The V.I.C.I. Diaries: Valley of the Damned (Part 16)

[DukeNukem 2417]

To put it very mildly, Anders Stahl was not impressed.

Nor was he amused, happy, willing to forgive those whose shortcomings had led to this less-than-auspicious moment---all things considered, the only state of mind he should've been in was one of near homicidal rage, especially at his would-be colleague, Björn Aaberg.

And speaking of Björn.....

“HE SWINDLED US! THE SLIME! HANNSEN HAS RUINED US ALL!” A computer console hit the floor with a mighty crash, the end result of Aaberg planting a kick into its side and giving it as much “push” as humanly possible. “I have been ruined before, by many incompetent men and women, but NEVER have I been so ROYALLY FU---”

“Enough,” Stahl intoned. “The fembots failed us, Aaberg. Hannsen---”

“HANNSEN WILL HANG FOR THIS!” Aaberg kicked over another computer console. “I will see to it that his life support is terminated instantaneously! He will never know peace and.....” His rant trailed off as he saw Stahl pointing a Walther P99 at him. “What....what is this?”

The banking guild manager's face was as emotionless as his voice. “Matthew Emmerich Hannsen has been a colleague of mine for the past few months,” he informed Aaberg, “and it was my money that allowed him to be taken to hospital as soon as possible after the...injuries he sustained. While I am not personally friends with him, I am bound by a mutual working contract to ensure that he survives any and all potentially life-threatening events, be they accidental or intentional---and as such, I will not allow you to continue threatening to 'pull the plug' on him.” He dabbed at his left eye with his free hand; “As valuable as your patronage has been, Björn,” he added, “there are many arms dealers and hitmen in the world....but there is only one Matthew Emmerich Hannsen. I believe you can figure out where this goes next on your own.”

“You....would kill me for some slime----”

Aaberg reflexively flinched---even though the shot wasn't anywhere close to hitting him, he knew all too well how easy it was for warning shots to “miss”. “The next remark you make should be an apology,” Stahl warned, “otherwise I may find my aim drifting a bit higher than that last shot.”

“We are friends, Stahl!” Aaberg hissed. “Allies! How can you---”

“Allies and friends can be replaced, Björn, but a man like Matthew Hannsen is worth more to me than an entire arsenal of your most powerful ordnance. I do not need your weapons any more than I need you to device a cure for cancer. You have been.....useful, over these past few months---”

“USEFUL?! I have been useful to you---”

A trail of heat and smoke blazed past Aaberg's left ear. “Do not interrupt me again,” Stahl intoned.

“Stahl,” the hitman pleaded, “listen to me. These people, the ALPA---they are trying to turn us against each other for their own gains. They want us to kill each other---”

“Nobody wants us to kill each other, Aaberg,” Stahl calmly replied. “And I do not care what the ALPA may want or what they do not want. I work for a much higher power than them, as does Matthew Hannsen---and in the eyes of my colleagues, Hannsen and myself are worth a thousand of you....and with that, I humbly suggest that you stop trying to bribe me into giving or doing whatever it is you want.” He turned on his heel. “As of this moment, Björn Aaberg, we are finished. I will find other hitmen and other arms dealers....you, on the other hand---”

The safety of an Astra 400 pistol clicked off somewhere behind Stahl's head.

“You do not make the demands anymore,” Aaberg growled. “You do NOT order me around like some common thug, Stahl---and YOU DO NOT DECLARE OUR PARTNERSHIP OVER UNTIL I SAY IT IS OVER! If your colleagues value your life so much, then perhaps they will---”

In less time than Aaberg could blink, the Astra 400 was shot out of his hand.

“I believe you would do well to avoid making puerile threats from this point on,” Stahl informed him, as two female figures stepped forward from the shadows behind him. “I'm told that my new associates have never missed a target before....and given your rather precarious position at the moment, I advise against testing that claim with any further provocations.” He nodded to one of the girls, who handed over a thick Manilla envelope retrieved from the trenchcoat draped loosely over her lithe frame; “This,” Stahl continued, “is the first of your generous severance package. You will receive twice the amount next month, and three times as much the month after, along with smaller weekly bonuses.”

Feeling inferior had always made Aaberg uncomfortable, and even though he never would've admitted it out loud, the sight of his “severance package” in Stahl's hands made him feel utterly useless. “And what have I done to deserve your....generosity?” he finally asked, choosing his words carefully.

“What you will do,” Stahl corrected, “is stay out of the affairs of the ALPA from this point forward, unless given orders to do otherwise. My other colleauges may yet have use for you, Aaberg...and even though our own working relationship must end, I do not feel it necessary to 'put you in the poorhouse'.” He flashed a brief, thin-lipped smile. “Despite all thoughts to the contrary, you have, in fact, done an admirable job thus far...apart from a few small mis-steps.”

“Then let me repair the damage I have done!” Aaberg insisted.

Stahl shook his head. “It is too late for that.” He slid the envelope across the floor, watching as it hit Aaberg's foot. “You have your own objective now---there is a contingent of ALPA troops inbound to our location. My colleagues would greatly appreciate it if you could prevent them from following my lovely associates...” He gestured to the girls again.

“You told me I was to stay out of the ALPA's affairs,” the arms dealer protested. “This is---”

“This is your final encounter with them before that order becomes official,” Stahl finished. “I would appreciate it greatly if you did not force me to do something...rash, to handle this on my own terms....”

Even as the feeling of inferiority began seeping into his mind once again, Aaberg realized there was nothing he could do to turn the situation around to his own benefit. “If it is enough to ensure that we at least can part on good terms, I will see to it that they do not catch up with your associates,” he replied. “You have my word that the ALPA---”

“I prefer actions to words, Aaberg. You, of all people, should understand this by now.”

“Of course, of course....and I will take the necessary actions to do as you have asked.” Even with the near-genetic aversion to begging that he'd had throughout his life, Björn Aaberg was more than happy to debase himself before Stahl if it meant the difference between a severance package and a bullet to the back of the head. “When will they arrive?”

“In a matter of minutes, more than likely.” Stahl checked his watch. “I cannot be here when they arrive....”

The two managed to have another three minutes of small talk, though neither of them actually paid any mind to what was being said. The important thing, for both of them, was that neither man was in any true position of power over the other for the moment---until Stahl left the building, he and Aaberg were still technically equals.

Neither of them knew how insignificant that would be in around 30 minutes.
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In the room outside of Stahl and Aaberg's “meeting area”, Celine debated whether or not she should laugh, groan or just go back to reading Mick Foley's autobiography (one of the only books in the room with all of its pages still intact, for some stupid reason).

The tableau between the banking guild manager and the arms dealer/hitman had been boring from the get-go, with all of the usual melodrama of such discussions whenever “old friends” were on the verge of any sort of falling-out. Aaberg, obviously, was a man desperate to cling to power---even going so far as to beg Stahl to not lock him out of the loop---and Stahl, meanwhile, only had as much power as his superiors were willing to let him have. Had either of them attempted a similar stunt within The House......

Celine shook her head, forcing herself to abandon that particular line of thought.

Current events notwithstanding, The House had always managed to handle its affairs with the bare minimum of fuss. Even the incident with Oberon and Celeste---an event that, until Celeste's “exit”, had been spoken of in hushed tones---ended up being written off as a one-time tiff between the two, nothing more. By contrast, the situation between Aaberg and Stahl was a shameless, stupid pantomime between two equally-inept parties; the only real difference between the two was that Stahl managed to maintain some level of decorum (even when he'd drawn the Walther), whereas Aaberg was so pathetically dependant on Stahl that he'd almost tripped over his own words trying to keep the man there.

Absolutely, utterly pathetic.

Her thoughts safely pushed away from the Houses indiscretions, Celine focused on what---or, to be more specific, who---would be arriving on Aaberg's doorstep within the hour. The ALPA, despite nearly losing their own building to an attacking army of hostile fembots, had already marshalled the troops and would be closing in on everyone Hannsen had involved in his plans---including Aaberg. Stahl would escape, as always, but the arms dealer was, to put it bluntly, royally screwed.

A few minutes into the “negotiations” between the two men, Celine abandoned the autobiography and pulled out an arcade gaming 'zine that had managed to thrive even in the age of digital publication. Apparently, 2012 would mark the 30th anniversary of one rather iconic title from the 80s, Fi---

[Yo, sis, you awake?]

Only the memory of her mental connection to all of her House sisters kept the gynoid from falling out of the chair. [I am now. Why are you calling me, Alicia---]

[The cavalry's on its way, and they've got Vicki with them.]

The mention of Vicki Lawson prompted a raised eyebrow from Celine. [After all she's been through, they're letting her take part in this op?]

[If they tried keeping her at the base, she'd go insane. She needs to be out there, Cel.]

[Fair enough...though all Alicias are supposed to be on leave.]

[Unless the Alicia in question just rolled out today. I haven't had any PTSD yet, if you're wondering---]

[That's not the point. I....oh, forget it. Just tell me this: Is she stable?]

[Stable enough to balance an egg on her forehead. She'll get the job done, Cel...trust me on that.]

Celine sighed as the call ended; I hope you're right, sister. For all our sakes, I really hope you're right....

Fortunately for Celine, Alicia VI's hopes would, indeed, prove to be right.
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[DollSpace]

Parts of this are quite brilliant, but you've left so many questions for the finale! I can't wait to see how this will end!

[Uhoh]

The final showdown approaches, I can't wait!