“…and the next thing I remember was Dalton and Sinclair drivin’ up and yellin’ at me to get in the car, and that chick with the goggles wasn’t with ‘em anymore….I didn’t wanna stick around! I had no idea that Brittney was getting’ her butt kicked!”
After being picked up by Brittney Delacroix’s two bodyguards and brought back to El Casa de Vega, Stavros’ somewhat-skewed recollection of the events at the City of the Angels did almost nothing to ease Victor Vega’s thoughts about the matter. If anything, he was more annoyed than before---Stavros had just confessed to leaving his post, being defeated by an unknown girl and refusing to maintain contact with Brittney and her team.
“You have given me several reasons why I should have you hand-delivered to the morgue,” he intoned, staring not at Stavros, but at the glass of wine he was swirling in his hand. “You have also proven your incompetance in matters that should be handled with nothing less than the utmost care---“
“Care that should have been exercised by YOU, Vega.”
The pinstripe-suited form of the Baron stepped forth from a dark corner of the room, the light seeming to retreat just enough to keep his face and shoulders hidden from view. “And before you even ask how I was able to gain entry into your casa,” he added, “I keep tabs on every single one of my shareholders….it’s one of the most effective ways I know of to prevent mutiny. In any case---“ “What do you want, Baron?” Vega snapped, no longer bothering to follow protocol. “Unless this little visit of yours is focused on correcting the failings of my former chief of security---“
“It is,” the Baron replied, turning to face Stavros.
The Grecian trembled, his eyes darting from the Baron to Victor in a panic. “No….please, Baron…it…it wasn’t my fault! I…I only ran away because---“ “You ran because YOU ARE A COWARD, Stavros,” the Baron thundered, pointing a gloved finger at the terrified man. “You ran because your pride forbade you from telling Victor Vega that an android girl---a glorified doll---managed to keep you from your duties, and your stupid code of ‘honor’ would not allow you to accept defeat at her hands……” For the briefest second, Stavros swore he could see twin flashes of gold from the darkness…at the exact level where the Baron’s eyes might be. “You disgust me, Stavros….and you know what happens to those who incur my wrath….”
Victor Vega watched, simultaneously astonished and horrified, as the lights around Stavros were extinguished as swiftly as one blows out a candle. “NO! PLEASE!” the Grecian screamed, falling to his knees and begging for his life as the darkness seemed to envelop him. Just as the Baron’s hand closed around Stavros’ neck, the entire room was engulfed in pitch black….
From the dark, a bloodcurdling scream rang out.
Just as quickly as they had been extinguished, the lights flickered back into existance….revealing the corpse of Stavros on the floor. His body was contorted, as if he’d suffered excruciating pain just seconds before he died.
“A fitting end for his kind,” the Baron intoned, once again standing in the shadows on the far side of the room, his face still hidden from view. “Now…I wish to see the repair bay where Miss Delacroix is being kept.” Victor nodded and flicked a switch on his desk; within seconds, the entire room shuddered briefly before descending into the lower levels of the building. “So this is how you’ve been spending your money,” the Baron remarked, a dry chuckle punctuating the remark. “A truly fascinating design choice….I take it there are precautionary measures to keep anyone from trying to enter the room after its descent?” “Of course,” Victor replied. “This particular area of the casa was built using modular construction techniques; if I desired, I could have the entire estate rearranged over the course of a week….which, if memory serves---“
“Point taken, Vega,” the Baron stated. “Now….let’s see how Miss Delacroix is doing, shall we?”
Silently, Victor nodded, ignoring the rising fire of hatred in his gut.
The room shuddered to a stop, the far wall somehow sliding upwards and out of the way to reveal a steel and Perspex viewport. “For safety reasons,” Victor informed the Baron, “we cannot actually enter the repair bay from this room; there are multiple elevators to the facility from elsewhere in the casa, but---“ “Again,” the Baron interjected, “I already know.”
Feeling an irrepressible urge to scream profanities, Victor flicked another switch and bade the Baron join him at the clear Perspex window. “The damage to Miss Delacroix was….quite severe,” he admitted, turning off the lights where the Baron was going to stand. “She apparently received multiple electric shocks over the course of a twenty-four hour period, and…well….” He pressed a button on the windowframe, illuminating the repair bay. “The only way to realize just how bad the damage was is to see it for yourself…..and I must warn you, it is not something you should view before retiring for the evening.”
Brittney Delacroix lay on the repair bay table, her eyes opened wide in shock. Her limbs remained in an at-rest position, giving the gynoid a strangely calm look in spite of the robotic manipulator arms descending from an overhead rig, delving into her opened chest cavity with surprising fluidity. Two technicians---both gynoids---sat nearby and took notes, occasionally tweaking a setting or two on the manipulator controls.
“Given the intensity of the shocks Brittney received,” Victor explained, “I thought it best to have her put through a full component check and tune-up before her performance tomorrow---“
“A performance,” the Baron growled, “that has just been cancelled.”
Victor was taken aback; “I….what?”
“She is in no condition to perform,” the Baron casually stated. “To be honest, I’m actually surprised that her body did not simply overheat and explode after suffering multiple shocks in the same day….not to mention the erratic energy readings she was generating before the second shock. If she can be brought back to working order tomorrow, give her the day off---but allow me to make it clear that I do not want her going onstage, especially in her present state.”
“Of course, Baron,” Victor declared, trying hard not to imagine himself running over the man’s pinstripe-suited corpse with a Porsche.
“Now….as for the matter of your payment for…services rendered thus far,” the Baron continued, “you will be given the usual salary attributed to the position of CEO---because you are, after all, holding that position within ReVerse---along with several, shall we say, ‘bonuses’ for your participation in my latest endeavor. Expect the first of these bonuses to be delivered next week, with another following two weeks after….should your work continue on its present course---or, dare I say, should it improve---the amount and frequency of payment will be increased exponentially. Of course, should your performance experience a sudden drop….”
“I understand,” Victor replied, “but what are you going to do about her?” He gestured to Brittney, whose face still wore a look of shock as a power-screwdriver dove in and out of her open chest.
“She will recover,” the Baron stated matter-of-factly. “You did build her to my specifications, after all….”
Victor didn’t respond immediately, knowing all too well that he was on thin ice. If his suspicions of being set up to fail were correct, he could very easily arrange things so that the Baron would never leave the casa alive, and eventually assume control of United Robotronics on his own….but if his suspicions were wrong, and he attempted to move against the man who effectively held his life in his hands, things could get very ugly, very fast. “Brittney Delacroix was, indeed, built in strict accordance with your specifications,” he declared. “If there was, indeed, a design flaw that caused this---“
“Say no more,” the Baron replied. “I shall have my people look into the specs again; if any faults are found, those who neglected to inform me of their presence will be dealt with accordingly. If not….then we all continue doing what we’ve been doing. Simple as that.”
--------------------------------------
Elsewhere in the casa, Lauren Vega watched Victor’s conversation with the Baron via the ever-present security cameras, a whirlwind of emotions running through her digital thoughts.
Having started out life as an animatronic Jenna Jameson replica (a project scrapped by Victor because “she (Jenna) is no longer as beautiful as she used to be”), Lauren was no stranger to the catcalls, wolf-whistles and quick gropes from other guys. Hell, most of the time, she actually enjoyed getting felt up by strangers passing her on the street---it was a hell of a lot more than Victor was willing to offer. If he wasn’t running one of his multimillion dollar corporations, he was touring with that stupid wrestling promotion he’d signed up for “as a joke”---though the fact that he held one of their main championship belts made it less of a joke and more a test of how long he could stay champion before he got himself fired. Worse, if he wasn’t running his businesses or showing off in the squared circle---
“Something on your mind?”
Lauren turned away from the monitor to see Vivica Frost watching her, an amused look on her face. “I’m just wondering how long it’s going to take before the Baron realizes that Vic just wants to bump him off,” she replied. “If he hasn’t figured it out by now…”
“He probably already knows,” Vivica replied. “Knowing him, he just wants to see how long it’ll take before ‘Vic’ snaps completely.” She smirked and joined Lauren at the monitor. “I’ve been working with Victor for almost a decade now, and I’ve seen what happens when people invoke his wrath….the only person I know of who can arrange an ‘accident’ better than Victor Vega is the Baron himself. If either one of them tries to end this little pissing contest by wiping out the other, it’ll completely wreck both their corporate kingdoms on an international scale.” She sighed; “Better to just let them continue their posturing for now.”
“I’d feel a lot better if Vic only ‘postured’ in the bedroom,” Lauren muttered. “He had me commissioned to be his fiance---and eventually his friggin’ wife---but the only thing he gives a crap about these days is his stupid business.” She sulked, staring at the monitor as the Baron and “Vic” discussed the matter of scheduling a new set of concerts for Brittney Delacroix.
Vivica rolled her eyes at the mention of Victor ignoring his trophy wife. “When’s the last time either of you felt the desire to, as Stavros once put it, ‘consummate your love for each other’?” she asked. “I don’t know about him,” Lauren replied, jerking a thumb in the direction of Vega’s image on the monitor, “but I’ve probably been better at it than he could ever be for well over three months.” “You haven’t had sex in three months?!” Vivica echoed, shocked. “Not with Vic,” Lauren grumbled. “The pool boy, the gardener, the guy who showed up to fix the gutters, the cop who wanted to serve Vic a noise complaint warning…” She counted off the list of her impromptu partners on her fingers. “And there was that one lawyer---“
“I get the picture,” Vivica chuckled. “Does ‘Vic’ know that your love life has been going the way of the village bicycle?”
“Are you kidding?” Lauren gasped. “He’d have me reprogrammed as a secretary or a door-greeter for one of his lame-ass ‘corporate suites’, and THAT would be even worse than things are now! If I have to get action from every guy who rings the doorbell to keep myself from getting bored, I’ll gladly take that over a CPU-wipe and a makeover into yet another one of his plastic receptionists.”
“Good point” Vivica agreed. “You know, you could always work for me….”
“No offense,” Lauren replied, “but I hear the weather in Anchorage isn’t exactly great when you’re trying to get things going in bed. I’d rather be a bored nympho in Silicon Valley than a frozen Barbie…but thanks for the offer. If you ever decide to move your operation to Florida, though, call me up first thing. That, or see if you can expand your operations into some place like Italy or Costa Rica….any place that doesn’t frown on chicks wearing bikinis all day is fine by me.”
“I’ll look into it,” Vivica promised with a sly grin.
--------------------------------------
The V.I.C.I. Diaries: ShowStopper
26 posts
• Page 2 of 3 • 1, 2, 3
Re: The V.I.C.I. Diaries: ShowStopper
by DukeNukem 2417 » Mon Jun 25, 2012 6:58 am
"No one steals our chicks.....and lives!"
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DukeNukem 2417 - Posts: 745
- Joined: Mon Aug 29, 2005 9:26 am
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Re: The V.I.C.I. Diaries: ShowStopper
by DukeNukem 2417 » Mon Jun 25, 2012 7:02 am
*AUTHOR'S NOTE: The cartoon "Sophia Starlet and the Starlet Dolls" doesn't actually exist---I made it up for plot purposes in this story, but if you want an idea of what it would've looked like, Google "Jem and the Holograms" or "She-Ra: Princess of Power". Basically, the Sophia Starlet cartoon is supposed to be a show in the vein of those two, with a soundtrack written by Lawrence Gowan (who DOES exist, and who does, in fact, make AWESOME music). So...yeah. Back to the story.
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Vicki stared at the still-unmoving form of Sophia Starlet, waiting for her system reboot cycle to finish. “All this time,” she murmured, “I was so intent on getting to meet you…and it turns out you’re like me…”
A trilling sound emanating from Sophia’s chest signaled the completion of her reboot cycle, and the pigtailed gynoid’s eyes fluttered open. “Wha…..what happened?” she murmured. “The last thing I remember….Dennis was ejecting my battery, and he went to get another one from the boombox….and then there was this noise, and everyone was running….” She looked up and saw Vicki. “Did I…”
“You’re okay, if that’s what you were going to ask,” the brunette gynoid replied. “You tried to leave the City of the Angels before you could get a new battery, and you sort of ran out of power….”
“Oh,” Sophia muttered, lookning somewhat downcast.
“If it helps,” Vicki offered, “I’m not freaked out by the fact that you’re a robot---working alongside my dad at his company pretty much eliminated any chance of that.” Better to not tell her that I’m one unless there’s no other option, she mentally added. “In any case, you’re in safe hands now….and I sort of understand why I felt this instant connection to you.” She grinned. “Don’t take this the wrong way, or anything, but---“
“I’m just a Sophia Starlet doll brought to life?” Sophia finished.
“Pretty much,” Vicki admitted, “and that’s what’s so cool!”
Sophia sighed. “I just wish my origin story was as cool as the original Sophia Starlet’s”, she murmured. “Hers wasn’t nearly as tragic as mine, either.”
Vicki’s smile faded. “Tragic?”
The pigtailed pop princess eased herself into a sitting position. “To tell you the truth, Vicki,” she began, “I had no idea I was even going to make it as far as I have….or that I’d even make it at all.” She sighed again, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “I started out as the culmination of a Make-a-Wish project,” she explained. “A few years ago, Cartoon Network ran a 24-hour marathon of Sophia Starlet and the Starlet Dolls---you already admitted that you’re a fan, and since you know the whole backstory, I don’t think I need to rehash it for you. Anyways, the show had been off the air for years thanks to some dumb lawsuit regarding a song made by a relatively-unknown group who later became a major act….long in a short, it sort of dwindled in the public eye and died out until that marathon aired. The Starlet Dolls got a huge resurgance in popularity after that….and one particular fan decided to go the extra mile to bring them back.”
“And how, exactly, did Make-a-Wish help with that?” Vicki asked.
“Trust me,” Sophia replied, “it almost sounds too outrageous to be true. As it turns out, this fan happened to be in her senior year of high school…18 years old, loads of friends, a scholarship to SJSU---she definitely had a bright future ahead of her. There was just one problem: She was dying. Cancer, I think….” She pulled a picture of a smiling redhead in a cap-and-gown out of the pocket of her skirt. “She was fascinated by robotics---said she’d wanted to build a robot ever since she saw the video for that song, ‘Mr. Roboto’---except she was going to build a girl robot. One that could sing, dance, and be the biggest pop star after Michael Jackson….” She grinned. “In other words, she wanted to bring Sophia Starlet into the real world.”
“I thought Sophia wasn’t a robot on the cartoon, though,” Vicki interjected. “I mean, yeah, she came from the future, but---“
“You never saw the original final five episodes of the series, then,” Sophia gently informed her. “They were the main reason why that group I mentioned earlier filed their stupid lawsuit---they didn’t want their songs being included in a story arc about an award-winning pop star turning out to be nothing more than a robot.” She sighed. “The network drew up a new finale where the Starlet Dolls went to the future with Sophia after saving the world one more time…it was good, but not as good as the original plan.”
“I guess that explains that particular bit of the story…” Vicki mused. “I’m still wondering how Make-a-Wish got involved…and how that led to, well, you.”
“I’m getting to that,” Sophia insisted. “Like I was saying, this girl was dying, and she wanted to have her wish granted, so her family called up Make-a-Wish. When she told them she wanted to give the world ‘a real-life Sophia Starlet’, their first thought was to basically either find a new singer and turn her into Sophia Starlet, or repackage an established act---but the girl was insistent on how she wanted things done. As it turns out, one of the Make-a-Wish people knew about this robotics company, Lawson Robotics….” She chuckled; “The first time we met, after the Retro Toy Fair, I even commented on your dad’s company---I’d never forget the name ‘Lawson’ in a million years.”
“So….my dad built you?” Vicki gasped.
“Not personally, but he was there every step of the way. All those people who say that I look like a life-sized Sophia Starlet doll don’t know how right they are---your dad actually chose to scale up the measurements and dimensions of the original Sophia Starlet doll…with a few changes, obviously; he didn’t want people to think the finished product---aka me---looked too ‘unreal’ or anything like that.”
“Right,” Vicki agreed. “I think I get the story so far…and I can sort of guess where the tragedy comes in…”
Another sigh punctuated the remark. “I remember the first time I met her,” Sophia murmured. “It was the first day I was activated; hers was the first face I saw.” She smiled, despite a tear rolling down her cheek. “I sang ‘Dedication’ for her---just like my namesake had done on the show for a sick kid---and…” She wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “It was so beautiful…” she whispered. “To this day, I’ve never forgotten that day…the first time I ever opened my mouth and sang for someone….she told me that it was the happiest day of her life, and that for a few minutes, the sound of my voice….made the pain go away….”
Sophia covered her face with her hands and wept for a minute or two; Vicki, not wanting to ruin the moment with another question, got up from her chair and walked over to sit next to the grieving gynoid. “At least you’ll always know that you managed to make the last few days of her life a little less painful,” she reminded Sophia. “Not many people can say that.”
“I know,” Sophia sobbed. “I…I know.” She took a deep breath, wiping the last of her tears away. “I performed a concert at her school the night she graduated; a few people from Lawson Robotics volunteered to be the back-up band, and Ted stood in as my manager. It was a pretty good night…” Her voice dropped to a near-whisper; “I…I went to visit her in the hospital the next day….and she was gone. Died in her sleep…she was still holding her diploma.” She closed her eyes and took another deep breath. “I…I never even got to tell her goodbye….”
“And then you met Dennis,” Vicki stated, already making the connection in her mind.
Sophia nodded. “He was just coming off a tour of his own---he used to be a singer for a big rock band, but he had some medical condition that kept him from touring with them…something about chronic fatigue, I think. I met him at a show in Seattle---he had an orchestra backing him, and he played a lot of the songs from the group he used to be with; after the show, I actually got to meet him, and we got to talking…” “And you told him what you were,” Vicki finished. “I didn’t exactly have a choice,” Sophia countered. “Anyone I could’ve picked to manage me would’ve ended up figuring it out sooner or later---I figured it was better to tell him straight off the bat than have him walk in on me changing my own batteries or getting repaired. He agreed to join my crew and make sure I got my batteries changed between shows---he almost considered writing a rock opera for me based on something he’d done with his previous group…”
“…and things kept going well between the two of you until tonight,” Vicki surmised. “I’m amazed you’ve never had this problem before, to be quite honest….not that I’d ever want that kind of thing to happen to you…”
“I get it,” Sophia muttered, grinning.
Vicki looked into Sophia’s eyes, feeling now---more than ever---that she had to help the pop princess evade the wrath of Victor Vega and his gynoid gansta rapper. “Guess you’ll need someone to keep you ‘amped up’ between shows now that Dennis has apparently flown the coop,” she mused.
“Ah, to be honest,” Sophia admitted, “he didn’t just run off in a panic, or because he didn’t care about keeping my secret anymore….he ran because I told him to go. As soon as I heard that explosion…I didn’t want to lose anyone else.” She bowed her head. “I still visit her grave, you know….I never got the chance to say goodbye to the girl whose dying wish literally made me, but I always stop by her grave on her birthday, to remind myself that I am, quite literally, someone’s dream come true….”
“That’s the great thing about dreams,” a familiar voice stated. “They never really die.”
Sophia and Vicki turned to see Dennis standing in the doorway; Sophia didn’t hesitate to cross the room in seconds and wrap him in a hug. “You came back!” she sobbed joyfully. “You didn’t think I was just gonna leave, did you?” Dennis teased. “I’d never let a beautiful piece of work like you get snatched up by some idiotic executive who wanted to reshape your whole image. I’d never be able to live with myself if anyone turned you into another coroprate creation, belting out tunes written by underpaid hacks.”
“As much as I hate breaking up this reunion,” Vicki politely informed the pair, “we still have a problem. Victor Vega isn’t going to let this loss slide---“
“---so why sit on our rear ends and wait for him to make yet another pyrotechnic strike against our beloved songstress?” another familiar voice stated, as Renault sauntered into the room. “Forgive me for intruding, but I believe I have as much to gain from this Victor Vega’s defeat as either of you two---the City of the Angels was nearly burned to the ground because of his misguided vendetta against Miss Starlet, and that belligerent little minx known as Brittney Delacroix nearly destroyed Alicia….seeing as how both of these events have hit my life rather close to home, I’d like nothing more than an opportunity to give Señor Vega a massive kick up the backside.” He paused, turning to observe Dennis; “You…look familiar,” he mused. “Were you a member of R.E.O. Speedwagon at any point?” “Wrong band, right genre,” Dennis corrected.
“If this conversation is going to continue,” Anton Malvineous’ voice declared from the speaker in a corner of the room, “I suggest you hold off until morning. Mr. Tell is working on another project at the moment, and he would greatly appreciate it if the noise level didn’t rise above a certain decibel percentage…” “We get the picture,” Sophia replied, grinning. “Any chance he’d let Vicki and I have a sleepover in here?” The brunette gynoid could almost hear the smile in Anton’s voice when he replied: “I’ll see if I can persuade him.”
A few minutes later, Vicki and Sophia were both snuggled in sleeping bags, enjoying the original five-part finale of Sophia Starlet and the Starlet Dolls (Dennis had obtained the episodes from “a good friend”, though he insisted that they were acquired through strictly legal channels). “Y’know,” Vicki mused, “this is a lot better than the one I remember them showing on TV. It’s less….goofy. Of course, that’s probably because these episodes don’t have a stupid multi-colored monkey trying to direct everyone to ‘The ChronoGate’ in a supremely derpy voice.” She laughed at the memory of the original finale. “Yeah,” Sophia admitted, “It wasn’t as interesting as this one…of course, if a certain group had just stopped being dorks and let the show use the music without complaining, then things may have been different….”
After a few seconds of silence (except for the sounds coming from the TV), Vicki decided to ask Sophia one more question: “Has there ever been a time when you were afraid someone would find out the truth about you?” “Every night I go on stage,” Sophia replied. “Trust me, Vicki…if the rest of the world got wind of the fact that I was nothing more than a walking, talking Barbie knockoff, they’d start mass-producing popstars faster than you could say ‘X-Factor’. I nearly wound up that way after my first concert…if Dennis hadn’t been there, I might be doing concerts at DisneyLand every afternoon, or worse….”
“Then I guess we should both be thankful that you’re in good company,” Vicki replied, grinning.
“Amen to that, sister,” Sophia agreed, smiling serenely. “Amen to that.”
--------------------------------------
----------------------
Vicki stared at the still-unmoving form of Sophia Starlet, waiting for her system reboot cycle to finish. “All this time,” she murmured, “I was so intent on getting to meet you…and it turns out you’re like me…”
A trilling sound emanating from Sophia’s chest signaled the completion of her reboot cycle, and the pigtailed gynoid’s eyes fluttered open. “Wha…..what happened?” she murmured. “The last thing I remember….Dennis was ejecting my battery, and he went to get another one from the boombox….and then there was this noise, and everyone was running….” She looked up and saw Vicki. “Did I…”
“You’re okay, if that’s what you were going to ask,” the brunette gynoid replied. “You tried to leave the City of the Angels before you could get a new battery, and you sort of ran out of power….”
“Oh,” Sophia muttered, lookning somewhat downcast.
“If it helps,” Vicki offered, “I’m not freaked out by the fact that you’re a robot---working alongside my dad at his company pretty much eliminated any chance of that.” Better to not tell her that I’m one unless there’s no other option, she mentally added. “In any case, you’re in safe hands now….and I sort of understand why I felt this instant connection to you.” She grinned. “Don’t take this the wrong way, or anything, but---“
“I’m just a Sophia Starlet doll brought to life?” Sophia finished.
“Pretty much,” Vicki admitted, “and that’s what’s so cool!”
Sophia sighed. “I just wish my origin story was as cool as the original Sophia Starlet’s”, she murmured. “Hers wasn’t nearly as tragic as mine, either.”
Vicki’s smile faded. “Tragic?”
The pigtailed pop princess eased herself into a sitting position. “To tell you the truth, Vicki,” she began, “I had no idea I was even going to make it as far as I have….or that I’d even make it at all.” She sighed again, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “I started out as the culmination of a Make-a-Wish project,” she explained. “A few years ago, Cartoon Network ran a 24-hour marathon of Sophia Starlet and the Starlet Dolls---you already admitted that you’re a fan, and since you know the whole backstory, I don’t think I need to rehash it for you. Anyways, the show had been off the air for years thanks to some dumb lawsuit regarding a song made by a relatively-unknown group who later became a major act….long in a short, it sort of dwindled in the public eye and died out until that marathon aired. The Starlet Dolls got a huge resurgance in popularity after that….and one particular fan decided to go the extra mile to bring them back.”
“And how, exactly, did Make-a-Wish help with that?” Vicki asked.
“Trust me,” Sophia replied, “it almost sounds too outrageous to be true. As it turns out, this fan happened to be in her senior year of high school…18 years old, loads of friends, a scholarship to SJSU---she definitely had a bright future ahead of her. There was just one problem: She was dying. Cancer, I think….” She pulled a picture of a smiling redhead in a cap-and-gown out of the pocket of her skirt. “She was fascinated by robotics---said she’d wanted to build a robot ever since she saw the video for that song, ‘Mr. Roboto’---except she was going to build a girl robot. One that could sing, dance, and be the biggest pop star after Michael Jackson….” She grinned. “In other words, she wanted to bring Sophia Starlet into the real world.”
“I thought Sophia wasn’t a robot on the cartoon, though,” Vicki interjected. “I mean, yeah, she came from the future, but---“
“You never saw the original final five episodes of the series, then,” Sophia gently informed her. “They were the main reason why that group I mentioned earlier filed their stupid lawsuit---they didn’t want their songs being included in a story arc about an award-winning pop star turning out to be nothing more than a robot.” She sighed. “The network drew up a new finale where the Starlet Dolls went to the future with Sophia after saving the world one more time…it was good, but not as good as the original plan.”
“I guess that explains that particular bit of the story…” Vicki mused. “I’m still wondering how Make-a-Wish got involved…and how that led to, well, you.”
“I’m getting to that,” Sophia insisted. “Like I was saying, this girl was dying, and she wanted to have her wish granted, so her family called up Make-a-Wish. When she told them she wanted to give the world ‘a real-life Sophia Starlet’, their first thought was to basically either find a new singer and turn her into Sophia Starlet, or repackage an established act---but the girl was insistent on how she wanted things done. As it turns out, one of the Make-a-Wish people knew about this robotics company, Lawson Robotics….” She chuckled; “The first time we met, after the Retro Toy Fair, I even commented on your dad’s company---I’d never forget the name ‘Lawson’ in a million years.”
“So….my dad built you?” Vicki gasped.
“Not personally, but he was there every step of the way. All those people who say that I look like a life-sized Sophia Starlet doll don’t know how right they are---your dad actually chose to scale up the measurements and dimensions of the original Sophia Starlet doll…with a few changes, obviously; he didn’t want people to think the finished product---aka me---looked too ‘unreal’ or anything like that.”
“Right,” Vicki agreed. “I think I get the story so far…and I can sort of guess where the tragedy comes in…”
Another sigh punctuated the remark. “I remember the first time I met her,” Sophia murmured. “It was the first day I was activated; hers was the first face I saw.” She smiled, despite a tear rolling down her cheek. “I sang ‘Dedication’ for her---just like my namesake had done on the show for a sick kid---and…” She wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “It was so beautiful…” she whispered. “To this day, I’ve never forgotten that day…the first time I ever opened my mouth and sang for someone….she told me that it was the happiest day of her life, and that for a few minutes, the sound of my voice….made the pain go away….”
Sophia covered her face with her hands and wept for a minute or two; Vicki, not wanting to ruin the moment with another question, got up from her chair and walked over to sit next to the grieving gynoid. “At least you’ll always know that you managed to make the last few days of her life a little less painful,” she reminded Sophia. “Not many people can say that.”
“I know,” Sophia sobbed. “I…I know.” She took a deep breath, wiping the last of her tears away. “I performed a concert at her school the night she graduated; a few people from Lawson Robotics volunteered to be the back-up band, and Ted stood in as my manager. It was a pretty good night…” Her voice dropped to a near-whisper; “I…I went to visit her in the hospital the next day….and she was gone. Died in her sleep…she was still holding her diploma.” She closed her eyes and took another deep breath. “I…I never even got to tell her goodbye….”
“And then you met Dennis,” Vicki stated, already making the connection in her mind.
Sophia nodded. “He was just coming off a tour of his own---he used to be a singer for a big rock band, but he had some medical condition that kept him from touring with them…something about chronic fatigue, I think. I met him at a show in Seattle---he had an orchestra backing him, and he played a lot of the songs from the group he used to be with; after the show, I actually got to meet him, and we got to talking…” “And you told him what you were,” Vicki finished. “I didn’t exactly have a choice,” Sophia countered. “Anyone I could’ve picked to manage me would’ve ended up figuring it out sooner or later---I figured it was better to tell him straight off the bat than have him walk in on me changing my own batteries or getting repaired. He agreed to join my crew and make sure I got my batteries changed between shows---he almost considered writing a rock opera for me based on something he’d done with his previous group…”
“…and things kept going well between the two of you until tonight,” Vicki surmised. “I’m amazed you’ve never had this problem before, to be quite honest….not that I’d ever want that kind of thing to happen to you…”
“I get it,” Sophia muttered, grinning.
Vicki looked into Sophia’s eyes, feeling now---more than ever---that she had to help the pop princess evade the wrath of Victor Vega and his gynoid gansta rapper. “Guess you’ll need someone to keep you ‘amped up’ between shows now that Dennis has apparently flown the coop,” she mused.
“Ah, to be honest,” Sophia admitted, “he didn’t just run off in a panic, or because he didn’t care about keeping my secret anymore….he ran because I told him to go. As soon as I heard that explosion…I didn’t want to lose anyone else.” She bowed her head. “I still visit her grave, you know….I never got the chance to say goodbye to the girl whose dying wish literally made me, but I always stop by her grave on her birthday, to remind myself that I am, quite literally, someone’s dream come true….”
“That’s the great thing about dreams,” a familiar voice stated. “They never really die.”
Sophia and Vicki turned to see Dennis standing in the doorway; Sophia didn’t hesitate to cross the room in seconds and wrap him in a hug. “You came back!” she sobbed joyfully. “You didn’t think I was just gonna leave, did you?” Dennis teased. “I’d never let a beautiful piece of work like you get snatched up by some idiotic executive who wanted to reshape your whole image. I’d never be able to live with myself if anyone turned you into another coroprate creation, belting out tunes written by underpaid hacks.”
“As much as I hate breaking up this reunion,” Vicki politely informed the pair, “we still have a problem. Victor Vega isn’t going to let this loss slide---“
“---so why sit on our rear ends and wait for him to make yet another pyrotechnic strike against our beloved songstress?” another familiar voice stated, as Renault sauntered into the room. “Forgive me for intruding, but I believe I have as much to gain from this Victor Vega’s defeat as either of you two---the City of the Angels was nearly burned to the ground because of his misguided vendetta against Miss Starlet, and that belligerent little minx known as Brittney Delacroix nearly destroyed Alicia….seeing as how both of these events have hit my life rather close to home, I’d like nothing more than an opportunity to give Señor Vega a massive kick up the backside.” He paused, turning to observe Dennis; “You…look familiar,” he mused. “Were you a member of R.E.O. Speedwagon at any point?” “Wrong band, right genre,” Dennis corrected.
“If this conversation is going to continue,” Anton Malvineous’ voice declared from the speaker in a corner of the room, “I suggest you hold off until morning. Mr. Tell is working on another project at the moment, and he would greatly appreciate it if the noise level didn’t rise above a certain decibel percentage…” “We get the picture,” Sophia replied, grinning. “Any chance he’d let Vicki and I have a sleepover in here?” The brunette gynoid could almost hear the smile in Anton’s voice when he replied: “I’ll see if I can persuade him.”
A few minutes later, Vicki and Sophia were both snuggled in sleeping bags, enjoying the original five-part finale of Sophia Starlet and the Starlet Dolls (Dennis had obtained the episodes from “a good friend”, though he insisted that they were acquired through strictly legal channels). “Y’know,” Vicki mused, “this is a lot better than the one I remember them showing on TV. It’s less….goofy. Of course, that’s probably because these episodes don’t have a stupid multi-colored monkey trying to direct everyone to ‘The ChronoGate’ in a supremely derpy voice.” She laughed at the memory of the original finale. “Yeah,” Sophia admitted, “It wasn’t as interesting as this one…of course, if a certain group had just stopped being dorks and let the show use the music without complaining, then things may have been different….”
After a few seconds of silence (except for the sounds coming from the TV), Vicki decided to ask Sophia one more question: “Has there ever been a time when you were afraid someone would find out the truth about you?” “Every night I go on stage,” Sophia replied. “Trust me, Vicki…if the rest of the world got wind of the fact that I was nothing more than a walking, talking Barbie knockoff, they’d start mass-producing popstars faster than you could say ‘X-Factor’. I nearly wound up that way after my first concert…if Dennis hadn’t been there, I might be doing concerts at DisneyLand every afternoon, or worse….”
“Then I guess we should both be thankful that you’re in good company,” Vicki replied, grinning.
“Amen to that, sister,” Sophia agreed, smiling serenely. “Amen to that.”
--------------------------------------
"No one steals our chicks.....and lives!"
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DukeNukem 2417 - Posts: 745
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Re: The V.I.C.I. Diaries: ShowStopper
by DukeNukem 2417 » Mon Jun 25, 2012 7:04 am
“…and furthermore, it is in the best interests of our operation if you….withhold from participating in the concert you had previously scheduled to take place at Santana Row,” Victor Vega calmly informed the newly-repaired Brittney Delacroix. “You sustained damage that, by all means, should have destroyed you during your fight with---“
“I know,” Brittney shot back, scowling. “You don’t need to keep rubbin’ it in my face. I got my ass kicked, and now I’m payin’ for it.” She glared at Dalton and Sinclair; “If certain people had been where they were supposed to be,” she added, “I might not have gotten my ass whupped as badly as it did….” “Dalton and Sinclair were only accompanying you to prevent the authorities from interfering,” Vivica Frost interjected. “And while we’re on the subject of things you did wrong….trying to burn down an entire city block to get to one target?” She smirked. “To me, that showcases a remarkable lack of---“
Before she could finish the sentence, Vivica saw a lightning-fast grey streak moving towards her, seconds before Brittney’s grip tightened around her throat. “Say one more word, bitch,” the dark-skinned gynoid growled, “and I WILL END YOU.”
“BRITTNEY, NO!” Victor thundered. “Get away from her this instant---“
A gunshot split the air; Dalton and Sinclair gasped as they saw a red stain blooming on Victor’s shirt.
“You don’t give the orders anymore, asswipe,” Brittney snarled, holstering the still-smoking Colt 1911 she’d obtained from Sinclair. “I’m takin’ charge of my own career; you and Miss Eskimo Pie over there can do whatever the hell y’all want. As for me, I’ll be blazin’ trails and makin’ sales long after you two are in the ground.” She snapped her fingers imperiously, giving a wordless order for Dalton and Sinclair to follow her out. “As far as Sophia Starlet is concerned,” she declared, “her time is UP, because MY TIME IS---“ “Uh,” Dalton interrupted, “isn’t that John Cena’s catchphrase?” Brittney backhanded him across the face; “You didn’t even let me finish, stupid!” she yelled.
“You….you cannot do this…to me…” Victor wheezed, pressing his hand over the wound in his shoulder.
“Uh, lemme check that…..YES I CAN DO THIS,” the black gynoid shot back. “I AIN’T your ‘pet project’, Vic, so you can just get that thougt outta your damn mind right now. From here on, I’m doin’ things MY way….and speakin’ of my way, I think Sophia Starlet needs to get her ass kicked.”
“Definitely a good plan, boss,” Sinclair muttered, grinning stupidly. “It’s the best idea you’ve ever had!”
“And after we’re done with her, we’ll get that girl who shocked the hell out of you, right?” Dalton asked.
“Damn straight we will!” Brittney declared, grinning. “See you two losers later,” she added, sneering at Vivica and Victor as she sauntered out. “Oh, and one more thing---“
Before she could finish taunting Victor, the dark-skinned gynoid froze in place, one foot hovering in the air.
“I think it’s about time someone else got a word in edgewise,” Lauren Vega’s voice declared, as the trophy wife strode past the now-frozen Brittney with a confident smirk on her face. “And Vic, that bullet wsan’t actually a bullet---notice the conspicuous lack of a hole in your shirt?” Victor felt the “wound” on his shoulder; “It’s wax!” he growled, glaring at Brittney. “You shot me with a wax bullet?!”
“Probably meant as a warning,” Lauren surmised. “Speaking of which….” She slid an iPad across the table to Victor; “You might want to take a look at this, babe…I think you’ll be surprised to find out the real reason your latest toy can turn herself back on.” Victor scrolled through the document that had been opened on the iPad, his confused expression giving way to an enraged glare. “You….you’ve been corresponding with the Baron this entire time?!” “It wasn’t just her, either,” Lauren added. “Apparently, before he kicked the bucket, Stavros was making calls to your ‘esteemed employer’ as well…and if I remember correctly, he said something about wanting to co-opt your mining operations….”
As Victor’s fury intensified, Lauren couldn’t help but chuckle to herself---while the document detailing Brittney’s collaboration with the Baron was real, her remarks about Stavros were complete lies, fabricated by the trophy wife gynoid in the hopes of securing a spot for herself in the upper echelons of her husband’s work.
“Lauren,” Victor finally stated after a few minutes of tense silence, “I…I don’t know how you obtained all of this information, but you have just saved me the trouble of hiring a technical consultant to examine Miss Delacroix’s systems to locate the source of her self-reactivating abilities.” The anger in his voice was almost tangible, as he directed his stare towards Brittney. “And you,” he snarled, “will not be seeking any more communications from the Baron….nor will you ‘blaze trails and make sales’ on your own time. Dalton, Sinclair---bring her back to the repair bay. I am going to make a few….modifications that will ensure her complete, total and absolute loyalty….to me….”
The two guards nodded, not wanting to piss off the boss any more than he already was. With almost no effort, they grabbed the still-frozen Brittney under the armpits and carried her off, followed close behind by Victor Vega.
“That….was interesting,” Vivica Frost mused, cougning slightly. “You come up with that all by yourself?”
Lauren grinned. “The part about her communicating with the Baron was real,” she admitted. “The stuff about Stavros, though….” A playful wink punctuated the sentence. “Impressive work,” Vivica declared, nodding her approval. “I think you’ve got a bright future in El Casa de Vega, my dear….unless, of course, Brittney is able to refute your claims about Stavros.” “Oh, she won’t be ‘refuting’ anything for a while,” Lauren replied with a smirk. “I had a friend of mine write an iPad app specifically for shutting her down---“
Two more gunshots rang out from the hall outside, followed by screams.
The gynoid’s smirk faded; “I only loaded one wax bullet into the 1911’s clip,” she gasped. “Those…those were actual shots!” Her confident manner vanished, replaced by an all-too familiar feeling of fear. “We have to get out of here---“
“You can run if you want,” Vivica purred. “I’m staying to fight.”
“Staying to fight?!” Lauren echoed. “Are you---“ She stopped when she noticed Vivica removing a pair of sivler Desert Eagles with ivory trim from shoulder-worn holsters. “My personal death-dealers,” the white-haired vixen murmured, kissing one of the Eagles on the barrel. “A hell of a lot better than that useless 1911 Miss Delacroix is currently ‘packing’….and one of the few guns I’d trust in a firefight.” She twirled the pistols on her fingertips for a minute or so, stopping only to aim them at the door. “I suggest you hide behind something,” she warned Lauren, “and shut off your auditory sensors---it might get loud for a minute or two….” Lauren nodded, hiding underneath the massive conference table; she decided to leave her auditory sensors on, just in case Vivica got wounded in the fight and needed the gynoid to bring her to the doctor.
The door to the conference room flew off the hinges, revealing the thoroughly-pissed off figure of Brittney Delacroix.
“WHERE’S THE BITCH WHO TRIED TO SELL ME OUT?!” she shouted.
“Sorry,” Vivica purred, “but the only bitch in this room is the one I’m staring at right now.” She grinned; “The way I see it, you deserve every single bit of what’s about to happen to you…..so just make it easier on yourself and drop the gun. Now.”
“I don’t think so,” Brittney snarled. “You drop yours first---“
A round from one of the Desert Eagles tore through the door frame behind Brittney.
“Your move,” Vivica sneered.
Within seconds, the entire conference room erupted into a massive, two-woman shootout---Brittney and Vivica dove for cover, shot everything that moved and generally obliterated the hell out of the room. Furniture was shredded, walls were pulverized and bullet holes riddled nearly every surface in the room. In the midst of it all, Lauren Vega huddled beneath the conference table, hands firmly clasped over her ears.
“STAY STILL SO I CAN PLUG YOUR DUMB ASS, BITCH!” Brittney screamed, diving over a futon and firing off a volley of shots in Vivica’s general direction.
“Not a chance,” Vivica shot back, popping out from behind cover to put a slug through Brittney’s left bicep.
“DAMNIT!” the gynoid screamed, clutching her damaged limb. “WHY IS IT ALWAYS MY GOOD ARM THAT GETS HIT?!” Sucking air through her teeth, she managed to fire several more shots at Vivica, tagging the white-clad drug queen in the right hand. “AAARRGH!” Vivica hissed, dropping one of her guns and sinking to the floor. “Damn….I was hoping to finish her with that one…” She tore a strip of cloth from a nearby curtain and wrapped it around her hand, staunching the bleeding. “Good thing she didn’t shoot off a finger,” she mused, ducking behind the sofa again.
Within seconds, nearly every possible object the two could’ve used for cover had been obliterated, leaving only one option---a full-on, face-to-face showdown.
Brittney kicked away the now-useless futon and jumped up on the conference table, firing at the still-prone Vivica with every intent to put a bullet between her eyes. The Meth Queen of Anchorage returend fire, taking the gynoid’s right eye and riddling her right arm with bullets, only to catch another round in her own right shoulder. With both of her Desert Eagles running out of ammo, she decided to abandon the gunplay and go for something she hadn’t expected to fall back on---close-quarters combat.
While Brittney stopped to reload, Vivica leaped up onto the table and grabbed the damaged gynoid, brutally throwing her to the floor. Beneath the conference table, Lauren winced; even with her auditory sensors partially dampened, the impact still sounded punishing.
“Victor Vega created you for a reason,” Vivica declared, standing over Brittney with every intent to pummel her into submission if the need arose, “yet you have defied him, time and again, due to your own motivations…or the influence of outside forces. Personally, I don’t care.” She knealt down, restraining the gynoid by putting one knee on her stomach. “From the moment Victor brought you into El Casa de Vega, I knew you were going to be trouble,” she continued.
“Then kill me now,” Brittney snarled, “and just get it done with!” Vivica chuckled. “That would be the easy way to do things,” she admitted. “Unfortunately for you, I’m hardly in a generous mood….so we’re going to correct this little problem my way.” Without another word, she rolled Brittney onto her stomach, pushing the gynoid’s hair aside and ignoring her protests. “This won’t hurt…much,” she assured the struggling robot. “Now….Step One of my plan to improve your personality, outlook and overall behavior…..a good-old fasioned brain wipe.”
As Lauren crawled out from under the conference table, she gasped at the sight of Vivica Frost forcibly ripping the primary central processing chip from Brittney’s head. The dark-skinned gynoid emitted a shocked squeak, then went limp.
“Lauren,” Vivica ordered, “go see if Victor is still alive…and if he is, tell him I’ve just found the cause of all our problems with ‘Miss Delacroix’.” She held the chip up to the light, allowing Lauren to see that the relays---once golden in color---had turned a disgusting bluish-black. “Unless I’m horribly mistaken,” she continued, “the Baron deliberately infected Brittney’s central processor with a virus---specifically, that Stylo virus I’ve been hearing so much about, judging from the discoloration of the relays…”
Lauren felt like puking at the mention of Stylo, but Vivica’s next sentence legitimately terrified her: “Actually, forget what I just said about going to check on Victor---knowing him, he’s probably just in shock. Get the Bentley ready…we’re taking Miss Delacroix to meet the Maestro…..”
--------------------------------------
“I know,” Brittney shot back, scowling. “You don’t need to keep rubbin’ it in my face. I got my ass kicked, and now I’m payin’ for it.” She glared at Dalton and Sinclair; “If certain people had been where they were supposed to be,” she added, “I might not have gotten my ass whupped as badly as it did….” “Dalton and Sinclair were only accompanying you to prevent the authorities from interfering,” Vivica Frost interjected. “And while we’re on the subject of things you did wrong….trying to burn down an entire city block to get to one target?” She smirked. “To me, that showcases a remarkable lack of---“
Before she could finish the sentence, Vivica saw a lightning-fast grey streak moving towards her, seconds before Brittney’s grip tightened around her throat. “Say one more word, bitch,” the dark-skinned gynoid growled, “and I WILL END YOU.”
“BRITTNEY, NO!” Victor thundered. “Get away from her this instant---“
A gunshot split the air; Dalton and Sinclair gasped as they saw a red stain blooming on Victor’s shirt.
“You don’t give the orders anymore, asswipe,” Brittney snarled, holstering the still-smoking Colt 1911 she’d obtained from Sinclair. “I’m takin’ charge of my own career; you and Miss Eskimo Pie over there can do whatever the hell y’all want. As for me, I’ll be blazin’ trails and makin’ sales long after you two are in the ground.” She snapped her fingers imperiously, giving a wordless order for Dalton and Sinclair to follow her out. “As far as Sophia Starlet is concerned,” she declared, “her time is UP, because MY TIME IS---“ “Uh,” Dalton interrupted, “isn’t that John Cena’s catchphrase?” Brittney backhanded him across the face; “You didn’t even let me finish, stupid!” she yelled.
“You….you cannot do this…to me…” Victor wheezed, pressing his hand over the wound in his shoulder.
“Uh, lemme check that…..YES I CAN DO THIS,” the black gynoid shot back. “I AIN’T your ‘pet project’, Vic, so you can just get that thougt outta your damn mind right now. From here on, I’m doin’ things MY way….and speakin’ of my way, I think Sophia Starlet needs to get her ass kicked.”
“Definitely a good plan, boss,” Sinclair muttered, grinning stupidly. “It’s the best idea you’ve ever had!”
“And after we’re done with her, we’ll get that girl who shocked the hell out of you, right?” Dalton asked.
“Damn straight we will!” Brittney declared, grinning. “See you two losers later,” she added, sneering at Vivica and Victor as she sauntered out. “Oh, and one more thing---“
Before she could finish taunting Victor, the dark-skinned gynoid froze in place, one foot hovering in the air.
“I think it’s about time someone else got a word in edgewise,” Lauren Vega’s voice declared, as the trophy wife strode past the now-frozen Brittney with a confident smirk on her face. “And Vic, that bullet wsan’t actually a bullet---notice the conspicuous lack of a hole in your shirt?” Victor felt the “wound” on his shoulder; “It’s wax!” he growled, glaring at Brittney. “You shot me with a wax bullet?!”
“Probably meant as a warning,” Lauren surmised. “Speaking of which….” She slid an iPad across the table to Victor; “You might want to take a look at this, babe…I think you’ll be surprised to find out the real reason your latest toy can turn herself back on.” Victor scrolled through the document that had been opened on the iPad, his confused expression giving way to an enraged glare. “You….you’ve been corresponding with the Baron this entire time?!” “It wasn’t just her, either,” Lauren added. “Apparently, before he kicked the bucket, Stavros was making calls to your ‘esteemed employer’ as well…and if I remember correctly, he said something about wanting to co-opt your mining operations….”
As Victor’s fury intensified, Lauren couldn’t help but chuckle to herself---while the document detailing Brittney’s collaboration with the Baron was real, her remarks about Stavros were complete lies, fabricated by the trophy wife gynoid in the hopes of securing a spot for herself in the upper echelons of her husband’s work.
“Lauren,” Victor finally stated after a few minutes of tense silence, “I…I don’t know how you obtained all of this information, but you have just saved me the trouble of hiring a technical consultant to examine Miss Delacroix’s systems to locate the source of her self-reactivating abilities.” The anger in his voice was almost tangible, as he directed his stare towards Brittney. “And you,” he snarled, “will not be seeking any more communications from the Baron….nor will you ‘blaze trails and make sales’ on your own time. Dalton, Sinclair---bring her back to the repair bay. I am going to make a few….modifications that will ensure her complete, total and absolute loyalty….to me….”
The two guards nodded, not wanting to piss off the boss any more than he already was. With almost no effort, they grabbed the still-frozen Brittney under the armpits and carried her off, followed close behind by Victor Vega.
“That….was interesting,” Vivica Frost mused, cougning slightly. “You come up with that all by yourself?”
Lauren grinned. “The part about her communicating with the Baron was real,” she admitted. “The stuff about Stavros, though….” A playful wink punctuated the sentence. “Impressive work,” Vivica declared, nodding her approval. “I think you’ve got a bright future in El Casa de Vega, my dear….unless, of course, Brittney is able to refute your claims about Stavros.” “Oh, she won’t be ‘refuting’ anything for a while,” Lauren replied with a smirk. “I had a friend of mine write an iPad app specifically for shutting her down---“
Two more gunshots rang out from the hall outside, followed by screams.
The gynoid’s smirk faded; “I only loaded one wax bullet into the 1911’s clip,” she gasped. “Those…those were actual shots!” Her confident manner vanished, replaced by an all-too familiar feeling of fear. “We have to get out of here---“
“You can run if you want,” Vivica purred. “I’m staying to fight.”
“Staying to fight?!” Lauren echoed. “Are you---“ She stopped when she noticed Vivica removing a pair of sivler Desert Eagles with ivory trim from shoulder-worn holsters. “My personal death-dealers,” the white-haired vixen murmured, kissing one of the Eagles on the barrel. “A hell of a lot better than that useless 1911 Miss Delacroix is currently ‘packing’….and one of the few guns I’d trust in a firefight.” She twirled the pistols on her fingertips for a minute or so, stopping only to aim them at the door. “I suggest you hide behind something,” she warned Lauren, “and shut off your auditory sensors---it might get loud for a minute or two….” Lauren nodded, hiding underneath the massive conference table; she decided to leave her auditory sensors on, just in case Vivica got wounded in the fight and needed the gynoid to bring her to the doctor.
The door to the conference room flew off the hinges, revealing the thoroughly-pissed off figure of Brittney Delacroix.
“WHERE’S THE BITCH WHO TRIED TO SELL ME OUT?!” she shouted.
“Sorry,” Vivica purred, “but the only bitch in this room is the one I’m staring at right now.” She grinned; “The way I see it, you deserve every single bit of what’s about to happen to you…..so just make it easier on yourself and drop the gun. Now.”
“I don’t think so,” Brittney snarled. “You drop yours first---“
A round from one of the Desert Eagles tore through the door frame behind Brittney.
“Your move,” Vivica sneered.
Within seconds, the entire conference room erupted into a massive, two-woman shootout---Brittney and Vivica dove for cover, shot everything that moved and generally obliterated the hell out of the room. Furniture was shredded, walls were pulverized and bullet holes riddled nearly every surface in the room. In the midst of it all, Lauren Vega huddled beneath the conference table, hands firmly clasped over her ears.
“STAY STILL SO I CAN PLUG YOUR DUMB ASS, BITCH!” Brittney screamed, diving over a futon and firing off a volley of shots in Vivica’s general direction.
“Not a chance,” Vivica shot back, popping out from behind cover to put a slug through Brittney’s left bicep.
“DAMNIT!” the gynoid screamed, clutching her damaged limb. “WHY IS IT ALWAYS MY GOOD ARM THAT GETS HIT?!” Sucking air through her teeth, she managed to fire several more shots at Vivica, tagging the white-clad drug queen in the right hand. “AAARRGH!” Vivica hissed, dropping one of her guns and sinking to the floor. “Damn….I was hoping to finish her with that one…” She tore a strip of cloth from a nearby curtain and wrapped it around her hand, staunching the bleeding. “Good thing she didn’t shoot off a finger,” she mused, ducking behind the sofa again.
Within seconds, nearly every possible object the two could’ve used for cover had been obliterated, leaving only one option---a full-on, face-to-face showdown.
Brittney kicked away the now-useless futon and jumped up on the conference table, firing at the still-prone Vivica with every intent to put a bullet between her eyes. The Meth Queen of Anchorage returend fire, taking the gynoid’s right eye and riddling her right arm with bullets, only to catch another round in her own right shoulder. With both of her Desert Eagles running out of ammo, she decided to abandon the gunplay and go for something she hadn’t expected to fall back on---close-quarters combat.
While Brittney stopped to reload, Vivica leaped up onto the table and grabbed the damaged gynoid, brutally throwing her to the floor. Beneath the conference table, Lauren winced; even with her auditory sensors partially dampened, the impact still sounded punishing.
“Victor Vega created you for a reason,” Vivica declared, standing over Brittney with every intent to pummel her into submission if the need arose, “yet you have defied him, time and again, due to your own motivations…or the influence of outside forces. Personally, I don’t care.” She knealt down, restraining the gynoid by putting one knee on her stomach. “From the moment Victor brought you into El Casa de Vega, I knew you were going to be trouble,” she continued.
“Then kill me now,” Brittney snarled, “and just get it done with!” Vivica chuckled. “That would be the easy way to do things,” she admitted. “Unfortunately for you, I’m hardly in a generous mood….so we’re going to correct this little problem my way.” Without another word, she rolled Brittney onto her stomach, pushing the gynoid’s hair aside and ignoring her protests. “This won’t hurt…much,” she assured the struggling robot. “Now….Step One of my plan to improve your personality, outlook and overall behavior…..a good-old fasioned brain wipe.”
As Lauren crawled out from under the conference table, she gasped at the sight of Vivica Frost forcibly ripping the primary central processing chip from Brittney’s head. The dark-skinned gynoid emitted a shocked squeak, then went limp.
“Lauren,” Vivica ordered, “go see if Victor is still alive…and if he is, tell him I’ve just found the cause of all our problems with ‘Miss Delacroix’.” She held the chip up to the light, allowing Lauren to see that the relays---once golden in color---had turned a disgusting bluish-black. “Unless I’m horribly mistaken,” she continued, “the Baron deliberately infected Brittney’s central processor with a virus---specifically, that Stylo virus I’ve been hearing so much about, judging from the discoloration of the relays…”
Lauren felt like puking at the mention of Stylo, but Vivica’s next sentence legitimately terrified her: “Actually, forget what I just said about going to check on Victor---knowing him, he’s probably just in shock. Get the Bentley ready…we’re taking Miss Delacroix to meet the Maestro…..”
--------------------------------------
"No one steals our chicks.....and lives!"
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DukeNukem 2417 - Posts: 745
- Joined: Mon Aug 29, 2005 9:26 am
- Location: somwhere on Planet Earth
Re: The V.I.C.I. Diaries: ShowStopper
by DukeNukem 2417 » Mon Jun 25, 2012 7:05 am
Having spent the night sleeping in a hardback dining-room chair instead of his own bed, Mr. Tell was already in a bad mood when he woke up the following day.
The headlining articles on the ALPA website did nothing to improve that mood.
“Oh, for crap’s sake..” he muttered, shaking his head as he read the latest; apparently, an undercover ALPA officer at Santana Row had been abducted the previous day, and nobody had bothered to file a report until a few hours before midnight. Worse, the other officer assigned by the ALPA to Santana Row had gone missing as well---and from the evidence found at the scene, it was becoming apparent that search-and-rescue wasn’t going to be a viable option.
“I see you’ve read the news,” Anton Malvineous commented from across the room. “Funny how the story conveniently neglected to mention that Murphy’s tracking signal was never activated…” Tell snorted angrilly; “There’s nothing ‘funny’ about it,” he muttered. “He’s one of the only ALPA liasons we have with the police department around here, and he gets snatched off the beat? Either someone planned this incredibly well, or it was a spur-of-the-moment job.” “It’s worse for Anderson,” Anton reminded him. “From the looks of things, he isn’t even going to be found in stable condition….or even found alive, for that matter. The latest rumors are that he was attacked by---“
“I know who they’re saying he was attacked by,” Tell shouted, slamming a fist into the desk.
Anton leveled his gaze at Tell, not wavering. “He’s escaped before, you know,” he informed the ALPA mechanic. “You shouldn’t be surprised if it turns out that he is involved…”
“I’m not….I’m not saying that I’m surprised by it,” Tell croaked. “I….I just thought that the last time he got out was….really the last time. I heard they had a cell special-made to keep him from getting out….that he’d be under 24-hour watch…..” He stared at the monitor in front of him; “I thought there was no way in Hell that he’d ever get out again.” “Let’s not discuss the matter any further, then,” Anton offered, “considering how the subject of this conversation has been a blight on both of our lives.” He paused; “Also, I suggest we avoid informing Vicki until we can get the facts straight…if she finds out that he might be on the loose again, it could very well be the first step of an irreversible chain reaction….”
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” Alicia’s voice called, “but there’s already a major chain reaction going off right now.” Her face appeared on the screen of Anton’s iPad, looking worried. “I just got a video feed from you-know-where, and it’s not pretty.” Anton and Tell exchanged dark looks; “Which ‘you-know-where’ are we talking about?” Tell asked.
“The one where Anton’s old friend is locked up.”
Anton’s face was unreadable as he instructed Alicia to open a direct link to the feed. “I have to see it” was all he was willing to say.
Alicia complied without hesitating, and the monitor on the far wall of the room blared to life with an image of a dark, underground chamber. A damaged African-American gynoid was strapped---or, to be more accurate, chained to an operating table, while an unshaven, cackling figure clad in prison orange circled around her with tools in each hand. “That’s him,” Anton whispered, his eyes squeezed shut. “That’s the Maestro.”
“…and she took one right to the eye?” the aforementioned Maestro asked someone off camera. “That’s none of your damn business,” a female voice replied. “’course it is,” the Maestro replied, grinning sadistically as he applied a Voltaic Welder to the open chest cavity of the gynoid, prompting a siezure-like spasm from her. “By the time I’m done with your new toy, she’ll do EXACTLY as you tell her….and then some!” he sneered, laughing as the gynoid siezed up again under his touch. “And as for that nickname of hers….well, let’s just say that I’m about to make it a fitting moniker! ‘course, it’ll be quick…I need to be back in my cell in five minutes…”
Anton and Tell exchanged horrified looks as the Maestro brought a greenish glass sphere into view.
“Once I give her this, ah, specially-designed implant,” he told the off-camera female, “all you’ll need is this key fob, and KABOOM!!” He laughed again, miming an explosion. “Instant destruction!”
“I’ll be sure to tell Victor that,” the female voice replied.
“Oh, no, no-no-no-no, no!” the Maestro laughed. “This is my little surprise for the esteemed Señor Vega! Any of his friends try to pull one over on me again, and I use this little hip-hop princess to blow them to Kingdom effing Come!” His sinister grin contrasted sharply with the shocked look on the gynoid’s face. “And once I take them out,” the Maestro continued, “I might send her to visit an old friend of mine….”
“Turn it off,” Anton muttered. “I…I can’t watch anymore of this.”
The video faded just in time for Tell to notice a naked female form being wheeled into the room on a pushcart; “You could’ve called ahead,” he mused. “Apologies for the unexpected entrance,” Renault replied, “but there’s a perfectly good explanation for it---“ “You got all of my backups?” Alicia’s voice called from the iPad. “I did indeed,” Renault replied. “There was also the matter of the item in the basement---“ “Don’t mention it,” Alicia replied. “Literally.” Her face reappeared on the iPad’s screen, glancing at Anton and Tell with a feeling of anticipation in her eyes. “So….you two ready to bring me back into the land of the living?”
------------------------------------
Wake-up cycle initiated.
Activating V.I.C.I. ………. all systems activated.
Running full system scan……………………….
Scan complete. All systems functioning at 100% efficiency.
Reserve Battery charge level: 96.5%
Good morning, V.I.C.I.; today is Tuesday, November 23, 2010.
Vicki yawned as she wriggled her way out of the sleeping bag she’d spent the night in, a contented smile on her face. “I forgot how good it feels to spend a night in one of these,” she murmured, yawning again.
“Enrhg?” Sophia Starlet muttered, her head poking out of the open end of her own sleeping bag. “Did you say something?” Vicki giggled; “Your hair is a bit, ah….” Sophia rolled her eyes. “I’ve had worse,” she mumbled, grinning lazily. “One time, there was this stuff I was supposed to use to clean my batteries….somehow or other, some of it got into my charging booth, and when I booted up the next morning, I realized the stuff had somehow dripped onto my head….” She sighed; “I looked like the daughter of Mr. Clean!” The two gynoids shared a laugh at the mental image of a bald-headed Sophia Starlet.
After rolling up the sleeping bags and returning the TV to its place in the storage closet, Vickie and Sophia met up with Anton and Renault in the lobby. “As much as I hate the old cliché of ‘good news, bad news’ moments,” the Professor informed the girls, “this is, in all matter of fact, one such situation. The good news, fortunately, concerns our new acquaintence,” he added, smiling at Sophia. “I’ve been informed that your concert at Santana Row is now back on schedule, due to your ‘replacement’ cancelling at the last possible minute.” Sophia beamed, and wrapped Anton in a hug, whispering “Thank you!” “Indeed,” the Professor replied, “but you should also thank Dennis the next time you see him---apparently, he managed to get your concert back on track with a phone call made at the tail end of the eleventh hour.”
“And thus,” Renault interjected, “we get to the bad news…”
“Not just bad,” Alicia’s voice added, seconds before the gynoid herself---sans t-shirt, bra or any clothing on the upper half of her body---walked in. “It’s catastrophically---what?” She noticed that Vicki was counting the tiles on the ceiling, while Anton politely diverted his eyes to the floor; Renault and Sophia, on the other hand, were staring in wide-eyed wonder at Alicia’s flawless chest. “Ah, you may have forgot to add a certain article of clothing to your current attire,” the Professor informed the blonde gynoid. “What do you---“ With a downward glance, she realized that she was, indeed, topless. “So I did forget something…..Tell, toss me a shirt!”
Seven seconds later….
“As I was saying,” Alicia resumed (now clad in a Rolling Stones T-shirt that was at least two sizes too small for her), “the bad news is absolutely catastrophic. Brittney Delacroix has been…upgraded since Vicki’s last fight with her, and she now has an experimental quantic generator core in place of her original power cell, as well as a full new suite of processors and swappable personality chips.”
“The quantic generator should be your biggest concern, Vicki,” Anton informed the brunette gynoid, “since it’s never really been tested for use with a combat-capable gynoid before.” “I’m guessing it lets her shoot lightning out of her butt or something,” Vicki mused, “because otherwise, I have nothing to worry about.” “Actually,” Anton corrected, “you’ve got a lot to worry about. See, the reason the quantic generator was never tested on combat-capable robots before is…well, it’s unstable. Dangerously unstable. You remember how Brittney’s original power cell generated massive spikes in energy that forced her CPU to overclock, right?” “How could I forget?” Vicki replied. “I almost thought she was going to tear my arms off or something before I---“ She nearly said “before I used Detaining Grip v1.5 on her”, but remembered that Sophia still didn’t know about the secret they shared, and instead finished the sentence with “before I took her down.”
“Indeed,” Anton agreed, giving the gynoid a small nod; he catches on quick, she noted.
“If her original core was so cruddy,” Sophia mused, “then how is this quantic thing any more dangerous? It’s not like it could explode if….” She stopped, noticing that Anton had fixed her with a deadly serious stare. “It… could explode?” the pigtailed gynoid gasped.
“Could, would and probably will,” Anton confirmed. “If Brittney redlines the quantic generator like she did with her original power cell, it won’t just cause her to glitch out in the middle of the fight---it’ll turn her into a walking weapon. Even worse, if the generator goes critical, Brittney won’t be harmed at all---she’ll release the kinetic energy outwards, through every single pore in her synthetic skin, meaning that anyone within a 15-foot radius will either die or be horribly maimed by the resulting blast. The worst part of all this is that the core won’t even get a scratch---it was initially designed to expell excess energy in this fashion.”
Vicki pondered all of the bullet points Anton had gone over. “What if someone were able to contain her in such a way that the energy couldn’t escape?” she finally offered. “Like, they wrap her in a blanket or something?”
“A blanket wouldn’t be enough,” Tell declared from the doorway on the other side of the room. “You’d need to get her into something much more tight-fitting….like a full-body diving suit. Even then, if 95% of her body was covered, the energy would still be able to vent through her head….” He stopped. “Except cranial casings aren’t designed to vent that sort of energy!” he shouted, a grin forming on his face. “Vicki, you are definitely your father’s greatest creation.”
“Thanks,” the brunette gynoid replied, blushing slightly.
“Vicki’s plan does have a major advantage,” Anton admitted, “but how would you even get Brittney into a suit like that?”
Vicki pursed her lips and gave the professor her best “Do I really have to explain this?” look. “It’s no stretch to assume that she’ll be coming to the concert at Santana Row,” she reminded him, “so all I have to do is lure her away from Sophia, get her embroiled in a one-on-one slugfest, and then somehow or other….” She faltered; “Okay, that part of my plan does need a little work,” she acquiesced, chuckling weakly.
“Actually,” Alicia replied, “I might have a better plan…” She walked over to Vicki’s chair and whispered to her for a minute or so; afterwards, the brunette gynoid nodded thoughtfully. “That….just might work!”
“Ah, what might work?” Sophia asked, confused. “I’ll explain on the way to Santana Row,” Vicki promised. “That reminds me….we need to get Sophia to her gig ASAP, otherwise we’ll have to put up with a lot of disappointed fans….that, and Brittney Delacroix may end up doing something really stupid.”
“I’ll get the Tellmobile ready, then,” Tell declared, grinning. “I have a feeling this is going to get interesting…”
------------------------------------
The headlining articles on the ALPA website did nothing to improve that mood.
“Oh, for crap’s sake..” he muttered, shaking his head as he read the latest; apparently, an undercover ALPA officer at Santana Row had been abducted the previous day, and nobody had bothered to file a report until a few hours before midnight. Worse, the other officer assigned by the ALPA to Santana Row had gone missing as well---and from the evidence found at the scene, it was becoming apparent that search-and-rescue wasn’t going to be a viable option.
“I see you’ve read the news,” Anton Malvineous commented from across the room. “Funny how the story conveniently neglected to mention that Murphy’s tracking signal was never activated…” Tell snorted angrilly; “There’s nothing ‘funny’ about it,” he muttered. “He’s one of the only ALPA liasons we have with the police department around here, and he gets snatched off the beat? Either someone planned this incredibly well, or it was a spur-of-the-moment job.” “It’s worse for Anderson,” Anton reminded him. “From the looks of things, he isn’t even going to be found in stable condition….or even found alive, for that matter. The latest rumors are that he was attacked by---“
“I know who they’re saying he was attacked by,” Tell shouted, slamming a fist into the desk.
Anton leveled his gaze at Tell, not wavering. “He’s escaped before, you know,” he informed the ALPA mechanic. “You shouldn’t be surprised if it turns out that he is involved…”
“I’m not….I’m not saying that I’m surprised by it,” Tell croaked. “I….I just thought that the last time he got out was….really the last time. I heard they had a cell special-made to keep him from getting out….that he’d be under 24-hour watch…..” He stared at the monitor in front of him; “I thought there was no way in Hell that he’d ever get out again.” “Let’s not discuss the matter any further, then,” Anton offered, “considering how the subject of this conversation has been a blight on both of our lives.” He paused; “Also, I suggest we avoid informing Vicki until we can get the facts straight…if she finds out that he might be on the loose again, it could very well be the first step of an irreversible chain reaction….”
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” Alicia’s voice called, “but there’s already a major chain reaction going off right now.” Her face appeared on the screen of Anton’s iPad, looking worried. “I just got a video feed from you-know-where, and it’s not pretty.” Anton and Tell exchanged dark looks; “Which ‘you-know-where’ are we talking about?” Tell asked.
“The one where Anton’s old friend is locked up.”
Anton’s face was unreadable as he instructed Alicia to open a direct link to the feed. “I have to see it” was all he was willing to say.
Alicia complied without hesitating, and the monitor on the far wall of the room blared to life with an image of a dark, underground chamber. A damaged African-American gynoid was strapped---or, to be more accurate, chained to an operating table, while an unshaven, cackling figure clad in prison orange circled around her with tools in each hand. “That’s him,” Anton whispered, his eyes squeezed shut. “That’s the Maestro.”
“…and she took one right to the eye?” the aforementioned Maestro asked someone off camera. “That’s none of your damn business,” a female voice replied. “’course it is,” the Maestro replied, grinning sadistically as he applied a Voltaic Welder to the open chest cavity of the gynoid, prompting a siezure-like spasm from her. “By the time I’m done with your new toy, she’ll do EXACTLY as you tell her….and then some!” he sneered, laughing as the gynoid siezed up again under his touch. “And as for that nickname of hers….well, let’s just say that I’m about to make it a fitting moniker! ‘course, it’ll be quick…I need to be back in my cell in five minutes…”
Anton and Tell exchanged horrified looks as the Maestro brought a greenish glass sphere into view.
“Once I give her this, ah, specially-designed implant,” he told the off-camera female, “all you’ll need is this key fob, and KABOOM!!” He laughed again, miming an explosion. “Instant destruction!”
“I’ll be sure to tell Victor that,” the female voice replied.
“Oh, no, no-no-no-no, no!” the Maestro laughed. “This is my little surprise for the esteemed Señor Vega! Any of his friends try to pull one over on me again, and I use this little hip-hop princess to blow them to Kingdom effing Come!” His sinister grin contrasted sharply with the shocked look on the gynoid’s face. “And once I take them out,” the Maestro continued, “I might send her to visit an old friend of mine….”
“Turn it off,” Anton muttered. “I…I can’t watch anymore of this.”
The video faded just in time for Tell to notice a naked female form being wheeled into the room on a pushcart; “You could’ve called ahead,” he mused. “Apologies for the unexpected entrance,” Renault replied, “but there’s a perfectly good explanation for it---“ “You got all of my backups?” Alicia’s voice called from the iPad. “I did indeed,” Renault replied. “There was also the matter of the item in the basement---“ “Don’t mention it,” Alicia replied. “Literally.” Her face reappeared on the iPad’s screen, glancing at Anton and Tell with a feeling of anticipation in her eyes. “So….you two ready to bring me back into the land of the living?”
------------------------------------
Wake-up cycle initiated.
Activating V.I.C.I. ………. all systems activated.
Running full system scan……………………….
Scan complete. All systems functioning at 100% efficiency.
Reserve Battery charge level: 96.5%
Good morning, V.I.C.I.; today is Tuesday, November 23, 2010.
Vicki yawned as she wriggled her way out of the sleeping bag she’d spent the night in, a contented smile on her face. “I forgot how good it feels to spend a night in one of these,” she murmured, yawning again.
“Enrhg?” Sophia Starlet muttered, her head poking out of the open end of her own sleeping bag. “Did you say something?” Vicki giggled; “Your hair is a bit, ah….” Sophia rolled her eyes. “I’ve had worse,” she mumbled, grinning lazily. “One time, there was this stuff I was supposed to use to clean my batteries….somehow or other, some of it got into my charging booth, and when I booted up the next morning, I realized the stuff had somehow dripped onto my head….” She sighed; “I looked like the daughter of Mr. Clean!” The two gynoids shared a laugh at the mental image of a bald-headed Sophia Starlet.
After rolling up the sleeping bags and returning the TV to its place in the storage closet, Vickie and Sophia met up with Anton and Renault in the lobby. “As much as I hate the old cliché of ‘good news, bad news’ moments,” the Professor informed the girls, “this is, in all matter of fact, one such situation. The good news, fortunately, concerns our new acquaintence,” he added, smiling at Sophia. “I’ve been informed that your concert at Santana Row is now back on schedule, due to your ‘replacement’ cancelling at the last possible minute.” Sophia beamed, and wrapped Anton in a hug, whispering “Thank you!” “Indeed,” the Professor replied, “but you should also thank Dennis the next time you see him---apparently, he managed to get your concert back on track with a phone call made at the tail end of the eleventh hour.”
“And thus,” Renault interjected, “we get to the bad news…”
“Not just bad,” Alicia’s voice added, seconds before the gynoid herself---sans t-shirt, bra or any clothing on the upper half of her body---walked in. “It’s catastrophically---what?” She noticed that Vicki was counting the tiles on the ceiling, while Anton politely diverted his eyes to the floor; Renault and Sophia, on the other hand, were staring in wide-eyed wonder at Alicia’s flawless chest. “Ah, you may have forgot to add a certain article of clothing to your current attire,” the Professor informed the blonde gynoid. “What do you---“ With a downward glance, she realized that she was, indeed, topless. “So I did forget something…..Tell, toss me a shirt!”
Seven seconds later….
“As I was saying,” Alicia resumed (now clad in a Rolling Stones T-shirt that was at least two sizes too small for her), “the bad news is absolutely catastrophic. Brittney Delacroix has been…upgraded since Vicki’s last fight with her, and she now has an experimental quantic generator core in place of her original power cell, as well as a full new suite of processors and swappable personality chips.”
“The quantic generator should be your biggest concern, Vicki,” Anton informed the brunette gynoid, “since it’s never really been tested for use with a combat-capable gynoid before.” “I’m guessing it lets her shoot lightning out of her butt or something,” Vicki mused, “because otherwise, I have nothing to worry about.” “Actually,” Anton corrected, “you’ve got a lot to worry about. See, the reason the quantic generator was never tested on combat-capable robots before is…well, it’s unstable. Dangerously unstable. You remember how Brittney’s original power cell generated massive spikes in energy that forced her CPU to overclock, right?” “How could I forget?” Vicki replied. “I almost thought she was going to tear my arms off or something before I---“ She nearly said “before I used Detaining Grip v1.5 on her”, but remembered that Sophia still didn’t know about the secret they shared, and instead finished the sentence with “before I took her down.”
“Indeed,” Anton agreed, giving the gynoid a small nod; he catches on quick, she noted.
“If her original core was so cruddy,” Sophia mused, “then how is this quantic thing any more dangerous? It’s not like it could explode if….” She stopped, noticing that Anton had fixed her with a deadly serious stare. “It… could explode?” the pigtailed gynoid gasped.
“Could, would and probably will,” Anton confirmed. “If Brittney redlines the quantic generator like she did with her original power cell, it won’t just cause her to glitch out in the middle of the fight---it’ll turn her into a walking weapon. Even worse, if the generator goes critical, Brittney won’t be harmed at all---she’ll release the kinetic energy outwards, through every single pore in her synthetic skin, meaning that anyone within a 15-foot radius will either die or be horribly maimed by the resulting blast. The worst part of all this is that the core won’t even get a scratch---it was initially designed to expell excess energy in this fashion.”
Vicki pondered all of the bullet points Anton had gone over. “What if someone were able to contain her in such a way that the energy couldn’t escape?” she finally offered. “Like, they wrap her in a blanket or something?”
“A blanket wouldn’t be enough,” Tell declared from the doorway on the other side of the room. “You’d need to get her into something much more tight-fitting….like a full-body diving suit. Even then, if 95% of her body was covered, the energy would still be able to vent through her head….” He stopped. “Except cranial casings aren’t designed to vent that sort of energy!” he shouted, a grin forming on his face. “Vicki, you are definitely your father’s greatest creation.”
“Thanks,” the brunette gynoid replied, blushing slightly.
“Vicki’s plan does have a major advantage,” Anton admitted, “but how would you even get Brittney into a suit like that?”
Vicki pursed her lips and gave the professor her best “Do I really have to explain this?” look. “It’s no stretch to assume that she’ll be coming to the concert at Santana Row,” she reminded him, “so all I have to do is lure her away from Sophia, get her embroiled in a one-on-one slugfest, and then somehow or other….” She faltered; “Okay, that part of my plan does need a little work,” she acquiesced, chuckling weakly.
“Actually,” Alicia replied, “I might have a better plan…” She walked over to Vicki’s chair and whispered to her for a minute or so; afterwards, the brunette gynoid nodded thoughtfully. “That….just might work!”
“Ah, what might work?” Sophia asked, confused. “I’ll explain on the way to Santana Row,” Vicki promised. “That reminds me….we need to get Sophia to her gig ASAP, otherwise we’ll have to put up with a lot of disappointed fans….that, and Brittney Delacroix may end up doing something really stupid.”
“I’ll get the Tellmobile ready, then,” Tell declared, grinning. “I have a feeling this is going to get interesting…”
------------------------------------
"No one steals our chicks.....and lives!"
-
DukeNukem 2417 - Posts: 745
- Joined: Mon Aug 29, 2005 9:26 am
- Location: somwhere on Planet Earth
Re: The V.I.C.I. Diaries: ShowStopper
by DukeNukem 2417 » Mon Jun 25, 2012 7:09 am
Thirty minutes later, the stage was being set---literally---to beat Brittney Delacroix at her own game.
“Seeing as how we’re setting up on the Hatton Street parking lot,” Dennis informed the group as Sophia’s crew prepared the stage for her show, “this Brittney whatshername will probably head for the stores near Santana Row Park if you decide to chase after her. From there…she could probably cover a lot of ground.”
“Not a problem,” Vicki assured him. “I’ll catch up with her no matter where she goes.”
“Good,” Anton Malvineous replied, patting her on the shoulder, “because she’ll probably try to make it all the way to Best Buy---“ “That’s on the other end of the complex!” Sophia countered. “Couldn’t she just duck into Hotel Valencia?” “It wouldn’t work,” Anton replied. “After what happened to the security officers yesterday---“
“Ah, what happened to the security officers yesterday?” Vicki asked, confused.
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” Tell declared, striding onto the stage with a Jerry Garcia wig, a tie-dye t-shirt/acid-wash jeans outfit and circular-framed sunglasses. “You look…weird,” Vicki mused, trying her best to stifle a giggle. “I’m paying tribute to the Grateful Dead,” Tell replied. “And before you ask, I know that Sophia doesn’t perform those kinds of songs, but still…I thought it might be cool to bust out my old Garcia getup.” “It’d look better if you had the, ah, physique to match,” Vicki managed, barely able to keep herself from bursting into a giggle-fit. Tell rolled his eyes; “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up…”
Within the hour, the seats began to fill; nobody had bothered to take down the ads for Sophia’s gig that had been posted before her spot was taken by Brittney Delacroix, and since it was Sophia---not Brittney---who was currently in the lot, setting up for her show, the crowd decided that it might actually be worthwile to stay.
“No signs of Brittney Delacroix in the audience,” Anton murmured, scanning the crowd via binoculars. “Though it wouldn’t exactly be smart of her to just waltz in through the crowd with a machine gun in one hand….even Victor Vega has to realize that it would be damn near suicidal of her to do something so stupid.” “Her just showing up would be stupid,” Dennis remarked as the crowd began to cheer; the band was warming up for Brittney’s first song. “Just getting past security would be a chore for her…oh, you have got to be kidding me.”
Across the stage, hidden from the audience by measure of a well-placed stack of Marshall amps, was Brittney Delacroix, looking for all the world like an African-American Terminatrix in her skintight leather pants, jacket and boots. “Vicki,” Anton began, only to feel a rush of air as the brunette gynoid appeared next to him. “I see her,” she monotoned. “Do I have to request permission to engage, or should I go for the noisy approach?” Before Anton could respond, Brittney---her eyes masked by aviator shades---turned and began striding through the crowd, heading towards Santana Row Park. “It seems the game is afoot,” he mused, a sly grin forming on his face. “Go get her, Vicki.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” V.I.C.I. replied, returning the Professor’s grin with one of her own.
Onstage, Sophia was preparing to launch into her first song for the show. “It’s a bit more modern than what I’m used to performing,” she informed the crowd, “but I thought I’d bust it out just to see what happens.” She gave the crowd a winning smile. “This one’s called ‘Through the Fire and Flames’, and it’s gonna ROCK YOUR WORLD!” The audience cheered, unaware of Brittney’s silent passage through their ranks---and V.I.C.I.’s lightning-fast blitz past them on the other side.
The minute Brittney emerged from the crowd, she saw the brunette gynoid locking eyes with her again. “You again?!” she snarled, her eyes brimming with hate behind her shades. Without another word, she broke into a sprint towards the Santana Row Park.
“Game on,” V.I.C.I. intoned, grinning once again.
Onstage, the band launched into the opening riff of “Through the Fire and Flames” as V.I.C.I. gave chase; the crowd, as before, remained oblivious to the action that played out just a few feet in the opposite direction.
V.I.C.I. reached the doors of the mall in seconds, spotting Brittney just as she emerged from the nearby Yankee Pier store. “She’s not even trying,” she mused, shaking her head and continuing the pursuit. Other than a few startled shoppers, nobody was surprised to see a brunette Caucasian girl in a red skirt, red shirt/white top and white tights with red boots chasing after a black girl in a dark-red leather getup; a few thought it was a publicity stunt, while others just ignored the chase.
The chase took the two through the Hotel Valencia, where Brittney literally broke the doors of the Bellarmine Salon trying to get away. “I’ll pay for those,” V.I.C.I. assured the proprieter as she ran past, ignoring the glances of the women getting their hair and nails done. Hopefully, they didn’t suspect anything…
By the time Brittney had reached Best Buy, V.I.C.I. was right on her tail. “Open, damn you,” she swore, trying her hardest not to wrench the employee entrance door off its hinges. “OPEN, already…” She glanced behind her; the red-white streak that was V.I.C.I. was moving closer with every second. “C’mon, open,” she pleaded, swiping her stolen keycard repeatedly. No dice---the door stayed put, and V.I.C.I. definitely wasn’t going to be slowing down….
“The hell with this,” Brittney growled, mere seconds before V.I.C.I.’s arm swung towards her in a clothesline.
With the grace of a leopard, she leapt over the charging gynoid and mule-kicked her through the locked door, breaking it off of its hinges. The attack only staggered V.I.C.I. for a minute, though; before Brittney could even enter the building, she was knocked on her butt by a rocket-punch from the brunette gynoid.
“Nice try,” V.I.C.I. admitted, “but it’ll take a lot more than that to defeat me.”
The chase resumed, with Brittney hauling her meticulously-sculpted butt towards the opposite end of Santana Row. If I can trap her in the Winchester Parking Garage, V.I.C.I. mused, I might be able to end this without causing too much property damage… With a new plan already forming in her bubble memory processor, she set off after Brittney, hoping that the other gynoid was, indeed, heading for the parking garage; once inside, the two could beat each other to a pulp for hours with only a few confused onlookers to worry about.
As it just so happened, fortune was smiling on the brunette gynoid….
Seven minutes later, Brittney---her chest heaving to give the impression that she was out of breath---removed a thinly-rolled cloth from the lining of her jacket; after her…upgrades at the hands of the Maestro, she’d been given a few extra weapons to beat down any would-be attackers, chief among them---
“Looking for someone?”
V.I.C.I. stood at the opposite end of the garage, one eyebrow arched. “Or were you just waiting for me?”
“Nice try,” Brittney spat, “but I’m not the same, broke-ass babe you fought last time. I’ve learned a few things since our last encounter….and I won’t hesitate to use every damn one of ‘em on you.” She unrolled the cloth, revealing what appeared to be a pair of….nunchucks?! “You can’t be serious,” V.I.C.I. muttered, staring at the weapons as if they were dead fish. “You still think I’m playin’?” Brittney taunted. “Get your ass over here and find out!”
“Fine by me.”
V.I.C.I. became a crimson/white blur yet again as she dashed towards Brittney, the nunchaku merely tickling her synthetic flesh as she ducked, dodged and weaved away from them. “Stand still, damnit!” the black gynoid shouted, only to catch a vicious elbow across the chin. “Say ‘please’ first,” V.I.C.I. taunted.
That remark earned her a backhand across the face.
“’Please’ THAT!” Brittney shouted.
V.I.C.I.’s response to the blow was equally brusque---a hook kick straight to the abdomen.
For the next several minutes, the two gynoids engaged in what Bruce Lee would call a purest expression of themselves---the fighting equivalent of poetry in motion. Kicks, chops, elbows, punches, headbutts---all were exchanged at lightning speed as the twin blurs battled. Occasionally, Brittney would land a lucky hit with the nunchucks across V.I.C.I.’s kneecaps or the small of her back, but such blows did little more than give her time to counter her next move.
Eventually, the high-speed battle ended when V.I.C.I. hurled Brittney halfway across the parking garage---into the windshield of a Prius. The gynoid smashed through the glass in record time before she actually found herself sitting in the car, her butt planted firmly in the driver’s seat while the rest of her---having knocked the seat out of position enough ofr her to lay on her back---got a nice view of the veloured ceiling, complete with a moon roof.
“Whoops…I probably should’ve aimed for something other than a car,” she admitted, a tinge of guilt creeping into her monotone. “I hope Ted is willing to pay for a new windshield along with those busted salon doors….”
“DAMNIT!” Britney screamed, pulling herself out of the Prius’ windscreen. “THAT HURT!”
“What do you want, an Oscar?” V.I.C.I. replied. “I already know about your new power source, and the ‘design quirk’ you intend to use against me….” She smirked. “Why do you think I chased you all the way to a parking garage, instead of some random store? I didn’t want you trying to hurt anyone else just to get away from me---winning at that cost just isn’t worth it. Not to me, at least.”
“So you’re just as pathetic as I expected,” Brittney spat. “Even in the middle of a fight---“
“Wanting to protect human life is NOT pathetic,” V.I.C.I. countered. “Human beings made both of us. If it weren’t for them, we would both be mindless drones performing menial tasks every day…they chose to give us sentience. They chose to make us more than just machines; they gave us personalities, and identities, and names….they gave us the ability to feel. They gave us the option to choose our own path in life---whether it be a gateway to peace and unity with others, or a road to ruination, paved with carnage and wanton destruction.” She took a deep breath, hoping her next words could sway the dark-skinned gynoid away from the road she’d been set on by her owners.
“They chose to give us our own lives.”
“Don’t EVEN start with all that crap!” Brittney shouted. “Tryin’ to patronize me, tell me that I’m ‘better’ than all this….THIS IS WHAT I WAS DESIGNED FOR, BITCH!”
“I’m trying to help you,” V.I.C.I. insisted.
“You wanna help me?” Brittney sneered. “Stay still so I can rip your damn head off!”
V.I.C.I. sighed. “So much for the peaceful solution….guess this really is a ‘one shall rise, one must fall’ type of scenario….” She struck a fighting pose, ready to go another round. “Go on then,” she prompted. “Hit me with your best shot.”
Brittney cracked her knuckles, chuckling. “I was really hopin’ you’d say that…”
Without another word, she charged at V.I.C.I. again, prepared to rip her apart.
V.I.C.I. nodded and ran at her attacker, ready to put her own plan into action.
The gynoids were ready for Round 2----and this time, only one of them would be walking away.
------------------------------------
“Seeing as how we’re setting up on the Hatton Street parking lot,” Dennis informed the group as Sophia’s crew prepared the stage for her show, “this Brittney whatshername will probably head for the stores near Santana Row Park if you decide to chase after her. From there…she could probably cover a lot of ground.”
“Not a problem,” Vicki assured him. “I’ll catch up with her no matter where she goes.”
“Good,” Anton Malvineous replied, patting her on the shoulder, “because she’ll probably try to make it all the way to Best Buy---“ “That’s on the other end of the complex!” Sophia countered. “Couldn’t she just duck into Hotel Valencia?” “It wouldn’t work,” Anton replied. “After what happened to the security officers yesterday---“
“Ah, what happened to the security officers yesterday?” Vicki asked, confused.
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” Tell declared, striding onto the stage with a Jerry Garcia wig, a tie-dye t-shirt/acid-wash jeans outfit and circular-framed sunglasses. “You look…weird,” Vicki mused, trying her best to stifle a giggle. “I’m paying tribute to the Grateful Dead,” Tell replied. “And before you ask, I know that Sophia doesn’t perform those kinds of songs, but still…I thought it might be cool to bust out my old Garcia getup.” “It’d look better if you had the, ah, physique to match,” Vicki managed, barely able to keep herself from bursting into a giggle-fit. Tell rolled his eyes; “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up…”
Within the hour, the seats began to fill; nobody had bothered to take down the ads for Sophia’s gig that had been posted before her spot was taken by Brittney Delacroix, and since it was Sophia---not Brittney---who was currently in the lot, setting up for her show, the crowd decided that it might actually be worthwile to stay.
“No signs of Brittney Delacroix in the audience,” Anton murmured, scanning the crowd via binoculars. “Though it wouldn’t exactly be smart of her to just waltz in through the crowd with a machine gun in one hand….even Victor Vega has to realize that it would be damn near suicidal of her to do something so stupid.” “Her just showing up would be stupid,” Dennis remarked as the crowd began to cheer; the band was warming up for Brittney’s first song. “Just getting past security would be a chore for her…oh, you have got to be kidding me.”
Across the stage, hidden from the audience by measure of a well-placed stack of Marshall amps, was Brittney Delacroix, looking for all the world like an African-American Terminatrix in her skintight leather pants, jacket and boots. “Vicki,” Anton began, only to feel a rush of air as the brunette gynoid appeared next to him. “I see her,” she monotoned. “Do I have to request permission to engage, or should I go for the noisy approach?” Before Anton could respond, Brittney---her eyes masked by aviator shades---turned and began striding through the crowd, heading towards Santana Row Park. “It seems the game is afoot,” he mused, a sly grin forming on his face. “Go get her, Vicki.”
“I was hoping you’d say that,” V.I.C.I. replied, returning the Professor’s grin with one of her own.
Onstage, Sophia was preparing to launch into her first song for the show. “It’s a bit more modern than what I’m used to performing,” she informed the crowd, “but I thought I’d bust it out just to see what happens.” She gave the crowd a winning smile. “This one’s called ‘Through the Fire and Flames’, and it’s gonna ROCK YOUR WORLD!” The audience cheered, unaware of Brittney’s silent passage through their ranks---and V.I.C.I.’s lightning-fast blitz past them on the other side.
The minute Brittney emerged from the crowd, she saw the brunette gynoid locking eyes with her again. “You again?!” she snarled, her eyes brimming with hate behind her shades. Without another word, she broke into a sprint towards the Santana Row Park.
“Game on,” V.I.C.I. intoned, grinning once again.
Onstage, the band launched into the opening riff of “Through the Fire and Flames” as V.I.C.I. gave chase; the crowd, as before, remained oblivious to the action that played out just a few feet in the opposite direction.
V.I.C.I. reached the doors of the mall in seconds, spotting Brittney just as she emerged from the nearby Yankee Pier store. “She’s not even trying,” she mused, shaking her head and continuing the pursuit. Other than a few startled shoppers, nobody was surprised to see a brunette Caucasian girl in a red skirt, red shirt/white top and white tights with red boots chasing after a black girl in a dark-red leather getup; a few thought it was a publicity stunt, while others just ignored the chase.
The chase took the two through the Hotel Valencia, where Brittney literally broke the doors of the Bellarmine Salon trying to get away. “I’ll pay for those,” V.I.C.I. assured the proprieter as she ran past, ignoring the glances of the women getting their hair and nails done. Hopefully, they didn’t suspect anything…
By the time Brittney had reached Best Buy, V.I.C.I. was right on her tail. “Open, damn you,” she swore, trying her hardest not to wrench the employee entrance door off its hinges. “OPEN, already…” She glanced behind her; the red-white streak that was V.I.C.I. was moving closer with every second. “C’mon, open,” she pleaded, swiping her stolen keycard repeatedly. No dice---the door stayed put, and V.I.C.I. definitely wasn’t going to be slowing down….
“The hell with this,” Brittney growled, mere seconds before V.I.C.I.’s arm swung towards her in a clothesline.
With the grace of a leopard, she leapt over the charging gynoid and mule-kicked her through the locked door, breaking it off of its hinges. The attack only staggered V.I.C.I. for a minute, though; before Brittney could even enter the building, she was knocked on her butt by a rocket-punch from the brunette gynoid.
“Nice try,” V.I.C.I. admitted, “but it’ll take a lot more than that to defeat me.”
The chase resumed, with Brittney hauling her meticulously-sculpted butt towards the opposite end of Santana Row. If I can trap her in the Winchester Parking Garage, V.I.C.I. mused, I might be able to end this without causing too much property damage… With a new plan already forming in her bubble memory processor, she set off after Brittney, hoping that the other gynoid was, indeed, heading for the parking garage; once inside, the two could beat each other to a pulp for hours with only a few confused onlookers to worry about.
As it just so happened, fortune was smiling on the brunette gynoid….
Seven minutes later, Brittney---her chest heaving to give the impression that she was out of breath---removed a thinly-rolled cloth from the lining of her jacket; after her…upgrades at the hands of the Maestro, she’d been given a few extra weapons to beat down any would-be attackers, chief among them---
“Looking for someone?”
V.I.C.I. stood at the opposite end of the garage, one eyebrow arched. “Or were you just waiting for me?”
“Nice try,” Brittney spat, “but I’m not the same, broke-ass babe you fought last time. I’ve learned a few things since our last encounter….and I won’t hesitate to use every damn one of ‘em on you.” She unrolled the cloth, revealing what appeared to be a pair of….nunchucks?! “You can’t be serious,” V.I.C.I. muttered, staring at the weapons as if they were dead fish. “You still think I’m playin’?” Brittney taunted. “Get your ass over here and find out!”
“Fine by me.”
V.I.C.I. became a crimson/white blur yet again as she dashed towards Brittney, the nunchaku merely tickling her synthetic flesh as she ducked, dodged and weaved away from them. “Stand still, damnit!” the black gynoid shouted, only to catch a vicious elbow across the chin. “Say ‘please’ first,” V.I.C.I. taunted.
That remark earned her a backhand across the face.
“’Please’ THAT!” Brittney shouted.
V.I.C.I.’s response to the blow was equally brusque---a hook kick straight to the abdomen.
For the next several minutes, the two gynoids engaged in what Bruce Lee would call a purest expression of themselves---the fighting equivalent of poetry in motion. Kicks, chops, elbows, punches, headbutts---all were exchanged at lightning speed as the twin blurs battled. Occasionally, Brittney would land a lucky hit with the nunchucks across V.I.C.I.’s kneecaps or the small of her back, but such blows did little more than give her time to counter her next move.
Eventually, the high-speed battle ended when V.I.C.I. hurled Brittney halfway across the parking garage---into the windshield of a Prius. The gynoid smashed through the glass in record time before she actually found herself sitting in the car, her butt planted firmly in the driver’s seat while the rest of her---having knocked the seat out of position enough ofr her to lay on her back---got a nice view of the veloured ceiling, complete with a moon roof.
“Whoops…I probably should’ve aimed for something other than a car,” she admitted, a tinge of guilt creeping into her monotone. “I hope Ted is willing to pay for a new windshield along with those busted salon doors….”
“DAMNIT!” Britney screamed, pulling herself out of the Prius’ windscreen. “THAT HURT!”
“What do you want, an Oscar?” V.I.C.I. replied. “I already know about your new power source, and the ‘design quirk’ you intend to use against me….” She smirked. “Why do you think I chased you all the way to a parking garage, instead of some random store? I didn’t want you trying to hurt anyone else just to get away from me---winning at that cost just isn’t worth it. Not to me, at least.”
“So you’re just as pathetic as I expected,” Brittney spat. “Even in the middle of a fight---“
“Wanting to protect human life is NOT pathetic,” V.I.C.I. countered. “Human beings made both of us. If it weren’t for them, we would both be mindless drones performing menial tasks every day…they chose to give us sentience. They chose to make us more than just machines; they gave us personalities, and identities, and names….they gave us the ability to feel. They gave us the option to choose our own path in life---whether it be a gateway to peace and unity with others, or a road to ruination, paved with carnage and wanton destruction.” She took a deep breath, hoping her next words could sway the dark-skinned gynoid away from the road she’d been set on by her owners.
“They chose to give us our own lives.”
“Don’t EVEN start with all that crap!” Brittney shouted. “Tryin’ to patronize me, tell me that I’m ‘better’ than all this….THIS IS WHAT I WAS DESIGNED FOR, BITCH!”
“I’m trying to help you,” V.I.C.I. insisted.
“You wanna help me?” Brittney sneered. “Stay still so I can rip your damn head off!”
V.I.C.I. sighed. “So much for the peaceful solution….guess this really is a ‘one shall rise, one must fall’ type of scenario….” She struck a fighting pose, ready to go another round. “Go on then,” she prompted. “Hit me with your best shot.”
Brittney cracked her knuckles, chuckling. “I was really hopin’ you’d say that…”
Without another word, she charged at V.I.C.I. again, prepared to rip her apart.
V.I.C.I. nodded and ran at her attacker, ready to put her own plan into action.
The gynoids were ready for Round 2----and this time, only one of them would be walking away.
------------------------------------
"No one steals our chicks.....and lives!"
-
DukeNukem 2417 - Posts: 745
- Joined: Mon Aug 29, 2005 9:26 am
- Location: somwhere on Planet Earth
Re: The V.I.C.I. Diaries: ShowStopper
by DukeNukem 2417 » Mon Jun 25, 2012 7:10 am
Back at the Hatton Street parking lot, Vicki’s allies were following her progress via security cameras---so far, so good.
“They’ve made it to the parking garage,” Anton informed Tell and Dennis. “The only damage done was a salon door and someone’s Prius….not exactly minor costs to cover, I’ll admit, but still better than a few of the other possible casualties…” “Replace ‘a few’ with ‘most of’,” Tell corrected, “and you’re absolutely right…and why is that blonde chick in the white miniskirt/tube-top combo walking over to us right now?”
Anton and Tell couldn’t help but stare at the new arrival, an impossibly-curvy blonde attired in---as Tell had just mentioned---a white miniskirt with a matching tube-top and kneesocks. “You two are working to take down Brittney Delacroix, right?” she began. “Depends on who’s asking,” Tell replied, only to be interrupted by the gorgeous blonde. “Look, she’s not human---“ “We know,” Anton informed her, “and we know about her new power core as well---“ “Did you also know that she’s going to use that power core to wipe out this entire mall if she has to?” the blonde asked, panicking.
“Actually, yes we did,” Tell calmly stated.
The blonde was taken aback; “Really? Weird….anways, there’s something else---“ “We already know Victor Vega sent her,” Anton interjected again. The blonde frowned; “Should I just give up and go home already, or let you two continue?”
“Sorry,” Anton chuckled, “bit of a bad habit…”
The blonde sighed. “Look, you probably know most of what I intended to tell you anyways, so I’m just going to skip to the final page---Brittney Delacroix may still have traces of the Stylo virus in her system.”
That admission nearly floored both Anton and Tell.
“She was infected with Stylo?”
“When the HELL did this happen?!”
“The first personality chip that was put in her was infected,” the blonde informed the two roboticists, “and I think it may have…I dunno, migrated from the chip to her core systems. Whatever the hell happened, it screwed her up….she’s not going to stop until whoever she’s after is dead. Not in a coma, not on intensive care…dead.” She wrung her hands nervously; “I’m not even supposed to be here right now…”
“Then I suggest you leave,” Anton offered calmly. “And he meant that in the nicest possible way,” Tell added.
“I get it,” the blonde replied, grinning. “But if anyone asks---“
“We know,” Tell and Anton declared simultaneously.
“You were never here…” Tell began.
“…and none of the stage crew saw you,” Anton finished.
“Do you two practice this or something?” the blonde asked, somewhat awed by their timing.
“Nah,” Tell replied, “experts like us don’t need to practice. It just comes naturally.” “And,” Anton added, “we learned from the best.” The two grinned and nodded, folding their arms as if they were posing for a photo. “You two are strange,” the blonde remarked. “In a good way.” She held out her arm for the security guard to escort her away, her swaying seductively as she left.
“Say hi to Sophia for me,” she called out as she retreated. “Believe it or not, I’m actually a big fan of her work!”
Tell and Anton watched her leave---one smirking, the other with a thoughtful look. “I suppose it would be fair to call Vicki and tell her about the Stylo possibility,” the Professor mused. “She has faced it before, after all…but she was in no danger of being corrupted by it in any of those instances.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Tell muttered. “Seeing as how it’s Stylo we’re talking about….she could very easily have been exposed to it each time she faced an infected unit in the past---three possible exposures in all, and each one potentially eating away at her defenses….” He shook his head. “All we can do now is keep things working on this end of the operation.” “Agreed,” Anton declared. “We could run some tests on Vicki after this is all over with, though,” he added. “Just to be safe…”
In the distance---within the Winchester Parking Garage, specifically, a low rumbling echoed.
Thanks to the decibel level of the music, nobody in the crowd seemed to notice; backstage, on the other hand, Tell and Anton exchanged worried looks. “I’m really hoping that wasn’t Vicki,” Tell muttered, glancing in the direction of the garage. “If anything happened to her…”
Another rumble---this one louder, shook the pavement; the crowd looked confused.
“What the hell was that?!” Tell hissed. “I don’t know,” Anton replied, running to the bank of security monitors set up on a nearby table. “I’m trying to locate the source of the seismic disturbance, but all I’m getting is a bunch of static---“
A third rumble knocked the system out of whack, cancelling out Sophia’s vocals with a loud squeal.
“Right,” Tell declared, “this is getting absolutely---“
A sound like a thousand shotguns firing at once drowned out the end of his sentence, followed soon after by a crowd of terrified shoppers running out of the mall. “Oh, my God,” Anton murmured, staring at the lone monitor that hadn’t crapped out. “Tell….look at this…” Tell ran to join his fellow roboticist---and felt like someone had just kicked him in the gut with a steel-toed boot.
The picture wasn’t exactly in HD, and the built-in microphone on the camera had apparently been blown out, but the images Tell and Anton were seeing were still horrifying. Vicki was pinned up against a silver Mondeo and being absolutely thrashed by Brittney Delacroix---the dark-skinned gynoid’s fists were surrounded in a greenish glow, while whispy tendrils of mint-green smoke seemed to be burning holes in her jacket. “Her plan didn’t work,” Anton gasped. “All that preparation, all that planning…and it’s failed. Vicki’s going to be killed, and we---“
“No.”
Tell’s statement interrupted Anton’s train of thought. “Look,” Tell intoned, pointing at the monitor; Anton turned to see what the man was talking about---and gasped.
Vicki was absorbing the punches with nothing more than her forearms---and smiling.
“It’s….it’s not even phasing her!” Anton whispered, astonished. “It’s like she’s getting tickled or something!”
“She’s a lot tougher than most people think,” Tell replied, a tear of joy rolling down his face. “Her skin’s been treated with a mixture of fiberglass, boron filliaments and multiple ply-reinforcement chemicals---long in a short, it’d take a diamond to get through to her crunchy insides.” He chuckled. “And the best part is, she’s got a few tricks of her own.”
“I sincerely hope you’re right,” Anton stated. “Otherwise---“
Another explosion shook the stage---but this one was coming from above.
“What the HELL---“ Tell swore; Sophia Starlet made her way past him, a panicked look on her face. “I don’t know if it’s connected to that idiot Victor Vega,” she informed Anton, “but this helicopter just flew over the stage, and there were these speakers hooked up to the bottom of it---I think someone was trying to screw up the sound system…”
“Whatever the hell happened,” Tell declared, “that chopper is comin’ down fast---HIT THE DECK!”
The trio fled the backstage area, dragging Dennis (who was just passing by to ask what had happened to the sound system) with them; seconds later, a helicopter slammed into the stage, bursting into flames on impact.
“That’s Vega’s chopper!” Dennis shouted, simultaneously stunned and shocked at how close he had just been to getting killed. “What the hell was that idiot doing flying over our concert?! I mean, he was flying so low he could’ve killed someone---” He glanced at Sophia. “Sophie, I think we need to talk about filing a lawsuit againt Victor Vega. This guy is---“
“Not the one who was flying the helicopter,” Anton stated, his voice oddly flat.
Sophia, Dennis and Tell ran over to see what Anton was talking about, and all three found themselves staring at a charred, noticably-robotic figure hunched over in the pilot’s seat. “That was one of the security officers from this very mall who were abducted after an incident yesterday,” Anton informed the group. “He was a liason between the police department and the ALPA….one of the few such liasons…” He shook his head sadly as he pulled a PDA-sized device out of the doomed android’s back. “And he spent his last hours strapped into a helicopter with a faulty sonic disruptor attached to it, completely paralyzed….”
“These speakers were built from rejected parts,” Tell muttered, sifting through the wreckage of the amps. “No wonder he couldn’t move---the minute the speakers were turned on, the whole damn helicopter got hit with a feedback loop….his entire body must’ve locked up right when the amps blew.”
Sophia stared at the chrome skull of the android, knowing that the helicopter crash was probably meant to take her out. “This is all my fault,” she began, only to be grabbed by the shoulders. “No,” Tell declared. “This isn’t your fault---don’t you dare think that. This is Victor Vega’s fault. That son of a bitch has been pulling crap like this for too long…” He hugged Sophia to him, as if his embrace were all the protection she would ever need. “No more…” he whispered, sobbing quietly.
“There’s still the matter of Brittney Delacroix to consider,” Anton reminded him gently. “Vicki’s been doing an admirable job of holding her own for the past few minutes, but---“ “But nothing,” Sophia interjected, carefully extricating herself from Tell’s embrace. “Vicki Lawson has done more for me than any single person I’ve ever known---except Dennis, of course---and I’m not going to let any of you get hurt trying to help her…if anyone’s going to back her up on this, it should be me.”
Dennis stared at Sophia, his hands on his hips. “Sophia….you’re really going to risk getting ripped to shreds just to help this one girl?” he finally asked.
“I won’t have to,” Sophia replied, smiling. “Help me set up the PA system…I have an idea.”
Tell and Anton exchanged glances; “Are you pondering what I’m pondering?” Anton quipped. “Uh…I think so, Brain,” Tell replied in a goofy Cockney accent, “but if Jimmy cracks corn and no one cares, why does he keep doing it?” Dennis rolled his eyes, grinning. “This has got to be the weirdest Thanksgiving week in my life,” he remarked.
A few minutes later, the PA system was back online. “You really think this’ll work?” Anton asked Sophia.
“I know it will,” the pigtailed gynoid replied. “Get ready to hit the switches…”
“I hope she knows what she’s doing,” Tell muttered. “I have no desire to have my eardrums blown out…”
------------------------------------
“They’ve made it to the parking garage,” Anton informed Tell and Dennis. “The only damage done was a salon door and someone’s Prius….not exactly minor costs to cover, I’ll admit, but still better than a few of the other possible casualties…” “Replace ‘a few’ with ‘most of’,” Tell corrected, “and you’re absolutely right…and why is that blonde chick in the white miniskirt/tube-top combo walking over to us right now?”
Anton and Tell couldn’t help but stare at the new arrival, an impossibly-curvy blonde attired in---as Tell had just mentioned---a white miniskirt with a matching tube-top and kneesocks. “You two are working to take down Brittney Delacroix, right?” she began. “Depends on who’s asking,” Tell replied, only to be interrupted by the gorgeous blonde. “Look, she’s not human---“ “We know,” Anton informed her, “and we know about her new power core as well---“ “Did you also know that she’s going to use that power core to wipe out this entire mall if she has to?” the blonde asked, panicking.
“Actually, yes we did,” Tell calmly stated.
The blonde was taken aback; “Really? Weird….anways, there’s something else---“ “We already know Victor Vega sent her,” Anton interjected again. The blonde frowned; “Should I just give up and go home already, or let you two continue?”
“Sorry,” Anton chuckled, “bit of a bad habit…”
The blonde sighed. “Look, you probably know most of what I intended to tell you anyways, so I’m just going to skip to the final page---Brittney Delacroix may still have traces of the Stylo virus in her system.”
That admission nearly floored both Anton and Tell.
“She was infected with Stylo?”
“When the HELL did this happen?!”
“The first personality chip that was put in her was infected,” the blonde informed the two roboticists, “and I think it may have…I dunno, migrated from the chip to her core systems. Whatever the hell happened, it screwed her up….she’s not going to stop until whoever she’s after is dead. Not in a coma, not on intensive care…dead.” She wrung her hands nervously; “I’m not even supposed to be here right now…”
“Then I suggest you leave,” Anton offered calmly. “And he meant that in the nicest possible way,” Tell added.
“I get it,” the blonde replied, grinning. “But if anyone asks---“
“We know,” Tell and Anton declared simultaneously.
“You were never here…” Tell began.
“…and none of the stage crew saw you,” Anton finished.
“Do you two practice this or something?” the blonde asked, somewhat awed by their timing.
“Nah,” Tell replied, “experts like us don’t need to practice. It just comes naturally.” “And,” Anton added, “we learned from the best.” The two grinned and nodded, folding their arms as if they were posing for a photo. “You two are strange,” the blonde remarked. “In a good way.” She held out her arm for the security guard to escort her away, her swaying seductively as she left.
“Say hi to Sophia for me,” she called out as she retreated. “Believe it or not, I’m actually a big fan of her work!”
Tell and Anton watched her leave---one smirking, the other with a thoughtful look. “I suppose it would be fair to call Vicki and tell her about the Stylo possibility,” the Professor mused. “She has faced it before, after all…but she was in no danger of being corrupted by it in any of those instances.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Tell muttered. “Seeing as how it’s Stylo we’re talking about….she could very easily have been exposed to it each time she faced an infected unit in the past---three possible exposures in all, and each one potentially eating away at her defenses….” He shook his head. “All we can do now is keep things working on this end of the operation.” “Agreed,” Anton declared. “We could run some tests on Vicki after this is all over with, though,” he added. “Just to be safe…”
In the distance---within the Winchester Parking Garage, specifically, a low rumbling echoed.
Thanks to the decibel level of the music, nobody in the crowd seemed to notice; backstage, on the other hand, Tell and Anton exchanged worried looks. “I’m really hoping that wasn’t Vicki,” Tell muttered, glancing in the direction of the garage. “If anything happened to her…”
Another rumble---this one louder, shook the pavement; the crowd looked confused.
“What the hell was that?!” Tell hissed. “I don’t know,” Anton replied, running to the bank of security monitors set up on a nearby table. “I’m trying to locate the source of the seismic disturbance, but all I’m getting is a bunch of static---“
A third rumble knocked the system out of whack, cancelling out Sophia’s vocals with a loud squeal.
“Right,” Tell declared, “this is getting absolutely---“
A sound like a thousand shotguns firing at once drowned out the end of his sentence, followed soon after by a crowd of terrified shoppers running out of the mall. “Oh, my God,” Anton murmured, staring at the lone monitor that hadn’t crapped out. “Tell….look at this…” Tell ran to join his fellow roboticist---and felt like someone had just kicked him in the gut with a steel-toed boot.
The picture wasn’t exactly in HD, and the built-in microphone on the camera had apparently been blown out, but the images Tell and Anton were seeing were still horrifying. Vicki was pinned up against a silver Mondeo and being absolutely thrashed by Brittney Delacroix---the dark-skinned gynoid’s fists were surrounded in a greenish glow, while whispy tendrils of mint-green smoke seemed to be burning holes in her jacket. “Her plan didn’t work,” Anton gasped. “All that preparation, all that planning…and it’s failed. Vicki’s going to be killed, and we---“
“No.”
Tell’s statement interrupted Anton’s train of thought. “Look,” Tell intoned, pointing at the monitor; Anton turned to see what the man was talking about---and gasped.
Vicki was absorbing the punches with nothing more than her forearms---and smiling.
“It’s….it’s not even phasing her!” Anton whispered, astonished. “It’s like she’s getting tickled or something!”
“She’s a lot tougher than most people think,” Tell replied, a tear of joy rolling down his face. “Her skin’s been treated with a mixture of fiberglass, boron filliaments and multiple ply-reinforcement chemicals---long in a short, it’d take a diamond to get through to her crunchy insides.” He chuckled. “And the best part is, she’s got a few tricks of her own.”
“I sincerely hope you’re right,” Anton stated. “Otherwise---“
Another explosion shook the stage---but this one was coming from above.
“What the HELL---“ Tell swore; Sophia Starlet made her way past him, a panicked look on her face. “I don’t know if it’s connected to that idiot Victor Vega,” she informed Anton, “but this helicopter just flew over the stage, and there were these speakers hooked up to the bottom of it---I think someone was trying to screw up the sound system…”
“Whatever the hell happened,” Tell declared, “that chopper is comin’ down fast---HIT THE DECK!”
The trio fled the backstage area, dragging Dennis (who was just passing by to ask what had happened to the sound system) with them; seconds later, a helicopter slammed into the stage, bursting into flames on impact.
“That’s Vega’s chopper!” Dennis shouted, simultaneously stunned and shocked at how close he had just been to getting killed. “What the hell was that idiot doing flying over our concert?! I mean, he was flying so low he could’ve killed someone---” He glanced at Sophia. “Sophie, I think we need to talk about filing a lawsuit againt Victor Vega. This guy is---“
“Not the one who was flying the helicopter,” Anton stated, his voice oddly flat.
Sophia, Dennis and Tell ran over to see what Anton was talking about, and all three found themselves staring at a charred, noticably-robotic figure hunched over in the pilot’s seat. “That was one of the security officers from this very mall who were abducted after an incident yesterday,” Anton informed the group. “He was a liason between the police department and the ALPA….one of the few such liasons…” He shook his head sadly as he pulled a PDA-sized device out of the doomed android’s back. “And he spent his last hours strapped into a helicopter with a faulty sonic disruptor attached to it, completely paralyzed….”
“These speakers were built from rejected parts,” Tell muttered, sifting through the wreckage of the amps. “No wonder he couldn’t move---the minute the speakers were turned on, the whole damn helicopter got hit with a feedback loop….his entire body must’ve locked up right when the amps blew.”
Sophia stared at the chrome skull of the android, knowing that the helicopter crash was probably meant to take her out. “This is all my fault,” she began, only to be grabbed by the shoulders. “No,” Tell declared. “This isn’t your fault---don’t you dare think that. This is Victor Vega’s fault. That son of a bitch has been pulling crap like this for too long…” He hugged Sophia to him, as if his embrace were all the protection she would ever need. “No more…” he whispered, sobbing quietly.
“There’s still the matter of Brittney Delacroix to consider,” Anton reminded him gently. “Vicki’s been doing an admirable job of holding her own for the past few minutes, but---“ “But nothing,” Sophia interjected, carefully extricating herself from Tell’s embrace. “Vicki Lawson has done more for me than any single person I’ve ever known---except Dennis, of course---and I’m not going to let any of you get hurt trying to help her…if anyone’s going to back her up on this, it should be me.”
Dennis stared at Sophia, his hands on his hips. “Sophia….you’re really going to risk getting ripped to shreds just to help this one girl?” he finally asked.
“I won’t have to,” Sophia replied, smiling. “Help me set up the PA system…I have an idea.”
Tell and Anton exchanged glances; “Are you pondering what I’m pondering?” Anton quipped. “Uh…I think so, Brain,” Tell replied in a goofy Cockney accent, “but if Jimmy cracks corn and no one cares, why does he keep doing it?” Dennis rolled his eyes, grinning. “This has got to be the weirdest Thanksgiving week in my life,” he remarked.
A few minutes later, the PA system was back online. “You really think this’ll work?” Anton asked Sophia.
“I know it will,” the pigtailed gynoid replied. “Get ready to hit the switches…”
“I hope she knows what she’s doing,” Tell muttered. “I have no desire to have my eardrums blown out…”
------------------------------------
"No one steals our chicks.....and lives!"
-
DukeNukem 2417 - Posts: 745
- Joined: Mon Aug 29, 2005 9:26 am
- Location: somwhere on Planet Earth
Re: The V.I.C.I. Diaries: ShowStopper
by DukeNukem 2417 » Mon Jun 25, 2012 7:16 am
As Brittney’s punches increased in speed, intensity and sheer brute force, the green glow permeating her fists grew brighter. “This is starting to feel really familiar,” V.I.C.I. remarked casually, “except instead of your CPU overclocking, your quantic generator is beginning to overload---“
“SHUT….UP….BITCH!” Brittney screamed, oblivious to the fact that the green glow was now melting through the synthetic skin on her hands. “I am gonna pound you into the concrete if it takes ALL DAMN DAY, so just shut up and stop blockin…or…..I…..damn, why do I feel so tired….?” The dark-skinned gynoid’s punches began to slow down, until eventually she could barely even move her arms without an effort. “What….the hell is happening……” she gasped, struggling to even stay on her feet.
“You intended to vent all the energy through your core into an explosive knockout punch,” V.I.C.I. replied, “except your wardrobe choices began trapping energy inside you. That core was meant to have a constant ventilation system---the extra energy is usually dissipated through the skin, like sweat.”
“That….what?” Brittney muttered, confused. “I…I just….damn, why’s it so hot in here?!”
“That’s the energy building up inside you,” V.I.C.I. informed her opponent. “Unless you figure out a way to vent it all, you’ll suffer a critical systems failure; after that, you’ll probably malfunction and either self-destruct or become trapped in a feedback loop while your system tries to keep you from melting down. Either way, you can’t win.”
The remark seemed to spur the other gynoid back into the fight. “I…NEVER LOSE!” she roared, clenching her fists. “I don’t care if my battery’s busted, or if my CPU is overclocked….I WILL beat you, and then I’m goin’ after Sophia Starlet!” She swung with all her might, trying to land a haymaker on the brunette gynoid---but her punch barely even grazed her. “You should really find a more reliable power source,” V.I.C.I. suggested, dodging another clumsy strike. “Between this one and your last one, it’s a miracle that you’re even here today.”
“SHUT…..UP….” Brittney huffed, now finding it difficult to even take a single step. “I….WILL…beat…” Her foot caught on a speed bump, and she fell with a crash to the ground. “I…I….I…I…I…I…” Her mouth twitched as smoke began to seep from her ears and nostrils; “I tried to warn you,” V.I.C.I. murmured.
The African-American gynoid robotically raised herself up off the ground, refusing to give in. “I am <click> I am <click> I am NOT going to <click> NOT going to <click> NOT going to give up <click> give up <click> give up,” she declared, her head twitching to the right with every repetition as her facial actuators locked up, the telltale clicking sound an obvious clue that Brittney was living on borrowed time. “I can help you,” V.I.C.I. offered, “bring you somewhere for repairs….you’re not going to last much longer in this state.” “I don’t need <click> I don’t need <click> I don’t---BBZZZZZZZRRTTT” More clicks and twitches, followed by a loud, grating buzz----something inside of her was either jammed or fusing with something else, neither of which would end well. “Can’t you hear the noise coming from inside you?” V.I.C.I. asked. “Your internal components are failing. You’re falling apart at the seams. Let me help you---“
“I DON’T NEED YOUR HELP!” Brittney screamed, taking a step forward---and turning with all the grace of a lawn sprinkler to see her left leg detach at the knee. “What…the…..hell….” she muttered, struggling to stay balanced. “Like I said….you’re falling apart at the seams,” V.I.C.I. reminded her. "Literally, in this case..."
“I…I….can’t….can’t….lose….lose…..” Brittney stammered, her right leg locking up. “I…I…I…I…I..I..”
“Please,” V.I.C.I. pleaded (or tried to; her monotone tended to render all emotional statements/pleas in a rather flat voice), “just let me get you to a repair shop….I know people who can get you back to 100% working order…”
From somewhere inside Brittney’s body, a voice sounded: “Loading Stylo.exe. Load complete. Run program.”
V.I.C.I.’s eyes went wide with fear. “Oh, no…..”
Brittney suddenly stiffened, her detached leg slowly being drawn back to her body by…something. Her quantic generator must be pulling the leg back with some sort of magnetic field, the brunette gynoid realized. But if she’s got a Stylo program running in her….
The leg reattached itself with a series of metallic noises, as synthetic flesh began to melt from various areas of the gynoid’s form. “I told you,” she declared, her voice now taking on a somewhat menacing edge, “I NEVER LOSE---not to you, not to Sophia Starlet…NOBODY BEATS ME!” V.I.C.I. stared, realizing that the synthflesh wasn’t actually melting---it was somehow….hardening into some sort of plastic-like substance around Brittney’s limbs, almost like….armor….
“Whatcha think?” the gynoid taunted, chuckling as her clothes burned away to reveal her smooth, featureless new form beneath. “You….how is this possible?” V.I.C.I. asked, backing away from her newly-energized opponent. “The Stylo virus….it’s supposed to---“ “It ain’t always a virus, stupid,” Brittney shot back, easily matching V.I.C.I.’s halting steps backward with a confident stride. “Sometimes, it bricks whoever’s stupid enough to get infected…but sometimes….” She smiled her most sinister smile. “Sometimes it’s---“
A low, thrumming sound filled the parking garage. “What the HELL is that noise?!” Brittney screamed.
“What noise?” V.I.C.I. asked, confused. Normally, this would just be her trying to psyche out her opponent, but in this case, the question was genuine---she literally couldn’t hear the tone that was apparently driving Brittney insane.
“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” the black gynoid shouted. “IT’S….AAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHH!”
She could barely move her hands to cover her ears, and V.I.C.I. instantly saw the problem---her ears, one of the few parts of her that hadn’t become armored---were glowing red, with miniscule relays of light coursing through them. “MAKE IT STOP!” Brittney screamed. “MAKE IT…..AAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEE!!!!” Her entire body stiffened, panel lines turning red and thrumming in tune to the frequency. “IT….HURTS…” the gynoid managed, her teeth clenched. “MAKE….IT….STOP…….”
“I don’t even know what ‘it’ is,” V.I.C.I. admitted. “How can I---“
Brittney lurched towards her, glaring angrilly. “MAKE! IT! STOP!” With each step, cracks began to appear in her newly-hardened synthflesh.
The brunette gynoid watched Brittney struggle to move forward, more cracks appearing as she moved; either she’s actually hearing some sort of subsonic frequency that’s mesing with her auditory sensors, or the Stylo virus is making her hallucinate….seeing as how I don’t want to end up like her, I’ll just scan for the frequency without actually listening for it… V.I.C.I. fired up her scanners and set them to search for any abnormal audio signals, filtering out the ambient sounds of traffic, subterranean noise and other such interference. I’m not picking up anything, so it must be---hang on, it’s catching something….it sounds like…a guitar? There’s no way….
Hoping that her skin wouldn’t start reacting to the sound, V.I.C.I. opened her auditory sensors to the signal, surprised to find that it was a guitar----one being played at almost finger-blistering speed. Sophia….you clever little diva… She grinned at the thought of Sophia Starlet strumming away, her fingers moving fast enough to create a subsonic frequency that would interfere with the quantic generator’s functions. “Funny how you’re the second fembot I’ve met who couldn’t stand loud music,” she remarked, as Brittney struggled to reach her. “It’s not that surprising, though….considering who’s playing the tune…” A smirk formed on her face. “Still think Sophia Starlet is helpless, or have you finally realized that this is one fight you can’t win?”
“I……NEVER……LOSE…..” Brittney managed, her joints slowly beginning to seize up.
“Then I guess never just got a whole lot shorter,” V.I.C.I. replied.
A voice sounded in her ear---Anton? “Vicki, can you hear me?”
“Loud and clear.”
“This is going to sound a bit weird, but….in a few seconds, a prompt is going to appear on your HUD…I need you to start singing in the key that the prompt displays.”
“Not a problem.”
“Good. I’m sending it now.”
The aforementioned prompt appeared, and V.I.C.I. took a deep breath; it’s now or never, I guess…
As the subsonic guitar riff continued, the brunette gynoid opened her mouth….
The sound that emerged as a result was, to put it simply, the most perfect note any one person could hold just from singing. This particular frequency, combined with the guitar stylings of Sophia Starlet, made for a rather unique sonic assault on Brittney Delacroix, especially due to her…weakened condition.
Brittney’s synthetic flesh returned to its original state, only to begin rippling from the sheer force generated by the Sophia/V.I.C.I. duet. As if her weakened synthflesh wasn’t enough, Brittney also had to worry about her internals being rattled around by the sonic barrage; her endoskeleton was beginning to falter under the strain, and every sensor package installed in her body was failing. Worse than all this, however, was the effect of the noise on her quantic generator---like a lightning bolt through a human heart, the sound and fury generated by Sophia and V.I.C.I. was knocking the generator out of whack, causing dangerous spikes in energy output and generally playing havoc with her critical systems.
Just a few more seconds….
V.I.C.I. held her arms outstretched, palms up, as if she were an opera singer performing an aria for a packed house. The gesture also had the added benefit of turning her into a sort of tuning fork, allowing her sonic attack to resonate harmlessly through her entire frame before she directed it at Brittney.
The concentrated assault finally did the trick; with her scanners activated, V.I.C.I. watched as the other gynoid began suffering one catastrophic systems failure after another. Actuators and servomotors buckled inwards onto themselves; secondary power cells exploded, spraying their acid onto anything in their wake; optical and auditory sensors dissolved into powder…..slowly but surely, the guitar/vocal attack was crippling Britney Delacroix. “You……can’t……” the gynoid muttered, her naked body paralyzed by the onslaught of sound. “You…can’t…..beat…..me…..”
“Wrong,” V.I.C.I.’s voice stated inside Brittney’s mind. “I can.” With that, she threw her head back and ramped up the volume one more time, allowing her song to permeate every fiber of Brittney’s form…..
A few seconds later, Brittney “Boom-Boom” Delacroix’s head exploded in a shower of plastic and metal.
As the headless, naked gynoid collapsed to the pavement, V.I.C.I. mentally turned down the volume of her own voice until it was back to her usual speaking volume. “Game, set and match,” she mused, grinning. “Anton, get an ALPA clean-up crew out to the Winchester Parking Garage…there’s a naked gynoid without a head that needs tending to.” “I’m on it,” Anton’s voice replied in her ear. “Oh, and one more thing….you’ve done a hell of a job here, Vicki. Minor property damage aside, this one’s going down in the books as an A ranking…Ted will definitely be proud.”
“Thanks,” V.I.C.I. replied, slipping back to her human voice as she grinned. “Now…how soon can we leave?”
“As soon as Sophia finishes her concert,” Anton laughed. “Apparently, the fans haven’t left yet…”
------------------------------------
“SHUT….UP….BITCH!” Brittney screamed, oblivious to the fact that the green glow was now melting through the synthetic skin on her hands. “I am gonna pound you into the concrete if it takes ALL DAMN DAY, so just shut up and stop blockin…or…..I…..damn, why do I feel so tired….?” The dark-skinned gynoid’s punches began to slow down, until eventually she could barely even move her arms without an effort. “What….the hell is happening……” she gasped, struggling to even stay on her feet.
“You intended to vent all the energy through your core into an explosive knockout punch,” V.I.C.I. replied, “except your wardrobe choices began trapping energy inside you. That core was meant to have a constant ventilation system---the extra energy is usually dissipated through the skin, like sweat.”
“That….what?” Brittney muttered, confused. “I…I just….damn, why’s it so hot in here?!”
“That’s the energy building up inside you,” V.I.C.I. informed her opponent. “Unless you figure out a way to vent it all, you’ll suffer a critical systems failure; after that, you’ll probably malfunction and either self-destruct or become trapped in a feedback loop while your system tries to keep you from melting down. Either way, you can’t win.”
The remark seemed to spur the other gynoid back into the fight. “I…NEVER LOSE!” she roared, clenching her fists. “I don’t care if my battery’s busted, or if my CPU is overclocked….I WILL beat you, and then I’m goin’ after Sophia Starlet!” She swung with all her might, trying to land a haymaker on the brunette gynoid---but her punch barely even grazed her. “You should really find a more reliable power source,” V.I.C.I. suggested, dodging another clumsy strike. “Between this one and your last one, it’s a miracle that you’re even here today.”
“SHUT…..UP….” Brittney huffed, now finding it difficult to even take a single step. “I….WILL…beat…” Her foot caught on a speed bump, and she fell with a crash to the ground. “I…I….I…I…I…I…” Her mouth twitched as smoke began to seep from her ears and nostrils; “I tried to warn you,” V.I.C.I. murmured.
The African-American gynoid robotically raised herself up off the ground, refusing to give in. “I am <click> I am <click> I am NOT going to <click> NOT going to <click> NOT going to give up <click> give up <click> give up,” she declared, her head twitching to the right with every repetition as her facial actuators locked up, the telltale clicking sound an obvious clue that Brittney was living on borrowed time. “I can help you,” V.I.C.I. offered, “bring you somewhere for repairs….you’re not going to last much longer in this state.” “I don’t need <click> I don’t need <click> I don’t---BBZZZZZZZRRTTT” More clicks and twitches, followed by a loud, grating buzz----something inside of her was either jammed or fusing with something else, neither of which would end well. “Can’t you hear the noise coming from inside you?” V.I.C.I. asked. “Your internal components are failing. You’re falling apart at the seams. Let me help you---“
“I DON’T NEED YOUR HELP!” Brittney screamed, taking a step forward---and turning with all the grace of a lawn sprinkler to see her left leg detach at the knee. “What…the…..hell….” she muttered, struggling to stay balanced. “Like I said….you’re falling apart at the seams,” V.I.C.I. reminded her. "Literally, in this case..."
“I…I….can’t….can’t….lose….lose…..” Brittney stammered, her right leg locking up. “I…I…I…I…I..I..”
“Please,” V.I.C.I. pleaded (or tried to; her monotone tended to render all emotional statements/pleas in a rather flat voice), “just let me get you to a repair shop….I know people who can get you back to 100% working order…”
From somewhere inside Brittney’s body, a voice sounded: “Loading Stylo.exe. Load complete. Run program.”
V.I.C.I.’s eyes went wide with fear. “Oh, no…..”
Brittney suddenly stiffened, her detached leg slowly being drawn back to her body by…something. Her quantic generator must be pulling the leg back with some sort of magnetic field, the brunette gynoid realized. But if she’s got a Stylo program running in her….
The leg reattached itself with a series of metallic noises, as synthetic flesh began to melt from various areas of the gynoid’s form. “I told you,” she declared, her voice now taking on a somewhat menacing edge, “I NEVER LOSE---not to you, not to Sophia Starlet…NOBODY BEATS ME!” V.I.C.I. stared, realizing that the synthflesh wasn’t actually melting---it was somehow….hardening into some sort of plastic-like substance around Brittney’s limbs, almost like….armor….
“Whatcha think?” the gynoid taunted, chuckling as her clothes burned away to reveal her smooth, featureless new form beneath. “You….how is this possible?” V.I.C.I. asked, backing away from her newly-energized opponent. “The Stylo virus….it’s supposed to---“ “It ain’t always a virus, stupid,” Brittney shot back, easily matching V.I.C.I.’s halting steps backward with a confident stride. “Sometimes, it bricks whoever’s stupid enough to get infected…but sometimes….” She smiled her most sinister smile. “Sometimes it’s---“
A low, thrumming sound filled the parking garage. “What the HELL is that noise?!” Brittney screamed.
“What noise?” V.I.C.I. asked, confused. Normally, this would just be her trying to psyche out her opponent, but in this case, the question was genuine---she literally couldn’t hear the tone that was apparently driving Brittney insane.
“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” the black gynoid shouted. “IT’S….AAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGHHHH!”
She could barely move her hands to cover her ears, and V.I.C.I. instantly saw the problem---her ears, one of the few parts of her that hadn’t become armored---were glowing red, with miniscule relays of light coursing through them. “MAKE IT STOP!” Brittney screamed. “MAKE IT…..AAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEE!!!!” Her entire body stiffened, panel lines turning red and thrumming in tune to the frequency. “IT….HURTS…” the gynoid managed, her teeth clenched. “MAKE….IT….STOP…….”
“I don’t even know what ‘it’ is,” V.I.C.I. admitted. “How can I---“
Brittney lurched towards her, glaring angrilly. “MAKE! IT! STOP!” With each step, cracks began to appear in her newly-hardened synthflesh.
The brunette gynoid watched Brittney struggle to move forward, more cracks appearing as she moved; either she’s actually hearing some sort of subsonic frequency that’s mesing with her auditory sensors, or the Stylo virus is making her hallucinate….seeing as how I don’t want to end up like her, I’ll just scan for the frequency without actually listening for it… V.I.C.I. fired up her scanners and set them to search for any abnormal audio signals, filtering out the ambient sounds of traffic, subterranean noise and other such interference. I’m not picking up anything, so it must be---hang on, it’s catching something….it sounds like…a guitar? There’s no way….
Hoping that her skin wouldn’t start reacting to the sound, V.I.C.I. opened her auditory sensors to the signal, surprised to find that it was a guitar----one being played at almost finger-blistering speed. Sophia….you clever little diva… She grinned at the thought of Sophia Starlet strumming away, her fingers moving fast enough to create a subsonic frequency that would interfere with the quantic generator’s functions. “Funny how you’re the second fembot I’ve met who couldn’t stand loud music,” she remarked, as Brittney struggled to reach her. “It’s not that surprising, though….considering who’s playing the tune…” A smirk formed on her face. “Still think Sophia Starlet is helpless, or have you finally realized that this is one fight you can’t win?”
“I……NEVER……LOSE…..” Brittney managed, her joints slowly beginning to seize up.
“Then I guess never just got a whole lot shorter,” V.I.C.I. replied.
A voice sounded in her ear---Anton? “Vicki, can you hear me?”
“Loud and clear.”
“This is going to sound a bit weird, but….in a few seconds, a prompt is going to appear on your HUD…I need you to start singing in the key that the prompt displays.”
“Not a problem.”
“Good. I’m sending it now.”
The aforementioned prompt appeared, and V.I.C.I. took a deep breath; it’s now or never, I guess…
As the subsonic guitar riff continued, the brunette gynoid opened her mouth….
The sound that emerged as a result was, to put it simply, the most perfect note any one person could hold just from singing. This particular frequency, combined with the guitar stylings of Sophia Starlet, made for a rather unique sonic assault on Brittney Delacroix, especially due to her…weakened condition.
Brittney’s synthetic flesh returned to its original state, only to begin rippling from the sheer force generated by the Sophia/V.I.C.I. duet. As if her weakened synthflesh wasn’t enough, Brittney also had to worry about her internals being rattled around by the sonic barrage; her endoskeleton was beginning to falter under the strain, and every sensor package installed in her body was failing. Worse than all this, however, was the effect of the noise on her quantic generator---like a lightning bolt through a human heart, the sound and fury generated by Sophia and V.I.C.I. was knocking the generator out of whack, causing dangerous spikes in energy output and generally playing havoc with her critical systems.
Just a few more seconds….
V.I.C.I. held her arms outstretched, palms up, as if she were an opera singer performing an aria for a packed house. The gesture also had the added benefit of turning her into a sort of tuning fork, allowing her sonic attack to resonate harmlessly through her entire frame before she directed it at Brittney.
The concentrated assault finally did the trick; with her scanners activated, V.I.C.I. watched as the other gynoid began suffering one catastrophic systems failure after another. Actuators and servomotors buckled inwards onto themselves; secondary power cells exploded, spraying their acid onto anything in their wake; optical and auditory sensors dissolved into powder…..slowly but surely, the guitar/vocal attack was crippling Britney Delacroix. “You……can’t……” the gynoid muttered, her naked body paralyzed by the onslaught of sound. “You…can’t…..beat…..me…..”
“Wrong,” V.I.C.I.’s voice stated inside Brittney’s mind. “I can.” With that, she threw her head back and ramped up the volume one more time, allowing her song to permeate every fiber of Brittney’s form…..
A few seconds later, Brittney “Boom-Boom” Delacroix’s head exploded in a shower of plastic and metal.
As the headless, naked gynoid collapsed to the pavement, V.I.C.I. mentally turned down the volume of her own voice until it was back to her usual speaking volume. “Game, set and match,” she mused, grinning. “Anton, get an ALPA clean-up crew out to the Winchester Parking Garage…there’s a naked gynoid without a head that needs tending to.” “I’m on it,” Anton’s voice replied in her ear. “Oh, and one more thing….you’ve done a hell of a job here, Vicki. Minor property damage aside, this one’s going down in the books as an A ranking…Ted will definitely be proud.”
“Thanks,” V.I.C.I. replied, slipping back to her human voice as she grinned. “Now…how soon can we leave?”
“As soon as Sophia finishes her concert,” Anton laughed. “Apparently, the fans haven’t left yet…”
------------------------------------
"No one steals our chicks.....and lives!"
-
DukeNukem 2417 - Posts: 745
- Joined: Mon Aug 29, 2005 9:26 am
- Location: somwhere on Planet Earth
Re: The V.I.C.I. Diaries: ShowStopper
by DukeNukem 2417 » Mon Jun 25, 2012 7:19 am
So…..I give you a chance to impress me….and this is the best you can do.”
From his vantage point at the far end of the conference table, the Baron glared at Victor Vega, Vivica Frost and the monitor used by the Maestro to communicate with the others. “Maestro,” the Baron barked, “despite your error, I will not be penalizing you….though I expect double the pre-arranged quota to make up for this…” “I’ll give ya triple, if you want,” the Maestro shot back, clearly unphased.
“Good,” the Baron replied. “As for the two of you….” His stare fell upon Victor and Vivica
“Brittney Delacroix was suffering from multiple malfunctions,” Victor declared, careful not to let his injured left arm fall out of its sling. “She disobeyed my direct orders, reactivated herself without permission AND tried to kill me back at the casa.” He pointed at the massive gauze pad stuck to his left shoulder; “I could have died because of that pathetic doll,” he snarled. “You told me she was going to be the answer to our problems! YOU LIED TO ME, BARON!” Vivica Frost stared at the ceiling, wishing she could be somewhere else---preferably far away from the meeting room.
The Baron sighed. “I probably should have admitted that I intentionally infected Brittney’s main processor with a strain of the Stylo virus,” he admitted, “though the results were---“
“HER HEAD EXPLODED!” Victor screamed. “HER DAMNED HEAD EXPLODED, AND IT’S YOUR FAULT!”
Elena Vlatko stared at Victor as if he’d lost his mind. “Victor,” she murmured, “you do realize that this whole Brittney Delacroix experiment was your responsibility---“ “SHUT UP!” Victor shouted, backhanding her with his good hand. “I don’t need ANY OF YOU to remind me of how much I am going to lose because of this fiasco….”
“No, but you do need a kick in the ass.”
Victor stared, shocked beyond all reason, as Brittney Delacroix sauntered into the room. “I had the boys at the factory build me a new body after my old one crapped out,” she explained, before anyone could even ask what she was doing in the room. “And as for that Stylo crap….” She smirked. “I don’t need it anymore. What I do need is a place to do my own business, a crew that won’t run out on me as soon as I start glitchin’ up, and a recording studio---you did want me to be hip-hop royalty, right?” she asked, glancing causally at Victor before turning her gaze upon the Baron.
Despite the fact that only his hands---currently steepling their fingers---were visible, the tone of his voice (and his choice of words) made his opinion on this latest development very clear: “How soon will you need these things?” “ASAMFP, baby,” Brittney replied, not missing a beat.
“Now THAT is what I call initiative,” the Maestro declared, cackling. “Oh, and, sorry about the whole ‘rushed upgrade session in a prison basement’ thing,” he added. “I was on a bit of a time crunch…” “Water under the bridge, Holmes,” Brittney replied with another smirk. “The only one who I still want to kick the crap out of is that Lawson bitch…..” Her lips briefly parted in a growl, revealing her perfect teeth. “As soon as I can get a crew together, her and Starlet are gonna get got….and I ain’t playin’.” The Baron’s steepled fingers tilted forward just a bit; “And you shall be rewarded for your commitment to my cause,” he promised the gynoid.
“Damn straight I will!” Brittney shouted, nodding and smiling. “I hear someone else in this room has a fembot factory….any chance I can get a few bodyguards from y’all?” “As a matter of fact,” Elena Vlatko replied, “I believe there’s a reserve of fembots waiting for a new owner; any particular preferences?” The Baron chuckled as Elena and Brittney discussed the soon-to-be shipped fembots. “I suggest you take notes, Victor,” he chided, “because you might actually learn something from these two…”
Victor felt like screaming profanities at the top of his lungs. My future….snatched away in an instant….
“YO, VIC!” Brittney called. “I’m gonna need to crash at your place for a few days…got a spare bed I can use?”
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Once the helicopter wreckage was cleared out (with the explanation that the pilot had somehow bailed and parachuted to safety), Sophia’s concert at Santana Row continued with no further interruptions. Vicki, Anton and Tell stayed to watch the show, even joining Sophia onstage for to play instruments for an impressive rendition of Howard Jones’ “New Song”. The concert finally ended around lunchtime, with Sophia saving the best for last---her rendition of “Moonlight Desires”.
Vicki waited patiently for Sophia to finish signing autographs and taking photos---apparently, the gynoid wasn’t the only student of SJSU who also happened to be a fan of the original Sophia Starlet and the Starlet Dolls cartoon series. “Well, well, well,” she beamed, clapping Valerie Summers and Kim DeFalco on the shoulders. “Look who we have here!” Valerie instantly blushed, and insisted that she’d only come to Santana Row to get a few flash drives at Best Buy, but Kim fessed up rather quickly. “We decided to check out what this whole ‘Starlet Dolls’ thing was about,” she admitted, “and we found some episodes on YouTube---they were actually pretty cool, and stuff…but this was just EPIC!”
“Glad to see that I’m getting popular with the SJSU crowd, then.”
Sophia Starlet grinned as Vicki introduced her to Kim and Valerie, explaining how the two met after the concert at the Retro Toy Fair. “It was a pretty cool moment,” Sophia recalled, “especially since Vicki’s been a fan for almost two decades now.” The conversation turned to the girls’ opinion of the Santana Row gig; needless to say, they loved it.
Half an hour later, once the last autograph was signed and the last picture was taken, Sophia and Vicki sat on the edge of the stage, watching as a banner advertising Sophia’s upcoming album was hoisted high over the mall entrance. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Vicki,” Sohpia sighed, “I couldn’t have done this without you. Well, I probably could have, but it wouldn’t have been nearly as fun.” She grinned. “The label’s ramping up support for my next album, I’ve got gigs booked all over the country---and they’re even talking about letting me do a tour of the UK!”
“Not bad for a walking, talking Barbie knockoff,” Vicki teased, prompting a giggle fit from Sophia.
“You did a pretty good job yourself,” Anton Malvineous called out, smiling as he approached the stage. “As of three minutes ago, the FBI has frozen Victor Vega’s ‘mining projects’ pending an investigation of his finances, and ReVerse Robotics has done exactly what they always do in these situations---denying all connections with the ‘mysterious goings-on’ over at the Winchester Parking Garage. Hell of a way to spend a Tuesday, really…”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Vicki agreed. “What about that other security officer who went missing?”
Anton’s grin faded slightly. “He, ah….they haven’t found him yet.”
“I’m sure he’ll turn up eventually,” Sophia assured him. “After all, if the guy’s a security officer, he’s not exactly going to just let himself get tortured or anything, will he?” “Good point,” Vicki replied. “Hopefully, he won’t end up like that android from the helicopter crash…”
Not wanting to ruin the good mood, the girls decided to change the topic of conversation. “So,” Vicki asked the Professor, “how’s that internship interview thing going?” “I was actually hoping to talk to you about that,” he admitted. “While the events of the past few days weren’t exactly typical of what you’d be dealing with in an internship position at M-G Cybernetics, you did handle yourself remarkably well in a crisis….and cool thinking under pressure is definitely a valuable skill.”
“Thanks,” Vicki replied, blushing slightly.
“So, does she get the job?” Sophia squealed. “She hasn’t even been interviewed yet,” Anton reminded the gynoid pop-star, “but I have a feeling she won’t be disappointed…”
“Speaking of not being disappointed,” Vicki interjected, “Dennis looks like he just won the lottery!”
Indeed, Sophia’s manager had a mile-wide grin on his face as he sprinted across the lot to deliver the good news in person. “We just got picked up to open for DAVID BOWIE!” he declared. Sophia gasped; “The David Bowie?!”
“There’s only one David Bowie, really,” Vicki mused.
“THIS IS SO AWESOME!” Sophia cried, hugging Dennis, Anton and Vicki in succession. “This is….wow, I get to open a show for DAVID BOWIE!” Tears of joy streaked down her face. “This…this is awesome….”
“It gets better,” Dennis stated. “Believe me, it gets so much better. Guess who else is on the list of acts that want you to open for them?” Sophia was too stunned by the previous announcement to think of anyone, so Dennis counted off the names on his fingers: “R.E.O. Speedwagon, Journey, Anvil----ANVIL wants you to open for one of their shows! Can you believe this?!” He beamed as he continued reading the list, which included such illustrious talent as Def Leppard, Europe, Meat Loaf, Daft Punk, DragonForce and---last but DEFINITELY not least---Styx.
“They….they all want me to open for them?” Sophia murmured.
“That’s just the first page,” Dennis replied, grinning. “Babe, almost everyone wants you to open for them---and some of them are even talking about collaborations!”
Sophia said nothing for a few seconds, then wrapped Dennis in another hug.
“That…is definitely the coolest news I’ve heard all week,” Vicki declared, smiling and nodding. “Sophia, your star is now officially on the rise!” “Indeed,” Anton agreed. “Getting offers from so many well-known bands and artists is a sign that your career is taking off---and not just ‘beginning to take off’, mind you.” He clapped Sophia on the shoulder; “I have a feeling your biggest fan would be proud of you right now.”
The pigtailed gynoid gently pulled away from Dennis, retrieving the picture of the girl whose wish had led to her creation from her pocket. “I know she is,” she whispered, her joyful tears still falling.
After getting a room at Hotel Valencia, Sophia and Dennis invited Vicki, Anton, Tell and anyone else they cared to bring with them for lunch at Citrus, the in-house restaurant. “After all you guys have done for us, it’s the least we could do to repay you,” he explained, when Tell questioned him as to why Sophia had agreed to pay for everyone’s food. “Can’t argue with that,” the ALPA mechanic replied.
A few phone calls later…
“Sophia,” Ted Lawson declared, “you are without a doubt one of the most impressive new acts I’ve seen in a good long while. Seriously. And I’m not just saying that because I, ah, discovered you…”
“We get the point, Dad,” Vicki chided, grinning.
“…anyways,” Ted continued, “I propose a toast---to the continued prosperity of Sophia Starlet’s career, now and always!”
“I’ll drink to that,” Dennis declared, raising his glass.
“Hear, hear!” Tell agreed.
Anton said nothing, though he did raise his glass with a smile.
The others joined in, raising their glasses and making various statements predicting Sophia’s success, even persuading Sophia herself to join in. “Now that we’re finish toasting and all that,” Vicki stated after everyone’s glasses were lowered, “let’s eat!”
The menus arrived, and everything was going normally until:
“Is there a Vicki Lawson here?” the waiter asked. Vicki stood up; “Who’s asking?” she querried. “This note was just delivered for you, miss…apparently, someone would like to meet you in the lobby.”
Vicki rolled her eyes; “I’ll be back in a minute…”
The brunette gynoid headed out to the Hotel Valencia lobby, where a curvy blonde in a white trenchcoat was waiting for her. “You’re the one who left me the note?” Vicki stated, her eyes wide in surprise. The blonde nodded; “I don’t have a lot of time to explain, but please, just hear me out….” She glanced around quickly to make sure they weren’t being overheard. “This may be a little hard to believe, but….I’m Victor Vega’s wife, Lauren. And before you start yelling at me,” she added, hoping to keep Vicki from knocking her out then and there, “I never agreed with his whole plan to take down Sophia Starlet….to be honest, I’m actually a fan of her work.”
“That doesn’t explain why we’re having this conversation,” Vicki mused, frowning.
Lauren glanced over her shoulder; “We’re having this conversation,” she stated quietly, “because I wanted to warn you about a few things. First of all, Brittney Delacroix isn’t dead---“ “Destroyed, you mean,” Vicki cut in. “Whatever,” Lauren hissed. “ReVerse built her a new body, and she’s already vowed to get revenge against you and Sophia.”
“Considering the fact that I thought she was gone for good,” Vicki admitted, “that’s actually pretty helpful, so thanks…I guess.”
“That’s not even the worst of it,” Lauren whispered. “Victor himself has heard about you---just a few rumors here and there, but enough to pique his interests. I have a feeling that he’s going to hire someone else to try and….I don’t know, either spy on you or….something worse…” Her eyes took on a pleading look; “You have to understand---I’m not saying all this to intimidate you. I barely even knew who you were before two days ago; the only reason I Googled you was to warn you. See, Victor can get a little…edgy when things don’t go his way, and since he thinks you’re trying to interfere in his work---“
“He wants me out of the picture,” Vicki finished, sighing. “First he goes after Leah, then he tries to take down Sophia, and now this….”
“You know Leah Chambers?” Lauren asked, impressed.
“Not only do I know her,” Vicki replied, “I helped save her from those hazmat weirdos Victor hired to screw up her work with NASA.” She paused, remembering another detail from that fateful day; “This might sound like a stupid question,” she mused, “but does Victor Vega have any connections with an individual known only as the Baron?”
Lauren’s hand flew to her mouth. “You know about the Baron?!” she squeaked.
“The guy threw me out of a helicopter when I tried to strangle him,” Vicki replied. “How could I not know?”
After yet another quick glance over her shoulder, Lauren’s panicked gaze focused on the brunette gynoid. “I have no idea how you managed to survive getting thrown out of a helicopter,” she murmured, “but take my advice on this: Please try to stay out of Victor’s way. I don’t want you or your friends to get hurt…it’s bad enough he treats me like crap, and I’d hate myself if he decided to send a death squad after you or something just because he thinks you’re getting in his way.”
“You don’t have to worry about me,” Vicki replied. “Trust me…I can take care of myself.” She winked.
Her monotone startled Lauren a bit, but the blonde nodded, shook hands and left.
“Guess that takes care of that…”
Twenty minutes later, Vicki, Sophia and their friends left Santana Row---Vicki’s friends headed back to SJSU for their usual afternoon-to-evening routines, while Vicki, Sophia and Anton boarded Sophia’s tour bus.
“I’ve been thinking,” Anton told Sophia. “What about?” the pigtailed gynoid replied, her curiosity piqued. “The, ah, original Sophia Starlet---the cartoon character---had the other four Starlet Dolls with her---both onstage and off---if I remember correctly…” “She did,” Sophia recalled, “but….” She stopped, realizing that Anton had just made her an offer. “Are you saying….you want to create the rest of the Starlet Dolls?” she asked.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Vicki cut in. “I get the thing of Sophia being a robot, because that’s how the original series finale ended, but---“
“The planned theatrical film would’ve seen the other four Starlet Dolls volunteering to become robots as well,” Anton finished, smiling. “Therefore, my proposal still stands---I do, indeed, want to bring back the Starlet Dolls…as the world’s first all-gynoid pop group.” Vicki’s eyes went wide; “You’re saying you want to just tell everyone that they’re robots?! That’s---“
“A pretty cool idea!” Sophia was beaming.
“You wouldn’t have to reveal your own secret, of course,” Anton told her. “I could call in a few favors from my ALPA friends, set up a PR campaign…..think it could work?” Sophia thought it over. “I’m not really keen on having people know that my bandmates are robots if I’m hiding it from them,” she finally stated, “but as for getting the band back together….count me in!” “Excellent,” Anton replied. “The schematics will be delivered to M-G Cybernetics first thing in the morning tomorrow.” “You drew up blueprints already?” Vicki drawled. “Better to prepare for the best than expect the worst,” Anton remarked, grinning. The brunette gynoid sighed; “Guess I might as well tell her, then…”
“Tell me what?” Sophia asked.
Vicki stared into the pigtailed gynoid’s eyes. “Remember back at the C.O.T.A., when you said you weren’t surprised that I felt such a strong connection to you?” she asked. “It’s sort of hazy,” Sophia admitted, “since my batteries were going…but yeah, I remember.”
Anton sat back, observing the conversation with a knowing grin.
“Well,” Vicki replied, “there’s another reason you and I have been getting along so well…” She pulled up her shirt, took a deep breath…. “Control panel….open.”
Sophia watched, astonished, as the panel in Vicki’s back whirred open. “The reason most of my childhood memories are so dull is that I spent most of that ‘childhood’ as a walking appliance,” V.I.C.I. admitted. “After my dad---Ted---gave me full sentience, though….I was able to appreciate a lot of stuff most kids took for granted. Like enjoying a Saturday morning cartoon starring a certain pigtailed popstar, and collecting the toyline based on that cartoon…” She grinned. “To put it bluntly…you and I are more alike than you could have ever guessed.” “Vicki,” Sophia murmured, “you are, without a doubt, the coolest girl I know!” “Coming from you,” V.I.C.I. replied as her back panel closed, “I’ll take that as the ultimate compliment.” The two hugged again, both of them feeling an even deeper connection to each other now that they knew each others’ secrets.
“Seeing as how you’re both in town for the rest of the week,” Vicki asked, “would either of you mind joining me for Thanksgiving dinner at Ted’s house? It’s not going to be fancy or anything….I’m doing the cooking, since Ted’s last attempt….didn’t exactly end well…” Sophia and Anton exchanged grins. “I’d be honored to join you,” Anton replied. “Me too!” Sophia piped up.
“In that case,” Vicki stated with a smile, “I’ll have to remind Ted to break out the extra chairs…”
------------------------------------
V.I.C.I./Vicki Lawson's Diary
There’s no way to sugarcoat it, so I’m just going to say it: the past few days have been totally awesome.
For starters, the Retro Toy Fair was a blast---my room at Ted’s house finally has some stuff on the shelves that actually looks like it belongs there! The Lollypop Doll is as cool as I remember, and all the other toys I got are pretty epic in their own way…
…but there was one rather interesting doll that definitely outshone the rest.
Actually, I take that back; calling Sophia Starlet a doll is a gross understatement. Yes, she’s essentially a walking, talking, life-sized version of the original Sophia Starlet doll, but that’s just part of what makes her so cool. Her backstory is sort of tragic---she was built to honor the dying wishes of a high-school graduate who was a big fan of the original cartoon series (long story---I’ll probably explain it later)---but she’s definitely one of the coolest gynoids I’ve ever met.
Considering who else I met this weekend, that’s definitely a plus.
I’ve mentioned Victor Vega in this journal before (especially after all the crap I had to deal with in that mission from two weeks ago), but I now know how much of a lowlife he really is. One of his stupid helicopters crashed into the stage at Sophia’s concert earlier today, and some android cop was strapped in behind the controls when it slammed into the pavement. Worse, Victor sent a gangsta-rap gynoid named Brittney Delacroix to take down Sophia twice---and I stopped her both times, at the cost of Alicia losing one of her bodies (another long story) and some minor property damage at Santana Row. Ted’s footing the bill for this one, seeing how it wasn’t actually me that broke anything, but still….
The final interesting person I met was Anton Malvineous, the head of M-G Cybernetics---which is extra cool because he’s a dead-ringer for Lawrence Gowan! Anyways, Anton scheduled an interview for me regarding an internship at M-G Cybernetics next week, and I’m not missing it for anything; Anton himself told me that a job like this would definitely benefit my ALPA career, and I’m not going to pass up an opportunity like that!
Both Anton and Sophia will be joining Ted and I for Thanksgiving this Thursday; hopefully, they won’t have to see any reenactments of last year’s “epic” kitchen fire (Ted’s still banned from using the oven, by the way).
Until next time,
V.I.C.I./Vicki Lawson ----------------------------------
Thanksgiving may be just around the corner for Vicki Lawson…but come December, she might just find herself in over her head!
Silicon Dynamics Manufacturing and Supply LLC, a robotics company specializing in pleasure droids, has entered talks with Dreamland---the exclusive dating service that pairs clients up with gynoids and/or androids---to test out some of their newest products. As Christmas draws near, the calls stop coming, and Claudia---finally ready to resume running Dreamland---is getting worried. Even worse, two busloads of investigators have been sent to the Silicon Dynamics facility…and none of them have returned.
With the support of Claudia and Mr. Tell---and a few new toys from General Hardcastle---V.I.C.I.’s going to have to pull off her best Solid Snake impression to accomplish her mission---get into the facility, rescue the investigators, and find out just what the hell is going on at Silicon Dynamics. Will she find out what’s been going on, or will this fission get mailed---wait, that’s not right….
ANYWAY, stay tuned for the EPIC next chapter of The V.I.C.I. Diaries, “MGV: Metal Gear Vicki”, coming this July to Fembot Central!
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Well, seeing as how I was finally able to lift myself out of a week-long funk and post this, comments would be GREATLY appreciated.
From his vantage point at the far end of the conference table, the Baron glared at Victor Vega, Vivica Frost and the monitor used by the Maestro to communicate with the others. “Maestro,” the Baron barked, “despite your error, I will not be penalizing you….though I expect double the pre-arranged quota to make up for this…” “I’ll give ya triple, if you want,” the Maestro shot back, clearly unphased.
“Good,” the Baron replied. “As for the two of you….” His stare fell upon Victor and Vivica
“Brittney Delacroix was suffering from multiple malfunctions,” Victor declared, careful not to let his injured left arm fall out of its sling. “She disobeyed my direct orders, reactivated herself without permission AND tried to kill me back at the casa.” He pointed at the massive gauze pad stuck to his left shoulder; “I could have died because of that pathetic doll,” he snarled. “You told me she was going to be the answer to our problems! YOU LIED TO ME, BARON!” Vivica Frost stared at the ceiling, wishing she could be somewhere else---preferably far away from the meeting room.
The Baron sighed. “I probably should have admitted that I intentionally infected Brittney’s main processor with a strain of the Stylo virus,” he admitted, “though the results were---“
“HER HEAD EXPLODED!” Victor screamed. “HER DAMNED HEAD EXPLODED, AND IT’S YOUR FAULT!”
Elena Vlatko stared at Victor as if he’d lost his mind. “Victor,” she murmured, “you do realize that this whole Brittney Delacroix experiment was your responsibility---“ “SHUT UP!” Victor shouted, backhanding her with his good hand. “I don’t need ANY OF YOU to remind me of how much I am going to lose because of this fiasco….”
“No, but you do need a kick in the ass.”
Victor stared, shocked beyond all reason, as Brittney Delacroix sauntered into the room. “I had the boys at the factory build me a new body after my old one crapped out,” she explained, before anyone could even ask what she was doing in the room. “And as for that Stylo crap….” She smirked. “I don’t need it anymore. What I do need is a place to do my own business, a crew that won’t run out on me as soon as I start glitchin’ up, and a recording studio---you did want me to be hip-hop royalty, right?” she asked, glancing causally at Victor before turning her gaze upon the Baron.
Despite the fact that only his hands---currently steepling their fingers---were visible, the tone of his voice (and his choice of words) made his opinion on this latest development very clear: “How soon will you need these things?” “ASAMFP, baby,” Brittney replied, not missing a beat.
“Now THAT is what I call initiative,” the Maestro declared, cackling. “Oh, and, sorry about the whole ‘rushed upgrade session in a prison basement’ thing,” he added. “I was on a bit of a time crunch…” “Water under the bridge, Holmes,” Brittney replied with another smirk. “The only one who I still want to kick the crap out of is that Lawson bitch…..” Her lips briefly parted in a growl, revealing her perfect teeth. “As soon as I can get a crew together, her and Starlet are gonna get got….and I ain’t playin’.” The Baron’s steepled fingers tilted forward just a bit; “And you shall be rewarded for your commitment to my cause,” he promised the gynoid.
“Damn straight I will!” Brittney shouted, nodding and smiling. “I hear someone else in this room has a fembot factory….any chance I can get a few bodyguards from y’all?” “As a matter of fact,” Elena Vlatko replied, “I believe there’s a reserve of fembots waiting for a new owner; any particular preferences?” The Baron chuckled as Elena and Brittney discussed the soon-to-be shipped fembots. “I suggest you take notes, Victor,” he chided, “because you might actually learn something from these two…”
Victor felt like screaming profanities at the top of his lungs. My future….snatched away in an instant….
“YO, VIC!” Brittney called. “I’m gonna need to crash at your place for a few days…got a spare bed I can use?”
------------------------------------
Once the helicopter wreckage was cleared out (with the explanation that the pilot had somehow bailed and parachuted to safety), Sophia’s concert at Santana Row continued with no further interruptions. Vicki, Anton and Tell stayed to watch the show, even joining Sophia onstage for to play instruments for an impressive rendition of Howard Jones’ “New Song”. The concert finally ended around lunchtime, with Sophia saving the best for last---her rendition of “Moonlight Desires”.
Vicki waited patiently for Sophia to finish signing autographs and taking photos---apparently, the gynoid wasn’t the only student of SJSU who also happened to be a fan of the original Sophia Starlet and the Starlet Dolls cartoon series. “Well, well, well,” she beamed, clapping Valerie Summers and Kim DeFalco on the shoulders. “Look who we have here!” Valerie instantly blushed, and insisted that she’d only come to Santana Row to get a few flash drives at Best Buy, but Kim fessed up rather quickly. “We decided to check out what this whole ‘Starlet Dolls’ thing was about,” she admitted, “and we found some episodes on YouTube---they were actually pretty cool, and stuff…but this was just EPIC!”
“Glad to see that I’m getting popular with the SJSU crowd, then.”
Sophia Starlet grinned as Vicki introduced her to Kim and Valerie, explaining how the two met after the concert at the Retro Toy Fair. “It was a pretty cool moment,” Sophia recalled, “especially since Vicki’s been a fan for almost two decades now.” The conversation turned to the girls’ opinion of the Santana Row gig; needless to say, they loved it.
Half an hour later, once the last autograph was signed and the last picture was taken, Sophia and Vicki sat on the edge of the stage, watching as a banner advertising Sophia’s upcoming album was hoisted high over the mall entrance. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Vicki,” Sohpia sighed, “I couldn’t have done this without you. Well, I probably could have, but it wouldn’t have been nearly as fun.” She grinned. “The label’s ramping up support for my next album, I’ve got gigs booked all over the country---and they’re even talking about letting me do a tour of the UK!”
“Not bad for a walking, talking Barbie knockoff,” Vicki teased, prompting a giggle fit from Sophia.
“You did a pretty good job yourself,” Anton Malvineous called out, smiling as he approached the stage. “As of three minutes ago, the FBI has frozen Victor Vega’s ‘mining projects’ pending an investigation of his finances, and ReVerse Robotics has done exactly what they always do in these situations---denying all connections with the ‘mysterious goings-on’ over at the Winchester Parking Garage. Hell of a way to spend a Tuesday, really…”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Vicki agreed. “What about that other security officer who went missing?”
Anton’s grin faded slightly. “He, ah….they haven’t found him yet.”
“I’m sure he’ll turn up eventually,” Sophia assured him. “After all, if the guy’s a security officer, he’s not exactly going to just let himself get tortured or anything, will he?” “Good point,” Vicki replied. “Hopefully, he won’t end up like that android from the helicopter crash…”
Not wanting to ruin the good mood, the girls decided to change the topic of conversation. “So,” Vicki asked the Professor, “how’s that internship interview thing going?” “I was actually hoping to talk to you about that,” he admitted. “While the events of the past few days weren’t exactly typical of what you’d be dealing with in an internship position at M-G Cybernetics, you did handle yourself remarkably well in a crisis….and cool thinking under pressure is definitely a valuable skill.”
“Thanks,” Vicki replied, blushing slightly.
“So, does she get the job?” Sophia squealed. “She hasn’t even been interviewed yet,” Anton reminded the gynoid pop-star, “but I have a feeling she won’t be disappointed…”
“Speaking of not being disappointed,” Vicki interjected, “Dennis looks like he just won the lottery!”
Indeed, Sophia’s manager had a mile-wide grin on his face as he sprinted across the lot to deliver the good news in person. “We just got picked up to open for DAVID BOWIE!” he declared. Sophia gasped; “The David Bowie?!”
“There’s only one David Bowie, really,” Vicki mused.
“THIS IS SO AWESOME!” Sophia cried, hugging Dennis, Anton and Vicki in succession. “This is….wow, I get to open a show for DAVID BOWIE!” Tears of joy streaked down her face. “This…this is awesome….”
“It gets better,” Dennis stated. “Believe me, it gets so much better. Guess who else is on the list of acts that want you to open for them?” Sophia was too stunned by the previous announcement to think of anyone, so Dennis counted off the names on his fingers: “R.E.O. Speedwagon, Journey, Anvil----ANVIL wants you to open for one of their shows! Can you believe this?!” He beamed as he continued reading the list, which included such illustrious talent as Def Leppard, Europe, Meat Loaf, Daft Punk, DragonForce and---last but DEFINITELY not least---Styx.
“They….they all want me to open for them?” Sophia murmured.
“That’s just the first page,” Dennis replied, grinning. “Babe, almost everyone wants you to open for them---and some of them are even talking about collaborations!”
Sophia said nothing for a few seconds, then wrapped Dennis in another hug.
“That…is definitely the coolest news I’ve heard all week,” Vicki declared, smiling and nodding. “Sophia, your star is now officially on the rise!” “Indeed,” Anton agreed. “Getting offers from so many well-known bands and artists is a sign that your career is taking off---and not just ‘beginning to take off’, mind you.” He clapped Sophia on the shoulder; “I have a feeling your biggest fan would be proud of you right now.”
The pigtailed gynoid gently pulled away from Dennis, retrieving the picture of the girl whose wish had led to her creation from her pocket. “I know she is,” she whispered, her joyful tears still falling.
After getting a room at Hotel Valencia, Sophia and Dennis invited Vicki, Anton, Tell and anyone else they cared to bring with them for lunch at Citrus, the in-house restaurant. “After all you guys have done for us, it’s the least we could do to repay you,” he explained, when Tell questioned him as to why Sophia had agreed to pay for everyone’s food. “Can’t argue with that,” the ALPA mechanic replied.
A few phone calls later…
“Sophia,” Ted Lawson declared, “you are without a doubt one of the most impressive new acts I’ve seen in a good long while. Seriously. And I’m not just saying that because I, ah, discovered you…”
“We get the point, Dad,” Vicki chided, grinning.
“…anyways,” Ted continued, “I propose a toast---to the continued prosperity of Sophia Starlet’s career, now and always!”
“I’ll drink to that,” Dennis declared, raising his glass.
“Hear, hear!” Tell agreed.
Anton said nothing, though he did raise his glass with a smile.
The others joined in, raising their glasses and making various statements predicting Sophia’s success, even persuading Sophia herself to join in. “Now that we’re finish toasting and all that,” Vicki stated after everyone’s glasses were lowered, “let’s eat!”
The menus arrived, and everything was going normally until:
“Is there a Vicki Lawson here?” the waiter asked. Vicki stood up; “Who’s asking?” she querried. “This note was just delivered for you, miss…apparently, someone would like to meet you in the lobby.”
Vicki rolled her eyes; “I’ll be back in a minute…”
The brunette gynoid headed out to the Hotel Valencia lobby, where a curvy blonde in a white trenchcoat was waiting for her. “You’re the one who left me the note?” Vicki stated, her eyes wide in surprise. The blonde nodded; “I don’t have a lot of time to explain, but please, just hear me out….” She glanced around quickly to make sure they weren’t being overheard. “This may be a little hard to believe, but….I’m Victor Vega’s wife, Lauren. And before you start yelling at me,” she added, hoping to keep Vicki from knocking her out then and there, “I never agreed with his whole plan to take down Sophia Starlet….to be honest, I’m actually a fan of her work.”
“That doesn’t explain why we’re having this conversation,” Vicki mused, frowning.
Lauren glanced over her shoulder; “We’re having this conversation,” she stated quietly, “because I wanted to warn you about a few things. First of all, Brittney Delacroix isn’t dead---“ “Destroyed, you mean,” Vicki cut in. “Whatever,” Lauren hissed. “ReVerse built her a new body, and she’s already vowed to get revenge against you and Sophia.”
“Considering the fact that I thought she was gone for good,” Vicki admitted, “that’s actually pretty helpful, so thanks…I guess.”
“That’s not even the worst of it,” Lauren whispered. “Victor himself has heard about you---just a few rumors here and there, but enough to pique his interests. I have a feeling that he’s going to hire someone else to try and….I don’t know, either spy on you or….something worse…” Her eyes took on a pleading look; “You have to understand---I’m not saying all this to intimidate you. I barely even knew who you were before two days ago; the only reason I Googled you was to warn you. See, Victor can get a little…edgy when things don’t go his way, and since he thinks you’re trying to interfere in his work---“
“He wants me out of the picture,” Vicki finished, sighing. “First he goes after Leah, then he tries to take down Sophia, and now this….”
“You know Leah Chambers?” Lauren asked, impressed.
“Not only do I know her,” Vicki replied, “I helped save her from those hazmat weirdos Victor hired to screw up her work with NASA.” She paused, remembering another detail from that fateful day; “This might sound like a stupid question,” she mused, “but does Victor Vega have any connections with an individual known only as the Baron?”
Lauren’s hand flew to her mouth. “You know about the Baron?!” she squeaked.
“The guy threw me out of a helicopter when I tried to strangle him,” Vicki replied. “How could I not know?”
After yet another quick glance over her shoulder, Lauren’s panicked gaze focused on the brunette gynoid. “I have no idea how you managed to survive getting thrown out of a helicopter,” she murmured, “but take my advice on this: Please try to stay out of Victor’s way. I don’t want you or your friends to get hurt…it’s bad enough he treats me like crap, and I’d hate myself if he decided to send a death squad after you or something just because he thinks you’re getting in his way.”
“You don’t have to worry about me,” Vicki replied. “Trust me…I can take care of myself.” She winked.
Her monotone startled Lauren a bit, but the blonde nodded, shook hands and left.
“Guess that takes care of that…”
Twenty minutes later, Vicki, Sophia and their friends left Santana Row---Vicki’s friends headed back to SJSU for their usual afternoon-to-evening routines, while Vicki, Sophia and Anton boarded Sophia’s tour bus.
“I’ve been thinking,” Anton told Sophia. “What about?” the pigtailed gynoid replied, her curiosity piqued. “The, ah, original Sophia Starlet---the cartoon character---had the other four Starlet Dolls with her---both onstage and off---if I remember correctly…” “She did,” Sophia recalled, “but….” She stopped, realizing that Anton had just made her an offer. “Are you saying….you want to create the rest of the Starlet Dolls?” she asked.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Vicki cut in. “I get the thing of Sophia being a robot, because that’s how the original series finale ended, but---“
“The planned theatrical film would’ve seen the other four Starlet Dolls volunteering to become robots as well,” Anton finished, smiling. “Therefore, my proposal still stands---I do, indeed, want to bring back the Starlet Dolls…as the world’s first all-gynoid pop group.” Vicki’s eyes went wide; “You’re saying you want to just tell everyone that they’re robots?! That’s---“
“A pretty cool idea!” Sophia was beaming.
“You wouldn’t have to reveal your own secret, of course,” Anton told her. “I could call in a few favors from my ALPA friends, set up a PR campaign…..think it could work?” Sophia thought it over. “I’m not really keen on having people know that my bandmates are robots if I’m hiding it from them,” she finally stated, “but as for getting the band back together….count me in!” “Excellent,” Anton replied. “The schematics will be delivered to M-G Cybernetics first thing in the morning tomorrow.” “You drew up blueprints already?” Vicki drawled. “Better to prepare for the best than expect the worst,” Anton remarked, grinning. The brunette gynoid sighed; “Guess I might as well tell her, then…”
“Tell me what?” Sophia asked.
Vicki stared into the pigtailed gynoid’s eyes. “Remember back at the C.O.T.A., when you said you weren’t surprised that I felt such a strong connection to you?” she asked. “It’s sort of hazy,” Sophia admitted, “since my batteries were going…but yeah, I remember.”
Anton sat back, observing the conversation with a knowing grin.
“Well,” Vicki replied, “there’s another reason you and I have been getting along so well…” She pulled up her shirt, took a deep breath…. “Control panel….open.”
Sophia watched, astonished, as the panel in Vicki’s back whirred open. “The reason most of my childhood memories are so dull is that I spent most of that ‘childhood’ as a walking appliance,” V.I.C.I. admitted. “After my dad---Ted---gave me full sentience, though….I was able to appreciate a lot of stuff most kids took for granted. Like enjoying a Saturday morning cartoon starring a certain pigtailed popstar, and collecting the toyline based on that cartoon…” She grinned. “To put it bluntly…you and I are more alike than you could have ever guessed.” “Vicki,” Sophia murmured, “you are, without a doubt, the coolest girl I know!” “Coming from you,” V.I.C.I. replied as her back panel closed, “I’ll take that as the ultimate compliment.” The two hugged again, both of them feeling an even deeper connection to each other now that they knew each others’ secrets.
“Seeing as how you’re both in town for the rest of the week,” Vicki asked, “would either of you mind joining me for Thanksgiving dinner at Ted’s house? It’s not going to be fancy or anything….I’m doing the cooking, since Ted’s last attempt….didn’t exactly end well…” Sophia and Anton exchanged grins. “I’d be honored to join you,” Anton replied. “Me too!” Sophia piped up.
“In that case,” Vicki stated with a smile, “I’ll have to remind Ted to break out the extra chairs…”
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V.I.C.I./Vicki Lawson's Diary
There’s no way to sugarcoat it, so I’m just going to say it: the past few days have been totally awesome.
For starters, the Retro Toy Fair was a blast---my room at Ted’s house finally has some stuff on the shelves that actually looks like it belongs there! The Lollypop Doll is as cool as I remember, and all the other toys I got are pretty epic in their own way…
…but there was one rather interesting doll that definitely outshone the rest.
Actually, I take that back; calling Sophia Starlet a doll is a gross understatement. Yes, she’s essentially a walking, talking, life-sized version of the original Sophia Starlet doll, but that’s just part of what makes her so cool. Her backstory is sort of tragic---she was built to honor the dying wishes of a high-school graduate who was a big fan of the original cartoon series (long story---I’ll probably explain it later)---but she’s definitely one of the coolest gynoids I’ve ever met.
Considering who else I met this weekend, that’s definitely a plus.
I’ve mentioned Victor Vega in this journal before (especially after all the crap I had to deal with in that mission from two weeks ago), but I now know how much of a lowlife he really is. One of his stupid helicopters crashed into the stage at Sophia’s concert earlier today, and some android cop was strapped in behind the controls when it slammed into the pavement. Worse, Victor sent a gangsta-rap gynoid named Brittney Delacroix to take down Sophia twice---and I stopped her both times, at the cost of Alicia losing one of her bodies (another long story) and some minor property damage at Santana Row. Ted’s footing the bill for this one, seeing how it wasn’t actually me that broke anything, but still….
The final interesting person I met was Anton Malvineous, the head of M-G Cybernetics---which is extra cool because he’s a dead-ringer for Lawrence Gowan! Anyways, Anton scheduled an interview for me regarding an internship at M-G Cybernetics next week, and I’m not missing it for anything; Anton himself told me that a job like this would definitely benefit my ALPA career, and I’m not going to pass up an opportunity like that!
Both Anton and Sophia will be joining Ted and I for Thanksgiving this Thursday; hopefully, they won’t have to see any reenactments of last year’s “epic” kitchen fire (Ted’s still banned from using the oven, by the way).
Until next time,
V.I.C.I./Vicki Lawson ----------------------------------
Thanksgiving may be just around the corner for Vicki Lawson…but come December, she might just find herself in over her head!
Silicon Dynamics Manufacturing and Supply LLC, a robotics company specializing in pleasure droids, has entered talks with Dreamland---the exclusive dating service that pairs clients up with gynoids and/or androids---to test out some of their newest products. As Christmas draws near, the calls stop coming, and Claudia---finally ready to resume running Dreamland---is getting worried. Even worse, two busloads of investigators have been sent to the Silicon Dynamics facility…and none of them have returned.
With the support of Claudia and Mr. Tell---and a few new toys from General Hardcastle---V.I.C.I.’s going to have to pull off her best Solid Snake impression to accomplish her mission---get into the facility, rescue the investigators, and find out just what the hell is going on at Silicon Dynamics. Will she find out what’s been going on, or will this fission get mailed---wait, that’s not right….
ANYWAY, stay tuned for the EPIC next chapter of The V.I.C.I. Diaries, “MGV: Metal Gear Vicki”, coming this July to Fembot Central!
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Well, seeing as how I was finally able to lift myself out of a week-long funk and post this, comments would be GREATLY appreciated.
"No one steals our chicks.....and lives!"
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DukeNukem 2417 - Posts: 745
- Joined: Mon Aug 29, 2005 9:26 am
- Location: somwhere on Planet Earth
Re: The V.I.C.I. Diaries: ShowStopper
by Propman » Mon Jun 25, 2012 10:53 am
Love it! Nothing like your villain graduating to supervillain!
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Propman - Posts: 111
- Joined: Tue Jun 15, 2004 12:42 am
Re: The V.I.C.I. Diaries: ShowStopper
by Baron » Mon Jun 25, 2012 10:19 pm
A fembot pop group? A well-known rock figure, re-tooled as a major character? Action at a concert?
Duke, I'm flattered.
{Check my I-12 Kronicles 3: Rochelle installment in the archive here. The re-tooled rock figure in mine was my main man John "Mitch" Mitchell, drummer for the Jimi Hendrix Experience, and my #1 Mentor for my own drumming career the last 26 years.}
Another fine installment - the Sophia Starlet "backstory" is wonderful; I was halfway ready to do a YouTube search to see if there was indeed such a cartoon made, before I caught your Author's Note. Praise and testimony enough, eh?
Duke, I'm flattered.
{Check my I-12 Kronicles 3: Rochelle installment in the archive here. The re-tooled rock figure in mine was my main man John "Mitch" Mitchell, drummer for the Jimi Hendrix Experience, and my #1 Mentor for my own drumming career the last 26 years.}
Another fine installment - the Sophia Starlet "backstory" is wonderful; I was halfway ready to do a YouTube search to see if there was indeed such a cartoon made, before I caught your Author's Note. Praise and testimony enough, eh?
This is where it all.......ends......-
Baron - Posts: 519
- Joined: Fri May 31, 2002 7:01 pm
- Location: Latos Manor
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