Meanwhile in Italy Chapter 3: CH03 Introductions, a gunslinger girl fanfic

MEANWHILE IN ITALY

A Gunslinger Girl fanfiction, based on works by Yu Aida.

CH03 – Introductions

Make sure that gun is cleaned tonight, and be ready for me to pick you up at five thirty tomorrow morning.

Yes sir.

Standing under a pool of yellow light, Raych ran the words through her head again to cement them there as her handler's car receded behind red tail-lamps.

Darkness had closed in completely over dinner, and now a chill night breeze brushed past, setting her shivering. Feeling it eddy over naked arms before passing through thick pillars at her back, she clasped the Steyr's hard plastic case to her chest, undershirt and loose top rapidly failing in their battle to hold encroaching cold at bay. Danilo had said there were more clothes in her room hadn't he? Maybe something warmer could be found there.

Turning away from the road, the newly minted cyborg fished in one pocket to extract a scrap of paper, unfolding it as she came to face a lit doorway, set into the base of an imposing three storey building. On the way here she had been able to see lights burning in most of its windows and, now out in the open, from above floated faint sounds of life.

Picking up the black duffle at her feet she hurried forward, past a glass protected pin board, scraping boots clean on a rough 'benvenuto' doormat before stepping across the entrance threshold into blessed warmth. An umbrella stand greeted her inside, coat hooks above, some of them occupied, stairs to her left winding upward and a corridor ahead with a silhouetted figure approaching along its length.

Raych looked desperately at her note again: top level... and dodged away, keeping her head down and eyes directed at the floor as she ascended.

Thankfully the climb was completed without further encounters and, running out of stairs the girl turned down another corridor, this one floored in soft carpet. Shuffling along she counted off doors against Danilo's scrawled memo until, to her great relief, their number matched her instructions.

More muffled footsteps near her now and, head still lowered, she snatched at her door's handle to dart inside...

...only once she was safely hidden did it occur to her to knock.

Another icy chill ran up her spine: that would be just her luck, a bad start with her handler and then a bad start with her roommate. Slowly, as if pushing against some invisible force, she raised her eyes.

Empty.

The relief was overwhelming, and it even appeared she had managed to find the correct room... probably. One side was well furnished, but the other looked bare and unlived in: white sheets and towels folded neatly beside a clean pillow, the bed wedged between a wardrobe at the door and desk by the window.

Dropping her bag, tentatively Raych reached for the wardrobe to investigate its contents...

"Make sure that gun is cleaned tonight."

...she stopped, arm still hanging half extended in space: handler's orders came first.

Moving instead to the desk she pulled back its accompanying nicked and scarred wooden chair to sit down, flicking on the small lamp which had seemingly been left for her use.

Undoing the case's clasps she raised its lid reverentially, staring at the black form beneath. Danilo had given that to her: her gun, her purpose...

Lifting aside the small cleaning kit which had been tucked into a spare gap, she brought the firearm once more into the open, fingers working seemingly of their own accord to release its slide, moving that forward off the frame, before unshipping the barrel. There was almost no thought required on her part at all, concentration to bring forth the following action yes, but not thought, and she next broke into the kit set aside earlier, emptying its contents onto hard surfacing.

Dinner had been a tense affair: Danilo unwilling to talk, alternating between staring at his plate or somehow straight through her without even registering her presence, and she... she had not known how to break the ice. Where did she start? What was she supposed to say in this situation? Was he angry at her? Had she disappointed him? Well of course she had disappointed him, first day out and she was a disappointment, but how did she make it up? And what did they do to cyborgs who failed anyway? Would she just be dropped? Did he even want her anymore...

The pistol barrel she had been cleaning slipped from suddenly limp fingers and clattered to the table top, its noise jerking her from depressed musings.

Picking up the little cylinder of metal again, Raych set back to work, this time concentrating harder on the task at hand... how often would she need to do this anyway?

Another run with the brush, another swab, then a second...

Content the Steyr's barrel was finally spotless, the cyborg reached for a small dropper of gun oil and, as she did so, her eye fell on the booklet wedged in a slot moulded into its case's lid. Danilo had told her to get familiar, so the very least she could do was make sure she knew exactly what her firearm did, and maybe it could also offer some guidance as to how often she needed to maintain it...

She was still reading when the door behind rattled again.

"Oh!"

Her head snapped around at the voice, booklet falling from her grasp and she dove after it, sweeping the table with an arm in the process and scrabbling to retrieve suddenly evasive pages from the floor as loose gun components clattered down around her.

Face reddening, Raych fumbled those together also with ungainly fingers. "Sorry!"

Looking up from the carpet, she found the doorway occupied by an Asian featured girl, dressed in a skirt and striped, long sleeve shirt, both of which were covered by a navy blue coat. From one hand dangled a pistol case made from some type of plastic, its black weave shimmering beneath a glossy surface.

The new arrival unfroze first, a kindly smile appearing on her face. "Oh! You must be Raych! I'm Michele Pagani's cyborg, Kara Deleroux, your roommate. Let me help you there."

"No, I am fine." Scrambling to her feet, Raych dumped what she held back on the desk. "Umm, nice to meet you?"

Kara halted, already halfway across the floor. "It's nice to meet you too."

Silence.

Not knowing what to say next, Raych instead sat again, watching.

Stepping back toward the door the other girl placed her case awkwardly by the foot of her bed, before starting to remove low-topped, soft leather boots, their red soles flashing as she did so. Sliding open a tall, frosted glass wardrobe door to hang up the coat, she afforded her mute audience a glimpse of tightly packed clothes. There did seem to be a lot of those in there, in all colours, with racks of shoes lined up below them. Had... what did she call her handler? Michele? Bought all of those for her? He would have had to, wouldn't he?

Seemingly finished with the garments for the time, Kara then picked up her small case again, moving to sit on the unmade bed, before almost immediately leaping back up again.

"Oh! Sorry, that's your bed now: force of habit... I've not had a roommate before."

Raych reddened again, joining the mutual embarrassment. "It is ok, you can sit on it if you like... I have not made it yet."

"No, you hav... how long have you been here?"

"Umm, well I was activated this morning."

"I meant in the room."

"Oh, umm, I do not know: I have been cleaning my pistol."

"Well there's a clock on my desk if you ever need to use it."

"Thank you."

"Did your handler drop you here?"

"Yes."

"And how was your first day?"

"It was ok, I guess..."

More silence.

By now Kara had spread flimsy pages of newsprint across her own workspace, sitting down to open the case she previously carried before her. From it she extracted a Five-seveN pistol, its sleek black shape somewhat at odds with the brighter decoration on her side of the room. Checking the magazine was empty, she racked the slide a couple of times to ensure its chamber was also clear, then pointed it away to dry fire once.

"Why did you do that?"

Halting halfway through the process, she turned toward where her new roommate still looked on.

"Do what?"

"Clear your pistol like that."

The expression which answered was puzzled, its wearer cocking her head to one side. "Didn't you clear yours before pulling it apart?"

"No, Danilo took all the bullets away with him... did your handler not check yours for you?"

"Of course he did." The words came out sharply, sharper than intended, and Kara paused to soften her expression: the new girl was not to know what was and was not done yet, including how one did and did not speak of another's handler. "Yes, Michele did, Agency policy requires him to: cyborgs are not permitted to carry loaded firearms on campus, except when deploying or in designated training areas... but you should always check it yourself as well, I'm sure that's what Danilo would want you to do."

Raych's face lit up. "You know Danilo?"

"Uhh... I met him."

"How? What did you think of him?"

Kara's eyes darted away for a moment as her mind worked to evade the last part of that question: the last thing she wanted was to commit faux-pas also in her first hour of sharing a room. "He came up to drop your things off yesterday, we didn't talk much... he was just leaving as I arrived."

"Did you see what he left?"

Now she couldn't prevent a look of faint incredulity washing over her features. "You... haven't looked at what your handler bought you?"

Raych seemed to shrink. "He said to clean and get to know my firearm... was that wrong?"

"No, no, not at all..." if Michele had bought me something I certainly would have managed at least a quick look, "...do you want to take a look now?"

The other girl glanced at the jumble of gun parts on her desk. "I should probably..."

"Unless he's coming to pick you up in the next ten minutes, you can afford to spend some time getting comfortable: you have to live here now as well remember!"

"Well, Danilo did say he would be here in the morning..."

"See? Plenty of time."

Putting her own FN aside, Kara stood and offered her hand to help hoist the other girl upright, leading her to stand in front of the room's second wardrobe: a hardwood hand-me-down from some previous occupant.

Both now bare footed, the Asian girl probably stood a few centimetres taller than her recently activated counterpart and, tagging along behind, Raych was given a moment to get a better look at her new friend, suddenly feeling very self conscious. Danilo had commented on her weight that morning, and now she knew why: devoid of trench coat to hide what lay beneath, Kara was much trimmer. If the doctors' overheard reply to her handler were true, then that was going to be the standard, not her own more solid frame.

With that thought she found herself positioned before the wardrobe's wooden doors and, taking a deep breath, swung them open before standing back to study the contents.

Inside were hung two more of the same top she currently wore, and three additional undershirts. Another pair of boots resided below them and more leggings, two sets of black cargo-trousers, underwear and thick, black boot socks were laid out neatly on shelves to one side. Another shelf held toiletries and a hair dryer. It wasn't much...

But she would not be wanting for anything on her first day either.

Danilo had obviously gone to a lot of effort to make sure her arrival here went as smoothly as he could make it, and how had she repaid him? With failure, clumsiness... her eyes flicked to the disassembled Steyr on her desk... and incomplete duties. No wonder he had not wanted to talk to her at dinner, she had let him down, horribly.

Feeling her eyes dampen, she glanced around to where Kara was standing. Following the gaze past herself, the other girl quickly slid shut her own well stocked wardrobe against the more Spartan contents laid bare before her. "Don't worry, I've had ages to accumulate stuff and so will you: Michele is, what I think they call, 'independently wealthy' so... Danilo's bought well for you: for starters I don't know if an establishment budget would have covered those tops..."

"He did..."

"...You might want to give them a wash though. He would have bought them brand new, and even the really expensive stores sometimes lace their fabrics with preservatives."

So he had probably even spent some of his own money...

Seeing her roommate's shoulders droop even further, Kara stepped forward and closed the doors once more. "Tell you what, how about I give you the grand tour and we go meet some of the others?"

Raych looked again toward her half-finished task. "Umm, I think I really should..."

"No, take your mind off work and off this room for a bit. If it makes you feel better, think of getting to know the place and people as training, so you can be more efficient and better serve Danilo... and I'll help you make your bed when we get back. Deal?"

"But..."

"Don't be like that, or you'll wind up like Monty."

"Who is Monty?" There were too many new names being thrown around, and no way she could keep track of them all…

"Our not-so-resident spook." Now the other girl smiled and continued, as if reading her mind. "Don't worry, you're allowed to forget a few names in the first week or so."

Seemingly being given no choice, Raych let herself be herded from the room, its door closing with a final click. Now with friendly and enthusiastic backup to calm her unease, the new cyborg was able to take her first good look at where she was to live. The corridor she stood in was bookended by stairs on each end leading downwards, the wall farthest from where she had arrived also sporting a door cut into its face.

"Each floor has its own set of toilets and showers, and it's usually considered polite to use those on your own level." Kara's voice floated over her shoulder, the taller girl's form following in its wake. "Second gen girls like us live on the top two storeys, while the first gens have the ground floor… the laundry is also down there when you need it. Did you see the pin board on your way in?"

She nodded.

"Make sure to check it every day: Ferro leaves notices there for us."

"Ferro?"

"Oh, you haven't met Ferro yet? She runs the support teams and also manages the cyborg dorm."

"Is she nice?"

"Umm… more strict, I think."

"So the doormat was not hers then?"

Kara blinked. "The door… oh, the benvenuto mat! No, that was Henrietta's. She's one of the first gens. We'll meet her later, I think she's in, but for now let's start up here and work our way down."

Towed along in her roommate's wake, Raych watched on whilst the other pointed at doors as she went. "That one's Fileccia and Gattonero, I think they're both deployed right now. This one however…" she stopped at another door from which emanated the sound of chatter and banged on it with a closed fist, "…I'm coming in!"

Without waiting for a reply she pushed it open, stepping aside to let her companion follow behind.

"Girls, this is Raych, she's just taken over the spare bed in my room."

Beyond the Asian girl lay a room of similar layout to their own, and on one bed a lithe looking red head rolled over from where she had been reading a magazine to flash the newcomer an easy smile.

"Hi, Raych."

The space's other half was plastered with pictures of cars, a few magazines sharing the same subject matter stacked on the desk, itself shadowed by a shelf of four wheeled toys. Its owner however was sat on the floor in a beanbag, now turning from where she had been watching a movie of some description on a small television set, dark hair held against the back of her head by a spring-loaded clasp.

Kara turned back to her follower. "Raych, these are Allison and Petra." She gestured to the girl on the bed. "Petra was the first one of us second gens. Allison is…"

"…driver extraordinaire, ace mechanic and all around good-girl," finished the beanbag occupant.

"And exceptionally modest."

"Absolutely!"

Now however the one called Petra had rolled up from her prone position, sitting cross legged on the bedcovers, studying their newest sister, and the object of that study felt herself reddening once more under the steady gaze.

Finally the elder girl broke the silence. "You were at the range today weren't you?"

"Umm… yes."

"I thought so: you were down the far end from where Sandro and I were training…"

"And by 'training' she means… umph!"

The hurled pillow caught Allison square in the face, causing her muffled splutter to be lost in its feathery depths.

"…How was it?"

Sandro… that must be her handler.

Raych looked down at her feet, toying with what answer to give. The reality was she had been terrible, a disaster… an embarrassment. That would be the truth: but if she said that, then how would it reflect on Danilo? Would he be seen as incompetent for not having trained her properly? But, if she lied, and they found out…

"It was, umm, it was ok I guess?"

"Don't worry, none of us were very good for the first week or two." Raych's head snapped up to where Petra was again giving her that same easy smile and, despite herself, she found it being returned as the other girl went on. "New body see? Whatever motor skills you had in your previous life, however co-ordinated you were, you have to re-learn them and adjust to suit it, we all had to."

"So this is… normal?"

Now, having removed the pillow from her face, it was Allison's turn to shoot over a grin. "Absolutely, it takes some longer than others mind, but you'll get there in the end."

Happiness welled up inside the newly minted cyborg: so she wasn't a failure after all… but if that were the case, then why had Danilo seemed so cross? Was there something these smiling girls were not telling her? Were they all failures themselves? Or was it just that Danilo expected more of her, expected her to be more than these girls were?

Well, if that were the case, she would have to try harder.

"Did you two want to stay for the rest of the movie?"

That was Allison chiming in again, and Kara looked down at her friend. "What is it?"

"Ronin."

For a moment the standing girl looked pained, biting her lower lip in indecision. Glancing at the shorter cyborg beside her though, she seemed to make up her mind. "Tempting, but I need to finish giving Raych the grand tour, and she apparently has a few things she needs to get done before tomorrow... plus I don't know if her handler has signed off on that movie or not."

"Your-loss-not-mine."

The remainder of the two upper floors passed in a whirlwind of faces and names: another red head, this one wearing a coppery orange mane in two pigtails, was introduced as Marisa, her roommate looking blankly on; whilst a blonde girl with hair hanging over one eye was introduced as Soni, "a sniper, like me", according to Kara. A tall, heavy-set cyborg was pointed out as Anastasia, but not introduced face-to-face… and then there were Melanie, Nina (again only viewed from a distance), Rachel, another girl like Marisa's roommate… at which point her memory gave out: the rest would need to be learned and remembered over some longer period of time.

Now she found herself led back to the ground floor, her guide making sure to point out the pin-board behind its glass shutters, but without going so far as to actually venture into cold night air.

The lowest level of the dorm sported older fittings, its lights containing glowing wire rather than fluorescent tubes, and walls clad in wood to waist height, breaking for timber doors along the building's length. Somehow it felt warmer, quieter: more homely.

"That one there is where Rico and Henrietta, the girl with the doormat, normally sleep," said Kara, motioning to one closed entrance. "However, if I'm correct, at this time of night they should both be…"

She knocked on a different door, its solid panels vibrating slightly under the impact.

"Come in!"

Following her friend as she pushed it open, Raych paused on the threshold as the room beyond came into view. This was quite different from those she had visited previously: gone were the two separate beds, the desks, and cheap fibreboard and plywood furniture. Instead those were replaced by a timber bunk bed, pushed up against one wall, the space opposite occupied by a low chest of drawers and, in a patch of floor the gen 02s did not have the luxury of: a round table with four chairs.

This was a child's room, not a teenager's.

The thought slapped her in the face, being backed up moments later as she noticed the line of stuffed bears arranged atop the drawers.

"Another new arrival huh?"

Only then did she realise there were people in the room as well.

The one whom had spoken was perched on the top bunk, propped up on her elbows and looking down at the two below over thin-framed glasses. She, however, was shot a sharp glance by a second girl, now rising from the table on which was placed another bear, blonde hair swinging behind her in two long tails.

"It's a pleasure to meet you…"

"Raych," put in Kara helpfully.

"…Raych, and welcome to the cyborg dorm. I'm Triela, the sharp tongued one up there..." she shot another glance at the bespeckled girl, "...is Claes, and these are Henrietta and Rico."

As she said the last names she motioned to the two other girls present. Henrietta, wearing a neat, grey uniform-like outfit, was seated also at the table, cleaning a SIG pistol, while Rico lay on the lower bunk, legs idly kicking as she flicked through a magazine. At the mention of her name the prone girl looked up to beam a smile.

"Hi!"

Henrietta however bit her lower lip, seemingly thinking something over, before also fixing Raych with what was suddenly quite a disconcerting gaze. "Umm, I wish we had had some warning you were coming. Then we could have had tea to welcome you… umm… would you like to join us for tea in our room tomorrow night instead?"

Silence, again, and the elder cyborg's mind raced: this girl sounded pleasant, but if tomorrow went anything like today, then who knew what time she would be getting back… or how long she would need to clean down her gun and get ready for Danilo the next day.

"Umm, actually…"

Kara's foot came silently, but violently, down on hers.

"…actually, I would love to come to tea tomorrow night."

If she had seen the action, Henrietta did not show it and her face lit up. "Good! Come at seven o'clock… it is nice to meet you Raych."

Now Triela, whom had seen the snippet of theatre being played out, offered a knowing smile. "If you need anything, or have questions, feel free to see me… but Kara can probably answer most of what you need to know."

"Umm… thank you."

"I'm sure Kara's told you already, but make sure to check the notice board outside, and keep your room tidy: Ferro occasionally runs spot inspections, or sends one of the handlers to do it."

"Umm… thank you."

"It was nice to meet you, Raych."

Backing out of the room so Kara could close up again behind them, Raych started to open her mouth, but the elder girl raised a finger to her lips in a shooshing motion, before tapping her ear and starting farther down the corridor, confused companion trailing in her wake.

It wasn't until they were some metres farther along that the other cyborg spoke in a low voice. "You were about to ask why I stepped on your foot, yes?"

"Umm, yes."

"Because you don't reject an invitation to tea from Henrietta, not the first time, not if you don't want her to blacklist you forever."

"Oh… but they were just kids."

"And so small things, like tea, are very important to them sometimes... one of them in particular," continued Kara. Then she smiled. "Don't worry, you'll get the hang of managing 'Etta eventually, just don't let her notice you doing it."

"You didn't seem to worry about Triela noticing."

"That's because Triela is senior cyborg."

Before she realised what was happening, a look of confusion planted itself on the younger girl's face. "I thought you were senior cyborg."

That got a chuckle. "Not even close: they may look like children, but the four in that room probably have more combat experience than all of us gen twos combined. Triela is senior, followed by Petra or possibly Rachel for the gen two girls, depending on who you ask when... there's not really an official order."

"And you?"

"I'm more of a…" Kara waved her hands vaguely in front of herself, "…I'm more of a, call it a social co-ordinator?"

"And Allison?"

"Bad ideas girl."

"And… was it Monty?"

"Technically she would be next in line, at least in terms of build dates, after Petra for seniority I guess... but you won't see much of Monty: she's almost always abroad, and when she is here she's always busy." Raych's mouth started to open again, but her companion kept talking before the obvious line of questioning could continue. "Come on, let's see who else is around, then we'll sort your bed out and get you ready for tomorrow. Sound good?"

"Yes, Kara... umm, could I also borrow your alarm clock?"

"Sure, what time do you need to be up."

"Umm, well Danilo said he would be past at five thirty, so what time do you think I should get up?"

Internally Kara winced: having a roommate might not be entirely fun and games after all.

Leaning back in his chair, Danilo Olivetti ran one hand across his bald scalp. Finding the band of his headphones there he slipped it back, allowing the sleek Denons to fall around his neck for the minimal clicks and pops emanating from them to float out into the room.

Well, it looked like this was going to be more time consuming than he had originally envisaged.

Allowing the seat to rock back upright on smooth springs, the man let his gaze flick to a small, saucer-like star ship which rested to one side of his computer monitor. Lit underneath by cold LEDs which reflected in the glass desktop, its long trailing nacelles drew his eye back to the glowing screen. At least he had managed to wrestle an electronic version of C. Raych's handover package from the medical types, so he was saved cluttering up this space with folders. The SWA had been insistent he retained hard copies however, but those were now hidden away, out of sight and out of mind. Instead, their virtually generated brethren burned in front of him, open at the general information section: that section which had been skipped over previously in favour of finding data more specific to his own assigned cyborg unit.

It might have been nice for one of the medical types to inform him of some of that during the, what, whole month? He had worked with them prior to 's activation?

Either way, after today's disaster he was not going to be putting a pistol in her hands again until she had some control over that body of hers, in fact he had half a mind to take it back off her. The Book however recommended against such an action, but at least the "no loaded firearms" blanket rule for cyborgs meant she would be unable to do anything too dangerous with it overnight... assuming of course she had at least managed to get it to her room without breaking it. Possibly he should have escorted her there himself, but he didn't want to go confusing the issue further by possibly directing her to the wrong accommodation.

Besides, it wasn't him who had to live there.

A few flicks of the mouse wheel had his view scrolling up the document: amongst the text it had been suggested that a musical instrument would be helpful to a cyborg developing her motor skills, that or some other hobby requiring fine co-ordination. His eyes turned again to the star ship: there had been those miniatures in the shop window yesterday…

No, that was likely to end in disaster, expensive disaster. Surely not every single girl here could have been supplied an instrument or hobby by her handler, there had to be some other way to go about things. If he was going to develop her motor skills, he may as well do so in a manner relevant to her job, and not toward some useless vocation unlikely to further her capabilities.

A spreadsheet appeared under his rapidly darting cursor, and he inserted another few rows to give more space: best to roll her training back a step or two and take it from there. This was not what he had been promised from his fighting machine, but if needs must… and someone would be hearing about it.

Reaching forward once more, Danilo closed the internet browser window which had been open behind his current work. At least he would be able to delay the hunt for accommodation off-campus and save some money in the process: there were plenty of other things to spend it on.

Listening to the door close behind Rico and Henrietta as the two younger girls returned to their own room, Triela finished neatening the bear's bow currently subject to her labours.

Pulling a grim face, she glanced up at where Claes remained reading on her perch. "So, what did you think?"

The latter did not look up and, taking the opportunity whilst her bespeckled comrade finished whatever paragraph she was on, the senior girl moved to replace the bear in position, leaning back against the lowboy as her roommate finally turned her attention away from the page.

"What did I think of what?"

"Of the new girl, Raych."

Claes seemed to give this some consideration. "She did not seem particularly unusual for a newbie, a bit timid, but not unusual."

"Hmm…"

"Why?"

Now Triela paused, putting her thoughts in order. "I think… I think I may have met her handler yesterday."

The other girl's expression was impassive. "And you forwent mentioning this to her because?"

Now the blonde haired girl looked directly at her friend. "Because I didn't want to get asked the obvious question, because I'm not sure I could have truthfully given an acceptable answer to her face."

"Coward."

Seeming not to notice that jab, the senior cyborg again turned her gaze downward. "I fear Raych may not be in for the easiest time."