Arizosa—pretty pretty flames, consuming the self, scalding the all. Yep yep yep. How odd though, that I didn't get a notification that you'd reviewed… O_o
C^rrot—oops… I'll take that as a compliment I suppose… but sorry 'bout your keyboard…
Lita of Jupiter—darn. Ah, well… *makes note that in the future to place a "do not try this at home" disclaimer*. Someone likes Shuri, someone likes Shuri… *excited*
Disclaimer: Wow. This one still does not own Gainax. Or Evangelion. Or NERV, or any part thereof. If you do not know this simple fact… then this isn't going to help any. Therefore, don't flame me, capiche? Nor do I own The Living Weapon. My new golden toilet, however…
Author's random musings that are skippable if you want to read the story:
Absolutely Lovely. My home computer now has a wonderful thing known as a virus. I'm ever so thankful to whoever programmed it. I'm not sure what it does though, as there have been no ill effects yet. So, this one will keep you people updated. School starts August Thirteenth for me; so after expect a slightly longer delay between chapters. Oh, and if you haven't read Politically Correct Bedtime Stories, do so, now. Mmm… bottle caps… And many thanks to my editor.
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Ocean Red
Chapter 7: Father and Son
A Neon Genesis Evangelion Fanfiction
By CrimsonNoble
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Shinji's hands released the crossbar of his wimpy cell that he'd been using to exercise. He didn't know if he even could get out of shape, but he didn't feel like risking it. And he could always get in better shape. Reverse sit-ups were not that much better than normal sit-ups, yet helped with arm strength. He yawned, stretched, and began entering the next stage of his workout, but was interrupted when the door slid open.
Alarmingly, the light threw the tattoos across his bare torso into focus. The elaborate design originated at the lower edge of his sternum, then curled around his shoulders, and spread down his back, before curving back up to terminate in tendrils racing up into his hair. However, in the intensely fluorescent light, it was difficult to decipher how much of the tattoo was ink and how much was where his thoroughly defined muscle cast shadows in the awkwardly placed lighting.
Despite only having been in the chamber two days, Shinji had already lost most of his tan, becoming almost as pale as Rei. He hadn't showered, or indeed done anything hygienic, in all that time. Thus, his hair was greasy, and lying back along his skull, tied into possibly the shortest ponytail in the history of hairdos. And he smelled, of sweat and blood where he had sustained minor injuries to various parts of his body. Like where he had scraped his knuckles -- quite deliberately -- while using the bench as an elevated pushup brace. The wound was already well on the way to healing, but he hadn't even bothered to wipe off the blood, so now his hands were covered in his crusty red life.
The nameless, faceless, clone of a NERV security agent stood in the light, revealing nothing but his profile to the eyes. Black suit, sunglasses, hair cut in the standard military fashion… couldn't NERV get a little imagination? When a "secret" organization, under the control of the UN -- at least in theory -- was reduced to copying the American Secret Service… that was bad. Extremely so. Stupid NERV.
"The Commander requests your presence in his office, Pilot Ikari," the Agent told him in the normally monotonic voice. "I will escort you."
Shinji extended a hand, and snatched up his shirt from where he had thrown it. He tugged it on, but didn't button it. If, as he expected, he was going to come back here, there was no point wasting the energy. So instead he stepped up to the clone, and stared at him. Not a threatening stare, just an "I-have-nothing-else-to-do" ' stare.
A few minutes into the staring contest, Shinji said, in a cherry manner: "Well then…shall we go? Wouldn't want to break my record of being late for dates…"
To his credit, the molded clone didn't seem to be disturbed by Shinji. This was surprising, but only for a moment. The man wasn't impressive in any way, sans the fact that he seemed to have been re-programmed by NERV's conditioning. Which was only impressive because NERV didn't have a reputation for being able to mind wipe people. Which was a good thing, he supposed. You didn't want your enemies to know anything about you, but if you had no choice, it was far better for them to know the more harmless of your secrets. Clever-clever, Gendo Ikari…
Shinji's not-quite-musings were cut short by the agent grabbing him by the hair to drag him along. How utterly unimpressive that his father had to resort to bullies. Then again, that might have been the point of the overgrown bully, to make people underestimate him. Lovely. Not only did he have an asshole for a father; he had a smartass asshole for a father.
Well, the man would just have to die, and that was that. Stupid bastard.
Ahh, well, such was life. It gave you lemons. Some people made lemonade. Shinji flung the lemons back into life's face with a shout of, "Keep your damn lemons! I wanted bananas!"
Figuratively speaking, of course.
--
This was odd. The old hag who was generally known as Gendo wasn't saying anything. Just sitting there, staring at him behind those shades of his, his hands folded over his mouth to hide any expression that he might have. Okay, Shinji could handle that.
…
…
Or not. Shinji sat down on the floor, and began to fiddle with his shoelaces. Shoelaces were fun…
He unlaced one sneaker and began to play with the string. Practicing various knots, one handed, with the lace around his other wrist. Even if he knew nothing else to do with healing, he knew the basics of a tourniquet. Not that he had the necessary materials, unless he wanted to rip his shirt apart… nope. Mostly because he didn't feel like dragging himself off to a mall to shop for a replacement. Yes, he was lazy. And the mall was too damn loud for his oversensitive ears.
He hadn't noticed that there was several NERV security guards standing near the door. A mistake for which the Ancient One would have chewed him up in their private arena for, had he been there to witness it. Fortunately he wasn't. Unfortunately, by the time Shinji noticed, he could do nothing more than react, as they were attempting to, at least in Shinji's mind, test him.
This was one of the reasons that NERV often renewed the life insurance policies of their employees.
Shinji latched onto the nearest man's arm, rolled around to his back, and rose to his feet to pull the man into a hammerlock. Without missing a beat, he pushed further, and heard the distinctive noises of a joint being dislocated, and a bone breaking. Accompanied by a beautiful scream, of course.
His cobalt eyes glinted as he swung the man into another, and felt the arm nearly come off in his hands.
Releasing the arm, Shinji dropped his weight, denying another man permission to lift him. Shinji smashed his elbows down into the man's wrists, and heard a delicious wail of agony as the points of his elbows crushed the man's radial nerves. He spun, grabbed the back of the man's head, and introduced it rudely to his knee. The man's nose spurted blood as he staggered away.
A fourth mindless beasts made the mistake of launching a blow to Shinji's back. It didn't hurt enough to be disabling, but the kinetic energy of the attack pushed him forward. However, this left both Shinji and the half-man in a perfect position for a back kick. An opportunity Shinji didn't let escape, and subsequently felt his sneaker collapse the man's ribcage.
He turned to the remaining three, who were, if not intelligent, at least wise enough to be cautious.
One stood closest, and Shinji moved.
No one would know, how in the instant their eyes met, that the man had seen Shinji's eyes change, from that of an insane child to the perfect bloodlust that held the truth of his insignificance. In that millisecond he saw how little he meant to the world, the universe, and even the boy who was about to kill him.
And then he was falling backwards; clawing at his throat where his windpipe had collapsed beneath the spearhand Shinji had dealt him.
Shinji continued his wild dash, already putting the men who had fallen before him out of his mind, their deaths he could bathe in the memories of later. The second-to-last almost-man had started to throw a clumsy haymaker at Shinji, who completely ignored the blow, other than ducking slightly to get under it, and crashed a full-bodied tackle into the creature's midsection. The wind blasted out of him, he fell. Shinji skidded to a halt, and stared at the being for a second before lifting his foot and crushing it into the man's neck, hearing a very satisfying snap.
Yet this display that took up the sadist's attention for the merest moment was enough to allow the final once-man to gain a stranglehold on his neck. Shinji pouted as he latched onto the man's elbow with his left hand, and sidestepped in the same direction. His right arm drove an elbow into the man's gut, and then his fist crashed into the man's crotch with a hammer-like blow. The man whimpered, and fell.
Without allowing him to hit the ground, Shinji delivered a devastating kick to his head that not only sent him nearly flying backward, but also caved his skull in.
Shinji rotated on the spot, looking at the bodies around him, living as well as the dead.
And he began to laugh. Not insanely, not hysterically, but a true, genuine laugh. As if he had just heard one of the funniest jokes in the world, not as if he had just killed his best friend, and was laughing to rid himself of the reality of his act.
And Gendo Ikari sat, a small smile adorning his lips.
Yes… the boy was perfect…
Had the man been able to cry, a tear of joy at the discovery of his son's perfection would have leaked from his eye.
--
Shinji poked his head into the firing range/armory. Lovely, lovely place.
He began to explore the racks of weapons, finding so many more than he had been aware existed. The Ancient One could have recognized them all, but he didn't own all that many firearms. Something to do with not having proper credentials, and not being able to prove his date of birth to obtain said credentials. Not that he didn't have a birth certificate, but rather that it was far too old to be accepted as legitimate.
Shinji lifted one of the automatics from its stand, and plucked out a clip for it. It took him approximately seven seconds to get to the range where he would shoot from, and by that time he'd already figured out how to prime the rifle. He manually chambered the first round, flicked off the safety, took aim, and proceeded to pepper the circular target with lead. He discarded the weapon absentmindedly, yet carefully and respectfully. The weapon was good, yes, and a MP5, so it was reputable. But the recoil wasn't enough, and he tended to overcompensate.
After retrieving some sort of sniper rifle or other, he made his way to the range made for it. The scope on it was, he had to admit, impressive. Far more than the antique World War II age rifle the Ancient One possessed. Still, though it was a wonderful weapon, and he dearly wanted one (after seeing it blow a fist-sized hole in wooden dummy's head, with normal ammunition, he was practically in love with the thing) it wasn't suited for close-quarters combat. And, well, what NERV wanted him to do would definitely require fighting inside buildings. And hell, it wasn't like he could bring along any of his weapons, for he feared losing them. For the contract people signed with NERV, which he hadn't, stated clearly that anything the person owned belonged to NERV. And forging someone's signature wasn't all that difficult.
NERV had not become so successful by purely legitimate means.
No one became successful by following the law to the letter.
Shinji slid the firearm into its position on the wall, and walked away. For some reason he felt the hair on the back of his neck rising…
--
Shuriken sat on the wall that enclosed Tokyo-3 Junior High, wondering when, more if than when, actually, she would register for school. It wasn't like she had anything else to do. Nodachi couldn't skip school too often and running the shadows of the city by herself was dull. It was seeing her other half's bloodlust sated that was half the pleasure she took in it. The other half was her bloodlust being satisfied. Then there were the various other, random things that made it fun, but they really didn't factor in as much.
The Ancient One had taught them control and she had been more successful at learning that than Nodachi. He, on the other hand, had managed to surpass her in subtlety, a bewildering and very irksome fact. She was well aware that Nodachi had an equal amount of things to envy in her, and so kept her temper down.
She hopped off the wall, shaking her head. Stupidly introspective moments were Nodachi's job, not hers. She turned, and started back to the apartment complex, fully aware of the people in the shadows following her.
Well, if they wanted to die…
She'd just have to oblige them, wouldn't she?
--
Shinji yawned as he stepped into his apartment. It had taken him forever to find the right weapon and he hadn't even been able to bring it home. He pouted. Stupid "no-removal-of weapons-from-NERV-grounds-unless-specifically-given-permission" rule. He couldn't even steal a couple clips…not that he didn't have some, but in excess is always better than in insufficient quantities. Unless the variable in question is blatant stupidity.
He stopped abruptly. The apartment… it was too quiet. Shuriken was never that quiet.
Well, wasn't that just fine and dandy? Shuriken had his stuff, and Shuriken wasn't there. Grr.
He trotted over to his bed, and collapsed into it.
Shinji noted the door opening and someone entering before he fell asleep.
Shuriken glanced up as she entered. The damn… thing upstairs had arrived back. It wasn't a Living Weapon, and was certainly not human… completely. And whatever the hell it was, the water refused to say.
Stupid water. Pretending to be a peaceful mirror.
Hiding the predator.
God in heaven, Nodachi was making her introspective. Damn him.
She peered at his comatose form and a grin that would have scared Nodachi himself, had he seen it, spread across her face.
Yay. Thank the royal chicken that she'd stopped off at the grocery store.
Out came the whipped cream and mayonnaise.
But first…
Shuriken drew the final weapon. The shaving cream and razor.
She went about her work gleefully, telling Shinji in her special way that if he ever got snatched by NERV again, and, more importantly, made her take care of his stuff, he would pay worse than this.
--
When Shinji woke, it was to the unpleasant, clammy sensation that can only be brought about with food condiments. He stood up, wrinkling his nose, and wondered where Shuriken was. This would not go unpunished.
Unfortunately, she was nowhere in sight. Or in the reach of any other sense, for that matter. His eyes narrowed, and he marched off to the bathroom. It took him approximately four minutes to realize that Shuriken had nearly shaved his head bald. After his initial reaction of outrage, he decided that it felt more natural to have short hair than long, and set off to hunt her down.
To… thank her. In a… thankful way. How unusual, words of thanks… words he used to spook people. Nothing was creepier in school than the kid with tattoos and piercings coming up to you and thanking you at random. Well, nothing that wouldn't get Shinji expelled.
Which was not important at this point, and Shinji wasn't going to dwell on it for too long. He had people to see, things to do, and… things to set on fire. Or rather, he would, as soon as he found his lighter. Where was the damn thing?
Into his bag he dove, efficiently sorting through the items there. Not in the bag… Shinji hopped over to the dresser, and began to tear through it. Nope, not there either…
Ah-ha. He crawled under his bed, peering into the dark mists that could only be defined as… misty. And dusty.
There, in the corner. Shinji squirmed over to the glint of light, though how it was glinting in his apartment was a worthy question. Yes, it was his lighter.
Unfortunately, when he snatched it up, he forgot that he was under the bed, and tried to stand up. Needless to say, it didn't work all that well.
After a moment or two of lying absolutely still, stunned by the impact with the steel frame, Shinji began to wriggle out of the confined space. He almost managed to escape the clutches of the bed, but then the lighter slipped out of his grip, and skidded off to the wall. Absolutely lovely.
On fingers and toes, and sneezing loudly, Shinji began to inch his way back to the fire starter. As soon as he was in reach, his hand lashed out almost unnaturally quickly, and squeezed the lighter. Once again, he began to leave the bed's hateful space. As the lighter popped out of his hand, and whizzed across the room to slide under the dresser, Shinji cursed the fact that it was so smooth.
Having freed himself from the bed, at last, he scurried over to the dresser, and pushed it aside. Beneath were his lighter… and a nest of spiders. Immediately, he backed away, and began to bow to them, muttering words of almost worship. As spiders will do, the eight-legged arachnids looked at him oddly before scattering.
Shinji promptly jumped up and retrieved his lighter, hastily shoving it into his pocket before it could escape again, and proceeded to stomp on the insect-like things. The spiders screamed as he crushed them underneath his sneakers, and made a very satisfying crunching sound as they squished. In a last attempt at escape, the two remaining arachnids skittered off toward a crack in the wall.
Promptly, Shinji snatched up the nearest object, and flung it at them. It didn't take him long to realize that what he had just thrown was the case to one of his favorite CDs. And worse yet, it had his CD in it…
He leapt after it, and almost caught it as they both crashed into the floor. He landed on a spider, and the case flattened the other one. However, unlike him, the case kept sliding, and bounced off the wall.
Worriedly he opened it…
To find that the CD in question was in his Discman.
And he could only think, well then…I must find some cheese.
--
Shinji slid into his seat, and pulled it toward the desk. Which, by divine intervention, hadn't yet fallen apart…
"IKARI!" Or perhaps the intervention of the Class Rep. Upon closer inspection, the desk seemed to be held together by superglue. Well, that explained how it refused to be destroyed. Hmm… perhaps his lighter would be sufficient. Make it an inferno… yiss, that would be pretty…
"What the hell did you do to your desk?"
The wrath of Hikari Horaki, on par with the Ancient One's ire… almost. Hëil Horaki!
"Err… it wasn't me?"
Wrong thing to say. "OUTSIDE! BUCKETS! NOW!"
Without hesitation, he rushed out of the classroom. The buckets were already full… The girl was a telepath! There was… well, someone else could have been about to use the buckets. To hell with them!
Shinji picked up the buckets, and stood silently.
Right up until he felt Shuriken enter the building. A slightly twisted smile curled his lips as he turned to glare vengefully down the hall to where Shuriken was. His head slowly turned as she approached. A mental count started, beginning at fifty and counting down with every step Shuriken took.
At zero, she passed, a smirk curving her blue-painted lips.
Shinji made a sound like, "oumpheh," as she elbowed him in the ribs, and he had to perform a complicated dance to prevent spillage from his buckets. A single drop trickled over the edge, falling with an impossibly loud smash to the planks that made up the floor. Shinji winced as he prepared for the inevitable shout of indignation that would follow the sound. There was none.
Shinji stood still, his conscience not bothering to speak up and be ignored again. No need to go add another drop of water.
A few minutes later, he heard the expected "BUCKETS! NOW!" directed at, who else, Shuriken.
As she settled in next to him, he smirked at her.
She kicked him in the ankle.
An extensive hop-skip, dance, and several curses later, he managed to kick her back.
And so they settled into a comfortable routine of kicking each other in various places to make the other drop their bucket first.
--
When the two homicidal maniacs limped into the class after lunch, few people noticed. Or rather, noticed obviously. Until Hikari bellowed something nonsensical that made her sound like a wounded hippopotamus when they deemed it safe to ogle the pair. It wasn't so much the fact that they were limping, or the fact that both had bruises around their lower legs, Shuriken's were much more obvious in her skirt, as the fact that they were smirking.
Deviously.
Perhaps it was also the fact that they didn't acknowledge the pain that had to come from the rather extensive bruises. A small red stain decorated Shinji's ankle, perhaps indicating an open wound. If it was, he showed nothing of the pain. It took more than that to make him show it.
It took more than that to make him enjoy it.
END CHAPTERWell, there we are. Stupid chapter…
Space filler! Worry not, for next chapter, "Der Engel"!
So, umm… do whatever you wish with it. ^__^