Neon Genesis Evangelion Fan Fiction ❯ 3 A.I. ❯ one ( Chapter 1 )

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

: I don't own Gainax or anything related to Evangelion... I mean aside from a few posters, collectibles...er.. you know what I mean.


Genesis Evangelion Continuity:

                                             3 A.I.

                                                               A fanfiction by Verbatim1-

         "Mr. Ikari?"


         "Shinji Ikari?"


         "Shinji Ikari!, Mr. Ikari sir! How does it feel to be the savior of humanity?"



       &nb sp;          How did it feel? That's almost funny.

                 
   &nbs p;              As if third impact could be summed up in a quick oral speech.

                  As if averting humanity's assimilation could just as easily be treated like winning an olympic fucking medal.

        
          'Hey guys! Lemme tell you about this whole apocalypse thing, it was wicked cool!'

                 
   &nbs p;     'Fuck off.'

                  Of course, one would find that particular opinion rather hard to voice with roughly ten thousand american dollars worth of audio and visual recording equipment shoved in one's face.

                  Pleading the fifth for the second time that day, Shinji resumed his work at the cutting table, his ire rising by the minute. When it was finally time to punch out for the evening he breathed a sigh of relief. Cooking was his passion, but ever since those classified documents were found, he had found himself accosted time and time again by eager journalists scrambling to be the first to interview him.


         'They'll be back.' the nagging voice in the back of his head reminded him.

                  Of course they would be back. He was to big a story to pass up; Shinji Ikari, boy wonder. Chef by day, pilot of Eva Unit 01 and savior of the world by night.

                  A brisk October wind snapped him out of his reverie as it passed; tousling his hair and cooling his skin, reminding him just how starkly it contrasted with the blaring heat of the kitchens. Shaking his head to dispel further thought, Shinji shouldered his food-stained apron and made his way to his car.

         Twilight had slowly descended upon Tokyo-3; derilect shadows began to blend and and meld with the coming darkness as the last vestiges of the setting sun's light were eclipsed by the horizon. The lonely streetlights began to flicker and come alive, illuminating small patches of sidewalk like stage lighting that had missed the star of the show. Skyscrapers rose like jagged teeth to meet the night sky against a backdrop of black velvet, peppered by points of light beating as a myriad of hearts in the distance. The great seige city, once mankind's last hope of survival, lay nearly dormant in the gloom.

         A lone set of headlights forced the lingering shadows back, a green sedan in average condition; the only car on a lonely street. In a city that the rest of the world deemed a black obelisk, a symbol of a time best forgotten. Within sat Shinji Ikari, too deep in thought to consider his surroundings. He would be home soon... or perhaps home was too unfitting a word to describe his current place of residency. The same apartment he had shared with his guardian and surrogate mother Misato Katsuragi, the same woman who died trying to save his worthless ass. The apartment had been unoffically extended as a permanent home for himself and the other that shared his apartment, although it felt time and time again as if he were alone.


                  Asuka Langley Sorhyu.

                  Once that name had filled him with a mixture of fear, awe, and admiration.

                  Now it only afforded him sadness.

        
&nbs p;        As Eva was forgotten -so it seemed- she had forgotten herself just as easily. Her flame of life flickered for one fatal moment, and then refused to return to it's former glory. She seemed to roam the appartment as a ghost, bereft of the very life she once contained in such large quantities. Every day the same routine. The same tired, broken look.

                  3 years.

                  Never changing.
        




                 


         

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