Writing As We Go, Chapter 20

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Writing As We Go, Chapter 20

Post by DukeNukem 2417 » Sat Nov 12, 2022 11:47 am

Lloyd was helpless to stop himself from being dragged along the floor of the shop. His face, chest and limbs had been sliced up by broken glass—broken by him, with a chair, to facilitate his defenestration. His right arm had probably been broken at the shoulder, as had his left leg at the knee. Lexi—the blonde currently dragging him by the left arm—had added to the toll of injuries by stabbing him in the leg with a utilitarian-looking knife.

“They wanted me to get the drive,” she stated, almost conversationally. “To send it back where it belonged. I would've, if it were still here.”

Something about the fact that Lexi knew the drive had been at his house greatly unnerved Lloyd.

“But they don't understand,” the blonde continued. “They never understood. I was made to do this job—the job they wanted me to do! Made, programmed, engineered to kill people.” There was a measure of joy in her words, in her every motion, that sent creeping tendrils of fear through Lloyd. “And I've done that so very well. Fulfilling my primary function, as they wanted.”

A dreamy tone crept into her voice: “Just the way he would've wanted, hopefully.”

Lloyd's left leg hit something. An involuntary scream left his lips.

The dragging stopped. Lloyd closed his eyes, hoped the end would be quick—

A blast of pain shot through his ribs from the left side. Then another.

“My orders,” Lexi murmured, “were to kill anyone who knew about the solid state drive. The problem is, the people who know about it also know people, who may or may not know.” The smile had never left her face. “And if there's even a slight chance that they might find out, then I have to kill them, too.” The knife had left her right hand, which now joined her left as she seemed to cradle Lloyd's head. “The more people find out, the more I get to kill.”

She leaned in and kissed him on the forehead. “Starting with you,” she whispered. “Thank you for this.”

She sat back, putting her weight on Lloyd's chest. Her eyes closed, her head tilted back.

Without warning, she leaned—lunged in again.

This time, it wasn't a kiss.

Lloyd screamed as soon as her teeth pierced the flesh of his cheek. His left arm flailed, searching for anything he could use as a weapon. The Model 19 was out of ammo—

Her belt. The knife was on her belt. If he could just—

She reared back, her teeth still embedded in Lloyd's cheek. The result was inevitable.

“Keep screaming,” she breathed. “Keep screaming, and never stop!” She bared down on him again, her grip on his head tightening.

His frantically-searching hand found the knife, grabbed it. Before she could react, he drove it into the first part of her he could find.

A sort of choked half-breath seemed to catch in Lexi's throat. She froze. Her hands splayed open, the fingers trembling.

Lloyd seized the moment and, with his good arm, pushed her off of himself, scooting back as fast as he dared.

Part of a word was forming on Lexi's lips, as if she were trying to speak. A loud rizz sounded behind her eyes before they snapped shut, opening again with an equally-loud revving sound.

Lloyd was already pulling himself up on work tables, anything that could give him a handhold. He moved to duck out of sight before Lexi spotted him again, hoping against hope that he'd somehow dealt her a crippling blow. There was a First Aid kit somewhere in the shop; if he could just find the damn thing, he might stand a chance.

Lexi hadn't moved from where he'd thrown her off. She was moving, albeit in fits and starts. Her left arm reached back, the motion far more robotic than she'd been up to now. Her hand found the knife, her fingers closing around the grip with audible servo-motor whirrs. The knife was withdrawn, brought before her field of view; Lloyd managed to duck behind a table, watching as the blonde gynoid—

She was a gynoid. Lexi, the blonde who'd been chasing him, and who wanted to kill him, was a gynoid.

He thought back to the previous Saturday, back to the mention of the P4RT4Y G1R7 series, and the pictures Officer Sierra Birch had shown. Somehow, it had all slipped his mind.

Until now.

He'd been hunted, chased down, and wounded by a gynoid. The “why” was immaterial, irrelevant. A humanoid robot (obviously, she was sentient) was actively seeking to kill him.

Panicking thoughts of Erin, of Cam—of Diana, even—doing the same thing came and went. Irrelevant. They'd never tried to hurt him before now—Lexi had tried, and would keep trying. At the moment, she was staring at the knife, her head tilting to the side with more audible servo-motor sounds. Something was dripping off of the blade.

She blinked, the actuators snapping each time. Once, twice.

The third time, she was back to her usual self—fluid movements and all. The servos, actuators and other mechanical components were still audible, but not as noticeable. “You really shouldn't have done that, Lloyd,” she cooed.

Lloyd didn't bother trying to talk her out of killing him. He kept moving, scrambling towards where the NonSens were standing stock-still. Several were still dressed in their soldier outfits from the parade, for whatever reason.

“This will be over a lot quicker,” Lexi called out, “if you stop running. So stop running.”

The thought that he wasn't running so much as limping crossed Lloyd's mind as he threaded between the NonSens, not knowing how close Lexi was or what she intended to do when she caught—

If. If she caught him again.

“You know I'm going to catch you,” Lexi sang, even as she knocked away a topless NonSen. “This isn't making it harder on me,” she added, grabbing another NonSen with both hands and throwing the 'bot across the shop. “It's only making it harder on you.” Her claim was punctuated, this time, with a kick, sending a still-in-costume NonSen crashing to the floor in a heap. “I know you can hear me, Lloyd!”

Almost as if by rote, Lloyd remembered: Cam kept a deactivator at her station, just in case.

Cam's station was within Lloyd's line of sight. All he had to do was get there, get the deactivator and put it to good use on Lexi.

If he could just—

“You and I both know you're finished!” Another NonSen went flying, clearing a path from where Lexi stood to where Lloyd was still trying to crawl-limp away. In the light of the shop, he could see that all six of his shots from the Smith & Wesson had been on target, all hitting center-of-mass.

None of them had done a thing to slow Lexi down.

“Just give up, Lloyd. Make it easy.” She was still calm, still smiling. “You know—”

He turned, started to scramble away. He had no desire to find out how Lexi defined “easy”.

Her footsteps were getting closer, even as he dashed—tried to dash, what with one leg and one arm broken, and plenty of other wounds besides—for Cam's station. It was so close, nearly within an arm's length, if he could only—

Fingers closed around his left ankle. “I said just give up!”

Lloyd managed to roll onto his back. His right leg kicked out, hoping to break Lexi's hold on his ankle.

“You can't get away from me, Lloyd,” Lexi crooned. “You and I both know it's true—”

Through either luck or sheer adrenaline, Lloyd's foot glanced off of Lexi's wrist, deflected instead at her face. The blow was enough to stagger the gynoid; her iron grip on Lloyd's ankle loosened, giving him enough room to scramble away from her. Half-crawling, half-limping as he was, he made it to Cam's workstation.

“That,” Lexi growled, “was a mistake—” The snap of actuators as her eyes widened was even more audible. “GET BACK HERE!” She bolted after Lloyd, the lion preparing to devour the gazelle.

Somewhere in the clutter on the workstation's surface, Lloyd found the deactivator. He'd just managed to palm the tool when Lexi landed on him, the force of impact slamming them both to the floor. “You don't get to run like that,” the blonde hissed. “You don't deserve—”

Lloyd blindly stabbed with the tool—managing, through sheer luck—to hit Lexi exactly where he'd stabbed her before.

“To—to—to—to—to—to—to—” She was locked in a loop, her angry sneer replaced with wide-eyed confusion. The tool wasn't shutting her off, as it was meant to, but the loop was more than enough for Lloyd. Ignoring the pain that shot through his wounds, he managed to drag himself out from under his gynoid pursuer. The sting against his left cheek reminded him of the pressing need for a first aid kit—

Lexi had stopped repeating the word “to”. Her movements were once again both visibly and audibly robotic as she sat up, reaching around for the deactivator. Her fingers flattened against her back once, twice, three times as she felt for the tool—

Lloyd was running, now. Or trying to run. His right leg ached, his left was barely holding him up anymore, and he had a feeling he was going to be sick again if he didn't get tended to.

“Where,” he muttered, “where's the kit?! Where—”

There was always a First Aid kit on hand near The Pit. He remembered.

Somewhere behind him, Lexi was seizing up; the electricity crackling over where she'd found and tried to remove the deactivator was loud.

There was nothing for it. Lloyd had to get to The Pit.

Tears stung at his eyes as he tried to push himself further. He fell once, twice, and stopped counting after the third time; it didn't really matter, since he got back up—had to get back up. If he stayed down, she'd catch him.

What happened after she caught him was immaterial. She couldn't catch him.

The door leading to The Pit was ajar, slightly; evidently, someone had left in a hurry. Protocol was to close and lock the door, before heading out. Whoever'd left the door unlocked might get talked to, when everyone got back.

Lloyd would've settled for giving whoever'd left the thing open a cash gift, out of sheer gratitude.

Upon going through the doorway, Lloyd saw what he was looking for. The white box, impact-resistant and with an easy-open catch, stood out against the dull concrete wall; he snatched it up and—

Relief was washed away, filtered out by fear. If he stopped to dress his wounds, Lexi would catch him.

If he stayed at the ground level.

His eyes turned, slowly, to the catwalk over The Pit. Humans weren't allowed on it, for the same reasons that sentients weren't—a fall in was fatal. Simple as that. Worse, The Pit was open, just like the door had been. Still, getting up to the top of the catwalk was the only thing that might give Lloyd a chance to tend to his injuries.

The decision was a quick one to make. First Aid kit in hand, Lloyd staggered towards the steps up the catwalk.

Walking on level ground had been difficult; trying to drag his broken leg up the steps was hell. Halfway up, he almost dropped the kit—catching it only by virtue of falling to one knee and managing to reach out, with his left hand, in time to stop the thing from going over the edge of the steps. Slowly, carefully, he lifted it back up. He hugged it to his chest and kept climbing.

No time to think. No time to cry. Higher ground meant freedom, lower ground meant death.

Lloyd grit his teeth, hauled himself back up and kept going.

By the time he reached the top of the steps, Lloyd knew that he had very little time to do anything, now. He flipped up the catch on the First Aid kit—

“Fool me once, shame on you, Lloyd.” He didn't turn to look at Lexi smiling at him from the door. “Fool me twice—”

Something overhead groaned. Lloyd grabbed for the First Aid kit, desperately hoping it wouldn't fall.

“Cornered,” Lexi mused, almost skipping to the other set of steps. “And in such a nice room!” Her ascent of the steps was marked by a put-on daintiness, a show of just how she could afford to take her time. “We could both go for a swim,” she mused, giggling again at the unbridled terror her “suggestion” brought to Lloyd's expression. “Or,” she purred, “you could dive in first, Lloyd.”

The only response she received was a panicked, bleated “NO!

“I wasn't asking.” The smile was still there, but ice cold. “You are going in. Maybe I'll have my fun, first, but you will end up in that tank.” She gripped the side rails of the catwalk, her stare locked onto Lloyd's.

There was nothing in the First Aid kit that would keep Lexi at bay. Going back down the steps was a risk—

“You're finished, Lloyd,” Lexi whispered. “Right here, right now—”

The groan from overhead repeated. Lexi cocked her head slightly, frowning.

Lloyd wanted to tell her to get off of the catwalk, to shout that their weight would break the chains, send one or both of them into The Pit. For whatever reason, he found that he couldn't seem to give voice to the words.

Lexi stared, seemingly weighing her options. Lloyd carefully closed the lid of the First Aid kit, snapping the catch shut—

The speed with which Lexi lunged, with which she leapt towards him, was terrifying. He'd barely even seen her crouch, hardly noticed her prepare. He had mere seconds with which to keep the first aid kit close to his chest before he felt her grab him by the shoulders, hoist him up and throw him across the catwalk. White-hot pain shot up his back; the groans from above got louder, accompanied by—was it ticking?

“I'll start slow,” Lexi murmured. “Slicing off your clothes.” She was already stripping out of her own outfit, the black jacket shrugged off and thrown carelessly over the catwalk. “Really got your blood pumping, haven't I?” Her stare briefly went to Lloyd's groin. “Oh, yes, I really think I have,” she giggled. “That'll make this all the better, really. You and I both get something here—” She took a step forward, licking her lips.

The ticking grew louder. Lloyd knew, now, that it wasn't ticking.

“You get one last fuck out of it,” Lexi breathed, stepping out of her pants as she pulled them off, “and I get to wring your neck.” The pants, like the jacket, were gone, leaving the blonde gynoid in only her black sports bra and spandex shorts. She took another step—

—and the ticking was like rain hitting the roof, except it wasn't ticking.

“You should've just given in yesterday, Lloyd.” Lexi reached to unclasp her bra—

—and the catwalk bowed beneath her, nearly pitching her onto her face.

Lloyd scrambled back towards the steps, already knowing and dreading what was about to happen.

“You're not getting away from me, Lloyd!” Lexi crouched, ready to jump again—

—and the catwalk buckled.

Lowering 'bots into The Pit had always been slow. Just dropping one in would've thrown Piranha Juice everywhere, onto tools, other 'bots, employees. It was thus done carefully, with the chain and pulley, to ensure that nobody got hurt.

Lexi's fall wasn't slow.

It felt that way, to Lloyd, watching the doomed gynoid drop from where the catwalk had fallen out from under her. He watched her fall, her shock giving way to a shriek, her hands outstretched—not begging to be taken, so that she might be pulled up, but to grab Lloyd and drag him down into The Pit with her.

Her fingers found only the air. She dropped into The Pit with a resounding splash, sending drops of the dreaded Piranha Juice flying. Lloyd had to scoot back, almost flattening himself against the rear railing, to keep from getting hit by any of the droplets.

Bubbles rose to the surface of The Pit, a frothing torrent that threatened to spill over the edge a few times. Lloyd didn't bother watching the churning surface; he had to get back to the floor level, dress his wounds and get out of the shop.

Slowly, carefully, he descended the steps.

The First Aid kit got away from him at some point, skittering down and hitting the floor. The catch held firm, and the case didn't shatter—all good. It allowed Lloyd to use his left arm to guide himself, carefully, down the steps.

It was over. Lexi had followed him home, with the intent to kill him, and failed.

At the bottom of the steps, Lloyd buried his face in his hands. He'd had no idea who had put the solid state drive into Pam—had that been what caused her malfunction? Had Pam's catastrophic failure, and the resultant teardown, been a sign of the chaos to come?

It didn't matter. The chaos had ended. Pam was gone, and now Lexi was, too.

Lloyd had to crawl, just a bit, to get to the First Aid kit. He flipped the catch off, found the bottle of hydrogen peroxide unbroken, and cut off a piece of gauze to soak with it. A careful feel around the left side of his face led to a hiss of breath intake; he'd found where Lexi had bitten and torn at his cheek. He slid the gauze into place, his eyes closed, waiting.

GUYAAAH!

The burning sensation was brief—Lloyd quickly moved to tape the gauze into place. The rest of the cuts on his arms, his legs, merely had hydrogen peroxide splashed onto them. It was just the bare minimum of antisepsis, but it'd have to do until he could call a doctor.

He'd be making plenty of calls, before the night was done. That was obvious.

The hydrogen peroxide bottle was capped, and the First Aid kit closed. Lloyd rose, shakily, from the bottom step, and moved towards the door. Now, the order of business was to find a phone—

He stopped. Frowned. Was something moving inside The Pit?

Silence. It was nothing. Probably just something falling over outside the shop.

Back to the matter at hand. First thing: find a phone, call a doctor. Then call Harry. Then—

Something was definitely moving in The Pit. Except that was impossible; Lexi was probably non-functional by now.

Or at least she should've been.

Lloyd quickened his pace, at least as much as his injuries would allow. He had to get to a phone, had to call a doctor, and his uncle, and whoever else could sort out this mess. And then he had to find out if Mandy was—

The movement inside The Pit was getting louder—and closer to the surface.

Lloyd tripped, trying to cross the room and reach the door. This was impossible, it couldn't be happening; Lexi should've been utter scrap by now.

Something thudded against the interior wall of The Pit, going up, and up, and up—looking for the surface.

In his haste to reach the door, Lloyd tripped. Lexi couldn't have survived in The Pit; nothing did. The NonSen that had fallen in had been rendered non-functional within mere minutes; there'd barely been anything left to dredge out!

A hand broke the surface of The Pit, seeking and finding the edge.

“No” was all Lloyd could whisper, even as another hand shot out. Both were still “fleshed”, at least for now.

Lloyd tried to find something to conceal himself with, or at least something he could throw, when Lexi's head broke the surface of The Pit—still attached to the rest of her.

That, however, wasn't what caught Lloyd's attention.

What caught his attention was the scream.

At first, he thought—and felt horrified by the possibility—that Lexi had remained online during her descent into The Pit, and that the sensation of being consumed by the Piranha Juice was sheer torture. The shriek could only be one of utter pain, after all—

Except something was off.

It took a moment for Lloyd to realize just what it was—and then it hit him.

Lexi's face—surprisingly intact, despite her immersion in the Piranha Juice—wasn't contorted in a cry of fear, or pain.

It was a scream of pure orgasmic bliss.

The shriek trailed off into a laugh—high, sensual, and stuttering over itself—as Lexi climbed out of The Pit, dropping to land on both feet. The floor sizzled under her every step. “THAT was just the great—just the great—just the GREATest,” she exclaimed, her smile at odds with the tears in her skin. Sizeable gaps had formed on her arms and legs, and a few holes were already beginning to form and grow in her torso. “That feeling, over my whole—my whole—my whole—”

Her head ratcheted to the left, locking in place for a moment before angrily revving servomotors forced it back to its neutral position. “—my whole body,” she continued, “and in my body—oh, it was just so—” She winked. “Oh, it was just so—” Another wink. “Oh, it was—FUCK, this is annoying!”

Lloyd wondered—hoped, really—if Lexi was too damaged to know he was still in the room.

“Where was I—right. It was just so...” Lexi hugged her breasts, hefting them up and letting them go. “I just came and came and came—and came and came—and came and—” Her entire body froze, just as she was squeezing her breasts and lifting them again. Hardly a second had past before her entire body seemed to straighten, her arms reaching out for something in front of her before lowering. Her expression had gone oddly blank.

Feeling both terrified and aroused, Lloyd knew the only sensible option was to head for the door. If he could just—

“—the SHIT does this keep happening?!” Lexi returned to life—so to speak—only to spot Lloyd trying to flee. “Where do you think you're go—you're go—you're go—SON OF A BITCH!” Lexi took a step, only to freeze. “This isn't going to stop me, Lloyd,” she stated. “Stop me, Lloyd—stop me, Lloyd—stop me stop me stop stop stop sto-sto-sto-sto—”

Something in her abdomen went off like a firecracker, blowing a small hole in the synthetic flesh.

Horror had taken hold over any arousal Lloyd had felt. This was far worse than Pam's demise.

“—never happened before, for fuck's sake,” Lexi snarled. “And it's not going to start with you.” She raised her right arm, as if preparing to throw something—and a metal spike slid backwards, through the internals, before falling out at the elbow joint. The spike hit the floor with a clang, rolling away to land in a sizzling pool of Piranha Juice.

“Well, fuck,” Lexi muttered. “I guess that shit in the tank was—”

Her attention returned to Lloyd, frantically limping for the door.

“Where do you think you're going, you—” Again, Lexi took a step, only for her left leg to completely lock up. “Oh, fuck me!” Without hesitation, she slammed her fist into the compromised area of her leg, which did little more than cause a shifting of internal parts, one of which angled sideways to rip through the synthetic skin. She groaned. “Oh, come on!” Another hit—her leg was moving again. “MUCH better!”

Lloyd was on all fours—well, both legs and one arm, trying to drag himself towards the door. In his panic, he could only frantically pant, gasp and mutter wordless pleas.

“Remember when I said you're going in that tank?” Lexi was gaining on Lloyd, even with her damaged leg slowly starting to drag more and more. “Well, you're definitely going in now—going in now—going in—going in—going in—going going going—OOOOOHHHHH!” She froze on the spot, her body wracked by inexplicable, delayed orgasmic spasms. “OH FUCK YES, THAT FEELS SO—FEELS SO—FEELS SO—SO—SO—SO SO SO SOSOSOSOSOSOSOSOSSOSSSSSSSSSSOOOOOOOO—”

A spark shot off from her left ear. Something from the back of her head went flying, hitting the front of The Pit.

“Whoa.” To Lloyd's horror, Lexi was giggling. “It's in me. Still in me! I can feel it—”

Lloyd's left knee buckled. His scream echoed through the chamber.

“Save a few for me, will you?” Lexi took a step towards him—and her left leg locked up again, its internal components too twisted and mangled for her to continue. “Oh, what the fuck—” She moved forward, force-overriding whatever safety protocols were still functioning in her systems. Her left leg tried to respond, succeeding only in shearing itself off at the knee.

The pain of his injuries was starting to catch up to Lloyd. He tried to pull himself closer to the door, only to collapse in a heap several feet from it.

“Stupid fucking useless—” Lexi tried to position herself in such way that she could crouch and pick up her leg, but it was no use. Her left arm was beginning to go weird on her, as well. “Just great—just great—just greatgreatgreat—just great great greagreagreagreeeeeeaaaaaaa—” Her head angled back, sparks lighting up her throat from within. “Oh, this is just wonderful!” Frustration quickly gave way to glee. “At least I'll be taking you with me!” Her head jerked to the right. “—you with me!” Another jerk. “—you with me—with me—with—with—at least I'll be taking you with—” Her body seized up again, before sending her to the floor with a violent jerk. “Oh, this is so fucked!”

The strength was fading from Lloyd's limbs. He knew that much. He also knew that he'd need a doctor within the hour, if he was to have any hope of getting out of this.

“—least my gyro-stabilisers are still working,” Lexi muttered. “Now, why don't you just turn yourself over and look at me, so we can finish—I SAID LOOK AT ME, MEAT!

Lloyd felt too weak to even roll himself over.

“—not going to hop over to you unless I have to,” Lexi snarled, “so just stay right the fuck there.” She positioned herself for a crouch, but ended up falling sideways. “FUCK! That's it—as soon as I get my hands on you—my hands on—just stay right the—you with me! Oh, this is so—this is so—” Both of her breasts lit up from some internal detonation or another. “I am not getting scrapped until I take you with me—what the fuck—what the—turn yourself over and—WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?!

Lloyd felt an overwhelming urge to let himself lapse into unconsciousness. With any luck, Erin, Cam and the rest would find him in time to get to a hospital.

He could almost imagine what they'd say when they found him—

LLOYD, GET AWAY FROM THE BACK WALL IF YOU CAN!

A puzzled frown crossed Lloyd's lips. Why would they say that upon discovering him?

Unless—

Lexi had pulled herself up again, somehow. “The fuck kind of announcement was that?! Eh, doesn't matter.” Her head ratcheted to stare at Lloyd. “Ready to fry, meat—“

The outer wall of the room where The Pit was situated seemed to explode, metal and support beams sent flying. The cause of this spontaneous eruption was soon made apparent: the same loader Esperanza had been “tested” to drive was now barrelling through the room, its gripper appendage aimed straight for Lexi.

“Oh, what the fuck—”

The loader rammed the blonde gynoid, the gripper clamping around her midsection. “Diana, get the controls!”

Lloyd was vaguely aware that Erin had yelled, and was surprised to hear her mention Diana. He managed, with some effort, to turn himself over, and saw someone—Diana, evidently—jump off the back of the loader, running towards the controls inlaid on the side of The Pit.

“LET ME GO, YOU CUNT!” Lexi roared. “LET ME GO!

The gripper raised, as the loader advanced. Lexi was now dangling over the edge of The Pit once again.

FUCKING LET ME GO, YOU BITCH!!

Erin stared down the raving gynoid. “Say 'please'.”

FUCK YOU! LET ME GO!!

“Eh, suit yourself.” Erin slapped the button, and the gripper released.

“Wait, I—”

Lexi was dropped, unceremoniously, back into The Pit.

“DIANA, CLOSE THE PIT, NOW!

After a second, Lloyd heard another button being smacked. Slowly, the lid of The Pit began to close.

At the feel of a hand on his shoulder, Lloyd feebly tried to slap, tried to wrest himself away.

“Easy, easy! It's me, it's Erin—Lloyd, it's me. I'm here.” Lloyd felt himself being pulled up into a sitting position, to stare into the somewhat cartoonish face of Erin. “I'm here,” she repeated. “And you're gonna be okay.”

Lloyd's only response was to fall forward, weeping onto Erin's shoulder.

“LLOYD!” Footsteps approached; soon, arms were encircled around him. “Lloyd,” Diana gasped, “you've been hurt! What happened?

“Whatever it was,” Erin replied, “it's over. Help me get him up—”

GYYAAAAAHHHHH!

Lexi broke the surface of The Pit, screaming. “NO! NO, THIS IS NOT FUCKING OVER—NOT UNTIL HE DIES!” She reached for the edge, clawing her way out until her torso was well over the lip. “And once I'm done with him, I'll go for you,” she snarled, glaring at Erin. “AND THEN YOU,” she spat, turning her wrath on Diana. “ALL OF YOU WILL BURN!

Diana hugged Lloyd closer. Erin merely stared Lexi down.

“You have NO IDEA what kind of SHITSTORM you people are in for!” Lexi declared, pulling herself up on the dangling portion of the catwalk nearest to the surface of The Pit. “Even if you stop me—IF you stop me—the one who put me here will just send others!” Her face contorted in a deranged giggle. “They wanted me to get right to the point, just get the drive and send it back...oh, they'll get the drive, I don't doubt that—BUT THEY WON'T DO NEARLY AS MUCH AS I DID!” She hoisted herself up with one hand on the dangling catwalk section.

“Diana, go get the phone and call CAEDIA.” Erin's voice was calm, her expression neutral.

“Oh, sure,” Lexi mocked, “go call CAEDIA, the useless bunch of FUCKWITS who—” Her body seized up, her hand almost crushing the part of the catwalk she held onto. “This isn't the end for me,” she growled. “I'm on a refabrication table, and even if this shit wrecks my body, I WILL come back! And I GUARAN-FUCKING-TEE that—TEE that—TEE that—TEE that—TEE TEE TEE TEEEEEEEEE—”

A shower of sparks fired out of Lexi's mouth and nose. The lid of The Pit was slowly grinding closed—only kept from its function by way of one particular obstacle.

“You think this is over?” Lexi hissed. “You think you'll just forget me?! Well guess WHAT?! You will see me again! YOU WILL FUCKING SEE ME AGAIN! IN YOUR NIGHTMARES, YOUR WORST DREAMS—I'LL FUCKING BE THERE! YOUR MEANEST THOUGHTS AND YOUR DARKEST FEARS! YOU CAN'T SHAKE ME—AND YOU'LL NEVER KILL ME! I—”

A horrific, metallic crunch, and an explosion from somewhere near Lexi's waist, cut her tirade off.

“I...” Her expression was one of total shock. Slowly, her head tilted forward, her face going blank. Her hand let go of the catwalk strut, and her entire torso fell forward onto the floor. Her mangled lower body sank back into The Pit.

“I thought she'd never shut up,” Erin muttered. “C'mon, Lloyd—” Her indifference turned to horror in an instant; Lloyd had gone pale, and his breathing was shallow. “Wake up, Lloyd, wake up, damn it!”

“....rrrrriinnn.....”

Erin hoisted Lloyd to his feet, trying to keep him from falling over. “Just stay with me, little brother,” she pleaded. “Just stay with me.”

“...lil....br...what?

“I'll explain later, I promise.” Erin smiled apologetically. “Just stay with me, Lloyd—LLOYD!” She managed to catch him before he fell face-first to the concrete floor. “C'mon, Lloyd, you can get through this—DIANA, GET IN HERE!

Breathing hurt. Moving his eyes hurt. Every single motion Lloyd made, no matter how slight, hurt.

“You're not going to die on me, Lloyd,” Erin swore. “I'm not losing you, damn it—DIANA, GET THE DAMN DOCTOR ON THE PHONE!” Her hand brushed against Lloyd's right cheek. “Just hang on for a few more—”

Lloyd Morris Watson's world went black.
-----
The first thing he heard was the beeping.

The second: “Welcome back to the land of the living, Lloyd.”

Slowly, Lloyd Morris Watson's world returned. Shapes, colours, sounds all swam back into focus.

“Where...”

“St. Vincent's. You'll be here for two days.” The harsh, grating tones of Detective Tom Logan managed to sound a bit less harsh, conveying the news. “Might need crutches or a wheelchair for a bit, afterwards.”

Lloyd glanced around; the only person in the room apart from himself was, of course, the CAEDIA detective.

“Erin,” he muttered. “And Diana. They were—” He grunted as he tried to sit up.

“Try to relax,” Detective Logan advised. “You had a hell of a rough night.”

“Mandy,” Lloyd breathed. “Lexi, she—”

“Mandy Kemp,” Detective Logan informed him, “is still alive. In critical condition, but alive.”

At this, Lloyd laid back, weeping—this time, tears of relief, if not joy.

“I assume you'll want to talk to your uncle,” Detective Logan mused.

Lloyd nodded. “And Diana, and Erin. And Cam.”

With a silent nod, the detective rose from his chair; the door was already open before he was halfway to it, and he had to press against the wall to let Harry, Cam, Erin and Diana into the room. With one last salute towards Lloyd, he closed the door behind him.

The next several minutes seemed to blur, for Lloyd. Harry explained that he'd been at the hospital already, looking after Mandy—his duty to Mandy's father, who'd been killed and immolated in a house fire set by Lexi. Cam had spent the entire time with Adrian Reese, helping him look for relatives of Mandy's who could be summoned to Billings to help with her lengthy recovery from the mauling she'd endured at Lexi's hands. As for Diana and Erin...

“Finished up my job early,” Erin explained. “Got back, saw my car with a bike buried in the side—not your fault, by the way.” She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, saw that, the busted front door, the shell casings on the steps inside and the broken window in my room—”

Your room?” Lloyd echoed, aghast.

“Relax. Extenuating circumstances, I'd have done the same thing. From there...” Erin's expression turned grim. “I just followed the blood trail to the shop. Figured I'd need a hand taking that psycho -bitch down, so I rebooted Diana.”

“My SafeSense debug finished with a fully 100% clear rating,” Diana stated.

“What she said,” Erin muttered.

“And the loader?”

“I'd heard the splash, knew there was no way in Hell I was going to go after her bare-handed,” Erin replied. “So yeah.”

“CAEDIA's got what's left of Lexi,” Harry added. “At least, what they didn't have to dredge out of The Pit.”

Lloyd rolled over in the hospital bed. “She was going to kill me,” he muttered. “All because of that solid state drive.”

“She's not gonna kill anyone, now,” Harry assured him. “She's deader than disco.”

Diana squeezed Lloyd's left hand. “You're going to be okay, Lloyd.”

“Amen to that,” Erin stated. “For now, we should let him rest—”

“Wait.” Lloyd turned back over. “I, ah...I want to talk to you, actually.”

There was something in Erin's look that suggested she'd been waiting for this moment. “I'll meet up with you three in a bit,” she stated, not looking back at Harry, Cam or Diana. Cam was the last to get up from her chair; she gave Erin a light squeeze to the left shoulder, which was met with a nod.

Once the door closed behind Cam, Erin leaned back in her chair. “So.”

“Before I passed out, back at the shop.” Lloyd adjusted the bed so that he could look Erin in the eye. “You called me 'little brother'.”

“Because you are.”

“Except I'm human!”

“And so was I. Once.”

The five words stunned Lloyd. “You were—”

“I came to live with Harry before you were born. The year I turned 20, there was—let's call it was it was, a complete clusterfuck of a car crash. I was the only viable option out of it.”

“Viable option?” Lloyd echoed.

“The Dyson Transfer was new, at the time, and the hospital I ended up at was doing trial runs. All they needed were an intact brain and spine—lucky me.” Erin rolled her eyes. “They paid for the consciousness transfer, but the bill for the new body—let's just say the insurance company pulled an L and leave it at that. Luckily, the Dyson Institute had a whole suite of tests run on pre-existing units and bodykits to see which were compatible with their transfer—lo and behold, the UB-357 was on it. So...” She gestured at herself.

“So you were human?

“Yep. Past-tense, of course.” She blew out a sigh. “We'd seen each other before the crash, too,” she reminded him. “I believe you referred to me as 'Cousin E'?”

Lloyd actually laughed, slightly, at the memory. “I can't believe I forgot. You were the one who always brought those magazines with the Masked Rider pictures and the newest video game stuff—ow.” He winced slightly. “All this time, I'd wondered, and it was you.”

“It was, in fact, me.” Erin grinned. “I guess...I just never worked up the nerve to tell you, before tonight.”

“I guess,” Lloyd echoed. “And Cam?”

“Oh, she's always been a 'bot. Ex-hospital, gained sentience—what she's said is the truth.” Erin shrugged. “I always thought she might've had a donated personality,” she admitted, “but I don't think her model had that as an option.”

Lloyd laid back, trying to comprehend everything that'd happened over the past few days. “So what now?”

”You heal up here,” Erin replied, “and then we can go back to Harry's for Christmas. Simple—”

“I mean, what about—” Lloyd grunted, shifting in the bed. “What about Lexi? What about everything she did?”

“CAEDIA's handling that.”

There was a strange tone to Erin's response, a hint of non rederre. Lloyd didn't press the issue. “So, I have to stay here for two days?” he asked.

“You might get released before the end of today,” Erin replied. “It's Saturday—you were out of it for a few hours.”

“Right.” Lloyd nodded. “Thanks.”

“For...?”

“For what happened back at the shop. And for—well, for everything.”

Erin smiled. “Any time, little brother.”
-----
“Well?”

Detective Logan didn't turn. “Well, what?”

“HQ and the PD are rolling out the statements. Suspect in custody for all the random attacks around town, the building that caught fire was 'accidental arson', all that stuff.” Celia frowned. “Doesn't it bug you?”

Now, the detective turned. “You're asking me if doing our jobs 'bugs' me.”

“That's not—”

“Word gets out that—” The detective steered Celia into a nearby room, closing the door behind him. “Word gets out that Lexi was a 'bot, a lot of people would be asking questions,” he reminded her. “Questions that'd turn into demands, and demands that'd get louder and louder every day. Especially with an election next year.”

Celia scowled. “You're—”

“I'm telling it like it is. All the good CAEDIA has done will go out the window if one rogue 'bot makes headlines, and you know it.” Detective Logan sighed. “We do a lot more than just enforce the Civic Accords,” he reminded his colleague. “If a rogue 'bot like Lexi gets loose, we're the only ones qualified to—”

“Secure the 'bot, contain the threat and protect the populace,” Celia finished. “So that makes us—”

“The Men in Black, pretty much.” Detective Logan chuckled. “But with better PR.”

Celia rolled her eyes. “At least we didn't get to the Morgan place too late.”

“Barely. We got there right behind Erin.”

“The one with the utility bodykit?”

“The same.” Detective Logan flicked on the light switch—the room he and Celia had ducked into was unoccupied, at the moment. “You knew she was Lloyd's sister, right?”

Celia frowned. “Not until now.”

“Started human. Car crash, sent to a hospital running trials with the Dyson Institute.” The detective sat on the empty bed and cracked his knuckles. “She could afford the transfer, but not much else.”

“Hence the utility bodykit,” Celia finished. “And Lloyd didn't know?”

The detective shrugged. “She wants to tell him, it's her decision. Whatever the case, Lloyd's alive, Lexi's toast—” He paused, frowning.

“Sierra's told me about that look,” Celia mused. “Said it never means anything good.”

“She also tell you I've got an active investigation going on a third-party with links to Lexi?”

“She did mention that,” Celia replied. “So—”

“Christmas Eve. I'll explain more before the op.”

Detective Logan's mention of an “op” drew a surprised glance from his colleague. “An op on Christmas Eve?

“Beats sitting around all to Hell,” the detective replied, his grin looking a bit eerie. “And it's a chance to spread a bit of 'peace on Earth', too.”
-----
“Just rest easy. We can talk more when we get back home.” Erin leaned back in through the doorway, directing one last wave at Lloyd—her brother. “G'night, little brother.”

Lloyd was already asleep, once again. Faint snoring could be heard as the door closed.

“So you told him,” Harry muttered, stretching as best he could in the unyielding hard-backed chair.

“I told him enough,” Erin clarified. “That I'm his sister, that I lived with you before he was born, all that good stuff.”

“You didn't tell him everything, did you?”

Harry's question was met with a sigh.

“Erin.” Harry stood, staring. “You didn't—”

“We'll have to tell him eventually,” the gynoid replied. “Or he'll find out on his own.”

“And how the hell are we gonna tell him,” Harry countered, “that he was raised by androids?”

“The same way you can tell him his mother died giving birth to him,” Erin stated, “or that your brother died without ever seeing Lloyd's face—and don't give me that look!” she added, meeting Harry's glare with her own. “We have to tell him the truth sooner or later!”

“And what about where they are now?” Harry muttered. “His—”

“They raised him—and did a damn good job of it, too. They're his parents.”

Harry fumed for a moment, but nodded. “What do we tell him about where his parents are now?”

“The truth. That we don't know where they are, but that they're working for a good cause.” Erin glanced up and down the hall before continuing: “Where'd Cam and Diana go?”

“Back to the house. They're replacing the window in your room tomorrow.”

“On a Sunday?” Erin arched an eyebrow. “And the day before Christmas, even?”

“Cliff knows some people—”

“Forget it. I mean...” Erin shook her head. “The last two weeks,” she muttered, “have been crazy.”

“Crazy is putting it lightly.” Harry sat back down in the chair. “All of this because of some stupid solid state drive.”

Erin pulled up a chair next to him. “At least you're not the one who sent the drive,” she reminded him. “I'd hate to be the poor sap who shipped that thing out of the country—” The light elbow to her side only earned a mild frown, which faded by the time Detective Logan and Officer Faulkner walked up. “How's Lloyd?” the detective asked.

“Asleep,” Erin replied. “After what happened at Harry's, he's earned a rest.”

Officer Faulkner nodded her agreement. “Whenever he's ready for a debriefing, let us know.”

“Debriefing?” Harry echoed. “Ah—”

“Standard CAEDIA policy,” Detective Logan assured him. “We're still running cleanup at your place, by the way. Fishing whatever was left of Lexi that our people couldn't pick up out of the tank, and all that.”

“If you need any assistance,” Officer Faulkner added, “with repairs or Lloyd's hospital bills—”

“We're good,” Harry assured her. “But thanks.” He rose to shake hands with the Officer, and the detective. “Hell of a way to get to Christmas,” he mused.”

“Let's just hope Christmas is a lot quieter than the past few days have been—” The detective paused; somewhere down the corridor, strains of familiar songs were playing. “Nothing beats the classics.” He smiled. “I guess that's that, unless you want a guard detail on Lloyd all day.”

“I'd hope that we won't need a guard detail,” Erin muttered. “But thanks.”

The Officer and the detective shook hands with Erin and Harry. “Just remember to call CAEDIA HQ if anything comes up,” Officer Faulkner advised. “And if we find out anything further about Lexi, we'll call you.”

Erin pulled a face. “I'd rather know less about her, if it's all the same with you.”

“Understandable.” Detective Logan nodded. “We will have a few Officers stationed at all entrances of St. Vincent's, just in case—if anything goes weird, just talk to them.”

“Christmas is barely three days away,” Harry replied. “I'm hoping nothing 'goes weird' before then.”

The detective chuckled. “I think we're all hoping for that, Mr. Morgan.”
-----
“Amazing. Absolutely amazing.” Cliff Barba stared at the room in which The Pit was contained, at the far end of the shop at Harry's place. “So she just drove the loader through the wall?”

“She did.” Cam regarded the gaping hole in the wall with her usual polite frown. “The loader's brakes functioned well enough to keep it from hitting The Pit, or from veering off course.” Her attention turned to the numerous, small impact craters caused by Piranha Juice hitting walls, floors, the ceiling all around the room. “I suppose the security of The Pit will have to be upgraded,” she mused, “after this incident.”

“Incident,” Cliff echoed. “Lloyd nearly got killed.”

Cam frowned, but said nothing.

“What I want to know is,” Cliff continued, “why Lexi was so hell-bent on killing Lloyd. She knew what she was looking for, knew it wasn't here, and just trailed him here anyway for the cat-and-mouse routine before—”

“Her motivations,” Cam solemnly replied, “mean nothing now. Lexi is non-functional, and Lloyd is alive.”

Cliff held up both hands. “Fair point. And believe me, I'm not complaining about either of those facts.”

Again, Cam said nothing. Her stare was directed, instead, at where the catwalk over The Pit had torn free of its moorings to fall, sending Lexi plummeting to her doom. Except...

“Odd.”

“Hmm?” Cliff was midway through dialling a number on his phone when Cam spoke. “What's odd?”

“Only one side of the catwalk buckled and fell,” Cam replied. “The supports for both sides appear to have weakened significantly during Lloyd's encounter with Lexi on the catwalk—”

A wrenching, shearing metal sound cut her off; the side that Lloyd had been on, and had climbed down from after Lexi's fall into The Pit, dropped half a foot before its supports gave out completely. It fell onto the heavy blast lid of The Pit with a clang, skidding a bit before dropping the rest of the short way to the floor.

“Well,” Cliff stated, “there you go.”

Cam's frown held a hint of annoyance, now. “Explain.”

“Divine providence. The Hand of Fate. Sheer blind luck.” Cliff shrugged. “Call it what you will, but I get the feeling that only one person was ever going to fall into The Pit, and it was never going to be Lloyd.”

After a moment, Cam nodded. “An interesting conjecture.”

“I'd say it's more than 'conjecture',” Cliff countered, “but that's another story. Fact is, Lloyd's alive, the one who tried to kill him got scrapped—all things considered, I'd call this a win.” He shrugged. “Yes, there's a gaping hole in the wall just behind us, but it's a hole in the wall. Holes in walls get fixed. Lloyd's injuries will heal. If he'd fallen into The Pit—”

“Understandable.”

Cliff noticed Cam regarding the pit with an unusually wary stare. “We don't have to stay in here, if you don't want to,” he offered. “I mean, we can keep the discussion going, just—”

“Yes.” Cam found Cliff's hand, giving it a light squeeze. “We should head back to the house.”
-----
Diana stared at what had once been the front door. She couldn't stop staring.

While she'd been upstairs, running a test to debug SafeSense, Lloyd had been chased, threatened and very nearly killed by another gynoid. That, in and of itself, was utterly terrible. But what galled her—

She frowned. This was new, the idea of anything “galling” her. Or was it more than idea?

Was this a feeling? A legitimate, actual feeling?

She reached out, felt the shattered remains of the door. Thoughts seemed to burst forth in her processors: Lexi—the one who'd been on the digital billboards (Erin had called them SIGN-posts)—had broken through the door to get to Lloyd. She'd wanted to hurt him—to kill him.

“Why?” The word had left her lips , but she barely noticed. Her fingers brushed against the ragged edges of the ruined door. Lexi had been determined to kill Lloyd—and to kill or destroy Erin, as well. She'd sworn it, even.

Diana couldn't begin to understand it. She didn't know if she wanted to understand.

Somewhere in the living room, a radio—the same one, unbeknownst to Diana, that had been blaring Glenn Miller tunes the night Pam's fatal malfunction had occurred—was now playing “Wonderful Christmastime”. There was a brief nod to how this recording had been made in 1990, by the original singer “with his old band again”. Diana had no context for the remark; she found herself wondering why the radio had been left on in the first place.

“She did it.”

Diana hadn't realized Abe Weissman was in the room. “She?”

“Same one who kicked in the door.” Abe had taken a seat on the couch—one section of which seemed to be sagging, as if someone had damaged the back portion. “Something about a Wi-Fi link-up, I didn't hear the specifics.”

“Why?”

“Intimidation, I guess. Dunno what it was playing, but it was on the same station it is now. All Fab Four, all the time.”

The mention of the “Fab Four” went unremarked upon by Diana. She was still examining the smashed-in door, trying to properly process her exact feelings and thoughts. “I wasn't able to help,” she murmured. “I could've—”

“ABE!”

SafeSense briefly flared up, sending notices into Diana's field of view; the sight of Cliff Barba and Cam emerging from the back end of the house quieted the notifications, tempered the notices just a bit. “Cam and I can head things up here,” Cliff stated. “If I need anything, I'll call.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Abe rose from the couch, his shirt pulled taut over a surprisingly muscular form as he stretched and yawned. “Stayed up all night, just to make sure nobody finished what that whack-job started.” He retrieved something from the couch; Diana was somewhat alarmed to realize it was a shotgun.

“Tell me that's just loaded with rock salt.”

“If I did, I'd be lying, Cliff.” Abe chuckled. “As it stands, I never had to lay a finger on the trigger.”

“I think we can all be glad for that,” Cliff replied. “If you're passing by St. Vincent's, think you can...”

Diana watched the two pass by, barely paying attention to the exchange between them. Her awareness of the living room, of anything, seemed almost muted; her focus had once again turned inwards, onto why Lexi had broken into the house, why she wanted to kill Lloyd—

The hand on her shoulder almost startled her.

“My apologies.” Cam's expression did bear more than a hint of regret. “Is everything okay?”

Hesitantly, Diana spoke: “Why did this happen?”

At that, Cam looked troubled. “From what I've been told, the one who caused all of the damage around the house was sent here to eliminate Lloyd as a potential witness,” she replied. “Something to do with the solid state drive he found during the teardown on Pam.”

“Oh.” Diana nodded; she vaguely recalled Lloyd having mentioned “Pam” a week prior. “Why—”

“CAEDIA is going over why a solid state drive unrelated to Pam's intended function had been installed in her before she was shipped here,” Cam stated, finishing with a remarkably human sigh. “As for what happened to Lloyd—”

“I should've been able to help,” Diana murmured. “I should've—”

Again, the hand on her shoulder cut her off. “What happened to Lloyd wasn't your fault,” Cam assured her. “You were only kept from intervening because you were running a necessary systems test.” Her expression had softened; her usual polite frown was replaced with a glance that held nothing but sympathy. “Lloyd wasn't hurt because of you, or anything you did or were unable to do.”

Seconds passed in silence before Diana nodded. “I understand.”

Sounds of splintering wood cut off Cam's intended reply; Cliff Barba was stepping carefully through the ruined pieces of the front door. “Really need to get this taken down and replaced,” he muttered.

“I suppose we should get to work on that,” Cam stated.

“Huh—OH, right, yeah.” Cliff nodded. “Diana, if you want to help out—”

Cam frowned. “She should probably—”

“I'd like that.” Diana took a step towards the door, touched a section of it—she didn't flinch at the splinter pricking into her finger. Her thought processes were ramping up, patterns and recurring elements forming eddies and swirls in the data stream. “How can I help?”

“Get a screwdriver and take off the hinges—” Cliff glanced at the door frame. “What's left of the hinges,” he amended.

“Once we get the hinges and other hardware cleared away,” Cam mused, “it should be easy to fit a replacement door into the frame.” The look she gave Diana seemed to be a smile—not completely, but just enough. “I'll help, if you need a hand with any of it.”

For the first time since she'd returned to Harry's, after Lloyd's admittance to St. Vincent's, Diana smiled. “I'd like that.”

“Well, I guess we'd better get to it.” Cliff regarded the doorway with a scowl. “Where does Harry keep his hammers?”

“I think this job will require a more delicate approach,” Cam reminded him. “Diana and I will get the tools.”
-----
“So the acid didn't do her in?”

Apparently not. She might've been based on a P4RT4Y G1R7 model, but she was overhauled way past specs. The skin, for instance—chemically treated to withstand fire for up to 20 minutes and most acids for the same length. Remember all those combat armours using 'aramid fibres', from the 2000s?

“I remember.”

Well, whoever paid to have Lexi built got the best of the bunch. The only acid in her system was from breaches in the eye sockets, mouth, nose, anal and vaginal cavities—it didn't start eating through anything until it was in her.

“Damn.”

The conference room at St. Vincent's was small, but suited Detective Logan's needs perfectly for the video call he'd been waiting to make. For one, the soundproofing was up-to-date. Secondly, they had a flatscreen TV that made it all the easier to contact headquarters; Sierra had been sent back, after Dr. Clark had finished undoing the damage Lexi's Aural Omnibus Overload attack had done. Thus, she'd been asked to lead the “autopsy” of Lexi—or at least, what was left of Lexi that could still be analysed.

As for what did put her down, we're still running scans—nobody wants to risk getting acid burns trying to go in until we can flush it all out of her.”

Detective Logan nodded. “A reasonable precaution.”

My best guess: some leftover element of her self-destruct systems was triggered.”

The detective frowned. He'd remembered Professor Belsham's mention that Lexi's self-destruct had been deactivated.

She was probably meant to have a network of charges running through her body, just to ensure there was nothing left of her if she'd been compromised.”

“And they only left the one in,” the detective finished. “Lucky for her.”

Sierra scowled at him from the other end of the line. “Two Blanks weren't enough to put her down, Tommy.”

“Not the issue.”

What?

“We still have what Lexi was after. Whoever reactivated her is going to send others—”

Hang on a sec.” Sierra turned away from the terminal on her end. Detective Logan once again missed the subtleties of things like arching an eyebrow; he made a mental note to look into getting his facial prosthetic upgraded once the whole business with the solid state drive was over with.

Still there?

“Always.”

Well, I just checked in with the Chief. We can send the SSD out of state—”

“And they'll follow it.” Detective Logan frowned. “Not an option.”

So we keep it here?

“Only safe thing to do. Lexi couldn't get to it when she got in, after all.”

Sierra glanced to the side for a moment. “Ah, before I get too off-track, the Chief wants to talk to you one-on-one.

The detective nodded, fishing a pair of earbuds from his pants pocket. He reached up to the right arm of his sunglasses, swiping his finger along a sensor that would've been invisible to most; after a few seconds, he nodded, putting in the earbuds. “I'm ready.”

The flatscreen darkened.

Within the lenses of the detective's sunglasses, it seemed to blaze back to life, this time showing a man in his mid-60s, his head crowned with silver-grey hair.

“Chief.”

I understand you've been taking point during the handling of this 'Lexi' case, Detective,” the Chief stated.

“I have.”

And that you've filed for a request to lead an operation tomorrow night.”

“Also correct.”

The Chief nodded. “With that in mind, I'm going to have to ask you to turn in your Detective's badge—and accept the official rank of CAEDIA Agent.

“You had me worried with the first half of that request, sir.”

Could've worded it a bit better,” the Chief admitted. “Your uniform and replacement vehicle will be waiting when you get back to HQ.

“So you heard about the bike.”

We'll discuss that in our next call, Agent Logan—the change of title, by the way, doesn't preclude you from continuing your work as a detective.

“Wouldn't have it any other way. Thank you, sir.”

Be safe, Agent.”

The visual of the Chief vanished; Detective—Agent Logan removed the earbuds, and slid his finger along the right arm of his sunglasses again. With his other hand, he retrieved the badge that had identified him as a detective working for CAEDIA; it'd be an interesting trade, definitely, to work as an Agent, now.

Just got word from the Dyson Institute. Dr. Dyson wants to talk everyone from Morgan's place that was involved—”

“I'll see what I can arrange after I get back from HQ.” Agent Logan couldn't help but chuckle. “Apparently, I'll need to call my dry-cleaner's, first.”

Sierra did a commendable job of keeping her composure. “I'll see you back at HQ, then, Agent Logan.

“Much appreciated. Also, get a lookout on that farm before the op tomorrow night—nothing obvious.”

Will do.

The call ended, leaving Agent Logan to his thoughts. He'd never formally refused a promotion to Agent before, but had always found some reason or another to turn them down or otherwise not accept. Now, he was officially ranked up, preparing to lead an op to tie off the last loose end of the Lexi case.

“Detective?”

Agent Logan turned; the door to the conference room had been opened, allowing Officer Faulkner to poke her head into the room. “Just got the confirmation for tomorrow night's op.”

“And you want to take part?”

Celia nodded. “I'd appreciate the opportunity.”

“Well, two things. Call HQ to let them know, and never call me Detective again.”

The last request briefly garnered a frown, but Celia nodded. “Will do—”

A grin on the former detective's part was inevitable. “Call me Agent Logan, instead.”

Celia's forlorn look gave way to brief annoyance, then relief. “You finally accepted the promotion?”

“Been dodging it long enough, I think.” Agent Logan chuckled. “Just got the call from the Chief, a few minutes ago. Have to trade in the old badge and get the uniform first, then we can talk about the op. Any word on Lloyd?”

“He's in surgery—he might still have some shards of glass lodged in him from when he jumped out of the window.” Celia stepped aside to let Agent Logan open the door. “Once they've taken out what they can, he'll be under observation for a few hours.”

“And then home for Christmas.” Agent Logan nodded. “Excellent.”

As the pair left the conference room, they could hear the strains of Elvis Presley's “If Every Day Was Like Christmas”—the 1996 re-recording, featuring the internationally-acclaimed singer and all three of his daughters. “My old partner worked security for him, once,” Agent Logan mused.

“Get out of here! Which tour?”

“Fifth-to-last. The one where he nearly fell on-stage in Boise.” Agent Logan chuckled. “The way she tells it, everybody backstage was close to pissing themselves thinking he'd get mad, but he just laughed it off, said they put a bit too much polish on the stage.”

“Wow. Was she there when that one idiot tried to shine a laser pointer at him?”

“Who do you think caught the idiot?”

Celia let out a low whistle. “Nice. Wasn't she on one of the late-night shows last week, with Heath, that one wrestler from Canada who hit his finish off of a moving bus, and Dhani Harrison?”

“She was.” Agent Logan sighed. “The joys of being an ambassador.”
-----
Lloyd barely noticed the door to the room close, the lights switch off. He closed his eyes, preparing to drift back into a modicum of sleep—except he remembered something. Something he wanted to ask. He opened his eyes—

—and the ticking was like rain hitting the roof, except it wasn't ticking.

“You should've just given in yesterday, Lloyd.” Lexi reached to unclasp her bra—

—and the catwalk bowed beneath her, nearly pitching her onto her face.

Lloyd scrambled back towards the steps, already knowing and dreading what was about to happen.

“You're not getting away from me, Lloyd!” Lexi crouched, ready to jump again—

—and the catwalk buckled. On both sides.

Lloyd fell, and kept falling. It was as if he was falling forever. The Pit, the floor beneath it, and the room around it were getting further and further away, as if—

A hand closed around his ankle. “I SAID I'd take you with me!” Lexi laughed, kept laughing, her smile growing wider—quite literally. The synthetic skin at the corners of her mouth peeled, flaking away. Lloyd looked away—looked up, even though up was getting further out of reach with every passing second.

Look at me, Lloyd.

This was impossible, absolutely insane, it wasn't happening—

LOOK AT ME!

Lloyd refused to look. There was no way—

The servomotors and actuators were almost deafening as Lexi's hand grabbed him by the chin. “I want you to LOOK AT ME,” Lexi growled, her voice now sounding like a badly-stretched cassette tape.

Lloyd felt his lips form the word “NO,” but heard nothing.

All around him were other figures, all going far slower. He recognized Pam, her vacant smile and wide eyes that stared without seeing. A few—feet? Miles? Distance was impossible to tell, but however far away was the 'bot that had been lowered in when Mandy and Diana visited The Pit—

The Pit. Eventually, he was going to hit the surface.

We're going out with a splash, Lloyd!” Lexi cackled. Her hands were on Lloyd's head, now, still trying to force him to turn and look at her. Now, the word “NO” emerged—as a squeak, barely a whisper, hardly a sob: “no”.

From the corner of his eye, he could see it rapidly approaching. The Pit was getting closer with every second.

SAY GOODBYE, LLOYD!

Lloyd tried to tuck and roll, but there was nowhere to go. Lexi had effectively climbed him, now, her arms around him and her face next to his. He squeezed his eyes shut, dreading the moment—

They hit the surface of The Pit, and a white-hot fire seemed to envelop all—
-----
LLOYD! Lloyd, calm down! Lloyd, just—”

He fought the hands that gripped his shoulders, screamed as feeling returned to every limb. “NO!

“It's me, Lloyd, it's Erin—Lloyd, WAKE UP!

No, no, no—”

Light flooded his world. He opened his eyes.

The burning was gone—after a fashion. His left leg and right arm ached; every spot that the surgeons had extracted a shard of glass from ached. He felt entirely too warm—and, at the same time, as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water on him.

Yet he was alive, in a room at St. Vincent's, not drowning and dissolving in The Pit.

“It was just a nightmare, Lloyd,” Erin assured him, her too-big eyes holding the sympathy that only a big sister could.

Overcome with emotion, barely able to speak, Lloyd settled for letting her embrace him. For the second time in less than a day, he wept into her shoulder.

“It was just a stupid nightmare. That's all—”

The door to the room would've flown open, had it not been for the pneumatics at the top that made the action quite impossible. “—happened, is he okay?!” Harry shoved his way past a pair of nurses; his expression was one of a man ready to fight tooth and nail. “Where—”

“He had a nightmare.” Erin sighed. “Given what he went through, I can't blame him.”

The nurses were pushing past, checking the monitors and vital readouts giving an indication of Lloyd's health. “Heart rate elevated,” one stated, “temperature—”

“Is he okay?!” Harry insisted.

The other nurse spoke up: “We should move him to another room, at the very least. Possibly Intensive Care.”

“Do it.” Erin didn't even glance towards Harry.

Lloyd was barely taking any of it in. His vision swam, his thoughts murky. He could barely focus on anything—any single voice, any one face. For a few brief, fleeting, horrible seconds, he could swear Lexi was among those standing over him, that smile beaming down serenely.

“You'll get through this, Lloyd,” Erin stated. “Just hang in there.”

He wanted to speak, wanted to say “help me get through it”, but something jabbed into his arm. A sluggishness washed over him—not quite an urge to fall asleep again, but a strong desire.

A hand brushed against his forehead. “Just try to think positive, little brother,” Erin murmured. “Please.

To his astonishment, Lloyd found he was able to meet her request with a smile.

He laid back, closing his eyes again, and prayed that he wouldn't find himself back over The Pit when he opened them.
-----
Can you confirm this?

“Cessation of function occurred at some point within the last twelve hours. She followed Lloyd Morris Watson to the home of Harold Morgan.”

The safehouse was comfortable, if not luxurious—unlike Lexi, who was perfectly willing to hunker down in squalor and hide amongst filth, Zina had standards to uphold. “Her remains are likely in the custody of the local CAEDIA branch, “ she stated. “As is the solid state drive.”

You need only retrieve the drive, Zina. We have suffered enough losses for the time being.”

“And will suffer no further.” From the intelligence she'd gathered, Zina knew that Lloyd Morris Watson, his friends and family were clustered in specific locations. It would be trivial to isolate and eliminate each of them in turn. “The drive will be back in your hands before the beginning of the new year.”

I sincerely hope your aim does not exceed your reach, Zina.”

“I would never seek to dishonour you by aiming above my means.” Zina gave a polite bow.

Then carry out your operations with the utmost discretion.

“As always.” Another bow.

May fortune favour your endeavours, Zina. End communication.

The call ended, leaving Zina to her digitized thoughts. Lexi's mistakes had been legion, chief among them her desire to escalate her mission into an unrestrained bloodbath. Where the planning had called for surgical precision, her demented desires screamed for chainsaws and dynamite.

No more of that.

“Risq. Trix.” Zina didn't bother snapping her fingers; her acolytes needed no such theatre. Sure enough, the doors on either side of her room opened; Risq and Trix stepped through, their movements as crisp as their uniforms.

“Activate the cargo, and give them their briefings.” Zina held out her hands, each holding an SD card. “Arm them only with the necessary equipment—I have no desire for a repeat of our previous failure.” The emphasis on the last word was just enough, a final show of contempt at the damned, departed Lexi as she handed over the cards. “Inform me as soon as their objectives have been updated—we must not delay.”

Risq and Trix bowed, turning and striding out of the room as crisply as they'd entered.

Zina examined her fingernails—purely out of habit; they were as flawless as ever. Lexi's neuroses had derailed the whole operation, almost to a point of no return, and cost entirely too much.

No more. Now, there would only be precise, direct strikes, and the retrieval of the solid state drive.

Lloyd Morris Watson, and everyone he held near and dear, would be casualties, of course—it was unavoidable. This was never their battle to fight, but it had just become theirs to lose.

Such were the rules of the game. Zina had no intention of losing— far too much was at stake, for her and her master.

“We will not fail.” Zina held her hand out, imagining the solid state drive resting in the palm. “Not again.”
-----
“How's he doing?”

“They had to sedate him, but other than that, fine.” Erin stared at the ceiling. “Before they put him under again,” she murmured, “he told me.”

“Told you?” Harry echoed.

“What he'd dreamed about.” Erin scoffed. “Dream...it was a damn nightmare.”

“So what was it?”

“He thought he was back over The Pit, with her, right before the catwalk buckled. Except it dumped him in, too, and they were both falling.” Erin crossed the waiting room, took a seat and buried her face in her hands. “Right at the end, he thought he'd hit the surface.”

Harry grimaced.

“When he gets out of there,” Erin stated, her voice almost monotone, “we have to tell him—”

“You think he's gonna want to hear that right after he comes to?!” Harry protested. “First thing after he wakes up: 'Glad to see you're awake, Lloyd, oh, and by the way, you were raised by androids for most of your life until you came to live with me, your mom's dead—'”

Not like that,” Erin hissed. “Definitely not that way.”

Harry sighed. “Sorry. I just...we're really going to do this? Tell him that his 'parents' were androids, his birth mother's dead and his father—”

“Your brother,” Erin muttered.

“We're really going to just dump all of this on him? Two days before Christmas?”

“No more secrets, Harry. And on that subject, you'd do well to use your actual last name around him—”

“What the Hell does that have to do with anything?!”

“It has everything to do,” Erin replied, “with helping Lloyd to heal.”

Harry tried to argue, to come up with some reason to dispute her claims, but knew it'd be futile. “So we're telling him,” he stated. “Just like that.”

“Not all at once,” Erin advised. “Drip-feed it, or at least let him decide. What questions to ask, how quickly, that sort of deal. But it's his decision.”

“Right.” Harry nodded. “Helluva way to spend Christmas.”

Erin smirked. “What better gift could we give him than the truth?”
-----
END OF BOOK I
WRITING AS WE GO: BOOK II
COMING 2023
"No one steals our chicks.....and lives!"

HelixCMN
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Re: Writing As We Go, Chapter 20

Post by HelixCMN » Sun Nov 13, 2022 3:08 pm

Lexi really is a menace. Could be fun to see her again lol

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