All things considered, Ryoji Kaji was bored out of his mind. Being the manslut of the espionage world loses a lot of its charm when there's no intrigue to get knee deep in. Ikari had decided to keep him around, more for the sake of something for Asuka to fangirl over instead of something important. He enjoyed not having to do wetwork, even if it was replaced with telling Asuka he wasn't going to show her wetwork of a different kind. Still, it was almost too peaceful. The Angels were coming out of order, there had been two new Children, and he still wasn't sure exactly what permutation the Seventh came from, but it was peaceful. He lights a cigarette, leans against the wall of the breakroom; his pose melting into the picture of playful cool. It wasn't like he was trying to pick up anyone, the look just sort of happened. He just had an aura that begged women to do things to him. Not all of these things were pleasant, but all's fair in love and war.
One Mana Kirishima was about to learn this firsthand, as she happened to choose this time to get a canned coffee. The moment she was hit by the full effect of his swag her shipping gears redlined. Numerous permutations, both het and slash ran through her mind like cheap pantyhose. She freezes up, places quivering hands on rapidly blushing cheeks. Twin streams of blood run from her nose as she pants in an attempt to outrun Illustrious past the bounds of good taste. It wasn't as if she had fallen for Kaji, oh no. She, like the JSSDF, NERV, and the United Nations, knew a good bicycle when they saw one.
Kaji glances up, the look sending Kirishima further into happier places. "Is something the matter, Miss Kirishima?"
She squeaks, a hiss of steam escaping her nostrils. She shivers, shies away. "N-n-no Inspector, it's just that…"
"It's just that…" he mimics, adding a teasing lilt to his voice. He sighs inwardly, another woman under his spell. A shame she was underage, but his skills were dulling anyway. He would do nothing with her, just as he would do nothing with Asuka. He shrugged; if he were going to attract little girls, he thought, he might as well play with them.
"It's just that I can't stop shipping you with Commander Ikari," Mana gushes, wringing her hands together and swishing her hips. Kaji nearly chokes on his own tongue, any sort of casual charisma broken by his reaction. He slumps down the wall, cigarette fallen at his side.
"Kid, don't joke about things like that," he says, suddenly feeling a lot less masculine.
"Well, it's true," Mana says, puckering her lips. She plays with her fingers, a nervous habit. "Don't worry though, you'd be the seme."
"That's not very comforting," Kaji groans, massaging his forehead. "Children shouldn't decide the makeup of adult relationships."
"It'd be hot and you know it," Mana grumbles under her breath. She cleans herself off, taking care to plug her nostrils with tissue paper. "Would you like something, Inspector?" she asks, finger hovering over a vending machine button.
"Canned coffee, sweet."
"Shaken, not stirred, right?" Mana says with a laugh. She tosses him a can and takes a seat next to him on the floor.
"Normally the debonair super-spy is asked that while sipping martinis with a beautiful woman," Kaji says, swirling the can around. "And said beautiful woman usually doesn't implicate him in homosexual activities."
Mana blushes, "You say that to all the robotic nerd girls, don't you?"
Kaji chuckles, his smirk breaking into a smile. "I don't meet very many, but I'll keep it in mind from now on."
"Glad to be of service," Mana says into her chest. She notices the dirt on Kaji's hands, imagines them caressing Shinji's soft face. Her nostrils get a little bit redder. "Hey, Inspector Kaji, how come your hands are dirty?"
"Ah, you noticed. Well, a man such as myself gets involved in dirty work," he says, looking to the ceiling. "Somewhere I had forgotten to wash my hands clean of it."
"Was that before or after you killed the guy?" Mana says flatly, bringing Kaji's eyes back onto her. She gives him a girlish smile. "I may not look it, or act it, but I'm a dog of war too. I know that kind of dirt doesn't show up on your hands."
"So it doesn't," Kaji says wistfully. "Well, if you must know, I was cultivating. Watermelons."
"That doesn't seem very manly," Mana chuffs.
"Seeming isn't everything," Kaji replies, flicking Mana on the forehead. "You of all people should know that, Iron Maiden."
"It'd be nice if they were," Mana says, downbeat. "Because I'd like to believe that what we're doing here doesn't have any ancillary meaning. I got enough of the intrigue last time."
"You can't have an intriguing existence without intrigue, Kirishima," Kaji says. "Although I understand that if it could, a toy would like to be sure that its master won't abandon it."
"And after I just said no ancillary meaning," Mana chuckles. "Well, I guess the more things change the more they stay the same." She turns away slightly, "It'd be nice if some elements of the story would just disappear though."
"If it was promised to someone, then they just might." Kaji gives her a coy look. "Wishes do come true, if acted upon through the proper channels."
"True, but I'd rather some wishes stayed unanswered."
"It would seem that humankind got their wishes, all in all," Kaji replies cryptically. "Let's hope it stays that way."
"Hope is overrated," Mana says, leaning her head back against the wall. "Let's make it stay that way."
Kaji sighs, raises his coffee can in salute. "Very well then, let's make our seeming reality."
"Yeah, let's," Mana replies with a clink of can.
Track 13: In Bloom
In the center of Tokyo-3 sat Sachiel; an impassive mummified titan. He felt tired, couldn't move due to the weird bandage things the Lilim had put on him. It made his soul itch, and he didn't know why. When he tried to fight out, the bandages made him tired and his soul grew dim. It made him sad. His hand would come out some times and play music for him, which made him happy again. There was something he was supposed to do, but it relied on Shamshel. Now that they were all together, Shamshel was the one who knew the plans; Sachiel just wanted to play. He wondered why it was taking so long for him to show up; maybe he was off on a wonderful adventure.
Unfortunately, Shamshel was not on a wonderful adventure. He was quite dead, his last moments an unspeakable agony brought upon by a demented redhead. Given said unspeakable agony, the sweet release of death was a fortunate thing.
Sachiel was getting really tired; he couldn't keep his mask on straight. It was okay if he took a little nap, right? Shamshel would come to wake him up, and they could play again. Maybe his hand would come back, and they could all play together. That would be nice. Just one little nap and everything would be wonderful.
The MAGELING drones reported energy signatures in the Third Angel dropping to zero. The beast had finally gone dormant, looking towards the horizon for something that never came. The bridge bunnies double-checked the data, confirmed the results. The Third Angel had been defeated.
The quiet tranquility of the Dark side of the Moon suddenly grew a great deal less tranquil.
"How in my name did they defeat both of them?" Kaworu yells, sparkles flying free.
"Well boss," Iruel, Angel of Terror and brains of the outfit says, "you kind of underestimated the members of NERV who aren't pilots."
"But I don't care about making them happy," he pouts.
"That's all well and good, but if you want to win this, you have to," Iruel interjects. "Or at least, figure out how to separate the wheat from the chaff better."
Kaworu slumps, dumbstruck. This wasn't how the scenario was supposed to go at all. Granted, the scenario was basically 1. Capture Children, 2. ?, 3. PROFIT! That doesn't mean that it was a bad scenario, he thought glumly.
"How did they beat Sachiel so easily?"
"Well boss, Sachiel…isn't the sharpest tool in the shed," says Iruel. He displays images of the bird-masked titan staring blankly at various things, like clouds and missiles. "In fact, he's about as sharp as a wet sack of sponges. His AT-Field is one of the strongest, and he's the best fighter we've got outside of Z and Armisael, but," He puts up an image of Liao shaking her moneymaker. "…Yeah."
"Can we retrieve him?" the downtrodden First Angel mutters, glutting himself on Angel food cake.
"Already way ahead of you boss," Iruel says with pride. "We've got the 14th locked and loaded, he's been spending the past week going over the new data and he's en route to Tokyo-3. He'll be there by tomorrow!"
Kaworu stops mid-bite, both eyes burning red. His mortal form starts to break down, tendrils of light dancing smoke trails off of his flesh. His voice roars like God's judgment. "YOU DID WHAT?"
"I-I sent Zeruel ahead," he stammers, bringing up images of the 14th's excellent track record in defense. "The Lilim will be so worried about stopping him that we can bust Sachiel out and have him play clean-up." Charts and graphs showing the tactical feasibility of the plan flash apologies to the First and the Last. "We can disable the Evas without killing the pilots, and then you can just float down and collect your prize, right?"
Kaworu closes his eyes and smiles, back to the unassuming teenage boy. "Eleventh, who is the First and the Last of our kind?"
"You boss."
"And which of us came the closest to our most sacred and holy mission?" Kaworu stays smiling as the pressure in the room increases. Monitors start to crack under the strain.
"You did boss," Iruel squeaks, feeling the pain of his effective limbs splintering.
"Now, Iruel, this is the $64 million question," Kaworu says, languidly opening up twin vortexes of hate. "Which one of us is IN CHARGE OF THIS OPERATION?" His full splendor bursts forth, shattering delicate equipment and drawing a feedback screech of pain from the Angel of Terror.
"You are Adam, All-Father!" Iruel screeches through distortion, "Forgive your vassal's impudence! It was for Project 17-XX!"
Kaworu halts his magnificence, "Project 17-XX, you say?"
"Yes," Iruel whimpers, "I have the vessel prepared already. If the Fourteenth is successful, you have your Children; if he fails, you have your prototype. It's hedging your bets, All-Father."
The peals of energy dissipate from Kaworu's form as he looks at the screen, at the vessel for his obedience. He leans in close, taking in every inch of the design. A cheery sparkle shoots upward as he applauds Iruel's work.
"Oh, this is too good! I almost want to make him lose, just so he has to do this!"
~!~!~!
A lot of paperwork goes into the proper care and maintenance of your average Freudian cyborg. There are expense reports for upkeep, PR materials necessary to be vetted for the proper spin, requests for weapons development, charts and figures and enough paper to constitute a small forest. That's before you get into damages, possible class action lawsuits, and the steady stream of petitions that Aida makes to be an Eva pilot. It's a Herculean task, one that seems to get greater with time. Fortunately for Misato Katsuragi, she doesn't have to deal with it herself anymore.
Unfortunately for Mari Makinari Illustrious, she does.
"I know I've died and gone to Hell," Mari moans in the least pornographic manner possible, "so when is Satan going to shove a pineapple up my ass?" She collapses on a new stack of papers. "Dear lord, I think I'd enjoy that."
"Maybe if you're good," Misato says with a wink, tapping a stack of paper on her assistant's desk. "How's it coming?"
"Nothing's coming, that's kind of the point," Mari snaps. "I'm completely dry, and I've been like that for weeks! It's like the bloody Sahara down there!"
"That's not what I meant," Misato says, sipping her Irish coffee. She hands Mari the cup. "How is the paperwork coming?"
"It doesn't end; I finish one, two more pop up," she says, taking a draught of the warming liquid. "And when I go to school, Hikari's got me on duty too. I get to take a break from paperwork with more paperwork."
"Sounds fun," Misato says, unsurprised. This was part of the plan; she had nudged Horaki's father into giving Hikari ideas. The girl would make a good commander one day, if she kept her nose clean. "You look like shit, haven't you ever done paperwork before?"
Mari looks up, heavy bags around her eyes. "Do I look like the kind of person who does paperwork?"
"The way you dress, you look like the kind of person who gets hired under the pretense of doing paperwork," Misato responds.
"So you're saying I'm the kind of girl who takes oral dictation under the table?" Mari says, licking her lips. "You're not that far off actually. If you brought Kaji around, I could give you a demonstration…"
Misato steps back, caught off guard. She's still got a little fight left in her she thinks, adjusting her jacket. "Cute. If you think I'd give him up that easily though, you've got to be crazy."
Mari sighs, flopping back in her seat. "I'd say I'm going crazy, but I was already crazy before. Now I think I'm super-sane."
"Well if this is sane, I think I like it better," Misato says, patting her on the shoulder. "Take a break, let off some steam. Punch something."
"You mean it?" Mari says pleadingly, eager like a kid on Christmas Eve. Misato nods, her motherly face on. Mari squeezes her half to death with a hug, burying her face in her breasts. "Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!" She breaks away from the hug and skips away, humming a jaunty little death metal tune as she goes. She rounds a corner and swings at the first thing she sees.
~!~!~!
The three Children had just finished a cross-synchronization test with their Dummy Plug systems; an "icebreaker session", as Ritsuko put it. It was weird, getting to know alternate versions of them. Rei was used to it; she had spent a lot more time with her sisters thanks to Dr. Akagi's tests. She may or may not have been getting replaced with her sisters during these tests; it got hard to tell after a while. As far as she knew, she was still the first of this series. It was strange though, her surrogate acted like the previous First, yet spoiled rotten. Perhaps the late Doctor had finally found the time to be a mother. She had to say, however, that the one called Fubuki was rather cute.
Shinji, completely comfortable with the concept of a female consciousness inside his giant walking bringer of destruction, took the time to talk shop with Noriko. She was eager to please, sweet, and unsure of herself: a genderflipped version of him. He had the overwhelming urge to protect her, even though she was created to protect him. Like him, she seemed to be the buttmonkey of her trio, and like him, she just wanted to be loved. He swore that he'd do so; to steer a version of him on the right track. Eager to have someone to talk to, she told him all of the little things that she did to get ready for her fight. She listened to image training tapes and songs from Second Impact mecha shows. She viewed all of the combat tapes she could, liberally sprinkled with her namesake in action. Shinji made a mental note to see a Doctor about a backup Rei body later.
Asuka gave Dr. Akagi several choice words in German throughout the entire test. The whole ordeal was humiliating. It wasn't the fact that she was sharing the spotlight with a doll; Ayanami would be several bodies short if that were the case. It wasn't the fact that the system's avatar looked and sounded like Mama; a little in-plug recalibration changed it into a Raggety Asuka doll. A little morbid humor based on her own screaming insecurities never hurt anybody. Besides, it was a pale imitation of her, so she treated it as such. What really set her ass on fire was the fact that it would not shut up. It was angry and petulant and hid any attempts at niceness with firey bluster. It was as if someone had given Asuka a lobotomy. When she took it up with Dr. Akagi, she laughed and said she had no idea what she was talking about. The Dummy Plug did kick her sync ratio into the stratosphere; the annoyance seemed to drive the strength of her soul higher. The more she took advantage of Unit 02, the quieter the Dummy Plug got. She may have beaten Stupid Shinji, she thought, but goddamn if it wasn't annoying.
"Gott in himmel," Asuka groans, working out a kink in her shoulder, "I never thought they could find a way to make me not want to pilot Unit 02." She strides down the hall, Plug Suit hooked around her finger, Rei and Shinji at her side. "But Akagi managed to do so."
"That bad, huh?" Shinji says, a little spring in his step. "Well, Noriko is pretty nice."
"What kind of nice," Asuka asks accusingly, "the touching kind?" She gives Shinji a coy look, pantomimes masturbating, "Or the 'touching' kind?"
"I should have seen that coming," Shinji says, head bowed in defeat. He ignores Asuka's childish snigger, and doesn't notice Rei's. "I'm not going to do that to Noriko, she's too pure."
"I applaud your restraint Pilot Ikari," Rei says flatly, "you did not have it when you believed me to be pure."
Shinji stumbles, almost falls over. "Et tu, Ayanami?" he says, face scrunched up in consternation.
"I meant no harm by it, Pilot Ikari," Rei says, blushing slightly. "In fact, your lack of restraint made me…happy." Shinji stuffs his hands in his pockets, nearly scrapes the ground his head's bowed so low.
"Now that's just weird, even for you Wondergirl," Asuka says, hand on her hip. "It says something when I'm the most stable, normal person piloting an Evangelion," she chides, rounding a corner blindly.
"Pilot Sohryu," Rei says into her chest, "you may want to duck."
"Huh?" Asuka turns back for a second, still walking forward.
Into Mari.
Who's eyes are closed.
Who's winding up a punch that has a week of blueballs behind it.
She never sees it coming.
"Oh shit, sorry Red!" Mari blurts, skidding to a stop. She prods the unconscious Second Child with a foot. "Fuck me; she's out cold, isn't she?"
And that's when the alarms went off.
"An Angel has breached the first line of defense! It's Zeruel! Get the Children to their Evas!"
Mari gulps, they were going to have her ass for this. "Oh fuck me."
~!~!~!
Asuka opens her eyes to a familiar sight; a child crying. It's a boy, a little Japanese boy holding a girl's doll. He sniffles, rubs his eyes with the white arm of the stuffed doll. He clutches it tightly to his chest, obscuring his face with blue felt hair.
"Hey kid, why are you crying?"
"Because you wouldn't save me," he warbles; his hands now around the doll's throat. "You couldn't even save yourself."
"Hey kid," Asuka asks, voice quavering. "What's your name?"
The doll turns her head around 180 degrees; black felt eyes stitched in mad whorls. A harlequin's smile is plastered on her face. It giggles from everywhere and nowhere. "What are you, stupid?"
A door opens behind him, showing a mirror image. It's something she's also seen before, a raggedy cloth doll hanging from a noose. But the doll is different; it's wearing a skin-tight red outfit, has two cat-ears like hair clips instead of circular hair decorations. Its face has a broad smile ripped on it from ear to ear; stitched roughshod with red thread and push pins. An angry hole oozes stuffing where the right eye should be.
Asuka tilts her head upwards, and the doll follows suit. She screams bloody murder inside, but the only thing that comes out is laughter.
~!~!~!
Zeruel loved his job.
The pitiful Lilim were so fun to watch as they ran screaming from their destroyer. The whistles of their missiles were like sweet music to his ears, the explosions they made were wonderful percussion. Squadrons of helicopters were incinerated with but a glance, buildings fell at his stubby feet like the vassals they were. The Lilim squawked and roared, their mechanical beasts driving them further to suicide. It was all so delicious.
A volley of restraint bolts fly out from every which way; the Anti-AT Field generated within each bolt clever but pathetic. The splinters of their pet Angel's soul are far too weak to pierce the full majesty of his ego. He gave his judgment of the Lilim's efforts with a glare; the quiet screams of their tools' dying breaths cries of the rightfully damned. The few that managed to break through shattered against his glorious carapace.
He passed his weaker brother, laid dormant by the same restraints that failed to slow him. If he could not defeat such base tools, he did not deserve to be revived. Scoffing inwardly, he gazed down upon the wicked false beings. The ground parts in acquiescence to his demands. He rebukes them again and again, digging deeper and deeper into the Black Moon. This was hardly a challenge, he was getting bored. With a sweeping blast that levels most of the remaining forces, Zeruel leisurely floats above the Geofront. Let the Lilim ready their pet daemons. Let them think they can stand a chance against the Angel of Might. Let them prepare.
The ripened fruit tastes all the sweeter.
~!~!~!
"Ritzy, we're in a war right?" Misato asks cheerily, rocking on her heels.
"Yes Misato, we are given wartime jurisdiction for as long as the Angels keep attacking." Ritsuko responds, running last minute diagnostics on the Dummy Plug systems. Misato steps in closer, leans over Ritsuko's shoulder.
"And that means I can have people shot if I want to, right?" Misato whispers conspiratorially.
"No Katsuragi, you can't execute the Fourth Child gangland style," says Ritsuko, not even bothering to look behind her.
"But she's just asking for it now," Misato says, frowning. "She punched out Asuka for cripes' sake. Right when we got the Fourteenth on screen too."
Ritsuko continues typing, her thoughts elsewhere. "And who told her she should go punch something on her break?"
Misato slouches, frown growing a little deeper. "That little bitch narced on me!"
"Hm?" Ritsuko gives her college friend a mocking glance, "What was that?"
"I mean, she's a danger to herself and those around her."
"Unlike a certain purple haired commanding officer who's been shotgunning Yebisu in the woman's bathroom?"
"So that's why the bathroom smelled like a brewery today," Maya says to herself. She was worried that there was something foul going around.
"That's totally different," Misato asserts, stomping her foot. "I do that to unwind, and I don't jeopardize the mission!"
"You don't jeopardize the mission yet," Ritsuko corrects, still focused on her work. "The Second came to quickly enough, and we do have the Dummy Plug system. The pilots are expenda…we have a broad roster of piloting choices this time."
"Hey Ritzy, what'd the five fingers say to the face?"
Ritsuko turns around, thoroughly annoyed. "I thought I told you, no more terrible-"
The slap could be heard throughout the compound.
"You still respect the sanctity of human life," Ritsuko says, as if it were an obscure factoid, "right." She rubs her stinging cheek and swivels back around in her chair.
"Alright kids, you know how this goes by now," Misato says to the pilots. "Be careful out there; for once we're not getting blindsided by this guy. Rei, you'll take up position Seven; right under the impact zone. Aim straight for the core, one shot one kill." She softens, visibly worried. "If it gets hot, you get out of there as fast as you can, okay? Don't be a hero."
"Roger." Rei nods briskly, flexes both her hands. She's ready.
"Asuka, Mari, you two are going to flank as soon as the Angel touches down. We've got you both a nice big bag of goodies to greet him with too."
"Rock," Mari near growls, toes tapping with excitement.
"Understood," Asuka says groggily. She was still weirded out from that dream; luckily Zeruel had come to give her a stress therapy session. "Wait, how did I get here?"
"Ayanami brought you," Shinji says, running pre-fight checks. "LCL woke you up."
"But I wasn't in my Plug Suit, was I?"
"I changed you myself, Pilot Sohryu," Rei says, eyes to the sky, unaware of the bright red Asuka's face had turned.
"Eeeeh? You did what?" she blurts, turning her anger on Shinji. "You watched, didn't you Shinjecchi?"
"There's nothing that I can say that will avoid what you're going to say, so yes," Shinji says, blushing slightly. "I watched, and it was as the kids say, fucking awesome."
"Stupid pervert! Letcher! I can't believe you!" Asuka yells, Shinji mouthing the words along with her.
"Focus, Asuka," Misato says testily, trying to keep the operation from turning to shit before it even starts.
"Alright, alright," Asuka says, taking calming breaths. She bares her teeth in a war face, "Hey Shikinami, don't get in my way okay?"
"What are you, stupid?" Gertrude growls, angry that her avatar form had been turned off. "I should be telling you that."
Misato clears her throat, drawing the attention of her soldiers again. "Mari, follow the chain of command; if Asuka or I tell you to jump you ask how high," Misato says sternly, all playfulness gone. "Follow our orders to the letter; no showboating, no violation, no, well, being you. Do that and you might get to see the sun again after assaulting a pilot."
"Yes'm," Mari mumbles in a very un-Mari like fashion. Spending the rest of her life in a lightless cell didn't sound fun at all. Being afraid of the dark had nothing to do with it, not at all.
"Shinji, you're playing rear guard. After the first volley, Asuka and Mari will fall back to your position; when that happens, kick up your AT-Field and go to work."
"Roger," Shinji says grimly. He wouldn't let this thing harm his friends again. He wouldn't run away, he knew what happens when he ran away. "Noriko, are you ready for this?"
"I-I'll do my best," she says, "I was built for it after all."
"That's all I want," he says with a smile. "Ready Mom?" Unit 01 roars in anticipation.
"Great. We'll keep Unit 07 on standby," Misato says confidently, ignoring the ringing groan of disappointment that comes from said unit. "Alright, begin the operation!"
{to be continued}