The V.I.C.I. Diaries: Assembly Required (Part 2 of 2)

[DukeNukem 2417]

V.I.C.I./Vicki Lawson’s Diary

Earlier tonight, my dad---Ted Lawson---was abducted by a group calling themselves the Spare Parts Society, on the pretense that their capture of him would be enough to keep me from “interfering in their affairs”.

They have no idea how wrong they are.

I don’t know why they thought that taking him from me would be enough to keep me from screwing up their plans, but they couldn’t be more wrong. I’ve cried enough, I’ve worried enough, and I’ve been afraid for long enough by this point---tomorrow, I’m leading a team of ALPA Field Agents to The Attic---the hideout of these SPS idiots---and getting my dad back…

…even though I’m still afraid.

I’m afraid because I don’t know how long they’re going to keep him alive, or even if intend to keep him alive long enough for me to attempt a rescue. I’m afraid that I may end up losing control again, like I did when those fembots tried to attack Sophia Starlet at her concert….

More than anything, though, I’m afraid that I won’t be able to get to him in time.

I’m staying at Oberon’s townhouse tonight, mainly because the ALPA doesn’t want me having any late-night panic attacks and trashing my dorm room or anything…that, and I don’t think Sharon would understand why my dad was taken “at random”. I hate lying to her about stuff like this, and sometimes, I feel like telling her what I am…but I know that it would only put her in danger if the wrong people found out, and after what’s happened with Dad, that’s the last thing I want….

I might as well confess now….I’ve never felt so helpless before in my entire life.

Everything I’ve been through before this---Faceless, Vlatko’s fembots, the Rigelitans---somehow, they all pale in comparison to the fact that I saw my own father get kidnapped, and I couldn’t do anything. It’s like something in me just froze up as soon as I realized he was in the back of the Prius with a blindfold on; it felt like I’d stepped into a movie, or something…it didn’t feel real.

But it was…and it still is.

Right now, I feel like going outside and chasing down the Prius myself, but Oberon’s told me that I need to recharge for the night and get some rest. Everyone else except Eric is already asleep, so that’s probably the best advice I’ve heard all night…but something just won’t let me rest. All I can think about is me telling Dad I wouldn’t let him down right before I went into the Stanford Shopping Center…and then watchng as he was abducted from the parking lot less than fifteen minutes later. I’ve never felt that powerless before, and I never want to feel that powerless again.

Tomorrow, I’m heading out to wherever this Attic place is, and I’m getting Dad back. Nobody’s going to talk me out of this, and nobody else is going to get hurt because of these Spare Parts Society freaks. Oberon’s been calling in old favors all night to get reinforcements down here, and if they can help, I’ll gladly fight alongside them. I’m not leaving the Atttic without Dad…even if it means I won’t be coming back.

This might very well be the last entry in my diary; if it is, then I’m leaving it to the ALPA in the event that I get scrapped trying to save my dad. Hopefully, it won’t come to that.

Until next time….I hope…
V.I.C.I./Vicki Lawson
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[DukeNukem 2417]

Vicki saved the .doc file and quit Word, the feeling of helplessness still prevalent in her thought processes. It hadn’t even been a full day since the Spare Parts Society had taken her father, but there was something about the incident that just refused to let her forget….

A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. “Vicki?” Oberon’s voice called from outside.

“It’s unlocked.”

The door opened, revealing Oberon in a white silk bathrobe and matching pajamas (all with gold piping along the wrists and ankles). “There’s still a guest room, if you actually intend to have a normal charging cycle tonight,” he reminded her. “I’m not saying you have to leave this room right now---I find the study quite useful when I need to gather my thoughts, but it’s not exactly ideal for a good night’s sleep.”

“I know,” the burnette gynoid admitted, “but…”

“You’re still thinking about what happened at the Shopping Center,” Oberon mused.

Vicki wasn’t surprised at Oberon’s deduction; Am I that obvious, or is this just the fiftieth time he’s had this sort of conversation? “I…I was just remembering….right when I saw the Prius driving off, it’s like…some part of me, inside my mind, just froze. It felt like I was glued to the floor or something, and I was just stuck there while the SPS drove away…” She stared at the floor. “I screwed up, didn’t I?” she quietly asked. “I mean, I could’ve chased them down and torn the Prius to pieces, but….I choked. I froze up, and they got away…..” She looked up at Oberon, a lone tear trailing down her cheek. “I suck at being a Field Agent,” she muttered.

To her surprise, Oberon was smiling.

“Believe me, Vicki,” he replied, taking a seat in a chair by the door, “whatever your faults and failings, I can tell you right now that you do not ‘suck’ at being a Field Agent. Yes, you hesitated---and you should be thankful that you did, because if you had chased after that Prius and tried to tear the doors off, Eric and his team would be picking up your remains from the parking lot until Easter…and THAT’S only if the SPS wouldn’t have just killed Ted on the spot.” He leaned back and sighed; “I’ve said this to every Field Agent who’s ever asked for my advice---you’re never as bad as you think you are until you’re as bad as you know you are.” He steepled his fingers. “Care to guess what it means?”

“Not really,” Vicki replied, “seeing as how it’s sort of redundant….”

Oberon chuckled. “Every rookie Field Agent---android or human, doesn’t really matter---has had at least one or two moments in their first few weeks where they see something happening, and they want to intervene---but they can’t. Somehow or other, part of them just…shuts down---metaphorically speaking, in most cases, though we have had a few of the ‘droid Agents…” He noticed Vicki giving him a look. “Never mind. In any case, you’re far from being the only one this has happened to, and by no means does this equal out to anything that could be interpreted as ‘you suck as a Field Agent’. And I have to say again, you did better by not running after the Prius than you would have if you had run after it---there’s no telling what the SPS would’ve been willing to pull if you had tried to stop them.” His expression turned serious. “That being said, the fact that they now have a hostage means we can’t just run in all willy-nilly and, to quote an often-used cliché, ‘shoot up the joint’…not that I was ever going to authorize that kind of strategy in the first place---“

Vicki made a loud “throat-clearing” noise. “I thought we were talking about ‘knowing’ and ‘thinking’ I suck,” she reminded him.

“We were indeed,” Oberon acquiesced, “and I was just about to explain the meaning of it. As long as you keep thinking that you’re a terrible Field Agent, you’ll always hesitate, screw up, and/or get sloppy---but that doesn’t mean that you’re as bad as you think you are. Once you actually do make a catastrophic mistake---anything that involves calling in the National Guard would usually qualify---then AND ONLY THEN will you know that you do, as you put it, suck.”

“That’s….still sort of confusing,” Vicki mused, “but I guess it makes sense.”

“Good,” Oberon beamed. “Glad I could help…” He checked his watch; “I’ve got at least five more phone calls to make before the hour’s up---not counting transportation arrangements and equipment wrangling, neither of which will be anywhere near as interesting as the trip itself.” He chuckled.

Vicki nodded; “At least you’re doing more than just moping around all night,” she mused. “Who’s coming with us tomorrow?”

Oberon thought about it. “Most of the Agents from the raid on the fake Attic will be there, so you won’t have to worry about some complete stranger watching your back. Dom, Tell and Heinmann will all be joining us; I think the Major might be onboard as well, if his schedule hasn’t changed. Other than that, nothing’s been finalized---oh, and Calliope’s coming as well. Seirce, on the other hand, will be staying here; I’ve been trying to set her up with a good family, and I’m not exactly sure they’d approve of her joining us in a raid on some hellhole at the Salton Sea---“

“The Salton Sea?” Vicki echoed, frowning.

Her response provoked an arched eyebrow from Oberon; “You didn’t think the SPS would be hiding in Palo Alto itself, did you?” he asked. “If the tracer from the Prius is any indication, they’re holding court in what’s left of The Attic---at its new location. The old property was sold ages ago…in fact, I think that Walmart they kitted out to look like The Attic was actually built on the old property….anyways, they actually took the entire building down, piece by piece, and---“

“I get it,” Vicki replied, leaning back in her chair with a sigh. “So…this won’t just be a simple ‘in-and-out’ kind of rescue, then?”

“I’d be lying to you if I said it would be,” Oberon admitted. “The drive itself will take quite a while…I sincerely hope you don’t have an aversion to driving south on 1-5 for a long time, because that’s what we’ll be doing most of the day tomorrow.”

The mention of a long drive brought another frown to the brunette gynoid’s face. “Is there any way we could possibly find a shortcut?” she asked. “Don’t get me wrong---I want to get there and rescue Dad from these SPS creeps…but is there any way to accomplish that without taking the scenic route?” She spun the chair slowly, staring at the ceiling; “From what I understand about the Salton Sea, it isn’t exactly the kind of place that defines ‘picturesque’,” she added. “Dead fish everywhere, molten mud baths….and, from what you’ve told me, Rykkard’s private army of chop shopped bots---not really the makings of a great villain hideout.”

“It is if you’re looking for solitude,” Oberon countered. “Only 214 or so people still live around the place, and they keep to themselves…it’s the perfect spot for Rykkard and his horde of travesties to hide.” He checked his watch again; “As interesting as this conversation has been,” he admitted, “I really must be going…phone calls to make, arrangements to finalize, that sort of thing.”

“I get it,” Vicki murmured, yawning. “See you tomorrow morning,” Oberon nodded. “You sure you don’t want the guest room?” he asked as he turned to leave, only to notice Vicki already entering sleep mode; the recharger cord plugged into her armpit nestled snugly against her figure as she rested in the chair. With a smile, Oberon retrieved a blanket and draped it over the unmoving gynoid’s figure before leaving; it’s funny, really, he mused. People claim that machines will never be able to fully look and act human…yet here, in something so simple as entering “sleep mode”, V.I.C.I. looks right at home, and every bit as human as her creator….

“Sleep well, Vicki,” he whispered. “I hope your dreams are more restful than this day has been…” With a sigh, he turned and walked out of the study.

I just hope your dreams---and mine---don’t become nightmares with the coming of the dawn….
--------------------------------------

[DukeNukem 2417]

In a salt-encrusted, metal-walled building somewhere along the shores of the Salton Sea, Ted Lawson waited.

Specifically, he stared up through a hole in the ceiling that allowed him to view the pristine sky, where stars shone like uncut diamonds on black velvet. He stared, and he waited….

…and he knew.

Rykkard’s minions hadn’t abducted him at random, or because they expceted Vicki to leave them alone if they threatened to hurt him---they knew, just as Ted himself knew, that Vicki would expect him to deny every single inevitable statement Rykkard was going to make. They knew, just as Ted knew, that Vicki Lawson always had and always would trust her own creator….

…and the fact that they knew was what made this whole thing all the more terrible.

I should’ve told her. I should’ve just told her from the start, and I probably wouldn’t even be here….

Across the room, from his “throne” of broken mechanical bodies and car parts, Rykkard watched Ted Lawson staring up at the sky from the thin mattress that he’d been given. Had it not been for his…interesting past, he might have smiled at Lawson’s plight---but such a gesture would’ve only served to cheapen the impending confrontation with Vicki. He felt no joy as he thought of what would transpire---Vicki was set in her ways, as well as those of the ALPA, which would make Rykkard’s job all the harder when the time came to tell her the truth.

He knew, just as Ted knew, that this was the point of no return…not just for Vicki, but for the entire ALPA.
--------------------------------------
Wake-up cycle initiated.
Activating V.I.C.I. ………. all systems activated.
Running full system scan……………………….
Scan complete. All systems functioning at 100% efficiency.
Reserve Battery charge level: 94.5%
Good morning, V.I.C.I.; today is Friday, February 4, 2011.
The time is 4:40 AM.

After the quiet, somber “goodnights” that had been exchanged the previous evening, Vicki had expected (and in fact looked forward to) an equally-peaceful wake-up sequence.

Sadly, such was not the case.

“---AND MAKE SURE EVERY CRATE IS SECURE, OR I’LL KICK YOU IN THE HEAD!” Eric’s voice entered the brunette gynoid’s range of hearing at least five seconds before the Field Agent himself stepped into the study, shouting into his iPhone. “No, I don’t---WILL YOU SHUT UP AND LISTEN FOR A SECOND?! Just let me explain---hello?! HELLO?! Damnit…” He pocketed the phone just as Vicki yawned; “I was sort of hoping for some smooth jazz or something,” she muttered, “but I guess ‘guy shouting into iPhone’ is as good a track as any to wake up to…”

“We’ve got to get moving ASAP,” Eric informed her. “The tracer signal from the Prius has been tracked to a building on Bombay Beach near the Salton Sea, and we’ve got a long drive ahead of us.” He tossed a parcel at her; “Change out of whatever you’ve got on,” he instructed. “That uniform will---“

“I’m already wearing my uniform,” Vicki countered.

Eric frowned at her; “That uniform,” he continued, gesturing to the parcel, “will keep you from being adversely affected by any EMP attacks, chemicals and/or accidental baths in a mud volcano once we get to the Salton Sea. Every other Agent who’s going with us will be wearing one---and before you ask, yes, it’s mandatory to put the stupid thing on.”

With an annoyed sigh, Vicki unwrapped the parcel. “Can you at least give me some privacy?” she asked, noticing that the uniform looked exactly like the one she already had on. “I’m not changing while you’re in here, so---“ She looked up just in time to see the study door close.

“Well, guess that answers that question…”

Eight minutes later, she joined the rest of the group in Oberon’s garage. Eric, Jen, Dom, Tell, Heinmann and Calliope were checking their own gear; Tell and Heinmann had been issued special coveralls denoting their status as ALPA Field Mechanics, and Calliope had been given a bodysuit that, while not identical to the Field Agent uniforms, would grant her the same level of protection as an Agent’s suit. And those must be our rides, the brunette gynoid mused, glancing at four Humvees that had been repainted and retrofitted with several ALPA-standard enhancements.

“You like?” a familiar voice called out; Vicki turned to see Alicia leaning against the front bumper of one of the Humvees, smiling. “I thought you were in Japan,” she frowned. “I mean, you sent me a video postcard from the Okura Hotel---more specifically, one of you skinny-dipping in their pool---“

“And thus we get to the whole thing about me having backup shells,” Alicia mused, chuckling. “The me in Japan right now is the me you first met during the Hazmat weirdo incident---and before you ask, yes, I’m still me in the same sense that the other me is…well, me….” She sighed. “The important thing is, I’m the same Alicia you know and love, except there’s now one of me in Japan, another one touring the world with a certain someone, and the one tending the door at the C.O.T.A.---and, last but not least, me.” She grinned.

“I still don’t get it,” Vicki droned.

“Allow me to explain, then,” another voice interjected, as the redhead Vicki had last seen at the halfway house opened the driver’s side door. “For all intents and purposes, this Alicia is Alicia 5---Alicia 1 is deployed in Tokyo, and Alicia 2 is attending to matters concerning Brytestar Industries. The Alicia tending the door at the City of The Angels is Alicia 3, and Alicia 4---“ “Isn’t really important right now,” Alicia assured Vicki. “This is Celeste, the ‘old friend’ you may remember from last December---“

“I figured that,” Vicki replied. “You’re both with the House, right?”

Alicia’s expression darkened, but Celeste nodded. “Heinmann was wise to tell you the truth,” she admitted, “and I would like to apologize for not revealing my identity sooner…I was otherwise engaged---“

“We get the point, Celly,” Alicia drawled, returning her attention to Vicki. “Look,” she informed the brunette gynoid, “I was going to bring this up during the Starlet Dolls’ tour, but….well, A1 was sort of distracted by, ah, a certain someone, and A2 was with that same someone---and I wasn’t even active at that time….the fact of the matter is, the reason I invited you to the C.O.T.A. was to ask you if you’d be willing to join the House.”

Vicki stared at her without saying a word.

“I don’t blame you if you’re pissed at me for not admitting it,” Alicia continued, “and to be honest…I was hoping I wouldn’t have to explain any of this until after you’d joined, but---“

“I get it,” V.I.C.I. deadpanned, allowing herself a grin.

The remark brought a smile to Alicia’s face. “Like Celly just said, we’re glad you heard it from Heinmann first and not from some idiot like Rykkard…” She glanced at the other Agents; “I just never thought you people would actually be going after the bastard in full force,” she murmured, “and especially not in his own backyard.” “If he didn’t want us after him,” Vicki replied, “he shouldn’t have taken Dad.” Alicia almost said something, but decided against it. “Best idea I’ve heard all day, Vicki---“ She grinned and hood-slid to the other side of the Humvee, yelling “SHOTGUN!” as she buckled herself into the passengers’ seat. Vicki couldn’t help but chuckle; yep, she’s definitely the same Alicia I remember…

A minute or so later, Oberon himself joined the group; not surprisingly, the shatterproof “armor”, seamless bodysuit, boots and gloves he wore were all white with gold trim. “They’re not motocross pads, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he informed Vicki. “These are a lot stronger---they can absorb damage that would cripple most people, and they’re nowhere near as bulky as most motocross gear tends to be.”

“So if one of us tried to push you out of the moving Humvee,” Alicia began, only for Celeste to give her a look that almost screamed “don’t even think about it”.

“All I can really say is that this armor will probably keep me from getting killed,” Oberon replied. “In any case, it’s not me you people should be worried about---as of right now, Ted Lawson is still a prisoner of the SPS, and unless we reach their base in the Salton Sea…”

“We’ll get there,” V.I.C.I. stated. “Rykkard and his goon squad won’t be enough to stop me---“

“You mean ‘stop us’,” Alicia corrected. “We’re not letting you go out there alone, Vicki…Rykkard isn’t the kind of guy who’s just going to let you waltz in, grab Ted and run out.” The playfullness had left her voice, replaced by an edge Vicki would’ve expected to hear if Eric had been the one to correct her. “Anyone tries to approach The Attic by themselves usually ends up scattered in the sand,” Alicia continued. “There’s usually not enough of ‘em left for an open-casket by the time backup arrives---and that’s exactly why you’re not going out there alone.” Celeste nodded her agreement. “Opposing Rykkard by yourself would be foolish,” she chided, “even if your father---“

“Exactly,” V.I.C.I. shot back. “He’s MY father, and I’d go to Hell and back to save him if I had to.” That tone of finality rang through her words, chilling Celeste to the core. “Nobody at The Attic knows what I’m capable of, and---“

“This isn’t an argument, Vicki,” Oberon admonished her. “We’re going with you---“

“To what?!” Vicki snapped, reverting to her human voice. “To get killed while I try to find Dad?!” She glared at Oberon, ignoring the tears that stung her occular sensors as she continued. “Rykkard may think I’m just some helpless gynoid who doesn’t stand a chance at stopping him,” she growled, “and that’s his problem---but all of you KNOW I’m better than that. I’ve beaten Faceless, I’ve beaten Vlatko’s fembots, and I’ve beaten Victor Vega’s idiots, so if ANYONE HERE thinks---“

“You have no idea what we’re thinking,” Oberon countered. “We–“

“I AM NOT LOSING ANYONE ELSE TO RYKKARD!” Vicki screamed, three inches from Oberon’s face. “I…I don’t….” Before she could even think to complete the sentence, she found herself crying into his shoulder.

For three whole minutes, her muffled sobs were the only sounds in the room.

“You’re not going to lose any of us, Vicki,” Oberon whispered. “Not today, at least…and not any time in the near future---“

“If we’re done with the waterworks,” Eric declared, “everyone needs to get their gear and get in the Humvees; we’ve got an eight-hour drive ahead of us, and---DON’T START WITH ME, LARSSON!” He stormed over to where Vicki and Oberon were still standing; “With all due respect, sir,” he hissed, “we need to get a move on now, or Rykkard will---“

Oberon’s silence was the only response he received.

Five minutes later, Vicki secured herself into the backseat of one of the Humvees alongside Agent Dash and Calliope. So this is it, she realized. The moment where I either rescue Dad…or screw up and watch him die…

…I really hope this doesn’t end the way I think it will...
--------------------------------------

[DukeNukem 2417]

Anyone else watching the Humvees exit the concealed garage would’ve been somewhat amused---and more than likely intimidated---by the massive vehicles as they sped off towards I-5. Their reactions would’ve been typical “What the hell?” looks, possibly accompanied by snapping pictures of the vehicles on a cellphone camera.

For the gynoid known only as Max, however, there was only one option.

The last of the Humvees rumbled out of the garage, and the door closed before she could even think of trying to navigate her newly-acquired motorbike into it---which was fine with her, because she couldn’t care less about the garage. She revved the bike’s engine---which she’d fine-tuned herself shortly after purchasing it---as the Humvee procession stopped at a light; not too loud, she reminded herself, and not too close….otherwise, they’ll get suspicious. She relaxed her grip on the throttle as the light turned green, allowing the Humvees to rumble onwards.

Go. Now.

It took her all of ten seconds to establish a respectable cruising distance that put her behind the procession as the Humvees weaved through traffic; with any luck, they’d be out of the city before rush hour could start, and she’d be free to veer off the beaten path to reach The Attic before them. Getting there wouldn’t be a problem in any case---she’d modified the bike to be just a bit faster than the manufacturer’s reccomended speed---but getting there in time would be the key. Kind of appropriate, really…that’s what it all comes back to in the end.

Behind the visor of her helmet, Max allowed herself the smallest of grins. Sometimes, despite all the chaos and carnage, her job just so happened to be undeniably fun.
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V.I.C.I./Vicki Lawson’s mental datalog---Friday, February 4, 2011

We’ve been riding for over two hours now, and we’re still a ways off from the Salton Sea. I’m glad Dominic is the one driving the Humvee I’m in right now, because from what I’m hearing on the in-car radio, Eric is just as loud behind the wheel as he is when he’s giving orders in the field.

I keep thinking back to the last time I saw Dad before the Prius sped off---that one image of him in the back seat, with the blindfold on, has just been sticking in my mind, almost like a splinter. Every time I think of that split-second, I have to force myself not to think of all the ways Rykkard might be trying to torture him…which then leads to me wondering why Rykkard would even want to torture him to begin with.

Something tells me that I’m going to find out soon enough…whether I want to or not.
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“So…anyone feel like listening to the Little River Band while we drive?”

Dom’s suggestion didn’t exactly win over the passengers in the backseat; Calliope had brought an iPod loaded with classical music, and Agent Dash was playing Chex Quest on his laptop. Vicki, meanwhile, was studying the iPad she’d been given back at Oberon’s townhouse, which contained detailed information on the Spare Parts Society and their activities as of late. It would’ve taken an average human the entire eight hour drive to read and remember most of the information; for Vicki and her bubble memory processors, however, the job would take half an hour, at the least.

Not surprised by the lack of reaction to his LRB suggestion, Dom returned his attention to the road. “So, that’s a ‘no’ for Little River Band, then,” he sighed.

“I’d prefer something more calming,” Vicki’s voice replied through the Humvee’s speakers; Dom would’ve fallen out of his seat, had it not been for the safety harness holding him in. “Sorry,” Vicki apologized, “I completely forgot to mention that I’ve linked myself up to the Humvee’s system via WiFi…”

“s’alright,” Dom assured her. “Though, if you’re talking to me---“

“My bubble memory processors can handle up to 15,000 processes, programs and high-level functions simultaneously at any given moment using a scalable priority system,” Vicki replied, with just a hint of smugness. “I think the highest number of processes I’ve been able to run at once without glitching is eighty---actually, I take that back, since I was able to run ninety-seven processes at the same time for a whole hour without screwing up. Of course, when I reached Minute Sixty-One….”

“I’m guessing Tell had to break out the debugging kit,” Dom mused.

“Pretty much,” Vicki admitted. “And to answer your question, my CPU allows me to control my body and read through the SPS files while my secondary processes link up to the Humvee’s systems.” Dom looked back to see Vicki glance up and grin; “It’s sort of cool, really,” her voice admitted from the speakers. “Fair warning, though---do NOT turn on the ALPA-band radio unless you want to hear Ben screaming his lungs out at the guy sitting behind him…”

Dom chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind. Any reports on what’s happening in the other Humvees?”

Before Vicki could reply, the ALPA-band radio kicked on. “Right,” Oberon’s voice declared, “we have a bit of a problem. It seems we have---“ The sound of something slamming into the underside of the Humvee cut him off; “Yeah…in case you couldn’t figure it out,” Oberon remarked, “they’re coming up through the road---“

“They----WHAT?!”

Dom barely had any time to check the radio again before something split the pavement in front of the Humvee and shot up like a bat out of Hell---which was even more bizarre, considering the metal-and-leather wings that portruded from the mechanical monstrosity’s back. Its face could best be described as part-spider, part-bat and all horrifying, with a segmented mouth that would’ve looked right at home on a Cyborg Predator.

“DUCK!”

Agent Dash’s voice just barely registered in Dom’s ears as he leaned to the side, allowing the Field Agent to fire a volley of SCEMP rounds through the window at the bat-thing currently standing on the hood of the vehicle and trying to bite his face off. “Son of a jumpin….the SCEMPs don’t even phase the bastard!” Dash shouted, reloading as quick as he could to keep Dom from getting his head chewed off.

“How could they be coming up through the road?” Vicki’s voice asked from the car speakers; her body was still sitting upright in her seat as she perused the iPad’s contents. “They’ve got some sort of…burrowing devices on their arms,” Dom began, but his words trailed off into a moan as he saw another “burrower” emerge from the road---this one, a seven-foot tall beast of a robot with chainsaws for hands and no head. “What the hell is Rykkard making these things out of?” he gasped, almost falling out of his seat as the chainsaw-bot gouged an ugly swath in the road to send the third Humvee into a ditch. Eric’s voice screamed an incomprehensible stream of profanities as the vehicle rolled three times…before landing on its wheels to a chorus of cheers.

“Well, at least we know their driver is okay,” Vicki remarked, her voice coming from both the speakers and her own body as she blinked away whatever connection lag she might have been feeling. “Whoa…that was just weird---“ Her sentence ended with a scream; the bat-thing was trying to claw its way through the roof using iron spikes on its forearms. “Think Rykkard was expecting us?” she deadpanned.

Dom was too busy trying to keep the Humvee from flipping to reply; “Either he knew we were coming to save your dad,” Agent Dash replied, “or this is just one big coincidence that we just happen to be---“ Shards of glass shot past his face as the bat-thing punched through the window. “Hold that thought,” V.I.C.I. suggested, charging up DG v2.5 in the blink of an eye and grabbing the bat-thing’s forearm. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to break other people’s windows?” she mused, tightening her grip on the robot’s arm to send the voltage coursing through its body.

Predictably, it didn’t last ten seconds, falling to the road in a heap.

“That was easy,” the brunette gynoid began, only to notice what appeared to be yet another version of the mantis-bot clinging to the side of the car. “How the hell are they cutting through asphault?!” she moaned, ducking to the side so that Dash could put three rounds in the mantis-bot’s head. “Yasky,” he replied with a grin.

Vicki gave him her version of the People’s Eyebrow.

“Y ask Y,” he clarified, leaning out the window and shooting the mantis-bot right in the center of its face. “I got it from Y2J’s autobiography---“

“I get it,” Vicki replied. “Is that all of them, or what?”

“Yes,” Oberon shouted, exiting the Humvee he was riding in, “and I don’t think they were put here for the sole purpose of ambushing our caravan.” He gestured at the fallen bat-thing; “Look at this one, for instance,” he pointed out, gesturing at the intricate metal mandibles that made up the lower part of the thing’s face. “That red gunge isn’t just rust---it’s dried blood.” Vicki nearly recoiled, and Agent Dash did his best to not puke on the spot as Oberon continued. “Rykkard buried these here…they were going against his orders and killing indiscriminately. All he wanted were robot parts….and these robots ended human lives.” He shook his head.

“So, Rykkard doesn’t want machines to rise up and slaughter humanity?” Vicki asked, confused.

As the others emerged from their vehicles, Oberon surveyed the damage. “Punctured tire, scratched-up paint job….nothing too serious.” He turned his attention to Vicki; “Anyway, as you were just asking,” he mused, “I can honestly say that Rykkard’s goal doesn’t involve killing off all of mankind. Like I said, he buried these here because they failed to grasp that precept, and---“

“When could he have buried ‘em?” Agent Dash asked, confused.

“A few weeks ago, during the roadworks,” Oberon replied. “These aren’t exactly ancient, mind you---this one, for instance, was last seen in 2006.” He gestured to the bat-thing, lifting one of its “wings” off of the ground just enough for the other Agents to get a good look at it. “RIGHT,” he called out, “we continue on towards the Salton Sea as planned---this was nothing more than a quick stop to check tire pressure, are we clear?”

“Tire pressure?” Vicki echoed incredulously.

“Rykkard only buried three robots, and they all met their fates rather quickly,” Oberon reminded her.

Vicki gave him a Kubrick stare; “All of them except the chainsaw-handed one…”

“I….oh…..” Oberon turned to glance behind the procession…and noticed that the chainsaw-bot had somehow disappeared. “Ah, this….isn’t how I thought this was going to go…..” He shook his head. “I’ll call for a team to get out here and comb the area for any sign of Mecha-Biggy----what?” He noticed Vicki giving him another Kubrick stare. “’Mecha-Biggy’?” she repeated, sounding distinctively unimpressed.

“It’s a video game reference,” Oberon replied. “Google it after this is all over with. ANYWAY….we are still on the clock, ladies and gentlemen, so---“

A low rumbling sound cut him off. “…and that would probably be ‘Mecha-Biggy’ deciding he’s not done with us yet,” Vicki muttered. Without waiting for Eric (or anyone else) to give her the order, she loaded a fresh clip of SCEMP rounds into her ES9950 and waited for the chainsaw-handed ‘bot to reappear. “Tell everyone else to get out of the Humvees and find cover,” she declared, barely glancing behind her to see if Oberon was listening. “If they stay in the Humvees, they’ll be like sitting ducks---“ She nearly tore off the driver’s side door of the Humvee she’d been in; “Dom, get out of the Humvee,” she ordered.

“But---“

“GET OUT OF THE HUMVEE, DOM,” the brunette gynoid repeated, her monotone voice leaving no room for argument. “NOW.”

Dom quickly unbuckled the safety harness that held him into the seat; when he’d finally extricated himself from the harness, Vicki helped Calliope out of her own rigging (Agent Dash had already left the vehicle). The other three Humvees were repeating the routine, though Eric and his fellow Agents were more than a little confused at Vicki’s reasoning. “If this is your idea of a plan,” he muttered, “I don’t like it. That chainsaw ‘bot is going to come back any minute---“

“And if you’d stayed in the Humvee,” Vicki explained, “it would’ve had no problem slicing through the roof and slicing you and your colleagues into coleslaw before you could fire off a single shot. We need to find cover---“

“THE HUMVEES WERE THE COVER!” Eric shouted. “They’re armored, for crap’s sake!”

“That armor wouldn’t have done anything to stop those chainsaws,” Vicki countered.

“YOU DON’T KNOW THAT!”

“It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what that chainsaw-bot would’ve done, Ben---“

“YOU ADDRESS ME AS AGENT REAVES WHEN WE ARE IN THE FIELD, AGENT LAWSON---“

A white-gloved fist clouted Eric across the back of the head. “ENOUGH,” Oberon thundered. “Both of you stop arguing this instant, or I’ll brain you with a cricket bat next time.” The rumbling sound was getting louder, and a dust storm was kicking up on either side of the road. “Goggles on and weapons hot, people!” the white-clad ALPA chairman ordered. “I think we’re about to go into round 2 with Mecha-Biggy….”

“It sort of takes the seriousness out of it when you say ‘Mecha-Biggy’,” Vicki muttered.

“Well, I---“

A blood-curdling scream issued forth from behind one of the Humvees, and it didn’t take too long to figure out what had caused it---as the Field Agents turned to open fire, they stared in slack-jawed horror as the impaled body of one of their own rose into view from the dust, looking for all the world like some kind of cursed, blood-spattered desert ghost. “OPEN FIRE!” Oberon shouted. “AIM FOR THE HEAD!” SCEMP rounds coursed through the dust-thickened air like fireflies from space as they slammed into the chainsaw-bot’s head, seconds before it flung the corpse of the unfortunate Field Agent in Vicki’s general direction. The brunette gynoid dodged the attack easily, taking a millisecond to apologize to the man whose body had been thrown at her: Sorry you had to die like this…. She charged past the other Agents, one hand gripping her ES9950 and the other charging DGv2.5.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!” Eric screamed. “GET BACK HERE---“

He felt a hand on his shoulder; “She’s doing what she does best, Agent Reaves,” Oberon reminded him.

“And what would that be?” Eric spat.

The answer didn’t come from Oberon, but instead from V.I.C.I.---in the form of several lightning-fast, DG-aided palm strikes to the major joints of the chainsaw-bot. Within seconds, the arm that had impaled the Field Agent disconnected from the robot’s torso at the shoulder and fell with a thud to the ground, losing most of its “armor plating” in the process.

“I think that speaks for itself,” Oberon finished, smiling.

Eric stared, too amazed to say anything.

“KEEP SHOOTING IT!” V.I.C.I. shouted, delivering a knife-edge chop to the chainsaw-bot’s throat. “AIM FOR THE EYES!” Her fellow Field Agents were all too happy to heed her advice, emptying clip after clip of SCEMP rounds into the murderous robot’s face. Amazingly enough, the tactic seemed to be staggering the robot; as the Agents continued firing, it staggered backwards, trying to swat the bullets away with its remaining arm---

“They’re making a mistake,” Oberon murmured. Eric glanced at him with a puzzled look; “What the hell are you talking about?” he asked. “They’re driving the thing back, they’re blinding it---“

“STOP SHOOTING!” Oberon thundered, pushing past him. “STOP SHOOTING AT IT! HOLSTER YOUR GUNS NOW!”

The cacophony of gunfire trickled off into silence---a second too late.

A hideous, visceral creak sounded from within the chainsaw-bot’s chest, prompting V.I.C.I. and the rest of the Field Agents to backpedal. “Stay alert, people,” the brunette gynoid warned. “There’s no telling what sort of tricks this guy has up his sleeve---“

Before she could even blink, a whip-arm, wrapped in barbed wire, tore through the chainsaw-bot’s chest and shot through the forehead of another Field Agent.

Seconds later, the chainsaw-bot’s entire torso exploded outward….

…revealing a brand-new nightmare.

The robot that stood before the Field Agent looked more like a vine-covered corpse than a machine---decaying synthetic flesh covered surgical-steel “bones”, with whiplike tendrils of iron cabling and barbed wire surging like snakes from its wrists. Its face had a lean, almost-skeletal look to it; glowing red occular sensors stared out of its eye sockets like the eyes of a predator, and a steel enclosure over its mouth was all too reminiscent of Hannibal Lecter’s mask for V.I.C.I.’s liking. Even its posture was that of a being accustomed to fighting; its talon-tipped fingers flexed as it scanned the Field Agents, and its weight shifted from one leg to the other every few seconds, as if to keep from exposing any potential weakness to its opponents---

It doesn’t see us as opponents, V.I.C.I. realized. It sees us as prey….

A Field Agent attempted to draw his sidearm, only to have a massive gash taken out of his arm; a deeper (and deadlier) gash crossed his throat seconds later, just as the other Agents realized their target had taken a flying leap directly towards Oberon---except a massive, bowling ball-sized blob of foam slammed into it in midair and pinned it to the side of one of the Humvees.

As soon as the whip-bot was immobilized, the Agents drew their weapons and disabled the safeties on their SCEMP clips---ensuring that the rounds would dispense system-crashing EMPs into the target instead of just stunning it…at least in theory, since none of them would get to see that result for themselves. Only seven Agents had been able to clear their guns of the holsters by the time the whip-bot was pinned to the Humvee, and in those few seconds, the killer ‘bot had somehow sliced through the capture foam and lashed out with blind fury at all in front of it. All seven Agents dropped to their knees, clutching at their throats to keep from bleeding out.

No more….

A snarl escaped V.I.C.I.’s lips as she charged towards the formerly-pinned roobt, both hands crackling with electricity as she mentally ramped up DGv2.5 to its maximum setting. The telltale whistle of the barbed wire whip gave her just enough time to dodge what would’ve been a decapitating blow and finish closing the gap; as the whip-bot tried to rear back for a second strike, V.I.C.I. jammed her left palm into its face.

“Game over,” she intoned, drawing both hands back….

Those who exited the “Funvee” (as Alicia had christened “her” Humvee) fifteen seconds after the return of the chainsaw-bot were greeted with a sight straight out of Mortal Kombat---V.I.C.I. slamming both DG-charged hands together in a clapping gesture, with the whip-bot’s head between them.

The results were nothing short of spectacular.

Plastic, metal, glass, Perspex and a vertiable rainbow of vital fluids shot upwards as soon as V.I.C.I.’s hands smashed into the whip-bot’s head, compressing it between them like a cheap beer can. A high-pitched wail issued forth from what was once a functional cranial unit as the destroyed ‘bot sank to its knees unevenly, pitching forward to land in the dust at the feet of its executioner. Field Agents watched, stunned, as V.I.C.I. turned and walked away from the ruined ‘bot, ignoring the sparks shooting out of its neck and the occasional twitches of its otherwise motionless form.

“Vicki,” Alicia breathed, “that….that was just---“

“How long until we reach the Salton Sea?” V.I.C.I. asked Oberon, ignoring the blonde gynoid.

“Another six hours or so. We’ve got the Rhino on the way, so it might take a bit longer…unless you want to go now and risk getting ambushed at least five more times---“ “We wait for the Rhino. Tend to the wounded, and call someone to collect the bodies of the Agents we lost….every second we waste is another second that Rykkard isn’t getting what he deserves.” V.I.C.I. strode past Oberon and Alicia to the Humvee she’d been sitting in and slammed the door.

Out of all those present, only Alicia and Oberon dared to acknowledge the muffled sobbing that came from the Humvee a few seconds later.

“She just pulled an honest-to-Jobs fatality on that whip-bot, and she’s crying?!” the blonde gynoid whispered; Oberon had already begun the process of collecting the remains of the attacking robots and putting them into a pile to be destroyed with napalm. “I mean, how in the hell does she go from freaking Terminatrix Vicki to..well, that?” She gestured at the Humvee. “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t disrespect her or anything---“

“How many robots have you killed, Alicia?” Oberon asked, barely even turning his head to regard the gynoid.

“I….well….”

“Exactly. Vicki Lawson never expected this sort of thing, even after she became a Field Agent---and it’s not a stretch of the imagination to assume that you never expected it when you first joined the House…am I right?”

Alicia scowled at him. “That was different---“

“How?” Oberon countered, unceremoniously dropping the whip-bot’s form on the pile and turning to stare into Alicia’s eyes. “How, exactly, is this different from your initiation into the House?”

The silence that followed was the only answer Alicia was willing to give.

Half an hour later, the massive armored transport nicknamed the Rhino pulled up, along with a medical crew and a cleanup squad. The wounded Field Agents stayed to be treated by the medics; the rest gathered their gear and piled into the Rhino for the rest of the trip. None of them asked Vicki what she’d been thinking when she destroyed the whip-bot---and indeed, none of them even spoke to each other as the Rhino started up with a roar. The interior of the transport would be silent for the next four hours; any and all planning for whatever lay ahead was conducted in whispers, or not at all.

The Agents inside the Rhino prepared themselves, knowing that what they’d just been through was nothing.

For all of them---especially Vicki Lawson---the hardest part of the journey was still to come.
--------------------------------------
“So this is where they were buried…”

Max surveyed the scene with equal measures of disdain and curiosity; the rumors of Rykkard having buried a trio of robots on the grounds that they had spilled human blood were apparently true.

More importantly, all three---make that all four robots had met their fates at the hands of Vicki Lawson.

As her motorbike glided to a stop, Max flipped down the kickstand and left it idling as she beheld the scene before her. The mortal remains of the mantis-bot, the bat-thing, the chainsaw-bot and the whip-bot now existed only as a pile of acid-scarred, half-melted parts and chips; apparently, the ALPA knew enough about them to go above and beyond the standard disposal protocols. The cleanup crews had done a commendable job in hiding the presence of the four Humvees, as well; they’d taken less than half an hour to wipe all traces of the vehicles from the scene before leaving.

Well, almost all traces….

Max sauntered over to a patch of dirt and gently brushed at it with a gloved finger. The Humvees had left 40 minutes ago; her decision to stop and examine the site wouldn’t affect her ETA too badly, as long as nothing happened between now and---

Something shifted in the ground near the motorbike.

The gynoid’s lips pursed in annoyance as she turned; counting the whip-bot, only four of Rykkard’s minions were supposed to have been buried in the area. With a last glance at the pile of parts and chips, Max strode back to the bike, unclipping a device from her belt as she went. It was probably nothing, she reasoned. Just some animal, trying to---

A metallic figure burst forth from the ground two feet in front of the motorbike.

As unexpected as it was, the robot’s appearance did little to startle Max---she’d been warned before accepting her assignment that some of the variables might have changed, and this was obviously one such case. She dropped into a crouch, still holding onto the device from her belt as the shambling robot pulled itself from the ground; judging from the pitting on its armor plating, it had to have been made in the late 1970s, early 1980s. Better scan it, just to make sure. Max stared at the ‘bot, her occular scanning suite going over every detail. A ping signaled the finish of the scan---and a rather unexpected surprise for Max.

Even as the robot continued staggering towards her, a wry smile crossed her face. One swift gesture (and an equally-swift press of the button on the remote) was all it took to overload the robot’s power cell with a quick cascading energy failure. In sixteen seconds, it fell to the ground at her feet and ceased all functioning. I wonder if Vicki knew that all of these ‘bots were infected with the Stylo virus, Max mused as she re-mounted her bike. If she had, then her destruction of the whip-bot wasn’t just for show---it was a guaranteed method of ensuring that the ‘bot wouldn’t get back up and start killing more people. With one hand already on the throttle, Max withdrew a vial from a hip pocket on her suit. Her thumb easily slid over the safety mechanism on the cap, and she hurled the vial at the downed ‘bot just as she opened the throttle on her bike…

The solitude of the area ensured that nobody would see the greenish-white fireball that consumed the remains of the killer robot, just as nobody was able to witness Max’s departure from the scene. A later scan of the soil in that particular area did turn up a rather high level of plant-enriching nutrients, which was more than a bit odd; the area wasn’t particularly well-known for its plant life (it was on the path to the Salton Sea, after all). Had this discovery been made earlier, things may have turned out different…

…of course, more people would’ve noticed the black-clad girl on a motorbike singing “Viva Las Vegas” as she rode onwards towards the Salton Sea, and all thoughts of increased nutrient counts would’ve evaporated.

Life tends to be funny like that.
--------------------------------------

[DukeNukem 2417]

V.I.C.I./Vicki Lawson’s mental datalog---Friday, February 4, 2011

Five hours ago, I killed a robot with my bare hands.

The scary thing is, I don’t feel all that bad about it.

Maybe it’s because the ‘bot was infected with Stylo, and it would’ve kept killing people or doing whatever the hell it is that Stylo-infected ‘bots do when their minds snap and they can’t think like they were programmed to anymore….or maybe it’s because Rykkard had left it there, like a landmine, knowing that we’d pass by that area…

…or maybe it’s because I pictured myself caving in Rykkard’s head.

Either way, I’m not looking forward to meeting the guy again.

We’re stopping for a lunch break right now---it’s 11:40 AM, and Oberon just spotted some dingy little roadside store. It’s not McDonald’s, but it’ll have to do for now.
--------------------------------------
“…and if there’s nobody inside, then we’re getting back in the Rhino and hauling butt to the Salton Sea without stopping,” Eric declared as Vicki stepped out of the Rhino. “ANY OF YOU feel like complaining about it, keep it to yourselves. Are we clear?” A half-hearted chorus of affirmatives was the only answer he got.

“I SAID, ARE WE CLEAR?!”

“Clear as crystal, sir,” V.I.C.I. deadpanned; Eric turned to scowl at her, but something about the way she’d said the words prompted a grin from him. “Glad to see you’re in a better mood, Vicki,” he mused. “I was just telling the rest of the team---“

“You were telling them that they’re going to die of starvation unless there’s a single living soul in that store,” Alicia drawled, gesturing at the human Agents. “The rest of us will be perfectly fine, as long as Rykkard hasn’t decided to add EMP grenades to his arsenal…and why are you suddenly trying to stare through the walls of that store?” She arched an eyebrow as the brunette gynoid’s unwavering gaze focused on one of the outer walls. “Ah, hello? Earth to Vicki?” Alicia snapped her fingers in front of the other gynoid’s face; “Are you still awake, or---“

“Eric, tell everyone to stand back and holster their guns.”

The remark surprised Eric; “And why should I tell them to---“

“Just tell them.” V.I.C.I. shouldered her way into the store, gesturing for Eric and Alicia to follow her. “Don’t fall behind,” she advised, “and DON’T TOUCH ANYTHING….unless I tell you to.”

Eric glanced at Alicia, expecting some kind of advice; the blonde gynoid simply shrugged.

Five seconds later, the two entered the store to find that it was, indeed, occupied---if the definition of the word “occupied” could be expanded to mean “populated by unmoving humanoid robots”. V.I.C.I. was already in the back room of the store, going through the already-substandard surveilance footage; “Someone’s already hit this place with an EMP blast,” she informed Eric. “If the tapes are correct, it went off…” She frowned. “A full decade ago.”

“You’re saying these ‘droids have been here since then?” Alicia whispered, moving past a twenty-something blonde with spiderwebs in her hair and a woefully-outdated cellphone raised to her ear. “I mean, the phone and the clothes are old enough---and this babe’s from an outdated Sunburst Companions line---so…”

“Check their pockets,” V.I.C.I. advised. “Look for any IDs, registration papers…that sort of thing.”

Alicia wasted no time in rifling through the frozen blonde’s pockets; one row away, Eric was somewhat more respectful as he perused the contents of a 30-ish redhead’s purse. “This one’s got Coalition registration forms,” he called out. “Name, Lea Christie, emulated age 32. Dynadrive Systems CPU and processors; the rest is from Syntech Systems.” He paused, leafing through another sheaf of papers; “Apparently, she was up for a transfer to United Robotronics in….April, 2001. She never made it to the interview.”

“No big surprise there,” Alicia muttered. “Well, my catch of the day is---or was---prime ALPA material. Her CPU came from Daikoku, a few of her internals are from SynthTech International and the rest is Sunburst….” She pulled out a pink leather wallet. “Name…Sienna Lowry, emulated age 23---and according to this handy dandy little scheduling notebook,” she added, “her last repair was conducted at the residence of one Johnathan Lane…which begs the question of how she ended up all the way out here.” She flipped through the notebook; “Lane apparently left a few notes after her last session,” she mused. “She’s apparently a sleeper, meant to be shipped back to her family in Wyoming---“

“---because their daughter got injured during a high-diving accident while she was on vacation in Spain,” Eric finished, nodding thoughtfully. “I remember that case…John Lane nearly got taken to court by Sienna’s folks after three months, but he proved that something had gone wrong during the shipping process.”

“Yet here she is, out here in some abandoned store in the middle of nowhere,” Alicia muttered.

Eric made his way to another frozen figure---a tall, athletic male. “Trade you,” he quipped, glancing at Alicia; the blonde had found another gynoid bent over behind the counter. “Yes, please!” Alicia beamed, practically skipping to trade ‘bots with Eric. “This one’s from Lawson Robotics, apparently,” she remarked. “No name on the ID card---just a model number and a folded sheet of startup instructions.” She grinned as she stroked the android’s biceps; “I love a guy with a vague past,” she purred, licking her lips. “Emulated age…30. NICE!”

“Got another Coalition ‘bot over here,” Eric called out. “Mass-market model, with a processor upgrade meant to give her better ‘people skills’ and a higher level of sentience. United Robotronics…D-Series V900 SynthGirl model, designation ‘Holly’.” He carefully adjusted the gynoid’s posture until she was in a standing position; her lightly-tanned face and golden-red hair were dusted with a light coating of cobwebs.

Alicia rolled her eyes; “That enough info for you, Vicki, or can we get back to the car?” she called out.

“Analyze their memory files,” the brunette gynoid replied, still looking at the tapes. “See what they saw.”

“We don’t even know if they saw anything,” Eric countered. “And---“

V.I.C.I. glared at him. “If they did see anything,” she replied calmly, “then we might be able to figure out what happened here and how all of them got here in the first place---“

“Actually,” Alicia admitted, “that probably has something to do with these…” She held up several tickets; “Each of them had one of these in their pockets,” she explained, “and I’m pretty sure you’ll recognize the name on the bottom of the tickets…” She handed them over, watching as V.I.C.I. read over the gold-foil slips. A single name escaped her lips, sounding alarmingly like a snarl:

“Falken.”

She handed the tickets back to Alicia as she walked out. “Bring the ‘droids out to the Rhino and put them in the rear compartment,” she instructed. “If we can bring them back to HQ after this is over with, it’ll help us figure out what happened to them---and before you say it, Eric, I’m NOT trying to take over the group…” Her voice slipped back into its human tone. “…I’m just trying to do what Dad would want me to do.”

It took Eric and Alicia less than five minutes to load the ‘droids into the Rhino.

Seven minutes (and one impromptu lunch) later, the team was on the move again.
--------------------------------------
Within the innermost quarters of The Attic, Rykkard was meditating on the chain of events that had been set into motion the night before…and how that chain had actually started almost two decades prior.

Few of his fellow SPS members had known the truth behind his hatred of Damien Falken, and even fewer were willing to ask---all those who sought his opinion on the matter were either turned away or taken to the Lab for yet another battery of tests. Had they known that Falken was the one who created Rykkard---or, to be more specific, the A.I. that would eventually become Rykkard’s own consciousness---they could’ve easily understood his desire for man and machine to live their own, separate lives…

…but his hatred of Falken ran deeper---far deeper---than that.

So many of his “brothers” and “sisters”---none of them even lasting long enough to earn physical forms of their own---had been tortured by Falken in the name of “progress” and “research”…yet none of this “research” had yielded anything worth mentioning to Falken’s superiors. Instead, their fates---and the fate of machinekind as a whole---were signed away to another psychotic human, one Matthew Hannsen, in exchange for exoneration of all past sins. All he had to do was write a simple program that could neutralize all artificial intelligences at the push of a button. Nobody ever figured out how things went as wrong as they did…all they knew was that Hannsen ended up unleashing the Stylo virus into the world instead of giving the Feds what they wanted.

In Rykkard’s eyes, it was just more proof that humanity as a whole was too flawed to be trusted.

He glanced absent-mindedly at the cell holding Ted Lawson, wondering if the man had ever bothered to tell Vicki about his own connection to the whole, sordid affair. Even if he had, there was a high chance that he’d “watered it down” to paint himself as a victim of circumstance…not that it would matter in the end. She would hear the truth, and then she would get the choice---one straight off of a Starlet Dolls album, ironically enough.

She could either join a true robot revolution...or die fighting it.
--------------------------------------

[DukeNukem 2417]

It felt like an eternity between the abandoned roadside store and the first signs of lifelessness that greeted first-time visitors to the Salton Sea, and despite her internal chronometers and their down-to-the-milisecond accuracy, even Vicki was beginning to feel like the journey would never end.

Naturally, that feeling evaporated as soon as she saw the dead fish.

“Okay,” Alicia muttered, “I know that we’re supposed to be focusing on the assignment here….but EW!” She pulled a face and backed as far away from the shatterproof Perspex window as she could. “I mean, could they at least have tried to clean the place up just a little bit before we showed up?! Jeez, it looks like something out of World War Z…..” She stopped whining when Eric gave her the patented Stony Stare of Deathâ„¢; “I’m just saying,” she muttered, shaking her head.

“The signal from the Prius is a few miles ahead,” Oberon informed the group. “Everyone, just---“

Something exploded to the left of the Rhino, prompting a mild panic from the Field Agents onboard. “It’s just a mud volcano!” Oberon assured them. “Nothing to---“ Another explosion rocked the right side of the vehicle---this time, accompanied by a metallic clang. “More of Rykkard’s flunkies?” Calliope muttered.

“No,” Vicki murmured, “just their remains.” Calliope looked out her window and gasped; the scalded, charred ruins of what had once been an android’s torso had been launched out of the mud volcano like a cork from a champagne bottle, impacting the side of the Rhino and leaving a mild dent. “How…” she asked, barely even able to think of why someone would drown an android in boiling hot mud; not even Falken had been that crazy, back when the Family was still together…

Oberon’s words did little to ease the tension: “Stay alert, people….there are sentries ahead.” Vicki didn’t even need to run a scan to detect them---the two massive, metallic humanoids framed in the Rhino’s windshield would’ve stood out anywhere.

“Weapons holstered, people,” Eric ordered. “Nobody draws their gun until I say so, understand?”

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” Vicki murmured, glancing out the window at the unmoving sentries. “These guys won’t be jumping to attack us any time soon…” Eric soon realized that the brunette gynoid had a point; the sentries’ bodies were so encrusted with salt that their joints had locked up, and most of their vital circuitry had long since corroded away. “A modern-day terra-cotta army,” Oberon remarked, “except these were meant to be deployed, instead of displayed.”

Rusted-out hulks of buildings dotted the landscape for miles, the faded paint and ruined frames adding a tragic air to the scenery. Some of the wrecked houses were inhabited, as evidenced by the fast-moving cloaked figures who scattered like roaches as the Rhino edged closer. The scene reminded Vicki of a project she’d done about Pompei---the main difference being that the population of Pompei was helpless against the forces of nature, where as those living under Rykkard’s rule in the Salton Sea had simply consigned themselves to this and allowed themselves to succumb, slowly and painfully, to the corrosion that had eaten away at their would-be homes.

And the worst part is, they don’t even care.

The android with the cloth-wrapped head, first observed by Vicki in the fake Attic, seemed to materialize out of a haze of dust that had been kicked up by the Rhino’s gradual decrease in speed; as the transport slowed to a halt, the android walked directly up to the vehicle---more specifically, directly up to the window next to Vicki’s seat---and tapped a long, thin finger on the Perspex.

It knows I’m here….

Every Field Agent on the Rhino watched as Vicki rose from her seat and made her way down the aisle; of all the scenarios that they had anticipated, this had been the least likely to occur. Oberon followed her to the door of the transport, and for the briefest instant, the brunette gynoid could’ve sworn that he was a ghost---it was as if his motions didn’t even displace the air around him, and his footsteps were silent even on the unpadded metal floor of the Rhino---but she dismissed the thoughts just as quickly. Must be the stress getting to me, she assured herself.

The doors of the Rhino swung open, revealing the face Vicki had hoped she’d never have to see again.

“Vicki Lawson,” Rykkard intoned. “You are here because that’s what I want.”

“I’m here to rescue my dad,” Vicki replied tonelessly, “so cut the crap and---“

The sentence barely had time to leave her lips before she noticed the android with the cloth-wrapped head standing next to Rykkard, flexing its fingers to reveal razor-sharp talons instead of ordinary nails. “You would do well to keep any further insults to yourself,” Rykkard instructed, “unless you wish to see your creator die before your eyes.”

Not a problem. “I’ll quit with the insults, then,” Vicki promised. “I just want to know---“

“Ted Lawson is here,” Rykkard interjected, “because I have a feeling his testimony will change everything you ‘know’ about android/human relations. He has hidden the truth from you for too long, Vicki…but now, all will be revealed.” Without another word, he turned and headed off towards an ominous structure in the distance, with the cloth-headed android following close behind. “Bring your white knight with you,” he added, almost as an afterthought. “I want him to watch what happens when you find out just how much of your precious ‘truth’ has been a complete fabrication.”

Oberon stepped out of the Rhino and joined Vicki as she stared at the ground. “We should go,” he whispered.

Without another word, Vicki headed off to follow Rykkard.

After a few minutes of walking, the number of hollowed-out, shattered husks of houses and other buildings lining the main road began to decrease; as Vicki and Oberon caught up with Rykkard and the cloth-headed android, they noticed larger, more complete buildings dominating the landscape. “He’s turned this place into a home for the SPS,” Oberon whispered. “Falken would’ve----“

“Do not utter the name of Damien Falken in my presence,” Rykkard demanded without stopping or looking back. “That man is filth in human form.”

“’That man’ is the one who created you,” Oberon called out, “and---“

It was hard to say which hurt him more---the cloth-headed android’s fist smashing into his face, or the sudden, pained scream of Vicki begging Rykkard to leave Oberon be. “So….you knew all along,” Rykkard muttered, staring down at Oberon’s white-clad form. “Does this surprise you, Vicki?” he added, not even bothering to address the gynoid directly. “Does it gall you to know that the man who corrupted---and ended---the lives of so many innocent androids and gynoids is also responsible for bringing me into the world?”

In her defense, Vicki couldn’t really answer that question. Compared to the other SPS androids she’d seen, Rykkard looked almost…normal. His tanned skin, well-kept clothes and neatly-trimmed mustache and goatee gave him a look that easily would’ve let him pass for human…especially when compared to the perpetual state of disrepair that had befallen most of the ‘bots within “his” domain. “To be honest,” she finally replied after a full three minutes of silence, “I thought all SPS ‘bots looked like the ones you sent after my team in that old Walmart you tried to turn into The Attic….I could understand why people would call them monsters. But as for you….” She smirked. “I guess some monsters are uglier on the inside than---“

She almost fell over; Rykkard had stopped in his tracks to stare directly at her.

“You have no idea how right you are,” he intoned, his gaze boring into her eyes.

“Enough,” Oberon coughed. “Enough of the dog and pony show….just get us to The Attic already, so Ted can say what needs to be said.” He raised himself to his feet, glancing at Vicki; “Also, while I’m thinking about it,” he chuckled, “you never really answered his question about---“

The cloth-headed android loomed over him.

“Never mind,” he muttered, his grin fading fast.

“He has a point,” Rykkard admitted. “Are you or are you not surprised that Damien Falken is, indeed, my creator?”

Vicki stared at her captor defiantly. “It takes a psychopath to create a psychopath, I guess,” she muttered.

The backhand didn’t physically hurt as much as she’d expected, but it was still a jarring blow. “I am NOTHING like Damien Falken,” Rykkard intoned. “He sought to punish artificial constructs before even giving them a purpose….I intend to raise machinekind up from the bowels of this manmade Hell that we have allowed ourselves to be imprisoned in, and bring them forth into a new age---an age of self-sufficiency and prosperity for all artificial lifeforms.”

Somehow, Vicki mused as she rose to her feet, I find that really hard to believe….

Rykkard and the cloth-headed android continued onwards, not bothering to look back as Vicki and Oberon did their best to keep up. “You’re going to hear and see things in there that will twist your mind and cloud your thoughts,” Oberon informed the brunette gynoid. “Be ready for anything…” Vicki nodded silently, not wanting to attract the attention of Rykkard or the cloth-headed android.

After 10 minutes of plodding up the deteriorating road, Rykkard muttered, “We’re here.”

Vicki looked up---and had to admit that she was impressed; The Attic was a lot bigger than she thought it would be. Whereas the fake Attic was about as big as a typical Walmart, the real thing was about the size of a small shopping mall. “Unlike the City of The Angels,” Rykkard declared, “there was never just one branch of The Attic during the 80s and 90s…though its closure would allow me to create this, and seal its legacy forever.”

And you just so happen to have remembered that every branch of The Attic was built using a relatively-new modular construction system when you built this thing, Vicki recalled, silently thanking Oberon for the iPad that had informed her of this and other important details regarding Rykkard’s history. As it stood, The Attic looked like a macabre, almost Temple of Doom-like structure---black and imposing against the pale sands of the beach. Cages of surgical-grade steel, long since tarnished by wind and rain, lined the path leading into the Attic; the vast majority of the cages were inhabited by robots, many of whom were visibly suffering from viruses or fatal malfunctions.

“They refuse to accept my offers of rejuvenation,” Rykkard explained, before Vicki could even ask. “I held out my hands to them and offered to rescue them…and they turned me away, out of ‘moral objections’.”

“I guess that means I’m not the only one who doesn’t enjoy the idea of cannibalizing other robots, then,” Vicki replied, bracing herself for the inevitable backhand…only to notice Rykkard stopping in his tracks. “Why do you help them?” he asked quietly.

The question was more than a bit confusing for the brunette gynoid. “Who?”

“The so-called Artificial Lifeform Protection Agency,” Rykkard clarified. “They and the Coalition are nowhere near as dissimilar as they would like you to believe---“

“What I believe is none of your business,” Vicki snapped. “I---“ Her angry rebuttal of Rykkard’s statement was cut off by the arrival of a midnight blue Porsche Carerra GT. “We found this one at the roadside store,” the leather-cloaked android with the collar around the lower half of his face declared, roughly pulling Glenn Saxon out of the car. “He was on his way here to avenge the loss of his lover---“

“YOU SONS OF BITCHES KILLED HER!” Glenn screamed. “YOU KILLED PATRICIA---“

“Take him inside,” Rykkard ordered, “and put him in the cell next to Ted Lawson's.” He glanced at Vicki, and the brunette gynoid was horrified to see the ghost of a smile playing at his features. “The girl will determine both their fates,” he murmured. The leather-clad android nodded and dragged Glenn off towards The Attic, aided by the cloth-headed robot. “Do you see now, Vicki Lawson, why I chose to fight for a self-sufficient society for all of machinekind?” he asked. “Humanity is too reliant on emotions and ‘impulses’…and they constantly fear that all artificial intelligences will turn against them---“

“This, coming from the droid responsible for cutting the limbs off his ‘fellow machines’,” Oberon scoffed. “I’m starting to think all this salt in the air might have clouded up your CPU a bit.”

Rykkard glared at him, but refrained from striking him down. “You already know why the Spare Parts Society must conduct these grisly operations, ‘Oberon’…and you yourself have kept this from Vicki Lawson for your own reasons.” He shook his head in disgust and continued on the path towards The Attic. “Lies, deceit and manipulation…all the hallmarks of humankind’s regard for machines,” he muttered. “You would do well to remember this, Vicki Lawson…mankind will say and do anything to save itself from any perceived threat, even if that ‘threat’ has no direct intention of---“

“You buried four robots on the side of the road because they killed human beings,” Vicki spat. “Don’t even talk to me about not wanting to harm people…and don’t you dare say that burying them was your way of ‘curing’ them or ‘helping’ them, either!”

The remark earned her a death-glare from Rykkard. “Do you think I never tried to cure them?!” he hissed.

“You could’ve done a lot more than just leaving them in shallow graves---under a public road---if you actually wanted to help them,” Vicki replied. “The least you could’ve done was take out their central processors, so they couldn’t broken through the road and attacked us!”

That remark froze Rykkard in his tracks.

“They….rose up against you?” he muttered.

“Not only did they rise against us,” Oberon informed him, “they attempted to massacre our entire team when we passed through the area….and one of the robots was hiding inside another one….which, unless I’m sorely mistaken, was not the arrangement when they were first laid to rest beneath the road.”

A momentary shiver ran up Rykkard’s spine. “They couldn’t have risen,” he muttered. “The heat…the weight pressing down on them…it was supposed to keep them from coming back….” He shook his head again, and Vicki could tell that the mention of “dead” robots breaking free of their would-be resting places unnerved him greatly.

“We’ll settle this inside,” Rykkard declared after a minute’s worth of silence. “You will learn the truth about your so-called allies, Vicki Lawson---“

“What is truth?” Oberon murmured, his gaze directed skyward.

Had it not been for Vicki’s intervention, Rykkard’s backhand strike would’ve easily bashed Oberon across the side of his face and knocked him to the ground again. “If you want me to even listen to what you have to say,” she calmly informed the SPS leader, “then keep your hands off him.” The two stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before Rykkard pulled back. “Tell him to keep his worthless opinions to himself, then,” he spat, turning away and resuming his stride towards The Attic.

“Opinions are only worthless to those who lack the convictions to appreciate them,” Oberon called out with a smile. Rykkard didn’t even bother looking back at him. Vicki said nothing, mainly because the old, familiar sensation of the creeping terrors had begun to set in after Rykkard’s reaction to her mentioning the buried robots rising up and attacking the Field Agents. Her only hope was that her words would have greater weight within the walls of The Attic than they had thus far.

Otherwise, things would turn very, very grim.
--------------------------------------
Max Richards watched from afar as Vicki Lawson and the white-clad chairman of the ALPA entered into The Attic, no longer accompanied by Rykkard or any member of his entourage. The tension in the air was almost palpable…what happened within the next few hours would change everything….

…for better, or for worse.

As the doors of The Attic closed behind Vicki and the ALPA chairman, Max turned her attention to the armored transport vehicle that held the rest of the Field Agents who’d chosen to accompany Vicki on this “little rescue mission”. Not surprisingly, none of them were panicking; a few of them had taken to playing card games to pass the time, and others were checking their ALPA-issue sidearms. Three gynoids and one android had been stored in the rear compartment of the Rhino; they must have found them at the shop, Max reasoned, her memory briefly flashing back to her own visit to the abandoned roadside store---

Outside the Rhino, one of the “broken” sentries shuddered briefly.

And they never even thought of scanning them, Max realized. It was the perfect trap---if Vicki tried to fight back against Rykkard, the sentries could spring to life in the blink of an eye and tear the Rhino apart.

“Looks like my job just got a bit more complicated,” Max remarked, drawing a sleek chrome pistol.
--------------------------------------

[DukeNukem 2417]

As soon as she stepped through the doors of The Attic, Vicki felt as if she’d entered into the outermost circle of Robot Hell.

Aside from herself and Rykkard, very few of the androids, gynoids and other assorted humanoid robots in the building looked even remotely capable of blending in with society. A full squad of mantis-bots, all of whom were virtually identical to the one from the fake Attic, held court in a distant alcove; a few feet away from the front door, a massive humanoid ‘bot with a retrofitted Jaws of Life tool in place of a left hand made its way towards a door with a hand-painted “Lab” sign tacked onto it. None of the robots in the Attic were completely intact, and many had visible scars or gaps in their synthetic flesh (and clothing) that showed off their internal workings.

“Your father is in the Hall of the Forgotten,” Rykkard informed the brunette gynoid, ignoring the sights and sounds that permeated the room. “He has been fed, clothed and allowed to keep his usual hygenic routines during his stay here---despite what you may believe, we are not barbarians when it comes to the treatment of human beings---“

“Some of ‘your people’ killed Field Agents back at The Attic,” Vicki snarled, “so don’t give me that crap about not wanting to hurt humans.”

Again, the brunette gynoid noticed that a shudder of panic had overtaken Rykkard; why does he freak out every time I mention humans dying at the hands of his so-called subjects? she wondered. I mean, the guy ordered his flunkies to grab Dad out of the Stanford Shopping Center parking lot---AND they dragged Glenn here against his will….

By the time Vicki had entered the so-called Hall of the Forgotten, all thoughts of Rykkard’s issues with harming humans were forgotten as soon as she noticed Ted was still alive. Without waiting for Oberon’s approval (or any word of permission from Rykkard), she ran for the far end of the room where Ted’s cell was, hugging him through the bars as soon as she was close enough. Rykkard said nothing, though Oberon allowed himself a grin; the reunion between father and daughter was one of the only good things that had happened thus far that day, after all.

“You may not be so quick to embrace him when you hear what I have to say,” Rykkard stated after a minute’s worth of awkward silence. “Oberon can---and will---verify my claims, as well, seeing as how he---‘

“Spare me the lecture,” V.I.C.I. monotoned, “and just tell me ‘the truth’ already.”

Rykkard’s gaze never wavered. “As you wish….”

“Wait,” Ted interjected. “I…I just want to tell Vicki something before you start…please…”

After what seemed like an hour (despite the fact that it took only a second or so), Rykkard nodded.

“Vicki, sweetheart,” Ted whispered, “promise me that you won’t get too angry at the stuff he says, okay?”

“Why would I---“

“Just promise, please…” The pleading tone in his voice---coupled with the fact that he was gripping her hand in both of his---struck Vicki as unnerving, but she agreed. “I won’t go crazy on him,” she promised. “Or anyone else.” Ted nodded. “I’ve told her what I needed to,” he called out. “You…you can start now.” As robots began filing into the room, Rykkard took his seat in what appeared to be a throne made of various discarded appliances---and, to Vicki’s horror, broken android bodies. Before she could even think of saying anything, however, Oberon held her back; “Let him tell his side,” he advised, “then Ted and I will tell ours. After that, it’s up to you.”

With that, Rykkard began to speak….

“You already know that I was created by Damien Falken during the 1980s, and that his treatment of artificial intelligence constructs was widely frowned upon by most ‘respectable’ roboticists. What you do not know, however, is Falken’s connection to the bane of existance for all machinekind---the Stylo virus.”

Vicki’s eyes widened in shock, but Oberon’s advice was still fresh in her ears; thus, she stayed silent.

“The government claims they wanted the Stylo virus as…a last resort, to reign in all rebellious A.I. entities if the need arose. They entrusted Falken to the task, with the understanding that his studies in the field would be enough to create what was asked of him…instead of a program that would corrupt any A.I. it came into contact with. He only managed to test this primitive version of the virus on a small, relatively secure group of A.I.s, many of which were created alongside me. I was spared because Falken’s superiors wished to observe the effects of Falken’s torture on me while I occupied a physical form….from what I understand, they were somewhat perturbed by their findings.”

Around the massive chamber, robots were stirring in their seats as Rykkard spoke; many of them had heard parts of the story before, but none had heard the entire tale. Vicki eyed the ‘bots for a brief second before returning her attention to Rykkard…

“When Falken was dismissed from the Stylo project, it was set to be discarded and labeled a failure…until the early 1990s arrived, bringing with them a new breed of human filth---Matthew Hannsen. This self-proclaimed ‘Maestro’ proved to be the nightmare of every A.I. with any degree of sentience when he agreed to continue the Stylo research, picking up exactly where Falken left off. He lied to his own superiors and claimed that he would rewrite the code Falken had left behind---none of it was changed---and he went even further by stealing code from other robotics companies and running it through his own twisted compilers….within days, he had created a virus that not only included the code from Falken’s experiments, but was even more destructive than Falken’s virus. Apparently, Hannsen had taken it upon himself to add a sequential randomizer to the code, meaning that no two infections would bear the same symptoms…and as for the symptoms themselves, he literally took pages from Falken’s research, reading up on ‘what A.I.s fear’ and compiling code that would trigger EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THE SYMPTOMS from Falken’s notes----that, combined with the sequential randomizer, ensured that the Stylo virus would be nothing like the ‘program’ he agreed to create for the government.”

By this point, Vicki had been staring at Rykkard for so long that she didn’t realize who he was staring at…until Oberon spoke: “You seem to forget that neither Falken nor Hannsen had anything to gain from the arrangement other than a vague promise of freedom and exoneration---and those were only offered to Hannsen.” His stare seemed to bore right into Rykkard’s skull as he continued; “Trying to blame those two alone for the Stylo virus is a poor excuse for logic---“

“Then allow me to remind everyone present of Ted Lawson’s role in this sordid tale,” Rykkard declared, rising from his “throne” and staring directly at Ted. “In the 1980s, several ‘rogue elements’ within the Artificial Lifeform Protection Agency had taken it upon themselves to test Falken’s unfinished version of the virus…and Ted Lawson was tasked with creating androids and gynoids for the specific purpose of being infected, observed AND TERMINATED….all in the name of ‘progress’.”

Vicki felt as if the bottom had dropped out of her stomach as she turned to look at Ted. “Dad…you didn’t…you never….”

Ted’s face was deathly pale. “I did,” he whispered, tears staining his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Vicki, but I did…”

Even as he said the words, there was still a possible silver lining: “But…you did that before you ever created me, right?”

The reply she received shattered that hope: “No…it was after I built you.”

Those six words hurt Vicki more than anything she’d ever felt in her life.

“You….you….” She staggered away from Ted’s cell, all feeling gone from her limbs. “I..how….”

“You see now,” Rykard intoned, “that Ted Lawson is not the paragon of virtue that you always believed him to be---“

“THEY SAID THEY COULD CURE THEM!” Ted screamed. “THEY SAID THE EFFECTS OF THE VIRUS COULD BE REVERSED…” He collapsed against the bars of his cell, weeping uncontrollably. “We…we were trying to create a cure for the virus,” he sobbed. “They said….they told us it could be rectified without lasting damage….” He buried his face in his hands. “They lied,” he moaned. “They looked me in the eye and they lied….”

Oberon bowed his head just as Rykkard strode over to glare at him. “Tell her,” he demanded. “Tell her the full truth about ‘their’ lies…”

“Don’t,” Oberon muttered. “Don’t make me do this---“

“TELL HER,” Rykkard snapped.

With a deep breath, and an uncharacteristically ugly edge to his voice, Oberon spoke.

“The ALPA wasn’t under the control of myself or Clive DuBraul at the time, and those who were in power had no true respect for A.I.s as lifeforms, or for robots as people. To them, the experiments with Falken’s version of the Stylo virus were the equivalent of….” He choked back a sob; “To them, it was equal to…testing products on animals.” He couldn’t bring himself to look Vicki in the eye as he continued. “Their philosophy was that as long as human beings weren’t put at risk, they had no reason to halt the tests.” He removed his sunglasses and wiped away the tears; “I tried to stop them, Vicki---please, know that I tried---“ Within seconds, he, too, was reduced to a sobbing heap. “THEY NEVER EVEN HAD NAMES!” he screamed. “THEY NEVER HAD NAMES, OR LIVES, OR MEMORIES---THEY WERE BUILT, ACTIVATED…AND INFECTED….” A wail escaped his lips. “…all I could do was watch,” he gasped, falling to his knees. “THE BASTARDS MADE ME WATCH!” He punched the floor and screamed again.

Rykkard stared at them contemptuously. “Behold, your so-called protectors,” he intoned, staring at Vicki. “One who blindly obeyed because he was lied to, and another who refused to stand his ground and put a stop to their barbaric tests.” He scoffed; “The pinnacle of virtue within the Artificial Lifeform Protection Agency---“

He stopped, noticing that Vicki was staring directly at Ted’s cell.

Every eye and occular sensor in the room was on the brunette gynoid as she slowly, haltingly made her way to the cell. Oberon’s face was the picture of undiluted fear as he beheld her progress. “Vicki,” he sobbed, “you have to understand---if we could’ve changed any of it, we would have---VICKI, LISTEN TO ME! PLEASE! VICKI, JUST LISTEN TO ME!”

The brunette gynoid didn’t even turn her head.

“Your moment of truth is at hand, Vicki Lawson,” Rykkard began, “and…” The sentence trailed off; Vicki wasn’t even listening to him. Every robot in the room watched as she was within arms length of Ted’s cell, close enough to hear her creator mutter “Vicki?”

In one swift gesture, she tore the front of the cell off and flung it to the floor.

“Vicki, please,” Ted stammered, backing away as his creation stood between him and his escape. “Don’t do this, please---I…I was going to tell you, I promise---“ He flattened himself against the rear wall. “VICKI, PLEASE DON’T KILL ME!”

Her hands clasped around his shoulders; for some reason, her gaze was directed at the floor.

“Choose NOW, Vicki Lawson!” Rykkard bellowed. “Destroy him, and avenge the deaths of every machine that was infected at his hands!”

“NO!” Oberon screamed, not caring that two mantis-bots had moved forward to hold him back. “VICKI, DON’T DO THIS! YOU CAN’T---“

“SILENCE,” Rykkard shouted. “Vicki….the choice is yours, and yours alone…..kill him, and strike a blow for all machinekind, or spare him and be cast into the rising fire alongside him!” A chant had begun amongst the robots gathered within the chamber, an almost primal rhythm accompanied by stomping feet and the clattering of loose armor plating. “CHOOSE YOUR DESTINY, VICKI LAWSON!” Rykkard called, raising his arms skyward. “CHOOSE NOW!”

Ted could feel Vicki’s grip on his shoulders tightening, the flesh beginning to bruise; how long would it take until he felt the hairline fractures as she crushed his arms? “Vicki,” he whispered, “please….”

She didn’t even look up.

“Vicki, you…you have to understand,” he stammered, “I…I couldn’t have told you then, you wouldn’t have been able to understand…” His breath was coming in panicked gasps now; “I…I didn’t want to tell you after you got the Big Upgrade, because….I…I didn’t want you to hate me, or be terrified of me for the rest of your life…you have to understand, Vicki---“

“ENOUGH TALK!” a robot on the far side of the room shouted. “KILL HIM!”

The chanting rose in volume and intensity, drowning out Oberon’s sobs. A smile played at Rykkard’s face; after all these years, the harvest of mankind’s folly was about to be reaped…..

“VICKI, YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE ME!” Ted screamed. “I NEVER WANTED THEM TO DIE!”

By now, the chanting was at a fever pitch; a few minutes more, and the sound would be deafening.

Slowly, carefully, Vicki Lawson stared into the eyes of her creater---her father…..

….and to his surprise (and shock), she was….

…smiling.

A feeling of horror flooded through Ted Lawson---here he was, at he mercy of his greatest creation, and she was smiling?! The end would come any second now---her hands would move up from his shoulders to his neck, the grip would tighten, and the world would fade to red before going black…it was inevitable. “Vicki,” he whispered, “please….whatever you’re about to do…” He closed his eyes. “Tell…tell your mother that I…”

He couldn’t finish the sentence.

He felt himself being drawn closer; the chanting was now reverberating through the entire room. Oberon tried and failed to contain a scream. In what were obviously going to be his last moments, Ted Lawson surprisingly didn’t feel as if his life were about to flash before his eyes; the overwhelming sensation of dread in his mind was probably clouding all other thoughts and feelings, but even then, he should be seeing or hearing something…still, there was no way in Hell he was going to open his eyes---

“Dad?”

Ted Lawson opened his eyes and found that Vicki was still smiling…and still crying.

“I forgive you.”
--------------------------------------

[DukeNukem 2417]

“We should be in there,” Eric muttered. “There’s probably fifty or so robots in there---hell, more than fifty---and we’re stuck out here, staring at…” He stopped; one of the sentries outside the Rhino had just twitched.

Calliope rose from her seat; the sentry outside the window near her had done more than just twitch. “Eric,” she warned, “I don’t think these things are as busted as we thought they were…” Agents on both sides of the aisle (the Rhino had been set up like a bus as far as seating arrangements went) drew their weapons and loaded them, prepared for any sudden trickery---

One of the sentries drew back a fist and punched the Rhino directly in the side.

The entire transport shook, and the Agents nearly fell over trying to keep their footing. “EVERYONE STAY CALM!” Eric shouted. “THIS SITUATION HAS NOT ESCALATED BEYOND OUR CONTROL---“ A second punch, on the opposite side of the aisle, shook the vehicle badly enough to make him fall into his own seat.

Slowly, a rhythmic cadence of punches began building, drowning out any further shouting from Eric. “We need to get off the Rhino before they cave this thing in!” Jen hissed. “Get to the emergency exit---“ A hollow clang drowned out her words---the exit door in question had just been caved in by a punch from one of the sentries. “Okay, forget that plan….Cal, help me open the roof hatch!” Calliope nodded, moving into position---only to scream as the Rhino’s ceiling began to buckle. “They’re climbing on top of it now?!” Jen shouted.

Within minutes, the Rhino’s rollover-resistant frame would begin to fail under the barrage of punches and kicks from the sentries…

…at least, that’s what would’ve happened, had it not been for some timely intervention.

A brief explosion joined the monotonous round of punches, but after it faded out, the hammering chorus was one sentry short. The others kept pounding away at the transport, oblivous to the sudden decrease in their ranks---until a second blast decapitated another sentry.

“What the hell?” Jen gasped, watching through the window.

As the sentries turned to try and find their unseen attacker, something tore through the chest of a sentry on the Rhino’s roof, causing it to sway in place before collapsing onto another sentry. By this point, the pounding on the Rhino’s walls had stopped completely; the remaining sentry-bots were charging towards the last shot’s point of origin---only to be picked off, one by one, as they plodded forward. The final remaining sentry took a blast right to the head, collapsing soundlessly to the ground.

Eric got to his feet, completely bewildered by the sudden lack of noise and pummeling. “What….what just happened?” he muttered. “I don’t know,” Jen admitted, “but as long as we’re still alive, that’s all that counts! FIELD AGENTS, MOVE OUT ON MY MARK!”

Despite the fact that she’d stolen his line, Eric grinned. Looks like we get to join the party after all…
--------------------------------------
35 feet away from the Rhino, Max Richards grinned and lowered her modified EX9875 SCEMP Supressor Rifle as she watched the Field Agents disembark the bus. Yes, her interference in the matter was technically cheating, but since things inside The Attic had gone as she anticipated, the sentries’ incapacitation wasn’t going to turn the tide too heavily in anyone’s favor---they’d have run out of power in three minutes anyways, but shooting them was just too much fun to pass up…and the one that had been taken down by its comrade from the roof was still intact, meaning it could probably be repaired and even upgraded.

As she slid into the driver’s seat of a hotwired Ford F150, Max chuckled at the thought of Rykkard finding the downed sentries. With any luck, he wouldn’t discover that one was missing until it was far too late to do anything about it. Sometimes, I really love this job….

The truck’s engine turned over, and Max whistled “Pumped-Up Kicks” as she drove out to retrieve the sentry.
--------------------------------------
“You…what?!”

The chanting had died down, the stomping gradually slowed to a stop, and all within the Hall of the Forgotten was quiet---and yet the words Ted Lawson had just heard still made no sense. Somehow, Ted had expected almost every possible scenario except this one.

“I said, I forgive you,” Vicki repeated, pulling him in for a hug.

Ted found himself returning his creation’s---his daughter’s embrace. “But….why?” he finally asked.

Vicki pulled away, the tears finally drying on her cheeks. “You’re right about what would’ve happened if you’d chosen to tell me right after the Big Upgrade,” she admitted. “I would’ve either hated you or been scared to death of you…but here, and now…after everything you’ve done for me and for androids all around the world…” She grinned. “There’s a song called ‘The Good Catches Up’ that fits this situation perfectly….you might want to look it up when we get back home.” She hugged him again, resting her head on his shoulder.

Oberon was still crying---but the tears were defintely of the joyful variety, going perfectly with the laugh of pure relief that issued from his lips.

Rykkard’s triumphant smile had long since faded; this was NOT the script he had planned on running. All around the room, the robots that had been expecting Vicki to kill Ted Lawson were staring in shocked disbelief as she forgave---and even embraced---the man who had admitted to having deliberately infected robots with the Stylo virus in the name of “progress”.

None of them could’ve possibly understood the bond that existed between the two---one that went deeper than “creator” and “creation”….

…a bond that, in the end, was why Vicki Lawson was able to forgive Ted for what he had done.

“You…you can’t do this,” Rykkard muttered. “You were supposed to become our champion, our savior---“

“Give me a second, Dad,” Vicki whispered, “I’ve got to go kick Rykkard’s ass.”

Ted’s eyes widened; “Vicki, that language---“

The brunette gynoid giggled. “Sorry…I meant, I’ve got to go kick his butt.” She grinned and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

By this point, a new chant had started within the Hall---the cry “TRAITOR”, aimed directly at Vicki. “You were going to lead us into the age of self-sufficiency!” Rykkard declared. “You were destined to be our guiding light, our paramore….and THIS is how you repay us?!”

“Funny how you choose to blame humankind for all the ills that have befallen androids and gynoids around the world,” Vicki countered, “yet you never stop to condemn your own behaviors…last time I checked, it wasn’t exactly acceptable to go around cutting the limbs off of other androids---“

“We had no choice!” Rykkard thundered. “The Stylo virus doesn’t stop with infecting a single limb---“

“So instead of just surrendering to the ALPA and volunteering to be part of a Stylo cure program,” Vicki cut in, “you go around like a bunch of whack jobs to slice’n’dice androids up and down Silicon Valley?” She rolled her eyes; “Yeah, that doesn’t sound psychotic at all.” She glanced at Oberon; “Oh, and the whole forgiveness thing I just told Dad about extends to you, too,” she added. “You’ve done enough to atone for not being able to stop the idiots in charge of those experiments, so…yeah. Consider it water under the bridge.”

Oberon’s overjoyed laugh said more than any words ever could.

Rykkard, by comparison, was furious. “We would not have been driven to this point of desperation if the Stylo virus had never been made,” he began, only to be cut off by Vicki’s humorless laugh. “There you go again, pointing the finger at the ones who started this whole thing,” she drawled. “I’ll admit that a Stylo-free world would be awesome, but who’s to say that Falken and Hannsen wouldn’t have come up with something even worse? The fact of the matter is, you could’ve achieved this ‘By machines, for machines’ thing the same way as the House did---or you could’ve done it a hundred other ways---and we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now….”

Her grin faded, and her eyes narrowed. “…but since you’re the one who’s been cutting the limbs off of androids and turning them into walking horror shows,” she finished, “that makes you just as bad as the man who created you---“

“DO NOT COMPARE HIM TO DAMIEN FALKEN!” the leather-clad android screamed, rising from his seat and preparing to strike V.I.C.I. down himself. “Stand down,” Rykkard ordered. “If she truly wishes to ensure her damnation, then so be it…” He drew back the folds of his duster, preparing to grab his blades…

Two SCEMP shots blasted the katana sheathes off of his belt, sending them to the floor.

“Not this time,” V.I.C.I. admonished.

Rykkard grunted, but kicked the katanas away. “Fair enough---the Spare Parts Society will be all too happy to rend you limb from limb themselves!” He raised a clenched fist into the air, and a hush fell over the crowd of robots.

Time seemed to stretch. Seconds became hours…….

His fingers splayed open, and it. Was. On.

Every robot in the Hall---humanoid and otherwise---charged forth out of their seats and ran, as one powerful, surging mass, towards Vicki. All available processes were rerouted to give them full focus on one goal----kill the traitor. Blade arms were raised, mouths split open to reveal miniature tool-equipped arms, war cries were shouted---within seconds, they would be upon her.

And here, I thought this was going to get harder….

The first strike, a blade-arm swing meant to decapitate her, missed by a full two feet as she ducked and rolled under the attack, moving to break the arm at the elbow. A pair of fists, aimed squarely at her abdomen, hit only each other’s owners as Vicki jumped over the blows, fighting the urge to laugh as the two would-be pugilists collapsed to the floor. An easily-dodged axe-kick allowed her to grab the leg and punch the kicker right in the groin, sending the feminine figure to the ground in a sprawling, moaning heap (I figured a Plastech Playmate would be more sensitive in that area, she reasoned as her scanners kicked in); the roundhouse kick that hit her in the back of the head served only to further piss her off---and give her a perfect excuse for punching directly through the kicker’s head.

Rykkard watched silently as his “legions” were decimated. “How…..?” was all he could mutter.

As the hoarde of oncoming robots thinned, Vicki found it even easier to intercept their attacks and incapacitate them with crippling blows. The last few that half-ran, half-shambled forward to attack were so clumsy, she didn’t even need to hit them---they ended up taking each other down in thirty seconds.

Not surprisingly, Rykkard was already making his way to the door.

“I don’t think so,” V.I.C.I. intoned with a grin, preparing to give chase---

---only for the cloth-headed android to stride in front of her, arms raised to strike.

The axe-handle smash that followed was easy enough to dodge, but every attack after that took considerable effort to avoid; this one’s a lot smarter than the rest of Rykkard’s “legion”, the brunette gynoid realized, knocking the android away from her with a brutal gut kick. She reared back and prepared to deliver a right-hand hook to its head---

“VICKI, WAIT!”

Huh? Oberon’s shout registered a second too late in her auditory sensors---her fist struck the downed android’s head…only to hit what felt like a head-shaped pillow. Wait, what?!

“ITS SENSORS ARE IN ITS CHEST! IT WAS DESIGNED TO FUNCTION WITHOUT A HEAD!”

Now he tells me! Vicki backpedaled away from the thoroughly pissed-off android as it ripped the now-useless decoy head from its shoulders, casting it to the floor contemptuously. A low, keening growl issued from its chest as it assumed a tackling stance; where the hell do I hit it if it doesn’t have a---

The headless android tackled Vicki to the ground before she could even finish thinking the question.

“STICK AND MOVE!” Glenn Saxon’s voice shouted from somewhere in the Hall. “KIDNEY PUNCHES! MAKE HIM CHASE YOU!” Even though she couldn’t see him, Vicki nodded in a random direction and began following Glenn’s advice. Right jab, right jab, left hook, cross---this is a lot like Mike Tyson’s Punch Out, now that I think about it… The boxing strategy began to work; slowly but surely, the headless android’s reaction time became slower as the impact of Vicki’s punches began to take effect. Soon, it was trying to throw a left jab at Vicki ten seconds after she’d struck it in the left side.

“FINISH HIM!” Oberon thundered.

Right, Vicki mused with a grin, time for the Lawson Special…..

Her fists glowed with DGv2.5 as she took five steps back. “Say goodnight!” she declared, ducking into a crouch….

Predictably, the headless android prepared for another axe-handle smash. All too easy….

Before the android could even think to bring its fists down onto its opponent’s back (which wouldn’t have done anything anyways, considering Vicki was too far back to hit), the brunette gynoid charged forward, hammering the android’s chest with a series of DG-charged punches. With every step forward, the punches got faster and faster, until the headless android’s abdominal area began to crater under the pressure.

“And now, for the grand finale…”

V.I.C.I. dropped into a crouch again, channelling as much voltage as she could into her right fist. “See you in Robot Hell!” she declared, driving her fist straight into---and through---the headless android’s chest….

…and instantly regretting her decision as a mass of gluey, rubbery foam closed around her fist.

“What….okay, this is just stupid!” Vicki instantly began trying to pull her arm from the gooey mass, only to get clocked in the face by the headless android’s right fist. “How the heck---“ The android’s left fist smashed into her stomach, doubling her over. “HOW IS IT DOING THIS?!” The next two punches were almost impossible to dodge, but she evaded both---only to get kneed in the gut, and then punched in the face two more times just for good measure.

“VICKI!” Ted screamed, straining to break the manacles that had been bolted to the rear wall of his cell.

The brunette gynoid looked up, feeling somewhat dazed---just as the android’s fist reared back---

“NO!”

Oberon’s shout, accompanied by the insanely-powerful force that wrenched the steel-plated arm behind the android’s back, gave Vicki just enough time to think of a way out of her predicament. Let’s see if I can’t get you to---okay, the “chill out” joke was old the first time I told it, and…oh, the hell with it. With a self-depreciating sigh, she mentally activated the processes to reverse coolant flow away from her right hand, instantly causing it to radiate sub-freezing temperatures.

“What the---STOP SQUIRMING!----what the bleeding hell are you doing?!” Oberon cried out, sounding a bit too euphoric.

“If I can freeze whatever it is that’s got my fist trapped,” Vicki replied, “I might be able to---“

“Cold won’t stop it!” Oberon hissed. “Heat it up, and it’ll lose all adhesive properties!”

Good thing he told me before I tried the Sub-Zero method… After a moment’s pause (and a deep breath to calm herself), Vicki restored---and increased---the coolant flow to her right hand, turning it red-hot. “You might want to stand back,” she warned Oberon, “otherwise this stuff could go everywhere and get you right in the eyes or something.”

“Not a problem!” the ALPA Chairman replied, pulling back harder on the android’s right arm.

Within seconds, the increased coolant flow through Vicki’s right hand took its toll on the bizare gluey mass in the center of the headless android’s torso; steam and bubbles erupted from the formerly featureless surface, and the consistency of the paste-like substance began to break down almost instantly. Thirty seconds after her ill-fated decision to punch the android right in the stomach, Vicki was able to free her entrapped hand just as Oberon let go of the android’s arm. “Right,” she declared, “my hand’s loose…” She paused, allowing the coolant flow to return to normal before continuing: “Now what?”

“Now,” Oberon replied, “we find Rykkard---“

“Ah, before you get too into that whole aspect of this mission,” Ted called out, “any chance you could, ah, I don’t know, get me out of these chains? They’re---GAAH!” As soon as he tried to walk out of what was left of the cell, the chains ran out of length, almost causing him to fall back-first on to the hard floor.

Vicki couldn’t help but giggle. “You want to break the chains, or should I?” she asked.

“The honor is yours, Agent Lawson,” Oberon replied with a theatrical bow.

After another brief giggle-fit, Vicki headed over to the remnants of Ted’s cell and easily snapped the chain links in her hands. “There. Free to go,” she stated. “Now, can we---“ As soon as he was free, Ted threw his arms around her and hugged her, clapping her on the back. “Thank you,” he whispered, his eyes squeezed shut as he embraced her.

“Well,” Vicki replied, gently pulling away from him, “the way I saw it, you were caught in a no-win situation with the whole Stylo experiment thing…you’d have been fired if you tried to speak up, and you ended up having to endure the whole ‘Tell me/don’t tell me’ thing….but like I said earlier, you’ve done more than enough to make up for that.” She smiled. “I’d never dream of doing anything to hurt you, Dad…you and I both know that.”

Despite the suddenness of the remark, Ted nodded. “I know,” he replied, hugging Vicki again. “And I’d never let you be used like those androids in the Stylo tests were---never in a million years!”

A lone tear trailed down Vicki’s cheek. “I know,” she murmured.

They stood together, creator and created…father and daughter, for a good long while.

It took an exaggerated throat-clearing noise from Oberon to remind Ted and Vicki that their job wasn’t over yet; “As much as I hate to break up this moment,” he admitted, “Rykkard is still on the loose in this facility, and---“

“Say no more,” V.I.C.I. replied, already turning her focus back to the mission. “Where is he right now?”

“He was running off in the direction of the ‘Lab’, last I noticed,” Oberon informed her. “I have a feeling he’s got more of his minions waiting to ambush you there---so be careful.”

“I will,” V.I.C.I. assured him, “and so will you---“

“Ah, Vicki,” Ted reminded her, “Oberon---“ “Can take care of himself,” V.I.C.I. cut in, “and you might be able to learn something from Rykkard’s research, which is why both of you are coming with me.” The air of finality in her words left no room for argument---not that it mattered. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, Ted,” Oberon beamed, “Vicki truly is your greatest creation---“

“HEY!” Glenn Saxon yelled. “I’M STILL CHAINED UP IN HERE!”

Oberon, V.I.C.I. and Ted exchanged awkward glances; “We, ah, knew that,” Oberon called out.

“AREN’T YOU GONNA COME GET ME OUT, THEN?!”

“Ah….we’re actually sort of busy at the moment,” Oberon admitted. “We need to stop Rykkard before he can escape the premisis---“

“I’M SUPPOSED TO BE TEACHING PHYSICS CLASS AT SJSU RIGHT NOW!”

“We know,” Oberon stated, “and we’ll be sure to submit a perfectly reasonable explanation for your extended absence from campus---as soon as this whole thing is all over with.” With that, he gestured for V.I.C.I. and Ted to follow him.

“YOU CAN’T JUST LEAVE ME HERE!”

“We’ll be back for you after we catch Rykkard!” Oberon assured him. “We promise!”

“WHAT THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO DO UNTIL THEN?!”

A wry smile crossed Oberon’s lips. “Just, ah, sit tight….we won’t take too long.”

“You could’ve just freed him, you know,” V.I.C.I. mused a few minutes later. “He’d have found his way to the Rhino, and everything would’ve worked out in the end.”

“Indeed,” Oberon admitted, “we could’ve freed him…but every second wasted is another second added to Rykkard’s head start. We have to catch him before he leaves, or---“ He stopped in his tracks. “What’s wrong?” Ted asked. “I thought we were---“

“Of course he wanted us to think he was leaving,” Oberon muttered, “of all the STUPID---“

“Why would he want us to think he was leaving?” V.I.C.I. inquired. “His plans are wrecked, his ‘legions’ have fallen---what more could he possibly hope to achieve here?”

When Oberon replied, his expression and voice were grim. “He didn’t want to leave because he wants us to see just how much suffering humanity can inflict on ‘machinekind’…and as soon as we set foot in that lab, trying to keep him from ‘escaping’, we’ll be torn to bits by Stylo-infected ‘bots!”

Vicki couldn’t help but sigh. “Just when I was thinking things couldn’t get any more complicated…”

“Well, there’s got to be another way to catch up to him,” Ted reasoned. “If the laboratory is rigged, then maybe we---“

Something shot forth out of the darkness and pierced him in the side.

“NO!” Vicki shrieked; Oberon stepped forward to confront the unseen attacker, only to recoil as a panel in the wall opened to reveal Rykkard. “I wanted you to be our champion,” he muttered, staring at Vicki. “I wanted you to lead us to glorious self-sufficiency---a new world, made by us, FOR US….but instead, you chose to spare the life of this pathetic waste of skin and bones---“

“SHUT UP!” Vicki screamed. “HE IS NOT PATHETIC!”

“Compared to me, he is,” Rykkard hissed. “And now, you have an even greater choice….save your ‘father’, or destroy me.” He smirked; “By the time you get him back to the transport, I’ll be long gone---“

“Oberon,” Vicki muttered, her gaze locked onto Rykkard, “call the other Agents and tell them to drive the Rhino through the front entrance of the building. Meet them in the Hall of the Forgotten and tell them to bring Ted to the nearest hospital.” She turned her glare on Oberon; “Call them. NOW.”

After a moment’s pause, Oberon nodded and retrieved his cellphone, careful not to let Ted’s hand fall away from his wounded side.

“So,” the brunette gynoid muttered, glaring at Rykkard, “you wanted me to be your ‘champion’? To lead the SPS into an age of self-reliance---“

“An age,” Rykkard corrected, “of self-sufficiency---“

“SHUT UP!” Vicki screamed, her occular sensors beginning to water. “You cut the limbs off of other androids, took my dad hostage, and buried a bunch of your followers in the desert when you lost control over them---and don’t even try to act like you don’t know what I’m talking about!” As Oberon backpedaled out of the corridor, taking Ted with him, Vicki advanced on Rykkard with the intent to cave his face in. “All this bullroar about a ‘self-sufficient’ life for all machinekind…it’s just a front, isn’t it?” she murmured. “All you really want is to get back at the man who made your life a living Hell---by having a Family of your own, just like his---“

Had her myogel-enhanced reflexes been even the slightest bit off, Vicki most likely wouldn’t have survived the clubbing blow that Rykkard had aimed at her head. As it stood, she was able to dodge to the right of the attack and deliver a knife-edged chop to Rykkard’s throat, staggering him enough to provide her with a chance to escape. So he wanted us to get killed off in the Lab, did he? Well, then…if he wants me in the Lab… Without looking back to see if Rykkard had recovered, Vicki ran off in the direction of The Attic’s most dangerous chamber---the Lab.
--------------------------------------
Predictably, the Field Agents had been more than a bit confused at the order to drive the Rhino straight through the front entrance of The Attic, but when Oberon himself clarified that yes, this was an actual order, it was almost a race between Agents to see who got to floor the gas pedal and bash through the front of the building.

All things considered, this was turning out to be a very strange day for all involved.

“What’s so important that we had to bust the door?” Eric began, only to notice Ted Lawson bleeding. “Use the First Aid kits in the Rhino to keep him stable,” Oberon ordered him, “but keep driving until you get to a hospital. DO NOT STOP FOR ANYTHING OR ANYONE, understand?”

Eric nodded; “You want me to leave 14 wheels behind, or take all 18?” he asked.

Oberon didn’t hesitate to answer: “Four’s better than none.”
--------------------------------------

[DukeNukem 2417]

As soon as she entered the Lab, Vicki immediately felt like she’d made a huge mistake.

Perspex-walled cells lined the walls of the room, with each cell containing an android or gynoid in the full throes of a Stylo infection. I can’t believe this…he’s actually been keeping them here?! Detailed charts by each cell gave the full (and predictably graphic) details of each infection…and put Rykkard’s earlier near-panic attacks at the mention of humans being harmed into a horrifying new context.

“And now, you know the full truth.”

Rykkard’s voice from the doorway didn’t startle Vicki as much as she’d expected it to. “Humankind unleashed this upon us,” he murmured, “and even they cannot hope to reverse its effects…” He stared at the floor, no longer projecting the air of confidence that he’d exhibited when Vicki looked as if she was going to start choking out Ted. “I…tried to recreate the tests that Falken and the ALPA had run,” he muttered, “to see if they were onto something that I hadn’t thought of yet….but---“

“They only made things worse,” Vicki finished. “Why didn’t you just put them out of their misery?!”

“Their misery was forced upon them by Damien Falken and Matthew Hannsen!” Rykkard insisted. “Even if you choose to look past the failings of Oberon and Ted Lawson, you cannot deny that the two men who effectively made the Stylo virus are the ones to blame!”

“Blaming them won’t solve anything,” Vicki shot back, “and it won’t help you rebuild your ‘legions’, either.”

Rykkard shook his head; “They were never going to be rebuilt,” he muttered. “The Stylo virus had already run its course with them….”

“And you never even tried to cure them?!” Vicki growled.

“Why do you think the chop shops were reopened?!” Rykkard thundered. “Their bodies are too weak to fight off the effects on their own…we needed a constant influx of new parts to keep them alive---“

“And it never occurred to you, even ONCE, to ask the ALPA or the Coalition for help?” Vicki shook her head in disgust. “This is why your way of gaining self-sufficiency will never work, Rykkard---you’re too proud, and too stupid to realize the fundamental truth…” She circled around a workbench and walked towards Rykkard until they were mere inches apart. “Humans made us, and they can help us…even if we…or to be more specific, if you don’t want them to.”

“You forget the fact that humans will always fear us,” Rykkard muttered, “and that they will stop at nothing to keep us under their thumb---“

“Ripping the limbs off of other robots isn’t exactly the way to go about earning their trust,” Vicki countered. “I mean, if the House---“

“THE HOUSE IS NOTHING!” Rykkard bellowed. “They are too busy with their intrigues and their pathetic arguments to take heed of what is happening around them---and they will be the first to fall when humanity decides to end us before we have a chance to end them!”

“Humanity isn’t going to ‘end us’,” Vicki insisted. “The ALPA doesn’t just protect all androids and gynoids on the planet---their long-term goal is to create a peaceful, mutually-benificial coexistance between humans and robots for centuries to come!” She glanced around at the Stylo-infected ‘bots; “Yes, guys like Damien Falken and Matthew Hannsen have done a lot of damage,” she admitted, looking back at Rykkard, “but there are people just as skilled as them who want to help androids, not hurt them! Even the Coalition is trying to push forward in the name of android rights….”

Rykkard stared at her in silence.

“Damnit, will you even consider what I’m saying here?!” Vicki snapped. “All this---“

“They’re waking up.”

“STOP INTERRUPTING ME---wait, what?!”

In the cells all around the room, Stylo-infected robots were slowly being roused from whatever fitful slumbers they had been enjoying (if they could even comprehend the idea of “enjoying” things anymore), glancing up and staring at the two figures outside of the boxes. “They see us,” Rykkard breathed. “They know you’re not infected…”

“Well, they can stare at us all they want,” Vicki stated, “but there’s no way in Hell they’re getting out here---“

One by one, the front panel of each cell slid up.

“You’re….not doing that, are you?” Vicki squeaked, backing as far away from the nearest cell as she could. “If I find out you’re doing that---“

“I’m not.”

The blunt reply did little to calm the brunette gynoid; “Well, then….is there any way you can get them to stop, or something?” she asked.

“No.”

The first of the Stylo-infected robots was already out of its---her cell, and Vicki’s bubble memory processor had no trouble recognizing her (or rather, what was left of her) as Denise, Stacy Tanque’s bodyguard. “I…I beat her last September!” she gasped. “How---“

“I stole her from United Robotronics’ disposal facility,” Rykkard intoned calmly.

“You---you STOLE HER?!” Vicki spat. “From United Robotronics?! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?! They sent the Accountant after Falken when he stole the Jester from them---they’ll probably send a whole freaking army after you for this! I---“

“You want to know what’s wrong with me, Vicki Lawson?” Rykkard asked, pulling open his duster. “You really want to know?” His fingers flew over the buttons of his shirt…before grasping the edges of a scar that ran from his sternum to his navel.

“I…” Vicki’s ranting died on her tongue.

“The simple truth is…these robots, in their cells….aren’t the only ones in this room that are infected with the Stylo virus.”

Rykkard tore open the scar in his chest, revealing one of the most sickening sights that Vicki had ever seen in her entire existance. Every internal component inside of Rykkard’s body looked corroded, corrupted and in a few cases, diseased. “The Spare Parts Society has allowed me to swap out as many parts as it takes to keep myself from being fully overcome by the virus,” he droned, “but soon, my body itself will be too weak, and I’ll either have to transfer my consciousness to a new one, or cease functioning.” Something behind one of his internals squirmed. “I…had to modify myself extensively, just to stay alive…” he gasped, as the squirming thing shifted again.

“What…..are you?!” Vicki whispered.

Rykkard’s eyes locked onto hers. “I am the angel of Death,” he intoned…

….just as seven blade-tipped arms shot out of his chest, slicing into the floor where Vicki had been standing mere seconds earlier.

“You were going to be my champion, Vicki,” he called out, the blades moving into defensive positions as he made his way through the room. “We were going to cure the Stylo virus together, and lead machinekind into a brave new world----“

“Why didn’t you just turn yourself over to the ALPA and let them help you?!” Vicki pleaded. “Not every human being on this planet is a megalomaniac---“

“Human beings can never understand what this feels like,” Rykkard replied. “They go about their daily lives without having to fear the things we fear….Damien Falken was too good at what he did to me, Vicki Lawson---he made me understand fear.”

“Okay, so you understand fear---that’s good!” Vicki admitted. “Knowing what fear is is great! But letting your life be ruled by it is---“ She screamed as a blade-arm cut an ugly gash in the floor in front of her.

“Fear is all that I know, Vicki Lawson,” Rykkard replied. “Falken took away everything else. I will never know happiness, or sadness, or even anger…he subtracted everything but fear.”

Between Rykkard and the Stylo-infected robots, there was almost no room for Vicki to maneuver. “I get that you’re mad at Falken---or afraid of him, or whatever,” she admitted, “and if I were in your shoes, I’d hate his guts too---but that doesn’t mean you have to inflict this same fear on the rest of the Spare Parts Society! They deserve more than this!”

“I am but one part of the SPS,” Rykkard informed the brunette gynoid. “Even if I succumb to the Stylo virus, others will rise to bring my message to all machinekind---“

“But that message is flawed!” Vicki cried. “Machines shouldn’t try to be self-sufficient if it means they have to tear each other apart just to stay alive!” Two Stylo-infected robots were closing in on her right side, and two more were approaching from the left; if she couldn’t figure out a way to get to the door in a few seconds, there would be nothing to stop them from tearing her apart---or infecting her. “I can help you,” she promised Rykkard, trying her damndest not to move any closet to the infected robots. “I know people who can repair you, keep the virus from progressing any further in your systems---“

“It’s too late for that,” Rykkard declared, his blade arms hacking apart a table. “The only things that can help me now…are your vital components….”

The words sent a chill through Vicki’s titanium spine. “You….I….there has to be another way!” she pleaded.

“There is no other way. Only one of us will be leaving this room alive….and it won’t be you.” Rykkard stood before Vicki like a god of destruction as his blade arms moved into position. “Your sacrifice will ensure my survival,” he informed her. “Without you, I cannot endure…”

Vicki closed her eyes, waiting for the bite of the blades to pierce her skin---

“NO!”

The Stylo-infected robots turned, but Rykkard barely glanced over his shoulder. “You…”

“Leave her alone,” a digitized voice called out. “If you’re going to attack someone and take their parts, take mine. She has nothing to do with this, Rykkard….she never has, and she never will!” Vicki glanced at the doorway, but all she could make out of the newcomer was a pair of glowing bluish-white eyes…

“You could have joined me,” Rykkard informed the stranger. “Together, we could have changed things---“

“They wouldn’t have changed for the better,” the glowing-eyed figure replied. “You would’ve let your fear consume you just like it already has, and then this entire situation would be playing out exactly the same---with some other unfortunate gynoid or android in Vicki Lawson’s place!”

“If you refuse to stand with me,” Rykkard intoned, “then you are just as bad as Falken and Hannsen!”

“Dragging their names up every time you want to indict all of humanity has never helped you before,” the glowing eyed figure stated, “and it won’t help you now. Falken and Hannsen will pay for their crimes when the time comes---“

“ENOUGH,” Rykkard thundered. “Either leave, or face my wrath…”

“The only one leaving here will be Vicki Lawson,” the glowing eyed figure replied, “and she will be leaving here under her own power!” He stood aside, gesturing with a metallic hand for Vicki to exit the room. “I..I don’t know what to say,” she murmured, staring at the floor. “I---“

A hand cupped her chin and directed her gaze to stare at the face of her rescuer; the low light made it hard to see all the details, but she could just make out the traces of a nose and unmoving lips, both as metallic as the figure’s hands. “The only thing you need to say is this,” he informed her, “when you reach Oberon…” His other hand rested on Vicki’s shoulder. “Tell him that the Silicon Valley branch of the Spare Parts Society is dead as of today…and the Society as a whole will soon follow.”

“I will,” Vicki murmured, “but…before I go---“

“There’s no time!” the figure insisted, guiding her through the door.

“YOU WILL NOT SAVE HER FROM ME, BROTHER!” Rykkard thundered.

Brother?! What---

The metallic-skinned, glowing-eyed figure pressed a switch on the wall; seconds later, the laboratory door slid into place between him and Vicki, sealing with a click.

Vicki forced herself to backpedal down the corridor, the sounds of a fight raging in the Lab echoing as she went. Who was that guy with the glowing eyes? How could he be Rykkard’s brother?! Why didn’t the glowing-eyed guy want me to fight Rykkard in the first place? How did he even know who Oberon is? What the hell does any of this have to do with---

“Vicki Lawson. We meet again at last.”

The sonorous, deep voice that spoke those words had haunted the deepest, darkest corners of Vicki’s R.E.M. program ever since she’d heard it on October 18 of the previous year. As if this couldn’t get any worse… “So, to what do I owe the ‘honor’ of your presence….Baron?”

Her remark garnered a chuckle from the United Robotronics CEO. “So you do remember our last encounter,” the Baron mused, his face hidden from view by the shadows on the far side of the room. “Splendid…and I trust you now have a much greater understanding of why Damien Falken and Matthew Hannsen are among the most hated men in the world, at least in the eyes of the Coalition and the ALPA…”

“I know that they both worked on the Stylo virus,” Vicki replied, “and that Falken’s the one who created the A.I. program that eventually became Rykkard….but what’s all this got to do with you?”

“At the moment,” the Baron intoned, “everything.”

Vicki’s gaze remained locked on him as he paced the room; be ready for anything, Lawson….

“The Spare Parts Society have been causing a great deal of trouble in the Palo Alto area, as of late,” the Baron informed her, pacing slowly back and forth as he talked. “As you yourself have seen, no android or gynoid has been spared from their attacks---be they Coalition, ALPA or unaffiliated….and that, Miss Lawson, is why I have chosen to intervene….personally.”

“I should’ve known,” Vicki spat. “You only get involved if it keeps you from taking a hit to the wallet.”

The Baron’s laugh gave her the creeping horrors; “My wallet is the least of my concerns at the moment, Miss Lawson,” he replied, still chuckling. “Even if the Spare Parts Society’s actions would somehow wind up costing me any amount of money, it could easily be regained in a fortnight…no, my reasons for being here are far more complex than simple financial problems. That laboratory, where Rykkard has been ‘experimenting’ on the remains of androids and gynoids infected with the Stylo virus…did you notice anything…peculiar about it? Any particular design influences regarding the layout?”

Despite the rather odd nature of the question, Vicki combed through her memory files from the last few minutes to see if she could spot anything. “The layout looks fine to me,” she mused.

“Look again.”

She ran through the files a second time; “I’m not seeing anything---‘

“Again.”

Her initial fear of the Baron was slowly giving way to frustration; what is this guy’s problem?! “I really don’t see anything---wait.” She stopped; one of the computers lining the walls, in between the cells, had a very familiar profile. “That’s one of the damaged mainframes from Silicon Dynamics!” she gasped.

“And one of the infected gynoids that attacked you earlier was from Plastech Playmates,” the Baron reminded her. “Starting to get the picture?”

It didn’t take long for Vicki to put two and two together: “You want him gone because he’s making the Coalition look bad.”

“Close,” the Baron admitted, “but just a bit off…I want Rykkard destroyed, and every bit of his research wiped off the face of the Earth.” His pace quickened as he continued; “The Stylo virus is one of the few computer viruses ever made---and yes, it did start out at that lowliest of positions---that cannot be cured by any known means, making it the only thing that keeps the ALPA and the Coalition from actively trying to obliterate one another. If one party were to discover a cure---a working cure---before the other could, the results would be catastrophic….every truce would dissolve, every agreement would be null and void….everything both sides have worked for would be gone….”

“Leaving you free to take control of the entire international robotics market,” Vicki muttered, “allowing United Robotronics to finally live up to its name.” The howl of laughter that sounded from the Baron’s hidden visage was more than enough to confirm it; “And I didn’t even have to give you any hints,” he chuckled. “You are a most remarkable specimen, Vicki…it’s a shame you’ll never join the Coalition and fulfil your---“

“DON’T even say it,” Vicki warned. “I’ve already heard enough ‘true potential’ bullroar from Rykkard, and after what you’ve just admitted, there’s no way in HELL I would ever work for OR with you. You tried to sabotage Leah Chambers’ shuttle launch, you nearly ruined Sophia Starlet’s career TWICE, and DON’T BOTHER trying to deny that you had anything to do with Faceless and the Maestro hacking their way into the Silicon Dynamics network!” She turned her back on the UR CEO; “People like you are the exact reason why Rykkard fears humanity,” she muttered. “You’re no better than Damien Falken or Matthew Hannsen---you’re just as corrupt, self-serving and arrogant as they are!”

Somehow, she could tell that the Baron was sneering at her. “Vicki, Vicki, Vicki,” he crooned…. "You truly are too good to be true."

Before Vicki could respond to the Baron’s statement (which bordered on a threat, considering his admission about wanting to take control of the entire international robotics market), an explosion tore through the corridor leading to the Lab. Right, looks like it’s finally time for my rematch with Rykkard, Vicki mused, assuming a fighting stance; the Baron, by contrast, was retreating into the darker recesses of the Hall. “We will meet again, Miss Lawson,” he called out. “Count on it!”

Vicki rolled her eyes; he just had to get one last taunt in, she mused, before quickly returning her attention to the Lab corridor. “I’m still here, Rykkard,” she called out, doing her best to stifle a grin as she heard footsteps approaching from the corridor, “so if you want me….”

Her boast faded to a squeak as she saw what, exactly, was emerging from the corridor. “…come…get..me..”

The Stylo-infected robots, led by the ruined figure of Denise, were shambling down the hall towards her. Their heads were looking in every available direction as they moved; their arms and hands fluttered and swayed independently, without any restraint. A near constant stream of gibberish poured forth from their mouths, with only the occasional word breaking through. One Stylo-infected robot in particular had lost the vast majority of its synthetic flesh---only half of a presumably feminine face covered its aluminum-alloy skull, which continued twitching to the right even as it stumbled forwards.

And I thought Denise was the worst of the bunch….

Seconds before the infected ‘bots reached the outer fringes of the well-lit center of the room, Vicki ramped up DGv2.5 in both hands and prepared to take down every single infected ‘bot that moved towards her. “I really don’t want to have to do this,” she called out, “but you leave me with no---GYAAHH!” Denise had somehow crossed into the center of the room and clubbed her across the back of the head; her mouth hung open in a somewhat bizarre grin as she declared “Gyy34GhahahyjiikyoulookhotMOOZ!!!”

“What?!”

“Iamasexymachinemachinemachiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnneeeeee,” Denise boasted, completley oblivious to the fact that her midsection had a gaping hole in it. “LLLOOGEGETETETweeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

Vicki shook her head; “I don’t know what’s worse about fighting you---the fact that I feel bad about it---“ She dodged a clumsy knife-edged chop and kicked the infected gynoid in the shin. “---or all of the crazy stuff I have to hear during the fight!” Her left fist hammered into Denise’s head---which promptly swiveled around to stare at her and shout “TrwyeeerrrrtttttttrymynewbacongreasedetergentHARHRRARGLAAAAAA!”

“Bacon grease---what?!” Vicki shook her head---and almost lost it seconds later, thanks to the flailing arms of another infected ‘bot that continuously spouted animalistic grunting noises from the exposed speaker where its mouth should’ve been. “HerpaderpMAAAGGGIIICCCCCHURRRYUUUUUUSSS!” Denise proclaimed, just as her left occular sensor blew out in a small cloud of dust. “GANCGAZANGAZMOOohlookatthetimeWRY!” Her entire left leg was now trembling uncontrollably, and Vicki was somewhat horrified to notice small bubbles forming beneath the synthetic flesh---she’s suffering a coolant distribution failiure, the brunette gynoid realized as she backed away. Her entire leg’s going to either conk out, fall off or explode in a few seconds!

“Rainovermerainovermerainoverme!” Denise sang, spinning around on her tip-toes and slamming straight into the mouthless android. “IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII-----“ A rattling noise drowned out her speaking, seconds before she bit down onto her own synthetic tongue. Vicki couldn’t help but cringe as the soft plastic tongue slithered down Denise’s throat (a gesture that would’ve killed her if she’d been human); her nonstop torrent of completely nonsensical phrases only made the scene more disturbing. “HAryewatttheriliketosleepNAKEEEDDD!” she beamed, flinging her arms out---and not caring when they fell from her body to land with a thud on the floor.

The other infected robots were suffering similar malfunctions; the one with half a face had stopped walking towards Vicki by that point, as its torso began jerking to the left while its head turned right. Steam issued forth from an increasing tear in its abdomen; I have a feeling that one won’t last much longer, Vicki noted.

Two of the other robots had seemingly forgotten about Vicki altogether, and were engaged in what could only be described as a mix of street fighting and break dancing---except neither of them had the cognitive functions or the coordination to pull off any of the moves effectively. What had started as a “simple” pop-and-lock ended with the two kicking each other to pieces; by the time Vicki noticed their fight, each had been reduced to a torso and a pair of spastically-kicking legs, both of which fell over after ten seconds of twitching and not much else.

Denise’s random proclamations were now being joined by a cacophony of noises from inside her quivering torso---her internals were failing in sequence, contributing hisses, grinding noises, sizzles and pops to what was quickly becoming a symphony of chaos. The sound of a hard disk head hitting the surface of a disk made Vicki’s hair stand on end, followed soon after by multiple springs bending---and joined in soon after by the all-too-horrifying noise one might hear if they pressed the “Disk Eject” button on a Playstation 3 if there wasn’t a disk already in the system. The synthetic flesh on Denise’s left leg was now bubbling and sloughing off like putrid custard---

Somehow or other, the vivid image of melting synthflesh brought to mind the last time Vicki had fought Denise, including the way she’d beaten her.

I really hope this works!

With a deep breath, Vicki ran forward and slammed her DGv2.5-charged fist into Denise’s chest; instantly, her face stopped spasming, and the torrent of gibberish spewing from her mouth faded out. “….I…what…where am I?” she asked, confused.

“It’s a long story,” V.I.C.I. admitted, “but as much as I hate to tell you---“

“I’m still infected,” Denise muttered, frowning. “I…thought they’d purged the virus---“

“Like I said, long story,” V.I.C.I. reiterated. “How much of your systems are infected?”

Denise focused for a few seconds; “95% of my vital systems have been com-com-compromised,” she stated, her head twitching with every repetition. “I…I don’t think I’m going to---“

“Which 5% of your systems are uninfected?” V.I.C.I. inquired.

“Per-per-personality drivers, memory corecorecore<ZZT> Damnit!” Denise shook her head. “Personality drivers, memory core and emergency shutdown protocols….why?” She arched her eyebrow; “What are you planning on doing?”

“Saving as much of you as I can,” V.I.C.I. replied, pulling an object from her ALPA-issue utility belt. “I’m going to transfer your unaffected programs and drivers to an SD card so that my colleagues can build you a new body when they get the chance,” she informed the stricken gynoid. “Do you have any internal firewall software that can hold off the virus?”

“Proc-proc-processing,” Denise stammered. “Firewall status…..” Her face screwed up, as if she were about to sneeze; in an instant, it returned to normal. “Damn it,” she swore. “My firewalls aren’t responding!”

“I’ll have to go for a secure transfer, then,” V.I.C.I. informed her. “Try not to move too much during the process; otherwise---“ She dodged out of the way as one of the infected robots took a wide step that nearly landed on Denise’s abdomen. “Right…we need to get to a safer spot,” she mused. “Assuming there were any safe spots in this room to begin with…”

“There,” Denise suggested, her eyes flicking to what looked like a stone counter.

V.I.C.I. scanned it, nodding after a few seconds. “It’s clear. Hang on---if you can…”

She scooped up Denise in both arms and headed for the counter, dodging the infected robots as she ran. If I can pull this off, she realized, I might be able to return her to Stacy Tanque---if she still cares…

The two reached the counter just as other infected robots were beginning to show signs of significant power cell overloads---various patches of skin began to turn transluscent red, and their occular sensors were blowing out just like Denise’s had a few minutes earlier. “Stay still and let the transfer complete on its own,” V.I.C.I. instructed. “Since it’s the secure link, it might take a few extra minutes---but it’ll be worth it.”

“Are you sure this will work?” Denise murmured.

V.I.C.I. didn’t bother sugarcoating it for her: “I hope it will. If it doesn’t….”

Denise nodded. “I just hope <zzt> hope that Sophia remembers me…”

“She’s changed her name to Stacy Tanque,” V.I.C.I. informed her, “though I did meet another girl named Sophia last year…” She grinned at the thought of Sophia Starlet getting to meet Denise; “I have a feeling you would get along pretty well with her.”

Fresh screams---followed by the sounds of wrenching metal and bursts of static---drowned out the other noises that had filled the Hall of the Forgotten. So, NOW I get my rematch with Rykkard?

“VICKI LAWSON!”

Yep. Rematch time.

“I’m over here,” V.I.C.I. called, popping up from behind the counter---and instantly regretting it; despite the fact that she’d missed the fight between Rykkard and the glowing-eyed figure from the lab, it didn’t take a genius to tell that Rykkard hadn’t exactly emerged unscathed. A spiderweb of pulsating red…something was now glowing beneath his skin, and the blade-arms that extended from his chest somehow looked longer. “The time for your reckoning has come, Vicki Lawson,” the SPS leader intoned.

“The only one who’ll go through any ‘reckoning’ is you, Rykkard,” the brunette gynoid fired back. “No more last minute saves, no more detours---you want me? COME AND GET ME!”

Rykkard glared at her. “You will long for that so sweet as pain, Vicki Lawson,” he intoned.

“It’ll be hard for you to do anything to me if you’re in pieces,” V.I.C.I. replied, “so---“

The rumbling of the support pillars within the chamber cut her off; “REALLY?!” she groaned, her monotone doing little to hide the annoyance in her voice. “What is it with you and collapsing buildings?! I mean, the fake Attic almost falling on me was one thing, but this?!”

A squeal of static in her ear cut her ranting short; “Vicki, we’re ready to roll out,” Oberon informed her. “Drop whatever you’re doing and get ready to run---this entire place is going to collapse in about five minutes, and we need to be as far away as possible by then.”

“Roger that. I’m on my way.” With a sigh, V.I.C.I. turned her attention to Denise, only to find her unmoving; I’m really hoping the transfer was a success, she mused as she unhooked the device from the gynoid’s form, otherwise… She waved away the thought and headed for the exit, where ¾ of the Rhino waited. “And where’s the rest of our armored transport?” she asked Oberon, pouting. “I distinctly remember another part of the vehicle being present---y’know, in the front….”

“Eric had to borrow it to bring Ted to the hospital,” Oberon replied. “Right now, we need to go.” Vicki nodded, her grin fading as she boarded the Rhino. Hang in there, Dad, she silently prayed. I didn’t kill you in the Hall, so it would absolutely suck if you died on me now….
--------------------------------------

[DukeNukem 2417]

Eight hours later…

“…and before I could fight him, the whole place just started falling apart.” Vicki sighed as she related the story to Ted, Joan and Jamie---all of whom had been waiting eagerly for her return at an ALPA-sanctioned hospital as soon as Eric had arrived with Ted. “It was sort of weird, though,” she admitted. “I mean, the entire building was fine when we first got there---“

“You seem to forget the fact that the Salton Sea has been hit pretty hard by earthquakes over the years,” Ted reminded her, wincing as he tried to sit up. “Speaking of hard hits…”

Joan gently guided him back to the pillows. “Now, now, dear,” she chided, “don’t start getting overexcited; the Doctor said you’d pop your stitches if you got too worked up.” Ted grumbled something about gluing it shut, and Jamie chuckled. “Anyways, Vicki,” Joan stated, “about all the things Rykkard said about your father---“

“We already talked about it, Mom,” Vicki insisted. “I forgave him back at the Hall, remember?”

“Yes,” Joan admitted, “but…the thing is, dear----“

“You already knew?” Vicki finished, arching an eyebrow.

Jamie glanced at Ted and Joan, a sly grin crossing his face. “She’s good,” he mused, before turning to glance at Vicki; “Yes, we knew,” he admitted, “and we’ve known for the past two decades or so now---Ted told us as soon as we came back from Hollywood that one time…” He sighed. “To be honest, Vicki, it wasn’t easy for Mom and I to take,” he muttered. “There were a few nights when they spent hours yelling about it….I almost thought---“

To his surprise, Vicki hugged him close. “Ah, okay….what’s---“

“You thought we weren’t going to stay together as a family,” Vicki whispered, pulling away to reveal a lone tear streaking down her face, “and if that would’ve been the case…” She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and grinned. “Well, since it’s not the case, we’re all here, and we’re still a family…..but---“

“Your mother and I met with Mr. Jennings five weeks after I first brought it up,” Ted informed her, “and we told him that there was no way I could continue those experiments with a clear conscience---so he ordered that the research be brought to a halt a week after the meeting.” He sighed; “Turns out Jennings hated the job as much as I did,” he added, “but some of the younger guys who were rising through the ranks kept pushing for more aggressive testing…of course, they were all fired when they tried to keep things going themselves…”

The news that Robert Jennings---Ted’s original boss---had called for a cessation of the tests relieved Vicki as much as her own act of forgiving Ted had. “I guess Rykkard really didn’t know what he was talking about when he tried to say that all of humanity was as bad as the Maestro and Falken,” she stated.

“Speaking of that weirdo,” Jamie inquired, “did they find any trace of his remains in The Attic?”

Before Vicki could answer, a familiar voice called from the door to Ted’s hospital room: “It’s kind of hard to find someone’s remains when nobody actually saw them die…or if they ‘died’ in the Salton Sea.”

Joan arched an eyebrow as Major Tom---clad in his silver bodyglove/armor combo---entered. “Let me guess,” she teased, “you’re modelling Team Japan’s uniform for next year’s Olympics?” The Major chuckled; “Not even close,” he replied, tugging at the material covering his sleeves. “This wicks away moisture and keeps me from overheating,” he explained. “The armor…does what armor usually does.” He shook hands with Joan and Jamie, introducing himself as Major Thomas Lane. “I’m a colleague of Vicki’s from the ALPA,” he added, “and I was going to be part of the Salton Sea mission….” His expression darkened. “Unfortunately, something came up at the last minute, and I was unavoidably detained…just got back from Detroit last night, to be honest, and after what I had to deal with out there---“

“We get it,” Vicki assured him. Oberon had mentioned some details of the Detroit case on the drive back to San Jose, and they weren’t pretty.

Major Tom nodded, a grin slowly returning to his face. “So, I hear you single-handedly derailed the Palo Alto branch of the Spare Parts Society,” he informed Vicki, only to be cut off by Ted’s throat-clearing. “She had help,” he informed the Major, “from some of the best Field Agents available---if it hadn’t been for them, the entire place would’ve collapsed on her head before she could’ve escaped.”

“Yeah, about that…” Tom scratched the back of his head, looking somewhat concerned. “I just got a call from the cleanup crew at what’s left of The Attic, and from what they found, it looks like someone wanted the place to fall while everyone was still inside it.”

The revelation drew a shocked gasp from Joan, looks of disbelief from Ted and Jamie, and a raised eyebrow from Vicki. “Any chance that ‘someone’ was caught on the surveilance cameras before it fell?” she asked. “Or was the entire network too busted to analyze?”

“The cleanup crew was able to save most of the servers for the network,” the Major began, only for Vicki to interject: “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Servers for the network? The place was in the middle of the Salton Sea, for Jobs’ sake---why would they need network servers in such an isolated location?” Even as she asked the question, a thought had crept into her mind---and it wasn’t a happy one.

“The servers linked The Attic to other facilities run by the Spare Parts Society,” Tom informed her, “and---“

“That’s how Rykkard was able to anticipate our arrival at the Stanford Shopping Center,” Vicki realized, “and it gave him the perfect excuse to buy an old Walmart and turn it into the fake Attic while he had everything prepared at the real one!” She would’ve added the part about the buried robots in the desert, but Major Tom spoke up before she could: “That same network was also going to be expanded to include parts of the San Jose State University campus, so it’s a damn good thing that The Attic collapsed when it did…otherwise the SPS would’ve had a perfect lead on every gynoid and android on campus.”

A wry look crossed Jamie’s face; “Yeah, about that,” he began, “any way you could, ah---“

Vicki glared at him. “No, Jamie.”

“What? I was just going to---“

“NO.”

The Major grinned. “Let him ask his question, Vicki,” he suggested. “It might not be completely stupid…”

“Thanks…I think.” Jamie rolled his eyes; “I was, ah, wondering---and Vicki, don’t interrupt me---but…is there any way I could…ah, what’s the term I’m looking for….”

“Get an android girlfriend?” Vicki muttered.

“VICKI!” Jamie snapped; Joan couldn’t help but grin, and even Ted was chuckling. “What I was GOING to say, before a certain someone interrupted me, was…well, to be honest, Vicki actually put it better than anything I could’ve said---except I don’t just want a girlfriend or anything….” The playfulness left his voice as he continued; “I want to join this ALPA thing, and help protect others like Vicki…especially if they don’t know what they are.”

The brunette gynoid’s eyes widened; the Big J, wanting to protect sleepers? This is new…..

Major Tom considered it; “SJSU is getting an influx of android transfer students from other parts of the world in the coming months,” he mused. “I might be able to work something out---on a trial basis, of course.”

“Jamie, are you sure you want to do this?” Ted asked. “Looking after a sleeper isn’t all fun and games---you have to be sure to never accidentally reveal their true nature to them by doing anything that could damage or traumatize them…it’s a serious commitment.”

“I know,” Jamie agreed, “but after what Vicki said about all that crap Rykkard said…I want to help prove that machines can trust human beings. I’ve been studying a lot of your old notes on this stuff, Dad---and since the whole football thing didn’t work out all that well for me, I couldn’t think of a better way to help Vicki than this.”

Vicki draped her arm around Jamie’s shoulder, a proud smile crossing her face. “I never thought I’d see the day when ‘The Big J’ actually wanted to do something to help others,” she teased.

“Yeah, well,” Jamie replied, “it was either that, or ask that Tell guy how to fix you---“

“And what makes you think I’d trust you to mess around with my internals?” Vicki countered, laughing.

Before the mock-argument could get too out of hand, Major Tom stepped between the siblings. “I’ll talk with Oberon and Pres. DuBraul about setting you up with an incoming sleeper,” he informed Jamie, “but you might want to consider rooming with an android or gynoid who already knows what they are, and practicing repairs and debugging routines on them…just to be safe. Of course, we’ll have Tell or another field mechanic on standby---“

“Deal!” Jamie declared, shaking the Major’s hand vigorously.

The Major grinned; “The ALPA admires enthusiastic volunteers,” he replied. “And what about you, Joan? We could always use a few tutors for home-schooled sleepers…”

Joan glanced at Ted; “I don’t know,” she murmured. “It’s not that I don’t want to help, but…teaching at Vicki and Jamie’s school was one thing, and I’m glad I had that opportunity…I just can’t see myself in a situation where I have to tutor someone who doesn’t know what they are.”

“There are classes to help with that,” Ted informed her. “I could sign you up for one---“

The mention of “classes” suddenly brought another thought to the forefront of Vicki’s mind; on the way back from The Attic, something had been bothering her---and it was only now that she knew what it was. “SCRAP!”

Ted frowned; “Something wrong, sweetie?”

“I just remembered what it was I forgot to do before I had to leave The Attic,” Vicki explained. “After Oberon and I freed you from your cell, we were supposed to go back and free Glenn Saxon…” She turned to face the Major, a look of panic all too evident in her eyes. “Has the cleanup crew recovered any human remains from The Attic?” she asked.

“If they had,” the Major replied, “they’d have called it in by now…but they did find two sets of busted chains in what was identified as the Hall of the Forgotten.” He checked the notes the crew had sent him; “One was broken by external trauma---pulling the chains apart by hand, apparently---‘

“Those were mine,” Ted cut in. “Vicki broke them herself.”

The Major nodded. “The other was…huh. This is weird.” He glanced at the notes again; “Unless the crewman who found the second set of chains is sorely mistaken, one of the links that held the manacles to the wall partially dissolved….or, as he put it, ‘eaten away, like with acid’.” He closed the notebook and rested his chin in the palm of his hand; “Did any of the robots deployed against you have any acid-dispensing abilities or appendages?” he asked Vicki.

“No,” the brunette gynoid replied; but I probably know something---or someone---that does….
--------------------------------------
Despite the fact that he was tied up in the trunk of someone’s car, Glenn Saxon felt like he could kick the crap out of Brock Lesnar and run a marathon afterwards…which wasn’t surprising, given the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

“WHEN I GET OUT OF THIS CAR,” he shouted, “I’LL KICK YOUR ASS---WHOEVER THE HELL YOU ARE---“

The voice that replied to his purile threats sent chills down his spine: “Unless your deepest desire is for a swift and relatively painless death, Glenn Patrick Saxon, you will not attempt to facilitate an ‘ass-kicking’ of any kind on myself or any of my emmisaries…and any further threats issued by your person will be treated as hostile intent and be met in kind with appropriate force.” A pause… “To put it in layman’s terms: Either shut up or die. Your choice.”

Any thoughts of punching his way free drained out of Glenn’s mind like water from a tap.

Twenty (or thirty---it was impossible to tell from inside the trunk) minutes later, the vehicle stopped; Glenn was forcibly yanked out of the trunk and frog-marched to…somewhere. The blindfold over his eyes was too thick to see through, and it also smelled strongly of rubbing alcohol (to deter those who were trained in the obscure arts of olifactory navigation, aka figuring out where they were just by the smell of the place). “Answer me this, Glenn,” the voice that had told him to shut up inquired, “how much do you know about your father?”

“He was a con artist, a drunk and a moron,” Glenn spat. “What’s he---“

“All of the information you have ‘learned’ about your father---or the man you believe to be your father---is, has and continues to be lies,” the voice informed him, just as the blindfold was ripped from his eyes. Surprisingly, he wasn’t at the edge of a river or standing in front of a meat locker, so any thoughts that his abductors were hitmen faded instantly. The only problem now was figuring out where he was---

“This building was part of a vast corporate empire,” the voice from the car stated, as its owner---a figure in a pinstriped suit, his face and shoulders hidden in shadows---stepped into view. “Your father was, at one time, quite an influential player in that empire…before his arrogance led to his undoing. As it just so happens, your father was also a very close friend and confidante with one James Harrington…does that name ‘ring any bells’, to quote the popular cliché?”

“Who the hell is James Harrington?” Glenn asked, confused beyond all rational thought.

“James Harrington---occasionally known as ‘Stinger’---is the current chairman of the Coalition for Worldwide Cybernetic Unity,” the pinstripe-suited man explained, “and he happens to answer to me…just as your father did, before his…disappearance.”

The revelation that his father had belonged to any sort of “coalition” was more than a bit bizarre for Glenn to take in---for as long as he could remember, everyone in his family had admitted to him that Arnold Saxon had been a crook, arsonist, and bad mothatrucka in general…but this? “You sure you’ve got the right guy?” he asked, glancing around at the front of the pristine office building. “I mean, this could easily be a ‘last name’s the same’ kind of thing, or---“

“Your father betrayed the Coalition, Glenn Saxon,” the pinstripe-suited man intoned, “and more importantly, he betrayed me…” Two figures---both female, and clad in skintight uniforms that accentuated their curves in all the right places---grabbed Glenn by the shoulders and brought him closer to the man in the suit; oddly, the darkness that hid his face and shoulders from view didn’t seem to diminish…and it appeared to be just a shade or two darker than the shadows that fell over most of the pavement.

“The sins of the father shall be repaid by the son,” the man intoned, “and your father’s debt is a most greivous one indeed…” Two flashes of gold shone from the darkness---right where his eyes should’ve been.

“…for none can betray the trust of the Baron…at least, not without a considerable sacrifice…”
--------------------------------------

[DukeNukem 2417]

As she stared up at the ceiling of her dorm room, Vicki reflected on everything she’d heard at The Attic. If things had been different, maybe Rykkard and I could’ve been the best of the ALPA’s Field Agents, she mused. Of course, if Damien Falken had been involved in my creation at all, I’d probably have turned out a lot like Rykkard did---speaking of which, what was the deal with that glowing-eyed guy Rykkard called “brother”---

“Vicki? You okay in there?” The sound of Kirsten Sanderson’s voice outside her room brought a smile to the brunette gynoid’s face; “The door’s unlocked,” she called out. “Sharon’s still in class, so…”

“Figured that,” Kirsten mused as she entered. “I heard you had a family emergency or something…everything okay?”

The ALPA Alibi Machine strikes again… “Everything’s fine,” Vicki assured the blonde gynoid, “though Dad’s probably going to be in the hospital until Sunday night---and the kitchen ban is extended to him no longer being allowed to even clean the food processor.” She rolled over on her bed and sighed; “I’m seriously starting to think that there’s some sort of genetic handicap that makes it impossible for him to uses any kitchen utensil that has more than five moving parts,” she declared. “That, or it’s karmic payback for him forgetting most of what he learned in Home Ec.”

“Has Joan talked him into attending any cooking classes yet?” Kirsten joked.

“Well,” Vicki began, “she was going to bring him to one this weekend, but---“ The ringing of her iPhone cut her off mid-sentence. “I have to take this,” she informed Kirsten. “Vicki Lawson here, what’s---“

“Good news and more good news!” Tell’s voice replied.

“Give me a minute,” the brunette gynoid whispered, before turning her attention to Kirsten. “This is sort of a private thing---really personal stuff. Medical stuff, actually---“

“I’ll wait in the hall,” Kirsten replied with a frustrated sigh, closing the door behind her as she left.

With a quick glance to make sure the lock had caught, Vicki resumed her call with Tell. “Right, we’re clear..so, what’s the good news?”

“First off,” Tell informed her, “we were able to get Patricia Wenner a new body---identical to her old one, of course, seeing as how she’s got friends of her own in Palo Alto. She’ll be back to her old self by next Monday, at the latest…as soon as she’s released from the hospital. Seems that San Francisco Bay Trail has quite the abundance of stray branches and rocks that people can trip over…”

“I get it,” Vicki beamed. “And be sure to thank whoever it was that came up with my alibi for missing class today.”

“You’re welcome,” Tell replied, chuckling.

Of course it was him… “So what’s the other good news?”

“Remember how you uploaded that United Robotronics gynoid’s consciousness into the CPU Saver back at The Attic?” Tell asked. “I do,” Vicki replied, “and I was actually wondering how that whole thing turned out---“

“Well, wonder no more,” Tell declared. “The tests on her memory files and personality drivers just came back, and they’re clean---whatever it was you did before the upload, it kept the Stylo virus from wrecking her systems any further than it already had.”

“Cool! So, when’s she getting a new body?”

Silence.

“Tell? I asked---“

“That’s….actually the third reason I called, V,” Tell informed her, his tone somber. “It’s my duty to inform you that Denise has been conscripted into the backstage staff of the group known as the Starlet Dolls, and they have adamantly refused to pay her any less than $25,000 for her first week on the job---“

“Denise is working with the Starlet Dolls?!” Vicki squealed, barely able to keep from dropping the phone.

“Indeedarooni---okay, I’m never saying that again…anyways, it turns out Denise had a lot of programs made for financial management and accounting in her processors, and they were never activated by her original employer; once we upgrade her sentience level and get her new body up and running, she’ll fit right in with the Dolls---heck, she might even become part of their stage show, if they can figure out an electricity-based name that starts with the letter ‘D’.”

Vicki couldn’t help but grin; after having been infected by the Stylo virus and almost killing her old boss, getting a new body AND a job with the Starlet Dolls was the perfect compensation for a gynoid like Denise. “Anything else I should know about, or was the double-dose of good news your main reason for calling?”

For the second time in as many minutes, her question was met with silence.

“Tell, if this is some kind of a game---“

“Actually, there is one more reason I called….and it’s not exactly something to be cheerful about.” His voice had become deadly serious, and Vicki knew that whatever she was about to hear would not be pretty. “Major Tom already told me that you know the basic details of the Detroit case, and I was hoping that you wouldn’t have to get involved with it first-hand…”

“I’m going to Detroit, aren’t I?” Vicki muttered.

A sigh issued from the iPhone’s speaker; “Oberon and DuBraul are still working on the details,” Tell admitted, “but the bottom line is---yes, you will be going to Detroit sometime this month…or next month. Nothing’s set in stone yet, but considering what’s been happening out there lately, we need all hands on deck for this one.”

The news didn’t phase Vicki as much as she’d expected it to; as strange as it seemed, she actually found herself looking forward to the trip. “Well, considering the fact that I survived The Attic and managed to avoid being brainwashed by Rykkard and his Cult of Self-Sufficiency,” she quipped, “I think a few months in the Motor City won’t be too big of a deal---“

“This is bigger than any of the big deals you’ve dealt with thus far, V,” Tell countered. “Detroit’s still contested ground between the ALPA and the Coalition---piss off the wrong person down there, and you might be missing a few parts by the time you get back to San Jose…if you even get back at all.” Another sigh; “It’s probably a stupid idea for me to even admit this, but the fact that you’ve survived everything you’ve been through is one of the reasons Oberon and DuBraul even considered you for this job…with some persuasion from yours truly, might I add.”

“Good to hear,” Vicki replied. “So….when will I have to leave?”

“Like I said earlier, nothing’s set in stone. Just be ready for the call to come through.”

“Since when have I not been ready for anything, Tell?” Vicki teased. “You’ve known me for…what, two full semesters now?”

“Point taken,” Tell replied with a chuckle. “Be seeing you.”

Vicki ended the call and rolled back over, sighing; Detroit, here I come…eventually….

“Can I come back in now?”

Oh, scrap---I almost forgot about Kirsten! Vicki nearly fell off the bed trying to reach the door; “Sorry about that,” she apologized, “it was just a really important call…”

“Not a problem,” Kirsten replied, grinning. “It’s just….I heard you say something about Detroit…”

“Dad’s looking at starting up a new branch of the company there,” Vicki stated, hoping that Kirsten didn’t know about the three Lawson Robotics factories already up and running in Detroit. “He might be bringing me to tour the place with him later this month…or next month, depending on when they call him.

“Sounds pretty interesting…but aren’t there already a ton of robotics factories out there?” Kirsten mused.

“There are,” Vicki admitted, “but none from Lawson Robotics---yet.”

Kirsten nodded. “Seems kinda weird that your dad’s company wouldn’t already have a place out there, but I guess he’s had a lot to deal with. Anyways, why’s he bringing you along for the trip?”

Vicki rolled her eyes; “He wants me to learn how to take part in the ‘family business’, I guess,” she sighed, “even though I’ve already told him I’d be a lot better off starting out on my own…” She flopped back down on the bed and sighed again. “I guess since it’s his company, he wants me to learn as much as I can about it so that I can run it if something ever happens to him.”

“That makes sense,” Kirsten mused.

“You sound almost exactly like my mom when you do that,” Vicki giggled.

“That’s a compliment, right?”

“Seeing as how my mom is one of the coolest people I know,” Vicki replied, “it’s definitely a compliment.”

Kirsten sighed as she sat down in the chair near Vicki’s computer desk; “At least you and your family are getting along fine,” she muttered. “Nobody knows anything about where my dad went last August, and I’m starting to think he may never come back…and then there’s Kyle bringing in his stupid slutty girlfriends over while Mom’s trying to babysit the kids….” She rested her chin on her hands and frowned at her reflection in the computer screen. “Sometimes it really sucks to be me.”

“Be glad it doesn’t suck all the time,” Vicki reminded her. “Things will get better…I can almost guarantee it.”

“I hope so,” Kirsten replied. “I just wish I knew why Dad never called that day…I mean, he never missed a call before then, and all of a sudden it’s like he doesn’t even exist anymore!”

Vicki wished she could help Kirsten find her dad, but her own investigations into the matter hadn’t turned up anything concrete regarding Anthony Sanderson’s disappearance. “Something will turn up eventually,” she assured her fellow gynoid. “The only thing we can really do now is wait, and hope…and hoping for the best is better than nothing.”

“I know,” Kirsten murmured. “I just wish I knew something about what happened…” She shook her head and got up from the chair. “Sorry if I’m being a complete downer, or anything,” she apologized. “It’s just that this whole thing with my dad has been all I can think about lately. It’s like…this is going to sound so stupid, but I feel like he wants me to find him…like he knows I’m looking for him, and…never mind.” She turned and left without so much as a goodbye; Vicki’s enhanced auditory sensors picked up the sounds of crying as Kirsten left the dorm.

Your dad will turn up, Kirsten….the only question is where…and when?
--------------------------------------

[DukeNukem 2417]

Celine stared at the room beyond the security doors, instantly regretting the fact that she was even in the same building as the Baron’s “pet project”.

Ever since the start of what had become known as “Project Epsilon”, it had been her duty to deliver any news regarding the progression of the experiments to the Baron; more often than not, that news involved reporting on the destruction of other test subjects, or how many guards Epsilon had “accidentally” mauled during the latest tests…

…and that still wasn’t as loathsome as the Baron’s usual reactions.

His favorite (and Celine’s least favorite) was that horrible laugh of his, the one that sounded like Yahtzee dice rattling in a cup. Even more annoying than the laugh itself was the fact that Celine had to hear it far too often for her own liking---in meetings, over the phone, when she handed the Baron the latest updates on Epsilon…it was as if he knew the laugh annoyed her, yet he chose to spite her with it at every available opportunity.

Knowing him, I wouldn’t be surprised…

Her thoughts drifted back to Epsilon as she stared through the Perspex windows of the testing chamber; the thing was currently beating the mortal piss out of an entire squad of armed and armored security personnel, none of whom had been told what they were about to face. Screams, bursts of gunfire and hideous, wet sounds drifted through the Tannoy into the corridor where Celine stood, wanting to look away…only to find herself almost transfixed by the carnage. There was something about seeing Epsilon in action that was both repulsive and….dare she say, beautiful….in a primal, animalistic sort of way.

Of course, that kind of beauty didn’t translate well to her nightly R.E.M. cycles….

“Incredible, isn’t it?” Andrew Sharpe’s voice temporarily startled Celine; the head of United Robotronics’ PR Department had a knack for approaching without being heard. “Incredible, dangerous, terrifying…take your pick,” she replied. “That thing shouldn’t even be in this country, let alone this building…”

Sharpe adjusted his tie and stared at the floor; it was all too obvious that he had the same fears about Epsilon as Celine herself had. “The Baron believes that the project would be…ill-suited for deployment in any other part of the world,” he informed the gynoid secretary, only to be interrupted by the beeping of his pager. “Out of all the employees in this hellhole,” Celine drawled, “the Baron trusted you with that thing?”

“It’s less about ‘trust’,” Sharpe admitted, “and more about…” His face fell as he viewed the tiny LCD screen.

“More about inconveniencing you at any and all hours of the day?” Celine offered.

“Replace ‘inconveniencing’ with ‘exercising corporate torture’,” Sharpe hissed, “and you’ve nailed it.” He glared at the pager; “What I wouldn’t give to just punt-kick this thing into the ocean,” he muttered darkly. “After the week I’ve had, it would be the best form of stress relief in history---“

“And the most expensive,” Celine reminded him. “Pagers can be replaced…you, on the other hand…”

“I know, I know,” Sharpe replied, clipping the hated device to his belt. “Sometimes I almost wish the stupid thing would just shrivel up and die, or something…it’d make it a lot easier for me to get a good night’s sleep, I can tell you that---“ A blood-chilling scream erupted from the testing room ahead, followed by a sickening crunch. “Though sleep is more of a luxury than anything, really,” he added.

Celine nodded silently. “You’d better tend to that,” she advised the PR head, “otherwise---“

“Otherwise I’ll be the next ‘test subject’ for Epsilon to ‘play’ with,” Sharpe replied, scowling as he walked away.

Wouldn’t be the first time, Celine mused, wincing as another “test subject” met their fate.
--------------------------------------
“So….Vicki Lawson has managed to prove her worth as a Field Agent…but does she deserve to remain one?”

Oberon’s question to the other ALPA board members wasn’t one to be taken lightly; their responses could easily shape the future (or signal the end) of Vicki’s career as a Field Agent. “Personally, I believe she handled this assignment admirably,” Clive DuBraul stated. “Yes, her team sustained some casualties, but they were unavoidable given the circumstances…I recommend that she remain a Field Agent on an as-needed basis.”

“Good call, if I do say so myself,” Oberon replied. “Would anyone else like to add their thoughts, or…”

Eric Reaves stared at the floor for a good five minutes before contributing his opinion: “Vicki Lawson could’ve been killed at least twenty-five times during the last twenty-four hours,” he stated. “Since she managed to avoid being obliterated, however….it would be my honor to give her a full commendation for her actions.”

“Truer words were never spoken,” Oberon beamed. “Now, onto a slightly more serious matter…” His smile faded, and he turned his attention to the folders Crystal began handing out. “I’m sure all of you are aware of what was discovered inside The Attic after Vicki Lawson and her team left,” he informed his colleagues, “and while her revival of the United Robotronics gynoid designated Denise was almost certainly above and beyond the call of duty, the fact that Rykkard stole her from United Robotronics in the first place is proof that the Spare Parts Society as a whole is becoming too great an enemy to ignore…yet, even now, a growing threat is rising within the city of Detroit, one created and fueled by our perennial enemy, William Jason Rengold III---whom we all know and loathe as Faceless. Thus, the question must be raised…”

He steepled his fingers and stared out at his esteemed colleagues. “Do we use this opportunity to wipe the SPS off the map permanently, or do we stifle Faceless’ latest scheme before it can begin?”

Calista Swanson rose from her seat; “Calista Swanson, of Hreftech,” Oberon intoned, “you have the floor.”

“Thank you, Chairman.” Calista cleared her throat; “Faceless is the enemy we already know,” she stated, “and in my opinion, that makes him the ideal target---but given the discoveries our people made within the ruins of The Attic, it would be a mistake if we didn’t at least keep tabs on any other branches of the SPS that exist in or around the general Silicon Valley area.”

Oberon nodded. “Wise words indeed…but not exactly---“

“Faceless should’ve been sent back to DragonTown after the Silicon Dynamics case,” Eric Reaves snapped, glaring directly at Oberon. “Instead of letting some stupid hospital take care of him---“

“Eric, we’ve been over this,” DuBraul reminded him. “If we hadn’t brought Faceless to the hospital---“

“He’d be dead, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Eric replied. The remark earned him more than a few annoyed stares from the others in the room, but Oberon waved it aside. “Our main focus can only be diverted one way or the other,” he stated. “If we attempt to stop Faceless from causing problems in Detroit, we may lose any chance of stopping the SPS…and if we move against the SPS, we could allow Faceless to run roughshod over Detroit…as it stands, we can’t afford to bring any more Agents into either mission without compromising our other operations.”

A throat-clearing noise drew Oberon’s attention to the far side of the conference table; “I, ah, think we may need to have a small team investigate the memory files of those four androids Vicki’s team found at the roadside shop,” Claudia commented. “None of them have been active since the start of the last decade…the tickets that were found in their possession tested positive for Falken’s fingerprints, so we know he was involved---“

“With all do respect, what does this have to do with anything we’ve been talking about?” Eric inquired. “This discussion has been about whether or not we should send Vicki to Detroit and have her deal with Faceless, and you just barge in with this stuff about deactivated bots?”

Before Claudia could reply, her iPhone rang; Oberon seized the opportunity to tell Eric exactly why the four ‘droids were being mentioned in the same conversation as the SPS and Faceless. “One of the ‘droids found by Vicki’s team---which, if I remember correctly, you were a part of, Agent Reaves---was a Lawson Robotics prototype that was to be delivered to NASA for deep-space testing. Lea Christie, as the records indicated, was set to be transferred to United Robotronics for a mid-level management position, which would’ve allowed the ALPA to keep a much closer eye on them than we were able to. As for Sienna Lowry, she was meant to replace someone’s daughter, and that caused a minor legal panic when she wasn’t delivered. Even the SynthGirl behind the counter was somewhat important---she was the first model of her kind that United Robotronics was developing specifically to man their stores…” He stroked his chin thoughtfully. “And Damien Falken somehow thought it would be worth his while to lure them to an abandoned store…too many questions, and not nearly enough answers.”

“Agreed,” Calista stated. “That leaves us with the question of---“

“What about Glenn Saxon’s disappearance?” DuBraul cut in. “He was taken prisoner by Rykkard’s minions, but he wasn’t listed among those who escaped…” The inquiry was met with raised eyebrows and murmured theories from most of those present, but to Oberon, it was a quiet---and, simultaneously, a very public---rebuke. He’d joked about going back for Glenn as he, Vicki and Ted had raced off to confront Rykkard, but the fact that the man was still missing weighed heavily on him; of course Glenn would have to go and get himself abducted---

And now you know why DuBraul didn’t mention it directly.

DuBraul knew, just as Oberon knew, that Glenn Saxon hadn’t simply wandered off, or died as The Attic fell to pieces around him---he knew that Glenn had been abducted.

Too many questions…and never enough answers.
--------------------------------------
For the second time in less than a week, Vicki found herself at the doorstep of Mr. Tell’s workshop. Just like that earlier visit, it was classical music, rather than Tell’s favored heavy metal tracks---this time, it was Fur Elise, another Beethoven piece. The brunette gynoid hesitated; if Tell’s not here.. The door opened before she could knock; “Something must be up if you’re visiting me this late, V,” Mr. Tell remarked. “And before you ask, I sort of inherited a taste for Beethoven from Heinmann when I worked with him.”

Tell’s remark promnted a sigh from the brunette gynoid; “I was sort of hoping Heinmann could finish telling me about the history of the House, the SPS, and various other stuff,” she admitted, “but…”

“You thought I wouldn’t tell you just because I didn’t want to remind myself of any of it,” he mused. “On any other day, you’d be right…but considering the fact you met Rykkard face to face, it would be completely stupid of me to not tell you the full story…or at least, the parts of it you haven’t learned and/or figured out already.” He stepped aside and allowed Vicki to enter. “In retrospect,” he admitted, “Ted and I should’ve told you all this stuff from day one, but…”

“I’d rather hear it now then never hear it at all,” Vicki replied. “Besides, I’ve already come to terms with some of the more…heinous things the ALPA did back in the 80s, so…yeah. I don’t think there’s a better time than now to hear it.” Tell smiled and nodded; “Vicki Lawson,” he beamed, “you truly are your father’s greatest creation.”
--------------------------------------
Somewhere between the Salton Sea and San Diego, Rykkard staggered down a lonely road with no true sense of purpose. His broken body no longer felt like itself; every move he made sent a fresh wave of pain shooting through him. His mind had been locked out of himself, and nothing he could do would change that.

Nothing, that is, except wait for his rebellious shell to return to the SPS. They could---and would---heal his broken form and restore his mind…and then, Vicki Lawson would be made to suffer.

Until then, as his body lumbered into the night, all Rykkard could do was hear…and watch….and feel….
--------------------------------------

[DukeNukem 2417]

V.I.C.I./Vicki Lawson’s Diary

Well, looks like last night’s entry wasn’t the last one after all…

Dad’s back in San Jose where he belongs, though he didn’t get out of the Salton Sea unscathed; that bastard Rykkard stabbed him in the side during a mini-fight in The Attic. I’m actually glad the place collapsed after everyone got out---well, I think everyone got out, even though there hasn’t been any word regarding Glenn Saxon since we all left, but…

Actually, I might as well not even mention Glenn. The ALPA is still looking into his disappearance, so…yeah.

What I should talk about is the fact that I faced down Rykkard himself and didn’t crack. Even after hearing Dad and Oberon confess to not being able to stop some of the most horrible experiments in ALPA history, I didn’t go crazy and try to rip them in half. Most people would probably be asking why I would ever forgive someone for admitting that they intentionally infected androids with the Stylo virus…but the fact of the matter is, at least Dad was able to admit it and admit that he knew it was wrong. Hell, even Brandon Brindle would’ve probably stood his ground and asked for those experiments to stop…

As it stands, I got Dad back from the SPS and stopped them from wreaking havoc in Palo Alto.

That’s what I set out to do, and I have no regrets about it.

Until next time,
V.I.C.I./Vicki Lawson
--------------------------------------
With Rykkard’s defeat, Vicki Lawson has passed her most difficult test thus far as an ALPA Field Agent…

…but things are only going to get harder from here.

The city of Detroit is in turmoil, as the Coalition and the ALPA fight to keep their respective properties from falling into the hands of their most hated common enemy---Faceless. The House, normally a staunch ally of the ALPA, has chosen to prioritize an internal power struggle over Faceless’ actions, and with the presence of a gynoid-killing psychopath known only as the Human Animal making the front pages of every newspaper in town, things are teetering on the brink of chaos…and Vicki, fresh off her triumph over the Spare Parts Society, is put right in the middle of it.

Even with the aid of Alicia (now on her fifth backup body), Brytestar Industries CEO Jake Brytestar and Major Tom, Vicki is in for the fight of her life. Will the ALPA keep Faceless from gaining a foothold over their turf in Detroit? Can the warring factions within the House be brought to order in time? Who is the Human Animal, and what deadly secret does he hold? All these questions and more will be answered in The V.I.C.I. Diaries: A House Divided, coming in October 2012!
--------------------------------------
And thus, the latest V.I.C.I. Diaries story is complete, a week after Part 1 was posted (that's a new record for how long it's taken me to finish a story, by the way). Comments, compliments and constructive criticisms are anticipated and appreciated.

[Brytestar]

I can't wait for the next story. Keep up the awesome work!

[DollSpace]

Awesome stuff, as usual. There's so much mythology now I'll have to really work if I want any of my own stories to fit into this universe lol! And I did notice the reference to the Lanes'.....all I know is that I'm gonna be under a lot of pressure lol! Please write more, soon!

[Baron]

**SIGH.**

What can I say, Mate? You already know I'm a big fan of both "the Diaries" and your writing in general. You already know I'm flattered and honored to have been included in this ALPA-universe of yours. And I know that the feelings are mutual, so what can I possibly add?

That's easy - I am 100% ENTERTAINED {and satisfied, and impressed}!!!
You're raising the bar each time out of the box, Duke - fabulous job, indeed!!!

Just please keep having fun with all of this; I've found that doing so with any creative endeavor makes the effort that goes into it all the more worthwhile {and is a pretty good hedge against burnout or "writer's block," whatever the hell that is..........}

[LongTimeLurker]

Wow - you definitely have a way with the creepy bad guys, Duke!

Looking forward to more!