Note: Two updates in one! WEWT!
It was like the hymen that is my writer's block was finally penetrated by my creative outlet thrusting itself deeper and deeper into my soul until climaxing into what you are reading right now!
…
I need a cigarette…Here's Chapter 4...
"Baldo, may I ask you something?" Hillshire asked as Medics wheeled him into the locker room.
"What is it, sir?" The young boy asked.
"Did you HAVE to shoot all 20 rounds at me?"
"Er…," Baldo smiled, "Whoops…."
"Moron…." Beneditto grunted. He scolded the boy by slapping the backside of his head.
"Uh, Baldo?" Naldo called to him, "Triela is waiting for you outside…."
Life, Liberty, And…
A Gunslinger Girl fan fiction by:
Sintendo
Chapter Four: Propositions
The Social Welfare Agency: Lorenzo's Office, Rome, Italy; 0730 hours, June 17, 2005
"Come in, Jean." Lorenzo called out from his chair.
The Agent entered the room, a stern look carved into his face.
"What is it that you want to talk to me about?" Lorenzo asked as he buried his nose in several documents that required his signature.
"It's about The General, sir," Jean began, "There's something odd about him."
"How so?" Lorenzo did not make eye contact with his trusted advisor.
"Sir, I'm not sure if you had a good enough view yesterday morning, but the way he took Rico down was… inhuman."
"He's skilled in the martial arts," The Chief was still signing away several sheets of paper, "I'm sure any kung-fu black-belt-master would have stopped any one of our cyborgs the same way, though I doubt they'll last long in that position."
"No, sir, General Nowell completely disabled Rico; she was unable to move an inch. Surely you must find that a bit out of the ordinary."
"Jean, I just finished reading reports on The British Library, The French SOLDATS and the Chinese Doukusensha Agency; I find damn near anything to be possible now, but General Nowell totally disabling a cyborg assassin with his bare hands is something I find hard to swallow, especially considering his age. Just call it a fluke."
"Dammit, Chief!" Jean slammed his hands on Lorenzo's desk, "He's hiding something that WE should know about. Otherwise, he'd just be a hypocrite! He's going to jeopardize-"
"He's going to bring Section Two out of the gutters and into the spotlight." Lorenzo interrupted Jean and stood face-to-face with his comrade, "Dammit Jean, we've worked together for years. You should know by now that if something is threatening Section two I would act upon it, but right now my priority is getting us back on our feet, and the only person who can do that is The General. Friendly or not, he holds the future of the Social Welfare Agency in his hands, Jean. Just think about that will you?"
Jean retreated from The Chief's desk.
"Let him do his job," Lorenzo returned to his seat, "In one year, he'll be out of our hair."
The Social Welfare Agency: Cafeteria, Rome, Italy; 0730 hours, Same Day
The three Americans were gathered around a dining table in the far corner of the room. Not on official duty, they wore civilian clothing. Joining them at the table was a handful of the cyborgs of Section Two.
Triela busied herself by sharing a newspaper with Rico and Nacho. Naldo sat next to the window, staring outside at the summer morning sun as he rubbed his eyes free of last night's tear buildup. Baldo, the last of the cyborgs at the table, sat by himself at the opposite end of where Triela sat, resting his head on the table. The boy was still aware that she was extremely cross at the way he emptied his entire magazine on Hillshire yesterday, so he wanted to avoid making any eye contact.
They all sat patiently as they awaited Henrietta and her latest attempt at a homemade breakfast. Bradley persuaded the cooks to let her use the kitchen, asking them to offer any help to the girl when she needed it.
"So what do you two plan to do now?" Bradley asked as he sipped on a cup of Darjeeling tea. Drinking tea happened to be his secret addiction, and without any kind of tea during the past few days, he needed a strong booster fix.
"I'm going back to California," Percival said, "They want me at Pendleton for a while; some kids from the 102nd Engineers Unit and the 555th Infantry are headed over to Iraq, which means major paper work is waiting for me."
"God bless them," Bradley commented. He knew that most of the men entering Iraq weren't even able to legally buy a beer in the U.S., "What about you, Rei?"
"I'm going back home, as well," She began, "Just for a week or two."
"You two are leaving?" Rico stopped reading the comic section of the newspaper, "So soon?"
"We'll be back," Percival assured the girl, "I'm only gone for a few weeks and Rei will be back here in Rome very shortly. You know I can't leave you kids all by yourself."
"Apparently…," Nacho began, "Officers of the U.S. Military aren't robots…"
The children all chuckled at Nacho's strange observation.
"What about you, dad?" Percival asked, "Where are you headed?"
"I'm staying here," Bradley announced to his subordinates, "I've been re-assigned to observe and inspect the SWA for the next year. I've also be given a position as an agent within Section two." The man smiled widely, a trademark that the children had now gotten used to.
The shocked expressions on everyone's faces were a sight to behold. Everyone at the table had to hold their own jaws shut.
"Breakfast time!" Henrietta called out, effectively ridding the trance that Bradley had cast upon them with his announcement. She carried a platter stacked with crispy Belgian waffles. A caravan of cooks followed her and began setting the table, placing plates, knives, forks, and spoons in front of every person. Condiments were also placed in the center of the table.
The aroma of butter, fruit preserves, and crispy waffles wafted into Rei's nostrils; for the first time after arriving in Italy, breakfast was being served to her. She didn't even notice the look of disgust that each cyborg was trying to hide; they knew how bland Henrietta's cooking always turned out to taste.
"Who's first?" Henrietta held a single waffle with a pair of tongs.
"I think Rei wants to get her breakfast first…." Bradly said, noticing the slip of drool that escaped her mouth.
The woman quickly wiped her lips.
With hunger winning over embarrassment, Rei held her plate out to Henrietta, "I would like to have the first waffle, please."
The Social Welfare Agency: Cyborg Dormitory, Rome, Italy; 1150 hours, Same Day
"Have you seen Claes?" Bradley asked as he poked his head into Triela's room.
"Not since she left this morning." Triela responded. She was busy cleaning the internals of her Remington shotgun.
Bradley scanned the interior of the room, shuddering to himself as he witnessed the unnatural site of a barely teenaged girl, who was surrounded by teddy bears while she dismantled a high powered weapon as if it were a toy.
"Do you happen to know where I can find her?"
"You might want to try her garden. It's right outside the laundry room."
"Thanks." Bradley shut the door as he jogged toward Claes' garden.
Trotting down a flight of stairs, he recalled the conversation he had with Lorenzo earlier this morning.
The Social Welfare Agency: Bradley's Office, Rome, Italy; 0900 hours, Same Day
(Bradley: First Person)
"You wanted to speak with me, General?" Lorenzo asked, entering the empty room that was soon to be my office. He stood at attention before me.
I could feel his curious eyes gaze upon me as I sat cross-legged on the wood floor, cleaning my revolvers.
"Yes I did, Chief," I paused from my chore and scanned the room, "Uh… please make yourself comfortable."
"I'm fine where I'm at, General," Lorenzo said, "What is it that you wanted to talk about?"
"Currently there are 9 active Fratello, yet there are 10 cyborgs," I resumed cleaning my revolvers, "Why is that, Chief?" I already knew the reason, but I wanted to hear it directly from Lorenzo's lips instead of re-reading the information from reports.
"Claes' handler, Raballo, was emotionally unstable; he couldn't deal with working with child cyborgs, General."
"I see. So why haven't you found a replacement?"
"Once programmed to a handler, a cyborg is mentally attached, so to speak, to that Agent. Reprogramming a new Handler into a cyborg's memory hasn't been thoroughly tested yet, and it may lead to permanent brain damage. So we simply wiped Claes' memory clean and use her to test experimental enhancements that could be used on future cyborgs."
"Such a waste," I checked the sights on my Mateba, "But don't you think Raballo had something else in mind when he was training Claes?"
"What do you mean, General?"
"Well think about it: the man was handicapped and was well past my age. Did you believe that he could keep up with the rest of the agents?"
"So you're suggesting that he was training Claes to be able to perform missions without being by her side?"
"Precisely," I pulled the trigger on my Mateba. Not hearing the satisfying "click", I took the major components apart and re-cleaned the joints and hammer, "A cyborg able to perform missions without the luxury… or burden of a handler nearby. It's a brilliant concept, don't you think? No risk of losing a 'normal' Agent." I mentally spat on the ground as I said this.
"If you're planning on obtaining a cyborg of your own, we can easily provide you with a new one. I'll schedule a visit to the nearby hospital tomorrow."
"Why get a new one when we have a perfectly good one right here?" I reassembled my Mateba and cocked the hammer. Hearing a satisfying "click" after pulling the trigger, I began work on my Raging Bull.
"I don't know if Claes can take another re-conditioning session, General. Like I mentioned earlier, there's a good chance that if we do reprogram her, she'll lose consciousness and die."
"Then we don't use the drug on her." I checked the sights on my Raging Bull, "I'll simply ask her if she wants to be redeployed as an active Agent. If she accepts, then I'll personally train her without the use of the conditioning drugs. If she refuses, then so be it. She'll continue to be your guinea pig."
"If that's what you wish, General, then do as you please. If she accepts your offer, we'll just have to find another guinea pig to replace Claes."
"If you do that, please don't show me the child," I felt dirty inside, "I don't like witnessing children wither away before my eyes; I've had enough of that when I was in Afghanistan and Somalia…"
"Right." Lorenzo saluted and exited my room.
I said a small prayer to myself, raising the Raging Bull to an aiming position.
"Master…," I whispered, "Help me… and help her choose the right path…"
I pulled the trigger, and heard a satisfying "click".
The Social Welfare Agency: Courtyard, Rome, Italy; 1205 hours, Same Day
As Bradley approached the laundry room, he noticed that off to the right was a brick wall built to about 2 feet tall. He could tell that it was recently constructed; the bricks still had a solid gray color to them, none were faded or damaged.
Upon closer inspection, he saw a child's head rise just above the wall. The child appeared as though he or she were tending to the various vegetables and flowers that grew within the fertile barriers.
"Claes?" Bradley called out to the working child.
"Hmm?" He heard a response.
The identity of the mystery head was finally revealed to be the fragile looking Agenlica. The girl wiped her sweaty brow with a gloved hand.
"Oh, good afternoon, General," She greeted, "I'm sorry, but Claes isn't here."
"I see," Bradley began, "So what are you doing here?"
"I like gardening, sir," She resumed tending to a patch of carrots, "I find it relaxing."
"Where's Marco?" Bradley asked, "Is he off today?"
"He's not off duty, but he's gone somewhere."
"Do you know where?"
"I have no idea, sir." The girl stood up and wiped the dirt off her pants.
"Right," Bradley was disappointed that Marco didn't take his cyborg along with him, "I'll have to speak with him about this."
"It's all right, General, there's no need to," Angelica started tending to another patch of vegetables on the opposite end of the garden, "It's all my fault, really. I… make too many mistakes. I just have to rain harder for a while."
Hearing this, Bradley was now convinced that he absolutely had to speak with her Handler at a later date. Right now, though, his priority was speaking with Claes.
"Do you happen to know where Claes is at?"
"I saw her headed towards the range with Savio and Ezno, but that was an hour ago."
"Looks like I'll have to run over there to catch them before they leave," Bradley stroked his chin, "Thanks for the help, Angelica. I owe you one."
"Oh no," The girl responded, not realizing that The General had already left, "No trouble at all, sir."
The Social Welfare Agency: Training Grounds, Rome, Italy; 1230 hours, Same Day
The pops and cracks of bullets being fired from small caliber firearms was heard as Bradley approached the outdoor firing range.
Luckily for Bradley, age hasn't caught up with him as he was able to run the entire distance between the Agency and the range without stopping. From a distance, he could easily see that Claes and Enzo were firing their weapons, while an Agent stood a few yards away, observing and recording data on a notebook.
"Bingo," Bradley said to himself, "Finally found you."
The General jogged toward the casually dressed Agent, "Good afternoon, Agent Savio," Bradley began, "How are things going?"
"Ah, General," Savio put his pocket-sized notebook away, "I wasn't expecting you today, Sir. Did you need something?"
"Actually, I do," Bradly turned to study Claes' firing stance, "Does Claes train with you and Ezno often?"
"Once in a while, sir," The Agent scratched his head, "Enzo likes to use old weapons, so we really don't use the 9mm rounds that are issued to us."
Bradley noticed that Claes was firing a Heckler ünd Koch VP-90 in its burst mode. He knew the gun was a favorite amongst videogame fanatics, due to its major role in the game "Resident Evil 2", but because of its heavy and long trigger pull, it was a rather undesirable weapon amongst law enforcement and military personnel. The girl fired a volley of round into a target directly in front of her, hitting near the center of its chest.
Enzo, on the other hand, was firing what could be considered an antique to many gun enthusiasts. The Mosin-Nagant M1891-30 Sniper rifle he held was definitely old, something that the battered wooden stock attested to, but it fired smoothly nonetheless. He sat on a stool and rested his bi-pod equipped rifle on a table.
"Mind if I borrow Claes for a bit?" Bradley asked.
"Not at all, General," Savio then spoke into a microphone, "Cease fire, you two. Claes, The General wants to speak with you."
Claes took off her ear protection and trotted over to Bradley.
"Yes, General?" she asked.
"I don't know why you said you were a horrible shot yesterday," Bradly told her, "I saw you hit those targets placed at 50 yards."
"I guess today I'm on a roll, General."
"Really. Is that why you picked today, of all days, to go out on the range?"
The girl hesitated for a bit, biting her bottom lip as she thought of a reply.
"No, I was just invited by Savio and felt like firing off a few rounds, that's all."
"Right, well I guess that you picked a good day, no?"
Claes looked over her shoulder and towards the aerated targets. It was almost as if she were anxious to get back to shooting.
"I should get to the reason why I wanted to talk to you so you can get back to training."
The girl stared at Bradley with inquisitive eyes.
"How would you like to return to the field, Claes?"
"The field, sir? You mean start working again?"
"That's right; start working again."
"Like I said yesterday, sir, I don't want to be a burden to my comrades. Besides, I have no handler to call my own."
"I'm not talking about starting another Fratello, Claes. I'm talking about you becoming an Agent of Section two. This is coming from me, personally, and not from Lorenzo or Jean or any other member of the SWA. Train with me and I guarantee that you'll become an independent Agent of Section Two by next year."
Claes' eyes grew wide; this suggestion had never even come across her mind.
"I-I don't know about that, sir. I've been reading several documents on the mental capabilities of us cyborgs, and the Handler is there for a reason."
"And what would that reason be?"
"Leadership, sir. Apparently we cyborgs don't have the ability to strategically plan things out as they occur. 'Combat instincts', I believe, is the correct term, sir. Without pre-planning a cyborg will be at a loss as to what it's supposed to do. Sure we can keep fighting and killing the bad guys, but somebody has to be there to tell us when to start and to stop."
"Do you believe that's true, Claes, that you aren't an independent person? That you or your comrades can't think for themselves in a fire-fight? That you need your hands held anytime you're outside the SWA walls? If you believe that, young lady, then why are you still training? Do you want to stay a guinea pig for the rest of your life?"
The girl stood there in thought.
"I've read documents as well, young lady. I've read about that raid on the mountain estate that you were involved in. You went undercover for hours. You knew when to initiate the attack. Without your distraction, the mission would have failed. Now tell me that isn't 'Combat Instincts'."
Claes didn't respond to The General's badgering. Instead, she reloaded her handgun with a fresh magazine from her utility belt and walked away.
"Claes," Savio hissed, "Don't turn away from a superior Officer like that."
"It's all right, Agent, I'm not in uniform." Bradley said.
Disappointed that Claes unknowingly sealed her own fate, he turned and walked back to the main complex.
"God Speed, Claes," The General thought to himself, "Take care of yourself."
The Social Welfare Agency: Bradley's Office, Rome, Italy; 0100 hours, June 18, 2005
The conversation that Bradley had with Claes yesterday afternoon left him feeling uneasy, which led to another bout of insomnia. So to keep productive, he began decorating his office with various items that came from the U.S.P. and the U.S. Army. The items included furniture, a new computer, various posters with Army slogans printed on, and other such decorations.
His request for a large SUV was also fulfilled. The Commanding Officer of Naples Naval Support Activity in nearby Naples had flown in a brand new 2006 Toyota Sequoia "Limited" Edition; partly because The General requested it, but mostly as a kiss to The General's ass.
While booting up the new computer for the first time, a soft rapping came from his door. Immediately, he placed his hand over his Raging Bull that lay on top of his desk; a visitor at this hour was quite uncommon, even by military standards.
"Who is it?" He asked.
"It's Claes, General," Bradley released his grip of the revolver, "You weren't in your room so…."
Bradley sighed, "Come in, Claes."
The girl entered the room.
"What is it?" Bradley asked, returning on monitoring his computer.
"I just…," She began, "I was just thinking about what you said earlier. About becoming an Agent."
Bradley's ear lit up, "What about it?" He asked
"I…," She hesitated, "I decided to accept your offer, General."
"That's great," Bradley had a wide smile on his face, his trademark smile, "But why the sudden change of mind?"
"I want to prove to the Agency that I am an Independent person, Sir, that I am not a robot. I want to show the other cyborgs, the Handlers, and especially the scientists that I am not a dog, only to do as I am told."
Bradley was nearly moved to tears. He wanted to jump up and give her a hug, much like he would do with his own children, but he held steady.
"I'm glad that you changed your mind, Claes."
"It's all thanks to you, General. If you hadn't said all those things about being independent, I wouldn't even be here tonight."
"The choice was made by you, Claes. You're already independent, in my eyes."
Claes stood at attention and gave a sharp salute. Instead of a replying, Bradley walked over to the girl and put her hand down.
"I'll have none of that coming from you, Claes." He said.
The girl became confused; she knew full well that she had done the right thing.
"What do you mean, General?" She asked.
"From now on, we're partners. We're equals; peers. Don't call me 'General', 'Sir, 'Mister', or anything of the sort. Just call me 'Brad' like my friends do. Got it?" He held the girl's soft hands, "This is a promise between you an me, understand?"
A sudden flash of memories appeared before Claes' eyesl; those of which that were not her own. She saw the image of an elderly man with a bad leg, handing her an object. The same man then appeared to be fishing at a lake, smiling as he reeled in a gigantic trout. The next image was that of the same man, pitifully staring at her as she soaked in the rain.
Just as soon as the images appeared, they were gone. Her heart filled with a strange emotion; it wasn't sadness nor was it sorrow, but for some reason she wanted to cry.
She wiped the tears away from her eyes and eventually the akward words came from her mouth, "I understand…, Brad."
End chapter Four
Coming soon:
Chapter Five: Father and Son