Well now, a new fanfic. This is my first attempt at writing for Gunslinger Girl, but I very much like the anime and my head was full of ideas so I thought I'd get some down. A quick note, this is based on the first series of the anime.
And another note on names. I know that there are different spellings out there, but I'm going to use the versions that I'm most comfotable with (the ones I saw first), so I will be using Hilscher and Jose. I know some people prefer Giuse and the manga readers prefer Giuseppe, and if that's the case simply read your preferred version whenever you see 'Jose' and don't let something so small prejudice your view on my fanfic.
I didn't add much of a summary because I thought the title said it all really, if you think it would be better with something more specific, just say so.
Anyway, here it is.
Dear Diary,
I had hoped to write sooner, but I only got out of the hospital yesterday. The mission we went on last week was a success; we managed to stop the people that Jose told me wanted to attack a school with a bomb. We were joined by Rico and Triela and their supervisors, Jean and Hilscher. Myself and Jose covered the back entrance to the enemy base whilst Triela and Hilscher went in the front and Rico covered us both by sniping from a house across the street.
We managed to kill all of the terrorists and Triela found the bomb that they planned to use and, though I only killed two people, Jose still said that he was pleased with me. I was hit in the leg by a round from an assault rifle, but it was to protect Jose so I don't mind, even if I do have to spend time in the hospital for it. I don't think I could cope if Jose got hurt… or worse.
Anyway, he said that he'd reward me for the mission once I got out of the hospital; I heard that Hilscher got Triela another teddy bear, and that she couldn't think of a name for this one.
It's time to sleep now. Goodnight.
Henrietta.
[***]
"I object!"
Jean's voice rang around the office; reflected by the walls that, unlike much of the rest of this building, were not covered in framed artworks. Jean stood, leaning across the desk to stare straight into the director's eyes.
The director simply stared back unflinchingly; leaning back calmly in his chair. This unusual show of emotion from Jean had not surprised him given the circumstances; it did involve his brother, after all; but he would not give in to being pressured by someone below him. He had been appointed the chief of Section 2 of the special ops division because he could be cool and calm under pressure, and was capable of making decisions without letting his emotions infringe on his judgement; and it was in situations like this that those skills became most useful.
After a long silence, Jean straightened up; directing his gaze away into one corner.
"I'm sorry." He said, and the director could see that this was true; Jean looked ashamed for his outburst. "But I still think that it's far too dangerous."
"I understand your feelings," The director responded truthfully. He would forgive Jean for shouting in his office; after all, he had reacted the same way when he had heard of the plan. "But the people at the top have made the orders, and we have to follow them."
"Then, I'd like to volunteer-"
"No." The director cut Jean off in mid-sentence, he had anticipated this; and so, it seemed, had those who had given him the order. "It has to be Jose; they were very clear on that."
"They?" Queried Jean, his expression lightening for a moment from his usual stern scowl.
"The brass that are in charge of the Social Welfare Agency; they briefed me yesterday." The director remembered the briefing well, it had taken so long for the plan to sink in that he had had to postpone briefing Jean until today, even though the orders dictated that everything should be carried out as quickly as possible. He didn't like the idea that people were trying to interfere with his section of the agency; but orders were orders and they had to be carried out regardless of how you felt about them. It seemed that Jean felt the same way.
"Sometimes I think it would be easier if they gave us conditioning as well." He said quietly, with a dry, humourless laugh.
"Jean, I'm making you responsible for overseeing this." The director said, causing Jean to look up sharply in his surprise. "This whole thing has to go smoothly. There have already been too many questions over the usefulness of Section 2, and if this goes badly it could put our future at stake. You've got to make sure that that doesn't happen."
"I understand, Sir." Jean's voice had regained its usual formal, official quality. "But I'd like my objection noted officially."
"It will be." The director responded curtly; he had already lodged an official complaint that would probably be ignored and he knew that one more wouldn't make any difference.
[*]
She pressed the butt of the weapon firmly against her right shoulder and looked down the sights. She could instantly tell that everything was right, the sight lined up perfectly; focusing on a bush that was about thirty metres beyond the window and she knew that she could shoot off one of the leaves whilst leaving the rest of the bush intact, if she were so inclined. She cocked the weapon with her left hand, listening to the mechanism moving smoothly mere centimetres from her cheek and click into place before she released the safety catch and gently squeezed the trigger.
It released just at the point she was expecting, sounding with a loud metallic clunk as the firing pin hit an empty chamber. Henrietta smiled at the noise; it was the clean, crisp sound she had been hoping for.
She placed the sub-machine gun back into the violin case; making sure to re-engage the safety first; and began tidying away the cleaning kit. She had spent an hour disassembling and going carefully over each one of the weapon's components, she couldn't remember how long she had had the P-90 but she knew that it had never jammed or misfired on her before and she was determined to keep it that way; her life and, most importantly, her supervisor's life depended on it.
She placed the cleaning kit into the case as well. There was plenty of space, the P-90 was not a large weapon, but neither was she a large girl and she would have trouble wielding anything much bigger than it. The people of the Social Welfare Agency were rarely interested in the feelings of their assassins, unless it affected their combat capability, then they all wanted to know. As such, they had gone to great lengths to acquire the best weapons for each of the girls; to maximise their killing potential.
Henrietta stood up and stretched. The room was a reasonable size, but fairly plain; a bunk bed was in one corner, a pair of chests of drawers and a single closet sat against the wall opposite it and a table occupied the space in between. The room contained none of the clutter you would normally expect from two young girls; in fact, other than the presence of a few textbooks on a shelf and a group of several instrument cases in the corner it would look unoccupied. Though, to Henrietta, who couldn't remember living any other way, it seemed completely normal.
She started as she heard footsteps coming down the corridor, she had thought that all of the other girls were at the training grounds; she had been left behind because Jose, her supervisor, was away. It wasn't unusual for him to go away like that, but he only ever said where he was going when it involved work. Henrietta always worried when he did that; it made her wonder if he went to see his family, perhaps he had a younger sister or a daughter? Such thoughts always made her feel slightly angry, but she didn't know who she was angry at. This time however, she had very little time to dwell on the matter as the room door opened and it was Rico who entered.
"Hello Henrietta." Rico said cheerfully; it seemed to Henrietta as though she was constantly cheerful.
"Hi, Rico." Henrietta's response was timid as she looked at the blonde girl she shared a room with; Rico was covered in sweat, it looked like Jean had put her through some rigorous training. "You've finished early." She added inquisitively.
"Oh, yeah," Rico's response was casual as she walked over to her bed and placed her rifle case upon it, "Angelica had an accident and damaged some of the equipment, she's had to go back to the hospital."
"I hope she's okay." Henrietta's voice was full of real concern; Angelica never accompanied them on missions because she so often had problems with her health and her memory, all of the girls knew that her future at the agency was uncertain.
"Yeah," Rico only paused for a moment to reflect on this as she removed her long sniper rifle from its case and took out her own cleaning kit; afterwards she regained her cheerful attitude, "But Jean was really angry, I've never seen him look like that."
Rico smiled, presumably remembering how Jean had looked earlier, before sitting down at the table to disassemble and clean her rifle; a task that she could manage much quicker that Henrietta due to her weapon's simpler design.
Henrietta was not in the mood for smiling, her thoughts were too wrapped up in her concern for Angelica; she didn't know the girl too well, there was always a certain distance between all the girls here created by the conditioning applied to them, but she still liked her. However, Rico's next words banished all thoughts of Angelica's injury.
"Oh, Henrietta." Rico didn't even look up from what she was doing as she spoke, "I saw Jose's car on my way back here; I think he went to see Jean-san."
[*]
"Isn't that a bit dangerous?" Jose asked his brother, his voice full of misgivings.
"The director has ordered it," Jean responded calmly, "We'll have everything organised; you won't need to worry."
"I don't like it, it seems too rushed."
"Sometimes we have to act fast to catch these terrorists."
Henrietta hadn't intended to overhear anything; she had been walking down the corridor when she had heard Jose's voice coming from one of the doors and had become intrigued by what he had said. She hadn't been able to stop herself from listening to their conversation; and with her enhanced hearing it was easy to make out every word they said.
"Very well then," Jose responded, "I don't agree with it but I suppose I don't have to. Can the full briefing wait until tomorrow? I'll have to speak with Henrietta."
"She's not going with you." Jean said blandly, but the words sent what felt like an electric shock through Henrietta.
"What!? But… and what if I should need her help?" Jose responded, sounding just as shocked as Henrietta felt.
"You won't be far away." Jean's response was just as level and business-like as ever, "You can argue all you like, but the order stands; you're going alone."
Henrietta didn't hear the rest of the conversation, she was preoccupied with the jumble of feelings that Jean's words had set into motion inside of her. It was highly unusual for a supervisor to go into a dangerous situation alone; it was precisely for such situations that Section Two's cybernetics programme had been initiated, did Jean think Henrietta was unreliable? She knew that people might think so, especially after she had lost control and ignored Jose's instructions, resulting in her completely eradicating one of the terrorists' cells, but surely that couldn't have been a bad thing could it? And she had been trying so hard since then to make up for it; all she needed was to prove herself and everything would be fine wouldn't it?
"Henrietta?"
She jumped at the sound of Jose's voice; she hadn't even noticed that the two men had finished their conversation and were just now stepping out into the corridor. She looked up at her supervisor's face, which seemed initially surprised, but Jose recovered quickly and the look was replaced with concern.
"Henrietta." He said again, "Is there something wrong?"
It was Henrietta's turn to be puzzled, but it too passed quickly when she realised that tears had in fact been gathering in her eyes. She turned away to wipe her eyes on her sleeve, but she still caught a glance at Jean's disapproving scowl from over Jose's shoulder. It made her angry to think about; she knew that Jean thought she was too sensitive and wasn't of much use. She would show him that she could be useful to Jose; she had to.
After making sure that she had dried her eyes, she turned back to the two men and tried to smile, "It's nothing, I'm fine; really." She witnessed them exchange a disbelieving look, and noticed that Jose's face was still full of concern.
"I take it that you overheard us?" Jean said; his voice in its usual flat, expressionless tone.
"It doesn't matter, really." Henrietta responded. "If staying behind is something that I have to do then I'll do it." It was technically true; her conditioning dictated that she had to follow any orders given to her by the agency, regardless of how she felt about them.
"Go back to your room Henrietta," Jose said in his usual, kind voice; despite the fact that his facial expression did not change. "We'll talk later."
"Okay." Henrietta responded; finding it hard not to feel put down by Jose's seeming lack of interest in what she had to say. Part of her wanted to stay, but she knew that she had to do as he requested and so she turned away and walked slowly down the corridor.
[*]
They waited until they knew that Henrietta was out of range of even her hearing before Jean spoke.
"You're too easy on her." He said sternly, having always disapproved of Jose's emotional attachment to Henrietta. "Remember that she's not a little girl anymore; she's a tool… a weapon."
"I know." Jose responded, without even looking around. "But she's far more complicated than any gun. If a gun goes wrong you can simply strip it down and clean it; but these girls have emotions that need to be tended to as well. And if you go wrong there… it's all over."
"I hope for your sake that you've got it right." Jean said curtly; but it wasn't just Jose whose future rested on that girl, if he'd got it wrong she could bring the whole of Section 2 down with them.