Cool waves, bright red without the aid of any visible sun, sloshed lazily upon the shores. Its measurable intervals of contact upon the sand would make any mind its most calm and peaceful. There were only the red, scintillating sea and the burning sky. At the horizon, there were but sparks and flashes of light to be seen.
   "Shinji-kun," a voice called, and everything melted away as Shinji Ikari opened his heavy eyes. "You're done for the day. Nice work." And with that, Ritsuko Akagi's image disappeared. The plug fell dark brilliantly, and Shinji blew out as much LCL as he could from his system before he stood up and exited.

The sound of a gun clicking hot, then snapped free. A hand raised, thumb up.
   "Good to go," a voice said. There were no voices after that, just more thumbs raised.
   Nods were given between the black figures. One of them, presumably the leader of the group, made a chopping motion in the air, and the huddle broke swiftly, separating into two groups.
   The room became empty within a second's wink. Another look at the scene would reveal a red light, its frustrated blinking shining through a rugged black blanket which hung over the camera's lens.

A red-haired woman leaned against the wall by the showers. The male showers. This should have been strange, yet it was not anymore. Also, the place was not silent. There was more than the hum of the facility's machinery, the lone sloshing of the bath within shower room. There was conversation, and it was not strange anymore, either.
    "So how is the new job suiting you?" came from within. This was a common question, and had been for some time now.
    "Fine," was the common answer, as always. "Tired of sitting in a vomit tank yet?"
    "For years."
    "Hey, Shinji?" the woman asked, her eyes rolling to their sides, as if she would see him better this way.
    "What is it, Asuka?" More water sounds dripped from within.
    She did not answer, and instead tilted her head back against the wall, staring blankly at the ceiling lights in thought, contemplating. For some time, conversations had been like this -- the same script, the same dialogue, the same empty air and nervous tension. The latter had evolved with time. Soryu Asuka Langley, now Captain Langley, had been waiting for the boy like this since she joined NERV.
    Asuka chuckled quietly to herself, the same smirk always presenting itself when she thought that far back. It had been a complicated time, she was a complicated person. Things had not quite changed since then, but yes, they had more or less evolved. Time does that, and time spent with someone one hates does that to a greater degree. In the end, however, Asuka was snickering at herself for contemplating the past, an unchangeable thing, something she had been annoyed to see Shinji doing.
    "Nothing," was her final reply. "Hurry up, huh?"

There were five of them here. A nod, and each one scurried to a separate spot in the dim room.
   One had positioned himself by a set of doors, pushing it slightly open and peeking intently towards the other side. A second later, he gave a thumbs-up signal, and, after receiving four separate nods in return, he disappeared behind the doors. If things went right, he would be back within a number of minutes, with a hostage.

"They have set off," declared an echoing voice.
   It was a perfectly dark room, with only the ring of monoliths to disturb its solidity. In its center stood a figure, remaining concealed due to the lack of light upon his shadow.
   "If we are fortunate, you may not have to perform a brute's work."
   The figure nodded, and for now, the monoliths disappeared, and there was nothing more.

The two Children walked down the halls of NERV without words. The Third occupied his mind with the blankness of the facilities while the Second stared at the floor in thought. She would occasionally sneak a glance or two to the young man in front of her, and then turn her gaze back towards the white tiled floor. It was as if she had something to say, but could not put voice behind it. So she remained without a word spoken as she raised her head again, as if the back of the Third Child's head would give her an answer or sorts.
    And that was when an unfamiliar voice presented itself.
    "Don't move." It was low, and accompanied by the familiar sounds of a handgun being drawn. "Put your hands behind your head." The infiltrator had already begun moving towards the two of them, the claps of his feet upon the ground bounding aloud. There was no need for his silence any longer.
    Shinji suddenly felt extremely weak and little. Fright, recall, frozen. He was understandably surprised to see that Asuka's breathing was more hurried than his. And though her expression betrayed the sudden fear she felt, she also seemed lost, mad. The boy could have sworn he heard growling from within.
    He was probably right. Because the moment the intruder reached around from behind to confiscate her own gun, she decided to scream, spin, and slap away his outstretched hand in one spring-like instant. The echoes of fire bounded about the room, announcing that battle had begun.

"Commander!" Hyuuga's voice rang out.
    He turned, and nearly took a step back. Gendo, a name he had never dared to say aloud, was not in his usual seat. Despite having been nearly five years since his disappearance, tactical assistant Makoto still expected to be able to depend on a being more ruthless than the enemy to tell him what to do. And this was the first time in those five years an enemy may have presented itself. May have.
    No, instead there stood Professor Fuyutsuki, calm, elegant, and eloquent as he asked, calmly, "Yes?" His staid composure sported confidence. And at least Hyuuga could face him while he spoke.
    "The fire alarm just went off from the pilot shower rooms," came the sharp declaration.
    Kouzou's eyes thinned themselves just barely.
    There were two immediate problems to what would otherwise have been a trivial occurrence unworthy of concern in the man's voice. First of all, only the Third Child and captain were ever in near that room, as it had been for the past years. It was a place no one else felt brave or bored enough to enter, save perhaps the janitor. Secondly, there was precious little a person could do outside of book-burning to set fire to showering facilities.
    The commander remained dispassionate as he responded. "Good work. Tell the major to check on the situation. Send some people there." Aoba had promptly adjusted his headset and was rapidly issuing procedural commands about the facility. "Doctor Ibuki." The woman still resembled a young girl. Perhaps life had been too easy these past times. She looked up with moderate alert expectantly. "If you would like, assist Lieutenant Shigeru with assessments."
    Maya smiled, nodded, and stood up. The professor mentally shook his head. Five years ago…
    Yes, things had definitely become too easy these past times.

Shinji could not shut his eyes, his mind was forcing him to take in everything, and so he stood frigid and paralyzed as he stared at the scene before him. He was eventually shaken from his icy state with the realization that Asuka's uniform had been struck by blood. She slumped against the wall and sat down, having pulled the fire alarm before she took a breath, and dropped her gun -- the assailant's gun. The latter had crumpled to the ground, his hands resting by his groin, his head resting in its own blood. The red of it seemed to shine on the white tile floor. Shinji was engrossed in the memories it brought back.
    "Shinji," Asuka hissed. And he snapped back to the present, returning to seconds from years before. He turned his gaze tightly, and ran to her side. She picked up the gun on the floor and held it out to him. "Take this?"
    His eyes shone with terror, to the girl's disappointment. She nodded, however, and set the weapon down at her side. She gave him a steady look and decided to change the subject.
    "Let's just stay here until someone comes."
    With that, Shinji's face lightened and he sat down at her side. He became extremely stirred, however, when she flung her arm out to grab his sleeve, breathing rapidly. Perhaps she just wanted to make sure they were both alive.

"Sir!" Maya suddenly called out. The entire bridge crew swung around in their seats to see what had happened. The entire bridge, save Aoba, who was suddenly furiously typing commands into his terminal. Kouzou craned his head forward, intent in his composure.
    Maya's worried demeanor did not change as she reported: "All cameras within two rooms of the area have been disabled!"
    Kouzou now became serious, his jaw dropping to a frown, wrinkles presenting themselves about his face as ir cringed in disbelief. "Disabled. Why weren't you alerted before?" There was a hint of annoyance in his tone.
    "Sir!" Aoba spoke up, his eyes never leaving his controls.
    This had better be good, Fuyutsuki mulled to himself, taking in a breath as he concentrated on what was to be said.
    "The cameras have been covered by something, and I can't get through it. It's something non-electronic and separate from the cameras themselves." The commander began to frown heavily, his face becoming something different than that of its usual equanimity. This did not make any sense. And that was decidedly bad already. "I'm bringing up audible surveillance now."
    Kouzou nodded. "Very good." His mind almost slipped into wonder at hearing excitement in the command room once again. Fortunately, the appearance of displays signaling incoming audio information shook him out of and musings he might have had before.
    Aoba became noticeably calmer as he spoke: "This is communications. Shinji, are you there? What happened?"
    The pilot's voice, somewhat familiar, came on. "I'm here. Asuka is, too." A wave of calm slipped invisibly through the bridge then evaporated as he continued. "She's been shot. Someone tried to-"
    The voice was abruptly cut off, however, as crackles and pops rang over his voice. The bridge suddenly became dead silent as it listened to a sound that had become only a memory long ago.
    Shigeru Aoba suddenly seemed five years younger as his voice suddenly became deeper, but not without a sense of fright. "Gunfire."
    "Get our men there now!" Commander Fuyutsuki bellowed. "Tell the major and anyone else near the place to be on alert!" While five years may have weakened the bridge's response somewhat, it had fortunately done little else to its efficiency. For the first time in years, There stood a figure with an aura of controlled wrath at the bridge, dictating it. And for the first time in those years, the NERV tactical branch was alive again.

"How many of them are there?" Asuka muttered.
    Shinji crouched at her side. It was quite a picture to behold. On one side there knelt a young woman whose very appearance radiated the spirit of a fighter. One of her shoulders was stained with blood, though the wound appeared negligible for now. By her feet lay two empty clips. There was a boy at her side who was burying his head under his arms, resting on his heels, as if ready to spring up and take flight, which he actually was not.
    A trail of sparks lit up around the corner of the wall the two were hiding against, causing the red-head to bring herself back behind it. She breathed heavily but controllably, running a hand through her hair in frustration.
    "Asuka," Shinji pleaded. "Stop, someone will be here soon." She didn't respond. "Asuka!" Her gaze was fixed upon something in the distance. She was terrified, as Shinji now realized. He reached out to lay a hand on her shoulder-
    And a small object not unlike an empty clip fell to her side. Asuka noticed this as well, and the next thing the boy knew, she had thrown herself upon him. Soon after followed the loudest bang he had ever heard, one that could have split his eardrums. When he opened his eyes, he saw through his flashing vision two men approach around the corner. They were dressed in black fatigues, much like that time so long ago.
    What happened next Shinji would always remember in full detail. Asuka lay over him, not unlike a robin sheltering her babies from hail, shivering. One of the figures slung his automatic rifle to his side, reaching around his back to pull out a pistol, black like the man himself. He stretched out his grasp, aiming for the back of Asuka's head while pulling back the top of the weapon. That done, he resumed his fluid motion by supporting the gun in one hand while looping his finger around the trigger with the other-
    And he suddenly brought his aim up, and his head up. Which spat red out its rear side. Then, more shooting took place, and Shinji shut his eyes in fear until a strong grip dragged him backwards and he felt that he was being embraced tightly by someone obviously female. He took a peek, and would have felt embarrassed by the situation, if there wasn't so much violence taking place at the moment. He found that he now heard clearly the sounds of soaring bullets and blood, as if he had just stepped out of a sound-proof box, into a loud world.
    Misato finally released him and held his shoulders against the wall. A few feet away from the two of them, men in white and orange uniforms - NERV security - were trading fire with the enemy around the corner. From behind arrived more NERV personnel, these dressed in their familiar black suits and getups. Shinji sudden realized something and began frantically looking around.
    And there she was. Asuka, standing behind Misato, a hand on her hip, staring back at him with a sense of annoyance. It would seem that the immediate danger had passed. Maybe it was realizing that he was alive, without a scratch, or that familiar people were around him. It might have even been the white color on the walls and floor, but the boy found himself calming down considerably, breathing again. This despite the fact that the usually well-lit NERV facilities were being lit even further due to the light show on stage at the moment.
    Misato spoke up. "How many of them are there?" she shouted over the gun fire.
    "I don't know, sounded like at least five," Asuka responded, bring a hand over her ear. She realized that it was bleeding, and began wiping at it in frustration. Shinji found that his ear was bleeding as well, though he cared less about it at the moment.
    "We've got to get him out," Misato declared. She brought out her phone and began engaging in conversation while heading back away from the shooting, pulling along the Third Child.

"No, security hasn't cleared its way to the area. We don't know just how many there are." Maya was sweating. It was not that her job was proving to be a challenge, but that her every action had to be an intelligent one, and she was hoping with her heart that they were.
    On the other end, Misato took a deep breath. "Is there any other way to get him out of here to the hangar?" If all the main passageways were blocked or otherwise disabled, then-
    "The hospital," declared Maya with excitement.
    "Have people meet them there," the commander issued grimly.
    "Let's go," Misato confirmed.

Less than an hour later, the entire base was declared clear of hostiles, and things resumed their normal courses. One major and her two Children were ordered to stay within the military confines of NERV headquarters, despite their protest that their home was probably a safer place. The three spent their times in very different ways.
    Asuka Soryu Langley spent her time in her own room, staring at the wall, her eyes devoid of life. It was the first time she had ever killed a man and watched as his body became limp by her side. She did it out of necessity, of course, and so she was told by anyone who tried to console her. What scared her was how quickly she turned into a dedicated soldier, as if she had wanted to do such a thing for a very long time. It even felt good at first, a sick sort of satisfaction flowing to her mind as she pulled the trigger. Even worse, though she should have felt as if something had changed, she did not. In fact, she felt perfectly fine, as if she had killed for the duration of her entire life. Something should have been wrong, but nothing was. Therein, something was very, very wrong.
    The major Misato Katsuragi was actually wandering throughout the complex in a seemingly aimless fashion, though in truth she was subconsciously patrolling around Asuka's quarters. She found herself repeatedly having headed back to the door of the girl's room, to then turn around and walk off, only to arrive back at her original starting point. The guards around the place noticed this, but said nothing.
    Then there was the pilot Shinji Ikari. He was, ironically, in the most normal mood of the three, at least arguably so. He sat in the main cafeteria, just to be near people. To be assaulted in the open with no one around to at least witness his death or disappearance was probably one of the most frightening experiences of his life. Shinji most definitely did not want to disappear. This in itself was the greatest form of evidence that peace had brought him a sense of desire to live. So as a result, he felt relief, and even a sense of joy, as he slumped in his seat, tired, and smiling.
   The morning would prove to be a much busier setting.

For Ibuki Maya, Shigeru Aoba, and Makoto Hyuuga, however, things were already quite busy. It was their job to sort out what had happened and to give their preliminary report by the morning.
   "Look at this," Hyuuga suddenly called, bringing up a hand under his glasses to rub his eyes. The others complied, and followed suit. "when you take the number of clips on the ground, the number of bodies we found of the enemy, and the number of clips remaining on those bodies, and put the math together, it seems that there were five of them in this group."
   Shigeru sighed. "That's great, Hyuuga."
   "And," Makoto continued, "if there really were just two groups -- like we think -- which also had five people in it, then we would have a group of ten, right?"
   Even Maya, who was usually patient to a fault, was becoming annoyed, and yawned, "So?"
   "Ten people," Hyuuga stated with a hint of pride, "means a professional anti-terrorist team." The others just stared at him blankly, motioning with their hands for more information. Now it was his turn to sigh. "It means that they were trained to go indoors, and judging by the way they were armed -- professionally -- and the way they knew their way around -- profess-"
   Shigeru had cut him off halfway, waving his hand for more effect. "So you're saying that this isn't completely our fault because they were pros, is that it?"
   "Well, yes," Makoto conceded. "But more to the point, there are only three nations left in the world with the resources to make such a team -- America, Great Britain, and Germany. That would be something substantially more impressive than saving our graces to report in-" He checked his watch, "-five hours, wouldn't it."
   Slowly, he received a pair of nods.
   "Okay," Maya declared. "Let's keep going with this. Aoba-san and I'll take another look at the bodies. We'll try to figure out who did it."
   Hyuuga nodded. "I'll try to find out how." With that, the three went back to work.
   Of course, the greater question which none of them had a clue to yet was why they -- the designated professionals, no longer dubbed terrorists -- did what they did. As with most cases of this nature, that is always the most important thing to find out.

Won Jing-Kai was pleased with himself, staring out the window of airline jet headed towards Japan. There were nothing but simple white clouds and the blue. And for now, that was all Jing-Kai found himself appreciating. Of course, he knew that it would be only a matter of time before habit took over and he would begin wondering how much longer this tin can would be in the air before he could stand on ground that was slightly more than a foot thick. Gulping down the rest of his soda, he tapped the plastic cup against the tray table and leaned back in his seat forcefully, gasping quickly and inhaling sharply.
   "Man, you have got to calm down," noted a considerably easier voice from Jing-Kai's side. It was Joseph Yang, an old friend from a child's life back, and the only one of them still alive. He chugged his carton of milk with ease and crumpled it, sighing in satisfaction as if the carton in his fist had contained some sort of alcholic beverage instead of its dairy product. With that, he slipped on his earphones, and began tuning out.
   Meanwhile, Jing-Kai decided to look back outside and do the same. It wasn't long after he slipped out of paranoia, however, before Joseph had a thought.
   "Hey, just a thought," he inquired, lifting his head up slightly and readjusting his pillow, "didn't you say you met one of these kids a a few years back?"
   Jing-Kai turned his head slightly. "Huh?"
   "Yeah, you said you met one of those Evangelion pilots. The boy, Ikari. We going to say hi, right? Unless this is one of those 'military advisor' crap things?"
   "Yeah, yeah, I know. Fun and games. I promise it'll be better than Singapore." Jing-Kai had to smile. Spending a little over a year in possibly the quietest place on Earth had been relaxing, but for some of the people he worked with, the place had been worse than hell. It had been like floating ceaselessly around in limbo. Joseph, who had received an MD in psychology a number of years back, had hold Jing-Kai that to be a special ops man, one had to be just a little bit crazy. He then flashed a wide grin and proceeded to bug his eyes out. It would appear that that craziness Joseph mentioned lay not only in the fact that for this job one had to recognize and realize death with no more surprise than he would an ant set on fire by a sadistic kid with a magnifying glass, but that in some cases, when there were no ants being fried on the street, then the setting was surly too fair, and thus wrong for a soldier. Jing-Kai would have very little trouble believing that a select few of his people were like Joseph, and that did nothing to disturb him. Perhaps, Jing-Kai was just a little bit mad as well.
   Ah, well. Maybe this time, Jing-Kai thought to himself, lifting up the newspaper he had in his hand. The heading read: "Firefight Erupts at NERV, Much Unknown."

"So they have failed, have they?" a voice boomed out.
   "Yes," another replied grimly.
   "A complete loss," followed by a short moment of silent thought.
   "Only in terms of this move," the first voice finally declared. "There will be others."
   "Yes," one agreed. "As long as the boy lives, there will always be more."
   "Shall we then begin again?"
   "Of course. Instrumentality is inevitable." Again, silence. "It would seem that you will have to go off after all."
   And then, a light shone, as if the floor decided to illuminate a portion of itself for the towering monoliths to see. In the center stood a human, a young woman. She wore the sickly blue shirt a hospital patient would, with the matching slippers. The girl made it look almost commonplace, to no one in the room's surprise. In respect, she lifted her head to face the monolith labeled as the first. She was quite thin, ghostly, even, and being the only presence in the room with any animation at all, be it even slightly, her every detail became obvious. Her hands were chalk white, as were her arms, and so on. Perhaps the hospital gown was not worn by accident after all. Her every curve, her chin, elbow, knees, she bore no scars, not a single mark, as if she had been molded rather than born, and that she had rested dormant rather than lived. But she stood easily, with a perfect still sense of balance.
   Her eyes, a milky red, almost pink -- she was tired. Her hair, a faint blue -- she was worn. A worn doll. Worn dolls were thrown away, but before she could rest, she had obligations to meet first, and another had just been added to the list.
   She blinked, and nodded. Within the moment, everything else disappeared, as well as the light beneath her feet.