Three Goons in Eva: MISSIONS X-MAS

An omake by Jared Waddell

Disclaimer: This is fanfiction based on Neon Genesis Evangelion, and is produced STRICTLY NOT FOR PROFIT. This may be removed from circulation or deleted at the sole discretion of Gainix, Inc., and any copyright holder or licenser of work upon which this fiction is based.

Warning: This story is self-insert fanfiction of very low quality, and is non-canonical with regard to the parent story, known as both "Three Goons in Eva" and "Goonvangelion," depending on how much Tequila the authors have been imbibing of lately. Knowledge of prior work isn't necessary to enjoy this story (though that would presuppose that some portion of this in enjoyable in some way), but casual familiarity will at least blunt the epic stupidity strewn about this brief tale.

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INT.  GOONS' APARTMENT - AFTERNOON

The front door opens to admit TREE MAN, a half-chlorophyll abomination created by the unholy--oh, it's just Jared with a Christmas tree. John, looking up lazily, watches as Jared wrestles a huge, snow-tipped evergreen into the entrance area, leaning it against the wall. The goon is dressed in heavy winter clothing, and pauses to beat layers of snow and ice off his boots, pants, shoulders, hat, etc.

John takes in the display, frowning as a layer of fresh powder builds up on the doormat and promptly begins melting into slush. After Jared pulls off his gloves and checks his rosy nose and cheeks for feeling, he spies John and fixes a glare on the younger goon.

JARED: Nice. Just sit there and don't lift a fucking finger. Typical.

John sets aside the not inconsiderable stack of reports he has been reading, rises, and steps through the front door. Outside, it's cool, probably in the mid-seventies. He steps inside, a flicks a finger against the decorative thermometer hanging on the living room wall, but the LCD numbers under the word 'OUTSIDE' remain stubbornly reading 75 degrees Fahrenheit.

JARED: Could you be any more useless?

JOHN: I'm torn.

JARED: Damn, I can't hardly feel my toes. (stamping his feet) Say what?

JOHN: You don't have chains on your car, do you?

JARED: With my skillz? Not unless we get another six inches or so.

JOHN: Six inches of _what_?

Andy comes barreling into the room in a hideous white-and-red holiday sweater and freshly pressed blue Bermuda shorts.

ANDY: (spying the tree) Sweet! I'll get the stand. You got ornaments, right?

JARED: They're in the car. I'm just warming up.

JOHN: I'll go with you.

JARED: Why?

JOHN: 'Cause I gotta see this.

JARED: (shrugs) Suit yourself. Grab your coat and lend me a damn hand this time, okay?

EXT.  PARKING GARAGE - MOMENTS LATER

Jared stands at the trunk of his Chevelle, glaring at the two inch thick layer of ice encasing the latch and much of the rear half of the car. Loose snow is melting off the vehicle all over the place, but the ice will be here for a while. A pair of wet trails leave the tires and travel all the way to the street entrance.

Jared draws a fist back, his look calculating.

JARED: (striking) HA!

The ice shatters explosively on impact. John narrow ducks under a knock-out hit from a piece the size of a shoe box. Some nearby goober's car is not so lucky, and a chunk smashes through a side window, setting off the car alarm.

Jared appears oblivious, opening the trunk with the classic 'kid on Christmas day' expression on his face.

JARED: Oh yeah, baby... come to papa...

Which falls as the empty trunk is revealed.

JOHN: So... did you go up in the mountains and cut that tree yourself?

JARED: SON OF A BITCH!

JOHN: Look, I get that a lot but we need to focus here. This snow's--

JARED: Forget the damn snow! Someone broke into my car and stole our Christmas ornaments! I feel so violated...

JOHN: You had me at 'our.'

JARED: (British accent) To the city square!

EXT.  TOKYO-3 SHOPPING DISTRICT - MOMENTS LATER

The musical snarl of American iron fills the air, to the accompaniment of a chorus of screeching rubber. When the smoke carries a metric ton of carcinogenic compounds into the bento of some shoppers at a nearby fountain, the predatory curves of the massive Chevelle are revealed. John and Jared exit, Jared still in his winter gear despite the comfortably warm and slightly humid weather.

JARED: (donning a pair of arctic sunglasses) He must have broken in here.

JOHN: He must have.

JARED: He's long gone by now.

JOHN: Long gone.

JARED: But there's still a way to find him.

JOHN: Still a way.

Jared marches into the nearest store, and emerges a moment later, putting his arctic shades back on against the sun.

JOHN: Find out where he went?

JARED: Yep. We'll have to hurry.

The two get back in the car.

EXT.  MOUNTAIN PASS - MOMENTS LATER

The Chevelle comes to a stop after turning off the main road onto a tiny dirt path not nearly wide enough for a regular car, let alone the American monstrosity--

JARED: (shouting at the narrator) I drive a penis extension, we get it already!

...Okay. The car stops and the goons get out. Jared leaves his glasses off, peering at the dense woods. They follow the "road" a few dozen meters on foot and come to a halt at the edge of a massive cliff. Both look over the edge for a moment, then take a good dozen paces back. Without warning, a massive, gleaming chrome saucer rises from the valley before them. It pauses, almost, as it reaches level with them. Silhouetted in the doorway is a thickly set man in a bright red suit. An immense red sack is held over one shoulder. Some cardboard boxes sit on the floor? Deck? Next to him. He smirks at the goons and then a sound rings out through the goons. Quickly rolling their eyes back into their heads and sprouting blood from their ears. The fat 'man' in the red suit opens his dark maw, exposing row after row of razor sharp teeth, and speaks.

ALIEN: && -/]]]$ @#@#!!!

And the spaceship vanishes.

INT.  NERV HOSPITAL - HOURS LATER

Jared and John lay in hospital beds. They are dressed in their normal clothes, Jared in a black T-shirt and jeans, his winter gear piled up on one of the room's chairs. John looks mellow and contemplative. Jared has the air of a man who's master has just been unjustly murdered and his mind is locked on the subject of revenge...

Ritsuko walks in.

RITSUKO: And here I thought you weren't creative enough to be writers.

JOHN: Pardon?

RITSUKO: (holding up a folder) Your debrief. Very creative.

JOHN: It is?

RITSUKO: (looking at Jared) An alien dressed like Santa Claus stole your holiday haul and insulted you before leaving in his flying saucer.

JOHN: (sideways glare at Jared) Regardless of creative merit, that is what happened.

JARED: I don't know if he was insulting us. I don't know if it was a 'he' at all.

RITSUKO: Regardless, there is no log of radar or other detection means observing a launch of any spacecraft.

JOHN: The Disruptor doesn't interfere with that?

RITSUKO: No.

JARED: What am I gonna do?

RITSUKO: Buy some more decorations.

JARED: I don't want more decorations, I just wanted a nice Christmas. Is that too much to ask?

Ritsuko's expression hardens for a minute, strongly hinting that a vicious verbal blow is being readied to fire back at the goon. Yet Jared looks only a hairsbreadth from a corpse.

RITSKO: I'm not a councilor.

JARED: You didn't steal my ornaments anyway. Sorry for dumping on you. (gets up) C'mon, John.

John does so, giving Ritsuko a parting peck on the cheek. She smiles, but dumps a thick stack of paperwork into his hands anyway. Jared leaves the room without even glancing at his winter clothes.

JOHN: I'll call you later.

EXT.  TRAIN PLATFORM - ONE HOUR LATER

The two goons are leaving the platform when a street tough stops them by whipping out a knife.

TOUGH: Give me your mo--

Jared combo-juggles the poor tough for a moment, then lets the bloodied body hit the ground unceremoniously.

JOHN: Uh, dude? It is Christmas, you know. Even if I'm not really celebrating.

Jared shrugs and leaves the platform.

JOHN: Hey, we gotta get over here for a connection to get your car.

JARED: Don't care.

EXT.  OUTSIDE APARTMENT 723 - TWO HOURS LATER

Jared and John are returning as though from a quest. Jared looks like a Linkin Park fan. John looks like he's wondering about door number three.

JARED: (opening the door) I have half a mind to--

Drake Dresidere stands behind the door. Seven feet tall if he's an inch, and as wide and square as a refrigerator. Silver hair styled like a lion's mane mates with sideburns that are like a pair of paintbrushes taped to his cheeks. Midnight black priest robes accompanied by a purple cape with crimson piping. Tattoos indicating tears lead from his eyes to the corners of his mouth, each 'tear' one of the suits from a deck of playing cards. His white gloves are covered in numbers.

DRAKE DRESIDERE: SLEEP.

A pair of fists rushes at the stunned duo.

INT.  CASINO FROM HELL - UNKNOWN TIME

John awakes strapped to an immense roulette wheel pulled by a team of ponies. Jared is hanging upside-down from a trapeze swing, his expression murderous. The casino/circus is decorated in a hundred gaudy colors. Liquor flows like Niagara here, and the guests flow from table to table buffered by a willing, helpful, and artificially beautiful staff.

JOHN: Man, I have gotta get directions to _this_ place.

DRAKE DRESIDERE: THAT IS NOT NECESSARY.

JARED: Because I'm gonna level it in ten seconds.

DRAKE DRESIDERE: IN YOUR DREAMS.

JARED: Ten.

JOHN: Who are you?

JARED: Nine.

DRAKE DRESIDERE: MY NAME IS DRAKE DRESIDERE, AND I AM THE SOLE MASTER OF THIS CASINO.

JARED: Eight.

JOHN: I have to say I find the concept of a gambling priest villain a unique and disturbing one.

JARED: Seven.

DRAKE DRESIDERE: I HAVE BROUGHT YOU HERE BECUASE HE (points at Jared) OWES ME MONEY.

JARED: Six.

JOHN: And the house always wins?

JARED: Five.

DRAKE DRESIDERE: SOMETHING LIKE THAT.

JARED: Four.

JOHN: You wouldn't happen to be related to Bob, would you?

JARED: Three.

DRAKE DRESIDERE: NEVER HEARD OF HIM.

JARED: Two.

DRAKE DRESIDERE: I WOULDN'T FINISH THAT COUNTDOOWN IF I WERE YOU.

JARED: (standing behind Drake Dresidere) Well, you aren't.

Ignoring the ominous dark circles under Jared's eyes, now that they're under shadows deeper than something pretty deep but not that deep compared to something truly deep, Dresidere throws a punch at the goon. Before his fist whips through empty air, Jared is crouched over John, pulling off John's restraints. The pretty, scantily-clad girl driving the horses throws a flying kick at the crouched goon. Jared sidesteps the kick and gives her a push on one tit. The 'push' sends her flying with bullet speed at Dresidere as the massive man tries to mount the roulette wheel. Not that way, pervert.

Dresidere ducks the flying help, only to find himself in the path of a massive steel roulette ball. Easily the size of a beach ball, Dresidere has only time to kick the ball at Jared before his testicles are crushed. Jared catches the ball in the chest and goes flying, landing on the horse team. Startled, the horses speed up... to a hundred miles per hour.

JOHN: (hanging on for dear life) What the fuck did you do?!!

JARED: (ditto) I don't know!

JOHN: Well, make it stop!

Jared raises his hand for the killing blow.

JOHN: WITHOUT KILLING THE HORSES!

Jared frowns and angles his hand slightly before striking...

EXT.  OUTSIDE THE CASINO FROM HELL - TWO HOURS LATER

Stars sparkle in the sky as the Casino from Hell burns furiously in the background. John and Jared come running out of the blown-apart doors and dive for cover just as the whole building explodes in a massive fireball. John lifts his head up as wreckage drifts to the ground around them.

JOHN: You know, I haven't missed this.

JARED: Spoilsport. Andy would be doing a victory dance right about now.

JOHN: Andy's crazy.

JARED: QFT. Home?

JOHN: (offers up a hand that's punctured by bit of scrap metal) Maybe we can take a little detour?

INT. NERV HOSPITAL (AGAIN) - LATER

RITSUKO: (demon-head lecture mode) --means I can't believe this! Do I have to put you under lock and key to keep you safe? The Ki Disruptor was supposed to stop this kind of crap--

JARED: Dude, can we go now? My ears are going to start bleeding again.

JOHN: (checks his bandages) Yeah, I think we're good to go.

It takes a full ten minutes to calm down the doctor and hustle her into giving them a ride back to their apartment.

EXT.  OUTSIDE APARTMENT 724 - NIGHT

John, Jared and Ritsuko stand before the armored apartment door. Ritsuko is still fussing over John, who has but a small bandage on one hand. Jared is completely uninjured, though his clothes are torn a bit here and there. The major casualty is his crestfallen face. Robot-like and lifeless, he opens the door and steps inside.

CROWD: MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Jared stands in place, dumbfounded. Andy is still dressed in his Christmas sweater, offering the arrivals a plate of gingerbread chuthulu. The bridge crew is wearing a variety of red and green, beer in hand and already three sheets to the wind. Fuyutsuki is putting tinsel on the massive metal Christmas tree, which is laden with enough decorations to fill a fleet of delivery vans. The pilots wave from the dining area, engrossed in a card game.

JARED: (rubbing at his wet eyes) Damn dust storm.

John smirks.

JOHN: Merry Christmas dude.

JARED: (coming inside; takes a cookie) All right, all right. Where's the booze?

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Author's Notes: Well, we have to occasionally prove we're still alive, if for no other reason than to let people harvest some bets. Next episode when we're done, see ya in the new year!