evaunit-01(ranma-tomoe)—smoke! Frying laptops! Indeed, coolness. Loosing fics, badness. (meaning not goodness rather than "uber-cool!") Scripts are more descriptive? How could that be? *wonders* ah, well, thankiies. Good scripts those. That or I use the stick of my lollypop!
Lita of Jupiter—The result of writing it at three in the morning is indeed dark. Ancient One, I know where he is now… Shinji's true form… I'm holding onto that secret for a little while more.
C^rrot—Yep, Shuri has made her debut. She won't be incredibly major… she's just there for Shinji's moral support. Oh. Wait. Shinji's amoral. Well… she's there so I can show just how messed up the two are. ^_^ The chapter originally had 'Mistress!' tacked onto the end… yes, I think taking it off was a good idea. Don't worry… I'm betting the Magi are flammable… *wink, wink, nudge, nudge* Yep, Gendo-kun and Mis-chan are going to be surprised by what he burns… but I like Rei-chan…
Ranshin—Insane freak standing by! Thank you? I think… Nope, just friends. Brother and sister if anything. Actually… they might think of themselves that way… Well, the way I'm using it is that they know each other so well, they understand the depths of the other's mind so completely, that they cannot understand what it is like to be two consciousness, each in their own body, rather than one consciousness in two (or rather, four bodies… *hint-hint*). Make any sense? They feel like they are one being, separated, split, broken, anything else that describes the making of more things from one thing, rather than two beings joined. Yeah, don't worry if you don't get it.
someone—Dark? Might be considered so, but I don't particularly think most of it is. Maybe the fact that I was typing at three AM made me a little depressed… continuing! Ja, mien fürer!
A/N: Well, I was lazy in starting this one… indeed, very sorry, sessha is. I know I'm never going to be as popular as many other authors here are, but I'm okay with that… geez, this isn't supposed to be my ranting about life, I'm stopping now. Oh, I'm going to point out that around angels 10-15 there's going to be some mind-stuff. I'm going to try to stay with the light-hearted feel, but… it is going to be there. Preemptive warning here.
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Ocean Red
Chapter 5: The Prodigal Son… or Not.
A Neo Genesis Evangelion Fanfiction
By CrimsonNoble
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Shuriken jerked hard on the makeshift dressing, knowing that while it would hurt Shinji, he wouldn't care. Well, he might, but if he did it would only be to enjoy it. She glared at him, and he grinned back. Damn him.
"Nodachi you idiot! How the hell did you get your arm cut open with that mesh your clothes are made of?"
Shinji smiled back at her like he was stoned. "I rolled up my sleeves."
Shuriken belted him in the jaw. "I am so not doing your laundry! I'm staying in your apartment, yes, but your laundry is yours!"
Shinji nodded somewhat meekly. Fear the Wrath of Shuriken. "Ja mein Führer, Mistress Shuriken!"
Shuriken belted him in the jaw again, harder, almost bruising her knuckles. She was rewarded with Shinji nearly collapsing, and doing the swirly-eyed thing that annoyed her. For some inane reason he always seemed to enjoy it. It was just Shinji being Shinji.
She was surprised when his fist, brass knuckles on again, crashed into her stomach. "Like you said, this isn't the time for self introspection. We've apparently chosen this place as our territory, now defend it we must."
Shuriken laughed. "What do you care if some code of ethics demands that we defend what we have taken in a contest of strength?"
He blinked. "The code of ethics that requires we do this transcends the boundaries of race, gender, and species. It is the law of survival for the society, those who have must stand on the backs of those who have not, else they would fall and society would collapse. Without teachers those who become scientists or developers would not have been taught. Without garbage people the world would be a dumping ground and we would not be able to have our society. Without ecology activists, we would have long since consumed natural resources instead of arguing with them, and man would be on the verge of self-destruction. The lone wolf must be allowed to roam free, else he might slay the Alpha male of the pack, and throw the wolves into chaos."
Shuriken smacked him upside the head, sending him sprawling into a wall. "For someone who professes total ignorance, you seem to know a lot."
Shinji pried himself off the dirty plaster. "For someone who professes to be above mankind, you sure don't have problems resorting to their most simplistic way of dealing with things."
She grabbed his hair and pulled back to stare into his eyes. "What was that?"
"You seem to enjoy violence despite calling yourself above man." He replied cheerfully. Shinji didn't have very much tact.
Shuriken emphasized each word with a resounding crash, caused by Shinji's head forcibly meeting the wall. "I. Am. Above. Man. Understand?"
"Yes, Mistress Shuriken."
She dropped him. "Good. If we must defend this abysmal place, then we should scout out the best locations for ambushing. I do not like this building, it is far too old, and seems likely to crumble at the merest nudge." A few moments ago, she would have been exaggerating. However, Shinji reached out and pushed on the wall he had become intimately acquainted with, and it fell to dust. He sighed, and looked like someone had kicked his dog, if he had cared about dogs. Dogs were not cool, mean things they were. Cats on the other hand, cats were good. All they asked was food, and a little affection, and that they be let roam free. Cats were the very definition of 'cool'.
Shuriken introduced her fist into his ear while he was distracted, forgetting again that hitting his head would have approximately the effect of hitting an anvil with a hammer made of wood. Yes, Shinji had a very dense skull. She sucked on her knuckles as Shinji looked up, his eyes not focusing properly, and his head tilted at an angle.
"Hello! Go look for an ambushing spot! Male Living Weapons… I swear…" She trailed off into incoherent mutterings.
Shinji stood, reached out to snatch up his bag, and left through the hole in the wall, showing no signs that he had been the cause of the hole, other than somewhat dusty hair. He dropped a switchblade into his palm, noting that it shone brightly in the darkness, and once again wondered why he kept his weapons highly polished. Then again, as the Ancient One was so fond of telling people, "I'm not an assassin, Damnit! I'm a professional killer! Say it with me, pro-fess-ion-al kill-er! Professional Killer! Do you hear the word assassin in there anywhere?" Yes, that could be it. He didn't work in the shadows exclusively; he worked wherever he felt like working… that was the difference.
He stepped sideways without bothering to break his momentum, avoiding the clumsy haymaker as the first drops of rain fell. He did bother, however, to break the would-be assailant's arm before he continued on his way, rain splattering against hair spiked with dried blood and LCL, running in rivers down his face, seeming to express the tears he would never again shed.
Shinji snorted. Bull. He wouldn't shed tears because no one deserved tears to be shed over them. Pain was his next-best friend, Death an intimate acquaintance, War practically his lover, and Annihilation his servant. What so many fools had said about themselves was indeed true for him, Heaven didn't want him and Hell was afraid he'd take over.
Water streamed down his shirt, both inside and out, utterly soaking him. His pants shed droplets of water almost before they landed, and never did he notice. His eyes focused on the approaching alley, it was within what he and Shuriken had inadvertently claimed as their territory, and well lit enough to be seen in, while dark enough so that his features would be obscured. A single droplet of water fell from his nose, taking with it grime and blood, he hadn't yet cleaned his face, and almost every exposed inch of him had been soaked in crimson life. His clothes didn't like blood, and didn't let it adhere to them. Soon only his hair would stand as silent testimony to the not-living existences he had removed.
Someone stepped into the alley behind him, taking him for an easy mark. Assuming him to be a middle-class child, carrying money and something valuable. Perhaps the son of someone who would earn enough to pay a healthy ransom.
Shinji's trade was in things far more valuable, this man's life for instance. The instant the man placed a hand on Shinji's shoulder, his fate was sealed. Anyone who trains to fight must first think about what his opponent was doing to react.
Shinji didn't need that instant of thought. He spun, tearing free of the man's grasp, and slicing across his throat cleanly. The man made a loud gurgle, his scarred and pitted face showing disbelief and disgust. The man's sorrowful dark brown eyes met Shinji's joyful cobalt ones, and he read what was there without any trouble. Shinji showed his victims the truth as they died, that they died to purify the world.
Shinji stepped over the corpse, the rain washing his blade clean. He crossed the street, singing quietly a song of pain, death, and betrayal. He would simply eliminate any who tried to kill him… and in doing so would prove that Section 2 really was full of incompetent goons who couldn't assassinate or even fight their way out of a wet paper bag.
He pushed open the door to a building that had probably once been some sort of theater, the door nearly rusted shut possibly having been an emergency exit. All of which really didn't matter to Shinji, only that the enclosed space was warm, and that he was no longer feeling so tired. He sat in one of the derelict seats, which promptly sank underneath his weight, and sighed. He was going on three days without sleep now. Nothing compared to the two weeks that the Ancient One had made him go before letting him even begin to attempt to access the power. Each try after that had cost a week without sleep. The old ass had made him go nearly five weeks before his Naming Ceremony. Said it was to make him a 'proper Weapon,' aka, someone who could listen to the voices in his head without caring, someone who could ignore pain, someone who was loyal to his master, but loved no one. The bastard had succeeded in all respects.
Shinji dropped the switchblade into its housing hidden by his sleeve again, and unzipped his bag. From it he drew the nodachi, sheathed as it was in the way that left almost half the blade bare. It wasn't a proper sheathe, having been mutilated by the Shuriken, and Shinji had never bothered getting a new one. He removed what was left of the leather cover, stowed it, and tested the edge on the seat. Effortlessly it cut through.
He detected a slight rustling noise from above. His senses kicked into overdrive, and he was abruptly aware that he had crossed the invisible line between his new territory and someone else's the second he'd stepped into the theater. He stood, smiling like an idiot, and started to walk away. Someone clad in blue and green stepped from behind the counter to bar his way.
Shinji gave him three seconds before the nodachi danced in and through his throat. A sharp tug to the side half-severed the head, and Shinji half-turned, smiling at the stage. He jammed the tip of the sword into the floor, praying it wouldn't sink too deep, and drew a sidearm. A boy, certainly no older than fifteen, stepped in front of him, and heard nothing before he died.
Of the four members of the gang that were in the building, three died of natural causes and one ran away.
(: :)
Shinji shifted slightly on his stone-like seat. Shuriken had dragged him off to a place she had called, "An excellent ambush position." She had, of course, chosen to put him in the most uncomfortable spot possible… but that wasn't his problem. His problem was that he was now stuck to the seat. Frozen there with the Power. Shuriken had done it to make sure he couldn't wander off.
The Power let him go so suddenly that he fell off the wall. Which meant that someone had entered the range of the contingency woven into the binding. All of which meant nothing to Shinji, as he was currently trying to pry his face from the unforgiving asphalt. He managed to jerk his head up, incidentally ramming the back of his skull into someone's groin. The someone fell.
Shinji failed to notice this, and stood calmly. The first thing he saw was an almost solid arc of light curving toward him. His had shot out, and he caught the approaching chain with his forearm. He swore. Badly. That was going to leave a mark.
He twisted his wrist once more, adding another curl to the spiral of chain around his arm, and jerked it free from the man. The slingshot force of the tug sent the chain whipping behind his head, where the man he had accidentally head-butted was just regaining his feet. The chain made sure he would never worry about this again, or anything else. Or even be able to worry, as it tore through his skull rather bloodily. Shinji finally noticed this.
"Ahh, hell. Shuriken's gonna be pissed. Told me not to crush anyone's skull…" Distractedly, more worried about Shuriken's Wrath, which was such an ominous event that it did indeed deserve to be capitalized, he whirled the chain back around, watching wrap around the man's neck, and jerked. Hard.
The snap echoed loudly in the alley. Shinji pulled the chain in, and wrapped it around his arm. Armor and a weapon!
He shrugged it off, and started away, forgetting that he'd just created two more deaths in a world where life was a scarce commodity.
Shinji fingered his wristband, wondering if he should remove it… for safety from Shuriken's Wrath.
Shuriken popped up in front of him.
"GAHH!" Shinji tried to punch her in the stomach reflexively. Unfortunately for him, Shuriken had been expecting this, and had put a thick plate of metal in the way.
She got several laughs from seeing him jumping around shouting various expletives, and waving his hand around like a mad-man. Of course, that was only after she'd caught her breath, as Shinji had managed to dent the metal, testament to why he was proficient with close-combat weapons over throwing ones. She threw a rock at him, nailing him in the head. As a result, he slipped, planting 'face seeds' in the earth. Shuriken stared.
Shinji moaned and attempted to get up.
--
Shinji peeked out the window. It wasn't that there was anyone there; it was that there wasn't that was disturbing him. He could feel someone, more open to the Power than he had been in weeks, but he couldn't see anyone. Someone moved in the darkness, a flash of gold, a brief glimpse of a face, eyes hidden by sunglasses.
Shinji cursed softly.
"Shuriken." Couldn't be too loud. They might hear. "Take my shit. I don't want to be persecuted for killing NERV personnel." He stripped off his armaments, sans one switchblade, and stored them carefully into his bag.
Shuriken took them carefully, knowing full well what would happen if the bag was treated badly. And knowing that his towel was in there. Her towel was still at his apartment, because she had very little emotional attachment to hers, merely using it, and nothing more. Still she appreciated Shinji's love of his towel, if it did disturb her a bit.
Shinji pulled himself out onto the windowsill where he sat, waiting to be noticed. As he kicked his feet, he felt something. His hand dove into the pocket sewn onto his pants. A-HA! His lighter!
He took it out, merely gazing at it for a moment. It was silver, the paint having worn off long ago, and rectangular. His thumb ran over the symbol on it, a Russian hammer and sickle in the center of Japan's flag. It was beautiful to his eyes.
He stuck his hand back into the pocket, and came out with a small cloth. The lighter flicked open, and the malicious flame burst into life at a swift motion of his finger. The corner of the soft cotton dipped into the orange flame, stealing part of its life, before Shinji killed it by shutting the lid. He glanced down at the man below, and then at the flaming cloth in his hand. Distractedly, he replaced the lighter, and watched, entranced as the cotton turned to ash and floated away. He dropped the cloth, watching it fall to the street, where the dancing light revealed the man in the shadows. Shinji jumped off the window, plummeting like a can of soda, waiting to be crushed upon landing. Lazily he rotated in mid-air until he crashed feet-first into the concrete. He clenched his hands, seriously considering lunging for the suit's throat.
He stood, smiled vacantly, and held out his hands.
(: :)
Wow. A new record. At least, a new record while away from the Ancient One. Unless you counted his 'visits' to the police station.
Nevertheless, apart from any public law officials or sadistic torturers who called themselves trainers and succeeded damn well in doing so, this was a new record. In all of his visits to NERV after the last angel, Shinji Ikari had been handcuffed. Of course, this time it was more than one pair, three to be exact. And a pair of sturdy chains bound his upper arms to his sides.
Yes, Shinji Ikari was satisfied with his treatment. It reminded him of what he knew as his home. Except he wasn't chained to a three hundred pound weight. Yet, the atmosphere inside the room, his Commandant's office, reminded him of the numerous trips to his second home. The Chamber.
When Misato spoke, her voice was chillier than the coldest block of ice. "Why were you in the seventeenth sector Pilot Ikari?"
Hundreds of half-truths, outright lies, and twists filled Shinji's mind, yet he chose to go with the first one that he thought of. "I was bored."
"You were ordered to return to your residence."
Twist the knife, use her words, and hatred cause. "I did so. Then I left."
Ice no longer, the flames of Hades did burn. "Who the hell gave you permission to leave!?"
Lips parted, teeth flashed. "You never specified how long I had to stay at my apartment."
And let the brain fry. "I shouldn't fucking have to! You should learn your place Pilot!"
Be the ocean, let it pass over you and through you, and remain unmoved. "I know my place. It is located in the worst part of the city. I know my other place as well, Pilot of Evangelion Unit 01. Daddy dearest wouldn't call me unless he couldn't use anyone else. Thus, indispensable I am." Satisfaction gleamed in his eyes, though dull they were. Distracted, as if listening to something not-quite-there.
"Kill her. She closes on the truth. She must die. You do not know this woman, she is an interloper, she is not one of you, she is not Shuriken, she is not Saber, she is not Wakizashi, she is not Dagger, she is not Kodachi. She is not Gunn, she is not Dart, she is not Katar, she is not Weapon, she is not one of us. Her life means nothing, and yet you allow her to threaten all of us? She is an Oathkeeper. One of those we are sworn to break. KILL HER!"
Through the masking pain of resisting the Ancient One's compulsion, Shinji felt something pop in his arm. Good, pain, localized… He seized upon it, letting the delicious warmth of the dislocated shoulder flow through him, pretty as the blood that washed him clean, pure as the wails of the dying newborn infant, lovely as the soulless eyes of the dead…
Shinji looked up. Misato had asked him why he was so sure that his father would use him as only a last resort. "That should be obvious, shouldn't it? He had to go through some not exactly clean channels to actually find me… I thought he would have at least given you the correct information. Did he give you a falsified profile, or did he not bother giving you my profile at all?"
Raven hair fell in front of Misato's face. That was enough of an answer for Shinji.
He stood, and stepped toward the door. "Where the hell are you going?"
Shinji turned, smiled, and skipped backward. "To my apartment I go, I go, to my apartment I go! From underground to overearth, to my apartment I go-oh!"
--
Shinji stepped into the stairwell, turned, and waved directly to a Section 2 officer. It wasn't that the man was bad, no, by ordinary standards he was quite good.
He just breathed too damn loud.
Shinji rubbed his wrists. They didn't exactly hurt, but they did feel weird. There had to have been some sort of numbing solution on the cuffs. His door was open. Unsurprising, he hadn't bothered to lock it. He opened it, and stepped inside. He shut the door, kicked off his shoes, and turned to look at the inside of the entryway. On the wall, directly beneath the switch to turn on an empty light socket, someone had taped a slip of paper.
Shinji glanced at it, and then away.
Then he spun back to it. It was coded, of course, but this wasn't from Shuriken. No, this was written out like a recipe, for some sort of messed up Cheese-Steak Chicken Noodle soup. He paled, and turned to look at his bed. On it rested the one thing he had expected, a single black briefcase.
As if possessed of a stronger will than his own, his hands approached the case. It had no apparent latches, locks, or other ways of being opened, yet within seconds, before Shinji's trained fingers, it split into two.
Inside was a uniform, and a note.
Hey Shinji.
If you're reading this… what a corny opening line, neh? Nevertheless, it is true. One of two things may have happened, you know what one is. The other? You're needed. Shuriken and Kodachi should be receiving theirs as well, but you don't know Kodachi. You got the true not, you understand what is happening here. Hell, you're probably at the center of the problem.
Well, we've screwed up. Got caught. I'd love to put a line here saying something like 'your mission, if you choose to accept it…' but that would just be fragging stupid. Get your ass out here now. Active Duty is what they're technically on, but you know what that means.
There was no signature, and the paper was from an ancient typewriter. It wasn't exactly paper either, more like a thin slice of wood. There was literally no way of tracing it unless you knew whom it had come from.
Shinji stripped out of his other uniform. Once he stood clad in merely his boxers, he lifted the first article from the case. Midnight-blue pants unrolled, imperfectly pressed. He noticed, with mixed fear and irritation, that the pants were a little too long. Yes, the woman was evil. The belt slid through a small buckle, and then curved over and behind itself. The silver buckle shone against the malachite cloth, bringing back unpleasant memories. The unpleasant memories, however, were far outweighed by the pleasant ones. A jade green shirt went on first, which was slightly too small. Not enough to be worthy of complaining about, but still, it wasn't comfortable. Very evil. Over that he pulled a silver embroidered cobalt button-up dress shirt. He found the second to last items in the case, a pair of sleek mid-calf length boots, the only things that looked remotely new. These he pulled on, tucking the ends of his pants into them. Over all of this he drew a grey ankle length raincoat. Yep, it was going to rain tonight.
Either they had a sixth sense, or they scheduled these on purpose.
End of ChapterA/N:… umm… I'm not going to detail what goes on there for a while. I just wanted to ask if anyone caught the Deep Dive reference. First part of the chapter was started after midnight, finished a few days later at nine pm.
Praise, flame, char-broil, set on a pedestal, print it out and use it for firewood… *is too tired to continue*