EvLCL...

Chapter 1::Shinji versus The Wasp...

FLCL and NGE are Copyright...
You know the rest...I'm just borrowing them for a bit of fun...

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“One depressed fourteen your old boy,” the pilot of a speeding scooter said to herself, “Being escorted by one secretly insane girl across a box-girder bridge,”

That was the description she'd been given.

The description had also mentioned something to do with fire, she remembered. Perhaps it meant the girl's burnt hair colour.

The boy?

From his dull white shirt, to his ordinary black slacks and the way he kept his brown haired head canted down at an angle, as if he felt he had no right to even look where he was going.

“As good a match as any,” the woman remarked, checking her guitar.

It was ready.

Besides, she'd know soon enough anyway.

And whatever happened, the kid wouldn't have to worry about it too much either. If he was the one she was after, then he'd be okay, just a bit of a headache. If he wasn't, then he'd probably gain some insight into the life of the average baseball...

But not for very long.

Her Jordan yellow Vespa buzzed like an angry wasp, its two-stroke air-cooled engine rasping as it struggled to push the machine's speed over the magical three digits.

The best thing about a Vespa, was that no police officer would ever believe it would be capable of the magic One Zero Zero anyway.

So no speeding tickets.

Whatever... they were getting closer.

And the twin targets seemed to still be oblivious to her as she began her final run, the red haired girl towering over the boy, pushing him down into the concrete.

Fire... Firebrand?

Yup, it must be.

The Vespa's pilot began her final run, narrowing her eyes as she homed in on her target. She banked a little to the left, then to the right, shook her shapely butt on the seat, making sure it was planted.

Seconds before impact now.

She readied her weapon.

A Silver Stratocaster, since she'd lost her old one... somewhere.

She could see her target's reflection in it... unsuspecting... chatting... ordinary. A lot like the first really.

Hmm, funny that.

Why did they always have brown hair?

Normal Ordinary people seemed to be best, especially those under 'wild' influences.

Firebrand girl seemed to be doing just that. She could hear her yelling at him, verbally punishing him for some unknown, and probably pretty minor sin. She was the Spanish Inquisition, and he was the heretic on the stake feeling the heat.

Well, either way, neither of them would expect this.

Three seconds from Impact, and she grinned.

Two, and the boy began a slight, stuttering apology.

One, and she swung her silver guitar in a shining arc, the pick-ups aiming themselves at a point somewhere on the back of the boys skull.

The first thing Shinji Ikari was aware of was a sudden pressure on the back of his head, followed by what felt like his brains imploding into a singularity point of infinite smallness and density.

He had just enough time to ponder how much it hurt before everything went dark.

On the outskirts of Tokyo-3, a grizzled, lone figure in black motorcyclists leathers watched the impact, closing his eyes for a moment, as he felt it ring hollow within his own skull, like the chime of a distant bell.

He checked his DII digital detector.

No doubt about it.

It was her.

The man rubbed his stubbled chin for a second, before reaching for his blue Fender, the one with what looked like a leaf blower built into the back-side of it.

“Haruko Haruhara,” he said. “Why have you returned?”

He allowed that question to stew in his mind for a bit, sloshing it around from ear to ear, then forward to the backs of his eyeballs, then down to the top of his spine.

Some of it perhaps leaked out, its significance fading as he was found himself remembering his time with that woman.

She had after all, made him the man he was today

Whatever she was doing here, that kid on the bridge, if he was the new one, he was in for a wild ride. And, Naota knew, he would have to report this to the Commander.

Definitely.

She'd know what to do.

I...I

The first thing Shinji was aware of was a hollow ring in his ears, attenuating itself into a horrifying germanic shriek.

The next thing was a slight headache.

Afterwards, a voice speaking in incongruous, rasping tones. A young woman's voice that sounded like it was being spoken through gravel.

And finally, his ass was burnt like Misato's cooking from having been sent skidding up the road on it.

All in all, he found had to ask himself one question, and one question only.

Just what had he done to deserve being skittled down the road? Was it the morning breakfast being ten minutes late? Could it have been the wrong washing powder that gave Asuka that nasty rash? Or maybe, it might have been the hundreds of innocent people he knew had to have been injured over the course of his piloting career?

Either way, he was sure he had to have done something to annoy someone.

And, when had Asuka learned to hit so hard anyway?

Maybe he really was just as big a wimp as Asuka was always saying.

“Relax, he's awake, he'll be okay,” the gravel voice said. “I didn't hit him hard enough to do any permanent damage,”

Permanent?

So the hit had done some damage then. He certainly felt more than a little light headed. Maybe he had a brain haemorrhage then, some hidden trauma deep within his skull that would be sure to kill him in a slow and deservedly painful manner.

“Oh come on,” Asuka's voice cut into his mental reverie. “His skull's so thick and dense, you'd have to hit him twice before it'd do anything noticeable...”

“Okay...”

Shinji opened his eyes at this moment, just in time to see a woman standing over him, wearing what looked like an orange version of Asuka's plugsuit.

With the legs cut off.

He had ample time to note that she had very nice legs, and silky, pallid skin that reminded him of Rei somewhat.

The look on Asuka's face worried him though. It was a strange, phaser stunned look, that just seemed wrong coming from her. It was that sort of look you give when you're sure you've just seen something so absolutely deadly, that not even Jim Kirk could've survived it... not without copious amounts of redshirts anyway. And yet, the victim just walked away with a mild bruise.

Her mouth was left hanging open, and it looked like the Second Child wanted to say something, but the words couldn't quite make their way past her lips.

It was a rare thing, and that worried him.

Even more so was the manic, white toothed grin of the woman standing over him, her nicotine yellow eyes and pink hair seeming so impossibly unnaturally natural, he was sure this biker had to be some sort of cosplayer.

Something weird anyway.

A bit like Rei really.

Finally, he saw the Silver Strat' tracing a shining arc towards the top of his head.

The phone line between his brain and his mouth finally connected...

“Stop!” he shrieked.

Then, he was unconscious once more, not even a dial tone ringing in his ears...

I...I

I'm trying something different to my normal style. I'm doing this with a lot of little short chapters...to give it a more frenetic pace maybe... I can do them in an hour if I had to, with a little forwards planning, but, updates at speed aren't always possible...and are infact.. unlikely.

Prereader:: (Enough with the ellipses. I realize this is an AN, but they're repetitive. Too many here will make it feel like there are too many in the fic.)

I'm adminning out at DS main page, have my review group EvSoc, and am trying to advertise Evamade(dot)net without having to pay charges...

All in all... no time for fic-fun...

Slán Libh
Dartz IRL

Preread by Himonky and on TFF

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