+++++ NERV Intercity Personnel Train. (Saturday + 0)

There were few things that Shinji Ikari honestly felt that he was ever actually prepared for. The individual who had been responsible for keeping him from dying, which was about as much credit as he felt they deserved to be given, had only barely succeeded in executing their duty. Shinji could cook just about anything under the sun. He could play several instruments at a level beyond the simple description of 'Master'. His skills in scholastic endeavors were either stellar or woefully inadequate, depending on the topic spoken of. The one ability he knew better than any other, however, was what he referred to as 'sleight of hand', and most everyone else would call 'magic'.

Sitting alone in a cabin intended for four adults with sizeable business-related baggage needs, the farmlands that stretched between Nagano and Tokyo-3 rolling past the window that occupied the non-hallway side of said cabin, he idly practiced cutting and sorting the deck of cards that existed as his lone triumph at keeping anything of his own from being thrown away in punishment over the years. It wasn't that he was a young man that had been prone to misbehaving, far from it, it was simply that his youth had been filled with unreasonable expectations that even when he fulfilled them there was never praise given.

His hands occupied, his mind emptied of pressing thoughts, his eyes drifting around the functional surfaces and trappings of the cabin he rode within, his shock could not have been more evident when the door slid forcefully open and admitted someone that could not have been more his opposite. The grey-haired Westerner, dressed in a skin-tight cotton shirt and flamboyant leather pants, removed a two-handed sword nearly as tall as the just shy of his own two meters in height from a slip-sheathe that was a part of the floor-length, bright red, leather duster he wore and leaned it in the corner near the door so that he could flop down onto the bench across from Shinji to sit with the ankle of his right foot resting upon his left knee.

His arms spread wide, his hands resting upon the back of the bench, the smirking foreigner tipped his head forward in a friendly greeting, "Afternoon."

Shinji attempted to come up with something appropriate to respond with, his mind trying to understand why a towering cosplayer with what looked to be a real sword capable of slicing the train in half would have been allowed on the clearly non-public train, but in the end all that came out was a quiet, "G-good afternoon."

"Got a few things I need to get from you, one thing to deliver to you, and no pressing engagements past that. Won't be bothering you for long, don't worry." Reaching into one side of his duster, he pulled out a clipboard and spun it like a plate atop his finger. "Happen to have a pen on you?"

A practiced motion replaced the deck of cards into its jacket, and the entire assembly into his backpack, pulling out the most current iteration of the omnipresent writing implement he was required to carry by the one he'd been occupying the same house as. "Y-yes."

"Great, because I forgot mine back at the office." Dropping his hand and letting the clipboard fall, the grey-haired stranger nudged it with the foot he'd set upon his knee towards Shinji. The smirk remained in place as he watched Shinji catch it with more ease than confidence. "Good hands. You might want to start to trust them."

Attached to the clipboard by tape, there was a form of some sort that was covered over with an ornate piece of parchment that bore an emblazoned blue butterfly taking flight. Peeking out from beneath was a line for a signature, with an 'X' next to it designating as much. Placing the nail of one thumb under the parchment, he tried to lift up the coversheet to see what he was being asked to sign, "W-what is-"

"An agreement that I've delivered to you what I was asked to," the man leaned forward swiftly, tapping one heavy finger down atop the parchment to keep it in place, "name on the line, if you would."

Being asked to perform a task was something Shinji was used to. Questioning the task's purpose was generally a good way to end the day with a great deal of discomfort. Sharp, practiced, strokes placed his name onto the line as requested, and he then politely offered the clipboard back. "O-of course. I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He took the board back with haste. "I'd have read it, if I were in your shoes." His other hand made a series of gestures in the air, and a blackened void swirled open next to them both. After tossing the paperwork and clipboard in, he clenched his hand and sat back against the bench as he had been before. "Is the stuttering a nervous tic, or something you were born with?"

Shinji dropped his eyes down to his own hands, realizing that he'd been bullied out of doing something he ought to have, and worrying what he might have signed. The man before him had just created some sort of magical portal, something that should not have been possible. He carried a heavy sword, and walked with the swagger of someone who knew how to kill others without breaking a sweat. Shinji was in incredible danger, and his mind had finally caught up to his situation. "Wh-who are you?"

"Anthony Redgrave, but you can call me 'Tony'. At least for the next couple of minutes. Once I leave, you won't be seeing me again." Rolling one finger lazily around his own mouth, 'Tony' repeated his question, "The stuttering?"

"…Nervousness." Something about the way the man was acting screamed 'dangerous', but the same actions also refrained from saying that Shinji was in any danger. "I…don't talk to people often."

"Mmm. Makes sense, considering what I was told." Reaching into the side of his duster opposite where he pulled out the clipboard, 'Tony' extracted a gunmetal cylindrical tube that was around fifteen centimeters in length. Twirling it between his fingers, suggesting a great deal of skill with knives, he rocked his head side to side in thought. "Raised by a stranger, never allowed to journey outside alone, ignored by your family, and heir to a power that nobody ever bothered explaining to you. There's a lot to process in your future, kid. I'd recommend a good woman or a good therapist…or both." Ceasing the looping arc of the cylinder, he wagged it at Shinji firmly. "Don't ever let people look down on you, though. You've survived. Most people like us don't."

"Us?"

"Barely knew my dad. Mom was murdered. My brother has spent most of our lives trying to kill me. You aren't the only person in desperate need of allies, kid." Standing up fluidly, he offered his right hand. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Shinji Ikari. I'm pretty sure I would have had some fun hanging around you, but the job says I need to make myself scarce after I give you this."

The Western gesture, and the interpersonal contact it implied, caused Shinji no small amount of confusion. When he timidly accepted the handshake, he was caught off-guard by the violent yank that brought him to his feet and slammed him front-to-front against Tony.

Sliding the metal tube into Shinji's spine, where his shoulders and neck met, was as easy for the powerful Westerner as slipping it into water would have been. Once it was in place, he steadied his unfortunate customer. "Sorry about that. Doubt you would have let me do that willingly. You'll understand, after a while." Settling Shinji back down onto the bench, he crouched down and looked into his eyes to make certain of his mental state.

As for Shinji himself, surprise and shock were muffled by a tsunami of detachment from the world around him. He heard Tony's words as if from a great distance, felt the man's manipulations as if he'd been wrapped in thick wool. He could only tell what had been shoved into his body by the lack of feeling in that area. His arms and legs dutifully reported information back to his brain, his fingers and toes quite ready to act as they were intended to, but the fifteen centimeters now occupied by a bizarre chunk of metal simply did not exist as far as he was concerned. Forcing himself to look his assailant in the eyes, he saw sympathy where he'd expected to see either the smirking bemusement or a display of cocksure triumph. "Wh-why?"

"Because you're also not the only person who has people to save." Taking a sheathed long dagger off of his leg, he professionally strapped it to Shinji's. "By way of apology. You've got good hands, kid. Trust them." Clapping him on the neck twice, a gesture of confidence between warriors, he stood up and moved towards his sword. "I heard some good advice recently. Don't tense up, it just makes it hurt worse." His last, cryptic, statement spoken the man walked back out through the door he'd entered and off into the unoccupied hallway of the train car.

Alone, again, and quite alive despite what he'd expected was about to happen, Shinji was contemplating what the odd Westerner could possibly have meant about not tensing up when he felt the train decide that it was quite done being on the tracks it was bound to, thank you very much.

+++++ NERV Command Center, Tokyo-3. (Saturday + 0)

Misato Katsuragi had her HK USP unholstered and laying next to her keyboard where she could pick it up and shoot whoever decided to bother her. NERV's Tactical Commander focused her efforts towards locating the most important person on the planet at the moment. The general bedlam around her, a cacophony of noise mixed with a stale scent of fear from her remaining colleagues, went ignored as her eyes and hands worked in practiced harmony. Not ten minutes ago, an alien abomination they called 'The Third Angel' appeared from thin air in the middle of Old Hakone. She had watched as one of the mightiest military forces on the planet had flailed ineffectually at the enormous Angel. Her mind had prepared stratagem after stratagem, thinking outside of the blinkered military mindset that had blinded the Japanese Strategic Self Defense Force General Staff.

When the Angel paused, turning the oddly avian mask it wore towards the west, she and everyone else had assumed that it was preparing some new form of torture for the hapless citizenry. The JSSDF had taken the opportunity to drop a pair of N2 Mines onto it, which had only the most limited of effect on their target. With command over the operation devolved to NERV, Commander Ikari had seemed confident that everything was now moving according to plan. That was, of course, until the male half of the species seemingly vanished without a sound, Maya Ibuki announced that the MAGI had lost track of both the train delivering the Third Child and anything more than one hundred and fifty kilometers away from the borders of Japan, and they lost total visual contact with an enemy able to destroy the entire planet.

Doctor Akagi had ordered Maya to focus her efforts on locating the Angel, and Misato had self-directed towards finding Shinji Ikari. With Rei Ayanami's injuries, and Unit-00 out of commission after an activation experiment had gone terribly wrong, the young man she'd never met was now their only pilot and only chance at beating the Angel once it was found again. Unpiloted drones and a quartet of VTOL Osprey crews were making their way along the railroad tracks, scanning for any sign of train or youth, sending her a constant stream of data that she was consuming as rapidly as they delivered it. "Come on, Shinji," she whispered, "I'll show you the time of your life if you don't die on us…."

Nothing was making sense, nor was it going anywhere near according to plan. Misato could do nothing but pause, and stare in disbelief at what she was seeing. An enormous glowing orb now dominated the Japanese sky, a sky that showed their new position on the inside of what she'd once read somewhere was a Dyson Sphere. A Dyson Sphere that consisted of only Japan, and the seas and oceans bordering her shores.

+++++ ? (Saturday + 0)

Shinji woke up with a ringing sound echoing in his head. The strange sensation at the base of his neck remained, but everywhere else was speaking rather eloquently about how much pain he was in. Face down on what felt like plush carpeting, he groaned as he attempted to move into a not-laying-down position. His eyes slowly focused on the world around him as his body mechanically followed his instructions, and halfway up into a kneeling position he froze in place and blinked several times to try and make sense of what he was seeing.

He had been, to his knowledge, on a train. The train car he had been riding in was well-appointed, but not ornately so. Care had been taken to walk the line between ostentatious displays of status and cost-conscious furnishings, which only made sense considering what he knew about NERV's position as a semi-governmental body. The room he was regaining consciousness in, on the other hand, was decorated in varying shades of soft, rich, blues. The ringing in his ears was gradually replaced by music, a piano score accompanying a slender woman singing a wordless opera of some form.

Moving his body back to where he was kneeling instead of hesitating on all fours, he carefully inspected his hands for shards of glass or metal before balling them into fists and rubbing his eyes to try and clear away the fog that assailed them. Blinking several more times, and turning his head to take in more of the room, he reached the conclusion that either he was dead and in the afterlife…or he was having a real doozy of a lucid dream.

"Neither, my sweet," a painfully feminine voice assured him as it approached from the side. When he turned his head to face whoever was speaking to him, he felt his mouth go dry. With the type of physical beauty that would have put the world's greatest models to shame, and the fluid grace of the finest dancer alive, a woman of indeterminate age approached him from where she had been sitting at a bar staffed by a hunchbacked gentleman with a nose as long as Shinji's forearm. "Welcome to the Velvet Room." Bending forward at the waist, giving just a hint of a view down the slinky red dress she wore, she offered him a hand to help him stand. "A sort of…waystation, for those such as yourself."

Shinji's hesitation in accepting her hand was informed by both what had just happened with 'Tony', as well as a lifetime of difficulty understanding the motivations of the fairer sex. His own hand twitched, torn between the ingrained habit of following orders and trepidation at possibly somehow transferring the not-entirely chaste thoughts the woman before him inspired by touch alone. "W-waystation?" Duty won out over fear, and he allowed her to help him upright.

Standing at a perfectly matched height to him, the blue-black haired beauty flashed a small grin of triumph. "There are few who can visit here regularly, and none that can find this place without an invitation." Shifting herself easily to where she walked them both over to a small table for two placed equidistant between the bar and the pianist, holding onto his arm and leaning ever so slightly against him, she kept her luminous ruby eyes where they could work their magic. "Most who visit tend to only do so once, before moving on to what they were intended to do. They come," she placed him in one chair, "they receive what they came for," she took her own chair without letting go of his hand, "and they leave. Never to return." With the elbows of their left arms resting on the table, she shifted her grip to that of someone arm-wrestling, and playfully manipulated his hand back and forth in time with the music. "But you, my sweet, appear to have a much different fate."

"I-I'm sorry…." Part of his mind was screaming at him to take his hand away. Another part had never felt safer. "I-I…haven't a-asked your name."

"Eisheth Zenunim," she responded with a lingering hunger. "I know that you're likely to have a hard time pronouncing that, though, so instead you may call me Qodeshah."

Completely forgoing the name she'd given him first, which was both clearly foreign and entirely beyond his ability to not mangle, he made an effort for the second, "Koudeshya-san…I'm…not sure I'm not dreaming."

"Qodeshah," she pronounced the name slower, for him to note the difference in intonation. "I understand that it must seem like a dream, having someone as beautiful as me spend time with you, but I assure you that you're quite awake." Her grip switched from mock combative to sensual, her fingers interlacing with his. "You signed the contract, you accepted the gift, and now you're here."

Her alabaster skin, unnaturally white beyond any sane description, still seemed far more natural when compared against his unnaturally pale skin. Whereas he hadn't been allowed enough time outside to darken his skin tone, she clearly was naturally the way she was. His comparison of the two occupied his mind enough that his tongue ran away from him, "You are more than beautiful. I'm…oh." Realizing what he'd just said, his eyes shot wide and he reclaimed his hand before clasping both in his lap and bowing stiffly. "I am very sorry; I should not have commented on your appearance."

Grateful, in a way, that he was no longer looking at her, Qodeshah's lip twitched angrily as her eyes promised death upon the mortals responsible for what had happened to the man before her. Her voice never betrayed that anger, "My sweet, you always have permission to compliment my appearance." Reaching across the small table, she lifted his chin with her fingertips to gift him a comforting smile. "After all, to be told by a discerning artist that my beauty is so great is a compliment of the highest order." She hated the fear in his eyes, she hated it even more than she hated the First Man. "As much as I would love to sit here and do nothing more than speak of idle matters, I'm afraid I must beg of you a favor. Could you consider helping me?"

His reaction was exactly what she'd wanted. His spine straightened, his body prepared to act, and his supposed transgression was shoved aside for later. "O-of course. What can I do?" He'd sprint through walls for her.

The problem here, was that she knew he'd do the same for any woman who asked him. It's what he'd been trained to do. "I need you to answer a question and…protect a few ladies." The verb wasn't technically incorrect, but it certainly wasn't what she'd have used with anyone else. "Your reality has experienced…an event. Competing interests are attempting to refashion it into something that suits their own desires." Leaning forward, she reached around behind his neck and ran her fingers across where 'Tony' had inserted the metal cylinder. "This will give you the ability to challenge them. To try and wrest control over your destiny back from them. To do so, however, you need the ladies I will be sending you to. Without them…you will not understand the question you will be answering."

"What's the question?" Protecting someone else, as the more daunting of the two, would be put off for last.

"Silly," trailing her fingers along his jaw, she tapped his lips, "I just said that you won't understand the question without them."

Anxiety crackled like lightning across his skin. "I-I…I'm not sure I can protect anyone."

Her reply was delivered with supreme confidence, "I am, and that is all that matters."

"Yes, ma'am."

Swallowing her ire at the meek response, she pressed forward. "You will meet a number of young women, and amongst them there will be several who will need your protection from things that alone they would not be able to overcome. They will, in turn, grant you gifts, boons, and companionship to varying degrees." She grew angrier, though never showed as much, as she watched him crumple inwards at what would have been a positive to almost any other entity. "I need you to both serve…and accept service. To do neither, or either, will lead us to ruin. Only both will lead us to the sliver of a chance of success we must covet."

He could make no such promises. Not that he wanted to ignore a request by someone he was fairly positive could make his life end with a vague thought, nor that he was terribly interested in upsetting someone as beautiful to behold as her, but he simply could not be certain that the answer he wished to give could be followed through upon. "I…d-don't know how."

His honesty, and the way that he avoided making a promise he didn't know if he could keep, soothed her growing temper. "They'll teach you."

"…And I'm not dreaming?"

"Magic is real. Our lives are in terrible danger. You, my sweet, are my only hope." Tickling under his chin, she gave him a smile that melted his spine. "I have all the confidence in the world that you are more than capable of saving us."

The internal scream of desperate terror at the situation never manifested externally, and the look of fear that would have been present on his face had been shoved aside by the tremulous giggle at having been tickled. Once he was able to speak without disrupting Qodeshah's motions, he swallowed and nodded. "I-I'll try my hardest."

"Of that I never had a single doubt." Smoothly gaining her feet, she took his hands and walked him over to an empty space near the piano. "Come dance with me, for a while. We have some time yet before I must send you out to battle…and I would very much like to get to know you better."

+++++ Temp Authorial Note

This is a preview of what will become the next story. I am testing out the length of chapters right now to see what feels right.