The following incorporates characters, situations and settings which are derived from the copyrighted works of Studio Gainax/Khara, DC Comics, and Jack Kirby. Hail to the King, baby.
Last Child of Krypton
Chapter 23- Fourth Beast
There was something appropriate to the fluttering flight of bats that took off from the buttressed tower of Lorenz Keel's estate outside Berlin, some ninety miles from the NERV facility there. The night was clear, and as always in post-Impact German, crisp without being properly cool. Someone standing on the grounds of Keel's estate might have reported seeing a giant bat lurking along the roof of the manor house, a great creaking stone edifice that spoke of age, wealth, and worldly power.
Kaji expected little resistance. The United Nations had already bungled a chance to arrest Keel after Shinji's announcements at the General Assembly. After his accusation, the members of the Committee, a higher echelon special group within the UN, had been expected to sort of cordially surrender themselves, as per the course for their sort. Of course, only a few low ranking members with little actual knowledge of the committee's activities were actually in custody.
He dropped down onto the balcony outside Keel's study, opened the relatively crude lock, and slid inside. He made his entrance through a set of massive floor to ceiling windows, aimed such that the sunrise would illuminate the occupant. Close to the windows was a huge antique desk. It had been raided, of course, the drawers now gone. Once, this room had been elegant, a place for everything and everything in its place. The walls to either side of the window were lined with shelves that had once housed an expensive and eclectic collection of rare books, manuscripts, and other materials, most of it esoteric or religious in nature. What hadn't been seized now lay on the floor, or stacked in overpacked boxes strewn about the Persian carpet.
When they came for him, Lorenz Keel and his retainers were dead. The staff were the lucky ones. They'd all been flash frozen to death. Keel was a different matter. The other man had been torn out of his chair and laid out on the floor and beaten savagely. There was another difference between Keel's death and those of his servants.
Someone had put a smile on his face.
Kaji drew a flashlight from his utility belt and scanned the room. The UN men had found nothing of any use, but that hadn't surprised them. They were, by and large, unaware of what to look for. Kaji expected to find little or nothing himself, but he had to see, to observe. The very fact that Keel had been liquidated spoke volumes, and the manner of it said even more. He tapped his chin in thought, standing over the place where Keel had been found.
He'd told Shinji they sent Fries out for quick liquidations, which was both true, and somewhat ironic, given the term. When they sent him, it was to send a message, to terrify their enemies. He remembered a line from Bruce's journal. When they wanted to scare each other, his enemies told Joker stories.
He took a walk around the perimeter of the room. Something caught his eye. There was a yellow legal pad lying next to one of the boxes. He picked it up running one gloved finger along the edge. In a neat hand was written a single word: Equation. Beneath that, a phone number had been scrawled. He recognized the country code as Germany. He tore the paper from the pad and slipped into an empty pouch as he heard a thump somewhere in the house, and retreated to the shadows.
Victor Fries had little in the way of stealth. His quick exits were the work of Shade, one of the strike team that had attacked the Geofront and taken the samples from Akagi's lab. Kaji worked around behind him silence as he trudged into the room and swept his goggled eyes in a slow circle, the empty shelves and old desk now illuminated by the faint blue glow of the lights built into his cooling suit. As he moved, Kaji tossed several small speakers into the corners of the room. Each was connected to a microphone built into his cowl, and when he activated them, it would make his voice appear to originate from several directions at once.
"Hello, Victor."
Fries stopped, and checked something on his gun. "Your predecessor would have disabled me by now, Batman."
He made sure to move again, in case Fries could have spotted him somehow. He took a position nearer the door. "I read your file. I can't believe you're helping these people."
"Your attempts to throw me off guard with psychological banter are futile," Fries rumbled. "My allegiance to Instrumentality is obvious. An eternity in a frozen hell, trapped in a world I can see but never touch? I would embrace Instrumentality gladly in exchange for that."
He mounted one of the bookshelves, crouched along the top. Fries was studying the other side of the room, seeking him there.
"You've been lied to."
"Does it matter? In the end, the whole world will know my misery. That is enough."
Fries rounded on him and opened up with his gun. Pure cold lanced out and swept along the bookshelves. Kaji leapt away just in time as they toppled forward and shattered with a rumbling crash, blocks of ice sliding across the carpet. He rolled into a crouch and drew a batarang on pure instinct, holding it high above his head to throw.
Fries was dangerous but he was slow; his suit was cumbersome and despite its heavy armor plating and strength-enhancing servos, it had a number of weak spots. He tossed the weapon at once of them. Its scalloped edge bit into one of the tubes running from the coolant tanks on Fries' back and bit into it. Coolant hissed out, surrounding Fries in a cloud as he turned.
It was just the distraction he needed. He slipped out the way Fries had come in, back through the house. If Fries found himself in any real danger he'd signal for help, and someone who could tear Kaji apart with ease would come crashing through one of the walls, or materialize in the room with them. He kept to the dark, secure in the prize he'd acquired. He found a convenient window, slid it open, and headed out through it. Like most buildings that long predate climate control, Keel's estate had huge doors and windows to permit air to circulate in warmer times, better times.
Once he was far enough away from the estate proper, he paused, drew the paper, and dialed the number. A café in Berlin answered the phone. He made an apology in German for dialing the wrong number, hung up, and started on his way back to the car. Once he'd arrived he picked up the one Bruce left here in Germany. It was less conspicuous. No matter what happened, he had a feeling he should swing by New Jersey before heading back to Tokyo, and pick up the Mark XIII.
SSSSS
Ritsuko had finally gotten the device Shinji brought back from the UN disassembled, but was at something of an impasse. Not helping her was that Maya was there. Absurdly, they were both on crutches, which leaned against the desk a few feet away. Both of them sat on wheeled office chairs, and used them to get around the lab. In time, Maya might be able to walk normally- the doctors got lucky, and managed to save half her foot, meaning she would need only a limited prosthetic.
The injuries to Ritsuko's own leg would leave her unable to walk very far or very fast without need of a cane for the rest of her life. She had never been proud of her leg, but her left calf was now ugly and twisted, broken in several places when Unit-03 destroyed the experimental command center. She'd given up her customary silk stockings for a pair of official NERV sweat pants. She hated them.
She also wondered who decided there should be official NERV sweat pants.
"So what does it do?" Maya said, looking over her shoulder.
"It works like an A-10 clip. The nerve clips allow the pilot's brain to wirelessly communicate with the Evangelion, transmit signals. This does the same thing, but it's more of a one way connection. Anyone wearing this on their head would be receiving whatever signals it did, translated into their own thoughts."
"That's kinda creepy," Maya said as she wheeled over to Ritsuko's desk. "What would someone do that for?"
"Plant suggestions. Influence decisions. Ever had a thought pop into your head?"
"Yeah," Maya said, blushing for some reason.
"What if it wasn't yours?"
SSSSS
Shinji heard Asuka complaining about a synch test, and wouldn't have needed superhuman hearing to do it. He slowed as he neared the locker rooms, and realized why she was yelling. Someone had beaten her synch score, which had previously been unbeaten. As he neared, a boy his own age emerged from the locker rooms, dressed in a school uniform that mirrored his own.
"Hello, Kaworu," Shinji said amiably.
"Hello, Shinji. Asuka is upset."
"I know," he sighed.
"I did not mean to exceed her synch ratio."
They both looked as a set of lockers flew through the door and slammed into the concrete wall with a crash, bent down the middle, as if a certain Amazon's fist had dented them badly. Both boys stared at them for a moment as Asuka unleashed a torrent of profanity in three languages. Shinji looked at Kaworu, who looked at him.
"I should go," he said quietly, his eyes a little wide.
"Probably," Shinji smirked as headed for the locker room.
He knocked twice. There was no actual door, which always struck him as a bit odd. The lockers themselves were a bit back from the door, behind the set that had just been thrown out into the hallway. He tapped his knuckles on the doorframe and stepped inside.
Asuka sat in her yellow sundress, chin propped on one hand. She looked up at him with her big blue eyes and set, "Perv, this is the girl's locker room."
"Nothing I haven't seen before," he smirked.
Her eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Uh," he said, "I know Mari and Rei aren't in here, so, I, uh…"
She smirked. Then she sighed and looked at the floor.
He took a seat beside her. The bands on her wrists glinted in the bright lights of the locker room. She sat up a little bit and looked at them.
"You're mad about the synch ratios?"
"Not really," she said absently.
"Then what is it?" he glanced at the destroyed lockers. "They're probably going to make you pay for that."
"I'm mad because I'm not mad."
"Uh, what?"
She gave him a playfully slap upside the head. It probably would have fractured a normal person's skull.
"Ow, watch it."
"Sorry."
She looked at him for a minute, unconsciously wringing her hands. "Being a Pilot meant so much to me. I sacrificed so much for it. My whole life. Then some weirdo comes in and beats my score without breaking a sweat, and… I don't care. I don't get it."
"Why not?"
"I can fly. I can fly. I can bench press a cement mixer. This is great. I just… I don't know."
"I do," he said, and kissed her.
It was her turn to blush. "Huh. Hey, that new guy. What's his deal?"
"I don't know," Shinji shrugged. "I haven't seen him around much. He just disappears."
SSSSS
It did not surprise Rei that he was early. Something about Nagisa struck her as similar to herself, that he would lend himself to a certain precision. He had asked her to meet him here, at this ice cream stand. She sat at one of the tables with her hands folded at her lap, apparently the only patron. The young woman working the counter looked bored, and occasionally looked at her for a moment, as if to ask her purpose, and then looked away, unnerved. Rei had been used to that. If she tarried too long anywhere, eyes would settle on her, note her odd appearance, and retreat from her. In her experience, standing out was the best camouflage, since it lead to people pretending she did not exist.
She felt Nagisa's eyes on her before she turned to see him. She was used to looks of pity or disgust or confusion- she was a noncomformist, though not by choice. Even Shinji, when he'd acknowledged her as his sister, held in his eyes as a component of his genuine affection a sort of regret, as if he felt sorry for her just because she was. The world was lucky that she was not prone to temper tantrums, as Asuka was.
Kaworu did not approach her immediately. Instead, he went to the counter, where the clerk seemed relieved at first to actually be selling something to someone, at least until she got a good look at her customer. He said something softly to her, and she jerked back in surprise, and then smiled warmly as he approached.
"You did not ask me what I would like," she said as he sat down and set the ice cream he'd purchased in front of her.
"What would you have said?" he smirked.
"A vanilla ice cream cone," she replied, looking at the food he'd brought her. "What is this?"
"A caramel sundae with hot fudge and sprinkles."
"Why did you order this for me?"
"Have you ever had anything but a vanilla ice cream cone?"
"No."
"That is why. I enjoy them. I hoped you might."
She shrugged, almost imperceptibly, and with the long plastic spoon, took a small portion of the sundae and ate it. She looked at it for a moment as her eyes widened. Warmth and coolness, sweetness and bitterness, and the gritty, sugary texture of the 'sprinkles' played across her tongue, and it was not until after she had made it that she realized she'd moaned softly.
"It is good," she said primly, and took another bite.
"You know what I am," he said, after taking a bite of his own.
"It is possible that you happen to be a natural albino, but that is highly unlikely."
"Do you know why you were made?"
"I was made in another's image," she said into the ice cream as she swirled her spoon, gathering together the different flavors and textures. "I have a dead woman's face."
He rested his chin on his tented fingers and smiled at her. "Do you know why I was made?"
She shook her head slightly.
He leaned back and took another bite. "I know what I am for. I do not know why this form was chosen for me. I do not know whose face I wear. Do you?"
She studied him for a moment, and tilted her head. "You are familiar, though I cannot say why."
"What do you think of it?"
"Your face?"
"Yes."
She took another bite of her ice cream and squinted for some reason. She didn't know why she was doing it, even after it was done. "It is not unpleasant."
He smiled. "I suppose that is a start. You do not look like a dead woman to me."
"Then what do I look like?"
"You look like you."
/\../\
Kaji settled against the wall and turned the binoculars out the window, focusing on the three steel tables set out in front of the café. It was dark, and he'd set the package on the table, a simple box tied shut with a black ribbon, the knot done just so. The visual metaphor was obvious. He watched the woman with the bleached blond hair and icy pale skin walk past, scoop up the package, and let out a sigh of relief.
A few moments later, his satphone rang. He picked it up to his ear.
"You wanted me to find that number."
"Yes," Ikari said. "Don't bother with a trace. I won't be on long."
"I wouldn't insult your intelligence. Do you want to play the back and forth, or are you going to divulge your evil plan now?"
"The UN missed something at Keel's mansion. So did you. So do did they."
The line went dead.
Kaji slipped the phone back into its pouch and headed back for the car.
SSSSS
"This place is pleasant," Kaworu said, looking out over the city.
There was less activity now than usual, fewer lights. The whole place looked darker, less vibrant. Rei noted this as she swept her gaze over it, finding herself with the inexplicable urge to look at Nagisa. She did, and he saw that she was looking at him, and their dyes drifted away from one another again without comment. For some reason, this caused her skin to warm, and her cheeks to take on a pink tinge.
"Shinji and Asuka come here often," she said. "Though I do not understand why. I fail to see the particular significance of a location on the ground in light of that."
"Perhaps this place holds some meaning to them."
She said nothing.
"Is there a place that holds meaning to you?"
A sudden chill wind blew, rustling the leaves over their heads. The cicadas were suddenly silenced, and Rei reflexively clutched at her arms. She shivered.
"Are you cold?" Kaworu said, although the shaking in his voice indicated that he was, too.
"Yes."
He moved closer to her and put an arm around her. Pressed against her side, he was surprisingly warm. Her cheeks heated again, and she blinked in surprise.
"Rei?"
"I did not give you leave to call me by my given name."
"Oh," he said, "I am sorry, I-"
"You may do so."
"Oh. Rei, do you believe in fate? That events are meant to transpire in a given sequence?"
"I once did," she said without looking him. "Until I met a man who could fly."
"Good," he said, and cupped her chin. She didn't stop him. His face drew closer to hers, and then the Angel alarm blared and they both jerked, breaking the embrace. Rei's gaze snapped to the south, where a bright light was filtering over the horizon.
"No," Kaworu said, his voice weak. "Not yet. There isn't enough time."
/\../\
Kaji knew a ritual when he saw one.
It had been elementary. They'd left books on the shelves in Keel's study, and there was no reason why. When he'd tried to pick one of them up, he knew. They were locked into place. It took him a good five minutes of trying before he decided to try them in sequence. He found the first one, pulled it loose, only for it to pop back into place when he touched another. Working out the correct sequence had taken hours. When he did, a chime played. Beethoven's Ninth. One of the panels of shelves slid backwards with a grinding sound, and he descended a staircase.
There were no books here. Nothing, in fact, but a concrete floor. The room was huge, bigger than Keel's study, and directly underneath it. Someone had been brought here, once, and murdered- there was still a bloodstain against the far wall, on some sort of altar. Whatever ritual tools had been used had been long cleared away, and the stain was old, years old- it had simply been left there, no one bothering to clean it up. The same was true of the simple chalk circle drawn around a stone platform just big enough for a person to lie upon.
Worked around the outside of the circle, also in chalk, were letters in different languages. It took him a moment, and he had to pull out the small computer he kept in the utility belt to decipher them all. Even then, it was gibberish. He stared at it for a moment, and then it hit him. It was a circle. He could start anywhere. He did, until he hit the right sequence. It started with the Hebrew letter Shin.
Shin for S. For Solomon. As in, wisdom of.
He ran out of the ritual room in a near panic, picked up the desk and shoved it through the window and then jumped clear, to make sure he would have reception. He ran into the night as he pressed the phone to his ear and dialed.
"Katsuragi!" he barked, even before she could reply.
"Kaji? Where the hell are you, how did you get this number? Look, an Angel just showed up, and-"
"Nagisa, the pilot, where is he?"
"What? He's in Unit-00, why?"
"Get him out of there," Kaji said frantically, "get him out of there and kill him!"
SSSSS
It wouldn't be long, now.
They'd broken his legs, and he had a feeling that wouldn't matter. Braces were already fixed around his limbs, and Fuyutsuki could feel every pin stuck into every part of the bones, a map of pain. After the one they called Scarecrow had failed to crack him, they'd turned him over to the expert.
They sent in the clown.
It wasn't enough. Still he resisted. They asked him his name, and he still said Kozo Fuyutsuki, but each time it was a little weaker, a little more half-hearted. When they brought him here, he knew he was close to the end. They put him on a gurney and strapped him down, and for the first time he saw what they'd done to his hand. They took off the bandages before the put his new gloves on him and he saw. There was an eye. He had an eye in his hand, and it looked at him with something bordering on contempt. He wanted to laugh. When they put the long, leathery blue glove on him, it hurt. He could feel the thing squirming, tendrils of it running all the way to his elbow, moving inside the muscles of his forearm.
The lights overhead were bright. He couldn't move his head. They'd braced him to a back board and slipped a helmet of smooth, cool metal over his head, one that covered his lower jaw and left his face exposed. They were attaching electrodes to him, probably for some sort of crude electroshock torture, or so he thought. When he saw them wheel what was left of Katsuragi into the room and connect him to the other end of whatever machine it was they were attaching him to, he understood.
The lights dimmed. He flicked his eyes from side to side and he realized he was in a much larger space than he'd realized; they'd deliberately blinded him with the lights so he wouldn't see. There had to be thousands of them.
He bit back a scream when they turned on the machine. A weight settled on him, like a lead blanket, alive somehow, undulating and moving as the man Al Ghul, standing nearby in a green robe with a hood that hid his face in shadow, began to chant, and the multitude around him joined him. He heard only bits and pieces through the grinding of his own teeth until the crescendo came.
"I heard, as it were, a noise of thunder, and one of the four beasts saying: Come and see! And I saw, and behold, a pale horse, and his name that sat on him was death, and hell followed with him."
The multitude chanted in reply, their voices rough and guttural, some sibilant and smooth, others barely human. The weight on him grew stronger and he began to hear a voice whisper something in a language he didn't know, but almost recognized. Al Ghul went on.
"Behold, I am the desolation and the death, and whosever liveth and believeth in me shall surely die, yet shall he live, and crawl, and beg. Behold the Tiger-Force at the core of all things. Behold the Revelation."
In those last moments, it was Kozo Fuyutsuki who closed his eyes and whispered, "Yui."
It was someone else who opened them.
"Behold," Al Ghul thundered in triumph, "He is among us! He lives! DARKSEID IS!"