Arizosa--*doesn't know it, yet flourishes anyway*
C^rrot—pedestal and fire? Even better! More interesting, you say? Cool. Heh… no, they're not going to enter… unless Itichie provides permission… I just referenced to them. You need to find a video clip of Deep Dive. Or better yet, download one of them (best are SomewhereTheyBelong, and Kingdom Hearts 2 – Sleep) from AnimeMusicVideos.org. Better songs they are… and the songs make it cooler. And unless you happen to own a copy of Kingdom Hearts Final Mix… only way you're going to get them. Utter comicalness is half the goal of S&S. the other half is showing that insane people are indeed occasionally smarter than the uninsane. What, you people thought I'd write something without some ulterior motive?
Magnus-sama—not merely insane. Thankiies.
Optimus Magnus—proud of it. Take one twist tie, curl into spring shape. Draw through cocaine, bind both sides quickly. Throw into blender. Puree for five minutes. This is what I do before starting to write. J/K.
Lita of Jupiter—indeed… you found a plot! Quick, tell me! .
Ranshin—Good. Me=clumsy and crazy. ^_^ Go ahead, post it if you want. I do, however, want to know where this site is…
A/N: Has anyone else seen the music video for The One I Love Is? 'tis… good. No other words. Yes, it is that good. And this is going to be long. Very long. Why, you ask? For the reason that I want it to be. Grr… ah, hell, you want a real reason? So I have a reason to live through this next school year if I don't finish before then. Good enough? Gah! I've figured out who the Ancient One really is! No, he's not a Self Insert. His name is… Taeleth. I doodled a picture in a notebook, and that's how I know. Whaaat? Oh, I would like to mention that if you e-mail a review and don't want me to mention it in the fic, tell me not to. I like people, most of the time, and it's not my goal to embarrass you, okay?
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Ocean Red
Chapter 6: The Beast
A Neon Genesis Evangelion Fanfiction
By CrimsonNoble
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Shinji wrinkled his nose. The rain really stank of renewal. From what the Ancient One had told him, it hadn't done so before Second Impact. Then, to quote the man, "It used to smell like the Gods were crying tears of blood for the sins of man. It smelled like Paradise Lost, like the flesh of the damned. Pity it will never be the same." He had refused to elaborate further. Yiss, the Ancient One was a tad bit freaky. His interests did reflect within Shinji's, but… whatever. It wasn't important.
Shinji missed the fact that a tiny voice in the back of his head whispered, "He hasn't affected you… he merely awoke you from the bindings others placed on you…"
His raincoat was twisted slightly, annoying the heck out of him. But seeing as how he was hanging from a brick and plaster wall four floors above the solid concrete -- and more importantly Shuriken was below him -- there was nothing he could really do. Yet, he had his bag, and his towel. Life was good.
He pulled himself up to the small gash in the grey wall that served as his window. He kicked his legs up to the gash and slid in half-sideways, half-backwards. He almost got stuck as he tried to get his upper torso through, but managed it somehow.
Shinji landed on all fours, or, more specifically, his fingers and toes. For a moment he held the position, watching as beads of sweat dripped from his face, and then rolled to his right as Shuriken squirmed in. His bag landed on his gut, making him grunt slightly, and then stand up. He ran his left hand through his somewhat damp hair, and then shook his head.
Shinji turned, to be met with Shuriken's left jab. The blow caused him to stumble, landing on his bed. Shuriken raised her eyebrows.
"For shame Nodachi! Didn't see that coming?"
Shinji frowned. Not so much in displeasure as because that was what he felt he should do.
Shinji stopped frowning. When had he ever done what he "should do", after all? He started to turn away, careful to leave his right foot planted as his left entered a sweeping motion.
He didn't bother stopping, continuing with the pivot to backhand Shuriken across the back of her skull. She stumbled, lost her footing, crashed awkwardly into a forward roll, and came up holding a dulled throwing star.
Shuriken twisted her hips, sliding her right foot outward and forward to give herself a better 'platform', and hurled the object. Shinji's newest weapon slashed around, batting aside the projectile and then whipping in to curl around his arm.
Shuriken, already halfway across the room, adapted. Instead of performing a flying tackle, as she would have ordinarily, she dropped into a sliding sweep kick that took Shinji to the floor. On her stomach she forced herself into a pushup with enough force to bring her high enough to get her feet solidly planted.
What she had not expected was Shinji to have tossed his bag up, and thus was utterly shocked when it landed with a clunk on her head. She stumbled into his bed, and flopped onto it. It was a couple more seconds before the bag hit the floor, and by then Shinji had regained his feet. His left hand curled around her corresponding ankle, the smooth leather feeling quite odd to the touch, and applied gentle traction until she fell from the bed.
As soon as the material disappeared from under her, Shuriken reflexively threw out her hands, catching herself on the knife-edge of her palms. Her free foot cocked, and then slammed outward into Shinji's ankle, knocking it out of position so that he smashed heavily onto his right side. Unfortunately, for both, this twisted him enough to have the effect of trapping her ankle beneath his knee.
While no means was it permissible to say that Shinji was weak or thin, and indeed he was of slightly more than average muscle size, his knees had little of this to cushion them. Fortunately, he was still wearing his boots, and they padded the impact somewhat. Keyword being "somewhat". Shuriken's boot took most of the rest of the blow, yet it still managed to jar his kneecap and her ankle painfully. He was damn lucky that his kneecap didn't slip. He'd never bothered learning how to actually fix the injuries he caused, on the principal that if he hurt someone, he would be too busy finishing them off or laughing too hard to repair the wound. Shuriken had honestly tried to learn Healing, but the Ancient One provided little to no information on the subject. It wasn't his job to fix them up; it was his job to rip them apart.
When he was finished, it was time for the next stage. Into the Survival Room they were dumped.
The Survival Room had a distinct terror that hung around it. It had little to nothing to do with helping them survive, and everything to do with trying to make sure that they didn't. Of course they had, otherwise instead of being in Tokyo-3, they would be scattered around the room. "Room" wasn't a good word for it either, as it was much too big. It was like someone had taken pieces of various landscapes and jammed them into one area, totaling about the size of six square football fields, before roofing over them. The only thing that made it different from said area was the fact that it had been constructed underground. None of which mattered at this point, however, and after taking less than half a second to catch their breath, both moved.
Shinji performed what would have been half of a cartwheel, if he'd used his hands. Instead he propped himself up on his shoulders and finished with a sinuous motion that moved his feet to the floor and his body over them, with a small twist so that he ended up facing the opposite direction. Somehow during the full-bodied motion he'd managed to snag his bag, and from within he drew the straight-sword. He turned to face Shuriken, lowering himself into a mix of a reverse-hard stance and a standard square horse stance. He flicked the blade through the air, and it spun on a horizontal axis until his left hand caught it. Being ambidextrous was definitely a marked advantage.
Meanwhile, Shuriken had snatched the edge of the bed and forced herself into a handstand on it before falling to her feet, facing almost a full one hundred thirty-five degrees away from Nodachi. Nimble fingers danced into sheathes located in various strategic points on her form, withdrawing another shuriken and one of her three close combat weapons. At the same time as she brought her hands into a guard position, now holding her weapons, she cross-stepped with her right leg behind her left, and whirled to face Nodachi. Instead of a reverse stance, or even any stance at all, she held herself in a loose position with her arms draped close to her sides. Her hair, rinsed clean with rain, fell limply around her head.
Shinji snapped his wrist, dropping a switchblade into his palm, and flicking it open. His eyes lazily drifted shut, and he swayed slightly. Five days now. Shit, the last time he had pulled a no-sleep stint this long had been when the Ancient One had dumped him in the wasteland that was where the old Circus of the Mentally Fucked Up, as he privately referred to it, had been located. Now it was a forsaken desert of ash. That he'd been without food and water were the only differences. That and he had been in his Soul form then.
His eyes snapped wide as he heard the whistle of another projectile. This time it was no blunted weapon, and he took it to his arm, where it lodged between two of the links in the chain.
"That was clumsy, Nodachi. Are you honestly that pathetic? Are you not supposed to be the savior of humanity?" Shuriken apparently missed the irony there.
"No, I'm the Savior of Destruction," he spat. "My interests in the matter of these Angels are purely for self-preservation. Humanity can go screw itself." He lunged, the longer blade flashing out, darting, twisting, and generally trusting Shuriken to avoid the blade rather than pull the blows before they hit.
Shuriken laughed a laugh of pure glee as she danced around the weapon, her empty hand snatching another shuriken, styled after a dart this time, as her blade, a twin of Nodachi's straight sword, merely slightly shorter, deflected the switchblade. She flicked the dart up toward Nodachi's face, and then whirled away, not watching him, trusting him to avoid the weapon. Once again her hand snuck out a 'throwing star', and she gripped it in an almost closed fist to prevent herself from slicing her hand open. Not that she would have minded, unlike Nodachi, who would have gone out of his way to do it, but the blood would loosen her grip on the weapons… and that would be bad. Nodachi was not sympathetic. She jumped, and slammed her foot into the wall, bouncing off, and landing on the bed.
Shinji smirked, moving in the smallest increment possible to avoid the thrown weapon. His eyes involuntarily tracked its path, and calculating where it would stick into the ceiling for a moment distracted him. As such, he let the chance to thwack Shuriken most excellently go past unheeded. When he finally turned, she was just about to kick off the wall. He tossed the switchblade up, heard the thunk as it buried itself in the ceiling, and whirled his arm out, flinging the chain at Shuriken's ankles.
Unfortunately for her, she still hadn't had time to adjust to this new weapon, and thusly didn't quite dodge in time. One of her feet got out of the way, but the other was tangled up. Nodachi jerked viciously, ripping her feet out from under her. She caught herself on one hand, and then realized that it was a bad idea. Had she not caught herself, she would have landed on the mattress.
But she had, and when Shinji jerked again, he pulled her off, slamming the point of her jaw into the floor. She curled into a defensive fetal ball, her sword-dagger gripped across her stomach. Her other hand flicked the shuriken up, sending it in the direction of the taught chain, which twirled her, trying to stretch her out for a first blood strike.
That was unacceptable to Shuriken. Nothing less than total victory was.
Of course, the same was true for Nodachi. Get a grip, hold on, and don't let go. The "bulldog" way of going at things, as many people called it. Odd, since neither of them were remotely canine. If anything, Nodachi was saurian, and Shuriken feline. Nevertheless, that was what they did, and what they did they did well.
Unfortunately for their grades, this was just about anything but school. Shinji had repeatedly had a C average, and Shuriken a D+. Which was not to say that they were illiterate. They just didn't like to apply literacy. Because, in their ever humble opinion, book knowledge was stupid. What was the good of knowing something that didn't keep you alive, after all?
Of course, none of these thoughts registered within their minds, as they were too busy trying to draw first blood from each other.
Shinji sidestepped to get out of the way of the projectile, managing to ignore it this time, and stepped in with a left to right strike akin to a stab, trying to break flesh at her neck. Then the shuriken fell.
After a moment of utter stillness, both moved, Shinji with a trail of blood down his cheek, and Shuriken with a thin gash along the back of her neck.
Simultaneously they announced to each other, "You look like shit."
--
Shinji fell into his seat, pressing his head to his desk, having still had no sleep. He wasn't used to this anymore. Having gone a month with a regular sleeping schedule, he was no longer used to being awake for any amount of time longer than three or so days.
And here he was, trying to avoid being bored into slumber by the teacher. Oh, joy. He gave up, and mentally waved a white flag before closing his eyes.
Seconds later they popped open as someone smacked him around the back of the head with a bitch-slap. Gods, no sleep for Shinji. He settled into a comfortable position, and managed to slip one of his earphones in without anyone noticing.
The heavy metal that poured into his ears kept him awake, at least. Though it was headache inducing.
He ignored the message windows that popped up, asking if he; A: was single, B: could introduce them to whoever chose pilots, and C: if he would tell where he'd gotten the piercing in his left eyebrow. There were, of course, others, but those were the most asked. And the first that popped up on his screen.
An innumerable number of songs later, mostly because Shinji couldn't tell the difference between them, the bell rang for PE.
His sneakers scuffed the tile as he hauled himself in the direction of the lockers. Evil PE. Couldn't even start a general brawl. It was physical… and most definitely educational. Pshh, such a stupid school. Not even a localized lesson at the school of Shinji's Fists.
How depressing.
He hadn't realized that while his somewhat bored into-almost-halting thought process that he'd managed to change and get out onto the PE court. Didn't realize, actually, until the basketball bounced off his head hard, knocking him back several steps and swished through the hoop. He shook his head, sending his hair whipping around his head in thin trails, drawing eerie traces in the air as they caught both the light off of the sun, and the reflections from his eyebrow ring. The item now residing inside his ear made an odd swishing noise as the movements made it do things that it didn't normally. Rapid back and forth was not it's good part. Sudden jars, bouncing, abrupt movement, these were all normal for it. Shinji was merely moving his head a little too fast.
People appeared to notice, and he observed this. A few seconds passed before he came up with a plan.
He stumbled around the court a little before flopping down onto the gravel, apparently unconscious. Shinji mentally clapped himself on the back. Not only would he dodge questions about his speed and why the ball hadn't knocked him out, but also he had a somewhat legit excuse to ditch PE.
Joy.
--
Shinji ducked as the Captain's arm slammed into the wall. His amused fear turned entirely to amusement as he spotted the way her eyes were almost bulging, a vein in her head was twitching, her hair was nearly flying around her skull, and her teeth were creaking with the force of her clenched jaw. He tried to make a cowed "eep", but it came out more along the lines of "heehp!" Ah, yes, the forced love of oppression. Trouble causing.
He remembered a pair of books he'd snatched from the Ancient One, which were now back on the old man's shelf. Brave New World and 1984. Such wonderful books. Dictatorship through rewards and total power through punishment. How like the world today. The Prince had been interesting, but he'd only achieved the third chapter before Shinji had become bored with the style of writing. These he had read before he'd reached the Power for the first time, and he didn't have anything better to do.
Who gave a damn about France way back when? Admittedly, in one of his old teacher's opinions, Joan de Arc's only saving grace was detaching France from England before the "cowardlyness" had spread. Of course, the man was biased, hating everything French, and being an Englishman. Honestly, that had been too long ago for Shinji to care about.
None of which really passed through his mind, in favor of studying the way the Captain's face was twisted. It was quite fascinating, really, the way the flesh was stretched and twisted. Shinji made a mental note to attempt to recreate the image the next time he had a proper "canvas".
"You left." The Captain's eye twitched. "Why did you leave?"
Her voice was strained, yet she kept it soft. Ahh, she was angry then. Well, might as well royally piss her off…
"Some things are often not to be spoken of. Cheese is one of these things. Have you cut any recently?" Insidious Insinuation. Well, no. Just a poor attempt at it. A "dead to the world" look took over Shinji's eyes as he stared at the ceiling corner behind the Captain. Approximately four pounds of C4 to blast a hole in it. Wouldn't call it a structural failure, exactly.
Pink face. Nice face. Not a cheery face, but a face. An angry face. Not quite what he'd wanted, but close. He wanted infuriation. Push a little more then.
"Speaking of which, have you ever worn a shirt with "Guess" across the front? And if so, did you get someone random coming up to you and saying, 'Implants'?" His mind cheered him on with chants of "Low blow!" Shinji smiled maliciously at her.
Ahh, there, the clenched white knuckles. And the sound of an empty grinder crushing itself into powder. Her teeth had to hurt. Ah-ha! A new goal. Make the Captain's teeth be ground into perfect smoothness. This would take time and careful planning…
The Captain, at a loss for words, resorted to Shuriken's way of dealing with these things, and belted him across his cheek. Shinji continued to sit, his head twisted. It hadn't been a very hard blow, to Shinji, but he had been recently reminded that most people could not, normally, take the force of a thirty-two inch television dropped from three stories without collapsing, falling unconscious, and feeling like general shit. So he acted like it had hurt. Not too much, but enough for him to be somewhat normal.
Of course, this was Shinji. And his way of dealing with pain was not "normal" any more than his tolerance for it. So when he started laughing, and deliberately prodding the point of impact, it was understandable that the Captain backed away. His torso, neck, and head twisted sinuously as he turned to look up at the woman. As he dropped into a crouch, coiling his legs underneath him, his hands clawed and his eyelids half-closed.
For a moment Katsuragi actually thought he was going to attack her. Already she was prepared to draw and fire. And yet, in the next moment, Shinji had moved into a standing position that only gave away his earlier actions by the popping of his knees. Not that he had weak knees, or anything. It was just that his knees didn't like to be silent unless he told them to. Odd knees, his.
With distracted eyes Shinji sat back down on the bench. The bars of his pathetic cell cast shadows across his face, static shadows that refused to move. For a few moments, he considered breaking the light, and dropping the others into his element.
He didn't. Too much risk of disarmament and discovery that way. To wander around this world without weapons was suicide. Not that any of those who worked for NERV knew this, they were too "concerned" for the safety of humanity to care or know about the garbage towns of the world. Towns being communities, not actually the strictly literal definition in that context. Not that he believed that NERV cared, but they had to keep up appearances. And the good appearance they desired was best kept by pretending to care about humans.
Which was not to say that some of the NERVians didn't actually care. Just that the Commander didn't. And as the Commander, Gendo Ikari (formerly Rokobungi) was too smart to let the caring NERVians actually find out what he was doing. Which lead Shinji to the logical conclusion that the man didn't care.
A conclusion that had been reinforced when he looked back at the many years in which he had been forsaken by his… "Father".
All of which were conclusions that he had already come to several days ago, and now only briefly flashed through his mind. What he felt was more important was when the man had gone from merely being an object of dislike, to article of his hatred. This was not something he felt was a good thing. He should not have been capable of hatred so mild.
However, he was distracted by the sound of the cage gate shutting. He didn't spare it a second glance, instead cupping his hand over his left ear. The foreign body within detected the differentiating pressure, and activated fully.
For a brief instant, he was tortured with too loud elevator music, before it connected.
In a voice so soft it was almost sub-vocal, Shinji began to speak. "Ouuu, Shuriken… do make sure that no one takes my stuff. I'm in confinement. You see, apparently NERV doesn't like me disappearing all the time. Perhaps a lesson is due sometime soon to them, but… our dear Ancient One ordered us not to be revealed. And so did They. So, take care of my stuff, wouldja?"
A biting, sarcastic, and somehow honest voice popped back at him. "No duh, Nodachi. Like I would just let anyone take your stuff. No one needs to know about your anti-tech bombs and other stuff."
"Thanks Shuri. Knew I could count on you." Immediately after, he popped the communicator back off, rather than hear Shuri rant about how she was in no manner reliable, let alone helpful. It was just that, she would continue, she didn't need to be found, and that his anti-tech bombs in the wrong hands would be bad. The wrong hands being any but theirs.
Shinji yawned, and decided to catch up on sleep. He shut his eyes, and lay back on the bench before drifting off.
END CHAPTERSorry 'bout the wait. First, I was out of town. Then I came back, did some work, left again. Now I'm back with company, and have to read The Prince. Blech. School=evil. This chapter had no immediately evident purpose, yet I have a vague outline for the angels, so all's goodness. Flame, Praise, Print out and shredder before burning, print out and place on pedestal, print out and place on pedestal before burning, etc. 'tis all welcome.