You'll recall that she CAN be repaired....just not at ALPA HQ.Propman wrote:Brittney Delacroix shall be missed
The V.I.C.I. Diaries - The Dragon
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DukeNukem 2417
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Re: The V.I.C.I. Diaries - The Dragon
"No one steals our chicks.....and lives!"
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Re: The V.I.C.I. Diaries - The Dragon
And Siskel & Ebert give this installment: two skeleton fingers up! (since I believe they're both dead) Keep writing; and when this is story is done, the next one will be even better!
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Re: The V.I.C.I. Diaries - The Dragon
“...and I assure you, she won't be a problem anymore.”
Octavia smiled as she reported the news of Brittney Delacroix's incapacitation; she had no reason not to smile, in all honesty. Two of the most annoying “assets” of the DVS had been dealt with---well, one had been dealt with, the other was still on the run, but not posing any imminent threat---and Epsilon would soon be defeated.
“What of the 'star Field Agent' in the employ of the Artificial Lifeform Protection Agency?”
“Lawson will pose no threat. The ALPA has no information on me other than rumours and hearsay, and anyone who does know anything will unknow it soon enough....” The new head of United Robotronics paused, frowning, as the door to the conference room opened; a self-propelling cart of some kind was wheeling in, bearing a human-sized capsule. “A....house-warming present, Baron?”
“Your own Kendall. Her memories were recovered from what was left of her predecessor.”
“Including the memory of her own destruction?”
“....consider it an extra form of motivation. An incentive to succeed where her...previous self failed.”
As the Baron spoke, Octavia circled the capsule, her chin cupped in one hand. “And this punishment won't lead her to....question your authority?” she inquired. “Or mine?”
“She will not question you unless your own decision-making is....less than satisfactory.”
“That won't be a problem, I can assure you.” Octavia glanced at her other hand, which absently brushed along the capsule's surface–-the thought of her own artificial nature, of the servomotor assemblies, wiring and other minute components hidden beneath the toffee-coloured skin provoking a surprising number of feelings within her processors. “You designed me to be your heir, after all,” she added---quietly, as if the remark was meant as much for herself as it was for the Baron. “You wouldn't leave your empire in the hands of a....flawed product, would you?”
A low, rumbling chuckle sounded from the speakers mounted all around the room.
Flawless, bleached amalgam teeth smiled from behind gel-filled lips---any other response from the gynoid would've meant her doom. Of course, she'd been created by the Baron to serve his interests...and if those meant her own destruction, then she would accept it. Besides, there were five more versions of her---currently nothing but empty shells---waiting to receive her full programming and personality suite if her current body were to suddenly cease functioning. That had been Brittney Delacroix's fatal flaw, in the end---she knew what she was, but at the same time, believed herself capable of fulfilling the Baron's will on her own. Octavia had done her predecessor a favour by ruining her via remote uplink, really.....
“Introspection can do great things, Octavia....but now is scarcely the time.”
“Of course. The thought merely occurred to me that the Lawson girl may pose more of a threat to the capture and destruction of Epsilon than anticipated....” It wasn't quite a lie---one of Octavia's background processes was, indeed, working on the problem of how to most efficiently eliminate Vicki Lawson. “And the Sanderson girl your agents failed to turn---”
“Fail?” a giggling, almost musical voice called out. “We didn't fail....”
“We planted a seed,” another voice called out, “that grew and grew....”
Octavia frowned. “You never said I'd be working with these two,” she called out, just as a pair of stunningly beautiful women---one redhead, one brunette---walked into the room. “I was expecting to be teamed up with the men under Bradford's employ, to be honest....”
The redhead put a hand to her bosom, feigning offence. “You don't want to work with us?”
“I don't think she recognizes our potential,” the brunette replied. “She doesn't know what we're capable of---”
“ENOUGH.” The single word, resounding through the room like a peal of thunder, cut off all further discussion of potential and other such topics. “Harmony, Melody,” the Baron's voice intoned, “consider this your redemption for your past mistakes with Greendale. Epsilon is your new target. Do not fail me again....unless you wish to discover, first hand, the fate that befell your 'sister'.....”
Harmony and Melody nodded, the smiles effectively vanishing from their faces. “We won't make the same mistakes that Cadence made,” Harmony solemnly replied.
“And we won't let Epsilon escape,” Melody added. “We'll destroy ourselves to stop him if we have to....” Her words prompted an alarmed glance from Harmony, but the Baron spoke up before the redhead (or Octavia, for that matter) could protest. “Then go, and ensure that Epsilon does not continue to elude us....and as for you, Octavia, see to it that all who stand between yourself and the retrieval of Epsilon are....punished.”
“It would be my pleasure, Baron.”
An almost inaudible hum signalled that the speakers had turned off. The Baron cared little for the formalities of greetings and farewells unless ceremony called for it---which, in this case, it didn't. Epsilon needed to be taken down, the Lawson girl needed to be removed from the picture, and the status quo needed to be restored to what the DVS wanted. Naturally, Octavia would distance herself from the group in public and act “of her own accord”, carrying out the Baron's will within United Robotronics and ensuring the DVS had a foothold in the international robotics market---and, possibly, grander stages---for years to come....
“....hmmm, hmm-hmmm-hmm, da, da da da da daaaaa....hmm, hmm-hmm-hmmmmm, hmmm, hmm-hmm hmmmm....” Harmony (or Melody---it was difficult to tell which, without looking) had decided to start humming the March of the Toreadors; under other circumstances, Octavia might have reprimanded the pair of them.
Then again, it was hard to deny that she did enjoy the thrill of playing such a dangerous game as this......
-------------
From her vantage point in the Baron's office, Celine heard the entire conversation with Octavia, concluding with the command that would, in all probability, be the first shot in this newest cold war: “...and as for you, Octavia, see to it that all who stand between yourself and the retrieval of Epsilon are....punished.”
“It would be my pleasure, Baron.”
The monitors clicked off, and the room was silent once more....at least, for a few seconds. “Celine....” The Baron's voice came in as clear as if he were actually in the room, instead of across the ocean---the speaker system he'd had installed in his own office was that good. “I understand that the two gynoids I requested you activate have not yet been---”
“There was a problem,” Celine stated, a bit too quickly for her own liking. “The facility is being monitored, after the incident at the old G-Block building.”
A few more seconds of silence....
“We need to find an alternative,” the gynoid continued. “Trying to actually destroy Epsilon, or even to capture it, will only bring more unwanted attention to us. The ALPA will be looking for all freelancers, like Hewlett and Packard....” The thought occurred to her that she was talking rather rapidly---too fast, in fact, to simply be offering sage advice. “And the Sanderson girl---we can have a retrieval team out for her in half an hour...” A strange, recurring sound, getting louder with each repetition, was cutting into her words; she ignored it, carrying on speaking. “Surveillance teams could probably be placed at each intersection of San Jose, possibly even at the University---”
“CELINE.”
Every sound in the room died. The lights, by contrast, seemed to brighten just enough to be irritating---not fully blinding, but not welcoming....and in that moment, Celine realized the recurring sound had been the Baron speaking, repeating her name to remind her that he was present...if not in the flesh, than at least through the monitoring system. Something wet streaked down her cheek....
“You are dismissed,” the Baron continued, “for the remainder of the week. Your pay check will not be altered in any way during this time....” A low, slow breath sounded. “....and the next time you attend work in the wake of some personal tragedy,” he added, “you would do well to visit the on-site therapist.” Without another word, the feed from the Baron's foreign office cut out.
Two seconds later, Celine sank to her knees and wept.
The call from the Patriarch had come in an hour earlier---fifteen House agents in Jakarta had been, in his own words, obliterated. Among the group were two gynoids Celine had considered her sisters---theirs was the closest to a genetic familial bond, and they had even filed for a shared housing application a month prior.
And now they're gone.
Celine knew that the Baron suspected her of being a double-agent. She also knew that he had a team on her trail a month ago---he'd readily admitted to it when she asked, on the grounds of “reinforcing his control” over all potential security issues. Three men she'd been on dates with in as many months had vanished---one was found, wandering the streets of Tucson at 2 in the morning, dance-walking and staring up at the night sky with a crazed smile. The other two were never heard from again. As for the team that had been trailing her, a missing persons report sitting on her desk was a stark reminder of what happened to those who failed to live up to the Baron's high standards.
Even the mundane details of her life had been altered in her employ to the Baron. She hadn't worn her hair in its “natural” color since being hired by United Robotronics (and subsequently being transferred to her current job as the Baron's secretary); it was nearly impossible for her to picture hersef with anything other than the flowing crimson locks she'd sported for well over two years now...not that it mattered, now. Any proof that she was anything less than a loyal secretary would be her doom.
Sooner or later, she would meet the same fate that her sisters had. It was only a matter of time.
Failing to make the call for the two Epsilon-hunting gynoids wouldn't be what killed her. She'd made similar mistakes before, and been reprimanded with varying degrees of severity. It was a scare tactic, and a not-so-subtle warning: the BIG mistake, whatever it would be and whenever it would happen, would be her last.
Composing herself, and dabbing at her eyes to dry the tears, Celine gathered her things and headed for the door, hoping that her car would be where she'd left it in the car park. A relocated vehicle might not mean anything, or it might mean that the last thing her ocular sensors would pick up after turning the ignition would be a spark, then a fireball....stop it. He told you to go see the therapist, not that you should get fitted for your funeral-wear..... She dismissed the thought. In the end, her own fate was irrelevant, for the time being. Keeping her cover intact (or not compromising it any further) was all that mattered. Thus, she'd have to toe the same line Octavia was expected to follow....no matter how far down the Baron's path it would lead.
On her way to the door, she checked her phone---another call from the Patriarch. In all probability, the fallout from the Jakarta mission was still ongoing; ther possibility that more agents of the House had died wasn't lost on the crimson-haired gynoid.
Without hesitation, Celine turned off her phone. The call could wait.
Keeping the DVS from getting to Epsilon was top priority.
-------------------------------------------------
Octavia smiled as she reported the news of Brittney Delacroix's incapacitation; she had no reason not to smile, in all honesty. Two of the most annoying “assets” of the DVS had been dealt with---well, one had been dealt with, the other was still on the run, but not posing any imminent threat---and Epsilon would soon be defeated.
“What of the 'star Field Agent' in the employ of the Artificial Lifeform Protection Agency?”
“Lawson will pose no threat. The ALPA has no information on me other than rumours and hearsay, and anyone who does know anything will unknow it soon enough....” The new head of United Robotronics paused, frowning, as the door to the conference room opened; a self-propelling cart of some kind was wheeling in, bearing a human-sized capsule. “A....house-warming present, Baron?”
“Your own Kendall. Her memories were recovered from what was left of her predecessor.”
“Including the memory of her own destruction?”
“....consider it an extra form of motivation. An incentive to succeed where her...previous self failed.”
As the Baron spoke, Octavia circled the capsule, her chin cupped in one hand. “And this punishment won't lead her to....question your authority?” she inquired. “Or mine?”
“She will not question you unless your own decision-making is....less than satisfactory.”
“That won't be a problem, I can assure you.” Octavia glanced at her other hand, which absently brushed along the capsule's surface–-the thought of her own artificial nature, of the servomotor assemblies, wiring and other minute components hidden beneath the toffee-coloured skin provoking a surprising number of feelings within her processors. “You designed me to be your heir, after all,” she added---quietly, as if the remark was meant as much for herself as it was for the Baron. “You wouldn't leave your empire in the hands of a....flawed product, would you?”
A low, rumbling chuckle sounded from the speakers mounted all around the room.
Flawless, bleached amalgam teeth smiled from behind gel-filled lips---any other response from the gynoid would've meant her doom. Of course, she'd been created by the Baron to serve his interests...and if those meant her own destruction, then she would accept it. Besides, there were five more versions of her---currently nothing but empty shells---waiting to receive her full programming and personality suite if her current body were to suddenly cease functioning. That had been Brittney Delacroix's fatal flaw, in the end---she knew what she was, but at the same time, believed herself capable of fulfilling the Baron's will on her own. Octavia had done her predecessor a favour by ruining her via remote uplink, really.....
“Introspection can do great things, Octavia....but now is scarcely the time.”
“Of course. The thought merely occurred to me that the Lawson girl may pose more of a threat to the capture and destruction of Epsilon than anticipated....” It wasn't quite a lie---one of Octavia's background processes was, indeed, working on the problem of how to most efficiently eliminate Vicki Lawson. “And the Sanderson girl your agents failed to turn---”
“Fail?” a giggling, almost musical voice called out. “We didn't fail....”
“We planted a seed,” another voice called out, “that grew and grew....”
Octavia frowned. “You never said I'd be working with these two,” she called out, just as a pair of stunningly beautiful women---one redhead, one brunette---walked into the room. “I was expecting to be teamed up with the men under Bradford's employ, to be honest....”
The redhead put a hand to her bosom, feigning offence. “You don't want to work with us?”
“I don't think she recognizes our potential,” the brunette replied. “She doesn't know what we're capable of---”
“ENOUGH.” The single word, resounding through the room like a peal of thunder, cut off all further discussion of potential and other such topics. “Harmony, Melody,” the Baron's voice intoned, “consider this your redemption for your past mistakes with Greendale. Epsilon is your new target. Do not fail me again....unless you wish to discover, first hand, the fate that befell your 'sister'.....”
Harmony and Melody nodded, the smiles effectively vanishing from their faces. “We won't make the same mistakes that Cadence made,” Harmony solemnly replied.
“And we won't let Epsilon escape,” Melody added. “We'll destroy ourselves to stop him if we have to....” Her words prompted an alarmed glance from Harmony, but the Baron spoke up before the redhead (or Octavia, for that matter) could protest. “Then go, and ensure that Epsilon does not continue to elude us....and as for you, Octavia, see to it that all who stand between yourself and the retrieval of Epsilon are....punished.”
“It would be my pleasure, Baron.”
An almost inaudible hum signalled that the speakers had turned off. The Baron cared little for the formalities of greetings and farewells unless ceremony called for it---which, in this case, it didn't. Epsilon needed to be taken down, the Lawson girl needed to be removed from the picture, and the status quo needed to be restored to what the DVS wanted. Naturally, Octavia would distance herself from the group in public and act “of her own accord”, carrying out the Baron's will within United Robotronics and ensuring the DVS had a foothold in the international robotics market---and, possibly, grander stages---for years to come....
“....hmmm, hmm-hmmm-hmm, da, da da da da daaaaa....hmm, hmm-hmm-hmmmmm, hmmm, hmm-hmm hmmmm....” Harmony (or Melody---it was difficult to tell which, without looking) had decided to start humming the March of the Toreadors; under other circumstances, Octavia might have reprimanded the pair of them.
Then again, it was hard to deny that she did enjoy the thrill of playing such a dangerous game as this......
-------------
From her vantage point in the Baron's office, Celine heard the entire conversation with Octavia, concluding with the command that would, in all probability, be the first shot in this newest cold war: “...and as for you, Octavia, see to it that all who stand between yourself and the retrieval of Epsilon are....punished.”
“It would be my pleasure, Baron.”
The monitors clicked off, and the room was silent once more....at least, for a few seconds. “Celine....” The Baron's voice came in as clear as if he were actually in the room, instead of across the ocean---the speaker system he'd had installed in his own office was that good. “I understand that the two gynoids I requested you activate have not yet been---”
“There was a problem,” Celine stated, a bit too quickly for her own liking. “The facility is being monitored, after the incident at the old G-Block building.”
A few more seconds of silence....
“We need to find an alternative,” the gynoid continued. “Trying to actually destroy Epsilon, or even to capture it, will only bring more unwanted attention to us. The ALPA will be looking for all freelancers, like Hewlett and Packard....” The thought occurred to her that she was talking rather rapidly---too fast, in fact, to simply be offering sage advice. “And the Sanderson girl---we can have a retrieval team out for her in half an hour...” A strange, recurring sound, getting louder with each repetition, was cutting into her words; she ignored it, carrying on speaking. “Surveillance teams could probably be placed at each intersection of San Jose, possibly even at the University---”
“CELINE.”
Every sound in the room died. The lights, by contrast, seemed to brighten just enough to be irritating---not fully blinding, but not welcoming....and in that moment, Celine realized the recurring sound had been the Baron speaking, repeating her name to remind her that he was present...if not in the flesh, than at least through the monitoring system. Something wet streaked down her cheek....
“You are dismissed,” the Baron continued, “for the remainder of the week. Your pay check will not be altered in any way during this time....” A low, slow breath sounded. “....and the next time you attend work in the wake of some personal tragedy,” he added, “you would do well to visit the on-site therapist.” Without another word, the feed from the Baron's foreign office cut out.
Two seconds later, Celine sank to her knees and wept.
The call from the Patriarch had come in an hour earlier---fifteen House agents in Jakarta had been, in his own words, obliterated. Among the group were two gynoids Celine had considered her sisters---theirs was the closest to a genetic familial bond, and they had even filed for a shared housing application a month prior.
And now they're gone.
Celine knew that the Baron suspected her of being a double-agent. She also knew that he had a team on her trail a month ago---he'd readily admitted to it when she asked, on the grounds of “reinforcing his control” over all potential security issues. Three men she'd been on dates with in as many months had vanished---one was found, wandering the streets of Tucson at 2 in the morning, dance-walking and staring up at the night sky with a crazed smile. The other two were never heard from again. As for the team that had been trailing her, a missing persons report sitting on her desk was a stark reminder of what happened to those who failed to live up to the Baron's high standards.
Even the mundane details of her life had been altered in her employ to the Baron. She hadn't worn her hair in its “natural” color since being hired by United Robotronics (and subsequently being transferred to her current job as the Baron's secretary); it was nearly impossible for her to picture hersef with anything other than the flowing crimson locks she'd sported for well over two years now...not that it mattered, now. Any proof that she was anything less than a loyal secretary would be her doom.
Sooner or later, she would meet the same fate that her sisters had. It was only a matter of time.
Failing to make the call for the two Epsilon-hunting gynoids wouldn't be what killed her. She'd made similar mistakes before, and been reprimanded with varying degrees of severity. It was a scare tactic, and a not-so-subtle warning: the BIG mistake, whatever it would be and whenever it would happen, would be her last.
Composing herself, and dabbing at her eyes to dry the tears, Celine gathered her things and headed for the door, hoping that her car would be where she'd left it in the car park. A relocated vehicle might not mean anything, or it might mean that the last thing her ocular sensors would pick up after turning the ignition would be a spark, then a fireball....stop it. He told you to go see the therapist, not that you should get fitted for your funeral-wear..... She dismissed the thought. In the end, her own fate was irrelevant, for the time being. Keeping her cover intact (or not compromising it any further) was all that mattered. Thus, she'd have to toe the same line Octavia was expected to follow....no matter how far down the Baron's path it would lead.
On her way to the door, she checked her phone---another call from the Patriarch. In all probability, the fallout from the Jakarta mission was still ongoing; ther possibility that more agents of the House had died wasn't lost on the crimson-haired gynoid.
Without hesitation, Celine turned off her phone. The call could wait.
Keeping the DVS from getting to Epsilon was top priority.
-------------------------------------------------
"No one steals our chicks.....and lives!"
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australopith
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Re: The V.I.C.I. Diaries - The Dragon
The original Boom-Boom is sitting spellbound in Chad's den chair, reading your story and worrying about her namesake.DukeNukem 2417 wrote:You'll recall that she CAN be repaired....just not at ALPA HQ.Propman wrote:Brittney Delacroix shall be missed
"Dang–all these stories an' I never seen her happy, or really satisfied–about nothin'... it's just wrong, you dig? Never got to meet her an' make out with her, either."
"Parting is such sweet sorrow–huh, Beebs?"
"Chad, please."
"Boom-Boom–I mean, boss, I don't even think she's real..."
"Not in this world, punk. But if I can be, then she can. An' when Boom-Boom–THIS Boom-Boom–ain't livin' the screwed-up life you wanted her to live, she do think about how other bots' lives could be better."
"And you want to make out with her."
"Yeah, an' I–HEY!"
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Re: The V.I.C.I. Diaries - The Dragon
[Attempted to delete post. Can't. Read the previous one, fellas and gals...]
Last edited by australopith on Sat Jul 25, 2015 7:48 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: The V.I.C.I. Diaries - The Dragon
“And she can be repaired?”
Anton sighed. “Not by us, and not any time soon...but yes. I'd ask why you cared, but.....”
“I should ask why you don't care, Anton.”
“I never said I didn't,” the roboticist countered, glancing at a nearby security monitor. “Brittney Delacroix is a known enemy of the ALPA, and some people would probably pay me handsomely to let her fall apart...” He turned away. “Considering all that's been going on, I'm sorely tempted to---”
“Don't. Do not finish that sentence, Anton Malvineous. You're better than that.”
The rebuke prompted a chuckle. “My mother would probably applaud you for that,” he admitted. “In any case, I said I was tempted---I never said I'd actually let her succumb to her damage. Even if I wanted to, there are other technicians who'd put her back together and make sure she was up and running in days...” As he watched, the security camera feed to the room where Brittney was being held flickered for a moment, but resumed focus in a few seconds. “Clive has suspended several operations for the remainder of the month,” he added, almost as an afterthought. “We're not going to take this back up until the start of October.”
“That doesn't include my ops, I take it?”
“I didn't ask...but you're probably in the clear. I'm more worried about what might happen if the DVS tries to make their move in that time-frame....they're not playing by our rules.”
“Then maybe you shouldn't play by them either.”
Anton arched an eyebrow. “Which means....what, exactly?”
“Call in as many of your people as you can. Active, semi-retired....even fully retired, if need be. Get them on the field, and have them ready for anything the DVS will throw at them.”
“You say that like it's as easy as snapping my fingers,” Anton muttered. “It's not, I can assure you...”
“It shouldn't be easy. The moment you start thinking of it in terms of how 'easy' it is.....”
Even with the sentence trailing off, Anton nodded. “I'll never make that mistake again. Not after last time...not after......” The last word caught in his throat, and he choked back a sob for a few seconds. “It won't happen ever again,” he whispered. “I won't let it happen again.....”
“Anton.....”
“I'd be lying,” the roboticist stated, “if I tried to say I was 'okay' right now...” He brushed away the tears from his cheeks with the back of one hand. “I'm not. I still remember....the occasional nightmare, the odd flashback in the middle of filing a report....” He bowed his head, his hands clenching into shaking fists. “I still hear them sometimes,” he sobbed. “I still hear them screaming for me, begging me to help them.....”
He nearly fell against the wall, the tears now flowing freely. “....I still feel the flames at my back.....”
Hands gripped his shoulders. “You don't have to suffer through those memories alone anymore. I'm here for you, Anton...and I have a feeling that, if they were with us....they'd be proud of you.” Slowly, gently, those hands pulled the roboticist to a standing position....and into their owner's embrace. “They've broken one life too many, Anton. It's time you helped the ALPA rectify that....for all the ones they're hurting now, and everyone they've hurt before.
“I will,” Anton quietly replied. “I swear to you....I will.”
-------------------------------------------------
“Put it down, Rae! You don't have to do this!”
Every eye in the courtroom was locked onto the “cage” where the accused was shackled---more specifically, those eyes were on Rae Clarke. The letter opener in her hand may as well have been a dagger; at the angle she was holding it, it wouldn't take much to pierce Oberon's throat. “HE DID THIS TO US,” she screamed. “IT WAS ALL HIS FAULT!”
“This isn't what you want, Rae,” Oberon murmured. “This isn't you---”
“You don't know a damn thing about me,” the chestnut-haired gynoid snarled. “YOU DON'T KNOW ME AT ALL!”
“I know you're not going to kill me....because I'm not the true cause of all your pain....”
Vicki Lawson was five steps away from her fellow Field Agent. “Just put it down, Rae, and we can talk about this. You don't need to---”
“YOU DON'T TELL ME WHAT I NEED TO DO OR NOT!”
Oberon gave her one last, pleading look. “Rae, please....this isn't the way it's meant to end.....”
Rae looked the former ALPA Chairman in the eye, staring at him in silence....
….and, as the assembled masses watched, horrified, she plunged the letter opener into Oberon's neck, a gout of red streaming from the wound....
-------------
…only to wake up seconds later in her flat, her fingers curled into a death-grip around her bedsheets.
There was no one else in the room with her, apart from her on-again/off-again flatmate, currently slumped in a recliner with a recharging cord sticking out of her navel. She hadn't heard a thing.
As she'd done for the past three nights, Rae sank back into the bed, sobbing quietly. “Not again.....the third sodding night......” Without another word, she threw the sheets off of herself, storming past her recharging flatmate to a nearby desk. Her fingers brushed over the keyboard of an iMac before closing around her phone; it took all her self-restraint to keep from jabbing through the phone's screen as she dialed the same number she'd called from the car park of ALPA HQ.
“Yeah.....it's me again. I....I had the dream.....yeah, that one. Third time. I....I think I need to stay at your place for tonight---she's plugged in, charging, I'll leave her a note. I....I need to get out of here...”
A quick glance back at the bed brought back a lightning-quick flash of her nightmare.
“.....that won't be a problem. Thanks, love......”
-------------------------------------------------
Anton sighed. “Not by us, and not any time soon...but yes. I'd ask why you cared, but.....”
“I should ask why you don't care, Anton.”
“I never said I didn't,” the roboticist countered, glancing at a nearby security monitor. “Brittney Delacroix is a known enemy of the ALPA, and some people would probably pay me handsomely to let her fall apart...” He turned away. “Considering all that's been going on, I'm sorely tempted to---”
“Don't. Do not finish that sentence, Anton Malvineous. You're better than that.”
The rebuke prompted a chuckle. “My mother would probably applaud you for that,” he admitted. “In any case, I said I was tempted---I never said I'd actually let her succumb to her damage. Even if I wanted to, there are other technicians who'd put her back together and make sure she was up and running in days...” As he watched, the security camera feed to the room where Brittney was being held flickered for a moment, but resumed focus in a few seconds. “Clive has suspended several operations for the remainder of the month,” he added, almost as an afterthought. “We're not going to take this back up until the start of October.”
“That doesn't include my ops, I take it?”
“I didn't ask...but you're probably in the clear. I'm more worried about what might happen if the DVS tries to make their move in that time-frame....they're not playing by our rules.”
“Then maybe you shouldn't play by them either.”
Anton arched an eyebrow. “Which means....what, exactly?”
“Call in as many of your people as you can. Active, semi-retired....even fully retired, if need be. Get them on the field, and have them ready for anything the DVS will throw at them.”
“You say that like it's as easy as snapping my fingers,” Anton muttered. “It's not, I can assure you...”
“It shouldn't be easy. The moment you start thinking of it in terms of how 'easy' it is.....”
Even with the sentence trailing off, Anton nodded. “I'll never make that mistake again. Not after last time...not after......” The last word caught in his throat, and he choked back a sob for a few seconds. “It won't happen ever again,” he whispered. “I won't let it happen again.....”
“Anton.....”
“I'd be lying,” the roboticist stated, “if I tried to say I was 'okay' right now...” He brushed away the tears from his cheeks with the back of one hand. “I'm not. I still remember....the occasional nightmare, the odd flashback in the middle of filing a report....” He bowed his head, his hands clenching into shaking fists. “I still hear them sometimes,” he sobbed. “I still hear them screaming for me, begging me to help them.....”
He nearly fell against the wall, the tears now flowing freely. “....I still feel the flames at my back.....”
Hands gripped his shoulders. “You don't have to suffer through those memories alone anymore. I'm here for you, Anton...and I have a feeling that, if they were with us....they'd be proud of you.” Slowly, gently, those hands pulled the roboticist to a standing position....and into their owner's embrace. “They've broken one life too many, Anton. It's time you helped the ALPA rectify that....for all the ones they're hurting now, and everyone they've hurt before.
“I will,” Anton quietly replied. “I swear to you....I will.”
-------------------------------------------------
“Put it down, Rae! You don't have to do this!”
Every eye in the courtroom was locked onto the “cage” where the accused was shackled---more specifically, those eyes were on Rae Clarke. The letter opener in her hand may as well have been a dagger; at the angle she was holding it, it wouldn't take much to pierce Oberon's throat. “HE DID THIS TO US,” she screamed. “IT WAS ALL HIS FAULT!”
“This isn't what you want, Rae,” Oberon murmured. “This isn't you---”
“You don't know a damn thing about me,” the chestnut-haired gynoid snarled. “YOU DON'T KNOW ME AT ALL!”
“I know you're not going to kill me....because I'm not the true cause of all your pain....”
Vicki Lawson was five steps away from her fellow Field Agent. “Just put it down, Rae, and we can talk about this. You don't need to---”
“YOU DON'T TELL ME WHAT I NEED TO DO OR NOT!”
Oberon gave her one last, pleading look. “Rae, please....this isn't the way it's meant to end.....”
Rae looked the former ALPA Chairman in the eye, staring at him in silence....
….and, as the assembled masses watched, horrified, she plunged the letter opener into Oberon's neck, a gout of red streaming from the wound....
-------------
…only to wake up seconds later in her flat, her fingers curled into a death-grip around her bedsheets.
There was no one else in the room with her, apart from her on-again/off-again flatmate, currently slumped in a recliner with a recharging cord sticking out of her navel. She hadn't heard a thing.
As she'd done for the past three nights, Rae sank back into the bed, sobbing quietly. “Not again.....the third sodding night......” Without another word, she threw the sheets off of herself, storming past her recharging flatmate to a nearby desk. Her fingers brushed over the keyboard of an iMac before closing around her phone; it took all her self-restraint to keep from jabbing through the phone's screen as she dialed the same number she'd called from the car park of ALPA HQ.
“Yeah.....it's me again. I....I had the dream.....yeah, that one. Third time. I....I think I need to stay at your place for tonight---she's plugged in, charging, I'll leave her a note. I....I need to get out of here...”
A quick glance back at the bed brought back a lightning-quick flash of her nightmare.
“.....that won't be a problem. Thanks, love......”
-------------------------------------------------
"No one steals our chicks.....and lives!"
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Re: The V.I.C.I. Diaries - The Dragon
Totally love it....and soon there'll be more to read in this twisty tale...I can't wait!
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Re: The V.I.C.I. Diaries - The Dragon
Celine stared at the readouts on the monitors before her, shaking her head in disbelief. “I 'forget' to activate two Epsilon-hunters,” she muttered, “and they requisition three more.....” Her gaze travelled past the monitors, all the way to the far wall where three tubes---each holding a feminine figure in a state of shutdown---rested; it had been less than half an hour since the clearance codes for this particular area of the building had been sent to her phone, and she suspected the new head of United Robotronics would be arriving even sooner.
Except by that time, Celine herself would be dead.
It had been her final contingency plan---a last-ditch means of inflicting massive harm on the enemy and leaving nothing of herself behind. Celeste probably would've tried to talk her out of it, if she were still in charge...but the Patriarch knew the risks. He'd been the one to reactivate Celine's self-destruct mechanism, after all...
Take the lift up four floors, straight down the corridor, left at the first intersection, right at the next....the route to her target was already flashing through her memory as she keyed in the codes that would power on the three gynoids stored in the tubes. She didn't even know their names---the tubes had nothing but “A.G.”, “M.L.” and “J.W.” on them, initials that could've stood for anything. Strangely, they had no build numbers or other typical designations that marked them as gynoids---then again, human beings didn't tend to survive being delivered cross-country in airtight tubes with virtually no room to move.
Focus, dammit! Even as she finished typing in the activation codes, Celine mentally recited the route she'd need to use to reach her final destination. The last dispatch from the House had been quite explicit---her cover had been blown. Either the Baron had finally twigged, or his newest toy had cast aside all pretence and---
“So we finally meet.....Celine.”
The voice was calm, almost polite....but the crimson-haired gynoid knew that the countdown to her own demise had started. “Octavia, I presume?” She didn't dare turn around. Not yet....
“The one and only. The Baron's told me a lot about you....including a few suspicions he's had.”
It wasn't enough to get Celine to turn. “Innocent until proven guilty, Madame President.”
Octavia laughed---an almost soothing sound. “So you've heard about my position within the company...very good. Not that it'll do you any favors....” She sighed. “....after all, inter-agency espionage tends to be frowned upon these days.” Footsteps approached Celine; “Did the Baron know just how often you contacted your handlers at the House every month?” the other gynoid inquired. “How much information you passed to them?”
Now, Celine did turn around, finding herself face-to-face with a dark-skinned young woman whose sea-green eyes seemed to stare into and beyond her own. “He didn't know.”
“And now he will,” Octavia beamed. “The warrant for your.......your......your......your....”
She'd frozen in place---falling victim to the same optical data transfer problem that had plagued the gynoids of Venus Industries for years. It was nothing but a stop-gap, of course---she'd probably repair the damage in a matter of seconds and be after Celine with a vengeance.....
….except Celine was already charging past her to the waiting lift.
“Emergency override 3848-gamma!” The code sent the lift car shooting upwards without even waiting for the doors to close---had its crimson-haired occupant been human, the decision might very well have been a fatal mistake. As it stood, however, the move allowed her to reach the needed floor in record time. Her biggest issue was not tripping over her own feet as she escaped the lift, which continued accelerating, and would do so until it reached the apex of the shaft and smashed against the ceiling.
Just one more way to keep them off their game for a bit longer...
Her sprint through the corridors wasn't met with any confused glances or strange looks; all other employees of the building were either on their way home or in the process of finishing up work. Those still in their offices had no reason to even glance in Celine's direction as she ran.
A small box in her field of vision pinged; apparently, Octavia had already recovered.
Right....left.....straight until the four-way....left again....right.....directions flashed almost too quickly for the gynoid to process, guiding her ever closer to the one room of the building that she needed to be in. Brief, fleeting memories of days spent working for United Robotronics---or, specifically, for the Baron---passed through her processors, but she pushed them aside without even thinking. All that mattered was the objective.
From the readouts in her field of vision, Celine could see that Octavia had already taken to the stairs.
Celine closed the dialog box and halfway-threw herself into the last door separating her from her target.
Standing before her, in rows and columns that surrounded a 10-foot square in the centre of the room, were the numerous servers that had stored every bit of data pertinent to the search for Epsilon. Thanks to various leaks of information (many orchestrated by Celine herself), no backups of the servers' content had been made---a perfect reason for the crimson-haired gynoid to carry out this, her last act of defiance against the DVS, in that particular part of the building.
The few non-sentient androids and gynoids employed in the chamber were either recharging elsewhere or shut down for the night. Human employees weren't even allowed to clean the place, and only a few individuals---the Baron's secretary included---had the clearance to enter the room at all.
None of it mattered to Celine as she strode to the centre of the room.
House Agents employed in rival agencies were usually given reconnaissance assignments---the gathering of information, or spreading misinformation, as two of the more common examples. But in some rare instances, when an Agent of the House (especially an Eye of the Patriarch/Matriarch, as Celine was) had no chance of returning with their cover intact, their final option was one that ensured their secrets wouldn't be revealed to the enemies of the House: a self-destruct feature. No Agent was allowed to arm their own charge, and the option to self-destruct was only used as a last resort. In this particular case, the added benefits of crippling the DVS' hunt for Epsilon gave Celine all the more incentive to carry out the task appointed to her....
….even though it would mean her death.
“Destruction” was, strange as it might seem, too gentle a word for the occasion---it implied that she was merely a thing, an unfeeling walking computer. Scrapping was far more accurate, but with a slightly less-flattering implication---as if Celine had simply been “taken down” by the DVS, or accidentally damaged beyond repair. In her case, “death” was more poignant, and more relevant. No backups of her personality existed, her memories would be sent to a remote server maintained by a remote team of Agents, and her internal hard drives, ROM, RAM and other memory systems would delete all files within seconds....not that they could be recovered, of course, seeing as how her entire body would detonate with the force of a bundle of TNT, completely and totally obliterating her.
Just in case that explosive force wouldn't be enough to destroy the server room, she'd installed a Trojan horse a few months prior under the guise of a heat-management program meant to keep the servers from losing fan power and catching fire. Ironic, considering the program's true purpose was to cause a fire....or better yet, a massive, room-clearing blast that would destroy every single server unit in the room.
Tears streaked down Celine's face as she stood in the centre of the room---she'd expected this, almost knew it would happen eventually, but she'd expected at least one final goodbye....
No more tears, Celine. The show must go on.
With the chorus of her favourite Queen song blaring in her mind, the gynoid stood in the exact centre of the room as her internal WiFi began to trigger the Trojan horses in every server around her. She gestured to a server a few feet away, almost as if she was conducting a symphony; in response, the unit's cooling fan gave three or four sharp blasts of protest before dying, sending black electrical smoke wafting up to the ceiling.
Another gesture killed the fans of five more servers, one in particular gushing bluish-green coolant as its fan was effectively strangled by its own belt drive. Across the room, Octavia's face peered in through the locked door; “Celine,” she called out, “you don't have to do this. United Robotronics will be more than happy to wipe the slate clean, give you a fresh new start.....just open the door, and we can talk about this....” Even as she watched the servers belch smoke and fumes, Octavia remained calm---almost as if she expected to simply talk Celine down from her appointed task.
The only response she received was a hateful glare from the Eye of the Patriarch---and three fans elsewhere in the room spitting fire as their cooling systems died.
With each disabled cooling system, the servers around Celine began to overheat---further goaded on by a bit of WiFi-based coaxing that pushed their power modules beyond industry-regulated safe levels. As for Celine herself, her own battery was beginning to redline---just as she wanted. The over-taxed battery, combined with her internal self-destruct charge, would keep Octavia or any of the Baron's lackeys from data-mining her hard drives once the deed was done.
“Celine,” Octavia declared, “open the door now.” There was no calmness in Octavia's words now. “This little game of yours is over---we know who you work for, and we----” Her threat ended in a sudden gasp, thanks to a server close to the door literally blowing its top. Flames tore through the metal casing, rising lazily as the unit's internal components smouldered within.
With that as the signal, Celine closed her eyes. It's time.
The outer-most “ring” of servers began to detonate, almost in tune with the song still blaring in the gynoid's processors. Metal, plastic, silicon and glass were flung about the room, embedding in the walls and ceiling with zero regard for anything else in their path---including other servers.
A few bits of shrapnel hit Celine herself, but she ignored them.
The crescendo was still oncoming, and she couldn't let anything stop her from reaching it.
“CELINE! OPEN THE DOOR!” Octavia smacked the server room's door with the palm of her hand, either not knowing or just not caring that it was a security door---effectively a shutter with a window that slid into place as soon as Celine had entered the room. With the main door laying uselessly inside the room, the stainless steel door keeping the dark-skinned gynoid out wouldn't budge even if she turned her artificially enhanced strength against it. “OPEN THIS DOOR NOW!”
In reply, Celine glanced skyward---and the voice of Freddie Mercury, belting out “THE SHOW MUST GO ON!”, emanated from every speaker in the room just as another set of servers exploded.
By now, most of the room was on fire, Celine's arms and legs were shredded beyond repair by the shrapnel flung about with each server explosion, and her own systems were beginning to suffer....but she still had one last ace up her sleeve. Anyone else would've simply left after destroying the servers around the room, and had Celine been able to move from where she stood, she might've simply walked away...but from where she stood, that simply wasn't an option.
“OPEN THE DOOR!” Octavia's repeated shouts, coupled with shoulder-blocking the door in an attempt to break into the room, did little to stop the Eye of the Patriarch. “OPEN IT NOW, OR I'LL---”
Celine's eyes shot open, almost completely red and sparking with flecks of electricity from within.
Octavia's rage gave way to a sudden realization, and just as the security team she'd wirelessly summoned came trudging up the corridor, she frantically motioned for them to back away.
Inside the server room, Celine mouthed one final word: “Goodbye.....”
Seconds later, she was consumed from within by an explosion that obliterated her....and, more importantly, what was beneath her.
The ten-foot square in the centre of the room hadn't been a simple aesthetic choice; housed beneath the rest of the now-annihilated servers was one final, “secure” server meant to store all the data that would've normally been backed up on external drives far beyond the building. EMP-shielded, waterproof and able to resist the crushing force of a cruise ship falling on top of it, the only thing the server wasn't protected against just so happened to be fire.
In this case, fire from above---the kind Celine's self-detonation ignited---roasted the server in seconds.
Just as the smoke from Celine's immolation cleared, the security door hissed open to admit a furious Octavia and her security team into the room. Smouldering remnants of server cases surrounded the room, with a hole in the floor where the crimson-haired gynoid's destruction had burned through and toasted the final server.
“....call Harmony and Melody,” Octavia quietly ordered. “Tell them to---”
“Ah, ma'am,” an armor-clad guard nervously replied, “we have a bit of a problem with that. After you, ah, called us up here, the, eh....communications grid for the building sort of....failed....” Another guard was jabbing at the screen of his useless phone. “Building-wide lockdown,” he muttered. “No calls can come in, no calls can go out....and we can't even make calls INSIDE the damn building!”
Octavia stared, silently, at the square of floor where Celine had stood. Nothing remained of the traitor, other than the hole burned into the floor. A few fragments of what might've been her endo-frame lay atop the ruined server that had, until a few seconds ago, remained hidden...the thoughts of why nobody had thought to add fireproofing to the thing circulated through the gynoid's thoughts for a few seconds before she turned away and headed back to the exit. “Do we have any backups of any files stored on these servers?”
“Ma'am, we---”
“Do we have any backups?!” The thought of losing the DVS' copy of the List, delivered anonymously to them three days prior, galled Octavia deeply---she refused to be the one who had to report the incident to the Baron.
“......I'm sorry, ma'am, but nothing in here was backed up. Whatever was stored on these.....it's all gone---”
“No. We can get some of it back.....when was the last data transfer to the off-site backup server?”
“.......two weeks ago, ma'am.”
So the List was gone. The one thing that could've turned the tide in favour of the DVS, and it was simply erased by a traitor's stupid self-sacrifice.... “Find some way to tell the Baron about this,” Octavia ordered. “And get this mess cleaned up. It'll take us two weeks to restore everything.....even longer to get back on Epsilon's trail, all things considered.” Without another word---and in ignorance of the protesting guard---she turned on her heel and headed for the door.
Two weeks. Two entire weeks for Epsilon to get a head-start and disappear. The Baron would not be happy.
As she headed for her office, Octavia reflected on Celine's final word, and who it might've been directed at....
…and willing herself to ignore the possibility that it might have been meant for her.
--------------------
“So she did it. She actually freaking did it.....”
Alicia LeHane shook her head. “I never thought she'd go out that way,” she murmured, shaking her head and smiling. “She actually went and did that, for her final act....”
“That 'final act' has done us all a massive favour,” Richard Patrick Baker replied. “We now have two weeks to make sure that the gap between the DVS and Epsilon shrinks considerably. It might not sound like much right now, but believe me–-for Epsilon, two weeks could be the difference between life and death.” He bowed his head. “Celine's sacrifice will be remembered by future generations---”
“Remembered for blowing herself up?” Yuriko muttered. “Great legacy to leave behind....”
Kimiko planted both hands on her fellow House sister's shoulders. “She knew the risks when she signed up for the job,” she quietly reminded Yuriko. “And more importantly....she did us a favour---”
“How?! How could destroying herself---”
A slender, pale finger brushed against Yuriko's lips.
“For starters,” Alicia stated (ignoring the tender gesture from Kimiko), “they won't be looking for Rae Clarke anymore. All their data on her is gone---she's a non-issue for them now.”
Baker nodded. “Which gives us the advantage of being able to focus all of our resources on keeping Epsilon out of the DVS' hands.....” He paused for a moment, allowing Alicia to pick up where he left off. “They won't be looking for any other House agents,” she stated, “seeing as how they weren't able to get Celine to implicate us for the sabotage....”
Yuriko nodded. “So what now?”
“Now, we conveniently forget to let the DVS know that Celine also sent us the copy of the List some idiot sent them.” Alicia held up a flash drive; “Her last gift,” she added, “before.....well, before she went up.”
The sound of crystal on crystal cut her off---Baker was pouring out measures of cognac from a decanter. “I figured we'd do well to raise a toast to the memory of a fallen friend.....if you don't mind joining me.” He passed shot glasses to Kimiko, Yuriko and Alicia. “She never did get an official last name,” he stated, sighing. “She never thought she'd need one....”
“Doesn't matter.” Alicia raised her glass. “To Celine---a shining light in a time of darkness!”
Kimiko and Yuriko raised their own shot glasses. “To Celine!”
“To Celine.” The Patriarch nodded his agreement; in seconds, he and the three gynoids had downed their shots. “Well......which one of you wants to tell the ALPA that we have a copy of the list?”
------------------------------------------------------------
The 3-part Epsilon saga comes to its chilling conclusion in “Broken”, coming to the new and improved Fembot Central this September (or earlier ). Will the DVS manage to “remove” Epsilon from the equation, even after losing all data on him thanks to Celine's sacrifice? Will Vicki be able to help Kirsten save her father from a horrible death? And who's the mysterious visitor to the ALPA HQ seen consulting Anton and Ted?
And will Rae Clarke's horrifying nightmare of murdering Oberon come to pass?!
All of these questions---and some that nobody's thought to ask yet---will be answered in The V.I.C.I Diaries: “The Dragon”, coming to the new and improved Fembot Central this Fall!
Except by that time, Celine herself would be dead.
It had been her final contingency plan---a last-ditch means of inflicting massive harm on the enemy and leaving nothing of herself behind. Celeste probably would've tried to talk her out of it, if she were still in charge...but the Patriarch knew the risks. He'd been the one to reactivate Celine's self-destruct mechanism, after all...
Take the lift up four floors, straight down the corridor, left at the first intersection, right at the next....the route to her target was already flashing through her memory as she keyed in the codes that would power on the three gynoids stored in the tubes. She didn't even know their names---the tubes had nothing but “A.G.”, “M.L.” and “J.W.” on them, initials that could've stood for anything. Strangely, they had no build numbers or other typical designations that marked them as gynoids---then again, human beings didn't tend to survive being delivered cross-country in airtight tubes with virtually no room to move.
Focus, dammit! Even as she finished typing in the activation codes, Celine mentally recited the route she'd need to use to reach her final destination. The last dispatch from the House had been quite explicit---her cover had been blown. Either the Baron had finally twigged, or his newest toy had cast aside all pretence and---
“So we finally meet.....Celine.”
The voice was calm, almost polite....but the crimson-haired gynoid knew that the countdown to her own demise had started. “Octavia, I presume?” She didn't dare turn around. Not yet....
“The one and only. The Baron's told me a lot about you....including a few suspicions he's had.”
It wasn't enough to get Celine to turn. “Innocent until proven guilty, Madame President.”
Octavia laughed---an almost soothing sound. “So you've heard about my position within the company...very good. Not that it'll do you any favors....” She sighed. “....after all, inter-agency espionage tends to be frowned upon these days.” Footsteps approached Celine; “Did the Baron know just how often you contacted your handlers at the House every month?” the other gynoid inquired. “How much information you passed to them?”
Now, Celine did turn around, finding herself face-to-face with a dark-skinned young woman whose sea-green eyes seemed to stare into and beyond her own. “He didn't know.”
“And now he will,” Octavia beamed. “The warrant for your.......your......your......your....”
She'd frozen in place---falling victim to the same optical data transfer problem that had plagued the gynoids of Venus Industries for years. It was nothing but a stop-gap, of course---she'd probably repair the damage in a matter of seconds and be after Celine with a vengeance.....
….except Celine was already charging past her to the waiting lift.
“Emergency override 3848-gamma!” The code sent the lift car shooting upwards without even waiting for the doors to close---had its crimson-haired occupant been human, the decision might very well have been a fatal mistake. As it stood, however, the move allowed her to reach the needed floor in record time. Her biggest issue was not tripping over her own feet as she escaped the lift, which continued accelerating, and would do so until it reached the apex of the shaft and smashed against the ceiling.
Just one more way to keep them off their game for a bit longer...
Her sprint through the corridors wasn't met with any confused glances or strange looks; all other employees of the building were either on their way home or in the process of finishing up work. Those still in their offices had no reason to even glance in Celine's direction as she ran.
A small box in her field of vision pinged; apparently, Octavia had already recovered.
Right....left.....straight until the four-way....left again....right.....directions flashed almost too quickly for the gynoid to process, guiding her ever closer to the one room of the building that she needed to be in. Brief, fleeting memories of days spent working for United Robotronics---or, specifically, for the Baron---passed through her processors, but she pushed them aside without even thinking. All that mattered was the objective.
From the readouts in her field of vision, Celine could see that Octavia had already taken to the stairs.
Celine closed the dialog box and halfway-threw herself into the last door separating her from her target.
Standing before her, in rows and columns that surrounded a 10-foot square in the centre of the room, were the numerous servers that had stored every bit of data pertinent to the search for Epsilon. Thanks to various leaks of information (many orchestrated by Celine herself), no backups of the servers' content had been made---a perfect reason for the crimson-haired gynoid to carry out this, her last act of defiance against the DVS, in that particular part of the building.
The few non-sentient androids and gynoids employed in the chamber were either recharging elsewhere or shut down for the night. Human employees weren't even allowed to clean the place, and only a few individuals---the Baron's secretary included---had the clearance to enter the room at all.
None of it mattered to Celine as she strode to the centre of the room.
House Agents employed in rival agencies were usually given reconnaissance assignments---the gathering of information, or spreading misinformation, as two of the more common examples. But in some rare instances, when an Agent of the House (especially an Eye of the Patriarch/Matriarch, as Celine was) had no chance of returning with their cover intact, their final option was one that ensured their secrets wouldn't be revealed to the enemies of the House: a self-destruct feature. No Agent was allowed to arm their own charge, and the option to self-destruct was only used as a last resort. In this particular case, the added benefits of crippling the DVS' hunt for Epsilon gave Celine all the more incentive to carry out the task appointed to her....
….even though it would mean her death.
“Destruction” was, strange as it might seem, too gentle a word for the occasion---it implied that she was merely a thing, an unfeeling walking computer. Scrapping was far more accurate, but with a slightly less-flattering implication---as if Celine had simply been “taken down” by the DVS, or accidentally damaged beyond repair. In her case, “death” was more poignant, and more relevant. No backups of her personality existed, her memories would be sent to a remote server maintained by a remote team of Agents, and her internal hard drives, ROM, RAM and other memory systems would delete all files within seconds....not that they could be recovered, of course, seeing as how her entire body would detonate with the force of a bundle of TNT, completely and totally obliterating her.
Just in case that explosive force wouldn't be enough to destroy the server room, she'd installed a Trojan horse a few months prior under the guise of a heat-management program meant to keep the servers from losing fan power and catching fire. Ironic, considering the program's true purpose was to cause a fire....or better yet, a massive, room-clearing blast that would destroy every single server unit in the room.
Tears streaked down Celine's face as she stood in the centre of the room---she'd expected this, almost knew it would happen eventually, but she'd expected at least one final goodbye....
No more tears, Celine. The show must go on.
With the chorus of her favourite Queen song blaring in her mind, the gynoid stood in the exact centre of the room as her internal WiFi began to trigger the Trojan horses in every server around her. She gestured to a server a few feet away, almost as if she was conducting a symphony; in response, the unit's cooling fan gave three or four sharp blasts of protest before dying, sending black electrical smoke wafting up to the ceiling.
Another gesture killed the fans of five more servers, one in particular gushing bluish-green coolant as its fan was effectively strangled by its own belt drive. Across the room, Octavia's face peered in through the locked door; “Celine,” she called out, “you don't have to do this. United Robotronics will be more than happy to wipe the slate clean, give you a fresh new start.....just open the door, and we can talk about this....” Even as she watched the servers belch smoke and fumes, Octavia remained calm---almost as if she expected to simply talk Celine down from her appointed task.
The only response she received was a hateful glare from the Eye of the Patriarch---and three fans elsewhere in the room spitting fire as their cooling systems died.
With each disabled cooling system, the servers around Celine began to overheat---further goaded on by a bit of WiFi-based coaxing that pushed their power modules beyond industry-regulated safe levels. As for Celine herself, her own battery was beginning to redline---just as she wanted. The over-taxed battery, combined with her internal self-destruct charge, would keep Octavia or any of the Baron's lackeys from data-mining her hard drives once the deed was done.
“Celine,” Octavia declared, “open the door now.” There was no calmness in Octavia's words now. “This little game of yours is over---we know who you work for, and we----” Her threat ended in a sudden gasp, thanks to a server close to the door literally blowing its top. Flames tore through the metal casing, rising lazily as the unit's internal components smouldered within.
With that as the signal, Celine closed her eyes. It's time.
The outer-most “ring” of servers began to detonate, almost in tune with the song still blaring in the gynoid's processors. Metal, plastic, silicon and glass were flung about the room, embedding in the walls and ceiling with zero regard for anything else in their path---including other servers.
A few bits of shrapnel hit Celine herself, but she ignored them.
The crescendo was still oncoming, and she couldn't let anything stop her from reaching it.
“CELINE! OPEN THE DOOR!” Octavia smacked the server room's door with the palm of her hand, either not knowing or just not caring that it was a security door---effectively a shutter with a window that slid into place as soon as Celine had entered the room. With the main door laying uselessly inside the room, the stainless steel door keeping the dark-skinned gynoid out wouldn't budge even if she turned her artificially enhanced strength against it. “OPEN THIS DOOR NOW!”
In reply, Celine glanced skyward---and the voice of Freddie Mercury, belting out “THE SHOW MUST GO ON!”, emanated from every speaker in the room just as another set of servers exploded.
By now, most of the room was on fire, Celine's arms and legs were shredded beyond repair by the shrapnel flung about with each server explosion, and her own systems were beginning to suffer....but she still had one last ace up her sleeve. Anyone else would've simply left after destroying the servers around the room, and had Celine been able to move from where she stood, she might've simply walked away...but from where she stood, that simply wasn't an option.
“OPEN THE DOOR!” Octavia's repeated shouts, coupled with shoulder-blocking the door in an attempt to break into the room, did little to stop the Eye of the Patriarch. “OPEN IT NOW, OR I'LL---”
Celine's eyes shot open, almost completely red and sparking with flecks of electricity from within.
Octavia's rage gave way to a sudden realization, and just as the security team she'd wirelessly summoned came trudging up the corridor, she frantically motioned for them to back away.
Inside the server room, Celine mouthed one final word: “Goodbye.....”
Seconds later, she was consumed from within by an explosion that obliterated her....and, more importantly, what was beneath her.
The ten-foot square in the centre of the room hadn't been a simple aesthetic choice; housed beneath the rest of the now-annihilated servers was one final, “secure” server meant to store all the data that would've normally been backed up on external drives far beyond the building. EMP-shielded, waterproof and able to resist the crushing force of a cruise ship falling on top of it, the only thing the server wasn't protected against just so happened to be fire.
In this case, fire from above---the kind Celine's self-detonation ignited---roasted the server in seconds.
Just as the smoke from Celine's immolation cleared, the security door hissed open to admit a furious Octavia and her security team into the room. Smouldering remnants of server cases surrounded the room, with a hole in the floor where the crimson-haired gynoid's destruction had burned through and toasted the final server.
“....call Harmony and Melody,” Octavia quietly ordered. “Tell them to---”
“Ah, ma'am,” an armor-clad guard nervously replied, “we have a bit of a problem with that. After you, ah, called us up here, the, eh....communications grid for the building sort of....failed....” Another guard was jabbing at the screen of his useless phone. “Building-wide lockdown,” he muttered. “No calls can come in, no calls can go out....and we can't even make calls INSIDE the damn building!”
Octavia stared, silently, at the square of floor where Celine had stood. Nothing remained of the traitor, other than the hole burned into the floor. A few fragments of what might've been her endo-frame lay atop the ruined server that had, until a few seconds ago, remained hidden...the thoughts of why nobody had thought to add fireproofing to the thing circulated through the gynoid's thoughts for a few seconds before she turned away and headed back to the exit. “Do we have any backups of any files stored on these servers?”
“Ma'am, we---”
“Do we have any backups?!” The thought of losing the DVS' copy of the List, delivered anonymously to them three days prior, galled Octavia deeply---she refused to be the one who had to report the incident to the Baron.
“......I'm sorry, ma'am, but nothing in here was backed up. Whatever was stored on these.....it's all gone---”
“No. We can get some of it back.....when was the last data transfer to the off-site backup server?”
“.......two weeks ago, ma'am.”
So the List was gone. The one thing that could've turned the tide in favour of the DVS, and it was simply erased by a traitor's stupid self-sacrifice.... “Find some way to tell the Baron about this,” Octavia ordered. “And get this mess cleaned up. It'll take us two weeks to restore everything.....even longer to get back on Epsilon's trail, all things considered.” Without another word---and in ignorance of the protesting guard---she turned on her heel and headed for the door.
Two weeks. Two entire weeks for Epsilon to get a head-start and disappear. The Baron would not be happy.
As she headed for her office, Octavia reflected on Celine's final word, and who it might've been directed at....
…and willing herself to ignore the possibility that it might have been meant for her.
--------------------
“So she did it. She actually freaking did it.....”
Alicia LeHane shook her head. “I never thought she'd go out that way,” she murmured, shaking her head and smiling. “She actually went and did that, for her final act....”
“That 'final act' has done us all a massive favour,” Richard Patrick Baker replied. “We now have two weeks to make sure that the gap between the DVS and Epsilon shrinks considerably. It might not sound like much right now, but believe me–-for Epsilon, two weeks could be the difference between life and death.” He bowed his head. “Celine's sacrifice will be remembered by future generations---”
“Remembered for blowing herself up?” Yuriko muttered. “Great legacy to leave behind....”
Kimiko planted both hands on her fellow House sister's shoulders. “She knew the risks when she signed up for the job,” she quietly reminded Yuriko. “And more importantly....she did us a favour---”
“How?! How could destroying herself---”
A slender, pale finger brushed against Yuriko's lips.
“For starters,” Alicia stated (ignoring the tender gesture from Kimiko), “they won't be looking for Rae Clarke anymore. All their data on her is gone---she's a non-issue for them now.”
Baker nodded. “Which gives us the advantage of being able to focus all of our resources on keeping Epsilon out of the DVS' hands.....” He paused for a moment, allowing Alicia to pick up where he left off. “They won't be looking for any other House agents,” she stated, “seeing as how they weren't able to get Celine to implicate us for the sabotage....”
Yuriko nodded. “So what now?”
“Now, we conveniently forget to let the DVS know that Celine also sent us the copy of the List some idiot sent them.” Alicia held up a flash drive; “Her last gift,” she added, “before.....well, before she went up.”
The sound of crystal on crystal cut her off---Baker was pouring out measures of cognac from a decanter. “I figured we'd do well to raise a toast to the memory of a fallen friend.....if you don't mind joining me.” He passed shot glasses to Kimiko, Yuriko and Alicia. “She never did get an official last name,” he stated, sighing. “She never thought she'd need one....”
“Doesn't matter.” Alicia raised her glass. “To Celine---a shining light in a time of darkness!”
Kimiko and Yuriko raised their own shot glasses. “To Celine!”
“To Celine.” The Patriarch nodded his agreement; in seconds, he and the three gynoids had downed their shots. “Well......which one of you wants to tell the ALPA that we have a copy of the list?”
------------------------------------------------------------
The 3-part Epsilon saga comes to its chilling conclusion in “Broken”, coming to the new and improved Fembot Central this September (or earlier
). Will the DVS manage to “remove” Epsilon from the equation, even after losing all data on him thanks to Celine's sacrifice? Will Vicki be able to help Kirsten save her father from a horrible death? And who's the mysterious visitor to the ALPA HQ seen consulting Anton and Ted?And will Rae Clarke's horrifying nightmare of murdering Oberon come to pass?!
All of these questions---and some that nobody's thought to ask yet---will be answered in The V.I.C.I Diaries: “The Dragon”, coming to the new and improved Fembot Central this Fall!
"No one steals our chicks.....and lives!"
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Re: The V.I.C.I. Diaries - The Dragon
Going out with a bang, I see! I am really looking foward to "Broken"! Thanks for posting this here!
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