Notes: Not much to say besides the standard, "I don't own Sin City or Evangelion, and I am making no profit yadda yadda yadda…."

My other Evangelion story will continue. I'm just trying something different so I don't burn out, focusing too hard on one story. And I'm sorry if you don't like this one's title. I was going to call this story "Frank Miller's Evangelion", but I thought that might be a little over the line.

As it happens, I am not Frank Miller.

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Sin City: Prodigal Son

Chapter: 1

"The Return"

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Have you ever had a toilet that you just couldn't fix? One day, it backs up on you, and no matter what you do to it, it never flushes quite right? It would cost too much to replace… plus, you can't be totally sure that the problem isn't the pipes. But sooner or later, it backs up on you again, just like the first time. I guess that's what Tokyo-3 is like.

Tokyo-1… the first one, I don't know what they called it… was just as big a cesspit as this place, so I'm told. Twenty-two years ago, a year before I was born, "Second Impact" wiped it out. Then they built another one and called it Tokyo-2. It didn't take long for the college kids to ruin things there. They were too busy having sex with each other for the hookers to make any money. And they were smart enough to make their own drugs, so the dealers couldn't make ends meet either. Some off-track betting places tried opening up, made no money, and that was that. Enter Tokyo-3….

The part they call "Old Town" used to be all there was. Just small enough to not be noticed by anyone important, and just big enough to let crime settle in and flourish. Eventually, the whores and pushers were making money hand-over-fist. But they got too comfortable, and they forgot that nothing attracts attention like the smell of cash. Pretty soon, the corporations moved in, and Japan had a gleaming new capital city built up around "Old Town". The cops tried reining things in at first, but found out the hard way that crime was too integral a part of life in the new capital to control. And they all joined in pretty quickly. So Tokyo-3 ended up as corrupt and degenerate as the first one.

A city called "Tokyo" is like a vampire. Besides sucking the life out of you, I mean. You can't kill it; it just keeps coming back…. I suppose that's a better analogy than the toilet… but it still smells like one.

I don't know why I came back…. No, that's a lie.

I came back because of a girl…. It's always a girl, isn't it?

I'd been waiting at the bus station for over half an hour. The wind was gusting, blowing the rain in at an angle under the overhanging roof. It was intermittent, like every now and then somebody was spitting in my face. This late at night, the terminal was locked up, so I squeezed myself as close to the building as I could and took the Polaroid out of my pocket to look at it again.

It was a picture of that indigo-haired temptress, Misato Katsuragi, lying on her bed, wearing nothing but a wink and a smile. She was only a B-cup, but she knew how to flaunt them. She mailed it to me all the way from Kyoto, so I wouldn't throw the envelope away as soon as I saw the Tokyo-3 postmark. I'm sure glad I didn't. But she's not the girl that I came back for.

On the back of the picture, Misato had written, simply, "Rei needs you". I had to hand it to her, she really knew how to get my attention and keep it. There was a bus ticket in the envelope with the picture. It was only one-way, but Misato is kind of a ditz, so I didn't read any extra meaning into that. It sort of pissed me off that those three little words were all it took to get me to use that ticket. But you can't stay mad at a smiling naked woman, and Misato knew as much.

"Rei" was Rei Ayanami, a girl I spent my formative teen years with. My father adopted her when she was nine, and I was eleven. She was the closest thing I ever had to a sister and the closest thing I ever got to having a steady girlfriend. I hope that gives you some idea of how fucked up I am.

A pair of headlights was coming toward me from up the road. The few vagrants mingling around got pretty jittery. You could never mistake Misato's beat-up blue hatchback for a cop car, so I had no idea what their problem was. I'd smelt an oppressive aroma of fear ever since I'd stepped off the bus. You live in Tokyo-3 long enough, you get numb to the dangers of doing so, but these people were scared. I'm nothing… nobody that anyone would remember, after three years… so I harbored no delusions that I was the cause.

The car rattled to a halt in front of me. There was no use waiting for the rain to let up, so I pulled the collar of my trench coat up and made a dash for the passenger-side door. My old Converse shoes splashed in dirty puddles. By the time I plopped down in the seat, my hair was good and soaked. That was okay, because I hadn't had a shower in a while.

There was Misato, behind the wheel. She was dressed for work, like always. Despite the cold, I felt a stirring in my pants. The clothed, live version was a hell of lot hotter than a naked picture. Her skin was still a little damp from the rain. It was too damned cold for her to be wearing just that leather corset and panties, thrown over a fishnet body-stocking. But, like I said, she was dressed for work. I spied a garter on her right leg, and I knew that her Walter PPK was tucked in there, snug against her thigh.

She looked me over, too, what she could see of me. I'm not a big guy, but I wear big coats to create the illusion that I am. She fingered that silver cross around her neck absently and raised her eyebrows before turning her eyes to the road. She threw the car into gear and gunned it. Besides the roar of the storm and the clatter of the engine, there was silence… but I didn't let that last very long.

"What the hell is this about?" I asked her. I brandished the back of the Polaroid, the message's ink smeared by the rain. She snatched it without looking and tossed it into the backseat. Already, I was souring on the live version.

"First order of business," she said, "now that you're back in town, is to check in with Ritsuko." She wove the car through traffic like a sewing machine on meth. Past the skyscrapers, through the tunnel, under the overpass, then down the hill… straight toward the heart of Old Town.

Ritsuko Akagi was my parole officer. I did six months in County when I was seventeen. They had to kick me when I turned legal, but I got put on probation. That was three years ago. As soon as I got out, I packed my shit and left this town behind. There was nothing left for me here, except for Rei and my father. But they didn't count anymore.

I told you that Rei was like my girlfriend sometimes. We never did get hot and heavy, though. I was fifteen, she was thirteen, when I did my first four-month stint in Juvenile Detention. We got each other plenty worked up before I went in, so while I was spanking it on the inside, she was getting her cherry popped on the outside. Needless to say, the relationship was a little strained after that.

She was sixteen and already turning tricks with Misato and the other girls of Old Town when I got out of County and took off. The girls had taught her to take care of herself, and I didn't want to see her like that. So I just left. We never even said "goodbye".

And my father…? I don't talk about my father.

Misato and I weren't ten feet into Old Town when a black-and-white that'd been tailing us turned on its roof-lights. Unofficially, the cops' jurisdiction doesn't cover Old Town. The understanding is that the girls police their own streets. They don't take any bribes, give a shit about any politics, or show any mercy. It's a tenuous system, but it works. If this pig didn't break off his pursuit at the border, he was either a rookie about to learn a painful lesson, or just one other guy.

Misato pulled over and waited. The storm was letting up, and you could hear the jangle of keys and cuffs on the cop's belt as he walked up to the car. He leaned down by Misato's window and shined his flashlight right in my face. If I had a gun, I would have pulled it. If it was a rookie, Misato's gun would have been pulled already.

"Good evening, Officer Kaji," she said with sweet venom.

"Well well well," he said, cool as anything, "if it isn't the Prodigal Son…. I take it that you're on duty, Katsuragi?"

"I take it that you're not," she spat back. He just smiled. Balls like watermelons, that guy.

"Just making sure that you're on your way to Mr. Ikari's P.O.," Kaji said.

"That's not your job."

"You let me worry about what is and isn't my job," he said. "Does his father know that he's back?"

"I guess he will soon enough."

"I guess so," Kaji agreed. "Maybe I'll see you at Keidi's later… both of you."

"They don't let cops in there," I reminded him.

"They let me in…."

"Right…," I started, but Misato laid a restraining hand on my knee. I squirmed a bit in my seat. That woman could give a guy a boner even with a cop breathing down his neck.

"You just be careful out there tonight," Misato said to him softly. "You know how dangerous it is." It was sincere concern, not a veiled warning. Kaji was the one guy who had nothing to fear from the girls; some history with Misato I knew nothing about. But her words didn't make sense in any other context. Danger wasn't something Kaji looked out for. It was like air to him; he inhaled and exhaled it.

Something big was up. Like I shouldn't have figured that out already.

"I'll be careful," he told her. He strutted off, returning to his squad-car. Then he headed back into the city. Misato started the car and we drove deeper into Old Town. I bit my tongue until we reached Ritsuko's apartment building.

"What's going on, Misato?" I asked as we exited the car. She could have said something. The street was empty, no one would have heard. All the bums had found somewhere else to go while it rained. But she didn't answer me. I just followed her long legs up the stairs of the front stoop and into the building. She finally spoke once we were in the elevator.

"Things are really bad right now," she told me. She got a far-off look in her eye that told me she just made an understatement. "There's a new gang in town…. Not just some kids trying to make a name for themselves; they're well-organized and well-armed. Sprung up practically overnight. What's worse is that they don't play by the rules. They rob, rape, and murder with no respect for boundaries or authority… ours or the cops'."

"So, teach them some respect," I replied with a shrug. Misato was about to say more when the elevator lurched to a halt. The doors shuddered open, and we made our way to Ritsuko's place. Misato banged three quick times on her door and waited.

All Ritsuko must have been wearing when we knocked was a pair of panties. She threw on an overcoat as she let Misato and me in, but I got a good view of her tits whenever she moved around. I always told her she could have any man she wanted with a body like hers. Too bad for any of them, she was a dyed-in-the-wool dyke.

"Who is it, Ritsu?" came a sleepy voice from the bedroom.

"Nobody, Maya. Go back to sleep."

"Do you have anything to drink?" Misato asked.

"You won't be staying long enough for a drink," Ritsuko said coldly. The two women took a while to stare each other down. They were friends in college, and I guess they still were. One was a cop, the other was a prostitute… must have been some school.

"Is somebody going to tell me what the hell's going on?" I finally asked with frustration.

"I told you," said Misato, "there's a new gang in town…."

"So what do I care?" I shouted back at her. To hell with Maya's beauty sleep, whoever she was. "And what does any of this have to do with Rei?"

"They're the ones that nearly killed her," Ritsuko said with a hint of relish. Given her choice of job, I would guess that she enjoyed dropping verbal bombs like that… especially ones that ended in "revoked".

"What?" was all I could say. Oh, I'm sure Ritsuko got her jollies from that. I bet I looked just like I was about to get hit by a truck… inside, I felt like I already had been.

"Broke her arm," continued Ritsuko, "smashed more than a few ribs. She almost lost an eye…."

"None of the damage was permanent," Misato added, "but she'll be recovering for a while. You said we should teach this new gang respect? Well, we tried. Rei's one of the best girls we have… maybe the best… and they laid her out. Some of the other girls didn't even come back…."

"The gang calls themselves the "Angels"," Ritsuko said. "I've got a list of some of their favored hang-outs. On the record, I'm telling you to keep your nose clean while you're back in town. Off the record, I--"

"So that's what this is?" I interrupted. "You've got some mess that you want cleaned up? I'm not your janitor. If you girls and you cops put your heads together, you could beat these bastards."

"That "enemy of my enemy" shit doesn't fly and you know it," said Misato.

"The cops don't like the girls having the power that they do in Old Town," Ritsuko said, "and the girls don't like the cops on principle."

"We don't like the fact that they don't have principles," Misato corrected her. "But she's right. Just because there's a new war, doesn't mean that the old, cold one is on hold. Each side is always waiting for the other to flinch, and they'll wait longer than it'll take for the Angels to ruin the city."

I looked down at my hand at that moment. The doorknob was in it, and I'd exposed Ritsuko's apartment to the hallway. I was on my way out, running away like I did three years ago. It was so natural, I barely noticed. I didn't want to be the kind of person who would do that, but I was. It wasn't as easy this time as it was before, so I went looking for some good excuses why they didn't need to stop me from going.

"My father practically runs this town," I said. "He could buy more than half the police force if he wanted to. Why don't you just ask him for help?"

"It was his idea to bring you in," Ritsuko told me. I didn't know whether to laugh or punch something.

"Well, with all due respect… fuck my father." Ritsuko flinched when I said that to her.

"So you're just going to run away again?" Misato asked. That one stung.

"What can I do?" I asked her seriously. "I'm just one person. I can't make a difference."

"One person can make a difference," Misato said, clutching her necklace tightly. The things they must have taught in that Catholic school of hers….

"Well, Rei can be that one person," I said, swimming madly against the rising tide of guilt. "She's a better fighter than me… always has been. Must've just had an off-night."

"The boy has a point," Ritsuko said to Misato. Her optimism was sarcastically false. "I'm sure Rei will set things right, once she's back on her feet. She's not dead yet."

The way she said it was as good as a threat. I couldn't get mad at her, though. It was the truth. If I didn't stay and back Rei up, take the fight to these assholes and put them back in their place, then she'd more than likely end up dead. After what they did to her, the place I wanted to put them in was six feet underground. I slowly closed the door, still standing on Ritsuko's and Misato's side of it.

"I'm going to need a gun…," I said, defeated. Ritsuko smiled wickedly and started rummaging through the drawers in her desk. Misato smiled briefly, too… with gratitude.

"There's a little lady who's been waiting to see you," Ritsuko told me. I thought about Rei when she said that, but then she pulled out an old shoebox and flipped off the lid. I was looking at what was in the box, but I also caught Misato smirking out of the corner of my eye. She was always making a joke out of serious things. I really hated that about her.

"There you are," I breathed. It was kind of funny. The fear that I'd never see her or touch her again swelled up, just before dissipating at the sight of her.

I guess I've been pretty lucky, because I don't know what it's like to lose a limb, like a hand or a foot. But I think I have some inkling of what it'd be like to get one back. There she was, lying in that box. She was an extension of myself, a part that I'd been missing, and I felt whole again as soon as I lifted her gently from her resting place.

She was nothing special, really… just a black, 9mm semi-automatic, standard military issue. She used to be my father's, when he was in the service. The only thing he ever gave me. She felt heavy. I figured that someone must have put a fresh clip in her. I chambered the first round and took a long look at the view from behind her hammer. Breathtaking, as usual.

"After all this time," Misato said with a laugh, "you still treat that thing like it's your baby or something."

"Show some respect, please," I said quietly, admiring my piece. "Her name is Eva."

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Continued…