Neon Genesis Evangelion Fan Fiction ❯ The Way Out is Through ❯ Lucidity ( Chapter 9 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Disclaimer: I do not own Evangelion, and I’m sure as hell not making any money off it.




The Way Out is Through
By Ovrboost


Adagio for Strings in G Minor
-Albinoni


The lazy mid-afternoon sun shined bright, and warm through the gaps yet to be filled by the tree’s budding leaves. A gentle, gusting breeze kept the branches swaying; the shadows dancing over, and across Shinji, as he knelt peacefully at the tree’s trunk. The mound of dirt, barren, and sunken after the spring rains, felt cool to the touch. So close, yet so very far away.

It was a sensation he had never felt as a child, visiting his mother’s grave, surrounded by the thousands of identical markers. Then, he had felt only cold detachment, that the only thing remotely special about it had been the name engraved on the stone’s face. However, this felt… different; Ming felt different. Closer, more real. Perhaps, that was why he found himself talking to her here; as though their bond, their love could transcend death. It was silly, a part of him would say occasionally, but it felt right.

“Hey, hon.” Shinji said, clearing a few leaves away from the still bare headstone, something he planned to remedy in the near future. “It’s a beautiful day, again…” He twirled a leaf slowly by it’s stem. “God, I wish you were here.” He took a deep breath, to stave off the emotions. A songbird twittered somewhere in the distance.

“Yuriy took the last of my stitches out yesterday,” Shinji let the leaf fall to the ground. “ Said, the gunshot wounds will leave ugly scars, but otherwise I’m ‘Good to go’…” He remembered the upturned table; the bound, and bloodied wrists. He remembered the blood, how it had pooled around their bodies; how it had splattered the walls. He remembered her screams, could still hear them echo through his soul. Shinji screwed his eyes shut, and fought. He fought his guilt for the right to remember the better times. He fought to remember her smile. “I’m trying…” he sniffed, squeezing the bridge of his nose, and released a heavy breath. “I’m trying so hard, Ming… but it hurts.” he looked away, “It hurts so bad…” he took another deep breath, to steady his words, “I… I would do anything to get you back…”

“Shinnnnjiiii!” the voice interrupted joyfully. He looked up in surprise, to find a young girl waving excitedly from across the yard. Shinji replied with a kind of half wave, a slight smile forming on his face. He couldn’t help the soft chuckle that rose from his throat, as he watched the girl in the yellow sundress play happily in the afternoon sun. With another half wave from Shinji, Svetlana turned her attentions elsewhere

Shinji sported a slight grin, shaking his head in silent wonder, at the simple joys of a childhood he had been robbed of. Maybe there’s still hope. Even after all that’s happened… He looked back to the grave marker, and made a gesture towards Svetlana.

“She looks so innocent, you know? She has your smile, I think. You’d have liked her…” he coughed, and gazed off into the distance for a bit.

“Apparently, I’m gonna be a farmer. Well, as long as I stay here, anyways. Yuriy said we gotta start planting now, so we have food for the winter… Can’t say I’m looking forward to it, but…” he sighed, “I think I’ll stay here…. Not forever, probably just through the winter, I don’t know…” Shinji tossed a nearby rock into the grass beyond the tree’s shadow. “I’m just not ready to go, …I’m not sure I could… even… even for --”

“Hey you two, Lunch is ready!” yelled Yuriy from the backdoor, waving for him to join.

“Gotta go…“ Shinji said with a smile, as he kissed two of his fingers, and pressed them to the stone marker, letting them linger for a second before standing. Out of the corner of his eye, he could already see Svetlana skipping, and bouncing her way to the house. He glanced back, with a smirk on his face. “See what I mean?”

She had lost track of time. Days past as blurs of relative light, as seen through the solitary, curtained window set at the far side of the room. Early afternoons, and the evenings were the highlights; food, and drugs. She had tried to stop, she really did. She had been doing well, too, that is, until they found where she had been hiding the extra pills. It wasn’t her fault the damn guard decided to look in the chamber pot.

They had got her good for that. Force fed tranquilizers, and beaten until walking had become nearly impossible; any kind of personal hygiene, an insurmountable task. If left alone for long periods, she urinated, and defecated on herself. Within a week, she attempted suicide.

It had all felt so hopeless. The shock that had so motivated her, having already faded to a gentle, mocking reminder of her failure. She had tried so hard, getting nowhere, it felt like treading water. It felt like drowning. Asuka took an entire handful of tranquilizers, hoping she would just go to sleep. Just fade away.

But she didn’t. She didn’t just fade away, and she sure as hell didn’t go to sleep. She did, however, become violently ill; nearly choking on her own vomit, as she lay prostrated, and naked on the old carpet.

They got her real good for that, laid up for almost a month. But it was just more scars, no biggie. She already had quite an impressive collection. It was almost fun to see Nicolay’s subtle cringe, when a scar, new or old, made it‘s appearance in bed. It was almost fun, that is, until she remembered exactly how she had got them, and why they were visible.

Yet when she was alone, she smiled.

Asuka smiled because now she was fighting back. They didn’t know it, but she was. She still hid her extra pills, still fought the cravings, and withdrawals that plagued her every waking hour, and she still had her shank. It was small, and used to be a toothbrush, but it was sharp, and it made her happy. Each stroke used to sharpen its’ point felt like another step towards her escape. Her victory. Asuka hid it beneath her mattress, not far from the pills they thought she swallowed. Asuka smiled, because she was finally fighting for herself, instead of a self imposed ideal; instead of a memory. She was fighting for herself, and she would win; of that, she was sure. All she needed was a chance, an opportunity.

There was a quick knock at the door. The afternoon had given way to the evening, without her having noticed. The guard, her guard had arrived bearing gifts. Asuka smiled; it was time.

“The T-55 is an amazing animal, Nicolay, but the engine‘s were roughly machined. They burn through oil quickly, until the rough edges are worn down. After that, they run flawlessly, but…”

“The point, Mikhail…” Zurikov interrupted

“we‘re running short on oil.” Eduardovich finished, readjusting his weight in the large leather chair. Zurikov had, until recently, been making a drink at the wet bar.

“How short?” he asked, with a raised eyebrow, and a hint of anger. Mikhail felt sweat begin to bead on his forehead.

“…Well, you see, with the new mechanized infantry vehicles, and troop carriers, we have enough for a handful of tanks, plus the vehicles we’re already using, to run indefinitely, but I wouldn’t recommend any more than… eight, perhaps with another two in reserve.” Nicolay sighed in response.

“What are we doing about the shortage?” Pasha asked, as he removed his spectacles to massage the bridge of his nose.

“I found evidence of a storage facility northwest of Irktusk, documents found at the fuel depot indicate it to be a large facility. It’s the closest I’ve found.” Pasha re-crossed his legs, and looked towards his boss.

“Gentleman, in a week’s time, a messenger will be sent to Irkustk bearing an ultimatum.” Nicolay paused to let the words sink in. “Irktusk is the first step to controlling the entire region, and if these fools concede, it will be a painless one. Unfortunately,” he flashed a dangerous grin,” I don’t expect them to cooperate.” He walked to the wall, where a large regional map had been tacked.

“Regardless of their decision, we will occupy the city shortly after the message arrives. Mikhail Eduardovich , you will depart the night prior with half the infantry, taking positions around the city. You will strike from three directions,” he said, while using a marker to illustrate, “ the mechanized, and armor units will follow in support, via the roads. We have no night vision so it may be awhile before they reach you. Will that be a problem?” he asked, turning to face them.

“No.” Eduardovich replied quickly.

“Good.” Zurikov said, with a quick knock to the wooden table. Nicolay pulled out the chair at the table’s head, in preparation to sit. He looked over to Pasha, only to find an aid whispering into his ear.

“Excuse me a moment, Nicolay.” Pasha said after a moment

“Of course,” he said lightly, leaning back into his chair. “Take your time.” Pasha nodded weakly, mouthing thanks. He followed the aid, trying to ignore the stare he was receiving from his old friend. No sooner had the door’s latch caught, did Pasha have the younger man pinned up against the wall.

“What happened?” he seethed, speaking through clenched teeth. The hapless minion lapsed into shock, stuttering incoherently. “What. Happened?” Pasha asked once more, gripping the man’s lapel even tighter.

“T-t-t-t-th-the girl… She’s g-g-gone.”

“Which one?” Pasha asked, emphasizing each word. The look in his eyes promised pain.

“The redhead.” the aid finally spit out. “S-s-s-she killed the guard, and ran.” Pasha screwed his eyes shut, and took a deep breath. It would do him no good to shoot the messenger, regardless of how satisfying it seemed at the moment.

“Listen closely…” Pasha said, pointing a thick finger at the man’s face. “deploy the home guard. I want pickets set up all the way around the city. Have patrols dig through the city. Do not tell Nicolay. Report only to me, understand?” The man nodded quickly, anxious to get away. “I want her found quickly, use whatever it takes. Understand?” he asked, poking the man in the chest. Another nod. Pasha took another moment to glare threateningly into his face, before releasing him to sprint down the hall. Pasha straightened his clothes, and mentally collecting himself, turned toward the door, and pushed back through to find Nicolay, and Mikhail going over the map.

“Problems?” Nicolay asked, with a glance over his shoulder. Pasha could have sworn he felt his heart skip a beat.

“No. No problems.” Nicolay eyed him for a moment, spurring a cold sweat, and nodded.

“Then come, we have a country to build.” Pasha suddenly needed a drink.

The adrenaline, combined with the fear had fueled a half mile dead sprint into the debris strewn, concrete jungle. She was focused; ignoring the people, and their stares; hearing only the thumping of her heart, and the rhythmic slap of her bare feet as they hit the pavement. Freedom. She could feel it pulsing through her veins, but she knew she wasn’t there quite yet. And so, she ran.

It took another quarter-mile before she finally allowed herself to slow, the adrenaline spent, and cramps nearly overwhelming. Asuka gasped for air, swallowing lungful, after lungful, as she clutched at the pain in her side. That’s when she realized she was naked, had been for nearly a mile’s worth of sprinting. She knew why, her nightgown was still on the floor, where it had been so casually tossed. The bodyguard had been the easy part. The fool thought he could get some action in on the sly, and in a way, he had been right. For over two weeks, he had come at sunset, baring gifts; drugs in one hand, manhood in the other. For over two weeks, Asuka planned.

Tonight, before he could pull out, Asuka trapped him with her legs, clutching him tight against her abdomen, forcing him all the way inside her. He had reached orgasm about the same time she stabbed him in the neck, driving the shank all the way through to the opposite side. Asuka’s eyes lit up, as he jerked, convulsed, and wriggled around. She smiled as the life eventually fled from him, nearly laughing as she bathed in his blood. She was still covered in it.

Having caught her breath, Asuka ducked quickly into an alleyway, picking up a chunk of concrete on her way. She picked her way passed the debris of a collapsed wall, already picking out her target. Just a old man, passed out drunk, but she didn’t want to take any chances.

Without hesitation, Asuka ran up, and slammed the jagged piece of concrete into the side of its’ head. She felt the skull shatter, but didn’t stop, hitting it once more, effectively removing the face. Blood oozed slowly out from the head at a leisurely pace, outlining the bricks that made up the alley with a ghastly bright red. Asuka took its’ clothes before the body even had a chance to finish dieing.

Breathing heavily, she quickly dressed in the ill fitting, and unfamiliar clothing. They stank of long-unwashed filth, and booze, but it was better than being naked. She made a cursory sweep through all the pockets, finding a six inch switchblade in the old olive drab field jacket. A smile appeared on her lips, as she worked its’ mechanism several times, before pocketing it. In another pocket, she found an old, faded photograph, apparently a family portrait. She stopped to gaze at the smiling faces. Ghosts from another time, faded with age, and the longing to go back. She let it fall from her fingers, back towards its’ owner.

She had to keep moving. She couldn’t afford to think about it, she refused to care. It would only hurt, and it only complicated things, anyway. Asuka finished tying the other ill-fitting boot, and stood. Shots echoed through the night, screams followed. She glanced towards the bloodied mess at her feet one last time, a tear streaming down her face, before she jogged off. It was hard not having a soul, most especially when you could remember having had one.

The weather turned south quickly, as Asuka ventured out into the wilderness surrounding the city. A cold rain fell in a kind of mist from a starless sky, her breath clouded before her. In the dark, everything felt cold, the silence overbearing. She was free.

It felt like forever since she had entered the tree line. For all she knew, she was walking in circles. Asuka could only hope she was walking in the right direction. As fate had it, she was. The headlights of a vehicle told her that, as they raced past her on the darkened road. The roar of the diesel engine brought rise to goose bumps. She watched it closely, as it disappeared into the distance, from her makeshift hiding place behind a tree. Her ragged breaths sounded loud as the silence rushed back to fill the void. She was shaking.

For two hours, all was silent, and all was good. Asuka’s spirits rose exponentially with every passing mile. Her feet hurt from the ill-fitting boots, but as far as she was concerned, she was walking on clouds. Asuka couldn’t stop smiling. That is, until she saw the car. The one that had passed her so long before. It was sitting peacefully at the side of the road, completely devoid of human life…

The drink sat heavily on the table, a damp ring lined it’s bottom. Pasha stared hard at the drink, as he sat in the plush leather, waiting. His guts churned with every passing moment, almost expecting Nicolay to barge in, weapon drawn. A deception such as his was frowned upon in this organization, to the point where it would usually result in the loss of someone’s life.

All this, over a damned girl… He frowned mightily at the thought, forcing down a sip of the strong drink. It didn’t help the heartburn, but it helped the nerves. Pasha gulped down a yawning breath, and ran a hand across his face, only a moment before a sharp knock interrupted his solitude. The crack of knuckle on oak gave him a start, sending him half out of the chair.

“Come in.” He said loudly, after having readjusted himself. He stole another quick sip of his drink before the door opened, revealing the man he had been waiting all night for. “Shut the door behind you.” Pasha unnecessarily reminded the man. His aid’s footsteps echoed loud off the marble, as he approached, finally coming to a stop several feet behind. Pasha held his breath without realizing it.

“They have her.” The aid said evenly, masking his own relief.

“Who?” Pasha asked, blowing out the breath, and hiding his grin with a casual hand.

“A squad from second platoon, echo company… They found her on the east bound road, no more than five minutes ago.”

“Excellent!” He said, coming to his feet. “Let me know when she’s back in her room, and give those boys some extra rations, and a bottle of vodka!” His smile was unmistakable now, and the aid found it infectious.

“Will do, sir.” he said with a nod, leaving his boss with a much improved mood.

“Roger…. Two six out.” He said, handing the hand mike back to the young man beside him.

“So what do we do with her?” asked another, his breath misting before his face as he spoke, hiding the grin.

“Put her back where she belongs…” he paused, nudging the beaten, and bound girl at his feet. A weak groan issued forth. “Apparently she belongs to the old man.”

“No shit?” asked an incredulous voice from the surrounding shadows.

“Bet he’d be happy to get her back… Maybe even happy enough to give us a lil’ something in return…”

“Shut up Vlad, you know it doesn’t work that way!”

“Wanna bet?”

Voices; incomprehensible, and broken, echoed through her consciousness. The dull pain from the butt stroke to her chest, and the pistol whip to the back of her head throbbed without reprieve. What Happened?

“Fuck You!”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you got into that shit. Deal with it, asshole.”

“Hey! All of you shut the fuck up!” They did.

“Hey ell tee, mind if we take’er for a test drive?” asked one of the six men standing around the supposedly comatose body.

“Jesus…” mumbled one.

“Yeah, can we? How much time we got?” asked another.

“Fuck it.”

“Yeah! Fuck iiiit!” squealed a man from the shadows.

She was restrained with flexi-cuffs at the wrists, and ankles; arms to the front. She tested their strength discreetly, with slight movements.

“Damn it! No!” The lieutenant said loud enough to break their rambling. “Sergeant, Get her in the truck.”

“Yessir…” the older man grumbled, voice laced heavily with disrespect, and contempt. The old seargent, nodded to several men beside him, as he drew his bayonet.

“Alright… We’re leaving.” He said, mostly for himself, as his undermanned squad began to move out. Animals. He longed for the way things used to be; the discipline of the old Russian Army. He also longed for the relief of his bladder, which was something much more obtainable. He stepped behind a tree, and dropped fly. Steam billowed off the tree trunk, as he heard the old UAZ-462’s diesel engine crank, and turn over with an agreeable rumble. It’s head lights came on, only to be briefly interrupted by the passing of bodies, dragging another.

The lieutenant shook twice, and tucked. He noticed a shadow approaching from his periphery. Before he even had a chance to zip up his pants, let alone react, he was caught in a chokehold. The sudden, strong arm wrapped it’s way around his windpipe, while another hand appeared on the back of his head. He couldn’t breathe. He reached reflexively for his throat, and clawed uselessly at the arms. It wasn’t until he started attacking the exposed flanks of his enemy, that he achieved any purchase. The grip loosened, and the window opened. This lieutenant wasn’t going to be an easy kill. Two more men joined the fray.

At the truck, one man sat behind the wheel, watching the fray with wide eyes, all the while trying to decide whether or not to help his comrades. The other man, delegated to loading the bound girl into the truck was also distracted by the fight, thus neglecting his charge. It would prove to be a fatal mistake.

At the soldier’s feet, Asuka quietly produced the switchblade from her waistband, opened it quietly, and freed her feet. It soon found its’ way into the throat of the distracted soldier. He died quickly. Asuka picked up the soldier’s fully loaded Kalashnikov, freed her wrists, and entered the already opened vehicle. Whether or not the man behind the wheel survived the hard butt stroke to the back of his head was questionable, but Asuka couldn’t have cared less.

The good lieutenant had disabled one of his attackers with a hard hit to the throat, but was currently busy with the bayonet, wielded by the old sergeant, hovering mere inches above his chest. That’s when the shots rang out. The old man jerked as the heavy ball rounds impacted his back, forcing the blade downward, and into the lieutenant‘s chest. He screamed in pain. Luckily, depending on the point of view, Asuka wasn’t the best of shots with an automatic rifle, with most of the rounds flying wild, over their heads. Free of the weight, he was finally able to retrieve his service pistol, and return fire. After three shots, the muzzle flashes coming from the truck ceased for an instant, before he heard the truck’s door slam home, and the engine rev high. He continued to fire with what was left of his ammunition, trying to focus his blurring sight.

The truck lurched, and stalled. Two more shots, knocking out a headlight, and the pistol came up dry. The lieutenant chuckled weakly at the sight, and tossed the pistol to his side. The truck restarted, revved high once again, before the wheels chirped with the sudden application of torque, and the truck lurched haphazardly down the road. The smirk soon died on the officer’s face, the sudden silence no longer amusing. He died cold, and alone, choking on his own blood. His last thought was of his daughter, waiting diligently somewhere in the city.

“Scheiße! Scheiße! Scheiße!” She cried out, mixed with pained sobs. A bullet had passed through her left shoulder during the escape. The physical nature of the UAZ-462, and its’ manual transmission only served to aggravate the wound. Without the driver’s side headlight, the twisting, tree-lined road had become perilous. The constant shifting had become excruciating. Asuka felt a blackout approaching, and she fought it with all she had. The engine revved hard with every gear, as the trees swept past in a blur of grey, and brown.

Downshifting, Asuka cried out with the strain of making a hard right turn, and her vision tunneled as her foot slammed back on the gas. Then she saw it. It took her a moment to rationalize, and realize what she was looking at, and by the time she figured it out, and decided to react, it had been too late.

The large deer stood squarely in the middle of the road, staring dumbly into her sole headlamp. Asuka swerved to miss, managing to only clip its’ hindquarters, and left the road. She overcorrected, and the truck rolled twice, before slamming into a tree. Asuka, on the other hand, took a much different route.

On the truck’s second revolution, she was thrown out through the driver’s side window, and deep into the brush. It saved her life.

She watched the truck burn in a daze for a moment, not feeling the pain. She blacked out, as the sky above showed the first promise of day.


Shinji awoke with a start, the low light from the window promising an early hour. It had been the dream again. It had plagued intermittently over the past few months, more often than not concluding with a scream, a thumping chest, and damp sheets. Thankfully, this time his subconscious decided to forego the scream, therefore allowing the house’s other occupants an uninterrupted sleep.

Shinji groaned, and turned over, to try and get back to sleep. Over the course of a half hour, he tossed, and turned, yet his mind refused to yield. With a halfhearted huff, he pushed himself up, and out of the bed. With a yawn, he padded his way out of the room towards the kitchen. Well, at least I’ll be able to catch the sunrise… he thought bleakly to himself, wishing they still had coffee, instead of the homemade tea Yuriy had concocted several weeks ago. It was supposedly healthier, but Shinji had a hard time getting past the overpowering bitterness of the blend.

Cup in hand, Shinji, scratched, and yawned his way towards the much more comfortable living room. Upon reaching it, he glanced towards the westward facing window, where upon he did a double take. In the early twilight, he could clearly see the soft glow of something burning in the distance. He took a quick sip of his tea, as his mind puzzled over this. Calmly, he set the cup on a piece of furniture, and walked out of the room, with a quickened pulse.

“Yuriy!”


The sharp crack of his footfalls echoed loudly off the walls of the narrow hall, creating an aura of importance, and urgency. The lowly militia representatives made way for him without question, and the lesser aids looked on in wonder. Had the occasion for such a stride been anything less, he would have taken pride in his perceived importance. However, the message he bore may well be replied to with a gunshot. It had happened before, to his predecessor nonetheless. Needless to say, the aid didn’t feel triumphant, or important in the least. In fact, he hesitated at the door to his boss’s office.

He took a deep breath, and knocked.

“He’s not there.” came a voice from a few feet away, a militia captain. The aid turned, dumbfounded.

“W-what?”

“He’s not there. He just left for a meeting with Zurikov.” The captain said, pointing helpfully towards the ceiling. The aid was breathless, but nodded his thanks regardless, and moved quietly passed the taller man.

“What’s up with him?” asked a man next to the captain.

“I dunno…” he answered nonchalantly, with a bored shrug.

Once again, the aid strode purposefully down the hall, and up the stairs, where he was met by another long hall, this time carpeted. He didn’t have to travel far before he was in front of the office door. Once again he took a calming breath, and raised his hand to knock. This time, he was interrupted by a large hand clamping down upon his shoulder. The sudden contact made him jump. The aid spun around in a panic, something the face which greeted him did little to alleviate.

“Why so jumpy, comrade?” asked Zurikov.

“I-I have a m-message for Pavel Savyolov…” The aid stuttered, trying to hold it together in front of the much larger man.

“Heh, must be bad news… What is it, I can tell Pasha myself.” Nicolay offered, helpfully.

“Ah, no sir, that’s… quite alright, I should deliver it myself.” he replied, turning to enter the office. Zurikov’s hand squeezed tighter, forcing the aid to face him once more.

“I think it would be in your best interest, comrade.” The aid’s blood ran cold, and he suddenly felt the urge to vomit. He managed to hold it in, at least for the five minutes it took to describe, in detail, the events in question.

“Is that all?” Nicolay asked in a controlled voice.

“Y-yes sir.” he replied, nodding solemnly, like a man awaiting the gallows. Nicolay took little notice of the man’s reaction, choosing instead to throw the large, double oak doors open with enough force to gain the attention of all those already in the room. He strode into his office with a commanding gait, staring down the surprised faces of the men sitting at the conference table.

“This meeting has been postponed. Everybody get out.” He said in a loud voice, ensuring that half of the building could hear him. Nicolay stopped at the small wet bar to fix himself a strong drink, taking it all in a single gulp. He set the crystal tumbler back onto the bar with a resounding thump. He turned to see still shocked faces gazing at him from the table.

“I said, get out!” With this, the small collection of commanders, and advisors practically leapt to their feet, and rushed towards the door with controlled haste. “Not you Pasha, please stay, and talk with me.”

Pasha looked back at Zurikov, a slight trace of shock registering on his face, before nodding, and stepping out of the gaggle. The two men watched the group, as they exited the room, the click of the large oaken doors adding a bit of finality to the moment.

“Nicolay…. W-what was that all about?” he asked, dumbfounded.

“Sit comrade, make yourself comfortable.” said Nicolay, as he moved towards the large window, overlooking the city square. Pasha did as he was told, the leather creaking audibly with the added weight. Zurikov sipped much more slowly on his second drink, allowing the silence to sink in. A minute passed, and Pasha felt a cold sweat coming on.

“Tell me Pasha, has there been any problems lately that I should be made aware of?” Nicolay asked, still gazing out towards the people lining the streets.

“None… that I know of, comrade.” he answered slowly; cautiously.

“Hmph.” Nicolay took another sip, as he idly watched someone get mugged in broad daylight. “I bumped into you personal aid on my way here… what was his name?” he asked, with a quick glance over his shoulder.

“Sasha” he said slowly, “He is… a good man.”

“Which is more than I can say for some of the people in this organization.” Nicolay said, mostly to himself, as he twirled his drink casually with his wrist. “Pasha, why do you lie to me?” he asked, his voice solemn.

“Nicolay! I…” he voiced, coming half out of his seat.

“Spare me, Pasha.” Nicolay said evenly, motioning for him to remain seated. “Your aid, at my bequest, filled me in. Most reluctantly, I might add.” Zurikov finished the drink, with a large swallow, the ice readjusting audibly in the crystal. “You already know how I feel about my women, especially when one goes astray… and your actions were sufficient to a point…” He held the tumbler up to his eyes, examining it’s every contour.

“but, apparently she managed to kill every man in the squad, and escape with their vehicle.” Pasha gasped. “These were your men, Pasha.” Nicolay said in an accusing tone, once again glancing back towards the younger man. “They have paid for your sin, but not in full.” he sighed, “You know the punishment for lying to me…” Nicolay twirled around, and faced Pasha, violently hurling the tumbler across the room. The loud crash made Pasha jump in his seat. “So why did you do it?!”

Pasha’s reply was in the form of a whisper, “To prevent this…” He looked up into Nicolay’s enraged countenance, a pitiful look on his face. Nicolay produced a small handgun from a desk drawer, and started walking around the table.

“Is that all?” he asked, clicking off the weapon’s safety.

“I-I f-felt that… that I could handle it.” he said, his voice gaining a tentative strength, “But apparently, I…” he took a deep breath, and screwed his eyes shut, as he felt the barrel come in contact with the back of his head.

“Go on…” Pasha took in another deep breath before replying.

“Apparently, I was… wrong. I should have alerted you.”

“You’re right.” Nicolay said, the sound of the hammer clicking home added punctuation to his words. “You’re my friend Pasha… you have no idea how much I loathe doing this.” Pasha squeezed his eyes shut as hard as he could, anticipating the sudden pain, and the darkness that would surely follow.

The weapon jerked violently in Zurikov’s hand, the report temporarily deafening him. Pasha screamed, and clamped his right hand over the decimated left.

“Don’t do it again… Please, for both our sakes.” Pasha forced himself to bite back the pain, and nodded. “I’ll talk to you later… get that hand looked at.”


“Load another, Volodya” The man said with a sigh, from behind his binoculars.

“Sir.” was the curt, almost contemptuous reply, the younger man twisting about in the confined space, hefting another heavy round.

“You were high. Again. Aim lower, and center mass.” The sound of the breach locking into place echoed up through the hatch.

“Ready, comrade.” Volodya reported in an irritated tone. He was tired of doing the job of three men, while Eduardovich’s lazy ass did nothing but complain. Besides, it was hot in the tank, and the thrill of firing the 100mm main gun had faded significantly. He glanced up to see if he had gotten a reaction, only to be rewarded with the command to fire.

Volodya grunted irritably, and lined up his sights. I got you this time, you fuck. He squeezed the trigger, the tank immediately lurched back on it’s haunches, and barely a moment later the target, an old burned out truck, erupted with an explosion of fire, and flying metal.

“Excellent shot. Move us back another hundred yards, then we’ll do it again.” Volodya sighed, and wrestled his way towards the drivers seat.

“Roger…”

“Get the next one, then we’ll move on to the machinegun…” shouted Eduardovich from above.

“Great.” replied Volodya half-heartedly, as he took hold of the throttle. Perhaps you could be the target, comrade.

“Wha-?” Eduardovich began, but was cut off by the tank’s sudden lurch. The roar of the diesel cutting off the remainder of his protests.

Nearly half a kilometer away, hidden by foliage, a pair of binoculars lowered from a darkened face.


They had been walking for over an hour. At first, Yuriy had been reluctant to go, unwilling to leave Svetlana alone in the house, yet after a moment’s deliberation with Shinji, they had agreed to check it out. Shinji was glad in a way, the soft glow that had permeated the early morning sky bothered him, for a reason he could not explain.

Whatever it was had stopped burning. Either that, or it had become too bright out for it’s glow to be seen. And so they walked, neither of them having spoken to the other for quite some time; Shinji on one side of the road, a medics kit slung over his shoulder, and Yuriy on the other, holding the imposing pump action Mossberg.

As soon as they had entered the tree line, Yuriy insisted that they stay off the road. Shinji continued to absently wonder why, as he readjusted the pistol that was lodged uncomfortably into his waistband. He decided not to ask either, Yuriy seemed to get more apprehensive by the mile. At least he thought to himself, it should be a nice day… weather wise, anyways. He sighed softly, and looked over the other side of the road, only to find nothing but trees.

“Yuriy?” he inquired, mostly to himself. Shinji stopped immediately, and shot a quick glance behind him. There was Yuriy, standing at a crouch, his eyes firmly locked on something ahead of them. Shinji instinctively matched the older man’s posture, watching him closely for any indication as to what he should do. He didn’t have to wait long.

Yuriy looked to Shinji, pointed two fingers at his eyes, before then pointing towards something to his front. To this, Shinji nodded, and eased slowly towards the road, carefully picking his steps, until he had a good view at what Yuriy had been pointing at. It was a burned out military vehicle, leaning on it’s side, up against a tree. Shinji gripped his pistol, bringing it apprehensively to a low ready. Shinji looked back, locked gazes with his companion, and slowly shook his head. To this Yuriy nodded, motioning with his head towards the burned out vehicle.

Both men eased forward cautiously, senses straining for anything that could be perceived as a threat. Yuriy was the first to reach the vehicle, taking a quick look at the charred remains of it’s spartan interior.

“Anything?” Asked Shinji, coming up behind him.

“No…” Yuriy replied simply, eyes still focused on the surrounding brush. “Stay here a second.” he said, glancing back towards the younger man. To this, he gained no reply. He didn’t need one, as the staccato report of an assault rifle, and the loud, angry buzz of a close call provided all he needed to know.

Yuriy had only managed a full-sized step away from the vehicle, before the bright flame of a muzzle blast registered in his peripheral vision. He reacted quickly enough, as was evident by his still intact skull, thrusting himself back into cover.

“Christ!” Yuriy yelled over the maelstrom of bullets impacting the vehicle’s frame, some zipping overhead.

“Where’s it coming from!?” asked Shinji, who was appropriately shaken at the rapid turn of events.

“Directly in front of us, about forty meters.” Yuriy replied, remaining relatively calm. After a few more rounds, the barrage ended. “He’s moving…”

“What!? H-how do you know?” Shinji asked from the opposite end of the vehicle.

“ Trust me.” Yuriy replied, as he leaned back, and out, trying to get a better view. Glancing at Shinji’s weapon Yuriy spoke again. “Give me the pistol, and stay put.” Shinji did as asked, a concerned look on his face.

“Be careful…” Shinji said, noticeably uncomfortable. Yuriy grinned.

Yuriy didn’t skip a beat, as he lunged out of cover, and the automatic fire recommenced, following his movements. Shinji lost sight of the older man quickly, yet the occasional sound of the .45’s report lent him a form of reassurance to his wellbeing. The firefight seemed to stretch on into eternity, as Shinji waited impatiently behind the burned out truck, the sound of gunfire ringing solidly in his ears. He felt that he couldn’t take much more of this.

I have to do something… Shinji told himself, as he wiped his sweaty palms off on his pants leg. The sudden silence caught Shinji off guard, neither of the warring parties exchanged shots for nearly a minute. He felt unnaturally isolated, and exposed. His breathing unnaturally loud, the thumping of his heart palpable.

The silence didn’t last long. It was broken by a single shot, that Shinji recognized as being from his pistol. The impact of the round striking a tree sounded incredibly close.

“Schi-” The softly spoken word was interrupted by the quick staccato of a three round burst. The source of the small arms fire was plainly visible to Shinji, as the muzzle blasts appeared in the brush not five meters away. Shinji hesitated, eyes wide, and unblinking. He gripped the shotgun even tighter, and made his decision.

Ikari leapt into action, his brain switching from rational thought to instinct instantly. Without regard for his own personal safety, he pounced blindly into the brush, as the attacker fired towards Yuriy once again. The person turned immediately, surprised by the sudden appearance of a second foe, and brought the rifle to bear. Unfortunately, Shinji had miss-judged the distance of his jump, landing almost on top of the other person. He was met with the rifle’s muzzle, pointed squarely at his chest.

Shinji parried the rifle with the muzzle of his shotgun, just as a burst erupted from it’s end. The bright flash temporarily blinded Shinji to the point where the only thing that his mind registered before the butt stock of his weapon collided with the person’s face, was the fact that this man had long red hair.

Shinji stood there, breathing quite heavily, and stared disbelieving at the unconscious attacker.

“Asuka?”


A/N: Finally. Sorry it took me so long to get this up… I’m back in the states, btw, which is the primary cause for it having taken so long. The first two thousand words were written in Kuwait, where I also planned out the rest of the fic. Unfortunately, I never picked it back up until about a month ago. During my absence from writing, I lived. Long story short, I went out, enjoyed myself, spent insane amounts of money on a new car, and other things… namely booze, and women. Lol. Of course, now I’m back. Hopefully I’ve gotten the partying out of my system enough to finish this bad boy. Thank you to those who have reviewed, and provided input.

~Rob