The V.I.C.I. Diaries: Valley of the Damned (Part 10)

[DukeNukem 2417]

Get up.

Even though she could still feel every part of her body, Vicki somehow couldn't will herself to actually stand up and walk away. Get up, damnit....you're stronger than this!

“Don't be so sure of that....Vicki.”

The brunette gynoid couldn't help but wince as the figure of Faceless strode into view. “It actually hurts, doesn't it, Agent Lawson?” he taunted. “Not just the pain that you're feeling....no, I'm talking about the mental anguish. The feeling of sheer, utter, total defeat....that kind of pain can last...forever.” He knelt down next to Vicki, shaking his head; “All the trouble that I went through just to kill you back in July,” he admonished, “and you have to die like this....”

“I'm not dead,” Vicki growled. “And you're not even here---”

“Must we fall into this debate again?!” Faceless groaned. “It doesn't matter if I'm 'not here'....what matters is that you will die, and it won't be at my hand---”

“I WON'T DIE!” Those three words, by themselves, seemed to do more to reinvigorate Vicki than any charge-up or repair ever could. “I'm not dying, I'm not going to die, and I won't die any time soon,” she declared, sitting up (slowly, to avoid damaging herself by way of overexertion) and turning to glare at the image of Faceless. “You're just a figment of code left in me by some stupid trick---controlled by a broken man chained to a bed who had someone just as psychotic as he is put a router in his back.”

To her annoyance, the phantom of Faceless only chuckled. “As always, you vastly underestimate the scope---”

“SHUT UP.” Carefully, Vicki eased herself into a standing position, once again turning to face her tormentor after she did so. “How many times are we going to have to do this? How many times do I have to delete your stupid code fragments and----”

She stopped, realizing that she'd answered her own question. “Of course.....it's so simple....”

“You're talking to yourself again, Agent Lawson,” Faceless taunted. “Of course, given the fall you just---”

“Six times,” Vicki cut in. “You've appeared to me six times already today....and everyone knows what number you're obsessed with....” She laughed. “I can't believe I didn't figure it out sooner....big bad Faceless is obsessed with the number seven, and he shows up in my head six times....” Her laugh faded along with her smile. “...except there won't be a seventh time.”

“So now you're threatening a ghost, Vicki?” Faceless sneered. “You actually think you can hurt me?”

“To be honest....I don't have to.” V.I.C.I.'s smirk said more than any words have; her stare could've bored a hole through the figure of Faceless as she continued. “You've been exploiting everything that's part of me as a machine,” she admitted, “and I have to admit---some of what you've done has, in fact, been borderline clever....but you always seem to forget that I'm not just a machine---”

“All you are is a worthless machine!” Faceless hissed. “You are nothing but a useless robot---”

“Wrong. I'm not just a machine.....I'm Ted Lawson's daughter.” She smiled at the last word. “Every good dad steps in when their daughters need help....and my dad, in my own personal opinion, is the best I could ever hope to have.” She cocked her head to the side slightly; “You get all that, Dad?” she asked.

“Loud and clear, sweetheart,” Ted replied. “I assume you're ready to execute your sixth code purge today?”

With one last sly glance at the phantom of Faceless, V.I.C.I. nodded. “Ready.”

“You....think he'll save you from me?!” Faceless leered. “You actually think that feeble old man---”

“My dad is not feeble,” V.I.C.I countered, “and he's not old. He's the reason why I joined the ALPA, and why I keep fighting freaks and weirdos like you....he's living proof that human beings and machines have nothing to fear from each other.”

“Oh, but you have everything to fear---”

“Don't even finish that sentence. You're a manifestation of residual audio/visual data from my internal memory, given form and voice by way of malicious code left in my systems by a psychopathic serial killer who stabbed me through my primary processors with a pair of tricked-out blades specifically designed to leave that code in me. You're less than a ghost, you just barely qualify as a figment of my imagination, and you're not going to do anything to hurt anyone here----especially me.”

A slight pause.... “Oh, and for the record, you may want to talk to someone about your numerical fixation when and if you ever get out of the hospital.”

Faceless growled, reared back for a lunge....

…..and vanished into thin air.

“And that's Code Purge Number Six,” Vicki beamed. “Dad, thanks for all the help.”

“No problem, sweetie...you might want to check up on your friends, though.”

Vicki's grin temporarily faded as she noticed Elena laying face down on the floor. “Right....good call.” She moved to kneel at the Russian gynoid's side; “You okay, Elena?” she whispered. “Elena....can you hear me---”

“Just because my face is against the floor, it does not mean my auditory sensors are offline.”

The deadpanned response prompted a grin from the brunette gynoid. “Figured you'd survive a fall like that,” she teased. “So, let's get you uuuuuuooooooh my GOD, what happened to your arm?!” Even as Elena turned to get a look at her “injury”, Vicki moved to lift the massive chunk of the fallen ceiling that had landed on her left arm. “That.....may take some time to repair,” the Russian agent admitted. “Still, we can leave it---”

“I'm not letting you leave here with one arm,” Vicki insisted. “We can get you out of here....wait a minute. I didn't see Aaron land.” She scanned the area for human life signs; “I'm not picking up anything,” she gasped.

“The dust from the ceiling collapse may be interfering with your sensors,” Elena offered. “Perhaps---”

Her words fell on deaf ears as Vicki ran to the other side of the room, throwing chunks of ceiling and hoping to find Aaron alive. “The ceiling didn't crush him,” she whispered, “it can't have crushed him, it buckled inward, it didn't land on top of him...” She stopped when she noticed a mangled security camera on the floor. “I can use this,” she muttered. “If it saw what happened to Jason, I can use this---link up to the building's security servers and make sure he's okay...” Her back panel whirred open, allowing her to unspool a cable to connect to a port on the camera's back.

“I take it you're not going to share the footage with me?” Elena inquired.

Vicki tossed her a second cable. “Link up if you can---I'll use a splitter so we can both watch.”

Elena managed to open a panel on her left side and hook up the cable. “If all we see is him getting flattened by ceiling chunks,” she warned, “this whole endeavor will have been for nothing...”

“I prefer to keep my thinking on the positive side,” Vicki countered. “Now, then....”

The connector point from the splitter cable fit easily into the back of the camera, allowing Vicki and Elena to watch the footage from the last 50 minutes without needing a full monitor. Even better, the camera---as with all cameras used in the ALPA's headquarters---was a full-color digitil camera, meaning the two gynoids wouldn't have to sit through grainy black-and-white footage trying to pick out a blob of pixels that might or might not be Aaron Cardwell.

Almost as soon as the clip started, it was obvious that Aaron (and Billy Jean, whom Vicki had seen fit to not mention for...rather obvious reasons) had, indeed, fallen from the above floor. With that in mind, the sight of Billy's left shin getting impaled on a bit of rebar was still more than a bit graphic.

Aaron, thankfully, had only been knocked unconscious on a patch of floor near the corner of the room....the exact same area, in fact, where Vicki was standing at that moment.

A half-formed thought of “If he was here earlier, where is he now?” made its way in and out of the brunette gynoid's processors---just as something truly unexpected appeared on the camera. A silver-and-purplish blur entered the frame from the upper right-hand corner of the room (where Vicki had noticed a door after forcing herself to stand up), approached both Aaron and Billy at speeds too fast for even the camera to detect, and then....picked them up. Even more incredible, the figure then left through the same door it had entered from.

“Any chance you can slow that down?” Elena asked.

“If the camera was made better, I'd be able to,” Vicki admitted, “but as it is....I can't. Seriously, it's a miracle I was able to get any picture off of it as it is...” She disconnected the cable from the camera, her back panel whirring closed as she did so. “We may have to ask about it later on...”

She moved to lift the ceiling chunk off of Elena, prompting a chuckle from the downed Russian gynoid. “You seem to forget that I'm fully capable of freeing myself,” she admonished. I appreciate your concern for my well being, Agent Lawson....” She tried---in vain---to move the chunk of debris off of her arm. “I might have under-estimated how badly damaged my arm is,” she muttered. “I...can't actually feel any of the fingers on my left hand...”

“Just be glad that thing didn't land on your leg,” Vicki reminded her. “Give me a second...” She gripped the underside of the ceiling chunk. “I'll lift it on three, so be ready to move your hand out from under that thing as fast as you can. One.......two----”

The “lift” was more like an unintentional “fling across the room”, as Vicki's myogel-enhanced strength sent the chunk of ceiling flying into the opposite wall. “Note to self,” she muttered, “dial it down a bit next time...and WHAT THE HELL?!” One look at Elena's hand made it all too clear why she couldn't feel her fingers: every part of her left hand had been crushed, bent, pulverized or otherwise wrecked beyond belief by the ceiling bit that had fallen on it. “When this is over with,” the brunette gynoid mused, “I'm asking Oberon to use lighter materials for the ceilings around here.” A brief thought about the trade-off between ceiling weight and using something that could hold up the floor above passed through her processors...and vanished just as quickly.

“I assume our course of action still revolves around reaching Professor Malvineous?” Elena mused.

Vicki nodded as she looked away from the Russian gynoid's ruined hand “It's more important now,” she added, “seeing as how your hand effectively got flattened by that falling chunk of ceiling...” She observed the ruined room around them. “The only question is, how the heck are we going to make our way to him through this?”

“With help.”

Elena and Vicki turned, as one, to see the Man in Grey standing in the frame of a door across the room. “I can only guess that you two have questions as to why I'm here,” he rasped, “but there's no time for them now---the sooner you two get to Anton Malvineous, the better.”

“That's...pretty obvious,” Vicki admitted, “but you're right about us having questions---for one, why did you come back here after---”

“After saving your life in Detroit?” the Man spat. “After watching Claudia die at Faceless' hands?!”

A littany of retorts died on Vicki's tongue. “Claudia....died?!”

“We don't have time for this,” Elena protested. “You two can settle your differences later.” She glanced at the Man in Grey; “You said you could get us to the Professor,” she reminded him.

“I did.....”

“So why not leave the bickering for later and just help us get where we need to go?” Elena proposed. “There's no need for us to waste any time fighting with each other when we could be on our way to Anton?” She held up her ruined left hand; “I've already been damaged once,” she added, “and I don't think I need to remind you why I don't want to sustain further damage---”

“Why the hell didn't anyone tell me about Claudia before now?” Vicki demanded. “I only remember Dad saying something about casualties, and stuff---he never told me that Claudia had been killed---and he damn sure didn't mention about her getting killed off by Faceless!”

Even with Vicki's hands on his shoulders, the Man in Grey didn't flinch. “You'd suffered enough at the time---”

“Enough.” Elena glared at both the Man and Vicki in turn; “I would greatly appreciate it if both of you would set aside whatever past trauma you both went through and focus on what's happening now. I have a damaged hand, Agent Lawson needs to meet up with Anton and all of us need to get out of here before anything else collapses on top of us.”

The Man nodded his agreement. “There are still fembots running amok in this building,” he added. “If we linger here for too long....”

“Don't finish that sentence,” Vicki warned. “I already know how it's going to end anyways...” She paused, remembering the surveilance footage she'd seen from the camera. “Ah, did you happen to....run across anyone else on the way in here?” she asked. “Maybe someone wearing silver and purple, carrying two people with them? There were two others in the room that used to be over our heads before it, ah....collapsed on us, and that camera showed them getting lifted by, well, someone....or something....that carried them out of here before Elena and I recovered.”

“If anyone else was here,” the Man replied, “I never saw them.”

Well, that was just a waste of time.... “Fair enough. You want to lead, or should...I....WAIT UP, will you?!”

By the time Vicki eventually caught up with Elena and the Man in Grey, she realized that there was, in fact, a bit of merit to the Man's statement that the fembots hadn't left the building. “I'm guessing whoever sent them here decided to forgo the usual 'kill 'em all' policy and just tell them to wreck as much property as they could,” she mused. “Seriously, is there one wall around here that they didn't punch their way through? I mean, I'm glad they weren't punching holes in people, or anything....but this is a bit excessive.”

“I'm more concerned with the smell,” Elena countered. “Like someone plugged a dozen American hair dryers into European outlets....did they all malfunction at once, or something?”

“More than likely, their programming alterations have made them unstable,” the Man replied. “They continue to function, even after sustaining greivous bodily harm....unless someone stops them---”

“We get it,” Vicki cut in.

As their progress continued, the trio of Vicki, Elena and the Man found that, somehow, the further into the building they went, the less-damaged the corridors were. “Well, my hopes for not finding Anton cowering in the middle of a completely-trashed room are significantly higher than they were a few minutes ago,” the brunette gynoid mused. “At least we know the fembots haven't been this way yet.”

“Until now,” the Man in Grey intoned.

“What do you mean, 'until now'?! I---” Vicki followed the Man's unwavering gaze. “Oh......”

Fifteen fembots stood, unmoving, at the end of the corridor. None of them had the “jitters” or animalistic walks of the earlier fembots; the simply stood, silently, their unfeeling gaze locked on Vicki, Elena and the Man in Grey. “Please tell me I'm not the only one who finds this even the slightest bit creepy,” the brunette gynoid whispered.

“You're not,” the Man quietly replied.

Elena didn't even turn her head to look at the Man; “Are they even functioning?” she asked. “They're just standing there like they've been bricked---”

“They haven't.” Even as he stepped forward, the Man in Grey was motioning for Elena and Vicki to stay as far back as possible. “I'll deal with these---you two find Anton.”

Vicki stepped forward, ready to make the inevitable “We won't leave you here” comment, but Elena held her back; “He probably knows what he's doing,” she reminded him. “If we stay here and argue with him, Anton may end up in more danger than we are by the time we get to him....and seeing as how I most definitely don't want that to happen, I expect you don't either---”

“Of course I don't want it to happen,” Vicki agreed. “It's just...I don't want to leave him here---”

“I can handle this,” the Man assured her, his gaze never leaving the group of fembots in front of them. “You two should probably start running....otherwise, they'll mark you as targets along with me.”

Even as Elena backpedaled, Vicki refused to move. “You saved my life back in Detroit---”

“And if you stay here and let them target you,” the Man spat, barely turning to glare over his shoulder at the brunette gynoid, “you'll render that gesture null and void---NOW GO!”

“I won't let---”

Something in the ceiling rizzed angrilly, and Vicki barely had time to step back before a massive Perspex panel descended, narrowly missing her face. “Now, you have no choice,” the Man intoned, finally turning to face Vicki. “This is my fight, not yours. You and Elena must find Professor Malvineous---the longer you stay here and argue with me, the lesser your chances are of finding him alive.” Even with the mask still covering his face, it was clear that his earlier scowl was gone; “You've done enough as it is,” he murmured. “You've done more than enough.”

Somehow, despite the fact that she barely knew him, Vicki felt her eyes tearing up. “I....I don't know what to---”

“Go. Find Anton.....and do what you were programmed to do.”

As Elena's hand closed around her own,Vicki nodded. “I'll come back for you once this is over with,” she promised. “I'M NOT LEAVING YOU TO DIE HERE!” Her voice was a full-on sob now; “I won't let you die here,” she quietly repeated. “I can't.....”

“Vicki,” Elena whispered, “we have to go....”

The two gynoids backed away from the Perspex panel, though Vicki could barely feel herself being led further back into the corridor. “We can't leave him here,” she muttered. “We have to get in there and help him---”

“I have a feeling he doesn't need our help---”

“I'VE SEEN ENOUGH PEOPLE GET HURT BECAUSE OF THIS ALREADY!” Vicki screamed. “My best friend---my roommate---got a bullet through her forehead because of this, and she wasn't even involved! I don't....I.....” She collapsed against a wall. “I can't let anyone else die,” she moaned. “I don't want to lose anyone else....”

Elena glanced back at the Man in Grey---and the fembots at the far end of the hall, many of which were just beginning to acknowledge the existence of their target. “This is not about losing anyone, Agent Lawson,” she declared, only for Vicki to grab her by the shoulders. “Then tell me what it is about,” she growled. “This whole thing---all of it---wouldn't be happening if Sharon hadn't died....if Hannsen had picked someone---anyone else....” She slumped to the floor. “We have to get in there,” she droned. “We have to help him---”

Something slammed against the Perspex, cutting into the brunette gynoid's reverie.

“VICKI,” the Man in Grey shouted, “GO!”

“You hear that?” Elena snapped. “Even he knows you can't help him---he wants us to---”

“What did you just say?”

There was something about the flat, almost emotionless tone of Vicki's voice that made Elena realize she'd made a huge mistake with her choice of words...then again, she'd come back from even worse mistakes than this. “Even he knows you can't help him,” she repeated. “You can't win every fight...Vicki....you have to---”

A savage right jab smashed into the Russian gynoid's jaw. “I don't have to do anything,” V.I.C.I. coldly replied. “I'm not letting anyone else die because of this...” She strode over to the perspex panel, ready to shatter it with a single blow----and froze in place.

“Take her,” the Man in Grey instructed Elena. “Get her as far away from here as possible within the next five minutes, and don't tell her what happened.” He turned his attention to the fembots; “I haven't got much time,” he added. “If they see you, they'll ignore me and go straight for the Perspex---and that'll only hold out for so long....just make sure Vicki isn't here before the five minutes are up, please. I...I don't want her to see what's about to happen.”

“You could've used the EMP surge before,” Elena countered.

“It doesn't matter now,” the Man replied. “Just get her away from here....please....”

Elena nodded, grabbing Vicki under the armpits. “Take as many of them down as you can,” she adviesd, “and don't hesitate to break them in half if you get the chance.” She hesitated; “Why don't you want her to see this?” she inquired. “She's seen worse---she's done worse herself, to be honest....”

“She's had more than her share of nightmares already,” the Man in Grey solemnly replied. “I won't add to them with this...” He turned away. “Go. Get her to Anton, and get your hand repaired when you arrive---I can take care of this myself.”

“You're sure you can---”

“GO!”

Another panel of Perspex slammed down in front of Elena, ending the argument before it could begin.
------------------------------
“So....this is how it ends....”

The Man in Grey stared at the oncoming phalanx of fembots, feeling an all-too familiar sense of apprehension building as they made their way towards him---

“Something wrong?”

Two words, spoken as clearly as if someone were standing next to him, jolted the Man out of the present. Of course, he realized. The whole “life flashing before my eyes” bit...except I'm not dead yet, and it's not so much “flashing” as it is “replaying”.... He sighed as the memory came back to him, a faint image of a park slowly being superimposed over the hallway.

“You seem ill at ease, Publius,” the all-too familiar voice of Oberon mused. “After all you've been through, it seems the only thing truly terrifying to the Man in Grey is the prospect of holy 'settling down'.”

A second voice---his own, albiet younger (and without sounding like a man with a slashed throat)---replied: “If anyone around here had reason to be afraid of 'settling down', I figured it'd be you.” Even in his own thoughts, the event seemed to be playing itself out like a scene from a movie, complete with his past self striding alongside Oberon as they took in the sights and sounds at the park. “I never could see you as the family type, to be honest...”

“Family life doesn't suit me,” Oberon admitted. “You, on the other hand, have earned it....”

The scene appeared to fade---just as a fembot dove forward to plant a kick in the middle of the Man's head.

Countering the attack was almost reflexive---the Man easily hooked his arms around the incoming kick, moving forward and half-throwing the fembot to the ground. The move forward also propelled him into a roll, thus giving him more than enough room to avoud a double axe-handle smash that could've splintered his spine had it landed. Even as he came to a stop, he made sure to swing out an arm to bash the second fembot in the ankles, sending her to the floor just as two other fembots moved in to grab the Man by the arms.

Neither of them even got close.

One was dispatched with a flying kick to the head, with the other following soon after by way of a running clothesline into the move pro wrestling had termed the “running bulldog”. With both fembots out of action (and one going into the final spasms of a terminal malfunction), the Man turned his attention to the rest---

---and felt a sharp, stabbing pain in his side.

A blind elbow jab sent his attacker backpedalling, but it was already clear that the move had done some pretty severe damage. She hit me right in the kidney...broke the skin, even. The damnpess of his shirt only served to make him realize his mistake---Oberon always cautioned against staying still for too long after an attack. Stupid.... He shook his head, banishing the thought from his mind....except Oberon's words of wisdom were still echoing in his thoughts.

“Never allow yourself to be surrounded. If necessary, move over the enemy.”

The fembots had gathered around the Man in a circle, each of them prepared to lash out and wound him even worse than he already was. Had they struck while their target was still (apparently) weak, they might've won.

Instead, their “target” planted a solid kick to one fembot's forehead and used her as a stepping stone to leap over the rest, only just managing to avoid stumbling as he landed. “It takes more than cheap tricks to finish me,” he began, only for another pearl of wisdom to surface....

“One doesn't win a battle of wits with kicks to the face...and kicks to the face are more damaging than wit.”

Right....fight now, taunt later. The Man drew himself up, preparing for another attack---and found himself being forced to block a series of fast jabs that could've easily broken a lesser man's forearms.

“Don't rely exclusively on defense, even in retreat. Use everything at your disposal....”

Four feet away from his current position, the Man glimpsed a water fountain mounted to the wall. Even as the fembot attacking him continued to drive him back with jabs, he managed to slowly turn himself until he was at a perfect angle for a move that, admittedly, relied more on his opponent's mistake than his own skill. To his complete lack of surprise, the fembot did exactly what she shouldn't have---reared back for a punch meant to smash through his forehead and kill him instantly.

All too easy....

The blow never touched the Man---he allowed another shoulder roll to carry him out of the way.

Just as he'd expected, the fembot's wild punch slammed into the water fountain and sent a jet of water directly into her mouth, eyes and nostrils–-all orifices that, on any properly maintained gynoid, would've been sealed and waterproofed extensively to avoid leakages and direct pathways from the “throat” to the unit's internal electronics.

Seeing as how this was Matthew Hannsen's plan, of course....

It took less than five seconds for the spray of water to utterly ruin the fembot, shorting out every single internal component in her chest (and a few in her head as well). The thoroughly-drenched fembot collapsed in a smoking, shivering heap on the floor, even as her “sisters” charged forward to attack the Man in Grey.

“Removing one, even five opponents from the fight doesn't mean victory. Don't stop until all are down for the count.”

Once again, Oberon's words of wisdom reminded the Man that he was still in the fight until the end---which, given the blood seeping from his wounded side, might be coming sooner than expected. Redirecting the water spray at the other fembots would only buy him so much time....

“A wounded wolf is just as dangerous as a healthy one---the wounded have more to lose.”

Even as the words filtered through his thoughts, the Man knew that Oberon had been---and still was---right.

Ignoring the spreading stain on the side of his shirt, he charged at the fembots, clotheslining two more to the ground and bashing their heads together. An axe-handle smash from behind missed him by a full foot, earning the fembot responsible a kick to the midsection. Even as she stumbled backwards, tripping over her “sisters”, it never occurred to the fembot to simply sidestep or move out of the way of the second kick to her stomach; this time, she fell onto the water fountain itself---with the spout piercing her back, sending water directly into her internals and shorting her out even faster than her “sister” had been.

“Doors and windows can be closed and locked....but a hole in the wall stays open.”

Students of a lesser discipline would've thought of that particular plattitude as nonsense, but for the Man in Grey, it was all too clear: Make your own advantages if need be. Even with the fountain blocked off, the pipe connected to it was still working....

….and if the fountain could somehow be knocked off of its moorings.....

One of the fembots stupidly chose to run headfirst at the Man in Grey---directly into a bear-hug that flowed seamlessly into a suplex, planting the fembot directly into the fountain. The metal and plastic structure caved under the impact, its mounting failing completely.

Seconds later, the now unobstructed pipe blasted the thrown fembot in the face.

The Man turned away from the short-circuiting fembot just in time to dodge a wild haymaker from the last fembot standing. “So you're the last one left,” he mused. “Not particularly challenging, I admit---” He stopped when he noticed blood on the fembot's left hand.

“Human,” the fembot droned. “You will---”

A palm thrust to the stomach sent the fembot stumbling back, leaving her with almost no room to recover her footing. “The only thing I will do is finish this,” the Man in Grey replied. “You, on the other hand, will most likely be reduced to so much scrap, just like your 'sisters'---”

Something dug into his wounded side, twisting as it did so.

“Care to bet on that?”

The Man turned, stunned to see one of the fembots he'd just thrown now standing near him, her right hand buried in his wounded side up to the wrist. “Contrary to what you may believe,” she purred, “not all of us were put through Hannsen's little 'treatment'....” Her free hand whipped up to grab at her blonde hair, removing it and tossing the wig aside to reveal flowing crimson locks. “To us,” she added, gesturing at the other fembot, “every fight is like a song---complete with a harmony---”

Her fist wrenched in the Man's side, prompting a pained scream.

“----and,” the other fembot added, throwing her own blonde wig away to reveal shoulder-length brown hair, “a melody.” Her fist smashed into---and through---the Man's right side, followed by another scream.

“We don't answer to Matthew Hannsen,” the crimson-haired fembot declared, “but we do work for his boss.”

“Assuming you survive,” the auburn-haired fembot added, “tell your bosses that the song is just beginning.”

Each of them planted a hand on the Man's throat, smiling at their struggling target. “Any last words?”

Predictably, the Man couldn't even utter a single syllable....but someone else in the room was all too happy to speak up for him.

“As a matter of fact,” a voice from behind the fembots called out, “I've got two words for you....”

Neither fembot was able to turn quickly enough to avoid getting bashed upside the head with a crowbar, sending both of them---and the Man---to the floor in a heap. “Thank....you,” he coughed, allowing himself to be helped up off the floor.

“No need,” Inspektor 12 replied, his eyes twinkling behind his aviator shades. “I'd be thanking the construction crew who left all these tools behind when they rennovated this place, if I were you---I was going to ask Maise to just shoot these two, but it wouldn't have been nearly as stylish, if I do say so myself.” He grinned; “Isn't that right, Sweets?”

“Save the cornball stuff for later,” Maise advised, emerging from a darkened room further down the hall. “We need to get him to the medics---and fast.” She motioned for the Inspektor to help her lift the Man. “Vicki,” he moaned. “You have...to....help....Vicki....”

The Inspektor took the remark in stride. “All in good time, my man----for now, we need to help you. I think Miss Lawson is more than capable of handling herself in this sort of situation....”

“She'd better be,” Maise replied. “If it's this bad throughout the building, she'll need all the help she can get.”
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[DollSpace]

The mystery deepens! I look forward to the reveal as to who this redhead is, and the ultimate finale!

[Uhoh]

You'll have to forgive me, but it appears that I've found myself at a loss for words thus far... great job with this part, the pieces are falling into place to make for a promising finale.