Disclaimer:  Don't own it, don't want it.

Special thanks to Xanatose, who more or less is more or less my only prereader.  You guys should thank him by reading his stuff and giving him some thought-invoked reviews.  He's one fart-smeller…I mean, smart feller.

Thanks a lot.

Chapter 2:  Of Pride and Hope

For perhaps the four-hundredth time that evening, Asuka's sapphire blue eyes traced around the edges of the rectangle-shaped light fixture in the center of the ceiling of her room.  In the middle of the thin, yet large, box-like object was a simple copper ring, with a thin chain of metal beads for turning the fluorescent light on and off.  She attempted again to count the number of tiny metallic ball-shaped links, though the task was proving to be more difficult than she had originally anticipated.  Over and over again she tried to come up with the exact number on the string, only to repeatedly lose count. Irritated to the point of frustration, she decided to shift her focus elsewhere in the room.

The ugly color of the interior of the household became her next subject for scrutiny. It had been shaded to a color her eyes couldn't quite discern in the dark room, and at the moment she was rather grateful for that fact.  The disgusting hue would have done little to lessen her anger, and likely even serve to worsen matters to a heightened degree.

She shifted restlessly on the small bed—one that seemed much smaller than she remembered—reviewing the last moments of her earlier verbal assault against the young man.  The verbal lashing she had dealt him could be considered "harsh" at best, though "cruel" was likely closer to the mark.  When she had attacked him, she didn't withhold even a single punch, lashing out with everything she possibly could.

Strangely enough, though, she hardly felt satisfied with him simply tucking tail and running away.  Rather than the sweet, savory taste of victory, she had been left with the bitter flavor of disappointment.  At the moment, she needed a vent for her anger.  Shinji had served well enough as a punching bag, but what she really wanted was for someone to fight back; someone to provide her with a bit of a challenge.  She had hoped the Third Child might have grown up enough to provide her with as much, but undoubtedly there were just some things that would never change.

Was I wrong to say those things? she questioned herself, again recalling her heated barrage.  Do I really feel that way, or was I just…?

A scowl came to her features, and she shook her head once to clear her mind of any doubt.  If there was one thing she, the infamous Second Child of NERV, shouldn't be doing, it was second-guessing herself.  If she even hinted at indecisiveness, there would be absolutely no chance for her regaining her former position, or even being a part of the organization that had consumed her entire life.  She knew, better than anyone else, that if she was removed from the NERV roster she would have nothing; be nothing.

That was something she wasn't willing to accept.

Her thoughts became muddled, causing the short fuse that was her temper to quickly burn itself to the end of its wick, and with a feral growl she kicked the lump of covers bundled about her feet across the room.  Again she realized how tiny and uncomfortable the bed was, further frustrating her.  The sudden urge to scream out her defiant anger became overwhelming, though somehow she held herself in check. Instead she settled for rolling out of bed with her teeth painfully gnashed together as she began pacing back and forth within the small confines of the room that, for some reason, suddenly seemed more a prison than living quarters.  When the covers again got in her way, she fiercely flung them on the bed, feeling slightly satisfied with the loud—at least for the sound of a blanket slapping against sheets—and dead-weight "thud", which helped to assuage her rage, if only slightly.

While the room was dark, Asuka's eyes had long-since adjusted to the lack of light, and the floor of her room was uncharacteristically clean.  She noticed this with a detached amusement, until the implications of that fact occurred to her.  With an unlady-like snort she began critically examining her "cell", scowling disapprovingly. 

Misato's precious little stooge probably came in here to dig through my things the moment he heard I left.  No doubt the pervert invited his gay little friends in here to steal my underwear.  As if to test her hypothesis, she jerked open the old dresser drawer where she had once kept her undergarments.

It was with more than a little surprise that she found the drawer in neat order, though it also looked that the items within the cubby hadn't been touched in quite awhile.  Asuka's eyes narrowed suspiciously as she tried to think of something wrong with the scene before her, but she eventually settled for a growl, slamming the drawer full of now-useless clothes.  Successively, she inspected each and every drawer in the room, finding each one in more or less the same condition—as if the room had been straightened up one time thoroughly, then left alone, save for the occasional cleaning of the furniture and floor.

Tch.  That jerk probably had his fun one good time with his buddies then went to chase after some other skirt.  Jerks.  She nodded, as if to convince herself that she should be satisfied with that simple, logical explanation.  After all, she continued, men are nothing but dogs.  They're only interested in getting one good hump before moving on to the next female in line.

 The idea of Shinji taking the time to clean her room, however, did not sit as well with the girl as her reasonable deduction.  She looked around the room, imagining the male youth diligently wiping every flat surface with a rag, running the vacuum cleaner, and changing the unused bedspread.  Another snarl rolled up from the pit of her throat, hands balling into tight fists, while her nails dug painfully into her palms as she moved to one of the dresser drawers and forcefully flung several of her old blouses and other random articles of clothing about the floor.  She turned and smiled at her handiwork, enjoying the bit of chaos she knew the coward would find distasteful.  That'll show him who's in charge here, she thought smugly.

The redhead's actions abruptly ceased as realization struck her, her back stiffening and her eyes widening.  The little prick would probably revel in the opportunity to come in here and touch my stuff, she thought, and immediately began to pick up the clothes and stuff them back in her drawer.  I'm not about to give a pervert like that an excuse to come in my room and do any gross stuff in here.  It was then she remembered that such a thing had likely already happened, and not only from the coward, but also all of his friends.  A chill ran down her spine as she clutched the last shirt tightly in her hand before tossing it to the ground, recoiling from it as if it were a snake.

She fell on the bed, suddenly feeling very tired, when she heard the front door slide open and a bit light from the front foyer began to spill in against the paper-thin door that served as the entrance to her "cell".  There was no doubt in her mind of who had just entered the apartment, as his gait was fairly distinctive. She shot back to her feet, determined to give Shinji Ikari the beating of his life for causing her more anguish in the last several hours than any other person she had ever known at any given time.

 "I'm home," he said, softly enough not to disturb anyone, but loudly enough that anyone that might have been awake would hear him.  Had it not been for the gentle padding of his sock-clad feet down the hallway, his mild calling from the front door would have been the only signal to the household inhabitants of his entry.

Asuka's hand balled tightly into a fist and her face flushed with the heat of her wrath.  She stalked to the door, preparing to jerk it open and pounce on the Third Child. Then she felt him move past her door, his foot falls as silent as the shadow of his outline against the thin door.  This struck a nerve, as the Shinji Ikari she recalled hadn't possessed a graceful bone in his body.

Feeling exhausted yet again, the girl quietly trudged back to her bed, where she sat on the yielding mattress and placed her back against the wall, drawing her legs close to her resting her chin on her slender knees, her arms hugging her lower appendages closer to her body.  She quickly found herself growing frustrated with her inability to remain angry with the dark-haired male, her anger swelling forth again, only to pete-out momentarily, causing her mind to surge back and forth much like a shoreline licked continuously by waves.

The weight of defeat seemed to hover above her head—a burden she would not accept, but was too weary to shrug off.  An icy chill lanced its way down her spine as an unplaced feeling of nostalgia crept at the edges of her awareness, and before she realized it she found herself groping for the blanket she had flung from the bed only moments before.  With sluggish movements, she adjusted herself into a laying position pulling the covers across her as she did so.

Finally finding herself curled between the shielding ward of the thick comforter the soft embrace of the mattress about her slender frame, the German allowed her consciousness to drift. Hoping that slumber would alleviate the misplaced feeling of impending hopelessness that had accumulated on her shoulders, she drew her body in upon itself until she had curled into a defensive ball, her hands clutching both angrily and fearfully at the covers.

Stupid, perverted Shinji, she mentally grunted, pulling the fabric of the blanket tightly against her skin. Yet she still felt naked and vulnerable—as if unseen eyes were laying her bare and inspecting her like she was some sort of animal.  A desperate scream began to distend in the back of her throat—a shriek of anger, hatred, denial, and fear.  She thought it might escape before she could subdue it, when the gentle scent of cooked food somehow managed to grasp her attention. 

All at once, as if the smell were some sort of powerful sedative, the knotting tension in the girl released itself.  The aroma led her to hear the sounds of someone quietly working in the kitchen, being careful as not to wake anyone else in the household.

Kitchen… her mind seemed to hum the word, her body and mind quickly submitting to the realm of dreams.  Of its own accord her body shifted into a more comfortable position, then shut itself down, starting with her feet and slowly making its way upward until only her senses of hearing and smell were working.  She imagined the comfortable warmth of the kitchen bathing her skin, mercifully washing away the clammy chill she hadn't even realized was there.  The smell continued to swirl within her nostrils, carrying with it the unspoken promises of security and perhaps even contentment.

It wasn't long before both her mind and body completely relaxed, providing Asuka with the best night's sleep she had had in quite some time…

(-----)

Shinji's eyes were heavily lidded as he lay in the grass, half-staring at the clear blue sky and half sleeping.  He had hardly been asleep that morning when Misato had cheerfully burst in his room, informing him if he didn't wake up, he'd be late for school.  Everything after that point was little more than a glazed rush of incomprehensible memories.

Nearby he was very aware of his friends and almost constant companions, who were talking idly between themselves not a meter away.  Their conversation was far from private, but the dark-haired boy barely had the energy to keep his eyes open, let alone try and keep up with what Kensuke was talking about.

"Are you unwell, Pilot Ikari?" came the soft monotone of the First Child, who was sitting to his left with a book in hand.

He turned his attention to the young woman, noting absently how closely her hair-color resembled the cloudless sky.  His mind working slower than usual, he smiled reassuringly before his mouth managed to form a proper response.  "I-I'm fine, Ayanami.  I just didn't get a lot of sleep last night.  That's all."

Her face remained as devoid of any real expression as ever, but her deep, crimson eyes voiced all of her masked concern, despite the fact that they still managed to pierce right into the boy's soul, judging him as they seemed to do with everyone they fell upon.  With a small, accepting nod, the girl then turned her attention back to the book in her hand, occasionally pulling a carrot or piece of celery from her bento.

"Yo, Shin-man.  You're going with us tonight, right?" Touji suddenly broke in, shattering what was left of the young pilot's reverie. 

"Huh?" was the only response he could muster, reaching up to rub his burning eyes.

Kensuke looked utterly shocked at the reply, as if somehow Shinji's absent-mindedness had physically struck the curly-haired youth.  "You mean you forgot?  Aw, man!  You've gotta come!  I've got money rid-…" He trailed off, looking slightly embarrassed at his slip-up.

Then it was Touji who seemed surprised.  "You've got money what?  Dude, that's not cool.  Now he's gonna hafta play for the wrong reason.  It's supposed to be fun, not some sporting event.  What kind of friend are you, trying to make a buck off your buddy?"

The spectacled youth pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, a smirk on his face.  "Why, the best kind, of course!  I mean, what better way to show my absolute faith in Shinji's piloting abilities than to actually put my hard-earned money on him?  Of course, if he wins, I'll split the pot with him, twenty-eighty.  Plus I'll be paying for everything, so all he'll have to do is win."

"Would someone please explain to me what's going on here?" the young Ikari asked, now confused on top of his utter exhaustion.  "What is it I've forgotten, and what is it I'm supposed to be doing tonight?"

"The new Macross arcade comes out today, and there's going to be an unofficial tournament at the arcade tonight," Touji explained, frowning distastefully at the grinning Aida.  "We were supposed to go there at about eight tonight to check it out, and maybe get in on some of the action…for fun.  But now dingle-bat here," he punched his friend on the shoulder for emphasis, effectively wiping the smirk from his face, "has put money in that stupid pot that you'll win, so now you kinda hafta show up."

Shinji blinked slowly, digesting the information.  Finally he sat up and nodded.  "All right.  It sounds like fun, but I'm a little tired, so I might not be very good.  Not to mention it'll be my first time playing the new one, so I don't know…"

"Don't sweat it," Suzahara replied with a reassuring smile.  "No one else has played either.  You'll be fighting against other people, but that ought to be no sweat for someone with your skills."

"Yeah!  I knew you wouldn't let us-" Kensuke started, falling on his side from the sudden impact of an elbow against his ribs.  He glared angrily at Touji, rubbing the now-tender spot.  "Me, down," he corrected himself.

The Third Child merely chuckled, and had nearly fallen back asleep when he noticed Rei staring intently at him.  Feeling more than seeing any indication of her disapproval, Shinji felt a slight chill go down the back of his spine.  "I-Is something wrong…Ayanami?"

She took—what for her might be considered—a deep breath that came out almost in what sounded like a sigh.  "Need I remind you, Pilot Ikari, that you are constantly on duty and must be alert in the event of an Angel attack.  It is quite apparent you are in need of sleep, and I strongly advise against any further activities that prevent you from gaining that rest."  As if to punctuate her statement the dark-haired boy attempted to stifle a yawn.

"I'll be fine," he said, smiling wearily.  "I'll just pick up a quick nap when school lets up before I go to the arcade."  A slight paused ensued, as if an idea had struck the boy.  "Hey, I know…why don't you come with us?  We could pick up something to eat at the mall, and you could even invite Hikari, Touji.  It could be pretty fun."

"Sure," Kensuke jumped in, more than a little excited at the prospect of doing two of his favorite things—winning money and playing video games—with female accompaniment.  "Heck, I'll even pay for dinner!" he boasted, turning a critical eye to the male Eva pilot.  "If Shinji wins, that is."

"Hikari?" Touji asked incredulously, stealing a carrot from Rei's bento and chewing on it thoughtfully.  "I dunno…if she'd go for that sort…of thing." He swallowed before continuing.  "Maybe dinner, sure, but I doubt she'd be willing to stick around to watch Shinji play a video game."

At the mention of the perpetual Class Representative's name, Kensuke began looking around curiously.  "Say, where is Hikari today, anyway?  I haven't seen her stop by to make her daily offering to the Great Stomach of Tokyo-3…"

Suzahara blinked, scratching his chin thoughtfully.  "Hey, yeah, you're ri-… Hey!"

This time Aida had been ready for the blow, and managed to roll out of reach, laughing.

"Representative Horaki was speaking on her cellular phone after leaving the ladies' restroom," Rei spoke, having gone back to reading her book.

"Geez!" the largest of the three males griped, folding his arms behind his head and unceremoniously dropping from his sitting position into a laying one.  "Women and their phones.  Sometimes I wish those damned things had never been invented.  They're nothing but a distraction from the more important things in life."

"Yeah," the freckled and smallest of the young men chuckled, "Like feeding you."

"Shut up, nerd."

"Jock."

"Dork."

"Ass~hello, Hikari!" the spectacled youth tried to recover, only to receive a painful smack to the back of his head. 

"Kensuke Aida, how many times do I have to tell you to watch that mouth of yours?" the tall and thin brunette scolded, her dark eyes flickering dangerously despite her mild words.  "One more time this week and I'll make sure you get garbage duty for a month."

"Yes, ma'am!" he replied, saluting smartly.

"Hey there, Hikari," Shinji lifted a hand and tilted his head upwards to face the newest arrival.  He smiled as he looked her over from his slightly awkward position, still amazed at how she had grown—and filled out—since he had first met her over two years before.  She had given up the pigtails shortly after Asuka had left, instead favoring a simple, yet pleasing-to-the-eye haircut that hung just above her slender shoulders.

"Ikari," she said cordially, returning the smile before looking down at Touji, who was in the process of slinking closer to her feet from where he lay on the ground.  "…Suzahara…" the girl growled, kicking the young man in the head before sitting down. 

"Ow, hey!  What was that for?" he asked, sitting upright and rubbing the side of his head.

"For being a pervert and trying to look up my skirt!" she fumed indignantly, folding her hands primly over the large bento she had brought with her.  "When are you going to grow up?"

"Hey, it's not like I try and look up any girl's skirt like Kens over there.  I only do it with you," the athletic male admitted, looking hopefully at the box.

In his defense, Kensuke merely snorted, pulling out a palm-pilot and flipping it on.

"Oh, and I'm supposed to take that as a compliment?" the short-haired, freckled girl inquired heatedly.  "You should act your age and not your I-Que."

"I thought they were about the same…" Aida sniggered, again rolling just out of swatting range.  When he noticed two pairs of angry eyes glaring his way, he retreated back to his hand-held, muttering something unintelligible.

Hikari held her intense glower for several more seconds for good measure before turning a more cheerful face to the still tired, but slightly bemused Third Child.  "So what were you four discussing before I showed up?  I saw you talking, but couldn't hear."

"Huh?  Oh…well, maybe Touji better tell you," Shinji answered, tossing his younger, but more muscular friend a wink.

"Wha?  Me?" he stammered, rubbing the back of his head.  "Oh, yeah!  Hey, Hikari, wanna go out with me tonight?" Suzahara asked bluntly, jabbing a thumb at his chest for good measure and wearing his most "charming" grin.

"My God," Aida interrupted, laughing hysterically.  "That proves it.  Touji, you're a complete idiot.  I've never seen someone screw up something so simple in my life."

"Shut up, Kensuke!" came the simultaneous responses from Horaki and Suzahara.

"Anyway…" the former pilot began again, still scowling at the curly-haired youth's back menacingly, "whaddya say?"

The tall and lithe girl smiled shyly, dipping her head slightly to hide the slight blush in her cheeks.  "I'd love to, Touji…"

"Woohoo!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet and thrusting a fist triumphantly in the air.  "And here I thought you were gonna turn me down!  Oh, man, I love being wrong!"

"…but I just made other plans to meet with someone after school.  I'm sorry."

For several long seconds the large, jump-suit clad male continued to beam at the sky, until there was an almost audible "click" as the words sunk home.  He looked down, utterly shocked at the gentle rejection he had been given.  Crestfallen, he slumped back into a sitting position, wearing his disappointment on the sleeve of his jacket.  "Oh," was all he said in a neutral tone.  "That's cool."

"I'm sorry," she repeated.  "I really would like to go, you know."

"Nah, that's okay," he replied, his voice raising back to its more optimistic level and his face brightening.  "You got better things to do, and that's cool.  Some other time, maybe."

"Touji…" Hikari trailed off, apparently saddened.

Rei stood then, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles in her uniform.  "We should go back now.  The break will be over soon."

Rolling up into a sitting position, then lifting himself slowly to his feet, Shinji nodded, beginning to walk back to the school with the blue-haired enigma silently.  Kensuke followed suit, stuffing his hand-held back into his pocket. 

Touji lagged behind a few seconds, taking time to stretch his synthetic leg before bounding off after them.  "Hey, wait up, guys!"

With a heavy and resigned sigh of defeat, Hikari pulled herself upright.  She shook her head in a vain effort to clear it of regretful thoughts, but they were not to be shaken.  Quietly she made her way after the quickly departing group, carrying the unopened bento with her.

(-----)

Damn these things for being so damned itchy, Asuka mentally swore, resisting the urge to scratch at her legs, which were clad in the tan-colored pants of a NERV uniform.  She had chosen the male variation of the garb, disgusted by the ridiculously short skirt used in the female variation.  The idea of male pigs gawking at her legs—or any part of her, for that matter—didn't appeal to her in the slightest.

She sat rigidly at attention in the uncomfortable chair that was, in turn, in a small, boring waiting room.  It might have been possible to relax, but for several present factors; one: the uniforms wouldn't allow it, two the chairs wouldn't allow it, three she was waiting to speak with Commander Ikari, and four…well, she was Asuka, and Asuka simply didn't relax.

Waiting was another thing the redhead never did.  She refused to wait on anyone, simply because that would mean she was letting something hold her back.  If there was one thing in the world she hated, it was restrictions. 

And then there's this goddamned itchy-assed uniform… she almost snarled aloud, again resisting the urge to rub the irritated parts of her skin raw.  How the hell do those techies wear this crap all day?  No wonder Misato dresses like a slut when she's on the job.  She sighed angrily, shifting only a millimeter in her seat.  Maybe Shinji can do something about this when we get back.  He's good with this sort of thing…

No sooner had the thought crossed her mind than she realized it had come unbidden.  A fierce scowl marred her picture-perfect features, dismissing the notion entirely.  That idiot can't even pull his own scrawny assed weight around.  It'll be a cold day in Hell before I consider him worthy of even shining my boots, let alone handle my clothes.  As if to physically affirm her resolve, she crossed her arms with an annoyed "Hmph."

Two hours came and left, and the woman had grown more agitated with each passing second.  Her resolve to not scratch had deteriorated nearly half an hour before, and her defiant response to having Shinji do something about the uniform had come back to the forefront of her mind for reconsideration, when she was nearly leapt from her skin at a very welcome intrusion.

"Asuka Langley Sohryu," a male voice came over an unseen speaker, "Commander Ikari will now see you.  This way, please."  Across the room, the thick metal door made a loud grinding noise, followed by a metal "thunk" before slowly opening on its own.

The Second Child stood, attempting to smooth out the creases she had managed to accumulate on the pants of her uniform during her long and restless wait.  Groaning in dismay at the unreceptive pants, she marched through the door, hoping no one would notice the slight imperfection.  On the other side of the door, two armed and highly intimidating guards waited for her, falling in step as she moved down the long, metal corridor.

What the hell are these two goons for? she wondered, looking the relatively tall guards over, almost sizing them up.  Her attention quickly shifted to the walls as she noticed they were segmented precisely every four meters, and each segment almost seemed entirely independent from the next, though they were all identical.  Rather than a sort of seam between each segment—as she was used to seeing in the upper levels of NERV headquarters—here there was a perfectly flush surface, though at every interval it appeared as if there were doors that could seal perfectly air-tight at the push of a button.

Geez.  Whoever designed this place must have been a paranoid schizo, Asuka mused mildly.  I wonder how thick these damned walls are.  That'd definitely tell how much of a freak this architect was.

It was the sound of heels of boots clicking loudly against the stainless steel floor that brought her out of her slight daze and snapped her back into the present.  Her "escort" had positioned themselves to either side of the door with their arms drawn up in a salute—a gesture which she returned absently—when the door hissed open, revealing a room lit only by a wall of windows behind the desk.

Normally nothing would cause the fiery German to hesitate, but for some strange reason she did now, gaining a bit of insight where Shinji's preoccupation with his father was concerned.  Truly the polished black iron floor and ceiling were ominous at best, and the fact that there were only two pieces of furniture visible—the desk and the occupied chair—made the enormous room even more foreboding.  An optical illusion of sorts was created by the angle at which the lighting was coming from and where the desk set, making it seem as if the desk were miles away, when in reality it was only twenty or so meters.

Still, the woman ruminated, that's a long damned way.  With measured steps she moved forward, keeping her hands close to her sides, trying to walk as she had seen other officers in the complex do.  Once she was within four meters of the desk, she stopped, snapping her heels together and saluting.

Thus far the man behind the desk had said nothing, keeping his elbows propped on the table and his hands folded before his face.  By some freak coincidence, the light refracted through his classes in such a way that it made his eyes impossible to see through the lenses.  He made no move to return the gesture, and was completely silent for several moments, giving neither an "at-ease" nor any sort of greeting.  He merely sat and watched, his face seemingly etched in the cold iron that made up even the desk in the office.

Unwilling to be bested, even by the infamous Supreme Commander, the redhead kept her eyes perfectly level with her back perfectly straight and holding her salute.

"What do you want?" the man eventually asked, getting directly to the point.

Asuka dropped the salute, spreading her feet to shoulder's width and clasping her arms behind her back while keeping her line of sight directly ahead, as she had seen some of the lower-ranking men do when Misato was debriefing them.  "I've come to request to be reinstated to my position as primary pilot of Evangelion Unit-Two," she replied, hoping she wasn't over-acting her part.

"Denied," he stated without hesitation, not a millimeter of his person that was visible moving.

Her façade dropped like a stone.  "But, sir, I-"

Now his face did move, though only slightly enough to be perceptible, though it did dispel the illusion on his glasses.  "You're wasting my time, Pilot.  I have no patience for my first-rate pilots, let alone in an unnecessary and useless reserve such as yourself."

Ikari's words hit her like a boxing glove full of coal.  She might have fled from the room had it not been for her stubborn pride and sheer determination.  Rather than play the order-taking subordinate, the girl closed the distance between herself and the desk, smacking her open palm against the chilly metal surface.  "You listen here," she sneered, "You've wasted two years of my life by shipping me to the U.S. of fucking A, keeping me away from my—MY, not that pansy-assed queer's—Unit-Two.  I'm back now, and I want back what's rightfully mine, and I want it now."

Several long seconds passed, with two icy brown orbs gazing stonily up at her penetrating blue ones.  She held his even stare, though with each passing second she felt the intensity fade from her eyes, and a gnawing sensation developed in the back of her mind as the adrenaline rush from her apparently foolhardy bravado quickly began to subside.  Her firm placement of her hand on his desk began to let up, and she felt the fear-invoking scowl she was so infamous for start to waver.

"Denied," he reiterated coldly, evenly.

"I can prove I'm better than him!" she shot in, hoping to at least gain some footing on the matter.  "Just…I know, a duel!"

"You're wasting my time," the Commander stated pointedly.

Now she was growing desperate.  The purpose of the meeting had shifted from getting her Eva back to winning the fight and had dwindled down to the point where she only wanted to leave the room with even a semblance of her pride intact.  "Let me fight him!  I'll prove I'm better than him!  A simulated battle between two Evas!  If I beat him, it'll show who the better pilot is, synch ratios be damned!"

Yet another long interval of silence settled upon the room, and his emotionless eyes seemed to bore into her skin.  She only managed to hold his gaze through the medium of an emotion she was unfamiliar with: fear.  Fear of being denied what she wanted—no, needed.  Fear of being beaten by another Ikari…

Another Ikari?  Shinji's never bested me…

"I see no reason to adjust the piloting roster," the dark-haired man declared, a hint of finality in his voice.  "The Fifth Child's synchronization ratio far surpasses yours, even during your peak.  He has shown no indications for acting in an insubordinate manner during a combat sortie."  He paused, his face remaining an impassive mask, though he almost seemed to be scowling at the young woman.  "Many times you disobeyed direct orders in combat, and in nearly every sortie you cost NERV incredible amounts of its funding in both repairs to the Unit and reparations for destruction of property—both public and private."

She wanted nothing more than to come across the desk and throttle the man, to bang his thick skull against the cold iron floor until it was nothing more than a bloody pulp.  Very quickly, she was coming to understand why Shinji Ikari bore his father such malice.  The pride-wounded pilot saw no outing for even a marginal victory from the encounter.  She couldn't deny the cold man's calculating logic, and she knew he would simply laugh internally at any argument based on her emotions.  The thought of any person laughing at her for whatever reason didn't set well with her at all.  Despite this knowledge, the words that had been echoing in her mind since the night before escaped her lips.  "Unit-Two is mine," she practically snarled.  "I'm the rightful pilot."

The silence that ensued was almost deafening.  For what seemed like eternity, the only thing Asuka could hear was the blood savagely pumping in her ears.  She managed to keep her eyes aligned with his, though only through considerable effort.  Finally understanding she would gain nothing from the encounter, the girl's face relaxed into an utterly neutral expression.  Defeated and now fully comprehending that there were no second-chances in her line of work, she turned to leave.

"You will report to headquarters tomorrow at seventeen-hundred hours," the Supreme Commander of the UN's most elite force stated bluntly, leaving no room for misinterpretation.  "At eighteen hundred hours promptly there will be a simulated sortie between yourself and the Fifth Child."  His face lifted back to its previous position, the light catching the lenses and again concealing his eyes from view.  "You are dismissed."

In a rare moment of utter surprise, Asuka Langley Sohryu was rendered utterly speechless.  She wasn't sure whether to be thankful or wary, though in another unique turn of events she chose to be the former.  Clicking her heels together and offering another salute, she spun on her heel and marched out of the office, feeling a surge of hope and determination in her heart.

(-----)

The control stick was slick and polished with the residue of previous users' hands, though this was only a passing thought of the young woman who was savagely jerking and thrusting the flight-handle, causing the jet-fighter to perform seemingly impossible maneuvers at intense speeds.  Several times warning messages along the bottom of the heads-up-display popped up, warning her that it was likely she was skiffing the edge of her own personal safety as a pilot, risking being crushed or whipped about to the point where she would no longer be able to perform.

This, however, mattered little to her, as she was less than worried about her "personal" safety.  After all, it was only a video game.

Asuka's scoreboard was sky-rocketing at a seemingly exponential rate.  Her wing-mates had been shot down early on, leaving her to fight the entirety of the Zentraedi forces on her own.  Thus far she had taken out over a hundred, though since she was the primary focus of all of the enemies it was taking a great amount of effort on her part to keep from being shot down.

She grinned ferally when an indicator popped up, telling her she was down to less than ten total enemies.  A beeping noise produced over the speakers notified her of a lock-on, prompting her to hit the throttle to escape damage.  Instead, however, she pulled the emergency-brake-like handle to her left back two notches, shifting her VF-19 from fighter mode to battroid, where she fired several bursts from her hand cannon at the missile clusters, effectively destroying them.

Knowing she would be little more than a target in her current form, she gripped the handle again, pressing the button and shoving it forward, reverting her veritech back into its jet-fighter mode, giving her a much-needed speed-boost.  Seeing a nearby mountain range on the terrain-scope, she altered her heading to the north, where she would be provided with enough cover to fight efficiently and not have to worry about watching her back.

A barrage of bullets fired from beneath her caught the redhead off guard, managing to clip her veritech's left wing and take out her sensor array on the ship's nose, effectively blinding her.  Forced to rely only on what she could see from the cockpit, Asuka jerked back on the shifting-handle, switching her from fighter to GUARDIAN mode, adjusting her speed enough to throw off the enemy's lead on her vector and giving her a chance for a counter attack.

She shifted the simulated machine back into fighter mode after dipping the ship's nose to where she would be shot at the ground at nearly a twenty-degree incline.  Another warning message popped into existence, signifying she would be crushed at her current rate of flight, but she chose not to heed it, instead setting the throttle to its maximum.

Suddenly the camera angle shifted to an external view, revealing a plume of smoke coming from the damaged wing.  In a stunning display of graphics, the wing ripped off, throwing the fighter into a tail-spin.  The pilot ejected from the cockpit just before the vehicle crashed into the enemy fighter, causing both to erupt in an extremely realistic explosion, going so far as to create a crater in the ground surrounding the area.

"Dammit!" the German swore, smacking the control stick.  "Stupid piece of crap!"  She grinned when a screen showed up for her to enter her initials, telling her she made the high-score.  Not like I didn't do a damned good job.  Hell, I doubt anyone's done anywhere nearly as well as I just did.

When the scores began scrolling on the screen, her grin quickly gave way to an angry scowl.  "What the hell?" she exclaimed suddenly, grabbing the attention of several people at the surrounding games.  "Who the fuck is S.I.?!"  In another show of anger, she kicked the base of the machine, pulling herself out of the cockpit-like stall and glaring menacingly at the onlookers.  "What the hell is your problem?" she asked heatedly, rolling up the sleeves of her shirt and taking a step forward.  "You want some?"

Before a response could be made, the sound of a cheering crowd diverted the girl's attention, her anger quickly giving way to curiosity.  Turning back to the cowering youth, Asuka pointed back to the large gathering in the next room.  "What's going on over there?"

"I-I-I…" the ten-year-old stammered, wide-eyed and frightened.  "Please don't hurt me!"

A dubious expression painted itself on the girl's face.  "Wha?  What are you talking about?  Why would I beat up a little kid?  Just tell me…" she trailed off as she realized the boy's knees were practically knocking together.  Not wanting to be responsible for making the child wet himself, the German walked off, attracted to the sound of a crowd cheering.

"Look at that bastard go!"

"Oh, man!  He just took out another one!"

"Damn he's fast!  Did you just see that?"

More than a hundred people had massed around a group of stall-like arcades, similar to the one the young redhead had just emerged from.  Several external monitors were hanging from over the top of the twelve video-games, giving shifting displays of what the players were seeing on their monitors as well as external images, much like the one she had just seen after losing.

Grabbing the nearest person by the shoulder, Asuka spun the distracted young man—several years her senior—to face her.  "Hey, what's going on over here?"

The man looked perplexed.  "What do you mean?  This is the newest Macross Saga game!  Didn't you know about it!"

"Whoa!  That was awesome!  You should have seen that!" a second man shouted to the first, pointing at a smoking mecha full of holes and decapitated.  "That one guy just came out of no where!"

"Damn, I missed it!" the first male cursed, throwing an accusing glare at the interloping Second Child.  "Look, just let me watch, okay?"  With that he turned about, again completely consumed by the action footage on the screen.

Asuka glared hatefully at the back of the man's head.  Should I just leave him alone, or beat the shit out of the little geek?  Her internal debate was short-lived, however, when she noticed someone crawling out of one of the machines, vacating it.  Making a mental note to remember the man's face and take care of his incompetence later, she made her way to the machine.

Maybe it's not such a bad thing these idiots are so engrossed.  I'll just have to give them something to really "Wow" about now, she mused, inserting her card in the slot, paying for the game.  Black on the inside with only the light of the monitor and the faint glow of all the buttons, the stall-like booth was similar in design to the one she had just been playing in, offering only a few more levers and switches.  Let's get this circus in gear.

It would be several minutes before the game was over and she could play, so she set about reading the specs on the available choice of mechas.  Six to choose from, huh? Let's see… 

The line up was fairly lopsided, giving the user a choice from the VF-Thunderbolt to the newest veritech fighters, including the new VF-Excalibur and the special-ops YF-21, which had never made it past the prototype stage.  The speculations of the newer ones far surpassed those of the older ones, making the girl wonder why anyone would even consider choosing anything older than the VF-16.

Shrugging, the girl selected her machine of choice; the VF-19 Excalibur.  She favored the canard wing style and the design, plus the balance of armor, speed, and firepower were just where she liked them.

Then there was the fact that it was the only one she could get in red…

---

"Shinji, you gotta do something, man!  Everyone's wanting to bet on you now that they've seen you in action!  This next pool isn't going to win us anything if everyone puts their money on you!" Kensuke pointed out, waving a hand to indicate the large crowd of people waving monetary notes in the air at Touji, who was attempting to hold the group at bay by himself.

The young Ikari, who had utterly dominated the opposition in the previous match, rubbed the back of his head, slightly confused.  "What could I do, though?  I mean, I'm just playing the game…"

Aida's boyish face took a thoughtful expression as he looked at his friend's monitor curiously.  He rubbed his chin as he considered the viable options.  "Well, if you took a major handicap of some sort, I'm sure they'd change their bets…  Wait!  I know!  Pick that one!" 

Shinji followed the extended finger to the monitor.  He blinked in surprise, his brow furrowing in confusion.  "The VF-Eleven D?  Why would I pick that?  It's not got half the power and capabilities of the VF-Nineteen, and just a little over two thirds of the VF-Sixteen."  When he looked back at his friend, however, the knowing grin more than answered his question.  "Oh.  Well, I guess, but I don't…"

"Great!  I knew you wouldn't let me down!" the curly haired boy exclaimed jubilantly, slapping his friend on the shoulder.  He pulled himself out of the stall, announcing the latest turn of events to the crowd.

The Third Child sighed heavily, though he bore a faint smile on his face.  He wouldn't mind the challenge, but the weight of the fact that if he lost, his friends would lose their money didn't sit well with him.  It wasn't that he minded his friends making small bets on his abilities so much as it was the fear of his losing causing them disappointment.

"Are you unwell, Ikari?" came Rei's soft voice from the side opposite of the stall, startling the boy, her face within less then a dozen centimeters from his.

"What?" he asked, nervous by the sudden close proximity of the young, red-eyed girl still dressed in her black and white school uniform.  "I-I'm fine…Ayanami…  Wh-why do you ask?"

Her jaw-length light-blue hair fell slightly to the side as she tipped her head in a curious gesture.  "I am merely thinking of your well-being.  You are physically exhausted and the burden your friends are placing on you seems to be quite taxing."

The feeling of her soft, warm breath tickling his face as she spoke was slightly distracting to the young male, and he found himself hoping the booth was dark enough to hide the rising blush in his cheeks.  "I-I…I'm just sort of nervous about them losing their money because of me…" he admitted, turning his eyes away towards the screen.

"This puzzles me," the young woman replied, drawing Shinji's attention back to her.  At his questioning glance, she elaborated.  "When you pilot Unit-One, their very lives—as well as the rest of the people in this room—are riding on your ability to pilot.  Is such a small amount of money more precious to you than the lives of everyone in this city?"

The answer, of course, was obvious.  "Of course not!" he snapped, his voice rising marginally.  "I mean…" His face flushed deeper, embarrassed at his own, slight outburst.  "Sorry…"

Ayanami nodded, accepting the apology.  "Your game will be starting soon."

Glancing toward the monitor, he realized the launch cinematic had initiated, giving him only a few seconds before he would be in virtual combat.  He shifted his focus entirely back on the monitor, gripping the control stick and the shifting lever.  "We…can talk about this later, if you'd like," he offered quietly, feeling bad for having to cut the girl short on their conversation.

"That would be…favorable," she replied with a subtle nod.  She withdrew from the curtain that separated the young man from the outside world, leaving only him, the dim-glowing controls, that the brilliant display monitor.

Shinji set the throttle to the max, knowing he would have to practically redline his thrusters the entire match just to keep alive.  The last match had been won by skill, but this time it appeared that he would be relying more on luck.  Gripping the control stick ever-tighter he forced his mind to focus.  It's just a game, he told himself, as he had repeatedly during the previous bout.   

---

Asuka was less than surprised to see most of the combatants had chosen the YF-21, the fastest and most maneuverable of the line-up.  It was the practical choice, being the games artificial intelligence helped control the machine, giving it more than a little edge in the area of performance.  Lack of skill on the part of the pilot would be compensated by the computer, making evasive maneuvers easier and offering features like auto-lock and tracers.

Who needs that crap?  That's precisely what separates the real pilots from the wannabes.  I'll show all these losers who the best is, and I'll prove I'm even better by doing it without some stupid computer's help.  She smiled archly, raising her altitude and throttling up, wanting to get a better view of the combat zone.

The random-level selection had chosen an abandoned city for the starting point of the fighting.  While all the levels were interconnected, giving the players the freedom to choose their own battling grounds, one specific area was selected for deployment.  The city, however, suited the redhead just fine, given her real-life combat experiences.

Her first target was another Excalibur, this one having a green indicator over it accompanied by the number eight.  Like a hunting cat that had just located its prey of choice, the German grinned, killing her engines and shifting to battroid mode.  Once engaged in free-fall, she centered her reticule on the unwary adversary, aiming for the exposed cockpit.

Five shots later, the girl had managed to get the first kill of the game.  She had nine and a half minutes to get as many more as she could.  Grinning, she switched back to fighter mode smoothly, throwing the throttle forward and accelerating towards the city.

---

It hadn't come as a surprise to Shinji that he found himself the center of most of the other players' attentions.  He knew of at least five other pilots in far superior veritechs that had his number, and there was no telling how many more he hadn't seen were waiting for him.  Fortunately, he knew that nearly all of the mechas were evenly matched in battroid mode, giving him a much more level playing field in one-on-one combat.

Too bad it's five on one… he thought, sighing.  He was at a very unfair disadvantage, lacking both the integrated stealth and ECM modules the more recently dated mechas possessed and the advanced sensors necessary to detect the machines.  Without line of sight, they're practically invisible.  Meanwhile, I'm sticking out like a sore thumb, he mentally groaned. 

Taking a deep breath, Shinji changed his mech into guardian mode, setting his throttle up to half way he exploded from the wide alley he had been hiding in.  He wasn't surprised in the least when several lines of projectiles slammed into the walls and asphalt around him, kicking up clouds of emulated smoke and debris.

He skiffed down the boulevard in an arc, then at an intersection he widened the curved vector, shifting back into battroid mode and tightening the turn into a one-hudred-eighty degree spin. In a quick, fluid succession he fired off several shots of his own, aiming where he had noticed gunfire coming from as he turned.  A pillar of fire and smoke, followed by a kill-indicator notified him of a successful hit.  He had little time to revel in the victory, however, as four more lines of bullets came from the same general vicinity.  It would only be a few seconds before the defeated foe would respawn, setting the odds back to five on one.

Shifting into fighter mode, Shinji launched himself at two targets he had seen closer together, firing from atop two of the shorter buildings to his left.  He hugged close to the walls of the buildings opposite of his chosen targets, making him a harder target for the two other, unseen foes hiding on the right. 

On an instinct, the boy jerked back on the emergency-brake-like handle, shifting him into the jet-battroid hybrid and reversing his momentum.  Only a split-second later, a burst of bullets chewed through the glass of the building he was banking in front of, showering his view with shards of broken window.  Locating his target, Shinji launched a volley of high-maneuver missiles while angling the humanoid-jet hybrid into a dive, throwing off the other would-be sniper's aim.  Another kill indicator popped up, telling the young pilot his attack had been successful as his mech's feet touched down.

No sooner had he hit the ground than did he change his mech into a fighter, throwing forward the throttle and turning the jet sideways.  Though this gave his opponents a broader target for a few split-seconds, it allowed him to blast through one of the narrower alley-ways, removing him from sight and forcing his enemies to give chase.

Eight seconds… he counted down from his first kill.  If he could somehow stagger how he eliminated the group, there would be less of a chance of them ganging up on him again.  His odds of surviving would increase dramatically, though he wasn't sure on his chances of winning.  So far he had only seen five opponents, leaving the other six more.

Five! he corrected himself as a white and grey VF-19 Excalibur cut off his escape, firing spray of uranium slugs his way.  In a desperate move, Shinji switched to battroid mode, throwing his shield forward to intercept the bullets.  The projectiles ricocheted off the dense defensive piece of equipment, ripping up cement and brick walls of the closely-cropped buildings.  With no room to retreat to either side and up being entirely out of the question, Shinji charged forward, engaging his mechas limited maneuvering thrusters and releasing the built-in bayonet in his rifle, keeping his shield held up to fend off any bullets that might hit the more sensitive sections of his robot.

The rushed tactic hadn't completely caught his opponent off guard, as the agile Excalibur launched itself straight upward, aiming the barrel of its cannon downward to catch the older VF-11 from above and behind the shield as it barreled clumsily out of the alley-way. 

Shinji emerged from the alleyway under a hail of bullets, surprising him entirely.  Without thinking, he shifted into fighter-mode and punched his throttle. The hasty maneuver slung him into the wall of a building across the street, causing the computer to automatically shift into battroid mode.  For a moment he was blinded by smoke and dust from the crumbled wall, but only suffering moderate damage to various appendages.  Knowing his opponent would deliver the fatal blow in the next second or two, Shinji altered to guardian mode, emerging from the dark cloud in a storm of bullets and missiles, shredding entirely the alleyway from where he had just dashed out.

Another kill indicator popped up, telling him his opponent hadn't been paying very close attention, or had simply gotten cocky.  Not wanting to press his luck any further, Shinji took to the building tops, wanting to intercept his three closing opponents before they could get the drop on him.

Ten seconds to go… he continued to count.

---

"Tch, small fries, all of you!" Asuka cursed aloud at the two YF-21's she had just dispatched within seconds of one-another.  Already she was up to three kills without a single shot having been fired in her direction.  While she enjoyed the small victories, she craved a challenge.  Wanting more opponents, she glanced at her radar display in search of her next victims.

He~llo, she greeted a small cluster of blips.  Four opponents were in a concentrated area while a fifth was closing in quickly from the south.  Sensing several more quick and easy kills, the Second Child altered her headings toward the eastern section of the town.

The cross-fire was easily visible from her vantage as she dropped altitude.  Her indicators identified four YF-21's and a slower, less capable VF-11D Custom engaged in close-range combat.  Before she reached the scene, however, one of the YF's disappeared from her screen—markedly destroyed by the sudden explosion followed by the typical pillar of smoke and flame.

Wanting a piece of the action for herself, Asuka came in low and fast, maintaining her fighter-jet mode.  Locking on to all four of the remaining targets, she fired her heavy missiles, raining destruction on the entire, unwary group.  She frowned, however, when only two kill indicators came up. A yelp surprise escaped her lips when a line of bullets caught the underside of her ship, forcing her down and nearly destroying her.  She shifted to guardian mode, skimming the tops of one of the taller buildings before banking about to re-engage.

Well, well, well, she congratulated, a confident smirk on her face.  One of you two bastards is going to pay for that.  You'll regret the day you dared to put this woman in your crosshairs.

---

The newest attacker came in hard and fast. firing off a volley of high-maneuver missiles in hybrid-mode before shifting into battroid, gun blazing.

Using the distraction to his advantage, Shinji pumped several shots into his side-tracked opponent, who had made the fatal mistake of leaving a broad opening for the Third Child.  Three short bursts removed the head and right torso before the entirety of the mech exploded into smoke and flame.  He had only one target left, though the boy knew for certain his first three kills had already respawned while he had been engaged and would likely return soon for revenge.

The instant his reticule crossed the red VF-Excalibur he noticed the surprised shots he had taken on the diving jet had managed to severely wound the mech without crippling it.  Likewise, the moderate damage he had sustained from the missiles it had fired paired with the damage he had taken from his mistake-filled bout near the alley put him in an even graver state. Then there was the inferiority of his veritech's hull compared to his foes', meaning he was really in trouble.  Rather than fire as he normally would have, he merely kept the primary barrel of his rifle leveled at the mech, shield held protectively in front of him.

Strangely enough, the gesture was mimicked by the red and white mech.  The short face-off ended when a barrage of missiles followed by a wide-fired spray of bullets ripped up the roof of the building they were standing on, directing both his and the red Excalibur's attention up and to the south from where four incoming and fresh veritechs were coming.

Jumping down into another alley, Shinji quickly checked his remaining munitions supply.  His shield integrity appeared to be fine, and his missile supply was more than adequate.  He still had both of his spare clips due to his conservative shooting, plus the few shots left in his current load.  What he lacked was armor and mobility.  He had been lucky thus far, but he still had the better part of seven minutes and at eleven opponents with at least two chances left each things weren't looking good.

Having regained his bearings, the dark-haired boy launched himself out into the boulevard sideways, firing a quick burst before changing into fighter mode and climbing for aerial combat—an area in which he would be at a sore disadvantage.

----

A frown creased the Second Child's face as she noticed the incoming enemies.  She could have easily finished off the wounded VF-11, though she held her itchy trigger finger, not wanting to waste her precious ammo on such an easy kill.  While she wasn't certain if he had been the one that had shot her, she knew for certain that it was the pilot everyone had been gawking at during the last match.  When she engaged him, she wanted him to be freshly armored and reloaded.  When I kill him, I want it to be a clean victory.

So she let him go, changing into her jet mode and turning upward in hopes of being able to get the drop on the approaching players.  A small dogfight ensued between the closest two, giving Asuka an edge, despite the serious damage her veritech had already taken.  Even in her state, a one-on-one with any of the other players would be easily dispatched.

Her first choice was to take on the same plane she had shot down at the beginning of the game.  While her speed was cut to just under seventy-five percent due to the damage to her left thruster, she would hardly need such an asset. 

Undoubtedly the player recognized the distinctly colored veritech, as it broke its set course to engage the apparently-wounded machine.  The green-marked mecha began its attack with a full volley of heavy missiles, each locking and tracing the Eva pilot's slower-moving jet-fighter.

Rather than providing the over-confident player with the quick kill he likely expected, Asuka switched to the battroid configuration, firing off several precise bursts and effectively destroying all of the incoming missiles.  A short boost from her thrusters accompanied by a bend at the waste sent her flipping directly over the incoming fighter, who had thought to make a scene by flying through the smoke of what would have been the girl's first defeat.  Secure in that she had managed to totally catch the cocky player off-guard, she fired the final thirty shots from her clip, destroying the green Excalibur's rear end and bringing in another kill for her score.

Checking her radar again, she frowned when she noticed three more opponents converging on a single target to her rear.  The three she had seen earlier had already been destroyed during her short bout, meaning the new-comers were an entirely fresh batch.

A lopsided smirk found its way to the redhead as she transformed her Excalibur into its fighter mode before moving to attack.

---

"Oh, man, look at him go!"  Touji exclaimed as the entire group watched in awe as Shinji's distinct VF-11 changed into the guardian configuration, sliding sideways and backwards across the top of a building as thirty high-maneuver missiles launched from the back and leg missile pods.  This distracted the yellow YF-21 from the real danger—the six barreled cannon in the older mech's right hand—as it focused more on shooting down the incoming explosives. 

Kensuke blinked, noticing Shinji only held a one point lead over the red-player's score.  The other ten players were near complete elimination, and just over five-minutes remained.  Money continued to exchange hands about him as bets shifted from previously favored pilots to the player controlling the red Excalibur, which seemed even to Aida the logical choice at the moment.

"You think he'll be able to take that one guy?"  the larger man asked, a nervous edge in his voice. 

The curly-haired youth could only shake his head.  "I don't know.  So far he's proven to be at least as good as Shinji, and he's got a much better veritech.  We can only watch and wait…"  He grinned suddenly, pulling out a blue slip of paper, "And hold onto these."

Suzahara chuckled, reaching in his pocket and fingering his own ticket, smiling at the thought of claiming his part of the winner's pot.  He turned to look back at the monitors and watch the last half of the game when he noticed a dark-haired young man moving from one of the arcade booths to the next, poking his head in the curtain and obviously conveying a message; one that was all-too apparent to the athletic young man.

"Heya, Kens…we got trouble."

---

Asuka felt her heart leap in her throat when a hand pulled back the curtain and a head came through with a confident smirk on its face.  She turned to the unwelcome addition to her personal space, releasing her hand from the shifting lever and balling into a menacing fist.  "What the hell is your problem?"

The young Japanese male's cock-sure expression didn't falter in the slightest.  "Just a message from the other players.  They'd like you to help them take down player five--"

 "Get the hell out!" she yelled, literally knocking the smug expression off the boy's face.  Glaring threateningly down at the dark-haired boy, who had fallen on his rump just outside of the enclosed booth, the young woman offered the man her middle-finger instead.  "Here's my answer, asshole," she growled before throwing the curtain shut and turning back to the monitor.

Noticing a pillar of smoke and a count-down screen, the German swore vehemently in every language she knew.  Throwing herself back in her seat and gazing stonily at the screen, she waited for her veritech to respawn.  An icy smile crept to her face, however, when she noticed the pilot of the VF-11 had been taken down as well.

Player five, eh? she thought, rubbing her chin thoughtfully.  Hearing someone speaking just outside her booth, she slid back the curtain, smiling politely at several spectators.  "Would you do me a favor there, cutie?" she inquired sweetly at the obviously older man.

"Me?" a bulky young man closest to her asked, perplexed.  "S-sure…"

"Great," she replied, offering her most charming smile while internally resisting the urge to retch at what she considered an unsightly view.  "Would you go tell player five he's going to be having problems real soon, and that I'm willing to give him a hand if he watches my back?"

The hefty male seemed to ponder on the words for a few seconds before nodding.  "You got it, Ace!" he declared, giving a sloppy salute before—what she considered—waddling off.

"Thanks," she muttered darkly to the man's broad back, entirely disapproving of her messenger.  They say necessity makes for strange bedfellows, but that's just disgusting, she thought cynically.  Shrugging, she closed the curtain and centered her focus back on the screen, smiling as the final ten seconds began to tick away.  Oh, well.  Time to teach these kiddies a lesson in fair play.

---

"That really doesn't surprise me," Shinji sighed at the news Touji had just delivered.  "So it's eleven on one?  I really don't think I'll last much longer, then.  Especially in this piece of junk."

Kensuke, who was looking in from the opposite side of the booth as his larger friend, pushed his glasses up his nose, offering an apologetic look.  "It's my fault.  I didn't see anything like this happening.  Sorry."

"Well, don't sweat it, Shi--" the youngest, though largest of the group was cut off and disappeared onto the other side of the curtain, his face replaced by a very cherubic and entirely unfamiliar one.

"Hi."

The young Ikari blinked, completely taken by surprise.  "Umm…hello?"

A broad smile splayed itself on the chubby countenance.  "Player eleven says you're going to have problems, and she wants to pair up with you.  If you watch her back, she'll watch yours," he reported. 

"Player eleven, huh?" Kensuke pondered, rubbing his chin and retreating from the curtains.  Less than two seconds later he popped back in, excitement written all over his face.  "Shinji!  That's the red Excalibur!  If you two team up there's no way you can lose!"

The Third Child's brow furrowed slightly, but he nodded his approval to the round-faced newcomer.  "Tell player eleven it's a deal," he stated, watching the countdown out the corner of his eyes.

"You got it, Ace," the husky man replied, vanishing.

Not quite a second later, Touji poked his head in again, wearing a confused expression.  "That was freaky…"

Shinji nodded, relaxing and retightening his grip on the control stick and releasing a deep breath.  "Tell me about it," he agreed, throttling up as the countdown completed.

---

Immediately after launch, Asuka sought out the telltale blue marker, preparing to either ally herself with the player or destroy him; dependent on the response she received.  Given they would both be running on a fresh suit of armor and full ammunition, both would be at their prime, though her mecha easily outmatched his.  She couldn't help but admire his prowess, however, as he had more than proven his capabilities on the battlefield by his outstanding performance thus far.

"He said 'Okay'," a familiar and unsavory voice announced. 

The redhead smiled at the older man cordially, taking her eyes off the screen for only a moment.  "Great.  Now, could you please watch from outside?"

"You got it, Ace," the husky man chimed happily, giving a friendly nod before retreating out of the booth.

My God…are all men such idiots? she asked herself despairingly.  Closing in on the blue, black, and white VF-11 she grinned, like a cat playing with its favorite toy.  At least this one isn't a complete retard.

In an almost playful gesture of comradeship—even if temporary—the Second Child brought her veritech less than a meter above her new partner, slowing down and matching his speed.  She regretted not being able to talk with the player, though she really had no need to do so.  All he had to do was take a few bullets for her while she racked in the kills.  After she had taken out all of the targets, she would simply and efficiently destroy her former ally and claim victory.  Once she won, she could talk with her runner-up before calling it a night and heading home.

She smirked when she noticed the incoming group flying in a loose and sloppy formation.  While she would have preferred to engage the enemy in a dogfight, she knew her partner would be of little use—even as a shield—in the air, leaving her with little other option than to take to the city below and initiate in an equally direct and far more destructive form of combat.  With a flick of her wrist, she tugged back on the control stick, pulling her fighter away from the VF-11 before diving downward.

He'll just have to keep up, she mused, not really caring one way or the other.

---

Rei watched the entire scenario fold out on the over-head monitors displayed in a circle over the clustered arcades.  While she really didn't care for video-games, she found herself more than tolerant of Shinji Ikari's fascination with playing them.  Normally she wouldn't give the devices a second thought, and yet here she was, watching her fellow pilot prove in yet another way he could handle a machine with grace and skill.

Externally, her face almost perpetually remained emotionless and uncaring—because that was precisely how the girl felt; indifferent.  Yet, where the young, dark-haired male was concerned, she found herself acting out of the ordinary, feeling things she normally didn't feel and doing things she normally didn't do.  At first it had unnerved the girl, but over the course of the last several months she had found herself more comfortable with the prospect of "hanging out".

Thus, here she was, standing amidst a crowd of people she didn't know, yet had risked her life for on several occasions, watching the Third Child play a game based on something she had entirely no clue about, "hanging out".  She had feigned coming under the guise of merely performing a duty; watching her fellow pilot and insuring his safety, though truthfully she had wanted to come, and had been grateful for the invitation to be a part of the "group".  "Friendship" wasn't an entirely alien concept to the girl, though she had little experience with the subject-matter.

She had quickly discovered it to be favorable, however, reveling each moment in her own, quiet manner.

Her crimson eyes continued to watch the monitors, absorbing all of the information being displayed with a detached interest thus far.  It wasn't until she noticed that Shinji's fighter had recently begun working with the equally skillful red fighter that the blue-haired young woman started to pay closer attention.

The two planes moved together in what might have been a sort of dance, one shifting into the jet-humanoid hybrid and firing off a barrage of small missiles while the other skimmed behind and around the other in the humanoid-mech form. Firing off accurate and precise shots, the second neutralized or crippled the target, dependent how quickly the target reacted to the assault.  The maneuvers were perfectly synchronized and supplementing, as if practiced and choreographed by the two pilots.

It wasn't until she saw the pair both assume humanoid forms and fall back-to-back as each tried to ward off their respective opponent's onslaught, that Rei recalled a training session in which two people had been literally forced to "dance" in such harmony.  Her lips pursed slightly in a physical show of her disapproval at the obvious meshing between the two acquainted players.  Rather than address the issue directly, however, the First Child continued to watch, enchanted by the complementary maneuvers and puzzled by how one would easily pick up where the other missed a step without any form of communication between the two.

She simply didn't understand how such a thing was possible.  It defied every form of logic she knew, every type of tactic she had ever studied, and every form of martial arts she had ever seen.  Nothing could compare to the deadly ballet; neither in efficiency nor beauty.

Within two minutes the entire entourage of players had been defeated utterly, leaving only the two pilots standing in the flat and desolate landscape where their dance had ended.  They stood over a hundred meters away from one another, though it seemed like mere meters given the size of their mechas.  Rei watched the face-off through faintly narrowed eyes, wondering, she knew, precisely the same thing as everyone else in the room.

"Who's gonna shoot first?" she heard Suzahara, whom she felt was the more favorable of Shinji's close friends, ask quietly to no one in particular.

"It's gotta be the red one," Aida whispered his response.  "You know how Shinji is—he'd never start a fight."

Too true, the girl agreed readily, not daring to blink.  She watched as the clock continued to tick down to less than two minutes, not daring to blink for fear of missing anything.  Ikari would never take the offensive until his opponent made the first move.  Sohryu has never shown much in the way of patience, and has proven to be hot-headed and hasty many times in the past.  Who will move first is not the question so much as it is who will make the last move.

As if on cue, the red VF-19 shifted into its hybrid mode, firing its forward thrusters and releasing a volley of missiles accompanied by several bursts of its machine gun.

Expectedly, the VF-11 brought its shield to bear, reflecting the incoming projectiles while its own rifle made quick work of the high-maneuver missiles.  In an effort to avoid the charging mech's bull-rush, the blue and white veritech switched to its jet-fighter mode, launching itself upward.

A mistake, Rei noted, realizing the ploy for what it had been.  She had already seen how much of a disadvantage the Third Child's mecha was at when it was in the air, as well as how skillfully and easily the Second Child managed to make short-work of all of her other opponents in aerial combat.  If Ikari attempts to best Sohryu in that form of engagement, he will lose.

As if the notion had simultaneously struck the dark-blue eyed boy, his mech filled in what might have been considered a somersault, shifting into the hybrid form and firing a volley of missiles, forcing the red Excalibur to speed haphazardly skyward in order to avoid the weapons.  In a further effort to foil any of the red and white mech's plans, the Thunderbolt shifted into the humanoid form, firing a hail of bullets into the air after the banking jet.

Having drained the nearly empty magazine, Shinji was forced to discard and reload, taking away the edge of his sudden attack and providing the redhead with the opportunity she needed to swoop in with another missile barrage, this time using heavier and more devastating warheads.  The pointed tubes dropped from the low-flying fighter, free-falling for a moment before the rockets ignited, shoving the projectiles toward their target at dizzying speeds.

Unable to bring his gun to bear in time to shoot down the locked missiles, the boy shifted to the hybrid form, launching himself forward and under the missile vectors, not giving them the time or space to change heading and effectively forcing them into the ground where they exploded harmlessly.  He now had an opening on the vulnerable red-jet, which was slightly slower than the missiles it had fired, which he used to open a volley of his own, small missiles.

In a skillful show of quick-reacting, the VF-19 deployed one of its cluster bombs, which exploded into a shower of metal and glass shards, both throwing the small missiles off-target and forcing them to detonate non-detrimentally in the air.  Rather than changing her heading, which would have normally driven the nose of her jet right into the ground, the young German had switched to the hybrid form to brake, then quickly changing to the humanoid mode and firing off several streams of bullets at her opponent.

Rei continued to observe, frowning occasionally upon the little mistakes each pilot made, only to be faintly amazed at the quick and resourceful recoveries.  Truly the two were proving to be evenly matched on the ground, where the overall speed and aerial capabilities of the mechs were null.  She began to wonder, however, what the results would be like had Shinji taken the same machine.

"Wow…" was all Touji managed to gasp from behind the blue-haired girl. 

"No shit," Kensuke breathed from where he stood next to her.

It was then the girl noticed the entire arcade had fallen silent, save for the occasionally murmured comments or strangled cries of suspense.  The crimson-eyed girl found the entire scene strangely amusing, wondering if the people around her would react the same way if they watched the two pilots battle in their Evangelions.  She seriously doubted it, considering both the damage and danger would be very real in the other situation, while now everything was confined to a virtual world that would reset itself the moment the clock ran down to zero.

A remarkable turn of events drew her from her private musings and back onto the monitor, where the two mechas were now circling one another, rifles and shields brought to bear.  Curious, she turned to whom she felt was more knowledgeable on the cause of the recent change in engagement.  "Why are they fighting in that configuration?" she asked the sandy-blonde haired male standing next to her.

Surprised, Aida had to reach up and grip his glasses, which had nearly fallen from his face when he had turned so suddenly to look at the girl.  "Well," he explained quietly, "they ran out of missiles, and the rifle is most accurate when handled in the battroid mode."

"I see," she stated in her soft monotone, continuing to watch the two circling opponents.  "Then their current form of engagement is the most effective, given their armaments?"

"You got it," he practically chirped, though he kept his voice hushed.

Then they are evenly matched, she affirmed.  Seventy-five seconds, and the over-all score is relatively tied, though Ikari has less kills than Sohryu.  Even if she manages to best him, there will be a point-tie at best, and enough time for Ikari to re-enter the game with a full armament.  She felt a twinge of amusement in the back of her mind, something not as uncommon as most people tended to think.  That is only assuming she manages to defeat him.  In the other case scenario, Ikari will best her, giving her the opportunity to re-enter with a refilled supply of munitions. 

The clock continued to tick away, falling to less than a minute, and still neither of the veritechs had made a move at the other.  It wasn't until the timer fell on precisely fifty seconds did the Excalibur lurch ahead, firing its maneuvering thrusters and sending the machine flying forward, its feet using the afterburners to provide an advancing hovering motion, giving it a surprising burst of speed.

Likewise the Thunderbolt began its own charge, leaning at an impossible angle that could only be maintained by an intense speed.  It's right arm was tucked tightly against its side with the stock of the rifle set neatly in the niche of its elbow, setting the end of the barrel just behind the outstretched shield.  Rather than firing any shots, however, the pilot chose to conserve what precious little ammo he had left, waiting for a more opportune time to shoot.

In a simulated game of chicken, the two veritechs sped at one another.  At the last possible second, however, each mech veered to its right, swinging its rifle to wear the opposing mecha would have been had it continued its charge.  The result in the sudden change of vector cause the loose sand on the top of the waste-land terrain to kick up a funnel of dust.  Without missing a beat or losing momentum, the two battroids dashed in at one another again, rifles held low and shields forward, effectively covering the majority of the far-leaning mechs' bodies. 

Yet again, just before colliding the two pilots engaged in evasive maneuvers, this time precisely the opposite of one another, the VF-11 twisting in mid air to where its back was facing the ground, rifle aimed upward to where the opposing mechs' back should have been and shield brought up to cover the blue mecha's head. The VF-19, however, had chosen to spin and lift upward, aiming its rifle downward to where the Thunderbolt's head would have been and bearing the shield to cover the torso and cockpit of the red veritech.  This time shots were fired by both parties, only to be harmlessly deflected by the densely-armored forearm shields.

Again the mechs dashed apart, this time coming to a halt opposite one another again.  The clock had just passed the forty-six second marker, and neither player had gained an edge over the other.  The drama was unfolding theatrically, as if the moves had been planned and practiced a thousand times, though such was not the case.  Dust that had been unsettled by the swirling air currents produced by the combating veritechs flew in every direction, creating a highly unrealistic and majestic scene.

"Would ya look at that…" the curly-haired and freckled Aida remarked, folding his arms over his chest.  "Just like in the mangas.  You'd think it was just another computer-graphics rendering of a veritech duel, just like in the animes."

The jump-suit clad Suzahara chuckled, running a hand through his short hair.  "It's definitely neat to watch.  But my question is why is Shinji's score higher than the red guy's if he has two less kills?"

"It's the mech he's using," the bespectacled young man stated with a nod.  "Since he's at such a disadvantage, he gets more points for a kill than someone flying a newer mech.  Look, there they go again!"

Rei continued to watch as the two humanoid machines again launched at one another, thirty-seven seconds left until the end of the match.  This time as the Excalibur came in, the barrel of its rifle was ablaze as it spewed a line of bullets, several managing to fly past the Thunderbolt's shield and punch into the weaker machine's armor and cause internal damage, signified by sudden streams of black smoke.  The blue mech, however, continued forward, its shield and rifle held in identical positions to the first charge, ignoring the peripheral damage it was being dealt.

 Within a second the two had clashed shields in a shower of sparks accompanied by appropriate sound-effects.  Rifles quickly swung into positions, the blue mecha's coming in beneath the red veritech's shield, shoving the barrel against the Excalibur's cockpit, while the VF-19's gun came around and from above, the slightly smoking tip touching against the side of the Thunderbolt's head.

Simultaneously the mechs pulled the triggers of their guns, only to be met by faint clicks, signaling both players had completely drained their ammunition supply.  For several seconds the remained in the grapple-like position, neither moving as they continued to try and fire their weapons.

With uncharacteristic fascination, Rei wondered what would happen next. 

The pilot of the VF-11D caught his opponent completely off guard when it activated the switch-blade like bayonet at the end of its hand-cannon, the long metal knife sawing through the armor of the torso of the transformed mech.  Having absolutely surprised the pilot of the red veritech, the older-designed mech heaved forward, shoving the Excalibur backwards and causing it to over-balance, providing several more openings for additional thrusts.  With deadly precision, the Thunderbolt's blade-tipped machine gun ripped through the VF-19's cockpit, killing the simulated pilot and officially ending the game at thirty-one seconds—not enough time for the red player to re-enter the game and attempt to claim victory.

In a burst of cheering, the crowd split apart, beginning to crowd around the two stalls where the now equally popular players were seated.  Rei reached up, brushing back a stray lock of hair and tucking it behind her ear—a gesture she found herself frequently repeating, though she had no idea from where she had picked it up.  Her face was as blank as ever, though she felt a subtle surge of pride in her chest at her friend's victory.  She walked behind Touji as he shouldered and shoved his way through the gathering crowd as Kensuke set about collecting his and Touji's winnings. 

Normally the young light-skinned woman ignored the buzz of any group, having learned long ago that social gossip was both irrelevant and usually based on pretenses and negatively-biased opinions.  Tonight, however, she found herself allowing her ears to scan through the conversations of the gathered crowd, feeling a subtle surge of warmth at each praising word aimed at the blue-player's performance.

"There's no way that just happened," someone stated, drawing the young woman's attention.  "Absolutely no way!"

"No sense complaining.  We underestimated this guy is all.  Just didn't give him enough credit for his abilities," came a slightly amused response.

"Dude, shut up.  Do you have any idea how much I lost?"

"Your point?  I lost a bit myself.  There's no sense in getting so upset over it."

"I'm not upset!" the first snapped back angrily.

A faint twinge of satisfaction pricked at the girl's typically unyielding heart at the exchange.  For some irrational reason or another, Rei felt as if justice had been served this night.  Shinji had not only earned the win—even if it was only a game—but he deserved everything that seemed to be coming with it.  The fact that it had doubtlessly been the Second Child that he had defeated made it all the more fitting.

The sparse outcropping of emotions intrigued the First Child, and she began to ponder, as always, the "why" behind it all.  As irrational as they were, they seemed to be more than fitting under the given circumstances.  The fact she was both feeling and accepting the emotion served as catalysts to her ever-working curiosity, as they violated her established norms.

This, however, snuffed whatever it was she had been feeling, leaving again only what most might consider an empty shell.  Realizing she had lost yet another opportunity to better understand herself, she turned her strayed focus back to the reality of the moment, consciously collecting and considering forms of congratulation she should present her friend and coworker with.

---

Her hand still gripped the control stick tightly, the muscles in her arm tensed and the blood drained from her knuckles.  The blue gems that were her eyes glared hatefully at the two initials that held the first-place score, just above her own name.

S.I.  The Katakana seemed to mock her, dancing, smiling, and laughing just above her own entry.  There was no doubt in the redhead's mind that the person that had just beaten her in the duel was the same player that had achieved the score she couldn't match. 

Asuka's teeth grit painfully together and her eyes began to burn, as if she hadn't had any sleep for several days.  A taxing weight dropped on her shoulders, like the entire world had just fallen down around her.  Her heart rate accelerated, then seized up for a instant before bursting into motion again. The process repeated itself at irregular intervals, happening several times in the span of a few seconds.  It proved to be remarkably uncomfortable at times, as if the muscle were suffering from hiccups, though she wasn't sure if it was causing her any serious damage or not. 

Damn this…this crap! she snapped, opening her hand and angrily slapping the joystick, as if it had somehow betrayed her.  Rubbing her chest where her heart continued to flutter in a vain effort to ease the organic pump's sudden jitteriness, the girl turned in her seat and prepared to leave the mall and return to the apartment.  A cold, clammy sweat had begun to lightly lather her skin, and she suddenly felt like taking a long, warm shower and getting something to eat.  Unless the food plans on kicking my ass, too, she growled mentally, clenching her jaw even tighter.

She emerged from the curtain, the heat of surrounding bodies and the sound of cheering voices striking her senses like a concussive force.  Combined with the vertigo she received from standing up too suddenly with her quickly developing headache, the young woman felt as if she were in a daze, her balance threatening to land her on her knees in the floor.  With one hand she reached to stabilize herself using the support of the arcade booth, and with the other she reached to wipe away the thin layer of sweat on her forehead.  For a moment she closed her eyes, blocking out the sight, smell, and sound of the crowd as she attempted to collect herself. 

Seeing the crowd massing around the game pod disgusted the young woman.  Hoping no one recognized her, the girl quietly slipped out of the arcade, having every intention of returning to her temporary residence and indulging herself in a late-night session of television accompanied by a large portion of home-cooked food.

At least Shinji's good for something… she mused dourly, sticking her hands in her pants pockets and exiting the arcade. 

---

With a heavy sigh of relief, Shinji leaned bodily against the now closed door.  A painful burning sensation was plaguing his eyes and chest, and he knew for certain it was all due to the fact that he had almost entirely forgone sleep the night before.  Not the dumbest thing you've ever done, he chided himself, but definitely ranking up there on the stupidity chart.  "I'm home," he announced quietly.

As he slipped off his shoes, he wondered, with a trace of amusement, if any of the food he had spent the entire night-before preparing had been left for him.  Hunger temporarily replaced fatigue, and the young man trudged wearily from the front foyer into the dining area, noticing absently the television was on, and that a pair of very feminine feet were poking out from the side of the sofa.  Giving the appendages only a passing glimpse, the boy again focused on his primary destination:  the refrigerator.

"Hey, how come there isn't anything to eat in the freezer?" the owner of the naked feet asked from her position on the couch.

The question had completely caught the young man off guard.  "Huh?"

Shuffling accompanied by the faint sound of cushions groaning could be heard over the low-volumed television program.  Within seconds the sound of bare feet padding softly against the cold, tiled kitchen floor could be heard.  "I came home about a half hour ago and you weren't here to cook, so I decided to help myself." 

Shinji turned his face slightly toward the redhead, acknowledging her presence so as not to further her obvious irritation.  Before speaking he made note of the fact that she had recently taken a shower and had donned her thin sweat pants and an over-sized t-shirt. "Sorry," he apologized, hoping to smooth things over.

If anything the word seemed to bristle the girls feathers, and her blue eyes hardened slightly as her dissatisfaction with the young man had increased two-fold.  "Anyway, there wasn't anything to fix in the freezer, and nothing in the cabinets."

"Did you check the fridge?" he inquired, opening the door as if to emphasize his question.

"What for?" Asuka shot back dubiously with an angered edge.  "There's nothing in there but beer."

Seeing what he had been hoping to find, he reached in and pulled out the covered container.  "Things change," he stated with a smile, presenting the plastic tub to the girl.  "You don't have anything against somen and fishcakes, do you?  I sort of made it for you and Misato to have for lunch today.  It should still be pretty good, since all I can ever seem to find is processed fish.  I hope you don't mind…"

"Is that why you were up all last night?" the German inquired as she took her customary dinner seat.  Adjusting herself so that one foot was tucked neatly beneath her, she gave a hefty yawn accompanied by a cat-like stretch. 

"Yeah…" the young man admitted, feeling a blush come to his cheeks as he placed the fishcakes on a platter to warm them.  His face contorted slightly as something occurred to him.  "How did you know I was up all night?"

The girl's reaction to his question puzzled the boy, as her back stiffened and her blue-eyes widened in surprise and the faintest look of embarrassment flickered across her porcelain features.  Her mouth fell open as if to give a response before snapping back shut, surprise and embarrassment instantaneously being replaced with outrage.  "Because you kept me up with all that damned racket!" she shot, pounding a fist on the table for emphasis.  Heatedly she flung her back against the chair, crossing her arms and scowling darkly at the dark blue-eyed boy.  "It's because you're so damned inconsiderate of the other people in this house."

"Sorry," Shinji mumbled reflexively as he fixed the tea.  The thought of indicating that if he hadn't been considerate, he wouldn't have bothered cooking anything at all crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed the notion.  Sometimes it's better to say nothing than to try and argue…especially with her, he told himself sagely.

Asuka snorted rudely at the apology, giving an exaggerated sigh.  "You're such a damned wimp sometimes, I swear.  Sometimes I wonder if you're even human or not.  I mean, you being an invertebrate and all…"

"You don't have to be insulting," the Third Child murmured under his breath, suddenly beginning to regret his trying to make amends for the previous night.  His appetite was fast-fading, and he contemplated letting the girl help herself and just turning in for the evening.

There was a slight pause, followed closely by a grunt of disgust.  "See?  You're such a wimp when it comes to any sort of confrontation.  How someone as spineless as you has managed to survive so long in this world is beyond even my level of comprehension—and that's really saying something."  As she spoke, the girl began examining the finger nails on one hand, keeping the other folded tightly against her person.  The idle expression on her face quickly shifted to one of flustered irritation.  "Isn't that food ready yet?  I'm starving."

Shinji managed to fight back the urge to groan in dismay.  In a last-ditch effort to turn the tide of the conversation, he threw out the same question he tended to ask Misato before dinner.  "Anyway…  So how was your day?" 

"Wider erwarten," she muttered immediately, not giving much thought to what she was saying or to whom she was speaking.  "God did it suck ass."

The young Ikari set a plate of cold noodles and reheated fish cakes in front of the girl, following through with a pair of chopsticks and a cup of hot tea.  "How come?" he probed, ignoring what he felt was an obvious German insult, and moving to fetch his own plate, genuinely curious about the hot-tempered young woman.

"For starters," she began before biting off a generous portion of the breaded fish, "I had…to wear that ridiculously itchy…uniform and sit…and wait for God-knows-how-long…"  She trailed off, a hateful glower surfacing.  "Just why the hell am I talking to you of all people about this?"

Shinji blinked in surprise, just sitting down in his own seat next to the redhead. "I…"

"God!  Just what the hell is wrong with me?" the auburn-haired girl asked rhetorically.  Angrily she pushed herself away from the table, stabbing her chopsticks savagely in the plate of food.  "Why the hell am I talking to you of all people?"

"Sorry."

At that she slapped her open palms against the flat wooden surface, pulling herself to her full height.  "Quit stating the obvious!  Everyone knows you're 'sorry'!  You're always 'sorry'!"

The boy shook his head, not knowing what else to say.  "Sor-"

"Don't," the girl snapped, jabbing a finger threateningly at the male, "say it.  So help me, if I hear you say that one more time, I'll strangle you.  You have no idea how sick I am of hearing you say that.  I've only been back three days and I'm sick of hearing you say it."

He fell silent, his head bowing and turning away from the wrathful young woman.  It didn't take long for what was left of his appetite to leave him and replace itself with a longing for the solitude of his room.  For some reason he found himself desiring the companionship of his old SDAT player.  Not for the first time, the young man found himself at the losing end of a fight he had tried to avoid, and not for the first time, he had no idea what to do next.

Disgustedly, the redhead pushed her plate away before hauling herself to her feet, apparently dismissing herself from the table.  "I must be in a sorry state if I'm receiving sympathy from the likes of you."  She had practically spat the last word.

Unable to find any words in his own defense and fearing to make any apologies, the young man simply hung his head in shame.  He wasn't the slightest bit surprised to hear bare feet pad softly across the floor, nor was he shocked by the swishing of the thin sliding door as it clicked shut, drawing the encounter to its ultimate end. 

A detached sense of irony crept into his mind as he realized that that particular sound had always been the final word of any bout where the young woman was concerned.  The door itself was practically made of paper, and yet in his mind he found it to be even more impenetrable than an AT field. 

With a heavy sigh—one of saddened resolve—the boy pulled himself to his feet and trudged to his room, not bothering to clean up, before collapsing on the bed.  Though his body was tired, his mind refused to allow him to succumb to the call for sleep.  The stew created by the recently up-churned feelings of depression, resentment, and frustration were more than a little nostalgic, and it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

There's no winning with her, he fumed.  No matter what I do it's wrong or not good enough.  Why the hell do I even bother?

No answer seemed forthcoming.

Finally reaching his wit's end and exhausting what little remaining vitality he had for the day, the young man fell into a dark, restless slumber.

---

She had heard the scuffing of his feet as they lightly dragged across the floor—had heard the door softly click shut followed by the heavy thud signifying he had predictably fallen on his bed from both physical and mental fatigue.  In her mind's eye she could see him lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling with an apathetic expression on his face.

It disgusted her to no ends.

The situation itself seemed entirely skewed and wrong to her.  Where's the justice in all this? she mentally growled.  How did things work out like this?

Today, she concluded at length, had been a bad—no, terrible day.  Every battle she had engaged herself in had either been an utter loss, or a phony victory.  The one with Shinji doesn't count, she chided herself, since he's such a damned wuss.  If I ever lost to the likes of him I'm done for.

Before long her thoughts shifted to the events that would take place tomorrow.  It would be a decisive event, and the chances of her emerging victorious were remote at best.  All-in-all it was extremely disheartening to the young and likely former pilot.  Win or lose, though, she would be able to see things in a much clearer light—she would know for certain whether or not she had wasted her entire childhood on something that had proven thus far to be little more than a bane to her existence.

With a grunt, the girl rolled over in her bed, clamping her eyes shut and gritting her teeth together forcefully, clearing her mind in the process.  It would do little good, she knew, to ponder on such things.  Determination had brought her this far, and it would see her through to the end.  She would win tomorrow because she had to win—there wasn't any alternative.

The stakes had been laid and the bets were closed.  It was time for her to lay down her hand.