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An Assassin's Memories

Twenty-Fifth Shot: Top Priority

They were staring up at him. He could see them plain as day. A pair of crimson eyes stared at him from a giant's hand, a pair of green eyes stared at him as he plunged the knife forward, gray eyes stared at him from the floor as blood began to pool. He could see a young man being dragged from a mass of twisted metal, one arm and one leg gone. He had failed them.

(:ii:)

Michael jerked awake and looked around the small room that had become his home. He checked his watch and frowned. He had never had dreams before, one of the more desirable affects of the pain pens.

Michael sat up and slowly climbed out of bed. He knew them. He had killed or hurt everyone he ever knew in some way. His first handler, Frank, hadn't even been close to the first person he had trusted and then killed a few hours later. He wouldn't fail those he could still help; no, he couldn't fail them. Michael turned sharply and slammed his fist into the wall opposite his bed. Pain flew up his arm and into his mind.

"Better." Pain was his link to the world. Reality had become difficult to define for several months, but it had been pain that had led him back to the world. Unfortunately even that link was beginning to fade now. It was becoming hard to differentiate past from present. Both were filled with pain and thus his link was lost. Did that make him lost? No, he couldn't afford to be.

"Michael?"

"I'm up," Michael said as he pulled on his slacks and tucked his Colt into the holster on the small of his back. "Are they here?"

"Five hours." Michael pushed the door open and stepped out into the hall way. He glanced out into the darkness. "What are you doing up at two in the mourning anyway? Couldn't sleep?"

"Yeah," Michael answered, hoping Ryan wouldn't ask. He didn't, instead he drew his own conclusion.

"Excited eh? I guess you assassins are bred for these kinds of situations."

"Yeah," Michael answered. It wasn't a lie. He did enjoy these desperate situations. Men were so unpredictable under stress. It used to be so wonderful.

"Kind of funny."

"What?"

"They're attacking on your funeral," Ryan stated. "It would be later today."

"My second," Michael replied. He reached back into his room and tugged the Kukri knife from where he had left it.

"You actually planning on using that?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah," Michael answered. "I really am planning on using this." Ryan nodded and tugged something from his belt.

"They found this in the wreckage of your apartment complex," he explained. Michael took the small weapon carefully. "What is that thing anyway?"

"It's my old S-4M," Michael explained. "SEELE tried to phase it out for the PSS repeater, but this had a bigger punch."

"Well that's good," Ryan commented. "Jimmy has the ammo we found for it down stairs."

"Thank you."

(:ii:)

Makoto stared at the computer screen in front of him and fought down the urge to scream in frustration. Shigeru most have noticed his expression. "Still have trouble with the security cameras?"

"No," Makoto answered flatly. "We restored those pretty easily after switching to the backup monitoring station. This time something is wrong with the radar."

"Another attack?" Shigeru asked, looking around nervously. Commander Ikari had tried to keep quiet what had happened to the crew in the monitoring room for the security cameras, but it had leaked out. Now it was the radar and they were in the radar room. "I think we should get out of here."

"It's not that," Makoto muttered dismissively as his fingers worked over his keyboard feverishly. "Why can't we ever have a day where something is not being fix or being attacked?"

"I guess you're right," Shigeru said, scratching his head. "I don't think we've had everything working at full efficiency since the Angels stopped coming. The AC, the elevators, the plumbing, the cameras, the lighting in certain areas, that outbreak of food poisoning."

"We've also been loosing a lot of men," Makoto added. "One sixty-three people were killed in the attack last night."

"Do they even know why that happened yet?" Shigeru asked.

"They have no clue," Makoto growled. "If you corner one of those assholes from Section-4 all they do is spout out how they're still investigating."

"Could something be jamming the radar?" Shigeru asked suddenly. "You know? Something outside of the Geo-Front." Makoto stared at his colleague and looked back at the computer screen.

"That could be it."

"So are we under attack?"

"Maybe," Makoto answered with a shrug. "This radar is a five year old piece of shit. You could jam it by pissing on it."

"I was drunk," Shigeru growled. "Christ. That happened two years ago."

(:ii:)

"The radar is fucked." Marshal cursed and stared at the computer screen. "They must have some kind of electronic warfare plane up sir."

"Is there anything you can do?"

"Nothing legal," Harker answered. His fingers began moving over his computer's keyboard.

"What are you doing?" Marshal asked.

"Something illegal," Harker replied flippantly. "Since when have we paid attention to the law?"

"And you people are supposed to be the good UN," Michael commented dryly.

"Who said anything about the good UN?" Harker asked. "We're the non-corrupt UN."

"My mistake," Michael allowed. The computer screen lit up again.

"There's our friends from the French Foreign Legion," Harker reported as he pointed to one large dot on the screen.

"What is this?"

"Tapped an old commie spy satellite," Harker explained. "The Russians probably don't know its up there still." He stared at the screen and frowned.

"What is it?" Marshal asked.

"This dot is a clusters of VTOLs," Harker explained. "The satellite doesn't have good enough magnification to check each individual craft. This is about thirty,"

"Ten men per craft equals three hundred," Michael replied.

"Huh," Harker grunted. He pointed to another spot on the screen. "There's movement here. More jets, but I can barely see them. I would guess at least two. It's odd."

"What?" Marshal asked.

"These two aren't heading towards the Geo-Front," Harker explained. "Where the hell are they going?" Michael stared at the screen.

"The high school," he growled. "Show me where the fucking high school is!" Harker stared at the map and pointed to a area directly in the smaller group's flight path. "They're going after the high school."

"What?" Marshal snapped. "Why the fuck would they do that?"

"Sohryu," Michael replied. "They're going after the only Eva pilot left. We need that girl."

"They're going to beat us to the school no matter what we do," Harker noted. "Not too many parents would take a firefight in a school kindly."

"Obviously you're not a father of a teenager," Marshal grumbled.

"I'll go in and eliminate the UN forces," Michael stated.

"Can you do it quietly?" Harker asked.

"You kidding?" Marshal demanded. "This is Number Thirty-fucking-Three. The question is; should we sound the alarms now?"

"Now yet," Michael stated. "That would gather all the students in one place. We can't afford to make the Legionnaires' job easier."

"What's the plan?" Harker asked.

"I'm going to need a high school uniform."

(:ii:)

"This is a fucking disgrace."

"Keep it down," Hanson growled as he looked around the hallways of the school. "You'll be in deep shit if skipper heard you say that."

"I don't care," Valentine replied sharply. "I didn't join the fucking foreign legion to invade high schools. Don't bull shit me and say that this is okay."

"You're right," Hanson muttered after a moment. "We got orders and our job is to follow those orders."

"I can just see it," Valentine continued, "in a year people will look back and say: 'What a fucking disgrace! Those French Foreign Legionaries, going off to scare kiddies!"

"Yeah, yeah." A kid stepped out of one of the rooms. "Freeze!" The kid's eyes widened and he took off running.

"Is this a fucking national thing?" Valentine demanded. "I thought these Jap kids were supposed to be all polite and courteous to their elders!"

"Less talk more double time," Hanson growled as he jogged after the boy, his new issue FN F2000 rifle slapping against his leg. "Besides, these are the kids who came from the kids who came from the kids of those nutcases in World War Two."

"I remember my grand daddy's stories," Valentine muttered. They rounded the corner and froze. "He went this way, right?"

"Yeah," Hanson grunted. He suddenly had a bad feeling. He brought his rifle's stock to his shoulder and swept the muzzle across the hallway. "Where is that kid?"

"Hrk!" Hanson spun sharply and found himself staring down the barrel of a pistol. The boy had gotten behind Valentine and had his arm wrapped tightly around the legionnaire's neck.

"You're good."

"I try."

(:ii:)

Michael tucked the S-4M into the back of his pants and turned his attention to the man in his arms. A quick wrench and he slumped. Michael picked up the man's suppressed rifle and tugged his headset out of his pocket. He tucked it into his ear and wrapped the band holding the microphone around his neck. "Two down."

"You are good," Marshal stated. "Anyone know you're there?"

"Hey you!" Michael leveled the rifle and sent a sustained burst into the soldier who had called out to him.

"No one alive," he stated as he dropped the rifle and picked up the second. "Three down." He stepped out of the dead end he had used as an ambush. He brought the weapon to his shoulder and moved around the corner carefully. The third man's partner would be around her somewhere. Straight ahead as a matter of fact. Michael raised the rifle and center punched the man's skull before he could turn. "Four."

"Sixteen to go," Marshal commented. "Lucky is almost in position. He can take out the orbiting VTOL and start to pick off Frenchies that he has a positive ID on."

"Good." Michael paused outside one door. He pushed the door open slightly and tugged a tiny mirror out of his pocket. He pushed it through the crack and swept the room inside carefully. There was one man standing with his back against the wall, directly to the left of the door. "I have the target in sight and I'm moving in."

"Don't start anything," Marshal warned. "Lucky has orders to terminate you if you start a firefight."

"Just like old times," Michael commented as he set the rifle down and pressed his fingers against the wall. The material seemed thin enough. He gripped the hilt of his new Fairbairn Sykes dagger. He pressed the tip of the knife against the wall. He threw his weight behind it and drove the weapon in to the hilt. There wasn't a sound. "Perfect." Michael drew a second knife and pushed the door open. There were only two other men in the room. The second looked up and his jaw dropped as the thrown knife plunged into his throat.

Michael's hand was on the kilt of his Kukri and he was half way across the classroom before the students could even scream. The third man spun, but it was too late. He could only raise his arm in a pathetic defense as Michael swung. The blade sliced clean through the man's wrist and throat before imbedding itself into the wall.

(:ii:)

Asuka stared at the man who had moved into the classroom. She could barely comprehend who it was. "Mich. . .ael?" He turned and looked at her, his face and blond hair streaked with crimson.

"Pilot Sohryu," the man stated. "I suppose this is twice you thought I was dead. All of you shut the hell up or you're next." Asuka looked around and realized that the whole class had fallen silent.

"You can't be alive."

"Alive?" Michael asked. He grabbed the headless man's corpse and rolled it over. He drew the man's suppressed pistol and raised it. He fired twice the soldier standing beside the door jerked. He remained standing even with his brain splattered across the back wall. "I wouldn't go that far." Asuka stared at him. How? He was dead. She had lost him all over again. The funeral, which she had no plans on attending, was this afternoon! She felt her fists clench and she stood up. Michael watched as she approached and didn't even blink as she hit him as hard as she could in the jaw.

"You ass hole!" Michael stared at her, uncomprehending. Suddenly he smiled.

"That's who I remember." He stepped past her and shot the other guard in the head.

"You. . ."

"Remember?" Michael asked. "I do."

"But. . .how could you?" Shinji would never have done this. There was no way.

"Just because I remember who I was doesn't mean I've forgotten who I am," Michael explained simply. He reached up and touched the black band on his throat. "I have the target." He picked up one of the dropped assault rifle and the knife he had imbedded in the wall before moving to the door. He jerked the standing guard forward and Asuka stared at the bloody spike protruding from the wall. "Where's Ayanami?"

"She didn't come to school today," Asuka replied.

"You know Kaido's number?"

"He. . .he gave it to me in case there was trouble," Asuka answered. Michael slid the door open and leaned out into the hall.

"Call him." Asuka nodded quietly and pulled out her phone. The older man picked up on the first ring.

"Kaido speaking."

"It's Sohryu," Asuka replied. "Michael's here."

"What?" the older man demanded. "Asuka, I don't want to sound mean, but he's dead."

"He just killed three soldier who came into my classroom," Asuka explained, trying to keep breathing.

"Give it to me." Asuka handed her phone to Michael. "This is Michael. Did you follow my advice?" He paused. "Good. Get to the school. We need transportation. Getting Sohryu to NERV and her Eva is top priority. Understand? Good." He flipped the phone shut and handed it back to her.

"What's going on. . ."

"Michael," Michael supplied. "The UN is attacking. My old bosses. You have to save us all, okay?"

"Yeah."

-End

(:ii:)

-Author's notes. Yes Michael has remembered Shinji, but come on. After so much training and conditioning did you expect him to be spineless and depressed? Well probably. Instead you get Michael's skill trying to protect the people Shinji cared for.

Michael seems to have just taken a strange new turn. I have no clue how the fuck I'm going to write him consistently. Oh well, never bothered me before.

I wanted to try for a serious ending. Why the fuck can't I do serious without people having witty conversations?

Gah! Why couldn't this be done? I have another story I want to post, but I was to get this done first.