First of my PCA/Evangelion spinoff. A slow intro, but expect this so I can introduce the few main characters.

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1
את יצרנית אש

It now became apparent to her that the old chalice was gone. She knew it wasn't her fault; her job wasn't on the line, let alone her life, to protect every single artifact for old man Vecchio. But even the thought of having a sanctuary violated by some hateful soul made her break out in a cold sweat beneath her thickly wrapped bunting.
Lavender did a thorough check of the rest of the store to ensure there was no other items missing, or any more store property damaged. Though she did see a few of the older (and widely more mysterious-in-origin) valuables out of place on their shelf space, nothing but the brass chalice was removed. She went to the untouched cash register at the front of the desk, and made herself comfortable on the stool to await the officers that should be coming in any minute. The eccentrically dressed Rattata held her bandaged face in her bound hands, leaning on the counter top as she took in the entire situation.
It made sense how they got in. Using some kind of Fire-type move, or some form of welding equipment, they literally melted out the lock and doorknob of the back door near the small offloading ramp (the force that was necessary to unlock the door in such a manner most likely ruled out the blowtorch theory).
The why was technically obviously; to get that ancient brass basin-like cup for a five-digit discount. But why only that, and nothing else that could be far more valuable and easier to conceal? By the rest of the evidence, the person in question must have been thinking of something else to take with them, but opted instead to stick with their apparent plan.
But as she patiently thought, it didn't seem all that odd that such a unique and mystifying object was the target of greedy desires. Every teen that came into the store on an off chance of finding something cheap and hip to have in their dorm seemed to find their way towards the intricate carvings and gray-green sheen in the antiquated brass. Even if one were to read the Unown that rounded its sides carefully, the dialect it was scribed made little sense. Vecchio spent some time in his study examining it (much like he does with all the museum-piece artifacts he receives from his business connections). The wizened and slightly buzzed Kadabra finally came to the conclusion that it originates from an area near ancient Canaan in the 8th Century (this was a neat surprise, but her Abra coworker and herself had seen older), and the small amount of the inscription that he could decipher dealt in religious rites of some sort.
“Something dealing with uhh... starts of life, or-a something” He had said, with a slightly perplexed air in his demeanor.
She had gotten her chance to handle it while rearranging shelves. Even through her bandages, she felt the oddest sensation from the cold metal. It definitely had an Aura about itself, an energy that radiated a patient, almost confident emotion. As if it was waiting to serve a purpose only it knew about; a mission where it would soon rise to the call and play its part.

It wasn't evil or Dark, but the thought of not understanding what this feeling meant left her troubled for most of that day.

And now that feeling rose again to meet her disappointment of not having a Saturday morning to enjoy to her new book, dealing in ancient Kanto/Jonto, while waiting for the infrequent window shoppers to come by. Once the police and Vecchio arrived, they could observe the security tapes in his office, collect the evidence, clean up the mess, and figure out how much this loss will set the store back. Maybe there will be some way to recognize the culprit, but what good would it do if he got around to doing whatever he intended to do with it?
Then again, she doubted if it could be sold, given that Vecchio could barely appraise it due to its vague origin and purpose, and only slapped a convenient price on it (low for his standards, high for everyone else's) to get it sold. Perhaps it was its true purpose that it was taken to serve...
A faded colored Volga quietly rattled its way into the alley behind the store. Vecchio didn't seem too alarmed; apparently calmed by Lavender's earlier call concerning the only item stolen. He'll probably be grumpy in proportion to however much he had paid off the antique market for the chalice to begin with. But she was used to such bouts of frustration on his part, especially since they never seem directed at her and her coworker (they had proven their competence with his line of work well enough to be trusted). Maybe he'll be in a better mood when this is all done and in the past. Even more if she could get him to listen to the possibilities of investing in more Platistic décor that was becoming much more common recently.




http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bYNESJgzEM8&feature=related

She left it under the far bench, closest to the wall of the station platform and back from slanting light from the raising sun. The station was modestly busy with the flow of weekend passengers coming and going from the coast and country to enjoy Indian Summer. No one would notice the shabby backpack left in the dark corner for some time. And by then, the other Associate in her sect would have already moved it on its way towards the Administration.
It was all coming true. The Magmar, cloaked in a olive drab shawl, hood concealing her head and face, flicked her fiery tale with giggle and a hidden smile. Soon, her and the several dozen other Associates around the country (no, around the globe) will have delivered their relics to their designated points of extraction. She knew that others would have had quite a bit more a challenge than she had getting that cup from that old people's junk store, but she knew their acquisitions would lead to the opportunity the entire Movement desired. Her part, however small, was of utmost importance to future of the organization.

No, she thought to herself with pride and devotion, the future of this world depends on us.

The little literature she clandestinely received on the origins of her superiors told her enough. The time has passed of mass persecutions and public ignorance, and it was time for those who know the Truth to ask. This Truth, though never stated in her information, nor uttered by her Superior, seemed important enough for so many intelligent people to have died never denouncing it. Even as of late, a co-Associate and new friend of her's, a shy Chinchou with a knack for keeping secrets, had mysteriously taken leave for school, and has not been seen for two weeks. She was taken, that's for sure.
But there was no turning back. Everything in her life meant nothing except for the crusade towards the Truth. Her old friends, her studies, the lies they taught in the schools and academies. Nothing mattered but that she did what she was told. In another ten minutes, far away from the station, she would make the call to her Superior, a dutiful woman Nuzleaf who only went by the name Gehirn, to tell her that the package was on its way.
She walked quietly and unnoticed down the street, her shadow long and cold in the raising sun. Her flame burning confidently and the grin on her beak cool and serene with adolescent pride.

Above the starry-sky judges God, the way we judged.

Already, the space was vacant under the corner bench.