In a dimly lit hangar, Quest Strother stood atop the Godslayer, his hands busy with a complex array of wires and panels as he integrated new technology into his mech. Sparks flew from the welding torch in his grip, the only light illuminating the massive machine's gleaming metal surface. Despite its imposing appearance, Quest knew the Godslayer wasn't yet at its full potential.

The Godslayer was a prototype—a powerful one, capable of taking on the Angels—but it wasn't designed for them. The truth weighed heavily on Quest's mind. The real threat was something far worse, lurking beyond the immediate crisis with the Angels. Quest had known about this since long before the Angels arrived. His mech, and everything he was working on, was meant for that greater danger.

But that didn't mean he could ignore the Angels. He'd equipped the Godslayer with specialized weapons—advanced systems to combat the Angels' AT Fields and exploit their weaknesses. He had the means to kill them, but the Godslayer wasn't truly built for this.

"Just a prototype," Quest muttered to himself, stepping back to inspect his work. The real Godslayer was still incomplete, its construction happening in secret. He had a network of contacts and resources—people who owed him favors, scientists, engineers, all working in the shadows to complete the true Godslayer. But until then, the prototype had to be enough.

He climbed down from the massive mech, wiping sweat from his brow and glancing up at the towering machine. The American flag still adorned its shoulder, a remnant of where he'd come from, though he no longer operated within the bounds of any government. Quest's work was beyond the scope of nations.

Sitting at a nearby terminal, Quest pulled up a series of schematics for the Godslayer's final form. The advanced armor, the energy weapons, the cloaking technology—it was all there, but it was incomplete. The resources and time needed to bring the real Godslayer to life were immense, and right now, he couldn't afford to be distracted by that process. The prototype would have to suffice for the battles ahead.

He leaned back in his chair, staring at the plans on the screen. "This isn't what I signed up for," he said to no one in particular. "But if the Angels are here, it means I have to get involved… for now."

Quest glanced at a nearby monitor, which showed a live feed of NERV headquarters. They were still trying to figure out who he was, probably frustrated by the lack of data. He smirked. They wouldn't find anything. He'd made sure of that.

Let them wonder. I'm not here for them.

His fingers tapped rhythmically on the desk, and he thought about Misato and her team, scrambling for answers. He knew they were smart, but they were playing catch-up in a game they didn't fully understand yet. If only they knew what's really coming.

Standing up, Quest approached the Godslayer, running a hand along its cold, metallic surface. The time would come when the real Godslayer was ready. Until then, he had to keep the prototype functional, keep upgrading it, and make sure it could handle what was ahead. He didn't have the luxury of failure—not with what he knew was coming.

Quest climbed back into the cockpit, his mind racing with the knowledge of the real battle that lay ahead. The Angels were just the beginning.