Explosion.
Jake's face, the vehicle-borne IED and the cold Fayetteville night dissolve into fuzzy images, meld together, then wink out of existence as my mind slowly returns to consciousness.
There is a low rumble from somewhere high above in the Geofront, and my eyes open just quickly enough to see my ceiling vibrate and the lights flicker. Whatever made that boom had to be big.
Not that any of us here are strangers to big booms and shaking infrastructure - those had just been part of the job over most of the past year, ever since the 3rd Angel had shown its ugly face. The worst part had been just waiting, huddled deep in our shelters and knowing we couldn't do a damn thing except wait for those kids to handle business.
That was all supposed to be over, though. So what the fuck?
Another rumble, another shake of the ceiling - then the lights flicker and go out completely. The hum of the fluorescent bulbs is replaced by deafening silence.
The wall mounted phone begins to squawk, its tones seemingly amplified by the blackness surrounding me, and I reflexively pick it up to answer at the same time I consider the ramifications of the phone being the first thing to go off. My NERV-issued cell phone and radio on my nightstand both show no signs of life.
"Go for Scott."
"Charlie-1, this is Major Katsuragi. Did you just… wake up? Did you not hear the Condition 2 alert?!"
Straight to callsigns, and the Major sounds … anxious. It's starting to sound more and more like overtime for me.
"Sorry, Major. CAT Teams aren't in the basic alert continuum, and I didn't get any calls. Do you need me in the Ops Center?"
I sit on the edge of my bed as the red emergency lighting comes on, and try to shrug into my light-tan uniform as best I can while listening to what the Major has to say.
"Well, now we're at Condition One, with a substantial enemy force inside the base and troops in contact. Radio and cell communications are being jammed, which explains why you didn't get our comms."
That's exactly what I was afraid of. Not a lot of nations had access to that kind of tech, especially in a post-2I world. There's a very high likelihood that whoever was here was from a former NATO member state. Time to lace up these boots...
"They're inside already? Any idea who we're dealing with?" is, appropriately, my next question.
"We've been issued an A-801 order by the host government," the Major replies, her voice taut with tension. "They're likely JSDF, special operations by the way they're moving and clearing rooms. It's… not good. Casualties are rising."
...Interesting. Luckily for us, Japanese SF aren't necessarily the creme of the crop of the special operations community, but they're still going to be much more combat effective than the usual NERV security or Section Two dudes. There's also a decent chance that, in years past, I might have trained a few of the guys that are currently killing my colleagues up in the Geofront.
I really hope that's not the case - I'm not a fan of killing people that I know, but I'll do it if I must. All of that on top of the fact that a handgun and a couple of spare mags won't be enough to do a damn thing - I don't have many pistol kills, and even less against guys with rifles. I need to book it to the Armory...
"I've already had Lieutenant Ibuki contact the rest of your unit, and instruct them to RV at the Armory on your level. Take your team to Evangelion Unit-01's Cage and hold that area until otherwise ordered."
I stretch the phone's cord as far as it can so I can reach my desk, where my warbelt and body armor sit, ready to go. I clip my belt around my waist, nestling the phone between my shoulder and neck, then check to see that my holstered pistol, spare magazines, first aid kit and flashlight are present. They are.
The phone breaks away from my ear for the second I need to slip my vest on over my head, securing the cummerbund in the front with velcro. The weight of the plates is reassuring. While most NERV teams run concealed soft armor, I'm running my own rifle plates in the issued carrier.
"Ma'am, with respect - we're some of the only direct-action capable assets here. Shouldn't we be organizing a defense or counterattack? Maybe buy some time to get the soft targets out of here, give the regular security guys a chance to consolidate - or even pull Commander Ikari out? "
"That… won't be necessary. The attackers' objectives appear to be the Evangelions and their pilots. If they capture those, then you know there's really no point to all of this. Under no circumstances are enemy forces to take the Eva Cage. You have your orders."
"Wilco, Major. Lastly - we have anything in the way of a QRF? That cage is a lot of real estate for six guys to hang on to…"
"Sorry, Scott, no QRF available," the Major replies with a sigh. "Alpha and Bravo CATs are otherwise committed. Most of the regular security teams are the same, or dead - it's a full-court press. Whoever sent these guys knew how soft we are."
"That being said, we'll be using bakelite to cut off the upper levels as our regular forces retreat. Should buy your team some gaps in between enemy reinforcements."
"I appreciate that, Major. Just be sure to fish us out when it's all over. You guys should batten down the hatches down in Ops and hold what you got."
"... I don't think it will be that easy. Good luck, Charlie-1."
The line goes dead and within seconds I'm out the door, flashlight in my left hand and pistol in the other, a standard issue NERV Glock 17 that I've made slight modifications to. We had just transitioned to the Glock right before I left the Unit, and I'm grateful that I could still use all my old kit and magazines for it. The only problem is that nine millimeter doesn't have a track record of impressing guys with body armor on.
I pass a few of the techies and support staff as they run past me in the other direction, panicked looks on their faces. I'm glad they're getting out, or finding a good place to hide - the base is turning into a shitshow in rapid order, and this is no place for them to be. I hope they make it out of this.
No QRF… no air cover since we are literally fucking underground… and six guys holding a space large enough to contain a giant robot? Against a numerically-superior enemy force who seems intent on bringing this whole place down?
Shit, I hope I make it. This is insane.
...Who am I kidding? The whole world hasn't been sane in fifteen years. This is just another day in paradise.
[][][][][][][][]
The boys are already there by the time I step into the Armory, holstering both my pistol and light as I do. Mike and John are already jocked up, subdued green plate carriers and helmets on, with suppressed MP7 submachine guns in hand as they pull security outside the entrance.
Mike nods at me, his night vision goggles down as he scans the hallway.
"Overtime, huh? These emergency lights are really fuckin' with my NODs."
"Yep," I reply, "Overtime. Let's make some magic happen."
The last three members of Charlie Team are inside, hurriedly preparing go-bags of ammo and grenades, consolidating what we'd need for a long fight.
Chris, our machine gunner, is stuffing belt after belt of 7.62 NATO into a small assault backpack when he looks up and sees me. He flashes a grin my way.
"Hurry up, boss. Lieutenant Ibuki didn't sound amused when she was on the phone with me. Whatever's happening must be big and we don't wanna miss the show."
I step into my personal cage, fumble around in the box marked "PLACARDS," and pull out a pre-loaded smoky-green pouch that is laden with three full STANAG magazines of 5.56 NATO ammunition. The placard easily clips into the matching buckles on my body armor, then drops with a satisfying clunk to interface with the velcro below.
"You got extra 5.56 in those go-bag? I see that those two meatheads out there are running their squirt guns."
"Yep. Plus a shitload of 4.6 for Mikey & J," replies Ryohei, the fifth member of our team. He's a young Japanese kid pulled straight from JSOF a couple years ago - I guess the host nation wanted some sort of presence on NERV's high-risk security detachment. Our last shooter, Masaki, is of the same pedigree. Both have modified HK416 carbines slung across their chests, decked out with optics and lasers.
"Good. If I'm dying today, I'm dying with a 416 in my hands and I won't have it any other way."
"Old man's nostalgic," chimes in John from the hallway, peeking his helmeted head through the door. "He didn't get to run the MP7 in the Unit like we did."
"Something to be said about giving a dude two in the heart, instead of being forced to give him a half mag before he even feels it. That water pistol is all you."
"The future is now, old man," he calls mockingly before re-focusing his attention on his sector.
I buckle my own ballistic helmet on, and swing my night vision down in front of my face and turn it on to test it. It works fine, and just as Mike had said, the image washes out a tiny bit due to the red emergency lights. After a couple of seconds it adjusts on its own.
Masaki hands me my own rifle, similarly outfitted as theirs, with a loaded magazine already in.
"Charged up, boss," he informs me, and Ryohei chuckles and hits him with a quick "Kiss-ass." I check the gun anyways, pulling the charging handle back and seeing brass in the chamber. I let the bolt ride forward and tap the forward assist a couple of times, just to make sure the gun is in battery. I take a peek through the optic, and fire my light and laser just to make sure they all work - they do.
The mood is light and jovial, as it should be - the boys are itching for a fight, and we know what we're about. Unlike the regular security forces, NERV's Counter Assault Teams are comprised of the very best. Knowing the things - and people - that we have to protect? It's only natural.
Standup gunfights have been few and far between during my decade-long tenure here. Most of the time we're shadowing Commander Ikari or Sub-Commander Fuyutski, or accompanying the transport of sensitive materials being sent to other NERV branches around the world. For the most part, we've only had to deal with religious extremists and solo actors, intent on disrupting the mission. In other words: nothing too bad.
A JSDF invasion - with SOF in play, no less - was more than a little worrying, but nothing we can't handle. We just have to get the Cage, dug-in, and fast.
"Masa, Ryo - I don't know if Lieutenant Ibuki informed you, but the entirety of NERV has been PNG'd by the host government. In short, those are probably your boys up there. Are we gonna have any concerns about which direction your rifles are going to end up pointing?"
Ryohei, the younger of the two, shoots Masaki a concerned look. The older man nods, and Ryohei looks me in the eyes once again.
"No concerns here, boss," he says. "We haven't been on their payroll in quite some time… and if they're shooting us, what else can we do but shoot back?"
Masaki nods. "We're with you however this turns out. They chose this. Not us."
"That's what I like to hear."
I hear automatic gunshots down the corridor, from the direction I had come from - usually familiar to me, but they didn't sound like any weapons I'd ever heard before. Were the SDF dudes not running their Type-89's?
I signal for Masaki and Ryohei to back up J and Mikey in the corridor, and they flip their own NODs down and jog out as Chris stuffs the last belt of ammo into his pack. He shrugs into the shoulder straps and tightens them
"We gotta jet now. If we get bogged down in a firefight up here we'll never make it to the Cage in time."
"It's a long way down… and I assume we're taking the stairs," grumbles Chris, adjusting the sling on his Mk48 machine gun. He doesn't look too happy.
"The elevators are slow as shit anyways. And you know what they say about 'In Case of Emergency'..."