2022-06-17: Fallen Angel

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<Pose Tracker> Kaworu Nagisa has posed.

        Of all that Kaworu has experienced, this go-around has been... mixed. On the plus side, it has allowed him far more space to experience life outside of the world of Evanglion, something that doesn't happen often even in mixed universes such as this; on the minus side, many of those experiences have been... stressful. Being someone who is very good at taking things as they come and accepting things as they are, stress is uncommon to Kaworu. It's an unpleasant experience.
        
        But still, there is hope. There is always hope. That's what the Lilim taught him, isn't it? Though it may be lined with sorrow, that hope is what allows one to reach out past it towards joy. For the chance that one might find happiness, for however long it might last...
        
        And of course, mixed universes such as these allow him to enjoy experiences he doesn't get to have in those ruled solely by the Dead Sea Scrolls: for example, being able to chat with one Ruri Hoshino of the ship Nadesico about the Sheryl Nome concert that he is at this very moment on his way to attend. Work and other things have kept him from the other concerts of the Earth Sphere Global Tour, including the pre-tour mini-live put on by Nergal Heavy Industries, but he made sure to request this day off well in advance, finish all possible work in advance, and buy the ticket well in advance. It would've been nice to have been able to invite someone (read: Shinji) to come with him, but... as Akane said, they aren't ready for each other just yet. As long as he's waiting, Kaworu may as well reach out for
        
                Does living bring you joy?
        
        what small pieces of joy he can find.
        
        And so it passes that Kaworu leaves the Geofront by train, emerging from the underground into the light, to disembark at a local train station. He's wearing a button-up shirt patterned in a blac-and-white plaid with red buttons, over which he wears an unbuttoned navy blue spring jacket with the sleeves pushed up to just under his elbows and folded back red. With the sleeves pushed back like that, one can see the black-and-silver wristbands on his left wrist and the bronze metal wristwatch on his right. His shirt is untucked into his white slacks, whose pants are likewise rolled up a few inches above his socks-less ankles, and his black-and-silver shoes are tied neatly.
        
        "I must admit, I've been looking forward to this concert for some time. There were several others I tried to attend, but for one reason or another, I ended up being unable to," he converses seemingly with thin air, smiling as he strolls out of the station. In reality, he's talking through his smartphone to one Ruri Hoshino, with a side of Omoikane. Never mind that his smartphone is in his jacket pocket, and his hands tucked into his slacks pockets. Never mind that he doesn't even really *need* the smartphone to connect with her. It's fine. "Sheryl Nome follows well in the steps of Sharon Apple and Fire Bomber. I've enjoyed listening to her songs, but a recording truly can't compare to a live performance."
        
        (Also never mind that Sharon Apple and Fire Bomber were hot five or less years ago. It's fine.)
        
        He pauses, though, once he reaches the sidewalk past the station. The other travelers around him disperse as they head on their own ways. "Hm? ...Oh, excuse me," he adds to Ruri. "A ride to the Ladder was supposed to be ready for me at the station, but... it seems it isn't here yet," he observes, looking back and forth.

<Pose Tracker> Ruri Hoshino has posed.

        The Nadesico is surely also invested in this concert -- after all, they so often escort Sheryl Nome about. Ruri Hoshino, right now, is working: getting out to Zeon is a complicated process, and only gets more diplomatically complicated with each further tendril the Federation extends to Nergal's flagship.

        Which is to say: there's a lot of work for the Communications Officer, right now, and very little for the Systems Operator. Before they can approach Zeon without trouble, they need to cross their Ts and dot their Is. It's just another step in the ongoing transaction.

        Ruri is, naturally, monitoring all the numbers she needs to monitor, on her screens; at the same time, she's speaking to a window with a blank bar over it, declaring it AUDIO ONLY. Ruri Hoshino, as it happens, is a multi-threaded sort of processor: she reads out reports as required to the bridge, and when she's not doing that, she's having a quiet conversation off the side.

        "Ms. Nome is a good performer," Ruri tells him, with that same flat-voiced stoicism she always wears. He might still be able to tell that she's excited for him, but it's all buried under her mild professionalism. "I think you'll find the holographic effects very interesting, Kaworu-san." Ruri is, of course, referring to their technical impressiveness, and not the content of the digital illusions. Give her a few years to finish figuring it out.

        Omoikane transmits the feeling of checking the online schedule for Ladder trips for any reported delays; he can't really pop up his normal method of talking here, but that doesn't mean he's not helping. Much like Ruri, he is very good at multi-tasking. (He is, in fact, better at it, but he doesn't like to brag.)

        "How troublesome," Ruri remarks, at much the same time. "So you have to wait, I suppose... actually, there are a lot of foolish adults involved in this, so I'm doing a lot of waiting too." Luckily, Ruri knows to keep her voice down when complaining about this sort of thing, so she won't give the game on the bridge away.

<Pose Tracker> Mari Makinami Illustrious has posed.

Kaworu Nagisa exits his train station, illuminated by the lamppost glow.

        SEVERAL BLOCKS OVER,

the roof hatch of one of the many abandoned buildings of Tokyo-03 groans with fresh use.


Kaworu Nagisa talks to a friend.

        SEVERAL BLOCKS OVER,

a figure in black kneels alone, their only company a large, heavy case opened in front of them.


Kaworu Nagisa looks to prise joy from a universe that has offered mostly mixed blessings.

        SEVERAL BLOCKS OVER,

someone contemplates taking a life.


Kaworu is connecting to Ruri as a lithe figure in a black jumpsuit assembles the pieces of a large rifle, a modulated voice humming to the empty air. The visor of the concealing helmet they wear glints in the passing light.

He is talking, as the figure comfortably nestles their sniper's tripod at the edge of their rooftop, and waits.

Kaworu has come to a stop at the corner of the sidewalk when he enters the figure's sights.

The dark visor of the figure suddenly alights with data, a punch pink targeting array floating across black glass. It begins to zero in on Kaworu within their sight. Gradually, patiently.

deet deet



deet deet deet


deet deet deet deet

deet deet deet deet deet deet
deetdeetdeetdeetdeetdeetdeetdeetdeet

'How troublesome,' remarks Ruri, just as that targeting array centers on the Fifth Child's skull.

deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

The figure's finger curls against the rifle's trigger as they utter a single word through a heavily modulated filter.

        "Bullseye."

There is only a single damning second of hesitation before that gloved finger pulls the trigger with a subdued flash of frenetic green energy chasing after a specially-charged rifle round in helixing tendrils of light, a single, high-pitched sound heralding it.

<Pose Tracker> Kaworu Nagisa has posed.

        "Yes, I hear so much about them," Kaworu replies about Sheryl's holograms, both in the way Ruri means and in the more common meaning. He is only interested in the former, which might become obvious as he continues, "One can easily see where she takes inspiration from Sharon Apple in particular." After all, the digital idol was known in particular for--well, being a hologram.
        
        Omoikane meanwhile transmits checking for delays. Kaworu chuckles a little. "This is a private ride, so I imagine it's not on the same schedule as everyone else," he says. After all, he can't simply do something as extreme as attend a concert in an orbital colony without... certain supervision. "Being late isn't like them, though... Perhaps I'm a little early?"
        
        He pulls up his wrist to check his watch, even though a clock function is part of his smartphone and therefore instantly accessible without him needing to move. He likes this wristwatch. Shinji gave it to him, after all. His smile turns soft and bittersweet as he observes the ticking hands. His gaze lingers there for a heartbeat while Ruri weighs in.
        
        Then he looks up, directly into a certain sniper's scope, smile gone.
        
        'Bullseye,' someone says. A second later, they pull the trigger.
        
        This isn't the first time Kaworu has been the target of assassins. His thoughts skate momentarily to many lifetimes ago, when he awaited the bullets, only for someone else to take them. 'Momentarily' is of course on a relative scale, considering the bullet has already on its way through the rifle barrel.
        
        There is a decision to be made. He already swore on the life of they who died to protect him that he wouldn't ever simply give in to death if he could help it, so letting things play out is not an option. Yet he cannot defend himself with the light of his heart; NERV's finely-tuned sensors would catch it in an instant, and that would mean conceding to death of another kind. In the same way, he can't simply move out of the way--or more accurately, he *could*, but the speed required to do so effectively would likewise betray him.
        
        And the bullet itself... there's something strange about it. The energy that surrounds it, trails after it, isn't normal to the world of Lilim. It gives Kaworu a feeling of distinct dread, though he doesn't yet know why.
        
        Redirect the bullet, then. Just slightly. Just enough. At the speed at which a bullet moves, making it richochet in a harmless direction should require no more than .012 of a second's worth of the light of his heart--so brief a manifestation that even the MAGI shouldn't notice. And he should move also, because this would-be assassin may attempt a second shot, and he'll need cover to avoid getting anyone else involved.
        
        His muscles tense and bunch in readiness to move to one side. That bullet catches on a patch of crystal rainbow, nearly invisible in the sunlight, angled to redirect the round about three inches to his right.
        
        It catches
        
                and punches through.
        
        Crimson splatters through the air. Kaworu's assailant is treated to the briefest look of shock on his handsome features before he drops onto his back like a sack of cement. Screams rise up at a near distance before those few still in the area run away, seeking cover of their own. Mission accompl--
        
        Kaworu's right hand twitches.
        
        "ruri. omoikane," he whispers, all but mouths, to the air. "help." 

<Pose Tracker> Ruri Hoshino has posed.

        Omoikane is suitably bashful at having misunderstood the nature of Kaworu's ride. Even supercomputers get things wrong sometimes!

        There is nothing strange about pauses. Pauses in conversation, pauses to attend to the world. Pauses to read out data on a display. Life is made of its interruptions, written in the delay.

        There is nothing strange about the way Kaworu pauses. Even so,

        Ruri has a bad feeling.

        Through that black bar, < AUDIO ONLY >, the air breaks as something tears through. Something else tears, too. It might be Ruri's breath, ripping in a stiff gasp through her throat.

        All a sudden, the communication lines with the Zeon ship are replaced -- supplanted -- interrupted.

                                < ALERT >
                                        < WARNING >
                < DANGER >
                                < CORRECTING COURSE >

        "Why are we turning around?" Jun Aoi, Executive Officer and official Man In Charge Of Handling This while Yurika is off doing something important(?), demands as he clutches his station. "Report!"

        "Eeeh?!" Minato Haruka yelps, as she jerks at her controls. "Don't look at me! Really, I'm not doing anything!"

        Ruri's eyes widen; she presses her hands, firmly, to her console, the stream of data reflecting through the nanomachines of her IFS. "Omoikane, we can't," she says, to him, voice strained. "We're too far away!" Humans are too fragile to survive long enough for them to get back to Earth, and Ruri has no reason to believe Kaworu is anything but.

        "Ruri-ruri...?" Minato asks, as the communication windows aboard flash more warnings, allowing nothing else:

                                < DANGER >
                                        < ALERT >
                < RESPOND >
                                < WARNING >

        

        "Omoikane is upset because a NERV Administrator is currently under attack," Ruri reports, and there's a sallow sort of undercurrent to her stoicism. Even so, she has reclaimed the volume of her voice, now she's been called on to explain. "Please allow me to address this problem."

        Jun sighs, and his hand grasps to a fist beside him. "Do it."

        "Now transmitting distress signals on all relevant local frequencies," Ruri says, and it is will which pours from mind to nerves to palms to programming.

        She needs to stay calm, and not think about blood leaking out. She needs to, so she does.

        Tokyo-03's systems are far from here. It's wireless transmission, in this situation; she has to hope for lack of interference. Through the antenna and the dishes, she forces herself through; she broadcasts warnings into all of NERV she can reach with her in-the-moment efforts, and to other places, besides.

        There's even a radio, somewhere, which switches from some old station to broadcast, with Ruri Hoshino's voice:

        "An assassination attempt against Administrator Nagisa is currently proceeding at Fourth Avenue Station, Tokyo-03. Coordinates follow. Please respond immediately." The coordinates do, in fact, follow, and just how Ruri can locate Kaworu so easily with a smartphone is -- that's a question for later, surely.

        The transmission repeats.

        And repeats again.

        Again, and again, that stoic voice, as if reading off the stock market or the weather -- an assassination attempt. Respond immediately.

        There is nothing in her voice of her helplessness, as she forces the alert into the veins of Tokyo-03.

<Pose Tracker> Mari Makinami Illustrious has posed.

A little redirection.

Casing ejects from the rifle; pitch black save for the countless glyphs scoring it, possessed of a fading glow like they were bleeding off heat. The black-clad assassin catches that heated shell in mid-air without a single second's hesitation. It sizzles against their gloved palm as they watch that bit of rainbow shimmer --

-- and then shatter.

        "..."

From their perch, the figure does not look away as bright red paints the sky, nor as shock paints their target's expression.

Nor as he falls, limply, onto his back.

It's hard to say what they're thinking behind the concealment of their helmet, only the briefest glimpse of a narrowed eye glimpsed as that pink targeting array flashes off. They watch, maybe because it's simply professional to confirm a kill. It's the most likely explanation.

They watch, maybe because they feel they owe their target that much? ...

The reality, however, is perhaps moot when those fingers twitch with the faintest sign of life. That helmeted head tilts to its left.

        "Hum. Prototype problems or a sign...?"

There's a few seconds in which the assailant sits in silence, as if internally debating something before they smoothly rise onto their feet. That cooled casing is tucked into a pouch on the assassin's belt as their free hand lifts to their helmet.

        "I guess there's one way to find out. --Hi. It's me. My toy broke and I'm going to need to return it. You've got the details, right? ... Okay. ... Mm? Oh, no. Sometimes things just don't work out the way we hope. That's why we have contingencies; it shouldn't cause any problems."

Gloved hand drops from helmet. The figure walks thirteen paces from the roof's edge. They brace.


                        "But maybe we'll get lucky... right?"

And with those last words murmured hopefully to nothing but the empty air, Kaworu's assailant -runs-, building up more and more and more and -more- speed --

--until they leap off the roof, towards the next, landing in a roll of unhalted momentum that brings them springing to their feet...

... to leap to the next roof.

And the next.

Rapidly closing in on Kaworu, as they grip onto two short hilts at their back.

<Pose Tracker> Kaworu Nagisa has posed.

        This sort of thing doesn't happen to Kaworu very often. Either he dies in one fell swoop, or he doesn't at all. It's rare for him to suffer this kind of critical injury and not immediately be ejected from his physical form. So it's likewise rare for him to experience the kind of disorientation that follows getting shot in the head and hitting the pavement.
        
        He can feel Omoikane's upset, can distantly sort of hear Ruri reaching out to NERV communications and more to try to draw help to him before it's too late. In a wobbly, indistinct sort of way, Kaworu's filled with gratitude for their caring. It's so nice to have friends who care.
        
        ...He can't allow himself to die. Ruri would be so upset. Omoikane would be so upset. So many people would...
        
        He has to move.
        
        Up on the rooftops, the one clad in black leaps from rooftop to rooftop, gaining ground even as they close in on it. With agonizing slowness by comparison, Kaworu rolls onto his side. Scarlet liquid plops down from the gouge in the side of his head as he reaches out--grips a bicycle rack--and shakily pulls himself upright. The effort makes him pant as his vision swims.
        
        Something was very wrong with that bullet. He shouldn't be affect this badly. It shouldn't--it shouldn't have hit in the first place. What was it? He can't focus. He has to move.
        To where?
        To where?
        To where?
        
        Anywhere will do. Just move.
        
        Kaworu leans into forward motion, one hand tracing a metal railing as he stumbles away from the direction of the shot. He clutches his head with his other hand. It won't stop up the injury, but it will help hide it.
        
        This is not something that should be seen. This is dangerous. For him. For everyone. (He's still moving. A canny assassin might want to put a stop to that, first.)
        
        He should have been able to stop that bullet. He did not.
        
        what does that imply


<Pose Tracker> Mari Makinami Illustrious has posed.

Black bootheels leave solid ground and soar through seven point five feet of transience before they hit the rooftop opposite the stumbling Kaworu Nagisa.

    To where?

The steel glint of a knife's edge exposes half-an-inch of its existence with the soft hiss of its draw out of its sheathe.

        -To where-?

A black clad figure makes so little noise it is unnerving as they fall to the ground across the street from the moving Kaworu. Their helmet's visor glints smudging patterns of yellow in the lamplight.

            Nowhere will do.

There's a certain way to the assailant's movements as they circle upon Kaworu. Like the prowl of a cat, wrapped in shadow. The yellow smudging that visor partially obscures the flashes of pink. The sound of shouting drowns the little whine of a centering targeting array. He's still moving.

The canny flash of a knife thrown precisely looks to put a stop to that, by slicing through the NERV Administrator's hamstring.

A second follows soon after, aimed for his right shoulder joint.

Against the city lights, that black-clad figure prowls. Their movements are a gradual, measured thing now; they take their time to collect their knives. To clean them, to sheathe them.

They even look around them, for two seconds, as if expecting something to arrive. But when nothing does...

"Tabris,"

        says the distorted voice behind that helmet.

The holster to their sidearm unbuttons as the gunbarrel slides out smoothly.

"I really do like you."

Lowering to take aim for Kaworu's heart.


<Pose Tracker> Kaworu Nagisa has posed.

        The prototype may not have hit its target as dead-on as its wielder would have liked, but it's clear that it was nonetheless effective: when one knife sinks into Kaworu's thigh, and another into his shoulder, his thoughts are in enough disarray that he simply keels over with a meaty *thud* onto the sidewalk, a sigh of pain on his lips. It's a bit more of a heartful cry when his assassin rips them from his body, but it's there that red liquid pools beneath him, panting as sweat beads his normally pristine face.
        
        The next moment, as they clean those knives, seems absurdly long. Kaworu's thoughts are already reaching through time-space. He's died a great number of times in a great number of ways, and he's met each one with calm grace. This one won't be different. As much as he means to struggle against his end, it's in Kaworu's nature to accept the inevitable. SEELE raised him well in that regard.
        
        Ruri's call for assistance rings in the airwaves, reaching out to whomever in NERV may be nearby. He wonders if what they'll see when they arrive. For a heartbeat or two, he shuts his eyes and breathes, though breath isn't necessary for him.
        
        They'll all be so upset. He does regret that. But it's like this nowadays, isn't it? No, even before that. There might have been a few times around where his existence was accepted, but the Lilim have always feared him. And with good cause. The bullet might be new, but the motivations behind it are not.
        
        It's cause for a kind of hope, at least. This will end with him. And there's always next time.
        
        He does wish he could have seen Shinji one last time this time around, though.
        
        Perhaps it's for the best.
        
        Then:
        
        'Tabris,'
        
        "..."
        
        As scattered and spread-out as his consciousness is right now, Kaworu eases himself around onto his back again to look up at his assailant with their distorted voice. Despite bleeding from the head, leg, and upper torso, his mien is calm--even neutral.
        
        'I really do like you.'
        
        "....."
        
        Features softening, all Kaworu does in response is offer them a gentle smile, and wait.************************************************************ 

<Pose Tracker> Shinji Ikari has posed.

Kaworu Nagisa is a hard man to find, and a harder man to shop for. Shinji Ikari isn't quite sure how to make up for 'went to your shitty neighborhood and got your one material possession you care about before someone turned it into firewood.', like how do you even do that, so he's been rattling his brain.

It's not a lot, he thinks. A few tapes that he thinks Kaworu might enjoy. It'd help if he knew what the Administrator ENJOYED but the man was remarkibly private despite how he's insinuated himself into everyone else's lives. "Classical music', 'space', 'unique experiences', these have all been considered and decided to be distressingly vague. He picked out a few albums: A local traditional Japanese band reworking Beethoven's classics to be played by the court instruments of the Edo period, an early Colonial era composer who constructed varients of instruments to respond better to low-g environments still used today, and a Zentraedi-Human coproduction called simply "War Howl", a metaphorical history chant meant to simulate the Zentraedi's pain at loosing so much of who they were.

Good music's a start, right?

Shinji's on his way to the concert line; someone mentioned Kaworu was going, and he thought that'd be as good a place as any to talk to the Administrator. He was probably recovering from the party, Shinji justifies, though a part of him, as always, wonders what he did wrong to upset his friend so much. He's new at this friend thing, he may have fucked it up.

The alarm goes off. Shinji remembers he is not in a place of saftey or sanity. He remembers that, for some reason, he's carrying Eisen Daiwel's OTHER birthday present, hidden in a sheath under his shirt. Section Two has it, Shinji thinks, you'll just get in the way. They'll kill you. They'll kill you too, and then what happens. Shinji looks down an alley, dirty, unobserved, perfect for hiding.

It's not fair though, the strange new voice in Shinji's heart, growing since the Fourth Angel, since crippling Sakura Suzuhara, hisses insistently. It's not fair. What did he ever do.

What can we do? If we die, Tokyo-03 dies to?

Then hide. Shinji looks down the alley, again.

He goes the other way, running as fast as his mostly healed leg can let him. Maybe, he thinks, I can get there in time, and then figure out what I am getting there in time for.

As it turns out, he was right, as some kind of actual goddamn ninja is trying to shoot his boss. Shinji breathes, eyes wide, fear clutching his chest, but no one's noticed him, he could turn around right now, he could turn around right now, who'd care. "Get away." Shinji Ikari whispers.

And pulls the actual working Heat Knife out of his undershirt because Eisen Daiwel is a maniac. "Get away from him you-you psycho!" When I die, Shinji think, I will haunt that muscleheaded jackass. 

<Pose Tracker> Nidaime has posed.

Nidaime does not know the cyclical nature of reality. She also isn't associated with NERV at all and probably isn't getting their messages. Nevertheless, Nidaime has a strong sense for when those close to her are in danger and who is more close than another kaiju (as she sees it) who played the piano with her. Once you have an impromptu duet that bond is unbreakable.

Nidaime is likely the last on the scene though. Psionic intuition is not really the same as someone yelling about it over the radio. Nevertheless...

Don't let them see you Rei had said when she wanted to help Rei see that better view of the city, that beautiful sunrise.

But as a BIG she is much faster than she is as a SMALL and they just became true friends. She doesn't want to lose that bond. Bonds are one of the most important things out there after all.

Hopefully Tokyo III will assume she's a Meltrandi.

Nidaime is large, though a bit shorter than the average humanoid kaiju. She jumps from building to building, causing mild surface damage to the rooftops but this is a gentle caress by Tokyo III's standards. What might be more unnerving is the speed. She bounds across on all fours like a dog as instinct rules her.

Shinji draws a knife well before she arrives but she drops down on the street, resulting in a faint rumble. She bares her teeth at the assailant. Her head turns to the fallen Kaworu and with a startled yelp she *boops* into her typical Nidaime sized form. It's pretty recognizable that big Nidaime and small Nidaime are the same becausae the only difference is the size but the shift is sudden.

"Niichan..." Nidaime murmurs. She didn't come from the train. Perhaps she too was hoping to meet up with Kaworu for the concert.

She runs over, digging into her bag. "Hold on...! Maybe... maybe I can fix this..."

For the moment, thoughts about how she shouldn't be making these overt moves do not occur to her.

<Pose Tracker> Guy Shishioh has posed.

Orbit Base is coasting through another quiet shift. It's a tricky thing, the ebb and flow of danger in the Main Order Room; the kind of work where sometimes, nothing happens for a week at a time, but everyone has to be ready at any moment for the signal that sends thousands of innocents hurtling into peril. The Mobile Operators get the worst of it. The other teams have something to do during the quiet moments - Engineering, Research, the various advisors and chiefs, all have tasks to fill their time. The Mobile Operators have to serve as the communications team; quietly waiting for anything to happen that might.

Well, it's not like their consoles are locked. Alouette Pommier is reviewing the GaoFighGar Final Fusion program again today, hoping to squeeze a few precious percentages of inefficiencies out of the notoriously finnicky Drill Gao interlock phase. If something goes wrong, it's often with the leg interlock, after all.

Then her consoles light up. Top-priority alert. The whole room starts to blare sirens.

"What's goin' on!?" Chief Shigeru barks from the back. "One of the Apostles rolling up for a brawl!?"

"No! It's an all-points alert!" Alouette says, eyes scanning the screen as fast as data can fly across it. "The NERV administrator's been attacked! They're requesting assistance immediately!" Not them. Someone else. Not important to the situational analysis but worth pursuing later. She doesn't wait for Shigeru's bellowed order before she has the Acting Chief of 3G Green on the line.

"Guy! Administrator Kaworu's in trouble! Get to these coordinates right now!" She texts them to him over the line; his Evoluder body will process the packet for him.

ALL OF WHICH PRECEDES:

PhantomGao, Guy Shishioh's robot partner-slash-personal jet plane, appears in the skies over Tokyo 3 downtown, Mirror Coating sloughing off it in shards as the machine makes its appearance known. Seconds later, from its belly, there is the ROAR of an engine, as GunShepherd fires down into the streets below, a motorcycle skidding loudly across the streets, Guy Shishioh's long red hair whipping behind him like a cloak in the wind.

That is the sound that approaches the site at rapidly rising volume. Attached to the back of GunShepherd is the massive suitcase containing Guy's ID Armor, but will he even have time to Equip it?

He gets to the location. He sees Shinji, knife drawn; Kaworu, severely injured from multiple wounds...and an assassin he doesn't know, sidearm drawn.

"BACK OFF!" Guy screams to be heard even over GunShepherd's engine. The motorcycle squeals to a spinning stop and Guy leaps off, aiming to come down right between attacker and victim. Even if he gets shot, well.

He's dealt with much worse than gunshots.

He doesn't have a weapon without Equipping, but his entire body ignites in green light as he releases his Purification Mode, the emblem of the G-Stone blazing across the back of his left hand. He's not as telekinetically powerful as Mamoru, but he should be able to manage a shove...!

<Pose Tracker> Shota Hebikura has posed.

STORAGE HQ,

Quietly disassociating instead of clearing the paperwork off of his desk, Shota Hebikura rolls his neck and winces. His window, into the hangar floor, creaks and clangs with the afternoon shift pounding away at humanity's more humble hopes.

Leaning back in his chair, Hebikura yawns and stretches wide his arms. The summer performance evaluation and goal-setting season could wait. Important as it was...

"Setting goals for others really is the worst." Spit-sighs the commander, his breath lifting a bang of his hair off his face. With a grin, he decides that work can be put off for another few hours with floor inspection. "First - finding where Bako's hidden his coffee."

Stretching arms wide, Hebikura slicks back the fallen bang back behind his ear, then pauses at the door as his phone rings. Sweeping a leg out the door, Hebikura pivots on his heel and walks back to the ringing receiver, lifting it to his ear. "This is Hebikura?"

The alarm begins ringing, throughout the base, a launch-ready scramble already beginning. Shouts of disbelief, there not being a kaiju, and confusion on what's happening and what the orders are ring through the window. Hebikura just listens to the phone, a growing look of cold discontent on his face. "Understood. I'll handle it." He responds, clipped, as his idle thumb ends the call, then dials the inside line. "This is Hebikura. Yoko and Haruki are on launch standby. Have Yuka ready in the STEGG to collect samples or pursue once we have a handle on the situation."

A beat, Hebikura waiting through the response. "Launch if there's a threat large enough to use the Aerial Armors. Don't wait for my orders."

Another pause, Hebikura looking up to the ceiling. "That's correct." Without waiting for further response, he puts down the receiver and starts moving through the office to the stairs.

MINUTES LATER:

Long moments after PhantomGao flies Guy Shishioh into train station, two black unmarked vans recklessly swerve through the streets when they cannot speed through shortcuts, and disgorge their supplies of black balaclava'd soldiers, and a single man in grey fatigues wearing STORAGE patches looking incredibly out of place.

While the conspiracy operatives spread out, Hebikura just stands across the station's large front, looking up at a giant bounding through the city and groaning. Lifting a thumb to his neck, he mutters a tired sentence into his neck. "Have you already launched Yoko and Haruki? GGG has already handled the..." He asks, as the giant turns into a small girl and starts acting familial. "... kaiju." 

<Pose Tracker> Mari Makinami Illustrious has posed.

'Get away.'

It's barely a whisper. Scarcely a demand.

But that gloved finger twitches and pauses just seconds before it would have squeezed the trigger of that gun.

Whispered though it is, it's enough to tilt that concealing black helmet Shinji Ikari's way.

The assassin's black glass of the visor dips. Towards the Heat Knife brandished at them. Back up, towards the boy shouting a valiant, stammered attempt at warding them off. They do not aim that gun at Shinji Ikari for a second; the weapon has not moved from where it points.

"..."

Gloved finger settles on the trigger once more.

No words. A bullet travels faster than a boy with a knife no matter how determined he might be.

They start to squeeze, just as the sound of tires screaming across street fills the air.

                B A N G

A single shot fires, going wide off its intended mark just as Guy Shishioh gets between the assassin and their chosen prey. Within a second, the black-clad assailant becomes painfully cognizant of the large form of a Kaiju in the shape of a girl crashing down behind the Evoluder, baring fangs even as her form shrinks down rapidly.

Within a second, the black-clad assailant pauses, as if listening to something. The sound of two more swerving vehicles screams in the distance.

Within a second, that black visor'd gaze lingers on Nidaime. On Guy. In the next handful of seconds, well-armored and well-armed soldiers will be arriving, too.

        More people are approaching.
        More unexpected variables.
        More twists of fate putting space between them and their target.
        The odds of reaching their target and completing what they set out to do is growing more and more slim.

                Isn't that just...

                        "... Hee."

It's a noise distorted by modulators and lost within the rush of a single, telekinetic shove within that next passing second. Caught by invisible force, the assassin chooses to go -with- the momentum, ripping off their feet and -flipping- through the air with a preternatural gymnast's grace. They twist, a black leaf blown in the wind --

--and descend towards Shinji.

The goal is a simple one. Black feet plant briefly on his back.

And then -push-.

And for all the absurdity of it, the assailant seems intent to use the Third Child as a springboard to -launch- them towards the side of a nearby building, one they intend to rapidly scale in swift retreat.

The numbers are against them. Their objective is too compromised to see through to the end. This is, ultimately, a loss.

But a loss by fluke, or fate? ... Or...

<Pose Tracker> Kaworu Nagisa has posed.

        Good things come to those who wait, it seems.
        
        Several presences converge on their location. Kaworu's attention goes first, naturally, inevitably, towards one Shinji Ikari--emerging from an alleyway to brandish a knife at his assailant. He sucks in a little breath, eyes going wide in wonder, in relief, in affection, in fear. "Shinji," he whispers, voice strained.
        
        His assailant pulls the trigger anyway. So it's good that Guy literally drops in to the sound of a motorcycle roar, bodily blocking the shot. It goes wide--though it has a very different vibe from the last bullet, a more normal one by anyone's standards--and Nidaime slides in next, first Large, then small. At everyone's heels approach familiar soldiers, with a captain to head them up.
        
        The quality of Kaworu's smile changes--from acceptance, to gratitude. A certain feeling surges up in him, welling up even as his internal fluids flow out.
        
        Telekinesis rams into his assailant, sending them Shinji's way. Kaworu tenses, but they only use him as a springboard for their escape. Soon, they'll be gone. He watches them go.
        
        Then his gaze lowers to Shinji himself.
        
        "...."
        
        He hasn't really seen him in a meaningful fashion since the party. There was that week where he attended school solely in Tsutsujidai; he returned after, but hadn't tried to approach Shinji in class. Akane had said that maybe they aren't ready for each other yet, and he'd thought she was right. But here he is now, ready to inflict violence on a stranger to protect him.
        
        It's touching. But it's also distressing. Kaworu simply watches *him* for a long moment, a cocktail of emotions in his scarlet eyes, waiting for him. To let him decide for himself what he desires.
        
        So it takes a moment for him to react when Nidaime indicates she'll try to fix this. He blinks, then turns a small smile her way. His chest rises; falls; rises; falls. The pool of red from his skull, his thigh, his chest, only grows, millimeter by millimeter.
        
        "It's dangerous for you to be here like this," he reminds her gently, as if he weren't in the middle of bleeding out. The regeneration that would have normally activated by now hasn't. Perhaps that prototype wasn't a failure after all.
        
        He looks up then, though, at Guy. He'll surely chase after his assailant. But there's something-- "Acting--Acting Chief--I need to tell you something. Something vital."
        
        As Hebikura comes in with those certain operatives, Kaworu glances past Guy to meet his eyes. There's a certain grim understanding to them. Any words they might share, they can't voice right here, right now, anyway.
        
        it hasn't ever gone this way before
        
        ...All the same, there's gratitude there. For all of them. 

<Pose Tracker> Shinji Ikari has posed.

The assassin turns to look at Shinji.

They have a gun. Shinji's eyes do not leave the gun, as it moves, as the assassin looks at him with absolute contempt. He remembers, vaguely, orders bellowed by heroes: Misato Katsuragi, Tetsuya Tsurugi, people who handle danger like this every day. His hands shake, and the knife deactivates as he forgot to lock the heat generating trigger into place. It's still boiling hot, but it can't be used to rip through Gundanium alloy anymore. Shinji freezes up as the assassin ignores him and goes back to shooting Kaworu. All for nothing. Coward. Move, coward. MOVE.

"Why are you doing this-" is all Shinji can manage before everything goes straight to hell.

A giant, giant Nidaime shows up and Shinji's eyes widen as her shadow covers everything, as she changes form like a yokai from the old stories. And then! Guy Shishioh! The day is saved! Shinji feels a massive relief, they didn't need an unreliable coward like him after all-

Shinji feels legs on his back and his bad leg twists just so, as he is used as a springboard for the assassin to escape. Shinji is shoved forward onto the ground, and feels a sudden hissing pain as his own knife is pressed against his bare flesh, he slides around the ground, managing to move the weapon before it does something irreparable, his jaw connects to hard concrete and he feels his teeth grind in a way the NERV dentists might not be thrilled with but at least, he thinks, I didn't bite my tongue. Shinji can see his friend's chest rise and fall as the stench of blood is everywhere and it makes him think damningly of home. STORAGE shows up, all in black and hurried, Shinji can't keep track of them because all Shinji can think to say is, "Big?!" 

<Pose Tracker> Guy Shishioh has posed.

Nidaime is maybe the biggest surprise - a Kaiju-like presence suddenly popping down to a smaller size. He's seen that kind of thing and it's never good. But...the actions that follow guide him away. He can check about that later.

There's an actual villain afoot, first. And like a proper metal hero, Guy Shishioh has a motorcycle and powerful legs for pursuing villains. He's crouching like he's planning to hammer leap from the ground right to the rooftops. "Get back here!!" Guy yells.

But before he can launch, Kaworu calls to him. Guy looks to him. He'd never really acknowledged Kaworu's youth, not properly. The man Guy trusts most in this world was in the field as a child, after all, and might have been trusted with responsibilities even as grave as these at Kaworu's age, if he'd wanted them. But now he's forced to see the young man as a dying youth, blood pumping from him.

Emotion surges through Guy's entire body, making every hair and cell burn with unspent energy. But he forces himself to calm, and listen. Hebikura's here with support. And Shinji seems to be OK. So, focus. He whistles once, a wireless signal for GunShepherd to attempt pursuit, but an enemy with that kind of ability might well evade the GunMachine's quite un-Super AI. The motorcycle starts itself and drives off.

Then he kneels next to Kaworu, listening close. "Alright," he says. "I'm right here. I'll listen to anything you need to say." 

<Pose Tracker> Nidaime has posed.

"I'll say I'm Meltrandi," Nidaime says as if that would explain the rapid decompression. It wouldn't. Honestly, comparing her to a yokai from the stories is not really as inaccurate as you might thing.

She fishes through her bag rapidly, hands tossing out some wrapped sandwiches that she was planning on bringing to the concert and at least two Glowsticks that she was planning to wave around. She finally fins what she's looking for, though, in a Baton. She fixes the pieces together and a faint glow emanates from the strange...toy?

There is a 'Hee'. Nidaime doesn't focus on it. The first moments when faced with an injured ANYTHING are the most important. She guides the item towards Kaworu.

The baton starts to glow. In this moment, her will is stronger than her sense. Kaworu can feel something start to take hold. Hope fills her heart as she senses that it's about to work, it's working and then--

It's dangerous for you to be here like this, Kaworu reminds her, gentle as ever. Perhaps he meant that it is dangerous FOR her.

But Nidaime hears something else. Not dangerous FOR her. But dangerous for her to be here--for everyone else. She senses a shift in the barrier between Layers, a subtle one. Almost miniscule. A single rule breaking like this is not so poor for the world...

...But this world is full of such singular breaking of rules. Over and over again there are exceptions to be made and slowly ever so surely... other Layers come to this realm, contaminating it not unlike an infection.

Nidaime rallies herself to push forward anyway. It's KAWORU after all--some things she knows are more important than following the rules. She's not heartless, she's not cruel or calculating.

But it's also too late. The little bit of uncertainty is enough, the need to keep the world as is versus the world that can be... Just thinking like that for a moment can break it all apart for someone trying to tap into her family's power--especially when they haven't quite managed it yet.

The energy at the tip sputters.

"No...!" Nidaime bemoans. "No, it's okay! I can do this...!"

Her prayer is absorbed by the darkness as the light sputters out and fades.

"No no no no no... Shinji what do we do? It didn't work..."

Nidaime openly weeps now. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."

'...kaiju.'

The other way to take the danger appears too, Nidaime shrinks down--making her body small, but she seems hesitant to leave Kaworu's side even like this.

"I'm a good girl," She says quietly, voice cracking. "Shinji..."

Is he okay? If he's not okay, she can't help him either like this. 

<Pose Tracker> Shota Hebikura has posed.

'STORAGE' showing up is a great cover for what is actually happening. The black-on-black balaclava operatives file out with uncharacteristic quantities of assault weapons and gear, wearing no unit patches or rank insignia beyond. Holding the proverbial bag, for the organization responsible for bringing such a brute force into the facade of Tokyo-3.

While the soldiers disperse, some training weapons on the phantom life-thief, their stance turns to closing and surrounding for recovery.

Hebikura hops over little concrete foot-barriers at a jogging pace while the assailant springboards off of Shinji, sending the boy to the ground hard enough to daze him.

"Don't let either of them be hurt!" Hebikura hisses (uselessly, what a useless order, they were the ones who called him--) to the flanking soldiers, then double-times it towards Shinji, the loping strides of a man.

The giant -- of Light? -- Hebikura shields his eyes as he turns his head to look back over his shoulder. Things coming undone, pain, desperation.

He hears Nidaime crying, and see Shinji hurt. More grimacing. "This pattern again..."

Coming up besides the not-so-bloodily-fallen Evangelion Pilot, Hebikura kneels besides Shinji, looking past the young man at the air that the assailant fled through. Then, down at the man himself, to offer an arm down, to grasp and pull up, or offer a pull-along by the shoulder. "Come on, she's calling for you." The STORAGE captain speaks grave, hair fallen back over his face. "I'll carry you if you need it. A battlefield's bad for laying down in." 

<Pose Tracker> Kaworu Nagisa has posed.

        As Shinji tumbles into the concrete, jaw cracking, barely managing not to stab himself in the process, Kaworu winces and automatically attempts to rise to go to his side before his injured leg insists he not. He's so close by, and yet even a distance of several meters is so far away. He's already injured too, and to be in such a state that he can do nothing but let them be compounded with more injuries.
        
        In the same way Shinji denigrates himself for being an unreliable coward, Kaworu chastises himself for being only able to add to his pain.
        
        At least Guy pulls back from the chase. As he whistles to his motorcycle, Kaworu looks to him, then to the Tsutsujidai kaiju. He did indeed mean dangerous for *Nidaime*. Tokyo-3 is a city of kaiju hunters, and she just ran to his side in kaiju form. But, as he's been reminded time and again, words are always so poor at conveying one's heart. He silently accepts Nidaime's will as she points that baton towards him--and it seems at first that she may be able to 'fix' him after all--but that power sputters and dies.
        
        She panics and begins to cry. Kaworu watches her with gentle eyes. Slowly, he raises his uninjured arm to rest a hand atop her head.
        
        A metal-banded watch glints at his wrist. Shinji might recognize it.
        
        "You *are* a good girl. Thank you for trying," he reassures her softly. "Go to Shinji instead. Please. He needs you."
        
        He doesn't need me.
        
        Hebikura, perhaps owing to his own sort of history, doesn't need to be told. As unmarked operatives split up to lock down the area (this particular "blood" will need to be *thoroughly* scrubbed out and sterilized), assist with pursuit against Kaworu's assailant, and bring a stretcher to Kaworu himself, Hebikura goes directly to Shinji to help him up as needed. Kaworu's expression returns to relief, to gratitude, as he looks back over at them. Shinji's hurt, but he'll be all right. With everyone here to help him, he'll be all right...
        
        He shuts his eyes briefly. It's best this way after all.
        
        Guy leans in. "Thank you," he murmurs, and leans up as best he's able. "It's about that man..."
        
        His lips work as he whispers in Guy's ear about something important. Something that might change a crucial part of the coming battlefield. He leans back, and nods to Nidaime. "She can surely help, too. Please make sure she stays safe," he concludes. From NERV, he doesn't say. Hopefully it'll be enough to let her get released without trouble once everyone disperses.
        
        Cold, professional hands transfer him from concrete to cloth. He rises, and a pair of operatives carry him briskly to one of the vans. Kaworu does not resist. For a moment, as they open the back, he gazes up at an endless blue sky.
        
        Then he lowers a tender smile, affectionate and meant to reassure, at Shinji. Perhaps he catches the eye of his fellow Child burdened by fate. Perhaps not. Either way:
        
        "Shinji Ikari... It's all right. We'll meet again."
        
        The van's back doors slam shut, a knife to cut away that smile. A moment later, the vehicle speeds away. 

<Pose Tracker> Shinji Ikari has posed.

Who jumps, Shinji thinks, off of someone's back? The pain would've been debilitating just a year ago. Six months even. But after the Angels-after Ramiel? After melting in LCL? It hurts, sure, but Shinji can catch his breath. He can grab Hekibura's hand, and turn with furious purpose to see.

Kaworu dragged into the back of a truck. "Hey. Hey. Don't you die on me, man. Just-Akagi will patch you up, alright? She's a headcase but she's brilliant, I was half melted-" He's gone.

Shinji wants to collapse, wants to scream at the heavens, wants to curl up and die. He couldn't even help his friend right. Again. He was why the assassin escaped! Everything he does turns to SHIT why did he think he could.

Kaworu, and Hekibura both point out that a little girl (who can turn into a giant little girl, Shinji guesses ALL OF REALITY FOLLOWS SUPER MARIO RULES NOW.) is sobbing and afraid. Shinji has a weakness for this sort of situation, and he remembers he's the closest thing to a friend this kid has right now.

Swallowing his usual distaste for physical contact, Shinji puts a shaking hand on Nidaime head. "Just breathe, okay? It's alright. I'm fine, I'm just gonna bruise a little. Kaworu's with, uh, with the best possible people he can be right now. They can fix up just about anyone." It's almost not a lie.

Shinji looks up at Shishioh and Hebikura. "She's a civilian." If there's one thing working with his father has taught Shinji, it is the value of a well placed name drop. "Ward of Chibodee Crocket." Just in case any of those suits thought they saw her turn into a giant turtle instead of a bunch of swamp gas released by the assassin to cover their tracks. 

<Pose Tracker> Guy Shishioh has posed.

'That man.' Guy's jaw tightens.

And further, as Kaworu says his peace. "...I understand," he says. Kaworu indicates Nidaime and Guy thinks he understands that, too. "I'll take care of it," he promises. "...stay awake a little while longer, OK?" So that he doesn't fall into a sleep he'll never wake from.

He rises, motioning to what he still thinks are Hebikura's men to do their work. He watches for a long moment, thinking things through - unpacking the last several minutes. He doesn't have a report from GunShepherd yet. Hopefully it found something. There's no evidence of a communication device on him when he shifts his gaze off to PhantomGao in the middle distance and says, "Looks like STORAGE got here with medical attention. He should be OK." Should. He can't promise more than that. "Good thinking, Hebikura," he adds, that one spoken to the people actually present.

He turns then. Shinji's holding himself together. Giving him something to do was a good call. Kaworu has his people in his mind even on death's door...really, what kind of kid is that guy? Hopefully he'll live for Guy to find out.

His attention is turning toward the deeply distraught Nidaime, and his face shifts toward a soothing, confident smile.

And then, Shinji says something...not quite beligerent, but very pointed. Guy chuckles, and easily bends his knees down down into a full squat, bringing him down more toward Nidaime's newest level. "Wouldn't be the first remarkable young person I'd seen with an amazing dad," he says. "You two alright? Not injured?"

<Pose Tracker> Nidaime has posed.

'I am a good girl'. That's a phrase her family taught her to say so that she stays safe in a world that sees her as an enemy. Perhaps many people in the world can see that she is, indeed, a good girl--but it only takes one would be defender to ruin Nidaime's future whether through violence or other methods at their disposal.

She isn't thinking about the would-be assassin. Would be assassins are just the risk you indulges when living in the physical layer. She isn't sure why it happened, perhaps KAworu knows. He mentions that man--and then says that she can surely help. There's only two or three people Kaworu is likely to be referring to there. She can't hear the rest between her choked sobs.

But a headpat is a powerful thing.

She takes in a few sharp hiccupy breaths and then nods once to Kaworu. Life for a kaiju can be brutish and short--even for the kind ones. She knows this to be true. This could be her if she continues to be careless. "Okay..." She says miserably, but--then--thinks... Kaworu would probably want to see a smile.

So she smiles, trying to mimic his own gentle smile. She doesn't quite manage it. "Okay." She says misunderstanding again. "You said you'd meet Shinji again, so okay...!"

Part of her feels that she may be misunderstanding Kaworu's meaning again but she pushes that aside. They'll meet again. That's just how it's going to be, she tells herself. After repeating that three or four times, she almost believes it enough to actually pull away. She fills her bag back up and walks to Shinji, just as he asked.

Shinji is the closest thing Nidaime has to a friend right now. She had to get close enough to Kaworu to step in his blood and it trails along her feet. She doesn't notice it immediately.

She can't heal Shinji either. She doesn't even have an ice pack with her fro that bruise.

A second headpat. She's not a girl who can do that for others yet, she realizes, either. Instead she reaches for Shinji's hand to hold it. That's the level of healing she can manage right now.

Shinji provides a half lie. Nidaime always had a good feeling about him but Kaworu seemed to have REALLY good feelings about him.

But maybe she sees a little why Kaworu LIKE likes him.

It's a guache time to mention so she just remains quiet. She's said too much as it is.

<Pose Tracker> Shota Hebikura has posed.

The operatives - who at least treat Kaworu with the hands of dedicated professionals - wheel the whispering, secret-spilling NERV administrator away. To 'the best possible people he can be with'...

'Right now'.

Hebikura pulls Shinji up and lets him move, certain in the importance of giving the boy enough of a shove to rally, enough of a purpose to move forward, enough of a connection to avert--

Hebikura doesn't move to put a hand on Shinji's shoulder, but being so close to the event, the white-hot potential of feelings and violence together moves even the STORAGE captain.

He tugs at his collar, then pulls at the neck-mounted radio there.

'She's a civilian.'
Hebikura seems genuinely surprised, directly at Shinji, and then with a 'puh' of breath, straightens and nods. His attention lifts to Guy.

"We got word that the Administrator was hurt and came running." Hebikura answers Shishioh simply, hands finding hips as he looks at the ongoing cleanup. "If it wasn't for Shinji and you, Guy, this -would- have gone worse. We're halfway across Tokyo-3 as it is. I'll put it into the report."

Looking between Shinji - with Nidaime begging, sobbing, and trying to help Shinji, and Shinji resolutely telling the captain of the Anti-Kaiju defense team a...

Well, it's not a lie, isn't it?
Convenient truths to hold to.

"Shishioh, I'm releasing the civilian-" Nidaime. "To you and NERV."

"Is that alright with you, Shinji? You've been through a lot already tonight. Can you represent NERV still... in this matter?"

Adult, but focused. Clear. Okay, young man: You asked for it. Responsibility.

<Pose Tracker> Shinji Ikari has posed.

There's no way Hekibura can't see the sheer terror in Shinji's eyes, just under wavering, fragile determination. This is a person who is more comfortable in the background of life who can barely handle his current lot in life, let alone getting in knife fights with assassins and comforting magical turtle princesses. He looks like he's going to fall over.

"Yeah." Shinji's voice cracks, and he nods at Guy fucking Shishioh who just Psycho Crushered the super assassin away like it was nothing like they were peers or something. "Uh, yes, Captain. I'll take her back to my apartment, get her something to eat, and call her guardian, alright? It's."

Oh God they're standing in Kaworu's blood. Shinji's face turns green and he swallows a sudden gorge of vomit. "Thebestplan." Shinji squeezes the girl's hand, letting her hold onto him for support. 

<Pose Tracker> Nidaime has posed.

Nidaime looks at Shinji's face as it turns green.

She looks down at her shoes and sees the problem.

Without a second thought she pulls them off her feet and throws them away. She'll just have to go barefoot from now on. 

<Pose Tracker> Shota Hebikura has posed.

Shinji has a thin, wavering veneer of hope layered like thin butter over the toast of very much not being okay.

But that butter of hope is there. "Then it's a plan." The captain agrees lightly, before. . .
Hebikura, tracking Nidaime's bloody shoes being tossed through the air, groans. "Wait, no--"

Nidaime hucks them clear of the secure site.

He starts jogging off after them. "Those are a safety hazard! I'm going to clean them up. Shishioh! You've got the site."

Unfortunately for STORAGE captain Shota Hebikura, a tiny kaiju girl hurled her shoes clear with effort. He will be jogging - and searching, alone, for a while. 

<Pose Tracker> Celebro has posed.

SOME DISTANCE AWAY:

It's surprisingly far away, where that second shoe lands. But kaiju of the heart are beasts of connection, of tethers large and small. Coincidences can...pile up.

Thick boots on grass. He reaches down, pushing aside the tangle of leaves and branches of the bush he's found.

A dirty green croc of a shoe lies there, thickly coated with strange, caked-on blood.

Shinya Kaburagi's gloved hand comes to his temple, rubbing it as if a headache were roaring through him. But the face he makes is a twisted kind of smile; one side of his face totally inert, the other lurched up in a strange, overpowering grin.

His left eye bulges inhumanly, the iris filling with a faintly red light. The air fills with an odd sound, like a trilling whalesong.

He breathes, "Kiete....karekareta."

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