Futuristic At the Edge of the Apocalypse, an Eternal Principle

[SephirothSage]

Moonbase Zeta



​

Bartholemew grins wide at their answers, hands behind his back as he looks out over space- and then laughs softly as Huginn speaks. He nods slightly, hair framing his face beatifically as he stares out at earth.


"Yes, I suppose your right Irene. They entrust it not to their own hands- but to those of children who, as if by some magic hand, can pilot the machines they made to defend them. I don't suppose you've ever wondered 'why me', have you Irene..?" He muses aloud, staring at the Rift with a fond smile. He's not wearing a plugsuit- or even the special sealed vacuum suits designed for the personnel on the moonbase. He's clad in soft black pants, and a light silk shirt. "Why a child is the one with the power to save the world..? No, I don't suppose you have... you don't strike me as the philosophizing type." he muses aloud- before turning very deliberately to take Huginn's eyes in his own- a gentle and happy smile on his face.


"As for me... yes. I'll be in route to help eventually- as soon as they finish my Evangelion. Mrm... But don't worry. I've helped in my own ways already, I assure you." He says gently- turning to lean against the glass behind him as he faces the two pilots. "Ahh... look at me, rambling again. But, I am among friends- right? I'm sure I can afford to.. ramble on a bit. Thank you for entertaining me for this conversation, my friends." He says warmly- breaking eye contact to bow his head slightly.


 

#SurvivedKaiji



​

The bar is alive and passionate- vibrant and pulsing with life. It is as if the threat of impending doom has turned the sober, solemn citizens of Tokyo-3 into party animals- if only for one night. For one night, restrictions are loosened, ties down. Renee spots a few of the 'bridge bunnies' from NERV about- they lift their glasses and wave, and Tadakatsu grins wide as he turns to the barkeep, and foolishly offers to pay your tab for the night. There is little else to truly be said about the party, it would seem..


Until about two hours in, as things are winding down- and a Section Two agent, in full spook getup sits across from Renee at her table. He smiles coldly, and nods his head.


"Miss Director. The Arrangements for your housing shift have been finished. The Children will be alerted tomorrow, of course."

 

[Random Word]

Renée Durant


#SurvivedKaiju

Renée glowers suspiciously at the agent over her mostly empty wine glass, slumped in her seat, a cigarette perched precariously between her lips. "All I requested was a text. You wouldn't be here unless either something has gone wrong, or there's something about this I'm going to hate and someone wants you to suffer for it in their place. Something else I'm going to hate, I mean."

 

[Napalm on Toast]

Bartholomew managed to catch his eye, just for a moment. Cold blue pupils met warm yellow ones, polar opposites in both color and temperament. Huginn shifted his stance slightly to look away again without obviously turning from the boy. They were both manufactured, both creations of human ingenuity and scientific advancement, but he felt no kinship for the garrulous pilot. Not like he did with Irene.


“She doesn’t need to know,” he stated firmly, hesitation evaporating as he leapt to the girl’s defense. “She was chosen for this role, just as we were made.” For a moment he seemed like a different person, strong and confident and staring straight at Bartholomew. It didn’t last long. After a few seconds his eyes slipped away, pulled back to the window. His stance shifted to become less assertive, less noticeable, as if he wanted nothing more than to fade into the background.


Huginn watched their group in the window, the reflections of three chosen children. Friends? Is that what we are? Are we allowed such normal relationships? The scientists at the NERV branch in Germany had always been forthright with him, blatantly instructing him of his true purpose. Interpersonal relationships were never encouraged, even if he they weren’t punished for them. Had it not been the same for Bartholomew? He chose not to respond to the seemingly rhetorical question, letting Irene answer for both of them.

 

[Sherwood]

Natalia Romanova


Morning comes far too early for the young Russian pilot, but she manages to force herself out of bed despite the aches and pains of her body. With a groan, she rolls out of bed and heads to the bathroom to clean up as best as possible. After getting a shower and a cup of coffee, she makes her way out to her Vespa and heads to the base hospital. After all, she did leave her room without checking out.


Doctor Benson gives Natalia a glare. "Young lady, you managed to tear open several stitches, and you are damn lucky that your plug suit didn't fracture the already bruised ribs on your left side when it sealed up around you. It is imperative that you give your body a chance to heal."


"That sounds great in theory, doctor, and as soon as the Angels come on board with that, I'll happily do so. In the meantime, fix me up as best as you can and get me ready for action. Even with a second Eva in Tokyo III, we will need both units ready to deploy if another attack happens."


"Don't lecture me, Natalia. I won't just patch you up and send you off to get killed. You need to spend some downtime to heal."


Natalia lets out a sigh. "You may be right." She pulls out her cell phone and starts to punch in numbers. "Let me call the Director and I'll let you tell her that you are refusing to get me combat ready, and are putting the lives of every man, woman and child in the city at risk."


"Uh, there is no need to do that, now. I never said I wouldn't treat you. Just please, be careful out there."


With a nod, she puts her phone away and is about to make another comment when a small black shape scurries across the table. "Spider! SPIDER! Kill it! Kill it kill it kill it!"


Doctor Benson grabs a tissue paper and with a quick motion, squishes it and tosses the wad into the garbage. Seeing Natalia in true panic mode, he does his best to calm her down. "Its ok, I got it. It won't hurt you."


She manages to catch her breath as the fear slowly fades from her. Wiping away a fresh set of tears, she manages to say, "Th-thank you, Doctor Benson. I don't quite know what came over me."


"I believe I do. You are suffering from PTSD from you near death encounter with the Angel. If I can offer a suggestion, I would say that you need to seek some mental health treatment for it, and that might help you overcome this fear enough not to succumb to total panic every time you see a spider. I know several skilled psychologists that would be able to help you."


"Yes, I think that might be a good idea."

 

[DeusExAlice]

The Moon Base. In Spaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaace


Even Huginn's little supportive push didn't dull the temper flare at the other manufactured. How he said it was nearly as inciting as what he said. That absolutely false and programmed friendly nature sickened her.


He's even worse than Hugie when he gets into one of those moods.


She did her best to not swear at Bart over his insult at her, then just dismissing her like it didn't matter. To her credit, she kept a fairly straight face. Just a slight flutter in her right eyelid, the touch of a scowl fought down on Irene's lips.


He's just another fake person after all, he doesn't know any better.


Huginn's little rallying charge helped her. The words had cut her deep. The fact the little fake shit somehow doubted she hadn't spent more nights than not lying awake wondering on the why. Why the better pilot died saving her. Why did she survive so far when so many others hand't. Why was she granted the burden of being adept at synching with the evangelion.


She didn't have the answers, not any good ones at least. To dare say she hadn't thought on the why worried and unfuriated her.


A sharp grin came across her face.


Smile, smile and it'll cover up anything you feel underneath.


"Hey no problem. Glad your little social exercising can be entertaining. Not like there's much else to do. Although you probably aren't too bored, you never even got to experience the Earth. Don't know what you're missing down there."


She was grasping at straws, desperate to see those goddamned happy eyes narrow in frustration, the smile fade with hurt, the gregarious words cooled with pain. A soothing balm to share the momentary injury Bartholemew's words had caused.


"It's cold and I'm hungry. Later."


It was an abrupt departure, but that manufactured was even weirder than Huginn and always put her on edge. She wasn't really hungry but an excuse to go the mess hall was as good as any to get away from him. Also somewhere warmer. The outer layers were the coldest.

 

[Napalm on Toast]

Moon Base


Huginn watched the confrontation through reflections, as if avoiding looking at the real participants would help defuse the tension. He was as still as a statue, eyes locked to the window. Only when Irene stalked away did he move, glancing up at Bartholomew for the briefest moment. He smiled, although it was not necessarily a friendly expression. The meaning behind the mien could not have been more clear if he had tattooed the words on his forehead: You should know better.


Without another word he turned and followed after Irene, jogging for a few seconds to catch up. He didn’t walk directly beside her, but rather stayed a half-stride back, a position where he would be in her peripheral vision but not in her way. He longed to walk closer, to lean against her, to lend her some manner of support. Clearly the confrontation had upset her. I can’t do that, no, she won’t allow it. She’s strong, she must be strong. She would hate me for treating her otherwise. He could understand that... and he wouldn't do anything to make her hate him. He'd rather stop breathing.


Huginn didn’t talk until they were almost to the mess hall, murmuring softly. “Sorry about him.” Is there something more I can say? Something more I can do? With no windows to use he was forced to stare at the polished metal walls and floor instead. They didn’t reflect images as well, warping and distorting reality, making her expression impossible to read. He couldn’t come up with any more reassuring words. Huginn gathered a tray and moved not towards the main serving area, but rather to an industrial machine set up in one corner. Turning the spigot produced a thick, gelatinous substance with no real color. It tasted as bland as it looked. He collected the thick sludge in a metal cup, filling it precisely to a line near the top before cutting off the machine. It was a nutrient-rich paste, with enough proteins, vitamins, and carbohydrates to fulfill the dietary requirements of a full meal. It had been installed for him and Bartholomew and any other manufactured beings on the orbital base. The higher-ups at NERV weren’t taking any chances with unknown food allergies for their successful subjects. Then again, the food served to normal humans never looked much more appetizing to him.


Huginn moved over to Irene’s table and hesitated for a second, wanting so badly to sit next to her, hands shaking on the tray. He didn’t. Instead he sat across the table and one seat diagonally. It was close enough to talk easily, but not too close. No matter how badly he wanted to be closer. “We leave soon,” he said after a bite. “I won’t miss this place.” It was too clean, too sterile. It reminded him of the labs in Germany, of his room in the ward. He didn't enjoy the reminder.

 

[SephirothSage]

Moon Base

@DeusExAlice @Napalm on Toast



​

Bartholemew smiles softly as they turn to leave- speaking in a sad voice as they move away- bowing slightly; sighing wearily as they turn their backs, and he turns to look back out at space.


"My apologies. It wasn't meant as a slight... just to make you think about what I view as a serious subject. I suppose that we aren't friends, like I'd thought, then.... I'm sorry." He apologizes in a gentle, soft voice as they turn away- staring back at space. He sighs- and if they turn to look back, indeed.. for once, his face is a frown in the reflection in the glass before him. It doesn't suit him very well- and indeed, soon it fades away.


"I can't say I understand you, and that is what caused this error. I'll try harder to be pleasant next time." He sincerely states, as footsteps fade away from him, and he puts a hand on the glass- as if reaching out for earth, for the place he's being trained to defend- for the world he's never seen save from afar; a distant admiration agleam in his eyes.


As the other two pilots eat, a man drops a folder between them- a folder containing orders for their deployment to the Tokyo base in just under a month....

#Survived Kaiju

@Random Word



​

The Section Two Agent sighs- and then bows his head apologetically. "Indeed. Arrangements for your new living quarters are, as I said, going smoothly. However... it has been suggested that you inform the two children yourself." He explains softly. "You are to remain within your current dwellings for a few days, of course- but this address is the one that ended up being found- it fit almost all of your specifications, but will need some kind of expansion to fit more than three pilots and yourself." He says matter of factly, handing over a Dossier on her new residence- a high rise apartment far from the cost, but close to a Geofront elevator.

The Pilots Old Residence

@Bardiel



​

The Morning comes on Cassidy, as the sunlight creeps through the window. Natalia is already off and away- where, Cassidy doesn't really know. As she rises, cleans, and gets dressed she finds everything to be normal and in order- however, as she is fixing breakfast she hears a knock at the door.


When she goes to open it, a Section Two Agent with a briefcase is standing outside, waiting....

The Doctor's Office

@Sherwood



​

A Knock at the door disrupts the psychiatric session, however- and Dr. Benson frowns, pursing her lips. "What now..?" The psychiatrist murmurs with a frown- heading to the door and opening it- only to step aside for the Section Two agent who just showed up..

 

[Random Word]

Renée Durant


#SurvivedKaiju

"Make up your mind," she snaps. "You just finished telling me you were going to handle their relocation." She scowls, takes the cigarette in one hand, and downs the last of the glass. "Four bedrooms will do. Planning has never indicated more than three pilots. I'll fucking bivouac in the living room if necessary." Her scowl deepens, "I'm saving the fucking world, and you don't get to judge me for requesting cushy quarters. I've done my tours. I sat unmoving in rainforest at forty degrees for two and a half days in a FOB in preparation for an op." She thrusts a finger accusingly at the unfortunate agent, the empty wineglass still clasped in her hand. "You don't get to call me soft when your greatest foray into the wilderness on duty was probably driving an armoured range rover from here to Nagoya and back."


She slams her glass down on the table and looks away in disgust. "Untold billions to build them, tens of millions just to sortie, and they balk at tens of thousands as an unnecessary extravagance. Assholes. Authorized to command strategic air wings, but not to pick an apartment. Down two Angels, promoted to babysitter." She whirls again on the hapless agent, "How exactly does the ability to command a theatre translate to the ability to raise children? This is all because I'm a woman, isn't it?"


She slumps back into her seat, cigarette slipping from her fingers unnoticed, suddenly morose. "What the fuck am I supposed to do with them if they cry? If one of them throws a tantrum I'm probably going to hit it and then we'll have an international diplomatic incident and Project E will fall apart and we'll all die. Oh god, this is going to be a disaster."


Her eyes fixate again on the agent, as if she's just recalled his presence. "Oh, get the fuck out of here before I decide we need low altitude ground attack exercises over your apartment at 3 AM for the next month. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm trying to drink to forget and you aren't helping."


The Morning After

Renée groans and reaches blindly for her phone on the nightstand, finally grasping it after half a dozen attempts. She checks her texts and rolls her eyes.

Renée Durant

me

Text children for move

me

Find out how children work

me

Consider new career wit eye toward postapoclypse

She rolls over and quickly gives up identifying the stranger lying beside her. Instead she opts to kick him as she rolls out of bed, calling, "Whoever you are, you need to be gone by the time I'm out of the shower. Nothing personal, but I need to get to work." She staggers into the bathroom, wincing as she places too much weight on her bad leg.


She sighs heavily as the hot water hits her. One of the perks of being the ranking officer on base is there's no one to dress her down for being hung over.


Two Days Later

Renée lights a cigarette and leans over the balcony, addressing the Section 2 agent behind her, "Right, let's get this over with. Finalize your precautions and set up the security cordon. As of now the First and Second Children reside here. They should be here in..." she glances at her phone, "Five minutes. But you already knew that. And I'm babbling." She takes a deep drag and very slowly exhales. "I think I'm going to go get a coffee."

 

[Bardiel]

Cassidy Kelly


Myriad dreams had passed by throughout the night; terrible white limbs reaching out of the dark ocean, being consumed in flames, but later being welcomed with a smile, a cool and restful isolation, a private peace. The sunlight across the bed makes them scrunch their faces, before rolling over. The sounds of the city's growing activity come in unapologetically through the window, stirring them further. Kelly rolls over, and deactivates the alarm on their phone prior to it sounding. Same old habits, even if it is so unusual to get a quiet bunk to rest in.





Lifting themselves up, Cassidy sits atop their bed, eyes adjusting to the perpetual summer brightness outside. It feels odd moving between season so fast. Compared to home in France, it really is always summer here. Rising from the bed, Kelly begins his morning rituals: various exercises and quick reviews of procedure. After completion of the activities, Cassidy sits on their bed, browsing through the news media on their phone. Jeez, the news is even more heavily censored here than in France. It's all about the brave actions of NERV and great rebuilding projects. Only bit of soul these people was whatever this #survivedkaiju business from last night. Section 2 has already started taking down any imagines with NERV logos visible. Typical. Party poopers. Personnel, while acting within shore leave or off duty regulations, are allowed to enjoy themselves, you know. Done with the news, Cassidy looks up the tourist and fashion blogs for the city, before deleting them from the search history, their visage turning to a scowl.


Feeling the ache in their stomachs, Kelly is reminded to eat, despite the disgust it induces in them. Perhaps I should ask Natalia if she would like some breakfast. Maybe she would like my omelette au fromage? Once dressed, Cassidy proceeds to knock on the fellow Pilot's door, but to no answer. "Just wondering if you had breakfast yet, since I am making some?" His voice begins to trail off as he realises they aren't about, feeling a little disappointed for some unknown reason. Returning to the apartment's kitchen and with a quick check for some basics in the fridge, they set to work. Cracking the eggs into the pan is met with a familiar sizzling, evoking an unfamiliar sensation, like something long forgotten or repressed being hinted to. Before the connection is made, the inviting aroma is sniffed and a knock at the door is heard. Cassidy is greeted by an agent from Section 2, perfunctorially dressed in the normal suit, carrying a silver attaché case. Inside, the kitchen, the eggs begin to burn.

 

[DeusExAlice]

She didn't say anything to Huginn at first, not even a glance to acknowledge he'd said anything. Irene was not going to stoop so low as to gratefully take that apology. Instead she waited till they got their trays, knowing in a moment he'd be seperated as he went to get the...paste.


Her hand grabbed his wrist as he was reaching out for a tray. She squeezed tighter than she needed to, Irene wanted him to look her in the eyes to communicate how serious she was.


"Don't be like him. Do that then there'll be something to be sorry about."


Letting go she left him be there. He could enjoy his nutritional paper mache crap in peace or wherever. Her choice was a light salad, locally grown produce had been one of the early and necessary issues to overcome. It was simply to expensive to ship food up from the earth as often as they'd need to. There was even some livestock, but space and resources made it so any real meat products were a rarity up here. The other, later discovered problem, was that there were only so many combinations of plants you could try before it came out the same way everytime. The cooks gave it a good try though.


Another twist of the knife, that homesick feeling again. The bad memories that dwelt there.


The table was empty here she sat. Not many staff particularly liked her. Word had gotten around pretty quickly after she had a little altercation with one of engineer assistants. Irene had lost count of the number of times power got cut out when she was showering after that incident.


People hate what they fear, they fear what is strong.


The thought felt hollow, and that was more troubling than the antics of a lurking vendetta. Stabbing her salad with a fork was just a momentary distraction. Something to keep from picking at that concern for a little bit. It was almost a relief when Huginn decided to sit down with her- near her. Not that she'd ever say such a thing to him.


An amused huff came from her at Huginn's professed dislike of the place. It was cold and quiet, the similarities probably bothered him. The thought of leaving though. It excited her as much as she dreaded it. Even if she might die of boredom up here...it was quiet.


As if to reinforce that feeling, the file about their deployment arrived at that moment. Seeing it in person set her heart racing. The high feelings were too much and Irene started to laugh, a hysterical edge creeping in as she forced herself to stop. Trailing off into a slight chuckle, she slowly pushed the half-eaten salad to the side and opened up the file to pour over what was inside it.

 

[Napalm on Toast]

Huginn rubbed absentmindedly at his sore wrist as Irene started to rifle through their orders. He took another mouthful of nutrient paste, eating it without relish, mechanically. He only moved to pick up a page after the other girl had set one aside, eyes scanning the information quickly. He continued in this fashion, not reacting until…


The manufactured froze, not even breathing as he stared at a full-page picture of an Evangelion. It had dark grey armor with dull orange highlights. Its head was oddly shaped, a single circular viewport surrounded by plates of armor, less human in appearance than other models. Every inch of its frame was covered in overlapping layers of armor, yet its figure still retained a predatory sleekness. Huginn found his gaze drawn to its hands, but not seeing them whole and unmarred. His head ached. Memories he tried to forget threatened to crash into his mind, drowning him in their depths.


He stood up suddenly, almost knocking his tray to the ground in his haste. “I’m full.” He looked at Irene, a rare moment of unprompted eye contact, searching for something. He didn’t find it. It’s not her. Irene’s safe. I’ll keep her safe this time. His eyes slid back away. Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, Huginn left, shoulders hunched and head bowed so that he wouldn’t have to look at anyone, wouldn’t have to see the look on their faces.

 

[SephirothSage]

The Children at NERV

@Bardiel @Sherwood



​

Both Atache cases contain the same thing- something briefly and easily explained. A change in living quarters due in a few days, as on the Director's orders they are moving to live with Renee. The men nod after dropping of their respective cases- and then slip away adroitly. They leave before they can be argued with, and smile faintly as they are gone.


Two days later, they arrive wherever you are to drive you to your new home and take your packed up belongings towards the new house. Two days later, there you are- before the apartment complex that is now your home.

Two Days Later

@Random Word



​

As Renee walks back out with her coffee, she beholds a sleek black car rolling in- and disgorging the two children out below her. She has a perfect view from the Balcony as the two pilots approach the residence she had Section Two pick out for all of them. The agent driving had of course paged you about them a minute ahead of time, as he pulled up on the building.


The Children Emerge, to see the operations director staring down from a balcony- and the Director gazes on as the children emerge one by one from a car. The question is, of course, how they will handle this...

 

[Sherwood]

Natalia Romanova


The Russian pilot looks out the window of the car as it drives them to the new home that she will be sharing with the other pilots and Renee. Why are we being housed with her? Did we do something wrong, or is this supposed to be their idea of a bonus for us? Suffer on in silence; it is the Russian way.





Grabbing her duffle, Natalia climbs out of the car and looks around the new neighborhood, and sees that they are being watched. She glances up at Renee and gives her a nod, then looks over at Cassidy. "Well, one benefit of being first here is that we get our choice of bedrooms before the other pilots get here. Lets go check out our new digs."

 

[Bardiel]

Cassidy Kelly


Taking the case and examining the papers contained therein surprised Cassidy. A reassignment of quarters to that of the Commandant's residence?! I didn't expect this... Realising the implication that they'd be living with Renée and Natalie, Kelly felt themselves blush a little. Commandant... living with your CO is not normal when there is a centralised base of operations, sure, in the field there are provisions for it, but when on a base, in a city? After taking the burnt eggs off the heat, Kelly sat silently at kitchen table, considering the new orders. From surprise to excitement, apprehension took hold as the difficulties such an arrangement could present, their thoughts lingering on the black bag in the adjacent room.


Two Days Later


The journey in the car had been largely in silence, with Natalia staring out of the window absent-mindedly. That was not to say she had been unfriendly in the slightness, simply they were both confused as to the reason for the new arrangement. Stepping out of the car, Cassidy replied to her, "Your right, I suppose. I wonder how many of us are expected to live here. Certainly looks better than a barracks." He tried to make light of the situation, trying to foster the nascent camaraderie with Natalia. Looking up, Kelly saw their commander looking down from the balcony, cup in hand. "Legal de Gout, I hope," Cassidy muses to themself. "Might not be so bad after all." He flashes smile to Natalia, replying in a more upbeat tone.

 

[SephirothSage]

Four Weeks Pass...



​

And as they do, things are peaceful in a strange way. The Reconstruction efforts whistle by in the first week- finished within half a week by the expert hands of crews trained for far larger scale destruction than what this opening skirmish act unleashed. The city is quiet and at peace- as people go about their daily business and work, from building to building within the intricate web that is the collapsing city of Tokyo-3.


Quiet and at peace- as one of this cities valiant defenders stirs to awareness inside her bed. Renee is not quite sure who the man beside her, snoring quietly and still asleep is- though she vaguely recalls that he was one of the marines at the Kaiju survived party. Her head is pounding something fierce, as if a band is marching through her skull and encouraging her hangover to be worse by the moment; a delusion of the mind caused by the upside down position she woke up in, but still. She is halfway hanging off of the bed- as she stirs to awareness quite fully.


Meanwhile, downstairs where the pilots reside within the cushy, incredibly comfortable domain that is their home... a different kind of chaos stirs. Natalia awakes with a rather more complete memory of last night- where the Director, for the umpteenth time, arrived home just an hour before the pilots where ready to settle in for sleep dragging a strange man upstairs and into her room, and proceeded to be noisy enough to keep them up that extra hour...


Meanwhile, in the room across the hall from Natalia's, Cassidy sleeps on with headphones tight over her ears to block out the noises that came from upstairs last night- curled up into a moderately adorable position with his pillow.


And as all of that chaos readies itself to unfold- the next act readies itself to open. A pair of Evangelions- encased in extra layers of steel, drop pods enfolding them, are being prepped for drop. It's a procedure scheduled for tomorrow- but the pilots are being run through the procedure with the full drop pods encapsulating their Evangelions. Bartholemew watches from the bridge- having been oddly subdued over the past few weeks; apologetic for his misstep at first, but gradually simply... meek and polite in most things. His smile has not wavered since last time- but he has been constantly attempting to provide calm, encouraging care and words from the sidelines. As the droll voice of the instructor points out to them how they are to control the trajectory of the drop pod with their AT Fields spread around it, Bartholemew speaks up in a soft, calm voice.


"It's really quite easy. I have faith you should be able to do it- you just need to... focus on spreading the field wider than usual- then wrapping it around your pod. Not like a Drill- unless you want to damage whatever you hit.... but like a cushion of air. Within the AT Field, your will is absolute, dominating reality and physics... so really, just demand with your will that the Light of your Soul act in that way, and it should!"

 

[Random Word]

Renée Durant


Steel Rain

Renée opens her eyes and immediately regrets it, rolling over with a groan and retreating under the covers to escape the searing fury of the unshielded fusion reactor someone has inconsiderately placed outside her windows. "Windows! Why did I ever ask for those? This should have been a basement unit," she mumbles sleepily as she snuggles closer to the convenient source of warmth and comfort in a world under siege. "Clearly Third Impact has happened and we missed it. I think the only rational choice is to stay in bed forever..." she searches for a name, or a face for that matter, to go with the warm body she's wrapped around. Failing miserably to dredge up either, she reluctantly lifts the covers with one hand and peers cautiously out to survey what she can only surmise must be the blasted wasteland Earth has become if the damage suffered during her brief exposure is any indication. She examines his face for several seconds, wracking a mind in disarray from the ongoing danger close barrage someone has called on her bedroom, followed by several seconds of dawning horror as she realizes where she recalls this face from.


She sits bolt upright in an instant, digs her fingers into the sheets, and squeezes her eyes shut. "Fuck!" Finding this exclamation cathartic but nowhere near up to the situation before her she repeats this several times for good measure. "How much do I outrank you by? If either of us breathes a word of this we'll both be court martialed and I'll be lynched, and then inevitably that will be when an Angel shows up, and then the chain of command will be in disarray and we'll all die." Renée rubs her temples in a vain attempt to quiet the pounding. "Couldn't you see I was too drunk to make sound decisions? Why the fuck did you let me do this? And why my apartm-" she freezes mid sentence and groans morosely. She slumps back onto the pillow in defeat. "Section 2 has recordings of us entering together. Okay, I may have a problem," she admits grudgingly, hazarding a glance at the empty bottle of vodka on the end table. "But only if I can't fix this. Everything might still be fine. The trains had stopped, you needed somewhere to sleep, I let you crash here. I can order the children to corroborate. I mean, I can't, but they might not know that. Please tell me you aren't in my chain of command," she implores.

 

[Napalm on Toast]

Space


Drowning hurt.


Technically, ‘drowning’ wasn’t the right word for it. Being submerged in LCL was nothing like being submerged in water. Thick and viscous, the material provided a pilot with plenty of oxygen even when it filled their mouths and throat. It was literally impossible to drown in it. Yet there was no overcoming millennia of evolution. The body, when greeted with a lungful of liquid, reacted as if you were drowning. And it hurt. It felt like being punched in the chest, knocking the wind out of you even as you wanted to curl up against the pain. Huginn fought back those reflexes. He kept his mouth open and throat relaxed, barely shuddering as the yellow LCL drained over his tongue and filled his innards. He blinked once when it flowed over his eyes, but that was his only outwards reaction. Soon the entire entry plug was filled with the slightly warm substance, engulfing him entirely. It tingled. He reached out to grip the hand controls, fingers curling around the sticks, fingers finding the appropriate grooves by instinct.


“Unit 04 coming online. Activating visual uplink.” The inside of the entry plug flashed, darkness transformed into an image of the Evangelion’s surroundings. The hanger was huge to accommodate the massive size of the mechanical suit. Words buzzed through his ear, commands from control, but he paid them no mind. He’d been put through rigorous training, even piloted an Eva before- No. Best not to think about that. “Establishing synchronization. Taking direct control.”


“Affirmative,” hissed the voice through his earpiece. “Deploying Orbital Drop Pod additions. Hang tight for now, Pilot 04.”


Huginn didn’t bother to reply. Massive robotic arms unfolded from the walls and ceiling, holding huge sheets of reinforced armor. They locked the segments of the drop pod into place around the Evangelion. The armor plates were specifically built for Unit 04, fitting perfectly around its giant frame. Hydraulics hissed as the sealing clamps activated, locking the pieces of the protective gear together. Another arm moved along the gap, sealing it with a heat-retardant foam that would harden within minutes and secure the pod’s integrity. Various technicians and engineers sounded off on the line, confirming that the pod was properly aligned and sealed. “Connecting short-term power source," he stated once all the checks were complete. Huginn carefully reached behind him, guiding the Evangelion with his mind as much as with the controls. The pod contained a small,high-output generator with a umbilical attachment. He gripped it, pulling out the cord and hooking it into the socket on the unit’s spine. A series of green gauges blinked into existence in his peripheral vision, as well as a digital countdown indicating how long the generator would last. "Umbilical cable attached. Exterior power connection established. Ready for deployment.”


“Confirmed. Deployment happening in three… two… one…”


The flooring beneath the Evangelion simply dropped open, exposing Unit 04 to the vacuum of space. Huginn carefully activated one of the pod’s thrusters, carefully manipulating the Evangelion until he was floating on the exterior of the base. More commands crackled through the speaker, but he ignored them. Waiting. It wasn’t until Irene’s Evangelion was also deployed that he acknowledged the instructor. Bartholomew chimed in as well, providing some more guidance. Huginn didn’t really listen to them. He never did, really. For some reason, whenever he was in an Evangelion, the A.T. Field just made sense to him. He didn’t imagine it as light, but rather... it was difficult to describe. It was almost like humming, but with your whole body instead of just your throat. That odd combination of sensory input, feeling and hearing the action at the same time, but so much. Words failed.


“Spreading A.T. field,” he relayed softly. There was very little outward indication of his success. The surface of the pod seemed to warp like a mirage, making its surface blur for an instant before returning to normal. A piece of space debris struck the field, sparking off a flash of concentric yellow ripples that spread out from the point of impact. “A.T. field deployed. Test successful.” He waited for more orders, eyes glued to Irene’s Evangelion on the viewport.

 

[DeusExAlice]

She laughed at them when they told her how she was getting to earth.


One of those crazy orders you give someone to make them all nervous, then slap them on the back when you tell them you were just yanking their chain.


Except they weren't.


Dropping from the air wasn't that unusual, but from that height? The reassured her between the drop pod and AT field there was no danger. It wasn't even a hot zone they were landing in. Wrestling with the AT field always made her nervous. She could understand the basic idea, even use it to a degree...but trusting in it was always something that made Irene uneasy.


The days leading up to the drop had left her on edge, Barty actually hadn't been that bad. He just seemed to try to help, trying to placate. Easy to be so carefree about it when you aren't one of the ones plummeting at the Earth from orbit. Still, yelling a few times at his patient face had helped. Irene had even slapped him on the arm before leaving and telling him to take care.


All the built up tension and stress she had been feeling about this drop and going back into active duty faded with every passing moment in the cockpit. In that seat, submersed in the LCL she felt like lightning coursed through her veins. Huggin and Bartholemew might have been made for this, but Irene felt that she was born for this.


Once the doors open a tingling, almost weightless, sensation crawled up her legs. Not her legs, but the EVA's. It was all going like it had in the simulators. The measured and carefully directed exit from the station. Barty was still there even, still trying to help with suggestions about the AT field.


Were all of the replicated humans so capable at manipulating the AT field?


Part of what he said made sense. It was like putting a boxing glove one. That was what she thought of as she spread her AT field.


Then the order came for launch. Just a flip of a switch and everything started shaking as the rockets flared to life to give the pod enough momentum to leave the moon once and for all.


It was at that point Irene recalled sea sickness was one of her bans. The Earth was a long ways away still.

 

[Sherwood]

Natalia Romanova


When word comes to her that they are expecting new pilots, she is not surprised. She is, however, somewhat taken aback at the method of their arrival. "An orbital drop? I've studied that, but never actually had to do one. Just sims. Not quite the same, I'm sure." Another thing that she is certain of is that there is going to be a corresponding event from the Rift and that at least one bit of nastiness will arrive with them. Nat looks up from her briefing booklet and asks, "What time do we suit up to be ready for any 'events' from the other side of that thing up there?"

 

[Bardiel]

Cassidy Kelly


The past month passed in an unexpected manner. Cassidy did not know what to expect moving in with the Commandant and Natalia, but whatever the expectation had been, they did not take into account the adult's behavior. To suggest disappointment might imply some form of morality judgement; certainly not the case. I'm not some love sick teenager. She is the Commandant behind the defense of humanity, directing us to defeat the Angels. She can be with whomever she pleases. Sure, I might not have expected quite so many late nights, but then again, I'm not as mature as she is. Although, truth be told, I would have liked her to have noticed the effort I've been putting into training. Of course, I don't expect her to understand what I've had to do... Or not do, but, you know... I suppose I am being unreasonable. She needs us Pilots to be ready and capable. That's what we have been training for all along, it is our duty, our responsibility. Natalia has been fun to live with though. She's pretty outgoing, even if a bit reckless. She doesn't know, thankfully. I've been careful. I don't think the Commandant would be happy if she did. Or any of them. It could cause problems. I can't risk that. I try not to. It is hard though. Sometimes I wish there weren't any mirrors, but that is just ignoring things... ignoring myself, ignoring them.





The notice of the new Pilot's arrival was expected, though to hear they were arriving by Orbital Drop was something of a surprise. It is incredible to think they are lucky enough to have an actually Orbital Deployment with an Evangelion. I am jealous. To see the star, the Moon up close. And the Earth. As it really is, with out PR bullshit to distract from our Home, what we are all trying to protect. War divided us before, over petty boarders. Now we are united together. Of course, that is naive, to not think so is foolish, but if we don't fight for that unity... that acceptance, then there is nothing left for us. Acceptance...

 

[SephirothSage]

Event 04- ~Let us Cling Tighter~



​

All seems to be going according to plan both in heaven and on the earth; both for the Wardens of Hell's Gate, and the sentinels yet to descend from the heavens. It seems to be a perfectly normal operation, all things considered- as the two pilots in the heavens feel their souls expand, and Bartholemew smiles gently from the observation deck even as the man who was supposed to be giving the directions scowls angrily at him.


Everything seems normal, as the Marine in her bed blushes abashedly at Renee- as she realizes he's one of the men from the cleanup crew, not one of the men under her direct jurisdiction as part of NERV- it seems she stayed somewhat sane in her cups last night.


Perfectly normal, as Natalia and Cassidy muse together about the incoming pilots- wondering what kind of Angel they will face tomorrow.


Absolutely normal, as one by one the citizens of Tokyo three awaken...


And then, a pulse of energy erupts from the eye. A pattern blue wavelength is detected, and the cities alarms begin to sound. The pilots home sprouts blast shielding over all the windows rapidly, and alarms blare audibly within- loud enough to stir the dead from slumber. Those watching from orbit witness a faint surge of blue light briefly flicker about Tokyo-3....


As Bartholemew pales visibly on the observation deck- they cannot see him of course, but at the same time- they hear him. Panic in his voice, as he raises it higher than they have ever heard- and he screams out. "It comes! The Mother of a Thousand Young, she comes! This is no longer a test- you must go, you must! She'll consume them all if there are only two!" He cries in panic- slamming down a button on the board before him to trigger the actual drop pod launch; rockets flaring into life as he is smacked to the ground by the Marshal beside him- just as the camera flickers up, they see him being backhanded to the floor in retaliation for his action...


Even as the pods they have expanded their AT Fields around begin to hum and stir to life. Bartholemew smiles serenely on the floor. "...Good Luck. I think you'll need it, against Her.." He murmurs softly, before a flicker of light on his outfit triggers, and his eyes roll back; his body passing into unconsciousness rapidly afterwards- but still, it's all too late, as their link with HQ dies down- and they are sent flying through space- straight towards Tokyo-3...


Even as the pattern blue alarms wail and drone about Tokyo-3...


And the portal, the rift, the hellmouth....


Widens and trembles.

 

[Random Word]

Renée Durant


Steel Rain

The earsplitting klaxon of the Pattern Blue alarm emanating from her phone quiets Renée's panic in an instant. "Oh, thank god. An Angel," she sighs in relief as the room is plunged into darkness. Extreme sleep deprivation is a key component of armed forces training, and serves her well as she leaps from her bed and begins donning her uniform in the mechanical fugue which allows her to function in the face of even the worst hangovers. She won't have to think about the actions of her body for at least the next ten minutes, and lets it run on automatic. "Get your cute ass in uniform and get to your post, soldier. This isn't a drill," she says, reaching for her phone as she pulls on her jacket. A large red countdown shows 47 seconds until the VTOL touches down on the rooftop patio. Realizing the bottle on her end table isn't quite empty, she finishes it with one swig and bolts out the door.


"Romanova, Kelly, you have thirty seconds before our airlift arrives. Elevator in 17!" she yells as she runs through the kitchen and puts on her shoes, not bothering to lace them until she reaches the elevator doors. She shoves her earbuds in and connects to the command channel.


All districts evacuation in progress.


Tokyo-3 airspace is now military only. Redirecting 17 inbound flights. Two emergency landings in progress.


EVA Units 0 and 1 systems crews report go for initiation sequence. Starting checklists.


Queuing articulated plate system tests in evacuated districts, reports pending.


All non-essential utilities shifting to emergency shutdown, prioritizing defensive subsystems.


As the elevator doors close she addresses the pilots and adjusts her beret, "I expect the both of you to perform as admirably as you did last time. NERV demands nothing less, and another overwhelming victory like that will do a great deal to vindicate the program. We're all confident you can do it again."


The elevator doors open onto the rooftop patio and the hot exhaust from the Bumblebee washes over Renée, her hair billowing around her as she ducks low and makes for the open doorway, one hand holding her beret in place. She grudgingly accepts the proffered hand of the airman as he pulls her inside. She straps herself in and continues listening as the Bumblebee joins a formation of Hornets in midair and begins accelerating hard towards HQ.


All echelon 1 standing forces report combat readiness.


First and second line weapons pylons deployed and online.


Unit-01 has cleared the first 4000 checklist entries with no failures. Declaring L minus three minutes.


Lunar Orbital acknowledges Pattern Blue, requesting synchronization with C3 net. Compensating for transmission delay.


Lunar Orbital reports unauthorized launch of Units-03 and 04. Enlil System engaging Stage 1 Burn. Accelerating from 5 km/s to 10 km/s over 120 seconds.


Lunar Orbital attempting to rescind launch codes.





"This is Lt. Col Durant. Belay that order. Units 03 and 04 are to continue launch in progress. I repeat, Units 03 and 04 are cleared for Earth transfer. As of now they are under NERV HQ command."


Confirmed. Unit-03 and Unit-04 joining C3. ETA ten hours seventeen minutes to aerobraking on projected trajectory.





"Shift the projected splashdown site from three hundred to twenty kilometres offshore to speed recovery. Patch me through to Units 03 and 04."


Issuing evacuation warnings for areas within 200 km of new projected splashdown sites.


Channel open.





"Lt Drecker, Lt... Huginn. This is Lt. Col Durant. As of now I am your commanding officer. The Third Angel has been confirmed and your transfer to Earth has been accelerated. As you've been briefed, your impact will make immediate recovery impossible. Once the winds and tsunami have run their course, a heavy lift wing will recover both of you from your splashdown sites and transfer you to Tokyo-3 where, if the Third Angel has not already been terminated, you will immediately sortie. You have ten hours until splashdown. I recommend you get some sleep. Durant out."


Enlil System confirms Stage 1 Burn complete. Beginning Stage 1 separation.


Stage 1 separation successful.


Initiating 17 second Stage-2 manoeuvring burn to adjust angle of declination to new target beginning in 30 seconds.





"Well, it looks like we only have to hold out ten hours until the cavalry gets here. I'd suggest you leave some of the Angel so the new pilots won't be disappointed when they land, but that would be fantastically stupid. Kill it," she says, smiling grimly.

 

[Napalm on Toast]

Space


A brief smile played across his face as he watched Irene successful manifest an A.T. Field. It was just confirmation that she was worthy of his respect and devotion. One of us has to be strong enough to save the Earth. He activated the radio with a flick of his thumb. "Test complete. Returning to base-"


Bartholomew's panicked voice sounded over the radio. Huginn froze for a moment before spinning the pod around with a few deliberate thrusts. He could see the rift from here. It was an angry red wound on the planet, naturally drawing the eye by virtue of its alien nature. Its crimson glow visibly intensified, indicating that an Angel was emerging. He quickly muted the station's non-pivotal transmissions, filtering out all of the lower-security communications as they erupted into frenzied activity. All he kept open was a line to lunar command and one to Irene's Eva. The next person to speak wasn't Bartholomew, but rather the instructor. The man's voice shook as he gave them instructions. He was scared. I'm not. Should I be? The only scary thing would be... His eyes went to Irene's unit again and he didn't finish the thought.


The manufactured activated Unit 04's beacon as the heavy lift rocket launched from the base. The transport ship flew towards him, homing in on the signal. Magnetic clamps on the prow of the ship locked onto the metallic exterior of the pod. The pilot provided him with a five-second countdown before activating its primary engines, pushing them into heavy burn. Orange exhaust gushed its bow, shoving the pod and Evangelion through space. Even within the drop pod and submerged in LCL he could feel the sudden inertia, a sharp contrast to the weightlessness of moments before. A projected trajectory flashed to life on his display, their course meticulously plotted out by the computers on the base to account for their current position and the planet's spin. It would take a little over ten hours for the rocket to shove him close enough to the upper atmosphere to commence with the orbital drop.


A chime sounded to indicate he was receiving a high-priority message from Earth. A woman's voice spoke directly into his ear, identifying herself as his planet-side commanding officer. Huginn listened closely to her orders. Although it was true that their briefing had mentioned the consequences of landing an object as massive and heavy as the Evangelions from orbit, the situation had changed. If there was an Angel present, they would have to alter their plans. Instead of responding aloud he simply clicked the radio twice in the affirmative. Huginn pulled up a more detailed projection of their route and landing zone, icy eyes studying it intently. He set the Evangelion's onboard systems to calculate alternate trajectories for landing closer to Tokyo-3. Its processing power paled in comparison to even the simplest supercomputer on the base, but with ten hours it should have plenty of time to crunch through some basic calculations.


After several moments he muted his outgoing radio... except for a tight-beam transmission with Unit 03. He keyed it to life. "Time to go home," he murmured over the channel. The communication would doubtlessly be recorded, but he figured that NERV had enough on its plate that eavesdropping on their conversation would become a low priority. Besides, he wanted to hear her voice, to remind himself that it was different now...

 

[Sherwood]

Natalia Romanova


From her position inside the aircraft on the way to her Eva, she feels the rush of excitement come over her. I knew that there would be an Angel coming out with the arrival of the two new pilots! Lets show them how we do things here on Earth! "I copy your last, colonel, but I make no promises that there will be anything left for the newbies to do other than cleanup whats left of the Angel when Cass and I are done with it!" She flashes a grin over at her fellow pilot. "Cassidy and I have been flogging through the sims and have come to know a bit of how the other thinks and reacts. If a worse case event happens, we'll play defensive and keep the Angel tied up until all four Eva's are on site, then we'll kick its ass. Just a question; did the R&D department ever get that Eva sized sword ready to go yet? I would love to be able to cut this bastard down a few notches."

 

[Random Word]

Renée Durant


Steel Rain

"That's what I like to hear, Lieutenant," Renée winks at Natalia. "As to the Magorox, I'll let them know how enthusiastic you are about their work. Perhaps it will inspire sudden insight. The Mk. III prototype melted after the vibration caused the radiators to separate from the actuators. The Mk. IV shattered after an unanticipated harmonic resonated with the oxidized alloy on the outer later. Cross your fingers for the Mk. V."