I was thinking of the Original Gundam colony drop when I wrote the Tunguska-ish ZPI, but you're right, there are other anime events that fit the vague description.
And here's the final installment:
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I could feel Shinjis jagged-edged, raw-nerved presence in the entry plug, still echoing through me. The pain of doing combat acrobatics with a fractured arm seemed to be keeping him semiconscious, and frankly if Id still been capable Idve been nauseous myself just from the sensation of the broken ends bumping and grinding together.
But to paraphrase Twain, impending doom focuses the mind wonderfully. First order of business was to find a new power cable I didnt remember what the battery limit was, but I knew it wouldnt be enough then patch up my arm, then find some firepower. And then open up a cano whupass.
Of course, there was the little problem of finding- what I needed. I slowed in my headlong flight to look around and try to get my bearings. With no knowledge of the city, no way to access maps, and no way to hear anyone communicating with the entry plug, I was in trouble. I leaped atop the tallest near building for a better vantage point, actually shading my eyes with my good hand from pure reflex. I scanned around, looking for anything that might jog my memory, caught a flicker of motion, and jumped for it just ahead of the blast that vaporized the building beneath my feet.
Hideaki Anno has a lot to answer for. Cross-shaped explosions, good grief-.
I dropped down to street level again and started zigzagging through the blocks. That shot had come from a fair distance the angel might have me outgunned, but it looked like I had a good speed margin. Of course, if I just kept evading, eventually hed go back to blasting his way down to Terminal Dogma and its waiting Apocalypse-on-a-stick, and that would bring this ZPI right up to number three on my personal Worst Missions Ever scale (dont ask).
I emerged into a large plaza-like intersection and paused, trying to figure out which way to go. I would have killed- for a decent map right about then. Instead, I got the next best thing. Three quarters of the lights went out.
And people wonder why I mad crush on Misato Katsuragi. When this was over, I was going to give that woman the biggest kiss um. On second thought.
Whatever Misato thought was going on, shed figured out that whomever was driving EVA-01 needed guidance, and was using the street lights accordingly. Only one street out of the plaza was lit, and I barreled down it as fast as my freakishly long legs would take me.
It wasnt a long trip, but it sure had a lot of turns. Misato and the bridge bunnies (sounds like a one-shot 80s pop band, doesnt it?) must have been trying to keep me clear of the angels line of sight. A building bordered in yellow-and-black striping opened up as I approached, and I grabbed the fresh power cable even as I felt something pop out of my back that had to be the old plug being jettisoned I love- working with competent people.
Then there was a bit of a problem. Look, -you- try plugging something into your own back, one-handed, without benefit of practice or a mirror, while wondering when the bogeyman is going to pop around the corner and blast you into component molecules. It didnt help that Shinji was starting to wake up again and turning my fingers numb and shaky.
Not sure quite how long it took, but we didnt collapse before I got the plug in, so I wasnt going to sweat the timer. Although it did occur to me that I had no idea if a partially-depleted battery would recharge from the power line, or how long it might take. I thrust that line of thought aside, and took a moment to listen for any 157 EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE footfalls coming my way before taking the time to try and patch my arm.
NERV, we have a problem.
Yui made it look so darn easy. Grab broken arm, make it glow, suddenly its whole again. All I managed to do was hurt Shinji some more. After about five minutes I gave up, ripped up a few light poles, and used the dangling length of the old power line and my prog knife to jury-rig a splint. It wouldnt win any Red Cross prizes, but at least it would give me partial use of my left hand back, and maybe keep Shinji from being tortured by every move we made. Explosions and towering crosses of fire in the middle distance suggested that Misato was using the defense grid to cover us and keep the angel busy, bless her tactical little heart.
As I finished up, I became aware of a tugging sensation, as if my body wanted to start moving in a certain direction. I cautiously relaxed my grip on the bodys motor functions, and almost wound up eating pavement again. I took over, got upright again, and tried to find a way to go with the flow. Shinjis sudden burst of positive (relatively) emotion confirmed my hunch without any real idea of what he was doing, he was trying from his end to find a way to work with me. Since he had all the comm gear, teamwork was going to be important.
We stumbled along a few blocks, getting a feel for each other. By the time we reached the arsenal block that Misato must have been guiding us to, we had a sort of unspoken agreement I did the driving, he did the navigating. It was rough around the edges, but I was feeling more optimistic than I had since the start of this fight.
I slung a magazine-fed missile launcher, jammed a sidearm into my splint (sorry, Shinji), and grabbed the biggest assault rifle I could find. Shinjis tugging suddenly changed directions and got stronger, with a frantic edge our sparring partner must have finally detected us. I ducked sideways to the tug, over a block, and hopped onto another roof for a quick look around.
This time I got the drop on him (and noted that the tug had been towards the angel, rather than away something to note for future reference) as he came around a corner. I pivoted the missile launcher up on its sling using my bad arm and pulsed the trigger. Three missiles to the face at point-blank range probably wasnt enough to kill or even seriously hurt the angel, but I was looking more for distraction and cover from the ensuing smokescreen.
The sheer agility of this body was still taking some getting used to, but I sure needed it now as I sailed over the roiling cloud that had completely enveloped the angel, rolling into a midair somersault with a half-twist to land facing the angels back (I hoped) at short range.
My second break of the evening: the angel stepped back out of cloud, facing maybe three-quarters away from me. Not an ideal shot, but I wasnt going to get a better one. I already had the assault rifle up to bear, one-handed with the stock in my armpit I lined up low on the target and held the trigger down.
At this range I could hardly miss, even on full auto, and this body had the musculature to beat muzzle climb. I let the entire magazine go in one long burst that climbed up the body and settled center-of-mass, hitting with at least four out of every five rounds. The angel staggered as the mixed AP and HE rounds ripped chunks out of its body I even saw a chip knocked loose from the core. It spun towards me, raising its arms in a very human defensive reflex, and I noticed that is was missing one forearm, right before the last dozen or so rounds from my magazine suddenly started bouncing off a hexagonal shimmer in the air.
Spam. Id been hoping to beat his ATF with surprise and speed or, failing that, half-hoping that my own would kick in on an instinctive level, because I had no idea- how to use the bloody thing.
Plan C was to mount the only attack I had evidence to conclude his ATF couldnt negate it was time to go to knuckle city. When Id been in direct physical contact before, his ATF hadnt protected him from the hands-on approach, and my only real hope was that that pattern would continue to hold true.
Of course, I had to get to him, first.
The rifles bolt locked open and I tossed it away, snagging the sidearm from its makeshift holster as I dropped into a low crouch. If- I was guessing right, and if- I was fast enough, and if- I could get just one more halfway-decent break, I might just be able to get everyone out of th
A heartbeats worth of glow was the only warning, but Id known that from before. I threw myself forward, kissing concrete, with everything my legs had. A towering crucifix of energy that I couldnt see but knew was there speared the street behind me, close enough to make my heels burn and towering hundreds of meters into the sky. The blast added to my own momentum and tumbled me straight down the street to fetch up hard against the angels ankles with a fresh burst of agony from my shattered forearm that socked Shinji most of the way back to unconsciousness.
I twisted my shoulders and brought my arm up faster than I would have thought possible. The angle was bad, but I had physical contact and hopefully a half-second or so while his ATF switched from offense to defense. His weight was already shifting back on his heel he was planning to break contact but my muzzle jammed againstheloweredgeofhiscoreIstartedpullingthetrigger
I levered myself up along the side of a building, feeling as if Id been beaten all over with a lead-lined rubber hose (I know how that feels from experience). That last blast must have come closer than Id thought there was definitely something wrong with my lower legs. The angel was on its back doing a good impression of a smoking, holy (ahem) corpse, but the first rule of any horror-movie afficianado is, if you go to check the monster, shoot it first. I leveled my sidearm at the core, fired, and the gun blew up in my hand.
The muzzle mustve been damaged from being fired in physical contact with the target. Whatever the reason, the front of the barrel blew out spectacularly, flinging the slide back to carom off my face armor. And thats when I felt something clamp around my knee and something like a red-hot railroad spike drive straight through the joint, front to back.
I didnt have time to swear, even mentally we were going down like a felled tree, my gun was DRT, the missile launcher MIA during the last explosion, and I could tell from the feel that my skewered leg wasnt going to hold my weight again, period. Shinjis reaction was oddly muted, this time, as if hed topped out his pain threshold or something, but he was still with me, and I felt a sudden strong- tug at our right hand as something mechanical happened in my shoulder.
We landed prone, sprawled half across the angel, which began beating at us with its remaining arm as I followed the tug and fumbled for my prog knife. The piledriver speared me through the ribs again, and this time I felt it puncture the entry plug. Shinjis spike of momentary panic matched my own as did the groundswell of rage following on its heels.
Our hand closed around the hilt of the prog knife and flipped it overhand as we levered ourselves up on our broken arm for a better angle. The piledriver hit us again, this time punching through up through our knife arms armpit and emerging from the far side of our neck in a scarlet spray, but the knife came down and smashed into the angels core, throwing a fountain of sparks. We pushed higher on our bad arm to put more weight behind the knife, and pushed-.
Ive caused bigger craters, but the one the self-destructing First Angel left behind set a new personal record for craters Ive been at ground zero for. I wanted to be optimistic that this one wasnt going to set a trend, but what I could remember of the canon material didnt leave me very hopeful.
Still, that was a problem for later. Right now, I had two more immediate concerns. The bigger one was how I, as a giant robot, was going to avoid going stir crazy with no books, no TV, and no one to talk to. The lesser but more pressing issue was that I was pretty sure Ritsuko didnt stock anesthetics for EVAs I was not- looking forward to my upcoming time in the body-and-fender shop.
Still, I was alive, Shinji was still alive (and sleeping the sleep of the wounded righteous in my entry plug), and the city was still standing. Id chalk this up to a decent nights work and worry about tomorrow tomorrow.
In the meantime, the sun was coming up, and I thought (not for the first or last time) that it had never been so beautiful.
And here's the final installment:
------------------------------------------------------------------
I could feel Shinjis jagged-edged, raw-nerved presence in the entry plug, still echoing through me. The pain of doing combat acrobatics with a fractured arm seemed to be keeping him semiconscious, and frankly if Id still been capable Idve been nauseous myself just from the sensation of the broken ends bumping and grinding together.
But to paraphrase Twain, impending doom focuses the mind wonderfully. First order of business was to find a new power cable I didnt remember what the battery limit was, but I knew it wouldnt be enough then patch up my arm, then find some firepower. And then open up a cano whupass.
Of course, there was the little problem of finding- what I needed. I slowed in my headlong flight to look around and try to get my bearings. With no knowledge of the city, no way to access maps, and no way to hear anyone communicating with the entry plug, I was in trouble. I leaped atop the tallest near building for a better vantage point, actually shading my eyes with my good hand from pure reflex. I scanned around, looking for anything that might jog my memory, caught a flicker of motion, and jumped for it just ahead of the blast that vaporized the building beneath my feet.
Hideaki Anno has a lot to answer for. Cross-shaped explosions, good grief-.
I dropped down to street level again and started zigzagging through the blocks. That shot had come from a fair distance the angel might have me outgunned, but it looked like I had a good speed margin. Of course, if I just kept evading, eventually hed go back to blasting his way down to Terminal Dogma and its waiting Apocalypse-on-a-stick, and that would bring this ZPI right up to number three on my personal Worst Missions Ever scale (dont ask).
I emerged into a large plaza-like intersection and paused, trying to figure out which way to go. I would have killed- for a decent map right about then. Instead, I got the next best thing. Three quarters of the lights went out.
And people wonder why I mad crush on Misato Katsuragi. When this was over, I was going to give that woman the biggest kiss um. On second thought.
Whatever Misato thought was going on, shed figured out that whomever was driving EVA-01 needed guidance, and was using the street lights accordingly. Only one street out of the plaza was lit, and I barreled down it as fast as my freakishly long legs would take me.
It wasnt a long trip, but it sure had a lot of turns. Misato and the bridge bunnies (sounds like a one-shot 80s pop band, doesnt it?) must have been trying to keep me clear of the angels line of sight. A building bordered in yellow-and-black striping opened up as I approached, and I grabbed the fresh power cable even as I felt something pop out of my back that had to be the old plug being jettisoned I love- working with competent people.
Then there was a bit of a problem. Look, -you- try plugging something into your own back, one-handed, without benefit of practice or a mirror, while wondering when the bogeyman is going to pop around the corner and blast you into component molecules. It didnt help that Shinji was starting to wake up again and turning my fingers numb and shaky.
Not sure quite how long it took, but we didnt collapse before I got the plug in, so I wasnt going to sweat the timer. Although it did occur to me that I had no idea if a partially-depleted battery would recharge from the power line, or how long it might take. I thrust that line of thought aside, and took a moment to listen for any 157 EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE footfalls coming my way before taking the time to try and patch my arm.
NERV, we have a problem.
Yui made it look so darn easy. Grab broken arm, make it glow, suddenly its whole again. All I managed to do was hurt Shinji some more. After about five minutes I gave up, ripped up a few light poles, and used the dangling length of the old power line and my prog knife to jury-rig a splint. It wouldnt win any Red Cross prizes, but at least it would give me partial use of my left hand back, and maybe keep Shinji from being tortured by every move we made. Explosions and towering crosses of fire in the middle distance suggested that Misato was using the defense grid to cover us and keep the angel busy, bless her tactical little heart.
As I finished up, I became aware of a tugging sensation, as if my body wanted to start moving in a certain direction. I cautiously relaxed my grip on the bodys motor functions, and almost wound up eating pavement again. I took over, got upright again, and tried to find a way to go with the flow. Shinjis sudden burst of positive (relatively) emotion confirmed my hunch without any real idea of what he was doing, he was trying from his end to find a way to work with me. Since he had all the comm gear, teamwork was going to be important.
We stumbled along a few blocks, getting a feel for each other. By the time we reached the arsenal block that Misato must have been guiding us to, we had a sort of unspoken agreement I did the driving, he did the navigating. It was rough around the edges, but I was feeling more optimistic than I had since the start of this fight.
I slung a magazine-fed missile launcher, jammed a sidearm into my splint (sorry, Shinji), and grabbed the biggest assault rifle I could find. Shinjis tugging suddenly changed directions and got stronger, with a frantic edge our sparring partner must have finally detected us. I ducked sideways to the tug, over a block, and hopped onto another roof for a quick look around.
This time I got the drop on him (and noted that the tug had been towards the angel, rather than away something to note for future reference) as he came around a corner. I pivoted the missile launcher up on its sling using my bad arm and pulsed the trigger. Three missiles to the face at point-blank range probably wasnt enough to kill or even seriously hurt the angel, but I was looking more for distraction and cover from the ensuing smokescreen.
The sheer agility of this body was still taking some getting used to, but I sure needed it now as I sailed over the roiling cloud that had completely enveloped the angel, rolling into a midair somersault with a half-twist to land facing the angels back (I hoped) at short range.
My second break of the evening: the angel stepped back out of cloud, facing maybe three-quarters away from me. Not an ideal shot, but I wasnt going to get a better one. I already had the assault rifle up to bear, one-handed with the stock in my armpit I lined up low on the target and held the trigger down.
At this range I could hardly miss, even on full auto, and this body had the musculature to beat muzzle climb. I let the entire magazine go in one long burst that climbed up the body and settled center-of-mass, hitting with at least four out of every five rounds. The angel staggered as the mixed AP and HE rounds ripped chunks out of its body I even saw a chip knocked loose from the core. It spun towards me, raising its arms in a very human defensive reflex, and I noticed that is was missing one forearm, right before the last dozen or so rounds from my magazine suddenly started bouncing off a hexagonal shimmer in the air.
Spam. Id been hoping to beat his ATF with surprise and speed or, failing that, half-hoping that my own would kick in on an instinctive level, because I had no idea- how to use the bloody thing.
Plan C was to mount the only attack I had evidence to conclude his ATF couldnt negate it was time to go to knuckle city. When Id been in direct physical contact before, his ATF hadnt protected him from the hands-on approach, and my only real hope was that that pattern would continue to hold true.
Of course, I had to get to him, first.
The rifles bolt locked open and I tossed it away, snagging the sidearm from its makeshift holster as I dropped into a low crouch. If- I was guessing right, and if- I was fast enough, and if- I could get just one more halfway-decent break, I might just be able to get everyone out of th
A heartbeats worth of glow was the only warning, but Id known that from before. I threw myself forward, kissing concrete, with everything my legs had. A towering crucifix of energy that I couldnt see but knew was there speared the street behind me, close enough to make my heels burn and towering hundreds of meters into the sky. The blast added to my own momentum and tumbled me straight down the street to fetch up hard against the angels ankles with a fresh burst of agony from my shattered forearm that socked Shinji most of the way back to unconsciousness.
I twisted my shoulders and brought my arm up faster than I would have thought possible. The angle was bad, but I had physical contact and hopefully a half-second or so while his ATF switched from offense to defense. His weight was already shifting back on his heel he was planning to break contact but my muzzle jammed againstheloweredgeofhiscoreIstartedpullingthetrigger
I levered myself up along the side of a building, feeling as if Id been beaten all over with a lead-lined rubber hose (I know how that feels from experience). That last blast must have come closer than Id thought there was definitely something wrong with my lower legs. The angel was on its back doing a good impression of a smoking, holy (ahem) corpse, but the first rule of any horror-movie afficianado is, if you go to check the monster, shoot it first. I leveled my sidearm at the core, fired, and the gun blew up in my hand.
The muzzle mustve been damaged from being fired in physical contact with the target. Whatever the reason, the front of the barrel blew out spectacularly, flinging the slide back to carom off my face armor. And thats when I felt something clamp around my knee and something like a red-hot railroad spike drive straight through the joint, front to back.
I didnt have time to swear, even mentally we were going down like a felled tree, my gun was DRT, the missile launcher MIA during the last explosion, and I could tell from the feel that my skewered leg wasnt going to hold my weight again, period. Shinjis reaction was oddly muted, this time, as if hed topped out his pain threshold or something, but he was still with me, and I felt a sudden strong- tug at our right hand as something mechanical happened in my shoulder.
We landed prone, sprawled half across the angel, which began beating at us with its remaining arm as I followed the tug and fumbled for my prog knife. The piledriver speared me through the ribs again, and this time I felt it puncture the entry plug. Shinjis spike of momentary panic matched my own as did the groundswell of rage following on its heels.
Our hand closed around the hilt of the prog knife and flipped it overhand as we levered ourselves up on our broken arm for a better angle. The piledriver hit us again, this time punching through up through our knife arms armpit and emerging from the far side of our neck in a scarlet spray, but the knife came down and smashed into the angels core, throwing a fountain of sparks. We pushed higher on our bad arm to put more weight behind the knife, and pushed-.
Ive caused bigger craters, but the one the self-destructing First Angel left behind set a new personal record for craters Ive been at ground zero for. I wanted to be optimistic that this one wasnt going to set a trend, but what I could remember of the canon material didnt leave me very hopeful.
Still, that was a problem for later. Right now, I had two more immediate concerns. The bigger one was how I, as a giant robot, was going to avoid going stir crazy with no books, no TV, and no one to talk to. The lesser but more pressing issue was that I was pretty sure Ritsuko didnt stock anesthetics for EVAs I was not- looking forward to my upcoming time in the body-and-fender shop.
Still, I was alive, Shinji was still alive (and sleeping the sleep of the wounded righteous in my entry plug), and the city was still standing. Id chalk this up to a decent nights work and worry about tomorrow tomorrow.
In the meantime, the sun was coming up, and I thought (not for the first or last time) that it had never been so beautiful.