Chapter 9: Things Remembered

Later that evening, Triela found herself in the briefing room rubbing elbows with the entire collection of the Agency's field operatives. A gathering this large was rare and invariably meant one thing: a critical opportunity had presented itself and necessitated the planning of an important mission. The fact that Triela herself had been summoned also hinted at the need to bring the Twins into the equation, which of course was evidence that an extermination of considerable size and/or difficulty was in order.

She tugged on Hilshire's sleeve and whispered, "What happened with Baldassare?"

Hilshire struggled to lean forward in the crowded room before answering confidentially, "He left in one piece, unfortunately. You haven't seen the girls?"

Triela shook her head and began to worry. The fact that Lino was still alive either meant that the Twins had failed to find him or had allowed him to leave. Either way, they would surely have returned to their room in abject misery. Meanwhile, Triela was stuck in the briefing wishing she could comfort her children.

"You want to leave, don't you?" Hilshire guessed her feelings.

Triela smiled weakly and looked up at her partner. "Is it that obvious?" she asked.

"It is to me," Hilshire answered, chucking her chin, "Now get out of here before the briefing starts."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. I'd do the same for you."

Triela smiled thankfully at Hilshire and kissed the back of her own hand. Then she navigated the crowd of operatives in search of the door. A few months ago a cyborg in her situation would have drawn the attention of the entire room, but by this time they had all become accustomed to Triela's occasional presence. Still undetected, she found the exit and reached out to open it.

Before she could even touch it, however, the door opened on its own, forcing Triela to jump back in order to avoid the application of the corner to her face. She watched in dismay as Jean and the Chief entered.

The former looked down at the befuddled girl and greeted her with a flat, "Triela."

"Going somewhere?" asked the latter.

"N-no, sir," Triela answered, shaking off her surprise and hiding her disappointment, "I was just finding my place."

"Do it quickly," Jean advised, "We're about to begin."

"Right," Triela complied before retracing her steps. As she rejoined Hilshire she cursed under her breath, "Al diavolo!" Hilshire squeezed her shoulder sympathetically.

Chief Lorenzo took his place at the head of the table and slowly scanned the room, taking in the sight of his attentive soldiers. Each of them had been screened and selected with utmost care. Each had become infamous in their own right among their opponents. Together they could subvert or cripple a military force many times their size. Rarely were they called upon to hunt the same target twice.

"Some of you may recall Cristiano Savonarola," the Chief began, producing from the portfolio under his arm a large photograph of the man in question. He placed the photo on the table for all to see. "Former head of the Republican Faction in Milan," he recounted, "Orchestrated the assassination of Filippo Adani. Masterminded the attempts to stop the construction of the Messina Bridge Project. He was last seen fleeing from his home in Milan and was initially believed to have been killed during his escape."

From here Jean took the floor. "Recently it has come to light that he may have survived the attack," he said, "Moreover, he has apparently begun to pursue a personal vendetta against the Social Welfare Agency." He then paused to let the revelation sink in.

Hilshire nudged his partner and asked, "Remember any of this?"

Triela answered hesitantly, "A lot of it's fuzzy…" She tried to recall the memories locked away in her mind, but for some reason could only remember the sounds of metal on metal and of crashing glass. Suddenly, she felt her right eye die in a violent burst of searing pain. When her hand came away from her face, however, she was surprised to find that she retained her vision and that her eye remained intact.

"Are you alright?" Hilshire asked when he felt her recoil.

"Yeah," Triela replied shakily, "I'm fine." Before she returned her attention to the briefing, she blinked a few times just to make sure everything was in its proper place.

"According to our source," Jean continued, "Savonarola was planning to supply Giacomo Dante with a large supply of heavy weapons, which he was then to use specifically against our cyborg operatives."

At this point, Jose raised a finger and Jean acknowledged him with a nod. "Where exactly is our intel on this coming from?" the younger Croce asked.

Jean answered, "Our source is one Lino Baldassare, a low-ranking Padania operative. He claims to have been summoned by Savonarola himself in order to fill Dante's position."

"Gesù," Triela sighed, realizing what had happened earlier that day, "No wonder he managed to get away."

"Sounds suspicious to me," said Alessandro Ricci, "Why would you hire an errand boy to carry out your revenge plan?"

"The lack of specific details is a cause for concern," Jean replied, "But satellite images confirm the existence of a structure under armed guard at the coordinates given to us by Baldassare." Again the Chief presented the relevant high-resolution images to the gathering.

"This is a trap," Hilshire announced, "What else could it be?"

"But if it's not," the Chief countered, "We allow a madman with an entire arsenal to wander about trying to destroy us. The best course of action is to go to the safehouse and wipe out all opposition. If Savonarola is indeed there, then we interrogate him for the location of the weapons. If not, then we go home having conducted a successful raid."

"With respect, sir," Ricci said carefully, "We shouldn't be walking into a potential ambush with such little information. It's possible that Savonarola is where we think he is and it's possible that he's gotten his hands on this arsenal, but with our current intel I think it's best to assume that he's in possession of these weapons with the intent to use them, most likely in a scenario orchestrated by himself."

"With our current intel, then," Jean retorted, "We must grant for the sake of security that Savonarola is, in fact, alive and is, in fact, in possession of ordnance. Isn't that right?"

Alessandro smiled faintly at Jean's craftiness. "That's right," he conceded, "And I agree that some course of action must be taken. I just don't think an all-out assault is the correct one."

Chief Lorenzo scanned the room again and saw in the eyes of his staff that the majority agreed with Alessandro. He did not blame them. After all, none of them had been given the right to sit in this room by being reckless. Still, if everything that Baldassare had claimed was true, Savonarola's survival necessitated a solution. The Chief pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

"Alright," he said fatigued, "Let's all take five. Meanwhile, I want everyone to consider the risks we face and the options we have." Naturally, the room emptied quickly at his word. Triela and Hilshire retired to the hall to take some considerations of their own.


"Okay, okay," Triela said breathlessly as she paced back and forth, "Baldassare's an informant for the Agency now. That's just a tiny complication, isn't it? We can work around that, can't we?"

Hilshire ran a hand through his hair and exhaled hard, puffing his cheeks. Other than this, he gave the question no response.

Triela stopped pacing and tried in vain to catch her partner's eyes. "Can't we?" she asked again with markedly reduced confidence.

"Triela," Hilshire said, trying to bring her back down to Earth, "We can't lay a finger on him."

"But we have to," Triela pleaded, "It's got to be done."

"How? Jean and the Chief aren't stupid. They'll connect the dots between Baldassare and the girls immediately."

"We can pin it on Padania. If Baldassare's story checks out, then he's just turned king's evidence."

"Except Savonarola isn't Padania. Not anymore. They themselves gave him up to us, remember?"

Triela stopped because she did not, in fact, remember this until just now. "Right," she replied vaguely, "Of course…" She tried again to remember Milan and again she failed to recall the entire picture. She heard the metal and glass again, but this time she tasted blood as well.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" Hilshire asked softly, "Why are you fighting so hard when it's not even your fight?"

Triela stared at him in surprise as if the answer should have been as obvious to him as it was to her. "Of course this is my fight," she said after a while, "I'm a handler now. My problems aren't the only ones that I have to take into consideration."

Hilshire shook his head and laughed dryly. "Of course you'd remember just enough to make me eat my words."

"If the Twins laugh," Triela said with absolute resolve, "I laugh. If they cry, I cry. If they fight…"

"And if they die?" Hilshire cut in, "They're going to get themselves killed, Triela. I love those girls; they bring you to life in a way I haven't seen in a long time. But they've always been quick to jump into the line of fire and you've always been quick to follow. Now that Baldassare's finally come out of hiding, they'll be gunning for him without a care in the world for the people around them. Please, if you ever cared about me, don't let them crash and burn with you riding shotgun."

"What am I supposed to do?" Triela demanded, "Should I follow your orders because I'm your cyborg, or should I do what I feel is right as a handler?"

"Don't make me out to be the bad guy. I'm just looking out for you. That's my job as a handler."

"I know, I know…" Triela said, apparently calmer than before. "And you're right," she admitted, "The Twins are on a slippery slope. I don't want them to fall, but they eat, drink and breathe revenge and I promised to help them."

Hilshire planted a gentle hand onto his partner's head. "I know this is hard for you. You've been in those shoes yourself, after all. But you need to let this go. At least for now."

Triela gasped quietly as Hilshire's statement transported her back to Milan. Again she heard metal and glass. Again she tasted blood. But now she saw it all: knives sailing through the air, shattered windows, those cold, scowling eyes and that vicious snarl. What's more, she could feel the charge that electrified the air that night. She remembered how her hatred and anger had caught fire, set her soul aflame and made her into a singleminded killer. She remembered.

"I have to go," she said in a rush.

Hilshire, taken aback by this sudden burst of energy, asked, "Why? What's going on in that head of yours?"

Triela replied breathlessly, "After all these months as a handler I've given them their weapons, their training, and their missions. There's just one thing I haven't given them. One thing that all good handlers give their cyborgs. One thing that all cyborgs need at some time or another…" She trailed off with a smile.

Hilshire stared in confusion. Then suddenly, before he could react, Triela tugged hard on his tie, bending him forward so she could plant a soft kiss on his lips.

"…A lecture," she concluded giddily. With this she marched off, but not, to Hilshire's ever increasing surprise, in the direction of the Twins' room. Instead, Triela headed straight back into the briefing room wherein Jean and the Chief were still discussing how to convince the field staff to mobilize. When she entered, the two men looked up at the girl expectantly.

"Chief," Triela announced, "I volunteer for this mission. My Fratello will locate and neutralize Savonarola."