The afternoon had given way to the evening by the time Vicki was ready to begin the raid on the underground lair of the fembots, meaning that traffic going into and out of the Air Force station was surprisingly light. At this rate, she mused, I'll be in, out and done before 9 PM!
As expected, the warehouse was empty when Vicki arrived. That doesn't mean they aren't expecting visitors, she reminded herself; during the Palo Alto assignment, Mr. Tell had told her several "war stories" about ALPA operatives who ran headfirst into apparently empty buildings only to be carried out on stretchers after the action was over with. Still, seeing as how the warehouse was just a front, it actually made more sense to keep the place vaccant; if the occupants needed to escape quickly, more stuff would've just gotten in the way.
Vicki made her way to the service elevator and tapped her eyebrows, activating the iris-cams Major Tom had given her. "I'm in the warehouse," she whispered. "Are you guys seeing this?"
"Yeesh, Bradford couldn't afford a few lightbulbs?" Mr. Tell's remark almost drew a giggle from the brunette gynoid, but she knew better. If the laboratory below was as well equipped as Tell said it was, Bradford had likely installed sensors to pick up ambient noise from above, below and on all sides of the facility. "The lack of lighting isn't what worries me…it's quiet in here." Too quiet, she mentally added, not caring about the cliché. "I'm preparing to take the service elevator down to the lab….." She almost said "Wish me luck", but decided against it; this was an ALPA mission, not an excuse to spout tired old lines. Why am I even thinking this? she wondered. Ted would probably say it's just my own personal method to cope with the stress of what's about to go down….
The elevator descended, and Vicki found herself in what could only be described as a robot lab/fembot control center.
"Tell, Major….you're seeing everything I'm seeing, right?" Vicki's gaze swept over the control consoles, the fifteen capsules at the far end of the room, and what appeared to be a gym. "They've even got a spare-parts cabinet," she muttered, astounded. "I wish my dorm room looked more like this…." "Don't get too wrapped up in details, V," Tell's voice reminded her. "You're here to disable the fembots and, if necessary, deactivate any security systems I might have missed…which is completely impossible, because---"
The comlink at Tell's workshop changed hands, and Major Tom's voice sounded inside Vicki's head. "There's also the possibility that whoever built these fembots could be keeping human prisoners; I had a few of my sources run some background checks, and it turns out that thirteen students set for a transfer to SJSU were kidnapped over the last few weeks." "And the fembots were built to replace them?" Vicki asked. "Probably. We know from experience that Dr. Franklin did the same thing---kidnapped people and replaced them with his fembots so that he could get closer to achieving his overall goal."
"So…disable the fembots, turn off the alarms and free the prisoners?" Vicki wondered out loud. "We don’t know if the girls are in the facility," Major Tom admitted, "but if they are, then free them after you've deactivated the fembots and turned off the security systems." Vicki nodded (even though Major Tom couldn't see it). "Got it. I'll start with the fembots."
Moving as silently as possible, Vicki made her way over to the capsules, noticing that five of them were empty. That's weird, she thought, I only disabled four at the apartment…with some help from Lynda, of course. Still, she filed that observation away for later review and moved to a capsule that still had a fembot inside it. I hope these fembots are just on standby mode….
Vicki steeled her nerves and examined the column next to the capsule; it was half the size of the capsule and ended in an inlaid control pad. Guess this is the "On" switch, then. Vicki gave the panel a once-over, allowing her android senses to expand in case the security system was still active; once all checks came back green (meaning the security system was deactivated), Vicki once again took a deep breath (more out of habit than any other reason) and another quick look around the room…
…and then she pressed the button.
The capsule's frosted glass window slid open with a quiet hiss, and light, smoky mist flooded out onto the floor. Dry ice, probably…and not just for effect; these capsules are generating way too much heat for conventional cooling systems. Of course, the dry ice wasn't the most important thing in the capsule; that honor belonged to the fembot inside of it.
Standing about 5'7" and clad in a blue spandex jumpsuit, the redheaded fembot looked more like a Cirque de Soleil performer than an unstoppable robotic footsoldier. A nametag bearing the name "Cindy" was pinned to her suit, and her face was completely expressionless. Maybe I could use her to deactivate the others, Vicki realized. I just hope Bradford's security doesn't extend to the control consoles… Moving as silently as she could, Vicki made her way to the control consoles and found a panel with the nameplate "Cindy" mounted over the controls. This sort of reminds me of that Steel Battallion controller Jamie got for Christmas a few years ago, she mused, except even more complicated! Despite the complexity of the controls, she set about activating the console---which, in turn, began Cindy's start-up sequence.
Fortunately for Vicki, the blue-suited fembot made less noise than a typical laptop as she booted up. Good; the last thing I need is for her to set off the alarms just from taking three steps. Vicki experimentally pressed a few buttons and wiggled the joysticks, finding the controls surprisingly familiar (Bradford had based the setup on his favorite PC games, claiming that vague controls were one of the many reasons Franklin's fembots had failed). Within two minutes, Vicki had found out how to control the fembot's walking (and running), how to get her to push buttons, and she even managed to make the fembot do a backflip without landing on her head. Right, enough fun and games…time to deactivate the others. With the patience and precision that only a gynoid could possess, Vicki guided Cindy to each of the capsules and opened them, revealing Oksanna, Maya, Liya, Simone, Sarita and Lizette, along with two fembots that didn't have names. She recognized Oksanna, Maya, Liya, Simone and Sarita from the surveilance recordings MaryBeth had picked up (Tell's tracker had also tapped into MaryBeth's audio/visual sensors, allowing Tell to see and hear everything the fembot did), but the two nameless fembots were unfamiliar.
Right, now it's time to deactivate them. Guess I'll start with the two I don’t recognize… Vicki guided Cindy over to the first of the unnamed fembots, a 5'3" Asian with a pixie-cut. Unlike the others, the unnamed fembots only wore silver bikinis and miniskirts; who were these made to replace? Vicki wondered. Shaking off the thought, she manipulated the controls and had Cindy turn the fembot around. Since MaryBeth had a switch behind her left ear that turned her off, the brunette gynoid surmised, I'm betting that the rest of the fembots have them, too. Sure enough, the nameless Asian fembot had a tiny bump behind her left ear, almost like a mosquito bite. Very subtle, Boris….but not subtle enough.
Without further ado, Vicki bade Cindy to press the switch.
The nameless fembot's eyes seemed to go dark, and her head tilted downwards ever-so-slightly. One down, nine more to go. As Vicki continued working the controls, Cindy returned the nameless fembot to her capsule and closed it, moving on down the line to the next fembot without a name. This one was an interesting case; unlike the rest, it was covered from head to foot in what looked like a body bag, meaning that Vicki couldn't even tell what it looked like. She thought of making Cindy unzip the bag, until she noticed that the shroudlike covering didn't even have a zipper! Okay, that's weird. Major Tom did say that only thirteen students were kidnapped; maybe this particular fembot was a special order, not designed to replace anyone…. After a few seconds' thought, she decided to have Cindy put the fembot back in its capsule. With that out of the way, the ginger fembot then moved down the line to Lizette, a 19-year-old fembot with sky blue hair (the human Lizette probably had a dye job, Vicki surmised). Just as she'd done with the unnamed Asian fembot, Vicki used the controller to get Cindy to turn Lizette around, turn her off and return her to the capsule.
For the next three minutes, the other six fembots underwent the same treatment. Finally, it was time to put Cindy back in her own capsule; Vicki guided the fembot to where she was supposed to go and had her turn around, facing the interior of the capsule. I'll turn her off myself; it would look weird if someone came in and found her with one hand behind her left ear….
She left the control panel and made her way over to Cindy…
…and that's when the service elevator came rumbling back down.
What?!
Instantly, her systems kicked into overdrive. Where do I go?! What do I do?! Tell never mentioned this sort of thing in the briefing! She knew that Hardcastle's support team had been told to guard the peremiter of the lab, and the EDF squad's ETA was still a half-hour away. Think,Vicki, THINK! With nowhere else to go, she turned Cindy around, closed the capsule and ran for the room she'd called the spare parts cabinet. With the door secured, she flattened herself against the wall and listened.
In the lab, Drake Bradford was yelling at someone named Riggs. "IF THAT USELESS RUSSIAN TWAT THINKS HE CAN DO THIS TO ME," he bellowed, "THEN HE IS DEFINITELY MISTAKEN! I WANT HIS HEAD ON A FREAKING PLATE!" Riggs said nothing, but another voice (Female…human, from the sound of it, Vicki noted) cut in. "So Boris stole a fembot from another company. Didn't you tell me that the robotics industry is a cutthroat business---" "NOBODY RIPS ME OFF, EILEEN! NOBODY!" Vicki suddenly realized that the fembot in the body bag had somehow seemed…different from the rest; even without seeing the 'bot's appearance, she could tell that it wasn't like the rest of Bradford's fembots.
"Interpol's going to be following me everywhere now, thanks to that moron," Bradford snarled. "I can't believe he did this to me!" "To be fair, you only---" ”I PAID FOR SIXTEEN, AND HE SHIPPED ME FIFTEEN! AND NOW I FIND OUT THAT ONE OF THEM ISN'T EVEN MINE!” Bradford took a deep breath; “Call LeGuerda's crew; tell 'em that I've put a bounty on Boris Vlatko's head---"
"LaGuerda's dead," another voice---The UnMaker, Vicki nearly gasped---called out, "and his crew was apparently killed as of two hours ago." "WHAT?!" A folder was thrown down onto one of the control panels. "Not my doing; I was scouting in Monte Sereno when I heard the news. LaGuerda got it the worst---serrated knife straight to the heart." Vicki trembled; memories of Faceless and his wristblades came rushing back, unbidden, to the forefront of her mind, and it took all of her resolve to keep from screaming as she returned her attention to the conversation outside. "…want my advice, let me go and hire someone else. I know about five or six other guys who can find Boris and make him suffer in ways that would make Clive Barker nervous."
Silence; apparently Bradford was thinking it over. "How many of them can be here by tomorrow morning?" "Two," the UnMaker repiled. "And they're both very good at their chosen professions." "Do they take cash?" "One does; the other prefers checks, but she'll take cash if she has to." "And they both speak English as a native language, right? No offense to LaGuerda, but Mexican was never my strong suit." "They're both polyglots, but English is their native tongue." "Good. Riggs, make the call." Footsteps; apparently, Riggs was heading to a phone. “By the way”, the UnMaker drawled, “nice job with the hooker…” Vicki tuned out the conversation, knowing that she was now on borrowed time. I have to get out of here, before one of them---
Behind her, something moved.
Every part of her wanted to scream, to kick open the door and bolt out into the open, but she held her fear in check. Right, I'll just switch to night vision and see what moved.. She blinked three times to cycle through her vision modes (one of the upgrades she'd acquired from Denise, thanks to a bit of code written by Ted Lawson), finally settling on night vision. Now let's see what's making all the noise---
"WHO THE HELL HAS BEEN MESSING WITH THE FEMBOTS?!"
Drake Bradford's shout drowned out any desire to see what had moved. "I specifically said I wanted them all left in STANDBY MODE, so WHY THE HELL HAVE THEY ALL BEEN TURNED OFF?!" Eileen, the woman who'd spoken earlier, made some lame excuse about a janitor. but Bradford didn't care. "SEARCH THE COMPOUND! FIND OUT WHO DID THIS, AND THEN THROW THEM INTO THE PAINT STRIPPER! I AM NOT LEAVING HERE UNTIL THIS IS SORTED OUT!"
Well, so much for my "sneak in, deactivate everything and sneak out" plan….
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"Drake, there's no way anything could've gotten in while we were out," Eileen reassured her employer. "The warehouse was locked---" "The warehouse has been broken into before," Bradford spat, "and besides that, I don't give a RAT'S NUTSACK about that freaking crap shack! The only thing I want to know, RIGHT NOW, is who the HELL broke into this lab and turned off all of my fembots!"
"Allow me to save you the trouble."
Vicki emerged from the spare-parts cabinet, staring defiantly at Bradford. "What's your big plan, Bradford?" she asked. "Take control of all the world's communications satelites? Shut off the Internet for a week unless you get a $50 billion ransom? Seriously, I thought the era of stupid plans and mass-produced fembots died with Dr. Franklin---" "Dr. Franklin's only mistake was his dumb ideas," Bradford snarled. The brunette gynoid smirked. "What, and yours aren't?" She glanced at Eileen; "I suggest you get out of here, because unless he chooses to listen to reason, things might get ugly."
"EILEEN, YOU STAY PUT." Bradford glared at Vicki, as if he'd just smelled a fart. "I'd have preferred it if your friend was here instead of you," he began. "My friend? Which one---" "You know DAMN WELL which one! Vicki Lawson!" Vicki arched an eyebrow, but decided to get right to the point anyway. "What are you going to do with the fembots?" Bradford chuckled. "You wanna know my plan? Fine. Those girls that were kidnapped weren't just transfer students…their fathers were about to get jobs with some of the biggest companies in Silicon Valley. Intel, SanDisk, Hewlett-Packard, Encom----the biggest of the big-name players." "And what were you going to do, ransom their daughters off?" "Not even close. I'd keep the girls, send the fembots back in their place. After all, what father could resist bringing their daughter to work and showing them how things get done? If that didn't work, I have a few DJs on retainer to play some 'special requests'…."
"So you trick the techies into bringing the fembots to work, and they wreck shop…" Vicki shook her head. "You're even worse than Dr. Franklin." Bradford actually laughed at this remark. "Me?! Worse than Franklin?!" He slapped his knee. "You didn't even get the second half of my plan right! The techies take the fembots to work, and the fembots proceed to steal their most precious secrets and prototypes right out from under their noses. They come back to me, give me the data, and I soar into the history books as a worldwide juggernaut in the electronics market. My 'esteemed competitors,' meanwhile, will be falling by the wayside once I---" He stopped; was that feedback he just heard? Microphone feedback?!
Vicki grinned. "One of the advantages of having an iPhone….I never have to worry about forgetting any conversations." Her grin turned a shade sinister; "I've just recorded everything you said and transmitted it to the authorities. And don't even think about bribing them---your financial assets have been frozen as a precautionary measure." She'd had to stretch the truth a bit for the last part; Tell was already working to freeze Bradford's bank account to keep him from dipping into the cash and paying off anyone. "You…you can't do this to me!" he screamed. "On the contrary," Vicki. replied, "I just did."
Bradford looked as if he were about to start tearing his hair out. "THIS DAY CAN'T GET ANY WORSE!" he bellowed, sinking to his knees.
"On the contrary, comrade….this day has already become worse."
Vicki, Eileen, the UnMaker and Drake Bradford all turned to see a hidden door open in the service elevator shaft, revealing Boris Vlatko---and a surprise guest. "Tori?!" Vicki cried, forgetting all thoughts of finishing the mission. "V," Tori squeaked, "what's going on? Who are these people?!"
"Let Tori go," Vicki. intoned. ”NOW." Boris sneered at her; he recognizes me, she surmised. "I don't think so, comrade,” Boris sneered. “You see, I am about to give Mr. Bradford the final item he paid for…" "LET ME GO!" Tori shrieked, abandoning all subtlety; Boris only gave her a sinister smile. "Your heart must be racing right now, correct?" he asked her. "Here…." He handed her a stethescope. "Listen to your heartbeat for a few seconds…." Tori seemed puzzled by the idea, but obeyed anyway, placing the scope to her chest….
"I…I can't hear anything….I can't hear my own heartbeat!"
Vicki stared at the ground guiltily. "You can't hear your own heartbeat because you don't have one." She looked up, staring into Tori's terrified eyes. "Tori," she whispered, every word tinged with guilt, "I didn't want to tell you this, but….you're the sixteenth fembot that Drake Bradford ordered from Boris."
"WHAT?!"
The UnMaker was surprised. "So I was closer than I thought….I was after Kim DeFalco when my real target was within walking distance….fascinating." Bradford, on the other hand, was even more pissed off than he'd been earlier. "SHE WAS HERE THE ENTIRE TIME, AND YOU NEVER TOLD ME?!" "I didn't want you to have an aneurysm and damage her," Boris replied sarcastically. "Of course, if you still want her---"
An explosion from one of the control consoles interrupted the Russian's remark.
"Sorry, gentlemen," Vicki intoned, "but Tori Hartwell is leaving with me." She grabbed Tori by the wrist, told her to "Hold on tight" and, as smoke filled the room, V.I.C.I. jumped----straight up the elevator shaft.
"STOP HER! SOMEBODY STOP HER!" Bradford looked as if he were about to have a coronary (he thought Vicki had simply run past Boris through the hidden corridor), but the UnMaker just grinned. "Tell Riggs to go turn the fembots back on," he advised. " I think it's high time that we put them through the ultimate field test…."
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The V.I.C.I Diaries: Unmade, Unbroken
19 posts
• Page 2 of 2 • 1, 2
Re: The V.I.C.I Diaries: Unmade, Unbroken
by DukeNukem 2417 » Mon May 07, 2012 7:57 am
"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: Unmade, Unbroken
by DukeNukem 2417 » Mon May 07, 2012 1:08 pm
As soon as she reached the top of the shaft, Vicki altered her trajectory so that she would land on the floor in front of the shaft (conveniently, the door had been left open), allowing her to gently put Tori down. "Sorry about the dramatic exit," she began, "but…" She stopped when she noticed Tori's tears. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier," she murmered. "You were programmed to ignore all signs that you were a fembot---"
"Why?"
The one word question stopped Vicki in her tracks. "Why, what?" "Why was I created? Why wasn't I supposed to know that I'm a fembot? Who would want someone---something like me? It…it just can't be possible! I can't be a fembot! There's so much I remember.. falling off the swingset in first grade, the birthday parties at the community pool…." Tori put her head in her hands. "It's just not possible…."
Vicki knealt beside the conflicted gynoid. "I knew you were a fembot when you first found out that Kim was a gynoid. Your reaction was, well, perfect for the situation…too perfect. Just the right mix of apprehension, panic and fear of the unknown that no human could ever get right." She paused. "That, and I noticed your internal power cell had a 75% charge." "Why didn't you tell me?!" Tori shrieked. "I couldn't. I was able to run a scan on your personality matrix, and I found that you were programmed to forget and/or ignore all signs of your true nature…except that the stethoscope Boris gave you had a nasty little surprise---a picospike that overrode that particular part of your programming." She sighed; “I probably should’ve said something earlier..”
"That still doesn't explain who made me," Tori muttered. "Boris Vlatko may claim that he did," Vicki replied, "but in reality, you're actually the last fembot Dr. Franklin ever built before he died; Lynda, the fembot we met at Brandon Brindle's apartment, told me that she saw you in a capsule, unfinished, before Franklin sent her on her last mission. My theory is that Franklin tried to do what Boris did to make the others---use cutting-edge, lightweight materials---but he never completed the work, so when Boris showed up all these years later, he finished Franklin's work and completed you."
"But….all these memories," Tori countered, looking as confused as ever. "Whose are they?!" Vicki sighed; "I don't know for sure, but I'm willing to bet that Franklin had some friends of his create those memories, so that you could be the perfect daughter for him. He already had a 'son'---Carl Franklin---but Carl never got to fulfil his creator's wishes; he was destroyed after a fight with some of OIS' top agents. My guess is that you were originally created to carry on where Dr. Franklin and Carl left off…."
Tori was horrified. "You mean…I was supposed to control those fembots?!" "That's a distinct possibility," Vicki admitted. "But that's not important right now. What is important is that we leave here ASAP."
Despite the fact that she'd just found out her life was a carefully-scripted lie, Tori nodded. Still, there was something she needed to get off her chest.… "Remember when I said that meeting you had re-defined 'weird' for me?" she murmured. Vicki nodded. "Well," Tori went on, "these last few minutes have not only re-defined 'weird', they've redefined me. I'm….I'm scared, Vicki…I don't know what I'm capable of!" "That's the problem with sleepers," Vicki admitted. "Right up until they find out what they are---if they find out, that is---they think everything's perfectly normal; the minute they realize that they're different, though…."
The sounds of the service elevator ascending the shaft cut off the conversation. "Right," Vicki declared, "pep talk over! We have to get out of here NOW!"
"Couldn't agree more, V."
Mr. Tell's voice in her head most likely meant that the ALPA (and probably the EDF) had seen and heard the fiasco down in the lab. "If you're calling to tell me I screwed up," she began, "don't bother---" "I'm calling to tell you that you did a damn good job down there," Mr. Tell replied, "and that our friends from the EDF just found the kidnapped transfer students---they're at the construction site next to the Student Union building." "Right. I'll be there ASAP." Vicki terminated the connection, her mind reeling with possibilities. Running the entire way to the site would be no problem---for her; Tori, on the other hand, might not be able to keep up. "Tori," the brunette gynoid asked, "did Boris have a car, or---"
Once again, Tori wasn't there.
"How does she do that?" Vicki wondered, her querry interupted by the roar of an engine. "BORIS' CAR!" Tori shouted, waving at Vicki from behind the wheel of a Skoda Octavia. "GET IN!" I've got to hand it to her, Vicki mused, she's mastered the art of moving without making a sound in record time. Not waiting to see if the service lift was on the way up, Vicki ran for the Skoda and slid into the passengers' seat. "Floor it," she instructed Tori, using her monotone to reinforce the seriousness of the situation. Tori nodded, pressed the gas pedal to the floor and took off. Hang on, girls, Vicki silently thought, hoping that the kidnapped transfer students weren't in danger.
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Drake Bradford stared at the service elevator shaft, wondering how in the hell things had gone so wrong.
It had probably started when Boris was making his offer. Against all odds, one of the consoles seemed to have exploded, giving the brunette girl the perfect cover for an escape. After that, she'd grabbed the other girl---the sixteenth fembot, Drake corrected himself---and just disappeared; probably down that damn corridor Boris came in through, he reminded himself. To make things worse, Boris had somehow escaped amidst all the confusion.
"Riggs," Bradford declared, "turn all the fembots back on and deploy them to the construction site; that brunette girl's probably headed there, because whoever she's working for probably found the girls by now. Eileen, get my lawyer on the phone---I don't care if he's in the bath, at a funeral or in the basement with his girlfriends, just GET HIM ON THE PHONE. As for you…" He turned to glare at the UnMaker, only to notice that he was gone. "WHERE THE HELL DID HE GO?!" Eileen looked rather embarassed. "Apparently, he snuck out while you were distracted by the brunette girl's escape…"
Bradford glared at her, but managed to keep his anger in check. "Help Riggs activate the fembots, and send every single one of them to the construction site. Then, you get my damned lawyer on the phone and tell him to drag his over-paid ass down here or he's fired!" Eileen frowned. She would've asked what to do if Drake's wife called, but Bradford never answered calls from his house anyways. "I'll get right on it, sir," she mumbled, heading to the control console to help Riggs. I need a vacation, she reminded herself for the the fifteenth time that day, otherwise I'll end up in a padded cell when this is all over with.
Drake allowed himself a smirk as he watched Riggs and Eileen activate nine of the ten encapsulated fembots; The mysterious brunette girl had already outsmarted him, but there was no way in Hell that she could beat nine fully-charged fembots. Well, he thought there was no way she could beat them….
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"Great," Vicki muttered, "he's sending the fembots after us!" Bradford hadn't bothered to remove the tracker that Mr. Tell had installed inside of MaryBeth (indeed, he hadn't even thought to look for it), allowing Vicki to keep tabs on the fembot just in case. "And he's sending the others with her, probably…not how I wanted this to go." "How did you want this to go?" Tori asked. "Truthfully," Vicki admitted, "I was kinda hoping Bradford would be willing to talk it out….and before you say it, yes, I know how stupid that sounded."
The two drove on in silence, knowing that the fate of the thirteen kidnapped students relied solely on them. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they reached the construction site. "Look for anything that could be used to hide kidnapped people," Vicki instructed Tori. “And whatever you do, don't try to fight the fembots when they show up." It wasn't a question of "if they'd show up" anymore; Vicki knew all too well that Bradford wouldn’t rest until "his" fembots tore apart half of SJSU just to avenge his loss at the hands of Boris. "Once we get to the site, we'll probably have a 10-15 minute window of opportunity to free the girls and get them out of there safely. After that…."
She didn't finish the sentence, but she and Tori both knew that if all of the girls weren't evacuated in time, the fembots would most likely kill them as soon as possible once they arrived.
"Right. We'll need to be quick; if my math is correct (and it usually is), then we've only got about….10 minutes until Bradford and the fembots show up…." Vicki would've continued talking, except for the fact that Tori was looking depressed once again. "What's wrong?" Tori looked Vicki in the eye, and the brunette gynoid was shocked to see tears once again. "If that Bradford guy can control the other fembots," Tori muttered, "then what's to stop him from controlling me?" "You're operating on a different signal, Tori," Vicki assured the fembot, "and Boris probably didn't build a control console for you." "Even if that's the case," Tori insisted, "I want you to promise me something---"
The sound of screeching tires and shouted orders in the background meant that the EDF and ALPA teams had arrived; Vicki returned her attention to Tori. "Promise you what?" she whispered.
"Promise me that if Bradford takes control of me, you'll do whatever it takes to stop me."
Whatever snarky comeback Vicki was prepared to make died instantly on her lips. "Tori," she stammered, "you…you can't be serious!" "I'm not kidding, Vicki," the blonde fembot replied solemnly. "I don’t want you to let me become a killing machine like them. Promise me that you'll stop me if you have to." Vicki nodded, feeling tears stinging her own eyes. "I will," she whispered, wrapping Tori in a hug. "But only if I don't have a choice."
The two broke their embrace as an EDF soldier approached. "We've just received word that the fembots are on their way, Miss Lawson," he reported. "Hardcastle's given you permisson to take them out yourself; the EDF will rescue the kidnapped students." "Thanks," Vicki replied, suddenly noticing a rather imposing figure a few feet away----a tall, muscular blond guy with a crew-cut, expensive sunglasses, a red muscle shirt, blue jeans, steel-toed boots and fingerless gloves; his belt buckle bore the nuclear symbol commonly seen on fallout shelter signs (and Megadeth’s drum kit). "Ah, is that who I think it is?" she asked the EDF soldier. He grinned. "Yep, that's him. He was on his way back to Vegas when we called him; said he'd have no problems with this little detour." Before Vicki could say anything else, the soldier's radio squawked to life, and his grin faded. "Bradford and the fembots are approaching," he muttered. "Then you'd better start looking for those kidnapped girls," V.I.C.I. replied. "What about her?" the soldier asked, gesturing at Tori (and clearly unperturbed by the sudden change in V.I.C.I.'s vocal tone). "Take her with you, and keep her safe," the brunette gynoid replied. "I have a feeling that this is going to get ugly." "Will do, ma'am," the soldier replied. Tori cast one last look at V.I.C.I., who nodded with an air of finality. "Trust me," she whispered, slipping back into her human voice. "I do," Tori whispered back, nodding. With that, the two parted company, and V.I.C.I. prepared to take down on Drake Bradford's army of fembots….or get scrapped trying.
I just hope that the odds are in my favor, she mused, otherwise, this'll be a really short fight.
Fortunately for V.I.C.I., the odds were most definitly in her favor that night…
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As the fembots entered the construction site, Lizette, Sarita and the nameless Asian fembot were at the front of the pack, as per Drake Bradford's orders. "Scans show no sign of the intruder from the lab," Lizette reported, her voice tinged with just a trace of a French accent. Behind her, MaryBeth, Liya, Maya and Dawn (who had finally had her logic loop problem fixed) held point, while Simone, Cindy, Delilah and Cassandra (who'd undergone extensive repairs after her "heavy metal overload") brought up the rear. "Scanning for possible aggressors," the Asian fembot droned in a toneless voice, her head turning robotically back and forth as she looked from one end of the construction yard to the other. "Scans complete. No hostile entities found."
If only she'd bothered to look up…..
The group walked underneath a crane, knowing that any human foolish enough to attack them would never try to assault them from above. Had they known that their attacker wasn't human, they would've run for cover… but the ensuing fight would've been a lot less entertaining. In any case, the Asian fembot scanned the area again….
…except it was interrupted in a rather abrupt way by the heel of a boot catching her across the face.
"When will you fembots learn that attacks can come from all sides?" V.I.C.I. asked, smirking as the Asian fembot regained her footing. "Unit compromised," she declared, her face barely hanging onto the rest of her head. "Unit compromised. Please repair. Please repair." The other fembots backed away, not wanting to be damaged by shrapnel if the Asian fembot exploded. "Smart move," V.I.C.I. observed, "except she isn't going to explode."
The fembots circled around her, waiting to attack. Time to give them an opening, she thought, assuming a stance that anyone who had overdosed on Never Back Down could mistake for being completely vulnerable. Sure enough, Cindy charged forward, her orange spandex jumpsuit hugging her curves as she ran.
Bingo, V.I.C.I. thought with a grin.
Cindy's charge was met with a straight kick to the head, instantly dislodging her facemask. The fembot's glass eyes glared at V.I.C.I. with what would've probably been utter hatred, had her face still been attached. Before the brunette gynoid could savor the temporary victory, Lizette grabbed her arms and pinned them behind her back, allowing Cindy to run forward with the intent to clothesline her victim's head off….
…except her "victim" ducked at the last second.
The clothesline struck Lizette square in the face, knocking her to her knees (and sending her facemask flying). V.I.C.I. grinned again. "I could make a great 'Poker Face' joke right now," she began, but Dawn's foot slammed into her left kneecap.
WARNING: Structural integrity in left knee joint has been compromised.
The brunette gynoid struggled to stay on her feet; Dawn had kicked her with enough force to shatter a human being's leg. "Ow!" V.I.C.I. yelled, briefly speaking in her human voice. "That hurt!" Dawn said nothing in response, choosing instead to let her combat stance speak for her. V.I.C.I. exhaled; "Have it your way, then." She ran (or more accurately, limped as fast as possible) towards Dawn, unaware that Maya and Liya were literally able to catch up with her at a walking pace. "You cannot win," Maya declared, grabbing the brunette gynoid's right arm. "Surrender now, or die," Liya threatened, going to grab V.I.C.I.'s free arm---and getting a face full of Detaining Grip v1.5.
"I don't think so," V.I.C.I. replied.
The fembots glared at her, realizing that their opponent had more tricks up her sleeves than they did. "Retreat and fall back," Lizette ordered, only for V.I.C.I. to disable her with a clothesline. "That was for bashing me in the knee," she remarked.
As expected, the fembots didn't react favorably to Lizette getting clotheslined. "Hon," MaryBeth informed the brunette gynoid, "you really shouldn't have done that…" Amazingly, her voice still had that saccharine sweet tone to it, and the smile had never left her face. "You should get the actuators and servos in your facemask checked out," V.I.C.I. remarked, ”otherwise people might think you're trying to look like the Joker." MaryBeth took the remark in stride. "Don't you get it, sunshine?" she trilled. "I'm smiling because I know that you can't beat us. You can't even try. Drake Bradford's plan will succeed, and Silicon Valley will be his for the---"
A sharp kick to the back of her head ended MaryBeth's gloating before it could begin.
"I always did find you to be the most annoying of Bradford's dolls," the UnMaker declared. The other fembots all turned as one, their cold, emotionless eyes settling on the black-clad young man. "What are you doing here?!" V.I.C.I. hissed. "Bradford wanted me to take the fall for him," the Unmaker replied, "except he forgot that I have a clause in my contract that specifically prohibits such actions." He sighed. "I was actually looking forward to a rematch with you, but logistically speaking---"
"If you're going to help me," V.I.C.I. shouted, kicking Liya straight in the back, "then just SHUT UP AND HELP ME!"
The UnMaker grinned. "As you wish…"
Lizette, Liya, Simone and Dawn charged at V.I.C.I., while MaryBeth, Sarita, Cindy and Delilah went after the UnMaker. The remaining fembots---Maya, Cassandra and the unnamed Asian fembot---tried to break away from the group and head for a row of shipping containers. "Don't let them get away!" the brunette gynoid called out, dodging Lizette's backhand and answering with a brutal elbow smash to the gut. "Wouldn't dream of it!" the UnMaker replied, delivering a superkick to Delilah's head. The raven-haired fembot staggered, barely able to keep her balance; after a few seconds of watching the fembot stumble around, the UnMaker finally knocked her to the ground with a football tackle.
"Her deactivation switch is behind her left ear," V.I.C.I. shouted. "I know," the UnMaker replied, pressing the switch and deactivating Delilah. He narrowly avoided a stomp from MaryBeth, grabbing the blonde fembot by the ankle and dragging her to the ground. "For the record," he told the struggling fembot as he reached behind her ear, "I always thought your smile looked ridiculous."
A sharp crack split the air; Cindy had stomped on the UnMaker's arm.
"A..minor setback," he gasped, cradling the now useless apendage. "Release MaryBeth now," Cindy ordered in her emotionless voice, "or I will break your other arm." "I don't suppose we could negotiate a compromise?" the Unmaker quipped; Cindy glared at him and raised her foot again, preparing to stomp on his other arm.
And that's when something rather unexpected happened.
The mounted crane used to deliver rebar to the Student Union expansion suddenly came to life, the boom swinging the cable directly towards Cindy. The hook on the end of the cable collided with her back, effortlessly knocking her to the ground; Sarita, meanwhile, had just knealt down to reactivate Delilah, giving her nowhere to run as the hook flew at her next----decapitating her instantly.
What the hell?!
Delilah got to her feet. "Delilah-42X90 status report," she droned, oblivious to the iron hook sailing towards her until it embedded itself in her stomach, lifting her off the ground. "This unit has been compromised," she calmly stated, "initiating system---" Her sentence was cut off as the crane slammed her into an unfinished bit of the Student Union expansion, impaling her through the neck on a jutting bit of rebar. "SysTem ShuTdOWn iMMiNeNT," she screeched, her voice alternating in pitch until a fire erupted inside her ruined torso. A few seconds later, Delilah's head burst into flames as her facemask disconnected and fell to the ground.
"Two down," V.I.C.I. declared, "ten to go."
MaryBeth was now in a bad way; thanks to the UnMaker's tackle, she'd landed on a toolbox and wound up with a magnetic screwdriver stuck in her back. "Hi, I'm MaryBeth," she declared, moving as if she was shaking someone's hand. "We're going to have a great time today! Hi, I'm MaryBeth!" Her movements became more and more robotic, each motion causing the screwdriver's tip to go further and further into her systems. "The MaryBeth fembot is malfunctioning," Liya declared. "She must be deactivated." She took three steps towards the stricken fembot, only for the swinging hook to ram into the side of her head, staggering her. "Unit-unit-unit-unit-unit system-tem-tem-tem-tem-tem-tem failuuuuuuuuuurreee," she stammered, her head twitching to the left with an audible click with each repetition. "I'll take that as good news," V.I.C.I. remarked, mentally ramping up the voltage of DG v1.5. "Time for a makeover…V.I.C.I. style."
With her free hand, V.I.C.I. removed Liya's facemask, revealing the fembot's mechanical visage. "This might sting a bit…" Before Liya could react, V.I.C.I. drove the palm of her electrically-charged hand into the fembot's exposed face, sending current directly through the transistors, actuators and various other internal mechanisms. A burning smell soon filled the air; Liya's central power source had overloaded and caught fire, burning through her abdomen and jumpuit in record time. The fire literally cut the fembot in half at the waist, and both halves fell uselessly to the ground; within seconds, Liya had ceased functioning.
V.I.C.I. allowed herself a grin. "Three down, nine to---"
Lizette's knife-edged chop to the throat ended the boast. "You will pay for this," she coolly stated. "We will not allow you to defeat us." "Five of your 'sisters' are already gone," V.I.C.I. replied. "Getting rid of the rest won't be a problem." She deftly dodged another one of Lizette's knife-edged chops, which ended up hitting Maya right in the face. "Conne-conne-conne-conne-connection lo-lo-lo-lost," Maya sputtered, sparks shooting out of her elbows, knees, shoulders and hips. Her link to the controls now severed, Maya robotically strutted towards a nearby generator. "Uni-uni-uni-uni-unit rererererererererererererechargiiiiiiiiiiiiing," she droned, grabbing an extension cord that had been plugged into the generator and preparing to ram it into her abdomen via her navel.
"Maya, no!" Lizette shouted, sounding remarkably human. It was too late; Maya rammed the plug home, causing sparks to shoot out of every bodily orifice imaginable. Her pants instantly caught fire, and her fingertips melted away just as quickly. Smoke poured out of her nose and mouth, and her glass eyes exploded from the force of the current. A mere 20 seconds later, Maya was reduced to a smoldering pile of plastic, titanium and burnt clothes. Lizette stared at the burning mass that had once been Maya before turning her cold gaze towards V.I.C.I.; "This isn't over," she declared. "Cassandra, find and retrieve Cindy and Fembot 014; we must retreat."
"I don't think so," V.I.C.I. began, but the UnMaker stopped her and pointed up at the control booth of the crane with his good arm; "You've got bigger problems to worry about right now." V.I.C.I. looked up at the control booth and was horrified to see Tori Hartwell hanging onto the controls for dear life; electricity coursed through her limbs, and her body convulsed uncontrollably. "TORI! Hang on!" She prepared to scale the crane, but the UnMaker held her back. "Whatever did that to her has probably taken over her mind; if you climb up there and try to save her, she might attack you, and you'll both plummet----" "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU SUGGEST, THEN?!" Vicki shouted. The UnMaker shook his head. "You promised her that you would stop her if you had to," he muttered. Vicki nearly asked how he knew this, but said nothing as he continued. "I suggest you keep that promise…however you can."
Vicki blinked back tears. "Do your Voltaic Converters still work?" she asked; the UnMaker nodded. "Good. Put one hand on the crane, and give me your free hand." The UnMaker stared at her; "Seeing as how one of my arms happens to be broken, I have a better idea," he replied, unstrapping the devices from his arms. "Aim these at the control booth and use that electric grip of yours on them; they'll act like a sort of lightning gun and fire the electricity directly into the control booth."
"It won't work," Vicki countered. "It's too high up, and if I miss…."
"You're not actually thinking of going up there, are you?" the UnMaker asked. "I don't exactly have a choice," Vicki shot back. "Tori isn't just another fembot---she's my friend. I have to help her." She stared down the Unmaker with an unwavering gaze. "Got a problem with that?"
"No," the UnMaker replied without hesitation, "but he might." He pointed over Vicki's shoulder, prompting the brunette gynoid to look behind her.
"Bravo! Bra-vo!" Drake Bradford did a slow clap, looking as if he was enjoying every minute of Vicki's tortured indecision. "You've managed to take out six of my fembots….congratulations are definitely in order." "Enough talk," Vicki declared. "What did you do to Tori?” "I didn't do anything!" Bradford spat back, his smirk vanishing. "Your stupid friend probably set off an alarm---" "She's not stupid!" Vicki yelled.
"Vicki…."
Tori's voice sounded ethereal---and close, though only Vicki could hear it. "Tori?!" the brunette gynoid shouted, expecting her to see the blonde fembot behind her; to her amazement, Tori was still in the control booth of the crane. "It's happening, Vicki….my body isn't responding…I've lost control…" V.I.C.I.'s vision instantly magnified, allowing her to see Tori's arms moving in a most decidedly robotic fashion as they manipulated the crane controls. "Something's taking over my mind, Vicki…..something….named Stylo….."
Vicki felt the bottom of her stomach drop out. Stylo?!
"Tori, everything's going to be all right," she lied, trying to smile. "It's not all right," the UnMaker corrected. "I know what Stylo can do …and it won't be pretty. You have to take the shot." "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TWO BABBLING ABOUT?!" Bradford shouted. "None of your damn business!" the UnMaker called back, glaring at Drake before returning his attention to Vicki. "I'm probably the last person you should trust in this situation…but believe me, this is the only way to keep things from spiralling further out of control than they already have. You have to shoot her down---"
"I KNOW!" Vicki shouted, tears flooding her eyes. "I know…." She sank to her knees. "I…I didn't want this," she muttered. "I never wanted it to go this way…" "Nobody ever does," the UnMaker replied quietly. "Do you think I chose to work for that douchebag?" he asked, gesturing at Bradford. "YOU SHUT UP!" the douchebag in question yelled; the UnMaker ignored him. "It's not always easy," he told the grieving gynoid, "but rest assured….years from now, you'll look back on this night, and realize that you did what you had to do." "How do you know?" Vicki asked, blinking back tears. "I know because I had to do something like this once," the UnMaker whispered, "and I didn't break my promise."
At the mention of promises, Vicki recalled her words to Tori, promising that she'd take the fembot out, but only if she had to. "Forgive me, Tori," she murmured, returning to her feet and aiming the Voltaic Converters at the control booth. Knowing full well that she was essentially about to kill an innocent person, she ramped up the voltage on her Detaining Grip and channeled it through the Converters. I'm sorry, Tori….I'm so sorry.
As expected, the blast had spectacular results.
Tori was blasted out of the control booth instantly, and if the shock hadn't destroyed her, the fall did. Even more spectacular was the fact that just as Vicki's shot hit, a bolt of lightning struck the crane's control booth, moving through the frame and sending a shock straight into Vicki, reminding her of the dream in Palo Alto….
Except that this was no dream.
EDF and ALPA operatives were carting captured fembots into trucks and loading the destroyed fembots into other vehicles, but none of it mattered, mainly because Vicki couldn't see or hear any of it. Instead, she lay on the ground, 33 feet from where Tori had fallen; before she'd been hit, a single question had formed on her lips:
Why?
--------------------------------------
"Why?"
The one word question stopped Vicki in her tracks. "Why, what?" "Why was I created? Why wasn't I supposed to know that I'm a fembot? Who would want someone---something like me? It…it just can't be possible! I can't be a fembot! There's so much I remember.. falling off the swingset in first grade, the birthday parties at the community pool…." Tori put her head in her hands. "It's just not possible…."
Vicki knealt beside the conflicted gynoid. "I knew you were a fembot when you first found out that Kim was a gynoid. Your reaction was, well, perfect for the situation…too perfect. Just the right mix of apprehension, panic and fear of the unknown that no human could ever get right." She paused. "That, and I noticed your internal power cell had a 75% charge." "Why didn't you tell me?!" Tori shrieked. "I couldn't. I was able to run a scan on your personality matrix, and I found that you were programmed to forget and/or ignore all signs of your true nature…except that the stethoscope Boris gave you had a nasty little surprise---a picospike that overrode that particular part of your programming." She sighed; “I probably should’ve said something earlier..”
"That still doesn't explain who made me," Tori muttered. "Boris Vlatko may claim that he did," Vicki replied, "but in reality, you're actually the last fembot Dr. Franklin ever built before he died; Lynda, the fembot we met at Brandon Brindle's apartment, told me that she saw you in a capsule, unfinished, before Franklin sent her on her last mission. My theory is that Franklin tried to do what Boris did to make the others---use cutting-edge, lightweight materials---but he never completed the work, so when Boris showed up all these years later, he finished Franklin's work and completed you."
"But….all these memories," Tori countered, looking as confused as ever. "Whose are they?!" Vicki sighed; "I don't know for sure, but I'm willing to bet that Franklin had some friends of his create those memories, so that you could be the perfect daughter for him. He already had a 'son'---Carl Franklin---but Carl never got to fulfil his creator's wishes; he was destroyed after a fight with some of OIS' top agents. My guess is that you were originally created to carry on where Dr. Franklin and Carl left off…."
Tori was horrified. "You mean…I was supposed to control those fembots?!" "That's a distinct possibility," Vicki admitted. "But that's not important right now. What is important is that we leave here ASAP."
Despite the fact that she'd just found out her life was a carefully-scripted lie, Tori nodded. Still, there was something she needed to get off her chest.… "Remember when I said that meeting you had re-defined 'weird' for me?" she murmured. Vicki nodded. "Well," Tori went on, "these last few minutes have not only re-defined 'weird', they've redefined me. I'm….I'm scared, Vicki…I don't know what I'm capable of!" "That's the problem with sleepers," Vicki admitted. "Right up until they find out what they are---if they find out, that is---they think everything's perfectly normal; the minute they realize that they're different, though…."
The sounds of the service elevator ascending the shaft cut off the conversation. "Right," Vicki declared, "pep talk over! We have to get out of here NOW!"
"Couldn't agree more, V."
Mr. Tell's voice in her head most likely meant that the ALPA (and probably the EDF) had seen and heard the fiasco down in the lab. "If you're calling to tell me I screwed up," she began, "don't bother---" "I'm calling to tell you that you did a damn good job down there," Mr. Tell replied, "and that our friends from the EDF just found the kidnapped transfer students---they're at the construction site next to the Student Union building." "Right. I'll be there ASAP." Vicki terminated the connection, her mind reeling with possibilities. Running the entire way to the site would be no problem---for her; Tori, on the other hand, might not be able to keep up. "Tori," the brunette gynoid asked, "did Boris have a car, or---"
Once again, Tori wasn't there.
"How does she do that?" Vicki wondered, her querry interupted by the roar of an engine. "BORIS' CAR!" Tori shouted, waving at Vicki from behind the wheel of a Skoda Octavia. "GET IN!" I've got to hand it to her, Vicki mused, she's mastered the art of moving without making a sound in record time. Not waiting to see if the service lift was on the way up, Vicki ran for the Skoda and slid into the passengers' seat. "Floor it," she instructed Tori, using her monotone to reinforce the seriousness of the situation. Tori nodded, pressed the gas pedal to the floor and took off. Hang on, girls, Vicki silently thought, hoping that the kidnapped transfer students weren't in danger.
--------------------------------------
Drake Bradford stared at the service elevator shaft, wondering how in the hell things had gone so wrong.
It had probably started when Boris was making his offer. Against all odds, one of the consoles seemed to have exploded, giving the brunette girl the perfect cover for an escape. After that, she'd grabbed the other girl---the sixteenth fembot, Drake corrected himself---and just disappeared; probably down that damn corridor Boris came in through, he reminded himself. To make things worse, Boris had somehow escaped amidst all the confusion.
"Riggs," Bradford declared, "turn all the fembots back on and deploy them to the construction site; that brunette girl's probably headed there, because whoever she's working for probably found the girls by now. Eileen, get my lawyer on the phone---I don't care if he's in the bath, at a funeral or in the basement with his girlfriends, just GET HIM ON THE PHONE. As for you…" He turned to glare at the UnMaker, only to notice that he was gone. "WHERE THE HELL DID HE GO?!" Eileen looked rather embarassed. "Apparently, he snuck out while you were distracted by the brunette girl's escape…"
Bradford glared at her, but managed to keep his anger in check. "Help Riggs activate the fembots, and send every single one of them to the construction site. Then, you get my damned lawyer on the phone and tell him to drag his over-paid ass down here or he's fired!" Eileen frowned. She would've asked what to do if Drake's wife called, but Bradford never answered calls from his house anyways. "I'll get right on it, sir," she mumbled, heading to the control console to help Riggs. I need a vacation, she reminded herself for the the fifteenth time that day, otherwise I'll end up in a padded cell when this is all over with.
Drake allowed himself a smirk as he watched Riggs and Eileen activate nine of the ten encapsulated fembots; The mysterious brunette girl had already outsmarted him, but there was no way in Hell that she could beat nine fully-charged fembots. Well, he thought there was no way she could beat them….
--------------------------------------
"Great," Vicki muttered, "he's sending the fembots after us!" Bradford hadn't bothered to remove the tracker that Mr. Tell had installed inside of MaryBeth (indeed, he hadn't even thought to look for it), allowing Vicki to keep tabs on the fembot just in case. "And he's sending the others with her, probably…not how I wanted this to go." "How did you want this to go?" Tori asked. "Truthfully," Vicki admitted, "I was kinda hoping Bradford would be willing to talk it out….and before you say it, yes, I know how stupid that sounded."
The two drove on in silence, knowing that the fate of the thirteen kidnapped students relied solely on them. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they reached the construction site. "Look for anything that could be used to hide kidnapped people," Vicki instructed Tori. “And whatever you do, don't try to fight the fembots when they show up." It wasn't a question of "if they'd show up" anymore; Vicki knew all too well that Bradford wouldn’t rest until "his" fembots tore apart half of SJSU just to avenge his loss at the hands of Boris. "Once we get to the site, we'll probably have a 10-15 minute window of opportunity to free the girls and get them out of there safely. After that…."
She didn't finish the sentence, but she and Tori both knew that if all of the girls weren't evacuated in time, the fembots would most likely kill them as soon as possible once they arrived.
"Right. We'll need to be quick; if my math is correct (and it usually is), then we've only got about….10 minutes until Bradford and the fembots show up…." Vicki would've continued talking, except for the fact that Tori was looking depressed once again. "What's wrong?" Tori looked Vicki in the eye, and the brunette gynoid was shocked to see tears once again. "If that Bradford guy can control the other fembots," Tori muttered, "then what's to stop him from controlling me?" "You're operating on a different signal, Tori," Vicki assured the fembot, "and Boris probably didn't build a control console for you." "Even if that's the case," Tori insisted, "I want you to promise me something---"
The sound of screeching tires and shouted orders in the background meant that the EDF and ALPA teams had arrived; Vicki returned her attention to Tori. "Promise you what?" she whispered.
"Promise me that if Bradford takes control of me, you'll do whatever it takes to stop me."
Whatever snarky comeback Vicki was prepared to make died instantly on her lips. "Tori," she stammered, "you…you can't be serious!" "I'm not kidding, Vicki," the blonde fembot replied solemnly. "I don’t want you to let me become a killing machine like them. Promise me that you'll stop me if you have to." Vicki nodded, feeling tears stinging her own eyes. "I will," she whispered, wrapping Tori in a hug. "But only if I don't have a choice."
The two broke their embrace as an EDF soldier approached. "We've just received word that the fembots are on their way, Miss Lawson," he reported. "Hardcastle's given you permisson to take them out yourself; the EDF will rescue the kidnapped students." "Thanks," Vicki replied, suddenly noticing a rather imposing figure a few feet away----a tall, muscular blond guy with a crew-cut, expensive sunglasses, a red muscle shirt, blue jeans, steel-toed boots and fingerless gloves; his belt buckle bore the nuclear symbol commonly seen on fallout shelter signs (and Megadeth’s drum kit). "Ah, is that who I think it is?" she asked the EDF soldier. He grinned. "Yep, that's him. He was on his way back to Vegas when we called him; said he'd have no problems with this little detour." Before Vicki could say anything else, the soldier's radio squawked to life, and his grin faded. "Bradford and the fembots are approaching," he muttered. "Then you'd better start looking for those kidnapped girls," V.I.C.I. replied. "What about her?" the soldier asked, gesturing at Tori (and clearly unperturbed by the sudden change in V.I.C.I.'s vocal tone). "Take her with you, and keep her safe," the brunette gynoid replied. "I have a feeling that this is going to get ugly." "Will do, ma'am," the soldier replied. Tori cast one last look at V.I.C.I., who nodded with an air of finality. "Trust me," she whispered, slipping back into her human voice. "I do," Tori whispered back, nodding. With that, the two parted company, and V.I.C.I. prepared to take down on Drake Bradford's army of fembots….or get scrapped trying.
I just hope that the odds are in my favor, she mused, otherwise, this'll be a really short fight.
Fortunately for V.I.C.I., the odds were most definitly in her favor that night…
--------------------------------------
As the fembots entered the construction site, Lizette, Sarita and the nameless Asian fembot were at the front of the pack, as per Drake Bradford's orders. "Scans show no sign of the intruder from the lab," Lizette reported, her voice tinged with just a trace of a French accent. Behind her, MaryBeth, Liya, Maya and Dawn (who had finally had her logic loop problem fixed) held point, while Simone, Cindy, Delilah and Cassandra (who'd undergone extensive repairs after her "heavy metal overload") brought up the rear. "Scanning for possible aggressors," the Asian fembot droned in a toneless voice, her head turning robotically back and forth as she looked from one end of the construction yard to the other. "Scans complete. No hostile entities found."
If only she'd bothered to look up…..
The group walked underneath a crane, knowing that any human foolish enough to attack them would never try to assault them from above. Had they known that their attacker wasn't human, they would've run for cover… but the ensuing fight would've been a lot less entertaining. In any case, the Asian fembot scanned the area again….
…except it was interrupted in a rather abrupt way by the heel of a boot catching her across the face.
"When will you fembots learn that attacks can come from all sides?" V.I.C.I. asked, smirking as the Asian fembot regained her footing. "Unit compromised," she declared, her face barely hanging onto the rest of her head. "Unit compromised. Please repair. Please repair." The other fembots backed away, not wanting to be damaged by shrapnel if the Asian fembot exploded. "Smart move," V.I.C.I. observed, "except she isn't going to explode."
The fembots circled around her, waiting to attack. Time to give them an opening, she thought, assuming a stance that anyone who had overdosed on Never Back Down could mistake for being completely vulnerable. Sure enough, Cindy charged forward, her orange spandex jumpsuit hugging her curves as she ran.
Bingo, V.I.C.I. thought with a grin.
Cindy's charge was met with a straight kick to the head, instantly dislodging her facemask. The fembot's glass eyes glared at V.I.C.I. with what would've probably been utter hatred, had her face still been attached. Before the brunette gynoid could savor the temporary victory, Lizette grabbed her arms and pinned them behind her back, allowing Cindy to run forward with the intent to clothesline her victim's head off….
…except her "victim" ducked at the last second.
The clothesline struck Lizette square in the face, knocking her to her knees (and sending her facemask flying). V.I.C.I. grinned again. "I could make a great 'Poker Face' joke right now," she began, but Dawn's foot slammed into her left kneecap.
WARNING: Structural integrity in left knee joint has been compromised.
The brunette gynoid struggled to stay on her feet; Dawn had kicked her with enough force to shatter a human being's leg. "Ow!" V.I.C.I. yelled, briefly speaking in her human voice. "That hurt!" Dawn said nothing in response, choosing instead to let her combat stance speak for her. V.I.C.I. exhaled; "Have it your way, then." She ran (or more accurately, limped as fast as possible) towards Dawn, unaware that Maya and Liya were literally able to catch up with her at a walking pace. "You cannot win," Maya declared, grabbing the brunette gynoid's right arm. "Surrender now, or die," Liya threatened, going to grab V.I.C.I.'s free arm---and getting a face full of Detaining Grip v1.5.
"I don't think so," V.I.C.I. replied.
The fembots glared at her, realizing that their opponent had more tricks up her sleeves than they did. "Retreat and fall back," Lizette ordered, only for V.I.C.I. to disable her with a clothesline. "That was for bashing me in the knee," she remarked.
As expected, the fembots didn't react favorably to Lizette getting clotheslined. "Hon," MaryBeth informed the brunette gynoid, "you really shouldn't have done that…" Amazingly, her voice still had that saccharine sweet tone to it, and the smile had never left her face. "You should get the actuators and servos in your facemask checked out," V.I.C.I. remarked, ”otherwise people might think you're trying to look like the Joker." MaryBeth took the remark in stride. "Don't you get it, sunshine?" she trilled. "I'm smiling because I know that you can't beat us. You can't even try. Drake Bradford's plan will succeed, and Silicon Valley will be his for the---"
A sharp kick to the back of her head ended MaryBeth's gloating before it could begin.
"I always did find you to be the most annoying of Bradford's dolls," the UnMaker declared. The other fembots all turned as one, their cold, emotionless eyes settling on the black-clad young man. "What are you doing here?!" V.I.C.I. hissed. "Bradford wanted me to take the fall for him," the Unmaker replied, "except he forgot that I have a clause in my contract that specifically prohibits such actions." He sighed. "I was actually looking forward to a rematch with you, but logistically speaking---"
"If you're going to help me," V.I.C.I. shouted, kicking Liya straight in the back, "then just SHUT UP AND HELP ME!"
The UnMaker grinned. "As you wish…"
Lizette, Liya, Simone and Dawn charged at V.I.C.I., while MaryBeth, Sarita, Cindy and Delilah went after the UnMaker. The remaining fembots---Maya, Cassandra and the unnamed Asian fembot---tried to break away from the group and head for a row of shipping containers. "Don't let them get away!" the brunette gynoid called out, dodging Lizette's backhand and answering with a brutal elbow smash to the gut. "Wouldn't dream of it!" the UnMaker replied, delivering a superkick to Delilah's head. The raven-haired fembot staggered, barely able to keep her balance; after a few seconds of watching the fembot stumble around, the UnMaker finally knocked her to the ground with a football tackle.
"Her deactivation switch is behind her left ear," V.I.C.I. shouted. "I know," the UnMaker replied, pressing the switch and deactivating Delilah. He narrowly avoided a stomp from MaryBeth, grabbing the blonde fembot by the ankle and dragging her to the ground. "For the record," he told the struggling fembot as he reached behind her ear, "I always thought your smile looked ridiculous."
A sharp crack split the air; Cindy had stomped on the UnMaker's arm.
"A..minor setback," he gasped, cradling the now useless apendage. "Release MaryBeth now," Cindy ordered in her emotionless voice, "or I will break your other arm." "I don't suppose we could negotiate a compromise?" the Unmaker quipped; Cindy glared at him and raised her foot again, preparing to stomp on his other arm.
And that's when something rather unexpected happened.
The mounted crane used to deliver rebar to the Student Union expansion suddenly came to life, the boom swinging the cable directly towards Cindy. The hook on the end of the cable collided with her back, effortlessly knocking her to the ground; Sarita, meanwhile, had just knealt down to reactivate Delilah, giving her nowhere to run as the hook flew at her next----decapitating her instantly.
What the hell?!
Delilah got to her feet. "Delilah-42X90 status report," she droned, oblivious to the iron hook sailing towards her until it embedded itself in her stomach, lifting her off the ground. "This unit has been compromised," she calmly stated, "initiating system---" Her sentence was cut off as the crane slammed her into an unfinished bit of the Student Union expansion, impaling her through the neck on a jutting bit of rebar. "SysTem ShuTdOWn iMMiNeNT," she screeched, her voice alternating in pitch until a fire erupted inside her ruined torso. A few seconds later, Delilah's head burst into flames as her facemask disconnected and fell to the ground.
"Two down," V.I.C.I. declared, "ten to go."
MaryBeth was now in a bad way; thanks to the UnMaker's tackle, she'd landed on a toolbox and wound up with a magnetic screwdriver stuck in her back. "Hi, I'm MaryBeth," she declared, moving as if she was shaking someone's hand. "We're going to have a great time today! Hi, I'm MaryBeth!" Her movements became more and more robotic, each motion causing the screwdriver's tip to go further and further into her systems. "The MaryBeth fembot is malfunctioning," Liya declared. "She must be deactivated." She took three steps towards the stricken fembot, only for the swinging hook to ram into the side of her head, staggering her. "Unit-unit-unit-unit-unit system-tem-tem-tem-tem-tem-tem failuuuuuuuuuurreee," she stammered, her head twitching to the left with an audible click with each repetition. "I'll take that as good news," V.I.C.I. remarked, mentally ramping up the voltage of DG v1.5. "Time for a makeover…V.I.C.I. style."
With her free hand, V.I.C.I. removed Liya's facemask, revealing the fembot's mechanical visage. "This might sting a bit…" Before Liya could react, V.I.C.I. drove the palm of her electrically-charged hand into the fembot's exposed face, sending current directly through the transistors, actuators and various other internal mechanisms. A burning smell soon filled the air; Liya's central power source had overloaded and caught fire, burning through her abdomen and jumpuit in record time. The fire literally cut the fembot in half at the waist, and both halves fell uselessly to the ground; within seconds, Liya had ceased functioning.
V.I.C.I. allowed herself a grin. "Three down, nine to---"
Lizette's knife-edged chop to the throat ended the boast. "You will pay for this," she coolly stated. "We will not allow you to defeat us." "Five of your 'sisters' are already gone," V.I.C.I. replied. "Getting rid of the rest won't be a problem." She deftly dodged another one of Lizette's knife-edged chops, which ended up hitting Maya right in the face. "Conne-conne-conne-conne-connection lo-lo-lo-lost," Maya sputtered, sparks shooting out of her elbows, knees, shoulders and hips. Her link to the controls now severed, Maya robotically strutted towards a nearby generator. "Uni-uni-uni-uni-unit rererererererererererererechargiiiiiiiiiiiiing," she droned, grabbing an extension cord that had been plugged into the generator and preparing to ram it into her abdomen via her navel.
"Maya, no!" Lizette shouted, sounding remarkably human. It was too late; Maya rammed the plug home, causing sparks to shoot out of every bodily orifice imaginable. Her pants instantly caught fire, and her fingertips melted away just as quickly. Smoke poured out of her nose and mouth, and her glass eyes exploded from the force of the current. A mere 20 seconds later, Maya was reduced to a smoldering pile of plastic, titanium and burnt clothes. Lizette stared at the burning mass that had once been Maya before turning her cold gaze towards V.I.C.I.; "This isn't over," she declared. "Cassandra, find and retrieve Cindy and Fembot 014; we must retreat."
"I don't think so," V.I.C.I. began, but the UnMaker stopped her and pointed up at the control booth of the crane with his good arm; "You've got bigger problems to worry about right now." V.I.C.I. looked up at the control booth and was horrified to see Tori Hartwell hanging onto the controls for dear life; electricity coursed through her limbs, and her body convulsed uncontrollably. "TORI! Hang on!" She prepared to scale the crane, but the UnMaker held her back. "Whatever did that to her has probably taken over her mind; if you climb up there and try to save her, she might attack you, and you'll both plummet----" "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU SUGGEST, THEN?!" Vicki shouted. The UnMaker shook his head. "You promised her that you would stop her if you had to," he muttered. Vicki nearly asked how he knew this, but said nothing as he continued. "I suggest you keep that promise…however you can."
Vicki blinked back tears. "Do your Voltaic Converters still work?" she asked; the UnMaker nodded. "Good. Put one hand on the crane, and give me your free hand." The UnMaker stared at her; "Seeing as how one of my arms happens to be broken, I have a better idea," he replied, unstrapping the devices from his arms. "Aim these at the control booth and use that electric grip of yours on them; they'll act like a sort of lightning gun and fire the electricity directly into the control booth."
"It won't work," Vicki countered. "It's too high up, and if I miss…."
"You're not actually thinking of going up there, are you?" the UnMaker asked. "I don't exactly have a choice," Vicki shot back. "Tori isn't just another fembot---she's my friend. I have to help her." She stared down the Unmaker with an unwavering gaze. "Got a problem with that?"
"No," the UnMaker replied without hesitation, "but he might." He pointed over Vicki's shoulder, prompting the brunette gynoid to look behind her.
"Bravo! Bra-vo!" Drake Bradford did a slow clap, looking as if he was enjoying every minute of Vicki's tortured indecision. "You've managed to take out six of my fembots….congratulations are definitely in order." "Enough talk," Vicki declared. "What did you do to Tori?” "I didn't do anything!" Bradford spat back, his smirk vanishing. "Your stupid friend probably set off an alarm---" "She's not stupid!" Vicki yelled.
"Vicki…."
Tori's voice sounded ethereal---and close, though only Vicki could hear it. "Tori?!" the brunette gynoid shouted, expecting her to see the blonde fembot behind her; to her amazement, Tori was still in the control booth of the crane. "It's happening, Vicki….my body isn't responding…I've lost control…" V.I.C.I.'s vision instantly magnified, allowing her to see Tori's arms moving in a most decidedly robotic fashion as they manipulated the crane controls. "Something's taking over my mind, Vicki…..something….named Stylo….."
Vicki felt the bottom of her stomach drop out. Stylo?!
"Tori, everything's going to be all right," she lied, trying to smile. "It's not all right," the UnMaker corrected. "I know what Stylo can do …and it won't be pretty. You have to take the shot." "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TWO BABBLING ABOUT?!" Bradford shouted. "None of your damn business!" the UnMaker called back, glaring at Drake before returning his attention to Vicki. "I'm probably the last person you should trust in this situation…but believe me, this is the only way to keep things from spiralling further out of control than they already have. You have to shoot her down---"
"I KNOW!" Vicki shouted, tears flooding her eyes. "I know…." She sank to her knees. "I…I didn't want this," she muttered. "I never wanted it to go this way…" "Nobody ever does," the UnMaker replied quietly. "Do you think I chose to work for that douchebag?" he asked, gesturing at Bradford. "YOU SHUT UP!" the douchebag in question yelled; the UnMaker ignored him. "It's not always easy," he told the grieving gynoid, "but rest assured….years from now, you'll look back on this night, and realize that you did what you had to do." "How do you know?" Vicki asked, blinking back tears. "I know because I had to do something like this once," the UnMaker whispered, "and I didn't break my promise."
At the mention of promises, Vicki recalled her words to Tori, promising that she'd take the fembot out, but only if she had to. "Forgive me, Tori," she murmured, returning to her feet and aiming the Voltaic Converters at the control booth. Knowing full well that she was essentially about to kill an innocent person, she ramped up the voltage on her Detaining Grip and channeled it through the Converters. I'm sorry, Tori….I'm so sorry.
As expected, the blast had spectacular results.
Tori was blasted out of the control booth instantly, and if the shock hadn't destroyed her, the fall did. Even more spectacular was the fact that just as Vicki's shot hit, a bolt of lightning struck the crane's control booth, moving through the frame and sending a shock straight into Vicki, reminding her of the dream in Palo Alto….
Except that this was no dream.
EDF and ALPA operatives were carting captured fembots into trucks and loading the destroyed fembots into other vehicles, but none of it mattered, mainly because Vicki couldn't see or hear any of it. Instead, she lay on the ground, 33 feet from where Tori had fallen; before she'd been hit, a single question had formed on her lips:
Why?
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"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: Unmade, Unbroken
by DukeNukem 2417 » Mon May 07, 2012 1:22 pm
Vicki awoke in a hospital bed, the sting of her tears still biting at her face. "Wha…."
"So. You're awake."
The British-accented voice was unfamiliar, but nevertheless sounded friendly. Inevitably, Vicki found herself wondering who the speaker was; before she could even ask, however, the voice spoke up again. "I'm not with Bradford or Boris, in case you're wondering; Major Tom can vouch for me." "Well, that's great," Vicki muttered, "except I can't even see what you look like…" Though she couldn't see the man's face, she heard him chuckle. "You'll see my face soon enough, Victoria Ann-Smith Lawson. Trust me on that." With that, Vicki could only listen for the enigmatic man's footsteps as he left the room; seconds later, she went into standby mode again to conserve power, all the while wondering who the enigmatic man was.
30 minutes later, Vicki found herself being stared at by thirteen familiar faces----the fembots she'd battled at the construction site! This can't be happening….wait, it actually can't be happening! Some of them were destroyed---
"Give her some room, girls…she's been through a lot."
Mr. Tell's voice sent a surge of hope through Vicki; Girls? As in the kidnapped students? Sure enough, Tell's face entered her field of vision; "Ah, the heroine of the hour awakes. Vicki, meet the thirteen girls whose lives you saved last night." The girls introduced themselves, and Vicki managed to hide her apprehension as they explained their rather skewed version of events. Apparently, Bradford had used a fake scholarship to lure the girls to SJSU, only to have them detained in a trailer at the construction site for reasons unknown. Vicki already knew the rest of the story; while the girls were held against their will, the fembots had assumed their identities and were prepared to enact Bradford's plan until Valerie overheard their conversation.
"We owe you big time, Vicki," Lizette told the brunette gynoid. "If your friends hadn't found us, we'd probably still be locked up in that stupid trailer." "Indeed," Tell agreed. "Thanks to your quick thinking---and judicious cellphone use---the authorities located the girls before something bad happened." So they don't know, Vicki realized; there were already too many people on campus who knew the truth about her, and she didn't feel like adding 13 girls to the list, even if she had contributed to their rescue.
After a few minutes of Q&A, the girls were ushered out under the pretense of letting Vicki get her much-needed rest; in reality Mr. Tell wanted to talk to her in private about what had happened at the construction site. "I read the report filed by the EDF," he began. "Apparently, you accepted equipment from an unsolicited operative---" "The Unmaker was trying to help me," Vicki explained. I didn't know his Voltaic Converters were---" "WHOA. Hold the phone right there. He let you borrow Voltaic Converters?!" "Yeah," Vicki admitted sheepishly. "I needed to deactivate Tori, and the Converters had the long-range fire I needed…." Even as she said the words, she couldn't help but cringe at how weak they sounded.
Tell sighed. "I don't blame you for trying, V, but…..Tori was too far gone already." "Probably because of that Stylo thing," Vicki muttered.
At the mention of Stylo, Mr. Tell went pale.
"Ah, care to run that by me again, V?" he asked, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice. Vicki sighed; "Right before I took the Converters from the Unmaker, I heard Tori's voice; she'd been taken over by something with a name, and that name was Stylo." She paused. "Why? Does it matter?" Mr. Tell said nothing, choosing instead to lock the door. "Tell," Vicki prodded, "is something wrong?"
"Not yet, thank God," Tell muttered, to Vicki's surprise. "Vicki, if you ever encounter anything infected by this Stylo thing again…let me know, okay?" "Sure," Vicki replied, noticing that Tell had actually used her full first name. "How serious is this Stylo thing, anyways?"
Tell couldn't look Vicki in the eye. "Let's just say that it's something that should've stayed buried."
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"So…..you have failed me again, Boris."
Shrouded in the darkness of the hidden room they shared, Elena Vlatko glared at her husband with unveiled contempt. She'd just found out about his defeat at San Jose State University, and the failure of his "improved" Franklin fembots was just the tip of the suck-tastic iceberg. "You have lost the two prototypes I entrusted unto your care, and you wasted every last bit of money I wired into your account. Explain yourself now, Boris."
"I…I did not waste the money," Boris stammered. "I….spent it all…”
Elena didn't raise her voice. "Spent it all on what, Boris?"
"Necessities! Spare parts, shipping costs, securing a location….all things I needed! It was for the success of the mission, my love! You must understand---"
"What I understand," Elena interjected, leaning forward as she spoke, "is that you obviously don't care about our future!" Boris grimaced; his beloved's face still needed work after the accident in the lab, and seeing the bare internals of her face---the exposed servos of her jaws, the subtle motors that moved her eyes---didn't help to lessen the blow. "The sabotage last week was only a minor setback," Elena declared, "and that was enacted by an outsider. This, however….this is nearly treason by neglect, and from you, no less!"
A door on the right side of the room opened, and a young Asian woman entered the room. She looked to be about 20 (strange, how there are no more like Vladimir, Boris thought) and was wearing only a metallic pink bikini; her long brown hair was arranged in a layer cut, matching her eyes perfectly. She handed Elena a gift box, bowed slightly, and left through the same door she'd entered from. "It seems that not all of my workers are incompetent," Elena muttered, opening the box to reveal her repaired facemask. "I suppose I was too harsh on you, Boris," she admitted, pressing her face to the rest of her head and waiting for the connections to seal properly. "It seems you were," Boris agreed. "I shall not rest until Vicki Lawson and her useless ALPA are ground into the dust beneath my heels!"
"And then you'd promptly be thrown in jail."
The voice emanating from the monitor nearly gave Boris a heart attack. "Baron!" he coughed, trying to sound pleased at the "visit" from his benefactor. "We are honored by your presence---" "Save your lies for the naïve, Boris." The Baron's visage turned to regard Elena, his face hidden in the darkness of his office. "I trust your repairs have gone well?" "Indeed they have," the gynoid replied, smirking. "Of course, had you notified me that the United Robotronics mole in my employ was also receiving payments from another company, the whole mess could have been avoided."
"I assure you, Comrade Elena, that this mole you speak of was only sent to observe," the Baron replied. "If he was receiving payments from outside sources, he did so without my knowledge or consent." Elena nodded, as if that statement closed the matter. "And the fembots built from Franklin's blueprints?" the Baron asked, once again addressing Boris. "Several of them escaped," the Russian genius replied, "but six of the fembots were destroyed in a battle with that foolish capitalist, the Unmaker---" "The Unmaker is not a fool," the Baron corrected. "He's the best he is at what he does. Still, the fact that he jumped ship on you is a bit telling." "As is the fact that four of the fembots were captured," Elena remarked, much to Boris' chagrin.
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In his office across the ocean, the Baron steepled his fingers and leaned back in his chair, a gesture one might assume when contemplating a plan of action. In reality, he had already figured out what move to make next; all he needed was time, money, and a comfortable sofa. Well, more of the time and money, really; he only wanted the sofa to make his office look slightly less "Death Star". "I'll be sending someone over to help with the retrieval efforts in a few weeks," he informed Boris and Elena. "Do not attempt anything until then, understood?"
"Understood, Baron," Elena replied. The monitor clicked off.
If Elena had been able to see the Baron's grin after the connection was terminated, there's a strong chance that she would've ended her alliance with him right then and there.
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“I know he’s gonna blame me for this. I just know it.”
Despite the fact that he was currently lounging in a waterbed within the bedroom of his latest apartment---a loft in downtown Los Gatos---Drake Bradford was not feeling particularly calm, relaxed or “mellow”. After what he referred to as the Hat Trick of Suck (Boris’ departure, the Unmaker turning on him and the “missing” girls being safely reunited with their families), Drake fled the scene ASAP and locked down everything he could to keep the Feds from bringing down the hammer on him…and already, his efforts were doing absolutely nothing to slow them down. Riggs and Eileen had both agreed to run damage control, but it wouldn’t be enough.
The damage had already been done.
“If that phone rings,” Drake muttered, “I’m gonna throw it across the room. That, or I’ll just leave and never come back.” The latter option did have its advantages; he’d ammassed enough frequent flyer miles to pull off a “disappearing act” whenever the hell he felt like it, and with his intercontinental connections---
“Busy night, Bradford?”
Drake nearly jumped ten feet straight up---the phone hadn’t even rung, yet someone was calling him via the built-in speakerphone---
No.
Not him.
Not now….
“Helloooo? Anybody hoooooome?” A dry chuckle. “Did I call the wrong number again? No worries…it’s not like the warden’s going to ask me to pay the phone bill in a few months---"
“M….Maestro?”
“Ah! You remembered! Indeed, Bradford, it is I---your old Silicon Valley saboteur buddy, still languishing in this wonderful little maximum security resort. You should try it some time….prison life isn’t anywhere near as bad as one might be led to believe. Anyways, in case it isn’t obvious why I’ve called, the grapevine’s a-buzzin’ with chatter….particularly, quite a lot of chatter related to your…escapades…”
The all-too familiar feeling of a cold sweat broke out over Drake’s shoulders. “How do you know about this already?” he asked, instantly regretting it.
“You know me, Drakey Boy,” the Maestro replied with a chuckle. “I’ve got more roots than a Douglas Fir, and mine do more than provide nutrients. To a man like me, information is as good as gold….especially when that information comes in the form of conveniently packaged photos, reports and a rather lengthy description of what some people are calling---“ “I DON’T WANT TO KNOW WHAT PEOPLE ARE CALLING IT!” Drake screamed, casting aside all illusions of protocol and decorum. “WHAT I WANT TO KNOW IS HOW IN THE HELL YOU GOT THIS NUMBER, AND HOW YOU CIRCUMVENTED THE PHONELINE SECURITY SYSTEMS I PUT IN PLACE! EITHER YOU TELL ME EXACTLY HOW YOU PULLED THIS LITTLE TRICK OFF, OR---“
“Or you’ll what?” the Maestro chuckled. “I’ve already got two consecutive life sentences with zero chance of parole, so there’s not a whole hell of a lot you can threaten me with, Drakey Boy. Speaking of threats, I could probably do quite a lot of damage to your reputation with all of the dirt I’ve been gathering…siphoning company funds for ‘private use’, illegally reallocating resources to your own projects without proper documentation, kidnapping college students---girls, at that…..d’you want me to keep going, or is it finally beginning to sink in?”
Drake fought to keep himself from screaming again. “What do you want from me?” he croaked.
A harsh laugh issued forth from the speakerphone. “What do I want from you?! I never thought I’d see the day when Drake Bradford, of all people, asked me what I wanted from them…..” The laugh faded into a bemused sigh; “Seeing as how you’ve given me a good laugh, Drakey Boy,” the Maestro quipped, “I’ll forgo my usual littany of vague hints and cryptic clues to cut straight to the point of the matter…..”
His voice turned deadly serious: “I’m planning something. Something big.”
“Something….like what?” Drake heard himself ask. “I mean, you’re not thinking of…..breaking out, or---“
Another laugh exploded from the speaker. “’Breaking out’?! ME?!” The Maestro laughed again. “You just don’t get it, do you, Drakey Boy---“
“QUIT CALLING ME DRAKEY BOY, DAMNIT!” Bradford shouted.
The laughter from the speakerphone quieted down. “Okay, okay,” the Maestro acquiesced, “I’ll stop with the stupid pet names….because I really do need you to do something for me. Something rather important…”
For the next few minutes, Drake listened, took notes and pretty much caved to the demands issued through the speakerphone. It didn’t matter that the Maestro’s “plan” was going to cost him upwards of $70,000,000; compared to what would happen if he didn’t follow through on his promises, that kind of money was chump change. Any other option he could think of would never work; if he went to the authorities, for instance, they’d find out about his latest “venture” and throw him in the slammer as well.
Any way you slice it, Drake Bradford was locked in a no-win scenario.
When the agreements and arrangements were all said and done, the Maestro thanked Bradford for his “rather generous contributions”. “After all,” he admitted, “it’s so hard getting good help these days….”
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….especially when your “current residence” is a prison cell.
“You’d better not plan on stiffing me,” Drake Bradford declared, prompting a smile from the man who many had known only as “The Maestro”. “Oh, believe me, Bradford,” the criminal mastermind replied, “I intend to pay you back in full once this is all over with.” He grinned to himself, already planning the “full repayment” for Drake’s favor. “Got to go now…there’s a queue waiting….be seeing you.” He chuckled as he hung up the phone… only to pick it up again exactly five seconds later and speed-dial another number.
“Have the arrangements been made?”
“They have,” the Maestro replied. “I’ve got Bradford by the short and curlies, and if he even thinks of turning Queen’s Evidence, he’ll be put away for the rest of his stupid life.” His grin turned utterly malicious; “Y’know, the two of us could rule the world if we were so inclined….”
“Trust me---it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. I suggest you stick to your own plans.”
The Maestro rolled his eyes; “I have no intention of abandoning them now,” he declared. “It’s been far too long since I’ve had this kind of opportunity…..and I intend to take full advantage of it. Every single useless twat who took part in bringing my glorious career to an end is going to get exactly what’s coming to them….that was my only crime, in the end, getting caught the way I did……” His fist reflexively clinched at the thought of his arrest. “….and they do deserve what’s coming to them,” he added, his voice a ragged whisper.
“Indeed they will. For now, I suggest you stick to your current itenerary…”
The Maestro nodded, all too aware that any deviation from his usual habits would only derail all of his hard work. “Honestly, I don’t know how you put up with that Bradford idiot,” he admitted, “but….” He sighed. “I’ll be waiting for your next call, Baron.” He hung up the cellphone, smirking as a pair of guards ran past his cell.
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"So. You're awake."
The British-accented voice was unfamiliar, but nevertheless sounded friendly. Inevitably, Vicki found herself wondering who the speaker was; before she could even ask, however, the voice spoke up again. "I'm not with Bradford or Boris, in case you're wondering; Major Tom can vouch for me." "Well, that's great," Vicki muttered, "except I can't even see what you look like…" Though she couldn't see the man's face, she heard him chuckle. "You'll see my face soon enough, Victoria Ann-Smith Lawson. Trust me on that." With that, Vicki could only listen for the enigmatic man's footsteps as he left the room; seconds later, she went into standby mode again to conserve power, all the while wondering who the enigmatic man was.
30 minutes later, Vicki found herself being stared at by thirteen familiar faces----the fembots she'd battled at the construction site! This can't be happening….wait, it actually can't be happening! Some of them were destroyed---
"Give her some room, girls…she's been through a lot."
Mr. Tell's voice sent a surge of hope through Vicki; Girls? As in the kidnapped students? Sure enough, Tell's face entered her field of vision; "Ah, the heroine of the hour awakes. Vicki, meet the thirteen girls whose lives you saved last night." The girls introduced themselves, and Vicki managed to hide her apprehension as they explained their rather skewed version of events. Apparently, Bradford had used a fake scholarship to lure the girls to SJSU, only to have them detained in a trailer at the construction site for reasons unknown. Vicki already knew the rest of the story; while the girls were held against their will, the fembots had assumed their identities and were prepared to enact Bradford's plan until Valerie overheard their conversation.
"We owe you big time, Vicki," Lizette told the brunette gynoid. "If your friends hadn't found us, we'd probably still be locked up in that stupid trailer." "Indeed," Tell agreed. "Thanks to your quick thinking---and judicious cellphone use---the authorities located the girls before something bad happened." So they don't know, Vicki realized; there were already too many people on campus who knew the truth about her, and she didn't feel like adding 13 girls to the list, even if she had contributed to their rescue.
After a few minutes of Q&A, the girls were ushered out under the pretense of letting Vicki get her much-needed rest; in reality Mr. Tell wanted to talk to her in private about what had happened at the construction site. "I read the report filed by the EDF," he began. "Apparently, you accepted equipment from an unsolicited operative---" "The Unmaker was trying to help me," Vicki explained. I didn't know his Voltaic Converters were---" "WHOA. Hold the phone right there. He let you borrow Voltaic Converters?!" "Yeah," Vicki admitted sheepishly. "I needed to deactivate Tori, and the Converters had the long-range fire I needed…." Even as she said the words, she couldn't help but cringe at how weak they sounded.
Tell sighed. "I don't blame you for trying, V, but…..Tori was too far gone already." "Probably because of that Stylo thing," Vicki muttered.
At the mention of Stylo, Mr. Tell went pale.
"Ah, care to run that by me again, V?" he asked, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice. Vicki sighed; "Right before I took the Converters from the Unmaker, I heard Tori's voice; she'd been taken over by something with a name, and that name was Stylo." She paused. "Why? Does it matter?" Mr. Tell said nothing, choosing instead to lock the door. "Tell," Vicki prodded, "is something wrong?"
"Not yet, thank God," Tell muttered, to Vicki's surprise. "Vicki, if you ever encounter anything infected by this Stylo thing again…let me know, okay?" "Sure," Vicki replied, noticing that Tell had actually used her full first name. "How serious is this Stylo thing, anyways?"
Tell couldn't look Vicki in the eye. "Let's just say that it's something that should've stayed buried."
--------------------------------------
"So…..you have failed me again, Boris."
Shrouded in the darkness of the hidden room they shared, Elena Vlatko glared at her husband with unveiled contempt. She'd just found out about his defeat at San Jose State University, and the failure of his "improved" Franklin fembots was just the tip of the suck-tastic iceberg. "You have lost the two prototypes I entrusted unto your care, and you wasted every last bit of money I wired into your account. Explain yourself now, Boris."
"I…I did not waste the money," Boris stammered. "I….spent it all…”
Elena didn't raise her voice. "Spent it all on what, Boris?"
"Necessities! Spare parts, shipping costs, securing a location….all things I needed! It was for the success of the mission, my love! You must understand---"
"What I understand," Elena interjected, leaning forward as she spoke, "is that you obviously don't care about our future!" Boris grimaced; his beloved's face still needed work after the accident in the lab, and seeing the bare internals of her face---the exposed servos of her jaws, the subtle motors that moved her eyes---didn't help to lessen the blow. "The sabotage last week was only a minor setback," Elena declared, "and that was enacted by an outsider. This, however….this is nearly treason by neglect, and from you, no less!"
A door on the right side of the room opened, and a young Asian woman entered the room. She looked to be about 20 (strange, how there are no more like Vladimir, Boris thought) and was wearing only a metallic pink bikini; her long brown hair was arranged in a layer cut, matching her eyes perfectly. She handed Elena a gift box, bowed slightly, and left through the same door she'd entered from. "It seems that not all of my workers are incompetent," Elena muttered, opening the box to reveal her repaired facemask. "I suppose I was too harsh on you, Boris," she admitted, pressing her face to the rest of her head and waiting for the connections to seal properly. "It seems you were," Boris agreed. "I shall not rest until Vicki Lawson and her useless ALPA are ground into the dust beneath my heels!"
"And then you'd promptly be thrown in jail."
The voice emanating from the monitor nearly gave Boris a heart attack. "Baron!" he coughed, trying to sound pleased at the "visit" from his benefactor. "We are honored by your presence---" "Save your lies for the naïve, Boris." The Baron's visage turned to regard Elena, his face hidden in the darkness of his office. "I trust your repairs have gone well?" "Indeed they have," the gynoid replied, smirking. "Of course, had you notified me that the United Robotronics mole in my employ was also receiving payments from another company, the whole mess could have been avoided."
"I assure you, Comrade Elena, that this mole you speak of was only sent to observe," the Baron replied. "If he was receiving payments from outside sources, he did so without my knowledge or consent." Elena nodded, as if that statement closed the matter. "And the fembots built from Franklin's blueprints?" the Baron asked, once again addressing Boris. "Several of them escaped," the Russian genius replied, "but six of the fembots were destroyed in a battle with that foolish capitalist, the Unmaker---" "The Unmaker is not a fool," the Baron corrected. "He's the best he is at what he does. Still, the fact that he jumped ship on you is a bit telling." "As is the fact that four of the fembots were captured," Elena remarked, much to Boris' chagrin.
--------------------------------------
In his office across the ocean, the Baron steepled his fingers and leaned back in his chair, a gesture one might assume when contemplating a plan of action. In reality, he had already figured out what move to make next; all he needed was time, money, and a comfortable sofa. Well, more of the time and money, really; he only wanted the sofa to make his office look slightly less "Death Star". "I'll be sending someone over to help with the retrieval efforts in a few weeks," he informed Boris and Elena. "Do not attempt anything until then, understood?"
"Understood, Baron," Elena replied. The monitor clicked off.
If Elena had been able to see the Baron's grin after the connection was terminated, there's a strong chance that she would've ended her alliance with him right then and there.
--------------------------------------
“I know he’s gonna blame me for this. I just know it.”
Despite the fact that he was currently lounging in a waterbed within the bedroom of his latest apartment---a loft in downtown Los Gatos---Drake Bradford was not feeling particularly calm, relaxed or “mellow”. After what he referred to as the Hat Trick of Suck (Boris’ departure, the Unmaker turning on him and the “missing” girls being safely reunited with their families), Drake fled the scene ASAP and locked down everything he could to keep the Feds from bringing down the hammer on him…and already, his efforts were doing absolutely nothing to slow them down. Riggs and Eileen had both agreed to run damage control, but it wouldn’t be enough.
The damage had already been done.
“If that phone rings,” Drake muttered, “I’m gonna throw it across the room. That, or I’ll just leave and never come back.” The latter option did have its advantages; he’d ammassed enough frequent flyer miles to pull off a “disappearing act” whenever the hell he felt like it, and with his intercontinental connections---
“Busy night, Bradford?”
Drake nearly jumped ten feet straight up---the phone hadn’t even rung, yet someone was calling him via the built-in speakerphone---
No.
Not him.
Not now….
“Helloooo? Anybody hoooooome?” A dry chuckle. “Did I call the wrong number again? No worries…it’s not like the warden’s going to ask me to pay the phone bill in a few months---"
“M….Maestro?”
“Ah! You remembered! Indeed, Bradford, it is I---your old Silicon Valley saboteur buddy, still languishing in this wonderful little maximum security resort. You should try it some time….prison life isn’t anywhere near as bad as one might be led to believe. Anyways, in case it isn’t obvious why I’ve called, the grapevine’s a-buzzin’ with chatter….particularly, quite a lot of chatter related to your…escapades…”
The all-too familiar feeling of a cold sweat broke out over Drake’s shoulders. “How do you know about this already?” he asked, instantly regretting it.
“You know me, Drakey Boy,” the Maestro replied with a chuckle. “I’ve got more roots than a Douglas Fir, and mine do more than provide nutrients. To a man like me, information is as good as gold….especially when that information comes in the form of conveniently packaged photos, reports and a rather lengthy description of what some people are calling---“ “I DON’T WANT TO KNOW WHAT PEOPLE ARE CALLING IT!” Drake screamed, casting aside all illusions of protocol and decorum. “WHAT I WANT TO KNOW IS HOW IN THE HELL YOU GOT THIS NUMBER, AND HOW YOU CIRCUMVENTED THE PHONELINE SECURITY SYSTEMS I PUT IN PLACE! EITHER YOU TELL ME EXACTLY HOW YOU PULLED THIS LITTLE TRICK OFF, OR---“
“Or you’ll what?” the Maestro chuckled. “I’ve already got two consecutive life sentences with zero chance of parole, so there’s not a whole hell of a lot you can threaten me with, Drakey Boy. Speaking of threats, I could probably do quite a lot of damage to your reputation with all of the dirt I’ve been gathering…siphoning company funds for ‘private use’, illegally reallocating resources to your own projects without proper documentation, kidnapping college students---girls, at that…..d’you want me to keep going, or is it finally beginning to sink in?”
Drake fought to keep himself from screaming again. “What do you want from me?” he croaked.
A harsh laugh issued forth from the speakerphone. “What do I want from you?! I never thought I’d see the day when Drake Bradford, of all people, asked me what I wanted from them…..” The laugh faded into a bemused sigh; “Seeing as how you’ve given me a good laugh, Drakey Boy,” the Maestro quipped, “I’ll forgo my usual littany of vague hints and cryptic clues to cut straight to the point of the matter…..”
His voice turned deadly serious: “I’m planning something. Something big.”
“Something….like what?” Drake heard himself ask. “I mean, you’re not thinking of…..breaking out, or---“
Another laugh exploded from the speaker. “’Breaking out’?! ME?!” The Maestro laughed again. “You just don’t get it, do you, Drakey Boy---“
“QUIT CALLING ME DRAKEY BOY, DAMNIT!” Bradford shouted.
The laughter from the speakerphone quieted down. “Okay, okay,” the Maestro acquiesced, “I’ll stop with the stupid pet names….because I really do need you to do something for me. Something rather important…”
For the next few minutes, Drake listened, took notes and pretty much caved to the demands issued through the speakerphone. It didn’t matter that the Maestro’s “plan” was going to cost him upwards of $70,000,000; compared to what would happen if he didn’t follow through on his promises, that kind of money was chump change. Any other option he could think of would never work; if he went to the authorities, for instance, they’d find out about his latest “venture” and throw him in the slammer as well.
Any way you slice it, Drake Bradford was locked in a no-win scenario.
When the agreements and arrangements were all said and done, the Maestro thanked Bradford for his “rather generous contributions”. “After all,” he admitted, “it’s so hard getting good help these days….”
--------------------------------------
….especially when your “current residence” is a prison cell.
“You’d better not plan on stiffing me,” Drake Bradford declared, prompting a smile from the man who many had known only as “The Maestro”. “Oh, believe me, Bradford,” the criminal mastermind replied, “I intend to pay you back in full once this is all over with.” He grinned to himself, already planning the “full repayment” for Drake’s favor. “Got to go now…there’s a queue waiting….be seeing you.” He chuckled as he hung up the phone… only to pick it up again exactly five seconds later and speed-dial another number.
“Have the arrangements been made?”
“They have,” the Maestro replied. “I’ve got Bradford by the short and curlies, and if he even thinks of turning Queen’s Evidence, he’ll be put away for the rest of his stupid life.” His grin turned utterly malicious; “Y’know, the two of us could rule the world if we were so inclined….”
“Trust me---it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. I suggest you stick to your own plans.”
The Maestro rolled his eyes; “I have no intention of abandoning them now,” he declared. “It’s been far too long since I’ve had this kind of opportunity…..and I intend to take full advantage of it. Every single useless twat who took part in bringing my glorious career to an end is going to get exactly what’s coming to them….that was my only crime, in the end, getting caught the way I did……” His fist reflexively clinched at the thought of his arrest. “….and they do deserve what’s coming to them,” he added, his voice a ragged whisper.
“Indeed they will. For now, I suggest you stick to your current itenerary…”
The Maestro nodded, all too aware that any deviation from his usual habits would only derail all of his hard work. “Honestly, I don’t know how you put up with that Bradford idiot,” he admitted, “but….” He sighed. “I’ll be waiting for your next call, Baron.” He hung up the cellphone, smirking as a pair of guards ran past his cell.
--------------------------------------
"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: Unmade, Unbroken
by DukeNukem 2417 » Mon May 07, 2012 1:23 pm
"So I guess there's no way Tori will be coming back any time soon, then…"
After leaving the hospital (thanks to the ALPA "connections" that gave her a clean bill of health), Vicki had gone straight to Kim DeFalco's dorm room to break the news to her. "Tell did say that they had the technology to rebuild her," Vicki admitted. "Y'know, 'stronger, faster, better than she was before,' all that stuff…" "Then why can't they just do that?" Kim asked. Vicki stared at the ground, remembering Tell's reaction when she mentioned Stylo. "I don't know," she finally muttered.
The two left Royce Hall to pick up Nash from the hospital. The hit-and-run that had nearly killed him two days earlier was still being investigated; as for Nash himself, doctors had told him that he'd be wheelchair-bound until Christmas, if he was lucky.
As the two walked, Vicki noticed a familiar figure in the distance. "You go on ahead," she told Kim, "I'll catch up in a minute." Kim nodded and went on her way, leaving Vicki to confront the newcomer by herself. "So," she began as she approached the figure, "it's you. Again."
"Indeed it is," the UnMaker replied. "Bradford's lawyers are already working on ways to keep him out of prison before the end of the week, so don't expect too much of a reprieve in that department." "I never said I wanted one," Vicki replied. "Too bad," the UnMaker replied, grinning, "because Bradford still doesn't know who you are…or what you are." His grin faded. "I suggest you don't try to find out more about me, Vicki Lawson, and I advise you to forget what you already know." "Why?" the brunette gynoid asked, a bit too sarcastically.
The reply shattered her snarky mood: "Because anyone who knows too much about me will wind up dead."
"Is that a threat?" Vicki asked, anger slowly rising in her voice. "No, just a warning. And don't bother trying to Google my name; all you'll find are walkthroughs for DooM 64 and a few heavy-metal bands." With that, the UnMaker strode away. "At least tell me why you helped me!" Vicki called after him, stopping the enigmatic young man in his tracks. "You want to know the reason I gave you an assist at the construction site?" he asked. Vicki nodded slowly.
The UnMaker sighed. "I helped you because I had to."
He turned and walked away once again. Vicki tried to ignore the feeling of unease as she ran to catch up with Kim, but something about her encounter with the UnMaker was still bothering her. I scanned him multiple times, so I know he's human….what is it about this guy that's bugging me so much?!
--------------------------------------
Mr. Tell stared at the computer screen in front of him, unwilling to believe what he was seeing.
"Franklin, you crazy genius, you," he muttered, grinning. "You hid it from everyone, right under their noses, and they didn't even have the common sense to look for it…"
After carefully dismantling the MaryBeth fembot, Mr. Tell had already found out that Dr. Franklin's dream of using lightweight materials and bleeding-edge tech to streamline and perfect his fembots hadn't been that far off; in fact, MaryBeth had been a prototype, built only after Franklin had nearly gone broke while saving up for the materials (lightweight titanium, ceramics and plastics weren't as readily available to the robotics community in the 1970s as they are nowadays, after all). Boris had simply repalced her exoskin and reprogrammed her….
But that barely scratched the surface compared to what Tell found next.
"Schzero.obj, Synvex.obj….the precursors," he muttered. "Both of them successfully wiped from the hard drive after a few hours….but there's no way---no….." He felt as if his jaw were about to hit the floor. "No way in HELL….." His grin widened. "This….this is just unreal…." Somewhere, either within the confines of his imagination or in another part of the building, the 1812 Overture was playing.
"I think I've just had my 'Eureka' moment," he murmured, fighting the urge to start cheering like a lunatic.
--------------------------------------
V.I.C.I./Vicki Lawson's Diary: October 7, 2010
These past few days have been….interesting, to say the least. And here I thought the Palo Alto assignment would be the highlight of the week!
For starters, I encountered the "grandchildren" of fembots designed by one Dr. Franklin; the main difference between his fembots and these new ones is that these new-breed girls were made from lightweight materials and the latest in electronic gadgetry. Still, that wasn't enough to save six of them from being destroyed…
In other, slightly more mundane news, I've made another new friend---actually, several new friends. Aaron Cardwell (the seventh person who knows what I am), Kim DeFalco (the sixth) and Tori Hartwell (the fifth). Aaron works at Tentrex Electronics, and having him on my side might be a major asset in the long run (plus, I found out that Nate from DreamLand was built in his image!) Ths situation with Tori a bit more complicated, though; it turns out that she's one of Franklin's "grandkids"….and she was also being controlled by something called Stylo. I don't know how long it was controlling her for, but it made its presence known last night…..and I kinda sorta had to kill her. See, she asked me to promise that I'd stop her if she lost control of herself, so my promise remained unbroken….even though I kept my word in the worst possible way.
Speaking of "un"-ing things (is that even a word?), I encountered a guy calling himself the UnMaker during the craziness of the past few days. He warned me not to look him up on Google or anything, and I'm actually going along with that; if it turns out he's related to the Mafia, I'm screwed. Oh and Boris Vlatko---the creator of the Vladmir Mk ICV from the spelling bee---was in cahoots with Drake Bradford (I knew that guy was bad news!) Fortunately, Drake has no idea who or what I am; it's times like these that I almost think someone's watching out for me, someone I don't even know….
I really wish I could say more, but I have to get back to my essay; it's about how Orson Welles's film The Magnificent Ambersons could've been a huge Hollywood hit (and maybe even changed the film industry) had RKO Studios not chosen to burn the bits they cut out and tack on a stupid happy ending.
Until next time,
V.I.C.I./Vicki Lawson
----------------------------------
Franklin's fembots may have been defeated, but they pale in comparison to Vicki's next assignment. After a disturbing phone call and the discovery of a murdered NASA pilot, Vicki finds herself pulled out of class and into a whirlwind of activity alongside Major Tom. Someone (or something) has been killing off NASA employees associated with Project Apollo, and it's beginning to look like Major Tom may be next!
Vicki's going to need all the help she can get in this one. Fortunately for her, Leah Chambers---the $5 Billion Girl---is visiting SJSU as part of her college lecture tour. With Major Tom rapidly losing his focus thanks to horrific nightmares about the death of his old partner (a NASA operative codenamed Nova Girl), Vicki and Leah may have to go it alone against the unknown in "Out of This World", the next thrilling installment of The V.I.C.I. Diaries, coming to Fembot Central later this month!
----------------------------------
Comments, insight and thoughts on this latest installment are anticipated and welcome.
After leaving the hospital (thanks to the ALPA "connections" that gave her a clean bill of health), Vicki had gone straight to Kim DeFalco's dorm room to break the news to her. "Tell did say that they had the technology to rebuild her," Vicki admitted. "Y'know, 'stronger, faster, better than she was before,' all that stuff…" "Then why can't they just do that?" Kim asked. Vicki stared at the ground, remembering Tell's reaction when she mentioned Stylo. "I don't know," she finally muttered.
The two left Royce Hall to pick up Nash from the hospital. The hit-and-run that had nearly killed him two days earlier was still being investigated; as for Nash himself, doctors had told him that he'd be wheelchair-bound until Christmas, if he was lucky.
As the two walked, Vicki noticed a familiar figure in the distance. "You go on ahead," she told Kim, "I'll catch up in a minute." Kim nodded and went on her way, leaving Vicki to confront the newcomer by herself. "So," she began as she approached the figure, "it's you. Again."
"Indeed it is," the UnMaker replied. "Bradford's lawyers are already working on ways to keep him out of prison before the end of the week, so don't expect too much of a reprieve in that department." "I never said I wanted one," Vicki replied. "Too bad," the UnMaker replied, grinning, "because Bradford still doesn't know who you are…or what you are." His grin faded. "I suggest you don't try to find out more about me, Vicki Lawson, and I advise you to forget what you already know." "Why?" the brunette gynoid asked, a bit too sarcastically.
The reply shattered her snarky mood: "Because anyone who knows too much about me will wind up dead."
"Is that a threat?" Vicki asked, anger slowly rising in her voice. "No, just a warning. And don't bother trying to Google my name; all you'll find are walkthroughs for DooM 64 and a few heavy-metal bands." With that, the UnMaker strode away. "At least tell me why you helped me!" Vicki called after him, stopping the enigmatic young man in his tracks. "You want to know the reason I gave you an assist at the construction site?" he asked. Vicki nodded slowly.
The UnMaker sighed. "I helped you because I had to."
He turned and walked away once again. Vicki tried to ignore the feeling of unease as she ran to catch up with Kim, but something about her encounter with the UnMaker was still bothering her. I scanned him multiple times, so I know he's human….what is it about this guy that's bugging me so much?!
--------------------------------------
Mr. Tell stared at the computer screen in front of him, unwilling to believe what he was seeing.
"Franklin, you crazy genius, you," he muttered, grinning. "You hid it from everyone, right under their noses, and they didn't even have the common sense to look for it…"
After carefully dismantling the MaryBeth fembot, Mr. Tell had already found out that Dr. Franklin's dream of using lightweight materials and bleeding-edge tech to streamline and perfect his fembots hadn't been that far off; in fact, MaryBeth had been a prototype, built only after Franklin had nearly gone broke while saving up for the materials (lightweight titanium, ceramics and plastics weren't as readily available to the robotics community in the 1970s as they are nowadays, after all). Boris had simply repalced her exoskin and reprogrammed her….
But that barely scratched the surface compared to what Tell found next.
"Schzero.obj, Synvex.obj….the precursors," he muttered. "Both of them successfully wiped from the hard drive after a few hours….but there's no way---no….." He felt as if his jaw were about to hit the floor. "No way in HELL….." His grin widened. "This….this is just unreal…." Somewhere, either within the confines of his imagination or in another part of the building, the 1812 Overture was playing.
"I think I've just had my 'Eureka' moment," he murmured, fighting the urge to start cheering like a lunatic.
--------------------------------------
V.I.C.I./Vicki Lawson's Diary: October 7, 2010
These past few days have been….interesting, to say the least. And here I thought the Palo Alto assignment would be the highlight of the week!
For starters, I encountered the "grandchildren" of fembots designed by one Dr. Franklin; the main difference between his fembots and these new ones is that these new-breed girls were made from lightweight materials and the latest in electronic gadgetry. Still, that wasn't enough to save six of them from being destroyed…
In other, slightly more mundane news, I've made another new friend---actually, several new friends. Aaron Cardwell (the seventh person who knows what I am), Kim DeFalco (the sixth) and Tori Hartwell (the fifth). Aaron works at Tentrex Electronics, and having him on my side might be a major asset in the long run (plus, I found out that Nate from DreamLand was built in his image!) Ths situation with Tori a bit more complicated, though; it turns out that she's one of Franklin's "grandkids"….and she was also being controlled by something called Stylo. I don't know how long it was controlling her for, but it made its presence known last night…..and I kinda sorta had to kill her. See, she asked me to promise that I'd stop her if she lost control of herself, so my promise remained unbroken….even though I kept my word in the worst possible way.
Speaking of "un"-ing things (is that even a word?), I encountered a guy calling himself the UnMaker during the craziness of the past few days. He warned me not to look him up on Google or anything, and I'm actually going along with that; if it turns out he's related to the Mafia, I'm screwed. Oh and Boris Vlatko---the creator of the Vladmir Mk ICV from the spelling bee---was in cahoots with Drake Bradford (I knew that guy was bad news!) Fortunately, Drake has no idea who or what I am; it's times like these that I almost think someone's watching out for me, someone I don't even know….
I really wish I could say more, but I have to get back to my essay; it's about how Orson Welles's film The Magnificent Ambersons could've been a huge Hollywood hit (and maybe even changed the film industry) had RKO Studios not chosen to burn the bits they cut out and tack on a stupid happy ending.
Until next time,
V.I.C.I./Vicki Lawson
----------------------------------
Franklin's fembots may have been defeated, but they pale in comparison to Vicki's next assignment. After a disturbing phone call and the discovery of a murdered NASA pilot, Vicki finds herself pulled out of class and into a whirlwind of activity alongside Major Tom. Someone (or something) has been killing off NASA employees associated with Project Apollo, and it's beginning to look like Major Tom may be next!
Vicki's going to need all the help she can get in this one. Fortunately for her, Leah Chambers---the $5 Billion Girl---is visiting SJSU as part of her college lecture tour. With Major Tom rapidly losing his focus thanks to horrific nightmares about the death of his old partner (a NASA operative codenamed Nova Girl), Vicki and Leah may have to go it alone against the unknown in "Out of This World", the next thrilling installment of The V.I.C.I. Diaries, coming to Fembot Central later this month!
----------------------------------
Comments, insight and thoughts on this latest installment are anticipated and welcome.
"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: Unmade, Unbroken
by DollSpace » Sat May 19, 2012 8:36 am
Wow...that was quite a story...*and* with a promise of a sequel? I enjoyed this a lot and hope to see more writing from you in the future. A job well done! 
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DollSpace - Story Archive Moderator
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Re: The V.I.C.I Diaries: Unmade, Unbroken
by DukeNukem 2417 » Sat May 19, 2012 1:58 pm
Thanks.
Expect the next episode on Memorial Day.
Expect the next episode on Memorial Day.
"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: Unmade, Unbroken
by TW » Wed May 23, 2012 8:52 pm
I have to say that even though Vicki isn't your own character, you've done a great job of turning her into your own.
I really like this storyline. It's funny, suspenseful, and filled with action. You're building a real universe here, and I can't wait to see where you take it.
Bring on more!
Cheers,
TW
I really like this storyline. It's funny, suspenseful, and filled with action. You're building a real universe here, and I can't wait to see where you take it.
Bring on more!
Cheers,
TW
- TW
- Posts: 99
- Joined: Mon Aug 21, 2006 8:01 am
Re: The V.I.C.I Diaries: Unmade, Unbroken
by DollSpace » Thu May 24, 2012 8:32 am
DukeNukem 2417 wrote:Thanks.
Expect the next episode on Memorial Day.
I can't wait!
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DollSpace - Story Archive Moderator
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Re: The V.I.C.I Diaries: Unmade, Unbroken
by DukeNukem 2417 » Thu May 24, 2012 2:09 pm
TW wrote:I have to say that even though Vicki isn't your own character, you've done a great job of turning her into your own.
I really like this storyline. It's funny, suspenseful, and filled with action. You're building a real universe here, and I can't wait to see where you take it.
Bring on more!
Cheers,
TW
Now THIS is the kind of reply that makes me want to keep The V.I.C.I. Diaries going.
TW, you can rest assured that the rest of the stories will be just as funny, suspenseful and action-packed. I guarantee it.
"No one steals our chicks.....and lives!"
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DukeNukem 2417 - Posts: 745
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- Location: somwhere on Planet Earth
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