"She is ARES property, we created her!"
I am awakened from my slumber, though I'm not really sure when I fell asleep. My last memories are a blur. I remember pain. I remember disappointment. I also remember this ceiling; the ceiling of a hospital room. I had spent much of my time in such rooms, being examined and studied to ensure my health was in good order, as was expected of me since my creation some fourteen years ago. Without even glancing, I can tell I lie upon a hospital bed. Based upon the feel of the garment clothing me, I can tell I'm clothed in a medical gown. I can tell, that I am not well. My right arm has been immobilized in a cast, and I lack the right side of my vision. My torso is in pain, and breathing is somewhat difficult. I remember that I had sustained these injuries in a test link with my Evangelion; a large humanoid robot made for battle with technologies otherwise unknown to the rest of the frontier. Although I'm unsure when "Evangelion" became its name to me; everyone else calls it a "Super-Titan"; a grander and more powerful version of the fearsome battle mechs used by elite warriors known as pilots throughout the Frontier Wars. However, to call it a "Super-Titan" would be to imply it is some form of titan, when the Evangelion simply feels much more than a titan could ever be. And, I don't know how, but the term "Evangelion" or "Eva" simply feels more... familiar.
"Bull-fucking-shit, Marder!"
I recognize that voice as Major Vargas, the Nerv Planetary Operations Officer. He is my direct superior, even if he was not exclusively Nerv. He comes from the IMC's Robotic Enhancement Section Combat Unit (RESCU). However, it was him who had been appointed to lead groundside operations for Nerv, an IMC Division made specifically for the operation and deployment of the Evangelions and the Research and Development of Super-Titan related technologies. It is a joint effort between many Interstellar Manufacturing Corporation (IMC) affiliated groups, another measure and weapon to weild against the Frontier Militia. I'm unsure exactly when this war started, only that it had been going on for a long time. I've spoken to much of the Nerv staff about it, so that I could learn who I was fighting. My knowledge on the Militia is that they are criminals of various types: everything from tax-evader to anarchist and pirate. They are insurgents and terrorists who want to disrupt order, and prey upon the defenseless in their efforts to do so. Murderers who use civilians and non-combatants as shields, traitors hiding behind the mask of loyal IMCs citizens. Or so I'm told. I have little in regards to loyalties, or ideals, to fight for. I'm not a citizen which this war effects. The IMC had created me, but as a tool to fight and study. While one could say I owe them for my life, I would argue exactly that; nobody else has grown up as I have as far as I can tell. Where is my childhood? Not that I care. The fact of the matter is that I exist, and this existence has some sort of purpose.
"I swear I'll have you charged, Major! Insubordination! Larceny! All to take my assets out on a meaningless playdate!"
That was the voice of General Marder, the commanding officer of the IMC Archaeological Research Division. Marder, unlike Vargas, is not a member of Nerv directly. The General merely provides Nerv with scientific support, and are responsible for the creation of the Evas, as well as myself. I do not imagine he was happy when those assets were given to another division, especially Nerv which did not exist when those discoveries were made. However, because of the research and funding supplied, he has a deal of influence over the agency, and I believe he intends to use it as if Nerv was his own. While I understand why such would upset Vargas and the other Nerv staff, I once again have no care.
"She's a product of ARES R&D, Sir, but she's my pilot! She falls under my chain of command and this ain't no playdate!"
"So she must be one of RESCU's toys now? You've gotten too attached to the clone, Vargas!"
"Curb your horsepiss, Marder! She's a Nerv pilot, and I'm a Nerv officer, at least for now. RESCU doesn't give a damn about ARES shenanigans."
"Major I'd advise you to check your tone when addressing a superior officer."
"I already did. Came to the conclusion the one I'm using is appropriate. General, you're not going to stop me from utilizing my assets in my operations. This conversation is over."
"Colonel Merkava with hear about this, Major!"
"Good. I hope he does." Major Vargas then walked into my room, the doors sliding open with the all familiar whir of their automation. His robotic joints were near completely silent, cylindrical metallic legs and flat feet tapping against the ceramic floor. I turn my head, compensating for my lack of vision to confirm it is indeed who I believe it is, making out the glowing rectangular visor of the simulacrum. Simulacra are robotic humanoids with the minds and memories of human warriors imprinted in them, usually when exceptional soldiers such as pilots are critically injured. They exist as a way for warfighters to continue fighting past even death. Major Vargas has never told me how or why he became a simulacrum, and I've never asked. He was dressed in his Service Uniform, a grey collared shirt and white undershirt, with a grey-blue tie, trousers, black shoes, and a white garrison cap. "Rei." He stated my name as he took a place next to the medical bed, resting his steely grip on the edge. "How are you feeling?"
"I have sustained damag-"
"I know, and that's my fault." The Major interrupted me. I don't see how. Nobody could have predicted the Eva would have responded the way it did. Nobody but me, and I didn't raise any concerns. I felt it reject me the moment I was sealed inside of it, but without evidence to present I continued with the test. The result was of course the machine losing control. "The doctors have patched you up as much as they can. Time is what's needed to heal the rest of it. So, do you think you can carry out a mission for me?"
"I can fight."
"No, you can't, but that's not what I'm asking. I just need you to accompany me."
"...Yes, Sir." I then sit up, ignoring the objections my torso gives as I do so. "Where are we going?"
"Several places. Mostly to pick up some new faces."
"I understand." The Major was more or less a straightforward person. Or at least I believe him to be. It's hard to read a robot, unlike humans simulacra don't have expressions that can be told by just a glance. Still, Vargas doesn't feel like a robot. He's a calculating person, but not like how a machine is. He's precise, but abstract in it. I've not seen him fight, but I can tell he's a warrior worthy of renown. It's the way he carries himself, the way he thinks. It's tactical, efficient, brutal, maybe even malicious. A robot can't be that; it's methods are for efficiency, not brutality. It's the presence of personal grudge that separates Vargas from any common drone. I spot my uniform in the corner of the room, and slide off the medical bed to approach them. The tile is cold against my bare feet as I walk across it. I cast aside the medical gown to put on the female service uniform of the IMC Marine Corps, but quickly find that even getting the white undershirt on is difficult with my right arm encased in its cast. Eventually I am able to move onto the grey collared shirt, although even that presented a challenge. As I struggle, I am assisted by the metal appendages of the Major, who helps me get the casted arm through the blouse. I then put on the white knee length skirt, followed by the grey-blue stockings and finally the black dress shoes. I look myself over, making sure my shirt is tightly tucked before putting on my grey-blue tie and grabbing my stoic white garrison cap. The cap had the bright golden insignia of a Second Lieutenant, that being the rank given to me once I had finished my training, and kept ever since. Since we were indoors, I didn't put it on. I then turned back to face the Major. He just nodded before we left the room together.
He never told me where we were going. He merely led me through the massive underground facility that had been built underneath the surface of the planet, a large several hundred kilometer excavated subterranean space. A place called the Geofront. It housed many different compounds within it; living spaces, factories of various sorts, training grounds, warehouses, all of which one would need to run a small army and navy, because that was the facility's purpose. This Geofront had originally been created as the primary headquarters for RESCU, on the planet Cerulean; a frozen death world in the Frontier Outback perfect for hiding military operations. This is exactly why sections of it had been commandeered by Nerv, since the secret of the Evangelions was deemed just as if not more valuable than whatever RESCU had stored. Eventually, we of course made it to a launch pad, where a Goblin dropship had been awaiting us. The angular craft allowed us to embark through its side entrance, then the doors closed automatically. After the Major had spoken a quick word through his internal communications transmitter, the craft was off. It approached one of the many hatches in the GeoFront's ceiling that opened to the surface, but never once did it actually touch them; the dropship had phased into the Upside Down, an alternate dimension where-in space is compressed and many entities, such as the freezing temperatures and weather of the Cerulean surface, did not exist. It had to, if it were to leave the planet's atmosphere in one piece: Cerulean was cold enough to flash freeze much of the craft, killing its engine and making the hull brittle and susceptible to impact, and if there was any sort of weather (much less the violent hailstorms that often occur) it'd be likely to force a crash. As a result, phasing into the Upside Down is the only way to get from the surface of the planet to beyond the atmosphere.
I didn't expect to be going off world, but I don't question it. I simply stand there, silent as the Major stands next to me. Once again I can't read anything from the simulacrum. There are only slight uncomforts as the dropship prepares to utilize the Upside Down as a means of faster than light travel, warping itself to our destination at a speed several times that of light. Inertial dampeners are used to make the otherwise unbearable acceleration and change in velocity to something that might be described as a slight annoyance. Despite its bothersome tendencies however, I attempt to enjoy it. If for no other reason that it is only on rare occasion do I actually get to leave Cerulean; that sphere of cold death is all I really know in the Frontier. Sometimes I get visions, or hallucinations, of a place I've never known but feel attached to. As far as I can tell however, that place exists neither in this area of space or time; it's all archaic compared to what lies around now.
Some silent hours later, the dropship comes out of the Upside Down rather suddenly, but to us on the inside the g-forces experienced are minimal. From the viewport I spot the nearest celestial object to be a planetary moon with scattered biodomes covering its surface. I know not the name of the moon or it's planet, however I don't believe it matters. I find it extremely unlikely that I will be here for very long. The moon was of such size and mass, that is lacking in such, that it had no atmosphere to speak of. The Goblin instead descended upon one of its many biodomes, and made a landing upon an external landing pad. The biodome then began to retract the pad into its hull, its heavy jaw-like doors coming to a close. The platform continued to move, a steady series of whirs and clunks as it seemed to glide along its tracks until being brought to a stop where the dropship doors had finally opened. I noticed that Major Vargas had put his cover on as he stepped from the craft, and did the same; taking note that this was considered "outdoors" within the biodome. Marching down the streets of the habitat, I began to formulate that this was some middle class living space, full of tall apartment buildings. Some reached nearly as high as the dome itself. The Major quickly hailed down a vehicle, some sort of taxi, for more expedient transportation. The car was angular and a strong bright yellow, easy to spot amongst the other cars making their way across the complex. I assume the transaction was done wirelessly, since other than a simple greeting neither our driver nor the Major exchanged words or currency between them. The ride, just as the one on the Goblin, was quiet.
When we disembarked, we found ourselves at the entrance of a large hospital, not unlike the one I had been in some hours ago. I found this peculiar, as I didn't think we would be paying a visit to a patient. Perhaps we were here to see a doctor, but that wouldn't explain why I had to come along. Although, that would assume me accompanying was actually vital when it could very well not have been. Just as I had copied the Major when he put his cover on, I copied him as he took it off inside the facility. He then walked up to the receptions desk, paying no mind to the line that was there, and spoke to the clerk there. "We're here to see the patient in room 542." He stated, answering who we're here to pick up. We were quickly authorized into the hospital after being properly identified, and made our way to the nearest elevator onto deck 5. From there it was only down a few corridors until we reached a door marked '542'. With the scan of a visitor pass given to the Major when we signed in, the door hummed open. I was slightly surprised at what I saw inside, but I kept my bearing. There, sitting upon the medical bed covered in the blue-green medical gown was a young boy, who couldn't have been older than I am. He had a well tanned skin tone, probably some light skinned bi-racial, with emerald green eyes and blonde hair that left me perplexed about the child's origin. I almost came to the conclusion he had been created as I had, but then he wouldn't have been here in this hospital. "Who are you?" Was his first response, his voice in an accent which I had learned to be called 'General American', which I am told is common among the general Frontier population.
"Sebastian, my name is Vargas." The Major started, moving closer to the child in the medic bed. I followed close behind, but as we were walking, the simulacrum turned and glanced at me for a moment that felt like three. Something told me he was trying to convey something to me, and I did my best to understand, but I can't read his expressionless glowing faceplate. He then nodded at me, and I decided I would attempt to keep quiet for most of this. That would be easy enough; I felt no need to speak anyhow. He then continued to walk towards the child, Sebastian. "And this is Ayanami. We're with the Interstellar Manufacturing Corporation Marine Corps. Pilots." That was true for at least one of us; the term 'Pilot' generally refers to the elite soldiers that are well augmented, trained, and equipped. A pilot has unrivaled maneuverability over a battlefield, equipped with a jumpkit of thrusters which allow him to leap great distances and fall considerable heights, scale walls and buildings, and traverse battlefields at amazing speeds up to and above 40 kilometers per hour. All of this is in addition to operating the armored humanoid war machines known as Titans. Major Vargas was such a warrior, and I was nothing of the sort. The only similarity between me and the Major was that I had a war machine of my own; I was a pilot in that I piloted an Evangelion Super-Titan, and nothing more. However, the boy didn't answer, merely furrowing his brow in our direction. He didn't trust us. I wouldn't either. "I'm very sorry for what you've been through. I'm sorry we couldn't protect your family from those terrorists."
"Spare the ass kissin'!" Sebastian bit back throwing his arm towards us as if to wave us away. "What do you want?"
The Major and I stood there for a second, I was wondering what the Major would do next, waiting on his decision. "Look, Sebastian..." He began before reaching over to bring himself a stool to sit on. Purely a symbolic gesture; standing has no effect on a simulacra's comfort. "What if I told you that there's a way for you to get back at those terrorists? To make the Militia pay for the things they've taken from you." Sebastian's eyes narrowed at him, then traced over to me for a moment before returning to the simulacrum.
"Elaborate."
"The IMC is putting together a new outfit of warfighters, looking for potential recruits with the raw determination and correct mindset to strike down the Frontier Militia. After hearing what happened to your family, we believed you might have just the kind of resolve." The Major gestures towards Sebastian, who looked otherwise unphased. His gaze once again went from Major Vargas to me, except this time it stayed there.
"Then what's her story?" Asked Sebastian.
Major Vargas glanced back over to me before turning back to Sebastian. I began to wonder how well thought out this had been. "Lieutenant Ayanami here is much like you, she was the first to join up with this new unit." He said, although Sebastian seemed to disapprove; he shook his head at the Major's explanation.
"She can speak for herself, can't she? She's a military officer, afterall." He asked, and I had to admit I didn't know what I should have said, because I had nothing to say. I had no connection to this boy, I owed no explanation, and I did not need to convince him; if the IMC wanted they were more than capable of drafting such a child. So, I stay silent. "...Wierdo." he says, and I accept the comment straightforwardly; it is odd for one not to speak when spoken to, regardless if done on purpose.
"Perhaps," the Major responded. "She doesn't trust you as much as you don't trust us? Afterall, it's a two-way street and one that's gotta be earned." Sebastian's hostile demeanor seemed to lessen a bit, digesting Major Vargas' words. "And look at her; she's a commissioned officer and to be one of the most feared fighters on the Frontier. She's disciplined with bearing you at the moment have yet to match. She earned all that, and what have you? I speak because I'm nice, but you've not earned the right to demand anything from either of us. Plus, you've got a clear attitude problem."
Sebastian seemed to experience several emotions. Anger, maybe embarrassment, reluctance possibly. Anger was most clear upon his face however. "... I'll kill those terrorists for you... and for me." He stated. I believe this to be the outcome the Major was expecting, as the simulacrum nodded with what I think was contentness. The Major then looked over to the corner of the room and spotted a civilian duffle bag, and left his chair to approach it. Picking it up, he then dropped it off at the foot of the medical bed before holding out a data pad he had produced from the pocket of his uniform.
"You sign, you're in." Said the Major. I never had the choice, I never gave away my signature. I was a creation, not a person; I didn't have the right to choose. However, even if given the option, I can't say I'd be in a different place then; I have purpose here at least, even if I have yet to be able to fulfill it. Sebastian removed a stylus from the data pad and scribbled down onto it before returning the device to Major Vargas. "Alright. Get changed, we're moving out."
The Major and I waited outside the hospital room before Sebatian reappeared through its doorway dressed in long sleeve shirt and some jeans. He looked like any other child in stark contrast to me, being clearly military. I was a Marine, although once again this is a name I believe I only share at face value. He kept quiet on our way to the front desk to check him out, and remained so as we hailed additional transportation and stayed silent even on the way back to our Goblin. However, once we entered the dropship, he began to question us. He questioned what division of the IMC we were, and had never heard of Nerv before. He questioned my origins, being curious of my hair and eye color which were otherwise unnatural, a light blue and strong red respectively, but he never got a straight answer. He questioned as to why don't I speak, and I told him I had nothing to say. He seemed annoyed at me, yet couldn't bring himself to leave me alone. He asked me more mundane things afterwards, like what kind of music did I like, or my favorite color, and other childish topics, but I had little answers for I had not the luxury or care to develop them. It was almost as if he began to pity me. More questions would come forth as the Goblin made its acceleration and phased into the Upside Down.
I feel slight pressure as the Goblin decelerates and exits the upside down, and check my watch to see how much time has gone by; a little less than an hour. Strange; Cerulean was rather isolated from other systems, the nearest being at least 36 light years away. Looking out the viewing port in the side of the dropship, I am made aware of the presence of many IMC Warships, and the fact I could see them meant they were rather close. They were all around us, and all seemed to be cruising through the void with their tops facing downwards. Of course, there was no such orientation in space, so that meant we were the upside down ones. I had then pieced together that this group of warships was one of the Remnant Fleet: IMC military remnants formed after the Battle of Demeter that cut IMC forces off from the inner colonies, putting a severe logistical strain on the IMC that has allowed the Militia to make significant gains in the war. Commanded by the now Admiral Spyglass, the Remnant Fleet is the primary military arm of the IMC in the Frontier, however attrition has dwindled its count of live humans to the point it is primarily comprised of automated drones. Other IMC affiliates, such as ARES the Archaeological Research Division, and Vinson Dynamics, an arms manufacturing subsidiary with a sizable security force, see the Remnant Fleet as a threat, further fracturing the IMC capability to fight Militia cells.
The Major doesn't say a word as our Goblin enters the hangar bay of one of the Remnant Fleet's warships. I begin to wonder what business between Nerv and the Remnant Fleet requires me, or the newly commissioned 2nd Lieutenant Righter (as I found his family name) to be here. The Remnant Fleet generally operates independently of all other IMC groups, waging their guerilla war against the Militia. Most certainly, they've never interacted with Nerv. With a whirr, the Goblin's doors open and I follow Major Vargas out from the dropship. Lieutenant Righter follows behind me. The grey innards of the large battleship are much like its outer hull; angular and plain. One can tell that such is all for function rather than form. There are several IMC Navy spacers and Marines onboard, and they each seem to look at me with some sort of suspicion, however all render us the proper greeting of the day as Marine Corps customs and courtesies demanded, all of them repeating the same phrase. "Good evening, Sir. Good evening, Ma'am." They say, because we are officers and they are enlisted.
I began to notice we were on the way to the ship's medical bay. On the way there, one of the IMC Marines quickly handed the Major a tablet, though I didn't know it's contents. Vargas began to quickly scroll through it, with what I would describe as intent, analyzing whatever information had been laid before his optics. Upon entering the Medical Bay, I could tell it had been filled with men who were not well. The staggering number of injured had spoken of a recent battle, with coughs of sickness and groans of pain emanating and echoing off the walls as medical drones and professionals tended to those wounded. What business did the Major have with the men here? I followed him as he walked down the bay, dodging doctors, nurses, and robots as he made his way. He turned and stopped by one injured man on a hospital bed, and he seemed to be hurt in many the same ways as I did. Bandages covered the right side of his face, and he had a cast on his right arm. I watched as his one visible blue eye dilated upon the Major while his bristled brown haired chin shifted, biting down on his lip. "Good evening... Sir." He said, and I detected a hint of venom in his voice. He had to of known the Major. His eye then seemed to focus on me, followed by Righter. "Who're these kids? I assume they're not yours."
"Captain Dare." The Major began before gesturing to Righter and myself. "These are Second Lieutenants Rei Ayanami, and Sebastian Righter." The Captain shook his head at those statements.
"You gotta be kidding me, Vargas." He responded to our introductions. "They're teenagers most definitely not old enough for service. Even if she's playing dress up, and he's not even fitted a uniform." Lieutenant Righter stepped forward past me, I could see he felt insulted by those remarks. Though they were true; neither of us met the age requirement for a standard commission.
"Now listen here you broken bit-" Righter began, but was cut short as Captain Dare lifted himself from where he lie, and Righter stepped back in response.
"Sebastian, that's your name, right?" The Captain began. "You're either going to be treated as a child or as a Marine, because at this point you're going to claim to be one or the other, you understand me?" Righter nodded, seemingly without a will to bite. "If you're a child you'll respect your senior, and that's me. If you're a Marine, you'll respect your senior, and that's me, got it?" Once again, Righter nodded. "Good." The Captain then went back to laying on his medical table. "Major, these better not be Marines." He said, I believe referring to us.
"Yes Dare, they are." The Major responded, crossing his arms. "They're to be a new breed of Titan Pilot, more feared and revered than even me."
"There's no way, Vargas." Captain Dare then raised a brow at the simulacrum. "Even if you officially enlisted them, and god damnit I swear if you fucking did, they'd never survive the training pipeline! Remember, Gridiron's failure rate is in the ninety-percentile range! Better than you? You've the so called 'best' cadre of pilots in the entire IMC, trained on a frozen hell where only one in hundreds pass! The odds of a normal being doing such training is astronomical, how is a child supposed to do it?!'
"Well, Captain, I was going to ask you the same question."
"...What?"
"You're going to be responsible for their training and professional development, Captain. Making these recruits into Marines is your job." Major Vargas then crossed his arms, looking down at the Captain, who stared back up at him blankly.
"I'm not a babysitter, Vargas! I've got better things to do than fucking play your games!"
"Like what, Captain?"
"Like figuring out what the thing I just fucking smacked was!"
"Very well then, Dare." Major Vargas then leaned in over the medical table. "Let's discuss it, because I might happen to have some answers."
"...You're fucking lying... That couldn't have been a RESCU thing..."
"No, I am not." The Major stated matter of factly, holding up his tablet before handing it over to Captain Dare, who grasped it with his uninjured arm. "And no, it wasn't. It was Militia affiliated." The Major clarified as the Captain began to swipe through some information presented to him. "That thing is what we call a 'Super-Titan', a mechanized war machine capable of unleashing devastation upon any planetside target with the precision of a guided missile of nearly any yield. Equally capable of demolition single buildings or entire cities, and wiping out entire armies in single engagements."
"Well, didn't seem all that much to me." The Captain retorted, seemingly confident in his ability to match an Eva. "I just disabled one not even last month."
"You got lucky, Captain." Major Vargas bit back. "Our analysis says that whoever was piloting that Super-Titan was inexperienced and more or less incapable, which is why it's shielding failed against an unexpected attack with minimal opportunity to react. Odds are, that deployment was a test conducted by Wille, a Militia counter-agency to Nerv."
"Every explanation you give sounds more crazy than the last. How does a Militia cell create, much less operate or logistically supply that thing?" I could tell due to the expression on the Captain's face that he was in a state of disbelief and anger.
"You saw it yourself, Captain." Answered Major Vargas. "They're probably being funded the same way we are; the Advocate Network. The real question is how'd they develop it; these Super-Titans are top secret assets, no Militia cell should have been able to acquire it."
"...Unless you have a mole."
"We've identified the possibility. It's being handled as we speak." The Major then took back his tablet from the Captain's hands and tucked it under his arm. "Either way, my request is still as it is."
"I already told you I'm not your babysitter. Besides, you want to make children into killing machines, and you should know I wouldn't do that. I refuse."
"No, Dare, that's the opposite of what I'm trying to do. If that's what I wanted, I'd do it myself, or I'd take Graph; he's easier to requisition away from the Remnant Fleet anyways."
"Fuck you, Vargas."
"Some officers would get a little touchy, but since you're Admiral Spyglass' favorite I know it wouldn't do anything anyways." Vargas then shrugged as he turned around to walk outside the hospital room, stopping at the door. "Part of the deal I made with Spyglass was that I give you the choice, and I'm pretty sure the Admiral was betting on you staying, so good on him. I still get Graph either or." The Captain seemed to be furious, his face turned a shade of red and his jaw clenched as his brow furrowed and eyes narrowed at the Major.
"I fucking hate you, Vargas!" Captain Dare called out, and the Major spun back around.
"I know you do, and that's why I need you, Dare." Walking back towards the medical bed, Major Vargas seemed like he had calculated his next words past odds of success in his robot mind. "You're a man of character unparalleled in the entire IMC Armed Forces, and you're competent, and that makes you useful to me twice-fold here." The Major then gestured to Lieutenant Righter and I, as we stood there and had continued to observe their entire exchange. "You can develope these Marines into reputable troops worthy of emulation. They already wield all the killing power I could ever want, I need you to give it direction and motivation." The Major explained, in order to appeal to Captain Dare's moral and ethical ideals. "And I need you to be my field Commander. I'm gonna be stuck in a CoC as the Operations Officer, so you need to be there running and gunning with the rest of my guys. You'll lead the charge against the Militia with those Super-Titans backing you up. With my strategic assets, your tactical sense and ethical responsibility, and the amount of sheer firepower these kids are packing, we'll stomp the Militia out from their caves." The area then fell silent for a moment as Captain Dare contemplated his decision. Eventually, several had passed by.
"I'll do it."
"Good man, Capt-"
"Not because I actually believe these Super-Titans are worth anything, mind you. If I can rough one up certainly anyone can, and I don't think lack of firepower is losing us the war." The Captain elaborated, before glancing between us children. "I'd just hate to see these kids become drones like you."