10/27/06 UPDATE: If you know about the information in the Gunslinger Girl Manga not yet released in the U.S. (specifically Volumes 6 and 7) the contents of this story WILL NOT be canon. If you haven't read the manga at all, then no need to worry.

Note: Ahh my second fanfic… am I emerging from my "nerd closet"? Nah, I'm good…. Anyways, this is a fan fiction involving the world of Gunslinger Girl by Yu Aida. Not only that, but there are many, many, many…, MANY other references made to countless other anime, videogame characters, TV shows, novels, short stories, web-comics, etc. so you could say that this an accumulation of everything that I love and cherish in the fiction world into one. Either that or I really need to come out of the "nerd closet"…. It's a light-hearted story with a touch of drama here and there, some comedy thrown in, and quite a bit of action. Some things may seem out of place when compared to the "real-life" situations detailed in the Gunslinger Girl world, but, hey, this IS fanfiction(dot)net, isn't it?

Anyways, this is the Prelude Chapter to Life, Liberty, And… by me, Sintendo.

Note2: A thing about the title. It's meant to be read with the chapter title as well. Ex: for this chapter, you'd read "Life, Liberty, And… Who's This Guy?". Got it? Cat Fish? (Simpsons reference)

Note3: This should be a given, but just in case… SPOILERS TO GUNSLINGER GIRL ARE CONTAINED WITHIN THIS STORY Both the anime AND the manga….

Things to remember when reading:

BOLD - angry

ITALICS - thoughts

BOLD, ITALIC AND UNDERLINE - time change, location change, etc.

Definitions to foreign words are given at the end of the sentence it is used. (Thanks to Colonel Marksman for this idea)

When a character is speaking, always assume they are speaking Italian unless stated otherwise.

(Name:Position)

That bar above with a name underneath means a perspective change to that character. (Thanks to Colonel. Marksman for this idea)

Special thanks to: Colonel Marksman and Nachtsider for the inspiration to write this. And to Sheo Darren for the awesome GSG stories. Pinoy ikaw? And last, but not least, to Ministry Agent for that hilarious GSG fanfic about Claes and Triela.

This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to an event or person, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.

Life, Liberty, And…

A Gunslinger Girl fan fiction by:

Sintendo

Prelude Chapter: Who's This Guy?

Rome Fiumicino Leonardo Da Vinci Airport, Rome, Italy; 1330 hours, June 12, 2005

"Excuse me sir?" a burly man behind the counter asked him, "I'm sorry, but You cannot carry that weapon around this airport, unless you have a permit."

The uniformed man smiled as he pulled off his sunglasses.

"Ah, excuse me." He said, reaching into his back pocket and retrieving a small document, "Here's my permit."

The burly man read aloud in perfect English, "1st Lieutenant, Percival U. Nowell, United States Army. Restricted to small caliber, non-rifle small arms only." He handed the slip of paper back to Percival. "I'm sorry for the trouble sir." He said in Italian, "But you do realize why we must do so…"

"I may be American," Percival chuckled, pocketing the document, and picking up his bags, "But I'm not stupid. I completely understand."

Several minutes later

The hustle and bustle of one of Italy's busiest airports seemingly buzzed by Percival, as he waited underneath the shade of an enormous pillar in the afternoon sun; sweat beaded his forehead, and the edges of his thin framed, Oakley sunglasses began to fog due to the change in humidity between the outside heat, and inside the airport's air-conditioned interior. He took a paper towel from his pocket and wiped his forehead.

"Jesus Christ…" He said to himself in English, "Fucking hot here…"

As if on cue, a solid black Mercedes-Benz S600 sedan pulled over in front of where he stood. As the vehicle shifted into park, a tall slim blonde man exited the driver's side of the car and approached Percival. At about the same time, a blonde, short haired little girl of about 12 or 13 years of age, exited the rear passenger side, approaching Percival as well.

"Good Afternoon, sir." The blonde man spoke in English with a light Italian accent.. "I'm sorry for the delay. We were caught in heavy traffic." He reached over for a hand shake, "My name's Jean."

"No problem at all," Percival, speaking in perfect Italian, received his hand and shook, "I'm Lt. Percival Nowell."

"Impressive." Jean said, reverting to his native language.

"Not all of us Americans are lazy." Percival laughed.

"Ha!" Jean laughed as well, "If I hadn't known any better, I'd have thought you were born and raised here, especially with that dialect of yours."

"My father encourages my siblings and I to learn more than one language." Percival adjusted the strap of the bag on his shoulder.

"Let me get that for you, sir." Jean said, taking 2 of the 4 bags that Percival had near him. He carefully placed them into the trunk of his car.

"How long do you think it'll take to reach the agency?" Percival asked, entering the front passenger side of the car.

"With traffic the way it is now…" Jean checked his watch, "I'd say about 6 hours…"

Later, on the road to the Social Welfare Agency; 1400 hours

Percival wearily peered out his side of the window, half disgusted, half intrigued. This was the first time he'd been in Italy, but this wasn't the way he'd imagine it would appear.

Miles ahead of where they sat in traffic was an ocean of cars; all had their engines turned off; some drivers even exited their vehicles and went into stores next to the road to pass time.

"What happened up there?" Percival asked.

"I'm not too sure," Said Jean, "But when we passed on the way over, there was a chemical spill… It's actually much worse this time around…"

"Jesus, Maria, Joseph…" Percival cursed to himself and laid his brief case on his lap. Looking at the rear view mirror, he spotted the little blonde girl staring back at him; a look of curiosity painted on her face.

"You haven't introduced me to the cute one," Percival said, "She's your daughter?"

"Excuse me for asking so bluntly, Lieutenant," Jean said, "But have you been told what we at the Social Welfare Agency deal with?

"Yea, but very little." Percival placed his laptop computer on his lap and opened it. He then proceeded to digging into the computer's files, showing an official order from one "General Nowell". "All I know is that your Agency deals with the field of cyborg soldiers…," He clicked around a bit more, "And you are Jean Croce… one of the handlers or trainers of one of the cyborgs… don't tell me…" He turned in his seat to face the blonde girl, who waved back to him.

"Her name's 'Rico'," Jean said, "And she's my cyborg."

Percival slumped back into his seat, "Jesus, Maria, and Joseph… what did my father drag me into…"

"Your father?" Rico asked.

"Yep." Percival rested his hands behind his head, "My father… or 'The General' as my brothers and sisters like to tease."

"Brothers? Sisters?" Rico questioned.

"Heh… 10 in total."

"Wow, 10?" Jean was slightly amazed.

"Yup. 6 boys and 4 girls."

"That many?" Rico asked, "What are their names? How old are they? How old are you?"

Percival turned around, "You sure are a curious one, aren't you?"

"Rico, stop it." Jean ordered.

"No, it's fine," Percival returned to his seat, "We've got plenty of time anyways."

After a moment of silence, Rico once again spoke, "What are your brothers and sisters like? Are you the eldest?"

"Sadly, I'm not." Percival closed his eyes, "My twin brothers, Rokusho and Keiichi are the eldest."

"Why do they have Japanese names?" Jean asked.

"My mother is Japanese." Percival said.

"You don't look Japanese though." Rico said.

"That…" Percival thought for a moment, "That's a story you're gonna have to ask my father about." He smiled, "Anyways, they're both 30 years old. I'm next in line. I'm 27 years old, by the way. Then comes my OTHER twin brothers: Jin and Tsubasa, both 25."

"Woah!" Jean exclaimed, "Two sets of twins?"

"Yeah, I know…" Percival grumbled, "After them comes my brother Raleigh, 23. He's in the Navy and is currently attempting S.E.A.Ls training. Then my sisters April, May, June, and…"

"July?" Rico asked.

Percival laughed, "No, no, no… my youngest sister is named 'Nana'. They're 20, 18, 15, and 12, respectively."

Jean blew a whistle of amazement.

After another moment of silence it was Jean's turn to ask a question.

"So…," He started, "How's you're mother and father like?"

"My parents?" Percival sat up, "My mother enlisted into the U.S. Navy after highschool. She served as a Corps. Man for the Navy until she badly injured her ankle in Iraq during Desert Storm. Now she works in the hospital at Yokota Air Force Base, west of Tokyo. Master Chief Petty Officer, Kasumi T. Nowell."

"And your father?" Jean asked.

"My father…" Percival stared into space, thinking of what to say, " What can I say about my father? He joined the Army at the age of 16… he snuck in…"

"Wow," Rico said, "Your family is very patriotic."

"Not really…" Percival admitted, "My dad was living on the streets with nowhere to go. Actually, he rarely mentions anything about himself before he joined the military. All I know is that he traveled the world with his master at the time…"

"Master?" Jean interrupted, "Was he a slave?"

"No, no," Percival countered, "He was training with a sharp-shooter, martial artist type of person. I don't know any more than that and the only other person who knows about it is my mom."

"Why won't he tell you?" Rico asked.

"Most likely personal reasons. I respect that, actually, I'm not very nosy when it comes to personal business."

"Which is a characteristic I admire." Jean said, eyeing Rico through his center rear-view mirror.

"Anyways, he had a blood test, and apparently he's of British decent, but his parents are so old that they're unidentifiable."

"What a shame…" Jean commented. "His parents ought to be proud of him, with what all he's accomplished during his years in service."

"Indeed," Percival agreed, "Which reminds me of a story." He turned to face Rico, "It's a long story. You won't fall asleep, will you?" He joked.

"I like stories." Rico smiled.

"Good." Percival returned to his seat, "It's a story my father's friend told me many times. About a time when they served in the Philippines with the Special Forces…"

(Percival: Narrator)

Baguio City, Philippine Islands; 0100 hours, August 15, 1973

There was a joint raid on Baguio by the Navy S.E.A.Ls and The Army Green Berets planned for this night.

Their mission was to invade the base of Ahmed Hussein Mohammed Ali, father of current holder of the third most wanted terrorist: Abdelkarim Hussein Mohamed Al-Nasser, and eliminate him and his small factory of explosives.

My father was just a young man of 18 years of age. He was stationed in Subic Bay as an M.P. at the time, but he happened to be on leave in Baguio during the time of the mission. As soon as explosions and gunfire were heard, chaos ensued. In the confusion, my father ran into Master Chief, Sergio Tacchini, who quickly took my father under his wing for the day.

Even though my father never had the same training that Chief Tacchini's men did, he performed like a veteran.

They fought all day long in the small city, and eventually, they were pinned down in a schoolhouse. They were running out of ammo, of time, and most importantly, out of men. The teams had started the raid with a total 30 men. By nightfall, only 8 were left.

At around 2200 hours, the firing on both sides stopped. One reason was because the soldiers on my father's side were completely out of ammunition. The other is because the terrorists were engaging; approaching the school.

The Chief then said to the men, "Guys…I'm sorry for sending all of you to your death beds. I'll see you all in hell."

My father then said back, "Chief, I'm sorry, but I won't be seeing you just yet. You didn't send me to my death; you sent me to my destiny."

Of course, the other guys just chuckled and laughed it off, but my father was serious. He had found a bow and a quiver of arrows under one of the floor boards, and he was ready to use it. He then exited the room alone, much to the surprise of his comrades.

It only took a few minutes, but when the screams of dying men ended, the 7 other men were still alive, while the terrorists had met their fate.

Chief Tacchini always described the sight he saw in the tropical moonlight that morning: It was a man who was desperate to live. He saw, in my father's eyes, that he wasn't ready to die yet; something much greather was to be done before he left.

He was covered in blood; the quiver of arrows was empty. With a Chinese straight edge in hand, and the head of Ahmed Hussein Mohammed Ali's second in command in his other, my father smiled in the moonlight, as if he were happy to kill. Like he enjoyed the dripping of blood on his face...

"After that," Percival sighed, "My father served in the Green Berets until he retired from combat duty in 2000, and became involved in the U.S.P." (Note: U.S.P – United Special Forces Program: A (fictional) Program started by the USA and China during the late 1990's which was created to unite the special forces or secret service units from major world powers. Their intent was to have secret and powerful allies against the growing powers of The United Kingdom's secret agency, The British Library, and her allies. More info later.)

"And now he runs the program." Jean said, fully engrossed, "What a career…"

"After all that's happened to him, he's still 'father-of-the-year' type material. Doesn't really care what we do, as long as we enjoy doing it." Percival added, "He quite the guy."

"I can't wait to meet him." Rico chimed in.

"I'm sure you'd love him," Percival said, "Major General Bradley P. Nowell will be here in two days."

This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to an event or person, living or deceased, is purely coincidental.