Can't Get That Song Outta My Head - Version 5.2

[ButchyBoy]

When Cricket was aware, and able to move again, she found she wasn't able to move much. The young robot girl found herself strapped tight just below the neck and above the ankles. Her bonds seemed to be a metal of some sort, and she was bound to what looked like a conveyor belt. Cricket recognized the room as a lab, or perhaps a repair room of some sort. But where was she? Was this still part of the New Chicago Arena? She was about to access her systems to deermine how much time had passed when she heard a voice. The same voice from the threats to Electra Storm. It was low, calm and even-timbered.

"Welcome home Model 2QXR3", the voice said.

Cricket's mind raced. Could her cover been blown so soon? And what did the voice mean by 'Welcome home'? She decided to play it cool, and stuck to her nasal New York voice as she struggled to get free.

"Model wha?? What are ya talkin' about? My name is Missy Hartford, now lemme go!"

The voice just continued with an eerie calm. "It's no use, Mrs. Lang, we know who you are. In a few moments, you will cease to exisit, and our plans will continue with no more interference."

Cricket became herself again, and spoke in her normal voice. "Those plans wouldn't have anything to do with killing Electra Storm on stage tomorrow night, would they?", she asked.

"My, you do figure things out quickly, Mrs. Lang. You're as good as I've heard.....or at least, you were. Oh, and don't bother with those restraints. They're pure titainium. Strong enough to hold down the most sophistcated killer droids."

Cricket looked to see just where the voice was coming from. All she found in the room, besides herself, was a shadow of a tall figure in the corner. Her next step was to stall as much as possible and hope Harry would come looking for her soon. "Assuming you work for The Chairman", the fembot began, "how does killing a singer raise GlobalCon's profits?"

"Oh, but you don't see the bigger picture, Mrs. Lang", the voice answered.

"Let me guess. Endless tribute discs, and lots of bad Electra Storm imatators working in the bars?", Cricket asked.

The voice chuckled. "Not quite, Mrs. Lang. Let me show you." The shadowy figure showed himself just enough to reveal his hands holding an Electra Storm headband. "Tomorrow night, everyone wearing this headband with be getting subliminal messages and small electrical currents will be stimulating the emotional part of the brain. As soon as Electra Storm finishes a certain song that.....all about her, she will be killed....right on stage, for everyone to see all over the world. Her death will be what triggers those headbands into high gear. The kids wearing them will have that song in their heads.......over and over. The messages in the song will in turn trigger their most primitive of emotions. They will converge on Old Chicago in mass, destroying everyone and everything they encounter. A special select group will be going to Throckhammer Indrustries to help leval that place. Old Chicago will be gone Mrs. Lang and there isn't a thing you can do about it."

Cricket was expecting the evil laughter that followed up such a monolouge, but it never came, so she just went on with the next line. "You insane madman! You'll never get away with this!" What the voice said next suprised her.

"You're right, I won't. I just make the bomb, I don't drop it. So, once I have my money, I don't care if the plan suceeds or fails. I must admit though, I do take a lot of pleasure in this next task."

"And that would be?", Cricket asker, gluping.

"You might reognize this Mrs. Lang. It's a disassembly belt for obsolote droids. I believe your about a year overdue on it."

Now Cricket was frightened. She struggled even more as the voice continued.

"It's mostly a painless procedure, and the unit isn't even activated for it. But I'm leaving you on and I've taken the safety programs offline. As the belt moves slowly, the mechanical arms down at the end will move faster and faster, beginning to overload. By the time you reach them, they will be ripping away at your clothes, your synthetic flesh, and finally, your curcit boards and main CPU. Oh yes, and your head will be detached form your body to watch it all. And as that magnificent detective brain of yours struggles to work, I'm sure you'll be trying to deduce who the figure in the shadows is. What was it you called me? Insane madman? Perhaps...or perhaps I'm an insane mad.....woman? Think it over but hurry, time is short."

Cricket struggled franticly "You just wait. Harry will save me and kick your ass!"

"Ah, yes. The intrepid Mr. Lang. Yes, he will be looking for you. And he'll be lead right to where The Chairman himself will be waiting.....to kill him." Now the evil laughter came. "Goodbye, Mrs. Lang."

And with that, the belt was started, and Cricket, hair still dyed brunette, made her way down to the mechical arms ready to rip her apart!

OH THE HORROR!!!
IS THIS REALLY THE END FOR OUR BELOVED CRICKET???

WITH THOSE TITAINIUM BONDS MORE IRON-CLAD THAN DONALD TRUMP'S PRE-NUPTIAL'S???

HOW CAN CRICKET POSSIBLY GET OUT OF THIS ONE????

DON'T MISS CHAPTER 6
SAME CRICKET TIME
SAME CRICKET CHANNEL

[DollSpace]

Meep! *bites fingernails in anticipation*!

Ryn