Lina, Part 6

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DukeNukem 2417
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Lina, Part 6

Post by DukeNukem 2417 » Fri Oct 18, 2019 1:13 pm

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So I heard you like gratuitous malfunctions..... :twisted: Don't worry, there's still plot, too. And as always, thanks to DollSpace for her help, especially with the intro!
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Thinking back on it, of all the things I thought I'd be spending the night doing when I got out of bed the day Lina was taken, trying to track down the pricks who'd taken her in the first damn place was the last thing I'd expected. Granted, her being abducted at all wasn't the kind of stuff I thought I'd have to put up with....to be honest, the events of the day as a whole were just shaping up to be one pile of high strangeness after another. The fact that I was coping at all was a pretty good sign that I hadn't lost my mind...of course, the fact that I was teaming up with a military-spec gynoid, a cat girl gynoid, the gynoid who'd in fact built my girlfriend (and who I hadn't even known was a gynoid herself until a virus made her “want” me) and some agent from an organization that just so happened to share its initials with the Air Line Pilot's Association was....

...well, it was a lot of things, to be honest, but “normal” wasn't anywhere near the top of the list.

Everyone was gearing up for the ride out to the warehouse complex—myself included, though my involvement mostly consisted of staying out of the way...all that stuff. Throughout this, I couldn't help but notice that Lucy was conspicuously absent—she wasn't going over the potential strategies with Millie or listening to Ashwyn talk about how her tail wasn't a liability in a fight (apparently, pulling it too hard would just make it detach)....all that stuff.

I cleared my throat. “Has anyone seen Lucy?”

“Umm, I think she went off trying to get some extra armour,” one of the team piped up.

That led me to a meandering path through the part of the complex we were in when I heard little gasps, and the unmistakable sounds of someone crying. I followed the quiet sobbing over to a corner of the room, where I could just make out a figure sitting on the floor. She’d occasionally slam her fist into one of her legs, or punch one fist into the other palm. “Ah, Lucy? Is everything—”

She flinched....it was unsettling, to say the least. “Oh, M-Matt, I’m...sorry, are we ready to go now?”

“Almost, but, ah....why are you all the way over here?”

“I fucking failed her, Matt! I made her, I fucking created her, and she was just taken, and it’s all my fucking fault!”

“You haven't....you didn't fail her...” I tried to find something, anything to say that would help. “It's not your fault—”

“I just had to get a new fucking body, because I was too fucking impatient to get my stupid fucking upgrade...I took the fucking shortcuts and it was always me me me!”

“But we fixed that, remember? We dealt with that, and now we can go get Lina back!”

“But I’m scared, Matt. She’s just...I failed her, and I’m fucking scared for her, okay?! I was supposed to be there for her, and I fucking miss her....I love her. She should be here with us, with you, with me...and I want to feel safe again.”

With every word out of her mouth, I felt more and more determined to get Lina back, more focused on helping Lucy to feel safe again. I steadied Lucy with a hand on each shoulder, before hugging her as close to me as I could. “We will get her back, Lucy. We have so many more people here helping us, and Uncle Frank....I just know we can!”

She let me hold her for a few more minutes before I felt her posture shift in my arms. “You damn fucking right we’ll get her back from those fuckers!” She pulled away from me, wiping her eyes with the back of one hand. “And I won’t rest until we do! Fuck them! This is not where the story ends!” She turned on her heel. “Rip and fucking TEAR!”

As I watched, she headed in the direction of the rendezvous point, her confidence seemingly restored. Her newfound sense of bravery was rubbing off on me, and as I started heading back the same way, I could've sworn I saw Uncle Frank looking at us from a corner, a few tears in his eyes. He even gave me a thumbs up as he followed me back to the van.

Once everyone was ready, and a few more phone calls had been made, everyone piled into their vehicles of choice—Lucy got back in he own car, while Millie and Ashwyn joined Uncle Frank and me in the van. Thus, for the second time in one night—well, late-night/early morning—I was sitting in the front passenger seat of the work van owned (and driven) by my uncle Frank, yet again with two gynoids in the rear passenger seats. The big difference this time around? The two passengers in the back were both online, and both along for the ride to help us get Lina back from the pricks who'd carted her off to the Greensfield Warehouse Complex.

None of us had any idea what to expect when we got there, drowning our thoughts in idle chatter or the radio.

Of course, given her outpouring of emotion, I had a feeling Lucy made the whole drive in silence....

After probably 40 minutes of driving, we arrived at the Greensfield Warehouse Complex. The massive sign out front had seen better days; the all-caps GREENSFIELD” stenciled on it had worn away over the years, with the “G,” one of the “Es” and the “S” all having faded away. Lucy's car pulled up right next to the van a few minutes later.

“....pretty secluded place to park,” Uncle Frank mused, guiding the van over to what looked like a disused shed.

“And when does the fifth member of our wonderful little exhibition join us at this shithole?” Lucy drawled.

“In due time...” Uncle Frank surveyed the complex. “For now, we can acquaint ourselves with our surroundings, come up with some sound tactics for unobserved entry...”

Millie nodded her approval. “Sounds like a great idea to me.”

“I just hope we don't have to sit around waiting for too long,” Ashwyn pouted. “I want to do something...”

I didn't say anything—mainly because I was wondering, if not flat-out hoping that Lina was somewhere amidst whatever was going on in the complex...and that she wasn't being taken apart or reprogrammed by some prick.

With the van parked, Uncle Frank suggested that Millie, Ashwyn and I all get out. “Okay, so...from what I can tell, we'll, ah, be dealing with guard patrols, cameras...” He glanced around the edge of the closest tree for a second. “...don't know for sure if they're armed or not, but—”

“Leave that to me.” Millie walked—actually, she pretty much sashayed to the edge of the shed, her hands on her hips.

“Does she have to do that?” Ashwyn groaned; her tail made an annoyed swish as she talked.

Uncle Frank nearly said something, but stopped—Millie had stiffened, standing at attention with one hand held up to shield her eyes as she scanned the horizon. The faintest of servo whirs accompanied each slow, robotic turn of her head as she looked out at the complex; I was starting to feel a familiar sensation below the beltline, which was only held in check by the memory of why we were there in the first damn place.

After a few seconds of scanning the complex, Millie relaxed. “Nobody's armed...but they're all synthetic.”

Ashwyn gave a satisfied nod, the claws once again emerging from her fingertips. “Ready when you are!”

“Now, let's not jump right into the fray, here...” Uncle Frank leaned past Ashwyn. “...we're still waiting on our, ah, guest, after all...should be here any minute now, hopefully.”

I leaned against the shed, pausing. “...huh.”

“Something wrong?”

“Over there, by the fence....who the Hell puts sycamore trees next to a warehouse?”

“...yeah, yeah,” Uncle Frank muttered, nodding. “This isn't even the right part of the country for sycamore trees! That picture in the article about the complex didn't even have any trees!”

“They could've just planted them,” Millie offered. “For decorative purposes?”

“Maybe something's under one of them?” Ashwyn suggested, glancing curiously at the trees. “Like...a hidden key!”

“....a key?” I arched an eyebrow at her. “Under the sycamore trees?”

Any further discussion on the matter was cut off by a very expensive-looking Japanese motorcycle rolling up, with the obligatory leather-clad figure atop it. “Right on cue,” Uncle Frank stated, nodding. “YO, ADRIAN!” I groaned, Lucy muttered “Oh, for fuck's sake”, Millie rolled her eyes and Ashwyn giggled.

“What? His name's Adrian!” Uncle Frank shrugged before striding to meet the new arrival; even from a distance, I could tell “Adrian” was shorter than Ashwyn, barely even 5 feet tall. “So, you get here all right? Any problems with traffic, any kind of delays....”

Adrian took off the helmet....revealing straight brown hair and a very small, very feminine face.

“No traffic problems...even if there were, the bike could've gotten me through with no problems.” The voice, like the face, was very obviously feminine—a bit high-pitched, but still obviously feminine. “I'm guessing the one over there by the shed is Matt...”

I nodded. “That'd be me.”

The girl walked over and shook my hand. “ALPA Field Agent Adrienne Murray. I wish we could be meeting under better circumstances, but...”

“Could've sworn they said Adrian, on the phone.” Uncle Frank cut in, frowning. Adrienne just rolled her eyes. “I'm guessing you need someone who's great at sneaking around...”

“Definitely. You any good at disabling security systems?”

“Fully certified.” Adrienne turned her attention to the complex, one hand resting on her hip. “You figure out what kind of security measures they have?”

“Cameras and guards,” Ashwyn chimed in. “None of the guards are human, either...” She wiggled her fingers, showing off her gleaming claws. “..so we can really cut loose if we get caught!”

Millie regarded her with a frown. “Not that we'll try to get caught just to pick fights....”

I nearly said something, but found myself yawning instead. “....damn it...”

“Hey, ah, Matt,” Uncle Frank mused, “if you wanna sit this one out, just take a nap in the van...”

“No, no, I'm good.” An obvious lie, but I wasn't about to sit this one out while the others tore up the complex. “Just let me get ready....”

“You're nearly dead on your feet, hon.” Millie sashayed over (I was starting to wonder if she ever just walked anywhere) and looked me over. “You might have to sit this one out—”

“No. If they've got Lina...”

After a worried glance at Uncle Frank, Millie nodded. “Well, if you insist....” She held up a hand, palm-up, as if she was about to blow me a kiss....and then proceeded to do exactly that. Thing is, she blew some kind of gas my way, as well; I first thought she was trying to knock me out so I wouldn't put myself in danger, or something stupid like that, but thanks to her other hand being on my shoulder, I couldn't exactly turn and run away. I tried not to breathe in...

….but when I did, I felt very awake. “.....whoa...”

“Just a lil' ol' aerosolized pick-me-up,” Millie informed me. “It'll keep you on your feet for a good few hours, and it's not habit-forming.” She turned away, walking (sashaying) back over to stand next to Ashwyn. “It was designed to keep any organic squadmates alert and on their feet in the field of battle,” she added, “so it should be enough to keep you going.”

“Right, right...” I looked around for a bit, just to make sure I wasn't seeing hallucinations or anything weird. “Thanks.”

“No problem, hon.” Millie winked.

“SO, ah, now that we've got everything sorted...” Uncle Frank turned to address “the team”: Millie, Ashwyn, Adrienne, Lucy and (of course) me. “Lucy, you stay out here on lookout duty so we don't get, ah surprised. Ashwyn will jump over the fence, probably near the trees—a bit more cover won't hurt. Adrienne, I assume you know how to scale fences—”

“It might be electrified,” Lucy countered. “And I'm pretty sure that's fucking razor-wire at the top!” Her protests garnered a frown from Uncle Frank, but it was Adrienne who replied: “Won't be a problem either way. I can climb over, find the alarm controls and shut 'em off so you three can enter.”

“....that's...pretty much what I was going to suggest, yes.” Uncle Frank nodded, throwing in a thumbs-up just for good measure. “Once we're all in, we....ah....”

“Find out if Lina's being held here, and if not, where she might be. Interrogate if you need to, incapacitate if you have to, and do your best not to get caught.” The only experience I had with anything even resembling what I was about to do was in video games—which, I'll admit, aren't really all that good as educational materials, since you don't have a “noise meter” in real life to tell you how loud your damn footsteps are. “And, ah, try not to wreck the place too much.”

Millie and Adrienne nodded, while Uncle Frank looked more than a bit surprised—at least, until Ashwyn nudged him in the side. “....what...OH, right. Time to get to work!”

Ashwyn actually dropped to all fours and ran, like a cat, towards the fence; she leapt over it with similar feline grace, clearing it in record time. I half expected her to circle around a few times before curling up and taking a nap, the way my own cat often did at night.

While Ashwyn was leaping over the fence, Adrienne was straight-up climbing it. She scaled the thing like a champion, and as soon as her feet hit the ground, she darted off towards the nearest building.

“Well,” Uncle Frank declared, “now, we wait.” He nodded, and went to lean against the shed—only to nearly fall over.

Millie regarded him with an arched eyebrow. “You sure you don't need a pick-me-up, hon?”

“Oh, no thanks. I have a very esoteric sleep schedule.”

“....well, whatever works for you...” Millie surveyed the complex, her hands planted on her hips; her attention settled on a gate maybe 20 feet away from the shed—conveniently fitted with colored lights to denote its “locked”/”unlocked” status. “And how're you feelin' right about now, Matt?”

“Awake, and hopeful that we'll actually find Lina somewhere in there.”

“Only one way to find that out....” Millie's eyes narrowed as the lights on the gate switched from red to green.

“I think that's our cue,” Uncle Frank muttered. “Lucy, yell if you see anything weird. Matt, Millie...back in the van.” Despite a rather strong fear that Uncle Frank was about to ram the gate, I nodded and headed for the van.

Thankfully, nobody rammed anything with anything; the gate actually just opened as we drove up, allowing Uncle Frank to just drive the van on through like it was nothing. From the front passenger window, I could see Ashwyn darting across warehouse rooftops, again running on all fours like an incredibly graceful prowler of some kind; I could only guess that Adrienne was doing her thing on the other side. “Okay....” Uncle Frank nodded. “I think we're where we need to be, so, ah...”

“We do our jobs and meet up here when we're done,” Millie stated. “Unless you've got other plans...”

“No, no....that's...the general idea I had, to be honest.” Uncle Frank leaned out the window. “....can't see any of 'em on patrol outside the buildings...”

I pulled the phone out of my pocket—99% charge. “Good enough...I hope.”

Without any further discussion, Millie left the van; as Uncle Frank and I watched, she made her way to a nearby building (sashaying all the while) and opened the sliding metal door with no effort.

“....well, I guess, ah....” I reached over and hugged Uncle Frank. “...thanks. For this, and for everything you've done....”

“....just go do your thing and get Lina back,” Uncle Frank replied, his usual goofiness once again absent as we broke our embrace. “You do your thing, I'll do mine....”

“Got it.” I nodded, heading out of the van.

I only looked back once, after sprinting towards the nearest building; the van was slowly making its way up the central avenue of the complex, presumably with Uncle Frank checking around for any guards. With a deep breath, I flattened myself against the wall, sideways-stepping until I found the door—a garage-style rolling metal beast that, if the security systems hadn't been deactivated, would've given me a hernia if I'd so much as thought of trying to lift it. Thankfully, with the locks turned off, it was just a matter of pulling up the door just enough for me to get under it, slipping inside and closing it so that it wouldn't crash down and alert every guard in the place to me being there. Once inside, I retrieved the phone and scrolled to the FCon app—I hadn't mentioned my own plans on how not to get caught to Uncle Frank, of course, but given what the phone (or at least the app) was capable of....

With the phone in hand, I took stock of where the Hell I was and what was around me—in this case, crates, capsules and cargo containers. I could just about read one of the manifests on a nearby cargo container, thanks to the light from the phone screen; sure enough, I could make out text indicating that the thing was loaded with “humanoid robots”.

Hopefully, one of them wasn't Lina...I didn't anticipate the prospect of digging through loads of cargo just to—

“Battery low. Please advise. Battery Low.”

“GHAAT!” I whirled on my heel—nearly falling over in the process—to find myself face-to-face with a porn star.

Well, in all honesty, it—she was a convincingly lifelike robotic replica of a porn star....or at least, she would've been if her eyes—normally a brilliant green—weren't flashing yellow, and if she wasn't standing there with her arms locked into “Ls” at her sides, her head turning left and right as she declared that her battery was low.

I'd recognized her (or rather, who she was modeled after) almost instantly—she was a dead-ringer for one of the stars of a high-budget film that the forum had been making a big deal about the year before, claiming the studio behind it had obviously browsed around and gotten a few ideas from their own material.

The fact that she was almost a foot taller than I was made the encounter a bit...well, awkward; it wasn't so much face-to-face as it was face-to-boobs. She was wearing a similar latex number to Units One, Two and Three from Uncle Frank's shop, with a far lower neckline. Out of curiosity, I circled around her to find that it was low-cut in the back, as well, revealing a rose tattoo identical to the one found on her human equivalent. Just underneath that was a designation not found on the real deal: “Unit 16”.

“...so she's from the same line as the other three...” I frowned. “...the other five, if the two guys count...”

I resisted the urge to squeeze Unit 16's ass, or otherwise interact with her, mostly on account of not wanting to snap her out of her low-battery funk and immediately signal to the other fembots in the place that I was inside. Again, I could almost hear Lina dramatically whisper: Use the phone, Matt....and I swear I heard her giggle.

Whether or not I was imagining her voice, hearing what I wanted to hear or just flat-out hallucinating, I knew that the phone would, in fact, get me past Unit 16 without any further issues. I held it up, waited for the “Act. Debug” button to appear and thumbed it—Unit 16's arms immediately relaxed at her sides, and her head rotated to a stop to stare directly in front of her...convenient, since I was now behind her.

Might as well try it with her.... “Are you in Debug Mode?”

“This unit is currently in Diagnostic Mode.” Her voice, like the rest of her, matched her “inspiration”, though she spoke with zero emotional inflection. “This unit is currently running on a sub-optimal charge level.”

I checked the screen on the phone, hoping to find out just how low her charge level was... “Forty percent.” I glanced at that number, then back at the well-formed ass of Unit 16; already, a plan—based almost entirely on stories I'd read on the forum—had begun to take shape in my head. “Engage in self-pleasure routine.”

“Unit will exit Diagnostic Mode—”

“Remain in Diagnostic Mode while engaging in self-pleasure routine.” If all went well, Unit 16 would be entirely too busy dancing with herself to realize she was draining her power cells, leaving the fembots with one less unit on patrol.

Unit 16's left hand moved—in that halting, jerky way that made her look more like an impossibly sexy animatronic than a human being—towards her crotch, while her right moved towards one of her boobs. Almost instantly, I realized the one near-fatal flaw of my plan. “Unit 16, mute internal voicebox.” Sure enough, as I circled around to her front again, her mouth had opened in what was probably supposed to be a robotic moan, but no sound emerged even as she stiffly tweaked her nipple and jabbed two fingers through her unzipped pants to fulfill the “self-pleasure” directive. As entertaining (in more ways than one) as it was to watch her robotically going at herself, it'd take entirely too long for her to drain her batteries at the current rate. “Unit 16, increase speed by 25%....incrementally increase by 5% every two minutes.” That would probably be enough.

Her lips silently formed the words “As you command me”, between soundless moaning; instantly, both her hands sped up in their efforts to fulfill the task of pleasuring herself. Her charge level dropped from forty percent down to 38, than 37 as I watched—the phone screen, not her. Yes, I watched her go at it for a full minute or so, but not long enough to forget why I was there in the first damn place—Unit 16 was, after all, working for the same pricks who'd tried to take Lucy, and had grabbed Lina instead.

I left Unit 16 to finger herself until she ran out of juice (as in electricity...though she'd probably drain her reserves of the other kind, too) and edged my way around the cargo container. With any luck, a peak around the edge would reveal....

...an ass. A latex-covered, well-formed female ass.

I'd dropped to a half-crouch to go around the container, and was going to do that Sherlock thing where I took a quick look and tried to get as much info as possible just from a glance....instead, I found myself face-to-ass—a 52, if I wasn't mistaken. Up went the phone, the “Act. Debug” was pressed, and that magnificent ass before me briefly jiggled before going still. I had a feeling this “unit” was based on another actress from the same film as the previous one, and oh-so-carefully rolled down her pants to check....

Yep. Right there on the tailbone, a Celtic/tribal tattoo of some kind, with “Unit 19” inked above it. I could feel the material of what must've been a black g-string beneath the latex of her pants; apparently, some fembots got to wear undies, while others just went free and loose in that department.

I decided not to stand, and instead made use of the limb control sliders in FCon to see just how much “Control” the app would actually give me over Unit 19. A quick look at the screen revealed a readout for “Sent.”...sentience? Any worries I had pretty much evaporated when I noticed that Unit 19's level for “Sent.” was pretty much nonexistent—according to FCon's explanation of her abysmally-low level, she could feel (in the physical sense, not the emotional one) and perceive, and was capable of carrying out orders and (as Units One, Two and Three had) could even talk to people...but pretty much lacked any kind of emotion or true personality. I aimed the phone back at Unit 16—same level. I had a feeling Units One through Five—and probably any of their ilk that I'd run into here—all had the same piss-poor “Sent.” rating.

With that out of the way, I decided to see if I could get Unit 19 to re-enact the time-honored scene of a malfunctioning fembot walking into a wall. The leg sliders did little to help, but there was a sort of “Nav. Aid” option near them; a quick tap of that button revealed another button, “Pthfnd.”—obviously, Pathfinding. I couldn't help but smirk as I set the “path” for Unit 19—two steps forward, turn right and go down the “hallway”....which, in reality, was a cargo container.

Another tap of the button, and the well-endowed Latina fembot marched—her arms locked into Ls and moving up and down with each step—along the path I'd just made. Predictably, she walked right into the wall of the container. Her tits (which were smaller than Unit 16's, but still...well, generously sized) squished against the metal as she tried to move through what was supposed to be empty space, and her still-moving arms started to lock up. Her legs kept on walking; within seconds, smoke started to waft out of her ears, nostrils and mouth. With any luck, she'd be—

“Unit 19. Disengage current priority and return to your post.”

“Son of a....” I scrambled to get behind the cargo container, doing my best to stay calm even as footsteps approached the stricken Unit 19. A quick peek from my “shelter” revealed a slim, short fembot with black hair and green eyes (another one based on a “performer” from that one particular movie); she was far less endowed in the chest department than Units 16 and 19 had been, with more of an average body than the curves her fellow fembots had. Without hesitation, she repeated her earlier...command? Request? Her voice had no affect to it at all, making it hard to tell what kind of tone she might've been going for. “Unit 19, disengage current priority and return to your post.”

I glanced at the phone, which had “locked onto” Unit 19. I held it up to my mouth, cupping my other hand to decrease the chances of the new arrival hearing me: “Unit 19, turn and initiate intercourse with the unit behind you.”

Sure enough, Unit 19 stopped trying to walk through the cargo container, instead turning on her heel and putting her hands on the other fembot's shoulders. Without any hint of passion or emotion, she grabbed the front of the fembot's top and tore it open, pulling it down her torso.

“Unit 19, return to your post at once.”

The request went ignored, thanks to Unit 19 moving to take off the other fembot's pants. Once those were around the still-speaking fembot's ankles, Unit 19 stood, jamming her left hand in-between the fembot's legs and pulling her in for a kiss with her right hand.

The now-protesting fembot tried to move away from Unit 19, but the one-armed embrace kept her immobile as the pair turned; the stripped, black-haired fembot had a column of kanji down her spine and something on the back of her right shoulder, confirming her as a match to another actress from the same film as the previous two. The designation “Unit 18” was inked right above her ass, at the end of the kanji column.

Yet again, the thought of why I'd had Uncle Frank bring me out here to begin with was enough to still any “stirrings” below the waistline as I edged past the fornicating fembots; both were now emitting smoke from various orifices, which had the bonus result of reducing Unit 18's protestations to gibberish. I leaned in for a quick closer look at the pair—Unit 19's ocular sensors (or her eyes, whichever you prefer) had rolled backwards into her head, while Unit 18 was going cross-eyed from what FCon described as a sexual data bus overflow. The two were also starting to, ah, emit fluids, in addition to the smoke, so I decided to put as much distance between myself and the pair as possible before they shorted each other out.

After a few minutes of jogging away from Units 18 and 19's entanglement, I ended up at a stack of crates. They looked to be just enough to hold a sitting person—I'd seen a video of a sex doll company that packed their “products” that way before shipping them. Unfortunately, I didn't have long to consider this fact: two sets of footsteps were moving around the crates, one on each side. If I didn't do something soon....

I took a few “test” jumps to see if I could reach the top of one of the crates, pulling myself up once I'd managed to get a good grip on the thing. Any cameras overhead would effectively be blind, thanks to Adrienne, so I had nothing to worry about in that department.

A few seconds after I'd scrambled to the top of the crate, the two sets of footsteps reached the ends of the row I'd been in. Two more fembots—both blue-eyed, one brunette and one blonde—stopped at the ends of the row and faced each other. Again, they both matched the appearances of actresses from that film, which begged the question of why the Greensfield Warehouse Complex was being guarded by a bunch of fembots built to look like porn stars. In any case, both 'bots walked to the center of the aisle, stopping mere inches from each other.

The brunette spoke first: “Unit 17 reporting. No anomalous presence detected.”

The blonde followed suit. “Unit 20 reporting. No anomalous presence detected.

Once they'd recited their lines at each other, each fembot reached for the forehead of the other—or rather, a sort of tab that had appeared somewhere on the forehead of the other. Slowly, they both pulled down each other's faces; instantly, I thought back to Lina doing the same thing to show me she hadn't been damaged by my idiot brother hitting her. That had been a slow, almost sensual process; that Units 17 and 20 were doing was far more methodical, more...rehearsed, I guess. Lights flashed in their optical receptors as they continued staring at each other.

“L.E.D. Pattern Verified. Unit 20 is functioning as intended.”

“L.E.D. Pattern Verified. Unit 17 is functioning as intended.”

The two moved each other's faces back where they belonged, the tabs sort of sealing up with a pop. The pair turned and started off down the row again....

..except Unit 17 barely had time to take three steps before I'd hit the “Act. Debug” button on the phone. She froze in place for a second, before her arms lowered to her sides. Unit 20 was still walking...or she was, before I turned FCon on her, as I'd done with Unit 17. She stopped right at the end of the row, her arms lowering as she stood there.

I lowered myself down from the crate, moving to check Unit 20, first.

Sleeve tattoos on each arm, misspelled words on her thighs...another definite match.

Unit 17 was a bit harder to pin down, though I knew her “template” (or whatever you're supposed to call the human an android or gynoid is based on) had fake tits. Upon close inspection, Unit 17's boobs seemed to be just as “enhanced” as those of her human basis...another match.

Remembering Unit One's reaction to being prodded, I decided to check FCon to see just what “caliber” these two were packing..if any. The only indications that might've helped were two dots on a vauge drawing of the female form, right where the nipples would be. I tapped both and heard a mechanical frrt from Unit 17's tits—a quick circle around to her front revealed that, yes, she was packing. I aimed the phone at Unit 19, repeated the process....same thing.

“And Millie couldn't detect these?” I shook my head. Maybe the “housing” of these particular armaments made it more difficult for scans to pick up on them....in any case, I now had the perfect method with which to dispose of Units 17 and 20. I backed myself up against the crate and took a deep breath....

“Units 17 and 20, turn around.”

Both fembots turned, silently (apart from the faintest hint of whirring servos), to face each other. So far, so good...

“Units 17 and 20....target lock.”

Something inside each fembot beepedd. They continued staring at each other, their eyes now flashing red.

“Units 17 and 20....fire.”

I had to plug my ears with my fingers and throw myself to the floor as Units 17 and 20 opened fire on each other. Wood splintered, casings hit the floor and the firing continued for a full 30 seconds before cutting off.

Once the firing had ceased on both sides, I raised my head just enough to get a peek at the damage.....

Unit 17 was now missing half of her head. Her incredible tits were leaking whatever gel kept their form intact, and her torso was riddled with bullet holes. Her right arm was jerking around at random, while her left had been chewed to bits by bullets and riddled with shrapnel from the crates. I was surprised she was even able to stand.

Unit 20, by comparison, had no face left. Most of her torso was missing skin, revealing gel packs, metal, servos and wires beneath. Apparently, something below the belt had taken significant damage, since smoke was now pouring out of her crotch; her shoulders were similarly bare, and a sizable hole had been made in her abdomen—I could see the vast majority of her internals, as well as dings on her metallic spine.

Both fembots tried to speak, with little success. Unit 17's tongue fell out, and Unit 20's speaker blew, as smoke wafted forth from the ruined cone.

I made my way past Unit 17 (who droned about needing repair) and turned the corner to find a nearly identical row of crates—and a fembot standing at the far end, her back turned to me. Even from a distance, I could pretty much tell she was shorter than Units 17 and 20...and as she turned around, I could see that she was, like those two, modeled after an actress who'd been in that one film. I thumbed “Act. Debug” before she could register that she'd spotted me; as with the rest, she froze for a moment before lowering her arms to her sides.

Just to make sure she was from the same “set” as the last five fembots I'd run across, I made my way over to her and lowered her top just enough to get a glimpse at the back of her neck—numbers and letters, just like the real deal. “Unit 21” was inked below these, as if I needed any further clues as to her connection with the others. I considered my options , as I circled around to look her in the eye. What I'd done to the rest was just...I dunno, wish fulfillment.

Now, I realized that I'd had—and wasted—five opportunities to ask if Lina was, in fact, in this building.

I started with the usual question: “Are you in Debug Mode?”

“This unit is in Diagnostic Mode.”

Figured that. Okay, time for something different.... “....what is the purpose of this facility?”

“Storage, repair, reprogramming and processing.”

Those last two—reprogramming and processing—didn't sit well with me at all. “...processing for what?”

“All inventory will be processed before transportation. Inventory that does not fit criteria will be set aside for eventual teardown and scrapping on a case-by-case basis.”

My eyes narrowed. “...do you know the designations of the....inventory?”

“Unable to answer query. Please rephrase.” Her voice wasn't a complete monotone, but something about the sheer lack of any feeling in her words pissed me off.

“....do you know the names of each unit of inventory?”

“Searching.....searching.....searching.....” Her usually brown eyes flashed orange with each utterance of that word, and I was starting to get annoyed with her.

“Cancel query.”

“....search—query cancelled.”

“...is there a unit in the inventory here named Lina?” I figured cutting to the chase might make a difference, or at least get me something resembling a straight answer.

“.....searching.....searching....” Unit 21 took a step back. “The unit designated Lina is not stored in this facility.”

“....in this building, or in the entire complex?”

“Security Clearance required. Please provide—”

I thumbed “Act. Debug” again, hoping it'd shut her up. “Is Lina anywhere in this warehouse complex?”

“...the location of the unit designated Lina is currently unknown.”

I cracked my knuckles, tiring of the interrogation. “Unit 21...place a hand on each side of your head, and grip it firmly.”

Unit 21 did as I asked; the only reason I was even doing this was because her sentience was pretty much nonexistent, and she was effectively an extension of a system. I'd never dream of having Lina do anything to herself like what I was going to tell Unit 21 to do....

“Unit 21, keep gripping your head, as tightly as possible, and pull upward as hard as you can.”

“As you commmmmmmmm—” Unit 21's attempt to acknowledge my command cut off in a stream of gibberish. Her lips locked into a bizarre sneer as she pulled; I could see the tears opening in her latex uniform and her synthetic skin.

Seconds later, with a final, powerful yank, she ripped off her own head.

Sparks and smoke shot out of her neck in equal measure; her eyes had crossed and her jaw had gone slack right at the moment of separation. Her now headless body took a step forward, then backwards; apparently, without the head, her ability to stay balanced was completely wrecked. Weirdly, she was still trying to speak, though her mouth was forming nonsensical phrases and noise, mostly. After a few seconds of staggering, she toppled to the floor, her legs beginning to pump as if she were upright and walking.

I stared at her for a moment. Any arousal I might've felt was cancelled out by anger; she'd kept calling Lina a “unit”, as if she was a brainless drone like the rest I'd seen in the warehouse. Lina hadn't been a “unit”. Lucy Sievers wasn't a “unit” either. Mandy Bulwer, Millie, Ashwyn...none of them were just “units”.

These, on the other hand, were just cheap imitations of people. Remote-control dolls with porn star bodies.

I was downright pissed, now, as I made my way through the warehouse. None of the crates or capsules had any kind of hint as to what (or who) was contained within; I was starting to hope I'd run across another black-clad fembot, just to use FCon to get her to enact the latest plan I'd formed. Lo and behold, one was standing in front of a crate, staring right at it; she looked to be maybe three years older than Lina's self-professed age of 21 (with a smaller cup size, as well), sporting straw-blonde hair and hazel eyes. Unlike the last six I'd encountered, she looked to have been modeled after a “performer” from an entirely different video clip.

Thumbing the FCon took all of a second as I strode towards her; she barely moved to react to it. A quick check of her navel revealed that she did, in fact, sport the same kind of piercing as her human equivalent—something about the fact that these fembots all had the looks but not the brains was just....odd, to me...

“Awaiting command input.”

Apparently, my introspection had been just enough of a pause for her systems to figure out she was in Debug mode (or Diagnostic mode, or whatever the Hell it was called). I decided to just ask for her identification, instead of stripping her to find where it'd been written.

“This unit is designated as Unit Seven.”

I frowned, at that; the ones at the shop had been One through Five. “Unit Seven, open the crate in front of you, and the rest of the crates on this row.”

Without a word, the fembot moved to the crate in question, pulling the front off before heading to the next. I peeked into the crate, both hoping and fearing that Lina was inside....and sighing with relief at the sight of an empty box, with a sort of foam “throne” in the center for the intended occupant to sit on. The next crate down was occupied by a hairless female figure, though a bag tacked up to the side contained what I guessed was the intended hairpiece. The rest of the crates were either empty or occupied by unfinished female forms; some had various bits of their synthetic flesh missing, others had been covered from head to toe in some kind of spray-on outfit, and still others were fully dressed and looked to just be turned off

They all had one thing in common, of course: none of them were Lina.

Unit Seven, having fulfilled her earlier order, was standing at the end of the row. As I approached, I could see she was staring into a crate; a closer inspection revealed that it had been filled with what appeared to be a grand total of four gynoids—or pieces of them, at least. None of the bits looked anything like Lina; only one head had any artificial skin on it, and the face definitely wasn't hers.

“Unit Seven, go to the next row and open all containers on that row.”

Again, without a word, Unit Seven rounded the corner and started opening containers.

I turned the corner to follow her—and froze. The third container that she'd opened held a fully-uniformed female police officer—the exact same one who'd given me the side-eye when she'd noticed my phone, the day after the party!

While Unit Seven was continuing to open capsules and crates, I held up my phone, wondering if FCon's Debug Mode would be able to reactivate the officer....only to notice a holstered phone on her belt. I stepped up onto the capsule's base and retrieved it—the merest press of my thumb was enough to turn the phone on, at least. The screen that greeted me was as simple as possible: “Restart? Y/N”

I glanced at Unit Seven, apparently struggling to open a capsule further down the row, before thumbing “Y.”

A shiver ran through the officer's figure, and I quickly put the phone back in its holster before stepping off of the capsule as the rebooting process ran its course. The faint sounds of whirring emanated from her torso, along with a pleasing series of beeps; after a few seconds of this, her eyes opened, and she looked around before settling on me.

“....ah, hi....” I gave a meek wave.

“....where am I? This isn't my assigned patrol beat—”

“You're in a capsule....in the Greensfield Warehouse Complex.” I sighed. “A lot of other gynoids are being stored—”

“Gynoids? What are you—”

“I reactivated you with your phone....sorry if that's...against protocol, or anything...” I stared at the floor, hoping I wasn't going to get handcuffed after this was over with.

After a few seconds of silence, I looked up to see that the officer was regarding me with an understanding look. “You're Matt Harker, aren't you?”

I nodded. “You were at my house, the day after the party....thanks to those two meatheads fighting in the back yard.”

The officer chuckled. “Just part of the job...and speaking of the job, I was on call to investigate a disturbance here two days ago. I went to the supervisor's office...Singleton, Chester Singleton—” She paused for a moment, frowning. “Have I been strapped into this thing?!”

“....looks like it. You, ah, need any help to...”

The look I received in reply was best translated to “really?”, and I sheepishly stepped up to help undo the straps that had been secured around her ankles, knees, thighs, waist, wrists, elbows and neck. Despite the constraints of the capsule, I was able to free her without accidentally groping her at any point. “...better?”

“Much.” The officer stepped out of the capsule, checking her uniform and belt. “...they didn't even take my gun?”

“They might've just shut you off, to save time.” I shrugged. “Maybe they didn't want to damage 'potential inventory'.”

“....'potential inventory'?” The officer arched an eyebrow at me.

“I'm pretty sure this place is some kind of gynoid smuggling ring—every crate on the row before this one is either empty or has a gynoid in it...” I had to stop myself before I started swearing. “...and the...individuals I've encountered here are probably connected to the ones who took Lina from my uncle's shop—she's my girlfriend,” I quickly explained. “I met her at the party, before you showed up...”

I felt my fists clenching. “...she was protecting her friend, and they just...shut her off, like it was nothing....”

The officer rested a hand on my shoulder. “I'm sorry to hear that. If there's anything I can do to help—”

A frantic beeping from further down the row cut her off; apparently, Unit Seven was straining her systems trying to rip the door off of another capsule, but it was refusing to budge.

“I told her to open all the crates on this row and the last,” I explained. “She's...ah...”

“Doesn't qualify as sentient,” the officer murmured, shaking her head. “Probably a drone slaved to the network here.”

“I'd bet the rest are all drones, too, then...” I held up my phone. “She's got the same 'Sent.' level as them—and I, ah, got this phone from a friend of my uncle's....Ricky—”

“I heard.”

“....and Lina mentioned something about him being 'missing'....” I paused. “....ah, has the department...”

“I'm afraid I can't comment on an ongoing investigation....sorry. Department programming talking, there.” The officer rolled her eyes.

“No worries, Officer....ah, Drew.”

“...you looked up my name on your phone?”

“No, you're still wearing your nametag.” I nodded to the black padge pinned under the shield over her left breast.

“....they didn't even take the badge off?” Officer Dawn frowned. “If this is a smuggling operation, they're doing a pretty poor job at covering their tracks...not that I'm encouraging them to smarten up, or anything.”

“So I figured—”

A loud bang cut me off; Officer Drew pulled her gun and nearly gestured for me to stay down, until we both realized it was Unit Seven. “She's still trying to open that thing?!”

“Let's take a look...” Officer Drew led the way; I couldn't help but notice that she was a bit taller than me, probably by a few inches, and that her uniform managed to flatter her figure without crossing the line into fetish-wear. She also moved with a purpose—a dutiful stride, as opposed to anything that'd just draw attention to her ass and hips.

By the time we reached the capsule, Unit Seven was spewing smoke from her ears, nose and mouth—and the crotch of her pants was turning red with every straining motion, meaning she was probably going to blow a component there, as well. “....must be a pretty good lock, if she can't just pull the door off,” Officer Drew mused. She leaned in for a closer look, maneuvering herself around the now-spasming form of Unit Seven.

“....well?”

“....it's a time-code lock,” Officer Drew replied, smirking. “She could pull on this thing until Kingdom Come, and the door would stay closed. She'll probably burn herself out soon—”

“Unit Seven, disengage and return to your post.”

Another fembot strode towards us, looking old enough to be Unit Seven's mother—in fact, in the video clip that both of their human equivalents had been in, she was...or at least, it was her character's assigned role. In any case, she made her way towards the stricken fembot, apparently ignorant of the latter's catastrophic malfunction.

“Unit Seven,” she repeated, almost sounding maternally disapproving, “disengage and return to your post.”

“Musssssttttt open-open-open-open all-all-all-all contaitaitaitaitaitaitai—” Unit Seven's head turned to the side with a sharp crack, and a spark shot out of her nose.

“Unit Seven, disengage and return to your—”

Unit Seven staggered back, her arms locked into the now-familiar Ls at the elbows. “Error...error...errrr—” A shower of sparks shot out of her mouth as she staggered and pivoted, unaware of the other fembot...or, for that matter, of myself and Officer Drew. “...errrrrrrorooooooooorrrrrrrrr.....”

“Unit Seven, return to your post—”

I winced at the crack that sounded when Unit Seven's unyielding hand met—and pierced—the other fembot's side. As the stricken Unit Seven pivoted and bent up and down at the waist, her hand came away with skin, latex and a handful of wires from the other fembot. “....Unit Eight has-has-has-has-has—” A loud rizzz cut off Unit Eight's statement, her face contorting in a confused sneer.

“...that's not good,” Officer Drew mused, slowly backing away from the pair.

“Pretty sure it'll get really not good in a few minutes...” I nearly tripped over my own feet as I backed away.

Unit Eight, now smiling deliriously, turned towards Unit Seven. “Initiating Program FF-9839—”

Whatever FF-9839 was, Officer Drew and I never got to find out. Unit Seven, who'd been bent at the waist, straighened up, her right arm clocking Unit Eight in the jaw and nearly taking her head off. Colored fluids and smoke issued from the rips in her neck, in equal measure; more colored fluids were leaking from her lips, as if she was drooling. Her hands went to steady her head, which they very nearly did—until Unit Seven chopped her in the midsection while pivoting, doubling her over. The jolt pretty much finished what the earlier uppercut had started, taking her head off and causing her body to stagger around blindly.

“....I read a story that ended a lot like this, once,” I found myself muttering—forgetting who was standing by me.

“I still haven't signed up yet.”

I turned to regard Officer Drew with a surprised glance. “You know about the forum?!”

She shrugged. “....I dabble. Some of the 'control' aspects are a bit of a turn-off, but—”

Another bang cut her off; something in Unit Seven's midsection had exploded, sending her staggering forward. Her eyes had effectively blown out, with black electrical smoke streaming from both sockets; she took two blind steps forward before tripping over Unit Eight's head and falling forward—right into the still-staggering body of Unit Eight. The pair fell to the floor; a spark (presumably from either Unit Seven's midsection or Unit Eight's neck) caught on something, and within seconds, the pair were ablaze. Something that may have been the word “ERROR” issued from within Unit Seven's chest for a few more seconds before dying in a burst of static.

“....tell me you don't enjoy endings like that,” I muttered.

“I prefer repair scenes to malfunction scenes, personally,” Officer Drew replied. “Both in fiction, and....” She cleared her throat. “We should probably get a move on.”

“Probably a good idea.”

After a quick examination of the rest of the crates (Lina wasn't in any of them), we continued on our way. “You're not here by yourself, I hope,” Officer Drew inquired.

“Uncle Frank brought me. We also have two others with us...Millie and Ashwyn—”

“Ashwyn?” Officer Drew looked confused.

“Cat-girl gynoid. Test unit from a theme park—”

Officer Drew snapped her fingers. “I'd heard about that place...George and Marty were talking about it once, on break, but they only ever mentioned it that one time.”

“Uncle Frank told me the plans fell through....and you don't find this weird, at all?”

“What, having a conversation?” Officer Drew grinned. “Technically speaking, I'm off the clock...though I wonder...” Her grin faded as she retrieved her phone; a few swipes got it past the “RESTART” screen.

“You, ah, may want to change that setting later...”

“It reverts to that if I don't reply to HQ after a set length of time. Believe me, you're not in trouble for reactivating me, Matt.” Officer Drew held the phone to her ear. “....all units, this is Officer Rachel Drew, requesting assistance. Repeat, this is Officer Rachel Drew, requesting assistance. All available units, report to the Greensfield Warehouse Complex as soon as possible.” She turned off the phone and placed it back in the belt holster. “....now, we wait...”

“...we, ah, may not be able to wait for too long...” I nodded. “I think we've got company.”

Officer Drew turned, frowning, as four more fembots approached—to my disbelief, these four had apparently all been modeled after actresses from another “adult production”, made a few years before the one starring the actresses that Units 16-21 had been based on. The earlier film, promising to be “a chilling vision of the future of sex”, had been met with great acclaim on the forum, partially due to the fact that a sex doll company had cashed in by making sex doll versions of two of the female leads; said dolls had also been used as props in repair scenes in the film.

Obviously, these fembots would be a bit more...dangerous...than sex dolls.

“I'm starting to think that whoever made these has a really sick sense of humor...” I shook my head at the advancing quartet of fembots. “Six from one movie, two from another, and now these four?”

“If they're taking part in a smuggling operation,” Officer Drew replied, “they're still accessories to a felony—who they're based on doesn't mean anything.”

The four fembots strode towards us, without any expression on their faces; they didn't look smug, or angry, or....well, to be honest, they didn't have even a hint of emotion on their faces. They were just blank-faced, marching towards us with probably malicious intent. Officer Drew unholstered her gun, aiming it at each of the fembots in turn. “I can't exactly arrest them if they're just slaved to a network...”

“Then just shoot!”

“Even if I hit one...” Officer Drew took two steps back. “The nightstick, on my belt...get it and extend it.”

“You're sure it'll help against them?”

“It's better than....do you hear squealing tires?”

For a second, I thought Officer Drew might've been malfunctioning—only to hear the unmistakable sounds of rubber on pavement (or at least rubber on concrete floor) and a rather large vehicle accelerating towards us. The fembots didn't seem to notice; if they did, they didn't treat it as a priority.

As it turned out, ignoring the tire squeal was a really stupid move on their part.

A group of crates right next to the locked capsule Unit Seven had burnt herself out trying to open pretty much exploded into a shrapnel of wood as Uncle Frank's van plowed through them—and straight into the four fembots striding towards Officer Drew and me. One fembot's head pretty much got flattened under the front passenger-side tire; another one ended up on her stomach, with the full weight of the van on her back. The last two out of the group had “only” been knocked over...well, knocked over and smashed into (and through) the wall of a crate.

“....I'm guessing that's Uncle Frank,” Officer Drew mused, looking both impressed and amused at his entrance.

I couldn't help grinning like an idiot. “....yeah. That'll be him.”

“YO, MATT!” Uncle Frank jumped out of the driver's side seat of the van, surveying the havoc he'd just unleashed with a nod. “Ashwyn and Millie cleared their buildings, didn't find anything...Lucy didn't spot anything outside, either.” He noticed Officer Drew almost immediately, practically recoiling. “....ah, it's not what it looks like...”

“Matt explained the situation to me,” Officer Drew assured him. “And I know those four are gynoids.”

“....oh.” Uncle Frank nodded. “That's, ah....that's good...”

“She's one too. They had her strapped into a capsule....”

“And you decided to reactivate her,” Millie drawled, emerging from the front passenger side of the van. “Not that I think your intentions were anything but noble....” She sashayed up to Officer Drew, looking her over. “I'm just wonderin' why an officer of the law is stuck in a dump like this...”

Officer Drew scoffed. “Apparently, I was going to be 'inventory'. They're running some kind of smuggling ring—”

“What happened to these two?” Ashwyn was prodding the remains of Units Seven and Eight with her foot. “You didn't get them to get freaky with each other, did you?”

“No! One tried to open the capsule right there, nearly burnt herself out—”

“We saw a few of the others, further back,” Millie cut in, her hands on her hips. “I'm hopin' you had reasons for those lil' ol'....displays....”

“None of the units on patrol here are sentient,” Officer Drew stated. “They're pretty much really expensive drones, on a preset routine.” She glanced at me with a smirk. “Pretty sure Matt was just...venting his frustrations with his 'lil' ol' displays'...though I have to ask—”

“Two of them were screwing by a cargo container, one was fingering herself—”

“ASHWYN!” Millie looked livid. “We don't need to hear the details!”

“Well, she asked!” Ashwyn shrugged. “I took a few down myself, in another building...whoever set 'em up to patrol didn't bother giving any of them self-defense programming.”

Millie shook her head. “The ones I found knew how to apply an arm-lock, at least...not a very good one, but...”

“Can we get back to the point of why we're here?!” I glared at Millie, Ashwyn, Lucy and Uncle Frank...well, I tried to glare at them, but the anger just wasn't there. “....did any of you find any trace of Lina?”

“I found a locked office,” Millie replied. “Couldn't tell who was in it, but there were at least two people....”

“There was fuck-all outside,” Lucy muttered. “Nothing under the scyamore trees, except some weird lockbox....”

“All I found were parts,” Ashwyn admitted. “I don't think any of them were from Lina—”

A bing from the capsule Unit Seven had tried to open cut her off; Uncle Frank nearly jumped back a full foot. “It's just a time-lock,” Officer Drew assured him. “And judging from that sound...it's about to open!”

Millie and Lucy tensed, Ashwyn got her claws out again, Uncle Frank tripped over his own feet trying to back up....

...and I just stood my ground, with a death grip on the nightstick Officer Drew had suggested I take from her belt.

Whatever locks held the door shut clicked, something hissed, and the door swung open....

...to reveal the motionless, undisturbed figure of Lina resting inside.

“Lina!” The nightstick fell from my grasp, but I barely heard it hit the floor. She was still wearing the same clothes she'd had on in the shop, when that prick had shut her off; apart from the small matter of her not breathing, she just looked like she was sleeping inside the capsule.

Just to be sure, I held up the phone, opened FCon...

“It's her. It's.....” I could barely speak. Tears were welling up in my eyes, not that I gave a crap.

“....she's beautiful,” Millie murmured, leaning in for a closer look.

“She looks like she could be a princess!” Ashwyn added, clamoring for a better view of her own.

Lucy didn't say anything, though I noticed tears in her eyes as she looked down on Lina with a smile.

Uncle Frank clapped me on the shoulder, grinning. “We did it, Matt...now, all we have to do is get outta here—”

“Not without reactivating her.” Lucy had spoken the exact thing I'd had on my mind. “I.....we need to make sure those fuckheads didn't do anything to her between the shop and...well, here.”

Ashwyn leaned in again, getting a closer view of Lina's figure in the capsule.

“I know that look,” Millie muttered. “Please don't ask what I think you're about to ask—”

“You don't know what I'm gonna ask,” Ashwyn countered, sticking her tongue out at Millie. “I was just...wondering...”

Officer Drew arched an eyebrow. “Wondering what?”

Ashwyn ignored her, turning her attention to me. “You and Lina have been...together for....how long, now?”

“A week, almost. Why—”

“Did you and Lina......y'know...have sex?”

“ASHWYN!” Millie looked appalled. “A lady doesn't pry into the personal matters of—”

“They did. Twice.” Lucy rolled her eyes at Millie's gasp. “They even went anal the first time—”

“NO MORE!” Millie clamped her hands over Ashwyn's ears—or at least the sides of her head, completely forgetting about her cat ears. “My emulated age is 27 in human years,” she protested, shrugging out of Millie's grip. “I was built for a fetish-theme park, remember?”

“That's no excuse for anyone to air their filthy laundry in public.” Millie gave a dignified toss of her hair. “Really....”

Lucy shrugged. “Well, I tried to fuck him, too—”

“All right, enough!” Uncle Frank stepped in-between Millie and Lucy before either of them could get in each other's faces over Lucy's, ah, disarmingly-blunt admissions. “Save it for the privacy of the hangar, when we get back, okay? Right now, we need to get Lina booted up and out of here, before the jackalopes who own this place come calling...” He nodded at me. “I believe, ah, you should do the honors...after all, she is your—”

“Girlfriend.” I glanced at Millie, Ashwyn and Officer Drew. “It's not about ownership, between us.”

“So you're, what...gonna get married?” Ashwyn asked, astonished.

“.....yeah.” I couldn't help but smile. “Once this is all over and done with....we'll give it a few months, and then...I bet Lina would ask you to be a maid of honor—and you, too, Millie.”

Ashwyn's eyes practically lit up. “Really?!”

“Calm down, Ashwyn, otherwise your tail is gonna go crazy....” Millie—having finally calmed down after Lucy's cavalier attitude towards our sex life—nodded. “I'm glad to hear that you're in it for mutual love, rather than....” She cast a glare at Lucy.

“Let's not drag the moment down with that again,” Uncle Frank advised.

“I won't. And Matt...” Millie's smirk softened to a genuine smile. “I'd be honored to be a part of your wedding.”

I leaned into the capsule, reaching behind Lina's right ear—gently, unlike that android bastard from the shop—and felt around until my finger brushed against a small bump of some kind. I didn't care that a whispered “please work” left my lips as I pressed down on the bump.....

Slowly, as I moved back, Lina's eyes opened—and they were glowing blue.

“It's just her systems catching up,” Lucy assured me. “Give her a few seconds....”

Lina stared straight ahead, without blinking, for about two minutes; by the time she actually noticed me, I'd started worrying that the pricks who'd taken her had damaged her. Eventually, something in her let off a series of trilling, almost triumphant beeps—and she blinked.

“.....Matt?”

“Yeah.” I didn't bother wiping the tears away from my eyes. “It's me....” I took a step forward, just as Lina did the same, easing herself out of the capsule. “....I thought I....I didn't know—”

Lina wrapped me in a hug, crying into my shoulder. All I could do was hug her back, and cry into hers.

It took Uncle Frank's clearing his throat to remind us where we were. I was the one to pull back—gently, of course. “Did they....do anything to you?”

“....I haven't been reactivated since they took me out of the shop,” Lina replied, wiping her eyes—and reaching out to dry mine, as well. “....when I was shut off...I...I didn't know if I'd ever see you again.”

“....I was afraid of that, too....” I turned away, but Lina gently turned my head to look at her. “....I wasn't....”

“You're here now,” Lina reminded me. “That's all that matters....” She looked past me, at Uncle Frank—and Millie, Ashwyn and Officer Drew.

Uncle Frank—rubbing the back of his head with one hand—was the first to speak. “...I, ah, have a few....connections,” he began, only for Lina to stride over and hug him. After a few seconds of confused silence, he settled for returning her embrace.

“Seeing as how the ones who took you didn't reactivate you since the abduction,” Officer Drew stated, “we should get you up to speed on things—for starters, we're in the Greensfield Warehouse Complex.”

Lina turned away from Uncle Frank, frowning. “...a warehouse complex?”

“Some kind of smuggling ring,” I explained. “Except the 'stolen goods' are gynoids.”

“We found out from two of the ones who broke into the shop when you were, ah, taken,” Uncle Frank explained. “Got the address, and everything—they were supposed to come back here, with Lucy.”

“Is she okay?”

Lucy stepped forward, earning a confused stare from Lina. “....what, you don't even recognize the gynoid who fucking built you—” Her question was cut off by Lina practically throwing herself at her in a hug. “Nice to see you again, too, Lina,” she murmured, drying her eyes as she gently broke the embrace. “...well, now we can get the fuck out of here—”

“We might not be able to leave yet.” Officer Drew checked her phone. “Half a dozen cars are on their way here.”

I took Lina aside for a moment. “....I had one of the gynoids employed here open the capsule she was in...that same one tried to open the one you were in, but she burnt herself out.”

“And the others?”

“.....well, I, ah....thought back to the forum, and....”

Lina regarded me with a frown. “Just tell me this. Did you take your pants off at any point?”

“Not once. I mean, I had one tear her own head off—she kept calling you a 'unit', and it was pissing me off...they're all drones anyway, slaved to the network, and—”

“Matt....” Lina's frown slowly turned upwards, into a smirk. “I get it....and thanks.”

My anxiety at her response pretty much melted away. “....so, you're not....pissed at me?”

“Lucy would've taken a fire axe to them just to get me back,” Lina replied. “You just took a more....creative route.”

“Replace 'fire axe' with 'industrial chainsaw',” Lucy chimed in, “and you've pretty much fucking nailed it.”

The feel of Uncle Frank clapping me on the shoulder was only slightly unexpected. “Well, now that you two are back together,” he declared, “we can all get out of here and head back to the shop—”

“Hang on a second,” Millie cut in. “Aren't we...forgettin' someone?”

Ashwyn's tail went straight up, just as her hand went to her mouth. “Oh, no...we forgot Adrienne!”

“....is that a....tail?” Lina inquired, looking a bit confused. “And....cat ears?”

“Yes and yes.” I rolled my eyes, turning to regard Ashwyn. “What do you mean you 'forgot Adrienne'?”

“She was supposed to meet us at the van, but she didn't show, and then Millie had the idea to just drive the van through the big door on the side of this one, so Frank did that, and then—”

“Ashwyn.” Millie rested a hand on Ashwyn's shoulder. “Calm down...your tail's bouncin' all over the place!”

“Sorry...” Ashwyn nodded rapidly, and her tail—which had, indeed, been going totally insane during her mile-a-minute explanation—slowly returned to its usual state, though it still gave a few rapid swishes every few seconds. “It's just that we were all so focused on getting the van through the big door on the side....”

Uncle Frank gently scratched her behind the ears. “Well, I'm sure Adrienne will meet us once we get back outside—”

In the distance, something smashed into a crate.

“....what was that?” Lina's question went unanswered—well, unless anyone wants to count another crate being busted as a valid response.

Officer Drew retrieved her pistol. “Everyone, stay close.”

Millie reached down to her thigh—which opened at the slightest touch of her fingers, revealing a sleek, compact pistol of her own. “Whatever's makin' all that noise shouldn't be too much of a problem,” she reasoned. “We just need to—”

A scream cut her off—followed by Adrienne sailing over her head to smash into a crate behind her. Before anyone could ask what had happened, she managed to rise to her feet—there was a hole in her side, with torn wires and sparks occasionally firing out (at this point, the fact that she was a gynoid didn't even surprise me). “....he just wouldn't stay down,” she muttered. “Every time...I got-got-got-got—” A shudder ran through her body. “...I got him off his feet...he'd just get-get-get—” Her face tensed as a spark fired from the hole in her side, then relaxed. “....get back up!”

The question of who “he” was formed on everyone's lips, but went unspoken as a figure rounded the corner....

Ever heard that song “Down Under”, by Men At Work? There's a line in there about “a man from Brussels”, who was “Six foot four, and full of muscle”. Now, I have no idea where the Hell this guy who rounded the corner was from, but I could easily guess that he was, in fact, 6'4”, and it didn't take a genius to see that he was, most definitely, full of muscles. It didn't help that his eyes were glowing blood red, or that he had a wicked-looking mohawk....but none of those were the worst bit.

No, the worst bit was the fact that he was staring right at me, with a very obvious intent to kill me on the spot.

“Matt...” Lina took hold of my arm, looking almost as scared as she'd been in the shop.

As for me, two words perfectly summed up what was more than likely about to go down: “Oh, shit....”

Stay tuned....
"No one steals our chicks.....and lives!"

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Re: Lina, Part 6

Post by DollSpace » Sat Oct 19, 2019 10:03 am

These are happening fast! I like this one, too. Keep up the writing :) Pay attention to your characters' wants and needs and motivations. :)

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Re: Lina, Part 6

Post by liliwinnt6 » Sun Oct 20, 2019 2:39 am

this is such a defendless facility!

this is a very juiceful story IMO and I liked it a lot
by the way, I wish we can defeat that monster without too much damage or casualty
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Re: Lina, Part 6

Post by Extyr » Sun Oct 20, 2019 10:16 pm

This part I liked. Didn't feel like I was getting admonished about respecting robot's rights.

A warehouse full of pornbots sounds like a dream come true.

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Re: Lina, Part 6

Post by liliwinnt6 » Sun Oct 20, 2019 11:13 pm

Extyr wrote:
Sun Oct 20, 2019 10:16 pm
This part I liked. Didn't feel like I was getting admonished about respecting robot's rights.

A warehouse full of pornbots sounds like a dream come true.
i think you may treat non-sentient robots as tools as long as you dont abuse them recklessly

by the way, i like to see stories write about tampering the programming of the robot, such as Loganov's and WilloWisp's stories, you change her programming, achieve your objective or set yourself in a mess.

by the way, how do we pronounce "FCon"?
F-kon (fembot control) or FC-on (as seen)
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Re: Lina, Part 6

Post by DollSpace » Mon Oct 21, 2019 7:20 am

As I've always understood it, it's pronounced as the letter F (if you were saying the English or American alphabet) followed by the word "con".

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Re: Lina, Part 6

Post by BA2 » Tue Oct 22, 2019 7:37 am

Just a quick post to say I'm enjoying this - good writing!

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