Chapter 1: Frage

"Gunslinger Girls (we begrudgingly accept this title) are known for being cold killers. This is, to some extent, true. But it also holds that while we have mechanical bodies, we are nonetheless adolescent (teenaged, perhaps, and certainly young adults, almost) girls, who, despite our familiarity with guns, are extraordinarily normal."

Triela kicked down the door to the apartment. She walked into the room, covering all the possible ambush points with textbook precision. Her eyes scanned the room, as though expecting an attack at any moment. Moving silently, she drew herself up against the wall, waiting for a moment before attempting to enter the kitchen. Spinning in with practiced grace, her automatic shotgun met the face of an unfortunate terrorist, who was gunned down without mercy. Checking once again for a possible ambush, she knelt down, and picked the man's pocket. His wallet verified his identity: a certifiable lunatic. Her job was complete. Raising her hand to her comm, she spoke softly "Mission complete, Hilshire."

Of the cyborg corps, Triela was by far the most effective and efficient. There may have been better shots, or better killers, but none disputed Triela's superiority as a fighter. As they aged into their late teens, each gravitated, simply because of their natural talents, to particular fields of fighting. Angelica, for example, had a tendency to break down at the slightest hint of danger in a close firefight–but she, unlike all the other girls, could hit a moving target from two miles out, and had a Zen like patience in waiting for a target. In contrast, Rico and Henrietta could clear out an entire building in just under ten minutes, but were average snipers, at best. But most of the girls, even though they were growing into young adults now, had a limited level of independence. To be sure, all of the girls were capable of doing missions alone, by now. Their handlers had taught them judgment, each in their own manner, and they operated as a team or independently. But there was an understanding that in this regard, the conditioning made the girls unequal. Rico had to have radio contact with Jean at all times, to help her think through the next step. Henrietta and Angelica were in constant need of reigning in, their exuberance to please their handlers often going overboard. Finally, Claes and Triela could operate almost entirely independently and as effectively as any trained soldier. It was, hypothesized the doctors, a function of age. Claes and Triela were the most mature of the bunch when they were turned into cyborgs, so it made the most sense that they were the most capable of dealing with adversity, having dealt with it in their previous lives. And this independence was what made Triela the best soldier. She thought outside the box, found the clue that no one else bothered to look and and left the most survivors. She prided herself in doing the best possible job, and much to the conditioning doctor's surprise, would ignore direct orders from her handler to do so. Triela simply said that it was a matter of will power, and that she had grown out of the conditioning. So it came to be that Triela, at age eighteen, served her former slavers of her own free will, a soldier in the employ of the government.

So, Triela stood up, and sighed, leaving the room with far less vigilance than when she had entered. This was a troubling mistake. As she was attacked, she didn't think, she reacted. Years of honed practice flung her out of the way of a shower of bullets, as she loosed shells back. Hand once again at her ear, she shouted "Trouble. I'm dealing with it before I leave."

The hidden assailant whirled into the main room just as she finished speaking. As the two fighters dueled, Triela noticed two things: first, that the man she was fighting had an uncanny knack for dodging her shots, and second, that his gun was exceptionally powerful to be wielded with one hand. The two continued their deadly dance, each evading the other by a tiny margin, each inching towards the other, before a final spin brought their barrels to the other's head. Triela smirked. "You're empty. Your clip only has 36 rounds, and you've fired all of them."

For the first time, her opponent spoke, "And beautiful, you've fired 12 rounds, which by my estimate, leaves you empty as well."

Triela's grin didn't vanish. "No, eleven," she commented as she pulled her trigger. Nothing happened. Several expletives ran through her mind. God damnit, she had forgotten the round she had fired to kill her mark. How could she have been so stupid? Refusing to let evidence of such a gaffe slip away, she dropped the shotgun, and lashed out at her assailant with inhuman speed. She gasped in surprise as her hand reaching for the man's throat was caught. "Beautiful, I don't want to fight such a cute girl. Let's just leave, and I'll report back to my bosses that someone else got that guy first," said the man, letting go of Triela's hand while taking a cautious step back, while motioning to the kitchen.

"Fine," said Triela, backing off as well. It was Pinocchio all over again. Defeated by a normal human–only, when Triela thought about it, with the reflexes, speed and strength the man (well, maybe twenty year old) possessed, he probably had some cybernetic enhancements, so that made her feel better. Her mission was complete, and being ambushed and fighting to another cyborg was an acceptable excuse for something going wrong.

"What's your name, in any case? Mine's Jan, for politeness' sake," said the man–Jan, rather–as he fumbled through his pocket for something.

Triela saw no harm in just a first name. Nothing existed to identify her in public record by that name–the only name she had in paperwork was the name from her old life, Scarlett Felder. "I'm Triela."

What came next surprised her completely. Several things happened at once. Her earpiece crackled with Hilshire's voice, enquiring (in a very spazzed manner) whether she was okay or not. At the same time, Jan pulled out a business card, and left it on the ground, before asking politely, "Well then, um, Triela, you're cute, and you won't be scared by my, uh, line of work, so, uh, would you like to go on a date?"

Hand still instinctively to the ear, other hand in her coat resting on her gun, Triela stood stock still, jaw practically gaping at Jan's audacity. Her earpiece continued "Triela? Respond. Triela? Oh god, I'm coming, Triela!"

The female cyborg came back to her senses. "Everything's under control, Hilshire. Another cyborg on the scene, not hostile anymore. I'll have an update in a minute." Turning to Jan, smoothly drawing her pistol and aiming it at Jan's heart, she continued, "And who the hell do you think you are, asking me out on a date. After nearly FUCKING KILLING ME, no less?"

"Hey, I'm an admirer, and, well, cute girls who'll be understanding of what exactly I do are hard to come by, don't you know?"

"Just. Leave."

"Yes, or no. My card's there, if you want it, by the way, just in case you change your mind. Oh, and, um, are you a grown up version of those government cyborg girls?"

"I could tell you, but I'd have to kill you."

"That still isn't no on the date, on the plus side. And trust me, I may not be quite as good as you are, but I'm skilled enough of an assassin to hunt you down and keep asking you out until I get a yes. Just one measly date's all I want."

Triela gritted her teeth. Jan did seem talented enough, and deranged enough to actually try something like that. Besides, she mused to herself, he was pretty good looking, anyways. She'd have the girls gushing romantic stories for weeks, and that gave ample opportunities for passing off less desirable work, in return for gossip. Totally worth it. Now, all it came down to pulling something off. "Hilshire, funny question."

"Triela, it's been a long time since you've had to ask me anything. It's nice to know I'm still needed."

"When's my next mission?"

"You have three days of down time, I think."

"And can I have one of those days in Rome, by myself?"

"I don't see why not. Jean will have disagreements, of course, but he can't complain too much for such an innocent request."

"Good." She cut her mic temporarily. "Trevy Fountain, day after, for dinner. You have yourself one date."

Jan smiled. "I knew you'd come around. Until the next time, my love." Jan reloaded his weapon, and walked out the door.

"Mission complete for real, this time, Hilshire," sighed Triela. "I'll be out in a minute."