Trains.
What is it with introspective soul-searching being done on trains? To be more specific, the exact same train. It's not even a particularly nice train; apparently the caretakers of the theater of the mind can't splurge for a Shinkansen trip. The backdrop could be in any stretch of blandly idyllic countryside, and the train doesn't seem to actually go anywhere. Kind of like the symbolism, or the crippling emotional trauma.
Especially the crippling emotional trauma.
"Wake up Ms. Shikinami, time for your medication."
Asuka Sohryu-[REDACTED] has rode this train before. Several times actually. Each time, she was a figment, a puppet used for that idiot Shinji to work out his own problems. A job in which he managed to cock up spectacularly pretty much every time, she might add. She sighs; the indignation, the taunting, every little bit of dialogue having become rote by now. God, when will it end? When will he just give up and let her die alone, like she deserves? When will they fix the lighting on the other side of the train? Wait, something's off here. Isn't she usually on the left side? And for that matter, when did Shinji get such huge tits?
"Where's Stupid Shinji?"
"Not here, although if you wish real hard, maybe he'll come." The setting sun glints off of half-lenses in chic red frames.
"Who the hell are you?" she says, twisting her face in a confrontational sneer. Asuka's travel companion rises out of her seat and into the light; looking for all the world like she stepped out of a Catholic schoolgirl fetish shoot. Baby blue eyes burn out from between strands of thick brown hair. The girl flashes a toothy smile, her pose the picture of confidence.
"I'm Mari Makinari Motherfucking Illustrious."
Track 3: SCHOOL GIRL EVANGELION ADDICT
A long moment passes, Asuka struck dumb by the sudden appearance of some girl she's never heard before in her subconscious. And then she starts laughing. She laughs so hard it makes her sides hurt, makes her fall over kicking and rolling. She laughs so hard she falls off her seat and under the strange girl's scandalously short skirt. Mari just looks at her, mildly put off. This was not how she was supposed to react.
"Came on too strong, huh?"
Asuka snorts, laughter fading into deep guffaws. She wipes a tear from her eye and looks at Mari like she's got a giant L drawn on her forehead. "Yeah, let's go with that Funbags." With trained elegance, she kips up to a standing position in front of her. She's shorter by a hair or two, so she pops up on the balls of her feet.
"Funbags?" Mari queries. "Oh, you mean these bad boys." She takes a firm grasp of her large tracts of land, posturing for maximum suggestiveness. "Thermal expansion at it's finest, eh 'suka?"
"Put those away you skank, and get the hell out of my head!" The whisper of a lacy black bra draws Asuka's attention far more than she's comfortable with; she goes eye to eye with Mari to compensate. Just because she was close with Horaki those few times doesn't mean she swings that way dammit!
Stupid sexy cow-tits.
"Aw, you're just mad that someone's obviously better than you at something," Mari says with a playful smirk. Asuka returns it with a hardened glare. "Oh balls, you've got that inferiority complex thing."
The edge on Asuka's voice could slice through AT-Fields. "What inferiority complex thing?"
"You know what I mean," Mari says with a bored face, marking points with outstretched fingers. "The psychological reason for your entire persona. The obsession with perfection and being special, the attention whoring, the lashing out at everybody not named Kaji." She invades Asuka's personal space, rapping her on the head with a finger. "You use this," she jabs a finger into her chest, "to beat the shit out of that." Mari doesn't get the finger back, as Asuka puts it in a deathgrip.
"Listen here you stupid whore. You don't know me. You don't know my problems. If you ever try to lecture me again, I'll make it so you don't remember your own fucking name when I'm done with you." She spits in Mari's face for emphasis. "If the doctors can put you back together."
"That's cute and all, but can I have my finger back now?" Classic bullying tactic; such cheap intimidation. Mari smiles and Asuka jerks, breaking her finger clean. Huh, she actually did it. Mari's smile turns into a grimace, then into a bestial grin. "I'm going to enjoy this"
"Pilot Illustrious, time to wake up."
Blood? No, LCL. That's the smell. She's in the entry plug of Provisional Unit 05, in a heavily padded green and gray plugsuit. There's a helmet awkwardly fitted to her head, messing up her expertly-done hair. Alerts are sounding, klaxons are blaring, and chaos reigns. A fitting alarm clock. Techies give her the skinny: stop some unnamed sample from escaping the laboratory, Provisional Unit 05 is still unfinished, try not to cause too much property damage this time. All of it is background noise, radio chatter. There's only one thing she wants to hear: given permission to act with extreme prejudice. She'd do so anyway, of course. It's just nice to have an excuse when half the area has been destroyed and the bogey is on fire for no good reason. As 05 cruises to the projected engagement point, she finds herself smiling more and more; a tingling in her belly spreading fast. She takes a deep breath of LCL and savors it.
It smells like victory.
Reinforced blast doors live up to their name by getting blasted clean off of their hinges. Provisional Unit 05 swerves between them; tripod treads rolling like an incensed office chair. Smoke and fire roll through the corridor, obscuring vision; a flick of a switch turns everything psychedelic with heat signatures. A figure accurately described as a millipede on steroids scampers up the sides, yearning for freedom. It gets a lance to one of its many midsections as a consolation prize.
"Welcome to Acheron! I'm Mari and I'll be serving you your ass today." The figure rears back, protesting with the sound of one thousand typewriters. "I recommend the house special: Core flambe with a side of Angel Chitterlings." With a whoop and a holler, Mari Makinari Illustrious swings her left arm forward; Unit 05 responding in kind. A three-pronged hand reaches out towards another Angel bit, but the element of surprise is lost and the unknown Angel defends itself. It tries to make a break for it, but the lance has it pinned to the wall; the incredible healing factor the Fruit of Life provides working against it. The typewriter sound starts up again as it forces its soul into a guillotine upon itself. Both halves scramble in opposite directions; it can become whole later.
"Oh come on, don't be such a pussy!" Mari barks, "It's no fun if you tear yourself to pieces first." The lance rockets out and harpoons a half in mid jump. Unit 05 rolls to chase the fleeing piece, leaving the stuck one to kiss the ground at 90 miles an hour. Bits and pieces of chitin and blood streak the interior of the compound with brutal graffiti. Shoulder pauldrons fold out and over into new limbs; eager to get their hands on Mari's new "friend". The Angel, to its credit, evades artfully, dodging thrust after thrust until finally, it finds salvation.
"The Angel has penetrated the final gate of Coctyx! It's moving through the freight shaft now!"
"We cannot allow it to escape Acheron!"
"Is Provisional Unit 05 using the other half of the Angel as a grappling hook?"
The gathered scientists of NERV-Berlin's Acheron division turn to the security monitors, where sure enough, Unit 05 has secured the rapidly-reforming remains of the Angel to the outer rim of the elevator. The tripodal production unit races up the sheer shaft, its own AT-Field helping the process. The unknown Angel makes it out first, tearing chunks of itself off to increase its speed. Its missing pieces metamorphose into miniature monsters which impact against Unit 05's field. The resistance only makes Mari's killboner harder, as she forces more will into the AT-Field's projection behind her. The added force shoots Unit 05 out of the shaft like a cannon, turning the mini-Angels into bugs on a windshield. Three cold metal hands grasp onto the Angel's legs; one last burst of physics-defying soul power inverts it with Unit 05. Tripod prong to the back, three arms bending its back at an odd angle, and a barbaric Lilim upon it; the Angel plummets back down to Earth, chittering all the way.
The impact shakes the entire compound, causes petal-like metal protrusions on the roof to wilt and fall. Provisional Unit 05 stands tall amongst the wreckage, a demon looking for its next meal. Mari slouches in her seat, a far off look on her face. She's blushing and panting, her visor fogging up with condensation.
"Was it good for you too, Kaji?"
Noted playboy and manslut of the post-Impact world of espionage, Ryoji Kaji was not present to respond. If he was, he would probably muse on how his rakish good looks and boyish charms seemed not to understand the age of consent. At this moment, he is en route to Tokyo-3 to see a man about the progenitor of mankind, which happens to be in a slick black suitcase in his lap. He needed the case, and he needed an out. His unique talents provided him with the former and Mari's...unique talents provided the latter. Those poor bastards at Acheron had no idea what they had gotten into.
"I hate using children to settle the affairs of adults."
The poor bastard Child of Adam had no idea what it had gotten into. The Lilim had been poking and prodding it with sharp objects from when it had not yet quickened. Not chosen for the grand crusade by Father, it was merely content to lay dormant until it was needed. But then those damned Lilim just had to go digging around where they didn't belong. It didn't even want to fight; it was an Angel of rest, of respite. Even now, it fled not to complete itself, but to return to its slumber. A chilling thought dawned on the Angel, causing it to shudder for reasons besides the massive damage it had taken. If this slave of Lilim has its way, this unnamed, unimportant member of the Chatot HaKodesh would sleep eternally.
"The Angel's AT-Field is in flux! Phase density increasing rapidly!" Faceless techies give faceless military men itchy trigger fingers. All this technobabble makes a man just want to squeeze off a few nuclear or non-nuclear missiles and be done with it. Damned treaties, damned giant robots, damned AT-Fields, damned bugs. The military brass give each other knowing looks and shrug at their impotence. An expository techie snaps them out of their reverie, "It-it's on the attack!"
It didn't want to die. Not here, not now, not for nothing. It had no quarrel with the Lilim, thought they would wipe themselves out soon enough if left to their own devices. Times like this gave it ample reason to believe so. Only Lilim would create something like its tormentor: of Lilith, but not of Lilith's Children; in the shape of Adam's Children, but not of Adam. Built for war, fueled by sorrow, directed by madness. By God it would not be laid low by this disease. The song in its soul reaches a booming fortissimo, slamming into the slave of the Night Demon, forcing it back. Clicking limbs provide percussion as the choir sings resistance. Again and again, it strikes at the Lilim; again and again it pushes onwards. It will not die, it will not falter, it will not-
"Is that it? You'll never please a woman with those weak-willed thrusts." Mari giggles, a trickle of blood running from her hairline. Provisional Unit 05's mouth restraints creak open, bubbling groans imitating mocking laughter. The Angel's finally shown some fight, which is good. It still is gonna die though, which sucks for it but is cool for Mari. The thing pins Unit 05 to a steel composite petal; the unit's extra arms nailed in crucifixion. It brings itself face to face with the Eva, chitinous plate gleaming, mouth tendrils undulating. Unit 05 headbutts it in the mouth and it clicks in pain. The Angel squeals and responds in kind, ramming face to face against it. It grips the pinned arms for leverage, ripping and tearing at the exposed neck of 05 with its tendrils, lower limbs smashing and thrusting at any point it can find. It's gone mad now, backed into a corner with flight rendered useless. All the while, Mari Makinari Illustrious is having the time of her life.
"Ooh, you're not half bad at this," she purrs. "Just let me slip into something more comfortable and I'll show you something amazing." She worries at her own plugsuit, tearing off the command wires for her extra limbs with her teeth. The dummy arms pop off at the shoulders and Unit 05 slides underneath the Angel. The point of severance between halves still hasn't closed up fully, giving access to the Angel's core. Mari's eyes light up at the many levels her next action is about to work. Lance at the ready, Angel flatfooted, Unit 05 thrusts with all its might into the depths of the enemy's innards. The Eva's jaw cracks open into a roar, matching time with its Child as it pulls out the core. Sinew and gristle snap and ooze purple-red ichor onto the lance, coating it sickly slick. Angel, Eva, and Child all howl as the core comes free, worked loose with a pronged hand. Mari looks out at her ruby prize, eyes wide with feral glee. Slowly, agonizingly it cracks, shooting fireworks all along her arm. She takes another lungful of LCL, the sheer sensation of it all turning her voice husky with need.
"Hikari ni nare."
The core shatters and the wild chittering ceases, drowned out by the roar of an explosion that takes out the entire observatory deck. Two neon crosses illuminate the night sky, visible for miles around. In a helicopter over [REDACTED], Kaji cradles his head in his hands. Subtlety is the name of his profession, and that was about as subtle as a Bad Religion logo. He never enjoys watching people get hurt, especially women. It tugs at long-suffering heartstrings he could never quite sever. He curses at himself, the only thing he can seem to do right with women is get into their pants. Clearing his mind of such sentimental thoughts, Ryoji Kaji closes his eyes to sleep.
Somewhere in the [REDACTED] Sea, Mari Makinari Illustrious opens her eyes. The sky is blurred pastel, an animation stopgap from a broke studio. She palms around for her glasses, not realizing that they're on her face. With a slurred movement she adjusts them and the world snaps back into high definition. She had triggered the self-destruct sequence on Unit 05, more for dramatic effect than anything really. The Entry Plug conveniently doubles as a flotation device and LCL is surprisingly filling. The sea's a little choppy, but beggars can't be choosers. She looks wistfully to the horizon, a sad smile on her face.
"Sorry about that Go-kun, your sacrifice will not be in vain. I'll dedicate every kill to you from now on, that sound good?" She nods affirmative, "Of course it does." She didn't have anything against Acheron or Unit 05, she just didn't see how she could have fun there anymore. Tokyo-3, that was the big time. All the Angels seem to go there for some reason, something about black moons and the Kabbalah or some other new-age bullshit. Doesn't really matter why though, as long as they keep coming. Gotta sate her bloodlust somehow.
"I hate using adults to settle the affairs of children."