October 25th, 2010

"- So could you please recount the events of September 3rd? No more lies, please, Lieutenant," said the judge sitting at the head of the courtroom. Michael stood up from the chair he'd been assigned, straightening his uniform.

"Your honour," he began, his childish voice at odds with the flatness of his tone, "I'd like to say again that I haven't lied once today. All the things I've said are as I saw them." This drew some dark looks from one section of the audience, but he forced himself to ignore them. It wouldn't be a very good idea to panic here, after all. "As I was getting to before I was interrupted, after getting out of Unit Seven's cockpit I made my way over to the other Evangelion..." His mind drifted as he retold what had happened.

September 3rd, 2010

Michael staggered as he fell out of the Evangelion's entry plug. He felt... weird, like he always did after he went berserker. He'd tried to contact the rest of the army when he work up, using the last vestiges of the backup power supplies to power the radios, but no-one seemed to be in range. He'd taken his survival kit from the cockpit, and tied his pistol holster around his waist. It wasn't the first time he'd had to survive for a while behind enemy lines. If he was even behind enemy lines, that is – he didn't see anyone when he switched on some of the Evangelion's sensors, except for the other Evangelion.

Parts of the fight started to flash into his mind. He remembered losing an arm at some point – his left arm still ached at the elbow, and he had to bring his hand up to his face to make sure it was still there. He looked back at Unit 07, and sure enough, its left arm was missing below the elbow. Wait, no – there it was.

Clutched in its right hand.

October 25th, 2010

"I object! There is no way he could have fought on after losing his arm, much less used it as a weapon! He's just a kid, for fuck's sake!" The cry came from the Army General sitting just behind Michael, and slightly to the right. He forced himself to keep staring forwards, ignoring the interruption. If I turn around, he thought, I won't be able to keep talking. They aren't actually there, they're just background. The only other person here is the judge. He snapped back to focus as the judge spoke.

"-jection overruled, and I would mind your language, General Hanson! The Lieutenant has shown time and again that injuries sustained during the "Berserker" state do not have the same effect as they would do on an ordinary human, and we have video evidence that Unit Seven did keep fighting after losing its arm. Remember that we have already decided that during the "Berserker" state, the Evangelion's actions are not those of its pilot, so the Lieutenant's own prowess as a soldier does not apply. Please continue, Lieutenant."

Michael nodded, and carried on.

September 3rd, 2010

Vomit spattered onto the ground as Michael threw up. In front of him lay the enemy Evangelion, or rather, what was left of it. He'd nearly ripped its head off at some point, and it lay with the back of its head resting against one of its shoulders. The knife it had stabbed him with was stabbed into the very centre of its chest, where armour, skin and bone had been ripped back to reveal a cracked red sphere. Blood ran everywhere, and as he knelt down to vomit again he noticed he was standing – now kneeling it it.

Tears began joining the vomit, and he just knelt there for a while. It was never easy, seeing what the other presence had done, but this was by far the worst thing he'd seen. Only so far, an evil little voice in his mind said.

Laughing, he stood up and made his way to the building the wrecked Evangelion was slumped against; the only piece of intact cover in sight. The other presence had probably seen to that. He drew his pistol as a reflex when he stepped inside, the training he'd been doing whenever he wasn't actively fighting taking over. The part of his mind that could still think in tactical terms told him that the gigantic corpse outside may have concealed anyone inside the building.

He started making his way to the building's roof, where he could set up his recovery beacon. He was just coming onto the fifteenth – or maybe sixteenth? - floor when something hit him in the back, throwing him onto the floor. The sound of a gunshot echoed throughout the building, and he realised his pilot's suit had just saved his life.

Michael pushed himself up and into cover, two more gunshots pinging after him. He pulled his head down, simultaneously forcing himself to ignore the panic building inside his head, and waited. One. Two. Three. Fo- There! His attacker had moved, probably trying to get into a better position.

He brought his pistol up, searching for the enemy, lining up a shot – and that was when the part of his mind that wasn't running on autopilot took over, taking his finger off the trigger and reaching for the survival kit with his off hand. His attacker hadn't been moving to get a better shot.

Slumped up against the ruins of a wall, pistol held in a loose grip, was a girl about his age, wearing the helmet and form-fitting suit similar to what he wore. Behind her was the cockpit of the other Evangelion; the emergency ejection system had saved her life, but the escape rockets had propelled her to the other side of the building. He rushed over to the girl, holstering his pistol. She tried to raise her own, but dropped it as Michael reached her, taking a medical kit from the bag. He put himself through a breathing exercise as he checked the girl for injuries. I'm going to panic soon, the analytical part of his brain thought, but before that I need to make sure she's alright and set the beacon. Panic later, focus now. The girl was staring at him, still awake, so he spoke.

"Hi there," he said, "I'm going to get you patched up, okay?" He'd heard the line from some war movie or other – it seemed to be something medics told their patients. "I'm sorry about what happened out there," he continued as the girl kept staring at him. He checked her again – she was still breathing but her leg seemed to be broken (And she's lucky she got away with just a broken leg, thought the evil voice in his head, Last time I ejected it was a whole lot worse), so he set up a splint with a piece of wood he found. "I'm not going to hurt you," he said. Maybe bringing up the fight is a bad idea. Let's talk about something else, he thought. "My name's Michael – I've got a beacon in my bag, once I get it set up we can get you to a proper hospital."

The girl's eyes widened. "Don't!" she shouted, reaching for the bag, "They'll know where we are!" Something in her voice seemed... strange, but Michael tried to be reassuring anyway.

"I'm with the British – a Lieutenant in the Royal Navy – they're not going to hurt you. And I hope that if your guys get here first, you'll cover fo-"

"Mine aren't going to come! There's a... a... missile on the way, that was the backup plan! A nuke!"

That did it. Michael began to panic.

October 25th, 2010

"Are you telling me that you – an officer of the Royal Navy, sworn to uphold its honour and traditions - panicked on the field of battle?" came the question from behind (and slightly to the right). Another voice from behind – this one right behind him – saved him from turning around.

"And are you telling me, General, that if you heard the United States was willing to risk – was, in fact, risking - a nuclear war solely to kill you, that you wouldn't panic? After the known stresses of piloting an Evangelion, and after witnessing the aftermath of the world's first – and hopefully only - Evangelion-on-Evangelion battle? Soldiers panic, General, I'm sure you know this." The commanding officer of the Royal Navy's Evangelion Task Force, Admiral Oliver Jones, spoke for the first time since the court had convened. There was a pause as both sides stared at each other, then the General broke the silence.

"I withdraw my comment. Carry on, Lieutenant."

Michael took a breath, finishing a breathing exercise, and continued.

September 3rd, 2010

It took Michael thirty seconds to calm down, aided by his breathing exercises. It took him several more to start trying to think of a plan, and a few more to focus back on the present. "Why aren't we dead already, then?" he asked, finally.

"They might be waiting for something. I don't know!" said the girl.

The tactical side of his brain took over, cataloguing every possible option. Only one seemed to offer any opportunity of survival. "Can you walk?" he said, packing up the survival kit and slinging it across his back.

The girl shook her head. "I don't think I can walk very fast. Trying to outrun it's not going to work, anyway."

Michael pulled the girl up, supporting her as he started to walk back down the stairs. "We're not going to outrun it," he said. "If we can get to Unit Seven, we might be able to survive. The armour might be able to take the blast if it's not a direct hit."

The two of them staggered into the dawn outside the building, taking care not to look at the corpse propped up against it. Getting back into Unit 07 took a little effort, but the other presence had been considerate enough to leave the cockpit close to the ground. Michael turned the handle which operated the plug's manual insertion system, grunting with effort, while the girl sat in the pilot's seat and tried to find enough power to project an AT Field. The Evangelion's sensors came back online as the last armour panel clanged shut behind the cockpit. One signature was clearly visible on the radar screen, closing fast. One minute. "There's your missile," Michael said. "Any luck?"

"None," the girl replied. "We don't even have enough power to charge the LCL. Synchronisation doesn't take that much power, but we don't have enough to keep either of us synced for more than three seconds. We're probably going to lose sensors soon – it was a choice between that or the LCL."

Forty seconds.

"Are you sure you're speaking English?" Michael said, "I barely got half of that."

"The idiot's version is that we're probably going to die. Your name's Mike, right?" the girl said.

"Michael. I hate it when people call me "Mike". I'm not a child," Michael replied. Twenty seconds.

The girl took off her helmet, revealing a smiling, green-eyed face lined by brown hair. "My name's Rose," she said. Michael took off his helmet in return, waiting for the reaction. "Huh. I can honestly say I've never seen blue hair before," said Rose. Ten seconds. "Or red eyes." Nine.

Michael laughed, briefly losing count. The sensor screens went dark, whatever power Rose had scavenged running out.

Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

On-

Something roared.

Notes:

I dislike doing this (I prefer keeping notes like this in the review section), but there's a couple of things that may need clarification.

Firstly, these past three chapters (plus the next one or two) are serving as an extended prologue. We'll get to see some Angels at some point, don't worry.

Secondly, if you notice anything weird about the formatting etc, please tell me. This format doesn't quite like the format I'm using to write the story, and when I copy/paste across weird things happen.