MEANWHILE IN ITALY

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

Thanks to Kiskaloo for the continued loan of Michele and Kara, and Professor Voodoo for Marisa, as well as MP5 for the loan of Allison.

CH05 - Foundation

Danilo was halfway out of bed before his conscious brain caught up with the physical action. Swaying to a halt on the king-single bunk's edge, the handler reached out to silence his phone's grating 5am alarm, rubbing at bleary eyes to remove the last dregs of sleep.

His room was chilly, thermostat set for comfort under blankets and, moving quickly, he pulled on a robe over his long night shirt, before crossing to open the small stainless steel fridge, wedged in a corner between his desk and sleek white wardrobe. C. Raych's breakfast was already bagged in the bottom, looking somewhat neater than the previous morning. From the shelf above however he extracted his own meal, which was scoffed down quickly... if he was going to keep doing this though he would need to invest in an espresso machine... then teeth, shave (chin and scalp) and a fresh black suit.

Tie knot seated securely in place, the man glanced at a compact safe nestled in one shelf for a moment, before running his thumb print to collect pistol and holster. A pair of boots were also retrieved from the floor, and five minutes later he was striding quickly across the asphalt front staff car park, cyborg's breakfast in one hand and heavy coat again draped over the other arm.

At this time of the morning, only a smattering of vehicles populated the space, not surprising for a Saturday, not everyone was trying to bring an unco-operative ward up to speed. For that matter there were plenty of places, given the option, he would rather spend his weekend as well.

Wherever the others were, the little hatchback cut a lonely form in the courtyard's cold expanse, and with the engine running its owner quickly turned the heater on full bore, before dumping his coat on the passenger seat and C. Raych's meal in the back for her. Edging out of the entrance archway, Danilo again chased warm headlights through pre-dawn darkness, until those beams picked out the cyborg in question's shivering form, standing once more outside her dorm.

Rolling to a halt, he reached back to push the rear door wide. "If you're that cold, you should wait inside until I arrive."

"Y-yes sir." Dropping into the back seat, his charge closed the opening behind herself, before saying brightly, "I tied my own boots today!"

"Well done, your breakfast is on the floor."

In the rear-view mirror he watched as, beaming at the disinterested praise, his trainee operative dug into cold food. The kitchen had done a good job on such short notice; he would have to email Ferro or Lorenzo commending them.

More promisingly, if C. Raych was not lying and had indeed managed to tie her own boots, it might be a positive sign things were on the upswing, that she was actually starting to regain some co-ordination. Hopefully she would improve so he could get back to working her on something more useful, and do so quickly.

Glancing again in the mirror, Danilo started to speak as they rolled away. "You will be on the obstacle course, C. Raych."

"Yes sir."

"If you managed to tie your boots, I expect to see some improvement in your times there as well."

"Yes sir."

The remainder of the short trip passed in silence, until again the equipment's clearing appeared in bright, high beam headlights. With the sun yet to breach its horizon, those were the only source of illumination, heavy clouds blotting out any trace of moon or stars overhead and, once more leaving the car running, Danilo ordered his charge into her warm up laps.

This time however, he too headed for the loop.

Arriving at the buried start-marker, the handler extracted a small torch from one pocket, turning it on with gloved fingers before beginning to slowly follow in the trainee soldier's wake. The hurdles shouldn't be an issue, but reaching the high rope swing he gave one of its dangling lengths a good solid tug, pointing the LED's white beam toward its fixing above as he did so.

No movement, good.

C. Raych pounded past, and he paused to fix her also in the torch light. Her gait seemed less awkward than it had the previous day, more controlled, limbs following closer to the prescribed paths nature and doctors had intended, rather than flailing about in a mess. Flicking the beam away, he checked the second rope, before moving toward the next obstacle. So he had been correct: whoever decided these girls needed a hobby to aid co-ordination had been wrong, they didn't, making it more likely a cover for misplaced sentiment than operational necessity. Should the cyborg be required to hone fine motor skills, then there would be plenty of opportunity for her to do so day-to-day, without the need for redundant pursuits.

The remainder of the course also passed inspection, and Danilo found himself back at its start just as his charge came to a puffing halt.

"Have a drink and you can get going."

"Yes sir."

Taking the spare moment to check his series of notes, the handler grimaced: positive signs aside, C. Raych was still a good minute off Soni's time, it was a lot of ground to make up. He wanted her back on the range by the end of next week but, since yesterday, that was appearing less and less likely.

"I am ready, sir."

Turning back to face his cyborg, he switched the phone over to its stopwatch function.

"Then go."

The result was not what he had hoped for. As on the previous day, sounds of disaster wafted back across the training ground and, when the runner returned to her start point, the numbers found her to be slower than before.

"Again."

Once more C. Raych ran, and her instructor gritted his teeth. He had been willing to give her the benefit of the doubt, to work through any build issues, but this was just starting to get frustrating, and there was only so much he was willing to put up with. He would keep at it per the manual until the end of the week, but after that it might be a trip back to the medical department to see if, given a list of issues, there was anything they could do. Surely they had been through this process enough in the past to be able to engineer a solution.

Not that they had given him much reason for faith previously, or maybe this one was just defective.

This run however was better, not as quick as she had been earlier managing, but at least enough to indicate that any backward slide had perhaps been arrested. The next run was better still, and as the day wore on C. Raych's times continued to drop, setting a new personal best with each attempt, and not just across the dawn either, but at a steady, if slow, rate towards afternoon as well.

As he ordered his dirty and exhausted charge back into her seat, Danilo found himself in much better spirits. The gap to Soni's time had been cut by another eight seconds, admittedly still a long way off good but, more encouragingly, the result had this time definitely not been the work of some outside factor: her continued improvement was proof enough of that. If he could push her a little harder, get her performing better, maybe he could get her back to the range after all.

Unconsciously, he brushed the pistol riding in its holster.

Of course, he would need to find time to practise himself before then as well.

Perched once more on a muddy towel in the Civic's rear, Raych watched on quietly as her handler got them underway. If Danilo wanted to talk to her, he would talk, but seemingly right now he did not… but even so she was happy. She had improved, at least she thought she had improved, Danilo had said she had improved; he had even smiled at her after her last run! That had to be proof he was happy, did it not? And she was happy that he was happy.

Rolling back onto the road which returned to the compound, Danilo seemed to come to a decision.

"Don't bother getting up early tomorrow, I will come for you around midday."

Raych froze. What had she done wrong? He had seemed so pleased before, but now he did not want to see her? Her mind raced, surely she had not done anything wrong this time, or had she just not done enough right? What was it?

Mustering up all her courage, the girl opened her mouth, voice emerging quiet and timid. "Umm… why, sir?"

There was a pause.

"I need to go up to Rome for the morning," and then, "it's nothing you've done."

It's nothing you've done.

The words washed across Raych like some cleansing tide, flooding her with relief in their wake.

It's nothing you've done.

So he was happy with her!

Feeling a spike of courage at that utterance, she spoke again. "Could I… come with you?"

"No…"

Oh.

"…you have to pass your VdCO before you will be permitted off compound."

She did not dare say anything else, but what was a VdCO? It sounded important: she would have to ask Kara.

Unfortunately, upon her return, the elder girl was nowhere to be found, bed displaying signs of a hurried exit. The other had been asleep when she left and, being able to take care of herself now in the boot department, Raych had thought it best not to wake her room-mate. Perhaps she was elsewhere on campus, surely the other girls would be busy as well, weekend or not. It was difficult to tell what the others did without any face-to-face contact: but she was happy to spend the time with Danilo instead, she would happily have spent all her time with Danilo. She liked that word, Danilo, she liked the way it felt to say it, how it filled her mouth and rolled of her tongue: Danilo.

Would he let her say it to him? She hoped so, she would like to say it more often.

If a VdCO was what she needed to spend more time with him, then she would get a VdCO... she just wished she knew what it was. The way Danilo had mentioned it made it sound like some sort of test. That sounded scary, but for him she would do it, whatever it turned out to be… maybe Danilo would tell her.

Of course he would.

Thinking no more on the subject, she headed for the showers.

Sunday, God's ordained day or rest, or so he had been told.

Under cold, bleak, skies, Danilo allowed himself a sour chuckle at that, letting his car drone its way farther up the A1 AutoRoute toward Rome. Maybe someone could have told that to the drivers he shared the tarmac with for this long, boring trip, and cleared them away back to their homes or churches. Dispensing with traffic would at least have removed one irritation from an already irritating journey.

He hated long drives.

It was bad enough he had to be behind the wheel himself, but some company to help nullify the tedium would not have hurt either, and unfortunately he had not seen fit to ask around the previous evening. What did the other handlers do? Take a cyborg? C. Raych had seemed keen to go, but she was still not yet allowed off-compound, and frankly that was not company he particularly wanted either; it was enough to deal with work at work, let alone outside as well.

C. Raych had wanted to go.

Ahead, the Rome (Sud) turnoff sign appeared above swiftly moving traffic, and he followed its white arrow onto another motorway.

"…the girls can be quite possessive and jealous."

Those had been Hilshire's words at the trattoria the other night, and Michele had nodded agreement. He had known the cyborgs were conditioned to protect their handlers, but the handover documents never stated that protectiveness would go so far as to mimic little-girl jealousy. If this were the first sign of his unit getting clingy, then it was one he would need to put an end to as soon as possible.

In which case, telling C. Raych a VdCO would allow her off-compound with him had probably not been the best bit of phrasing ever.

Shit.

Either way, he was suddenly quite glad to have told the cyborg just that he was running errands this morning, and not doing so for her benefit.

Turning onto the Rome ring road, Danilo placed himself again into the slow lane. Even on a Sunday the traffic got heavier with each kilometre he travelled toward the Italian capital, and once he dove into its streets, navigation would become a nightmare. Keeping out of those streets for as long as possible was high on the agenda.

C. Raych would need attending to this afternoon also for another stint on the obstacle course but, after that, he would have to check if anything had been written down regarding cybernetic attachment. Come to think of it, he had seen one of the gen one girls, Henrietta possibly, trailing around after her own handler like a lost puppy. At the time he had not thought anymore of it, but if it were something more sinister… no one should have to put up with his work following him around like that… though Michele and Hilshire had both spoken affectionately of their charges. He pulled a grimace: he genuinely hoped that they, that any handler, would not actually enjoy that sort of attention.

Outside, high, sound-reflecting barriers closed in on the tarmac, squeezing it down to a claustrophobic canyon and, in the midst of his musings, Danilo very nearly missed his next exit. Forcing his way between two other vehicles going for the same ramp, he joined the long string of cars headed into Rome's southern suburbs.

This was the part he dreaded most, the melee of the city, and arriving from a different direction to his usual was not going to help. His last visit to this little clothing store had been at the end of the day, approaching through the Roman centre, and once more he had to return to find something else. He hated shopping at the best of times, doubly so now for girls, he should never have listened to Priscilla and just found something on the outskirts the first time around, rather than trying to fight his way into the old city or, even better, nearer the SWA itself and saved the drive.

Or just used the internet.

And it only got worse from here.

Traffic, traffic, more traffic, a roundabout large enough to put a park in the middle with unsigned exits, and a wrong turn or two deposited an equal parts relieved and infuriated Danilo on the banks of the Tiber. Following that north would get him within walking distance, and that would be fine enough. All things considered, it was probably a good thing he had left his gun at the Agency.

Well, this was the price he paid for doing it "right".

No hammering klaxon sounded to hurl Raych from her sleep, but she sat up with a jolt under the muted sunlight seeping through her window. Something was wrong, something was very wrong, she was supposed to be somewhere! She had slept in, Danilo would never forgive her for missing training. Panic overtook her and she was halfway out of bed before the previous day's events managed to push their way through the mess of her memory.

She halted, feet already on the carpeted floor: of course, Danilo had said he would not need her until the afternoon, she had the morning off.

What was she supposed to do with a morning off?

Her eyes drifted to the alarm clock on Kara's desk, half-past eight, that would explain the light outside. The clock's owner however was still nowhere to be seen, her bed in the same state of disarray as the previous night: so she couldn't ask her senior. Maybe she would have a shower, a long one, for some reason that seemed like the thing to do on a Sunday morning off. Collecting a towel and toiletries, she headed for the bathrooms.

Twenty minutes found her back and staring at an open wardrobe, studying the meagre selection of clothes arrayed there. She would have liked to put on the leggings and top from her first day, those were comfortable, and Priscilla had told her they would please Danilo, but Danilo had not told her she could wear them again... Did they not please him? If they didn't, then why had he bought them?

Instead, she pulled on a fresh exercise outfit, tying her hair up into the tight topknot Priscilla had shown her how to make. Slipping boots on next, she carefully did them up all the way, threading each eyelet in the military style Kara had demonstrated. That was getting easier as well, much easier, and speaking of whom…

Carefully, ensuring everything was as she had been instructed, Raych set about making her room-mate's bed. It was more difficult than her own, the thick duvet flopping heavily over where she was trying to work in a manner her own coarse wool army blankets never did. It also, she found, could not be folded into neat hospital corners; after a couple of attempts she gave up and settled for arranging its fluffy mass square instead. The sheet below however remained creased to perfection.

Her own bed was next, its multiple blankets proving also difficult to arrange, but they could at least be finally turned into something approaching the neatness she strove for.

Both beds done, and instead of risking messing up her work, Raych settled down on her desk chair to wait. What now?

In the silence of the room, new noises came to her: the gentle tick, tick, tick of Kara's clock as the seconds hand made its way around the dial, each movement seeming to last a lifetime. From outside wafted the song of a bird, meeting voices coming the other direction from farther down the corridor.

Tick, tick, tick.

She could clean her gun again…

…no, Danilo had not given her permission to use that.

Tick, tick, tick.

The bird stopped now, and in its place sounded the crunch of tyres on gravel, followed by footfalls of someone climbing the dorm stairs. She could go see who that was; could it be another cyborg returning from training? Or… from a mission? That would be exciting to hear about…

…but what if it was someone she had not been introduced to yet? According to Kara, not everyone had been present when she made introductions.

Tick, tick, tick.

Nothing to do for herself, nothing she could do to help Danilo.

Tick, tick, tick.

She could wash her clothes. In fact, she would probably have to if she were to possess anything clean to wear after today…

…Yes, she would do that, and Kara had said she should apologise to Henrietta as well, maybe she could find the first generation girl at the same time. Her room was on that floor was it not? That would be a good thing to do.

Feeling proud of herself for having come up with such a good plan, and chest swelling with a new sense of purpose, Raych retrieved the plastic garbage bag in which were stored her dirty, soiled clothes from the last two days, and headed for the laundry.

Stepping out her door, she became more aware of those voices drifting from farther along the building but, ignoring them, aimed herself at the stairs to make for the ground floor. The first storey was also empty, but as she approached ground level, the mechanical hum of an electric motor and steady thud of something wet and soft being tumbled over and over reached her ears: so she was not the only one washing. Halting to look through the dorm front doors, reading the pin board just beyond their protective panes carefully for anything new, she then turned back the opposite direction, toward the noise.

The laundry room she had been shown on the first day, with its collection of washing machines and dryers; what she had not been shown was how to operate any of them.

More pressingly right now though, it was already occupied.

From where she had been ironing, Henrietta looked up at the new arrival, and Raych froze. "Umm… hello, Henrietta. About the other…"

Without saying a word, the little generation one lifted her nose in the air, carefully unplugged the iron, coiled its lead neatly and, collecting the rest of her un-pressed clothes, made for the door. Head still held high as she brushed past Raych, and not meeting her eye, the smaller girl offered a little "hmph" as she went.

Left abandoned, Raych's shoulders slumped. She really had messed that one up, but what was she supposed to do? She had to apologise somehow, but if Henrietta would not talk… and everyone already knew Henrietta as well, but they didn't know her, what if they sided with the other girl and wouldn't talk to her ever… she didn't know what to do. What was she supposed to do in this situation? Would Kara know? But Kara was nowhere to be found, and she did not want to trouble Danilo…

"Are you okay?"

She just about jumped out of her skin. "No, I'm fine!"

"Well, that's good, but you look a little lost."

Turning around, the gen two found Triela standing behind her... one of Henrietta's friends. What to say?

"Umm… no-one ever showed me how to use the machines."

Triela raised her eyebrows: obviously she was going to need to drag the truth out kicking and screaming, but not just yet.

"Okay, well it's not that difficult," she pointed to a bench with a large box atop it, "the Agency supplies laundry powder if you need it, but it's not much chop, so some of us get our handlers to buy our own. Those are kept in the cupboard underneath; just make sure not to mix them up, especially Henrietta's."

There, that was a twitch.

"The machines themselves are fairly simple, so get a scoop of powder and follow me."

Finding a spare machine, the senior cyborg walked her slightly edgy pupil through which little hatch to put powder in, and which was for softener if she had or used it, which button would start it and where to thump if the door refused to open. Demonstrating the latter, she waited for Raych to extract her clothes from the bag, but stopped her short of placing them in the front-loading drum.

"There's a sink over there, you might want to give those a rinse first… otherwise, in that state, they will come out as dirty as they went in... and make sure to clean the sink too."

Remaining by the machine, Triela watched as her charge completed the assigned tasks and returned… so it had been a Henrietta issue. Waiting until Raych was halfway through loading the washer so she could not run away, the senior girl sprung her trap.

"I saw Henrietta go past in a huff before… she's still hung up over tea is she?"

Raych froze as the conversation came to a screeching halt.

"Umm…" she looked at Triela, then away again, "…I guess so?"

"Don't worry too much about it, that's just 'Etta… give her a week or so to cool down, then try apologising."

"She... is not actually angry?"

"Oh, she's angry, but you're not going to be able to do much about it for a bit."

"But… what about everyone else? What if they think I…"

That earned her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry: they know Henrietta well enough to also know she's just being 'Etta. Everyone knows your..."

She had been going to say "your handler is working you hard", but stopped herself.

"…you're working hard. The first few weeks can be tough; going to sleep was a genuine accident, not some sort of calculated snub."

That seemed to perk the other girl up a bit as she closed the washer door and was shown how to turn it on. Hearing the water start to rush into its drum, Triela spoke again. "That will take half an hour or so… have you had breakfast yet?"

Raych shook her head.

"Come on then, let's get something to eat: can't face the day on an empty stomach."

Outside was still cold and overcast, and the two girls walked quickly, in silence, to the Agency's refectory. Following behind her shorter senior, Raych felt some of the weight pressing down on her shoulders had been lifted. Things might be ok after all.

Pushing through the hall doors and under its warm air curtain, Triela halted them to glance around the room as some of the small groups scattered across its floor looked up in interest, before turning back to their meals, and the new cyborg looked back. She had only been in here once, and Danilo had given her what she was to eat then, he had always decided what she should eat, was it okay for her to do so without him?

"Good, they're still serving breakfast." Triela's voice cut across her thoughts. "Hot meals are served from the bain-marie in the kitchen window, and there are cold choices on the islands."

Coffee and tea turned out to be stationed on a bench set against another wall, where an adult she did not know was just twisting a handle onto a large machine, which was set next to a belt-fed contraption she was told was a toaster. Beyond that, butting onto the end of the bench, were a series of glass-fronted fridges, which her guide now gestured at.

"You can take anything in those fridges with you from the refectory, and most of the cold foods as well, hot foods sometimes, but not crockery and cutlery. I'm going to get something hot, so help yourself and…" she looked around the space again, "...Marisa's over there with Allison, let's sit with them."

Left to her own devices, Raych glanced around in rising, self-conscious panic. What was she supposed to do now? Danilo wasn't here, and Triela had wandered off. Feeling that she should be seen to do at least something, she shuffled to the standing fridges to peer in through their doors at the foodstuffs contained within. Some of those looked familiar to her, the same as Danilo had brought to the obstacle course…

That was what she would do.

Taking a plate, she grabbed what looked familiar from Danilo's choices, before proceeding to the cold-foods benches to repeat the process. There were some pastries, cold meats and muesli… surely he would he happy for her to eat those. Circling the final selection, she saw Triela heading for Marisa and Allison, and broke off to follow behind.

She caught the gen one just as the latter was taking her seat, and was motioned a chair opposite, creating a little group of four at the end of the table.

"Do you two know Raych?"

The red headed Marisa nodded. "Yeah, Kara brought her around after she got activated."

Allison however was staring at the new arrival's plate. "What on earth are you eating?"

"Umm… it is just what Danilo brings for me, in the mornings."

"Surely not all mixed together like that though."

Raych felt her face heating, she had messed up again. "Umm, no… normally it is separate."

"Apple Danish and ham could work, sweet and savoury." That was Marisa. "Though, if you want my advice Raych, leave the stuff from the fridges for when you're desperate, get the good stuff when you can. After a few missions, the rest will get boring."

"Umm... it is just what Danilo brings for me," came the repeated answer.

Fortunately, Triela chose that moment to rescue her. "So how is your training going Raych? We don't see much of you around the dorm."

That perked her up a little. "I was able to tie my own boots today!"

"That's… good."

"…And Danilo says I am doing better on the obstacle course as well. He is up in Rome today," her face fell a little. "He says I cannot go with him until I pass a VdCO, I was going to ask Kara what that was, but she is not here…"

"Kara's in Milan with Michele for the weekend," interjected Allison.

Raych looked over at the elder second generation. "Is she on a... mission?"

A shake of the head formed her answer. "No, at least I don't think so, her handler has an apartment up there and takes her along sometimes as a treat."

Handlers could do that? That sounded nice.

"So, Kara has her VdCO then?"

"Her Verifica?" Allison nodded. "Yeah, we all have them."

"What is it?"

"What's what?"

"A Verifica."

There was silence around the table for a moment before Allison spoke again, slowly, as if picking her words. "Mr Olivetti… hasn't told you yet?"

"Well, he said I needed to pass one before going off-compound."

"Umm, ok. Well VdCO stands for Verifica della Competenza Operativa…"

"It's a test to make sure you're not a complete klutz before being allowed out in public," chimed in Marisa, brightly.

"Pretty much," the other girl shrugged, "it's a subjective test of basic skills to make sure you know what you're doing... normally one of the SRT grades it."

"And you have passed yours?"

"No cyborg has failed yet…"

"…though, I hear if you do fail, your handler gets in trouble too," added Marisa, grinning as her voice took on a conspiratorial air, "and, if you fail twice, they... recondition you!"

"Marisa!" Triela shot her younger sister a sharp glance.

"What? That's what everyone says."

"Don't worry Raych, Allison's right: the test is basic, so it's not that difficult."

Now the new cyborg looked pleadingly at her senior. "Was it hard for you?"

The blonde haired girl took another bite of breakfast before answering. "I never did one; they only started it with the second generation girls."

"Oh… for you Allison?"

"Well, it was scary at the time, but looking back it shouldn't have been."

"And you Marisa?"

"Piece of cake!"

"What about for Kara?"

"You'll have to ask her when she gets back."

"And…"

"So..." cut in Triela, before the line of questioning could go through every single resident of the dormitory, "...did anyone see Ferro's latest notice?"

"No, when did it go up?"

Realising the conversation had moved on, Raych started into breakfast, staring at the plate from which it slowly disappeared, while the chatter washed unregarded around her. So, the VdCO was basic then, but she still did not know what was in it... and how much time did she have to prepare? How much time did she need to prepare? Danilo seemed to think she was a long way behind, and if he had needed to move her back to absolute basics, then she had to have a long way to go. Hopefully she would be able to do well for him, she wanted to do well for him, she would have to work harder, much harder, and if she failed, well… that just did not bear thinking about... and if she got Danilo in trouble, then, what would she do? If that happened then maybe he would be better off with a new cyborg, one who could…

"Ready to go Raych?"

"Huh?"

She had been so lost in her own thoughts she did not notice the others finishing.

Now Triela was just standing to leave. "I said: are you ready to go? Your washing should be about done."

The gen two looked at her own half-completed meal. "Umm... yes."

Trailing along again behind her senior once more to be shown where to dump food scraps and put her dirty plate, the girl let herself next be ushered back out the door and toward the dorms.

"So, all the second generation cyborgs really have passed their VdCO then?"

"Yes."

"First time?"

"Yes… at least that I am aware of having taken it."

Arriving in the laundry, they found Raych's washing had indeed finished and, moving it to the dryer, she was shown how to set the machine for an hour and turn it on.

"There are washing lines outside as well. It's better for your clothes to use those, but today that would be wasted effort."

"Yes, Triela."

Mission accomplished, the senior girl stretched, arms above her head, before dropping them and letting out a contented sigh.

"I'm going to head back to my room, did you want to come?"

Raych paused: she would like to go, otherwise she was not entirely sure what she would do with herself until her clothes dried… but that was also where Henrietta liked to go as well, and if she were there …

"Umm… no. Thank you anyway. I, umm, have other things to do."

The blonde shrugged. "Ok, suit yourself. Just remember, you're always welcome."

"Umm, thank you."

With that she was left alone in the laundry, the dryer's rhythmic whirr and thump her sole company. What was she going to do with herself? How long would it be until Danilo got back? He had said he would be coming for her at midday, but what time was it now?

Sitting down on a wooden bench running the room's length, the recently minted cyborg stared at the machine as it worked.

Tha-dump, tha-dump, tha-dump…

It was an unnatural noise, but a calming, comforting one, and it was nice and warm in here.

Tha-dump, tha-dump…

What had Triela meant by "that she was aware of?" Had someone not passed their VdCO after all? She would have to ask Kara...

Tha-dump…

Slowly, Raych's eyelids began to droop, and she slouched over onto the bench.

Tha…

"C. Raych!"

The girl awoke with a start, almost falling off her perch.

"Why aren't you ready for training?"

The laundry was quiet now, dryer long finished, and towering over her stood her seething handler, two shopping bags by his side.

"Umm..."

"I told you to be ready." Reaching into one bag, Danilo extracted a black, long sleeve thermal top and thrust it at her. "Put this on, and the rest in your room, I'll be waiting in the car."

Yes sir! Sorry sir!"

Grabbing the bags and abandoning her washing, the stricken girl fled.

She had messed it up, again.