Note: not as action packed as the other branch, eh? 'twas meant to be this way, though…
Life, Liberty, And…
A Gunslinger Girl fan fiction by:
Sintendo
Chapter
Nine: Spirits of 1969
(Bradley:
Narrator)
I knew Jean was going to find out about my little visit to The Vatican. How he did, I don't know, but I'll be damned if I said he was okay with bringing his Rico to church. He was furious; spouting this and that about "instilling worthless ideas" into her head. I didn't want to argue about it, of course, but he insisted. So I suggested an outing where we can talk as men and get some things off our chests.
Lord knows I had a mouthful to say to him as well.
Rome, Italy; 1200 hours, August 8, 2005
"I understand why Rico and Claes are coming along," Jean groaned as he sat in the passenger seat of my vehicle, "But why are Triela, Angelica, Baldo, and Nacho here as well?"
I smiled sheepishly, "I promised to their handlers that I'd keep an eye on them for today. As for Angelica… well, let's just say Marco needed to cool off for a while."
"Should have just left them at the agency," Jean mumbled, "They'll be less trouble over there."
I wanted to retort, but decided to save it for when we reached our destination.
"Where are we headed, anyway?" Jean asked.
"The Estate Romana Festival at the Piazza delle Coppelle," I smiled, "We'll have to walk the rest of the way."
I parked my car in an empty lot; ushering everyone out. Jean was none too happy about the destination that I chose, but he exited the car, nonetheless. Maybe he thought the setting wasn't as important as what he had to say to me.
It was only a short walk to the piazza, so it was only natural that Jean and I not exchange words just yet; though we did tell the kids behind us to catch up and stop gawking about. It was my decision to come to this festival, so it was I how paid for the entry fee. Once inside, our first goal was to find a quiet spot where Jean and I could talk; it was early afternoon and the place was suffering from a drought of tourists, so it was easy to find one: a half empty pub. Our second goal was to get the cyborgs off our backs.
Before I sent them off to wanter the fairgrounds, I handed Claes a stack of bills containing over 500 Euros. Needless to say, the girl was shocked at the amount of money I handed her.
"Why so much?" She asked in a suspicious tone.
"Go have some fun," I answered simply, "Take your time. Meet people. Eat lots of sweets." After shooing her away, she went to join her comrades, dividing the money and disappearing into one of the many gaming tents.
Meeting with Jean in one of the booths of the pub, I ordered for us 2 beers, two shot glasses, a 2-litre bottle of Everclear, and a bowl of peanuts (just for something to munch on); I was the standard tourist in the waitress's eyes.
Once the beers were served, Jean jumped straight into conversation, "Why did you bring Rico into a curch?" He was calm, "Putting ideas of creationism, sins, and what's right and wrong… it doesn't belong in a cyborg's head. We are the ones who tell them what is right and wrong, not the bible."
"I've never thought of the bible as a rule book for living," I sipped my beer, "I see it as an outline. Something you should do, but it's ultimately up to you to decide what you do."
"Well that right there means you're going to hell. The bible says that you have to follow their rules or else."
"The bible was written in a time of confusion; they didn't know what was going on with the world, with the Romans killing everyone and such, so the authors of the various bibles made rules against what the Romans thought was right," Another sip of beer, "But all that is beside the point. Why do you think me bringing Rico and the others to one church session is so bad? She was a little bored, so I thought she could waste the day with the rest of us instead of by herself."
"You put things into their minds, and they may start to revolt."
"They're children; why would they revolt?"
"Because they're cyborgs, not children. They only appear to be children; they're nothing but tools of the Government now."
I stayed calm, "You may see them that way, but I cannot. I can tell you've never had kids before, so I'll let that comment of yours slide."
"Don't tell me I know nothing about children!" He slammed his fists on the table.
I knew what he was implying, "Percival told me about your sister. I apologize for what I said."
His posture seemed to relax, "They're tools, Bradley. You think of them as anything else and you're dead. Putting ideas into their heads cause them to think outside the box, and for them, any out of the box thinking is dangerous."
"Why are you so scared when you have the conditioning to quell that?" I was sarcastic of course.
"You read what happened to Elsa, right?"
A gulp of beer for he and I, "Rico is a smart girl, I'm sure you know."
He had no response.
"She was actually indifferent toward the whole church thing, so you have nothing to worry about."
"I see…" He finally said.
"There's also one more thing I wanted to say."
"Hmm?"
"The other day, when I pointed my gun at you. I apologize for that; I don't know what I was thinking."
"How'd you do that?" He asked.
"Do what?"
"Pinning Rico to the ground as fast as you did. How in the hell were you able to do that?"
I smiled. Suddenly the mouthful I had to say to him evaporated into thin air, "They're children."
As soon as Bradley was out of sight, the boys – who apparently have prior knowledge of what to do in a festival outside the agency – suggested that they first fill their stomachs with sugar.
"A necessary fuel." Baldo added with an evil grin.
"Candy…," Triela started, "…makes you fat."
"That's why you burn it off! Gelato for everyone!" Baldo led the group to a snack vendor's stand, ordering everyone a serving of extremely thick gelato. "Claes, I need 10 euro."
"I thought you were going to treat us?"
"Are you kidding? Benny has all my money."
She hesitantly handed him the bills.
Now with a taste for sweet foods, the cyborgs hungrily swept the food stands clean of anything that contained sugar or caffeine. It was addiction at it worst; even the normally quiet Angelica was laughing hysterically at each of Baldo and Nacho's unfunny jokes, ultimately following them around for the sheer hell of it, getting lost into a crowd of similarly aged children in an arcade tent. Since Claes carried all the money, those three were sure to find her. Wanting to burn off any extra energy – or in Triela's case, calories – Claes thought that a few of the brightly advertised electronic simulator would be a good start.
One of the brightest machines caught her attention. The title "House of the Dead 4: Special Edition" intrigued here even more. Horror stories were one of her infinite number of favorite genres.
"Let's try this out," She tugged at Rico's shirt, "Looks fun."
"O-ok." The poor girl had no choice but to follow.
"Approaching the machine, it dawned on her that she had no clue how to operate it, seeing as how it was her first time in an arcade. Then she spotted a device that appeared to accept euros…
"I wonder how much it costs?"
"2 Euros per game," A familiar voice from behind, "2 euros per player."
Claes quickly turned to find Nacho.
"Hmph," she grunted, "What's the matter? Lost?"
"Actually, yes," He was embarrassed to say so, "Baldo and Angelica ran off somewhere to get more candy and I lost them in the process. Have you ever played any of these games?"
"Not really, no," Claes admitted, "Have you?"
"Plenty of times. Benny oftentimes brings me along with Baldo, and we stop by some arcades in the shopping plaza. Want me to show you?"
She handed him 4 euros, "Please do."
"Rico and I are next," suddenly Triela was interested in the game, "We'll watch for now; see how this thing works and all."
Nacho agreed and pressed the "start" button. Claes was in for a wild ride. Even her training with firearms couldn't prepare her for the waves of mutated zombies that advanced toward her. She sprayed the oncoming wave until her submachine gun stopped firing. She desperately searched the arcade cabinet to find an extra magazine, but found none and before she knew it, her life (in the game) was over.
"How the hell do you reload?" Claes gasped.
Nacho laughed, "This isn't like with real weapons," He shook the wired Uzi, "You reload like this."
"Thanks for warning me." Claes was about to insert another set of bills before she was halted by Triela.
"My turn."
"What?" Claes said, "I didn't know how to play! It's still my turn."
"You'll get another turn, just wait in line behind Rico," She pointed to an empty spot where the girl in question once stood, "Huh? Where'd she go?"
Triela only turned once to find Rico, who was studying another machine.
"Why don't you go play that game with her while I'm playing this."
"Fine," Claes gave her the necessary amount of money, "But only 'till you're through."
Claes approached her friend, "What's this, Rico?"
"I think it's a piano game," She pointed at the ivory and ebony keys, "I've been watching the screen, and I think you have to press the right button when the line reaches the bottom."
Claes joined her in watching the demonstration screen, and indeed she was correct.
"Want to give it a try?" She asked.
"Sure," Rico smiled, "I'm not very good at piano, but I'll just try."
"It's only a quarter of a piano," Claes noted the 24 keys, "So it should be easy." She inserted the necessary amount of euros to start playing, and followed the on-screen instructions, choosing one of her favorite songs "Chopin's Minute Waltz".
The Estate Romana Festival: Pub; Rome, Italy; 1900 hours, August 8, 2005
For every cup of sugar that the cyborgs consumed, a pint of beer was downed by the two men, who had grown to tolerate one another. The alcohol was only a slight factor, though, since both men were able to handle the amount of alcohol in their bodies; though there tongues were a bit loose.
"What made you join the fucking agency?" Bradley asked Jean, "Was it the concept that perked your interests? The money perhaps?"
"No, no, no," Jean replied, "I fucking hate terrorists."
"Oh, the deal with your sister?"
"Not only that, but everything that they do just pisses me off. They're always the ones who say we're the violent ones, but look at them! 'We're going to bomb all the schools in Rome if you don't give us what we want'. Bull Shit!"
"That's true."
"And why'd you join? Did the Almighty George W. send you here?"
"Hahaha, you goddamned Italian…" Bradley finished his glass of dark ale and ordered another, "The President doesn't even know about the organization that I'm part of. He didn't send me, my superiors did."
"I thought you ran the…the… um…" Him mind drew blanks; the alcohol finally unleashing its wrath on his brain.
"U.S.S.P." Braldey finished for him.
"Yea that."
"Hmm… Well, to put it in perspective, I'm like Lorenzo, you see? I run things in my area, but there are still broke-dicks that tell me what to do."
"Um…," Jean began, "'broke-dick'?"
"Heh," Bradley laughed, "Army slang for someone who can't get things done right with the tools they got."
"Ah," Jean said, "We have those here as well, but I wasn't really savvy to them."
Braldey checked his watch, "7 o'clock. Think we should head back?"
"Yeah," Jean attempted to retrieve his wallet, but was halted by Bradley, "What?"
"Drinks are on me," Bradley said, "I brought you out here, anyways," Jean gave his thanks. Bradley then asked the bartender, "What's my tab?"
"247 Euros."
"Jesus Christ," Jean sighed, "We drank that much?"
Waddling out of the pub, the men began their search for the children. The mixture of the crowds, the setting sun, and the alcohol in their system made the search more difficult, eventually forcing them to asking children that passed by. Their brilliant detective skills finally pointed them to a brightly lit tent.
Inside, they immediately recoiled at the amount of noise within the tent; it certainly didn't seem as loud from the outside. Thankfully, though, only a few steps were necessary to find their cyborgs; all of them gathered around a horrific looking maching, save for one girl.
Bradley approached them first and asked, "Where's Claes?"
"Hmm?" Triela wasn't playing at the time, but her attention was stillf focused on the action on the big screen, "Oh, she's over there." She waved her finger in a general direction to her left.
Bradley sighed, "Thanks. Jean, keep an eye on them 'till I get back?"
Bradley wandered to wherever Triela pointed to, and spotted a crowd of people. Wondering if this could be where Claes was located, he stopped by, and indeed, there she was, calmly playing an electronic keyboard. The crowd applauded once she finished playing the classical tune.
Once the "game over" screen appeared, she reached into her skirt pocket.
"Damn," she commented, "No more money…"
Half bitter, and half upset, she turned from the machine and right into Bradley who, as usual, had an energetic smile on his lips.
"Bit by the videogame bug, I see." He said.
"I'm sorry that we wasted all of the money you gave us," She apologized, "I'll make up for it by-"
Bradley interrupted her, "I gave you the money; I didn't lend it to you." He patted her shoulder, "Come on; let's go home."
The walk back to the car was as quiet as the first; not a lot of things were to be said, anyway, except for an exchange of words between the boys.
Jean broke the silence, though, surprising Rico, "Did you have fun?" He asked her.
"Yes," her response, "But I didn't spend too much money, or eat too much candy. I never strayed too far away, or start any trouble."
Jean gently patted her head, "Good."