MEANWHILE IN ITALY

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

Thanks to Kiskaloo for the continued loan of Michele and Kara.

CH06 – Cyborg Dreams

Pounding feet, rasping breath.

Then the respite was over.

Taking one more step, Raych hurled herself at vertical wooden planking, booted toes scrabbling at its face as she impacted to give the final boost needed to catch its lip with raw fingertips.

Hauling herself bodily upward, the cyborg rolled across the timber edifice's peak to flop off its far side, getting feet under her just in time to land clumsily and send her stumbling forward, across the obstacle course finish, fetching up before her handler.

Panting heavily, Raych looked up at the man now standing over her, again immaculate in his black suit, a pair of small, round sunglasses protecting his eyes from late afternoon sun. Was that the glimmer of a smile she saw brush his lips?

"That's it for today C. Raych, get in the car."

"Yes sir."

Moving to the Civic's rear door, the girl made sure her towel was in place and slumped onto it, careful not to spread dirt on the heavy jacket laying also on coarse seat fabric. Like the rest of her clothes, like the long sleeve top she wore now, it was black: the second item Danilo had brought to keep her warm in the mornings.

Physical goal now removed for the day, exhaustion took her, draining any last dregs of energy and turning previously strong limbs into heavy, gelatinous masses, able to do little more than hang limply in their sockets. That she had come to expect, it happened every time: on the course she was tired, she knew she was tired, but it was an awareness rather than an intrusion, and she could push on without need to pause. The moment she stopped however, the moment Danilo told her the day was over, that exhaustion would flood in, leaving her barely able to climb the dorm stairs and drag herself to the showers.

Maybe if Danilo ordered it to, the exhaustion would go away again.

That was a thought she liked.

"You did well today C. Raych," her ears pricked up, "bring your gun tomorrow, and wear your street clothes…"

The girl's heart skipped a beat, had he really just said…

"…you haven't used it in a while, so make sure to clean it again tonight."

He had said it, she could have her gun, her purpose, back, and elation exploded inside her. He was happy with her again!

"Yes sir! Thank you sir! Thank you!"

That was answered by a muttered "hmph" from the front seat.

The rest of the journey passed in silence through orange-lit grounds until, arriving at the dorm, Danilo brought the car to a halt. "Same time tomorrow."

Halfway through her door already, possessions bundled in her arms, his cyborg gave a big smile back. "Yes sir!"

"And settle down."

Her face fell. "Yes sir, sorry sir… umm… I'll see you in the morning… sir."

Then she was out, and while her face had settled, she was buoyed along by the dancing happiness. Her earlier failures had been rectified, and Danilo was letting her take the place she had always wanted again: now she could have her pistol back, now she could serve him better, the way a cyborg should as his weapon and protector. She could rightfully call herself an Agency cyborg again.

Reaching the dorm's glassed entrance the girl looked through, checking carefully for signs of Henrietta, before slipping inside to hop around on one foot after another, removing each dirty boot.

An Agency cyborg, like the others.

Starting up carpeted stairs on bare feet, her frenetic pace slowed a little: compared to some of the others though, she was barely worthy of the title wasn't she? She had never even been off-compound, let alone shot anyone for her handler or protected him from danger: some of the others got to go out and do that every week, to Rome or Milan, or even as far off as Sicily and many more exotic sounding places, helping their handlers serve the Agency.

But she would be worthy of that title. She would.

Cresting the last step, Raych headed for her room, only just remembering to knock before throwing open the door. Kara was laying on her bed, reading a magazine, which she almost dropped at the loud entry.

"Hello Kara!" Dumping her towel, boots and jacket on the floor, new arrival dove for her cupboard.

"Umm... evening, Raych. You're in a hurry?"

Pausing in her rush, the mousey haired girl turned to flash a happy smile at her recumbent companion. "Danilo let me have my gun back! He said to clean it, so I am going to do it right now."

"Congratulations!" then the other's smile became slightly more motherly, "though, it might be a good idea to go and wash up first, otherwise you're possibly going to do more harm than good, ne?"

"Huh?" Steyr case already in hand, the newer cyborg paused, before glancing down, realisation dawning as she glimpsed mud encrusted clothes, and her shoulders drooped. "Oh… umm… you're right… I am sorry."

"Don't be."

"Sorry… I will, I will go and have a shower first."

It didn't take long and, ten minutes later, a shampooed, soaped, rinsed and slightly calmer Raych was seated at her work desk, ready to open her pistol case for the first time in over a week. It felt good to again hold that rough surface in her hands, once more running a thumb along the join in its clamshell halves, over rear hinges and around to the catches at its front.

Taking a deep breath, she released the clasps and raised the lid. Inside, exactly as she had left it, lay a pistol, a Steyr M9-A1, presented to her on her very first day and, for the first time since then, a pistol she had the right to call hers. Wrapping thick fingers around its grip, the girl lifted the gun clear of its protective foam, feeling textured plastic bite firmly into her palm. Holding it steady for a second, she checked the chamber was empty and started to strip it down, savouring each movement, each little action which once more started to embed the weapon into her conscious memory, making it hers again: all of it familiar, and yet at the same time all new, and she would never take it for granted, ever.

Slowly, she worked through each step the ingrained knowledge prompted her to undertake, so engrossed in the task that not until the firearm once again lay assembled before her was room available for other thoughts. Lifting the completed pistol, she function checked it, enjoying the moment, and another thing Danilo had told her to do wiggled its way into her mind.

"Umm, Kara?"

Still on her luxuriously appointed bunk, the Asian featured cyborg looked up from her magazine. "Mmm?"

"What are 'street clothes'?"

That earned her a quizzical look. "Street clothes?"

"Danilo said that I should wear street clothes to training tomorrow. I do not know what he means."

"Oh…" the confused expression disappeared, "…I guess he's talking about clothes for wearing in public. I mean, you would look quite odd on the streets of Milan wearing battle dress."

"So, not my exercise clothes?"

"I imagine Mr. Olivetti means what you wore on your first day: the leggings and poncho top."

Kara jumped as her room-mate let out a little yelp of excitement. "I can wear what he gave me then?"

"I… guess… so?"

Raych beamed, before standing to rush to her wardrobe and open its doors, drinking in those items which were also once again hers: the three identical tops, hanging side by side, and the three sets of identical leggings.

First her gun, and now this!

"Do you have," she took a moment to move the new, unfamiliar, words around her mouth, "street clothes, Kara?"

There was a pause as the other girl considered the question, eyes flicking to the tall storage units sprawled around the walls on her side of the room.

"I think… most, of my clothes could be considered 'street' clothes."

"Most of your clothes are for wearing off compound?"

"Well, more like they can be worn anywhere… though some are more suited for certain places than others." Swinging her legs out of bed, the girl padded over to roll open a frosted glass wardrobe door and extracted a thick, knit jumper. "This, for example, is from Polo Ralph Lauren. I could wear it on compound, or in Milan, but not to the opera with Michele; it's too casual."

Moving from her own small collection, Raych looked over her compatriot's shoulder at the garment she held. "Are you going to take that to Milan again then?"

Another pause, then Kara gave a short laugh as realisation dawned regarding what was being referred to. "Possibly, but not for at least a few weeks yet: Milan is a special treat, so I'll figure out what to take next time when I actually get to go."

"But you have passed your VdCO have you not? You can leave campus whenever you like."

That earned a small smile. "I can leave whenever my handler likes, but not of my own accord, none of us can."

Now it was Raych who looked slightly puzzled: why would anyone go without her handler? "But, with a VdCO, you can go away whenever Mr. Pagani decides to?"

"Yes... I guess so."

"What was yours like? Was it difficult?"

"My Verifica?"

"Yes."

Kara stopped for a moment, "Well… I passed it, and Amadeo was my assessor. He said I did well, so it wasn't too bad."

"But what was it like? Was it difficult? What did you have to do?"

Putting the jumper away to buy a little thinking time, Kara sat down on her bed. "I guess I was nervous before hand, everyone is. It really is a test of basics though…"

Sitting opposite her room-mate, on her own bunk, Raych placed the Steyr's case on her lap, fingers fiddling with the clasps as she listened.

"…there's a short lecture and written component. Then pistol work on the indoor range, hand-to-hand combat and a lap around the obstacle course. There's no grading beyond pass or fail, they're really just making sure you're co-ordinated enough to make your body do what you intend to, do it safely, and not be a big security risk outside the compound."

Raych's shoulders slumped, most of what Kara had just mentioned she had never even been told of before. The obstacle course she was familiar with, but she had never been instructed in hand-to-hand combat, she had no idea what she would need to know for the written component, and her last time with a pistol… she really did have a long way to go. At this rate, she would never be able to go off-compound with Danilo…

She really did have no right to call herself an Agency cyborg yet, did she?

Her voice was small for the next words, hope drained from it. "But, it's not difficult, is it?"

"Not if you've been training, and the written section is taken from the lecture, but your handler will decide when you're ready anyway."

That brought a little relief: Danilo would know what was best… but would she everbe ready?

"And everyone has passed?"

"Well, not the gen one girls, it wasn't instated until us gen twos arrived."

"But all the gen twos?"

"Yes, all the gen twos have passed," Kara looked thoughtful for a second, "except for Monty."

Raych froze, she had heard that name before: the obstacle course record holder, and if someone like that had failed the test... then what chance did she have? She was barely scraping by in terms of times there, and if she were only just scraping through there, how would she be everywhere she had not practised? She had no chance, she would never be able to serve Danilo properly, never…

Her shoulders slumped. "So, it is difficult then, everyone told me everyone had passed, Triela, Marisa, Allison…"

"Slow down, that's not the end of the story," Kara held out a hand to stop her. "Monty never passed because Monty was never assessed, she never took a Verifica."

"She didn't?"

"No."

"But I have never seen her around the compound, I was told that to leave…"

"Monty's…" the other girl waved hands vaguely before herself, searching for the correct words to say, "…Monty's, different. You don't see her around campus because she's virtually never here. She's always off... somewhere else." She shrugged helplessly.

"But, she never took her VdCO?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

"Why did she not have to take one?"

That was cause for another halt in the conversation: for that matter, why had Monty been exempted from the Verifica? Kara's brow creased, she had simply been told that the young agent had never been assessed, a rumour backed up by Michele's testimony, and she had never thought to ask further, she had simply accepted it because…

"I actually don't know." She heard herself saying aloud. "I'll ask Michele but... it's just the sort of thing you expect to hear..."

"Why?"

There was another pause.

Why indeed?

"Because... it's Monty, I guess. No-one sees much of Monty, she's someone you tend to hear more about than actually see..." she stopped again, re-arranging her thoughts. "Each cyborg has a role they fill, we all do general tasks of course but… look at it like this: me, I'm a sniper, as are Soni, Melanie and Rico. Marisa's particularly suited for diving and deep water, Allison can handle a car really well, Mr. Hilshire is an investigator, and Triela joins him; Mr. Ricci comes from a counter-intelligence and domestic security background… you get the idea."

Raych nodded.

"Monty and Mr. Blacker… they're a dedicated intelligence and espionage fratello, spies, they don't do the same general tasks we do, they work differently, and they mostly operate beyond Italy's borders."

"Beyond?"

"Internationally: Egypt, France, the Americas, India, Asia, Africa... that sort of thing. The Padania has plenty of international contacts, not to mention wealthy sympathisers with global businesses and a global reach, the Blackers are the SWA's counter. Because they're generally so far away, they have to operate very independently, and so don't return to Rome often either. Michele says they prefer life in the cold."

"Being in the cold does not sound like something enjoyable."

Kara gave her room-mate a smile. "It doesn't mean literally in the cold, as in cold weather, more… that they stay out in the field by themselves, isolated... like, they prefer to get by on their own wit and ability, rather than rely on others. When they do return it's not for very long, and you won't see much of Monty then either; she works in with her handler and the staff instead, she doesn't really visit or train with us."

"So, do people like her then?"

A pause.

"That probably depends on who you ask. Monty doesn't really get along with anyone here in the dorm, she's... more adult than cyborg," another thought crossed the girl's mind, and her voice took on a slightly sour edge. "Michele likes her."

"Do you like her?"

"Well, I don't think she likes me very much but…" Kara paused again, searching once more for the correct way to explain herself, "…you know those people who you shouldn't like, but you can't bring yourself to dislike because they're… them? Sort of?"

Raych shook her head, matching the motion with a look of complete incomprehension.

"Umm, they're... maybe not someone you would normally like on a personal level, but they're still someone you look up to or..." more vague arm waving, "...you'll know what I mean if you see her, an aspirational figure maybe? Have you ever seen any of The Avengers? Or a James Bond film?"

Another head shake.

"Do you know if your handler has signed off for you to see either?"

And a third.

"This is going to be more difficult to explain then. Monty's… well she's pretty, glamorous, looks good in just about anything she wears, is capable, and Mr. Blacker…" the girl stopped. "You know what might work better? Let me tell you a story. I said Monty and Mr. Blacker tend to work independent of the SWA's resources a lot? Well, a month or so before you were activated, that put them in Monaco on their own information, chasing a Padania money source..."

"Monaco?"

Kara's brows went up, surely everyone knew Monaco. "It's a small principality on the Italian end of the French Riviera... it's also a tax haven and probably the richest, most glamorous place in Europe. Michele sometimes takes me there for the Grand Prix, and it's pretty amazing. Anyway, they were in Monaco, and needed a yacht, so they called Michele..."

As it had been the previous Friday, the handlers' office was all but deserted when Danilo arrived. Unlike that ordeal however, the new agent was feeling much more positive about the task which lay ahead of him. This time, while a drink would have been appreciated, he would not need it simply to drown his sorrows.

Only one other occupied the room: a younger man with blonde hair, whom lounged back in a tilting seat, feet on the desk, reading a magazine. From the depths of memory, a name swam up to Danilo's mind: Ricci, Alessandro Ricci, he had been at the range on Raych's first day with one of the red headed cyborgs. Any intrusion seemed not to have disturbed him though, and the new arrival made for his own station.

It wasn't until he was halfway across the room that the other appeared to notice his presence, lowering the magazine.

Not a magazine, a ballet programme... what did he have that for?

"In from running your girl ragged again?"

"Cyborg," corrected Danilo, absently, "and yes, we're finished for the day."

There was a pause.

"Ricci, by the way, Alessandro Ricci; I'm paired with Petra."

"I know. Danilo Olivetti, and you have already seen C. Raych."

"Pleasure to meet." There was another silence before Alessandro continued, tone neutral. "You're pushing quite hard with her..."

The newer handler fixed his counterpart with a sharp look. "The way I see it, until she's deployable, she's just a burden on the SWA, and it looks no good if she is just costing the organisation money, so yes: I am pushing hard... and like it or not, it has been effective."

"She's progressing then?"

"I will be starting her back on the shooting range tomorrow." By now Danilo had reached his desk, and slid his chair out to sit down. "We will see how that goes."

Ricci's eyebrows went up. "Meaning?"

"You were there last time she held a pistol, her performance was pathetic."

"To be fair, she had just been activated. A week in, she should have some better control over her body."

"So I keep reading." The handler's face was grim. He had thought about it afterwards: the problem wasn't so much that C. Raych's technique had been bad, the individual components of what she did had actually seemed quite good, but those components never seemed to come together as a whole. It was as if she had the knowledge, but no ability to put it into practice neatly.

Surely, if knowledge and theory could be loaded directly into her brain, someone could have also given her how to string everything together.

Some of that mess might be able to put down to co-ordination, but...

"...but I doubt that's all. It's like they told her what to do, but not how to do it."

"Well, I guess there are still limits to the technology."

"It couldn't be that much of a stretch, especially to speed up deployments. In the SWA's position I certainly would have..."

Leaving the programme on his desk, the younger man rose from his seat. "I'm sure if the medicos could have, they would have."

"...and of course pistol is only one part of what she needs to learn, she also needs to train in hand-to-hand combat before she can qualify."

"I hear the GIS can help with that if you don't want to do it yourself," there was a quiet swish as Alessandro pushed his chair back under the desk, "and now, I must bid you a goodnight."

"You're off?"

The younger man jabbed a thumb at his chest. "Alert fratello... just thought I would see if there was anyone around before heading to bed. Ciao."

"Good luck."

Working through the logon screen of his terminal as the other handler departed, Danilo ran over what had just been said. Certainly he had no intention of training C. Raych in unarmed combat himself, so the GIS might be a possibility... that was assuming they could provide sufficient challenge to a cyborg. At least there, his unit's lack of finesse should not prove such an issue, and could be balanced out by brute strength.

Before him, the computer's desktop stuttered to life, and he gave the machine an extra minute as it booted up seemingly innumerable background programmes. For all its advancements in the development of cybernetics, the Agency still ran at a frankly prehistoric level of technology elsewhere, and he had quickly learnt not to even bother trying to do anything until the PC was good and ready to let him.

He may as well go get a coffee.

Arriving back at the desk five minutes later, he was able to find the reporting template provided and open up a copy, quickly filling out its cover sheet.

So, where to start...

Well, there was no point in giving a pessimistic outlook to the brass.

"Cyborg Raych has, as of training this afternoon at the Social Welfare Agency primary outdoor obstacle course facility, attained a sufficient level of co-ordination to recommence firearms training. Despite earlier setbacks, an intensive schedule of measured physical stress has allowed this rapid recovery, and it is anticipated that she will be ready to be assessed for her Verifica della Competenza Operativa within..."

Darkness.

Well, not quite.

Laying in bed, eyes open, Raych was able to make out her room's contents in a thin sheet of low light, entering through the slit between curtains.

From across the space came the soft sound of Kara's breathing, sleeping soundly, but her mind was too busy for sleep. Just this afternoon she had thought Milan and Sicily sounded exotic, that her street clothes were expensive and beautiful. Not that she was ungrateful for what she had given, they were perfect clothes Danilo had chosen, but how little had she known. The world was much bigger than she had ever imagined, much more glamorous than she had ever dreamed, and some were allowed to travel in it, extending the Agency's reach, the same agency she belonged to.

Could Danilo take her those same places? Of course he could, Danilo could do anything he wanted.

She wanted to find out more.

It sounded exciting and adventurous, that enchanting life so distant from the Agency's compound, and to think she still was yet to travel farther than its walls and fences.

Despite Kara having pointed out that her reality was more to be expected, that final thought brought a wave of depression to mute her excitement: no farther than the compound walls, she really did have a very long way to go. That didn't mean she could not find out more though, find out what she would be doing once she attained that magical pass to go with her handler wherever he chose.

Her senior apparently already had a few mission reports stored she would ask Mr. Pagani to print out, and had said that, if she were to ask Danilo and he signed off for them, more could be gained, written by Monty and her handler themselves, not to mention the other fratelli. Not every report was available: some, most, were classified far beyond what she would ever be allowed to read, and even those which were flagged as "appropriate for dissemination to cyborgs", Kara's words, were heavily censored.

But the thought of that made it sound even more exciting, and she knew exactly with whose reports she was going to start.

Standing just inside the dorm's entrance, Raych pulled her heavy coat closer against the cold seeping in through its glass panes. It felt good to be wearing these clothes once more, from the poncho down to leggings and loosely tied boots. The soft fabric of her top bunched up into the jacket's arm holes admittedly, creating a lump and restricting movement a little but... it felt good. She was worthy of these things Danilo had given her again.

She was worthy again.

If she was worthy of these clothes, then maybe he would allow her to call him by name now. Would he? She should ask, she didn't want to annoy him, to question him, she had no right to question him, but...

From farther away came the sound of a car engine and crunch of tyres, barely audible to her, but the signal that she was to get moving all the same. Allowing herself a moment to savour the feel of her pistol case in one hand, to actually be taking it with her, she pushed open the door.

Only as it swung shut again did she hear feet rushing quickly down the stairs behind, and Petra burst out of the building, dressed and carrying what had to be a firearm case, striding toward the road.

"Petra?"

Only when the red headed teenager saw it remained clear did she turn back around. "Sorry, good morning Raych."

Stopping short of the other girl, Raych paused: what was she supposed to say now? She wasn't certain. "Umm... good morning? Umm... why are you..."

At that moment, the approaching car emerged from darkness behind its headlights and crunched to a halt beside the two cyborgs.

It was not Danilo's, but rather a tiny hatchback with a fabric roof.

"...here?"

In the driver's seat, a blond haired man, presumably Mr. Ricci, waved and Petra moved quickly to its rear, dropping down a hatch there to place her firearm inside, replying as she went.

"We're the alert fratello!" The access was slammed shut. "Just got called out, have a good day!"

And with that she was gone, door closing as the little car rolled rapidly away, leaving the younger cyborg alone.

An alert fratello, she had never heard of an alert fratello before. It sounded important, and looked exciting, considering how fast Petra had been going it had to be, did it not? Was that something she would do when she had her VdCO?

Now another vehicle turned into view, and before long Danilo's car also halted in the same place Mr. Ricci's had, rear door swinging open for her.

"Get in."

Ensconced in her seat, Raych felt them start to accelerate away. Should she ask Danilo if she could use his name? She really did want to ask... but she did not want to annoy him, she did not want to ask an unnecessary question, he wouldn't like that, but if she didn't ask him then she might never know...

...but she also had another question she wanted to ask. Maybe she should just...

"Good morning... Danilo."

The last word was a squeak, fear constricting her throat and softening her voice to bare audibility, and she winced, awaiting the rebuke.

"Hmph."

Nothing.

No response.

Did that mean Danilo did not mind her using his name? Had he not heard her? Or, was he furious? She did not know, she really did not know but... she really wanted to be able to use it, maybe she would try again later. Leaning over, she instead retrieved her breakfast from where it was bagged on the floor, and started to eat.

The indoor range was not so far away as the obstacle course, and it was only by grace of the range clerk not having opened the facility up for the day that she was able to finish, before Danilo directed her through to the firing line.

This early in the morning the range itself was deserted, and Danilo settled himself onto benching running behind the lanes to watch as his charge started to fill her magazines, the click of each round seating home reverberating around hard concrete walls. He was going to need to get her a holster fairly shortly; she would need time to practice with it prior to her assessment. Of course, all going to plan, she would soon be requiring her entire operational kit... he would have to chase up where the armoury was regards acquiring carbines while he was here.

Finally the last round seated home, and the handler stood up to run out a paper target for his charge, stopping it short at seven metres.

Before he could move back however, C. Raych spoke. "Umm... Danilo?"

He halted. "Yes?"

"Umm... some of the other girls..."

"Cyborgs, never forget that."

"Sorry, sir... some of the other cyborgs... Kara actually... said that I might be allowed, if you said I could, and printed them out... beallowedtoreadsomeoftheotherfratelli'smissionrepo rts." The last words came out all in a rush, and she drew another breath. "Could I sir? Please?"

It took Danilo a moment to decipher what had just been said.

Well, it would certainly save having to find her something else to do, and it beat a useless novel...

But later: right now she should not have the time to read, she had more pressing issues to concentrate on. Moreover, what if she were to read the actions of another fratello and decide they would be suitable to apply to herself? Until his cyborg was bedded in, he did not want her acquiring any bad habits the other units may have fallen into, or worse, that their handlers may have taught them.

"No..."

C. Raych's shoulders slumped.

"...not right now. Once you are passed-out for operations, I will consider it again. Now get to work."

That seemed to perk her back up again. "Yes sir!"

Stepping back to the bench, Danilo sat down as the cyborg donned protective glasses and loaded her pistol. There it was again: her stance was good, and each step she undertook was as near to textbook as he had seen, but none of it seemed to flow together. Bracing for the inevitable, he pulled on his own hearing protection.

"Fire."

Bang!

The first round flew off downrange, opening up a hole in the paper target as it passed through, the sheet bucking under the impact.

"Continue."

Carefully and methodically, C. Raych unloaded the remainder of her magazine into that dangling foe, and her handler let out a breath he had not realised he was holding. The evidence of each bullet's passing marked the page, admittedly scattered across it without creating anything which might have been referred to as a "group", but the paper had, joy of joys, collected every round directed at it.

Standing, he retrieved the target, running a new one out so the cyborg could continue, before sitting down to study what now lay in his hands. It certainly was not perfect, far from, but it was an improvement over what had gone before, and for that he should probably be thankful. Seemingly though, having brought her up off the bottom rung of one task, he was now starting again from square one on another.

Well, not quite, but so close that there was no discernable difference.

The next target was retrieved, and so it continued. It was more difficult to measure improvement here than it was with a stop watch, the seemingly random spray of bullet holes never appearing to visibly close up to a measurable extent, and eventually, the handler stopped trying to judge. She had to be improving, didn't she? He would compare the first and final targets of the day, and also next time remember to bring a ruler and compass.

Either way, it looked as if, just like the obstacle course before, this was going to be a long and painful process.

Perhaps he should not have been so optimistic in his report.