Three: Hostile Takeover

The Geofront, Tokyo-3 Special Administrative District, Japan.

July 9th, 2015.

Shinji woke with a peculiar warmth lingering in his bones, one at odds with the chilling, antiseptic-tinged air. He lay there for a moment with his eyes shut, assimilating the memories of the previous day. Father called me to Tokyo-3. I arrived in the city right as it got blasted apart by the Angel. They stuck me into the Evangelion… Shinji squeezed his eyes a little tighter shut, recalling the metallic stench of blood. Father is… Father is…

Shinji opened his eyes, squinting against the artificial light, and gazed up at an unfamiliar ceiling. He could not complete the sentence. It was as if the entire ordeal had been just a terrible dream, but to speak that dreadful word would make it final, would mean that Ikari Gendo was…

"You aren't dead, Ikari-kun. That's a good first step."

Shinji flinched slightly, before turning his head towards the familiar voice. Katsuragi Misato stood there at his bedside. Her cheery expression belied an air of utter exhaustion, and her clothes looked like she'd been dragged through a bog. Shinji noticed with concern that she was listing distinctly to one side.

"Katsuragi-san? You came back for me?"

The woman gave him a wearied smile. "Course I did. Why, you thought I was lying?"

Yes. "No–"

"And besides," she interrupted, wagging a finger at him. "What did I say in the car? I'm Misato to you."

"Um…"

"That's a direct order from your superior officer, Pilot."

"Yes, Ma'am. Misato-san. Um, how did I get here? What happened?"

Misato grimaced. "The extraction team managed to pry you out of Unit-01. We had Medical take a look, and they decided you needed more intensive care."

Shinji pressed a hand to his forehead. His brain was still foggy with sleep, and his head was heavier than it should have been.

"What time is it now?"

Misato gestured to a clock sitting over his head. "It's 4:30 in the afternoon. You were out for about eighteen hours."

Shinji sat up with some difficulty. His body felt like it was draped in leaden weights, and everything seemed like it was too close and too large. His limbs, far from the effortless power of the Evangelion, were now clumsy and stupid. Shinji attempted to stand—he wobbled on the floor for a moment before losing his balance and toppling into Misato's arms. Shinji caught the distinct floral scent of her perfume mixed with the familiar odor of blood. She's really strong.

Misato set him on his feet. Shinji gripped the bed rail as his senses agreed upon a tentative ceasefire. "The Eva Shakes," Katsuragi commented, relinquishing her grip on the boy's arm. "Rei had the same problem when she started piloting."

"How did she get over them?" Even as the words left his mouth, Shinji knew the answer.

"Practice. She ran synch tests daily until the tremors went away."

Sensei's answer to literally everything. I told him once that a bully was tossing rocks at me, and he told me to go practice my Kendo forms. I spent eight hours slashing air before he came back and said I could stop. Shinji chuckled wryly, receiving a quizzical look from Misato.

"Well, looks like you're feeling better, Shinji-kun. Ready to leave?" Shinji nodded, and Misato left the room. Shinji drew a deep, shaky breath and looked himself over properly. They put me in a hospital gown. My clothes probably got a pretty good soaking in that red lake. His exposed arms appeared to be unharmed, despite the wounds he—no, Unit-01—had endured. Suddenly, Shinji felt a burning pain shoot into his right eye, where the Angel had run the Evangelion through. Shinji bit down hard, suppressing a shriek as his facial nerves ignited, before the agony receded as swiftly as it had come on. Shinji felt a metallic taste fill his mouth, accompanied by a sharp, stabbing ache. I bit my tongue. He sat on the edge of the cot, his legs dangling over the side. He lifted his trembling hand up from his side and regarded it silently, confusion and fear beginning to curdle into toxic dread. Something is horribly wrong with me.

A moment later, the door opened. A nurse came in, flanked by Subcommander Katsuragi. The nurse—a jovial, bespectacled man in his late twenties—held a plastic clipboard. He addressed Shinji directly, pulling a ballpoint pen out of his pocket.

"Ikari Shinji-san?"

Shinji nodded, and the nurse checked his pulse and blood pressure. He finished and handed him the clipboard. "You've been cleared for discharge. Well, there isn't a mark on you and your vitals are normal, so we really have no reason to hold you. Sign here, please." Shinji took the proffered pen and signed on the line. At least my hand has stopped shaking. He frowned, noticing a line immediately below for "Parent or Legal Guardian." Misato put out a hand.

"I'll take that. I've been appointed your legal guardian, in accordance with the Commander's will."

Shinji nodded, artfully blocking out the reference to his father's fate. Misato signed the release papers, returning them to the nurse. He gave them a perfunctory glance, nodded, and turned to leave.

"Ikari-san, your clothes are in the cabinet. You can go ahead and leave with Katsuragi-san; I'll submit these papers at the desk."

"Thank you," said Shinji.

The nurse flashed a quick smile, shutting the door softly behind him. Misato followed him, leaving Shinji alone in the room. He pulled off the gown, checking for wounds on his body—there were none. A sensation like a thousand needle-pricks ran over his skin, and Shinji shuddered. I really hope that goes away soon. He pulled his clothes out of the drawer. They had been replaced by a pair from his luggage-Shinji recognized a burn mark on the sleeve from when had been learning to iron. Shinji dressed himself, his fingers fumbling over the buttons of his shirt. They replaced my shoes, too. He peeked his head out into the corridor, where Misato was waiting in a folding chair. Her restlessness was betrayed only by the tapping of her shoe against the streaked vinyl tiles. She noticed him after a moment and smiled—significantly less tensely than before.

"Let's go, Shinji-kun. Your stuff's all been moved." He followed her to the elevator at the end of the corridor, and she pressed the ground floor.

"Where are we going?"

"My apartment. The new Commander decided that was the best place to put you for now. We just need to stop by HQ real quick to sort out some paperwork."

"The new Commander?"

"That's right. The UN replaced the command staff. They're supposed to be moving in soon."

The elevator dinged, and they stepped out into the parking lot. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves, and a grosbeak chirped from a branch; if not for the rough ceiling overhead, it would have made a wonderful postcard. A black limousine was waiting in the lot for them. Misato climbed in, and Shinji followed. The inside was luxuriously upholstered in brown leather, but smelled vaguely of whiskey and cigarettes. Misato opened a chiller and popped open a can of beer, taking a long drag.

"Ahhh, that's the stuff! You want some, Shin-chan?" Shinji looked up, noting that his name seemed to be contracting at an alarming rate.

"Um, no thanks. I-I don't drink?"

"Are you asking or telling me?" She fixed Shinji with a mischievous grin, seemingly finding his awkwardness intensely amusing.

"T-telling. I don't drink." He attempted to put some firmness into his voice, which suddenly cracked. That's it. Kill me now. Stick me in the EVA launcher and shoot me into the Sun. Misato giggled, chugging the rest of the can and crumpling it with one hand. She withdrew a second can quick as lightning, popped it with her thumb, and took another swig.

"More for me, eh, Shin-chan?" She frowned and looked at the label. "Damn it, it's that bastard's favorite." She regarded the beverage with a deeply aggrieved look, like a vampire swindled into swallowing a pint of holy water. "Ah well, beer is beer." She proceeded to knock back the rest of the can, as Shinji leaned against the leather headrest and retreated into his thoughts.

Father is dead. Supreme Commander Ikari died yesterday. Ikari Gendo is no more. Shinji felt a prickling behind his eyes, and angrily screwed his eyes tighter. Think. Father's dead. Mother's gone. There's nobody left to take care of me. He opened his eyes and looked at Misato, who had discarded the second can and was currently demolishing a plate of canapes. Katsuragi Misato-san. I think she's on my side, but I don't really know her yet. He recalled the final image he saw as the plug hatch slammed shut; a hard-eyed woman silhouetted against harsh halogen lights, a smoldering cigarette clamped between her teeth. He shuddered. Kaji-san told me she was bad news, and he was right. I don't think I should trust him quite yet, either.

He felt the car glide to a stop. Misato stepped out, holding the door for Shinji. They entered a vast foyer, full of uniformed workers milling about.

"Wait here, please, Shinji-kun. I need to sign a couple forms real quick, then we'll take the elevator up to the surface." He nodded, and Misato strode off to a folding table set up in the corner, slapping the jumpy-looking clerk sitting there on the back. Shinji sat down on a battered couch, settling in for the long haul. Shinji saw one tall, lanky woman carrying what appeared to be an entire set of the Encyclopaedia Britannica, while a balding man had at least a dozen bronze spikes precariously cradled in his arms, each one festooned with papers and notes of various hues. What are they moving all of this stuff for? Maybe they're evacuating the flooded sectors?

As he watched, the crowd in front of the door parted, and a procession came into view. A dozen JSSDF soldiers marched at either side. Their dour expressions and their gauntleted fingers nestled on the receivers of their submachine guns cast an imposing presence. Between them walked a motley crew of three men and a woman. At the head, a tall, dignified-looking officer with a military bearing matched the stride of the soldiers, eyes fixed rigidly ahead. A gleaming blue-and-gold baton hung at the hip of his ornate uniform. At his right hand strode a besuited man with buzzed reddish brown hair, his eyes darting around the room. His right hand fiddled with something in his jacket pocket, and a shard of red crystal glinted on a steel chain around his neck. At the leader's left loped a man in dressed in black, with the grin of a jackal and the eyes of a rattlesnake. He moved carelessly, without making an effort to keep in pace, but his right hand stayed close to his side, giving him a distinctly lopsided gait. Bringing up the rear, a short, stocky woman in a blue lab coat thumbed a message into a pager. An assortment of pens sat within a pocket protector on her coat, while the woman's heavy boots made a distinctive clunk as she walked. Her fingers tapped along on her oversized briefcase.

As they passed Shinji, the redheaded man briefly met his gaze, piercing hazel eyes meeting blue—Shinji got the unnerving feeling the man saw straight through him. The man passed onwards, breaking eye contact, and Shinji shuddered. Misato finished whatever business she had with the clerk, tucking a thick sheaf of paper under her arm, and tapped Shinji's shoulder.

"Ready to go, Shinji-kun?"

"Yes, Misato-san." Misato grinned.

"There you go, you're getting it. We'll take the executive elevator; I still have clearance."

Misato led him to an elevator in the far edge of the room, where the wall sloped down at the edge of the pyramid. She palmed a badge on the scanner, and they stepped into a palatial cabin furnished in mahogany and polished brass.

"Press the top button, Shinji-kun." Shinji did so, standing on tiptoes, and the elevator rumbled, moving sideways.

"Why is it moving–" Shinji began.

"Sideways?" Misato completed his sentence. "Because this whole place is a middle finger to common sense. They say Ironskull designed the HQ as a pyramid so nobody was ever out of eyeshot around the perimeter." I could believe that.

They reached the surface, exiting the elevator into an empty concourse. The temperature on the surface was several degrees warmer than within the Geofront, and the whole city was awash in the sultry golden glow of evening. Misato unlocked her blue sports car, settled into the driver's seat, and deposited the papers in her bag. The car is still totally messed up. Shinji peered over at the bumper, which was hanging narrowly by a few pieces of tape. Fluid dripped slowly from the punctured radiator, pooling on the asphalt underneath.

"You can ride shotgun," she said. Shinji got in, and Misato started the engine. They drove through the city, and Shinji watched people go through the motions of city life. A father carried his daughter home on his shoulders, a grocery bag stuck in the crook of his elbow. A group of schoolchildren played hopscotch in an alley, backpacks leaned against the graffitied wall of the adjacent cafe.

"Um, Misato-san?"

"Yeah, Shinji-kun?" Shinji shifted into a slightly more comfortable position, leaning his cheek against the window.

"What were those papers?" Misato glanced over at him, before turning her eyes back to the road.

"I'm not allowed to say anything, but I think you have a right to know." Misato pulled the car over, twisting to face him fully. She pulled a single manila folder out of the bag and held it out to Shinji. The file's cover was stamped with the words, "Marduk Institute—Special Committee Uruk." Shinji opened the file...and his face stared back at him. A picture of himself had been clipped to a long document titled, "Ikari Shinji. Candidate Third Child." This picture is recent. I only got this haircut two months ago. The document proceeded with a biography, a summary of his medical records, and a recommendation for a long series of tests, ranging from metabolic panels to "Asymptotic Synchronization Psychometry." Someone's been stalking me for a very long time. Sensei? No, there's no way. I don't think the man even has a computer. Then who? He looked up at Misato. "Misato-san, what is this?"

She sighed. "This? This is Marduk. They scout out candidates for Pilots. You were targeted pretty early, about nine years ago. Marduk has been watching your every move since then, trying to figure out whether they can use you for the Scenario. They decided they could; now here you are." Shinji frowned.

"What is the Scenario? How could they know I could pilot when I was only seven?"

"The Scenario is your father's greatest work. He predicted that the Angels would return, and set into motion a master plan to destroy them once and for all—or so Ritsuko says. For all I know she's lying through her teeth. As for how Marduk knew, well, nobody knows. Ritsuko won't say anything. But Supreme Commander Ikari's death meant the end of the Scenario as we know it. The only other person privy to his secrets is also dead, and he left no notes or messages behind."

"You're flying blind," Shinji muttered. So they didn't plan for things to happen the way they did. "What does this have to do with me?"

"I'm getting there. Anyway, Ritsuko had enough time to call NERV Germany after Sachiel arrived, but both Unit-02 and Unit-00 were in drydock. The staff held an impromptu meeting and decided to press you into service. They want to intimidate you into accepting the job; they know you will comply if you are pressured hard enough." She withdrew a second file. "This is the contract they intend to give you—active duty status at NERV Central as an Evangelion Pilot, until such a time as you are dismissed. Here are your choices: if you want, I can quash this entire thing. I'll lie to the new command that you ran away, put you on a flight to Hokkaido, and you never see an Evangelion again. Alternately: I can get you a better deal. I'm one of two senior officers who survived and the head of Tactical—I can make sure they pay you a king's ransom. Once this is over, you'll never have to work again." Shinji stared at her, running his options through his head.

If I stay here, they'll put me back in the robot.

But I have nowhere else to go. I don't have any family left to take me in.

I don't have a choice, do I?

"Why are you doing this? You could get in trouble if they find out, right?"

"Yes, I would. I don't know." She paused for a moment. "I never really liked the Commander, but I trusted him to make the right choices. Now? I don't think the new guys can replace the old man. Ikari Gendo lived and breathed Evangelion." She took a deep breath, and let it out. "Besides, I'm not heartless enough to throw you into the woodchipper. Ritsuko might; Gendo definitely would, but I couldn't." She's probably right.

Do I want to do this?

No, I don't. I want to go back home and forget this entire thing happened.

But I can't run away. He recalled the way Rei looked when Akagi tried to put her in the Evangelion. If I leave, they'll send her out there. They'll kill her. Shinji groaned. Either I fight NERV's war, or I live on the streets until the Angels flatten my block.

"I will pilot the Evangelion." Shinji spoke with his face turned to the window, leaning against the door.

A long silence fell, before Misato spoke in a soft voice. "I'll put in the paperwork. Remember, this conversation never happened." She restarted the car, and they resumed their trip. I can trust her.

As they passed a cross road, the car entered the Sixth Ward. Shinji's breath caught in his throat. The sector had been laid waste. Twisted debris and chunks of rebar littered the streets. Emergency vehicles sped along the streets, sirens blaring, while a team of firefighters sprayed water on the smoldering remnants of a gutted apartment building. The air reeked of acrid smoke—and the boy could have sworn, a hint of blood. A vulture patiently perched atop a single finger of scorched cement, waiting for the search parties to abandon hope. It's my fault. Shinji felt a scream build up within his lungs and buried his face in his knees, trying desperately to blot out the wailing sirens. Misato said nothing, but sped up a little. They passed over several bumps, and Shinji tried desperately not to imagine what they were driving over. Finally, Misato spoke.

"We're out of there. You can look, Shinji." Shinji looked up, barely registering that she had dropped the honorific entirely. Misato's face bore a mix of sympathy and commiseration, and Shinji turned his eyes away from that terrible gaze. I don't deserve your sympathy. I'm the one who killed those people. If I'd been faster, If I got in the robot earlier–

Misato parked the car, and they got out. He walked behind her, doing his best to avoid her eyes. They took an elevator up—the seventh floor—and entered a long, bare corridor.

"Everyone moved out," Misato commented offhandedly, as if trying to fend off the oppressive silence which had fallen. "They got apartments in the nicer part of the city. NERV told me to stay here, and so I did. It gets lonely sometimes, though." They stopped at the end of the corridor, and Misato unlocked the door with a dented key. The lock was scored by many small scratches around the keyhole. As he stepped over the threshold into the warm interior, he muttered the words automatically.

"I'm home."

"Welcome back."

Notes:

PREVIEW:
Yo, Ryoji here with your preview. The MAGI implement the Second Scenario. The Third Child adjusts to his new home. Captain Katsuragi begins to uncover the dark secrets of NERV. The Apostate sets his plan into action. Next time on Herz und Seele, Chapter Four: Succession. Don't worry. As always, there will be plenty of fanservice!