AN: I was surprised there weren't more Evangelion jokes in Excel Saga.

5. Goodbye, My Summer

Silence filled the room. Then there was a scattered low groan, and several still-conscious yakuza toughs managed to climb to their feet. They glanced at the twenty-foot-tall 6050, standing where their boss had stood a moment before, and dashed for the exits. Excel let them run. She looked at the balcony, where the 6050's head now blocked her view of Cosette.

"Cosette-chan?" she called uncertainly. "You still there?"

There was no answer. Then, slowly, even her light footsteps loud in the nearly-empty room, Cosette walked along the balcony to the head of the stairs. She looked down at Excel. If possible, her face was more expressionless than before.

"Ex-Agent Excel?" she said, in a sleepwalker's drone.

"Cosette-chan?"

"Would you do me a favor?"

"Sure."

"When you see my parents and K-kun on the other side of the Sanzu," she said, "send them my love."

"Huh? What's that supposed to—" Excel noticed the remote in Cosette's hand.

The room began to shake again. Paper screens buckled; the unmoored drums rolled off the stage; fresh splinters rained through the hole above the 6050's head.

Excel cocked an eyebrow.

"Is that what I think it is?"

"You didn't think it was going to be that easy, did you?"

"You know? For a second there? I kind of did."

Cosette smiled mirthlessly. "Silly rabbit."

"Tricks are—"

"—for kids."

Excel burst into an all-out sprint as the ceiling gave way. Again, the rafters snapped, and another tremendous steel body fell like a sounding-weight into the room. Excel raced the rim of its expanding shadow and threw herself headlong just as it made impact, dodging death by less than a foot.

Dust cleared around the feet of Cosette's mecha. It stood nearly twice the height of the 6050, its head still lodged in the ceiling; it was massive, spiked, and painted in military drab. It had the build of a wrestler. Missiles as long as sharks were exposed underneath its cowling.

Excel gaped. "Oh man! Where'd you find a mech like that? Hey, how about this, I'll take yours and you take mine?"

Cosette, standing at the foot of the stairs, looked unimpressed.

"No, really. We'll play rock-paper-scissors, how 'bout that?"

Goddamn, Shioji, she thought, looking at Cosette's thirty-foot walking arsenal. How come I gotta pilot the one that looks like a little girl?

"Mine…suits you better?" she said.

"It is an interesting model," Cosette said impassively, glancing at it. "Where was it made?"

"Osaka."

"Who in Osaka made you that mech?"

"Kozo Shioji."

Cosette's eyes blazed. "Liar!"

"What?—What's the big deal?"

"Why would Doctor Shioji make you a mech? But no…that design; of course. It is a Shioji. But a Shioji mech is peerless…"

"So does mean mine's really better?"

Cosette blanched.

"It does, doesn't it!" Excel cackled, putting her hands on her hips: "Ha! Ha! Ha! My-mech-is bet-ter than Co-sette-chan's, my mech-is—"

There was a beat as both girls realized that each stood closer to the other's mech. They both broke into a run, streaking past each other.

Excel clawed her way up the back of the 6050, digging her fingers into the cracks between the metal plates, pulling the skirt. A hatch hissed open between the robot's shoulderblades; she slithered inside. Cosette finished a second behind; she had a lighter body, but a taller robot to scale. The race was evened, though, by Excel's confusion as she stared at a bank of incomprehensible controls.

"Oro—?"

She prepared to press a button at random. There was a one-in-fifty chance…

"Excel!" said a metallic voice, filling the cockpit.

"It's the voice of my dead mentor!"

"Excel?—Do you copy? Miss Excel!"

"But – I don't have a mentor, and he's not dead…"

"No, I'm not dead! This is your Uncle Shioji, speaking to you via the 6050's remote communications link!"

"Oh, hey! Is it really true you make the best mechs in all Japan?"

"You'll have ample time to praise me later," said Shioji's voice. "For the moment, I'll have you know that the 6050's controls are fully voice-automated, geared to respond to the most basic orders. It's so simple a child could operate it!—Now watch out!"

"Heh?"

"Ten thousand homing missile attack!" shouted Cosette's voice, amplified through the mouthplate of her robot. Panels opened on the giant mecha's shoulders; dozens of tiny missiles screamed toward the motionless 6050.

"Oh for crying—" Shioji muttered, then, through the intercom, commanded the mech himself: "Pretty sparkling chaff!"

The 6050 struck an adorable pose, and twinkling particles filled the air around it. The missiles struck the chaff in eruption that left the mech unharmed.

"Hey, cool!"

"Now, do I have to fight this battle myself?" said Shioji.

"Robot!" shrieked Excel. "Attack! Destroy – that thing over there!"

The 6050 didn't respond.

"Come to think of it," Shioji muttered, "I probably should have had you memorize the names of its abilities…"

A second volley of missiles knocked the 6050 off its feet; Excel shrieked in pain, clutching her shoulders. "H-hey! What's the big idea; I felt that!"

She heard the sheepishness in Shioji's voice: "Putting in a direct tactile link to the pilot seemed like a good idea at the time…"

"Leaping attack!" Cosette's mech, with an agility belying its size, jumped cleanly up through the hole it had left in the ceiling.

"Dodge!" yelled Shioji.

"Quick, what's the command?"

"Magical counter—"

It was too late. Cosette's mecha plummeted back through first hole in the roof, landing on top of the 6050 with a crash that toppled whatever had still been standing. Tables lay on their backs; one of the walls had begun to list inward. Straddling the 6050, Cosette's mech wrapped its heavy hands around its head and began to squeeze.

"Excel! Listen carefully!" Shioji yelled, over the sound of her screams.

"Wha—aagh!"

"To activate the 6050's ultimate power, you need simply—"

His voice was cut off in a snap of static; the remote connection had been severed. Excel heard the steady grinding as Cosette continued to crush her head.

Great.

"Silly little ditz like to play with giant robots," said Cosette, without malice.

Think, think, think

"You know, you were going to die sooner or later. All I'm doing is speeding up the process."

Ah-ha! If I remember my mecha anime….

"You know," said Cosette. "Really, you're the lucky one…"

…all I have to do is curl into a ball and say:

"I mustn't run away," Excel whispered. "I mustn't run away. I mustn't run away!"

"What are you muttering about?" said Cosette.

"I musn't—"

"Never mind. It'll be over soon."

"—run away!"

The 6050's hands, lying useless on the floor, clenched suddenly into fists.

"Mega angst counter!" Excel yelled.

The 6050's body tightened and, in one whiplike motion, wrapped its own hands around the neck of Cosette's mech. For a moment the robots strained against each other; then Cosette's shuddered and released the 6050.

"Alright, girly robot!" Excel cheered. "Now kick it!"

Obediently, the 6050 braced its feet against Cosette's chest and pushed. The mech flipped onto its back as if it weighed nothing, and another blow shook the building.

"Yeah! Kick its ass!"

"Impossible!" Cosette screamed, and tried to right herself; but Excel, standing over her, brandished the 6050's wand. The six-foot metal rod was topped with a green jewel flanked by angel's wings, and Excel pointed it, ordering:

"Fire one!"

The wand spit a thin pink beam, and the chest of Cosette's mech split open. Circuits and wires blazed, exposed, and a girl's scream came through the mouthplate.

Excel hesitated.

"So…" she heard Cosette whisper. "That really was…a Shioji mech…"

As if in response, the metallic voice sounded again in Excel's cockpit.

"Alright," said Shioji, "this is me on the backup circuit. I've lost visual contact, though. Is everything alright?"

"Yep-yep!" Excel crowed. "Hey, this mecha rocks! And Excel figured out the secret to its ultimate power all on her own!"

"You – did?"

"Sure did!"

"That you had to curl into a ball and say 'I mustn't run away?'"

"Uh-huh!"

"You guessed that?"

"Excel may not be a genius, but she succeeds where it counts!"

"Hmm. As a scientist, I find it difficult to refute such concrete evidence."

"Ha! Ha! If I had fifty yen for every time I heard that one, sensei!"

She was startled back to the exterior world by a creaking noise. Even as black smoke poured from under her mecha's chest plate, Cosette was slowly moving.

"Not so fast!" Excel pointed the wand. "I'll finish this now!—Power at one hundred percent! Two hundred! Three hundred! Three hundred fifty, going once, going twice, sold!—To the young lady in the giant camo mecha, soon to be one more tragic thread in the tapestry of Excel's vengeance!"

The jewel at the tip of the wand began to glow.

"Hmm." Shioji held his breath.

Cosette's mech froze. Rising off its back, it remained braced on its hands and feet, like a spider, staring up at Excel. She wondered if its controls had somehow broken. Then she heard, so faint it was barely a whisper:

"Mother…"

"What's that?—Three hundred fifty percent's not good enough for ya? How about four hundred, that sound good?"

The wand twitched in her hand. The jewel burned, almost blinding her.

Cosette whispered again, too softly to hear, but Excel knew it was the same word. The giant mech remained motionless.

"Okay! Five hundred!"

"Wait a minute!" barked Shioji.

"Eh?"

The fire on the end of the wand sputtered and died.

"Listen to her," said Shioji.

"She said mother. So what?"

"She's just a child!"

"Well what am I supposed to do?"

The wand began glow again.

"Besides," she said, "since when do you care about something like that?"

"All I'm trying to do is save the life of a young, innocent, virginal – one might even sat cherubic – young girl! Miss Excel…" His voice softened. "Can't you think of any other option?"

"It's a giant robot fight! Giant robots punch each other! Sometimes, shoot each other! Hey you make these things!"

"'One carries a sword,'" said Shioji, "'so that one will not have to draw it.' Do you know what that means?"

Excel was silent.

"As I said, manufacturing engines of destruction is my profession. Not my passion."

"Well maybe you oughta get a new profession!"

"Perhaps I should! But that isn't the issue here. The question is, are you going to murder that little girl? Can you look, with you eyes wide open, and do it?"

Excel considered. "What if – I close my eyes?"

"Well, you'll still have to hear her screams of anguish."

There was silence. Then, again, Cosette whispered faintly: "Mother. Mother."

Excel lowered the wand, and sighed.

"Man. You wise old mentors are really a pain in the butt sometimes."

Looking down at Cosette, though, Excel had a sudden attack of thought. What was it with her epic journey of revenge and little girls? Hatchan's daughter. Shioji's assistant. Cosette-chan. Mother. Why did it remind of that day, four years ago? And what was it she felt now, that she had felt before when Hatchan's daughter had looked up at her, dewy-eyed, demanding to know why she had killed her mother?

Probably hunger, she decided. That was the safest bet.

"Okay," she whispered. "You win."

She wasn't sure if she was talking to Shioji, or to something else.


"Young Miss!" called the nurse, peeking her head inside the room.

The girl sat silent and motionless, facing the wall, as she had constantly since her admittance four hours ago. She had appeared mysteriously in the parking lot – dropped there, since it would have been nearly impossible to move in her condition. There had been few external injuries, but the doctor diagnosed shock, the most severe case he had seen in years.

"Young Miss?"

The girl still didn't answer.

"Excuse me, young Miss, but you have a visitor…"

The girl showed her first visible reaction, stiffening. The nurse smiled, taking it as a hopeful sign.

"You see, your father is here to see you!"

"Father?" the girl whispered.

"And you can speak! Oh, wonderful, he'll be so pleased to see you're alright!"

"But I don't have…"

It was too late. A shadow filled the doorway, spilling over Cosette. She recognized him by the shape.

So. They had believed that he was her father? Then again, she had been dressed as eccentrically as he was. Perhaps, after all, they were the same.

He approached the back of her chair. She heard his cloak rustle over the tiles, and felt his soft breath on the nape of her neck. His gloved hands settled over her shoulders.

"Cosette-chan," he whispered. "My darling Cosette-chan."

"I failed you, Lord Ilpalazzo," she whispered. "I don't deserve to live."

"And yet you're alive."

"Yes."

There was a silence, and a hissing came from the air-conditioning vent. She felt his hand brush through her hair, parting the matted strands, and she shuddered.

"And for that fact," said Lord Ilpalazzo, "I am most grateful."

"Forgive me. But Lord Ilpalazzo shouldn't be."

Another silence.

"If you had to guess," he said at length, "why she left you alive – what would be your guess?"

"Guessing won't be necessary. She said," said Cosette, and choked. "She said I could keep my wicked life – for two reasons."

"Yes? And what were the reasons?"

"Because she felt sorry for me. Because—"

Ilpalazzo waited, patiently, as Cosette tried successfully to hold back her tears.

"Because," she finally said. "She reminded me of herself."

"I see."

"And the second reason was – so I could tell you. That she plans to kill you, and that nothing will stop her."

"Yes," said Ilpalazzo, "she is persistent. One must allow her that much."

His tone of voice was strange. Cosette, facing away from him, suddenly wished she could see his expression.

"And so I could tell you what I'd told her," she added.

"And what did you tell her, Cosette-chan?"

"Where I thought she could find you."

"And where – my dear, dear little pearl – did you think she could find me?"

"In the ruins of F City."

"Then," he said, in that same strange tone of voice, "I shall make sure to be there."

She almost glanced around. "…Sir?"

"I believe I made myself clear." He stepped back, lifting his hands from her shoulders. "Cosette-chan. Make sure to rest until you've recovered. I will handle all expenses."

"—Sir? You're not going to…?"

"Why," he said mildly, "whatever could you mean?"

"But sir!—I failed you! I deserve nothing less…"

"Goodnight," he said, standing in the doorway. "Have sweet dreams."

Then he was gone.


Excel's preview: Hey, kids! You all know how to count to ten in English, right? Well how about Japanese – or nihongo, as we 'in the know' like to call it, ha ha ha! Repeat after me, now: Ichi. Ni. Eh, what the hell, let's stop with ni! Cause 'two' is the only number you'll need for 'twice' the action, 'twice' the adventure and 'twice' the parody as Volume Two of Death Rides a Bicycle begins its lofty ascent! Don't miss it!

AN: Come to think of it, this is funnier if you know that Shioji's voice actor, Spike Spence, also dubbed Shinji Ikari…anyway, a special thanks to my reviewers. I've been away from the game awhile, and I'd forgotten how nice it felt to get instantaneous, (usually) positive feedback. Thanks, guys.

Also, if you know what Excel's preview is a parody of, you and I share some pretty weird memories.