Okay… this fic is a solid PG-13/Teen rating at the moment. That means I reserve the right to drop the f-bomb every now and then if I feel like it, but I probably won't. Also I can kill people, which I probably will do if it strikes my fancy.
Now if you're wondering what this fic is about I can tell you this much: I don't know. And I'm the author, so I doubt anyone else is going to know either, so don't bother asking them. That way you're less likely to get stabbed in the kneecaps for being an annoying little douchebag.
NERV HQ 2015
Episode One: Insert Title Here
Sequestered in their private holographic conference chamber, the members of the mysterious SEELE organization began their ritualistic chant. The dark space echoed with the ancient words, repeated countless times since their conception in time immemorial.
"Haaaaapy birrrttthhday to yooouuu," they droned. "Haaapy biiiirthhhday to yooouu. Haaaapy biiiirrrtthday SEELE Member Number Seeeevennnn. Haaaaapy biiirrtthday too youuuuu!"
Holographic confetti appeared in the black void of the ceiling, raining down and passing through the equally electronically-fabricated obelisks embodying the members of the mysterious council, conical party hats adorning their otherwise dull, numbered forms. One of the holographic projections emitted the noises of a party favor.
The obelisk representing SEELE Member Number Seven glowed faintly, its normally opaque image flickering in the closest imitation of a blush that a holographic obelisk could ever hope to accomplish.
"Awww, you guys," Number Seven said, embarrassed. "You shouldn't have."
"No, man," Number One asserted, his voice betraying the identity of Keel Lorenz to those who had seen his other appearance on the minor council. "You deserve it. I mean, seriously, you have got to be the coolest guy in our little club here, bar none. I think I speak for everyone gathered here when I say that you are like a brother to me."
"Yeah, man," Number Four drawled, the awkward tone of his voice indicating that he had recently imbibed some particularly potent mind-altering substances, and in no small quantity, either. "Besides, we're all gonna be blobbed into a single entity before long, anyway."
Lacking arms and other extremities with which to make gestures for silence, the other SEELE members made small, subtle shushing noises, trying to get their point across without alerting Number Seven that they were doing so. Their efforts, however, proved fruitless.
"Yeah, dude," Number Four continued unabated. "Totally, like, instrumentaliafied. I mean, instrumentaliatronic. Err… instrumaentaliatated? Damn, I'm hungry."
'Noooooo…. you didn't!" Number Seven squeaked, delighted.
Lorenz raised his arms in a gesture of surrender, then felt stupid when he recalled that his corresponding obelisk didn't have any arms.
"Well… all right, you got us," the leader of SEELE admitted. "Although it's not quite finished yet… we did kind of initiate a scenario that will result in the entire human race being merged into a giant albino superbeing."
"Oh goody!" Number Seven exclaimed. "That's just what I've always wanted!"
"Happy birthday," the other members said in unison.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Shinji Ikari stared anxiously at the train's automated sliding doors standing open in front of him, inviting him to step across the threshold and out onto the arrival platform. They seemed harmless enough, he supposed, at first glance anyway; but who knew what they might be secretly plotting? Who was to say that they didn't scheme with one another as the train moved from one destination to the next, scanning the current set of passengers to decide which hapless victim they might mash between their twin steel wedges of death?
Shinji shuddered at the thought. He wasn't really sure why train doors made him so nervous. He supposed it was because they reminded him of the time when his shoelace got stuck in an escalator as a child; the physical scars may have healed up since then, but the emotional trauma of that horrifying day would haunt him for the rest of his life.
Actually, he supposed there were a lot of things that made him nervous. Like Eskimos. And bees. And pomegranates.
The train doors began to slide closed with a bing to warn the passengers that it was time for the train to depart to the next station. Shinji lunged through the metal deathtrap, his unease of sliding doors momentarily overcome by the fear that at the next stop he might be forced to share the car with a family of Eskimos, bees, or pomegranates.
Breathing hard, Shinji frantically searched himself to make sure the train wasn't running off with any of his limbs or other useful body parts. Satisfied that he was still intact, he scampered off in search of the nearest security station. He still wanted to scan himself, to make sure he wasn't trying to smuggle any illegal weapons or explosives into the city.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Misato Katsuragi leaned against the railing of the train station's waiting area, tapping her foot impatiently against the hard concrete. Well, she supposed, there really wasn't any other kind of concrete anyway. Except for wet concrete, of course, but then there were usually signs, and it looked different, and only a total dumbass would tap their foot in wet concrete anyway.
She sighed, gazing around the empty waiting area again. She wished the boy she was waiting for would hurry up and arrive, so she could get back to doing more in-character activities like a being a drunkard, or a whore, or coming up with brilliant plans to defeat evil alien menaces from beyond the cosmos, or wherever the hell they came from. Probably Mexico, she supposed, completely unapologetic about the blatantly racist comment. Or maybe Alabama…
A shrill scream broke her from her reverie, and she looked over to see a short, brown-haired boy fleeing in terror from the unstoppable advance of a blowing sheet of newspaper. Misato glanced down at the picture she was holding, and at the official document she had received along with it ordering her to come to the station to pick up "the biggest goddamn sissy you've ever seen in your life." She looked back up at the panicked young man, and decided that this definitely had to be him.
Shinji continued to flee from the sheet of newspaper, dashing around behind Misato and pressing in behind her, clutching at her leg. The older woman casually extended a foot and pinned the roaming piece of refuse to the ground. Shinji let out a sigh of relief, relaxing his grip on Misato's thigh.
"What a relief!" the shaken young man exclaimed. "I thought for sure that a ghost had possessed that sheet and was willing it to slay me. I thought I'd die a death of a thousand papercuts- or even worse, ink poisoning!"
He suddenly realized that his hands were clutching misato's bare leg. One was even jutted up under her skirt a bit, and he thought he could feel the very edge of her panties pressing against a fingertip. He released his grip immediately, stumbling backward as his face flushed bright red. He threw up his hands to hide his embarrassment, as well as to wipe away the slight trickle of blood creeping out of his left nostril.
Misato sighed. He really was the biggest goddamn sissy she'd ever seen.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Gazing up from the latest edition of Pokemon Stud Farmer's Digest, Lieutenant Richard Smoker made his routine, hourly check on the radar screen he'd been assigned to watch with "the utmost diligence and enthusiasm." He smirked. Yeah, right. Who in their right mind would want to watch some stupid radar screen when you could read about the latest methods of milking the seed from a Pikachu, or how to coax one of those orange lizard things to mate with a Jigglypuff?
The unenthusiastic Dick Smoker's mind was already wandering off into realms of Pokemon Stud Farming when he suddenly realized what he had just seen. Jerking his eyes away from a newly revised table of compatible Pokemon genitalia, he straightened and regarded the radar screen again. He blinked, then looked away for few moments before looking back again. Sure enough, his eyes were greeted with a large shape on the radar screen. And no, it was not shaped like a giant phallus.
Lieutenant Smoker placed the magazine carefully in his usual hiding place beneath the radar console, then rose to alert his superiors. As much as he would rather stay and read his precious periodical, he knew that if he failed to make a report and it turned out to be something important he would be busted back down to platoon butt licker. That was a road he'd already been down many times before, and he had no desire to go back.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Subcommander Fuyutsuki nodded to himself as he listened carefully to the phone call he'd just received from the JSSDF, verbally acknowledging from time to time to let the party on the other end know he was still there and to give the impression that perhaps he actually gave a damn about what they were saying. They'd been through this a million times before: JSSDF would call in to NERV HQ, find about a hundred different ways to say the same irrelevant thing, pause for a minute as the caller stopped to adjust his crotch, and then Fuyutsuki would say something along the lines of "keep up the good work," while struggling not to add something along the lines of "you worthless wedge of elf feces" to the end of that phrase. However, this time, as Fuyutsuki waited silently for the caller to finish adjusting himself, he was surprised when, instead of waiting for the usual pat on the head, the caller mumbled something about "a big unidentified… thing," and "all your base belonging to them." The Subcommander was about to ask what he meant by that, but they hung up. When he tried to call back, all he got was the answering machine, and he was damned if he was going to waste time waiting for those lazy JSSDF bastards to return his call.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"A large unidentified object, you say?" Ritsuko Akagi asked, raising an eyebrow at Subcommander Fuyutsuki. "Do you think it could be them?"
"It is possible," Fuyutsuki admitted, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "I think it's best if we prepare for the worst. We must assume that the Angels have come back."
"Woohoo!" Shigeru Aoba cried, jumping up from his seat in the command center. "I knew it! Those damn Yankees can't win every World Series."
Fuyutsuki glanced over at the enthusiastic bridge technician for a moment, lingering with uncharacteristic indecisiveness before finally deciding to ignore him. He turned back to Ritsuko, concentrating on the task at hand.
"Do we have a pilot yet?"
Ritsuko tapped her own chin thoughtfully, then replied.
"Well, Rei isn't in much condition to pilot Unit 00… but Commander Ikari's son should be here any time now. Captain Katsuragi is waiting for him at the train station."
"I see. Well, prepare things here as best you can. There's nothing more we can do than to be as ready as possible for a pilot to arrive."
"What's all this talk about trains?" Gendou Ikari demanded, entering the room.
For the thousandth time since the incident Fuyutsuki wished that Gendou's injuries had been more serious, that he had been knocked completely into a coma rather than suffering minor brain damage, flitting back and forth between his normal self and this alternate persona more reminiscent of a six-year-old than a commander of NERV.
"I like trains," the Commander continued. "They go whoop-whoop! And the wheels go chugga chugga chugga chugga chugga chugga-"
"That's enough, sir," Fuyutsuki pleaded, trying to turn Gendou's attention before he launched into a tirade. "I'm sure none of the people here want to hear about trains."
"Of course they do," Gendou insisted. "Everybody likes trains. Even the people who get run over by trains still like them. Why, I'd bet my left testicle that there isn't a single person in all the universe who doesn't like trains."
"Well… uh… that is… I don't like trains," a meek voice said from the side of the bridge.
"Who said that?"
Gendou clamped his hands protectively over his groin and whirled to face the newcomer. Shinji stared timidly at the floor next to Katsuragi, covering his own crotch as well, but for a different reason; he still couldn't get over the fact he may have sort of almost touched Misato's panties.
"W-well, uh, you see… trains are scary," he murmured, seeming to speak to himself. "Other things are scary, too… like rice. And really shiny spoons…"
"Fine," Gendou said. "But I'm keeping my testicle."
Straightening up, he stalked toward Shinji, stopping just inches from the boy and staring down into the boy's eyes… or at least where his eyes would have been if he were looking up rather than staring meekly at the floor.
"Shinji," he said, his voice deepening suddenly. "I am your father."
"Umm… well, yeah," Shinji agreed. "I mean… that's not supposed to be a surprise, is it?"
"Well, no," Gendou replied. "But for some reason I felt compelled to tell you."
"Oh. Well, alright then," Shinji said. "Duly noted."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
A shadow fell across the Tokyo-3 cityscape, blocking the precious rays of the sun from reaching their usual targets on the ground. Well, actually, some did, having been reflected from other surfaces in areas where the sun was still shining, thus preventing the shaded region from being thrown entirely into true darkness. But you get the idea.
The shadow drifted ponderously forward, masking new areas of the city beneath itself. The citizens glanced up, unsure of what to make of the shape that hovered above their heads. Some thought it resembled a giant insect, while others believed it looked more like a Kenyan Mangrove Crab. Still others suggested it was similar in appearance to the ship from Battlestar Gallactica. The people in this faction debated whether it looked like the ship from the original series or the new Sci-Fi Channel remake, while still others suggested it kind of looked like Jennifer Lopez's ass.
Regardless of its appearance, the large shape loomed overhead, casting its dark shadow on the helpless townspeople below. No one knew where it had truly come from, or where it would ultimately be going.
Abruptly the sun came out from behind the cloud, and in the superior illumination the populace was able to reach a consensus that the cloud actually looked like the car from Knight Rider.
Blinded by the sudden appearance of the sun's blinding rays, one unfortunate citizen swerved too far to the right, slamming his van and its ill-fated Eskimo passengers into a telephone pole. The vehicle burst into flames, roasting the people within.
A passing citizen stopped to examine the site, trying to determine whether it might be safe to loot the burning vehicle, and whether or not the fire might go out before consuming the wallets of the people trapped inside. A crowd gathered around this individual, entertaining similar thoughts as they watched the conflagration. They waited for the screaming to die down before urinating on the corpses, but in the end, with the exception of one man who managed to walk away with a slightly melted credit card, they were all fated to return home empty handed, with naught but the lingering question of what possible meaning this could have on the overall plot of the story. By the time they reached their separate homes, they had pretty much all concluded that there wasn't any.
They were right.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"So, uhh… are we gonna launch the robots or what?" Aoba asked impatiently. "Cuz that would be kick ass."
Makoto Hyuga cuffed him on the back of the head for the second time that day, gesturing for him to be quiet. Shigeru rubbed his head but remained silent.
Subcommander Fuyutsuki sat quietly, listening absent-mindedly to the sounds of rustling fabric as the party on the other end of the phone rearranged his privates.
"So you see," the voice on the other end of the line continued, "Jenkins here just spilled some coffee on the radar screen, and it dried kinda funny. So there really isn't any large unidentified object after all."
Fuyutsuki suppressed his irritation, forcing himself to maintain his calm, respectful tone of voice.
"I see. Well, keep up the good work," he concluded, severing the connection. "You turd-chewing son of a smelly pirate hooker."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Commander Gendou Ikari sat behind his desk, focusing intently on the task at hand. Subcommander Fuyutsuki marched briskly into the office and stood apprehensively next to the desk.
"You wanted to see me, sir?"
"Indeed," Gendou replied, not looking up from his work.
Several moments passed without a word. Fuyutsuki began to wonder if the Commander even remembered he was still there.
"Hey Fuyutsuki… isn't it about time for a commercial break?" Gendou asked, carving the words "I heart pandas" into the wooden surface of his desk."
Fuyutsuki groaned inwardly, lowering his gaze to the floor as a throbbing headache began to build behind his forehead. He spotted a ball-point pen on Gendou's desk, and briefly considered shoving it his own eye.
"No, sir," the Subcommander sighed, putting aside his suicidal thoughts for the time being. "There are no commercial breaks in fan fiction."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Holy crap! You read the whole thing… unless you skipped parts or just jumped down to the closing Author's notes. But then, hardly anybody ever reads Author's notes anyway. I do, because they often have something amusing in them, like references to the slaughter of orphans or… I dunno… references to the slaughter of orphans.
Well, like I said, I guarantee nothing. I typed this entire chapter in one sitting, and I have no idea what the rest of this fic will be like, or if it will even make sense. I doubt it will. If you got the reference in the title, you have certainly realized by now that this fic was inspired by the TV show Sealab 2021. As such, there may or may not be any sense of continuity between episodes. In fact, I reserve the right to completely obliterate the universe if I want to and start out the very next chapter as if nothing ever happened. I've got a few ideas, but otherwise this fic will probably end up everywhere… and nowhere.
Thanks for reading, and keep an eye out for future updates. I'll be working on this one as well as finishing up my other, more "serious" story. Ciao.