Disclamer: I should add on to the Foreword now… Neon Genesis Evangelion, Sohryu Asuka Langley, and anything related to NGE does not belong to me.
Author's Babble: It's been a while, hasn't it? I blame my classes, work, and preparations for the future. This is actually a slight revision of the first posting; I will be revising each chapter while at the same time typing up the next chapter. I have futuresuperstar to thank for this. There won't be any major changes, just things like extra details, more "meat" and substance to the story. Anyways, today's chapter is a bit more interaction, and something from the past, about a person that Garland affected as much as the person affected him. Without further ado…
Metal Gear: Bloody Hands
Written by Tempest Dynasty
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Chapter 6a: Memories of Red
"So… How do we get across?"
"…"
"Thompson?"
The girl said nothing but raise a wooden stick, a warning for Garland.
"Maggie," He corrected himself. "You have a mine detector?"
"Yes. I'll see them through my Soliton radar, but what about you?"
"I'll just follow you."
"What if my radar's wrong?"
"I won't have legs then."
"That's a lot of trust in me."
"Ok, fine. Where's your radar anyways, on that wristwatch? I'll carry you piggyback style across the snow."
"But—"
"I won't drop you. I promise."
"What about those cameras?"
Garland brought his M8 assault rifle up, aiming carefully through the built-in 2x scope. It barked three times, several spent shells of hot brass flying from the weapon and landing on the ground. Halfway up the snowfield, three gun-cameras shorted out. A single 5.56x45mm FMJ round was lodged in the center of the camera, effectively neutralizing it.
"Cameras are disabled. Now, about those mines?"
"You sure you can hold me?"
"Maggie. I can pick up my body weight and more. I can easily hold you."
"Fine, fine."
The mercenary squatted, his back to the FOX-HOUND agent.
"Hop on, little lady."
"Shut it."
The girl climbed on regardless, and draped her arms around Garland's broad shoulders. Through the protective vest and material his suit was made of, she could feel every muscle, toned and rock hard.
"Kinda thin for a sneaking suit in the arctic," she muttered, embarrassed at being in such a situation.
"My suit? It's not for sneaking. It's for fighting, for maximum dexterity and agility. Could you move your arm up a bit so I can see the radar?"
The Soliton radar was actually part of a glorified and heavy wristwatch; capable of switching between time, omni-directional radar that could determine the direction something was facing, such as a guard or a mine, and Codec screen. Her arm came up to enter Garland's field of vision, just enough so that he could shift his eyes down to see it rather than bend his entire head.
"Alright. I can see it. Hang on!" he sprinted into the snow, weaving and twisting through the complicated maze created by invisible mines. They were moving over quickly, until they hit a snag. Stopping suddenly, Garland had to catch the girl before her momentum carried her forward.
"Hey, what as that for?!" she was rather miffed at nearly falling off.
"A wall. The mine detector says there's a line of mines straight ahead. I can't jump across, as there is another line of mines right after it. We'll have to disarm them."
"No prob," she shrugged and hopped off Garland's back, crawling on the ground and picking up the claymore mines as she passed over them. The mercenary only blinked; this is how you disarm claymores?! It was usually much more difficult in other mission, having to disarm and safe the explosive before removing it from the ground. It must have been a FOX-HOUND thing, as he never saw this technique until now.
"Well. That works."
"Ya. Now, let's get going."
"Lead the way, little lady."
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"Be careful in here. The warheads may be decommissioned, but they're still dangerous."
"Is this the nuke storage building?"
"One of many."
"How are we getting out of here, anyways?"
"I'm leaving via helicopter pick-up, past the residential block. You?"
"I'll find a way."
The two soldiers were standing at the small window that offered a full view of the nuke storage facility, allowing them to see the few guards milling around and the cameras active. The guards were still in yellow NBC, Nuclear Biological Chemical, suits and masks that protected them from prolonged exposure to nuclear materials. Fortunately for both Garland and Maggie, they only needed to get to the elevator. Unfortunately for them, the guards seem to wander in random patterns, offering very few windows in which the commandos could take advantage of.
"So how to do we get past this part?" Garland looked over the area once more.
"Gameshark?"
"Wha?"
"Nothing. Cheaters suck."
"Err… ok?"
"Never mind. Let's take the path… to the left. The right path has too many cameras."
"But the right path has less guards."
"And a more open space, easier for us to get spotted."
"But more space for us fight back in."
"Did I mention that if we're caught they flood the room with poisonous gas?"
"Right. Left path it is."
"Oh yeah. Don't use any guns."
"Plutonium leaks. Yeah, I get it."
"Good. Let's go."
Three guards milled around the nuclear materials, playing a game of cards to pass the time. It was rather odd, because there was no reason to have guards in such a dangerous area. In fact, why have guards patrolling the area if no one was going to invade? A mystery that both Garland and Maggie pondered about, but rarely cared much for. It made the mercenary's job easier, anyways. The guards sat on top of the dismantled missiles, one had their back to the wall while two were facing it.
"Why are we here? Doing this crap? Why do we have to stand in this room surrounded by nukes stacked boxes upon boxes?" one Genome soldier complained.
"God knows. Stupid officers are all at REX's hanger wanking off to the few girls we got, and sends us grunts randomly around the base"
"Man, when is the government sending help?"
"God knows. Got any twos?"
"Go fish."
"Aarragsh!"
"Dude, Mike, it's not that bad," the third was looking down to his cards, rather than looking at his friend.
"Raaguuh…" a throaty gurgle came back.
"Mike?"
They looked up to see their fellow soldier choking away at a garrote wire strung around his neck. Behind him was a person in dark clothing, one hand holding the wire and the other brandishing a pistol.
"Holy Sh—!" not much more could be said as the gun fired twice, spitting out two 9mm "shredder" slugs that effectively turned any and all flesh into a pasty goo. With brains of mush, they crumpled to the ground in silent heaps, hidden away by the missiles.
"Huh? What was that?" a fourth voice came from above, and footsteps came down the stairs.
Maggie was prepared for this, and leapt over the railing, clubbing the guard in the face with her rifle as she flew over.
There were two remaining guards, one circling around a nearby truck, and one apparently napping between two large towers of dismantled warheads.
Silently, shifting into Ninja mode, Garland snuck up to the truck. On the other side was the soldier, stopping momentarily to stretch. Before he could finish his brief break, two arms wrapped around his head and neck and violently twisted to the side, a soft and muffled crack indicating that the Genome's neck had been snapped. The body was disposed by shoving it under the staircase, covered by tall boxes. Before the assassin could finish off the last guy, a small hand grabbed his shoulder to stop him. He followed the pull, turning to face a stressed female.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Maggie hissed through her balaclava.
"What do you think? Completing the objectives of my mission," his voice was cold and serious, a monotone compared to his usual chatter.
"Even if it involves killing every man and woman on this base? All 150-odd soldiers?!"
"Yes. That's what I'm paid for: the elimination of every soldier in this facility. You are not one of them, so you're off the list. Good job on that guy on the stairs, though."
"I had to club that guy before he discovered you! You WANT to choke on poison gas?"
"I have a mask, you know."
"But I don't! Think about me for once instead of your mission!"
"…sorry."
"What?"
"I'm sorry."
"Oh… All right then. Let's go."
Klaxons blared suddenly, echoing loudly in the large room. Yellow lights began to flash all around. The door from which the two operatives came from slid shut, and the air began to take a yellowish hue. Maggie suddenly found Garland's gasmask thrust into her possession.
"Wha—?" shock adorned her face.
"Take it! I'll steal one off a corpse; you need it more!" the martial artist shouted over the alarms.
"But—"
"I'm thinking about you, right now, and you need this mask! Now put it on!"
The mercenary did not take time to watch her don the mask, as he already bolted for the nearest body. Two were useless, as they had a hole in the mask, but the man Garland had strangled still had a good one. His knife made short work of the face portion, and as soon as he slapped it on, he breathed deeply. The mask was not as effective as it would have been, had it remained completely intact, but it still did its job of filtering the saturated air.
He was only able to take a few breaths, until it was suddenly ripped away by an unknown force. Whipping around to face the attacker, Garland saw the once-sleeping guard with his chopped up mask in one hand, and a SOCOM pistol in the other. The handgun came up to bear at his head, the laser unwaveringly sighted upon his chest.
It barked twice, delivering twin payloads of lethal .45 ACP jacketed lead.
What happened next would have been considered superhuman, even impossible; something that would come from an action movie with wires.
Grunting a curse, Garland jumped and backflipped to dodge the bullet. However, his entire body was at least five feet in the air, and his flip carried him well away from the bullets; his chest was the axis of the circle as he spun in the air. Maggie and the Genome private stared in awe as time seemed to slow down, every minute motion evident and clear as day: the bullet flying by with air ripples following it, Garland appearing to fly as he floated over the bullet and the smooth motion in which his arm reached for his pistol and pulled it out. Time restarted as he landed and skidded slightly backwards, dropping to one knee with his P228 already aimed at his target. Four rapid shots spat from the suppressed weapon, impacting upon the soft flesh, expanding and tumbling to tear and grind muscle, bone, and fat. One "shredder" round to the head was enough to drop a man—four was enough to thoroughly rearrange a once decent-looking face into a mass of fleshy pulp and bloody remains.
Still energized with adrenaline, Durev ran forward to reclaim his ruined mask. However, the martial artist had already breathed in some of the contaminated air and was already feeling the affects. Woozy and lightheaded, he had to comply with his body's demand for air, and was forced to suck in a lungful.
He started coughing immediately, the gas burning down his throat and searing his lungs; it was like a raging wildfire was lit up in his chest. Despite all the conditioning and training his body had, it could not stand up against anti-personnel gas. It was something all combat specialists dreaded: being defeated by something they could not fight back. Starvation, survival, a sniper, even a tank, these were things that Garland had even a small degree of chance to survive. But something like nerve gas or disease, he had nothing in which he was powerless to stop.
In actuality, the gas was not poisonous, but rather a combination of different gasses and chemicals. This combination sucked the oxygen out of the air, forced lungs to spasm and cough, and generate a great burning sensation on contact. Rather than kill, it would knock out a person for Military Police, MPs, to arrest and detain whoever set off the alarm.
Every cough caused his lungs to suck in more of the gas, continuing to ravage his body as well as his mind. He could do nothing but suffer, writhe in pain and uncontrollable spasms. Collapsing to the ground with fading vision and coughing up a lung, Garland berated himself for being so weak, so stupid; the last he saw was the figure of Maggie Thompson running towards him. Yet, that familiar voice rang through his head again, soothing yet with hidden strength.
You work too hard, boy.
Take a break…
You'll need it for later…
Until then, think of something nice.
And suddenly, he remembered someone.
Of a young girl he met during his graduate studies in Germany.
A young girl, as fiery as her hair, and as intelligent as anyone else in the room.
Cute, but loud and boisterous.
Despite it all, she became friends with him, and they were study buddies.
Good friends, actually, because they told each other everything.
Everything, even their fears and losses.
They shared tears, sobs, and memories
They held each other, in sorrow and in solace.
Even when people gave them odd looks for being together.
Age was nothing when it came to bad memories.
Besides, it wasn't dating. It was like a big brother/little sister.
How old was she now? Six? Seven? A genius at such an age.
Last he heard, she was designated Second Child of the Project-E…
Such confidential information, written in a letter to a friend.
That's right, he needed to help train the girl.
She was going to be an Evangelion pilot.
She would need all the fighting experience she could get.
Her birthday was in a few months too: December 1st…
He would have to visit, and bring a nice gift.
A doll perhaps? No, she's far too mature for it.
What to get her?
A dress… Yes, a sundress. A soft yellow, to contrast her eyes.
Her blue eyes…
A custom made dress, so that she can alter it as she grew.
What a fine young woman she would become.
Strong.
Beautiful.
Sohryu Asuka Langley.
He also remembered, the day they met…
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Sitting in the middle of an expansive auditorium, Garland sat in his desk relaxed and ready to type away at his laptop. He was at a German college for his graduate studies, something that would be nice for him to have after his military days. The class was Biochemistry 601, a mixed class of medical students, scientists-in-the-making, and the really damn smart. There were only twenty students that day, the first day of Garland's first class. It would grown or shrink depending on those who want to pass or drop the class. The class was about to start, when student number twenty-one walked into the classroom. Garland's head wasn't the only one that turned to see the new kid. Ironically, it was a kid—a child, even. Her face was stone cold serious, framed by a luscious mane of strawberry hair. Everyone's vision was upon the girl, even as she turned to face twenty pairs of curious eyes bearing down on her.
"What are you all looking at?! Are you all embarrassed that I'm in the same class as you?!" she practically screamed. Nineteen pairs whipped away; only one pair remained on her.
"Such a interesting girl," an older man sitting near the German Special Forces soldier whispered. "Cute too."
A comment spoken that softly would have been not heard or ignored, but the tone in which he said it disturbed Garland. There was something… just wrong with the way he said it. As a soldier protecting the people, he would have to keep an eye on this fellow. He could be…
His train of thought was shattered when the child sat next to him, her own laptop snapping open and awaking from sleep. Garland only offered her a glance, one in which she returned with those fierce blue eyes, and turned his attention back to the lesson at hand. Biochemistry was an extremely difficult subject to master, if you didn't pay attention or take good notes.
One afternoon, a few weeks later, Durev found himself in the school library, pulling reference books for a term paper. As he turned a corner, he found the same redheaded girl trying to reach for a rather inconveniently placed book. She was on a chair, with several thick books boosting her height, yet her child body was still too short to reach the book. Wordlessly, Garland reached up and grasped the needed book, handing it to the girl as she looked at him.
"I didn't ask for your help, you know. I'm fine the way I am," she snapped.
"My apologies, ma'am. You looked like you needed help," being polite and soft-spoken would help defuse her anger.
"I don't need help. I'm old enough to take care of myself," the girl huffed as she jumped down from her perch.
"Be that as it may, it's not a weakness to ask for help," he countered
"I don't need your help—I don't need anyone's help!" her voice rose slightly.
"Again, my apologies. No need to raise your voice," Garland had to end it, before she got really angry with him.
"Hmph!" she snorted and stormed away to the astonished gazes of everyone in the room; Garland's own glare made them all return to their activities. With his books and studies done for the day, he headed out to his government loaned vehicle, the munchies suddenly demanding something tasty.
Passing by a female dormitory surrounded by trees, Garland's trained and enhanced hearing picked up a muffled gasp. It wasn't a gasp of excitement or surprise, it was one of fear and panic.
Never a good combination on a dark school campus.
Placing his bookbag on the ground and reaching into the small of his back, he drew out a small semi-automatic handgun that Garland had purchased for self-defense and combat. At the time, it was a Tanfoglio T95 Compact. A derivative of the venerable CZ-75 pistol, the handgun was chambered for 10mm Auto ammunition. It was a very powerful bullet, defeating all conventional non-magnum rounds in muzzle velocity and energy. Unfortunately, it also meant a heavier gun and bigger recoil. Regardless, it was a reliable and accurate gun, with "one shot, one kill" power. 10mm was rather popular among his soldier friends. As a member of the Special Forces, he was one of the few individuals permitted to carry a firearm at anytime, providing it was appropriate—carrying around an assault rifle to class was both stupid and a hassle.
He had no flashlight, and so had to rely on ambient light as well as his own natural night vision to see. As Garland drew closer to the source of the sound, he found himself hidden better and better by surrounding bushes and short trees. Another suppressed scream seemed to echo around him as he peered into a clearing nearby.
There, with his back to Garland, was the older man from his class, the one that said the strange comment. The man was hunched over, his arms holding something, and it seemed to be squirming. A wave of red hair escaped his grasp.
My god. It's the girl! Durev was horrified at the thought. Anger and revulsion welling up in him, he stepped out of the bush and snuck up to the man. Bringing his pistol up to press against the man's head lightly, he cocked back the hammer to bring attention to himself.
"Give me one damn good reason I should not shoot you right here, you revolting pig," Garland hissed, disgust practically imbued into his words.
"Oh… one so young and beautiful, I must caress you forever!" the pedophile seemed to ignore the threat.
"You sick bastard," with that, he pistol-whipped the man. The strong blow to the back of the head sent the man toppling to the ground, and the girl free from his grasp.
The once angry and cold girl looked at him with tearful and fearful eyes.
"Who are you?"
Snapping into the most rigid attention he had ever done and saluting the girl, he spoke with great pride, "Oberfeldwebel Garland Durev, of the Kommando Spezialkraefte, at your service."
"KSK…?"
"Yes, ma'am. You alright?"
"Who sent you? Are you some friend of my fathers?"
"I do not know what you're talking about, ma'am. I heard your cries, and I came. I'm a student, just like you."
"Oh," she relaxed.
"C'mon. Let's get you back to your dorm. You must be tired."
"Yeah… Are you coming?"
"As an escort, ma'am."
"Alright," a small smile adorned her face.
"Smile more. You look much cuter that way."
A soft blush crept up her cheeks. Suddenly, she gasped, her vision looking past the soldier, and screamed out, "Behind you!"
The pervert had risen from his forced sleep, and was about to charge Garland with a jagged knife. Screaming garbled obscenities and foaming at the mouth, he thrust his knife with all his strength at the warrior's head.
With a calm that only came to veterans of battle and conflict, the KSK Oberfeldwebel brought up his pistol and deflected the stab. The blade was stopped by the underside of the handgun's frame, gleaming steel against matte black, inches from his head. A fist shot out and hooked into the stomach of the pervert, knocking all air out of his lungs and even lifting him into the air. The knife dropped soundlessly to the ground, as well as the Tanfoglio. A look of wide-eyed shock and pain was frozen on the man's face.
"Good night," Garland whispered as he withdrew his hand and watched the man stagger.
Then the martial artist dashed forward and leapt, his left knee smashing into the dazed man's face. The right leg rotated with his body, a near 360 degree circle in the air, for a devastating heel drop onto the man's head. To a trained eye, one would see a rather strong glow encompassing Garland Durev. The "Revolver Crash" technique sent the man into a blissful unconsciousness; he would awaken with a shattered jaw, severely bruised ribs, and one hell of a concussion.
Durev turned to face the amazed girl, and spoke, "You ok?"
She nodded then burst out, "That was awesome! How did you do it?"
"I've trained in martial arts since I was a kid. You want to learn?"
"Hell yes!"
"Heh heh. All right. Let's get campus security on this sicko, and then we'll get you home. We will start your training tomorrow, miss?"
"Asuka. Asuka Langley Sohryu."
"Well then, Miss Sohryu, shall we go?"
"How do I know you're not like that pervert?"
"Eh? What brought about this question?"
"You came in at the perfect time, you have a perfect excuse, and it just seems unreal!"
"I assure you, I have no relation to that pedophile. If you want, you can be the one that calls the man in," he held out his cell phone to the genius girl. It was snatched out of his hand.
"Fine!" she was back to her familiar self, the bold and brash pre-teen in college.
Garland simply grinned.
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Over the months, the soldier and child spent more and more time together. Garland had found that Asuka was a wonderful study partner, if a bit blunt and impatient. He learned at a higher and more effective pace thanks to the girl's difficult quizzing. In return, Asuka was subject to a rather tough training regime, one that taxed her young body to its max, but she found herself in better shape than most athletes in the school. Heck, she and Garland could outrun the football team in terms of stamina. The martial arts lessons the KSK soldier gave her was effective in self-defense, concentration, and exercise, but Garland had to tone down the sparring and practice to accommodate the German redhead's much younger body.
People would mutter, whisper rumors, and generally talk about the soldier and the child. The gossip was not always positive; tales of scandalous pedophilic acts and other immoral things were among the negative. Garland and Asuka would ignore the stares and avoid the ignorant. If they were so pig-headed and dim-witted that they would think of such things, let them stay that way. They'll feel pretty damn stupid later.
Those who actually knew either individuals never believed the stories, and those of the military that knew Garland squashed such rumors quickly—their friend was in no way like that. They all knew of the girl as well, and actually made her an honorary member of Garland's troop: Oberstleutnant Asuka Langley Sohryu, 1st Commando Platoon, "Kreiger" squad, of the Kommando Spezialkraefte. She outranked all the soldiers except the high command, and she was extremely happy about it—a dazzling smile had spread across her face when she was told. In fact, there was even a picture of the squad with Asuka in a miniature Battle Dress Uniform, a G3A3 rifle, and a huge grin saluting the camera, while everyone else kneeled to her left and right, in full gear and weapons. They all joked about the renamed "Asuka" squad. Both of the students had the picture in a nice oak frame in their dorm rooms.
Things were pretty much clockwork in college: wake up, eat, practice, classes, eat, practice, study, eat, study some more, practice some more, sleep. Then the cycle would start over again… until the first Christmas that came, and the campus was blanketed in a thick fluffy pillow of snow. The two students were in Garland's roomy upperclassman apartment, studying for the midterms coming up. All was quiet until the shrill ring of the phone snapped both of them from their trances. Garland answered it cordially, and was thoroughly confused when the speaker asked for the German girl. Handing it to an equally shocked Asuka, he watched the young one with curious eyes.
The martial artist watched the girl's face change from confusion, to surprise, elation, then to shock. He said nothing as she walked out of the room, so that she may have more privacy. Garland was worried—Asuka had a look of fear and distress before she stepped into the bedroom. Several of the longest minutes ever passed before the redhead came out, sadness evident on her face.
"Asuka? What's wrong? Who was that on the phone?"
"Papa… he wants me to return home. He says he wants to start over, with his wife… and me."
"That's great, isn't it? Your father wanting you?"
"That woman, she's not my momma. Momma… she died a while ago," this young child in front of Garland Durev was completely different from the Asuka he knew. Gone was the proud and fiery German girl. In her place was a deeply distraught and troubled person that looked so vulnerable. Her normal head-held-high, bright eyes, and a self-confident look that Garland always found cute had changed into a bowed head, dull and sad blue eyes, and a look of great melancholy replaced her confidence.
"Asuka?"
She suddenly turned and bolted for the door, grabbing her coat and boots and running down the stairs, leaving the door ajar as her tiny feet pounded down the concrete stairs. Garland looked on in stunned surprise, replaying the last few moments in his mind. The thing he kept seeing the most was the fact that her eyes seemed to glisten with unshed tears.
She did not want him to see her cry…
What happened to her mom? Something severely traumatic, most likely…
Banishing such thoughts from his mind, he leapt up from his seat, throwing on a heavy black wool overcoat and boots, and gave chase. Outside had nearly half a meter of fresh powder snow, and fat snowflakes continued to drift down, obscuring vision. Had it not been for the very recently made trench and footprints in the snow, he would not have been able to determine Asuka's direction. Whatever the temperature was, it was warming up slowly.
Several hundred meters down the path, a tree branch held a blood red wool coat in its twisted grasp.
Asuka's coat.
Garland doubled his pace—without that coat, his friend would surely get hypothermia for staying out too long. Damn that girl! Training had allowed her to be much faster than she looked. His chase led him to a nearby park, one of many that surrounded the college campus. This particular park, however, had a lake that was good for fishing, boating, research, but not any winter sports over the ice. The lake itself was rather large, and the temperature rarely dropped low enough for all of the water to freeze into a safe thick layer of ice. Near the center would be perpetual thin ice, and signs would warn people of its dangers. However, due to the snow, the signs were covered and it seemed like the lake was part of the land. In Asuka's present state of distress, she would not be able to tell if she was on earth or water!
The combat specialist followed the path until he reached a large flat area of perfect snow. Through the falling snow and wind, he was able to see something red colored moving across the land.
"ASUKA! STOP! YOU'RE ON THE ICE!" he yelled, but it did not seem like she heard him. Resuming his chase, Garland's speed allowed him to reach where the "beach" would be, and the waterline starts. But before he could take one step onto the ice, the red color disappeared.
He stopped breathing. His heart ceased to beat. Time itself seemed to freeze at that moment.
She had fallen through.
"NOOOO!" time restarted with Garland already running at top speed to Asuka's last location, a sizable hole in the ground. The black waters showed nothing. With a great cry, his bare fist came crashing down onto the ice, breaking the frozen water into pieces, and making a much larger hole. He threw off his jacket, took a deep breath, and dove in, a mini Maglight in hand.
Immediately intense needles of cold assaulted his very being, numbness quickly consuming his body. The icy waters stung his eyes as the chill penetrated deeply into his body. He had to find the girl quickly, or else they will both freeze. The Maglight gave a nearly tangible beam of light in the black water, the shaft of light whipping around frantically to find anything that resembled the redhead. Garland was getting hysterical when a pillar of bubbles tickled his face and caused him to look down.
Drifting slowly through the water was his friend, her fiery hair spread around her like a halo and her eyes gently shut.
Suppressing fear and panic, Garland dove deeper to catch her, scooping her up from the grasp of dark freezing water. She was somewhat heavy, as was the soldier, due to their heavy winter gear soaking up so much liquid. As he rose to the surface, he realized in horror that they had drifted away from the hole, and was currently under a thick layer of ice. Such a layer would be near impossible to break through with bare hands alone…
What…?
No…
I…
Two voices reverberated in his mind, one his own, the other familiar yet unknown,
I will not die.
A hand shot through the ice, piercing through the thick and rather solid ice. The fist retracted and shot through again at a different spot. This repeated itself once more, followed by a glowing red fist that blew apart the cracking ice. Massive chunks of frozen water and snow flew into the air, allowing a large hole to form in the ice. The same glowing fist came out again, the fingers like hooks, digging into the ice well enough to pull two bodies out of the freezing waters: a man in black, and a much younger girl wearing a dark green sweater. Garland carried Asuka his arms, holding her close against his chest. She began to cough and suck in large gasps of air, shivering violently and icicles already forming on her; the KSK soldier was unbelievably glad that she had not drowned. Grabbing his coat and wrapping it around the soaked girl, he ran faster than he ever had, plowing through the snow as if it wasn't there. Now, the redhead seemed nearly weightless in his arms, even with water saturated clothing. Limitless energy seemed to propel him forward. He had to get home, get her warmed up, get her safe. Quickly, or else she would die from hypothermia.
No one was there to see that Garland's eyes were blood red.
The eyes of the True Dread.
To be continued.
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A/N: Yeah, it's a two parter. Expect the next part in two weeks or so. I got a school play to work, a concert to play, and colleges to look at. Oh yes, I've applied to some, and already I've been accepted to some. Penn State looks mighty good right now.
What's a True Dread, you may ask?
*deadpans* Sore wa himitsu desu.
And yes, I have made it so that Asuka receives her well-known yellow sundress from Garland. All Evangelion fans should know of this dress. It is that piece of clothing Asuka is wearing when Shinji and Misato first meet her on the Supercarrier Over The Rainbow. It is also believed that it is her favorite dress, considering she wears it so often….
Anyways, I think I should tell you guys a bit about the KSK, and the German terms I used in this story.
First off, the ranks:
Oberfeldwebel (Garland's rank at the time) is the German equivalent of a Master Sergeant.
Oberstleutnant (Asuka's unofficial rank) is the German equivalent of a Lieutenant Colonel.
Actually, you know what? I'm too lazy to type up info about the KSK right now, so I'll just ask you guys to search it up on google.com or something. Search for "Kommando Spezialkraefte." There are a number of sites out there that talk about them.
See you guys later.