It was one of those rare quiet evenings at my apartment. For once, no alarms blaring, no desperate shouts over the comms, no Angels threatening to turn Tokyo-3 into a crater. Just me, a half-empty six-pack of Yebisu, and some cheesy variety show on the TV. Perfect. The show wasn’t even that funny, some over-the-top slapstick comedy but after the week I’d had, I’d laugh at anything.

The room smelled faintly of curry from dinner. Okay, maybe “dinner” is a strong word for whatever that instant monstrosity was, but it did the job. Pen Pen had already retired for the night, tucked away in his custom fridge. I envied him. Penguins had it easy. I reached for another beer when I heard it, a knock at the door. Not the buzzer, which was strange. Who even knocks anymore? Maybe someone from NERV? Ugh, no way. I wasn’t in the mood for surprise paperwork. Another knock. Firmer this time.

“Hold your horses, I’m coming!” I called out, setting my beer on the table and dragging myself off the couch.