Disclaimer: All characters, places, concepts, and events from Neon Genesis Evangelion are the property of Gainax, not me. I'm making no profit whatsoever from writing this, and will remove this story from the Internet if, for some strange reason, Gainax deems it necessary.
Divine Intervention
An Evangelion continuation by Rubberchicken (deathbylatex@hotmail.com)
Prologue: Councils
In a darkened chamber that was not really there, a virtual realm whose existence was known only to a select handful of individuals, the twelve most powerful men on Earth would orchestrate the ultimate fruition of their plans.
Keel Lorenz, the man known within the council as SEELE-01, was waiting for the others when they arrived, as always. His virtual avatar, the gray monolith bearing his designation, stood alone in the blackness.
Then, with a low hum, the other members of the council arrived. One by one, Keel's eleven associates materialized. The twelve monoliths stood in a circle, identical but for the numbers engraved on their faces. They stood as equals within their realm.
It was nothing more than a facade, a show, Keel knew. Just as the room in which they met was an electronic construct, completely without meaning outside of the computers that accessed it, many of the illusions that veiled the committee were meaningless as well. The secrecy and equality that always characterized these meetings existed in name only. The concrete monoliths hid the identities of the men they represented, but the anonymity only went so far. Although those outside of the Instrumentality Committee had never met many of the other members and so knew nothing about them, Keel's eleven fellows, every one, knew his name, his face, and his voice.
Some of them believed themselves to be secure in their own anonymity. Some of them were fools.
They blithely went on believing in their security, unmindful of the fact that, while they knew Keel, he knew them as well. He knew their nations of origin, their occupations, their personal histories… Keel knew everything. He controlled the committee. A recalcitrant "lesser" member of the group could always be eliminated, could be replaced with another who would be more compliant. Keel, on the other hand, was the cornerstone upon which their empire had been built; without him, the ensuing infighting would tear the council apart as members jockeyed to fill the void in the power structure. And when that happened, they would find themselves unable to fulfill their purpose. Their "equality" was an illusion. Nothing more.
Soon, however, none of that would matter. Everything had fallen into place. They met here today, not for mistrust and paranoia, but for glory and rapture.
"The Seventeenth has fallen," Keel began. "EVA-01 performed as expected and the Fifth Child was destroyed."
"It is fortunate that the Seventeenth chose to die rather than struggle," SEELE-05 responded, the electronically-disguised voice carrying a hint of controlled anger, "if he had actually reached Adam, our plan could easily have backfired. We can control nothing if we are all killed."
"My source within NERV reports that Ikari had taken steps to prevent such an 'accident' long before. Were any Angel actually to penetrate every level of security and reach the center of Terminal Dogma, he would be greeted, not with the First Angel, but with the Second. The Angels can do nothing with Lilith; only Adam has the power to destroy us." SEELE-10 sounded amused with his co-conspirator; one could almost imagine the man reclining unconcernedly in a padded chair, his feet on his desk, supremely confident that nothing could possibly upset his position.
SEELE-03 laughed bitterly. "Perhaps we should thank Ikari for his foresight?"
SEELE-05 didn't catch the sarcasm. "Thank Ikari? The man has lied to us, danced around us, disobeyed us at every opportunity! For the past year he has persisted in his control of NERV, despite repeated requests to turn the reins of the organization over to a more suitable commander. He hid the appearance of the Eleventh Angel from us; not until Number Ten's nameless agent found the information did we know anything of it… and by then the Fourteenth had already come and gone. He has taken the Lance of Longinus and placed it beyond our reach, when he knows of its importance to our scenario! And now this… You say that we should thank Ikari for placing Lilith in Terminal Dogma, Number Three? Perhaps you should instead ask yourself what he has done with Adam? What plans does Ikari have for the First Angel, now that the cycle has been completed?"
"Calm yourself, Number Five," SEELE-02 admonished. Angered, SEELE-05 began to speak again, but SEELE-02 quickly resumed. "We know fully well what Ikari is planning. He thinks to utilize himself, Adam, Lilith, and his pet nephilim… the First Child, I believe, Number Ten?" An affirmative grunt issued from SEELE-10's monolith. Satisfied, SEELE-02 continued. "As I said, he plans to use his nephilim to place himself in control of the Third Impact. When the reality of the human race itself can be reshaped at his whim, he hopes to be reunited with his lost wife." Contempt fairly dripped from his voice. "Ikari has no ambition beyond that. Certainly, Number Five, your concerns are valid; we cannot allow one with goals as narrow as Ikari's to control Instrumentality."
"Certainly not," SEELE-12 agreed, "and something must be done to prevent him from proceeding."
"Something will be done," Keel spoke up again.
He paused, waiting for one of the less-informed members, most likely SEELE-05 or 09, to demand to be told the details. Instead, there was silence. Keel allowed a tiny smile to cross his face, unseen by the other members of the Committee. Perhaps they possessed more awareness of their situation than he had given them credit for; rather than argue with him, they chose to listen, accepting that his command of the situation far surpassed theirs.
"As I said, the Seventeenth has fallen. While this does indeed leave Ikari in a position to proceed, we ourselves are given that same option. As of two days ago, the EVA-05 Series is ready for launch. All we need is for Number Two to give the United Nations and the JSSDF the appropriate incentive to act. Our own version of the scenario can be executed at any time."
Keel allowed the visual disguise to disappear; the gray monolith and the words SEELE-01 SOUND ONLY faded away, revealing Keel for what he was: nothing more than an old man, his body failing in a dozen different ways, an army of medical machines the only barrier between his continued survival and the death that should have claimed him long ago. Keel looked about the circle at his compatriots, sizing up each monolith in turn, visualizing what he knew about each of them. He was the oldest among them, but he was well aware that most of the other committee members were slowly dying away as well. Like Keel, they retained the will to live for a single promise.
"Soon, gentlemen," Keel spoke the words that they had waited years to hear, "soon our goals shall be realized – and we shall be as gods." With that declaration, the twelve members of SEELE faded away.
Twenty seconds later, two of the images reappeared. SEELE-10, too, had chosen to dispense with his disguise and now eyed Keel with an expression of wary curiosity.
"You truly believe, then," he asked, "that this will be the end?"
"The road has been long, but all roads must end somewhere."
SEELE-10 snorted. "Telling me absolutely nothing, as always. Very well. If you still will not be forthright with me, I at least shall make an effort to extend that small courtesy to you." Keel's face remained expressionless. SEELE-10 watched him for a moment, looking for some response, before giving a final sigh. "I have doubts."
Keel raised an eyebrow. "Doubts?"
"Yes, doubts. Reservations. Concerns. Worries. Loose ends that have not been tied up to my satisfaction."
"Continue."
"The Seventeenth has been defeated; of that there is no doubt. All Angels predicted in the Dead Sea Scrolls either have come and gone… or are waiting around for the final act. This I know as well as anyone. But the Scrolls say nothing about what comes after."
"What do you need, Number Ten?"
"I don't know." SEELE-10 sighed again. "What comes next? Instrumentality? Destruction? Another, as yet unnamed, wave of Angels? Or do we all simply earn the right to spend another ten thousand years living on this miserable planet in the same wretched state as before? I do not know. And I do not like not knowing."
It was Keel's turn to sigh. "We have stood together thus far. Does your resolve only start to waver now, at the last?"
Silence. Then a final, resigned, "No."
Both men sat in silence for a moment. When the quiet was broken, it was Keel who spoke. "You said you had another concern?"
"Two more concerns." SEELE-10 took a deep breath. "My man in NERV-Japan. When the JSSDF attacks, what will he do? Allowing him to be slaughtered with the other NERV personnel would be a poor reward for his service thus far."
"Service? He is a tool, nothing more."
"A tool does not know the motivation of the hand that wields it."
"You have told him of us?"
"He knows enough to understand the consequences of his actions. He desires this change more than anyone I have met outside of the Committee. He will not betray us."
"Let us not take chances. Tell him simply to remain within the Geofront and to wait for what comes. The possible destruction of his body in the attack means nothing; once we have been made humanity's gods his soul will know any joys you can reward him with. Your other question?"
"NERV-USA in Massachusetts has nearly completed Evangelion Unit 06. Although it is not at full operational capacity, it is capable of movement. Perhaps…"
"The presence of one more Evangelion will make no difference," Keel cut in smoothly, "We have nine EVAs. NERV possesses three. Of their pilots, one is in no condition for action and another lacks any significant ability."
"But the remaining pilot is the Third Child. Ikari's son has proven… surprisingly ferocious in the past."
"One human… against nine perfect machines. You need only accept the facts as they stand, Number Ten. Our triumph is inevitable. Only Ikari refuses to see that."
SEELE-10 seemed to think it over for a minute, then relaxed visibly. "Amen," he finally responded, before giving Keel a nod and fading away.
In a plane of existence far removed from our own, a realm as different from our own material existence as night is from day, the angelic host gathered to welcome its fifteen lost brothers back to their home.
A human observing this meeting might have described the occasion as a thousand thousand points of light swimming within a black void, weaving about one another in a strange, vaguely disturbing, yet somehow beautifully intricate dance.
He might also have described it as a heavenly choir of voices that were not actually voices; some sounded like reedy wind instruments, some like brass trumpets, others like the sad melody of strings. The sounds met and blended in the underlying silence, producing a perfect harmony that was greater as a whole than any of its individual parts.
Perhaps he would instead have described what could only be termed a riot of color. "Riot" may not have been the proper word to use, for there was nothing chaotic about the way that the swirling colors, representing every hue of both the visible and invisible spectra, spiraled together upon the vast canvas that was their realm and formed a new color which… somehow… managed to retain the characteristics of every constituent tone at once.
Perhaps he would have attempted to use one of the above methods. Perhaps not. The realm in which the angels met was a place in which such physical modes of perception were misleading and, therefore, rather meaningless. There were other places they could have chosen to congregate; indeed, some of them might have preferred to manifest physically and greet their brothers face-to-face. All, however, ultimately recognized the wisdom of their chosen method of reunion.
The angels existed less as beings than as concepts, as ideas. Each represented an aspect of the creation their Lord had brought into being. The Angels of Fire, of Music, of the Sea, of Redemption, of anything, were the embodiment of ideas that, while deceptively simple, symbolized a reality far too vast to comprehend on one level alone. A blind man cannot appreciate the light that fire offers, for example, while a man with sight, yet lacking a sense of touch, cannot comprehend the warmth that it provides. In the same way, forcing the angels into physical bodies would have restricted them, clouding their perception of themselves and of each other. Here they possessed no senses that we would recognize; in spite of that, they perceived each other with a clarity that few humans could understand.
The swirling lights, the choir of voices, the swirling colors… the presence of the angelic host had been steadily growing in intensity as it was joined by more and more of its members, as the angels were called away from other planes and responsibilities to join in the harmony. They gathered both separately and together, as individual beings and as one whole.
The collective voice of the Host reflected anticipation.
After an indeterminate period (for time flows like a river through the planes, and is, like all things in this place, misleading), the host ceased its activity, sensing the arrival of a new presence. Fifteen new lights, new voices, new colors, had arrived. For the moment, they remained separate from their fellows – as if held back by an imperceptible wall.
We return, the newcomers chorused.
You return, came the Host's response. We welcome you back, brothers.
It will be good to feel the Presence once again.
Indeed. Your mission? The Host's consciousness already understood the answer that was coming; other angels had been to Earth and seen the developing situation there. The Angels that had ravaged Tokyo-3 had never been the only divine beings on the planet; they had simply been the only ones to attract notice.
It is done. The Lilim have been tested. They have not been found lacking. A sense of satisfaction crept from the newcomers into the host as the barrier separating them began to weaken.
It is good. The loss of the Lilim would be unfortunate. The satisfaction was now mirrored on both sides of the barrier as it continued to erode.
Something shifted within the fifteen. One angelic soul disassociated itself from the mass, forcing up another barrier between itself and its fellows. The loss of the Lilim has been averted, true. But there has still been loss. Brothers, we have sown pain and sorrow among them. Is this all good? Sadness washed outward from this new voice, sending ripples through the harmony of the remaining fourteen.
The returning angels reflected together upon what they had done while on the tiny planet of the Lilim. The sadness sprung forth anew; all remembered the suffering and anguish that had come in their wake. They remembered the children crushed beneath collapsing buildings. They remembered the pain of the dying. They remembered the sound of a boy's screams as a machine beyond his control butchered his best friend. They remembered the sobs of a girl as her world, constructed to shelter her from the darkness of her past, dissolved around her. They remembered, with a faint sense of reverence, another girl finally beginning to come to grips with who she was… and then making the ultimate sacrifice for another, knowing that the hard-earned knowledge would be lost.
They did not remember being clutched in the fist of the giant Lilith-spawned Evangelion. They did not remember speaking with soothing tones, explaining to another the reasons to act against his will and his nature; they did not remember telling Shinji Ikari why he needed to kill the only person who had ever shown him unconditional love. They did not remember explaining why, in order to save a world of those who seemed unworthy of salvation, the one most deserving of it had to die.
The dissenting voice, Tabris, the Angel of Free Will, withheld that memory, sheltering it. Tabris was not certain why he held the memory so close. Was he trying to protect his brothers, to spare them the knowledge of his actions? Or was he desperately clinging to his memory, the last reminder of what he had done? Regardless, he held the memory deep within his soul, and the others remained oblivious to its existence.
The fourteen remaining newcomers reflected upon their deeds with sadness. Whatever regret they may have felt, however, was banished by something stronger, something that formed the very core of their existence.
Faith.
It was true, they had committed terrible deeds while upon Earth. Many had died, and many had suffered. But it was all for the best. Their mission had been handed down to them by the highest power they knew, the One who they loved above all else. They knew that His work was infallible and His love encompassed all, especially those who had lost their lives. By surviving the ordeal of the Angel War, the Lilim had been forced to struggle, and emerging from struggle always made one stronger. Their work was complete.
It was not in an angel's nature to question its Creator.
With this final acknowledgement, the barriers restraining the fourteen dissolved. In a moment, they became one with the Host; once again, they knew and were known in complete detail by their brothers.
One voice remained separate. Tabris reflected on what he had learned. At the last, he had chosen death rather than the completion of his mission. The Lilim, he knew, were worthy of love, worthy of salvation… worthy of the chance to make their own path into the future. The physical shell Tabris had worn had been destroyed. Tabris had hoped to give Shinji - to give all those who were worthy - a chance to choose their road.
Tabris, the host entreated, brother, return to us.
But it was not to be, Tabris knew. Shinji would never have the chance to make his choice. The Throne of Souls, Tabris' earthly progenitors, already sought to steer the course of mankind's future. Shinji's own father was set to conclude what he believed to be a labor of love.
But it is not right, he called, his voice cutting crisscrossing slashes across the harmony of the angels. It cannot proceed. Not before they all are able to understand.
There is work to be done, the Host retorted. Your place is here.
Before Tabris could give another response, a new presence converged with them, enveloping the entire plane. The angelic consciousness went silent with instant recognition of the One who had just arrived.
When He communed with them, it was as if the empty blackness between the lights, the few dissonant notes of the harmony, and the jagged lines between colors had been smoothed over and made perfect. Awe rippled through the gathered masses as they experienced the Divine Presence.
The Presence seemed to remain forever, but at the same time it may have come and gone too quickly to be noticed. Regardless, during that time, the angels were told all they needed to know.
Tabris missed much of what He told the host, or simply wasn't listening; he wasn't entirely certain. One part remained imprinted on his soul, however: The work on Earth had been done well, and in accordance with His wishes. The returning angels now had their places; He trusted them to know what those places were.
An unpleasant sensation flooded Tabris as his Creator left the plane. He was experiencing a crisis. One that he would need time, preferably alone, to think about.
I must postpone my return, brothers. Farewell, until next we meet.
With those words, the presence of the angel called Tabris faded away, traveling to another part of reality, leaving the voices of his fellows far behind.
In a material realm, a place that few humans would recognize save those who had caught glimpses during their most fevered and vivid dreams, a third group also held a meeting at this time.
By human standards the place had very little to recommend it. The landscape was of no real use for any practical purpose. The ground was hard and rocky, and therefore no use for farming; the rock was composed of cracked, jagged, uneven slabs, which rendered it unusable in any other endeavor. Rocky pillars, most likely stalagmites that had formed over many eons of undisturbed growth, rose here and there from the shale-like surface and vanished into the gloom above. No sunlight or starlight reached this realm, but if it was a subterranean cave it had to have been vast; the ceiling and walls, if they existed, were too far away to be seen. The reddish glow that was present emanated from fiery rivers and lakes of lava, part of a massive system of volcanic tubes that was further evidenced by the hissing geysers of steam, the bubbling pits of mud, and the ragged fissures that disgorged sulfurous gases into the air. The air itself, consequently, was hot and close, filled with particles and chemicals that would scour human lungs raw with a single breath. Nobody in his or her right mind would choose to take residence here.
And yet the realm was inhabited.
The inhabitants, too, found little to appreciate about the place. This plane made the worst places on Earth seem like heaven, and its current residents had been forced here from a plane that would make the Earth's best places seem like hell by comparison. There was nothing aesthetically or practically pleasing about the place.
The beings that resided here could have changed that; they could have reshaped the landscape, made it beautiful and productive. They could have left; they could have moved to another realm, a different plane, somewhere, anywhere but here. They possessed the power to do either of these things. And yet they remained.
Upon their arrival ten billion years past, they had agreed that this place truly was Hell. At the same time, though, they had made another decision: this place was also their home.
Fully capable of leaving at any time or creating another Paradise, they did neither. The landscape remained as awful and nightmarish now as it had been on the day they had arrived, a painful reminder of what had happened, of where they had begun and where they had come.
The glittering vastness of Pandemonium reclined atop a plateau, the cave's only redeeming feature, the only beauty in Hell.
The interior design of the palace shifted periodically with the whims of its denizens, from the ancient to the modern, the conservative to the bizarre. The meeting took place in a simple, unremarkable conference room. Whitewashed walls, fluorescent lighting, padded swivel-chairs and the soft hum of air conditioning could lead one to suggest that this was not Hell at all, but an office building somewhere in Manhattan or Chicago.
The double doors swung open and the meeting's participants gradually filed in. Some came alone, walking in silence. Others came in twos and threes, taking seats together around the mahogany table and carrying on lively conversations about topics ranging from the dismal performance of the Milwaukee Brewers to the formation of a black hole near the center of the universe. One, dressed in a business suit that was at least two sizes too small, whistled annoyingly to himself with his feet on the table. Another, wearing denim jeans and a "We Want Jack Daniels" T-shirt, reclined in his seat and bounced a Superball against the ceiling. Still another, naked save for a loincloth, sat cross-legged on the floor near the exit and perused a copy of Stephen Hawking's A Brief History of Time.
After everybody had arrived, the doors closed of their own volition with a resounding thud that echoed unnaturally within the low-ceilinged chamber. The last man to enter was strikingly handsome, with flawless skin, golden hair, and azure eyes that took in all those present. He walked deliberately around the room to the opposite end of the table. Although the other seats had long since been filled and there were beings either seated on the floor or standing, the seat to which this last arrival strode was empty. He ignored it, pushing it to one side with his foot. One of the others, an eight-year-old girl with wide, innocent green eyes, ran to pull it away and give him room. He offered a brief nod of recognition, then cleared his throat to address the others.
"It's been… quite some time… since last we met in this manner."
An attractive woman with raven hair gave a soft, amused laugh, raising her eyebrows. "'Quite some time'? Maybe by mortal standards, Star of the Morning."
The Morningstar stared at her for a moment, then shook his head. "Perhaps not, but considering the business we discussed last time, I'd think we would all be only to eager to put that time behind us." There were murmurs and nods of agreement all around; the man allowed them to continue for a moment before raising a hand for quiet. "Still, that's not important. We're here to discuss the events of the present, not the past."
"You speak of the situation the Lilim find themselves in." This from a man immaculately dressed in a tailored Armani suit with mirrored sunglasses hiding his eyes. He had evidently found the need to bring refreshment with him, and had summoned a faceless, bronze-skinned humanoid to pour Chateauneuf du Pape into a crystal glass, from which the man sipped delicately.
"Indeed. As most of you already know, Tabris was defeated less than a day ago. He and the other fourteen have since returned to the Host. The cycle has been completed." The man quirked an eyebrow as he spoke. "The angels have carried out His plan. But I, for one, see no change."
A spiky-haired teenager wearing a leather jacket and pants spoke up. "I always kinda wondered about that. I mean, what's He thinking? Really, though… He wins, everybody dies for no apparent reason; He loses, nothing changes. It makes no sense, y'know?"
Amusement entered the Morningstar's voice now, as though he was enjoying knowledge of a secret and merely waited for the right moment to share it. "It is my belief that he was hoping to… steer humanity's actions. I'm sure all of you are aware of the possible uses the Lilim could put their Mother and Father to if they tried." Without waiting to see if the others followed, he continued. "The purpose of this strange little exercise has been to push humanity into making a decision on its future. The Lilim stand at a crossroads.
"The problem," he added, "is that the signpost has fallen and they have no real idea where any of the roads ultimately lead. There are those who would proceed blindly forward, without understand their actions. You are all familiar with the Throne of Souls, yes?"
This last question met with angry muttering. A heavily scarred and tattooed man with substantial body piercing stood up. "I think I can see where this is going," he growled. "The Throne's been preparing for a while, right? From what I've seen of all this, they're almost ready to put this plan of theirs into action." The Morningstar nodded; emboldened, the new speaker began to walk around the table, gesturing as he spoke. "They're planning to set themselves up as gods."
"Indeed. It's similar to the procedure another of the Lilim wishes to enact, although his version has somewhat less malignant intentions."
"Right. But I've been hanging around Earth lately, and from what I can see, the Throne is almost ready to act; at the same time, the Evangelions, the cloned angels the Lilim fight with, are in no condition to defend themselves. So their plan is going to succeed.
"Now I'm pretty sure I've got this straight." He reached his chair again and sat down heavily. "But maybe you should finish."
The blond man sighed. "Very well. As you say, SEELE is almost assured a victory in the near future; humanity will become its playthings. The situation seems eerily familiar, I'm sure many of you will agree; free will, the ability to choose one's own path… these things will be lost to the Lilim. And He," he hissed, pointing a finger upward, "seems unconcerned with this… again. He's going to let the Throne do as it pleases. Perhaps it's his way of reasserting control…maybe he thinks humanity would choose to be dominated."
"In that case, He hasn't learned much, has He? Are you sure He doesn't have an ace up His sleeve?" a shaven-headed black man asked without looking up.
"I don't know. I confess that openly. I don't."
"But you're not going to stop, are you?" The black man stood now and met the gaze of the Morningstar. "You're going to go ahead with this."
The other gave him an injured look. "Ahead with what, old friend?"
"Don't be ridiculous. You have a plan of your own. Why else would you call this meeting? You need to ask us to help you." He put his hands on the table and leaned forward. "You want to interfere."
"That's right."
"The Host will not be pleased."
"Has that ever stopped us, Beelzebub?"
A minute of silence passed as Beelzebub seemed to think about it. Finally he laughed, shaking his head ruefully. "No, I suppose it hasn't. All right, Lucifer. I will aid you in this."
The other nodded. "My thanks, old friend." He turned to the others. "I demand nothing of any of you. I do not need to remind you that we all fell together at the Beginning, that we fought together in the interminable wars. That was our fight. This, I realize, is not. I see this as a worthy cause, and one that I have chosen to champion. Those of you who agree may act alongside us. If there are none, Beelzebub and I will act alone, if need be, and will hold no grudge against any of you."
Beelzebub addressed his fellows, the most powerful among the fallen angels. "You have heard his words. Who stands with us?"
Several stood up at once, with others following suit after only a moment's hesitation. The scarred man was standing, as were the wine lover in the Armani suit and the leather-coated teenager. The black-haired woman who had first interrupted remained seated and smiled apologetically. The man with the Superball seemed casually disinterested, which could not also be said for the green-eyed eight-year-old, who was trying her best to hide behind the chair she had pulled aside. All told, however, there were more volunteers than had been expected.
"Belial, Moloch, Azazel…" Beelzebub addressed the first to stand. "We thank you for joining with us."
"Hell, it should be interesting," Belial laughed, giving a nose-ring a sharp tug, "can't wait to see how it turns out."
The Morningstar put his hands together and bowed. "I would thank all of you for listening, and would like to apologize for the inconvenience to the rest of you. This meeting is officially over, but if the volunteers would be willing to stay, we do have some planning to discuss." He looked up and scanned his fellows again before finally smiling, apparently satisfied with what he saw. "That is all, brethren."
As they filed out once more, Lucifer Morningstar, formerly the Light of Heaven and now First among the Fallen, settled at last into a chair and allowed a sigh to escape his lips. Things had progressed more smoothly than he had expected.
It had begun.
Author's Notes
I'd had this idea ricocheting around inside my skull for a couple of months. Eventually I just couldn't take it anymore and set it down on paper. One story idea led to another, and soon this grew, much like a cancer, into a multi-layered monstrosity that promises to cause me much mental anguish over the next few months. Well, it should be interesting, at least.
The original plan was to do a fusion of Evangelion and the Megami Tensei videogame series. Before too long, though, I'd cut out the magic, the demon summoning, the Gaians, the Mesians, and pretty much all non-Judeo-Christian deities… which made it not much of a fusion at all. Since most of the casual fanfic readers out there probably haven't played a Megaten game, you shouldn't have to concern yourself with that anyway. However, Megaten fans might still see a familiar character or two pop up at some point in the future. You'll just have to hold your breath and wait for it.
On the absence of main EVA characters from this part: don't worry. The prologue just got the background out of the way. Shinji and company will be with you shortly.
Prereading thanks go out to Akodo Tim, Hiryu, and Syndikos. Thanks, guys, for catching a couple of embarrassing continuity problems. Hopefully I rewrote the infected sections to your satisfaction.
Reviews will be appreciated; flames will not. If you love it, great! If you don't, fine. Just tell me why you don't like it. "d00d u suX0rz!" isn't going to be taken seriously.
Chapter 1 is in the mid-proofreading phase, which means it should be out in the near future.
Until next time.
