Katawa Shoujo Forums

Okay guys, I had this idea while watching the Gunslinger Girl anime to integrate the KS characters into a similar story - you don't have to have seen GG to read this fic.

So I guess I want some feedback from you guys, what you think of the idea, and then comments/criticism on the writing itself. Anyway, before we go any further, the prologue for the piece, thanks for reading.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

‘Nurse to base, requesting a clean-up crew, over.’

I smile to myself at that. Everybody knows his real name, it’s no great secret, but he still insists on using his Codename at all times, even when not out on a mission. I remember asking him about that codename and how he came by it, to which he smiled, looking pointedly at his white coat and brace of very thin throwing knives. Come to think of it, they did look kinda like scalpels...

Looking over at my handler, I’m only faintly surprised to notice his white coat is in immaculate condition, not a speck of dirt or blood on it, as usual. Looking down at myself I can see my arms up to my elbows are dyed a deep red, and there’s more splashed over my shirt and dripping down off my prosthetics, leaving a small crimson puddle on the floor where I stand.

Nurse halts his study of the bodies, a barely concealed look of disgust on his face, and looks over in my direction. ‘Any of that yours?’ He asks, looking pointedly at the patches of red on my arms and torso.

I give myself a once over – I couldn’t feel any pain anywhere, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Satisfied with my findings I look back to Nurse. ‘No, none of mine.’

‘Ah, that’s good; it’s not cheap running maintenance on all those cybernetic implants you know.’ He says, letting some relief slip into his voice. I smile at that. Of course our relationship is strictly professional – I’m a crippled cyborg assassin, and he’s my handler, but we both know that our relationship is deeper than that, like that of a big brother looking after his younger sister, or maybe the other way around.

One of the crumpled bodies on the floor starts groaning, breath rattling out through a mostly crushed throat. Keeping my eyes fixed on Nurse I pull my SIG P239 – my sidearm of choice – from its holster on my hip and hold my arm out to my side. The gunshot echoes through the empty parking lot as, holstering my gun, I turn to my side. The round caught the man just off centre on his chest, a shot clean enough to kill him when added to his previous injuries.

Scanning the rest of the bodies, satisfied that they won’t be moving again, we move back over to Nurse’s pride and joy – his 2002 Mercedes-Benz CLK, which by now I know everything about it that there is to know. Where it was made, how many miles to the gallon it does – this is what I had to put up with every time we go out in the bloody thing. Of course, it wasn’t quite the standard model – as far as I’m aware it didn’t originally come with reinforced steel bodywork, bulletproof glass and various hidden compartments scattered about, lined so the contents wouldn’t show up in any vehicle scan.

After putting down a sheet of plastic to save the precious seats from blood drops (the Agency, apparently, doesn’t pay for THAT. Hah.) I climb into the passenger seat of the car and sit down. The clean-up crew arrives just in time, saving me from a lecture about why the car I was sitting in was better than its more modern counterparts. Nurse rolls down his window as a member of the crew – dressed in standard civilian overalls, no weapons visible on his person, walks over to the car.

‘Yeah, all 7 targets are eliminated over there, have a good night guys.’ With his easy smile and relaxed sense of humour Nurse definitely got on best with all the various branches of the Agency – it was hard not to like him.

Pulling out of the parking lot Nurse glances over at me. ‘So, what do you want for a reward?’ he asks me, grinning as he mimics along to my reply in a high pitched voice. ‘I don’t want anything, it’s my job.’ Am I that predictable?

‘Come on now Emi, there must be something you want. Clothes? A teddy bear? How about we grab something nice to eat for a treat?’

Sighing, I lean back in my chair, shutting my eyes. ‘Well, I am kinda hungry, so I suppose you can take me out for dinner. I’ll need to get changed first though. Oh, and no funny business, I’m not that kind of girl.’

We both laugh at this, knowing full well that if our relationship turned into…that, he’d find himself out on the streets, or at the bottom of a river, and I’d be brainwashed and with a new handler in no time. As I said, our relationship was closer to that of a brother and sister, anyway.

===================================

Yamaku High School.

Officially a school meant to cater to students who suffered from any number of disabilities, from missing limbs through to internal problems, that was, however, all just a front. The reality was slightly different.

They typically took in female orphans with disabilities, people nobody would miss, handpicked from hospitals around the country, papers signed with a promise of full board and hot meals in a caring environment, all paid for by the government. After being transported to the facility, still unconscious, the girls are subject to a very long, complex series of surgeries, designed to strengthen limbs and correct any internal problems, muscle or bone related. Of course, they couldn’t entirely replace missing limbs, but that was mostly unnecessary, they knew what they were doing when they chose the girls after all. The implants also made the girls close to bulletproof – while bullets could certainly shred the implants, an expensive procedure to repeatedly fix, the only sure way to kill one of the girls was a bullet through the eye or the roof of an open mouth.

Finally the girls were subject to ‘Conditioning’. This consisted of, simply put, ‘brainwashing’ the subject (apparently girls were chosen as the Conditioning seemed to work better on them, the effects being more stable than the male test subjects.) They were then retrained to feel the fiercest loyalty to their chosen handler; they would jump in front of a bullet without thinking about it if their handler was in danger.

Once this stage is complete it’s down to the handler to train the girl as they see fit, in everything from firearm and CQC training, through to proper etiquette and how to blend in in everyday situations. Once the handler deems that the girl is sufficiently trained to be able to handle a live fire situation they start getting assigned on missions –grouped with another cyborg and handler first, eventually moving onto solo missions for the most part, rarely two or more groups would join up for a big mission.

Ah, but I’m getting ahead of myself. The organisation here is known simply as the ‘Agency’, a top secret branch of government intelligence which only the senior politicians knew about, and those were all sworn to a vow of silence – of course none of them would talk, knowing full well no amount of bodyguards could protect them if the higher ups decided they needed to be…silenced.

The Agency is an anti-terrorist organisation, primarily set up to combat the Republican Faction (RF, for short), it’s duties also stretch to hostage rescue, providing bodyguards to potential targets and the occasional threat, delivered with a bullet or two to the knees.

The Agency is split into two different parts, Section One being the role outlined before, the cyborg girls, assassinations and brainwashing, all that stuff. Then there was also Section Two, the intelligence side. Most of the people in that section knew about the goings on in Section One, the information critical to them in their job, which is primarily to provide intelligence reports. Using various connections to police stations and RF defectors they would track down targets and deliver up to date intel on enemy movement and plans.

They also handled the public side, providing cover-ups (and ample threats and bribes, used as appropriate) to silence the various media outlets who would have a field day if they were to get the faintest hint of operations at Yamaku.

So this is my life now – my dad’s dead and mum wanted nothing to do with her legless daughter. Being athletic and sporty before the accident, I guess I was a good candidate for the Agency, and I can’t say I don’t entirely enjoy living here. I have friends who I see in my downtime, doing things normal teenage girls do – we have tea parties, manage a garden, listen to music while we relax and work in the gym.

During the days we go to school where top tutors from around the country teach us Maths and the Sciences, History and Geography – we even wear something resembling a school uniform whilst sitting in the lecture hall. After school lessons we typically spend time at the various firing ranges and martial art arenas, although that kind of training is at the individual handler’s discretion.

And then occasionally we would receive a mission – sometimes a simple mission to protect someone in the local area, a mission that can be carried out in the space of a day with not a single shot fired, whilst sometimes work took us halfway across the country for two weeks while we stake out targets, scouring the area for vantage points before carrying out the meticulously planned hit.

That’s the background, and this is our story.

I wonder why noone had this idea before - Seems obvious now that it's out in the open.
Okay, KS doesn't have quite that many potential handlers...

Mirage_GSM wrote:I wonder why noone had this idea before - Seems obvious now that it's out in the open.
Okay, KS doesn't have quite that many potential handlers...

That's one problem I was having, I was figuring

Nurse - Emi
Mutou - Hanako
A (not related) Jigoro - Shizune
Nomiya - Rin

And then just give Lilly some non-combat (testing out various implants etc.) role.

But we shall see as it goes along!

About time you got yourself a forum account

Time to introduce some more characters, along with some light background. I promise the next part will have some action in it. Maybe.

-------------------------------------

The bullets spray out of the barrel in a blinding burst of muzzle flash, each bullet in a 5 round burst finding its place in the head and torso area of one of the targets down range. Of course at 50 meters against a stationary target I’m not going to be missing any shots – not with my primary weapon of choice in hand – a gun so perfect it could have been made for me.

The small size and weight of the FN P90 compliments my short stature, the low recoil caused by the small bore rounds keeping the gun more than manageable for me, even firing fully automatic. One of the hardest tasks for me starting off was getting my legs in the correct position for a stable foothold – not so easy when wearing running blades, but eventually it became second nature, separating my legs enough to give me a good shooting stance whilst not overbalancing one way or the other.

I unconsciously release the spent magazine from the gun, sliding it out of position and replacing it with another full 50 round magazine. Hearing it click into place I once again raise the gun into my shoulder, looking down the built in reflex sight I steady my breath, squeezing the trigger.

I spray another five-round burst into the torso of a hapless target, before a loud crack over my shoulder pulls me out of my intense focus, and turning around I see Nurse pulling the bolt on his Beretta 501. Holding the scope up to his eye he fires another shot, the loud crack echoing down the range. Turning my attention back to the range I can see from this distance the two holes where the target’s eyes would be.

‘Show off.’ I mutter under my breath, just loud enough for him to hear. Turning towards me with his seemingly ever-present grin, he holds the rifle out in his hands.

‘Why don’t you have a go? Don’t want your sniping getting rusty, after all.’

Giving him my best pout and puppy dog eyes, I take the gun from his outstretched arms, holding it for a second to get used to the weight of it – around double the weight of the P90 I was shooting earlier. Adjusting my blades so they’re diagonal to each other, giving me the stability to deal with the recoil from the rifle, I lean over the table in front of me, pulling the rifle tight into my shoulder. Eyes fixed down the scope, I take a deep breath, and holding it, line the crosshair up with the centre of the target’s forehead, in-between the two eyes holes created by Nurse earlier. He won’t outdo me.

Satisfied with the shot I squeeze the trigger, surprised at the amount of recoil the gun suffers from. Shouldering the rifle again I look down the sight, seeing with dismay the hole a few inches above the target’s head.

‘Wow, maybe you do need the practice. Why don’t you hold onto the rifle for a bit?’

Although I know he’s just joking, I can’t help but take his words to heart. How can I be missing shots like that, at a target that close? Ridiculous! I’ll stay at this range all day if I have to, until I can consistently hit everything I aim at.

Shouldering the rifle again I consider how lucky I am to have Nurse as my handler, never taking things too seriously, always quick with a comforting smile. I know that if Shizune had missed a shot like that, her handler Jigoro would have smacked her without a moment’s hesitation. It wouldn’t be the first time, and although the notion of a normal person being able to hit a cyborg and get away with it seemed ridiculous, Shizune wouldn’t even think of fighting back, still fiercely loyal to him, as a dog will always return to protect its owner, no matter how badly abused or neglected it gets. It’s obvious that Jigoro doesn’t view her as the teenage girl she is - we all are - deep down. No, to him she’s a weapon, a tool, to be used and never thanked, for being used was its job, and without that it would have no purpose. Shizune’s room is bare, no teddies or trinkets lying around, no fancy clothes lining her drawers or hanging in her wardrobe.

The rest of us ignore it and get on with our own training – it’s not like we could intervene even if we wanted to (strictly Conditioned not to harm our own, or any other handler unless under direct orders), and it’s not like Shizune is the most sociable anyway. I mean sure, it’s not easy to communicate when you’re a deaf mute, but all the girls and handlers know enough sign language to communicate with her. She’d still rather sit alone at lunch, and lock herself in her room in her free time, not coming out to join us in any of our activities. And when she does join us for training she’s always trying to boss people around, trying to get us to work for hours longer than necessary. I guess that’s just how some people are.


Satisfied with the consistency I’m now showing with rifle I decide to call it a day – it’s almost time for dinner anyway, and Nurse left an hour ago. Carefully emptying and engaging the safety on my array of weapons I store them all into a locker at the back of the range, not bothering to lock the door, it’s not needed around here.

After a brief stretch (more habit than necessity at this point, considering all the implants) I start jogging back to the main buildings, moving at a steady pace – this isn’t my main run for the day after all, just a little something to build up an appetite. On my way back I pass a few figures moving in both directions, waving my hand in greeting to them and them returning in kind – the sight of a legless girl running around with gun holsters on her belt and slung under her shoulder isn’t anything new for them.


Reaching the main building I slow down my run to a walk, pulling the doors open and going inside I make my way to the food hall – similar to a school cafeteria with lines of food on a counter to one wall, the rest of the room occupied by metal benches and tables, nothing too comfortable.

After grabbing a tray of food from the counter I make my way over to a table with a few girls already sitting at it, chatting away in between mouthfuls of food. ‘Hi Rin, Hanako, Lilly.’ I greet them each with a nod, feeling stupid after realizing I nodded to the blind girl.

Rin must have eaten earlier because right now she’s just sipping a glass of orange juice through a straw. She was strange girl. None of us knew anything about her past – she never talked about it and the handlers never mentioned it. She made an effective recon unit in the field, moving on her two powerful legs as silently as she pleased, while also being able to use them as effective weapons. She was just prone to saying weird things, like staring at a pool of blood and wondering out loud if it takes like strawberries. (Turns out she didn’t care enough to try it – she prefers Orange.)

After returning the greeting we all settle back down into eating and drinking, the food is actually pretty good, nothing like the slop you would expect from a cafeteria looking like this. ‘So Hanako, when did you get back?’ I ask the scarred girl sitting across the table from me. She’d been absent the last few days, out on a mission with her handler Akio.

‘I got b-back earlier t-today’ she replies to me, stuttering heavily. It’s amazing thinking about it. This girl has a heavy stutter; she has trouble dealing with social situations at all, yet she’s probably the most combat capable out of all of us. She wields her trademark Winchester Model 1897 shotgun with deadly calmness, not to mention the bayonet attachment she uses, the blade longer than her forearm enough to strike terror into her enemy’s hearts. It’s quite an old gun, but as always gun choice comes down to the handler and cyborg, and that’s one she feels comfortable using, and it’s still reliable enough even compared to modern guns.

‘Oh? How’d the mission go?’ I ask her casually. We’re not forbidden to discuss missions unless our handler specifically tells us so, so it usually makes a good conversation point over dinner.

‘It w-went well. There were a f-few more guards around the t-target than we thought, but it w-wasn’t a problem for us.’

Hah, that’s a feeling we can all empathize with, it wasn’t unheard of for intel to be a few out with their numbers – not that it was always their fault, of course, they could only go on the info they found or were leaked.

Gaze wandering around the room, I notice Shizune sitting at a table in one of the corners by herself. I know I could go over there right now and sit down right in front of her, and she would show me only the coldest courtesy – signing the minimal amount back to me, any invites to join us at our table coolly declined like she was better than us. She just hasn’t been the same since…well, enough of that. When you do what we do, people are going to die. It’s just a way of life for us. We might be stronger than your average person, capable of soaking up bullets, but we could still die. Guess Shizune didn’t want to get too attached to anyone. Again.

‘Well, would you three like to join me for tea?’ Lilly asks, snapping me out of my trance. It was quite a common occurrence, but I never got less amazed at watching the blind girl navigate her room seamlessly, never once bumping into anything, making the cups of tea and carrying them to the table without spilling a single drop. With hands that steady I’m sure she’d make a great shot, but being blind kind of limited that. Lilly was like the mother of our group, always quick with good advice, always doting on Hanako who would frequently hide behind her at important meetings and the like.

Honestly, you have to wonder why they chose Lilly for this program – surely they could have used a different girl whose sight was intact? Not that it matters too much – Lilly never goes out on missions, or even holds a gun for that matter. She spends a lot of her time in the lab with the surgeons and scientists doing all sorts of tests. Running until she collapses, lifting up weights until her arms pop out of their sockets at the shoulder. Tests designed, then, to find our limits. And push them.

Tea with Lilly is a similar experience to usual – the four of us discuss everything there is to discuss, gardens through to firearms. When it starts getting late Rin and I head back to our room, leaving Hanako and Lilly in their own room – Hanako looking like she’s about to doze off at any second after her long day – I wonder how scared people would be of her if she went on missions in her pink pyjamas.

Getting back to our room Rin and I change into our own pyjamas before settling into our bunk bed – mine on top (after it was decided I could climb a ladder more effectively than Rin.) I fall asleep half way through Rin telling me about how she took down a Section 2 heavy in the arena today, dodging all his attacks before delivering a roundhouse kick to his gut. Describing what his face looked like upon realizing he had been beaten by a small armless girl, I fall asleep with a smile on my own.

Hmm...
The characterisations are very similar to those in the anime. Maybe you shouldn't copy it quite as closely.
In any case it's very good writing. Hope you continue.

Mirage_GSM wrote:Hmm...
The characterisations are very similar to those in the anime. Maybe you shouldn't copy it quite as closely.

I was worried about this, along with copying plot directly from the anime too - I'll try and make sure its original as possible. Anyway, edited the last part a little bit hinting towards the girls KS characteristics more - will be able to work on it more when the girls get their own segments.

And now for some kickass Hanako.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two days earlier

‘We’ve received a lead on a new potential threat that needs to be…dealt with. The target goes by the name Othello – from what we can tell he’s a low rank member in the RF, using a small antique shop in the city as a front for small arms dealing – selling to whoever has the money. He needs to be eliminated before every wannabe-terrorist and gang member in the city is armed with his weapons. Akio, you and Hanako will take this one – we’ll get all the intel we have on the target sent to you – get ready to leave as soon as possible.’

‘Yes sir.’

Taking that as my dismissal I stand up from my chair, taking my jacket off the back of it and slinging it over my shoulder. With a nod to my colleagues I walk to the back of the room, slipping quietly through the door, surprised at the sudden noise level outside the well insulated meeting room.

I’ve barely made it ten steps down the hallway, doorways to various offices lining both walls, when a young woman in a suit runs up to me, almost tripping over her own feet in the process. Putting out a hand onto her shoulder to steady her, she looks up to meet my gaze.

‘Yuuko?’

‘Oh, um, here you go Akio – for your mission.’ She says, holding out a small bundle of papers and folders for me.

Taking the folders with a word of thanks I get back on my way, watching with faint amusement as she bumps into somebody coming out from one of the offices, sending papers scattering into the air, accompanied by a short shriek from her. That girl is something else – good at her job, but how can one person be that clumsy?

Exiting the building I take in a deep breath of fresh air, trying to expel as much of the stale air circulating in the building from my lungs as possible. Content with that, I reach down for my cell phone and hit speed dial 1.

‘H-Hello.’ Hanako answers after the first ring.

‘Hanako, we have a job to take care of – pack an overnight bag and ready your weapons for transport. We leave in one hour, be at the car – I’ll brief you on the journey.’

‘Y-yes sir.’

Hanging up the phone I walk back across the campus towards the staff quarters – nothing too special, but at least we don’t have to share rooms like the girls do – the thought is enough to make me shudder.

Stepping into my room I take a quick look around. Bookshelves line two of the walls, filled with everything from fiction books to old physics text books from my school teacher days before I joined the military police, seemingly a lifetime ago. A desk in front of the one lone window holds my PC, along with other bits of paperwork and my USP Tactical concealed in one of the drawers.

The girls are strictly not allowed to carry firearms around the campus unless under specific orders, and even then they have to be un-loaded and have the safety engaged. The same rule doesn’t apply to us handlers – although there is no danger in the compound, for some of us the weight of a sidearm at our sides just feels…right.

It’s this desk that I carefully place the mission intel on, before walking over to the bathroom for a quick shower. Glancing in the mirror I debate whether or not to have a shave, before deciding it can probably wait – the same decision I’ve made for the last week.

Getting out of the shower I put on a pair of black trousers, tucking a navy shirt into the waistline and looping a tie around my neck, I finish off the outfit with a long brown coat. I know Hanako doesn’t like me dressing like this – being the fashionable teenager that she is, we’ve had many an argument over my clothes – but this is what I feel comfortable in, the baggy coat making concealing various weapons easier.

Speaking of which, I grab my chest harness and holster from the bed and put into a bag which I then fill up with spare clothes, binoculars, and lastly a box of .45 caliber rounds and the silencer for my USP – the gun itself I’ll keep with me in the car.

Satisfied that I have everything I need – the papers for the mission firmly in my hand, I exit the room and lock the door from the outside – again, nothing more than habit, it’s unlikely anything will get stolen here.

Making my way out to my car (a Land-Rover I couldn’t care less about, I’ve never been much of a car person.) I notice Hanako waiting beside it for me, a slight scowl on her face at seeing my clothes. Her own clothes are what you’d expect a normal teenager to wear – jeans, white shirt with a navy jacket, and a fashionable beret, pulled down low to cover the scarring on her face.

She has a backpack slung over one shoulder, packed so full the zipper looks strained to even hold it shut, and in one of her hands she’s holding a large metal case containing her firearms. With a brief nod to each other we dump our bags into the boot of the car, before climbing into the two front seats. After one last check that we have everything necessary for the mission, I put the car into gear and pull out the driveway.

++++++++++

‘U-um, excuse how much is this ch-chess set?’ I ask the grey haired man behind the counter, who was, until a moment ago, busy talking on the phone about some new merchandise he had in.

‘For you? I can do you a special deal of 8000 yen.’ He replies, giving me a slightly creepy smile that makes me feel nervous, my hand reaching up to cover the scarred part of my face.

At 8000 yen for a chess set it’s no wonder he has to resort to arms dealing – he can’t be selling much from the shop.

‘I’ll t-take it.’ Goddamnit, all he had to do was look at me and I flinched. I even tried not to stutter there, but I guess old habits are hard to break. Pulling out my purse I take out the right amount of money and hand it over, content with the knowledge that it was well worth 8000 yen to listen in on his conversations for the last hour or so – he talked a lot about something big happening that night, coinciding with our intel that a deal was going down – a good chance to take Othello and the people buying the guns down at the same time.

Taking the chess set under my arm I thank him and turn around, walking slowly out of the shop and heading off down the pavement towards the car, parked up a few streets away. Climbing into the car I tell Akio everything I heard whilst in the shop as we drive back to the hotel we’re staying at for the night.

‘So it seems out intelligence was correct – the deal is going down at the shop at midnight tonight – present will be Othello and 2 guards, along with 3 buyers. Should be a simple in and out, nobody left alive. For now we should get a few hours rest – gonna be a busy night.’

‘Y-yes. Okay.’

----

Cycling the handguard back towards me then forward again to chamber a new shell, I step over the body on the ground in front of me. Hardly a subtle arrival, but that can’t be helped. Satisfied he was the only perimeter guard I step in through the door of the shop, the little bell above the door announcing my entry.

Quietly making my way down the aisles to the back of the shop I stay low, almost crouching, listening and watching for any sign of movement in the near darkness. Hearing a floorboard creak on the other side of a shelving rack, I turn to my side and send a shotgun blast through the shelf, blowing a hole clean through it and the stomach of the man on the other side. With a grunt of pain and surprise the man sinks to the floor, the spatter of blood on the wall behind him illuminated in a beam of moonlight. I nudge the body with the bayonet on my M97 to check the extent the wounds – satisfied upon seeing the half-disintegrated intestines spilling out of his stomach that he won’t be getting up again.

Still crouching by the corpse I pump the handguard again; acutely aware of how loud the sound is in the now silent building. As it clicks back into place a hail of bullets thud into the wall above my head, the bright muzzle flash giving away the position of the shooters - both of them crouching down behind the counter. Creeping closer to them as bullets continue sailing past me, I come to the end of the row of makeshift cover. Not being able to see anything to cover my advance, I decide my best chance is to rush them – pretty much everyone bar professionally trained soldiers would break if charged with a shotgun.

Waiting for another burst of bullets to be fired and hearing the tell-tale clicks of handgun magazines being ejected I dive out of cover heading straight toward the 2 guys. One of them, hearing my rapid footsteps stood up, still empty gun in one hand, magazine in the other. A look of recognition flashed into his eyes as the shotgun pellets caught him in the torso, sending a spray of fine red mist over his comrade – who had by now reloaded his handgun and was standing up.

Jumping forward I thrust my bayonet into the man’s chest, the implants in my arm and meticulous sharpening of the blade making the motion as easy as cutting a hot knife through butter. Pulling the blade out I embed it again into his neck, watching as the man falls to the floor, blood spewing out of his mouth in a gurgling sound.

Four down, two to go.

Thumbing 3 more shells into the shotgun I set off towards the door leading to the backroom, which is surrounded by a border of light, scuffling sounds coming from within. Putting my back to the wall beside the door I turn the handle slowly, pushing the door inwards from behind my cover.

As the door swings open bright light floods through the doorway, accompanied by a storm of bullets from at least one automatic weapon. Well, this just got interesting. Unhooking a flashbang from my utility belt I pull the pin with my teeth before chucking the grenade round the corner and into the room, ducking back and squeezing my eyes shut.

Following the sudden flash of bright light I charge into the room picking my first target – a big guy clutching at his eyes with both hands, an AKS-47 dropped at the floor in front of him. Firing once in his direction the round catches him clean in the torso, spraying blood up the wall behind him. Turning around I notice the old man, Othello, scrambling on the floor for his gun – which I promptly kick to the opposite wall of the room, levelling my shotgun at his face.

‘It’s YOU! The girl from before.’ He exclaims eyeing my scars, surprise in his voice. ‘What are you doing here?’ He asks, raising his arms slowly into the air.

I smile down at him.

‘Sorry. Nobody left alive.’

Recognition dawns in his eyes as he stares up at me, his mouth opening in a pathetic attempt to plea for his life.

I squeeze the trigger.

Six down.

With a sigh I leave the room – feeling the adrenaline already flooding from my system - shotgun hanging at my side while my other arm returns my radio to my belt, having reported in to Akio that the job was finished.

Movement in my peripheral vision gives me just enough time to raise my arms in front of my face as I feel the impact of 3 pistol rounds thud into my arms, not so much hurting as giving my arm a feeling of numbness as cybernetic components are shredded. Looking through my fingers I can see two men advancing on me, guns held out aimed right at me.

I’m just about to raise my shotgun in an attempt to fend off the attackers when two pistol shots ring out through the still air, separated only by a fraction of a second, and both men in front of me fall to the floor, gaping holes in the backs of their heads.

Akio returns his sidearm to its holster and walks over to me, taking my arm in his hand.

‘You shouldn’t be so careless.’ Is the only remark he makes. He’s not criticizing me or telling me off, he’s simply stating a fact. I nod in reply to him and, seemingly satisfied, he turns around and walks towards the door out into the street. I follow after him and after a brief walk we make it to his car – where he doesn’t so much as bat an eyelid when I sit down, covering the interior of the car in blood and other fluids.

‘I was going to suggest we stay in a hotel here for the night, but it’s probably best if we head back to HQ now – you’ll need to get your arm looked at. I’ve already called in the clean-up crew, there’s no point waiting for them.’

With that he turns the engine on and puts the car into gear, heading back towards the hotel so we can grab our belongings from the rooms.

‘So, the mission went off pretty well apart from those two guys at the end – intel didn’t report them, but luckily I noticed them heading towards you and was able to follow at a distance. Anyway, I think you earned a reward- what would you like? I have no idea what to get you.’

I think about it for a second – what do I really want?

‘U-um…do you th-think I could keep the chess s-set I bought from the shop earlier?’ I ask him blushing, staring down into my lap.

‘Uh, sure, is that all you want though?’

‘Y-yes. L-Lilly and I can p-play with it.’

Keeping his eyes fixed on the road a broad smile spreads across Akio’s face. ‘Well then, that’s settled. Now why don’t you try and get some rest, it’s going to be a long journey back.’

Fuck yes. Badass Hanako is always good.

Until she showed up in Hanako's chapter, I held out hope that Lilly's handler could be Yuuko.

looking forward to reading more.