3 | Starting Anew

—|1|2|—

"You have to listen to me, Manny." A loud groan filled with displeasure and annoyance echoed off nearby walls. The succeeding words contained very similar sentiments, if the slight increase in volume and lowered tone were any indication. "You and your ilk are going about this whole damned process the wrong way, and if you continue doing things in a stupid way, then you're going to ruin all of us. I'm not going to let that happen."

A glance at the office's rear wall would have revealed the dark outline of a slightly hunched figure surrounded in pale yellow light. That soon changed as the man who sourced that shadow leaned back in his chair, exhaling a curt sigh into the air. His right hand held a cell phone to his ear while the fingers of his left drummed the oak surface of his desk. The thumping increased in intensity in the several seconds his conversation partner needed to mumble his reply.

"Yeah, yeah… I am fully aware of the severity of the problem." His voice was not quite a shout, though its timbre was reminiscent of one. "What I don't quite understand is why you insist on not changing your tactics so that you can solve said problem. It's like the definition of insanity—doing the same things over and over and expecting a different result."

Yet another reply, this one compelling the man to slowly shake his head while pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Okay, think what you want. But, I'll tell you, you only thought you had an advantage there. I can see why you thought that, but you were wrong. You didn't have an advantage." The voice emanating from the speaker was more forceful this time, but the man cut short the response. "No, you didn't. If you did, your guys would still be alive, and I wouldn't need to worry about taking on a goddamned new job right now."

Silence prevailed, but only for a brief moment. The sound that followed was the mangled cross between a wail and a deep-throated grumble. At the same time, the man used his free hand to massage the back of his head, his fingers intertwining and yanking at curly black locks. Another sigh from the man signaled a resumption of their discussion.

"Look, we can spend all evening arguing the merits of your strategy, but I'd rather not. For all I care you can continue working along whatever path your pathetic little mind thinks is best. Just don't come begging to me for funding as I've had enough of constant failure. Now, I have a few more calls to make, so feel free to get the hell off my phone."

Twenty years ago, Donato Lombardi would have slammed a sizeable handheld receiver down atop an even larger and more substantial body to end the phone call. Merely pressing a button on a touch screen did not provide quite the same satisfaction. Either way, he was just as glad that he no longer needed to speak to Manfredo. He had better ways to spend his valuable time. First among them was to make good on his denouement and start making more calls. A few more taps on the phone's screen unearthed the name of the first of many contacts.

Then he heard a piercing yell. Donato flinched. Another shout, one slightly lower in pitch, soon followed. With a hand poised on his desk to add haste to his escape, he shifted his gaze toward the office door. Nary a moment later he ascended from his chair, letting it swivel freely as he marched toward the threshold.

It meant someone would soon find themselves in major hot water.

Annoyance graced Donato's features as he stuck his head out of the doorway. "Okay, what on earth are you girls fighting over this time?"

Standing before him was a pair of young girls, both of whom matched Donato in possessing brown eyes and a complexion one might consider healthily tanned. That was where the comparisons ended, however. The older girl had long dark-brown hair that fell to her waist and carried a natural curl. Her sister's was slightly lighter in color, straight, and far shorter, ending in the middle of her back. The brown coloration in both girls' hair came from their mother, who all but ignored Donato to fix her ire upon the older girl.

"Perla! What the heck did I tell you about taking Agnese's toys while she's playing with them?"

At a mere seven years old, Perla was the elder. That didn't help her much when she cast toward her mother a bemused expression while clutching the doll closer to her chest. "But she wasn't playing with this one when I took it!"

"N-nu-uh!" Tears streamed down Agnese's face as she reached toward her sister, only nearly trip when her target spun out of her grasp. Her stammering, already a feature of her speech as a four-year-old, was enhanced by her sadness and anger. "I was p-playing with it, and then she t-took it from me a-and said I couldn't have it a-anymore!"

Fierce anger swept away Perla's confusion. "That's not true! She's—"

"Quiet, Perla." So stern was her tone, she did not need to shout to grasp the girl's undivided attention. "Give Agnese the doll. Now."

Silence reigned for several seconds as Perla stood still with her mouth agape. The porcelain toy hung to her side, slowly swaying with the movements of her arm as she deliberated her options. Not that she actually had more than one. Her mother's glare grew more intense, and her impending punishment became ever worse, with every second she delayed the inevitable. So, even as the heat of rage intermingled with sadness and disappointment, the young girl relinquished her hold of the doll, letting it drop to the floor with a light thud. Then, with a huff, she turned and started for her room, hoping to escape both the sight of Agnese's joyful conquest and her mother's admonition.

Sensing as much, the woman started after Perla. "Oh, don't think for a second you're getting out of trouble…" A gentle tug of her arm stopped her before she even made her first step forward.

"Oh, Luisa." Donato's prior annoyance had since subsided as he glanced down at his youngest child before turning his gaze to his wife. "Give the poor girl a break for once."

If Luisa was moved by his entreaty, she made sure not to show it. "I'm not going to let that girl get away with bullying her sister. She's better than that."

"Bullying, huh?" After watching Agnese depart the hallway with a slight waddle, he leaned backward against the wall, raised his chin upward, and exhaled a sigh.

"Perla needs to learn not to be so aggressive with Agnese. Just because she older, that doesn't mean she can just take whatever she wants whenever she wants it." The frustration in her tone grew, even as its volume shrank. "She already knows she has plenty of her own toys to play with, so why steal her sister's too?"

A tiny yet telling grin pulled at Donato's lips as he nodded. "I know the feeling, darling." It soon disappeared, replaced by a grimace. "Though, I've seen that look many times before, and it makes me wonder who exactly bullied who in this instance."

Luisa waved off his accusation with a shrug. "In that case, she should be old enough to know not to put herself in such situations in the first place."

"So says the youngest of four siblings. Situations like this make me glad I was an only child growing up."

"Oh, come on." Clearly her irritation had returned with full force, as evidenced by the heated glare she pointed at Donato combined with a frosty tone. "You make it sound like I enjoy putting Perla through such hell."

"No, I'm merely pointing out a potential bias in your consideration of this moment." He did well to conceal any intimidation he might have felt behind an impassive expression.

Expelling a loud huff, she crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Heh. Bias my ass. I'm only doing what's fair for the both of them."

"Quite the interesting definition of fair." Indeed, Donato had quirked an eyebrow in suspicion upon hearing the word. "I'd wager Perla believes she's received a raw deal right about now. Don't you think?" He then lowered the eyebrow and regarded Luisa with a look that shouted understanding. "Look, all I'm saying is to not be too harsh on her without giving her a chance to explain her side of things. You might be surprised where the real fault lies."

The woman shook her head slowly, but even he could see she was reconsidering her position. "Ever the one to deny needed discipline. You're always a bit too soft for your own good."

"Hey. I can be strict when it matters."

"Right…" A chuckle, mirthful but containing a hint of derision, slipped from her mouth to accompany her half-wink. "Anyway, let's hope that our dear children can stay quiet and peaceful for long enough for me to get some actual work done tonight. Not that I'm looking forward to any of it. Sometimes adults can't help but to act like kids. I have to remind myself that I only have three."

Donato nodded. "I feel your pain."

With his wife making her way downstairs, he retreated back into his office to make the necessary phone calls. A quick glance at the clock hanging on the far wall showed that it was seven minutes past eight in the evening. That gave him more than enough time for him to slump back into his seat and suck in a quick breath. As he slowly exhaled he shook his head and reminisced on the previous situation.

Despite the occasional insanity, they help me remember what I'm fighting for. A chuckle escaped lips pulled into a wry grin. Something of a microcosm of the insanity this whole country's going through right now, really. Though, if I have my way, we won't have to suffer for very long. So, let's call ol' Aldo and see if he's willing to help me along.

Only two rings were required before Donato heard through his phone's speaker the sound of Aldo's low-pitched and gruff voice.

"Ay, Donny." A cough and grumble were barely audible during the brief pause. "What a pleasant surprise to hear from you."

It's a good thing that old man can't see me right now, he thought. Indeed, were Aldo present in that office he would have witnessed a very wide smirk on the younger man's lips. Aloud, Donato said, "I'd be happy if that were an honest sentiment, but I know you better than that. You're still holding a grudge against me. That's not healthy, you know. You've gotta learn to let go."

"You're fucking with me, right? That was two thousand euro you lost me. It's not like I can just let it go that easily."

"No, that was two thousand euro that you lost yourself. It's not my fault I was the beneficiary of your error. Besides, it was two years ago. I'm sure you've long since made it up by then."

"That's not the point." Another short pause, one punctuated by the raspy clearing of Aldo's throat. "Donny, I know that behind that shit-eating grin you're wearing—and don't try to bullshit me 'cause I know you just as well—there's something going on in that mind of yours. You're not the type to go about calling me unless you had a damned good reason to do so."

"Straight to business, I see. No time for idle chit-chat. That's the perfect attitude for the type of person I want to work on this new business project of mine."

Silence dominated for a few seconds before Aldo finally spoke. "Project, eh? I have no idea what you're thinking, but I'm damned sure interested in finding out." Donato could hear Aldo hum in contemplation. "You remember the last time we met in person?"

"Yeah, that restaurant you took me to." He nodded despite knowing his conversation partner could not see him. "If I recall it was fairly close to the river. It was also pretty damned expensive for what we got."

"I enjoyed it, for what it's worth. At least, that's what I told myself after paying all that money for that crap. Anyway, though, there's a little place I know on the other side that serves the real deal and not that fake stuff. How 'bout you come meet me there this Saturday around three."

"That's awfully short notice, you know. I'm a very busy man with many responsibilities and I can't just take off whenever I please."

"As awfully important as this plan must be to you, and it must be if you're calling me, I'm sure you can afford this tiny accommodation. Besides, you're the goddamned owner. You can take off whenever you damned well please."

It was Donato's turn to hem and haw. He took a brief moment to peer over at a calendar displayed on his computer screen. A myriad of colored rectangles filled the columns representing the days. Of particular importance was Saturday. Despite it being devoid of any boxes, their absence did not mean he had no plans for that day. Furthermore, it was already Wednesday, which gave him precious little time to make travel arrangements.

"That's awfully easy for you to say when you don't have any mandatory executive staff meetings that are planned weeks in advance." His frustration mounted, and it was evident in his voice. "Plans that I made, mind you. Now, yeah… you're right. I can easily screw over my execs by cancelling my Friday strategic planning meeting with short notice so that I can hop on a plane to—" he nearly bit his tongue as he swiftly snapped his mouth shut and hummed— "to meet with you. Just keep in mind this would be yet another favor I offer you. What favors do you have in store for me?"

"The assurance that you won't have to worry about how you're getting there, for one," Aldo said. "If you give me the go-ahead, I'll get all the necessary transportation set up."

Donato pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed. "Fine… fine. Okay, I'll let my execs know that our meeting will be postponed to Monday."

"Good." Aldo's tone carried more than a hint of satisfaction. "Besides, it'll give us a better opportunity to catch up on old times as well."

"Oddly enough, I'm actually looking forward to it. See you there, old man." Before Aldo could make any retort, Donato tapped a button on his phone's screen to disconnect the call.

Silence returned to Donato's office, but it faded in the repetitive clicking of metal striking metal. The sound's source was the heavy cap of an old Zippo lighter as it slammed against its silver-toned tank. He had received the lighter as a gift from his grandfather. Despite not being a smoker and thus not needing its flame, he had kept the trinket for its sentimental value. It gave his hands something to play with when his mind was otherwise occupied. Then, almost as quickly as it had started, the clicking stopped.

Yeah… Actually, that might just work. It's far from perfect, and Luisa's approval could down it before it even lifts off the ground, but I'll be damned if it's not worth a shot.

—|1|2|—

The room was beyond familiar to Giancarlo. Every aspect of its being, from its dim and depressing lighting to its chilly, cramped confines, matched his memory without error. Though her attire had changed, the computer monitor's light cast an equally imposing shadow against the rear wall of the brunette as she once again stared intently into the screen. Just as before, he shivered upon his entrance.

"Quite the pleasure seeing you around these parts again, Mr. Rossi." Ferro managed a slight tilt of her head in Giancarlo's direction. Though her tone was laced with sarcasm, Giancarlo returned the gesture without delay. "Let's hope our second time at this goes much better than the first."

He leaned with his back against the wall, turning his gaze toward Ferro. As he did so he cradled the wrist of his right hand in an almost unconscious motion. "Do we still not know what happened with Bianca?"

"Unfortunately, no. Our investigation determined that Bianchi followed Belisario's conditioning protocol for Bianca to the letter. Furthermore, Belisario found no procedural mistakes when he examined the video. So, we continue to consider this incident nothing more than an untimely and unavoidable mishap." After a beat, Ferro swiveled in her chair to meet Giancarlo with her own impassive stare before adding, "At least as far as our side is concerned."

"What're you implying?" Even as he towered over her, he couldn't help but to flinch at her barb. "That what happened to Bianca somehow was my fault?"

"You're a handler, not a doctor. So, such an accusation would be extremely inappropriate, don't you think?" She tilted her head slightly askew. "At least, that's the case for normal second-generation cyborgs. Your Valentina, whoever it might be, represents a complicated combination of cybernetics and computer technology. I'm as much an expert in writing software as I am a scientist or physician."

"Sure, but it's not like I wrote Valentina's code from scratch." He pushed away from the wall and placed his left hand on his hip. "Or did Caterina ever have any problems when she awoke? 'Cause it's her brain-computer interface code that I used for reference. If there were any problems with that code—and while I admit visual inspection is hardly infallible I did scour her code multiple times—I think I would have found them before then."

Ferro sighed as she returned her attention to the monitor. The keyboard clacked loudly beneath her fingers. "Indeed, Caterina awoke without issue. But that's irrelevant. Caterina, for all the value she provides the Agency, represents barely a baby step in the direction of Chief Lorenzo's ultimate goal." The sound stopped, and once again she turned to face him. When she spoke, it was with a voice barely louder than a whisper, one carrying an unusually sympathetic tone. "So we're clear, I don't blame you for Bianca's failed awakening. Not anymore than I blame the medical staff. For what it's worth, it may just be the case that, for all our tricks and technology, Bianca never really wanted the fate we planned for her. Maybe… maybe she decided to create her own fate."

Giancarlo was not an expert at detecting nonverbal communications, but even he could see her tremble, minute as it was, at the implication. Not that he could blame her. Nonetheless, once the concept entered his mind its heavy weight leaned upon his curiosity. His subsequent question was inevitable.

"Is that even possible? For a cyborg candidate to consciously reject conversion, I mean?"

"It's never happened before. Yours might be the first, if it's truly the case." Ferro closed her eyes as she sucked in a deep breath and slowly exhaled it. "I hope you can excuse me if I find fathoming such a thought to be… rather difficult."

A slow nod accompanied his reply. "I feel the same."

Giancarlo rubbed his arms to with his hands to recover from a sudden blast of chilly air that coincided with the dearth of conversation. A seemingly deadly silence would have permeated the tiny space if it weren't for Ferro's keyboard. Not talking gave the man a brief moment to reflect.

Maybe it's for the best that Bianca didn't survive. Given the horrors forced upon her, I don't know if I'd want to continue living if I were in her place. But, wasn't the conditioning process supposed to suppress such memories? I know I didn't want them to use so much of the drug with Valentina, but they told me that only mattered after conversion—that the memory erasure was identical for all of the girls.

"What prompted your decision?"

"Huh?"

He thought he had heard Ferro's voice, and a quick glance in her direction found the woman peering upward at him while wearing an expectant expression.

"Of the four candidates to replace Bianca, you selected Adelina. I was just wondering why you chose her instead of one of the other three."

"Ah." Folding his arms before his chest and staring upward at the ceiling gave him a few precious moments to formulate a response. "Well… I figured she was the most suitable girl for what I wanted out of a cyborg-handler relationship."

Ferro waited. She waited some more. When Giancarlo still failed to elaborate, instead giving her a curt shrug, she twisted up an eyebrow and decided to press harder.

"And what exactly do you want in your relationship with your cyborg, if you don't mind me asking?"

"She's… I know Dr. Bianchi warned me about being too personal with the cyborgs, but I feel more comfortable thinking of her and treating her as I would my daughter instead of as a mindless, inanimate tool."

"Maybe you should speak with Dr. Bianchi again, this time in a more professional setting."

He chuckled and cracked the smallest of grins in spite of her insult. "I know exactly what you're inferring here. No, I haven't gone insane. Not yet, at least." The levity disappeared behind a more solemn demeanor. "To be honest, the question weighed on my mind quite a bit, and I spent way too many nights drinking way too much in trying to find the answer. Looking at those girls and what pain they've endured in their awfully short lives, I couldn't bring myself to consider treating them in any different manner. I feel I owe them at least that much, even if they don't remember—hopefully—what happened to them to bring them here."

"So, by that metric, the fact that Adelina, at ten years old, is four years younger than the next youngest means—"

"Means maybe I figured she would be best since she would be closer to how old my little girl would have been," Giancarlo interjected. "Sure, Adelina is older by about four years, but all the other girls are older still."

Ferro had opened her mouth to speak, but closed it upon hearing Giancarlo's last sentence. Instead she merely nodded.

"But I chose her for more than purely sentimental reasons. At one-hundred sixty-two centimeters she's extremely tall for a ten-year-old, especially in her legs, which given the antennas located there only improves the range and reception for a broad spectrum of frequencies. But at the same time, she's not so large as to limit my options. She can blend in with children around her actual age and, with a little work, also mimic a teenager, someone thirteen or fourteen years old."

"I believe I understand your logic. But, what would you do in other scenarios, where the presence of a child would be inappropriate?"

He hummed for a second, cupping his chin in his hand as he considered his reply. "It… I guess it depends on the situation, really." Uncertainty prompted his initial halting delivery, but confidence soon set in. "If I can't bring her with me, I'll just have her do the same thing on the outside. Or we both sit outside. If we're dealing with wireless systems, then as long as we're in range of the signal we can monitor and intercept whatever we want."

"Certainly, but that doesn't answer my question." A flat stare accompanied her retort.

Giancarlo answered with a nod, one soon followed by a half grin. "I'd have to rely on social engineering then. Convince whoever needs convincing that Valentina's presence, while unusual, is merely benign."

"You don't really seem the type of person capable of such levels of personal deception."

His grin expanded. "Believe me when I say it doesn't require much. I know from experience."

"And how much experience could you possibly attain from sitting in an office and writing computer code all day? Really esoteric code maybe, but you're far from a field agent, which is a fact to which you've already admitted."

"Let's just say that my teenage years were a bit more… oh, shall we say, unruly."

"Uh huh." That simple utterance and the slightest of nods constituted the entirety of Ferro's response. Her gaze initially found the floor before travelling along the tile to a small cardboard box sitting near Giancarlo's feet. "I see you've followed my recommendation and brought along a gift this time."

"I'm a quick learner, especially after what happened last time. Either way, it's something more befitting of Valentina."

"Good. I couldn't imagine you bringing a firearm."

The chirping that echoed about the room was mercifully short, though its abrupt arrival and piercing tone had evidently startled Giancarlo. Conversely, Ferro maintained a veneer of calm as she turned toward the computer monitor.

"Dr. Belisario just notified me that they're ready to start the awakening process for Valentina."

Ferro rose from her seat to lead Giancarlo through that familiar threshold. She hesitated once her hand made contact with the door's steel handle, instead sucking in a deep breath. For all her willingness to needle the rookie handler, she knew just as well as he did the enormity of the risks he faced. Finally exhaling the air in a low sigh, she spun around and pointed a solemn stare at the sole person tasked with standing in the room and facing whatever outcome awaited him firsthand.

"I hope it's far less exciting this time around, for your sake and hers."

He couldn't help but to match the seriousness of her whisper with his own. "Yeah… Amen to that."