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  Anime-opener dream fragment - Tatsu no Kanshin & others
Posted by: classicdrogn - 08-13-2005, 08:36 PM - Forum: Other People's Fanfiction - Replies (127)

Edit: subbed in Nathan's character names
Edit2: We gots a title! Tatsu no Kanshin!

Dramatis personae:
Garyuno (Of the fanged dragons) Kennan (wise son) - typical spiky-hair-anime-guy
Kouga (Elegant) Tsuchi (sledgehammer) - typical anime tomboy, Kennan's oldest/best freind
Kouga (Elegant) Gaku (music) - annoying little kid borother to Tsuchi
Gosai (Five colors) Miyou (point of view) - the new female transfer student, long black hair and red eyes
Kogal and Groupies - the Popular Girls
Sensei - Kaji or GTO type male teacher, talked into herding the monkeys on a field trip

So, anyway. Miyou transfers into the class the day before they're due for a cultural field trip to some mountain shrine or other. Kennan is immediately smitten with her graceful walk, flowing hair, and striking eyes. Tsuchi sees him going all gaga and makes a disruption to get him to snap out of it. Kogal sniffs at her, and the Groupies twitter.
Deboarding from the bus at whatever mountian, Sensei takes a headcount (Gaku somehow managed to come along also, much to Tsuchi's annoyance), then tells the kids to piss off and meet him at the shrine up top in half an hour, because he's got a headache from the damn bus ride and needs a smoke. They wander off in groups.
Kogal and Groupies pounce Miyou, who has set out up the (traditional style, wooden scaffold type) stairs that go across the cliff to where the shrine is on her own, having kept to herself on the bus ride. (She's a Strong but Quiet & Reserved type) When she brushes off Kogal's rather condescending offer to 'let Miyou hang around with her' Kogal mocks her (taking special note of freakish red eyes) and naturally so do the Groupies. Tsuchi sees this from where she and Kennan are trying to corral Gaku a bit further back, tells Ken to handle him for a minute, and rushes up to tell Kogal to lay off, or she'll kick their asses again. Kogal snipes back at her unfeminine behavior, then makes haste up the steps. Miyou tells Tsuchi that was unneccesary, but she ignores the mild brush-off and makes with the freindly chatter anyway, if mostly one-sided. She coaxes a half-grin out of Miyou for a moment, and does a little end-zone dance as they reach one of the landings.
Meanwhile, Kennan has settled on racing Gaku up to keep him occupied, and they are closing in rapidly on the girls' position. Ken, being a bit on the weenie-boy side of standard anime male build, is getting tunnel vision as they close on the hudred-fifty foot up mark, where the girls are, and is so focussed on where his next step is going that he doesn't see the girls until he rams headfirst into their butts. After some arm waving all three keep their balance, but Miyou yells at him a bit and delivers an anime-tough-girl-thwap. Gaku, of course, thinking it's great fun, decides to jump on his back at the same time, and the resulting loss of balance sends them both over the railing.
Gaku is also shaken loose by the stumble, so he ends up dangling from Ken's left arm. Kennan himself is dangling by the right arm from where Miyou has both hands wrapped around his wrist, Tsuchi being a half-second slower snagged her by the waist to help anchor.
Grips are a little slippy, so with a kiai of utmost effort, Kennan manges to bring his arm up (curl style first, to get Gaku in close to his shoulder, then up to about head hieght) and Tsuchi lets go to grab her brother, but when she tries to put him down he clings like a monkey and she can't even get an arm loose.
Kennan, shaking from that effort, just dangles, and Miyou's hands are still slipping slowly off his wrist. A quick peek down convinces him that he might as well tell her how cute he thnks she is, taking special note of red eyes. Miyou blushes and tels him to shut up, because he's going to be really embarrassed after "we" pull him up. (Tsuchi is still trying to get "Gaki" to let go, which only makes him cling tighter. A couple of other students are rubbernecking but don't have presence of mind to help.)
Just as his hand slips to the point she's only holding his palm, Sensei runs up and does a slide on his chest to end between Miyou's (spread for traction) feet, one arm out to grab Kennan by the collar. He does the arm-curl lift like it's easy, then Miyou and a finally-loose-except-one-leg Tsuchi pull him over, and the rubbernecks clap appreciatively until Sensei flips into a kipup and bawls them out for just standing there when lives were in danger as if they were watching the evening news.
Meanwhile, Kennan has slumped over at the waist, panting for breath and trying to get rid of the shakes. After a few seconds, he sees Miyou standing in front of him, looking as calm as ever, though breathing a bit heavily herself still. He gives a couple fo half-hearted laughs, and then says, "... I'm not embarrassed." This makes her blush again, and she starts to turn away. He calls for her to wait, and drops to a kneeling position, explaining as she looks back over her shoulder that a hundred feet of air between him and the ground made him realise that there are some things too important to worry about how you look when you do them. Then, he bows until his forehead touches the deck of the landing and says that since he owes her his life, anything he can do is at her command. Miyou is nonplussed, Tsuchi is amazed, and Gaku has muckled onto her waist again, still sobbing. Sensei has been yelling at the crowd all this time, so no one has really noticed their little drama.
Then I woke up, still shaky from that view.
- CD
What, you think Samuel L. Jackson isn't going to survive the zombie apocalypse?

SERVO: Loook *deeeeply* into my eyes... Tell me, what do you see?
CROW: (hypnotized) A twisted man who wants to inflict his pain upon others.
--
"Anko, what you do in your free time is your own choice. Use it wisely. And if you do not use it wisely, make sure you thoroughly enjoy whatever unwise thing you are doing." - HymnOfRagnorok as Orochimaru at SpaceBattles
woot Med. Eng., verb, 1st & 3rd pers. prsnt. sg. know, knows

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  An Incomplete Bit of Story
Posted by: Bob Schroeck - 08-11-2005, 07:03 PM - Forum: General DW Chatter - Replies (11)

Helen and I had been talking about writing some "Tales of the Warriors" together a few months ago. The first story was going to be how Doug joined the Warriors, but the whole project seems to have stalled. I came across the opening I wrote for that story just this morning, and I figured, well, what the hell. If we pick the project up again, it'll be a good teaser, and if we don't, well, people still get to enjoy it.
So here you go: call it teaser or fragment or what have you:


Disclaimer and credits will be found after the end of the chapter. TALES OF THE WARRIORS: DOUGLAS SANGNOIR AND THE OVERLONG PROBATION by Helen E. Imre and Robert M. Schroeck1. I Never Metapunk I Didn't LikeI wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. -- Gilda RadnerAll created beings are unmanifest in their beginning, manifest in their interim state, and unmanifest again when they are annihilated. So what need is there for lamentation? -- Bhagavad Gita (c. 400 BC)Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it. -- Johann Wolfgang von GoetheThe beginning is actually sort of the middle.The *real* beginning is in 1962, or maybe 1957. Or maybe 1929, but that's actually the beginning for a whole lot of other people who aren't really part of this story, and going back that far just means I'll have to ignore their stories anyway, so let's not do that, okay?(1929, in case you weren't paying attention at all during your elementary and high school history classes, is The Year The People With Powers Appeared. Or, as the historians prefer, The Metahuman Explosion. It wasn't actually anything like an explosion -- more like a slowly rising tide. But like I said, that's not the story I'm telling.)1957 is the year my parents met, and that *is* the story I'mtelling. Or part of it anyway. My dad is Peter William Sangnoir. My mom calls him "Petey".My mom is Jessamyn Lorraine Sangnoir. Dad calls her "Jess", and sometimes "Cowgirl" when he wants to tease her. (She's been an equestrian -- as close to the polar opposite of a cowgirl as you can get and still be on a horse -- since she was something like 8 or 10.)They're both of French extraction, although my grandmother on Mom's side was a German Jew who got out of Germany before it got completely locked down by the Nazis. Bubbe had quite a few stories to tell about her life, and I was always an eager listener.Anyway. My parents met in college -- UCLA. Dad always said that he met Mom when he found her passed out drunk at a frat party. He carried her home to his dorm room, and she never left. Mom usually hit him on the arm at that point and then said that they had actually been introduced by one of her sorority sisters. Since just which sister had done the introducing never seemed to be the same in any two tellings of the story, I have to wonder if Dad isn't the one who told the truth, and Mom gave me the tall tale, contrary to the expected division of labor.However they met, they apparently hit it off because after Mom graduated in 1959 they got married, and three years later they had me: Douglas Quincy Sangnoir, named for my two grandfathers. Obnoxiously rich, blonde native Californian. A genuine Beverly Hills Baby.Oh, and I'm a metahuman. * * *The beginning that's also the middle is 1984. One of the things that it was the middle of was the year. It was June.I'd just graduated from college -- Princeton, BSE in Electrical Engineering and Computer Science, specializing in cybernetics and robotics. Magna cum laude, too, thanks to a mutant boost in brainpower that let me read my textbooks once in September and then ace exams for an entire year. (No, I don't think that's an unfair advantage. I was born with it, it's mine, and I didn't break any rules to use it. Besides, most people are *real* squeamish about saying human beings can only be so smart before they stop being human beings. They quickly realize it's sort of like one of those height requirement signs at an amusement park -- "You must be at least this stupid to be a normal human". When it's phrased like that, the idea upsets a lot of people. They'd rather think of normals as having the chance of being another Einstein or Tsung than limit them to being the intellectual brothers of Homer Simpson.But I digress. Again.)In the early 1980s, corporate recruiting during spring semester at an Ivy League school was sort of like being in the major league football draft, especially for someone with my engineering degree, my grades and my collection of bleeding edge research and projects. I had, by my sophomore year, learned enough about my metatalents that with sufficient concentration I could "nudge" my field sufficiently to let me work safely with the electronics that were part and parcel of my chosen studies. (Although my field did "get even" for it whenever it could. The time that I got kicked out of Dean Jahn's "PEAR" psi lab when the TK test rig started spewing ping-pong balls all over the place was one of the more extreme cases; fortunately it never entered my transcripts.)Several corporations courted me throughout the Spring of 1984; in the end, I let RCA recruit me. They were prestigious, they paid well, and most importantly they were local -- the Sarnoff campus was less than three miles from my senior year dorm room. This mattered because I totally loved the Princeton area, and because it kept me 3000 miles from my parents. I'd grown increasingly estranged from them as I passed through my teens. The effort and stress of suppressing the worst of my metagifts' early side effects had left me distant and emotionally exhausted, and this in turn had eroded my relationship with them.Not to mention that my burgeoning sense of political and philosophical awareness did *not* dovetail with their own leanings.So being as I was legally an adult, I dipped into my trust fund for a couple hundred thou and bought myself a house in a pleasant area not too far from the University campus. With the change from that purchase I picked up a nice little sportscar -- nothing too extreme, as I had distressingly "common" tastes even then, just a nice little Corvette Stingray. Bright red, of course. And starting a week after graduation I drove it every day to RCA and back again. I was just a glorified lab assistant, but it felt good to actually be *doing* something with my skills other than racking up grades. I'd be helping develop new technologies that would change the world! Contributing to vital research! I'd co-author some papers, maybe, and climb up the ladder of advancement with blazing speed!I didn't get what I had wanted and expected.RCA might have been the source of dozens, maybe hundreds of technological innovations that had shaped the world as much as the presence of metahumans like myself had, but it was still a hierarchy -- an old and established one, with its high priests at the top jealously protecting their jobs and their special spheres of interest. Someone like me -- young, exuberant, iconoclastic and ready to blow away their fossilized, stale procedures and traditions -- well, they had ways of dealing with someone like me when I bucked the system too much. They didn't want to get rid of me -- firing me would would have cost them money and profits, since I was already improving and innovating on the projects to which I'd been assigned. They were happy with that -- but not with my "attitude". They wanted to break me into the RCA way of doing things.I don't take kindly to breaking.I toughed it out for almost a year. But when I was relegated to "contributor" status on both a paper I'd written completely myself and on a patent application for the widget I'd invented and about which I'd written the paper, that was it. I didn't care that it was "standard" procedure in both the Labs and academia for "assistants" like me to end up "also by"'s on their own work, for which their advisor/mentor/supervisor took primary credit. All I saw was that I was being cheated. I confronted my supervisor and was told I had no say in the matter. My employment contract made anything I created on their time theirs, I'd known it when I signed, and so I had no complaint coming.I quit on the spot.It wasn't like I needed the job, anyway. My needs were simple --despite my expensive house and fancy car I was practically an ascetic, mostly because I still lived like a college student. With that kind of lifestyle I could have survived on the interest from my trust fund alone for decades without even coming close to touching the principal.
And that's all that exists for the moment. More may be forthcoming if Helen and I get our collaboration rebooted, but for the moment, this is the entirety of the project's output that I know of.
I hope you enjoyed it.

-- Bob
---------
It's spelt "Frodo Baggins" but it's pronounced "Throat-wobbler Mangrove."

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  Why'd it have to be THAT song?
Posted by: DHBirr - 08-11-2005, 04:30 PM - Forum: The Game Everyone Loves To Play - Replies (5)

Oddball question: does Doug have to *like* a song to get an effect? I don't have any particular song or power(s) in mind, here, but my sadistic sense of humor just won't let go of the notion of Looney Toons discovering that a song he absolutely *hates* gives him a power or set of powers comparable in magnitude to "Lightning's Hand."
Since his subconscious controls the powers, maybe he just *can't* get anything if it's a song he doesn't enjoy hearing. Still, I snicker at the thought of him realizing with horror that only *that* song will give him just what he needs to clobber the villain of the moment -- and at that point, Doug's bad-mood meter goes off the scale.
DHBirr
-----
Big Brother is watching you.  And damn, you are so bloody BORING.

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  Song of the Day, 11 August 2005
Posted by: Bob Schroeck - 08-11-2005, 01:43 PM - Forum: General DW Chatter - No Replies

Im accustomed to a smooth ride
Or maybe Im a dog whos lost its bite
I dont expect to be treated like a fool no more
I dont expect to sleep through the night
Some people say a lies a lies a lie
But I say why
Why deny the obvious child?
Why deny the obvious child?
And in remembering a road sign
I am remembering a girl when I was young
And we said these songs are true
These days are ours
These tears are free
And hey
The cross is in the ballpark
The cross is in the ballpark
We had a lot of fun
We had a lot of money
We had a little son and we thought wed call him Sonny
Sonny gets married and moves away
Sonny has a baby and bills to pay
Sonny gets sunnier
Day by day by day by day
Ive been waking up at sunrise
Ive been following the light across my room
I watch the night receive the room of my day
Some people say the sky is just the sky
But I say
Why deny the obvious child?
Why deny the obvious child?
Sonny sits by his window and thinks to himself
How its strange that some rooms are like cages
Sonnys yearbook from high school
Is down from the shelf
And he idly thumbs through the pages
Some have died
Some have fled from themselves
Or struggled from here to get there
Sonny wanders beyond his interior walls
Runs his hand through his thinning brown hair
Well Im accustomed to a smoother ride
Maybe Im a dog thats lost his bite
I dont expect to be treated like a fool no more
I dont expect to sleep the night
Some people say a lie is just a lie
But I say the cross is in the ballpark
Why deny the obvious child?
-- Paul Simon, The Obvious Child

-- Bob
---------
It's spelt "Frodo Baggins" but it's pronounced "Throat-wobbler Mangrove."

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  Need a light?
Posted by: khagler - 08-11-2005, 04:56 AM - Forum: The Game Everyone Loves To Play - Replies (2)

Lighted Up
Gabriel Mann
what comes to mind today
is where i was before
sitting lonely trying to stay so drunk
waiting for somebody to leave open some door
tuesday came and went as quickly as expected
didn't notice that i needed it to stay
and you know sometimes i need to be neglected
sometimes love looks good in gray
and i believe
somewhere there's a vision in the dark
but i can't see
unless there's someone there with a spark
to keep me lighted up
now you're back in dc
and i'm in los angeles again
the cold wind grips you like a fist
and the spotlight here is not my friend
but i believe
sometimes there's a need for separation
and i can't see
i need to find another way
to keep me lighted up
and i believe
somehow there's a prism in the dark
and i can't see
unless it's you there with a spark
you keep me lighted up

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  Wierd Question
Posted by: Valles - 08-06-2005, 07:17 AM - Forum: Other People's Fanfiction - Replies (5)

Does anyone happen to know the Japanese translation of Robert Oppenheimer's Shiva quote, from Trinity?
I tried to figure it out myself, but Jeffrey's is being... uncooperative. *glares*
Ja, -n
(Not a significant question at all... pay no attention to the avatar behind the curtain.)
===========

===============================================
"V, did you do something foolish?"
"Yes, and it was glorious."

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  Hey, Drakensis...
Posted by: Bob Schroeck - 08-06-2005, 06:56 AM - Forum: Other People's Fanfiction - Replies (8)

I just browsed past Here's Your Accordion and reread the last chapter, which you posted back in May. How fare the prospects for new material in this story?

-- Bob
---------
It's spelt "Frodo Baggins" but it's pronounced "Throat-wobbler Mangrove."

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  Semi-Non-Important Pseudo News
Posted by: Jeanne Hedge - 08-06-2005, 04:54 AM - Forum: Other People's Fanfiction - Replies (12)

Yes, this does involve my fanfic, and other people's fanfic. And fiction, non-fiction, fantasy, horror, poetry and links to other places.
After almost exactly two *years* I've finally (pause for drum roll) updated my website (the story area of it anyway). There's no new fanfic, per se, but there are three links to fanfic sites that I didn't have before. And I've trimmed out the dead links and stories where the author's email address bounces, and also added back some stories previously removed for various reasons.
I'm rather ashamed of myself that it's taken me that long to do a content update. I really should update much more frequently, particularly since other people send me things to put on my site.
Next up - a consideration of whether to make a "modern" site, complete with stylesheets, java(script) and other file size hogs, or to keep things simple (basic HTML only) and friendly to pretty much every browser I've come across.
Jeanne


www.jhedge.com
go.compuserve.com/Comic
[Image: buddyicon_sm.gif]

[Image: 6bf36ddc1d2c96930d75576c361a9b3f8152885f.gif]Jeanne Hedge
www.jhedge.com

"Believe me, if I have to go the rest of my life without companionship, knowing myself won't be a problem."
-- Gabrielle of Potadeia

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  Incarna ch3 - 01.12update(cliffie ending, epilogues pending)
Posted by: Rieverre - 08-06-2005, 12:17 AM - Forum: Other People's Fanfiction - Replies (7)

Real Life in the past few months has been ... trying. Emotional flipflops and other things. Eh. Incarna is not yet finished - there are four epilogues that have to be written, each of them from a different perspective.
--
Steps echoed. Shoes on metal floor, stride determined, but with a hint of uncertainty hidden in the gait.
Were one apt enough in reading body language to notice such things.
Such a one would, after deliberation, come to the realization of the prevalent emotion of that person.
Anxiety.
From corridors that were lit brightly, well maintained, to those that had fallen into disuse.
Steps echoed.
Locks clicked, fingers tapped the keys of the handheld terminal, flying with nearly fevered speed.
Doors opened.
Repetitions.
After more than one would care to count ...
"Sempai?"
---
Demonbane Ltd.
presents
Incarna
three - Domino Theorem.
a follow up ficlet to the SI story Machine Spirit
by Griever
---
>one: in motion.

The waking mind.
Sensations of slick wetness. Like water, yet not.
Quiet.
No sounds.
Save for two heartbeats.
Eyes open.
***
Daylight.
Filtering through the trees in rays of brilliant gold.
Azure skies.
Wisps of white clouds, circling.
Breeze.
Faint rustling of leaves.
"Has it been confirmed."
A voice, disturbing the calm.
"Yes, sir. We have authorization to move. Mobile assets are en-route."
Idyllic.
A calm.
The calm.
Before the storm to end all storms comes to sweep it all away.
UN symbol on their helmets.
***
"... has overstepped his bounds."
Darkness.
"At this point, it hardly matters."
Numbers.
"He hasn't the manpower. His forces are depleted."
Crimson on black.
"He is no fool, though."
Monolithic shapes.
"My agents report that his control has been ... slipping, lately. Supposedly, he's lost one of his subordinates."
A council of secrets.
"Then this is the time. Agreed?"
A meeting of those who consider themselves guided by the hand of fate.
"Agreed."
Heralds of destiny.
To open the doorway for mankind's ascension.
Disappearing shapes.
One left, at the head seat of the council.
A grotesque smile.
"It ends."
The word ascension can have so very meanings though. In the correct context, it could even mean ...
***
Red.
"Sir! The MAGI are under attack!"
Noise.
"Attackers identified as ... other MAGI units!"
Insistent.
"Has anyone seen Lt.Ibuki?"
Alarm.
***
Purple.
Green.
Looming.
Waiting.
01.
Solitary in its bonds, standing in grim anticipation.
The soul within no longer struggles.
The purpose of EVA.
If she still knew how to do so, Yui Ikari would have cried.
***
Black.
Ugly.
Small.
Fingers curled around the grip.
Faint smell of well oiled parts.
Awareness.
Eyes wide, breath quickened.
Startled by words spoken where there should have been only silence.
Light pressure on the trigger.
Wide blue eyes meeting terror stricken brown ones.
"Maya?"
A click of the safety.
***
Creaking.
Swinging open.
Handle of the manual release twirling of its own volition.
Rubber soles on concrete floor.
Footsteps.
Red eyes. Twin points of light in the otherwise dark hallway.
Stopping.
Turning her head.
Creaking.
Door slamming closed, propelled by a briefly visible wave of golden hexagons.
Footsteps.
Rubber soles on concrete floor.
Red eyes.
Descending into the depths of Dogma.
***
Orange.
White.
Arms spread.
Pinned.
Expressionless face.
Seven eyes.
Expecting.
Anticipating.
***
Grey flesh.
Torn.
Coiling.
Twisting.
Intertwining.
Healing.
Armor.
Black and blue and white and red.
A single eye, glaring at things unseen.
***
Blue eyes.
Staring emptily at the ceiling.
The beeping of machines monitoring her condition.
Death in life.
A wandering mind.
***
White trails, winding their way through the sky from the tips of airplane wings.
White carapaces underneath the planes' bellies.
Sneering crimson lips.
A hint of white teeth behind them.
Gleaming, and sharp.
Five through thirteen.
On a date with destiny.
***
>two: freezeframe.

Have you ever felt that there's a little timer in your head? The sort that always tells you you've got enough time to plan things out and execute said plan properly? The sort that leads you into a false sense of security?
Where you one day wake up and realize you're entering the home stretch and what you were cooking up is only worth as much as a half-baked scone?
I find this feeling pretty much par for the course.
"Well ... this is awkward."
Like domino blocks, collapsing one after another, the events following after my decision to make use of the idle resource that was Ritsuko Akagi seemed to be snowballing.
It was as if things had gained their own momentum, and stopping the progression was now almost impossible.
Or maybe they'd always had their own momentum and I was merely finally becoming aware of that.
Aware, as in, suddenly realizing that I was ten floors up, face down, and the air was rushing against my face pretty quickly as I made my way towards the dreaded sudden stop.
Things were happening.
I could feel it in my bones.
To initiate Impact, you needed Adam and an Angel. Lilith would do in a pinch.
To control it, you needed an amplifier.
To do so in a way that would let me get out of this reality and on my way back towards the previous one, I needed someone who had a more thorough understanding of the various factors involved.
And acquiring an amplifier wouldn't be a bad idea either.
This, in broad strokes, was something I'd been aware of prior to coming down into Dogma. It was, basically, what had motivated me to come to Tokyo-3 in the first place.
If the only thing I'd have needed had been an EVA, I wouldn't have bothered. Adam-cloned Units weren't something SEELE was in short supply of. It would have taken some doing, but nothing as complex as what I was engaging in here and now.
Sadly, I knew I would need to acquire access to an amplifier, which was a task made far more difficult by the fact that, of the two available EVAs, I had no chance at all at being able to control Unit 01 because of its origins.
Unit 02 was under heavy guard.
So I'd come to Tokyo-3. I'd entered the Geo-Front via one of the EVA rapid deployment system's shafts. I'd made my way down, and into Dogma - the innards of the NERV Command Center, and took up temporary residence in the locked out corridors that had been deemed obsolete by the management.
And when normal means of searching for a way to turn the tide of events to come to my advantage failed, I tried the alternative. I'd been fairly new at using the AT Field that the half-angel body my spirit had decided to take for itself could manifest and manipulate, but prior experience in dealing with unfamiliar circumstances and abilities proved to be an asset there.
I was grasping at straws at the time, so what I managed to piece together as a result of what I'd discovered thanks to a subtle investigation of Dogma via my Field had seemed just what the doctor ordered.
A fractured spirit stretched between two material shells, one similar to my current incarnation, the other in some ways similar to the prior one.
More specifically, Naoko Akagi, bound to linger in this world, in part by the MAGI, and in part by Evangelion Unit 00.
The situation was rapidly becoming more and more complex. Meaning that there was more and more chance of things going wrong during the flow of events.
Walking in on Maya Ibuki pointing a gun at a startled Ritsuko Akagi, with Naoko currently occupying the former Dummy Plug Ayanami body of Unit 00 right behind me, had not been a course of events I could have foreseen.
Hence, the earlier comment.
The insistent beeping that the good Doctor's terminal started to emit a moment later, her glance at it, her face turning ashen as she seemed to ignore the gun altogether ...
"It looks like SEELE just moved up their timetable," the bottle-blonde spoke in the sudden deathly quiet.
***
There are events in life that could be called pivotal. Ones that make those involved reexamine their lives and actions, and sometimes let them change as a result.
Dying most certainly counts as one of them.
Having a good deal of memories that are clearly not your own can also apply.
Naoko Akagi had been through both. The former, when her soul was sundered and split between a sliver that settled within the MAGI and its artificial mind, and a larger and fractured portion that had been sucked in by the golem that was Evangelion Unit-00.
And while being forced to animate the body of someone ... or was that something ... who'd been a direct cause of her death was certainly unsettling, the memories of inhabiting a D.D. Battlemover actually helped her settle in somewhat.
Or at least realize that mental breakdowns sometimes needed to take a backseat.
"What do you mean, 'moved up their timetable'?" the other half-angel in the room asked.
"Who are SEELE?" the brown haired girl in the tech division uniform said at the same time.
"You brought Ayanami?!" this from the younger Akagi in the room.
"Ritsuko ... what did you do to your _hair_?!" this from herself.
***
"What do you mean, she isn't there?! Why wasn't I told?!"
Misato Katsuragi was not furious. She reserved furious for when it would be of any use, and she knew it wouldn't help her one bit in the face of the stone wall that was Gendo Ikari's resolve. She was, however, pretty damn angry.
"It was not necessary, since this is obviously a Section Two and Internal Investigations matter and not something the Tactical Division should be concerned about," Gendo said. Or so she assumed. The way he sat, fingers steepled in front of his face, she couldn't actually tell if he moved his mouth or if it was just a pre-recorded message being delivered at an opportune time.
"Is that all, Major?"
She chased away the ridiculous thought, and focused on things at hand.
"Security of the facility is my business, Commander. The Doctor's absence has definite negative influence on it, therefore it is my business as well," she retorted.
"It is a case of Need to Know, Major," the man shrugged the objections off as if they were meaningless. To him, they were. "You did not need to know."
***
Some days, it just didn't pay to get out of bed.
This looked to be one of them.
Take several people, match and mix relationships and agendas between them, stir, and have them each bring one up at the most awkward and inopportune moment possible.
I'm not even going to say anything about the impending end of the world.
It was enough to cause a freeze of sorts, where people stopped speaking and were processing what the others had said ... I think I caught Maya looking more than a little cross-eyed at one moment there.
In more ways than one, it reminded me of an impending multi-car pileup.
Ritsuko's comment about SEELE being the eighteen-wheeler wobbling unsteadily one lane over.
'So speed up and go past before it wobbles into _you_.'
***
>three: maelstrom

I felt ugly.
Pressing, urging, threatening. No explanations.
Being pressed for time could have been one of my excuses.
I was beyond that, though.
No juggler. No plotter. No schemer.
I could not be in two places at once. Hence my freeing the elder Akagi. I could not hope to stop or understand Impact with what I had and what I knew. Hence the younger Akagi.
I actually _needed_ Impact.
I ran.
The unconscious form of Maya Ibuki had been laid on a cot that stood against one of the walls. I didn't feel the least bit guilty about her broken wrist. A bit proud that the AT projection hadn't shattered it, maybe.
There. Then. I was racing forward, outpacing guilt.
I'd deal with it if and when it caught up.
***
The overwhelming feeling of things spiraling out of control ... that's what it was. This sensation Misato Katsuragi was trying to put a finger on.
There had been an attack on the MAGI, which had been repelled by some outside source. Her chief computer technicians were missing, one simply AWOL, the other an escaped prisoner.
And it looked like the UN was coming in, guns blazing ...
... the irony of the fact that NERV, the self-proclaimed protectors of mankind, would be destroyed by those they'd protected was not lost on her.
It didn't make her grin either.
"Ma'am," Makoto's voice was strained, but the hint of surprise in it was more than obvious. "I'm getting some odd commands being sent out from the MAGI ..."
An off to the side console suddenly came to life, crimson indicators lighting up ...
"Logfile says they were ordered to put Dogma and what they could of the Geo-Front into lockdown." a confused looking Aoba finished.
Screens flickered, as sensor feeds running over outside relays ceased to be accepted, and the only things being displayed were those readings being taken by closed-circuit systems.
"Blast doors are coming down throughout the complex," Makoto informed.
"... Ritsu?" Misato quietly asked, not expecting any sort of answer. Who else could it have been, after all?
"What about the Children?" she inquired after a moment.
"Second Child is secure in Unit 02's Entry Plug." Aoba spoke. "Third Child hasn't been found, but ... logfile entries indicate First Child has entered Dogma through Route 29 half an hour prior to the first attack."
Misato Katsuragi's frown deepened as she gave the empty Commander's Seat a glare. Sub-Commander Fuyutsuki, standing beside said seat, almost flinched.
***
She thanked the relevant Kami that the UN were idiots.
Sadly, this was also thanking said Kami for one Lorenz Keele/Keele Lorenz and his manipulation skills.
If the UN truly knew what went on at NERV, what the potential of the things locked away there was, and what could be done with them. Hells, what was _going_ to be done with them, then just common sense would have had them recalling the air-force they'd put together during that whole Sea of Dirac debacle. Followed by scores of N2 mines being dumped through the big hole that one of the battles against the Angels had left in the Geo-Front's ceiling.
... although, of course, that would have been a choice made by someone with a sound sense and understanding of tactics and strategy.
After a more thorough consideration of the issue, she decided that the UN would have done what they were doing one way or another, simply because 'for the betterment of mankind' worked at a micro scale, but the macro scale leaders were still power-hungry assholes/political animals.
Those two were synonymous more often than not.
Quite often, they were also synonymous with the word 'moron'.
Exactly _why_ she was thinking these things there and then was a bit of a puzzle, but she firmly shoved it onto the shoulders of the memory engram she'd inadvertently gotten from that supremely odd Griever person after being 'revived'.
Naoko Akagi, nee Ayanami (oh, the irony), continued running.
***
Going the other way, now.
Darkly amusing.
Not an hour ago, myself and an Ayanami clone body were making our way along this path, trying to remain as unobtrusive as inhumanly possible.
That was when we thought we still had time.
No such luck.
It was out of the way, enough to not be considered important by the UN at least. Remains of a destroyed EVA. They were going after the ones still operative.
Or trying to, at least. Hopefully, Ritsuko could do delay them sufficiently. She was creative enough. And while there were no means of fending off human invasion there, ones could be ... improvised.
Bakelite could be used for more than just holding EVAs down.
Flood a hallway with it, and it was certainly possible, and you have a permanent barricade set up. At least until they bring in more high explosives.
There were times for stealth. There were times for more obvious means to be used.
My AT Field reached forward, ripping the armored door of the cage from its moorings, granting me entry.
Care to guess which of those times this was?
***
"Damn," swore Ritsuko Akagi. "Looks like we've laid down our cards."
The readings told whoever was watching what was going on, and did so loud and clear. To some extent.
Ritsuko sighed, setting down the handheld terminal. The MAGI were pretty much able to take care of the rest. For what it was worth, she'd done her part.
Now ... it was a question of whether she'd bet on the correct madman.
The erstwhile head of Project E stood, and strode a short ways off, returning with an emergency medkit. All she could do was wait. The section was under lockout as much, perhaps more, than any other one of Dogma, simply because it was marked 'derelict' and out of the way of anything even remotely interesting or important.
No soldiers likely to come knocking down the doors anytime soon.
Might as well do something useful in the interim.
Kneeling down, Ritsuko started treating the unconscious Maya Ibuki's injuries.
***
Almost darkness. A fain luminescence cast a balefully amber glow upon the chamber, before the doors quietly opened and the light of the corridor beyond was added into the mix.
Reflected by a pair of crimson eyes. Reflected by a pair of mirrored spectacles.
She stood, seemingly still as a statue, one palm against the tank of LCL.
"Rei. You're really here."
It was all Gendou could do to stop the shivers of anticipation. Years of planning were all going to come to completion on this day. He would finally see Yui again.
"The appointed time has come. Let's go."
The blue haired girl turned, face remaining carefully blank, smoothing down her skirt before following the Commander of NERV.
***
Despite the red lights, despite the ongoing attack, despite the sheer improbability, the specific noise made everybody on the command bridge go deathly quiet.
Misato Katsuragi was not there. She'd given command over to Hyuuga and gone to find Shinji.
Otherwise, the relative silence would have been interrupted by loud, vehement swearing.
Makoto Hyuuga gulped. Looked again.
The reading hadn't changed. He wished Maya were there. She was better at interpreting these ... not that there was a whole lot to interpret here. It was quite clear.
"... pattern blue detected in Cage Eight," the TechDiv officer informed, superfluously, through suddenly dry lips. "It's an Angel."
***
Red eyes met red eyes.
"I have been waiting."
Well, that floored me. I skidded to a halt, right inside the Cage, the towering presence of EVA Unit 00 overwhelming to my senses.
The smaller, much more defined, presence also in the room was something I became aware of only there and then.
"It was open, you know."
The motion of the head indicated the twisted remains of the door. I remained silent, though feeling more than a little foolish. Jumping the gun indeed.
Wasn't she supposed to be ... elsewhere?
I was underpowered for this sort of confrontation. Scrubs, as in security, I was prepared to handle. This was a whole 'nother barrel o' fish.
"You are not Tabris," she stated. Not a question. "You should have been. Why?"
"Chance," I said, trying to stall for time ... something that I couldn't really afford doing _anyway_. Screwed, one way or the other.
Take a chance?
Well, let's see if the Nexus Sixes had something there.
***
Mistao Katsuragi's hands did not shake as she lowered the still smoking sidearm.
Despite the blast doors, despite the bakelite, the Geo-Front and Dogma had never been meant to stand against human insurgents. Hence the fact that several of the special operations squads the UN had sent in had managed to make their way in.
"Don't blame me either. Nothing personal, you understand." the purple haired woman said, echoing the words the squad leader had spoken not moments before. Said squad leader, and squad, lay inert on the cold metal floor, suffering from a terminal case of lead poisoning courtesy of Misato's semi-automatic.
The only other person still alive, Shinji Ikari, designated pilot of Evangelion Unit 01, Third Child, was shaking.
Not that she could really blame him. He'd almost been executed.
If there were no pilots, after all, the threat of the EVAs was no longer a threat. At least, according to the UN.
Asuka was safe. Arguably. The Evangelions were, at the moment, the safest place for the pilots. Certainly safer than the deathtrap that Dogma would soon become to its personnel.
"Come on, Shinji, let's go to the EVA."
***
For an instant, I wondered how two sensations that differed on so fundamental a level could be so similar.
This was not a D.D. Battlemover. It was substantially larger, heavier, and built using entirely different principles.
My consciousness was shunted forward nearly instantly, and while I was aware of and had a connection with the physical shell sitting in the Entry Plug, I was far more cognizant of the huge, one-eyed monstrosity that I'd 'become'.
"Akagi," I felt 'myself' say, the opening of communications channels and byways as instinctive as it had been all those months ago ...
The sound of bending restraints, the screech of tortured metal, the smell of friction heat heavy air.
I felt energized. I felt alive. I felt, in a small, yet significant way ... home.
The beeping of the battery power level warning made me feel slightly more home than I'd ever wanted to be again, though ...
"I'm here," the speakers in the Plug relayed. "An open channel?"
"Endgame," I 'spoke'. It was slightly disconcerting, watching my body as if it were merely a puppet on spiritual strings.
"NAGISA?!" the voice was neither his nor Akagi's. The popup window showing visual feed of the transmission let him identify the speaker as one of the so called 'bridge bunnies', Hyuuga or whatever his name was. "And Unit-00 ...?"
"Explanations later, saving the world now, please," Akagi cut into the conversation. "You have zero point five kilometers to the main deployment bays, zero point three into that route there's an emergency storage 'locker' for EVA scale armaments."
I routed the pain signals into a null-buffer, or at least something I thought of as one, in my consciousness and ignored the jarring impacts as the Unit and I tore our way from the Cage.
Then we ran.
I seemed to be doing that a lot these days.
***
Pressing onwards, stumbling, struggling with the onslaught of her own mind's making ...
There was too much there, too much given in too short a time ...
A hand dragging along one of the walls, pressing against it for balance as the body moved like a a puppet with its strings frayed and nearly broken.
Memories, feelings, drives and pure unadulterated emotion.
Not her own, therefore difficult to grasp ... the fact that these were more than merely simple knowledge. There was underlying emotional background to each single image, and each single image was linked to other images, and those were linked to further and further and further ...
Minutes felt like hours, as he subconscious mind dealt with the overwhelming press of information, sifting through the streams ...
A detached part of her consciousness noted, with an odd sort of fascination, that she seemed to be crying. A new sensation, certainly.
She stumbled into an intersection, not knowing why she'd headed this way, but realizing that it had not really been random chance that was driving her motive functions.
Fear. Anger. Danger.
Thoughts flashed through her mind, at the fore, and her head snapped up.
The click of safeties being released, the smell of gunpowder.
Recognition as the special forces soldiers bring their guns up, to aim at an unaware Major Kasturagi and Pilot Ikari.
The onslaught was pushed to the side, even as her consciousness leapt forward ...
"Shinji-kun ..."
The voice was little more than a whisper ... but it momentarily froze all movement in the corridor ... heads and guns swung around.
Red eyes narrowed.
The hallway exploded in a kaleidoscope of amber hexagons, as armed men were thrown about not unlike the contents of a blender set to high.
***
"Erster!"
Nine Production Series Evangelion Units. Three and a half minutes.
Twenty seconds per unit ... not impossible. Merely improbable. Still, improbable she could deal with.
Nine to one had already become eight to one.
"Asuka, we're sending up reinforcements through exit #20," Hyuuga's voice came from the speakers even as the red EVA dove underneath a swing of one of the Production Series' huge dual blades. "The Unit will provide covering fire so that you can proceed there and hook up to an umbilical cable."
"Roger," the determined grin on her face turned feral. "So, baka-Shinji did make it on time?"
In the distance, a set of blast doors built into a hillside slammed open, rails that served as the EVA's deployment system extending outwards.
"Not exactly ..." Makoto said, hesitantly.
Two of the Production Models turned, noticing the deployment preparations, and the Pilot of Unit-02 capitalized on their momentary distraction.
The weapon she'd taken from the downed EVA was heavy and unwieldy, but with the strength of Unit-02 behind the swing it did horrendous damage. The cumbersome looking dual bladed 'wing' was hauled around, biting into and smashing through the distracted white Evangelion's armor and flesh.
"Pay attention!" she shouted as she charged.
One arm short, and with the plating stripped from its upper chest, the targeted EVA reeled.
Asuka pressed on, catching the momentum of the swing, bracing the long weapon's 'trailing' blade with her EVA's left palm. It slammed cleanly through the EVA Series' malformed head, continuing forward to bury itself into the ground, pinning the white EVA's inert body to it at the same time.
A shadow flitted across the ground before her field of view, making Asuka jerk her EVA forward, and around, missing a beheading by a handspan ... well, an EVA's handspan.
The attacking EVA Series Unit tried to arrest the momentum of the swing, but before it could bring its weapon around in a manner similar to what Asuka had managed moments prior.
Evangelion Unit-02 leaned forward, seemingly into the eventual blow, as the right shoulder flange of the crimson biomechanoid popped its protective covers, firing a number of metal spikes that pierced and downed its assailant.
The explosion caught her off guard, the surprise enough to freeze Unit-02 in its tracks for a split second, as a column of fire and flickering energy in the shape of a cross shot towards the heavens, from where she'd downed the first of the EVA Series Units ...
A white EVA was thrown into the air, tumbling before it managed to get back to its feet, side a mess of charred flesh and molten metal.
It sprung back momentarily, looking for all the world like some rabid animal ducking an attack, as a heavy explosive round passed through the space it had occupied moments before and turned several dozens of trees into several gazillion pine-scented toothpicks.
A round from an EVA scale recoilless rifle.
"Asuka, that's your cover, get the umbilical!" Hyuuga's voice cut through her momentary puzzlement.
She turned, ducking the EVA low and brining it as close to a run as it could manage in that position, even as her eyes focused on the distant form of ...
"Unit-00?! You sent Wondergirl to ..." the trailed off. Hadn't Unit-00 been as good as destroyed?
The configuration of the EVA that crouched, recoilless rifle at its hip and sending a steady stream of explosives into the field of battle behind her, was that of the Prototype Evangelion. Roughly.
One eyed, with blue armored segments ... but those were few and far in-between, and occasionally warped and marred with black streaks of carbonized metal. The grayish synthflesh of the Evangelion could be seen, working between the armor gaps, but that in itself wasn't the surprising part. What armor and flesh there was on the limbs and torso seemed mismatched, the flesh somewhat darker, the armor a matte black with segments of red intermingling with the occasional leftover section of blue.
'Mein Gott, they reused parts from Unit-03?'
Another explosion, another cross ...
"Unit-02, be advised," the voice that came over a channel from the rag-tag Evangelion was definitely not Wondergirl's. "The EVA Series are equipped with S^2 Engines. Get the core, otherwise they'll just regenerate the damage, no matter how extensive it is."
***
"Rei!"
"Ayanami!"
The voices sounded unnaturally sharp in the sudden gray haze her senses had become enveloped in.
Slick droplets of slid down her face, the smell lingering in the air, giving it a coppery taste that turned her stomach.
A sound that seemed to reverberate through her very being resolved itself into the pounding in her temples.
There was pressure on her knees ... she'd toppled to the ground after ...
Her stomach turned again, as memories replayed themselves.
Emotions. Fear. Anger. Revulsion. Elation. A melange the likes of which she'd never let herself experience before had flashed through her, coloring her actions ...
She'd never _let_ herself be affected like that before, but this hadn't been a matter of willingly giving in.
The reemergence of the memories she'd shoved aside before broke the fragile hold she'd had on consciousness, and the last thing she felt were two pairs of hands stopping her from falling to lie prone on the bloodstained floor.
***
>four: for those who cry 'halt' at the end of the world ...
The gaze seemed devoid of any and all passion, but then, the beholder was not known to give into such comparatively minor things.
He'd spent a long, long time on preparations. Longer than anyone would have thought possible ... not that there were any still alive who knew that. Suspected, perhaps, but then suspecting and knowing were worlds apart at times.
He would twist the words and workings of so called prophecy to what suited him and his plans best, had done so in fact.
And men were so easy to guide. The only thing you needed was an incentive ...
Those idealistic enough were lured by professing higher goals, those with a monetary bent were bought ... and those who wished to work for a scheme of their own, to become puppetmasters who staged their own plays in hopes of taking the audience for their own ... those were perhaps the easiest of the lot. He simply hired them.
Let them play their games, let them think they were more than they truly were.
The others, the ever elusive members of SEELE, were perhaps the easiest he'd had to convince ... people of wealth, influence, rarely lacking anything in life. Save one thing, really.
It was, he found, utterly delicious irony. Their one true desire was the curse he bore. Not that they knew this.
In their eyes, her was 'merely' another of their own ilk.
Putting Ikari Gendo in place as head of NERV had made most of the others uneasy, simply because they saw in him what they saw in themselves. The man was pragmatic and ruthless, and observant enough to infer what the Committee had in mind ...
... that would have been Keele's evaluation as well, had he not been aware where Ikari's goals lay.
Though, where most of the Committee desired controlled Impact, but one controlled by their puppets and not Ikari's, the Chairman's desires were much, much simpler.
He merely desired Impact itself to occur.
This turn of events ...
On the holographic viewscreen hovering in the darkness of the SEELE virtual meeting room, the images of cross shaped explosions took form.
... was most troubling.
***
The chamber was as dark as it was immense, what illumination there was coming off of the huge, pale white shape pinned to the equally gigantic cross.
Lilith. The Second Angel.
Gendo looked at the crucified shape, his face as expressionless as a slate of stone. He could feel it. This was the culmination of what he'd been working towards for most of his life.
The gun in his hand felt cool, a small device of composite metals that was his final bit of insurance.
There was little chance of interruption this late in the scenario, but it was only prudent to be prepared for the eventuality.
Unexpected motion startled him slightly. Ayanami had been standing alongside him, face upturned and eyes fixed on Lilith. Now she'd moved, stepping forward, then in front of him ...
His 'protege's' eyes turned their gaze on him, then.
Some say the eyes are the windows to the soul. That you can, with a bit of experience, read what a person is thinking by watching them.
Be that truth of fiction, fact was that the man found something there that made him freeze for a moment.
A step, and two hands were clutching the lapels of his uniform jacket, pulling him forward and down with surprising strength for such a small frame.
Gendo Ikari experienced a moment of unprecedented puzzlement, mixed equally with shock, as the albino's lips met his own in an almost violent imitation of a kiss ...
Then he was gasping, recoiling after a second or so of sheer disbelief.
"R-rei, why did you ...?!"
In an altogether un-Ayanami like expression, the albino smirked.
"Why, lover, don't you recognize me?" she asked then, pouting. "Maybe it's because I'm not an 'old cow' anymore?"
The Commander of NERV had a moment to come to the realization who was speaking, after which he promptly realized another, far more important, fact.
The sound of falling brass seemed disproportionately loud, especially after the thunderclap of a round being fired sounded in the otherwise deathly silent darkness of Terminal Dogma.
Naoko Akagi took a moment to savor the sweet flavor of revenge before she emptied the magazine of Gendo's gun into the man's torso, making his body jerk like a rag doll being yanked around by its strings.
There was silence again.
The tinkle of breaking glass followed, as his spectacles crashed to the ground. The blankly staring Gendo Ikari fell in a bloody heap not a moment afterwards.
The clicking of a comlink.
"It's done."
***
My memories' clarity did not suffer from degradation. At least, not anymore. I hadn't had a problem with that ever since the ... mechanics ... of my mind had gotten digitalized a reality sideways from where I now stood.
And while I was no longer animating a Battlemover, the 'no degradation' bit seemed to apply to this new body as well. Maybe because my mind still wasn't just a series of bioelectric pulses going to and fro along the neurons of a biological brain. It was safely tucked away within the insanely tough shell that made up an Angel's Core, in a manner that I wasn't really entirely sure of, or comfortable with.
I was certain that an explanation would contain words like 'quantum' and 'meta-pattern', and maybe even 'giant chicken', so there was no real haste to investigate this more thoroughly on my part.
Still, as mentioned before, some things from my last shell ... stuck. I was pretty sure the Angel/human-hybrid body was trying to substitute an advanced form of regeneration for the absent repair nanos. The way my scanning by use of AT Field turned out looking and feeling reminded me of much missed LIDAR and echolocation sensor packets.
And then there was the fact that I could do something that almost seemed like a diagnostics call to my body. In effect, it was as if I were still in a machine ... but what is a human body if not a complex piece of biological machinery?
Which had at one moment led me to discover that there were bits of memories and ghosts of sensations that were definitely not mine floating around within the Clone shell.
Honestly, if I hadn't watched Aliens movies I wouldn't have figured it out for what it was. However, I wasn't going to start messing with data recovery from what was, for all intents and purposes, genetic memory.
Again, this hardly helped me out in the current situation. Such as it was.
Or wouldn't have. You see, there are many different kinds of memory. It's far from stable, even in electronic form. It's all about flux.
The question being, how do you recover those bits and pieces. Make them useful.
When interacting with the EVA, the huge cybernetic golem body becomes an extension of your own. That, at least, is the idea.
You get a modicum of access to its memory. Now, genetic memory doesn't help much in moments like this. Or, if it does, I was too ignorant to make use of it.
Since there was no soul filter there anymore, not even a Dummy Plug to interfere with input, there was no 'memory' as commonly understood by your average Joe on the street.
There was, however, something else ...
When you're stuck in a mechanical body with hardwired weapons and interface software, you don't really worry about not having skills. Shooting was as easy as thinking, as long as the hardware worked.
Hence my need to familiarize myself with handheld weapons after getting dumped into the prospective body of the Angel of lolicon yaoi.
So, logically, if the EVA acts as an extension of myself, should it be able to shoot at anything and hit it with any degree of accuracy?
No.
Which means that I shouldn't be able to do what I was doing there and then - using an EVA scale recoilless rifle to effect, holding the remaining EVA Series biomechs at bay, you name it.
How was I doing this?
Simple.
I cheated.
There are different kinds of memory.
EVA-00 had used this weapon before. Those muscle fibers remaining from the Cyclops remembered. The pseudo-neural tissue and the spinal cord recalled. In a way, it was like a driver package stored on the hardware you were plugging in.
The element of surprise managed to bag me two of the original nine EVA Series units, one already brought down by Unit 02 and one that was thrown by the explosion of the first one's Core, disoriented, and made an easy target.
The textbook idea of fire support died after less than a minute, though, for a simple reason.
Langley was just starting to tear up the ground in a slide that would bleed off enough momentum from her mad dash towards my position and the spare umbilical for her to snag said umbilical, when one of the enemy Units reared back, the 'wing-blade' in its hand shifting and twisting around into what would become a two pronged spear. A copy of the Lance of Longinus which, apparently, could go through an AT Field like a hot knife through butter.
The hastily aimed shot went high, scoring a glancing blow against the white EVA's chest armor. It was enough to knock it back half a step, and the Lance copy went off target ... speeding its way through the air with the sort of velocity that should be reserved for projectiles fired from linear magnetic accelerators.
It was a moment later that I noticed what the other Units were doing. Namely charging.
Which was when the idea of fire support died, and a deterioration into a fully blown down and dirty brawl began.
It died with no bang though. Rather, it went with a dull click.
The sort of click you get when your magazine's empty.
***
Asuka swore. Asuka cursed. Asuka invented a whole new language for the sole purpose of expressing her displeasure with the occurring situation.
Well, maybe not the last bit, though not for lack of trying. There was a limit to the amount of invention that could be achieved in the span of one minute.
The berserker high from just seconds ago had been brought to a rude halt with the first explosion. There were many things you could accuse her of, but the Second Child could think on her feet. The implications of the words whoever was piloting the patchwork Evangelion had spoken was clear enough ... hell, she'd seen the recordings from the Zeruel battle, where baka-Shinji's EVA had regenerated a cut-off arm in barely more than an instant.
Even with the sort of damage she'd been initially dishing out, she could see how that factor alone would have turned the fight from a victory blitz to a doomed battle of attrition.
EVA Unit 02 came to a halt, the dirt its slide had caused to shoot upwards falling down behind it. The motion of its hands was practiced enough to have become instinct, and a moment later the umbilical clicked into place.
An exclamation died on her lips when EVA 00 tumbled past, a half-sheered through recoilless rifle the only thing keeping the wing-blade of one of the EVA Series units from making contact.
It was a gut feeling more than anything else that had her putting Unit 02 into a sideways dive, a moment before another EVA Series unit crashed into her former location, driving its weapon more than a quarter of the way into the ground.
She brought her EVA back around, raising its arms, feeling the comforting weight that had appeared therein seemingly on its own accord.
It came around with her.
***
>five: life expectancy
The tumbling form cast a long shadow as it arced, then smashed into the ground. It spasmed, maw open in a silent scream, even as the lance impaling it through the center of its chest sparked with power.
Then there was no more sound. No more motion.
The display had been one of savage intensity, and the Geo-Front was a testament to it. Craters, wounds torn into the very earth, swaths covered in LCL and blood from the mangled remains of the giant combatants.
***
I'd never really liked Langley, as a character. I doubted I'd like her anymore as a person. But right there, and right then, I had a healthy dose of respect for her as a fighter.
I was also considering getting a fruit basket for Asagiri and Yamazaki, if they were still alive by the time I got back. The white EVAs were uncanny in that they reminded me of Doberman class combat boomers, in behavior and viciousness, if not in weaponry.
Hence the prospective offering of kudos.
If I got back.
I resolutely grabbed that thought and squashed it, scattering its ashes to the four winds. Metaphorically speaking.
Doubt was not something I could afford at this point of time.
The end result of the brawl, and what a brawl it had been, were the remains of eleven Evangelion units scattered over nearly the entire Geo-Front.
Eleven, because Langley had lost both of her Unit's shoulder flanges, and a fair bit of chest armor - enough to have the Core of Unit-02 visible when you knew what to look for - while Unit-00.
I was very glad for the fact that I still remembered how to ignore the inputs of pain receptors, and doubly so that I could apply it to this body. The blue-black bastard child of two EVAs' biomass and my warped mind was currently finishing reattaching its left arm, the armor of its right one was all but gone, and its Core was in full view - glinting in the midday sun.
The hairline fracture that ran across the red surface of said orb was slowly melting back into the material.
In all, we made a sorry picture. Still, we were standing ... well, kneeling in my case. They were not.
And I was pretty sure that they weren't about to get up anytime soon. Like this millennium.
Unit-02 hoisted the EVA scale axe it had used to such terrific effect onto its shoulder, adapting an air of overwhelming smugness as it looked at where the shattered remains of the Core of the final EVA Series Unit were strewn.
The UN troops, and I knew better than to assume there were no more left, were oddly quiet.
I was sort of hoping it was an 'oh shit, if we pull out now we're less likely to die, right?' sort of quiet instead of an 'okay, N^2 mine air-strike incoming in five, brace for shockwave' sort of quiet.
The brawl hadn't quite equaled war, in my mind. I'd had enough of that for the next decade or so.
Standard operating procedure in the aftermath of something this big would have been to move with the blow, trying to push forward as far as possible, and then draw back when the enemy managed to muster up a defense. Staggered retreat, setting traps and ambushes, and so on.
But then, that line of thinking had developed after fighting a war in a world where public opinion was pretty much the enemy's playtoy.
Here, things were ... not better, no. But far more ... political.
I had never been a political animal, nor did I want to be one ...
... still, that was what the Kami had come up with delegating responsibilities for.
&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp ***
"... GMT, UN forces moved in to 'pacify' the International Agency NERV, with orders to execute the pilots of NERV's Evangelion Units, and terminate any and all personnel on site. These shocking images were recorded by security cameras in the NERV complex." the mute images ran across the screen. UN blackops soldiers breaching NERV checkpoints, slitting throats and shooting guards in the back as they moved. Then firing on unarmed personnel when they came across any. "The radio broadcasts you will soon hear were intercepted and recorded from the communications network of the UN troops. How such a horrible scenario could ever occur in reality ..."
The cool, collected voice of Ritsuko Akagi spoke, even as the images continued to be broadcasted.
Not as a warning, sent merely to the respective governments ... it was streamed over whatever network the MAGI could access. This sort of tactic would have been impossible, had Ritsuko not been aware that the MAGI would be attacked and had she not acted preemptively to ensure her ability to do this very thing.
She'd briefly considered using this as merely political pressure ... but had then decided against doing so.
One way or the other, the world was ending ... it was just a matter of giving it an ending that was a few dozen centuries off, with humanity still there to see it.
'Or maybe the madness is contagious,' she thought semi-bitterly, considering the sanity of her past and most recent employers.
&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp ***
The trio staggered into the Cage. Staggered, because one of them wasn't in any condition to walk, really, while the other two weren't exactly of equal height, so support of the indisposed party was a largely haphazard affair.
Even at rest, the armored bulk of Unit-01 was enough to put a sense of awe and a vague premonition of dread into the heart of the casual observer.
Neither of the three were what you could call casual observers, though. Even though one was balancing on the precarious of near paralytic fear, the sight was one well known to him.
Rei Ayanami made a groaning sound somewhere in the back of her throat as her eyelids fluttered, and her eyes opened to glimpse the concerned faces of Major Katsuragi and the Third Chil ... Shinji-kun.
Compared to the earlier maelstrom of frightening intensity, the emotions were now somehow more manageable.
Her eyes, squinting against the seemingly harsh light of the Cage's ceiling fixtures, flew open as some of the already assimilated information ... memories ... struck her.
The same memories that had shown her Shinji-kun's peril presented her with a decidedly more sinister vision, and her face, usually devoid of emotions, took on an unfamiliar expression of anxiety.
"Major Katsuragi, the EVA Series ...!" she managed, before her voice broke, a pain in her throat interrupting her words. It was as if she'd screamed it raw, or so she imagined that sort of sensation would feel.
"Easy, Rei," the purple haired woman responded, sitting the blue-haired human/Angel hybrid against one of the Cage's walls.
The Major paused, blinking, taking in the fact that Rei's voice had been bereft of it's usual lack of emotions, if only by a small margin.
She'd instructed Hyuuga to give her an update if some critical changes occurred ...
The look of startled surprise when she reached into the pocket of her open uniform jacket, only to find a hole from a close (nearly too close) brush with a UN submachine gun round, her phone in tatters.
For a moment, she scrutinized the half-shattered mess of plastic and electronics.
She was broken out of the momentary reverie when Rei reached into one of the pockets of her uniform jumper, retrieving her own NERV issue cell phone, still intact.
A surprised expression crossed her face when said phone slipped between her fingers, her hand and entire arm minutely shaking.
Shinji snatched the falling phone before it could hit the ground. It was, he should have known, tough enough to weather that sort of impact without problems, but at the moment he didn't really have the clearest of heads.
"R-Rei? Are you alright?" he asked hesitantly, after Misato relieved him of the communications device. The blue-haired girl flexed her forearm, closing her hand into a fist. That was still lightly shaking.
"I ... do not know, Ikari-kun," the hybrid responded. "But we have other concerns now."
"Other ... what do you mean ...?" Shinji was about to finish, before Misato's surprised exclamation startled him.
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, NAGISA IN UNIT-00!?"
"Rei's words stopped in her throat as she saw Shinji momentarily freeze, the boy's eyes going wide, breathing accelerating until he was nearly hyperventilating.
Behind and below him, in the center of the Cage, Unit-01's eyes flashed as the purple and green behemoth came to life, seemingly of its own volition.
&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp ***
>epilogue one: forever is our today
&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp ***
>epilogue two: hope springs eternal
&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp ***
>epilogue three: discourse on disagreement
&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp ***
>epilogue four: wings to travel

---
Initially, the cliffhanger ending wasn't supposed to be one. If I find the epilogues to not convey what I want them too, this may change.
-Griever

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  Secrets
Posted by: NotDavies - 08-05-2005, 11:11 PM - Forum: IST/Supers - Replies (6)

So there I am, thinking about how various TV shows might be different in the IST world, when my mind drifts onto "JAG".
For those of you who don't know, this long-running, recently ended CBS show depicted the activities (both courtroom and otherwise) of lawyers in the United States Navy's Judge Advocate General. One of the show's central characters, Marine Lt. Colonel Sarah "Mac" MacKenzie, had some interesting, possibly psychic abilities.
Which concept abruptly gave me furiously to think.
In the IST World, of course, the U.N. Edicts prohibit anyone exhibiting metahuman powers from serving in the national militaries (or intelligence/security services) of U.N. member nations. Presumably, this means that any individual already serving in the armed forces will be given a medical discharge (or something similar) if they develop such abilities.
BUT. Given the subtlety of certain abilities, it is entirely possible that the individual could conceivably keep them a secret for some time. The hitch would be the regular physical examinations that military personnel are subject to; however, I believe that the state of the art in power detection can only reveal whether or not an individual has the metahuman genes, not whether or not they have been "expressed".
I suspect that, in nations prizing civil liberties (such as the U.S.) immediately after that test became available, there was something of an outcry from people who might lose their livelihoods if their "meta-potential" was discovered. It does not seem appropriate, to me at least, that people should lose their jobs simply because they might one day develop a condition which would require their resignation.
So the question is: are such genetic tests part of the routine physical in (for example) the U.S. Armed Forces? And what are the implications of the answer?
Chris Davies.

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