No problem, I know the feeling.
We are past the half-way mark and Goddamn the turn out is small so far. I'm still holding out hope though, and perhaps I ought to get into this my damn self.
Moderator: Board Staff
Archaiel wrote:***Possible Rebuild Spoilers***
***Intertwined with my Eva for EvADC***
Name: Kaiten Layne Raenifv (Raenifv pronounced “Rai-niv” the f and v run together)
Height: 5’ 6”
Occupation: Genius, Triple Agent, Eva Pilot
Named after the Boshin War Era Warship “Kaiten” and the WW2 suicide torpedo. Roughly translates to “Turn of Heaven”. Raenifv came from a Korean graphic novel called “Demon Diary” albeit with alternate spelling (I believe..) and Layne was the first name of one of my favorite vocalists of all time; the late Layne Staley of “Alice In Chains”.
With shoulder length black hair, aqua blue eyes, and a relatively slim build Kaiten is very much a femme fatale. Most assume him to be female due to his good looks and feminine features, but alas, Kaiten is male. :]
Kaiten Layne Raenifv donning his plugsuit
Kaiten is one of those (how do I say this).... space-cases. He quite often zones out of reality leaving a deadpan look on his face which tends to disturb anyone around him. It isn’t anything like an attention deficit disorder or anything but more like a bored out of his mind problem as Kaiten is incredibly intelligent. In addition he also has what some call an “old” soul or in other terms his life experiences have given him the ability to see things differently; sees the greater scope of all around him. He tends to give off a clairvoyant vibe much like Kaworu. On to the darker things....
As everyone in the world of Eva is %$#@ed up, Kaiten is no different. When he bares witness to violence his spacey self becomes the ice cold image of pure hate and aggression, though all the while showing no emotion or apprehension. A witness once described Kaiten while violent, “..as if Lucifer had arisen from his frozen, desolate prison taking Kaiten as his conduit to unleash wrath upon the world.”
Born in Europe to a loving middle class family. At a young age he was exposed to an excess of science, math, physics and technology since his parents were both Professors. Overrun with the high demand of work in their fields, regrettably Kaitens parents could not give their son the attention he desired and often had fallen asleep at their desks, waking up to find Kaiten sound asleep on the floor under the desks. It goes without saying that the parents were touched. As he got a little older the trend had changed; his parents woke up to the sound of a busy pencil and Kaiten attempting the work for them! “”LIGHTBULB!”” After seeing their sons curiosity (and smitten by his devotion to them), his parents had decided to merge their work and spending time with Kaiten.
By the time Kaiten was 8, his parents had showed and explained to him everything they knew completely unaware of the recovery time for strained jaw muscles when their son demonstrated that he understood it all perfectly. Now happier than ever the three were always together whether it be on a job, in a diner, on a boat (ha ha), well you get the point. Colleagues of the parents soon became aware of their “genius” son and spread the word until the people of the UN and SEELE caught wind of the news; they immediately sent agents to recruit Kaiten.
By this time Kaiten was 12, had received several college degrees and was working with his parents. Much to the dismay of the UN he had continuously declined the job offers, insisting that his work with his family was of more importance than a job shrouded in secrecy pompously claiming to be for the future of humanity. The next week, everything changed.
Current day.... Year 2015
Kaiten -“I can’t recall what happened next....” (sitting on a park bench looking down and away from the man standing before him)
???? -”Your eyes say differently” (Standing next to the bench, dragging on a cigarette)
Kaiten -”What would you know! You’re nothing but a ghost stalking the shadows where ever you go! No one trusts you!”
???? -”Ouch! That hurts! [laughs] I can’t say I disagree with you though. All I want is the truth, same as you. Being a ghost has it’s advantages, for instance you don’t need to tell me anything, I already know all about you. Otherwise I wouldn’t have gone out of my way to find you.”
Kaiten -”... then say it..”
???? -”Your father died protecting you from armed assailants in an alley after your mother was shot doing the same. The assailants assumed they had gotten you when they gunned down your father since you were drenched in blood and with no one around, proceeded to escape. You stayed on the ground, frozen from shock and fear” (stops to look at Kaitens reaction)
Kaiten -”...continue..” (leaning forward so his hair hid his face)
???? -”A moan spilled from your mothers mouth breaking the silence. Immediately calling for help on your phone you managed to save the life of your mother. Recovering from her injuries left her unable to work and had to rely on you for support. Soon after you received another offer from the UN. They offered to transfer your mother to a state of the art hospital, pay for the medical expenses, pay for your fathers funeral, give you a permanent residence on base, and anything you needed for research. Knowing only a fool would refuse this offer, you accepted.” (somehow still on the same cigarette)
Kaiten -”And here I am almost three years later, a lapdog for SEELE.” (lets out a listless sigh) “I underestimated you Kaji.”
Kaji -” [laughs] Then the feeling is mutual!” (Flicks his cigarette butt, sits down on the bench, and leans back) “I’ve heard about all you’ve accomplished, but I’ve got to say, it frightens me to think what SEELE might do with your work. You better have something up your sleeve kid.”
Kaiten -”They don’t even know what I can do. As we speak my crown jewel slumbers, awaiting my call from it’s frozen prison.” (A devilish smirk emerges from a blank expression)
Kaji -”Frozen... ah! Then I hope you’ll use it against them. You know, it was SEELE who...”
Kaiten -”I know. They vastly underestimated my capabilities. I’m biding my time, keeping my wrath contained. I don't know if I can come back to my senses once I let it out. Soon though, they will greet ‘The Morning Star’...”
Kaji -”It’s settled then.” (gets up) “I’m headed to the NERV Bethany base in the coming months, but until then I’ll be on another job and out of touch. When the time comes can I count on you to act?”
Kaiten -”I’m being sent to Bethany next week to supervise the progress of the studies concerning the Third Angel, so I’ll most likely be waiting on you and Mari. Until then...”
Kaji -”..Don’t get caught” (Both depart)
Project Evangelion Developmental Scientist
-Acquired degrees in Science, Biology, Physics, Math, and Metaphysical Biology
-Responsible for the new construction method used for Mark.06
Kaitens’ goals are first and foremost to stop both NERV and SEELE from initiating the Third Impact. In his eyes SEELE is nothing more than a religious cult who want to be gods all the while taking everyone else's lives as well, they are solely responsible for the Second Impact and every tragedy occurring afterwards. His own words:
“SEELE, a cult of wretched old men, pleading to be saved from their harsh lives of wealth. [laughs] Pathetic! They rule this world yet they still whine! Their old bones need to break into the ground, and red rivers will flow from their corpses.”
Needless to say he also wants to, um, yeah, that quote bout sums it up.
Holy Diver wrote:General Data:
Full Name/Nickname: Abdul-Aziz
Measurements: 5ft 10in, 132 lbs.
Occupation/Rank: Commander of the “Abna' alzlam” terrorist faction.
References/Name Origin: The name “Abdul-Aziz” is a common male, Arabic surname. It means, Servant of the Almighty. The name of the terrorist organization that he commanded “Abna' alzlam” is (probably poorly translated) Arabic for “The Sons of Darkness”, a reference to a Dead Sea Scroll about the final battle between good and evil.
Physical Description: Abdul-Aziz was a man of moderate height. His skin was of an olive hue. He rarely ever ate much, giving him a malnourished look. Simple looking white robes were all that he wore for clothing.
Personality: Abdul originally lived a life of debauchery and carelessness. After the death of his family and the time he spent in the cave, his personality changed dramatically. He was haunted by two demons. First was the memory of the cruelty his family faced at the hands of Seele’s UN thugs and a desire for revenge. Second, his mind was under the omnipresent influence of Belial. This influence put him under extreme duress and it warped his personality. He was also a charismatic speaker and had a very persuasive way of expressing his ideas.
Background History: Abdul-Aziz was born in Saudi Arabia in 1980. He was the child of a wealthy oil producer with connections to the Royal House of Saud. The first twenty-one years of his life were easy, as he enjoyed all of the benefits of being born into privilege. His youthful days were mostly spent partying, with naught a care in the world. However, his easy life would come to a crashing end in 2001 with the devastation brought on by Second Impact.
The period of intense warfare following that crisis, along with social, economic, and environmental upheaval meant that several important resources were now in short supply. Chief among these was oil. The heightened demand for oil meant that Saudi Arabia emerged from the chaos of Second Impact virtually unscathed. Many Saudi oil producers, including Abdul-Aziz’s father, made a tidy profit from the energy requirements of a world in crisis. However, such good fortune would not last long. The rest of the world grew increasingly frustrated at the blatant war profiteering of the Saudi regime. It had also been rumored that Saudi oil producers were even funding terrorist raids on foreign oil fields to ensure that Saudi Arabia had a firm monopoly on oil production. Even after the signing of the Valentine Treaty that ended the bloodshed, the Saudis refused to lower their prices to antebellum standards. They held the world virtually at gunpoint.
This crisis attracted the attention of the Seele organization. Seele, needed some semblance of economic revival to further their plans. The Saudi monopoly was hindering growth and needed to be dealt with harshly. In November 2001, the newly reorganized and militarized UN launched a massive invasion of Saudi Arabia. The invasion was Seele’s plan to deal with the crisis at hand, and to show the world the cost of standing in the way of mankind’s progress.
The UN’s invasion was swift and terrible. All Saudi resistance was crushed within a month. All of Saudi Arabia was in flames, except for Mecca, which was spared to keep the rest of the world’s Muslim population happy. The heads of the Royal House of Saud were summarily executed. All oil fields were distributed to corporations more friendly to Seele’s interests and prices went down all across the globe. The decadent mansions of the old oil producers were smashed into pieces. Abdul’s father’s mansion was among those that were destroyed by rapacious UN soldiers. Abdul saw his father and mother slain, his possessions looted, and his old life burned down to the ground. He managed to save himself from sharing his family’s fate by escaping in one of the many cars he was fond of collecting. He drove off into the desert, with all of the money that he could take from his father’s secret vault, attempting to put as many miles as he could between himself and the horrors he had seen. And that was the last that the last time he was seen for a decade.
After the successful and brutal invasion of Saudi Arabia, life for most of the world went on as it always does. Seele began its final steps to achieving instrumentality. During this time Gehirn began the construction of the Evangelions. In 2010, that organization was replaced by Nerv. For many the chaos began immediately after that.
That same year, on one September afternoon, a mysterious transmission was broadcast by several major international news networks and on big screens in major metropolitan areas across the globe. The broadcast showed an underweight man, clad in white robes sitting at a conference table between two guards clad in black and wielding AK-47s. One of the guards introduced the man in white as Abdul-Aziz, Supreme Holy Commander of “Abna' alzlam”, the Sons of Darkness. Abdul then gave a message to “humanity’s true leaders”. He warned them that what they were planning was a sin against the natural order. He gave them a demand, within 24 hours; they were to end the production of the Evangelion series and to expose themselves, so that they may be punished for their crimes against God. He ended his speech with a quote from the Koran, “Wherever you are, death will find you out, even if you are in towers built up high.”
The next 24 hours came and went. People went about their lives as usual. The media wrote Abdul off as a madman and claimed his organization was no real threat. Federal governments worked to suppress information about Abdul and Abna’ alzlam. Seele, the organization that Abdul was referencing, gave no heed to his demands and carried on their business. Suddenly, reports started flowing in all over the news networks. The UN headquarters in Tokyo-2, along with several government buildings Berlin, Moscow, Washington D.C, New Delhi, and other cities were bombed. The total death toll from the explosions reached was approximately 3000 plus countless injured. One hour after the explosions, Abdul made broadcast a statement claiming responsibility for the attack. He claimed that more blood would be shed if his demands were not met.
Ten years before Abdul and his organization made their explosive entrance into the public eye, Abdul went into self-imposed exile. He fled west in his car from the burning wreck of his family mansion. He drove for miles and miles into the desert, only stopping to get gasoline to fuel his retreat. As he drove further west, a voice reached out into Abdul’s mind that seemed to call out to him. Eventually, he reached the Sinai Peninsula where the voice only seemed to grow stronger. He soon came upon a series of caves. He got out of his car and made his way down into the caverns. He wandered within them for hours until he came upon the central cavern and saw a strange figure sitting within it. It was a pyramid-like shape that seemed to be constructed out of blue glass. Above the pyramid sat a gleaming red eye. Abdul looked into the eye and it looked back at him. As soon as eye contact was made, the creature poured all of its energies into the mind of the man before him.
Abdul screamed as he felt the being poke and prod every dark recess of his mind. The wounds inflicted by the terror of seeing his home burn and his family die were made fresh as the creature searched through Abdul’s worst memories. Yet, the fear and sorrow he felt was quickly replaced by anger and hatred. The mental probe lasted only a second, yet it felt like a lifetime to Abdul. An ethereal voice belonging to the pyramid reached out to him. It introduced itself as Belial, an angel sent by God to complete a sacred mission. Belial told Abdul about a secretive cabal of men who sought to become gods themselves through the construction of giants called “Evangelions”. Abdul was told that the attack on his family was a result of the manipulations of this shadowy organization. Belial then offered Abdul a chance to avenge the murder of his family. He was instructed to form a new faction to oppose the actions of the cabal and to bring God’s justice upon them. Abdul was told that it didn’t matter how many innocent souls had to be sacrificed to achieve his goal, as God would sort them out.
Abdul, now under the constant influence of Belial set about to accomplish the goals set out to him. He began to recruit members to his organization from nearby towns. All new recruits were sent down into the tunnels where they faced Belial. After they returned, they were but shadows of their former selves. They only cared about the “sacred” mission that they were given. Abdul contacted the owner of a Saudi construction firm to help build a compound overtop Belial’s cave network. The owner was a friend of Abdul’s father and he arranged for the compound to be built in the utmost secrecy. He used the money that he had taken from his father’s vaults to pay for supplies, weapons, explosives, and equipment. By 2010, Abdul had his own fortress in the desert and at least a thousand brainwashed agents at his call.
After he unleashed his first wave of terror, Abdul launched a second attack in 2012. This time, the intended targets were Nerv facilities. However, the location of most Nerv bases were kept confidential, and even Abna' alzlam could not uncover where all of them were located. They managed to attack Nerv locations in Berlin and Massachusetts. Fortunately, the damage to these facilities was minimal. However, this attack attracted the attention of Seele. They didn’t see much of a threat in Abna’ alzlam directly, yet they feared that continued acts of terrorism and civilian casualties would attract more attention. They considered it to be prudent to destroy Abdul and his terrorists before they became too much of a problem.
For the next three years, Seele and Abna’ alzlam agents waged a war against each other away from the public eye. Both organizations did their best to try and frustrate the attempts of the other. But Seele, with its nearly infinite resources, always had the upper hand. Eventually, Seele uncovered the location of Abdul’s base in late 2015. A United Nations force was sent to the Sinai Peninsula to the compound and kill all inside of it.
The UN detachment attempted to assault the compound, only to find that it was heavily fortified, and defended by absolute fanatics. It was a bloody siege, with casualties high on both sides. During the fight, Abdul stood out onto the balcony in his personal quarters and looked onto the battle below. His mind flashed back to the night when his family mansion was stormed as he saw all that he had built in the past ten years come crashing down around him. Belial’s ethereal voice, Abdul’s constant companion and master for a decade, screamed in his mind…
“What about your mission? What about revenge? Go onward, fight, kill, their lives mean nothing.”
It was all too much for Abdul to take, in desperation; he flung himself from the balcony and fell to his death.
Career / Achievements / Goals: Abdul sat at the head of one of the most bloody and destructive terrorist organizations in the 21st century. His stated goals were to end the Evangelion project and to bring those who sought to become god to justice. To that end, his “Sons of Darkness” engaged in devastating acts of brutality and sabotage across the globe.
Involvement in NGE: Ultimately, Abdul-Aziz had little impact on the world. Although his terrorists left thousands of bodies in their wake, their plans all failed. The production of the Evangelions was completed and Instrumentality was (temporarily) achieved.
Fate: Abdul-Aziz ultimately succumbed to wounds from his fall and died in his compound alone, his plans unfulfilled. Yet, in death, he found peace. His tortured soul was now eternally free from Belial’s all-pervasive influence.
Chowwow wrote:What? No comments? Come now, speak the hell up! The author should note that his Character is intimately related to the story of his Angel Design in the EvADC and this profile contains information which requires context in his other entry. As soon as his Angel is posted, I will link them together.
tehprognoob wrote:Vlore Chani
Height: 178 centimeters
Nationality: Eastern European (Albanian)
Occupation: Backup/Test Pilot
The daughter of a family of Nerv-Berlin researchers, Vlore was living with her father in Albania, her mother in Berlin working, when the ever growing mafia invaded their neighborhood. On the eve of their planned departure to Germany, their home was raided, her father killed, and Vlore snatched away to be sold on the black market. As was the case with many missing children, male and female, the tattered remains of the government was unable to find her, and she joined the ranks of the exploited. She was sold to an illegal brothel, and was trapped there for two years, until Nerv found that the newly refitted Unit 05 needed a human pilot, and Vlore’s mother had been the one to initiate Contact with the Eva. It should be noted that the elder Chani had meant to have one of her assistants perform Contact, but had subsequently learned of her daughter’s fate. The assistant was called away and the woman performed Contact on herself for unknown reasons. As a result, Nerv was forced to track Vlore down, surreptitiously purchase her from the owner of the brothel, and take her back to the base as a viable pilot. She operated Unit 05 until an unexpected attack on Berlin by a rogue Angel, when she was killed in battle. The Angel was not destroyed, but was damaged to the point where it crash landed and was eliminated by ground teams.
Vlore is a very quiet person. Obviously, she was traumatized by her two years as an enslaved child prostitute, but remains strong at heart. She is distant from most people, especially men, but able enough at socializing that she is seen as merely shy and not completely withdrawn. She does make a few friends eventually and molds well into social life. She became especially attached with the agent that takes care of her, known only by the codename “Leo.” It is uncertain whether the friendship extended to anything other than friendship and some semblance of parenthood. Leo died getting her to her Eva during the attack, an occurrence that may have driven her over the edge and into the berserk behaviors observed in her attacks. She never met the other Eva pilots; the Mass Production project was purposely kept separate from Gendo Ikari’s influence by the Human Instrumentality Council. All her data was erased after her death.
The despicable ceiling, with its fake chandelier, crusty roofing, and the dim, yellow light from corroded bulbs
She hated it so much as the sickly glow revealed her sweaty body…and the puffing old man on top of her.
Thirty minutes until the end of his time.
He was fat, balding and near the end of his strength. A local drug dealer, he was one of the many men who made regular visits to her whenever they had a cent of money to spend. Scoundrels, they are. All of them, taking aid money from their families to swamp their minds with drink and buy a cheap blowjob from some crusty, dying whore, often no more than seventeen or eighteen years old, yet already aging and filled with all sorts of illnesses. The girl on the bed knows that she already has a foot down that path. The persistently burning lesions inside her were proof of that. The old man didn’t seem to mind; in fact, he was enjoying himself as much as he had on his first time with her, and had been for two long years. A regular customer with plenty of cash, he made sure to book her whenever he was in town. She was already getting cheap, a girl falling into the death lane, having caught some strange diseases from the many clients that used no form of protection—all of the girls at this establishment had their tubes sealed forcibly by a corrupt local doctor. Vlore was resigned to her fate already; there was nothing to live for. Perhaps she might buy herself out of the whorehouse if she earned enough tips, but the moment she stepped outside, she was at the mercy of every kind of gang with an interest in women. There was no escape. She’ll just go to the bar, order everything she can eat, and then throw herself off of the house’s seventh floor balcony. Plenty of girls did that. It was better than having to walk the police-free streets after one got too dirty to use in the house. Every day, somebody doesn’t come back. The men in charge didn’t care. Poor men from all over sold their daughters to survive, while others, like Vlore, were snatched off the streets. Girls were easy to come by, so the men didn’t care.
The old man was finished. He moaned, belched and sat up, scratching his back.
“Another good twenty minutes, eh?” he said cheerily. “I’m too old for this crap. Let me take a break.”
He sat on Vlore’s chest and shoved himself into her mouth.
“Go on; you’re not resting.”
Any more of this, and she’d get those lesions in her mouth, too, she thought. But a whore doesn’t complain. That was the policy of the house.
The old man’s stamina was impressive for his old age. Far younger men have tired themselves quicker. Vlore strained at the felt bonds holding her arms and legs apart and onto the bedposts. They held tight. She was to cause no problems for a customer with a good reputation who’s paid in advance already.
The clock chimed its blessed tone, and the old man, having finished his last bout in her ass, groaned in disappointment.
“Arms,” she said simply. He had released her legs to get at her bottom. Grumpily, he tore them off.
“I neva’ git enough time wit’cha, hon’,” he said with regret. “But you’re getting too dirty to play with already.”
He smiled maliciously.
“But your face is still pretty, don’t you think?”
“Time’s up, sir. I hope you enjoyed your stay,” she said mechanically. He threw up his arms in a hopeless gesture and marched into the guest shower. She slipped out of the bed and into the cloistered and badly equipped “employees” bathroom, where, to the best of her ability, she scrubbed any hint of him from herself. She was crying, she found. Crying for the family she’d lost in a raid on their home and meager fields. Her mother had already died, and her father was shot on sight. The twelve-year old girl was dragged here. That was two years ago. Most stopped caring about anything by now. She wanted to hold on to a sliver of hope, the reason why she hadn’t jumped yet.
It was the slow season, without too many customers. She could have a day mostly off at the bar, resting while waiting for the few men that straggled in from time to time. With disgust, she put on the tiny bra and miniskirt that was allowed for her, and walked downstairs, naturally compensating for the improbably high heels she wore.
“Vlore,” her manager called her. She hated this man, too. He was the one who bought her off the black market, took her innocence and sent her to the doctor, often beating the girls in his charge in a drunken rage.
“God damn it, bitch, I’m talking to you!”
“What do you want?!”
He grabbed her by the hair and threw her against the wall.
“Fucking bitch, know your damn place!” he whispered into her ear, and then threw her back. She tottered on the six-inch heels and fell with a squeal.
“Get up. You got a customer.”
“I just had one”
“This one’s buying you”
Before she could utter a protest, the manager had pulled her to her feet, and carrying her head under his arm, dragged her into the room used to make sales. Vlore felt her whole world spinning. There would be no release, if she was sold to some gang with a taste for screams. She wouldn’t even get a chance to commit suicide.
The door opened, and she was unceremoniously propelled in. Inside, to her surprise, was a man in a dark suit. He was sitting bolt upright on the small couch inside, looking either uncomfortable or simply bored.
“Is this the girl,” he said in a rumbling, deep voice.
“Yes, it is,” the manager beamed. “She’s good, and still young. Just four-uh-eighteen years old, nice and tight…Go! Show our patron how much you want it! Get naked!”
He undid the bra and skirt in a flash. They fell to her feet. Hooking a finger into her panties, he tore those off, too, and pushed her at the man. She barely cleared the pile of clothes, still managed to trip, and plunged into the man’s lap. His hands shot up with lightning speed and caught her. His face was as blank as always.
“I see,” he said simply. He took out a photo and compared her with it.
“I need a blood sample,” he said, holding up a small disposable syringe. “May I?” He addressed it to her, not once looking at the manager.
“Ah, I…yea,” she said, perplexed. He took out a swab, dabbed her arm with professional speed, and jabbed the needle in seamlessly. 15 CCs ran out, and he slipped the needle out under a piece of cotton. He covered the tiny puncture with a Band-Aid.
“Thank you,” he said. “I will pay you the appropriate price for her in two days, if the results are positive. Meanwhile, please keep her from any sexual activity that put her health further at risk.”
He got up and escorted her—he took her arm as if she was a respectable lady—back to the manager, who beamed with a greedy grin.
“We will wait, sir,” he crowed. “Take your time—”
The man was gone.
“Five thousand American dollars for your dirty little cunt, Vlore,” he sneered. “You must’ve made some customer real happy. Now get out! Back to your room; you got a few days off.” He slapped her hard. “Git!”
Burning with humiliation, Vlore hurried through the bar, stumbling as she ran up the stairs with the few haggard men in the room looking appreciatively at her. The next few days passed in a troubled blur as she caught up with sleep that was occasionally perturbed by nightmares, where the man came back and where the man did not. Two days passed. He did come back. Without a word, he gave her a well-tailored, gray suit with a business skirt, and a large bag into which she loaded her few belongings. With the same blank face, he tossed her manager an envelope of money, took her into a black van, and drove off. Vlore strained in the strange suit, not having had anything decent to wear for a while. It was cut almost perfectly, and was comfortable enough. She was a little scared, but didn’t feel as tense around him than before.
“Ms. Chani,” he said.
He handed her a thick booklet and a sheaf of paper filled with blackened out lines. The booklet was marked “Nerv. For your Eyes Only”
“This is an information packet for you. I will now be your guardian; you will know me as ‘Leo,’” he said coolly.
“What’s Nerv?” she asked.
“The organization that has paid for you; you will be working for them now. I am from Nerv’s Section 2, responsible for security and intelligence.”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“I’m not allowed to disclose that. You will be informed upon your arrival in the Berlin base. In the meantime, read the handbook. It has been printed in your language.”
“I speak English,” she said coldly.
She still didn’t know this man, didn’t even know what to call him past the obvious codename. Yet, she could tell that by some stroke of divine intervention, she had been saved. Nerv didn’t seem like the kind of people she’s used to work for. Not on paper, at least, and if they were, why would they bother with her?
The sliver of hope had blossomed, she thought with an achingly foreign happiness. The balcony will have to wait.
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