This is my first Gunslinger Girl story. Sorry if it's a little worry, but I got really into typing it up. But, yeah...

Disclaimer: I do not own Gunslinger Girl, it's plot, or it's characters. I only own Antonella/Damiana, most of the minor characters, and the plot for this story.

The wind blew through the trees, tossing her hair slightly. She pushed her hair from her face tried to straighten it out. Her arms dropped beside her as she continued to stare at the building in front of her. Every window and brick of the building laid out in her mind perfectly, as she took mental notes to remember where they were.

Silently, she picked up the bag beside her and made her way to the sliding doors. When she reached the interior, her face softened and her eyes gained a soft, friendly glow. Her body became less tense and a small smile grace her face. She reached the front desk and smiled more. "Buona sera, signore." She gracefully bowed her head in greeting towards the man seated behind the counter.

"Ah! Buona sera, Signorina." The man smiled back at her as he stood from his chair. He pulled out a book and looked up at her, the smile still on his face. "How may I help you today, Signorina?"

She leaned against the counter, her stance still a little tense with anticipation. "I'd like a room, Signore. Just for the night, if it's possible. Then, I'll have to head out to the conference." She let out a sigh, holding up her bag for him to see. "I just need to rest for tonight."

The man nodded, "I understand, Signorina. Rest is good for you. To much mork and you'll get sick. We can't have that, can we?" He ran his eyes over the book before looking back up at her. "You're in luck. I have one room left."

She smiled, "That's wonderful. I was worried I'd have to look around more." Her hand slowly slid into her pocket, grasping the pocket knife inside. She had hopes that she wouldn't have to use it, but she would be prepared just to be sure.

The man wrote some things in the book before looking at her again. "May I have your name, please?" He gestured to book, "I must recard your name for the records. I also need it for your payment."

"Of course," She nodded, still smiling. "I competely understand. My names Antonella. Antonella Rossi." Her words come out without the slightest hesitation. It was almost as she she fully believed every lie she told. She let the knife go and grasped the money in her hand. As he told her the price, she handed him the money.

If he had been paying attention, he would have been alarmed by the fact that she handed him exact change. Instead, he smiled again, handing her the key and wished her a good night. She wished him the same and began her walk up the stairs. As she did, her demeanor returned to normal, the darkness clouding her eyes.

When she reached her room, she unlocked the door and stepped inside. She familarized herself with the surroundings as she was taught, but she didn't intend on staying the night. Dropping the bag on the bed, she unzipped it and flipped it open. Inside were simple pieces of clothing, but she wasn't using those. She dug through the clothing until she found what she needed. A Beretta 92, lay in pieces among a layer of clothes. She assembled it quickly, keeping the lock on to load it and placing the silencer on. Holding it, she realized she had her job to do. Most importantly, this job would bring her closer to her goal. She knew it would.

Quickly, she tucked the gun into it's holster, now located on her hips. Pulling out a pair of leather gloves, she slipped her hands inside and adjusted them for comfort and pulled her coat tightly around her. She zipped up the bag and tossed it beside the window. Leaving it there would make it easier to grab on her way out. Preparedness was very important now and she could not mess it up.

With everything set, she opened the door and made her way to the top floor. She took the steps quickly but quietly, her main goal being to stay as invisable as she could till the last moment. Her footsteps slowed down as she reached the top step and rounded the corner. Just as she expected, two guards sat in front of the last door down the hallway. They stood in alert at the sight of her.

She gathered her breath as she walked towards them, trying to settle her nerves. Even though she had done this many times, it still made her nervous. Her worse fear was getting caught. With her record, she wouldn't get off easily.

"Stop right there. You can't be up here. It's off limits." The first guard spoke, his hand resting near the pistol attached to his waist.

She continued forward without saying a word, each step getting closer. As she did, her arm tensed up in anticipation.

Both guards drew their guns, The first aiming towards her. "I said stop! Don't come any further."

Stopping, she looked up at him. In a fluid movement, she loosened her coat and grabbed the gun from it's holster. She quickly fired, each bullet finding it's mark between their eyes. They dropped to the ground as blood pulled around them.

Quickly stepping between them and moving forward, she pushed open the door. Inside, four more guards were waiting and jumped up at the sight of her. She took care of them in the same fashion as the others and continued into the next room. Sitting at an old table, surrounded by papers and envelopes, was an older man. His hair was starting to gray and he had wrinkles appearing on his forehead. She remembered him from the picture she was given. He looked up, startled to see her.

"W-who are you?" He jumped from his chair and backed away, trying to get as far from her as he could. "What are you doing here? Guards!"

She clicked her tongue and looked at him, "They won't be coming. They're…indisposed…at the moment. After all, how do you think I got in here?" Her voice was empty. She took a small step forward. "Are you Signore De Luca?"

He nodded slowly, "Yes. Why?" After he asked, his eyes became wide with fear. "Who sent you here? You have to have a reason."

"I do. However, my empoyler wishes to remain unknown. I'm sure you understand." She drew her gun and aimed at him. "After all, you always remain unknow after an assassination."

His eyes narrowed as he glared at her. "If that's so, then how did you know where to find me?"

Shrugging her shoulders, she looked at him, "Didn't you know? Damiana Moretti always finishes what she started."

Hearing her name, he realized just who she was. By then, it was too late. Her finger pulled on the trigger and and the bullet escaped it's chamber.