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***

"If she was the last," you say, voice just above a whisper, "Then what the hell are we all still doing down here? We should be throwing a goddam ticker tape parade in every capital on the planet. Right? I mean … that's it. What else is there?"

Across the table in the cafeteria from you, Dr. Roger Caswell says nothing. He looks tense, troubled.

"There's nothing else left," you say.

"There's always more," Roger says. "You think when the Soviets and Americans were shaking hands over Berlin in 1945 they had any idea what lay next? There's always more, Rose."

You don't answer straight away. You'd seen NervSec on patrol, equipped not with their standard cheap suits and plain uniforms, but this time with tactical gear. Ballistic vests, helmets, shotguns and submachine guns. They looked just as worried as you felt.

"Like what?" you ask.

Roger stares at his untouched coffee. "She let me go," he says. "The Bordeaux girl. Linda. She let us all leave before she started her plan."

"So?"

He looks up at you. "So I don't think I can say the same about Versetti."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"When he initiated the lockdown he gave technical branch orders."

"Special Directive One," you say.

He nods. "You know the tactical aspect. Sealing Nerv 03 off from the city. But you don't know the technical side."

"Tell me."

"We switched over to the nuclear backup, even though we're getting power from the surface again. More than that, we've severed all command and control connections. The MAGI are operating 100% independently now."

"What do you mean?"

"Rose," he says. "They killed our communication lines with the UN. All lines to Snelson were physically severed."

"The UN?" you repeat. "Why would he do that?"

Roger stares at you.

You think of the Soviets and Americans in 1945.


>You think Versetti expects trouble from the military?
>If we're turning on each other already then we really are lost
>I'm not going to sit on my hands while Versetti sets pieces in place for whatever is coming next. Can you re-establish an outside line?
>write in

>>5594652
>I'm not going to sit on my hands while Versetti sets pieces in place for whatever is coming next. Can you re-establish an outside line?

>>5594652
>>I'm not going to sit on my hands while Versetti sets pieces in place for whatever is coming next. Can you re-establish an outside line?

>>5594652
>I'm not going to sit on my hands while Versetti sets pieces in place for whatever is coming next. Can you re-establish an outside line?

>>5594689
>>5594697
>>5594849

writing

"I'm not going to sit on my hands while Versetti sets pieces in place for whatever is coming next," you say. "I don't like being kept in the dark. We're going to want our options open. Can you re-establish an outside line?"

"Can?" Roger asks. "Maybe. Rose, we're not soldiers though. Technical branch are scientists and engineers. NervSec is holding all the keys. They control the actual infrastructure and they'd notice and there's something else."

"What?"

Roger glances around at the empty cafeteria and leans in closer. "Are we sure we want to do that?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if Versetti has a good reason not to trust the UN? What if he knows something that we don't?"

You grind your teeth. You really are in the dark on this. "Listen, can you just make sure you're ready to move on this if I say so? I don't see how it hurts to be ready."

"It doesn't," he agrees. He makes a sour face. "I can't believe we're even talking about this. Things were supposed to get better."

"Do they ever?"

Roger looks momentarily surprised and then depressed. "No. I guess not." He sighs. "I can get the gear and people together. People I trust. If you give the word we can reconnect everything, or at least coms. It'll need NervSec to be out of the picture though. No way we can do it if they're watching."

"Leave that part to me," you say. "When the time comes."

"If the time comes," he says.

You don't answer.

Roger holds his hand out on the table.

You hesitate for a moment before taking it.

"We'll get through this," he says.

You're not sure that you will.

You are Korine McIntosh and you're worried. It's nothing all that new to you. You've spent most of your life worried, or afraid, or some combination of those two. One of the only people who ever made you feel comfortable is going through his own personal hell, and you're here. Sitting.

"Here" is the pilot ready room in Nerv 03. You're suited and ready, anxiously tapping your toe and wishing you had anything to do. Your back hurts from the stupid chairs here and you're almost wishing to get deployed.

"How long has it been?" You ask.

Katya looks up from where she had been staring blankly at the floor. "Long?"

"Since they called us here. Since the Angel attack. How long?"

"I think some hours. Maybe four," Katya says.

"Shit."

Like you, Katya wears her plug suit, her long hair tied back. Unlike you she seems calm, but she doesn't look less worried. You've always faced fear with action. Any action is better than sitting and doing nothing. You try to remember the words to your mantra. The words that brought you comfort.

You are a mountain.

But are you?

You are a god.

Pretty far from it.

You are a thousand feet high.

You're a sniveling little girl. You're scared. You're useless.

You growl in frustration, trying to get comfortable in vain. "They've never kept us here this long before, not on ready alert."

"No."

"How long do they think they can keep us here? God. What the fuck are we even doing here? Ethan killed the Angel, right? Jesus. They don't tell us anything. We're just machines to them." You try not to dwell on the strangely oppressive atmosphere in the base, or the armed and armored NervSec troops on patrol. Two of them are outside the door here and they look anxious. "What are they going to do when we need to sleep or something?"

"I hope Ethan is okay," Katya says, startling you.

"Ethan? Sure. I'm sure he is."

Katya looks unconvinced. "He is still in hospital."

"It's been just a couple hours," you say. " He probably just . . . got rattled. I don't think he's hurt or anything."

"The Angel," she says. "His friend, Linda."

"Yeah." That's something you can't reconcile. How could an Angel look like a person? And why some old pilot? Ethan's old friend. Was that some kind of psychological weapon to hurt him?

"He told me that he see her," Katya says. "Before all this. He saw Linda."

"Saw her?"

Katya nods. "She . . . not dead. I don't know. She . . ." she is at a loss for words. "She stayed with him when she died."

"Stayed?"

Katya nods. "He was close to her and she did not leave him. I don't know. I can't explain. But whatever he did . . . I think maybe it broke him."

You almost don't realize that Katya is crying. A tear runs down her cheek that she makes no effort to brush away. "He lost so much already. And he just lost it again and I wasn't there for him."


>There was nothing you could have done
>If she was an Angel then she had to die
>Ethan will be alright. He's tough. You'll see
>Write in

>>5594952
>>Ethan will be alright. He's tough. You'll see

>>5594972
>>5594952
Addendum, something like 'We should be there for him either way."

>>5594952
>If she was an Angel then she had to die
Hollow comfort, but I guess it's all the comfort pilots ever get in Evangelion

>>5594952
>>Ethan will be alright. He's tough. You'll see

>>5594972
>>5595113
>Ethan will be alright. He's tough. You'll see

writing

Jeez. This really isn't your strong suit. You kind of try to avoid dealing with other people for shit like this. You enough of your own issues that you don't really want to get involved in someone else's … but …

"Ethan's tough," you say, trying to make yourself believe it. "He'll be alright. He'll get through this."

Katya doesn't answer.

"I mean, either way we'll be there for him, right?"

"Yes."

You listen to the hum of the air conditioner and sigh silently. "Ethan's been there for me when things were really bad. It didn't fix everything, but it was nice not feeling alone. I know he cares about you a lot. It'll mean the world to him if you're there to take care of him."

"Yes. You right." Katya exhales and sits back in her chair before scowling. "Why we have to sit and wait here? We should be seeing Ethan."

"I know," you say. "Soon, right?"

"Soon."

"Hey Katya."

"Hm?"

"You have that video game thing with you?"

"Is in my locker."

"Want to take turns?"

It's Katya's turn to be surprised. A moment later it's replaced by the hint of a smile. "Yes."

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You are Max Goldberg and you're very tired. Your body aches all over. As you duck your way past the restricted area sign, you briefly wonder why you're not lying comfortable on some beach somewhere waiting to die.

The thought of death fills you with a mixture of cold dread and hot rage. How was that fair? Why you? Why did this have to happen to you? Every time you thought you'd made peace with it the revelation that you didn't want to die would rear to the surface. You had so much left to live. You were only just getting started.

Dwelling on this wasn't productive.

You slip around a corner into the maintenance corridor a bit deeper and check the signal on your phone. It looks like at least some of the cell boosters are active here, you've got an outside line.

You dial quickly and hold the phone to your ear, counting off each breath and each ring.

"Hello?" Sayid.

"It's me," you say, unsure who could be tapping in.

"What's going on? There was an Angel attack?"

"That pilot who died in Anchorage," you say. "It sounds crazy but she was the Angel."

"What?"

"I don't know," you shake your head. "I mean… I have no idea what any of that means."

"But it's over now?"

"No," you say, shaking your head. "No. Not even close. I think something big is going on."

"Big?"

"Versetti put the base into lockdown," you say. "Full isolation." As you talk, you draw your pistol from its holster. With your phone wedged between cheek and shoulder you pull the slide back halfway and verify that it's loaded before holstering it again. "I've probably only got a minute. But something is about to go down." Your mind is racing now. What else can you say? You have the overwhelming sensation of impending doom. Something terrible is about to happen and you're just one man. One sick, dying man. "Sayid listen," you say. "I-"

The phone squeals in your ear and you nearly drop it. The audio is lost in a wash of noise. Jamming.

"Love you," you say to yourself."

***

You are Aaliyah Sayid and you hang up, cutting off the wall of sound coming from the phone. If someone was jamming civilian cell signals that was Bad news. The only group which even had the technical capability to do that was …

You stop.

Why would the UN jam cell signals?

"Shit." Whatever was about to happen, it was big.

You think about your meeting with Marcy Scott and the resistance. She'd said that the Angels were numbered. The last one was coming soon. Had that been it? Was Versetti putting his plan into action?

You check the magazine on your pistol and tuck it back into your hoodie.


>Warn Marcy and the resistance to go underground
>Try to find a way to get access to NERV
>Contact the UN for orders
>Write in

>>5595879
>>Try to find a way to get access to NERV

>>5595879
>>Try to find a way to get access to NERV

>>5595930
>>5595991

Writing

Whatever comes next, your best chance to be able to do something is to get back inside Nerv. The thought of going back there after what happened to you sends a chill through your blood. If you mess up again, if things go wrong, you'll end up in that sterile, silent place again. And this time no one would be coming for you.

"If it comes to that," you say, gripping the handle of your pistol in your hoodie pocket, "I won't give them the satisfaction."

You look around the spartan apartment, Max's apartment. There's nothing here worth taking, nothing you need. Everything you need is with you or already in Nerv. You've got a job to do. One more time, into the breach.

You close the door behind you and don't look back.

You are Fox Renton, and you're not underground. You're topside, in New Tampa General Hospital, not because you're injured but because you have nothing else to do. Because your brother needs you.

Patients, visitors, nurses and doctors flow through the clean, white halls of this place. The hurricane which encircled the city has broken up hours ago, the clouds vanishing almost like they'd never been there. You sit on a bank of seats in the hall, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows looking across one of New Tampa's many plazas, watching crystal drops of water bead down the glass

They'd told you that your Eva had been destroyed in the fight. You're not really sure how that's even possible considering you weren't in the fight. Nerv had collected it and were working to repair it but … you weren't given any time frame. You're not sure how extensive the damage is, or if it even is repairable.

Would that mean that it's over for you? Are you free? Are you powerless again?

You look at your hands, imagining them gripped onto Orion's throttles. That power, that godlike power, never again yours. When you close your eyes you see that freighter exploding, taking all the souls onboard straight to hell. Whether or not they deserved it is immaterial to you. The question is, did you have the right to make that call? You sneer at the UN and laugh at Nerv for their high-minded, holier-than-thou mindset. After all, who appointed them mankind's guardians? Who watches the watchers?

But who asked you to do what you did?

"Mister Renton?"

You look up and into a doctor's face. "He's ready."

The recovery room is just like the rest of the hospital, clean, polished, modern, and white. A TV screen fills the entire far wall, playing a loop of soothing tropical scenes. Taking up most of the space, aside from all the medical and diagnostic equipment, is a large hotel bed.

"Ethan, hello," you say, coming in to take a seat beside the bed.

He looks so small lying there, so frail. He stares up at the ceiling, not reacting to your presence. You've never seen someone so tired, so worn out.

"Looks like you're stuck with me visiting," you say. "Orion is kaput, so they say. You'll have to tell me about that one someday. Maybe an apology, hmm?" you try a smile.

Ethan says nothing and your smile fades.

"Hm." You fiddle with your thumbs. "Maybe I should be thanking you. If it's permanent, then maybe they're done with me. Maybe I'll be done."

Silence.

"I know. I wish you were done too."

Silence.

You let it stretch out, listening to the muffled activity of the hospital. "There's something else." You force yourself to look at Ethan. "About … the freighter. I … I owe you an apology. No." you shake your head. "More than that. I owe you much more. I owe you a life. You see I … I don't know how I am going to live with what I have done, but more than that, I don't know how I can live with what I did to you. I'm sorry."

Ethan doesn't speak.

"I'm sorry," you repeat. "For everything I did to you. For the freighter. It was wrong. It's something that I can never atone for and … I had no right to ask for. I call you my brother but a real brother wouldn't do that to you." You can't speak for a moment. "My god, Ethan. What did I do?"

Ethan whispers something.

You look up, surprised. "What?"

Ethan looks at you. "She's dead," he whispers. "Linda's dead. And I killed her."

You're too surprised to speak for a moment. The name unlocks something in you, a memory that feels like a dream. A school dance, a girl with wings. "Linda," you repeat the name.

You hear the song, the Waltz. You see memories that don't feel like yours, things you can't be sure are real, but know are. You see the final confrontation in the sea beneath Nerv. You see everything.


>You did what you had to do. You had no other choice.
>This life is not the only thing there is. You'll see her again. I'm sure of it.
>Linda sacrificed herself. You did not kill her. She died because she wanted you to live.
>Write in

>>5597010
>Linda sacrificed herself. You did not kill her. She died because she wanted you to live

>>5597010
>You did what you had to do. You had no other choice

>>5597010
>>Linda sacrificed herself. You did not kill her. She died because she wanted you to live.

>>5597371
>>5597094

Writing

You shake your head. "You did not kill her."

Ethan finally looks at you. His eyes are ringed with deep shadows, he looks like a man who's seen too much.

"Linda sacrificed herself," you say. "She died not because of you, but she died foryou. Do you not see that? She died because she wanted you to live, my friend."

Ethan is at a loss for words, tears form at the corners of his eyes. After a moment of struggle he says, "I didn't want her to do that."

You lay a comforting hand on his arm. "I know. But it is what she wanted. Right until the end, she was the master of her own destiny. She followed the path she chose and she did it without hesitation. I would give my right hand to be so brave. She saw a future for everyone. One that you believed in. She believed in you."

Ethan turns onto his side, curled up, facing away from you. "I just want her back," he says, voice hoarse.

You think of Isabelle, of all the people lost. If you could trade places with her, you would do it without hesitation, just to know that she was safe. You're sure Ethan feels almost the same. "I know."

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You are Max Goldberg and as you ascend the stairwell up toward command, you smell cigarette smoke a moment before Yezhov grabs you, pulling you into the shadows.

"What are you-"

He holds a finger to his lips, his eyes wide. You're surprised to see that he's afraid, more afraid than you've ever seen him.

"Listen to me," he says. "And listen carefully. I only tell you this one time. You care about that boy, Renton, and that lady, your 'roommate' then you get them out of here. Take them and go for the UN base."

"What the hell are you talking about?" You feel a chill down your back.

Yezhov puffs the cigarette nervously and takes his phone out of a pocket, shoving it into your hand. A text message is on the screen.

Tactical operation in motion. Retrieve the VIP. Extraction from Snelson AFB. Pilots deemed expendable. You have fifteen minutes.

"VIP? Katya?"

Yezhov nods and takes his phone back. "Who else? Daddy pulling strings to protect his princess while the UN prepares to drop the hammer on this place."

"Expendable means-"

"Shoot on sight."

"Fuck."

Yezhov throws the cigarette butt down and lights a second one. "I got it five minutes ago. We have ten minutes left to get out of this place. They jamming all signals now, expect ground forces and air attack. Nothing is going to get out alive."

"What are you going to do? Are you going to get her?"

You see conflict in his face. "I- … do not know. Fuck. This not what I sign up for."

"Yeah, me neither." You feel the weight of that ticking clock. Ten minutes wasn't much time. Certainly not enough to find Renton and Sayid and get out of here, and with phones out you don't even have a way of contacting her. "You know where the pilots are?"

"Chandler and Renton in hospital topside. The girls are in the ready room. Past NervSec."


>We need to get to the boys and get them back down here where it's safe. I don't trust Versetti, but we're not running.
>We should warn Versetti and NervSec, it's the only way they'll have a fighting chance. We can protect the pilots if we work together.
>Let's get to Katya and Korine, we can grab them and get the boys on the way out of here. We're not going to stick around to see what the UN is planning
>Write in

>>5598695
>>Let's get to Katya and Korine, we can grab them and get the boys on the way out of here. We're not going to stick around to see what the UN is planning

>>5598695
>>Let's get to Katya and Korine, we can grab them and get the boys on the way out of here. We're not going to stick around to see what the UN is planning

>>5598743
>>5598750

Writing

"Let's get the girls and go topside. We can grab the boys on the way out. We're not sticking around to see what the UN is planning." You start to go, but then stop. "What's your angle here, Yezhov? No offense, but you don't strike me as the altruistic sort."

He gives you a wry grin which almost hides the fear in his eyes. "Nerv are so far up their own ass they cannot tell the color of the sky. No offense. Same for Skobelev. A petty little Romanov. Fuck him. Fuck all the bastards. I make my own way, yes?"

You return his smile. "I like the sound of that."

Yezhov catches your sleeve as you turn to leave. "One more thing. We do this, we take the pilots, we cross a line. There is no coming back. We be fast, we be deadly. Yes?"

You've worked for Nerv for your whole adult life. You believed in the cause. You swore to do whatever it took to protect humanity. Whatever direction Versetti is taking things, it's not that mission anymore. Besides, doesn't a commitment to protect humanity include the pilots too? Haven't they done enough protecting for once? "Count on it," you say.

File: UNChopper.jpg (150 KB, 1920x1040)

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Outside the city on the glittering waves of the Floridian Sea, UN combat craft approach from all directions. New Tampa is only faintly visible on the horizon as the first wave of recon drones is launched. They cruise in, barely blips on the city's air defense radars, lost in the background clutter.

Air assault troops board VTOLs and helicopters on ship decks while marines mount amphibious vehicles. Two full battalions of men and vehicles take off, closing in on the seawalls and the city beyond.

In Snelson Air Force Base, combat aircraft take to the skies, rocketing up from the base's airfield. First fighters, then heavier bombers and support craft. Each one screams off the tarmac and climbs into a holding pattern above the city. Far below, the mechanized battalion rolls out of the gates in full battle array, racing toward the center of town. Treads rattle and wheels thunder over pavement as bewildered civilians are ordered off the streets. Armored vehicles awkwardly maneuver around parked cars and establish checkpoints at intersections as they make their way toward the surface entrances to Nerv.

Within minutes the boom of cruise missile strikes echoes through the steel and glass canyons of the city. Precision, guided weapons take out sensors and early warning equipment dotted on rooftops and along the sea wall. One by one these radars and CCTV cameras are eliminated, shrinking Nerv's view of the outside world.

It isn't long after that the first assault troops storm the surface entrances of Nerv. After butchering the ill-prepared NervSec forces they find, they open the proverbial floodgates, shuttling elevators and metro cars full of troops beneath the surface, stabbing toward the heart of the labyrinthine complex below, leaving a trail of blood and bodies behind.

On the roof of New Tampa General Hospital, a pair of VTOLs land, disgorging a platoon of black-clad UN assault troops who take positions around the stairwell, ready to breach. They look to their leader, dressed in the same tactical gear as they are. He nods and pulls the pin on a grenade. "Alright, ladies, show time."

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You are Captain Rose Holiday, and you're roused from anxious inactivity as a handful of monitors wink out, resolving to static. They're followed moments later by a dozen more. Soon nearly every surface sensor is offline.

"Report," you say. "What's going on?" you know in your heart that it's begun, but it almost doesn't seem real. Somehow dealing with Angels feels more believable than being betrayed by your own.

"We're losing feeds," a tech says. "Radar is jammed. Cameras are offline. Patching into backups.

One of the displays returns to functionality, resolving an image of the city as a flight of VTOL gunships zip by in UN livery. A moment later, one circles around and blasts the camera with autocannon fire, killing the video.

Confused, troubled murmuring goes up from the command crew at their stations. You share their trepidation, but you don't have time to dwell on it. "Inform all security teams to prepare for hostiles. Check in with every section leader."

"Captain. A3 Lock reports they're under attack by ground forces! Infantry forcing the lock with explosive charges" The tech puts his hands to his headphones, listening intently. "Jesus, they're killing them."

You glance at the map. A3 is one of your surface access points. The UN ground forces were already past your outermost perimeter and driving into the complex below. As you watch, the MAGI update the map of the NERV 03 complex with deadly red sections creeping inward, toward central command.

Why? Why are they doing this? After everything you'd gone through…

You can faintly hear the audio of the NervSec tactical teams over the open radio. Panicked men and women asking for orders, begging for backup. The sharp chatter of gunfire, the thuds of explosives and the cries of the wounded. Somehow all that is even worse than the dull static you get from teams closer to the surface.

"NervSec has no chance of stopping them," you say. "Pull all surface forces back. Seal all blast doors and rig anything that can't be closed with explosives." Even as you give the orders ,you know this is only going to slow them. The UN ground forces are trained and equipped for this kind of fight. Killing other human beings is exactly the mission they excel at.

You look back at your father, sitting silently at the commander's position. He looks back without speaking. It's clear on his face that he knows just as well as you do that you're doomed. Fine. If he has nothing to add you're going to just have to take charge.

"Try to find an open line to Snelson AFB," you say. "Dr. Caswell can try to re-link our hardline communications. Maybe we can figure out what the Hell they think they're doing."

"Belay that," your father says. "They're after the Evas and they're not going to negotiate."

"The Evas? Why?"

"Because it's the only thing we have that they're worried about."

Frustration boils within you. "We don't stand a chance against them, major. We're outnumbered and we're outgunned. Ten to one. Even down here in the complex we'll just be slaughtered. It was built to fight against Angels, not people. We have no choice but to try to negotiate."

"You'll just die begging," he says. "They've unleashed their dogs and they won't stop until we're all dead. All we can do is raise."

"Sir?"

The major stares back at you pitilessly. "We have an ace in our hand. Deploy the Evas to the surface."

"The Evas?" You blurt.

"They don't have the firepower to deal with them," he says. "They'll have to draw back. It will buy us more time."

"More time for what?" You demand.

Your father scowls. "If the UN gets in here they're going to kill all of us. Do you understand that, captain? This isn't a game. This is war. You fight or you die. Deploy the Evas and give us a fighting chance."


>Deploy the Evas, there's no choice
>Refuse the order. You're not going down with the ship
>Write in

>>5600134
>>Refuse the order. You're not going down with the ship

>>5600134
>Refuse the order. You're not going down with the ship

Pretty sure Rose is going to get shot by trying to make this call, but this isn't Angels, this is humans. Negotiations are an option, and threatening to blow up the Evas if that's what they really want is a card we can play.

>>5600134
>>Refuse the order. You're not going down with the ship

>>5600141
>>5600199
>>5600269


Writing

"No, sir," you say definitely.

Your father is shocked. "What?"

"I can't obey that order, sir."

Holiday stands up. "Rose, listen to me." He points toward the ceiling, "Those soldiers up there, they aren't going to stop just because you ask them to. They aren't going to listen to you, no matter what you have to say."

"If they want the Evas then we can bargain with that," you say. "There's always an alternative."

"They don't want the Evas, Rose," he says. "They want them destroyed. They're working on the orders of the Council. The same ones who let Second Impact happen, the same ones who organized all of this." His surprise has been replaced with a sick, manic fear. You've never seen someone so desperate. "Rose, we've come so far! We're so close to ending this, to breaking their reign and ending all of this! Don't do this to me. Not now."

"I…" You stammer. "I'm not going to order our pilots to kill."

"By God, Rose! What do you think is going to happen to them when the Enemy gets them? Do you think the Old Men are going to let any of us live? You? Me? The children? Do you honestly think that you can trust them?" He crosses the command room and takes you by the shoulders, startling you. "They don't want any survivors. There won't be any survivors. This place is going to be our grave. If you don't fight, then we're all dead. All of us." As if to underscore his words, the room shudders and the lights flicker as something explodes far above you.


>I'll take my chances with the UN
>Just what the hell is down here that's worth dying for!? What are you and Versetti up to?
>Then we don't have a choice. Deploy the Evas.
>Write in

>>5600400
>>Just what the hell is down here that's worth dying for!? What are you and Versetti up to?

>>5600400
>Then we don't have a choice. Deploy the Evas.

>>5600400
>>Just what the hell is down here that's worth dying for!? What are you and Versetti up to?

>>5600400
>Just what the hell is down here that's worth dying for!? What are you and Versetti up to?

>>5600456
>>5600423
>>5600406


writing

"Just what the hell is down there that's worth dying for? What are you and Versetti hiding?" you demand. "What exactly are we all fighting to protect?"

"The end. The colonel is going to end all of this, the old men are going to have their reigns cut short. They'll finally get what they deserve for doing this to all of us. Versetti will drive the Celestial Team. He'll be the Lord of the Fire."

You grab your father's uniform by the lapels. "Enough poems! Enough metaphor! What the fuck is down there?"

"An Angel," he says. "The last one. Cain. The key to the future. Whoever holds that key is a step away from god."


You're not sure that answer is any clearer.

"If the UN gets it then you can kiss any chance of a better world goodbye. They only care about control. They just want to be the ones pulling the puppet strings. Now and forever."

"And what about Versetti?" you demand. "What does he want?"

"He wants what I want. Revenge." Even as your father says it, you see a flicker of doubt behind his eyes, an inkling of second thoughts.

The room shudders again.

"C2 Lock demolished," a tech says. "No word from the D1 team. Captain?"

No matter what, the UN are coming for you, and if your father's right, they aren't going to be in a talking mood. You have to hedge your bets.

You let go of your father's lapels, not breaking eye contact with him. "Send whatever security we have left to D1. We have to blow it or we're going to be wide open." It's a death sentence for whoever goes. There's no chance they're coming back alive with how things are going.

You need to make a choice about the Evas while there's still time. Once you've done that, you can worry about what to do with your father and Versetti. Maybe once Roger gets communications back up you can try bargaining with them, but for now, you need to decide.


>Launch the Evas. It's the only chance for any of us to survive
>I won't put the pilots in harm's way. We made our bed and we're going to lie in it.
>Write in

>>5600757
>>I won't put the pilots in harm's way. We made our bed and we're going to lie in it.

>>5600757
>>I won't put the pilots in harm's way. We made our bed and we're going to lie in it.

>>5600804
>>5600873

Writing

"After all those children have done, you want me to put them back in harm's way?" you ask. "No. They've had enough. I've had enough. We'll get them out of here somehow if we can. If the UN is afraid of the Eva's then they won't worry about the pilots if the Evas themselves aren't a risk anymore. If anyone here is innocent, it's them."

Your father's eyes widen in shock. "You can't-"

"I can!" you return sharply. "I've taken orders from you all my life. I gave everything I had because you told me to! I did it all for you. This time, I'm done listening to you."

You expect an outburst of fury, a show of rage, but instead your father falls silent, sagging back on himself.

The eyes of all the bridge crew are on you, terrified but resolved. These are men and women who have served alongside you since you were first put in command. They trust you like no one else.

"NervSec can slow the UN but will not stop them," Mbaru says, his voice quiet. "They will get to us. It's just a matter of time."

If your father is right, they won't bargain with you either. Resist or surrender, they intend to kill you. But there's something more important at stake than just your life. You look back to the major. "This last Angel-"

"Cain."

"Cain," you say. "Where is it?"

"Beneath the Aquafront. Waiting for the Colonel's command. Once he interfaces with it, it will obey him and him alone."

"And you think he's going to use it to destroy the Council? Did it occur to you that he was pulling your leash? What reason do you have to take him at his word? With power like that he could destroy the world, or become a god himself."

"Better him than the old men on the council," your father says.

"Wrong. We're Nerv. We kill Angels and we killed petty, tin gods too."

The major says nothing, lowering his head in defeat.

"Major Holiday, I'm relieving you of command," you say. "Your judgment is beyond compromised and I think this is long overdue."

A nearby technician steps forward and disarms him carefully, though the major doesn't resist.

You look to a technician. "Contact Dr. Caswell and have him reconnect our communications to the UN." You give your father a look, daring him to try to countermand you again, but he doesn't say anything. "They probably won't listen to us, but we can try. Mbaru, what are our tactical options?"

"Conventionally? We can do nothing we are not already trying."

"Unconventionally?"

Mbaru glances at your father with a look of disdain. "An armed group could proceed down to find this Angel and Versetti. We find them and destroy them."

"We don't know what's between us and it," you say.

"He does," Mbaru gestures to your father.

"Risky," you say.

"Yes. No guarantee we would make it," Mbaru says. "The other option is the failsafe."

This facility sits on multiple high-yield thermonuclear warheads intended to be detonated in the event of extreme disaster or Angelic breach. Arming the nukes and destroying the base would stop both the UN and Versetti from getting control of Cain. It would also kill everyone in the facility and destroy the city above. It's a heavy price, but it would guarantee there would be no manmade gods. A time delay would allow for people to evacuate, at least some of them. But there were no guarantees anyone would get out. But it would guarantee the Angel's destruction.

You could also simply stay put and wait for the inevitable, hoping the UN shows you some mercy if you surrender. Another solution with no guarantees, not to mention no guarantees that they wouldn't continue the plan your father insists they want to execute. Before all this you couldn't conceive that anyone would betray their species this way. But controlling that captive Angel represents holding the power to enslave mankind.


>Form a team and descend to stop Versetti and destroy the Angel
>Arm the self-destruct and set a 30 minute delay. Destroy the base, the Angel, Versetti, and everyone who can't get away
>We do nothing but wait. If we can establish contact with the UN maybe they will accept our surrender
>write in

>>5602331
>Arm the self-destruct and set a 30 minute delay. Destroy the base, the Angel, Versetti, and everyone who can't get away.

Broadcast a warning to the UN and anyone on the upper levels, who have a chance to get out. The fewer people caught in the blast, the better.

No gods, just humans.

Bonus points if the EVAs are going up in flames, also, to take those weapons out of the hands of anyone who would potentially take them.

>>5602331
>>Arm the self-destruct and set a 30 minute delay. Destroy the base, the Angel, Versetti, and everyone who can't get away
too long, can we get a 10 minute timer?
>>5602449
+1 to alert UN and check if EVAs are still where they are supposed to be.

>>5602331
>Form a team and descend to stop Versetti and destroy the Angel.
Also, is the self-destruct cancellable? If so, set it for say 45 min, if we stop the Colonel, cancel it. If not... Boom

>>5602453
>is the self-destruct cancellable?
Once it is initiated, it cannot be stopped.

>>5602451

>too long, can we get a 10 minute timer?
You can set it shorter, but ten minutes will make it almost impossible for anyone to escape. Nerv personnel, UN soldiers, pilots, civilians, etc. Anyone not in an aircraft won't be able to get clear. When it goes, it's taking out everything.

>>5602462
Okay, cool, then ignore the second part of my vote and just go with form a posse team to look for the Colonel.

>>5602462
Like how big is the blast radius? Will the Whole Island cease to exist?

>>5602472
It will effectively erase New Tampa from the map. The failsafe has to be powerful enough to destroy any potential Angel.

>>5602477
>Erasing part of Florida from the map.
That can't be anything but good.

>>5602477
Alright. just checking.

>>5602498
Not just any part of Florida. One of the last.

>>5602331
>Arm the self-destruct and set a 30 minute delay. Destroy the base, the Angel, Versetti, and everyone who can't get away
Florida man will go out in style.

>Arm the self-destruct and set a 30 minute delay. Destroy the base, the Angel, Versetti, and everyone who can't get away.
>>5602449
>>5602451
>>5602862


writing

You stare at Mbaru as you weigh the the possibility of using the failsafe self destruct. Quite literally the nuclear option. If you pull the pin on that, you're not walking away.

"Right. Mbaru, get me the arming procedures." You pick up a phone from your desk and dial the technical branch extension. Roger answers.

"Caswell." Despite everything, he sounds calm. Maybe you should have expected nothing different from Nerv's premier scientific mind.

"Roger. It's me."

"It sounds bad, Rose. The fighting is getting closer, isn't it? What are we going to do?"

"We're going to activate the failsafe."

"Oh."

What else is there to say?

"Roger, listen. Reconnect us to the UN circuit. I'm going to warn them. Give them time to get as many people out as they can before the city goes."

He doesn't argue, he doesn't hesitate. "Alright."

"And once that's done, take your people and try for the surface. Thirty minutes isn't much, but maybe you could get to the docks, find some way out, take shelter somewhere."

"I'm not going to leave you down here," he says.

"Goddamit, Roger, I'm not asking." You close your eyes against frustration. "I'm not going to let you just-"

"No," he cuts you off. "I belong with you. You won't be alone."

You choke back emotions. You can't afford to feel them now.

"We'll be together when … when it happens."

"Alright." You wipe your eye with your wrist. "Alright. Just get me that connection."

"Five minutes," he says. "See you soon."

You hang up when he does, just as Mbaru hands you the manual for the self destruct. "The procedure is there."

You look around the bridge at the technicians looking at you with varying degrees of fear or acceptance. "I won't ask any of you to stay with me. I can operate the device on my own. I don't know if there's still a way out of here, but you have a better chance if you leave now. I'm absolving all of you of your duty. This is my order and I'm going to be the one to carry it out."

Some leave. You can't blame them and you expected nothing different. In small groups they arm themselves with what few weapons you have and start for the surface. If they're lucky, a few small groups will make it. Some leave, but not all.

A scattered handful remain, your father among them. There aren't any words to properly express your gratitude.

Mbaru produces a compact submachine gun from a desk drawer and extends the folding stock. "Until we start it, someone must defend the arming mechanisms," he says. "But once you start it, there is no stopping."

"I've made my choice," you say.

Mbaru nods, turning to go.

"Mbaru?"

He stops.

"Thank you."

Again, a nod. And then he's gone.

You look at your father and see only defeat. You consider warning him not to try to stop you, but you can see that he has no intention to do that. Whatever belief system he was following seems to have totally collapsed. You have nothing to say to him. Instead you turn away to begin studying the procedure in the manual as the remaining skeleton crew do what they can to coordinate the remaining defenders.

File: HospitalCooridor.jpg (44 KB, 675x458)

44 KB JPG

You are Ethan Chandler and the sounds of gunfire rattling through the hospital seem to be drawing nearer. Where you had been despondent before, now you're fully focused on survival. You and Renton stayed in your hospital room, unsure of what else do to while you waited for orders, orders which so far haven't come.

The gunfire is periodically broken by the flat bang of what you assume are grenades. Silences are filled with shouts and indistinct panicked voices.

Before you have any time to consider another course of option, the door flies open and a pair of NervSec agents in Kevlar vests and ballistic helmets force their way in. Their eyes are wide, fearful.

"Chandler? Renton?" one asks.

You stand from the hospital bed in response.

"We've been asked to get you two into cover. Let's move."

"What the hell is going on?" you ask.

"UN betrayed us," he says. "There's no time to talk about it. Let's go."

You've spent your whole life following orders, doing what your told. You don't see that this is any different. With hardly a glance at Renton, you both follow them from the hospital room, moving quickly through the halls toward the stairwell.

You don't see another living soul. The city was already partially depopulated from voluntary evacuation before the hurricane, and it seems everyone else either fled the building or is sheltering in place.

The NervSec agents move swiftly and with purpose, assault rifles at the ready as they check corners and hallways, you and Renton following behind.

"What about Katya and Korine?" Renton asks. "Are they alright?"

"In the base," one of the agents says. "They're safe. We've just go to-"

His head snaps back with the explosive report of close range gunfire.

You throw yourself flat on instinct as more rifle fire sweeps the hall. One of the NervSec collapses wordlessly as the other blind fires down the corridor, pressing himself to the wall for whatever cover he can get.

Gunfire lashes out from a dim side hall, kicking up puffs of drywall dust and skittering off floor tiles.

You walked right into an ambush. You can't make out exact numbers, but it's clear you're outnumbered and definitely outgunned. The stairwell isn't far, you might be able to make it if you run. If you risk drawing fire, you could also go for the dropped assault rifle. You've had rudimentary weapons training, but you don't know how useful it will really be for you. Rather than risking moving in the open, you and Renton could crawl into the nearest hospital room for cover and make a better plan there.


>Make a run for the stairs
>Go for the dead NervSec agent's gun
>Take cover in a nearby room
>Write in

>>5603399
>>Make a run for the stairs

>>5603399
>>Make a run for the stairs

>>5603399
>Make a run for the stairs
Hiding or going for the gun just pins us in place, and we're already outnumbered

>>5603399
>Make a run for the stairs
GTFO

>>5603415
>>5603788
>>5606985
>>5607524

Stairs

Writing


Sorry for the long delay, been down with the flu. Let's get back to it.

Gunfire roars overhead as you and Renton hug the floor. You know no matter what happens, you can't stay here. The stairs are too far away to crawl for, but maybe if you run…

You grab Renton's arm to get his attention over the cacophony of automatic weapons and point for the stairs.

He nods. "You first!"

It's time to go.

You're on your feet before you have time to be scared.

***

Roll 1d6. I need 3 rolls total.

Rolled 2 (1d6)

>>5610318

Rolled 6 (1d6)

>>5610318
I think this is right? Lol

Rolled 5 (1d6)

>>5610318

>>5610320
>>5610422
>>5610492

>2
>6
>5

Writing

You feel the passing of a bullet as a whiff of air on the back of your neck and a hideous buzz. It passes by like a hellish insect and then you're away, shoving open the stairwell door alongside Renton and staggering into cover.

You give one last look back, toward the NervSec agent only to see him collapse like a puppet whose string has been cut.

Renton shoves the door closed and looks around in vain for a lock. He gives you a wide eyed look. "Run!"

The door splinters as rifle rounds punch through it. You and Renton flinch away and you hear him swear.

On instinct you both start down the stairs in a blind rush, certain that the soldiers will be hot on your trail. The stairs seem to fly down, you feel like your feet hardly even touch them.


You reach the second floor and go to continue down when Renton catches your arm and shakes his head. "They would expect that. They could be waiting down there. We should go out a window here."

You're too panicked to really think of a more reasonable plan so you just give a quick nod and pull open the door to the floor. It's deserted and quiet with no sign that any chaos has unfolded here. "We can find a good window here," you say "Somewhere close to the ground hopefully." You look at Renton and notice for the first time the blood welling across his sleeve. "Holy shit," you say. "You're hit."

He shakes his head. "No, I think it's a graze." He presses his hand to his upper arm and winces. "Nothing fatal. We'll worry about it when we're out of here."

You don't really want to argue because you know he's right. It's not safe out here. "NervSec was trying to get us back to the base," you say. "It must be safer down there. Are you good to walk?"

"Otherwise what, you'll sit here with me and wait till we're found? I'll walk. Just don't ask me to carry anything."

"Come on," you check nervously behind you to ensure you're not being followed. It's just a matter of time before they systematically sweep this whole building. "Let's start checking these rooms."

You push open the first door and enter some kind of administrative office lined with banks of windows.

"Dammit," Renton says, "This kind doesn't open."

"Not with that attitude." You pick up an office chair and approach the windows, looking out to the ground below. It's a decent drop, but not insurmountable. "Alright, I'll see if I can smash it out."

"Ethan," Renton says. "Once we are out, is Nerv the safe place to go?"

You blink, "What do you mean?"

"You saw what happened to our 'protectors'. I do not know what's happened but if the UN is out to get us, then Nerv is the obvious place to check. Some kind of civil war would make that a prime battlefield, no?"

"So?"

"So maybe best that we don't go there."

"Where then?"

"The refugee fleet," Renton says. "Disappear. I know people. We can blend in and vanish, put to sea."

"The fleet is still here? Wouldn't they have left with the hurricane?"

He shakes his head. "No evacuation order. Harder to pack up and leave on your own if you are a refugee. Lots of red tape. No. They are still here."

"Katya and Korine are still down there," you say.

"If so, they will have to find their own way out. We have no weapons and no armor. No way to reach them safely and we could die trying. That won't help anyone."

>We've got to try to get back to them. It's the right thing to do, and Nerv is going to be safer than anywhere else in this city
>Alright, we'll go to the ships until we get a better plan
>Write in

>>5611482
>>We've got to try to get back to them. It's the right thing to do, and Nerv is going to be safer than anywhere else in this city

>>5611482
>>Alright, we'll go to the ships until we get a better plan
"I hope she gets out brother. I cant lose both in the same day."

>>5611482
>Alright, we'll go to the ships until we get a better plan

>>5611482
>We've got to try to get back to them. It's the right thing to do, and Nerv is going to be safer than anywhere else in this city

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>1 Alright, we'll go to the ships until we get a better plan
>2 We've got to try to get back to them

Rolling and writing

You hate to admit it, but Renton has a point. You swear under your breath. "Alright. You're right. Dammit. She'd better get out, Renton. I can't lose both of them on the same day."

Renton nods. "She is smart. She is quite tough too, I think. She'll find a way. I am sure."

You wish you were so sure. "Everything's falling apart," you say bitterly.

"Isn't that the way of things?" Renton winces and grips his arm tighter. "Come on. Let's go before we lose our chance."

"Right." You throw the office chair through the window, sending a shower of broken glass raining down onto the street below.

You are Max Goldberg and your palms are sweating. You've never killed anyone before, but you're prepared to if that's what it takes to get the kids out of here. You adjust your grip on your handgun and glance at Yezhov who is likewise armed and determined. He gives you a half nod and the two of you swing out of cover, weapons trained on the door to the pilot ready room.

There are no guards in sight. No NervSec anywhere. From the heavy vibrations you've been feeling it sounds like the UN is blasting its way in here, plowing through whatever resistance the outmatched NervSec forces are providing.

"They must be getting desperate," Yezhov says.

"Let's hope they didn't move the pilots." You depress the door control and it hisses open, revealing two startled and frightened pilots.

"Max?" Korine asks. "What's-"

"The UN betrayed us," you say. "They're cleaning up loose ends and killing everyone. I don't have all the details."

Her eyes go wide but neither she nor Katya say anything. "We're getting you two out of here before they get a chance to find you."

"Ethan?" Katya asks. "And Renton?"

"They're in the hospital topside," you say, "They should be safe." It's a lie, but you hope it's a comforting one. "We're going to try to find them on the way out of here." Although with the intensity of the combat above you're not sure if that's possible, in fact you're not sure if you'll even be able to get out of here.

Yezhov stays in the doorway, watching the passageway, weapon ready. He speaks as if reading your mind. "Straight up is too dangerous. We'll walk right into them. We take the Metro line and slip out, find surface access and then go from there."

"I won't leave without Ethan," Katya says, shaking her head firmly.

Yezhov glares daggers at her. "Then you will both die together, you spoiled little girl!"

You hold up a hand to silence him. "We're not leaving anyone. We need to get clear first so we can-"

File: EMERGENCY.jpg (198 KB, 1184x666)

198 KB JPG

The base-wide public address system clicks on with a delicate chime, cutting you off.

"Attention all personnel, this is Captain Rose Holiday, acting commander of Nerv."

You, Yezhov, Korine, and Katya all stop and look up at the nearest speaker.

"This fight is between the UN leadership council and the command staff of Nerv. It is a power struggle, a battle to control the power of the Angels. Men like Colonel Versetti- and my father- sought that power for their own end, and to deny it to the Council who likewise hoped to use it for themselves," Rose continues after a pause. "Today, no one is going to get it. We're returning the Lightning for Hire. I've activated the base's failsafe self destruct. It's an automated system, once triggered it can't be defused. In thirty minutes, twenty high-yield thermonuclear warheads will detonate, setting off a chain reaction of buried fissile material, destroying this base and the city."

You feel like your heart missed several beats.

"You have thirty minutes to reach minimum safe distance. I hereby release all Nerv personnel of any obligations they have to me, the command staff, or this organization. I make this command of my own volition and no one else bears any responsibility for what is about to happen." A pause. "God help us all."

The chime sounds again as the PA falls silent.

You and Yezhov look at each other. "A bluff," he says with nervous confidence. "She is bluffing. Only a madman-"

"Rose is as mad as they come," you say. "She's serious. Thirty minutes. That's enough time to find a way out and get some transportation if we hurry."

There's a 'but'. You don't voice it straight away, but you know Sayid is either here or on her way now. She won't be content to let this fight happen without her. It's possible she'll find her own way out, but it's just as possible that she won't.


>Yezhov, talk the girls to the surface and get them out of here. I have to find Sayid
>Sayid can take care of herself, the pilots are counting on me
>write in

>>5614728
>Sayid can take care of herself, the pilots are counting on me

A fight? Hell, anyone intent on fighting is basically committing suicide. Anyone with a sense of self-preservation is trying to get out ASAP. 30 minutes to escape multiple nukes is not much time at all.

>>5614728
>Sayid can take care of herself, the pilots are counting on me

>>5614728
>>Sayid can take care of herself, the pilots are counting on me

>>5614728
>>Sayid can take care of herself, the pilots are counting on me

>>5614750
>>5614759
>>5614770
>>5614936

>Sayid can take care of herself, the pilots are counting on me

Writing

Sayid will have to be okay on her own. She'll have to be. You and Yezhov still need to get out of here before it's too late. "Come on," you say. "Let's go."

The four of you set off at a jog, moving through Nerv's deserted corridors and halls. All the displays, once content to scroll a ticker of data or display beautiful tropical scenes now pulse an ominous red with one word.

EVACUATE

You can't imagine anyone will try to stop you, not now. But you also don't know for sure exactly what sort of single minded, death squads the UN might have deployed, or what sort of diehard supporters the Colonel might have lingering around. Not to mention anyone who either didn't get Rose's message or didn't believe it.

Whatever happens next, you can only tackle it one step at a time. One burning breath. One foot in front of the other. Pushing your own aching body out of mind, you run.

You are Aaliyah Sayid.

"You have thirty minutes to reach minimum safe distance. I hereby release all Nerv personnel of any obligations they have to me, the command staff, or this organization. I make this command of my own volition and no one else bears any responsibility for what is about to happen. God help us all."

The message echoes through the deserted passageway as you step over a dead NervSec agent, her blood pooling into a dark red mirror under her body. She's one of a half dozen and also the most intact. Whatever hit this unit had happened fast. Bodies have been wrenched apart spraying blood, limbs, and viscera across the hall.

The monitors on the wall flash red, themselves sheened with a dark veneer of blood running down their plastic screens.

Getting into Nerv was easy enough, the UN assault teams made sure of that. Blast doors were cut or blown open, security systems bypassed and destroyed. The NervSec forces guarding this particular junction hadn't stood a chance. You're not even sure they got a chance to fight back.

You'd expected that this trip would be one way. No matter what you found there was no chance you were coming back alive. Now you're starting to wonder if anyone is going to make it out of here.

The announcement itself is shocking enough, but it creates an additional complication for you.

"The hell?"

"Some kind of bluff?"

"Dunno. Call it in. I'm not gonna be the guy who puts his head on the chopping block by running if this is some Psyops shit."

The voices of the UN assault team you've been trailing echo back through the passageway to you.

"Sable 6 this is Sable 1-4. How copy? Over."

"Can't hear shit down here."

"It's the jamming."

"We're jamming our own frequencies? Get real. We're a thousand fucking feet underground. What a cluster fuck."

"Sable 6, do you copy? This is Sable 1-4 requesting orders, over."

You stoop down silently and pick up the blood-slick SMG clutched in the dead agent's hand. Its magazine is heavy with latent lethal potential. You quietly release the lock and extend the stock on it as you creep steadily forward, sliding along the bare cement wall. The team is just around the corner. Probably three or four of them, too many to take in a stand up fight, but if you're quick you could get them all. At this close range all the body armor in the world won't help them, and they won't be expecting it.

"Nothing."

"Keep trying."

You wouldn't have figured Rose to be the kind to pull the pin on the nuke Nerv was sitting on, you guess the UN hadn't counted on that either. Thirty minutes isn't a lot of time, but if you're quick you can make it work. Thirty minutes is enough to get down to Versetti and make sure he pays for what he did, or it's enough to get the hell out of here.

Whatever you decide, first you need to deal with these guys. If they double back while you're trying to escape, they could do to you what you're considering doing to them.

Otherwise, if you want to continue on, they're in your way.

Now's the time to act.


>Reveal yourself and try to talk things out. There's no point in killing each other now
>Ambush them. Swift, deadly.
>Forget them, no way they'll catch you if you start going back for the surface now
>write in

>>5615054
>>Ambush them. Swift, deadly.

>>5615054
>>Ambush them. Swift, deadly.

>>5615366
>>5615159

Writing

First things first. You pull the slide back halfway and verify there's a round chambered before slowly putting it back in place.

You risk a quick glance around the corner to see them. Four. Black clad, tactical gear, assault rifles, ballistic masks and vests. They're sitting ducks.

"Sable 6. Sable 6, this is Sable-"

Your submachine gun lets rip. The first two crumple instantly as you sever their tenuous life-thread. The third turns toward you just as you walk a burst of gunfire into him. He spins around and you put another burst through him. He drops.

The fourth throws himself down, scrambling desperately to get to cover. You don't afford him that chance.

The skeletal metal stock thumps into your shoulder as you pump rounds through him. At this range his body armor counts for nothing. You keep firing until the weapon runs dry, but you're not done.

Playing dead is one of the oldest tricks in the book, and you don't have time to take chances. Dropping the SMG you draw your pistol and work them over, putting a round through each one as you move from person to person.

Number three is still breathing when you erase his face with a gunshot. By the time you allow yourself a breath, you are standing amidst death. The smell of gun smoke mixes with the smell of blood. You look down at the dead UN troops and momentarily wonder what changed so much in your life. You used to believe in what they stood for. Now you just see them as a newer version of the soldiers that killed your little brother. The enemy.

You shake your head, dropping your sidearm in favor for stripping the dead. You take away a rifle and sidearm, checking the magazine on each. Rose's announcement replays in your head.

You consider for a second that it's a lie, some kind of bluff, but knowing what you do of Rose, you don't think so. She's not one for subterfuge. So this place is going to go nuclear in less than a half hour.

You look down the corridor ahead of you. It should be clear sailing now to continue on and get into the Aquafront. You can find Versetti and make sure he dies along with this place. But it's a one way trip.

You look back over your shoulder, the way you came. Thirty minutes to get back out and secure a way off this island. It's tight, but you can make it happen. Someway somehow.


>Go after Versetti, I have to make sure he burns even if it's the last thing I do
>Versetti is done. You have a second chance at life. Take it.
>Write in

>>5617503
>>Go after Versetti, I have to make sure he burns even if it's the last thing I do

>>5617503
>Go after Versetti, I have to make sure he burns even if it's the last thing I do

Some people can let their anger go. Others can't.

>>5617503
>>Go after Versetti, I have to make sure he burns even if it's the last thing I do

>>5617566
>>5617625
>>5617776

writing

There's no going back for you. The moment Yezhov pulled you out of that cell you knew that you weren't going to walk away from this place. You sling the rifle and start off at a jog, moving deeper into the base. Your heart beats out the rhythm of a war drum in your ears but you keep your breathing slow and measured. You've got a lot of ground to cover and not much time to do it.

Max will either understand your choice or he won't.

You pass by more deserted corridors, scenes of death and ruin. As you run, you think about your brother. You can no longer recall what he looked like, the shape of his face. You gather up fragments of memories, a look, a sound, a smell, a word. Pieces of something precious lost long ago, something you can never get back. Something that was stolen from you and from the world. You keep him in your thoughts as you retrace your steps deeper into Nerv, down, to the Aquafront. To Versetti.

File: Gate.jpg (50 KB, 612x408)

50 KB JPG

You are Max and you're not sure how much longer you can run. Sweat beads down your face and you're out of breath. Even now, your body continues to fail you. All that keeps you going is the determination not to slow the group down, to get everyone out.

"Why?" Korine repeats. "Why are they doing this?"

"Shut up," Yezhov hisses, leading the group with his pistol drawn, checking each junction carefully.

"Power struggle," you say between breaths. "You kids are just in the wrong place at the wrong fucking time. Pawns on the board."

Katya looks at you. "Max, you okay?"

You shake your head. "Far from it. No time though."

She doesn't argue.

The four of you have been working your way up, following endless staircases and taking side passages between levels, working closer and closer to the Nerv metro connection. From there you can get back into the city and out of here.

Your thoughts wander back to Sayid. You think about the things you wanted to say to her but didn't, or couldn't. You wonder if you'll have a second chance when all this is over.

Yezhov stops dead, pulling back into cover. "Trouble," he hisses.

You glance around at the signage on the walls. You're close, nearly to the metro terminal. All that stands between you and escape is a security check point.

Inching along the wall, you move past Yezhov to glance out across the open concourse. It's lined with potted plants, palms and tropical flowers. A few cement pillars mark the room and on the other side is a shuttered security gate along with a squad of UN troops. They mill about, talking with one another, too far away to hear clearly.

"Shit," you say.

"We go around," Yezhov says. "Take time, but best."

"Around" will mean doubling back and trying to find a less traffic passage. It meant precious, irreplaceable minutes, time that you might not get back.

You only see five of them, maybe there's a sixth lurking nearby, maybe not. You and Yezhov aren't soldiers, you aren't equipped or trained as such, but maybe if you're quick you can take them, all out. Get as close as you can before opening fire. Risky. Very risky.

"What we going to do?" Katya asks.

Even riskier with the girls here.

You hear Sayid's words in your head. We are going to die. But not now. Not yet.

"Not until this is done," you mutter, answering her words. Maybe this it's done for you. You could draw off the UN troops, buy time for Yezhov to get them the rest of the way out. It would get them to the surface quickly, but it would also be the end.


>We'll double back, find another way
>Yezhov and I will take them out. Get in close and open fire.
>This is as far as I go. I'll draw them off, you guys get out.
>Write in

>>5618587
>>This is as far as I go. I'll draw them off, you guys get out.

>>5618587
>>This is as far as I go. I'll draw them off, you guys get out.

>>5618587
>This is as far as I go. I'll draw them off, you guys get out.

>>5618610
>>5618648
>>5618894

Writing

Yezhov looks at you curiously.

"This is as far as I go," you say, not meeting his gaze. You can't let them see how scared you are.

Yezhov says nothing, but all eyes are on you. "I'll draw them off. Yezhov, get Korine and Katya to the surface and get out of here and don't come back."

You're afraid that Yezhov might argue with you, but he doesn't. "I will."

"No, Max, you can't!" Korine blurts. "That's not right. You have to come with us."

You shake your head. "No matter what happens, I'm dead. I might as well make it count for something." Your dumb luck in being slower than your friend that deadly day has finally played out. The path you followed is drawing to a close.

You finally force yourself to look at the others. Yezhov is unreadable, his expression firm. Katya is likewise stoic, but Korine is a mask of emotion. Tears streak her cheeks. It's a tragedy, you think, that you forced these kids through what they were put through. In that moment it occurs to you that Korine doesn't even know Sayid is alive after all. You consider telling her for a moment, but … something stops you.

"If I can find a way," you say, "I'll meet you when you get out." The lie comes easily to you. You look at Yezhov to ensure he understands you won't be coming.

"If there is time," Yezhov says.

"Yeah, if there's time."

But there isn't. There wasn't. And there never will be.

You ready your weapon and catch your breath. You have one shot at this. One chance to save three lives. "When I start shooting, go."

You step around the corner before you have time to hesitate and start moving in on the soldiers. You'll need to be close for your sidearm to have any hope of killing them. Outnumbered, outgunned, outranged.

Once committed, you're surprised by how little fear you feel. In a way it's almost liberating. Strangely, you think of that Angel, the girl, Linda. She'd died at Anchorage, but not completely. Somehow she'd lived on. Maybe she lived on still. Maybe you wouldn't disappear once you were dead. Maybe you'd find something else on the other side.

This is it.

***

Roll 1d6. I need 3 rolls total.

Rolled 3 (1d6)

>>5624168
Yezhov- Make it count.

Rolled 4 (1d6)

>>5624168

Rolled 4 (1d6)

>>5624168

>>5624176
>>5624222
>>5624704

>3
>4
>4

writing

You make a few strides in before they catch sight of you. In that split second of confusion they have you level your pistol and fire. The animal panic in your gut is screaming for you empty the magazine, but you don't. You squeeze the trigger slowly, methodically. For some reason, you don't hear the reports as you fire, you only feel the slight tug of recoil as the pistol jerks in your grip.

You continue forward as you fire, cradling your weapon in both hands. You don't think about anything other than putting rounds on targets.

Your targets in the meanwhile are hardly idle. One goes down quickly but the others scatter for cover. You can see the muzzle flash of return fire and you feel the rush of air as rounds snap by but you don't flinch away.

Another UN soldier goes down, kicking and squirming like he's been stung. You switch targets to a third and fire again.

You don't need to win, you don't need to kill them all, just keep the busy enough for Yezhov and the girls to slip by. That shouldn't be a problem.

You put your right foot down again but this time your leg gives out and you stagger, catching yourself on a cement pillar. You lean against it as you put a handful of bullets into a fourth soldier. This time when you pull the trigger, nothing happens, no recoil.

You have just enough awareness to realize that your pistol is empty when a burst of gunfire catches you in the side and you slump against the pillar.

Your vision is going gray, your legs feel so far away. The ground comes racing up to you as you collapse onto it. Blood pools around you, bright red, reflecting the fluorescent lights of the ceiling. There's no sound but the beating of your own heart, now growing fainter.

You try to force yourself up, try to eject your spent magazine. Your fingers twitch weakly, no longer obeying your commands. You're struggling now to even suck in a breath.

Did they get away? You can't see them. You can't move your head. The blood pool grows, spreading past your head now.

You see shadows circling at the edges of your vision. One of the shadows kicks the pistol out of your hands and rolls you onto your back.

Everything is going dark. Fading away, but nothing hurts.

Funny. All you want right now is another cigarette.

You are Korine McIntosh and the sounds of gunfire echo like jackhammer blows through the metro tunnels. You try not to think about it, try not to dwell on what it means. You're not versed enough in firearms to be able to tell one kind from another, but you know there's far too much gunfire for it to all be coming from Max.

It lasts for a minute or two, and then it goes quiet after one last reverberating gunshot.

You don't have time to mourn, Yezhov doesn't slow down for an instant, following along behind you and Katya with occasional glances backwards.

Max said he would try to catch up with you on the surface. You know that he won't.

Your tears sting your eyes as you run, but you keep running anyway. The surface isn't far, and time is getting shorter.

You are Ethan Chandler and you're out of breath. It feels like battery acid runs through your veins as you run alongside Renton, slowing only occasionally to help him along. He's trying to act like his wound is only superficial, but he's starting to slow down. Wincing and clenching his teeth against the pain as running jostles his arm.

You wish you could stop, give him a moment to rest, but there's no time.

The city streets are largely deserted. On occasion you pass by an open park or plaza where UN forces are overseeing loading of helicopters and VTOL craft with soldiers and civilians. You consider briefly taking your chance with the UN and getting in line, but brush the thought aside. Renton's gunshot wound would raise too many questions and it's just as likely they'll decide to carry out their original orders without a second thought.

After what feels like an eternity of running, you come into sight of the docks and the bulky civilian freighters moored here.

Lines of frantic, confused civilians have formed and are being ushered up rickety gangways onto the decks. Fortunately, the lines are short, you're seeing just the tail end it seems. You follow Renton's lead to his ship, his home and join the queue. The residents of the vessel are helping the citizens of New Tampa aboard and making room for more still. Some of them seem to recognize Renton and greet him. The conversation is all in Spanish so you're left to your assumptions, but once the two of you are taken aside and his arm is being bandaged you feel a bit more at ease.

"My grandmother is on here somewhere," Renton says to you through clenched teeth as quite gauze is painstakingly wrapped around his arm. "We should be safe once we set sail. I think the bombs are quite far underground. The shockwave should be minimal."

You can only hope that's true.


>We really need to cast off now, Renton. Can we get moving?
>We've got to try to wait to get as many people onboard as we can. Plus Katya and Korine are still out there
>Write in

>>5624916
>>We really need to cast off now, Renton. Can we get moving?
We're all going to die.

>>5624916
>>We've got to try to wait to get as many people onboard as we can. Plus Katya and Korine are still out there

>>5624916
>We've got to try to wait to get as many people onboard as we can. Plus Katya and Korine are still out there

>>5625083
>>5625327

>We've got to try to wait to get as many people onboard as we can.

Writing

"We need to get as many people out as we can," you say.

Renton nods. "If there is time."

"There has to be," you say, looking out over the city. You look at your watch. Fifteen minutes left. "Plus …"

"I know," Renton says, voice soft. "They will make it. I'm sure."

You chew your lip anxiously. Truthfully you're not even sure you are going to make it. But you can't imagine getting out alive if Katya and Korine don't. Maybe you should have gone back for them.

Renton rests his good hand on your shoulder, "They will find a way. There's nothing more we can do now but wait."

You nod, trying to convince yourself of that. You glance again at your watch and wince. "I just hope they do it soon."

***

You are Aaliyah Sayid and it's quiet down here. With NervSec dead or fleeing, making your way through the sealed off lower levels of Nerv is no obstacle. The empty, deserted office floors are just as you remembered them. The windows looking over the sunless cavern and the Stygian Sea fill you with an intense and mounting dread.

You aren't worried about dying. That's a given at this point. You're worried about failing to reach Versetti.

There shouldn't be a single person between you and him, but it isn't people you're worried about encountering.

Your thoughts keep returning to the thing that he unleashed on you last time. That half-mechanical Construct. Tendrils and metal, skittering legs. A nightmare made real.

Your sidearm wasn't enough to deal with it last time. If you encounter another one, you only hope the rifle you took with you does the job.

You continue down, following echoing stairwells and finally taking an express elevator down into the watery depths below.

How much time is left? However much, it will have to be enough.

You check your rifle and ensure a round is chambered. When the doors open, you move out, checking corners and keeping the weapon at the ready. You pass by the irregularly placed circular windows which are the only source of light in the empty cement expanse. You look out on the dead sea floor of the Aquafront. You see the bizarre chambers where the earliest Eva prototypes were spawned, inconceivable nightmare scenes better left buried. Past the titanic, beating heart pumping purple blood into an industrial vat.

You're approaching Nod. Surely Versetti will be here.

You stop dead. You hear only silence now, but a moment ago it was unmistakable, a metallic skittering sound.

A construct.

You turn around, weapon ready, heart pounding and aim it down the empty all.

Nothing.

Your imagination?


>Wait silently, it will come to you
>Call out, draw it in the open
>There's no time for this, make a run for the Nod control room
>Write in

>>5625937
>>Wait silently, it will come to you

>>5625937
>>Wait silently, it will come to you

>>5625937
>Wait silently, it will come to you

Probably on a patrol pattern, if it's moving. If we heard it once, we merely need to wait a little more for it to return.

>>5625939
>>5625967
>>5626102

>Wait silently, it will come to you

Writing

You let out a slow, silent breath and close your off eye, adjusting the rifle in your hands, keeping the muzzle aimed down the hall. Whatever else it is, it's still a machine, one probably on a patrol route. You're not going to lose your perfect moment, not again.

You count each moment in heartbeats, the silence of this place roaring in your ears, the ticking nuclear timer never quite leaving your thoughts.

Click.

Your heart skips a beat at the metallic sound. It's soon joined by others, a clattering of metal on stone as the Construct approaches through the dark passage, still unseen.

"Come on," you whisper to yourself. "Come on and die."

As if summoned, the thing emerges from the dark with such alien fluidity and speed that for a moment you're paralyzed.

A three meter column ending in crablike legs, fringed with flailing artificial tentacles rushes forward. A cluster of cameras all pivot to focus you with their glassy attention. Behind each lens is a large, bloodshot human eye, unblinking, hate-filled.

In an instant it's nearly on top of you, those crushing tendrils reaching and grasping.

You pull the trigger and the weapon bucks in your grip. The rifle's recoil struggles to raise the barrel to the ceiling while you fight to keep it on target. There's no effect at first, rounds spark off it's sigil-covered armored hide. Finally, you find your mark and one of the semi-biological cameras is struck, shattering in a burst of crystalline shards and blood. Another burst cuts a tendril free, its flailing paints the walls around it with alien, purple blood. In another instant, the rounds punch through its armor, sending more vividly-hued blood spurting and cascading down its sides.

It staggers, slips to the side, and topples over soundlessly as something vital is severed within it.

The Construct dies and lays still, the tendrils giving a final sickening twitch before ceasing to move.

You let out a shaky breath and lower the rifle, taking a few steps back from the thing. If there are more down here, you don't want to encounter them, you have to hurry. With practiced smoothness you eject the weapon's magazine and feel the weight. It's light. You slap it back into place and proceed the rest of the way down the passage, mindful of more semi-mechanical monsters lying in wait.

You reach the armored blast door without incident. There's no sound but you can feel the pulse of tremendous power on the other side of the door. After mentally bracing yourself, you press the switch and open it.

The other side is just as you remember it, an Eva control room like those higher up in the base. Row on row of unused computer stations covered by plastic sheets, and banks of reinforced armored glass windows looking into a red-lit chamber.

Something like the Construct you killed is inside, though this one is snakelike and huge, on a scale with an Eva. The Serpent, wrapped tight around the glowing, indistinct form of an Angel, Adam. The Serpent's numerous centipede legs skitter and flex as it grips its prey.

A sick, golden light plays through the gaps the Serpent leaves. Whatever strange waves of power you feel are emanating from that unholy embrace.

It's almost exactly like the last time you were here, only this time you aren't alone.

You train your rifle on the other person here.

"Colonel."

Versetti is stripped to the waist, his skin a sickly pale shade in the dim light of the room. He half turns to look over his shoulder at you, but doesn't seem particularly surprised.

"Aaliyah," he says. "You've proved to be far more troublesome than either me or your handlers could have possibly predicted."

"I'm not here for them. I'm here for me."

His lip twitches slightly, the hint of a smile. "Really? You're full of surprises."

You don't take your weapon off of him.

"You're here to kill me?"

"You're going to die no matter what I do," you say. "Rose saw to that."

He nods, "The nuclear self destruct. Another surprise. A human trait if there ever was one, the ability to change, adapt. She certainly has. But you're wrong about dying."

You can't help but smile but the expression comes out twisted, unwell. "How do you figure?"

"Because it's not too late to change everything." He inclines his head toward the viewports ahead, toward the Angel. "The power in there is waiting. The-"

"The Celestial Team? The Lightning for Hire? So many cute little nicknames for it," you say. "The Angel."

"Yes," he says. "The Angel. Aaliyah, it's the power of a God, and I don't mean that hyperbolically. With that power under the direction of a mind, a human mind, there's no limit to what could be done."

You don't say anything.

"Space, time, just guidelines. All creation laid out before us. There's no reason it has to end here, Aaliyah."


>And you're willing to share that power?
>You're wrong. This is the end. (Kill him)
>I don't think so (Shoot him in the leg). We're going to see this through to the very end.
>Write in

"And you're willing to share that power?"

"Not with a Jedi..."

>>5627232
>You might be right. But for you, it does. (Kill him)

>>5627232
No reason it has to end? The only reason I'm here is to ensure You end, Colonel. Otherwise I'd have taken the route out.

>This is the end. (Kill him)

>>5627232
>>You're wrong. This is the end. (Kill him)

>>5627232
>>You're wrong. This is the end. (Kill him)

>>5627232
>And you're willing to share that power?

>>5627244
Dewit

>>5627253
>>5627263
>>5627276
>>5627285

>Kill him

Writing

You let your sick grin spread wider. "Is that what you think?"

You're gratified to see his own smile falter.

"Maybe you're right," you continue. "Maybe it doesn't have to end. But for you it does."

"You're throwing away everything!" Versetti blurts, his features contorted with anger. "A second chance! A chance to reshape the world!"

"I could have turned around, taken the path out of here." You shake your head slowly. "The only reason I'm here is to ensure that you end, Colonel."

There it is. Exactly what you hoped to see. Mortal terror.

You pull the trigger and watch the man who would be a god twist away, turning with the impact of the bullet. You follow it with two more, and then a third when he hits the ground. The rifle report is still ringing in your ears when you toss the empty weapon onto his body and turn away from it,

A petty tyrant, a small man who hoped to be something more by treading on the lives of others, now equalized in the most final way.

You walk to the armored viewport facing the Angel and put your hand on the glass. It's icy to the touch.

"Cain," you say, staring at the glimpses of cold light flashing from the Serpent's twisted embrace.

With your work done, you're finally complete. The hollowness you felt inside yourself since you were imprisoned isn't gone exactly, but you feel like it's finally swallowed you up. You don't feel anything anymore. Maybe that's not true. Maybe at the bottom of that lightless abyss you feel satisfaction. Peace.

The Angel stirs slightly, the subtle movements of a dreamer. The last of its kind, and you're going to watch it die.

You think about your life. However short it was, it was longer than some. That has to mean something. You think about Korine. You know that if she gets through this, she'll grow up to be strong. She won't have any other choice.

You think about Max. You hope he'll make peace with your choice here. Somehow.

You think about Dubai, the flooded streets. Nights of hunger and fear.

You think about-

You blink and look at Cain again. "Let me tell you a story," you say, wondering if it could even understand you. "A story about someone that should be remembered. Let me tell you about my brother."

File: TheEnd.gif (919 KB, 981x600)

919 KB GIF

You are Rose Holiday. The control room is quiet. Almost no one is left. Those who are here don't speak. The main monitor is taken up with a countdown. A countdown to the end of your life, now measured in minutes.

You think to ask if everyone else got out, but there's no way to know. The secondary monitors, usually displaying feeds from sensors and cameras around the city are all blank or showing static. The UN blinded you before giving up. Just as well, you don't have any more power.

"Ten minutes," Roger says, his voice subdued.

You look back at him, but he keeps his expression neutral.

Instead, you shift your attention to one of the last stragglers here. Your father. He sits in his usual command station, but with none of the self-assuredness and inner fire he used to have. He looks broken. Hunched over, staring at the floor. Defeated.


>It's time to make peace with your father. There won't be another chance.
>It's time to speak your mind. You're going to tell him how he failed you and everyone.
>Ignore him. If there's a Hell, maybe you'll see him there.
>Write in

>>5628428
>>It's time to make peace with your father. There won't be another chance.

>>5628428
>Ignore him. If there's a Hell, maybe you'll see him there.

>>5628428
>It's time to make peace with your father. There won't be another chance.

>It's time to make peace with your father. There won't be another chance.

>>5628465
>>5628737

Writing

File: NoSignal.gif (321 KB, 498x373)

321 KB GIF

You cross the empty room to take a seat beside your father. The monitor at his station displays only static, a hissing emptiness left in the wake of the UN attack.

Your father speaks first. "Is it pointless to say 'I didn't intend things to end like this'?"

You don't answer.

He hands his head. "I think it is." Silence. He shakes his head. "I know. I know that I've let you down." He looks up, meeting your eye, "Everything I did, I did because I thought it was right. Your mother …" he pauses, fighting down emotions. "I lost your mother in Second Impact. We lost so many people. It was …" he shakes his head. "Knowing that we lost so many people, how could I live knowing that the men who allowed it all to happen survived? I couldn't let them get away with it." He clenches his hands to fists. "What kind of man would I be if I stood by and pretended like this was all for some greater good?"

"So you sacrificed your daughter?" you ask.

The question shocks him from his anger and he's left speechless.

"I lost mom too," you say quietly. "I barely knew her. What was I supposed to do dad? I lost her and I lost you. You took everything from me." The tears come without warning. You hate yourself for crying, but you can't stop. "I did everything you asked, and look what it got me."

Your father stares at you with a mixture of shock and sadness, as if noticing your scars for the first time.

"My eye, my chance at a normal life, I gave it all up."

He touches your cheek. "Rose…"

You take his hand in yours and hold it tight. "I didn't want revenge. I only ever wanted my dad."

Your father is crying. You can't recall ever seeing him cry, and it that moment you feel nothing but regret. Where was this man when you were little? Why did it take until the very end to share this moment.

"I gave up everything I had for a chance at revenge," he says. "I gave up myself. I even gave up you. And right now, I would give up anything to get it back."

You and your father share an embrace. It feels futile, with everything gone, but it also feels like all there is. He whispers in your ear, "I'm so sorry, Rose."

>I'm sorry too.
>I forgive you
>Say nothing

>>5629041
>>I'm sorry too.
>>I forgive you

>>5629041
>>I'm sorry too.
>>I forgive you

>>5629041
>Say nothing

>>5629041
>I forgive you... but there's something I need to tell you. You see, according to all known laws of aviation, there is no way a bee should be able to fly. Its wings are too small to get its fat little body off the ground. The bee, of course, flies anyway because bees don't care what humans think is impossible. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Yellow, black. Ooh, black and yellow! Let's shake it up a little. Barry! Breakfast is ready! Coming! Hang on a second. Hello? - Barry? - Adam? - Can you believe this is happening? - I can't. I'll pick you up. Looking sharp. Use the stairs. Your father paid good money for those. Sorry. I'm excited. Here's the graduate. We're very proud of you, son. A perfect report card, all B's. Very proud. Ma! I got a thing going here. - You got lint on your fuzz. - Ow! That's me! - Wave to us! We'll be in row 118,000. - Bye! Barry, I told you, stop flying in the house! - Hey, Adam. - Hey, Barry. - Is that fuzz gel? - A little. Special day, graduation. Never thought I'd make it. Three days grade school, three days high school. Those were awkward. Three days college. I'm glad I took a day and hitchhiked around the hive. You did come back different. - Hi, Barry. - Artie, growing a mustache? Looks good. - Hear about Frankie? - Yeah. - You going to the funeral? - No, I'm not going. Everybody knows, sting someone, you die. Don't waste it on a squirrel. Such a hothead. I guess he could have just gotten out of the way. I love this incorporating an amusement park into our day. That's why we don't need vacations. Boy, quite a bit of pomp... under the circumstances. - Well, Adam, today we are men. - We are! - Bee-men. - Amen! Hallelujah! Students, faculty, distinguished bees, please welcome Dean Buzzwell. Welcome, New Hive City graduating class of... ...9:15. That concludes our ceremonies. *Self destruct goes off*

>>5629060
>>5629471
>>5631243

>I'm sorry too.
>I forgive you

Writing

"I'm sorry too," you say. You're sorry for everything you never had. All that ever was and all that could have been. "But … I forgive you." The hardest words you've ever had to say, but words you've always wanted to be able to say.

Your father pulls you into a hug and you savor it.

It doesn't last long before cold reality intrudes in the form of Roger's voice.

"Eight minutes. The charges are subterranean so it should minimize surface blast, but undersea shock could still pose a risk. There's not much time left to get to minimum safe distance."

You break the hug to look back at Roger.

"I hope everyone got clear."

You hope the same.

You are Ethan Chandler and there's no more time.

Voices in languages you don't understand call back and forth, making arrangements to cast off. French Creole, Portuguese and Spanish, Deck hands throw off mooring ropes and you can feel the vibrations of the deck as the engines come to life.

The trickle of survivors has stopped, no one else is coming.

"Maybe they found another boat," Renton says. "Or one of the helicopters."

You don't answer, gripping the cold metal railing ringing the deck, eyes scanning the city.

"How much time left?" he asks.

You don't need to look. "Eight minutes."

"We have to leave, Ethan."

Even if you wanted to, you don't have the power to keep the ship here. You're not an Eva pilot anymore. You're just a kid.

Frantic shouting draws your attention back to the wharf and you feel your heart leap at the sight of three figures running along the concrete expanse toward the ship. Yezhov, Korine, and-

"Katya!" You shout, waving your arms. You push through the crowds milling on the deck, fighting your way toward the gangway. "Wait! Wait!" You don't if anyone who hears you cares or is even able to wait, but you can do nothing else but try.

On reaching the gangway, you're relieved to see it's still in place, but less relieved to realize the ship is starting to move, slowly but inexorably reversing out of place. The ramp onto the deck is beginning to slide along the cement wharf as it's dragged to sea with the ship.

You start down the gangway before you're grabbed by passengers and residents of the ship, trying to prevent you from getting back off.

"We have to get them! There's more people!" You struggle uselessly in the grip of strangers before others begin to see the approaching Nerv personnel. Almost acting as one, the people onboard move to action. A rope is tied to a railing and the loose end is handed to you. Without thinking, you loop it around your waist and start down the shuddering gangway.

Yezhov reaches the gangway first, but to your surprise, doesn't immediately leap up it, instead he stops and turns to help Korine on first.

The ship is starting to pick up speed, dragging the gangway faster and faster, moving closer to the edge of the dock.

Korine struggles up the vibrating ramp until reaching you. You take her by the arms and pull her up, moving her along to the waiting crowd who helps her the rest of the way.

Katya is next, Yezhov shouting at her in frantic Russian, spurring her to hurry.

You take her by the hand.

"Ethan-" she says, both relieved and distraught.

"Later," you say as gently as you can, helping her along.

You feel the ramp shift dangerously beneath your feet. Once it's pulled over the edge of the dock, it'll give out.

"Yezhov!" you shout.

He's already making his way up the ramp, fighting with what strength he has after running here. He's nearly to you, arm reaching out when the ramp goes over the edge of the dock.

***

Roll 1d6. I need 3 rolls total.

Rolled 5 (1d6)

>>5631555
Ok I got this don't worry chief

Rolled 6 (1d6)

>>5631555

Rolled 6 (1d6)

>>5631555
Nooooo

>>5631558
>>5631560
>>5631584

>5
>6
>6

writing

>>5631558
>>5631560
>>5631584
Alright Ethan has So got this. I think.

Yezhov's eyes go wide as the ramp falls out from beneath him. You feel your own stomach lurch as the ground gives way. You're falling, dropping alongside the ramp into the churning ocean water below.

You reach out and grab Yezhov's arm, feeling him grip tightly back. You're still falling, now together. It lasts for an instant before the harsh embrace of the rope around your waist jerks you to a stop. The air rushes out of your lungs and you're left gasping for breath as you dangle off the side of the ship. The metal hull beats on your back while you swing freely, the ocean rushing by beneath.

Yezhov shouts something at you, gripping your arm tight as his feet scrabble at the hull while he desperately tries to climb up. You can't make out what he's saying, but you think he's swearing at you.

The rope starts tightening as the people on the deck pull together, hoisting the two of you back up. You pull yourself together enough to strengthen your grip on Yezhov.

Somehow, you manage to keep a firm grip on him until the friendly hands of the passengers pull the two of you back onto the deck. As the rope loosens you suck in a full breath before coughing it back out, feeling painful bruising across your stomach.

"Ethan? Ethan!" Katya is beside you in an instant, her arms around your neck. She's kissing you like she'll never get the chance again.

"Let me stand," you manage to croak out.

She and Korine pull you to your feet, Renton joining you from the crowd.

"Where's Max? Mbaru?" you ask, looking between the girls. "Rose?"

They look at one another before Korine answers. "Max is … he stayed behind."

"We not see the others," Katya says.

"Maybe another ship," Renton suggests.

The four of you turn to look back toward the city as it steadily recedes. Flocks of helicopters and VTOL craft race away from it in all directions, dozens of ships- many of them old freighters like this one- steam as fast as they can away from the doomed city. How many people didn't get out? How many never had a chance?

Katya takes your hand in hers and grips it tight. You squeeze back.

All that's left to do now is to run, and hope there's enough time.

File: Goodbye.gif (2.28 MB, 593x365)

2.28 MB GIF

You are Rose Holiday and you sit between your father and Roger, watching the display tick off the last minutes and then final seconds.

You hold Roger's hand in yours, a small creature comfort as you face death together. In seconds the device will activate and end your life.

You look at Roger. "Did I do the right thing?" you ask.

He looks back and gives you a small, sad smile. "I don't know." He gives your hand a final, gentle squeeze.

00:00:00

File: End.jpg (88 KB, 563x750)

88 KB JPG

You are Ethan Chandler and you watch as New Tampa dies.

A shockwave runs through the sea, thrumming the hull of the freighter, sending a shimmer across the surface of the ocean. Someone cries out in fright.

The skyline seems to rise up slightly before sagging suddenly down. Crystal and steel spires topple into one another, folding and collapsing into great gouts of smoke and dust a moment before the earth itself explodes outward, spewing fire and dust into a volcanic spray.

By this point the ship is out of range of the parabolic arcs of thrown debris that rains down on the surrounding ocean. An expanding cloud of dust and smoke blots out your sight of the city before rolling back in on itself a moment later to form a towering mushroom cloud.

The sound hits you a half second later in a titanic blast of thunder and godlike fury. The blast wave comes as a rush of hair, blowing your hair back for an instant before subsiding with an echoing bang as displaced air rushes back to fill the void.

None of you, Katya, Korine, Renton, or Yezhov look away.

As the smoke begins to clear, you see the city is gone. Even from so far away you can make out the jagged concrete crater left behind. Ocean water rushes in like an unending tidal wave to fill the void left from the city's passing.

Katya grips your hand tighter.

"It's all gone," Korine says.

"Everything we fought for," Renton adds.

"You are alive," Yezhov retorts. "Be thankful for that."

Katya looks at you, her eyes wide. "Is it over?"

You nod. The Evas are gone, the Angels are gone. At long last- "It's over."

She puts her arms around you again in a desperately tight hug. You hold her tight as the ruins of New Tampa recede, now even less visible than the derelict and rusted skyscrapers of Old Tampa. Erased by nuclear fire, purged from the earth. The end of what came before. The beginning of something new.

Whatever comes next, you won't have to face it alone. You hold Katya close to you.

As the breeze returns to normal, stirring over the ship, you hold out a closed fist, studying your hand a moment before opening your fingers.

A single, silver-white feather trembles in your open palm before the breeze catches it, lifting it away and into the sky.

Finally, you allow yourself a smile and close your eyes.

It's over.

>/The End of Evangelion

***

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RiZVjfjgNyY

Thanks so much to everyone who stuck with this quest. It means the world to me.

I hope you had as much fun reading/playing as I did writing.

>>5631704
Or is it?

>>5631707
I bounced in and out over the threads, but congrats on bringing it to a conclusion.
That is far more than most writers on this site can say.

Great writing, also.

Pour one out for those stuck in the blast, and one time that humanity decided their own fate instead of leaving it to shadowy cabals.

Also RIP Florida.

>>5631708
It is for foreseeable future

>>5631715
Thanks! I appreciate it. I certainly didn't anticipate the direction a lot of player votes took things. And Florida is in a better place now. Underwater.

>>5631743
>>5631704
Yeah good shit TK. We will await your next quality quest.

Also fuck florida. at least there will be no more florida men.

Thanks for the ride, TK

>>5631953
>>5632093
Thanks for playing!

Lurker here, wanted to say this was a fantastic and evocative story from thread one, good shit timekiller

>>5633330
Thanks! That's awesome to hear. It's been a long time dream of mine to run this quest. Im glad you enjoyed it.

>>5633532
So....I might have been doing a reread and noticed that the Lewd pastebin link was broken. Any chance of that getting tossed somewhere?

>>5633534
https://pastes.io/dfwt8rk8gi

Here you go