[a / b / c / d / e / f / g / gif / h / hr / k / m / o / p / r / s / t / u / v / vg / w / wg] [i / ic] [r9k] [cm / hm / y] [3 / adv / an / cgl / ck / co / diy / fa / fit / hc / int / jp / lit / mlp / mu / n / po / pol / sci / soc / sp / tg / toy / trv / tv / vp / x] [rs] [status / ? / @] [Settings] [Home]
Board:  
Settings   Home
4chan
/tg/ - Traditional Games


You wake from the nightmare with a scream, hands twitching for a rifle that isn't there. You take a calming breath, stare at the ceiling for a single second, and then - “Fuck.” It's the same dream you have every night, and it ends at precisely the same time every morning- 0512 hours. It's better than a goddamned alarm clock. You roll off the bed and head to the shower, where your morning ritual of a shit, shower, and shave carry away the remnants of sleep and the nightmare.

The rest of your morning ritual isn't as cleansing. You throw on all the accoutrements of a business suit except for a coat. That goes on after you put on a shoulder rig for your pistol, and spare magazines. Keys, phone, wallet, and you're good to go.

Considering that you're stepping from a Spartan room and into a Spartan hallway in a Spartan facility, you wonder why you even bother keeping keys on you anymore. Your feet carry you down the hall to a bank of elevators, where you select the direction you're heading for, up. The elevator dings open almost as soon as you press the button.

“Agent,” your immediate boss, Captain Thierry greets you. “Have a pleasant night?”

“Yes sir,” you respond quietly, wishing you had a goddamn cup of goddamn coffee to start your goddamn day and his goddamned mustache is staring at you and it's a goddamned porno mustache.

(1/2)
>>
>>33026955
(2/2)

“It's about to get worse. Word from above has come down. We're swapping protection duties for the Children with Section One. The Commander doesn't think they're up to snuff.” Of course not, you silently agree. Section One is good for intimidating children and conspiracy theorists. All they need to do is wear uniforms and look scary. Captain Thierry makes it even worse. “To that end, guess who drew the straw of shadowing Captain Katsuragi to pick up the Third today.”

Oh goddamn it. The elevator dings, and Captain Thierry gives you a cheerful wave as you punch the doors as they close.

[] Do you want breakfast?
[] Day's ruined. Go find Captain Katsuragi so you can ruin her day.
[] Write-in.
>>
[x] Do you want breakfast?
Get food.
Also, what timeframe is this in, tangfag?
>>
>>33027033
We're OG Eva.

[spoilers] I'm not sure I like Rebuild.[/spoilers]
>>
>>33026972
>[] Do you want breakfast?
Using my totally meta-knowledge I suggest breakfast. Don't want to have to flip Misato's car over on an empty stomach.
>>
>>33027068
No no, I meant like, what events are we around? Is this post 3I or what?
>>
>>33027085
>>33026972
>“To that end, guess who drew the straw of shadowing Captain Katsuragi to pick up the Third today.”

Episode one apparently.
>>
>>33027085
No. We're picking up the Third with Misato. Section One sucks dick, yo. Section Two pride nationwide
>>
>>33026972
brekky time
>>
>>33027102
>>33027101
ahh, hurr. Didn't see that. Ok, cool.
[x]set paranoia to maximum
>>
File: the buffet.jpg (941 KB, 1685x1123)
941 KB
941 KB JPG
>>33026972
>Breakfast

You ride the elevator up to the cafeteria, one level below the entrance lobby to the Geofront, two levels above Section Two's offices. This early in the morning, the cafeteria is empty save for the first bleary eyed cooks stumbling in to begin their day's labor. Someone, God bless them, got a pot of coffee going. You find a cup, somehow, and fill it to the brim. The first sip is like the nectar of the Greek gods, and leaning against a support pillar, you sigh. Now your day can begin. “Agent,” someone says from behind you.

Mindful of your coffee, you turn slowly, unwilling to greet whoever it is. It's another Section Two agent. “Agent,” you greet him, and he nods in confirmation.

“I heard you're riding with the TacCom to get the Third. Care to confirm or deny?” You shake your head and take another sip of coffee.

“I can neither confirm nor deny my current or future participation in events and activities involving the Third or the TacCom.” You're mighty in the way of Agent-craft, mightier than this mere pleb, attempting to throw you off your morning coffee. Knowing he's outclassed by a master such as yourself, he retreats, and you enter the line for breakfast with a satisfied smirk. Now that the cooks have had time to reheat yesterday's breakfast foods while they cook most of today's, a veritable buffet spreads out before you.

[]Pastries. Delicious pastries.
[]Bacon, eggs, and toast.
[]Write-in
>>
>>33027352
bacon eggs and toast

protein constipation is go
>>
>>33027352
>agent
>agent
Elevator rides must be awful with this many Agents greeting each other all the time.

>[x]Bacon and doughnuts
>>
>>33027352
[x]Bacon, eggs, and toast.

Eat hearty, eat 'murrican.
>>
>>33027352
The liquid diet Nerv designed made for us.

I really hate vomiting and swimming in this shit in the plug,so I save the real food for dinner.
>>
[x]FRENCH TOAST
>>
>>33027450
You're not a pilot. NERV doesn't have a diet specifically for Section Two, External Security.
>>
>>33027459
Oh then
>a bit of everything
Eat hearty everyday, it might be our last meal.
>>
>>33027352

>FULL ENGLISH BREAKFAST.
>>
>>33027486
I like this
>>
File: english breakfast.jpg (12 KB, 259x194)
12 KB
12 KB JPG
>>33027492
i like you m8
>>
>>33027486
this
>>
>>33027352

>Bacon, eggs, and toast AND an English breakfast

You go with your old stand-by, three scrambled eggs, two pieces of toast, and about eight pieces of bacon, as well as a preplated English breakfast, an apple, an orange, and a large glass of orange juice. You find a table, sit, and promptly turn it all into a sandwich. You never know when a gunfight is going to erupt, and the faster you have your food finished, the faster you'll be able to react. It is delicious, even though the eggs are reheated, the bacon's a couple days old, and the toast is stale.

“Agent,” Captain Thierry greets and his goddamned mustache is staring at you while you try to eat more like a human and less like a wolf, courtesy and protocol demanding proper table manners in front of your superior officer.

“Captain,” you mumble around a mouthful of food, swallowing hastily when he cocks an eyebrow. He doesn't scare you nearly as much as the Commander does, considering the Captain is a fat, balding middle-aged man. But he's still the Captain, so you show him the appropriate respect.

“Any idea on when you'll wrap that cult up, Agent Cryan?” You wince at your last name. There isn't an Ireland anymore, and the reminder of it, probably accidental, hurts.

“No, sir.” Your reply is curt and formal, a decent sign you're not happy.

“Well, get it done before 4:15 this afternoon or pass it off to another Agent. That's when the Third's train arrives and you need to be there to greet him.”

“Yes, sir.” You finish your meal and coffee as soon as the Captain leaves, and head for the elevator. You stop by your room briefly to brush your teeth and slip on a Kevlar vest under your coat, then head up to Section Two's office-level.

[]Hand the assignment off to another Agent.
[]Handle it yourself.
[]Write-in.
>>
>>33027720
handle yourself
>>
>>33027720
>[x]Write-in.
Handle it, but grab a buddy to watch your back.
>>
>>33027720
>[x]Hand the assignment off to another Agent.
Do we have any documentation on the third child? if so, perhaps we should peruse that.
>>
>>33027720
>[]Handle it yourself.
Knock some heads in.
>>
>>33027777
This is a good point. Spooks in suits always come in pairs.
Is our partner around?
>>
>>33027720
>no consensus achieved

“Agent Smith,” you call as you head for your desk. “I need someone to drive for me. You're it.” At your desk you turn on the computer monitor sitting on it, and pull up the Third's file. Pressing the print button, you shut you monitor back off and stand, to find Agent Smith shifting from foot to foot.

“Sir,” he ventures warily, eying you as a young doe eyes a wolf, “sir, wouldn't a more experienced shooter be better for this operation?”

“No. You're inexperienced, I've been doing this in one form or another since 2004, during the Impact Wars. Don't be a bitch, Smith. Shut up and go get us a car from the motor pool.” He swallows, nods, and leaves, doing his best to walk quietly. You open a drawer in your desk, take a nip from the flask stored there, and follow Smith up to the motor pool, warmth in your belly helping you cope.

He's silent the entire ride up to the motor pool. You are as well, and you spend the time reading the Third's file. It's nothing new. Well, at least he has decent taste in music. You let Smith pick out the car, an armored Mercedes-Benz.

The drive to the secluded campsite where the cultists have set up shop is quiet, with only the sound of the air conditioning running. Except for a few questions from Smith regarding the plan, which you answered with, “Shut up and drive, I've been doing this for ten years, I'm going to go in and shoot them,” it's wonderfully peaceful, if long.

By the time you get there it's about two in the afternoon.

[]Recon before you go in guns blazing.
[]Go in guns blazing.
[]Write-in.
>>
File: blue shift.jpg (44 KB, 800x600)
44 KB
44 KB JPG
>>33028075
recon

whats our equipment like?
>>
>>33028104
this
>>
>>33028075
>[x]Recon before you go in guns blazing.
I suppose it's too much to ask to grab a bullhorn, walk right up to them and ask them to disperse.
>>
>>33028104
One key ring with keys to a car and apartment you don't own.

One NERV-issue cell phone.

One wallet containing identification, about a thousand yen in cash, and a NERV-issue expense card.

One Kevlar vest, currently worn beneath your suit coat.

One CZ-85 in 9mm with one magazine in the pistol and five more on your shoulder rig and in your suit coat's pockets.
>>
>>33028075
>[]Recon before you go in guns blazing.
It'd be a shame to die in the first thread.
>>
File: cultistcampsite.jpg (59 KB, 612x406)
59 KB
59 KB JPG
>>33028075
>Recon

You step out of the car and into a deadly silent forest, as Smith's cut the engine to the car. Nodding approvingly, you slip out of your shoes and draw your pistol and a far more deadly weapon, your cellphone. Texting Smith to keep his phone on silent and not to distract you, you ready yours to speed-dial the air support all Section Two agents have access to at all times. Just in case. Dropping low, you begin shuffling forward, careful to not disturb any undergrowth or sticks on the ground.

It's silent, and not even birds are talking to each other. It's a tense walk forward, down a semi-cleared deer path. You finally make it to where the cultists are camping, and they've got a clay statue of ADAM set up. Their priest is sitting beneath, chanting something in Latin. Ignoring him, you check over numbers. There's about fifteen of them that you can see, but there might be more.

Air support's on speed-dial, Smith's back at the car, and you've got six magazines for your pistol.

[]Request they disperse.
[]Go in shooting.
[]Call in a couple of fast-movers or an attack helicopter.
>>
>>33028367
call in air support to the area, have the be on standby while we come out ask the leader to surrender himself, and the rest to disperse
>>
>>33028367
>[]Call in a couple of fast-movers or an attack helicopter.
Captain said get it done by 4:15. Get it done by 4:15.
>>
>>33028367
[x]Call in a couple of fast-movers or an attack helicopter.
Expediency is its own efficiency.
>>
>>33028367
>they've got a clay statue of ADAM set up.

>[x]Call in a couple of fast-movers or an attack helicopter.
Yeah, these guys are the self-destructive, crazy kind, and probably can't be reasoned with if they worship something responsible for humanity's near extinction.
And isn't ADAM supposed to be top secret? Who leaked this particular info to them?
>>
>>33028561
SEELE, duh.
>>
>>33028589
Okay, why would they? What's the gain? What's the angle here?

Besides, I'm more inclined to believe that there may be someone leaking info to the general public.
Which does not bode well for our next mission. Crazy cultists might think to themselves that the Children are messiahs or prophets or something and decide to kidnap them.
Such a ridiculous notion.
>>
>>33028705
>Okay, why would they? What's the gain? What's the angle here?
To fuck with World's Greatest Dad, obviously.
>>
File: uh602.jpg (44 KB, 800x528)
44 KB
44 KB JPG
>>33028367
>Call in the killy-birds.

You hit the “Call” button on your phone, and it connects you to UNS Panama Canal, named for the UN Peacekeeper's most successful battle, where they kept a group of Catholic insurgents from destroying the Panama Canal over a siege that lasted seven weeks. “UNS Panama Canal, thank you for calling NERV Section Two Air Support, how can we help you?”

“Afternoon, guys. Agent Declan Cryan, NERV Section Two. Authorization Code Romeo Alpha Lima Fiver Niner Six Three Seven Two Eight. Requesting two attack helicopters to come to,” here you read off the map grid coordinates, “and do a little pest removal, thanks.”

“Hold one minute, please, Agent Cryan.” The cheerful voice switches to Muzak. You fucking hate Muzak. Thankfully, your torture is brief, before a new voice comes on the line.

“Agent Cryan, are you absolutely sure? I'm looking at satellite imagery and that doesn't, uh, look like a justified use of UN resources, Agent.”

“I'm positive,” you insist, and the voice sighs before telling you you'll get your air support. You place them on hold this time, and wait for the attack helicopters. Black Hawks in a gunship configuration, with missile pods on stubby wings and mini-guns hanging out the sides, proceed to turn the clearing, and statue, into so much smoking flame. You wave at the helicopters, and then there's a phone call on your cell for you.

“This is Black Eagle 1-1. How was that, Agent?”

“Pretty fuckin' awesome, Black Eagle.”

[]Request a ride back to Tokyo-3.
[]Thank 'em and start the drive back.
[]Write-in.
>>
>>33028821
>[x]Thank 'em and start the drive back.
>>
>>33028821
>[]Thank 'em and start the drive back.
We got a Third Children to pick up and a Captain to hit on.
>>
>>33028878
>>
>>33028878
I think you mean a Captain to pick up and a Third Children to hit on.
>>
>>33028930
I'd rather Asuka or Mari, personally.
>>
>>33028821
>Thank 'em and start the drive back.

“Thanks, guys. Next time you're in port let me know and I'll buy you a few beers.”

“No problem, Agent. Our pleasure. Those fucks threaten all our families. Enjoy your afternoon.”

“You too, mate.” Hanging up your cell, you sprint back to the car, reholster your pistol, put your shoes on, and toss your phone into the car. “Slide over, bitch. I'm driving.” Smith does as ordered with a word of protest, placing your phone in his lap gently, as though scared it'll bite him. You grin, turn the engine on, turn the car around, and take off down the road at about seventy kilometers per hour, despite the posted limit being forty.

As soon as you hit the major interstate road system, you look over at Smith and stare him in the eye. “Buckle up,” you order, and gun it, the engine going from a smooth purr to a wild roar. The car hits about 210 kilometers an hour while Smith screams for his life, and you turn the radio on to Sabaton, bellowing about the Lion from the North.

You make much better time back than on the drive there, the countryside blurring past as Smith subsides into sobs. Once you hit Tokyo-3, you brake hard, kick him out of the car with a, “Call the Captain and tell him the cult's taken care of, bitch,” and gun the engine again, screaming for the train station the Third's supposed to be at.

You make it right as the train's pulling in, and shut the radio off. You slide on your sunglasses, check your pistol, and step out of the car. Captain Katsuragi must have taken a taxi to get here before you without a car. You sidle up to her, leaning against a pillar, and speak.

(1/2)
>>
>>33029224
(2/2)

“Afternoon, Captain. I hear you're expecting someone?” She glances at you from behind her sunglasses, adjusts her beret, and nods sharply.

“Not you, Agent. You know no one likes anyone from Section Two except the QRF guys.” You press a hand to your breast and gasp dramatically.

“That hurts, Captain. You know I'm one of the guys that rotates on and off of the QRF, right?”

“Yes, but you're not on it right now, which is what's important. Bitch.” Her tone is threatening now, and you're intelligent enough to shut up.

“Yes ma'am,” you say, cowed by a superior officer getting threatening. The ruddy Third still isn't off the train yet. Wanker.

[]Keep hitting on Captain Katsuragi, there can only be one direction.
[] Stay silent and hope she doesn't have Captain Thierry have you castrated.
[]Write-in.
>>
>>33029272
Light up for a smoke.
>>
>>33029272
Yeah, this >>33029303
Maybe make some small talk. Info on the Third Child and such.
>>
>>33029272
>[]Keep hitting on Captain Katsuragi, there can only be one direction.
CAUSE IT WILL TOTALLY WORK
>>
>>33029272
[x] Stay silent and hope she doesn't have Captain Thierry have you castrated.
>>33029303
We're picking up a kid. Nothx.
>>
>>33029350
this
>>
>>33029394
>We're picking up a kid. Nothx.
It doesn't seem like Agent Cryan gives a single flying fuck.
>>
>>33029272
>Light up for a smoke and make small talk.

“So,” you begin as you reach into an inner pocket and retrieve a lighter and metal case of cigarettes. “What do you know about the Third?” You select a cigarette, Turkish tobacco in a slim white tube with a gold circle separating the butt from the tobacco, place it in the corner of your mouth, and light it.

“Not much. He's the Commander's son,” you pale noticeably at that, but make a game effort to recover, and you're fairly certain it's successful. “Psych profile states he's got problems, but then we all do. His are probably pretty serious, what with his dad abandoning him at four.”

“So? My mother raised me by herself after Second Impact up until I joined the British Army. She a did a good job of it, I like to think. Sounds like a puss.”

“Western ideals of manhood and Eastern ideals of manhood differ, Agent. Don't forget that. As well, the younger Ikari didn't have his mother. You did.”

“So? I doubt he's seen what I saw during the Wars. Or did what I've done during the Wars. He needs to sack up and tough it out.”

“We can't all be manly former Special Air Service, Cryan. Learn to empathize, you dick.”

“I'll learn to empathize as soon as I'm ordered by Captain Thierry or Commander Ikari. 's not in my job description, Captain.”

“Jackass,” she mutters, before giving up. You flash her a shit-eating grin and she scowls. Finally, FINALLY the Third steps off the train, holding a folder and a tote-bag, wearing a backpack. Captain Katsuragi waves at him, he waves back, and you go to start the car.

It kicks on with the purr you love so well. “I'll never leave you, Mercedes. Never. You're my one true love,” you declare quietly. The car doesn't respond. Just like you expected. Oh well. Katsuragi and the Third both walk up and get in the car, each quiet.

[] Talk to the Third.
[] You're driving now. Defensive driver mode go.
[]Write-in
>>
>>33029651
>[x ]Write-in
Give NERV a call that we have the Third.

>[x] You're driving now. Defensive driver mode go.
Buckle up, kiddo.
>>
>>33029651
[x] You're driving now. Defensive driver mode go.
Best defense etc etc.
>>
File: revving intensifies.jpg (22 KB, 315x310)
22 KB
22 KB JPG
>>33029725
This.

Buckle up.
>>
>>33029725
tthis
>>
>>33029651
>[] Talk to the Third.
Gonna be driving like a madman in a few minutes anyway. What with an angel attacking and all that. We seem to be ahead of schedule actually.
>>
>>33029651
>Buckle up, kiddo.
AND
>Make a call to NERV.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f3t9SfrfDZM

You turn to stare at the Third from behind your sunglasses. He swallows nervously. Katsuragi looks like she wants to tell you stop intimidating a fourteen year old. She doesn't. “Buckle up, kiddo,” you smile at him. He smiles back and does, indeed, buckle up. Fishing for your phone, you call NERV.

“Yo, this is Cryan. Enroute with TacCom and Third. Clear the roads, baby. We're born to run.” You hang up on whoever's on the other end, and turn the radio on. Revving the engine, you turn the music up as loud as it'll go, and take off.

Both passengers begin screaming as you turn a corner on one wheel, and idly you wonder if an armored Mercedes-Benz is even supposed to be able to do that. Shrugging, you press the pedal to the floor, working every bit of speed from her that you can.

Something heavy lands beside the car with a WHUMP and it's there beside you for a moment, looking like a foot. You look in the side mirror as the car keeps screaming down the road, and quietly cross yourself. Ten fighters scream overhead, going the opposite direction.

“Poor bastards,” you grunt out around the G's you're trying to pull, attempting to emulate a fighter jet. You always wanted to fly F-16s. Something huge explodes in the back ground as you're trying to eat road, and then the car is tumbling tumbling tumbling. It lands right side up, and you're pretty sure you just lost eyebrows, but thankfully your sunglasses are still intact.

You check Katsuragi, and she seems alive, and so does Ikari. Grinning, you gun the engine again, glad NERV shelled out for the roll-resistant model.

You finally make it to NERV, vehicle semi-intact, both passengers still breathing and not bleeding. Smacking Katsuragi to wake her up, she becomes alert with a jolt.

[]Have her take the Third to the Cages.
[]Have her get to the Command Bridge.
[]Write-in.
>>
>>33030176
>[]Write-in.
We're just shadowing. Follow her lead.
>>
>>33030235
This
>>
>>33030176
Go with this >>33030235
But redirect her to the proper direction if she starts losing her way around the base.
>>
>>33030176
>>33030235
[x] "Orders, ma'am?"
With the BIGGEST shit-eating grin.
>>
File: yourboss.jpg (18 KB, 400x300)
18 KB
18 KB JPG
>>33030176
>We're just her shadow/gun. Follow her lead.

“Your lead, TacCom. What do you want me to do?” You ask, with the biggest shit-eating grin you can muster. She nods with determination as though she's made up her mind and gets out of the car while you do the same.

“Follow me. We've got to get Ikari to the Cages.”While her back's turned, you hood slide over the Mercedes-Benz and pop open the door the Third's leaning against. Picking him up, you sling him over one shoulder and take off after Katsuragi, deeply regretting the loss of your eyebrows. And they were so beautiful, too.

Eventually Katuragi gets lost in the maze that is the GeoFront. Shrugging, you shoulder past her and take the lead, descending ever downwards to the ominously named Cages. Glancing down under your sunglasses, you note that the Third is oddly feminine. Huh. You just realized you were still wearing your sunglasses. Taking the opportunity, you chance a glance out the corner of your eye to Katsuragi's chest. Yeeeeeeah. That's the stuff.

Shaking your head roughly, you force your mind back on-task. Er, back to the task at hand, even. When you finally make it to the Cages, Katsuragi is panting from the pace you set and the Third is awake and you're pretty sure trying to ask you to let him down. You lift him up to where he's hanging upside down, twirl him right side up, and gently lower him to the ground. With another grin at Katsuragi, you fire off a salute in the direction you figure the Commander's in.

[]”One Third Child hand-delivered to NERV-1, SIR.” Serious business.
[]”Look what I found, sir. Heard you were needing one of these.” Smart bastard.
[]Write-in.
>>
>>33030449
>[x]”One Third Child hand-delivered to NERV-1, SIR.” Serious business.
>>
>>33030449
>[X]”One Third Child hand-delivered to NERV-1, SIR.” Serious business.
>>
>>33030449
>[x]”One Third Child hand-delivered to NERV-1, SIR.” Serious business.'
Let's refrain from snark. For now.
>>
>>33030449
>”One Third Child hand-delivered to NERV-1, SIR.”

The Commander raises his hand slowly, and then when he drops it, you drop your salute as well. “Well done, Agent. Captain Thierry informed me of your handling of the cultists, as well. Quick and efficient. That's always needed, Agent.”

“Thank you, sir,” you respond, squirming on the inside to be away from his all-knowing gaze. Your attention turns to the Third when he and the Commander begin discussing piloting Unit 01. Boiling it down, it appears the Third doesn't want to drive it. If you were capable, you would love to drive it. Having the vengeance of an entire species at your command would be pretty sweet, you think.

Katsuragi and Dr. Akagi set in on the poor kid, trying to get him to drive. What you said to the TacCom at the train station was partially true, you could empathize- you'd never known your father and your mother died during the Impact Wars, leading you to join the British Army for lack of anything else to do. You discovered you were a fair hand at killing, and you've never looked back since. Except for the darkest nights and blackest moods, when you drink yourself into a stupor and throw bottles at the wall. But no one needs to know about that.

Looks like the Commander is getting ready to order the First to pilot. Due to her injuries, that would wind up with her dead. Oh sod it all.

[] Request permission to talk to the Third.
[] Let things continue apace.
[] Write-in.
>>
>>33030671
[x] Let things continue apace.
Just your standard guilt-trip. Nothing to see here.
>>
>>33030671
>[x] Let things continue apace.
>>
>>33030671
>[x] Let things continue apace.
Doesn't feel like it's in our place to convince Shinji.
Though, we could probably voice our displeasure for having to go through all that effort and the car getting totaled, if Shinji continues to persist in doing nothing.
>>
>>33030671
>[] Let things continue apace.
>>
File: the goddamn robot.jpg (66 KB, 848x480)
66 KB
66 KB JPG
>>33030671
>Let things continue apace.

TacCom looks slightly concerned, you can smell the fear coming off the Third, and the Commander is almost having an orgasm with how his plans are coming together. Or would be, if the man had any goddamned emotions. The Third isn't wanting to get into the robot.

“Okay,” you say loudly. “Listen here, you little shit. I've been up since 5:12 this morning and I've only had one cup of coffee. You're going to get into the goddamned robot, or I'm going to put you into the goddamned robot. You're going in either way. Then you're going to kill the thing trying to kill all of us, and I'm going to buy you a goddamned beer. Now get in the GODDAMNED ROBOT!” He falls backwards, startled by your anger, but it seems to work- frightened of the foreign devil, he scrambles to try and get into the robot. You settle back onto the balls of your feet.

“Thank you, Agent,” the older Ikari allows. You nod your acknowledgment, and then feel guilty for bellowing at a fourteen year old kid just trying to figure out what's going on.

[]Join the Commander and Captain Katsuragi on the Command Bridge.
[] Join up with the Quick Reaction Force in case there's hostile infantry.
[]Write-in.
>>
>>33031100
[x]Join the Commander and Captain Katsuragi on the Command Bridge.
Watch the show.
>>
>>33031100
To the Tang diving pools! it seems creepy shit always happens there!
>>
>>33031100
>[]Join the Commander and Captain Katsuragi on the Command Bridge.
All the fun parts happen there. We can always run off somewhere else if intel comes in there's shit to shoot elsewhere.
>>
>>33031275
Seconded. I want to see some esoteric shit.
>>
>>33031275
Might as "hang out" with Lilith.
>>
>>33031229
This
>>
>>33031100
>[x]Write-in.
How about hanging out near the bridge bunnies section?
>>
File: KaminaGlasses1.gif (8 KB, 610x260)
8 KB
8 KB GIF
>>33031100
>To Terminal Dogma.

You know Terminal Dogma exists. You've been posted as a guard outside it one evening when the The Commander didn't trust Section One. You don't know how to get into Terminal Dogma, but you've got an idea. As the Eva's prepped for launch and everyone important heads elsewhere, you need to know. What's in Terminal Dogma? What's worth posting twenty Section Two Agents to guard the door for an entire night for no reason?

These questions, and more, burn through your mind. You exit the Cages and head for an elevator. You take it to the lowest level possible, ninety. There, you hunt until you find a fire ax. You go back to the elevator you rode down, press the up button, and wait until it's left. Then you slam the ax into the metal doors, jamming the head in between the two doors. Applying force, with a grunt you lever at the doors until they're jammed open by the ax, now wedged in lengthwise horizontally. You go underneath the ax, turn, place your hands on the ledge, and force yourself back, now dangling by your hands.

Swearing, you begin climbing down as swiftly as possible, wishing your shoes weren't dress shoes. You make it down and you're stumped by another set of elevator doors with no handy fire axes. “Fuck.”

[]Look for a vent.
[]You're stymied. To the Command Bridge.
[]Write-in.
>>
>>33031742
>>33031922
Ah fuck.

My bad guys.

Well, while I've got this post up, here's a little thing about how NERV's organized.

Section One- Internal Security. (Rent-a-cops.)
Section Two- External Security. (Paramilitary.)
Section Three- Intelligence. (Spies.)
Section Four- Maintenance. (They keep stuff running, including the Evas.)
Section Five- Science Division. (SCIENCE.)
Section Six- Administration and Personnel. (Gendo and secretaries.)
>>
>>33031954
It's always harder to go up than down. Might as well look for a vent.
>>
>>33032023
This guy's got it.
>>
>>33031954
>[]You're stymied. To the Command Bridge.
As cool as being a spy is (and taking Kaji's role). This is an awful idea.
>>
>>33032181
WTF is wrong with you man? I want to plant some damn watermelons!
>>
>>33031100
>robot
are you serious
>>
>>33032219
Agreed
>>
>>33032307
Spoilers anon. Spoilers.
>>
>>33031954
We are SO guaranteed dead for going through with this, not to mention missing out on a monster and giant robot fight.
Also gotta file a request to Section 4 for that car. Damn paperwork, man.

>[x]You're stymied. To the bridge bunnies. Hit on that young female Lieutenant even though you suspect she's a lesbian.
>>
where does the suffering begin

Also, why does no one seem to notice or care that a lowly no-name Section 2 agent is fucking around with major shit? Talking to the Third Child, potentially interrupting Gendo's plans, so on?
>>
>>33031954
>Look for a vent.
We Rei from Nobody Dies now.
>>
>>33032362
Has a point
>>
>>33031954
Might as well meet up with Kaji in there. Find a vent!
>>
>>33032351
The title is Neon Genesis Evangelion quest. You can't realistically expect that people won't know the plot to the thing you're writing a quest of and still be interested in the quest.
>>
>>33032445
Though I know the plot of NGE, I've partaken in quests that I did not know the plot of the source material before. Sometime quest threads lead me to enjoy the source material that I would have originally ignored.
>>
>>33032512
It's still silly to try to avoid spoilers for the source material of what is basically fanfiction of something.
>>
>>33032547
The quest may unfold in a different path and avoid those spoilers altogether.
>>
>>33032512
That's not exactly a wise idea. Then again, I don't get to judge since I did the exact same shit with the Kill La Kill Anaru Quest.
>>
>>33032445
But does our former SAS officer know what they are?
>>
>>33032608
Another good point. If the good people of this thread vote for the vents, then he will probably know soon enough.
>>
>>33032608
Almost definitely not, but there's no reason to avoid spoilers anyway.
>>
>>33031954
>Find a vent.

You cast your highly intelligent, in your opinion, gaze about, searching for a vent. Aha! There's one above the elevator doors. You attempt to get the bottom two screws out so you can pop it up enough for you to crawl in, but you don't have a drill, a screwdriver, or a pocket knife to use as a screw driver. Eying the vent, and then your hands, you pull yourself up to where you're holding onto the vent with one hand, feet planted firmly against the doors. You draw your pistol with your free hand and eye the screws.

You place the barrel of the pistol against the top-left screw, flick the safety off, and pull the trigger. The report of the pistol is extremely loud in the confines of an elevator shaft, and your ears explode with ringing. Shaking your head roughly, you jam the pistol against another screw and fire again, repeating once more. One screw left, but your head is killing you now. You switch the safety back on, holster your pistol, and pull yourself all the way up.

This is a bad idea. You know this is a bad idea. You know what else was a bad idea? Joining the British Army in 2004. That was a bad idea, too, that didn't turn out so bad, in the long run. You can't successfully predict the long run, or even the short run here. Just that there's an inviting vent hole beckoning you onwards. So you climb in.

It's a decent crawl, and you're surprised the vents are big enough to fit you, but you dismiss that as happenstance. In a facility as big as the Geofront, being able to vent lots of air at once is a good idea, in case of enemy chemical weapons attack. Or using chemical weapons one's self. But that's a Really Bad Idea, so you dismiss that thought in favor of the final vent in front of you.

[]Kick it out.
[]Try to shoot it out.
[]Write-in.

When I began writing at 22:15, vents had won. Guess I'll wait longer for this vote.
>>
>>33032672
There's no reason to openly discuss spoilers that are not part of the current plot.
>>
File: ArcherRingingEars.gif (495 KB, 208x269)
495 KB
495 KB GIF
>>33032707
Shoot it out.
>>
>>33032707
Eh, we're already on this path, so might as well make the most of it.
Better save one last bullet.

>[x]Kick it out.
>>
>>33032829
What kind of pistol only holds 4 bullets?
>>
>>33032884
Certainly NOT a CZ-85 in 9mm with five extra magazines, as stated in >>33028163
>>
>>33032959
Yep, anon voting for kick it out is a fool. Might as well get a full on case of tinnitus and shoot everything.
>>
>>33032959
Just googled it, standard has 16 rounds.
>>
tangfag, if you haven't started writing yet, you might as well. It doesn't look like anymore people are voting.
>>
>>33033232
Oh yeah, this is going to be a long one.
>>
>>33033300
Awwww yeah. Also, nice post number.
>>
File: lilith.png (148 KB, 333x480)
148 KB
148 KB PNG
>>33032707
>Shoot it out.

You're already fast headed down the path to tinnitus, might as well go whole hog. You carefully crawl backwards a little, draw your pistol, and fire four times.

Now your ears are quite literally trying to kill you. But on the plus side, vent's busted out. You holster the pistol, crawl forward, and shimmy out of the vent, trying not to land on your head. Instead you land on your back with a crack. Staring at the oddly orange-looking ceiling for a moment, you marshal your will, and force yourself up.

To be confronted with a nightmare. Ears ringing, back aching, there's a voice in the back of your head, a rough scent in your nostrils, and a taste filling your mouth. It sounds like your mother, smells like lavender and laundry detergent, the scent of your mother, and the taste is chocolate chip cookies that are slightly burnt, but still delicious because Mother baked them. Eyes widening, you stumble backwards, pushing your back against the wall. You slide down, one hand holding your head and begin screaming, a wordless noise that erupts from your diaphragm. You draw your pistol and empty the last nine shots in it at the Angel because that's what it's got to be. All of them slide off an invisible wall in front of it.

'Where one bullet doesn't work, always apply more,' the helpful voice of the Sergeant that conducted your basic training pipes up, and you comply, burning through the remaining five magazines as fast as you can, before settling for throwing the empty gun and magazines at it even as you attempt to gibber something defiant in the face of mankind's enemy. Then something slams into the back of your skull and you know blackness.
>>
>>33033580
When you wake the Subcommander is sitting next to you, reading something. You can't tell what, though. The hospital bed is warm in the artificial sunlight, but at the sight of the Subcommander himself sitting next to your hospital bed, your blood runs cold. When he sees you've awakened, he closes his book and holds up a hand.

“We don't want to know what you were doing down there, Agent. The drawbacks of employing highly intelligent people is that often, they're highly curious. This turned out to be your case. Yes, we have an Angel in our basement. No, it cannot harm us. Yes, we're going to use it to lure the rest of the Angels to us. No, we don't know how many there are. This siege of humanity could last forever. Which is where you come in. You've stumbled upon a secret, Agent. The Commander doesn't like people knowing his secrets, but nor does he like having to lose highly intelligent, highly capable people with backgrounds in the SAS and the like. It's extremely hard to recruit those types, as most aren't willing to part with families. We understand that. We understand you have no family worth mentioning left.”

His tone so far has been friendly, even grandfatherly, but here it turns cold as he leans forward. “So, Agent. You never descended past Level 90 of the Geofront. You were on Level 90 to investigate a noise that turned out to be a rat. You never saw anything of vital importance to the future of humankind. You never fired six magazines, then proceeded to throw the magazines and pistol at the nonexistent secret. Things are secret for a reason. The nonexistent secret below Level 90 will remain precisely that, or we'll have you woken up in the middle of the night with a bullet in your skull.”
>>
>>33033599
“Have a good evening, Agent.” You swallow heavily as soon as he's gone and let your head thump against the pillow. If that's what the Subcommander was like, you didn't want to know what the Commander was like when angry. The ceiling is a featureless mass of white, but that doesn't matter. You definitely will not be sticking your nose past Level 90 again.

[] Try to sleep.
[] You're awake, time to be moving, the job is never done.
[] Write-in.
>>
>>33033623
>[] You're awake, time to be moving, the job is never done.

I don't like that people made the decision to go down there, but I kind of think this quest might be more interesting for it at least.
>>
>>33033623
>[x] Try to sleep.
Yeah, rationalizing it all as a dream is a rather good idea right now.
I do hope this encounter gives Cryan some bonuses to mental fortitude or something. Or more likely, replace past nightmares with something worse.
>>
>>33033623
Agent gets moving and runs into Kaji. Kaji informs him that he knows about Lilith as well, and they have a discussion.
>>
>>33033831
Lilith incident was obviously a Chekov's gun. Might as well get it out of the way now. I side with this guy.
>>
>>33033623
>You're awake, get moving.

You try to sleep. You really do. But whenever you close your eyes the smell of your mother lingers in your nose, you can hear her voice in your ears, and your hand longs for the familiar comfort of a firearm. Slipping out of the bed, you find a freshly laundered suit of clothing, including underwear, socks, and shoes sitting next to your shaving kit on another chair, in the corner. Desperate for a shave and a shower, you grab all of it. Underneath there's a note. “Three days enforced sick leave. Come back with your head on straight. - Commander.”

Swallowing grimly, you thank your lucky stars you weren't taken to an incinerator, shot, and your body dumped into the flames. You've done it yourself, to a mole in Section Two from Russia. It's all too easy for bodies to 'disappear' when there's no family or friends to worry. NERV loves maladjusted young men with quick minds and quicker trigger fingers.

You make your way to a locker room. It's empty. You place your clothing on a bench and take your shaving kit with you into the shower, where it's mercifully hot, as you try to scrub the fear-smell off of yourself. Finally satisfied, you shave quickly before emerging into the steam, where you towel off quickly and dress. Leaving the hospital gown in the locker, you head for an elevator. You need fresh air, and you're not going to get that in the Geofront.

The elevator has someone in it, a Japanese man with a five o'clock shadow and casually rumpled shirt. “So you know,” he says quietly, under the Muzak playing over the Elevator's speakers.

(1/2)
>>
>>33034206
“I don't know anything,” you reply just as quietly, hoping to the God you're not sure if you believe in anymore he'll shut up.

“That sure is some nothing, huh, Agent?” He's a persistent bugger, but maybe if you're silent he'll go away. “What you need to do, Agent, is forget about it.” Yes, that's precisely what you're trying to do. Orders from the Commander himself are like orders from the Pope. You don't disregard them. At all.

“But always be asking one thing, Agent: What's humanity's future worth?” The elevator slides to a halt with a ding, he steps out, and you watch him walk away as the doors close. The elevator resumes the smooth glide upwards, and you feel naked without a pistol, but there's nowhere to really conceal one with what you're wearing, khakis and a short sleeved button-down shirt. You'll retrieve one from a dead drop in the city later. Right now you need a

[]Bar.
[]A fast car.
[]Write-in.
>>
>>33034227
>[X} Cheeseburger

The greasy goodness will clear our mind and make all right in the world.
>>
>>33034227
>[x]Bar.
A likely place for Misato to be in too since we do need to know what happened since the attack.
>>
>>33034227
>[]Write-in.
Find out what happened with the angel fight and all that.
>>
cheeseburger and a motorcycle
>>
everyone cool with going to a bar that serves cheeseburgers on a motorcycle that was with the gun you picked up and meeting misato to hear about the angel attack?
>>
>>33034382
Where's that .gif with the dude getting ice cream with a huge spoon when you need it, huh?
>>
File: 16510563102.gif (1.47 MB, 335x315)
1.47 MB
1.47 MB GIF
>>33034443
>>
File: oh yeah.jpg (352 KB, 1200x1200)
352 KB
352 KB JPG
>>33034227
>Everything.

You know a decent English-style pub that's got mighty cheeseburgers. Despite being English, the Paddy's Lament also serves a decent Scotch. You need food, and you can't think of anything better than a thick, greasy, piping hot, thick burger patty or two with about four slices of cheese on a lightly toasted bun with bacon. And the bottle of Scotch. That's definitely the most important thing right now.

To that end, you head for the motor pool. You threaten the hapless clerk with dunking his head in a urinal until he gives what you want, a fast motorcycle that can hit about 200 miles per hour and a pistol in the center, between the handlebars.

You take the scenic route to the Lament, ignoring traffic laws, cops, and speed limits, hoping the rush of the road and the wind in your face will help clear your head. It does, surprisingly, and you take the opportunity to review what you know:
1. NERV is dedicated to the destruction of the Angels, the beings that caused Second Impact, and preventing Third Impact.
2. NERV's oversight is headed by the Committee for the Human Instrumentality Project.
3. There's an Angel in the basement.
4. You're not paid to think about this shit, you're paid to kill people when they need killing and protect the Geofront against hostile infantry.

Yeah. If NERV wants to keep an Angel in the basement, that's up to the higher ups. You're just following orders. (You know that shit didn't fly when Hitler's dudes tried it, but you're also not an officer any more, and that lack of responsibility for others is refreshing.)

The rest of the ride passes smoothly and you arrive at the Lament with a minimum of fanfare. Taking the pistol from its slot in between the console, you slide it into the back of your waistband, before sticking the two extra magazines in your pockets. You enter the Lament and are greeted with a chorus of jeers from the patrons and the proprietor.
>>
>>33034665
“Shut up, shut up,” you demand good naturally, before taking a seat at the bar. “Tricky Dicky,” you bellow. “I need a bottle of your cheapest Scotch and I need a genuine Tricky Dicky burger, as soon as possible.” The patrons, mainly American and British expats in Tokyo-3 for NERV, go back to their conversations and the rugby game on the television as Richard finds a bottle of fresh Scotch, probably not more than a week old for you.

“Be about eight minutes on the burger, hoss,” he informs you. Then he jerks his head to the side and you look over. It's Captain Katsuragi, with some of that shitty Japanese beer no one likes.

[] Order her a real drink, ask what happened with the Angel and the Third.
[] Ask her about the thing you're supposed to have forgotten.
>>
>>33034686
>[] Order her a real drink, ask what happened with the Angel and the Third.
>>
>>33034686
>[x] Order her a real drink, ask what happened with the Angel and the Third.
>>
>>33034686
>[X] Order her a real drink, ask what happened with the Angel and the Third.

Time to catch up.
>>
Order her a damn real drink, ask about the battle and the third kid. Then let it slip about Lilith. If she tries anything funny, pull a gun on her.


Also, you are the best OP ever. 99999999/10
>>
>>33034686
>[x] Order her a real drink, ask what happened with the Angel and the Third.
>>
>>33034786
>Then let it slip about Lilith. If she tries anything funny, pull a gun on her.
Sounds like a bad idea.

Is smoking permitted in this establishment?
>>
>>33035012
It's a genuine English pub in the middle of Japan. Of course smoking is allowed.
>>
File: ep-1.jpg (41 KB, 500x375)
41 KB
41 KB JPG
>>33034686
>Order her a real drink.

“DICK,” you yell at him, right in front of you, as he's trying to fix another patron's margarita. “I need a, a uh, shit, a stout from the Auld Sod for the pretty lady next to me. Not that local piss she's drinking.”

“The Auld Sod, as you call it, you goddamned Mick, is drowned, like Florida and New Orleans and London, after Second Impact. Get out of here with that “Auld Sod” business, you're more British than Irish.” But he complies, complaining the entire time. Katsuragi shoots you a look, but you wink, and finish with Dick, first.

“Dick,” you lean forward conspiratorially. “I'm from Northern Ireland.” He erupts into sputters of outrage, bushy eyebrows seeming to become even bushier underneath his cap, before he glares at you with hate-filled eyes one final time, and sidles down the bar, so he can ignore you. You turn to the Captain, and grin easily.

“Afternoon, Cap'n. How'd the fight go?” It's an innocent question, you think, considering you were unconscious for at least two hours.

“Badly until the Eva went berserk and killed the Angel with almost no trouble. Up until that point, Shinji seemed to think you could have helped him somehow.”

You scoff. “All I did was yell at him until he got in the goddamned robot.” Dick walks up with Katsuragi's drink, a stout from England, flown over on ice, and places it in front of her.

“Well, his synch score was a little over forty-nine percent, so whatever you did seemed to have worked.” She's slurring a little, but nothing serious. She's probably only two drinks or so in.

“Huh,” you say noncommittally. “So I found a thing,” you lead in with. She turns to look at you, takes a sip of her drink, and trails her eyes down your figure. You want to squirm uncomfortably for a moment, but knock back another shot of the Scotch.

(1/2)
>>
>>33035112
“Is this a thing I can find,” she asks, and she's probably drunker than you realized. With frantic motions, you beckon Dick over.

“How long has she been here, damn it?”

“Oh, I'd say about four hours.” You cross yourself at that, and then Katsuragi's trying to drape herself across from you.

“Nope,” you say adamantly. “Despite there being no fraternization rules for Section Two and Command Staff, I'm not going to take advantage of a drunk woman. Christ, is there anyone I can call for you?” Katsuragi shakes her head, and begins insisting loudly you call her Misato.

[]Comply.
[]Insist on calling her Captain Katsuragi.
[]Write-in.
>>
>>33035140
>[]Comply.
>[]Write-in.
Eat the burger and take the lovely lady home.
>>
>>33035226
This
>>
>>33035226
>>33035248
This.
We aren't taking your bait tonight QM.
>>
>>33035140

[]Comply.
[]Write-in.

Call her Misato, but don't give in. Be the gentleman and take her home, but let her pass out. We'll be better off without the fallout... and Kaji.
>>
>>33035226
take her home on your bad ass motorcycle without any problems then bed her. in the morning, talk to her about Lilith again. but before any of that, finish your genuine tricky Dicky burger.
>>
>>33035140
Comply (but only because she's off-duty), light up, eat the burger, and take her home.

In that order.
>>
>>33035226

This, and I'd rather not go about touching on THAT subject. Not much to do dead after all.

That and I think we have better luck derailing things via getting Shinji to man up.
>>
(Does anyone else have a strong negative opinion about the smoking habit or should I keep trying to run with it?)
>>
>>33035415
Don't really care.
>>
>>33035410
Well, we said we'd get him a beer. Probably some kind of bitch beer (hard lemonade etc).

Also, now that we've encountered the thing in Terminal Dogma, there's a bonding opportunity with the kid.

Probably worth noting that if she's really that drunk, she might not be in position to give consent... not that we have to pay any mind to that detail if we don't want to.
>>
File: smoke.jpg (33 KB, 853x480)
33 KB
33 KB JPG
>>33035415
>anime made in 1995
Everybody smokes.
>>
>>33035140
>Comply and take her home.

“Christ,” you swear. “I'll call you goddamned Misato. Can I eat my goddamned burger?” She nods at you and when it arrives, you stare it sadly, before cutting it in half with a knife and fork. Then you jam one half into your mouth and begin chewing as fast as humanly possible.

“Arghlghle garghle,” you tell Dick, and he stares at you, even as you're bringing the second half up to your mouth while you're still swallowing the first part of the burger. Slowly, he crosses himself as you swallow the second half, leaving only the tomatoes. You hate goddamned tomatoes.

Snagging your bottle of Scotch in one hand, you pick Misato up bridal style and carry her to her car. Lighting up a smoke, you run the driver's seat of her car back and slide in, cigarette dangling from your mouth. The drive back is silent, as you think she's sleeping and you don't want to wake her.

The apartment building is quiet this time of the day, around ten PM, and you wonder where everyone is. Then you remember that Captain Thierry had everyone other than Misato rounded up and moved to different apartment buildings, so he could place teams in each apartment surrounding her's in every direction.

You carry her up the stairs the same way you got her out to her car, and you're trying to figure out how to pick her lock when you remember you've got her keys in your hand. Feeling not quite as intelligent as you usually do, you get the door open and manage to find her bedroom, trying not stumble over her mess. You place her on the futon and you're about to turn and leave when a quiet voice interrupts you.

“Please don't leave.”

[]Stay.
[] Leave.
[]Write-in.
>>
>>33035488
>Slowly, he crosses himself as you swallow the second half, leaving only the tomatoes. You hate goddamned tomatoes.
Big O crossover when
>>
>>33035488
>[X]Stay

HOLY SHIT! A TALKING PENGUIN!
>>
>>33035488
>[x]Stay.
>>
>>33035488
Stay and talk.
"So what's got you all mopey?"
>>
>>33035488
>[X]Stay.
>>
>>33035488
>[]Stay.
Watch TV. Raid her fridge of food.
>>
>>33035488

[]Write-in.
>Stay but don't do the dunk. She'll have nothing to complain about in the morning but a safe escourt back, and someone there to make sure she didn't drown in vomit.
>>
>>33035482
I just realized that Evangelion is older than me....

>>33035488
Stay and try and bang her, only to be interrupted by Shinji


>>33035415
Keep the smoking but drop the hating tomatoes bit
>>
>>33035612
Yes, this. Let's not stick our dick in it. Yet, anyway.
>>
>>33035612
>>33035634
I agree with these fine fucks
>>
>>33035630
ahh youth.
>>
>>33035630
"Well, what're you lookin' at, kid? Don't they teach you this stuff in school?"

But yeah, while I'm sure Agent Cryan wouldn't mind a lay, if he was looking for a random hookup he could probably find someone who's not a superior from work. Those kinds of relationships are more hassle than they're worth.
>>
>>33035819
Crazy Ivan
>>
>>33035819
>[x]Write-in.
'mornin
>>
>>33035819
"Nice penguin"
>>
>>33035819
>[X]CRAZY-IVAN
If I recall my Red October that means we play it cool
>>
>>33035819
"I swear I didn't do anything to that pengquin and if he says different then hes a dirty liar!"

Wince comedically before asking "Got any pain killers? Backs killing me like the dickens."
>>
>>33035488
>Stay

Shrugging, you agree. “I'll stay, then. I won't be coming back into your room, but I'll be out here.” Something approximating acceptance emerges from her bed, and you cover her up before leaving the room quietly. Taking a sip from your Scotch bottle, you settle yourself onto Misato's couch and begin perusing late night television, wondering why there were only infomercials. Eventually you settle onto a History channel, discussing the First World War, and sit there in the dark of a woman's apartment, your only company a bottle of Scotch, the television, and your thoughts. Until-

“Wark.” Turning only your head, you stare. It's a penguin. And not even an Emperor penguin. It's some kind of messed up. There's only one thing to do. Slowly, eyes locked, you take a sip from your Scotch bottle.

“Sup,” you greet. “Want some?” You offer the mouth of the bottle to the penguin, and it steps forward. It sticks its beak into the mouth, tilts its head back, and proceeds to finish your bottle of Scotch. “'s cool,” you offer. “I didn't need to get drunk anyway. Someone's gotta make sure Misato in there doesn't drown in her own puke.”

“Wark,” offers the penguin, and you nod in appreciation at its sage word of wisdom. It settles onto the couch next to you, and you begin to pet it.

“Sometimes I wonder what it'd be like if I had been crippled by that grenade during the Wars,” you say quietly. “I like to think I'd have bounced back, but there are some nights where I wake up and I can't feel my leg. That's scary shit, little penguin buddy.”

“Wark,” it says, seeming to enjoy being petted.

“Yeah.”


When you wake up, Misato is standing over you. The History channel is still playing, there's still a penguin sitting next to you on her couch, and your back isn't doing you any favors.

[]”It's not what it looks like?”
[]CRAZY-IVAN
[]Write-in.


I totally fucked up the formatting on that. The votes WILL count.
>>
>>33035819

[]Write-in.
"Have a good sleep, Misato?" and give the penguin a pet. Play it off cool and relaxed... and explain if she doesn't throw things.
>>
>>33035883
[x] The penguin can vouch for my actions.

Refuge in audacity3
>>
File: 1356320623206.gif (303 KB, 350x396)
303 KB
303 KB GIF
>>33035869
>If I recall my Red October that means we play it cool
Ha...haha...hahahahahahHaHaHAHAHAHA!
>>
File: 1327108958277.jpg (43 KB, 405x420)
43 KB
43 KB JPG
>>33035883
>[]Write-in.
"You look good with bedhead."
>>
>>33035869
you must not have read a certain quest then.
>>
>>33035929
OH yes, this.
>>
>>33035883
>EVERYTHING OH GOD

In a man's life, it's odd times for him to wake up with a superior officer standing over him, wearing really short jean shorts, and a very revealing T-shirt. It's odd for him to wake up next to a penguin, with the History channel on. In these times, there is only one clear option for a man to take. You pick up the penguin, shove him into Misato's arms, and dive over the back of the couch.

“I NEVER MEANT TO PROPOSE LIKE THAT, I'M SO SORRY!” Something flies over your head, 'wark'ing angrily. Scrambling backwards, you try to offer a compliment, to appease the angry superior officer hungering for your blood. “You look good with bedhead?” A Scotch bottle rockets overhead, clocking in at you're sure is 100 miles per hour. Diving for the bathroom, you offer, “Morning. Sleep well?”

A cast iron skillet thuds into the wall beside you. Goddamn, the Dallas Rangers should get this woman to pitch for them. “THE PENGUIN,” you try to scream as manfully as possible, “CAN VOUCH FOR MY ACTIONS. And if he says otherwise, he's a dirty goddamn liar!”

Nothing works. There is no stopping Misato on her bloody quest for your testicles.There is nowhere left. There is nothing to do. She is coming. Vengeance and blood will be her's, you can hear her padding quietly to the bathroom door RIGHT NOW.

[]You must... bounce.
[]Get naked and in the shower.
[]Write-in.
>>
>Wanting to put your dick in the Crazy
NEVER put your dick in the crazy.
>>
>>33036043
Climb out the bathroom window.
>>
>>33036043
>[x]You must... bounce.
>>
>>33036043
>[]Write-in.
"YOU ASKED ME TO STAY!"

I refuse to press your buttons!
>>
>>33036043
Fire a warning shot with the gun that you still have.
>>
>>33036043

Oh god why. Shit uh...

[]Write-in.

Tell her straight up you just brought her home, and you sleeping on the couch should be some proof. Lean against door so she can't rip our boys off.
>>
>>33036107
This
>>
>>33036107
>>33036128
On second thought, these are alright.

>>33036134
This is a bad idea. If Misato is surrounded by security like was implied, we'd be getting them involved too, and possibly into more hot water with superiors.
>>
>>33036043
Arm yourself with that skillet and get ready for the fight of your life! Include body armor as well, maybe pillows stuffed into your shirt if it looks rediculous enough to make her laugh that seize the tactical advantage and body check her!

We going full tacticool take down of our superior officer at least we will have a story to tell
>>
Rolled 18

>>33036107
Seconding
>>
>>33036043
What.

You grab the iron skillet and head for the bathroom window. It's just big enough for you to dangle half-way in, half-way out. “Misato. MISATO. You asked me to stay! I certainly didn't invite myself to stay. I was going to take a train back to the Lament and have another burger and more Scotch. I certainly didn't want to wind up sleeping next to a penguin, which, by the way, is pretty cool.”

She comes through the door, holding a can of that Japanese brew she seems to love so much. “You,” she pointed a deadly finger at you, “will explain to me why you felt it acceptable to stay.”

“You asked me to,” you insist, getting angry yourself. “Christ, I could have been doing paperwork, I could have been out following a cult or something, I could have been buying the Third that beer I said I owed him. But nooooo, Tactical Commander Captain Katsuragi wants me to stay! Shit's not a goddamn game,” you finish lamely, your anger leaving just as suddenly as it came. You want a drink. You want a cigarette, you want to fight something, anything.

Pulling yourself back into the bathroom, you stand as far from her as possible, watching her warily. She seems to have deflated as well. “You're right,” she finally offers. “It was wrong of me to get angry. Please- please go.” Dropping the skillet, you push past her and out the apartment. You stop suddenly, and turn.

“I'm not an enemy, Captain. Just because I don't have a country anymore doesn't mean I don't have a heart.”
>>
Thanks for playing, guys. I'm around for a bit longer for questions and stuff. As for next run, I'm thinking, uh, starting around 6 PM CST. I'll probably have to get a Twitter, I guess.

Hope you had fun!
>>
>>33036502
what day?
>>
>>33036502
I don't really follow NGE, even though I should, but I will be tuning in for your quest when I can manage. Keep up the good work.
>>
>>33036512
Shit, Sunday. My bad.
>>
>>33036502
Had fun, though I was misled as to the premise, was hoping for some after 3rd impact hijinks. Oh well.
>>
>>33036552
Yeah, I apologize about that. We'll get there eventually.
>>
>>33036502
neat! Have a soft spot for NGE and kinda happy to see quest like this one, question though since we just a hired gun think we might be able to actually make the world...well less like shit?
>>
>>33036631
It depends. It all depends.
>>
>>33036631
If we survive that long and don't snap and kill someone important or something.
>>
>>33036703
or do something as stupid as poke around Lilith again.
>>
>>33036713
When that happened, I was going to vote [x] stick your dick in it, but we got knocked out.
>>
>>33036703
>>33036713
>>33036744
Ah /tg/ never change never change you horny bastards...

Though to think about that, wouldnt that mean we boned our mom that isent our mom?
>>
>>33036863
It was more of a joke than anything, mostly because I knew we were probably going to get fucked somehow.
>>
>>33036884
Yeah no shit that whole section with smelling mothers laundry and her scent made me think we were having a cthulu San encounter that was DRASTICALLY damaging our brains a bit not to mention the other shit that was going on no doubt
>>
File: san_loss.jpg (10 KB, 255x197)
10 KB
10 KB JPG
>>33036958
>>
>>33036958
Op told me in PM that we lost 50 SAN points.



[Advertise on 4chan]

Delete Post: [File Only] Style:
[a / b / c / d / e / f / g / gif / h / hr / k / m / o / p / r / s / t / u / v / vg / vr / w / wg] [i / ic] [r9k] [s4s] [cm / hm / lgbt / y] [3 / adv / an / asp / biz / cgl / ck / co / diy / fa / fit / gd / hc / int / jp / lit / mlp / mu / n / out / po / pol / sci / soc / sp / tg / toy / trv / tv / vp / wsg / x] [Settings] [Home]
[Disable Mobile View / Use Desktop Site]

[Enable Mobile View / Use Mobile Site]

All trademarks and copyrights on this page are owned by their respective parties. Images uploaded are the responsibility of the Poster. Comments are owned by the Poster.