[Authors Note: I (Danny Morris/SaintDays) do not own any part of the Gunslinger Girl franchise; Gunslinger Girl is trademark to Funimation. All other characters are trademark to me (Danny Morris/SaintDays)]

[WARNING: This story is rated M for mature audiences only due to language, adult themes, and explicit suggestions. If any of these terms should offend you, it is advised you do not read on. Thank you]

The blood from a man in a nice and tidy black business suit trickled down his forehead as his deceased body sat upright in a leather chair stained with the odor of death. His glasses stayed still on the floor, cracked in one lenses. His once black combed hair was now a mess like a beaten bush. Bullets were skewed on the floor, astray, alone. The curtain behind him was riddled with holes from a violent event that took place just seconds ago. It was so quick that not even the deceased man knew what happened. Outside was the sound of a busy city. One that was ignorant of the world around them. Even if they knew what was going on, they wouldn't act on their knowledge. For they didn't care of anything that was not related to them. It was pure ignorance in the heart of these people.

Henrietta stood firm, viewing her work. Her P60 was hugged tight in her arms, holding it like it was her last lifeline, which in a way, was ironic. She scuffed her feet against the red stained carpet, with small dots of the original color of purple scattered like spots on a dog. She switched on her safety as she heard Jose walk in the room. Her legs straightened up, along with her posture. Her stance became stiff.

"The others will be here soon to clean up," The look in his eyes were plain and unemotional, like usual.

"Yes," Was all the little girl said.

"You did good. It seems his entire stash was here" Jose said, eying the open closet with several stored automatic weapons inside it; AK-47s, L85s, the works.

Jose fixed his tie, taking a few steps towards the dead mans body, squatting down in front of it. It was amazing that the man wasn't armed, considering what he had at hand just a few feet away. Not even a knife on his person.

Jean walked in next, followed by Rico who held on to her CZ75, letting it loosely swing in her hands as she moved behind her handler. The two surveyed the destroyed room. Rico walked to the closet and began taking the guns out, putting them in an organized line on the carpet. She took boxes out of the closet, and began putting the guns inside them in an orderly fashion. She went over ordinary checks, making sure each clip was empty and that the safeties were on. If there was ammo inside a gun, she'd empty the bullets into another box. Like sorting files in an office.

"We've got this, why don't head on out now?" Jeans question wasn't as much a question, but more like a request; one that he didn't want to be denied.

Jeans eyes fell upon the body with disgust. Not at the scene or the blood, but at the man that once lived. A hermit of sorts, who did nothing but sell guns and watch dirty videos. A disgrace to all Italian men. His eyes then traveled to Rico, who was doing his request, and therefore he had no reason to complain of what she was doing, although he searched to find one. However he waited until he watched his brother and his little pet leave the room before he scolded his cyborg. Or rather his dog.

Once the room was empty he cleared his throat, "Put the fifty calibers in a different box, not in the same box as the twenties" His feet dragged to his pet.

"Yes, sir" Rico obeyed, sorting the bullets as told.

Once everything was nice and sorted the two made multiple trips back and forth carrying the boxes of dangerous toys. They stored the boxes outside into a brown van with the words GialloConstruzioneServizio. Of course, the van didn't really belong to any construction service, but a cover up vehicle for Section 2's movements and operations. They had few vehicles that weren't covered up with titles on them such as Giornalediconsega, and Jerricosristorazione.

Once all the packages were stuffed away in the van, Rico and Jean went back to the room to take a final sweep for any weapons before a cleaning crew came in to wipe away the mess and make the room look like brand new. Any spot of blood, or any make of a bullet had to be covered up. The presence of Section 2 had to be purged completely. Should any evidence of the assassination be left, the mission was considered a failure, even if the target was eradicated.

Jean and Rico passed the three cleaning men on their way down the stairwell to outside. The people in the streets bustled around, not knowing about the world around them. Ignorance. Ignorance in the masses.

The two sat in the van, Rico sitting in the front passenger seat. She turned around in the leather seat, looking at her work of the three dozen or so boxes of ammunition and guns. There was enough weaponry for an entire small army of soldiers. The man they had killed was Italy's eleventh biggest gun smuggler. It was like catching gold fish in an ocean full of tuna. It wasn't what they wanted, but they dealt with what they had.

"Once we get back to headquarters we'll bring all the boxes to one of the warehouses near the training ground"

"Yes, sir" Rico's voice was stale with her answer, unemotional.

The two drove in silence in the busy streets of Florence for a while. The only words spoken were by Jean, lecturing his dog on what she did wrong. He told her to not let her gun swing so much when she held it, to be smarter when sorting weapons out, to keep a closer look out for anyone watching them placing the boxes in the van (though know one would know what was in the boxes anyway), and to hold the boxes tighter so they wouldn't spill. Just lecturing that Rico had become used to during the time she spent with her handler. She could only recall one or two compliments he had ever given her, and when he did give them they were shortly followed by rebutted corrections of her actions. He was nothing like his brother, who showered his sorellina with gifts and love that only a true brother could show. But she never got jealous. For after all, why get jealous when you are already blessed with another day where you can still breath the sweet air that the Earth gave to it's children.

Back at headquarters, putting away the boxes was a long task, but an easy one. It would take about ten minutes just to go from the van to the warehouse and back. But again, Rico didn't mind. Though she didn't show it, she kept positive about this undertaking of seemingly endless work. If anything it kept her active, and that she didn't mind. Better to be working than to be sitting around doing nothing. Better to be in the open sun than to be locked up in the corner of a room doing nothing but cleaning a gun, over and over again.

Inside the warehouse was tons and tons of confiscated evidence from other missions, with items ranging from smuggled guns to kilos of drugs. These were the items that ran the underworld of Italy, and the rest of Southern Europe.

"We're finished," Jean said as Rico placed the final box down amongst the cluster.

Rico didn't reply and simply wiped the sweat off her forehead with a smile.

"Thank you" She wasn't sure what she was thanking him for, but Rico thanked her handler anyways; it was just in her nature to give a random thank you to everyone she knew.

"In one hour meet me at the front entrance of the shotting range of the training ground and we'll do some target practicing with your pistol. You could use some practice"

"Yes, Jean"

And those were the final words. The two departed there and then. Rico left the warehouse, going out near the gardens. There she saw Henrietta near the rising flowers playing her violin. The sound filled the air, and gave a calm feeling to Rico as she walked by. She thought about complimenting her, but thought that she better not interrupt her playing. It was too beautiful to stop.

Rico went to her room where she was now staying with Henrietta. A recent fire had occurred within the entire dorm area; one that started from an electrical circuit break. No one was hurt in the fire, but there was an excessive amount of damage done to the dorms, forcing most of the girls to move into rooms that were once left empty. But it wasn't so bad. Rico enjoyed the company of Henrietta, so it didn't bother her at all that she had to move. And it wasn't like she lost anything in the fire.

The room was empty except for Henrietta's P90, and Rico's own Dragunova SVD. She laid her CZ on the round table that was in the center of the room. Out of her pocket she took a cloth, and taking a seat in one of the three chairs, began wiping the gun. She wiped it clean of any dust or dirt that may have collected on it when she had it out earlier.

Outside Rico heard shots that seemed to be coming from in the direction of the training grounds. She paid little attention to the sound, knowing that it was probably one of the other girls doing some practice. She continued to wipe her gun until the door was opened and Henrietta entered with a small smile.

"Hi Rico"

"Hey" Rico gave back a brighter smile.

Henrietta placed her violin case on the bottom bunk; the one where she slept. She sat down making the springs squeak a little, giving that mouse like sound.

"Nice job today," Rico complimented as she put down her gun, her smile still present.

Henrietta gave a lightly hesitated "Thanks", her cheeks turning a light color of red.

Rico knew that Henrietta was always embarrassed whenever she got a compliment, even if it was from Jose. That was just her character, and also the small dosage of conditioning. Rico often wondered what it was like to not be conditioned so heavily. But again, she didn't mind the heavy conditioning she got from Jean, because at least she was alive and breathing.

"I heard you playing earlier too," Rico gave a glance at the violin case, "You always play so wonderfully"

"Thank you, I've been trying really hard to get better at playing"

"Well however your practicing is working for you. I wish I could learn how to play"

"Jean won't give you lessons?"

"Probably not"

Rico had never really asked Jean for lessons. Though Henrietta was giving her small lessons herself here and there, Henrietta was only a beginner herself, so it wasn't that great of a help to learn how to play. Rico would ask Jean, but she was sure of his answer, so she didn't bother. She rarely asked him to anything for her. She just knew better.

"Well maybe Jose could give you lessons"

That'd be an issue. Jean never liked it when his brother butted in on how he treated his pet. It was a constant argument between the two fratelli. It may have been the only thing they argued about.

The two girls fell to a small silence. The sound of a chirping bird perched outside the single window filled the room with beauty. Both of the young children admired the creature and it's song. It's music was more beautiful than any violin or orchestra. This one creature brought a little bit of joy to both of the girls. Time passed on as they listened, and soon nearly an hour had passed. The SWA's clock rang eleven times, marking the current time. Immediately Rico parted out of the trance that she had just been in sitting in her chair listening to the small sounds in the outside world, and gave her ciao to Henrietta as she left the room to go to the shooting range.

It was nice strolling outside the dorm area. Under the granite pilers the sun gleamed as bight as day. Birds of all sorts chirped their songs of love to Rico as she passed by on the walkway. Across the way she saw Triela with Hillshire. Triela was carrying her Heckler battle rifle, and also seemed to be a bit dirty around the face. It therefore seemed that the two had just returned from an assignment, and it also seemed it didn't go all that well either. Their relationship was a confusing one. Hillshire treated his girl with a stay-away approach, and didn't spend all that much time with her. However Rico knew that he often tried to show affection with occasionally giving her a gift, usually a stuffed teddy bear. Rico wanted to give a loud hello to them and wave, but knew better. Triela looked especially tired, and she didn't want to bother the two.

Rico reached the shooting range where she saw Jean waiting with a pair of earmuffs on. It wasn't until that moment that Rico realized she had forgotten to bring her pistol. She was ashamed at that moment, and found difficulty to pick out the words to say to her handler regarding this embarrassing moment. She knew that she'd get lectured about it, and harshly too. But she had to tell him.

"I'm sorry, I forgot to bring my pistol" Her muscles tensed a bit as she prepared for a lecture.

"That's okay" The pitch of Jean's voice was almost sympathetic and sorrowful; a tone that Rico had never heard her handler use with her.

"Today we're going to be shooting with this anyway" Jean placed a type 64 silent pistol on the wooden table in front of him, next to some boxes of ammunition, "We'll also be training in hand to hand combat"

Rico approached the table, picking up the gun. She took the normal steps of preparing to fire her weapon on the range; put on her earmuffs and goggles, make sure the clip was loaded, switch off the safety. The girl took her stance at the bullseye that was fifteen yards away.

Ready.

Aim.

Fire.

Wood chipped of the target, flying in every direction. The bullets hit their mark, almost close to perfect. But it wasn't perfect and Jean wanted better. And so Rico prepared to shot another seven rounds.

Ready.

Aim.

Fire.

This time the hits were a little closer to being perfect. It's true, her accuracy with the pistol was extremely good for a child, but it was nowhere good enough for a cyborg. It needed to be done again. She needed to fire again and again until the accuracy was good enough for Jean to approve.

Ready.

Aim.

Fire.

Better this time. The three step process of firing went on for at least one full hour. Jean coached her little during this time. Fix your stance, don't lean in so much, try not to flinch when you fire. The usual words that came out of his mouth when doing target practice together. But his tone of voice was soft, like that of a lover. It almost seemed as if he was being a little nice to her. Why he was doing this, Rico didn't know, and she pondered about it a great deal. What could make Jean act in such a kind way? Normally when they did shooting practice he'd lecture her about everything with the tone of a general and the harshness of an owner of a pet. Because that's what Rico was to Jean and nothing more. A pet. A pet to do his dirty work.

"Good. Now we'll move on to hand to hand."

The two walked behind the target that was riddled with bullets to find a dummy made out of hay. It looked more like a scarecrow than a dummy, but that's what it was. There was another wooden table behind here too. But instead of guns, this one had two different kinds of knives (a pocket knife and a kitchen knife), a pipe, and a crowbar. This wasn't what Rico thought Jean meant when he said hand to hand. But his wishes were her command.

"As you know, not in every situation will you have a gun on you. It could run out of ammo, you could drop it, so you have to learn how to use items at hand should you have the need to."

Jean picked up the kitchen knife, "Knives are small and easy to carry. You already carry one on you everywhere you go when on assignments. They are easily hidden, making it a good surprise weapon. But you must know how to use it correctly in order to get the most effectiveness out of it"

He bent his knees, bouncing up and down lightly with the back of his heels, "When it comes to close hand combat, you can not stop moving. Bounce lightly with your heels to be ready for your enemies strike. Keeping yourself moving helps you keep prepared for his attacks, as well as your own"

He took a run towards the man made out of hay and stabbed him in the heart. Little pieces of stray hay fell out, falling to the earth like feathers. Yellow thin feathers.

Jean went over how to use all four weapons correctly. How to swing the pipe, where to hit a target to inflect the most damage, areas to hit the target to knock them unconscious. These tips would come in use to Rico in all her missions.

When it come for Rico's turn to show what she observed from her handler, Jean grabbed her hands to help her. He was acting like his brother now. The softness of their skins touched as Jean went over how to stand correctly, and where to strike fatal blows, slowly pushing her hand forward to the areas of interest. His voice was soft, though his words were that of lecturing. But it was better than to be scolded. Rico would have smiled during this training, but held it back due to the seriousness of what they were doing. It would be inappropriate for her to enjoy this training. But she was. It was as if Jean wasn't teaching her, but still teaching her at the same time.

In the distance was a sound of a violin. It's sound pierced the heart of Rico. She couldn't help but give a small smile now at this moment despite the seriousness of the training. This moment of peace and harmony. Even though the teachings were of violence, indiscreetly they also seemed to be about friendship, or maybe even love.

Two more hours passed of training. The minutes flew by. Whatever the reason that made Jean so caring, she wanted that reason to not come to an end. She wanted it to continue forever, for this moment was precious. Precious in the feeling of love. The first feeling of love.

In these minutes of peace Rico found herself for some reason fondly attracted to Jean. Now more than ever did she want to impress him. It felt like that was the only thing she could do at that moment. She had to impress him in order to preserve the moment.

The training was over and Rico took a breather from all the slicing and dicing she had done to the poor scarecrow of a man. His heart was gutted out, along with all of his other organs. Rico began to image all the strands of hay in the dirt as blood. The sight of the dead man this morning flashed in her eyes. But of course that image didn't bother her. What kind of assassin would she be if the image of death bothered her? Not a very good one.

"Tomorrow I'm going to wake you from your room. I don't know what time. But tomorrow morning we have an important briefing with Lorenzo. So be prepared, and clean your guns good"

"Yes, Jean"

And again, that was that. The days work was over. Or so Rico thought.

"Rico," Jean began, leaving a long hesitation as if going to say something he was uncomfortable with saying, "Let's go to the café"

The shock could not have been greater. Never did Jean act like this to Rico. Never. Maybe it was possible Jose had said something to him that changed his heart. Or maybe this had something to do with her mission tomorrow. Could it be so dangerous that Jean had no choice but to act kind to her out of pity and worry? No, there was no such mission that could have that much of influence of the heart on Jean. Impossible.

The two walked to the café in silence, but it was a peaceful one. Now that secrete feeling began to glut within Rico. This feeling had been hidden for far too long. So long that it was never understood until this time. And it was a gracious feeling. It enhanced the sound of Jeans footsteps, the smell of his breath, and the pulchritudinous of his eyes and whole. This feeling began to make Jean look more like an angel rather than a master. A very beautiful angelo. She had to ask.

"Jean?" Her voice was soft and young.

"Yes?"

Normally when Rico was to ask of something, Jean would grunt or give that kind of "I don't care" look, but he answered just like a normal person; an answer that didn't have that ready-to-lecture tone.

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

Jean showed no reaction to the question, his eyes fixated on the path in front of him. They didn't even go in the direction of the questioner. They simply stayed where they were supposed. And his mouth did it's job by staying shut until he decided to change the topic.

"Anything specific you want?" He asked his cyborg as the two walked threw the doors of the café.

Rico shook her head, eying the almost empty room except for two others. She recognized Hillshire and Triela both sitting at a table. But instead of drinking tea or coffee, Hillshire was showing Triela some sort of map. Most likely it had to do with their mission that day. Now Triela was cleaned, and the smudges that were once on her face were now gone.

Jean told Rico to sit at one of the window tables, and she willfully obeyed, though he didn't sit down with her at first. In a few moments Jean left and came back with a crumpet cake from the vending machine. He placed and then went back and came back, bringing two cups of green tea. The two sat in silence, but it was good enough. Good enough for one of them at least.

Finally Jean broke with his answer, "I don't know"

That was all. That was all he said, but Rico understood him completely. Even if her handler didn't know, she did.

"Thank you" Were the two words Rico spoke.

The two sat in more silence the entire time. Outside was the sound of a violin that played wonderfully in the distance. The sound pierced the heart of Rico. Her smile was small, but meaningful, and full of childish hope. Hope that the child would need when her time would come later on. But of this future she didn't know of yet, so she kept happy in the moment that she wished could last forever without end. For if this moment was to end then so would the meaning to breath.

It was Beethoven's ninth. An die Freude.