Disclaimer: No ownership over any concepts or plots expressed in this work of fiction is stated or implied. The author intends no financial gain from the distribution of this material and makes no claim of copyright or trademark.
S
Goro Yoshida's day began promptly at five in the morning, regardless of his actual schedule. The only moment of the day he permitted any weakness was the time when the grogginess of sleeping pills was slowing him down, before his first cup of coffee, both taken against the advice of his doctor. He slept on a mattress covered in a bare white sheet, the bed alone with a closet where he kept his uniform suits and a study, functional locker where he kept everything else. There were three guns on the locker, his service sidearm, his backup, and the .25 he kept tucked in a holster around his waist.
Dragging himself into the small bathroom off the bedroom, he hated his own reflection. Deprived of his monolithic black three piece, he was an old man, with the body of a power lifter gone to seed. Slabby muscles, hard earned in years of exercise and military service, were weight down by rolling sags of fat, like a loose coat shirt of flesh hung over his body. His belly, grown large from feeding the exercise regimen he no longer followed, pushed out under his shirt, pale and veiny. When he was a younger man, he didn't need to stretch the flesh of his face with his hand to shave.
Yoshida's apartment was small, Spartan, efficient, with a simple bedroom-bathroom and living room-kitchen setup. The only furniture in the latter was a ratty couch chosen because it was the first one he sat on that felt comfortable to him, and a television still sitting on its own box. The walls were clean of decorations and the kitchen plain, empty, like a store display full of empty drawers.
Without bothering to put on any pants, he stepped out into the hall and retrieved his newspaper. He was not one to abuse his authority, but his paper always arrived fresh enough that it still felt warm from the presses, or so he fancied. He slapped the paper on the kitchen table without reading it and pulled out a box of generic-o's, or whatever they were, the most basic breakfast foodstuff he could find. He didn't need any sugary crap, just his coffee. His one luxury was an automatic coffee pot that had a pot ready for him when he woke up. He took it black.
Munching on paper cereal between swigs of too-hot coffee, he scanned the front page of the paper. He put his plain white cup down and sneered and disgust at the latest sophomoric, fawning headline about the so-called Superman. The edges of the paper crinkled under his fingers, and quivered with his fury. He put it aside to finish his breakfast, such as it was, and left to dress, leaving the dishes piled up on the table. He'd attend to them when he returned, later that evening. He had event security to coordinate. Katsuragi and Akagi were going to a weapons exhibition, and he had been tasked with seeing to their safety. At least Katsuragi hadn't insisted on dragging the pilots along, which would have made the whole thing a logistical nightmare.
In the darkness before dawn he put on his suit and his tie and his guns and sunglasses and all his badges of authority, and made sure they were just so. He was no fool to delude himself into thinking he was thinner than he was with two-small clothes; everything was properly tailored and fitted, and when he wore it, he felt more himself. The clothes had meaning the man underneath them lacked. He slipped his earpiece into his ear and the comforting buzz of the constant slipstream of information from his underlings warmed his ear, like long forgotten music stirring old memories.
He opened the top drawer of his chest and ran his hands over the object inside, a heavy photo album in a plastic bag. It was meant to look like an antique book but the charring across the cover undid that effect, revealing the layers of plastic and cardboard underneath. The pages were warped and curled up, the plastic melted by heat. The whole thing barely held together, having spent several months floating in seawater before he recovered it.
Reverently, he put the album on the bed, sliding it out of its plastic sleeve. Carefully, he grasped the frayed, curled edges of the pages and opened it to the place where the only intact photograph waited, slotted into the center of a page. It was an unremarkable picture of a short, board shouldered woman in a kerchief, neither homely nor beautiful, the sort of woman that is sometimes called handsome. She stood on a beach in a blue bathing suit, her arm around the shoulders of a pudgy boy of maybe thirteen years, smiling broadly into the camera. The effect of the bright sun when the photo was taken combined with fading from the abuse it suffered made it difficult to see what it actually depicted.
Yoshida slipped the picture into his coat pocket, where it would ride near both his heart, and his gun. He buttoned his coat over it and walked by the kitchen to the door, but before he did, he picked up the newspaper. The photography was blown up to cover three columns, grayscale, and grainy even before the printing process. It showed a man in a cape and a blue body suit lifting a city bus over his head, the back tire hanging from the wheel hanging in shredded tatters while the passengers look down in astonishment and elation.
He crumped the paper into a tight ball, and tossed it into the recycling bin, so hard it made the little door swing-swing for a full minute after he left.
Misato hated her dress uniform. She felt ridiculous in it, what with the big shoulder pads and the goofy rope around her shoulder and how terribly overblown it was in contrast to what she actually wore on the job- it didn't look much like a military uniform, either. Looking at herself in the rear view mirror, she felt like a military-themed stripper. Ritsuko was able to get away with her normal attire, minus the labcoat and with a simple black jacket to replace it. Sitting in the front seat, she played with her phone without looking up.
"When are you going to get a new car?"
"When I get a raise," Misato muttered, glancing at her.
The car was a soft spot. She was on her third rental now, this time a gray little hatchback that had very little in the way of personality or pep or anything particularly desireable at all. She longed for the quick maneuverability of her old car and the chance to make Ritsuko yelp with an abrupt turn into the parking lot at the exposition center where the Jet Alone autonomous weapons system was going to be publicly tested. Instead, she managed a slow, groaning turn with her damned blinker on. The gray hatchback joined a steady stream of traffic towards the expo center, a converted hangar with the main bay doors converted into windows.
Standing beyond the building, and dwarfing it, was the hunched shape of the weapons system itself, draped in a series of gray drop cloths. It was hard to tell what was under the cover, except that it was vaguely human in shape but with none of the grace of an Eva- it looked like a puppet with the strings cut, the body hunched over and top heavy, the legs obvious short and awkward.
"What are we even doing here?" Misato mused as she flashed her identification card at the guard manning the gate.
"Checking out the competition," Ritsuko shrugged as they passed under the hazard-striped gate.
Misato deftly maneuvered, or rather tried to deftly maneuver, into a parking space. The facility was already packed, and people would begin parking their cars on the grass soon. The Heavy Industries testing ground was a converted airfield, and the skeleton of an old, disused air traffic control tower loomed over the far end. Misato clipped her identification badge to her chest and joined the throng of people walking into the hangar.
It looked more like a social event than a weapons test. Most of the attendees were wildly overdressed, or so Misato imagined. Ritsuko paid it all no mind, instead sneaking quick glances at the machine itself- part of the lower leg, big and stumpy like a tree trunk, was visible under the cloth.
"Wide lower legs," she muttered, "For stability. It can't stay up if they make it too top heavy."
Misato shrugged. "Engineers will never solve the problems of a humanoid mecha."
"We have," Ritsuko shrugged.
"Yeah," said Misato. "We cheat."
Ritsuko pushed her glasses up her nose, taking a professorial air. "Watch it, Misato. The walls have ears."
Misato shrugged. "Can we just get this over with? I want to get back to my endless pile of mind numbing paperwork."
"Tell me about it," said Ritsuko.
Again, the demonstration seemed overly formal as she entered the main area of the hangar. The window was set up at once end, made up of man-sized panes of glass in a polished metal frame, while the rest of the place looked like less like a press junket and more like a formal dinner, right down to large tables with white tablecloths and flowery centerpieces. Eventually, Misato was beginning to feel legitimately weirded out by the whole thing as she took a seat next to Ritsuko, facing the main stage.
The stage was set up like something out of a cheesy movie, a mad scientists' den. Half of the machines up there, big bulky computing equipment and control panels, looked like they weren't even necessary. Honestly, if it took all that to run the thing, what good was it? She saw Ritsuko fidgeting, probably thinking the same thing as she scanned the stage and the crowd nervously.
"You look worried," said Misato.
"I'm not. We have our own security people here," said Ritusko. "Just to keep an eye on us."
"That's a little excessive, isn't it?" said Misato. "I have a gun."
Ritsuko rolled her eyes. "Whatever, quick-draw. Be quiet, they're starting."
A weedy looking man in a completely superfluous labcoat strode awkwardly across the stage, half-stumbling a few times as he watched the crowd for their response. He took a position at the big podium at the front of the stage, and scanned the crowd until he started at the sight of Ritsuko.
"Tokita," she growled.
"What?" said Misato.
"He had a crush on me in high school," she sighed.
Misato snorted.
"Ladies and gentlemen, members of the press, esteemed members of parliament, and last but not least, Secretary General Nakashima, National Heavy Industries is proud to welcome you all to the next generation of mobile combat platform, the Jet Alone!"
Misato awkwardly joined in the light applause, scanning the crowd, until she saw the steel-gray bun of the Nakashima woman some distance away, as she sat with some foreigners. Misato growled under her breath a little, but could see why she'd be here- the Eva program was expensive, and an alternative would naturally be attractive. It seemed Ritsuko was right about competition, after all.
Tokita went on. "This project represents a major step ahead of the Evangelion project in every regard- Jet Alone is independent of human pilots and an outside power source, due to the onboard combat program and a compact, safe nuclear reactor that represents up to six months of autonomous operation at full capacity."
There were some murmurs in the room at the mention of a nuclear reactor.
"Now, now," said Tokita, "I understand your trepidation, but I'd like to point out that nuclear reactors have a nearly perfect operational record in combat, and-"
"Yeah!" Misato shouted, standing up. "On boats. This thing is supposed to go toe-to-toe with creatures that-"
"Not toe –to-toe," Tokita smirked, leaning over his microphone. "We've advanced somewhat beyond fisticuffs. We think actually shooting the angels might be more effective."
Misato put her fists on her hips. "I'll have you know-"
"Yes, yes," Tokita waved his hand. "We know all about your expensive, dangerous, and extremely unreliable positron gun, which you only employed because running up to the angel and punching it in the face didn't work."
"Well," Misato snapped, "There's the little problem of the-"
"Misato!" Ritsuko cut her off.
"We know," said Tokita. "The so-called 'Absolute Terror Field'. You've already proven for us that your weapons platform is obsolete, Captain Katsuragi. Overwhelming firepower can pierce this field. Overwhelming firepower is what we will bring to bear on it."
Misato sank down, shaking. How the hell did they know that? Who leaked it?
"Now," said Tokita, "If I may direct your attention to our testing grounds."
Misato turned around, along with Ritsuko and everyone else. With a dramatic flourish of spotlights, the drop cloths fell away, pouring down on themselves in a ring around the machine's feet. It was as hunched and ungainly looking as she'd expected, a great mass of primered steel with stubby legs, long, mullti-jointed arms, and no real head to speak of, only a sensor suite approximating an arachnid cluster of eyes in the center of its "chest". A series of cables ran up to its back.
"As I said, Jet Alone is fully autonomous. The cables you see are a safety measure- they provide us with a hard line connection to shut the system down if there are any problems. We've already been through a full run-through of the reactor. Today, you will see our first movement test," he turned to the crew behind him, "Well, boys, fire her up!"
There was a great mechanical hum and the clanking of joints, and the machine swayed from side to side a bit as the torso gradually rose up into a standing position. The arms moved gracelessly to its side to balance it as it stood to its full height, about one and a half times the size of an Eva. It must have been monstrously heavy. It had wide feet with long pylons jutting out to the side to spread the weight, like a child's wind-up toy. It had the same, clunky sort of uneasiness to it, as if it might fall, when it began to move.
Slowly, the robot pulled on leg up, keeping its weight centered over both feet, and took a slow, unsteady stomp forward. Tokita stared anxiously, arms crossed over his chest, sweat beading on his forehead, as the machine moved. It picked up speed as it gathered momentum, pounding across Misato's vision from one side of the window to the other. Its steps made the water in the glass at her table ripple in tiny circles.
"So far," Ritsuko said anxiously, "so good."
"You sound concerned," said Misato.
"Putting a reactor in this thing is insane," she whispered.
Slowly, the robot turned and began to complete a lazy circle. As it turned away, Misato saw a forest of black rods jutting from its back, and a moment of dawning horror fell on her, sliding down her back to turn to ice in her stomach. The control rods for the reactor were exposed.
"Are those-" she breathed.
"Yes," Ritsuko said anxiously. "The design for this thing is insane. We need to talk to the UN people-"
The robot made a sudden, abrupt shift, coming to rest, hunched forward. Tokita looked around nervously, and Misato found herself with the impression that this wasn't part of the proverbial show. She fumbled in her pocket for her cell phone as the robot began to turn and pick up speed, really moving this time, the heavy footsteps coming at regular intervals like rolling thunder. It dragged the heavy rubber sheathed cables across the field as it moved towards the parking lot.
"What the hell…" Ritsuko said quietly.
The robot turned again, and Misato watched in horror as the cables dragged through the lines of parked cars, sweeping them out of the way. She rushed with the sudden rising crowd of onlookers to the window just in time to see an enormous metal foot come crashing down right in the center of the parking lot.
"Are you kidding me!"
"Misato," said Ritsuko. "Get headquarters on the phone, it-"
"This is a minor malfunction," Tokita squeaked, raising his voice in lieu of the microphone. "The system is somewhat unstable, it will only take us a moment to issue the shutdown codes-"
As he spoke, the cables lifted from the ground, stretching away from their moorings. Misato swallowed as she practically felt them stretching, the layers of composite and rubber and wire pulling against themselves, building up tension. Jet Alone tugged at them for a bare second, digging its heels in, and then the cables snapped with a great, tinny whipping sound and started flying in all directions, one heavy strand whipping right at the window.
Asuka gleefully picked up her latest purchase, a vial of perfume in a small blue bag, and demurely held it out for Shinji to take. Groaning, he set down the fistfuls of shopping bag he held in either hand, until Toji nudged him aside.
"Nah," the other boy shrugged, "I got it. You can't carry all that, man."
Asuka snorted at his show of bravado. So far, they'd hit every store in the mall, and yet Shinji didn't seem to labor under his load, while Toji was visibly straining to carry their purchases, mostly Hikari's. The other girl always seemed amazed on their shopping trips, as though she'd never seen the mall despite having been there with Asuka twice.
As they left the cosmetics shop, the boys fell behind naturally, far enough that Asuka and Hikari could whisper comfortably to one another. Asuka glanced over her shoulder at them, watching them exchange their own conversation. The gap widened, and Hikari felt comfortable enough to rather brazenly ask, "Really, all over?"
Asuka rolled her eyes. "For the fifth time, yes."
She meant what they had come to term the tan, the all-over darkening of Asuka's skin that would have been a third degree burn if she hadn't constantly rubbed LCL-infused ointment all over herself for two weeks. As it was, she'd darkened several shades, so much so that the light freckling on her shoulders and under eyes almost blended it. Asuka was annoyed with at first but as she looked at herself in the mirror of a storefront, she realized how much she liked it, another way she was set apart from the dark haired, fair skinned people around her, unique and exotic. She liked being exotic.
"So did you do it?"
Hikari blushed profusely, and Asuka again rolled her eyes.
"Not yet," she glanced at Toji. "Isn't he supposed to ask me out?"
Asuka snorted. "Oh please, don't be so twentieth century. This is the post impact world. We're liberated from all that traditional crap. You can ask him to hang out with you if you want."
"Hey," Hikari teased, "I don't see you asking Shinji."
Asuka blew her bangs out of her eyes. "I live with him, besides…" she trailed off. "Wait, what? Ask him what?"
"You know," Asuka softly, "to go out with you."
Asuka practically felt herself burning, and a quick look in a window confirmed it- shed' darkened a shade from the depth of her blush. She fought down the heat she felt on her cheeks, forcing herself to stay calm and collected.
"It's not like that," said Asuka. "Besides, I'm an Evangelion pilot. He's beneath me."
"But you like him." said Hikari.
Asuka sighed. "Like him? What are you, twelve? Look, I will admit, he is handsome, and surprisingly intelligent, and he's actually in really great shape, and…" she trailed off.
Behind them, Shinji tripped and nearly fell over his own feet, sputtering. Toji put down a handful of packages to steady him by the shoulder. Shinji stopped, looked around nervously, and set his own load of purchases down to push his glasses up his nose. He pulled out his cell phone as if he was expecting a call.
Asuka stiffened as she heard the evacuation alarm, and did the same. She reached for her phone and held it, but it didn't buzz, even as the Section 2 agents melted out of the crowd to surround her. Even as they began to usher Hikari away from her, the phone didn't ring. That was, well, odd.
"Why aren't they calling me to report in?"
"Dunno," the agent nearest her shrugged. "We still need to secure you, ma'am. The civilians will have to use the public shelters."
Toji appeared, without his load of bags. Asuka was beginning to feel annoyed at the constant rising and falling wail of the alarm, and nearly bit her own tongue in frustration. He took Hikari's arm.
"Where's the stuff?" Asuka demanded, raising her voice over the alarms and the shouting of mall patrons.
"Shinji took it," Toji shrugged.
"All of it?" Asuka snapped.
"Yeah," the boy shrugged. "Come on, Hikari."
Hikari, for her part, blushed furiously and tried to draw her head down between her shoulders, covering her mouth in shock. Asuka watched as the boy drew her away by the hand, heading for the public shelter. Hikari got over the surprise quickly, though, pulling out her cell phone. It wouldn't surprise Asuka if she was going to call all of their classmates individually to make sure they got to their shelters, even though they were out of school.
Asuka rather passively let herself be guided out of a service entrance and to the waiting staff car. As the agent opened the door for her, they all stopped and looked up.
"Did you see that?"
Asuka craned her neck to scan the sky. "No. Just get in the car."
Misato coughed, and realized she'd probably just breathed in a bunch of silica dust. Her memory of the last minute or so was hazy. She remember calling into headquarters, hence the constant wailing of the evacuation alarm, but she didn't remember the flying cable come tearing through the window, slash a long rent in the far wall, and come to rest in the ruins of the stage. She got up, shakily, and looked around for Ritsuko. The scientist was easy to pick out by the bright color of her hair, though dulled with dust. Misato carefully checked her, touching the sides of her head. She had a thin trickle of blood running down her forehead, but seemed unhurt.
"What the hell," she coughed, sitting up.
Together, they looked through the ruins of the window and saw Jet Alone pounding along at steady pace, silhouetted against the setting sun as it crested a low rise, Tokyo-3 glittering in the distance as the city came to life for the night. Misato swallowed.
"We have to stop that thing," she said quietly.
Appearing from nowhere, Tokita shouted, "We have everything under control! We'll just transmit the emergency shutdown code, and-"
Misato ignored him, fishing around in her pockets. She found her gun and her keys and her identification card but no phone, and cursed silently under her breath until Ritsuko handed hers over. She hit the speed dial for headquarters and waited.
"Hello?"
"Who is this?" Misato demanded. "Hyuga? Is that you?"
"Yes ma'am," he said, nervously.
"Start getting ready to scramble Unit One. Get Asuka to the base."
"That's," he sucked in a breath, "that's uh, a negative on that, Captain. The Commander has forbidden the deployment of Unit One."
"What? What about the pilots-"
"They're bringing them down here now."
"That's not going to do us any good if that stupid thing melts down!" Misato practically screamed.
A hush fell over the air itself, a sort of quietness. It took her a moment to process that the crowd of people around her, half standing and the other half sitting or on their knees or lying prone, were all looking in the same direction. She followed their gaze and nearly dropped the phone.
"Captain?" Hyuga's tiny voice said. "Captain?"
It was him.
He'd changed his look, so to speak- where before his suit had been cobbled together from mostly casual clothes, he had a definite look to it now. She would have called a uniform. He'd sewn that logo of his, the funny lightning-y S to a blue bodysuit, cinched around the waist with a wide yellow belt. His cape was longer now, too, almost to his ankles although it was billowed out. It still shocked her to see a human being fly, and not even really fly- he descended from the air as if he was just standing there, slowly being lowered to the ground by an unseen force. He came to rest not far from her and looked around.
"Is anyone hurt?"
"Thank God you're here!"
Misato turned, blinking. Nakashima, the Secretary General of the Freaking United Nations, strode up to him as easy as you please. He plainly recognized her, stiffening a little.
"Listen," she said sharply. "That thing out there has a nuclear reactor in it, and it's headed for the city. You have to stop it."
He nodded. "I'll do my best, ma'am."
"I told you!" Tokita shouted, shrilly. "We're taking care of it!"
"Then do it!" Nakashima shouted back.
"What's the hold up?" Misato demanded.
"There's a minor problem with the signal," Tokita said sheepishly. "The shutdown code doesn't appear to be going through…"
Superman appeared beside him, and Tokita flinched visibly, his thin glasses tumbling right down his nose. "Um," he muttered.
"Is there a way to enter the code manually?"
"Yes," said Tokita, "But the code is classified…"
Misato and Nakashima stared him down. He tugged at his collar. Ritsuko rolled her eyes.
"There's another problem. Whatever glitch is causing the problem with the pathing system…"
"It's walking towards the city," Ritsuko snapped, "That is not a pathing problem."
Tokita cleared his throat, weakly. "There's a problem with the entire system. It's started overworking the reactor. It's already at one hundred and five percent. No one could take the heat in the reactor override chamber…"
"I can," said Superman.
"Well," said Tokita, "I suppose we could talk you through it, if we had some radios…"
Misato pointed to two of the Section 2 guards. "You two, get over here. Give us your comm units."
The agents pulled the earbuds from their ears and took off their jackets to uncoil the wires from the microphones on their wrists. She put one on herself, holding the other one out to Superman. He took it in one blue-gloved hand, nodded thanks, and put it on, coiling the wire around his neck. He nodded to her and to the Secretary General of the Freaking United Nations, and then just took off. It was like gravity stopped working on him and he just slid up into the air, feet dangling under him. Misato put the microphone up to her face.
"Check."
"I hear you, Captain."
"Good. Okay, Tokita. What does he do?"
"There's a hatch on the back," said Tokita. "It's marked with a radiation symbol."
He was already gone, disappeared into the evening sky as she relayed the order.
"I see it."
She waited anxiously. Jet Alone didn't stop or react at all, and it was too far away now to see him land on it. She almost held her breath, tapping the floor with her foot. She could feel the other people around her thinking the same thing.
"I'm in."
"He's in," said Misato.
"Just keep going," said Tokita. "It's a straight crawl down the tunnel to the reactor control. Flip up the panel and-"
"Slow down," said Misato.
"Captain?" said Superman. "I don't mean to freak you out, but I don't actually need the radio to hear you."
"Oh," said Misato. "Nevermind." She motioned at Tokita to go on.
"Open the panel, there's a keyboard."
More waiting. She heard mechanical scraping sounds through the radio feed. When he spoke again, it was harsh and disorted. He was probably cupping the microphone to his mouth and shouting.
"We have a problem here. The keyboard is melted. It's really hot in here."
"The system's a no go," said Misato. "He says it's getting hot in there."
"Try shutting down the reactor physically," Tokita shouted through cupped hands. "Push the control rods in!"
"Tell him to stop shouting. I'm not deaf."
Misato snorted. Nakashima gave her a look, but she ignored it.
"I see the rods."
The next minute was tense. She heard a soft grunt and the sound of metal grinding on metal, and heavy breathing.
"They're stuck, or something. I can't push them in without breaking them off."
Misato swallowed. "He says they won't move."
"Uh," said Tokita.
Misato cleared her throat. "Okay, what do we have? You said this thing isn't responding to the shutdown orders. Can you re-route it?"
Tokita shook his head. "It's already ignoring our routing requests. The only thing we haven't tried is the combat system, and I don't see how-"
"I need all the information I can get," Misato said flatly, crossing her arms. "What does it do?"
"Right now, nothing. It doesn't have any weapons systems other than the arms."
"Heh," Ritsuko chuckled, "I'm surprised you didn't decide to give us a live fire demonstration, too."
Misato ignored her. "What exactly would it do if you turned those systems on?"
"We could assign it a target, and it might start pursuing it."
Misato tapped her foot.
"Superman," she said.
"I heard. You have an idea, don't you."
"Yeah. I want you to fly out of there. We'll program it to target you, and then you lead it away from the city."
"Where would I go?"
"Where would he go?" said Misato.
Tokita looked around. "Ask him if there's any radiological alerts on the control panels-"
"They melted," said Superman, "but I didn't see anything."
"He says they're all out of commission," said Misato.
"There's a detector panel," said Tokita, "it's passive, like the badges people wear when working on reactors. If it's still black, there's no leak."
"It's black," said Superman.
"He says it's good, no radiation leak."
Tokita nodded. "The ocean, then. Drown it. We have to cool it down before it cracks open."
"Did you get that?" said Misato.
"Yes," said Superman. "Do it."
Misato nodded at Tokita. "Send the commands."
"Wait," said Superman. "Something's happening. The rods are retracting."
Misato blinked. "What?"
She turned to look out the window, and as she watched, Jet Alone came to a stop, taking three pounding steps before standing straight up, arms at its side. It seemed to bounce on its heels a bit, and then settled down into its resting position, hunched over, as the forest of rods on its back slid inwards.
"Superman?" said Misato. "What happened? Superman?"
There was no answer.
Kensuke shrugged his backpack off his shoulders and sat down on his bed, tired. He'd taken some work with him to the shelter and still been mostly bored, waiting to get back home. He let himself fall backwards and look up onto the ceiling, where an inverted forest of thin, nearly invisible fishing line held all manner of models- jets and battleships and aircraft carriers and more fanciful things from eras that never existed, dream-titans from old manga and anime, from an innocent time when people only dreamed about fighting in giant robots. Now, the giant robots were here and he was starting to get tired of them.
He sat up, lowered the backpack to the ground, and started up his personal computer. To boot it, he had to insert a special thumb drive he carried, which held a copy of the key file needed for the boot level encryption. It took several minutes to start up, despite being a new model, as he kept everything on his hard drives encrypted on-the-fly, and not just the pictures of naked girls and the… the videos.
Lots of videos.
He waited, leaning on his hand in the cold blue glow of the boot screen, and felt the edges of sleep tugging at him. It was late, and tomorrow was a school day, but he was hungry- hungry for information. He needed to know why there was an evacuation but the Evas weren't deployed, why there was no sign of battle in the city. When the desktop came up, he quickly opened his browser windows, one regular one he'd browse porn and various social networking sites on and another he'd used to connect to an encrypted, painfully slow anonymized network. He felt a tingle of excitement as the tabs of forums opened up. He double-checked that his anonymizing protocol was working- the network seemed particularly fast tonight.
He had a private message on one of the forums. Curiously, a new user had shown up in the last week on all of the big cryptography and conspiracy forums he frequented, calling himself "br41n14c". This person was insanely curious about Superman, gathering all the information everyone had, starting topics everywhere. Tonight, he'd sent Kensuke a file. He scratched his chin curiously, and almost jumped out of his chair when there was a soft tap, as if from a stone, at his window.
Furiously, he closed everything out and started the background program that would wipe the session data from today's use, and carefully arranged his regular browser window- social media pages with a porn page tabbed in the background, to be "caught" on and explain his nerves. He peeked through the blinds and was surprised to see Shinji Ikari's face on the other side of the glass.
Ten feet in the air.
One eyebrow quirked, he opened the blinds, and then the window.
"Shinji?"
The other boy looked around. "Can I come in?"
"How did you get up here?"
Shinji shrugged as he pulled himself up through the window deftly, with a gymnast's grace, and sat on the bed. He had his own backpack over his shoulder. Kensuke slid the window closed. Shinji must have shimmied up the drain pipe, since there was nothing else to cling to. Kensuke had tried that once when he was six, and gotten a stern tongue lashing from his mother.
His breath caught in his throat at the thought of her.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing," said Kensuke. "Just thinking about my ma."
"Oh," said Shinji. "Um… is she…"
Kensuke nodded sadly. "I was real small. I don't remember her that well."
"I'm sorry," said Shinji. "I didn't mean-"
"Nah," Kensuke shook his head and dabbed at his eyes with his thumbs. "What are you doing sneaking into my house?"
Shinji looked around. Kensuke felt a little freaked out, sometimes, by how blue the other boy's eyes were. When the caught the light, they seemed to glow. He relaxed a little, and brought his backpack around to sit on the bed beside him.
"I have something I'd like you to look at," he said, drawing a rather damaged looking computer hard drive out of his pack. Kensuke took it.
"This is military grade hardware," said Kensuke. "It wouldn't have survived otherwise. Was it in a fire?"
"Something like that," Shinji said quietly. "Look, no one can know we have this…"
Kensuke sucked in a breath. His heart pounded in his chest and his stomach quivered, the way it did the first time he'd ever typed "Boobs" into the search engine. He swallowed. This wasn't playing at being a spy with readily available tools, this was the real deal. Shinji had stolen something from Nerv, he knew it.
"Is this… from your job…?"
Shinji looked at him oddly. "Not the one at Nerv. I need to know what's on it."
Kensuke stood up, turning the drive over and over in his hands. "I have the hardware to connect this up. It's going to take me a while. It would be nice if I had some idea what I was looking at."
"A computer program," said Shinji, "to control a very large machine. That's all I can tell you."
"I'll look it over," said Kensuke. "What's the big deal?"
"I need to know if someone tampered with the programming," said Shinji. He put a hand on Kensuke's shoulder. "No one can know about this, and when you're done, I really, really need it back, okay?"
"Okay," Kensuke said hungrily. He'd give it back, alright, after he cloned it. He could almost kiss the boy. The real deal!
Without further comment, Kensuke started rooting in his box of tools and parts for the connectors he needed. He'd put the drive on its own power supply with a jumper so he didn't have to connect it to his motherboard. The process unfolded in his mind, and he was so lost in thought he didn't see Shinji leave.
Ritsuko walked into her apartment and closed the door quickly behind her, bolting all three locks and sliding the chain home, just for good measure. She wanted to slump down against the floor and sleep right there- she had a meeting in the morning, and was doomed to a restless night's sleep of less than four hours. Getting away from the exposition was a nightmare, hours of security checks, and if someone had searched her and found the thumb drive in her pocket, she'd have been in real trouble. She pulled it out and looked at it, wanting to smash it with a hammer or flush it down the toilet, but slipped it into her palm.
She walked blearily into her living room, shirt half unbuttoned and glasses discarded, saw Gendo Ikari sitting on her couch, and screamed.
He stood up quickly, surprisingly so for his size, and closed his fingers around his throat.
"I told you to sabotage it, not cause a national emergency," he said coldly.
"I did," she croaked, "You wanted their funding pulled, it-"
He let her go, but the brief moment of relief she felt sucking in the stale air of the apartment ended with his savage backhand. It send her falling over the arm of the couch, and she bounced on the cushions and rolled onto the floor, tears stinging her eyes.
"I did what you asked," she snarled, "Now get out."
He looked down at her with a small smirk.
"No."
Asuka sat up and tried her hardest to destroy her alarm clock, slamming her closed sit on the snooze button. She was tempted to rip it from the outlet and hurl it into the wall, since she'd have to weight a random time between three and seven minutes now to actually turn it off when it rang again. She stood up and wandered out into the hall blearily, and seeing Shinji's slightly open door, sighed.
In the kitchen, the bird was eating, slurping down sardines with disgusting aplomb, as if they were the last bits of fish in the world. It looked at her and squawked, and she flipped it off angrily. The washout was missing. There was a note at her place at the table.
"Lunch and breakfast in the fridge. –S"
She crumpled the note and stuffed it into the recycling bin, and then went about fishing out her morning's meal to put it in the microwave. Curiously, despite his lack of presence, he'd apparently done his best to render proper service, having made her steak and eggs. Despite a turn in the microwave, there wasn't a touch of grease on the perfectly cooked steak, and the eggs were fluffy. She kicked her feet as she ate, touching the balls of her feet to the floor with tiny squeaks. The bird squawked again.
"Oh shut up," she muttered.
Misato emerged from her room, as droopy and bleary-eyed as she usually was in the morning, each breath a strangled sigh.
"Turn off your damn alarm clock," she muttered.
Asuka snorted. "Good morning, sunshine."
She did as she was bid, though, stopping by the door of her room to reach over with her leg and deftly hit the real switch with her toe. She walked almost lightly back to the kitchen to hungrily finish eating.
"What's with you?" said Misato.
Asuka shrugged. "Do you know where Shinji is?"
Misato shook he head slowly, her unkempt hair drifting from side to side with the motion. "No. He's not here?"
"No," said Asuka, sighing as she cupped her hand with her chin.
"That's weird," said Misato. "Don't you guys have the day off today?"
Asuka nodded, idly. "Yeah. I guess I should call Hikari and see if she wants to go shopping."
Finished her food, she stood up and put the dishes in the sink, and then went off to have a quick morning shower, applying only half of her vast array hair care products, and reserving the skin creams she'd bought. She used up the very last of the LCL gunk, and it barely seemed to smell anymore. She rather enjoyed the cooling effect. If they could scent it, she'd keep using it.
Once she was dressed, she picked up her phone and dialed Hikari's number.
"Hey," said Hikari, tiredly.
"Hey," said Asuka. "You wanna got to the mall?"
Hikari yawned, the sound distorted by the closeness of the phone to her mouth. "Later today, maybe. My sister wants to take Nozomi to the park."
"Oh," said Asuka. "Can I come?"
Hikari hesitated. "It's kind of a family thing, Asuka. I don't know if my father would allow it."
Asuka sighed. "Fine, fine. Call me later, will you?"
"Yeah," said Hikari. Bye!"
"Bye," Asuka mumbled, hanging up the phone.
"What am I?" said Misato, as Asuka walked back into the kitchen.
"Huh?"
Misato smiled a sly grin, the effect someone ruined by the dark circles under her eyes. "You could hang out with me."
"It's seven in the morning," said Asuka. "I don't feel like drinking."
Misato scowled. "You know what I mean. We haven't done girl stuff together since Germany."
Asuka sighed. "I guess, if-"
Misato jumped excitedly in her chair. "Good. I already called in to take today off. I'll go get ready."
"You better take tomorrow, too, then," Asuks said dryly.
Misato, being the paragon of maturity, stuck her tongue out.
Asuka tapped her foot on the floor a bit more. "I have an idea," she said. "Let's pick up Rei."
Shinji felt a tight coil in his stomach when he saw Toji and Kensuke. For one, Toji wasn't supposed to be there. For two, Kensuke was wearing a trench coat and fedora, looking around nervously through a pair of sunglasses. Shinji reflexively ran his hand down his face as he approached them, sighing as Kensuke began excitedly bobbing up and down on his feet.
"This is big," he blurted, "This is big, Shinji. Where did you get this again?"
"I can't say," he shrugged.
"Can't," said Kensuke, "or won't?"
"Shouldn't," said Shinji. "You wouldn't believe me, anyway."
Toji checked his watch. "You guys are weird."
"Kensuke," Shinji said, crossing his arms over his chest. "I told you not to tell anyone…"
"I didn't tell anyone…" said Kensuke. "I told Toji. We're like blood brothers and stuff."
Shinji sighed. "Okay. Look, let's get out of here, and take that ridiculous costume off."
Kensuke shrugged glumly and quickly pulled off the hat and shrugged out of the coat, folding it over his arm. He picked up his backpack and followed Shinji away from their meeting place at the corner of the arcade. He led them on a meandering route, always scanning for pursuers or observers. He had an advantage, of course, since he could hear the heartbeats of anyone around him and see through the buildings lining their path, but he was nervous all the same. He hated involving his friends, but he saw no other way around it. He could probably learn what he needed in a few hours, but the equipment… if he suddenly and unexpectedly took up an expensive new hobby and them completely dropped it, someone might notice.
Finally, they were out of the city proper, near the school, at the overlook where he sometimes met with Fuyutsuki. Shinji sat on the bench and Kensuke joined him, while Toji moved to look over the railing at the city.
"I should have brought binoculars," he mused.
"Why?" said Shinji.
"I could probably see a girl's boobs from here," he grinned.
Shinji put his face in both hands, and sighed.
Kensuke slipped his sunglasses back on and looked around theatrically as he pulled out a sheaf of printouts. Shinji looked at them anxiously.
"Is that the only copy?
"Yeah," said Kensuke. "Really. Now, look-"
"This is serious," Shinji said sharply.
Kensuke looked a little wounded, but not much, his excitement spilling over. "I know. Look at this."
"What is this?" said Shinji. It looked to him like a mass of random gibberish, page after page of strange words, normally unused keyboard symbols, and exclamation points.
"That drive had some source code on it, but not all of it," said Kensuke. "It must be a big program, whatever it is. This part looks like it controls some sort of power supply. Not very exciting."
Several bits were encircled in red ink. "What's this?" said Shinji.
"White Rabbit Object," said Kensuke.
"Huh?"
Kensuke shrugged, and grinned. "Look. An object is a piece of code that you can move around and manipulate. It's complicated. See this, here, this is a command, disguised as an object call. Someone just has to type that bit of code there" he pointed to a red circle, "that's the kicker. Whatever it did, it did it all. It looks like it gives some kind of funky command, ordering the power system to wildly overload itself."
Shinji nodded. "So if you, say, plugged this into a generator…"
"It doesn't work that way," said Kensuke, "but if you were running a system with a generator and ran this code, it would turn it all the way up and then some, yes."
Shinji nodded. "Can I take this? It's better if I just get rid of it. Did you bring the drive?"
Kensuke nodded, fishing the chunk of computer guts from his bag.
"Is this about the robot?" said Toji.
Shinji froze. "What?"
Toji crossed his arms. "The robot from yesterday, Shinji. I'm not dumb, ya know. I saw it on TV. Thing went haywire. The reactor was gonna blow up or whatever, and Superman stopped it."
"Melt down," said Kensuke. "Reactors don't…" he trailed off.
He stood up and moved away from the hard drive like it was an adder. "What the hell is that?"
Shinji looked at them both. He sighed. "Look, it's best if-"
"Yeah," said Kensuke, "I'll bet it is."
Shinji sighed, and put the papers and the hard drive in his own bag, and then leaned back against the bench.
"I'm…" he started, but trailed off. "I'm working with Superman."
"Bullshit," said Toji.
"Yeah," said Kensuke. "You're right, I don't believe you."
"If you work for him," said Toji, "then call him."
"It…" Shinji trailed off. "It doesn't work that way. I owed him a favor, and this is it."
"A favor," said Toji. "For what?"
Shinji leaned on his knees, and stared into the trees. "Remember the first attack?"
"Yeah," said Toji. "Slightly."
Shinji shrugged, thought about taking his glasses off to clean them, but quickly changed his mind, his hand stopping in mid-grab. He folded his hands in his lap instead.
"When the attack started, Misato was picking me up at the train station. The mine they dropped on the angel rolled the car over, and she was hurt. Superman helped me get her out and get her to safety," he said nervously. "He asked for my help in return."
"What?" said Kensuke. "You're an intern, how could you-"
"I was supposed to be a pilot," he said quietly. "I failed the test, I guess."
They both stared at him. "You mean like the devil, and that quiet girl."
"Yeah," said Shinji. "Every once in a while, he asks me for a favor and I do something for him. He brought me that and asked me to get you to check it out. I guess he's not good with computers."
Kensuke nodded. "I see. What do you think?" He looked at Toji.
Toji nodded. "It is a great honor. We will keep your secret."
For good measure, he bowed. Shinji sighed even harder and scrubbed his hands through his hair.
"Superman's Pal," said Toji, "Shinji Ikari."
"So you think the robot was sabotaged," Kensuke said quietly. "By who?"
Shinji shrugged. "I'm not sure, yet. But I… we are going to find out. I'll let you know anything I find out, but you have to keep this secret."
They both nodded.
"Good," said Shinji. "I have to get going."
"Yeah," said Toji. "Me too."
Kensuke shrugged. "I'll head back with Toji, unless… we could meet him."
Shinji's eyes widened. "Uh, no, I don't think he'd appreciate me letting anyone in on this."
Kensuke nodded. "Another time? You could ask."
"I'll ask," said Shinji.
"I said I'm not coming in," Ritsuko said harshly.
"I'm sorry," said Maya, the phone making her voice tinny. "I didn't mean…"
"I know," Ritsuko sighed. "I didn't mean to snap at you. Tomorrow, I promise."
"Okay," said Maya. "Let us know if…"
"I will," she said sharply, and then slapped her phone shut.
Ritsuko lay on her bed, the mattress bare of sheets and linens, swaddled in an old button-down shirt. She pulled her knees up to her chest and lay there for a while, her head resting on the mattress. The texture of the bed top felt rough on her cheek, and too hot, but she'd balled everything up in the corner and would have burned it if she'd had the energy to be theatrical. As it was, she was going to drag it down to the laundry later, making sure no one would see her.
She lay there for what felt like forever until she sat up, wincing. She felt liked she'd spent two hours in a rock tumbler and then sat down in poison ivy for good measure. Her feet hurt when they touched the floor, but that was mostly from fatigue. She looked at herself in the mirror with her smeared, day old makeup and the bruise on her chin and felt dumpy and old, and quickly headed for the kitchen. She was staring at the coffee pot and the pint of chocolate ice cream she had in the freezer when she heard a knock at the door, and froze. It wasn't the front door, it was the glass door to her balcony.
Ritsuko lived on the fourth floor.
She quickly limp-jogged into her bedroom, pulled open her top drawer, and pulled out her gun. Not big and chunky like Misato's service pistol, it was a small, rounded, thin piece she wasn't supposed to have and could easily hide. She'd thought about using it last night, first on him and then on herself, but she never had the courage. She clutched it to her chest, almost pointing it to her chin as she moved across her living room on the balls of her feet, imitating some spy movie. She thrust the blinds along the glass door aside, and screamed.
It was him.
The gun was useless. She opened the door and Superman lighted on the balcony, his weight sagging onto his feet in a curious motion, as if he could switch his own gravity on and off. Some scientific part of her brain wanted to file that away, but she was too tired and she was hurting all over and it hurt to walk now that the adrenaline was gone. She flicked the safety on her gun and threw it lightly on the couch as she walked away from him, motioning for him to enter, not caring that the shirt barely covered her ass.
"What do you want?"
He blinked. "I… are you okay?"
"They know you're here," she said, flatly. "I'll probably be killed because of this."
He cocked his head to the side. "There aren't any listening devices in your apartment, Doctor Akagi. I looked."
She looked at him for a second. "Excuse me?"
"I," he said sheepishly, shifting on his feet. It made his cape wiggle a little. "I can see through walls."
A moment of childish panic seized her, and she reflexively threw her arm over her chest, cursing herself when she realized what she'd done. He threw his hands up in alarm and apologies tumbled out of his mouth.
"I'm sorry, it's not like that, I can't look through your… well I mean I can, but I wouldn't want to…" he looked even more panicked, "I mean I would want to, you look very nice, but I wouldn't do that because…"
He trailed off and his hands fell to his sides. She saw his eyes trace the shape of the bruise on her jaw and drift elsewhere, as if sizing her up.
"Oh my God," he whispered.
She bit her lip, even as stretching the bruise made it hurt, and her eyes stung.
"I," he said quietly, "I need your help."
She saw he had something tucked in his belt, a roll of printer paper. His hand drifted to it, trembling. "I… what happened to you?"
"Nothing," she said quickly, and sharply. "I fell down the stairs when I got home last night. I was tired. I haven't slept much lately."
He swallowed. "I don't think…"
"Give me that," she said, sharply.
He pulled the papers loose and handed them to her. She unfolded them, saw words circled in red, and half fell onto the couch, folding the papers loosely in half in her hand as she did. A ragged sob took her, and the shaking of it hurt. She felt the weight of him sit down beside her, surprisingly light for some reason. Maybe he had hollow bones, and… the thought made a giggle bubble up through her lips and she hated herself for it, crushing her eyes in with her hand to fight back the sting of tears even as she laughed at herself. She was so stupid.
"Are you… you're not okay."
"No," she said, thickly.
Haltingly, he put his hand up behind her, as if he meant to put a hand on her shoulder, but she stiffened. He hesitated a moment more, and then finally, gently took her shoulder, carefully avoiding the bruise around her neck.
"I kind of looked under your shirt," he said, blushing furious. "Your arm was in the way, so…"
"I don't care," she mumbled.
"I don't understand what's going on."
She looked at him, really looked at him. He was so familiar, somehow, and strikingly handsome. There was a quiet way about him. She worked her mouth opened and closed without speaking for a while, wanting to squirm out of his grasp. How could he be real? No one like him was real. If he was real, he wouldn't touch something dirty like her.
She folded her arms in her lap and leaned into the back of the couch.
"I inserted the sabotage code into Jet Alone," she said flatly. "It was supposed to just walk in the wrong direction for a while. I upped the power to keep it moving, and…"
"Why?"
The question, so simple, and so earnest, as if he didn't really understand was actually confused, was what did it. "To eliminate the competition, I suppose. I… I had to."
"It's not your fault," he said dumbly.
"I know!" she shouted, "He made me! He always makes me!"
She didn't realize she was screaming at him until she opened her eyes and saw, blurred by tears, the absolute look of shock on his face told her everything she needed to know. He must have been as quick as he was strong.
"No," he said quietly. "You don't mean.."
She jumped up and darted into the kitchen, fighting not to limp, and failing. He walked in slowly after her.
"Go away," she said sharply. "You got what you needed, now…"
"I can't leave you like this."
She blinked. "I'm fine."
"No, you're not."
"Yes I am!" she shouted, hurling the coffee pot at him. Somehow, he plucked it from the air, catching and redirecting it so gently that not a drop spilled. To her surprise, he scanned the room, walked over to her pantry, and pulled out two cups.
"It's cold," she said, dumbly.
He shrugged, looked intently at the pot, and to her utter shock, a thin wisp of steam rose from the surface of the coffee. He poured out two steaming cups, and she sat down. She held the cup on her hands, turning it slightly with her fingers. She didn't look at him. She fought the urge to giggle, from the absurdity. She was drinking coffee with Superman.
"How long?"
She didn't look at him. She didn't even know why she was telling him. "Since I started working for Nerv. I was hired out of graduate school, for my engineering degree."
"You're a medical doctor, and an enginner," said Superman. "I know. It's very impressive."
"Th-thank you," she said, smearing at her cheek with the back of her hand. "When I first got here, he was… he was dashing. He made me laugh, he was so clever. It was like he knew everything to do, but… something came up."
"What?"
She looked at him. "I can't tell you. I really can't. They'll kill me."
"Alright," he said.
"It was like that for years, but he started to get angrier, crueler, like there was something else in him. I don't know how to explain it. There was a time when I… I hoped… I thought maybe he would ask me to…"
His eyes widened.
"I didn't matter. Things at work were tense, and I… I wanted to break it off. I tried to break it off. It didn't stop him."
Her coffee cup jumped, and to her astonishment, she realized it was because he's snorted out a hard breath. His face was red, and his fists were clenched. She was a little afraid, and as if he could sense it, he softened. "I'm sorry."
"He didn't hurt me at first," said Ritsuko. "That came later. It was as if he knew I didn't want it, and he liked knowing."
"Then why…"
"I don't know," she said, biting of a sob. "I didn't try to fight him off or anything, he just started getting more… aggressive. Now, he throws me around a little every time we…"
That tenseness came over him again. "It's my fault. I just do whatever he-"
"It is not your fault," he said, maybe more stridently than she intended.
"Yes it is," she said, sharply. "I deserve…"
"No," he cut her off, "You do not."
She was on her feet before she realized. "You don't know what I've done!"
"I know it doesn't matter," he said calmly, hands folded around his coffee cup, looking her right in the eye. "No one deserves that. No one."
"If you knew the things I mean… I'm a horrible, horrible person."
He stood up. "You may have done something wrong, but you're still a human being, and there is good in you. I can see it, even if you can't."
"Bullshit," she hissed. "Get out, I don't want to hear this. I told you, if you knew half of what I've done, you'd want to kill me yourself."
"That's not true."
She turned away from him, leaning on the counter. "I'm scum. I deserve everything Gendo does to me and more."
He took her by the shoulders and to her immense shock, he hugged her. It was a calm, almost fatherly embrace. Her arms hung at her side, limp, and her eyes were wide with surprise. It was the most reassuring thing she could remember ever feeling. He was so strong, so sure, like nothing could move him without his wanting it to. It was like being held by a castle.
"You're better than you think you are."
He let her go. She stood there for a second.
With that, he picked up the papers he'd brought from her coffee table, walked out of the apartment, and flew away. She stumbled after him, watching the way he just sort of floated up into the air and started willfully moving into the blue, picking up speed as he went. She sank down onto the floor against the wall, and in an explosive wail, the tears came full force. She cried and cried for hours, because he sounded so sure.
Gendo Ikari leaned into his steepled fingers, regarding the flickering image of the Chairman opposite his desk. The old gargoyle was in a rare mood today, sitting up from his support chair with wires and tubes streaming out from behind him.
"I know not whether to chastise you, or congratulate you," Keel roared. "The Jet Alone project is dead, but the Secretary General of the United Nations is baying for blood over your refusal to deploy the Evangelion."
"It was the correct decision," said Gendo.
"I am thoroughly annoyed," said Keel. "The woman presumes to chide me."
Gendo resisted the urge to grin. "Your point being?"
"There are some in the United Nations who believe the tail wags the dog, as it were. Jet Alone is dead, but she insists that there will be funding for other alternatives to the Evangelion program. Your display of 'callous indifference' makes it clear why such power shouldn't be concentrated in one man's hands."
"You almost sound as if you believe her."
Keel snorted. "Should such a situation arise again, I hope you will offer some token support to the unenlightened authorities."
Gendo leaned back. "Ridiculous. Once our sacred work is complete, their input will no longer matter."
Keel eyed him, or would have, had the man eyes. His face twisted around the clunky binocular implant he used to see. "Until that work is completed, we must concern ourselves with temporal affairs. I have suffered it for eighty years. You will last a few months."
"I see," said Gendo. "Unit Two is due to arrive in three weeks. Are there any considerations I need to make?"
Keel smiled a viper's smile. "Yes. Nagisa is coming with it. I expect you will take excellent care of him. He has the refined tastes of his father.
Gendo did an admirable job of stifling his laughter. "I see. He will be accommodated, of course. The Scrolls speak of the next attack coming by sea…"
"Yes. You will make the necessary preparations, of course."
Gendo nodded, and Keel vanished in a wisp of light. He leaned back in his chair and scrubbed at his eyes with his fingers, then slipped his glasses back on. He flipped the switch on his desk to raise the shield that slid over his window, and turned, his head resting in his hands. When he lifted his head, he jumped and nearly fell out of his chair.
The boy was on the other side of his window, standing on the empty air, arms crossed, gazing down on him in judgment. Gendo reached over and flipped a second switch, and there was a blast of cool air from the Geofront cavern as the glass slid downwards and came to rest halfway, letting in the outside air. The breeze rustled the cape he wore about his legs, and made tiny strands of his hair drift this way and that.
Gendo stood up. "Hello."
The boy continued to stare at him.
"Well?"
Silence.
"Ah. You mean to intimidate me."
Again, silence.
"Are you going to hover there all day?"
He paced closer to the window. Looming over him, the boy traced his movement with his eyes, but said nothing. Gendo put his hands in his pockets. A quiet smile spread across his face. "Well?"
He came closer, drifting so close he was almost inside, floating down until he was at the same level as Gendo. He was a few inches shorter, or would have been if he'd stood on the ground. Gendo was not amused.
"Well? Did you mean to say something, or not?"
"Last night," he said very slowly, and very calmly, "Was the last time."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Gendo said, cursing the soft, barely noticeable waver in his own voice. "My affairs are none of your-"
Very deliberately, the boy folded his arms again, drifted backwards, and then in a sudden blur and a rippling boom vanished, leaving Gendo staring out an open window into the cool underground air. Gendo Ikari breathed it in, and smiled surely to himself.
You have been reading
Last Child of Krypton: Redux
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Chapter Eight: The Problem with Robots