This chapter marks another appearance by my OC, Liesel. I won't explain the references I've used here. If you're a serious Gunslinger Girl fandom buff, you'll recognize them instantly.
un tutto per un occhio
The last rays of the setting sun were bathing the western sky with their fading glow as Liesel, viola case in hand, cordially parted company with Altheus, strolled away from the Agency car park and down the quiet, tree-lined path leading to her apartment, as she had done for the past four years. The soul-destroying weeks of surreptitious surveillance leading up to the afternoon's mission had paid off handsomely, and she had pulled the job off in flawless style, outdoing even her checkered record to date. She was feeling pretty good.
"Liesel, my girl," she smiled to herself, "you deserve a bit of a treat."
Cue an abrupt change of mood as Liesel turned a bend and the low, low shape of her apartment came into view. She whipped her SAR-21 out of its viola case and broke into a run upon noticing that the door was off its hinges, loading and priming the weapon as she did so. Entry a moment later confirmed her fears – her home had been broken into and ransacked during her absence, with the perpetrators long gone.
Furniture lay upended or askew, with drawers forced open and cupboard doors left gaping. The walls were defaced with obscene graffiti, spray-painted in two distinct styles that nonetheless matched one another in their juvenile spitefulness. The larder and refrigerator had been looted, broken jars and bottles with their spilled contents strewn everywhere. The tray of butter rum muffins and jam-spread baguette slices she had prepared and set out to cool upon the dining table prior to leaving on her mission had disappeared, with but a sprinkling of crumbs to mark its passing.
While her porcelain features wore a frantic look of alarm, it was not the aforementioned vandalism that was affecting Liesel. Ignoring the damage, she rushed to the far corner of the living-room instead, opening a trapdoor so cleverly hidden that one could have sworn it had not existed prior to being uncovered. Squeezing her slender frame through the portal, the young operative was soon hurrying down a flight of steps that descended into an underground chamber.
The room was almost crypt-like, icy cold and dimly lit by a candelabra that cast an eerie, pale blue glow. All worry instantly faded from Liesel's face to be replaced by an almost dreamy look of relief as she noted that the ornate chest standing on a catafalque in the middle of the room was undisturbed.
From this casket did she gently lift a ridiculously tall, pastel pink, Lolita-esque boot, slowly removing and fondly caressing the flawlessly embalmed severed foot contained within, the toenails of which she had kept neatly manicured and immaculately painted. Moments passed before Liesel carefully returned it to its resting place, her previously-suppressed annoyance now bubbling to the surface as she quit the hidden room and ascended the stairs.
"How long must it go on?" sighed Liesel, shaking her head sadly as she booted up her ZEN. John Paul Young's 'Love is in the Air' started to play as she rolled up her sleeves and set about the tedious task of cleaning up. "This internal strife? This odium? This antagonism? This ridiculous business of burglarizing apartments, vandalizing property and pilfering pastries laced with untraceable, pancreatic enzyme-activated explosive chemicals?"
From somewhere off in the distance came the sound of a thunderous detonation.
"Why can't we all just get along…?"