women who'd try to take him away from you, let alone be satisfied with just 'scoring' with him… Wouldn't you rather he was enjoying himself with someone you know will treat him right, rather than some floozy who's only going to wreck your marriage?"
By this time, the whites of Aesir's eyes were turning pink, and steam was starting to come out of her ears… If Aesir was a Nuclear Reactor, the technicians would be screaming 'Melt-Down' and be running for their lives…
Meanwhile, Shakey was congratulating himself on his successful escape…
"YES!" Shakey crowed happily as he reached the ground, "It worked! I'm SAFE!!"
"Huh? What the-?" Shakey's elation was short-lived as a large sack suddenly enveloped him. Fearing the worst, he began to thrash about…
"Don't worry Shakey," a familiar female voice said soothingly, "We will soon have you 'deprogrammed' from Aesir's evil brainwashing…"
Bundling the struggling sackful into the back of a delivery truck, the Rave Clones known as Ten and Levin drove off with their prize…
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Fragment - Wedding Belles. (2022, Shakey and Rave are 21, Aesir is 20)
Weddings are strange events. No other ceremony has the ability to so subtly combine elements of happiness, sadness, and annoyance. Happy in that the ceremony is the symbol of a new hope, created by two people that love each other… Sad in that the ceremony means the end of hope for others who had hoped to marry one of those now joined in Wedded Bliss… Annoying, as could be confirmed by any poor sod who'd ever got stuck with the job of organising the details of such an event…
The Wedding of the Aesir the 'Amazon', and Shakey the 'Idiot', was no exception.
…Although in THEIR case, they did have a LOT of help getting things organised…
All 137 of the Clones pitched in, pooling their considerable talents to ensure that the wedding went off without any problems.
Even Twelve, although it nearly broke her heart…
Twelve was not alone in her misery. The rest of the Clones also felt… 'strongly' about Shakey marrying another woman, and there were many tears shed…
But that didn't stop any of the Clones from doing their best.
On the day of the wedding, Aesir stunned everyone with her Wedding gown. Designed and hand-made by the Clones, the gown was a glittering masterpiece of pearls, lace, crystal beads, and various carefully co-ordinated subtle hues of near white silk and satin, shimmering in the sunlight.
Despite their feelings, ALL of the Clones attended the ceremony…
Most of the Blue-haired Clones, were serving as Bridesmaids. The others wore SWAT outfits, and helped the 'Disguised' Clones on 'Security'. 'Real' Security Agents were in conspicuous attendance, and in rather large numbers. They performed the more menial tasks of 'crowd control'…
And was there ever a crowd to control!
The General Public had turned out in force on the day in question. Thousands of well-wishers thronged outside the chapel. The reason for such a turnout was due solely to the Media.
News of the impending marriage had found its way to the Press some time ago. The Media, sensing a 'Wedding of the Year' type of story, had besieged all of those even marginally involved, trying to get details.
Mazurka had mixed emotions about the Press finding out. On the one hand, she was appalled that the wedding might turn into some sort of 'circus', as 'Celebrity Weddings' often did. On the other hand, she was aware that such a 'Good News' item, could also be worked to the advantage of the newly weds. Several TV shows had offered somewhat 'lucrative' deals, in return for 'exclusive' stories and pictures.
Mazurka, the Clones, Shakey and Aesir had talked it over, and had decided to make the most of any 'positive imaging' it could give them. Especially if it meant that there was money to be made out of it.
Mazurka and the Clones had engaged in merciless 'cut-throat' wheeling and dealing with the Media, trying to squeeze the best deal they could out of the various Media Vultures…
But even with 'exclusive' deals signed, the other Media groups that had missed out had sent a veritable armada of news vans to cover the event.
Although she had blue hair, Twelve wasn't serving as a bridesmaid in the chapel. She stayed outside with the crowd, mingling with them at the fringes. She had volunteered for the job rather than serve as a bridesmaid, as she wasn't sure that she could handle seeing the ceremony.
She was right! On the day in question, Twelve's emotions twisted inside her like epileptic snakes.
Outside, under the shade of a tree, Twelve suddenly slumped against its trunk. 'Why Shakey?' she asked herself, 'Why marry her? Why not one of US?'
Because he still thinks of us as being 'related' to him sent Aneko#3, the Clone formerly known as the 'Third to bear the name of Rave'.
That's a crock of S--T, and you know it! sent Twelve, We've already proved that 'genetically', we are LESS related to him than Aesir is…
We might prove it to his mind, but can we prove it to his heart? sent #115, doing duty as Bridesmaid#27.
We could if we had tried insisted Twelve, wanting desperately to believe it.
Perhaps! #111 sent, from a seat in the 'guests' section of the church, But that would take time that we do not have… No, it is better this way. He is happy. We are still his friends!
We could still try! argued Twelve, We can still stop this wedding! We can MAKE the time to convince him!
No! sent #47, He needs to think of us as 'relatives'. If he thought of us as anything else, he would have to face the fact that he has lost all of his closest family, or at least, those he feels are his 'closest' family…
Twelve fell silent, knowing the truth in the arguments, but still wanting to find an alternative.
'Plip…' Something fell on Twelve's shirt… Something moist, runny and white…
Twelve's eyes widened in disbelief as she recognised the 'calling card' a bird had just dropped on her. She looked up, scanning the tree.
It had been a tough day for Twelve. Seeing the man she loved marry another woman, had stretched her nearly to breaking point. Having a bird use her as a lavatory was the final straw…
Outrage and a sense of being 'hard done by' raged through Twelve. Her tortured soul made a decision to DO something about how she felt…
Twelve 'knew' she could convince Shakey that she and the Clones WEREN'T related to him, even though Shakey hadn't really accepted that truth so far. Twelve also 'knew' she could convince Shakey, 'shy boy' that he still was, that she and the Clones loved him enough to marry him…
Not that Twelve was going to try and stop the wedding… No, Twelve had decided to do something else to alleviate the bad mood she was sinking into…
Twelve saw the offending bird on a twig directly overhead, almost hidden by foliage. Stepping slowly to one side, Twelve's gaze locked on to the bird, her eyes narrowing slightly just as she flexed her E.T. Field…
High above in the tree, the offending bird exploded in a puff of feathers…
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The END of this Fragment of "Altered Lives (The Parody)"
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