The V.I.C.I. Diaries: A Criminal Mind Part 4

[DukeNukem 2417]

ALPA Safehouse Athens, Greece — August 22, 2011, 03:10 PM

“…not that I don’t appreciate the gesture, guys, but this place looks kind of…old.”

Vicki’s assessment of the safehouse on the outskirts of Greece wasn’t exactly out of place---indeed, the facility had once been a factory (of what kind, nobody knew)---but after the most recent development in her mission, she’d been assured that the place was, in fact, secure.

Considering that “recent development” they briefed me on during the flight…

It hadn’t come as a major shock that Jake Brightstar had chosen to reject the offer of aid from the ALPA after escaping Björn Aaberg’s hotel room…and it was even less of a shock that Aaberg’s men had caught up with Jake (who’d apparently raided Aaberg’s room earlier that week and stolen $15,000 in cash) when he tried to leave Miami. What was more than a bit shocking was the fact that Aaberg, instead of simply handing Jake over to the police or giving him to Stahl (which would’ve made a bit more sense, considering Jake’s assumed role in the theft of the precious information), chose instead to---as the Field Agents who’d arrived on the scene put it---“punish” Jake.

And by punishment….

“I find it hard to believe that even someone like Björn Aaberg could try to rip out every single one of Brightstar’s upgrades like that,” one of the Greek Field Agents mused. “Especially with gardening tools…does the man even know how well-integrated those things were with Brightstar?”

“He probably did,” the other Agent replied, “and he didn’t give two shits.”

Vicki said nothing, mainly because she’d seen the photos of Aaberg’s “techniques”---including one that showed Jake with a massive chunk of his back missing, due in no small part to Aaberg trying to get at the implants connected to his spine. I never thought anyone other than Faceless could show that kind of brutality, she mused, but I guess Björn Aaberg isn’t exactly a rational kind of guy…. She dismissed the thoughts and went back to giving the safehouse a once-over.

As it was, the building just so happened to be pretty damned effective as a secure facility for hiding any number of ALPA Field Agents. What looked like crumbling stone on the outside was reinforced with steel on the inside, and held up with titanium support pillars. Wooden doors had been replaced with high-impact plastic and ceramic “Star Trek doors” (the kind that slid into the walls), windows were plexiglass and Perspex, and all flammable surfaces had been treated with chemicals to impede the progress of accelerants by any means. In short, the entire building had been turned from a crumbling symbol of the old Greece into a bastion of strength and security for the ALPA.

It also helped that there was a friendly face there to greet Vicki as soon as she arrived.

“So let me guess,” Alicia 5 teased, “you got bored with Las Vegas, and Miami didn’t give you enough time to work on your tan….or am I completely off base?”

“Nice try, Alicia,” Vicki replied, “but this isn’t a social call. I’m here to find out why Matthew Hannsen came to Greece two years ago, undo any damage he might’ve done, and get back to the States before the end of the month…or something along those lines.” She paused; “I…don’t suppose you’ve heard about what happened to Jake,” she added, “have you?”

Alicia 5 turned away. “I heard all I needed to hear from HQ before you showed up.”

“I just wanted to tell you---‘

“I know it’s not your fault, Vicki,” Alicia muttered. “I just…I should’ve been there. I could’ve stopped him.”

“Stopped Jake?”

Vicki’s question prompted a mirthless grin from Alicia; “He always was the type of guy to charge in headfirst,” she admitted. “Never bothered with the whole “discretion is the better part of valor” thing, really…even when it would’ve saved him from a metric buttload of insanity….anyways, they got him out of Aaberg’s torture chamber in time, and I hear he’s…on the mend.”

That’s one way of putting it, Vicki mentally replied. Jake had been flown to a facility in Delaware after being rescued from Aaberg’s men; the repairs on his cybernetic implants were just starting that day.

“In any case,” Alicia continued, “he’s not the main issue here. The local branch has been doing some digging as to what Hannsen was working on before the ALPA was able to put him back in prison, and it’s…not exactly pretty. I’m not gonna lie to you, Vicki---some of this stuff ranks right up there with the Stylo virus in terms of sheer nightmare fuel potential…” She led Vicki to a table ladden with folders and binders. “This is what we dug up from the hotel where Hannsen stayed the last time he was here,” she explained, “and when I say ‘dug up’, I literally mean ‘dug up’---the crazy SOB took the place out with a bulldozer before he got caught.”

“Why would he level an entire hotel---“

“To protect all this,” Alicia snapped, gesturing at the documents on the table. “I don’t know what’s worse,” she muttered, “the fact that forty-five people got injured in the building collapse…or that fifteen never got out at all.”

“The fact that Hannsen actually knocked over an entire building is probably the worst part,” Vicki stated, her words tinged with sadness. “Y’know the really sucky thing? Humanity keeps worrying about A.I.s turning on them and robots ‘rising up’ to wipe them out…yet they’ve proven time and again that they are, without a doubt, their own worst enemy…” …and I’ve seen some of the worst proof, she mentally added, reflecting on her last encounter with the Butcher of Lake Gilmour. “Any androids or gynoids in the hotel when he razed it?”

Alicia shook her head. “Grecian ALPA is all human for the time being; they’ve been having some issues with a few local WiFi hotspots being used to transmit viruses---and while I’m thinking about it, your antivirus software is up-to-date, right?”

“I didn’t spend a fourteen-hour flight watching The Joy of Painting,” Vicki wryly replied.

“That makes two of us,” Alicia giggled. “Seriously, if I would’ve had to sit through fourteen hours of Bob Ross talking about ‘happy little trees’ and all that stuff…” She rolled her eyes at the potential banality of such a flight; “I spent my airtime doing some online shopping---and before anyone asks, I used the House credit card, and yes, I had permission from Celeste.” She turned in place, showing off her new hip-hugging jeans and transluscent flowered blouse (with a white tank-top underneath). “Too much? Or not the right colors---“

Vicki gave an exaggerated groan. “You’re asking me about fashion?!”

A loud throat-clearing noise cut off any further goofiness the two could’ve embarked upon. “Ladies….I trust you’ve read the brief?”

Alicia snapped to attention with a salute, and Vicki did her best to look serious as the Grecian-branch ALPA Field Commander, Stanislaus Raikov Pascalous, entered the room. Pascalous had been one of the first few internationally-recruited ALPA Field Commanders in the wake of the Bloody Valentine incident---and he’d been the first to secure the office in his home country. Standing at an even 6”, with a face that bore more than a striking resemblance to Leonidas from 300, he looked every bit the battle-hardened leader he was.

“We did read the brief, sir,” Vicki replied. “I haven’t actually been given the opportunity to read the documents recovered from Hannsen’s old hotel room, though---“

“Then we should start now,” Pascalous replied. “Miss Lehane, if you would…”

“Ah, who’s Miss….Lehane?!” Vicki glanced at Alicia, who retrieved a folder from the table. “’Lehane’?! Your last name---“

“Changes from mission to mission,” Alicia replied. “I might stick with Lehane for my next job….” The sentence trailed off as Pascalous stared at her; “We’ll discuss ‘the next job’ after this job is done,” he stated. “Seeing as how both of you read the brief, I’ll stick to the Cliff Notes version: Several of Hannsen’s associates have been spotted in and around Athens, and they’ve been talking about ‘visiting the Parthenon’.”

Alicia frowned. “Let me guess….they’re not just going on vacation, are they?”

“ALPA HQ believes that Hannsen may have hidden something near the Parthenon the last time he was in the area,” Pascalous replied. “Current intel pegs his associates as having been sent to retrieve it---“

“Or to destroy it.”

Pascalous and Alicia both glanced at Vicki. “Something you’d like to share with the class?” Pascalous inquired with a slightly skeptical glance at the brunette gynoid.

“Hannsen won’t be getting out of prison any time soon,” Vicki explained, “and security around the Parthenon is obviously tight, so if Hannsen’s men can’t retrieve whatever it was that he hid…they may have been told to just let it burn, or something. Knowing Hannsen, he might’ve even told them to get someone else to dig it up, or to at least make sure nobody else can get to it.”

“And you just thought of all this?” Alicia murmured.

Not exactly… “Fourteen hours in first class on a top-of-the-line airliner gave me plenty of time to think over the brief,” Vicki admitted, “and considering Hannsen’s history of…theatrical gestures…”

Several of the Greek Field Agents---Pascalous included---nodded. “That does sound like him…”

“Then send a team down there to make sure that Hannsen’s idiot squad can’t get to whatever they’re trying to get to,” Vicki insisted. “Also…I have a feeling the tourism department won’t want to hear that a bunch of thugs are messing around near a nationally-recognized historic…thing….okay, that sounded a lot better in my head.”

“We’ll have a team out there as soon as possible,” Pascalous promised. “In the meantime---“

“Ah, I don’t think ’as soon as possible’ is going to cut it this time, Pascy,” Alicia mused. “Hannsen’s known for having a complete lack of anything even remotely resembling decency and/or tact; if his thugs have their way, the Parthenon might very well get knocked over by the time your guys get there.”

Pascalous frowned. “It’ll take more than a bunch of idiots to ‘knock down the Parthenon’.”

“And Hannsen’s group just so happens to be ‘more than a bunch of idiots’,” Vicki countered. “Unless we get out there now, and keep them from doing anything really, REALLY stupid, we’ll have more to worry about than the Tourism Board breathing down our necks.”

“She’s got a point,” Alicia mused.

The Greek Field Agents thought it over and convened with Pascalous…for all of ten seconds. “Looks like your way gets the popular vote,” he informed Vicki. “I just hope we’re not running in half-cocked here, otherwise this whole thing could backfire on us…and trust me, the Tourism Board is the least of our worries right now.”

Alicia nodded. “Well, Vicki,” she mused, “I think we might be about to bust Hannsen’s game wide open.”

If that’s true, the brunette gynoid wondered, then why do I feel like we’re about to make a huge mistake?
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“DragonTown” - Location Classified - August 22, 2011, 03:43 pM

“You know, Hannsen,” Clive DuBraul mused from the DragonTown observation room, “this whole thing will be over with a lot faster if you just tell us what you hid near the Parthenon…rook takes bishop, check.” He stared nonchalantly at the monitor as Hannsen moved the pieces on his board to match those in the observation room.

“And deprive your team of the surprise?” the man who called himself the Maestro replied. “I wouldn’t dream of it…knight takes rook.”

DuBraul arched an eyebrow as he moved the pieces. “At least tell us if it’s dangerous or not,” he suggested, “so that we don’t have a containment crew going out there to neutralize a box of letters….if I’m going to send my people out there, then we need something concrete---bishop takes knight.”

“Well, I’ll tell you right now that it’s not a box of letters---queen takes bishop.”

“Fair enough---queen takes queen. Checkmate.”

A wry laugh sounded from Hannsen’s cell; “Beat me again, DuBraul!” he declared. “Never let it be said that your mental accumen is unworthy of my time…but you missed a few moves.”

“’Checkmate’ means the game is over, Hannsen---“

“Oh, I’m not talking about the chess game, DuBraul…” Hannsen’s chuckle turned sinister. “I’m talking about the fact that I could’ve had your precious Agent Lawson hauled off to God-knows-where at any time while she was in Vegas and Miami…but I chose to let her continue on her merry little way, because I am simply going to relish meeting her face to face.”

“I think you may need to get a window installed in your cell, Hannsen,” DuBraul wryly observed, “or at least get something to pipe in fresh air…even if you live to be 500 years old, you’re not leaving DragonTown to have this ‘face-to-face’ meeting with Vicki any time soon---“

“There you go with that conventional thinking again,” Hannsen laughed. “Always thinking inside the box…”

His voice dropped to a malicious whisper: “Who says I haven’t left my cell already?”

If the words prompted anything resembling concern from DuBraul, he didn’t let it show. “Have you forgotten the monitoring system?” he inquired. “The same one that’s allowing us to have this conversation, right now, with about fifteen guards---“

Within his cell, Hannsen rose from his seat at the ornate table, strode over to the camera hooked up in the corner of the room---and removed it from the mount. “You mean this monitoring system?” he cheerfully asked, grinning a shark’s grin. “The one that can’t be tampered with, or moved off its moorings, or even cleaned without special permission from Hizzonor, the Lord King God of Stupidity---aka Warden Whatever the bleeding hell his name was, since I never bothered to remember….anyways, that’s beside the point---“

“Then perhaps you’d like to fill me in on what the point is,” DuBraul offered.

“Always one to be direct,” Hannsen chuckled. “You’re a man who knows exactly when to make the move that ends the game, I’ll give you that…but alas, Monsieur DuBraul, the game is no longer yours---it’s mine.” With a flourish, he unbuttoned the orange denim shirt and shrugged it off…revealing a dress shirt beneath it.

Again, DuBraul was unphased---even though the guards behind him were panicking. “If this is a joke---“

“He’s not supposed to have that shirt,” one guard informed him quietly. “That’s the warden’s dress shirt!”

DuBraul’s faint smile vanished. “What are you playing at, Hannsen?”

“Who says I’m ‘playing’ at anything?” the Maestro replied, ripping off his pants---and revealing a pair of custom-tailored dress slacks beneath them. “I’m not going to go out for a night on the town in my denims, if that’s what you mean…then again…” After setting down the camera on the table, Hannsen half-danced over to his bed and lifted the mattress to reveal a dry-cleaning bag; “Just had this brought in last night,” he beamed. “Figured it’d go well with the rest of the outfit…which---where I’m going---means all the difference between getting on the front page and getting tossed out on your arse---“

“Where did you get these contraband items?” DuBraul demanded. “How did you bypass prison security---“

“Oh, Clive,” Hannsen sighed, “you are just so thick! I didn’t bypass prison security, and these aren’t any old ‘contraband items’---I had them delivered to me…or have you not figured it out yet?”

Even as the guards were shouting their heads off behind him, DuBraul let out a slow, quiet breath. “You don’t have to do this, Hannsen,” he intoned.

“So you do get it!” Hannsen beamed, clapping sarcastically. “A bit late, honestly, but---“

“Just tell me this,” DuBraul interjected. “How long?”

“How long what?”

DuBrual had to force himself to look at the monitor. “How long have you been planning this?” he whispered, even as the answer resonated within his mind.

“I’ve been planning this ever since the last time I got off the leash, Clive. You and I both know that.”

“And how long have you been out of DragonTown?”

At this, Hannsen grinned. “Honestly, I was going to wait another two or three months, but…I just couldn’t bear the thought of being left out of my own grand game any longer than I had to…” He chuckled again. “I’ve been out since the first of the month, Clive. Honestly, you people and your reliance on security systems---“

Every guard in the room stormed out, with the leader of the group yelling for “Security Clearance A6993”.

“Does it hurt, Clive?” Hannsen hissed. “Knowing that I’ve been out in the world, again, all while you and your pencil-pushers try to ‘fight the good fight’ and keep monsters like William J. Rengold III alive ‘to face their final justice’? And does it gall you to realize that William J. Rengold III will NEVER face justice, as long as there is breath in his body? More to the point…does it hurt to realize that I slipped out of your grasp right under your nose…and you couldn’t do anything to stop me?”

Even in defeat, DuBraul was calm. “Pain is temporary, Hannsen.”

“Oh, I won’t doubt that,” the Maestro agreed. “It’s just that this pain….well, I have a feeling that it’ll stick with you for the rest of your life…or at least the few years you’ve got left.” A smirk crossed his face; “How many of them even know, Clive?” he whispered. “Is it terminal, or just annoying?”

“I’ll live long enough to see you put back where you belong,” DuBraul replied.

Yet another chuckle from the Maestro filled the room. “Oh, you and your tenacity…always something to be admired. Anyways, it’s been relatively entertaining having this little chat with you, Clive, but I have a feeling you’ll want to see what’s on Channel 4….”

DuBraul walked over to one of the other monitors and changed the frequency…

….and turned away as soon as the picture clarified.

“…the body’s been here for at least two or three weeks,” one of the guards in Hannsen’s real cell stated. “He probably showed up to change out Hannsen’s sheets, then got jumped…stabbed to death…Hannsen must’ve ridden out in the laundry cart. That’s the second time someone’s left here that way, G__damnit---I told the warden to put a lock on those stupid things---“

The monitor clicked off.

“That, by the way, wasn’t even the opening act,” the Maestro declared. “Tipping off Stahl and giving him the number of Tavares’ hotel room, calling Aaberg about Brightstar trying to flee the state…all nice work, if I do say so myself---and I do---but the REAL big banana is coming up in ATHENS, GREECE---where Victoria Ann-Smith Lawson will have her first-ever confrontation with the one, the only---“

“Why?”

“Eh?! Whadaya mean, why?!”

“Why now, Hannsen? Why not in July, when William was on the loose?”

An overly-dramatic sigh issued through the speaker. “Do you really think I’d risk being upstaged by that idiot?” the Maestro drawled. “If I’m going to give a command performance to the ALPA’s finest, then you know damn well that it’ll be on my terms---if I have to compete with some looney-bin reject in a mask, why the hell should I bother showing up at all?! Anyways, as I said before, it’s been tremendous fun having this nice little convo with you, but I really must be going…” The door to the Maestro’s “cell” opened; DuBraul could just faintly see the outline of the Parthenon in the background. “Oh, and don’t bother calling ahead to spoil anything for Vicki,” he called out, “otherwise---“

In a distant part of the prison’s interior, a quiet, booming roar rang throughout the halls before going silent.

“Ah, that’ll have been the surprise I left under the bed for the investigating guards,” the Maestro muttered, his tongue playing over his teeth. “Really should’ve set the time-delay longer on it before I left…but it’s over with now, so…engh.” He shrugged. “CATCH YOU IN THE FUNNY PAPERS, CLIVE!” He turned to stride out of the fake cell---then whirled on his heel, producing a Glock from his jacket and firing at the camera. The image on the monitor faded out to static…

…though DuBraul could swear he heard a last, lingering echo of the Maestro’s laugh after the shot.

Weariness seeped through his bones as he sat down in the chair before the monitor bank. The Maestro had played everyone for fools---agreeing to “confess” about his previous brush with freedom, infuriating Reaver with the mention of his job before joining the ALPA, psychologically abusing the entire staff---and heaped one final indignation on them all by revealing that he wasn’t even in the damn prison anymore…nor had he been for at least half a month.

…and the worst part was, everything he’d said about the ALPA’s failings had been true.

“Has it always been this hard?” he murmured. “Doing the right thing, as opposed to doing what comes easy?”

From the back of the room, a voice he’d heard so often that he could’ve easily confused it with that of his own (albiet a few years younger) replied: “It always has been, DuBraul….as it should be. You and I both know that to be true.”

“Then tell me this, Oberon,” DuBraul replied. “What happens now?”

“Now….Vicki gets to learn exactly why making the right choice is rarely---if ever---the easy thing to do.”
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[DukeNukem 2417]

ALPA convoy en route to the Parthenon — Athens, Greece — August 22, 2011, 06:10 PM

“…and you’re telling me everything’s in place to make sure they don’t tear down the whole thing before we can get there? You’re positive? Okay, yes…thank you.” Pascalous turned off his cellphone; “They’re bringing in a few extra security people,” he informed Vicki and Alicia. “If that doesn’t deter Hannsen---“

“This isn’t about ‘deterring’ him anymore,” Vicki reminded him. “This is about getting him as far away from the Parthenon as possible before he hurts anyone…or worse.” She glanced out the window, already regretting her decision to join the convoy meant to intercept Hannsen; “He’s set this whole thing up just to get to me,” she muttered, “and I don’t want anyone else getting killed trying to stop him….”

Once again, an image from the previous month surged to the forefront of her thoughts---stop it! Faceless is in ALPA custody, he’s not going to---

“Ah, Vicki, I know you’re tense, and all…but d’you think you could ease up on the armrest?”

At Alicia’s insistance, Vicki let go of the armrest between their seats…and cringed as she noticed the perfectly formed dents where her grip had clenched. “Sorry about that…I was just, ah….remembering something---“

“Babe,” Alicia replied, “you don’t have to make excuses here---July 9 wasn’t exactly that long ago.”

“I know,” Vicki insisted, “but it’s….I’m sick of thinking about it all the time! I should be over this by now, but I just….” She waved it away. “Never mind. It’s probably just some residual memory files from my old bubble memory processor popping up and messing with my thought processes---in fact…” She closed her eyes and focused, navigating through her CPU’s built-in OS and starting a new process to flag and contain all memory files from July 9 when/if they recurred. “Hopefully, that’ll keep me focused,” she mused. “If not, I can always call Dad and ask for a full debug….what, Alicia?!”

“You just ran a process on yourself,” the blonde House gynoid mused. “A high-priority subprocess that only the techies usually have access to…during maintenance….”

“And you’re surprised? I already told you, Dad and the rest of the Eleven upgraded every single part of me, both hardware and software, that could’ve been considered a weakness---basically, I have full awareness of every aspect of myself, and of the world around me---including the fact that your internal power cell is currently running at---“

“I get it!” Alicia laughed. “You’re one with everything now….pretty cool stuff.”

The brunette gynoid smirked. “It’s not really being ‘one with everything’,” she admitted, “but it’s as close as I ever intend to get. It’s like a second awakening for me---it just feels like….I’m more alive now, than I ever was before. It’s kind of weird to say that, but that’s the only term I can use right now that makes sense….and I can tell everyone else in the vehicle wants me to stop talking,” she added, nervously glancing at the other occupants of the Rhino.

“It’s not so much that we don’t want to hear you,” Pascalous admitted, “it’s more about, ah….”

“Maintaining silence during the ride,” one of the Greek Field Agents stated.

Pascalous nodded. “We need to be alert for whatever may happen between here and the Parthenon.”

Vicki nodded her approval. “Good call…if we’re too busy chatting, then we may miss something really, really important….like that gigantic roadblock made out of what I think are a bunch of old tank traps?” She glanced at Alicia with a frown; “If this is his grand master plan to stop us,” she murmured, “he’s losing his touch.”

“Leave it to the pros,” the blonde gynoid replied with a grin. “STANNY! Park the car---I have an idea.”

The Rhino---and the entire convoy with it---rolled to a halt, just as Alicia half-jumped out of the vehicle. “Keep it running,” she called out, “I won’t take too long….hopefully.” With a cheerful wink, she set off towards the roadblock.

Even as she waved Alicia off, Vicki realized something about the situation was too…..easy. The Rhino could’ve plowed through that roadblock at full speed, and it wouldn’t have suffered more than a few scratches on the way through…and what the hell is that buzzing noise---wait a minute! “Stan,” she gasped, “is there any chance that someone could possibly be sending WiFi signals into the Rhino while we’re parked?”

“….the Rhino was rated to withstand physical damages, Agent Lawson,” Pascalous replied. “It---“

“It was never designed to shield against WiFi!” Vicki groaned. “Hannsen played us right into his hands with this stupid roadblock---he wanted someone to get out and investigate it!” She leaned out of the Rhino and cupped her hands over her mouth: “ALICIA! GET BACK IN THE RHINO! THE ROADBLOCK IS A TRAP---”

“I…..I can’t!”

It didn’t take a genius to note the panicked tone of Alicia’s voice as she spoke. “I…I can’t stop walking, Vicki! Something’s…ENGH…..making me walk….like I’m….uurghh….being controlled---”

“IT’S HANNSEN! HE’S USING A WIFI SIGNAL TO GUIDE YOU TOWARDS THE ROADBLOCK!”

“Why…the hell…would he do that?!”

“I don’t know…give me a minute…” The brunette gynoid focused on the road leading to the massive wall of concrete and steel. “I’m not sensing anything with an EMP in it,” she murmured, “but---oh, scrap---ALICIA, GET OUT OF THERE! HE’S MINED THE ROAD!” Pascalous and the other human Agents stared, horrified at the revelation; “He mined the road?!” Pascalous echoed. “As in---”

“As in ‘he put LAND MINES under the road’!” Vicki screamed. “ALICIA---GET OFF OF THE ROAD NOW!”

“I….I can’t! I….I can’t…stop….walking!” Alicia’s face was the only part of her body that still remained under her own control; “What…the fuck….is happening to me?!” she cried out. “WHY CAN’T I STOP WALKING TOWARDS THAT STUPID ROADBLOCK?!” Tears streamed down her face as she tried---and failed---to stop herself from walking towards the mined portion of the road

“Stan,” Vicki muttered, “drive towards Alicia.”

“I thought you just said---”

“DRIVE TOWARDS THE ROADBLOCK.”

Pascalous nodded grimly. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he muttered, gingerly pressing the gas pedal down. “If we get nuked to high Hades before this whole thing is over with, Hannsen gets four more notches on his belt, and---”

“He won’t.”

As the Rhino plowed forward, V.I.C.I. focused all her effort on finding and blocking the WiFi signal that was turning Alicia into a glorified puppet. “Don’t accelerate until I give the signal,” she ordered, “otherwise we may end up running over Alicia before I can break Hannsen’s hold over her.” …and if that happens, then the House will hit the warpath, she mentally added. Not exactly something I want hanging over my conscience while I’m trying to stop Hannsen…

“Vicki,” Pascalous shouted, “we’re about to hit her---”

“Then hit the brakes.” Just as V.I.C.I. had instructed, Pascalous stopped the Rhino before it could plow into Alicia. “Don’t move the car any further...I’ve got a lock on Hannsen’s signal, and I think I can shut it off from where we are.”

“Vicki,” Alicia sobbed, “make it stop…..I….I don’t want to die…”

“You won’t,” the brunette gynoid quietly replied. Just give me 25 more seconds….

“He’s telling me to run, Vicki!”

“And I’m telling you not to. Give my signal priority over his---”

“You’re sending a signal into me?!”

“To save your life. Just focus on the song you’re hearing right now….focus on that, and nothing else.”

“I…I’ll try to…..” Alicia closed her eyes, and her steps towards the roadblock slowed to a halt. “What…what is that song……Vicki…..you’re playing ‘Only You’……”

“The synthesizers in the background just so happen to have an ideal tone for disguising all of the counter-signals I’m using to block Hannsen’s signal…and I thought it could be some nice moral support for you in your time of need.” She grinned. “Just to make sure you’re not getting any ideas, or anything…” Despite the tears streaming from her eyes, Alicia managed a smile. “Vicki, you goof...if I wasn’t trying to keep myself from walking into a minefield, I’d kick you in the butt right now!”

“You might want to hold off on all thoughts of butt-kicking for the time being,” V.I.C.I. advised. “I still need a few seconds to fully deactivate the control signal Hannsen is using on you…just focus on the song and try not to let yourself take any more steps forward.”

“Right! I’ll…do the best I can….” Sure enough, just as her left leg was moving to take another step, Alicia closed her eyes, focusing all of her thoughts on not stepping forward…and to her relief, her left leg stopped mere inches before touching the ground. “It’s working, Vicki!” she shouted. “I have never been so happy that I’m not walking forward…seriously, this is just…” She was crying again, but the sobs had a distinctfully more positive edge. “Vicki, you are epic!”

“I’ll be even more epic in seven seconds,” the brunette gynoid deadpanned, “when you can move again.”

Alicia couldn’t help but grin as the seconds ticked down. “This is the coolest thing you’ve ever done, Vicki,” she beamed. “I just want you to know that…and when we finish kicking Hannsen’s ass from here to the Rock of Gibraltar, I say we---“

Three feet behind the Rhino, something exploded.

“OUT OF THE RHINO, NOW!” V.I.C.I. ordered. Pascalous and the other two Agents jumped out, followed soon after by V.I.C.I. herself---just in time to avoid going up in a fireball along with the rest of the transport. “He mined the whole road,” the brunette gynoid droned, her monotone taking on a growling edge. “He left time-delay mines along the entire road and waited for us to arrive…” She stared at Alicia, who was now almost frozen where she stood. “This wasn’t a roadblock,” she realized. “It was a killing jar…” A quick scan of the ground around them confirmed it. “Anything heavier than this vehicle would’ve set it off---that bastard wanted all of us to get out and investigate….”

She shook her head in disgust. “Alicia,” she called out, “get the nearest ALPA office on the horn and ask them if we can get an airlift to the Acropolis…”

…something tells me Hannsen’s saving the biggest surprises for the Parthenon…
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[DukeNukem 2417]

The Parthenon — Athens, Greece — August 22, 2011, 07:00 PM

By the time the ALPA chopper touched down at the Acropolis, Vicki knew something had gone terribly wrong.

For starters, the floodlights that usually illuminated the building at light had been redirected to search the skies, most likely for any approaching aircraft. Looks like Hannsen has all the bases covered, she realized. Or at least he thinks he does… On the ground, several all-terrain transports---light, six-wheeled vehicles that could easily traverse anything from muddy fields to rocky hillsides---were parked around the Parthenon at strategic points, with men in colorless Battle Dress Uniforms and body armor standing nearby.

“Either we’re interrupting an important visitor’s trip to the Parthenon,” Alicia mused, “or the scrap just hit the fan…and I have a feeling it’s probably going to be the latter.”

Vicki said nothing, partially because she was thinking the exact same thing herself…

…and partially because she had a very strong feeling that this wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d hoped.

Five of the BDU-clad men approached the chopper as it landed, with one gesturing for Vicki to follow him into the Parthenon (or what was left of it). “Do I get to bring my gun?” she inquired. “It’s only got non-lethal rounds in the clip, so…..never mind,” she finished, frowning as the men walked ahead of her without pause. “If they open fire on the chopper,” she whispered to Alicia, “just run. Don’t even bother waiting up for me---“

“And leave you to take all the credit for yourself?” the blonde gynoid teased.

“I was never programmed to take all the credit for myself,” Vicki corrected. “Just to get the job done.” With that, she turned and followed the guards (makes more sense to call them that than anything else…and they haven’t tried shooting at any of us yet, so that’s a plus) towards the ruined temple. “So, ah, any particular reason why we’re going into the Parthenon?” she asked the guard in front of her (after jogging a bit to catch up with the group). “Am I meeting someone, or barganing for something, or….anything?”

The guard’s silence spoke volumes.

“Okay, never mind….yeesh.” Vicki stayed quiet as she followed the phalanx of guards…

…and as soon as she stepped into the Parthenon, she felt like screaming her head off.

Three figures, all bound and gagged, knealt amidst the ruins of the ancient temple: Raquel Sanderson (Kirsten Sanderson’s gynoid “mother”, and the only family she had left after her father vanished---and was later found to be Project Epsilon), Aaron Cardwell (the soon-to-be CEO of Tentrex Electronics, and an ally of the gynoids and androids at the DreamWorld “dating service plus”), and Sharon Wilson---Vicki’s own roommate. All three were blindfolded, struggling frantically (and futilely) against the chains that bound them; a pair of guards stood over each of the three captives, high-caliber carbine rifles held at the ready to blow their heads off if they even tried to escape.

Worse than that, however, was the figure standing immediately behind the three…a figure Vicki hadn’t seen in person outside of a brief encounter within the virtual reality of MDM’s backup mainframe at the Silicon Dynamics plant. The five’o’clock shadow was still there, as was the impertinent smirk…but the prison denims had been traded out for a custom-tailored suit that he wore with the air of a crown prince. Even with the new clothes, there was no mistaking the almost palpable aura of power emanating from him…

…power that only came from having deep roots, connections…and the willingness to do anything to survive.

“Vicki Lawson….we meet at last. Maybe you remembered me from that little jaunt in the SD mainframe---“

“I know who you are….Maestro.”

“Ah, so my reputation preceeds me!” the Maestro beamed. “FANTASTIC! I am, indeed, the one and only Professor Matthew Emmerich Hannsen, alias THE MAESTRO---the SOLE SURVIVING member of the Great Dirty World Wide Web who DIDN’T disappear into that good night, or otherwise sell their soul to the ‘good guys’….and please, don’t feel any pressing need to introduce yourself, Miss Victoria Ann-Smith Lawson---or should I say Miss Voice Input Cybernetic Identicant? Oh, yes, I know all about you---“

“Then you know why you should let those three people go, now,” Vicki replied, with only the slightest tremor in her voice as she spoke.

The Maestro chuckled. “I don’t think so. See, I’ve been planning for this---“

A red-white blur flashed past him, knocking the three guards on their asses; a few short seconds later, Vicki stood before the Maestro again, dropping the carbines held by the guards. “I said, let them go NOW.”

“Was that supposed to scare me?” the Maestro taunted, only to feel something grabbing him by the collar.

“No,” V.I.C.I. intoned, “but this is.” Her grip closed around Hannsen’s throat, just enough for his breath to catch. “Either let them go,” she droned, “or you’ll spend the rest of your life in an iron lung.”

Maddeningly, the Maestro only chuckled. “You and your threats,” he wheezed. “Small wonder that Rengold nearly went insane trying to fight you---yes, I heard all about your little grudge match with Billy Boy, back at the factory…nice job putting the blades right on either side of his---hurk!”

The brunette gynoid’s grip tightened. “LET. THEM. GO. NOW.”

“You…first…”

With one last death glare into the Maestro’s eyes, V.I.C.I. unclenched her grip, letting the cybercriminal fall to his feet. “Why did you bring them here?” she asked. “They have nothing to do with---“

“WRONG….absolutely 100%…wrong….just…give me a minute to catch my breath there…WHOO!” After a few seconds of deep breaths and throat-clearing, the Maestro stood, dusting himself off as he regarded V.I.C.I. with a smirk. “You people make it a habit to nearly choke out a potential informant while questioning them?” he taunted. “Or is that just something you do exclusively? Actually, never mind that---“

V.I.C.I.’s hands closed around his lapels. “WHY DID YOU BRING THEM HERE?!”

“There is such a thing as ‘invasion of personal space’, y’know!” the Maestro complained, pushing away from the enraged Field Agent. “Just…just back away, and give me a few minutes…” He dusted himself off again.

“Talk,” V.I.C.I. demanded, “or next time---“

“There’s not gonna be a next time if you try that crap with me again, sunshine,” the Maestro countered, his voice no longer holding any trace of humor. “Here’s how this is going to go: You backpedal all the way to where you were standing before you decided to strangle me, and I MIGHT tell you what you want to know---“

A glowing blue pinprick of light appeared on his forehead.

“Talk,” V.I.C.I. repeated, “or I’ll put an SCEMP round through your skull.”

Even with a gun trained on him, the Maestro scoffed. “You want me to talk?” he murmured. “Fine….I’ll talk. I’ll do more than talk, really…I’ll tell you a nice little story---about how a bunch of twonks nearly RUINED my entire life’s work before I got sent to prison!”

The brunette gynoid’s stare never wavered. “I’m listening.”

“Of course you’re listening, idiot,” the Maestro spat. “You wouldn’t even be here…oh, sod it.” He shook his head and turned away; “I suppose this sordid little tale begins right around the time my hacking career went pear-shaped,” he began. “Anton had grown a conscience and left, Nicolai pretty much dropped off the face of the Earth….I had nothing. No friends, no casual acquaintances to let me crash on their couch when the heat was on…not that I gave a toss, mind you. All I needed was a laptop with an Internet connection, and I was set for life---“

“Except you got caught,” V.I.C.I. cut in.

“I was getting to that!” the Maestro hissed. “I was, as you so eloquently put it, caught…thanks to a series of events that NEVER WOULD’VE TAKEN PLACE had it not been for EVERYONE on Aaberg’s hit list. Raquel over there? She was originally built to be a prison guard, complete with access to every available database that had my mugshot in it…my brilliant plan to abscond with a guard’s uniform and use their Internet to further my nefarious schemes fell apart when she spotted me driving off in the plonk’s car. Cardwell? His company was the first to put out security software that SPECIFICALLY blocked every single exploit I wrote---well, except that one your team’s still having trouble with….anyways, Tentrex effectively ENDED my virus-writing career, and since I couldn’t bloody well go and drag each and every one of them off to the Parthenon, I settled for bagging him. Hell, even Vlatko and his battery-powered bride screwed me over….both of them ended up on my list when they let you go, back in May---“

“What about Stephen Crandall?”

The Maestro scoffed. “Owes me money. I fleeced the twonk, and he never paid up.”

“And Sharon?”

At this, the Maestro grinned. “Ah…her. See, she never actually gave me any problems before today, to be perfectly honest…I just figured she was…oh, valuable enough to warrant a visit…and then I decided that she might have a good time visiting Greece---“

“LET HER GO.” V.I.C.I.’s eyes blazed red with each word.

“What is it with you and interrupting people?” the Maestro inquired. “Is it just this thing that you do whenever you feel the need to exert power or influence over everyone? I mean, even Harrington’s not as bad as everyone thinks he is---hell, the man’s nearly a saint, compared to the way propaganda machine painted him back in the early 90s---but unless I’m sorely mistaken, then you are just a fountain of rudeness compared to me---and DON’T EVEN THINK about drawing that ES-9950 of yours again,” he added, “or your friends will be shot dead where they stand…well, where they kneel, really, ‘cos they’re not actually standing at the moment….ANYWAY, back to the original topic---“

“Let Sharon go NOW,” V.I.C.I. demanded, “or---“

“’Or’ NOTHING!” the Maestro thundered. “This is not your grand moment, Vicki Lawson! This isn’t the part where you play the hero and save everyone’s life---this is the part where you listen to every single word I tell you and then do exactly what I say…or your pathetic friends DIE.”

For three whole minutes (and fourteen seconds), the Parthenon was silent.

“Glad to see you understand how things are going to go,” the Maestro beamed. “Now, then…speaking of how this will go….it’s high time I laid out the rules of this little encounter between us. The guards you so charitably knocked out were only the FIRST line of security---secondary and tertiary guards, snipers in fact, have been stationed around the Parthenon to fire three shots apiece into the heads of your precious little meat popsicles if you decide to go all Rambo on me again. Are we absolutely clear on that?”

Vicki nodded silently, her fingernails nearly digging into her palms as her fists clenched.

“Good. Now, then….you only get to save one of them for now---AND DON’T INTERRUPT ME!” The Maestro glared at Vicki, almost daring her to make a move; “You want to see them walk out of here, don’t you?” he called out. “Then stand back and shut up.”

Even as her face contorted into a positively hatefull look, Vicki stepped back.

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, you will only be ‘rescuing’ one of the three here tonight,” the Maestro continued. “Out of the remaining two, one will be accompanying me to my private helicopter, which will take us out of this boring little country and as far away from your attempts at retaliation as humanly possible---and before you even think of pursuing me on foot, I’ve taken the liberty of laying time-delay EMP mines all over the area---they’ll go dormant tomorrow, if they haven’t triggered by then. So, just to reiterate, you get one, and I get one. Are we absolutely, postively clear on the understanding of THAT rule?”

Vicki forced herself to nod, all the while trying to dismiss the thought of ripping the Maestro’s head off.

“Molto bene! Now, you’re probably wondering what happens to the third little idiot who’s been kind enough to grace us with their presence today…and to be quite honest, I saved this part for last because you are very much an integral component in it…”

The Maestro’s voice turned sinister. “You get to choose which one of these three dies.”

All three blindfolded figures winced as they heard the sound of a mine going off, followed soon after by Vicki hitting the stone floor of the Parthenon; “I told you that the mines were meant to keep you from doing anything stupid,” the Maestro chided, “but you didn’t listen, did you?!” His fiendish cackle echoed through the ruins as the brunette gynoid struggled to return to a standing position. “Oh, this is just too much fun….”

“Let….them…go,” Vicki growled through clenched teeth.

“Did you not hear me just now?” the Maestro complained. “Seriously, I went through all the trouble of going over the rules, laying out how the whole bloody thing works---and you still try the old ‘LET THEM GO’ routine, even though you KNOW that’s not how this is going to---“

“SHUT UP.” Those two words nearly shook the Parthenon.

Even so, the Maestro wasn’t impressed (or was at least doing a damn good job of pretending he wasn’t).

“That’s it? That’s your big retort? Yelling ‘shut up’ at me---that’s the best you could come up with---“

Something slammed into his face with just enough restraint to avoid shattering his jaw. “Now that I have your attention,” Vicki stated, her voice cold, “here’s how this is really going to go. Your snipers are going to stand down, or the ALPA Field Agents that brought my friends and I all the way out here are going to use whatever means necessary to remove them from their posts. You, meanwhile, are going to free these people from their chains and let them leave---after you deactivate the EMP mines. Once they’re gone, you get a five-minute head start….and you’re going to run. You’re going to run because when I catch you---not ‘if’, but when---I am going to do everything in my power to make sure that you NEVER even THINK of doing anything like this ever again for the rest of your natural life. I’m not going to kill you, I’m not going to maim you---I’m not even going to hurt you….”

Once again, her eyes blazed red. “…but I will make you pay…for everything.”

“Do you really think that scares me?” the Maestro chuckled. “You think I’m afraid of a stupid little cu---“

V.I.C.I.’s iron grip snatched him up, closing around his throat, and he briefly thought she’d snapped…

…only to stare in shocked silence as she put her finger to her lips: “Shhhhh……”

Three seconds later, the Maestro hit a pillar.

As soon as her internal sensors confirmed that the Maestro was unconscious, Vicki set about ripping the chains off of Sharon, Raquel, and Aaron---which, to her annoyance, was more complicated than it looked. He’s been planning this for a while, she mused. And yes, there’s the whole “oh, he’s not in prison anymore” thing that might have surprised me a few months ago…anyways, back to the matter at hand. The chains binding Aaron, Raquel and Sharon were “prison-grade”, meaning that improvised cutting tools were useless in cutting through them or otherwise breaking them. Fortunately for me, I’ve got the best possible tools for the job…

A few seconds of straining was all it took for Vicki to rip the chains apart. Now, for the handcuffs---

The crack of a pistol firing interrupted her chain of thought, followed soon after by a round hitting the stone ground right next to her feet. “You should’ve stuck to the rules, Vicki!” the Maestro shouted. “I was going to be fair, and actually give you the choice of picking which one died---”

“That isn’t being fair,” Vicki called back, “that’s stacking the deck---”

Another gunshot split the night. “I’ve got fifteen clips of ammo laying around here,” the Maestro declared, “and I’ll be more than happy to turn this into a one-on-one deathmatch---that is, of course, unless you’re willing to have a bit of a compromise!”

“No deals, Hannsen! I don’t negotiate with common criminals---”

“MY CRIMINAL MIND IS NOT COMMON! I AM A CERTIFIED GENIUS---”

“You call this the work of a genius?!”

Several more shots hit the ground around Vicki and the three captives. “Either quit with the potshots and face me in the open,” she called out, “or just leave now---I’m not going to let you kill anyone, Hannsen! The game is over!”

“THE GAME IS NEVER OVER! NOT WITH ME!”

Vicki frantically worked to pick the locks on the handcuffs (which, to her chagrin, had been made of stronger stuff than the chains---the same carbon-titanium alloy as her new endoskeleton, to be precise) and trying to move the captives out of the way. “Just so you know,” she shouted, “I knew something like this would end up happening---you didn’t exactly go out of your way to disguise yourself back in Miami, and you blew your own cover at the blackjack tables in Vegas!”

“VERY CLEVER, LAWSON, BUT---”

“I also recognized you at Dagestan---you were the only guard at the Chirkey Dam who left before I told the chief of security to lead the men out!” She actually laughed; “How much time did you waste putting up all of those portable prison cells of yours?” she called out. “Must’ve taken you at least three hours---”

The click of a safety being pulled back sounded a few inches away from her head.

“More like two and a half,” the Maestro calmly replied. “On your feet, now---”

Something shot the pistol out of his hand before he could finish the sentence. “DAMNIT! What the HELL---“

“Leave it,” Alicia’s voice called out, “or you’ll lose a finger next time.” Sure enough, the blonde gynoid strode into the Parthenon a few seconds after the order, flanked by six Field Agents in full body armor. “Let them go, Hannsen,” she ordered, “or---“

Scrap---the mines! “Alicia, step back---“

Before Vicki could finish her warning, Alicia---and the Field Agents---froze in place as the EMP mines tripped, sending wave after wave of electromagnetic pulse energy through their bodies.

No….

“…damn stupid bitch, nearly blew a hole right through my hand….” The Maestro swore as he crawled after his pistol. “Damn it! She’s ruined it---completely trashed the damned thing! I really liked this gun---actually, I just got it last week, but it was a good gun….why the hell did she have to shoot my gun, instead of just firing a bloody warning shot…”

Vicki did her best to avoid punt-kicking the Maestro’s skull off his shoulders, choosing instead to shoot out the EMP mines around Alicia and the Field Agents. “C’mon, Alicia, say something,” she murmured. “Those were just low-level EMPs, they didn’t do any lasting damage…”

Alicia didn’t move.

The fully-armored Agents groaned and shook off the effects of the mines as they rose to their feet (a quick check of her medical scanners allowed Vicki to see that they were human---the mines merely interfered with most of the sensitive electronics integrated into their suits); “I don’t think she’s getting up from that,” one Agent informed the brunette gynoid. “She took the full brunt of the shock---I think she was channelling it away from us---“

“Get her to the helipad,” Vicki muttered, “and have her brought to the nearest ALPA base.”

“But---“

“DO IT.”

After several seconds of awkward silence, the Field Agent nodded, gesturing for his fellow Agents to help get Alicia off of the stone floor of the Parthenon. Vicki watched them leave, silently hoping that the EMP mines hadn’t completely trashed the blonde gynoid’s systems; I already lost one good friend to a psychopath this year, she mused, remembering Anton’s graphic retelling of Claudia’s death at Faceless’ hands the previous month, and I don’t want to lose another---

“Well, well, well….I think we’ve reached a rather interesting plateau in our little confrontation…”

The Maestro’s taunt did little to improve Vicki’s mood. “Tell me this,” she quietly asked, “how long have you been planning this? A year, two years…..a whole decade? Did you even do anything the last time you got off the leash---“

“I made preparations,” the Maestro replied coldly. “I set things into motion, I greased the right wheels…I did everything in my power to make sure that I could leave that hellhole whenever the need arose…and this time, I don’t intend to go back.” His sadistic grin returned as he cocked the revolver; “Speaking of which,” he mused, “when’s the last time you had a face-to-face with one Stacy Tanque? Last I heard, you haven’t seen her since that incident with Falken, last december…”

He chuckled again. “…what’s say we rectify that situation right now, eh?”

From behind him, a figure---a 6’5”, black-and-green clad female with green hair and eyes that, as far as Vicki could tell, were literally blank---strode forward out of the night. “Had to borrow some gear from a few friends to, ah, turn off most of her mind,” the Maestro admitted, “but she can still fight…”

He nodded in Stacy’s direction. “…speaking of which: STACY!”

The verlette gynoid stood at attention.

“Sic’ her.”

Had this fight taken place before July 10, 2011, Vicki would’ve been at a tremendous disadvantage---but now, with her improved systems allowing her to almost literally read her fellow gynoid’s mind (or at the very least, to detect a nearly-infinite number of potential attacks and counter/dodge as efficiently as possible), the “fight” became little more than an exercise in evasive maneuvers and pinpoint-accurate strikes.

Of course, the fact that her opponent was almost a hollow shell of her former self didn’t help.

“This is usually the part where I say ‘I know you can beat this’, or something,” Vicki mused, dodging an axe-handle smash, “but to be honest, I have no idea what Hannsen did to shut off your personality---actually, now that I think of it, let’s see if we can’t change that---” She whirled under a clothesline meant to take her head off, almost cartwheeling to evade the blow as she wrapped one arm around Stacy’s neck. “And the scanner says: She’s got three dorsal access panels!” Vicki immediately dug her fingernails into the verlette gynoid’s back, trying to pry the panels open---

---and nearly fell over as Stacy’s head swiveled around 360 degrees to stare at her with its blank eyes.

“Nice trick….but I’ve got one of my own.” Instantly, heat and cold began cycling through V.I.C.I.’s fingers in equal measure as her hands played over the panel lines in Stacy’s back; good thing that scan of her systems detected faulty temperature seals, she mused. Hopefully, this is enough to---

One of the panels popped out, revealing the vital components the brunette gynoid was looking for.

YES!

With a wry grin, V.I.C.I. jammed her finger into the opened panel on Stacy’s back. “Let’s see if we can’t give you a sunnier outlook on things…” Electricity (and data) surged through her fingers, prompting the vacant expression on Stacy’s face to change to a stunned look. “Normally, that would be a sign for me to run,” V.I.C.I. mused, “but in your case…” She grinned again as Stacy’s face twitched erratically. “Just a few more seconds, and….”

Something resembling a skin tag rose out of the synthetic flesh on Stacy’s forehead.

“And now for the restore.” V.I.C.I. pulled something out of the verlette gynoid’s back---an SD flash media card, to be precise---and pulled at the tab on Stacy’s forehead, revealing the chrome, plastic and servomotor assembly that made up her face. “…and the card goes here,” she murmured, inserting the card into a slot right between Stacy’s eyes, “and then we pull your face back up…” She rolled the rubbery “mask” that was Stacy’s face up to where it was meant to go, sighing as the connection points spasmed yet again. “Good thing your design includes SD card backups,” she mused, “otherwise you’d have been Hannsen’s puppet for a good long while…”

Two minutes later, Stacy’s head rotated back to its default position…

…followed by the gynoid herself yawning. “What….where am I….” She turned around to find Vicki staring at her. “You?! What the hell----what is this place?! I’m supposed to be working for Mr. Comstock in Oregon; how the hell did I end up….wherever the hell this is?!”

“Long story,” Vicki admitted. “Oh, and you’ve got a gaping hole in your back…and you’re apparently a robot.”

Stacy groaned. “This is just great,” she muttered. “I was supposed to be preparing a report on some weird project for Mr. Comstock, and now I’m out here with one of my dorsal ports open and---“ She glanced across the Parthenon, staring in wide-eyed shock at the figure of the Maestro. “What the fuck is HE doing here?!”

“He’s….the guy that dragged you all the way out here,” Vicki admitted. “He just said so---“

“AND A GOOD EVENING TO YOU, MADAME!” the Maestro shouted, cackling with unfettered delight (even though Vicki had just ruined his plan). “You know, Miss Tanque, you look simply stunning in the nude---like a classical Greek sculpture brought to life---”

“YOU KIDNAPPED ME AND UNDRESSED ME?!” Stacy shouted. “That is IT---I am going to kick the living shit out of---LET ME GO!”

Vicki’s grip on the verlette’s wrist tightened. “We’ve got more pressing matters to tend to, Miss…ah, Tanque,” she informed her former foe. “Those three people over there are in danger---Hannsen’s the one who brought them here---“

“Then allow me to be the one who gets them the hell OUT OF HERE,” Stacy growled, snatching the lockpicks Vicki offered her and setting to work on the handcuffs. “Seriously, of all the crap I’ve had to deal with….first I get ‘sent on vacation’ for not bagging Falken, then I get sent to work for McMire, then that falls through, and that Comstock guy and those two freaky twins show up…at least he’s not some lunatic who wants to take over the world, or anything, just a guy with a vision---but this?! Getting dragged out to Greece, of all places, and finding out that some pervy cybercriminal UNDRESSED ME---“

“Less talking,” Vicki whispered, “and more lockpicking…..please?”

Stacy glared at her, but went right back to picking the locks. “Now, then, let’s get them….out of here…” She frowned. “Are you sure those handcuffs were the only things on them?” she asked.

“What are you---oh, NO!” None of the three former captives were moving; Raquel had likely been affected by the EMP mines, but as for Aaron and Sharon… "WHAT DID YOU DO TO THEM?!” Vickio shouted, turning her glare on Hannsen. “They were conscious a few minutes ago, struggling to get out of their chains…why aren’t they moving now?!”

“Oh, nothing,” the Maestro replied. “Nothing serious, at least….unless you count an aerosolized poison as---“

The roar of a helicopter above the Parthenon drowned out his words. “LOOKS LIKE YOU HAVE A CHOICE TO MAKE AFTER ALL, MISS LAWSON!” the Maestro shouted. “EITHER STOP ME, OR SAVE THEM! I WOULDN’T TAKE TOO LONG IF I WERE YOU, THOUGH….THEY ONLY HAVE SIXTY MINUTES!”

Several angry (and potentially obscene) replies filtered through Vicki’s processors, but none of them left her lips. “Stacy, I need you to help me get these people out of here,” she stated. “There’s an ALPA helipad---yes, I know what the ALPA is----just get to the helipad and tell the pilot to get these three to…this hospital.” She handed the verlette gynoid a piece of paper.

“If it means that asshole doesn’t win this one,” Stacy replied, “I’ll do it.”

As Stacy ran off to reach the helipad, Vicki stared back at Hannsen---who was now dangling off the ladder dropped by the helicopter hovering overhead. “UNTIL NEXT TIME, VICKI LAWSON!” he cackled, laughing as the ladder was drawn up.

Next time, Vicki silently vowed, I won’t let you pull a stunt like this….

A few minutes later, the brunette gynoid sat next to the three former captives as they were loaded onto the ALPA helicopter, silently praying that none of them---especially Sharon---would die mid-flight. “Just hang in there,” she whispered, “please hang in there…just stay alive for a few more minutes….please don’t die…” A tear fell from her eyes, landing with a splash on Sharon’s face.

I’m sorry, Sharon….I’m so, so sorry…..
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[DukeNukem 2417]

ALPA-Owned Hospital — Athens, Greece — August 22, 2011

“Are they going to be okay?”

Oberon didn’t look away from the three beds to respond. “Raquel’s going to need another night in the repair bay,” he intoned, “and Aaron nearly had an allergic reaction to whatever Hannsen used on them…but they’ll live. Sharon might have a few nightmares, but otherwise she’ll be fine. Long in a short, they’ll all survive---“

“And what about Hannsen?”

This time, Oberon did turn. “He’s free. Again. The bastard slipped the leash right under our noses this time, and we damn near didn’t notice until it was too late…” A sad, tired sigh punctuated the sentence. “I thought Faceless was the worst we’d have to deal with,” he admitted, “but…with him out of the picture, it seems like every other lunatic is vying to take his place.”

“Then you must do everything in your power to ensure that they fail in their endeavours…for all our sakes.”

“I will. You have my word that I will.”

“Good. And what about Vicki?” A pause….

“You don’t think she can handle---”

“You don’t know her like I do,” Oberon countered. “She’s more than just the sum of her parts---she’s more than anything any of us could’ve predicted. She can most certainly handle this….and she will.”

With that, Oberon’s attention returned to the three beds. “She’ll handle it,” he repeated quietly. “She has to.”
-----------------------
Vicki stared at the magazine she’d plucked from the rack, not actually reading the thing. Thoughts of the past few hours filtered through her mind; Stacy being used like a puppet, three innocent people nearly being killed, Alicia 5 being drained by the EMP mines…and Matthew Hannsen laughing as the helicopter carried him away from the Parthenon. Yes, Aaron, Raquel and Sharon were going to survive…but the price was too high.

I thought Faceless was the worst I’d have to fight, she realized, but this….Hannsen was being cruel because he found it funny. She reflected on the tears shed while she begged Sharon not to die on her; guess I haven’t changed as much as everyone thinks I have---

“Says who?”

Oberon’s voice startled her to the point of nearly falling out of the chair; “I…I didn’t say anything,” she gasped.

“You didn’t need to,” Oberon quietly replied as he approached. “Body language, Vicki…the expression on your face, the way you’re sitting---to me, it’s as telling as getting shouted at.” He sighed as he sat down next to the brunette gynoid; “None of this is your fault, by the way,” he assured her. “We should’ve made it a priority to keep Hannsen under lock and key, but now…well, he’s out in the world again, and everyone on Aaberg’s list will need the best protection the ALPA can provide.”

“What about you?”

The question didn’t surprise Oberon as much as he’d expected it to. “I’ll be doing what I do best…making sure that everyone else in the ALPA is doing what they do best---including you.” With that, he rose from the chair and turned to leave; “You made the right choice, by the way,” he added, glancing over his shoulder. “Bringing them here instead of chasing Hannsen. Never forget that…doing what’s right isn’t always doing what’s easy.”

“I won’t forget it,” Vicki replied. Not now…and especially not when I face Hannsen again. Not after this…
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PHONE CALL — TRACED BY ALPA HQ — AUGUST 22, 2011

[Matthew Hannsen]: It’s done. They’re in hospital, the green-haired bitch is in protective custody, and Lawson is still alive.

[????] (later identified to be the individual known as the Baron): Good. Was your threat believable?

[Hannsen]: “Believable”?! I did tell you that I actually poisoned two of the idiots and infected the third, right?

[The Baron]: ….and she believed that they only had an hour to live?

[Hannsen]: She did…brought ‘em straight to the medics after I left. They survived, apparently.

[The Baron]: Good. And the virus used to infect Sanderson’s wife….

[Hannsen]: Is on a timer that’s set to go off in about…I’d say a week or two. Sounds good to you?

[The Baron]: It does indeed. You have earned your place among the DVS…now, we must discuss our next move---

[Hannsen]: Way ahead of you. I’ll be on the next flight to Singapore within the week; I assume everything will be in order when I arrive?

[The Baron]: Unless you choose to…misuse your newfound freedom, everything will be as we arranged.

[Hannsen]: I won’t be misusing anything. What about the data I sent from Stacy Twonk?

[The Baron]: It will be given to those who know how to use it. I assume Comstock was unaware that Miss Tanque was ever missing?

[Hannsen]: ….ah, about that---

[The Baron]: No matter. He is of no consequence for the time being, nor are his…associates. We must tread carefully from this point on, lest we awaken giants; we have come too far to be laid low by a single false step or a careless whisper.

[Hannsen]: ….right, right. Everything’s in place for our grand finale?

[The Baron]: It is. The Valley will kneel before us…or fall dead at our feet.

[Hannsen]: (chuckles) Wouldn’t have it any other way.

[CALL TERMINATED]
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To Be Continued in
The V.I.C.I. Diaries: “For Whom the Bell Tolls”
coming later this April to Fembot Central!

[DukeNukem 2417]

Comments, compliments and constructive criticisms are anticipated and appreciated.

[Brytestar]

Thank you for another installment with the twist and turns I was looking for. I am glad that you are continuing it. I am wondering with the next installment being released at the end of the month. Does that story start season 2?

[DukeNukem 2417]

Thank you for another installment with the twist and turns I was looking for. I am glad that you are continuing it. I am wondering with the next installment being released at the end of the month. Does that story start season 2?

All four parts of "A Criminal Mind" form Part 1 of the Season 1 finale.

[Brytestar]

Thanks for the reply. The next installment will be part 2 of the season finale then?

[DollSpace]

Brilliant! Something wants me to say "more malfunction scenes", but only if the bot survives somehow lol..either way, though, I really liked it and can't wait for the season two premiere.

[Baron]

Well done chapter indeed, Old Boy!! Been way too busy of late to comment in a more timely manner, but I consider this installment on a par with a Ruth's Chris top-line meal - pure satisfaction and pleasure.

Mega-kudos; looking forward to the next chapters / season!!