CHAPTER 1: THE GERMAN
Walther was a foreign man in a strange land. He had come to Italy from Germany after he had left his previous job and now eked out a living doing odd jobs. Yet he wasn't happy. After work he would stand at a bridge near his rented flat and watch the sun set. The fiery orange sphere reminded him of his past, of the time he was doing something laudable as a policeman. If anyone asked, he would have told them he used to be with the Border Guard. It wasn't a complete lie and besides, no one would believe him even if he did tell the truth. His primary duty was to protect the German people and their property and his unit did just that, albeit in a particularly unique fashion. The incident that made him what he is today happened in Iraq during a rocket attack on his convoy. All he remembered were the screams and explosions just before he was knocked out by a concussion. Next thing he knew he was in a hospital recovering from his wounds. The attackers later said that they mistook them for Americans and apologized. How pointless. Apologies can't bring back the dead neither could they give him back his career. Because of his injuries, he couldn't maintain the strict physical requirements of his unit and had to leave.
It was as he stood on the bridge gazing at the sun one evening that he was approached by another man. "Good evening, Herr Walther," the man greeted. Walther gave a start, and then turned to face the man. The man was a blond stranger wearing dark glasses and a long trenchcoat. To add to the mystery, he was a complete stranger. Then Walther froze. Standing just next to the man was a young blond girl of about twelve and she looked at him with blue eyes. She wasn't old enough to have a body that would titillate a young man of twenty-five like Walther, yet Walther kept his eye on her body, specifically at the region just under the left armpit where his trained eye spotted a barely discernible bulge. "I have come to offer you a job that would need your skills," began the blond stranger, and then he stopped. Clearly Walther was more interested in something other than a job prospect. He followed his gaze and raised his eyebrows. Walther caught that little gesture and broke out into a grin, "I'm so sorry. I must seem like a pervert to you. It's just that you Italians are so interesting. Honestly this is the first time someone has offered me a job accompanied by a girl with a gun in a shoulder holster. I think I don't have much choice, do I?" The blond stranger raised his eyebrows even further, then turned and strode towards a car parked by the side of the road, saying: "Follow me." He got into the back seat and the little girl got in beside him. It was then he caught a whiff of gunpowder from the girl and started to wonder what he had just got himself into.
So began Walther's life at the Agency. He thought he had seen it all during his service with the Border Guard but this was something else. He was briefed by the blond stranger who later identified himself as Jean and couldn't help but be horrified at what was going on. So all this was an elaborate set-up to turn little girls into fighting machines, literally. Anyway his duty for now was to stay in the complex and wait for further developments. That really irked him for he couldn't stand the inactivity and looked for ways to pass the time. He went for morning jogs around the complex, made small talk with the others and watched the girls train. Over time, doubt set in. Why was he chosen to do nothing in the agency?