Disclaimer: Gunslinger Girl is the brainchild of Yu Aida. The theory presented in this story is entirely of my own devising, and was first posted in a thread at Cyborg Central - the definitive Gunslinger Girl forum, a visit to which I highly recommend. Special thanks go out to 3klicks for contributing to the plot, namely by inspiring this story's second and final scene. Constructive criticism is most welcome and deeply appreciated!
WHAT'S IN A NAME
Jean Croce and Chief Lorenzo stood impassively behind the window that overlooked the Social Welfare Agency hospital's main operating theatre. Before them, a little blond girl of eleven lay unconscious upon a steel table. Around her milled Doctor Bianchi, Doctor Gilliani and a veritable army of surgeons, feverishly working on the child's frail body. Fluid bubbled ominously through intravenous tubes and razor-sharp surgical instruments rose and fell with relentless precision as they subjected her to a host of nightmarish procedures that melded machine and flesh.
It may not have been immediately apparent, but a great many aspects of science and warfare were, in point of fact, being rendered obsolete within this room, even as the operation unfolded. Here was an awesome weapon in the making – a fearsome, futuristic fighting force unlike any the world had ever seen.
"Are you certain that this is the one you want?" asked Lorenzo of his lieutenant after a time.
Jean's mouth set in a hard line. "That I am, sir," he replied quietly, a steely look of determination in his piercing brown eyes.
"You'll be giving her a new name – having her keep her old one is entirely out of the question," said Lorenzo matter-of-factly as he turned to leave. "I'll give you time to decide."
Jean's mind momentarily wandered to a stint he had served as an attaché with the Federal Bureau of Investigation, one on which he had learned of the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations act – a federal act providing for extended penalties for criminal acts performed as part of a criminal organization. An ordance that had been instrumental in taking down numerous illicit groups, including those akin to the terrorists that had so cruelly taken the lives of his sister, Enrika and his fiancee, Sophia... a law that suited his dark, driven agenda perfectly.
"There won't be any need, sir," said Jean, surprising his commanding officer. "I already have one in mind."
666
Jean deftly stuck out his foot, tripping up the last surviving illegal arms dealer and pumping three shots from his Beretta into the luckless crook's back before he hit the floor. Around the gunpowder-reeking and weapon-strewn warehouse lay the variously mangled, bloodied and bullet-riddled bodies of the mortally-wounded man's twelve comrades, and amid the carnage walked the slight figure of a young child, toting a still-smoking Israeli Military Industries Galil MAR and securing the missile guidance system that her victims had stolen from a military depot five hours ago.
This was none other than the same girl we encountered earlier, her cybernetic re-modification and conditioning leaving her no older than she had been prior to being altered. An innocent, formerly disabled, bedridden and unwanted youngster turned superhuman, bulletproof killing machine – Jean's protégée of four months and counting... a girl totally dedicated to her deadly career as a black-ops soldier, completely oblivious to her tragic past, and now known only as Rico.
"Tragic irony or poetic justice?" the former Carabinieri officer mused coldly, grinding his heel into the dying terrorist's upturned face. "You tell me."
FIN