Note: Smell that? Smells like
cheese…. Anyways, please pay attention to the dates. Hmmm... the "add ruler" button isn't functioning...
Note to Danjo3: lol, "Disney-esque"?
Life, Liberty, And…
A Gunslinger Girl fan fiction by:
Sintendo
Chapter Thirteen: Metamorphosis
Social Welfare Agency; Rome, Italy; 1100 hours, December 20, 2005
Never before has anyone seen Claes so radiant and excited; she was almost literally a ball of energy – the white and tan winter outfit that Rei help picked out during one of her days off duty helped to amplify her giddiness. She was bouncing from office to office, searching for Bradley to lay upon him good news: she was called upon for a mission. For the first time, the brass and Lorenzo approached her and asked – not demand or assign - her to execute a difficult task.
She was, of course, glad to accept.
Her record (as far as she knew) was clean. Not a single failure ever accompanied her mission reports, and even though the first sortie she "volunteered" for did go a bit sour, it all worked out in the end.
"You think he'll be happy to see this?" Claes asked her roommate; whom she dragged behind her.
Triela struggled to keep on her feet, "Of course he will. You remember the second time you were put in charge of us? It'll be a similar routine."
Social Welfare Agency: Briefing Room; Rome, Italy; 1100 hours, August 19, 2005
The absence of the Marco/Angelica fratello was not a major loss to anyone who was active in the field. They never did provide efficient backup, and Angelica was never able to take the lead when anything went awry. Nonetheless, their decommissioning was treated as if they were deceased, which ultimately meant more work for the other fratello.
"As you all know, this Dandini character turned out to be more than just a simple reporter," Lorenzo said, "In fact he happened to be a low ranking Lieutenant for the R.F. Which leads to today's – and possibly the upcoming days – mission.
"During the cleanup of Dandini's apartment, the crew found the half eaten remains of his cell phone," he paused for a moment to see if there was any reaction, and then, "Yes he did try to eat his cell phone; he was under the influence of an as-of-yet unknown drug—"
Jean interjected, "A mixture of PCP, Marijuana, and Cocaine."
"Right," Lorenzo continued, "The data salvaged from the phone contains several text messages and voice mails to and from key players of an upcoming raid upon our very own Agency."
Surprised murmurs filled the room.
"Yeah," Lorenzo sounded grim, "Dandini dug up more dirt on us than we initially believed, so we all should thank Claes for her successful attempt at eliminating Dandini."
Either through modesty or taken as an insult because she knew that everyone in the room knew she didn't volunteer for the mission, she received the light applause with little emotion.
"First up is this boy," Lorenzo presented a slide photograph of a young male teenager, "Recent high school graduate, Luigi Batolli, the informant. For several weeks now he's been snooping in on several members of Section 2 including Ferro, Amadeo, and, most notably, Dr. Bianchi – he happens to be his neighbor. Additionally, he's been allowed in and out of the agency under the guise of an employee for a medical supply service; so it's highly possible that he knows the layout of at least the hospital. We want him eliminated; as quickly as possible.
"He isn't much of a physical threat, so I want Claes to go in solo and take him out; you could use the experience. Backup will be whomever you choose; you'll need at least 3 other fratello. He's skinny, but we don't know what kind of heat he may be packing."
Social Welfare Agency; Rome, Italy; 1110 hours, December 20, 2005
"Oh come on, that boy was a joke," Claes grumbled, "He used up 3 magazines and he never once even came close to hitting me."
"I guess." Triela said.
The pair stood in the entryway of the cafeteria, scanning the room for Bradley.
"I don't think he's here," Triela said, "We should check with Percy. He might know where Bradley is."
Claes agreed, and off they went into the labyrinth of the SWA, heading in the direction of Percival's office. Breaking the only sounds of the girl's breaths, Triela initiated another conversation.
"Hey," she began, "Do you like doing this? I mean, is it hard not having anyone around to tell you what to do and where to go, while at the same time, having everyone wanting to know what you want them to do where to go?"
"Bradley told me that with time, I'll get used to it." Claes said.
Triela thought for a moment before responding, "Are you used to it yet?"
"Not really," Claes said, "Honestly, Bradley is always there to give me hints on what to do next. I think I'd be lost without him."
"Well, that's not true," Triela said, "There was that time where you and Nacho were assigned with stalking that one woman."
"Oh, you're right."
Sicily, Italy; 1100 hours, November 30, 2005
The objective that was given to Claes and Nacho was simple: locate the wife of the Chief of the Sicilian Police, and follow her around town as she ran her daily errands, which included meeting with her secret lover and head of the Sicilian branch of the R.F.; a simple task that quickly grew out of hand.
The pair wanted to blend in with the locals, so weapons were kept to a strict minimum; they were equipped with a tiny Derringer that only allowed kill shots within ten feet of their target. Radio communication was downsized as well; secured cell phones would have to serve as their communication source.
Once they set foot in the backstreets of Sicily, the color of Nacho's skin instantly attracted unwanted attention. While Nacho and Claes were stalking their prey, they too became the prey of a group of local thugs. Eventually, Claes and Nacho's target took notice of the large group of youngsters behind her and fled, losing the cyborgs in the process. Obviously the woman was warned about children.
Once their target was confirmed to be missing, Claes now had to deal with the kids who pestered Nacho and slung various racial insults. Not wanting to reveal their status as cyborgs by easily disabling the group one-by-one, she took Nacho by the hand, and led their predators through a winding street chase and into the territory of a rival gang. The result was a massive blob of fighting boys and Claes and Nacho escaping the scene. They were exhausted, dirty, frustrated, and unsuccessful in their return home; Bradley, however, reminded Claes that she and Nacho were unscathed, and that was all that mattered.
Social Welfare Agency; Rome, Italy; 1120 hours, December 20, 2005
"That mission was a bust because I couldn't talk to Bradley." Claes pointed out.
Before Triela could respond, Claes knocked several times on Percival's office door. Within a few moments, the door swung open by the hands of Percy himself.
"Hey, ladies," he said, "Can I help you with anything?"
"Have you seen Bradley?" Claes asked.
"I haven't seen him all day, actually," Percival said, "You might want to try the hospital."
"Why, is he sick?"
"He's been complaining about headaches for the past few days, so he might be there to check it out. Sorry I couldn't be anymore help."
"It's alright." Claes and Triela immediately hopped toward the hospital area.
"So," Triela returned to the previous subject, "You think you failed because of a lack of communication?"
"Of course."
"Yeah right. It was a situation turned sour by a series of unfortunate events. You have nothing to blame but the fates."
Claes froze at the girl's unexpected comment, "R-Right—" She stuttered, "And since when have you been interested in such things as fate?"
Triela blushed, "That book you gave me – Lolita – it was an interesting read…"
Claes laughed at the thought of her friend finishing an entire novel.
"Anyways, let's go. We still need to tell Bradley the good news."
Social Welfare Agency; Rome, Italy; 1100 hours, December 20, 2005
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(Narrator:
Bradley)
"Making a list; checking it twice…" I mumbled the tune of "Santa Calus is comin' to town" to myself, as I literally checked my list of presents that a certain number of children deserved from me this Christmas. My list this year, however, swelled to nearly double that of last year, so I had lots of checking and rechecking to do.
After mumbling something about devil spawns to myself, I came across a name on my list that was highlighted; something that I almost never do, since I see everyone as equals. However, the highlighted name deserved the recognition.
"I wonder what Claes wants," I asked nobody in particular, "No more videogames, that's for sure."
The highlighting was not my doing, but instead was left there by the hands of my future daughter-in-law. There were no clues to indicate this, but I knew that Rei and Claes came to gown on each other, becoming quite the best of friends; much like Percival and the Croce brothers.
I laughed, "God, I hope they don't have a daughter…"
I needed to brainstorm, so I exited my office and began to wander the premises with a fresh pack of cigarettes in my pocket, and a lit cigarette in my lips. Almost immediately, I was joined by a familiar face.
"Good afternoon," Rei's face consisted of her signature emotionless face that, at any angle, would be interpreted as sleeping with eyes open, "What are you up to?"
"Nothing," I puffed, "just thinking about what to get for Christmas presents."
Instantly her dull appearance melted away into an eerily excited one, "I know what you should get Claes!"
I laughed, "I knew it was you who altered my list. Admittedly, though, I have no clue what she likes other than books and a certain music game."
She took my hand, "I know what to get her," She repeated, "Let's go to town and pick it up."
"Hold on," I said, "It can't just be anything, you know? It has to be… special."
She halted, "You have anything in mind?"
"Like always I have no clue when it comes to girl stuff," I puffed, "But the gift has to have a double meaning. Something that says, 'Thank you for all your hard work.' And something that also says—"
"Says what?"
"Something that says, '…I'm sorry'."
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Social Welfare Agency; Rome, Italy; 2000 hours, December 20, 2005
Claes and Triela both lay on their respective beds, exhausted at the fact that they couldn't find Claes' partner anywhere on the campus. It was only a few minutes ago when they patrolled the parking lot that they found that today's search was in vain – Bradley's SUV was nowhere to be found.
"He must've slipped out in the morning," Triela noted, "You can tell him tomorrow, anyways."
"The mission begins in two days," Claes said, "It also requires that the team I choose and I fly over to the Eastern tip of Ehtiopia to meet up with a few allies; so we have to leave by tomorrow night."
"I'm sure he knows about it and is preparing some stuff for the trip."
"You sure you wanna come with?" Claes asked her roommate.
"How can I say no?" Triela laughed, "It's no Bora Bora, but it's warmer than here."
A sudden knocking came from the door and, when asked to enter, Rei stepped in.
"Hello girls," She said, "Claes, I heard you were looking for Mr. Nowell?"
Claes sat up from her bed, "Yes I am."
"Well, he just got back from the city and is in his office now."
The girl jumped from her bed and dashed out the door, taking care not to harm Rei in the process. The energy that filled her earlier in the day returned with a vengeance; she was standing before Bradley's office door within a few minutes.
She nervously knocked on the door, waiting for his confirmation.
"Come in." Bradley called from within.
She entered the room, hardly able to contain herself, "I-I have something to tell you, Brad." She forced herself to say.
"Oh?" Bradley wondered, "What is it?"
Claes took a deep breath, "Chief Lorenzo and Chief Draghi approached me early this morning with an assignment. They want me and a team of 2 fratello to assist Section 1's Ethiopian Division near Werdér. They are preparing to raid a group affiliated with the R.F. located in Berbera, Somalia," She took another breath before continuing, "Isn't that great?"
To say the man was excited would be an understatement. He jogged to the girl, embracing her within his arms, "That's excellent! You're already showing the brass how useful you are, even without 5 months of conditioning or a handler!"
Claes laughed, "Yeah, I'm showing them, aren't I? I mean, I'm not really in charge, since Hillshire was assigned to watch what I do, but I'm still an acting squad leader."
"I'm proud of you, young lady."
Claes smiled, "We leave for Trento tomorrow afternoon. It's kind of a shame that we have to spend Christmas elsewhere, but at least we'll have a bit of fun, right? I know you won't pass up a chance to shoot at some bad guys, right?"
Bradley's smile slowly faded away into a minute frown, "I-I—" He stuttered.
"What? What's wrong? I was just joking about the shooting part; I know you just want to serve as the communications engineer."
"I'm sorry, Claes," Bradley released her from his grasp, "I'm afraid I'm not able to tag along for this sortie; I'm leaving for Japan tomorrow, to spend Christmas with my family."
Claes struggled to keep her smile on, "Oh. Well, that's alright."
"I'm sorry," Bradley repeated, "I tried to have you come along, but Chief Lorenzo and Dr. Bianchi wouldn't hear any of it."
"I-It's alright," Claes said, "I have Triela and Baldo to watch over me, so I'll be fine."
Feeling slightly embarrassed, she slipped out of the room without another word.
Berbera, Somalia; 2200 hours, December 22, 2005
The mission was simple: parachute in and get rid of anyone and everyone in sight in the abandoned WWII airbase within a set time-limit. Of particular interest was a target named Gilberto Dandini, brother of the recently deceased Roberto, and the final suspect in Roberto's list of V.I.P. in connection with the planned attack on the SWA headquarters. While eliminating Gilberto would definitely send a wake-up call to the Republican Faction, keeping them from planning anything as drastic as a full assault in the future, it would only serve as a temporary peace maker.
The teams Claes chose to assist her – the Hillshire/Triela and Beniditto/Baldasarre fratello teams – readied their equipment specialized for this attack. Stealth wasn't necessary so they were each equipped with their signature main weapons; the handlers with their H&K G36s, Triela with her Winchester M-1897 Shotgun (Bayonet attached, of course), Baldo with his customized Yugoslavian SKS assault rifle. Finally, Claes deduced that she needed much more firepower than her trusty MP-5K submachine gun could provide, so instead she opted to bring along Steyr AUG that her former comrade, Angelica, used.
Various side arms were equipped as well, but with a mission so short, equipment was kept to a bare minimum of weapons, armor and ammo.
As Claes mentally prepared herself for the upcoming assault, she overhead one of Section One's lackeys providing comical relief to his comrades by commenting on Section Two and it's reliance on cyborgs. By the way they peered over their own shoulders to peek at her only to laugh much harder, Claes figured the comments made were quite harsh.
Her mind raced: was everything I worked for all for naught? Even in my leadership position, am I still to be regarded as a slave to Section Two? What will happen to me once Bradley is gone? Will I be able to live a normal life, or will I still be a toy for Section Two to play with?
"Don't worry about him," Beneditto reassured her, interrupting her thoughts; "You'll do fine. I'd rather have my life in your hands than his."
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For Claes, the raid began within the blink of an eye, even though the plane ride felt like an eternity for her teammates and the Section One squad. It was only when she was pushed out of the light passenger Cessna was she able to mentally prepare herself for the immediate landing; with the freefall only seconds in length, she didn't have much time.
"Slave 2," The Section One squad leader called out Claes' ironically assigned call sign, "Slave 2, do you read?"
"I copy, Mania 1," Claes responded, "Loud and clear."
"What's your squad's status?"
Claes checked her surroundings, finding that everyone landed where they needed to be.
"We're good to go, Mania 1."
"Roger," Mania 1 responded, "Moving out."
With Section taking the left side of the base, Claes and her squad began their sweep of the right side of the base in which they would eventually meet up with Section One at the far end of the base and inside the control tower.
"Something's not right," Hillshire commented, "It's too quiet; nothing's happening and we're already only a few hundred yards from the rendezvous point. Cla— I mean Slave 2, anything going on with the Mania team?"
Claes spoke into her radio, "Mania 1, this is Slave 2. What's your status?"
"None of your business, Slave team."
Claes sighed, "Nothing so far, Slave 1."
"Idiots," Hillshire grunted, "All right, let's press forward then."
Another few tense moments, and both squads were inside the control tower. Not a single shot was fired in the process.
"That's odd, nobody was on patrol." Mania 1 said.
"No shit," Grunted an angry Hillshire, "Your Section was responsible for recon; what kind of information did they give us?"
"Stand down, Slave 1," Mania 1 ordered, "We wait here until pick-up arrives in an hour."
"Mania 1." Claes called out. She positioned herself near the door away and was acting as a lookout.
"What is it?"
"There's a large amount of people coming this way," She cupped her ear to amplify the sounds she heard, "From what I'm hearing, they may have weapons."
"I hear them too," Triela confirmed, "There's a LOT of people; maybe 100 or so; lots of firepower as well."
"It might be a trap that they set for us," Hillshire said, "We should lay low and hit them when they come near."
"Take a defensive position from upstairs!" Mania 1 ordered, "You and Slave 3 will fire upon the attackers when they are within 100 yards."
Mania 1 then ordered the cyborgs, "When I give the word, you three will open fire; you have better eyesight than we do, so you soften them up until we can see them."
Claes and Triela placed themselves behind a window that faced the direction from which they heard the most footsteps while Baldo took the rear. With footsteps and metallic clanking of weapons heard from all directions, it was now apparent that the R.F. set up an ambush for their arrival.
"I wonder who tipped them off?" Triela whispered to Claes.
"Who knows?" Claes shrugged, "I have a feeling, though, that it might be one of Section One's lackeys. It's a shame that they would sacrifice their own men, just to get rid of us and Section Two."
"It'll be hard to get rid of us," Triela giggled, "We have Bradley around, and Percy too."
Claes coughed, "I wish Bradley were here. Then maybe he'd verbally shove his foot up Mania 1's butt."
"Jeez, what a brute that Mr. Bradley." Triela joked.
"He's more of a man than your precious."
"Cla— I mean, Slave 2," Hillshire said via radio, "If you're going to make fun of me and fantasize about Bradley, then I suggest you turn off your radio."
"Woah! This was on?" Claes gasped, "Did the Section One guys hear that?"
"Alright, get ready." Mania 1 said – oblivious to the fact that he and his teammates was the subject of a joke.
Claes breathed a sigh of relief.
Once instructed to open fire, the mood in the rrom went from slightly tense, to downright fearful. True, the attackers were equipped with assault rifles, but they were also armed with high caliber machine guns and explosives. Claes and Triela were forced to retreat from kneeling positions at the windows and to take pock shots at the closest target when the MG's finished their short bursts.
"Slave 1 this is Slave 2," Claes shouted into her radio, "Open fire! Open fire! We have an unknown amount of heavy weapons zeroed on us!"
"Roger that Slave 2," Hillshire said, "From what I can see, they have about a dozen FN MAGs."
Mania 1 interrupted, "Take them out!"
Hillshire and Beneditto opened fire on the machine gunners, removing only a handful before the downed gunner's weapons were retrieved by one of their comrades.
"Dammit!" Mania 1 observed the attacker's ferociousness, "Those people aren't like Italy's R.F! Everyone fire at will! We'll mow them down before they get here!"
Even with all 10 allies firing at will, the attackers' overwhelming numbers eventually exhausted Claes and her allies' supply of ammunition. Once the last of their rounds was fried, enemy activity seemingly ceased to exist; nothing was head from outside.
"Did we get 'em?" One of the Section One soldiers asked.
"I-I think so," Mania 1 replied.
"Sir." Claes gasped.
"What is it now, Slave?"
"There are still more of them out there; they're so close I can hear them breathe."
"You're kidding…"
Everyone's shoulders seemed to fall at the same time; outnumbered by an unknown figure equipped with an unknown number of firearms, their chances of survival was very slim, even with the cyborgs.
Claes, however, thought differently. She sat in a fetal position, her thoughts mixing into one another; ideas getting lost within each other as they tumbles from her ears.
Was everything I worked for all for naught? she thought, Am I really a slave to the Agency? They chose me for this mission; was it to get rid of me this way?
She shook her head, No. Lorenzo and the others are keen to me now; they know what I can do. That's why they sent me here.
She clasped her head, But then, why didn't Bradley join me? We'd be back before Christmas… or maybe… he knew… Maybe he knew something like this would happen. Maybe he sent me here to test me?
It was during the last thought that Claes' mind dimmed. She slowly peeled Triela's shotgun from her arms – alarming the girl in the process - and removed the sword-like bayonet.
"Claes!" Triela whispered, "What're you doing? Don't tell me you're going out there! You're gonna get all of us killed!"
Without any emotion, Claes responded, "What else can we do?"
Triela had no response.
"I'm not going to die. I choose to live."
In one quick movement, Claes was out the front door, bayonet in hand.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Note: For some reason, I didn't like this chapter, but my beta readers (3 of them) loved it. Questions and comments are greatly appreciated and may even help me become satisfied with this chapter, or alter it in a way that it makes me giggle... yes…