Abandoned Fic -- The Fourth Course

[lavanya_six]

Title: Misato Katsuragi: Agent of GEHIRN
Summary: In all-too-familiar AU, Misato Katsuragi works as Ikari's right-hand man at GEHIRN. Now she's on an assignment that will lead her on a chase around the globe, from India to Germany to America and elsewhere as she races against GEHIRN's enemies for control of a terrible, otherworldly power.
Notes: Alias pastiche. It was an AU set in a world where the Second Impact never happened -- the real world. My interest in Evangelion fanfic has waned a lot and I don't believe I'll be writing another long-form project for it.

 

 

 

It was the day she watched her father die.

 

 

 

The Katsuragi Expedition base camp was in ruins. All over were the dead and the dying. The big hanger bay – the one place that her father never let her see no matter how much she begged – was on fire, sending a dense plume of smoke and ash up into the blasting arctic winds.

 

A test facility at the outer ring of the base held a number of prototype escape pods, self-contained environmental survival units that protected against everything from the cold to gamma rays. There, two figures approached.

 

Her body limp, her mind numb from shock, young Misato Katsuragi was cradled in the arms of a faceless man, his identity hidden behind a white mask. The man's arctic camouflage uniform was streaked with blood. None of the blood belonged to the man. In fact, most of it belonged to Misato's father.

 

Gently, the man laid Misato down into one of the capsules. The girl wasn't sensitive to too much going on around her. The carnage she had just bared witness to had robbed her of vitality. She was tired, too tired to even wipe the smear of her father's cooling blood from her cheek.

 

The masked man gave a little wave. "Be good."

 

The capsule snapped shut, trapping her in the quiet darkness.

 

.

.

.

 

As the plane prepared for its landing, Misato Katsuragi awoke calmly from her dark dream. She had relived that day so often it would have been alarming not to have returned to it in her restful hours. More than anything she was annoyed at sleeping through the last call for alcoholic beverages before arrival.

 

Stretching out in her spacious First Class seat, Misato sighed as her left hand was painfully yanked back down towards the suitcase it was handcuffed to. In her daze she had managed to forget the nearly two days she'd spent in jets chained to the package, hopping from Berlin to London to New York to L.A. to Honolulu to here, her final destination, the one and only city of Tokyo. It's good to be home, she thought to herself. I hope Ikari doesn't send me out again too soon. I need some time off.

 

Resting her left hand on the titanium-reinforced suitcase, Misato amused herself with guesses as to what was inside. Gold? Not heavy enough. Diamonds? Nice, but not what you use someone like me for. A nuke? Heh, yeah, like the Americans would let me through customs with radiological material after 9/11. No, Misato decided, it was probably boring papers and blueprints for the home office in Hakone, stuff for the eggheads and squints. Low-end currier duty cargo, hardly worth her talents.

 

It was worth it, though. Every little job gave her more credibility in the eyes of the agency. Even with Ikari's solemn promise she was still a young woman. There were older, more experienced soldiers in GEHIRN for what was coming. She needed to be ten times what they were on their best days if she was going to find justice for her father.

 

That day in September 2000 may have had scarcely any impact on the rest of the world but it had changed her life forever.

 

Over the airplane's PA, the captain announced landing procedures and the usual miscellany. Misato only found one bit at the end practical, "As we have crossed the International Date I would advise our passengers to reset their watches for the local time of 4:32pm on 12 May, 2008. We hope you enjoy your time in Japan. Thank you for flying United Airlines."

 

 

# # # presenting # # #

Misato Katsuragi: Agent of GEHIRN

Chapter 01: Jet Alone

Written by Lavanya Six

(please don't sue)

# # # the first installment in a genocidal romp of do-daring # # #

 

 

Misato was in for a surprise when she cleared customs. Instead of her usual "man in black" contact the big boss herself was waiting for her.

 

"Doctor Ikari." Misato bowed to the older woman. "It's an honor."

 

Yui smiled. "Likewise, Agent Katsuragi. Did everything go smoothly?"

 

"Like clockwork, ma'am. Doctor Soryu sends her regards."

 

"I imagine you're eager for some time off. This is… what? Your third month without a single break?"

 

"I had last Sunday afternoon to myself in Scotland."

 

"Well," the boss said glumly, "I'm afraid that'll have to do for now. We can discuss the specifics in the car."

 

Well, at least they have a use for me. Hopefully it's an important use. "Yes, ma'am."

 

Misato followed Yui and her security detail to an armored car parked at a side exit. Inside, the two women sat opposite to each other. Doctor Ikari eyed Misato's chafed wrist. "I can take that off you, you know."

 

"Sorry," she said, clutching the suitcase, "orders."

 

"Professional as ever." Yui glanced out the nearest tinted window. "I'm afraid I can't tell what you're carrying."

 

"It's not my job to ask questions or to expect answers."

 

"True. I can tell you, however, that the Committee specifically requested you for the assignment."

 

"Me?" Misato tried to reign in her surprise. "I-I'm honored, Doctor."

 

"GEHIRN needs people like you, Misato. I'm glad that the old men are finally seeing what I've seen in you all along. Though I'm afraid we're wasting your talents with individual assignments and the odd team-effort." She gave the younger woman an approving nod. "I've read your papers on military strategy. Well, I've had my ear to ground. It's not my field, but I've heard rumbling. Apparently your counter-insurgency paper is making the rounds in the Pentagon, for whatever that's worth."

 

"Thank you, ma'am. It means a lot coming from you." Misato brushed an errant raven hair away from her eyes. "However, there just isn't a role for me in our normal military. Japan isn't like Israel or Australia when it comes to women. Besides, the JSDF is a joke. Even if it was a proper military force it'd take something like Armageddon for them to start recruiting women into the positions I'm interested in."

 

"The world can change, Misato." She sighed. "Your next assignment won't be as easy as this one, I'm afraid."

 

"Does that mean I get to use the C4 I've been saving for a rainy day?"

 

"Sadly, no."

 

"Darn. A girl can dream."

 

Yui laughed a bit louder than Misato thought the joke warranted. "Yes," the older woman said, "sometimes they can." She opened her attaché case and handed Misato a red folder – Highest Eyes-only Level information. "You'll be leaving for India in three hours, so you'll have to unwind on the plane. You're objective is to recruit a person of interest for GEHIRN, a young biologist that has put forth some remarkable ideas in the more obscure science journals."

 

Misato read the name on the file. "Ritsuko Akagi. Huh." She frowned. "Wait, Akagi? You mean like with that supercomputer fiasco?"

 

"That's Naoko Akagi. Ritsuko is her daughter. By all indications she has a first-class mind. Some of the concepts in her papers are even a little above my head."

 

Misato whistled.

 

"Yes, well, one must be honest with oneself." Yui absentmindedly twirled her wedding ring. "Ritsuko is an ex-pat living in Kolkata, India. She teaches at a local university there. From what we've gathered she seems to be treading water. Some of her more interesting ideas have received criticism from the old-guard, dampening her chances of advancement in academia. I want her for GEHIRN."

 

"Seems simple enough." Misato paged through the file. "Has ARKA made a move on her yet?"

 

"Not that we're aware." Yui fiddled with her skirt. "We need this woman, Misato. She could be the key to GEHIRN's goals, to finally putting your father's theories into practice."

 

The Super-Solenoid Drive. "I see."

 

"The Committee has decided to grant you substantial authority in this matter. Whatever Ritsuko wants, Ritsuko gets." Yui smiled slyly. "Just don't promise her the Imperial Throne, alright?"

 

"Couldn't if wanted to. Women can't be Emperor, remember?"

 

Yui blinked. "Oh, of course. But I think Ritsuko's needs will be a little closer to Earth. She's young, intelligent, and very eager to prove herself. Reminds me of, well, me back in the day. God, does that make me sound old?" She chuckled. "Gendo would laugh at that idea."

 

"He can laugh?"

 

"Be nice."

 

 

################################################

 

 

Soon enough the car arrived at its destination, an underground parking garage that serviced the Tokyo branch of the Marduk Institute, GEHIRN's network of private contractors. To the outside world it was a non-descript office building, just one among thousands in Tokyo. The truth was quite different.

 

If GEHIRN was the brains, the Marduk Institute was the brawn of the Instrumentality Committee's efforts in the 21st century. Formed after the September Incident, the Institute trained and fielded its own private army of intelligence agents in the global covert war against ARKA. 

 

Misato Katsuragi's exact position within the Marduke Institute was somewhat nebulous. Officially, she was listed on the payroll as an Interoffice Liaison and Coordinator between Tokyo and GEHIRN's home office in Hakone. A simple salarywoman, in other words (Misato could never stand to think of herself as an "office lady"). The truth was more complex. Misato had been recruited out of college and into the GEHIRN/Marduke system as the personal handywoman of Yui Ikari. Misato basically did whatever Doctor Ikari needed her to do; needs that rarely included collating faxes.

 

For the first few months the job meant little more than combat exercises and intelligence training, with a few simple assignments carting papers from Hakone to Tokyo and vice versa. Gradually, she had worked her way up into international currier tasks and other hands-on operations. She'd even been on one or two wetwork jobs against ARKA. Those were the days she loved her career the most.

 

Now, at last, it seemed she had finally entered the upper echelon. If Yui Ikari's presence at the airport wasn't enough, being received by the Marduk Institute's big boss himself confirmed it.

 

"Director Ikari," she said, nodding her head politely. "How are you, sir?"

 

The bearded man smiled wolfishly. "Quite good, Agent Katsuragi. I believe you have a package for me."

 

Misato present the suitcase and her handcuffed wrist. Retrieving a ring of keys from his charcoal-colored sports coat, Gendo Ikari fitted one anonymous key into the handcuffs and cracked them open. The Director then took the armored suitcase himself, apparently not trusting his security detail to hold the sensitive package even within the confines of the Institute's Tokyo HQ.

 

"Excellent work, Katsuragi," he said, pocketing the keys. "Has Doctor Ikari briefed you on your next assignment?"

 

He's all business, isn't he? The Director must be a hellcat in the bedroom for Yui to put up with him. "Yes, sir."

 

One of the nameless men in the black suits stepped forward and presented her with a manila folder. Inside were the standard mission material – fake passport, petty cash, disposable credit cards and traveler's checks, and an airline ticket. A second agent handed her a new cell phone.

 

"The car will take you back to the airport," Gendo said.

 

Misato didn't let the anxiety she was now feeling show on her face. They were practically throwing her out the door. They must want this woman BAD. If I come back without her….

 

Yui smiled. "I'll be seeing you soon in Hakone. Be sure to stop by the daycare – Shinji's been asking about you."

 

"Of course, ma'am." She turned and gave the other Ikari a respectful nod. "Director."

 

"Dismissed."

 

 

################################################

 

 

(riiiiiing) (riiii-)

 

(click)

 

"Hello?"

 

"It's me."

 

"…"

 

"They've dispatched a recruiter."

 

"So it's as expected."

 

"Yes."

 

"What's his name?"

 

"Her."

 

"You mean…?"

 

"Yes."

 

"I see. Well, that could complicate matters. Shall I inform our man?"

 

"No. This assignment is as much a test for him too."

 

"Is that wise given their history toget-"

 

"You have your orders."

 

"I understand."

 

"As above…"

 

"…so below."

 

(click)

 

 

################################################

 

The flight to India was no different than any of the hundreds of others she had flown over the years: check-in, wait, board, wait, drink, wait, land, wait, then disembark. Occasionally Misato would spice up her itinerary by reviewing her mission briefing as she waited in the terminal instead of during the flight. But, for the most part, she carried on with the task of appearing to be just another business commuter.

 

<stuff on plane>

 

 

################################################

 

The next morning found Misato waiting in a beat-up rental car outside a small apartment complex, a four-story affair sandwiched between two taller apartment blocks. The whole area was rundown though not particularly troubled-looking. Misato wasn't shocked, considering that most of the renters were grad students at the nearby university.

 

She sipped her coffee and automatically surveyed the area around her car for anything that seemed off. Doctor Ikari may have said that ARKA wasn't making a move but Agent Katsuragi was going to be damned if she let the enemy get the drop on her again. Especially after what happened with that bast-

 

A Japanese woman breezed out the front entrance of the apartment building.

 

Mole under her left eye? Yup. It's her. "Bingo."

 

Misato sprung out of the car.

 

As she approached, Misato noted that the woman in question was different from what her file photos had shown – not surprising since she'd been off the grid for nearly two years until this April. In that missing time Ritsuko Akagi had gone from being a soft-looking teenager to a young woman with a strained expression of irritation. At first Misato thought she was just having a bad day, but the way she hung onto her cigarette and her defensive body language seemed to say her outward appearance was more of a permanent condition.

 

Ritsuko Akagi was only a year older than Misato yet the slim burgundy-haired woman looked like she'd been through a war. Parental abandonment and five years on a two pack a day habit will do that to you.

 

As the Akagi woman fiddled with her parked moped Misato strode up and casually said in English, "Hello. Nice day, isn't it?"

 

Immediately Ritsuko was wary. The sudden tenseness in her muscles told Misato that she'd had some degree of self-defense training. She made a mental note to add that to Akagi's file. "I prefer rainy days. It cuts down on the air pollution, Miss…?"

 

"Katsuragi. Misato Katsuragi." She smiled. "And you?"

 

"I'm late for work, actually." Ritsuko flicked her cigarette stub away. "You're some sort of headhunter. Tell me who sent you."

 

"I'm here on behalf on employer, GEHIRN. We've taken quite a shining to your work, Doctor Akagi."

 

"GEHIRN? Never heard of it."

 

"We're a private scientific research organization with ties to the UN and several multinational corporations and trusts. We prefer to stay out of the limelight."

 

"Huh." Ritsuko put on her helmet and started her moped. "Well, it was nice meeting you, Miss Katsuragi."

 

"If you're available after your lecture I'd really li-"

 

"Not interested, thank you," the scientist said, put-puting away without a glance backwards. If she had taken a second to look over her shoulder, however, she might have flinched at the smirk on Misato's face.

 

 

################################################

 

 

Damn headhunters. They just think I'm desperate because of Mother. Ritsuko grimaced at that thought. It wasn't too far from the truth, really. Not that she would admit that to anyone.

 

The commute to work was short. Months of practice had taught her the exact window of opportunity she had open to get to her class in the minimal amount of time between bursts of traffic. Her routine was motivated by characteristic efficiency, not by a passion to get to the university.

 

It wasn't that she hated teaching. Far from it. Ritsuko found that teaching younger scientists was at least somewhat rewarding. But it wasn't what she felt she was meant to do.

 

Still, it paid the bills for now.

 

Parking her moped, Ritsuko took off her helmet and made her way to the university's Computer Science building along a shabbily landscaped walkway. Built in the late 1990s, it was the newest building on campus and, consequently, the nicest to work in. Ritsuko hated spending time in it. Someone was always bumbling into her basement office cubicle when she was trying to work. It's a wonder I even managed to finish one paper for publication!

 

So Ritsuko worked out of her apartment except when was contractually required by the university. It wouldn't get her any promotions but she wasn't under the delusion that they'd offer it to her anyways. Not with her surname. But today was different. Today was the day for classes.

 

Ritsuko entered the Computer Science building and made her way to the lecture hall.

 

She frowned at what she found.

 

There was a handwritten paper taped to the lecture hall's door stating that all of Ritsuko's classes for the day had been canceled. "What the hell?" She ripped it off and strode inside. "Damn it, Mohinder! I'm not in the mood for your gam-"

 

Ritsuko froze. There, drawing silly doodles on the chalkboard, was Misato Katsuragi. The raven-haired woman turned and made a big show of checking her wristwatch. "Hi. You're a little late," she said, tapping a perfectly manicured fingernail on the dial.

 

"How the hell did you get here ahead of me?"

 

"Trade secret."

 

She held up the sign, crumpling it in her anger. "You had NO RIGHT to do this! Do you know how much trouble I'm going to get into with the university because of you?!"

 

"I'd say I was sorry, but, really, why should I be?" The raven-haired woman shrugged. "Grading term papers, lecturing a bunch of stoned undergrads, hoping against hope that you can get published again in some crap journal that no one will ever read… that's all you want out of life?"

 

"But it's my life!" She thrust an accusatory finger at the other woman. "Who the hell are you to lecture me, anyways? You're just some asshole hardball corporate recruiter that doesn't know crap about the way the world really works!"

 

"Oh, I think you'd be surprised at what I know about the world."

 

"Really? Like what? How to give your boss good head for a pay raise?"

 

Misato's smile never faded. "My boss? She's happily married. She also heads the largest private research organization in the world. Want to work for her too?"

 

"No, I don't. I want to teach my classes, work on my second doctorate, and own my own research. In short, I want to be free, Miss Katsuragi."

 

"GEHIRN is very progressive on intellectual property rights. You'll also be working with some of the brightest minds in the world. You won't lack for funding for your research either. In fact, we expect you to indulge your creativity." Misato paused to finish drawing her latest doodle on the chalkboard, a little cartoon penguin. "Why else would we want someone of your caliber?"

 

Ritsuko frowned. "So, what, you're like Google for geneticist?"

 

"No." Misato scratched her chin. "We're what Google wants to be when its balls drop and girls start talking to it."

 

Ritsuko walked down the lecture hall's long staircase, her sandals making little smacking sounds on the worn wood. "Let's cut to the heart of the matter," she said cautiously, moseying up next to Katsuragi. "Your company wouldn't have you try this hard to recruit me unless they wanted me for something important. I don't care if you're Google, Bill Gates, or God Himself, you don't give someone like me a blank cheque no matter how good you think my papers are. So what is it?"

 

"It's very simple," said Misato, drawing a little crucifix. "GEHIRN wants you to build them a seventh-generational systematic super-computer."

 

"A MAGI? You're talking about a MAGI." Ritsuko laughed bitterly. "God, and here I thought for a minute you were sincere with all your bullshit. Go to hell."

 

Misato drew a little crown of thorns. "You can't do it?"

 

"Nobody can do it!" snapped Ritsuko, her temper flaring. "It's a pipe-dream! A mirage! My mother chased it for five years and ended up the new Fleischmann and Pons!"

 

Then Katsuragi dropped her bombshell. "We have a working prototype."

 

"What?"

 

"We have a working prototype."

 

"Bullshit. That's Nobel Prize work. Why haven't I heard about this in the media?"

 

"Like I said, we prefer to stay out of the limelight."

 

Ritsuko stared at the raven-haired woman for a long time before turning away with a sigh. Reaching into her purse, she retrieved her lighter and a pack of cigarettes. "Okay," she said, lighting up, "supposing for a moment that I believe what you're saying – I don't by the way – what does your company need me for? If you've built a working MAGI then you've one-upped my mother and every other geneticist and computer scientist on the planet worth a damn."

 

"Because we still can't make it think," explained Katsuragi, tossing aside the chalk she had been holding. She met Ritsuko's eyes. "I'm not a scientist. I'm a… well, a soldier of sorts. But from what a good friend of mine tells me – and this woman is in the know, trust me – our prototype isn't a true seventh-generational computer. We've dissected the original MAGI's blueprints, studied your mother's notes for insight, had the best minds in the world oversee the production… but it's lacking a certain something. We don't know what, exactly, but my boss says you're the only one who can solve our problem."

 

"You could be bullshitting me. I need to know more before I'd consider signing on."

 

Misato thumbed at a blue folder resting on Ritsuko's podium. "That's all I can give you without you signing an NDA."

 

She walked over and studied the folder's contents. Certain details were blanked out but the rest of it was familiar to her. She'd seen enough of her mother's private notes – the ones she'd never shown to anyone else – to conclude that the schematics in her hands were for a MAGI-class auxiliary CPU.

 

"This doesn't prove you built one, even an imperfect one."

 

Misato held up a red folder. Ritsuko blinked, wondering where the hell the raven-haired woman had pulled that from. "If you sign an NDA and a bunch of other boring forms, I can show you this one." She waved the folder, as if wafting the scent of its secrets over towards Ritsuko. "Maybe it's nothing, maybe it's the design for the MAGI's Core-2 wet neural interface."

 

"I see," said Ritsuko, trying desperately to keep her tone of voice flat even as shivers ran down her spine. "That would be interesting. If it were real."

 

The recruiter brought the red folder to her nose and took a decadent sniff. "Mmm."

 

"Maybe," said Ritsuko quietly, "we could meet for a few minutes."

 

Misato had the decency not to grin at her victory. "Well, you do have the day off now…"

 

 

 

################################################

 

 

A few hundred feet away a familiar young man stopped a teacher's assistant passing by in the courtyard. "Pardon me," he said in the best Bengali he could manage, "but can you tell me where I can find Ritsuko Akagi?"

 

"Professor Akagi? She's ov- Oh! There! Look!"

 

The young man turned and looked in the direction indicated by the teacher's assistant. Across the pavilion walked Ritsuko Akagi, looking much more pissed off than her file photos ever indicated. His joy at spotting his mark died as he flagged the woman at Akagi's side.

 

"Shit," he swore in Japanese. It had to be her of all people.

 

"That's odd," said the Indian girl.

 

"What's odd?"

 

"Professor Akagi is supposed to be teaching class right now. It's not at all like her to skip work."

 

The young man mumbled something dark under his breath. Fortunately the TA didn't understand Japanese. "Thank you," he told her, darting away before she had a chance to reply.