The V.I.C.I. Diaries: Valley of the Damned (Part 5)

[DukeNukem 2417]

Oberon stared at the blocked-off entrance to the garage, scowling. “They knew we'd keep all the patrol cars in there,” he muttered. “They bloody well knew.....” He shook his head. “MAJOR! Where the hell'd he get to now---TOM! MAJOR TOM, WHATEVER YOU'RE DOING RIGHT NOW, GET OFF YOUR ARSE AND---”

“Stop yelling, I'm right here.” Major Tom emerged from the Armory, glancing in the direction of the garage. “I just had my friggin' car waxed,” he groaned, “and now I can't even drive it for another week or so....why the hell did they have to breach the building that way?!”

“Never you mind. We need alternative transportation---” Oberon stopped in mid-sentence.

“No,” the Major warned. “I know that look---don't give me that look---”

Other Field Agents were exiting the armory as well, all of them watching in confusion as Oberon set off down the hall, laughing like a madman. “You sure that EMP didn't fry his brain?” Jessica Lovecraft inquired. “He's almost....happy---”

“Don't kid yourself, Beacon,” Tom muttered. “He's happy because he knows I'm going to hate him for what he's about to do...and that EMP wouldn't have done shit to him anyways...” He leaned aginst the wall, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried not to think about Oberon's idea of “alternative transportation”. “I should've known he'd go for something like this, ever since he 'gave' everyone their own armor....I knew he wanted this to happen, but I never thought he'd get a chance....”

“You're making it sound like a big deal, Tom.” James Lucas Lassiter took a seat on the floor next to the Major, hoping to reassure his fellow Field Agent that the situation wasn't a total loss. “It might be something cool, like BMX bikes---”

Tom glared at James. “You're way off, Talon. Way, way off.”

“So, no bikes, then....still, it could be---”

“WHAT PART OF IT AREN'T YOU GETTING?! Full body armor, with helmets....melee weapons like swords, axes and friggin' clubs....put TWO AND TWO together, and see what the logical conclusion is!”

Nobody said a word after that.”
------------------------------
Celine wanted to throw up.

Even during her tenure with the Baron (who was practically a master showman when it came to vulgar displays of power), she'd never felt the urge to be violently ill---even after watching the Epsilon tests---but this.....

….this was just wrong.

Fifteen fembots, without names or personalities of their own, had been sent to their deaths by Björn Aaberg on the grounds of “testing the waters”. Their processors had been crisped by the localized EMP, their hard drives wrecked beyond repair...and the saddest part of it all was that none of the fembots even knew that they were dying. They had no comprehension of what was happening to them.

Björn, of course, didn't care. As soon as the fifteen were lost, he'd made a call to have fifteen more activated.

Even as she watched the newly-activated fembots march towards certain doom, Celine knew that she couldn't intervene. The House needed her, now more than ever...sentiment be damned. There would be time enough to mourn for the lost when the mission was through.

As Björn shouted orders and prepared for his “inevitable victory”, Celine buried her emotions and kept working.

Stay strong, sister....just stay strong......
------------------------------
“No....just....no.”

Few of the other Field Agents shared Major Tom's displeasure with Oberon's choice of ride as they emerged into the parking lot; “I think they're kind of cool, actually,” Jessica beamed. “Beauty and nobility, grace and power all rolled into one.”

“Agreed.” Talon was considerably more enthused than the Major about the new mounts. “Seriously, this is just awesome---you made it sound like he got us a bunch of Segways or---”

“HE GOT US HORSES!” the Major shouted. “I HAVE A BUSTED LEG, AND HE GOT US HORSES!”

Oberon laughed off the protests. “I keep forgetting that the Major doesn't approve of riding anything that has a mind of its own,” he teased. “Despite his preferences for sat-nav, A.I.-assisted driving and other perks...or is it just that you don't---”

“I have a busted leg,” Tom growled. “I've been walking with a damn cane ever since one of Bradford's stupid fembots kicked me in the shin back in May---you've seen me with the cane, for crap's sake!”

“You don't have it now,” Oberon countered.

“I'M WEARING A KNEE BRACE RIGHT NOW!”

“Well, you can still ride a horse with a knee-brace---”

“NO! I AM NOT GETTING ON SOME DAMN THOROUGHBRED JUST BECAUSE YOU WANT TO TURN A FIELD OP INTO LORD OF THE FUCKING RINGS!” The Major nearly fell over as he turned on his heel to storm back into the building. “I am NOT riding into San Jose State University on a HORSE....I'll call Brian and ask him to lend me one of his motorcycles, or something, but I am NOT going anywhere on a damn horse---”

Once again, Oberon laughed off the complaints. “Horses are proud and noble creatures, Major. You should give them a chance.” He strode over to a steed with a pure white coat and mane; “You're also forgetting that horses have a few advantages over using cars,” he continued. “One, cars are predictable---nearly anything you can do with a car to attack can be dodged, outrun or simply avoided, and then you're the one left looking like a plonk while your enemy stands around laughing at you. Horses are unpredictable, and therefore not as succeptible to getting telegraphed by the enemy. Two, cars tend to break down, and if you roll a car, you've got about fifteen seconds to scarper before the thing goes up in a fireball. Horses, meanwhile, don't run that risk, though they do hurt like hell if they roll on top of you. I think I could go on, but you get the idea.” He gave his most impish grin yet. “So....feel like playing Aragorn?”

Major Tom growled, but managed to refrain from swearing as he made his way over to the horses. “These things had a flea bath before you brought them out here, right?” he quietly asked.

“The police department I borrowed them from takes care of that,” Oberon replied. “And before anyone starts whinging about me borrowing horses from the cops, allow me to remind you all that we are, in effect, law enforcers for our own particular subset of the community, so it all works out in the end....and just to make sure your question is answered, Major, yes, the horses have, in fact, been given flea baths.”

“Good.” With one last glare at the other Field Agents, the Major stepped into the stirrups and managed to right himself in the saddle of the horse he'd reluctantly chosen to ride. “If this thing throws me---”

“It won't!” Oberon laughed. “It's not going to hurl you into a shrubbery at the first chance it gets!”

The Major wasn't smiling. “It damn well better not,” he intoned, fighting an urge to make threats involving glue factories. “I just want to get to SJSU and get back without having my shinbones splintered or anything....and speaking of getting to SJSU---”

“Cripes, I nearly forgot,” Oberon muttered. “RIGHT---everyone, mount up! The student population of SJSU has been told to stay indoors, so there's no need to worry about civilian casualties...at least, no need to worry about our side accidentally contributing to any civilian casualties.” In one swift, graceful move, he mounted the white steed and grasped the reins, steadying the horse as the other Field Agents managed to not break their backs trying to mount their own horses. “NOW....WE RIDE!”

With the Agents lending their voices to the battle cry, Oberon led the charge out of the parking lot, laughing all the way.

“He's nuts,” Major Tom muttered. “Absolutely freaking nuts....” He sighed, glancing at his own horse. “Right, time to get things moving....giddyap!” He tugged at the reins, waiting for the horse to gallop into the frey with its brethren...only to groan as the animal stood there, pawing at the ground. “Oh, for crap's sake---GO!” Again, the horse stared at the pavement. “MOVE,” the Major yelled. “RUN! GALLOP! GO FORTH AND ALL THAT CRAP!”

Predictably, the horse did nothing.

“Damnit to hell---” Tom lightly tapped the horse's flanks with his own heels. “Get moving alread---FUCK!”

In that instant, the horse went from a motionless beast of burden to a steed worthy of Apollo, taking off at a gallop that nearly sent the Starman falling to the ground. “SHIT---SLOW DOWN! STOP! BRAKE, FOR THE LOVE OF---” The Major's curse was cut short as he shifted to avoid getting decapitated by a stop sign.

When this is over, Oberon, you and I are going to have a little talk about “alternative transportation”.....

A few harrowing minutes later, Tom's horse rejoined the group---specifically, it re-entered the fray alongside Oberon's own mount. “You seem to be enjoying yourself,” the ALPA Chairman beamed. “I knew you'd come round to appreciating the sheer majesty of horse-riding---”

“Save it for the brochure,” the Major shouted. “This damn thing nearly shot out from under me---”

“You did the heel thing, didn't you?” Oberon laughed. “You hit its flanks with your heels...I knew it.”

“What's so damn funny?!”

“Oh, nothing...except that particular horse has a certain...dislike for being smacked on the flanks---”

“YOU COULD'VE TOLD ME THAT BEFORE WE LEFT!”

The smile on Oberon's face faded slightly. “You should be thanking me for not telling you, Major...we need every bit of levity and humor we can get before we get to San Jose State University.” His grin widened once again; “Of course,” he added, “if you want me to give you the cold shoulder until we get there---”

“NEVER MIND! Just....” Somehow, the Major couldn't bring himself to stay angry. “Thanks.”

“Don't mention it. And good job not falling off, by the way...the Lone Ranger would be proud.”

“Yeah, yeah...don't get any ideas about calling me Kemosabe, though, or I'll kick you off your horse.”

The Major's intentionally-poor threat earned him another laugh from Oberon. “That's the spirit, Major---now, ONWARDS TO DESTINY!” He spurred his horse onward, with the other Field Agents following suit (and thanking God for the advance notice issued to civilians asking them to clear the streets). Somehow or other, the sight actually looked pretty...majestic, for lack of a better term.

And I thought today was going to be boring.....
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“...unbelievable.”

Clive DuBraul stared, already feeling the urge to swear, at the ten 18-wheelers parked outside the peremiter fence of the ALPA Headquarters. “He's an absolute maniac....he's not even being subtle about it anymore.”

“I don't think subtlety is something he does well,” Cedric muttered. “After the incursionary group in the garage was beaten with the EMP, he figured it might be a good idea to use...somewhat bolder tactics.” He turned away as the trailers of the 18-wheelers opened, revealing racks of fembots within. “Still,” he admitted, “I never thought he'd go as far as to try something like this.”

“It doesn't matter what he tries. The important thing is that we keep those fembots out.”

V.I.C.I.'s robotic monotone prompted a weary nod from DuBraul, and a surprised glance from Cedric. “It's a thing she does sometimes,” DuBraul explained. “Helps her...get into character, so to speak.”

The brunette gynoid nodded her agreement. “Removing the 'human factor' helps me to gain a pure analtyical perspective on things before I take any action,” she added. “Also...it just sounds cool.” She giggled a bit, slipping back into her human voice. “And there's the whole intimidation factor---”

“I get it,” Cedric replied.

“Good....because we're not here to talk about my vocal stylings." V.I.C.I. stepped up to the window, her gaze impassive as the fembots were deployed from the trailers. “Aaberg wants to overwhelm the building by sending as many of the fembots as he can at once,” she stated. “Judging from the fact that none of the fembots are armed with any sort of firearms or even melee weapons, his logic centers around them using sheer brute force to incapacitate and demoralize as many Field Agents as possible.”

DuBrual gave the slightest of nods. “And what are your thoughts on his logic?”

“His plan is...flawed.” The barest hint of a smirk crossed V.I.C.I.'s face. “Relying on intimidation instead of a solid tactical approach show that Aaberg has deviated from Hannsen's original intentions---the original plan likely involved sending all fembots to San Jose State University.”

The intel that Björn Aaberg was the one controlling the fembots had only been received minutes earlier, just as Oberon and his group left for SJSU; as such, the idea that the fembots were deviating from Hannsen's plans wasn't as difficult to accept as it may have been.

Still, there was one pressing issue...”Why would Aaberg have so many more fembots attack us directly?”

“Simple.....he's after me.”

Vicki's answer drew another surprised look from Cedric.

“I didn't just bust into the compound and kick Hannsen to the curb in Dawley,” the brunette gynoid admitted, “I wrecked Aaberg's stupid 'gun show', too. He lost a pretty big chunk of his inventory thanks to me, and I took out at least two members of his crew---one augmented human, one gynoid. I'd be more surprised if he wasn't sending all those fembots here, to be honest---it'd mean he had another target besides me.”

“Makes sense,” DuBraul reasoned.

“Agreed,” Cedric offered, “but wouldn't it have been easier for him to just...send his crew after you?”

Vicki shook her head. “I have a feeling Aaberg was drafted into this, so running away from it wasn't exactly an option. If he does have the alternative of just bowing out, he'll wait until he's done as much damage as he can possibly do.”

“I think his main focus is on doing damage right now, to be honest,” Cedric noted. “Namely, doing damage to this building---”

Something impacted the wall outside with enough force to shake the room, prompting worried glances from DuBraul and Cedric---and an arched eyebrow from Vicki. “He's having them jump the fences,” she noted, her voice barely showing any concern. “Interesting tactic...especially since he decided not to arm the fembots with any distance weapons....or any weapons at all, to be honest.”

Even as she said the words, DuBraul smiled. “Indeed. Cedric, if you would...”

The ALPA VP nodded, his concerned look giving way to a smile as he activated yet another app on his iPhone and stood away from the window. “You might want to stand back,” he warned Vicki, “and cover your eyes.”

“Way ahead of you,” V.I.C.I. replied. “Deactivating optical sensors...”

DuBraul and Cedric nodded, donning specially-designed goggles just as a blinding flash erupted from outside the building---accompanied by blood-curdling screams. “Think we ramped the voltage up a bit too high this time,” DuBraul remarked. “Maybe you could tone it down after this is all over with...just to make sure we don't overload the power grid for the entire block.”

“Leave me a memo,” Cedric suggested. “I can add it to my to-do-list after we're done here.”

Fifteen seconds after the blinding light first kicked on, it ceased entirely. “Well, that was...anti-climactic,” Cedric mused. “Miss Lawson---”

“You can call me Vicki,” the brunette gynoid reminded him. “And I figured the light show was over as soon as the power input from all those 'bug-zappers' hidden in the walls outside dropped...I just didn't think it would be as effective as it was.” After a few quiet clicks from her eyes, she blinked a few times, making sure her sensors hadn't malfunctioned during the activation of the “bug-zappers”. “Well, I can still see,” she smirked, “so that's a good sign....though I'm guessing it's not exactly good news for the fembots playing sidewalk pizza down there.”

“Sidewalk pizza” was a somewhat polite way of putting it, considering that the fembots who'd just been trying to climb the wall had effectively been reduced to piles of vaguely human-shaped debris on the concrete. Even with the technological advances that Drake Bradford had managed to give them (especially when compared to the original Franklin fembots), a fall off the side of a building was still enough to render them useless.

Had they been even remotely sentient, Vicki might've felt sorry for them.

“No love for the poor, broken dolls?” Faceless' voice taunted. “One could almost think you didn't care about ending their pathetic, worthless, meaningless lives....if what they had even was life...”

Vicki's eyes never left the window. “How many more are down there?”

“I'd say about twenty-five,” Cedric replied, “maybe thirty...possibly even more than that.”

“And they're all coming to kill you,” Faceless taunted. “Poor, sweet, innocent Victoria Ann-Smith Lawson---”

“Can the building stand another external charge?” the brunette gynoid asked.

Cedric sighed. “Stand it, yes....generate it, no. I wasn't kidding about overloading the grid earlier---”

“Then we may have a problem. If they try another jump like that last one, there's a pretty high possibility they could break through the wall, or even just aim for the window and get in that way. They'll tear the building apart if they have to, just to get at us...to get at me.”

DuBraul frowned. “So what exactly do you suggest?”

“That we keep moving,” Vicki replied. “Room to room---floor to floor, if necessary---to throw them off our trail and hopefully lose them. They probably have just enough sensor upgrades to be able to follow us anyways, but moving all over the building will confuse them...at least, I hope it will,” she finished, grinning nervously.

A few seconds of silence later, Cedric and DuBraul nodded their approval.

“Right, so now that we're all on the same page...you two head down the hall. I'll catch up in a minute.”

The President and Vice President of the ALPA hesitated just long enough for Vicki to give them a half-annoyed glance; “If you two are still in here when the fembots try to bust in through the window,” she reminded them, “it's not exactly a stretch of the imagination to think they'll come for you first.” ...and seeing as how I've already lost one friend in Singapore, and another friend's mom in the UK....not to mention losing Dianne last year...

“Trying to keep them from getting obliterated?” Faceless taunted. “How noble---and utterly pathetic---of you...”

Vicki watched DuBraul and Harcourt leave the room, waiting until they were out of sight; once the door had shut behind them, she crossed the room, taking her seat at a computer desk. “Control panel, open.” In seconds, her shirt was lifted just enough to plug in a USB cord to a port in her back---with the other end going into the HP desktop sitting on the desk. Her fingers flew over the keyboard, even as the nonsensical jabbering of the fembots on the outer wall got louder.

“So this is your big plan, Vicki?” the figure of Faceless scoffed. “Sitting at a computer, doing absolutely nothing?!”

The brunette gynoid ignored the taunting, choosing instead to use the HP in a manner that the manufacturers probably hadn't intended---browsing her own brain (or processors and hard drive, technically speaking). Even as the fembots neared the window, Vicki managed to find yet another snippet of code left over from Faceless' attack in July, smiling as she dragged the tainted file (which had already been rendered obsolete by her upgrade) to the desktop's trash can. “How many times are you and I going to go through this?” she asked, not bothering to address the phantom figure of the white-masked killer face-to-face.

“As many times as it takes, Vicki,” the flickering Faceless growled. “I'll break your mind and your body---”

“Not today,” Vicki countered, her finger hovering over the “empty recycle bin” button. “At least, not now.”

Before the not-there Faceless could utter a single syllable against her, she clicked the mouse....

….and the file vanished, taking the “ghost” of Faceless with it.

Something about the sheer absurdity of what had just happened prompted Vicki to grin. “Three for me,” she whispered, “and none for---”

Two feet away from the computer desk, a section of the wall erupted in a shower of dust. Vicki didn't bother waiting for the haze to clear, instead focusing on heat signatures and energy outputs from anything on the other side of the cloud; sure enough, three ridiculously ramped-up power cell signatures appeared as blazing lights in an otherwise dull landscape. Guess they've been upgraded from Bradford's default specs.... not that I'm worried, or anything.

One of the fembots had stopped droning on about shoe prices (apparently, their processors had been so badly scrambled by their “conditioning” that they barely even knew where they were at the moment) long enough to notice Vicki, shouting gleefully about a “bargain” (so they think I'm a pair of shoes now?! Great...). The other fembots, not surprisingly, took notice of the brunette gynoid and prepared to close in for the kill.

Unfortunately for all of them, their “prey” had other ideas entirely.

The first of the fembots was introduced face-first to the wall, incapacitating her rather effectively; before Vicki even had time to gloat over her accomplishment, the other two closed the gap and grabbed her by the arms, most likely to rip her in half like a cheap stuffed toy or a bargain-bin Barbie knockoff. Whatever their plans, the fembots had more than likely forgotten that their target also had legs---which allowed her to kick her way out of one fembot's grip, and spin-kick the other to the floor---minus one arm. Apparently, the fallen fembot had never thought to let go of her target before getting knocked over.

Wouldn't surprise me in the least---

Vicki's train of thought was violently interrupted by the fembot she'd kicked away from earlier grabbing her from behind in a bearhug, which was more than likely intended to shatter her ribs and probably make it difficult to breathe. Had she been human, the attack would've worked....

….but given her titanium endoskeleton and the fact that breathing wasn't necessary for her, it failed completely.

Again, she found herself thankful that her opponents weren't sentient to any degree---even if they had been sentient, at any point before, the “conditioning” had stripped away anything remotely resembling sanity, reason or morality. They probably didn't even notice when I scanned them as they punched their way in, the brunette gynoid realized. Good thing, too, otherwise they'd start using attacks designed to hurt me, and not just any random humans they may come across.

Even as the fembot continued trying to squeeze the breath out of her lungs, Vicki drove a hard kick towards her attacker and nailed the other gynoid in the shin. Something within the fembot's leg shattered, forcing her to collapse to the floor; her grip on Vicki only loosened when her artificial spine jammed against the baseboard. If that doesn't stop her from coming after me.... All thoughts of the downed fembot pursuing her left Vicki's mind as the first fembot she'd attacked, the one who'd been slammed face-first into the wall, slowly pulled away from where her face had been smashed. The wall had sustained a massive dent, but the fembot had definitely taken the brunt of the blow---the left side of her face was now contorted in a permanent sneer, the eye stuck in a wide-open, deer-in-headlights look that gave her a somewhat demented appearance.

They don't feel it, Vicki reminded herself. They have no concept of pain, life or death....they've been reduced to tools in humanoid form...

In the back of her mind, a brief prayer filtered through her thoughts: Dad....forgive me for what I'm about to---

The fembot with a missing arm jumped past the fembot with the damaged face, clawing at Vicki while screeching about tire inflation and other unrelated matters. Vicki ramped up the Detaining Grip in her right hand, muttering “I'm sorry” under her breath...right before jamming her fingers in the attacking fembot's eye sockets and letting loose with a burst of electricity, frying her processors in seconds. Even as the one-armed fembot crumpled, the other two turned their attention to Vicki, jabbering excitedly.

Well, at least they know I'm a threat now.....

The fembot with the broken back---which gave her an inhumanly-contorted appearance as she twisted her torso back-and-forth, side-to-side and in other motions in an effort to straighten out her ruined spine---took a few halting steps towards Vicki, her arms outstretched in the classic “zombie walk” pose. The smashed-face fembot, meanwhile, grabbed her fallen comrade's arm, made some comment to the effect of saying what a nice flower it was, then swung the limb at Vicki like a macabre baseball bat. Needless to say, the blow never connected---a far cry from the backfist that hammered into the fembot's torso as a response to the pathetic “attack”, sending the fembot to the floor in a gibbering heap.

Once again, Vicki mused, stepping carefully over her fallen opponent, I am so glad they're not sentient---if I actually felt sorry for these things---

A pair of unfeeling hands closed around her throat, accompanied by a high-pitched squeel of “TURKEY!”; the fembot with the broken back apparently thought Vicki was someone's Thanksgiving dinner, meant to have her neck wrung before getting the axe.

Think of the cold, Lawson...just keep thinking of the cold......

Vicki squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to focus on everything cold---and channeling those thoughts into her temperature regulation program. Even as the fembot's grip on her neck tightened, Vicki's internal body heat began decreasing to levels that would've been fatal to a human being---and as luck would have it, those same internal temperatures had a surprising effect on the fembot's skin. Despite the apparent upgrades to the fembots' power cells, Aaberg (or Hannsen, or whoever had been in charge of the upgrades) had failed to properly weather-proof the fembots for cold-weather environments; thus, the hands that were still trying to wring the life out of Vicki now froze up completely, the skin turning to something only slightly less pliable than the average wetsuit.

Out of the corner of her eye, Vicki noticed something that she initially took to be another hallucination---until she remembered her HUD's message notification system. Who the hell is calling me now?! Shaking away her annoyance, she cued up the note....

Vicki,
The fembots are breaching more floors of the building than just the one you're on.
It's time to stop thinking and fighting like a human being...and start fighting like what you are.
Prof. Anton Malvineous.

The note faded from her vision, leaving her with a much clearer understanding of what she had to do.

Ignoring the fembot's continued attempt to strangle her, V.I.C.I reached back, blindly grabbing at her attacker's torso until she felt synthetic flesh in each hand. Her grip tightened, and in seconds---before the fembot could even notice what was happening---V.I.C.I ripped away chunks of artificial skin and the vital components that had been installed beneath them. Every servo in the fembot's body seized up at once, a stream of garbled static emanating from her mouth as her death-grip on V.I.C.I.'s neck finally went slack.

“Two down,” V.I.C.I muttered, “too many more to go.”

Even as she said the words, more fembots climbed into the room from the gaping hole in the wall. They eyed the brunette gynoid with the air of wolves staring at a potential meal, ignoring whatever passed for logic in their broken minds.

“As a famous guy once said,” V.I.C.I deadpanned, turning to face her attackers with a smirk, “you want some---”

Her intended trash-talk was violently interrupted when the smashed-face fembot jumped on her back, yelling like a chimpanzee and raking her fingernails across her face. “GET OFF!” Her myogel-enhanced reflexes allowed V.I.C.I to pry the insane fembot off of herself and fling her into the crowd, knocking a few fembots to the floor like bowling pins. “NEVER do that again,” she warned, not caring that her attackers probably didn't even understand what she was saying. Not surprisingly, the rest of the fembots decided to charge forward as a surging mass of flailing limbs and screaming faces. There was no intelligence in their movements, nothing even remotely resembling logic, reason or rhythm; the “conditioning” inflicted upon the fembots had robbed them of those functions.....

...which made Anton's advice to “fight like a machine” invaluable. V.I.C.I found herself countering and blocking every attack with ease. Without the threat of being revealed as an android to force her into limiting her strength and speed, the brunette gynoid became, in every sense of the word, a perfect fighting machine.

It. Was. ON.

The closest fembot in the group wound up staggering backwards, missing ¾ of her face---she'd stupidly tried to bite V.I.C.I on the arm during the melee. Three other fembots closed the gap where the bitey fembot had been, all of them tearing at V.I.C.I.'s outfit in vain. None of them came away with bits of her uniform---though they did fall backwards with a few less appendages than they'd had before. Between the three, eight fingers, two eyes and a lower jaw had been removed, gouged out or torn off.

And still they kept coming.

V.I.C.I. ramped up the intensity of her attacks, going from simple gouging and tearing moves to hammer-blows meant to shatter internal power cells, knife-hand strikes with enough force to split skulls, and her own style of calculated brutality that would put any cage-fighter to shame.

They're not human. They don't even think like humans do, and they want you dead. Show no mercy.

That mantra repeated itself in V.I.C.I.'s mind with every attack, driving her every punch and kick home with unrestrained force. When one of the fembots ran to the far side of the room and tried to pounce, lion-like, on V.I.C.I, the brunette gynoid shoved two other attacking fembots aside and grabbed the pouncing fembot out of the air, slamming her into the floor in a perfect powerslam. The remaining fembots swarmed over their broken “sister” to resume their onslaught against V.I.C.I, ignoring the stricken fembot's last twitching throes before she went limp.

None of them got close enough to even scratch their target.

Kicks, punches, elbows, knees, palm strikes and even headbutts---all delivered at speeds and strengths no human being could hope to match without getting ramped up on steroids---repelled every attempt by the mob of fembots to get anywhere near V.I.C.I to do any sort of damage. Each move left the “aggressors” more and more damaged; every time they fell back, the fembots were missing a limb here, part of a face there. A few of them sustained gaping holes in their torsos, and at least one fembot had her head effectively crushed like a watermelon in V.I.C.I.'s vise-like grip.

In short, the “fight” was less of an actual fight and more along the lines of a WWE squash match.

Less than 30 minutes had elapsed between DuBraul and Harcourt leaving the room and the end of what could only be called a total beatdown of the fembots; within that time, more of the afflicted 'bots had probably made their way into the building---if Anton's message was anything to go by, they weren't just interested in Vicki, either. Running through the entire building, battling fembots as she went, wasn't going to be enough---it would take a full knowledge of where the fembots were concentrating their attacks, how to get to those areas as fast as possible, and keeping the collateral damage to a minimum.

Considering the fembots' actions, that last part was going to be the hardest to adhere to.

Vicki kicked one downed fembot's torso away from herself and pinged Anton's phone with her internal WiFi modem, hoping the signal would encourage him to call her again; sure enough, her own phone rang ten seconds later. “I'm guessing you got my message?”

“I did. The fembots that tried to breach the building through the wall on this side have been dealt with---”

“They're not trying to breach the building, Vicki,” Anton corrected. “From what we've been able to gather, the fembots have been deployed to attack specific areas, not just randomly striking at the building as a whole; my theory is that they're attempting to shut off the security systems---”

“Tell me the rest later---I'm on my way.” Vicki ended the call, already dreading what would happen when she reached Anton. Hate to break it to you, Professor, but I think your theory may be a bit flawed---and I really wish it wasn't. Ignoring the last, spastic twitches of the broken fembots, Vicki left the room.

She really didn't want to think of what might happen if she didn't reach Anton in time.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[Uhoh]

The story keeps blasting ahead with such fervor, I'm so stoked for more... keep it up!

[DollSpace]

Ticks all the boxes for me, Duke, especially suspense. *patiently taps her foot and waits for the next part....*