The V.I.C.I. Diaries: Valley of the Damned (Part 15)

[DukeNukem 2417]

For the fembots on the ground floor, time almost literally had no meaning.

Their reconditioning at the hands of Aaberg (and Hannsen, before he'd given them to the arms dealer) had made them effectively immune to those annoyances like “morality” and “ethics” that would've made it any more difficult to do what they were meant to do. They hadn't been built for the job, technically speaking---all of them had been appropriated from a surpluss owned by Drake Bradford, and Hannsen had never bothered to find out what they'd actually been built for---but they'd stood against the ALPA's finest and emerged unscathed.

At least, most of them had emerged unscathed....but even those who'd sustained damage in the fight were still carrying out their orders.

In the eyes of Björn Aaberg, this made them the perfect army.

In the eyes of the ALPA, this made them victims of a lunatic's warped mind and an arms dealer's fanatic desire for revenge....and unlike Aaberg, who viewed his “perfect army” as a disposable and replacable asset, the ALPA refused to let them go unavenged. Even with the knowledge that “saving” them would mean reducing them to blank slates, it would at least give them a chance to have new lives, new possibilities, given to them.

And, of course, there was the small bonus of their new lives not having any memory of their past “lives”.

None of these thoughts---or any thoughts other than ripping apart the entire building as soon as they received the coded signal to commence---passed through the fembots' processors. As per Aaberg's requests, they were incapable of thinking about anything not related to their pre-programmed objectives...though a subroutine containing the entirity of their sexual programming was allowed to run at the lowest tier on their internal OS, to allow for an “emergency override” if the binary algorithm-based control method somehow failed. Again, it had been Aaberg's idea---if they stopped listening to them, he could easily turn them into an army of sex-crazed dolls with no care in the world other than---

The elevator on the far side of the room pinged.

It would've been quite an interesting sight for anyone to see: every head turning in fluid, precise unison to stare at the opening elevator doors. No wasted motion, no half-second delay---every single fembot moved as one.

When the other elevator door opened, they simultaneously turned their unfeeling gaze that way.

At no point in this bizarre, silent ballet of sorts did any of the fembots even consider the option of having one half of the group look one way, and the other half of the group looking another way. Even this simplest bit of logic was utterly foreign to them---again, thanks to Aaberg's stringent demands, their programming only allowed them to focus on the task at hand....yet, for all his posturing about wanting to take charge of the operation, Aaberg had stupidly forgotten the fundamental of multitasking.

In short, his drive to have the fembots focus only on their objective was about to be their undoing.

The security shutter on the other side of the room clattered upwards; again, every fembot on the ground floor (even those who were nowhere near the thing) turned in the direction of the sound. Had Aaberg been more lenient with their programming, a few of them might've realized that the constant sounds were distractions...

Somewhere above the fembots, a lighting fixture disconnected and fell to the floor. Aaberg's “recommended” programming took over yet again, as the fembots all turned to stare at the fallen object and determine what, if anything, had caused it to fall and whether or not its presence was detrimental to their objective. They had just managed to determine that the light was harmless, and were turning back towards the last sound registered in their memories---but one of them turned a second later than her “sisters”, before falling to the ground in a heap.

A hundredth of a second later, the fembots got the fight they'd waited for.
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I almost feel guilty about this....but then again, they don't even realize they're being conned, so there's nothing for me to really feel guilty about.

Vicki didn't mind admitting that she wanted to laugh as she watched the fembots go through the motions of turning to stare at every single sound they heard---she doubted they could grasp the concept that the ground floor could effectively be controlled from the floors higher up in the building. Getting to her current hiding spot under the front desk had been a bit tricky---until the elevators opened.

Anton's team had figured out the flaws in Aaberg's suggested programming and tailored his own counterattack in seconds. The elevator door chime, combined with Vicki's myogel-powered reflexes, allowed the brunette gynoid to drop into the room silently from her hiding spot over the desk and crouch beneath it without even needing to make sure she hadn't been seen. The opening of the second door gave her just enough time to move behind a pillar, flattening herself (as much as she could, at the very least) against it and freeze in place, waiting until the next sound.

By the time the security shutters had finished their noisy ascent, Vicki was in position to take down the first of the fembots---which she did, with all the efficiency expected of an ALPA Field Agent, as soon as the group turned to look at the fallen light fixture. She'd planned out the entire fight---and over a thousand variations on it---in her head before the fembots even knew she was in the room with them....

….and now, it was on.

The mass of spandex-clad fembots swarmed towards her, grabbing at limbs and extremities with the full intent of tearing her apart. Had any of them actually managed to get a hold of her, they might've succeeded; instead, all of them ended up eating hook kicks and wicked uppercuts that sent them reeling to the floor. Their “sisters” wasted no time in stepping over them, closing the gap between themselves and Vicki in mere seconds.

As expected, the brunette gynoid wasted no time in showing her opponents the error of their ways.

Four fembots who'd been trying to pull Vicki's left hand apart by grabbing two fingers each got stunned by a dose of Detaining Grip surging through them, followed soon after by palm strikes to the face. Another fembot, hellbent on tearing off Vicki's hair for reasons unknown, was the recipient of a gut-kick that sent her flying backwards until she hit the wall and stopped moving altogether. Two more fembots, more than likely trying to fracture their target's spine, instead got elbowed in the face---neither of them had time to counter the moves, and as such dropped to the floor soundlessly while their “sisters” continued forward.

Under any other circumstances, Vicki would've been falling back, or maybe even pulling her punches...but thus far, she'd actually been doing less damage than she would in a typical fight.

Besides, I still have my secret weapon to unleash...

Every bit of advice from the past few months---even advice she'd received earlier in the day---came rushing back as Vicki charged into the crowd of fembots, taking them down with moves that wouldn't have looked out of place in a WWE ring or a UFC match. One particularly unlucky fembot was smashed forehead-first into the floor by way of a running hurricanrana, while another got DDT'd into a table; two more were knocked down by a jumping clothesline---with Vicki jumping off the shoulders of another fembot.

She'd expected the fight to get easier, harder or anything in between, but this.....this barely even felt fair.

They're not sentient, the brunette gynoid reminded herself. They're only following their programming, and nothing else. They can't feel pain, they don't have feelings, they don't even have names....they're just tools of their masters.....all they know how to do is destroy and hurt. I'm technically doing them a favor by doing what I'm doing....

…..so why do I feel like I'm about to murder them all?

Her internal doubts about her assignment didn't stop Vicki from continuing the fight---she didn't tone down her attacks, or even consider giving up. Ironically (or appropriately) enough, her decision to keep the fight going proved her right---the fembots refused to stop attacking her even when their numbers were beginning to dwindle.

So it's not murder....it's pest control.

The thought had barely run through Vicki's mind before she realized how wrong that statement was---even though her opponents were single-minded automatons in female form, programmed to cause as much havoc as they could, that hardly qualified them as vermin---and all questions about what it did qualify them as left the gynoid's processors as a flurry of fists and feet pummelled her to the ground, the fembots taking advantage of her distracted state to stomp her to death.

At least, that was the general idea...

In terms of the actual execution of the “stomp Vicki into dust” plan went, the fembots had only succeeded at one goal, and an unintended one at that: they had effectively pissed off their opponent enough for her to abandon all conventional logic. Okay, they have officially crossed the line.....

Seconds after they had grounded the brunette gynoid, the fembots were flung back---and those who weren't ended up being hurled by the feet across the room. The few who could still stand afterwards became the targets of a crimson/white blur that floored each of them in turn with jabs, elbows and palm strikes that no boxer could even hope to compete with. Another fembot tried to grab the blur as it moved, only to be lifted up in a firefighter's carry and slammed into the floor. More and more fembots tried to halt the progress of the humanoid figure that moved around them faster than they could think, only to be dropped before they could see what hit them.

Somehow or other, Vicki expected herself to start feeling sorry for the fembots again, or at least to force herself to remember that they couldn't feel pain...but the fembots themselves were doing a good job of proving that point. More than a few of them, after having been hit with attacks that would've left a human staggering for breath, were back on their feet and running towards the gynoid Field Agent fully intent on ripping her apart however they could.

Yet again, they were knocked back, knocked down and (in a few cases) knocked out.

For what felt like the fiftieth time, the fembots staggered to their feet, fully intent on ripping Vicki limb from limb to eradicate her as a threat. Some of them were finally beginning to show signs that the fight was taking a toll on them, but others were still moving forward as if the fight was just a workout. None of them could've known, or expected, that Vicki was running an internal countdown clock---which, at that moment, was on its last two minutes and would soon run out, allowing the brunette gynoid to finally use the last, most devastating weapon in her arsenal to bring them all down simultaneously. Even if they had known about this little “twist” in the fight, the fembots more than likely would've charged ahead and attacked without hesitation.

Obviously, Vicki was silently thankful that none of them chose the “direct approach”.

They'd be mocking me right now if they were human, she mused, or they'd just try to close the gap and get to me before I did something stupid. The thought of being taunted for her current strategy---which, simply put, boiled down to “backpedal away from them and trigger Anton's latest upgrade”---didn't phase the gynoid Field Agent in the least, nor did the fact that Anton, Elena, and countless others were watching from the upper floors at that very moment. A subroutine in her navigational software notified Vicki that she was at least fifty steps away from backing into a wall; without even blinking, she dismissed the prompt.

In front of her, the fembots waited for the inevitable; behind her, a reinforced wall.

Just a few more seconds left......
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“You're sure this will work, Anton?”

The famed roboticist chuckled. “Positive. Even if they can get to her before she activates it, there's no way the fembots can prevent her from triggering my latest upgrade. And before you ask, it won't affect Vicki---I made sure to include every possible safeguard that will keep her systems from getting crisped by it while the fembots get what they so rightly deserve. You should be more worried about what happens after we neutralize them, Mrs. Vlatko...”

Elena scowled, but managed to keep her annoyance in check. “Taking the fight directly to Aaberg will end in tears, Professor Malvineous---”

“You can call me Anton.”

Something about the gentle rebuke took the edge off of Elena's next few words: “You have to understand my feelings on this....Anton.....even if your plan works, and we are able to find Aaberg and Stahl, we have no idea what measures they may take to ensure their own survival. And there is still the matter of Hannsen---”

“Matthew Emmerich Hannsen,” the sonorous voice of Inspektor 12 declared, “is still confined to a hospital bed, and is only involved in this sordid affair because he has friends in shady places. As far as this particular mission goes, the Maestro is a non-entity. We're going after Stahl and Aaberg when this is over with, and Hannsen can just sit in his hosital bed and collect dust ---trying to pin any of this on him at this point would be utterly ridiculous....not to mention a waste of resources and time.”

“Besides,” Anton added, “Vicki's got the fembots on the ropes right now.” Had it not been for the fact that all present knew the fembots weren't sentient, the twinkle in the roboticist's eye would've been significantly more ominous than it was eccentric.

It's times like these I'm glad we're on the same side, Elena reminded herself.
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Somewhere, somebody is playing “The Final Countdown”.....and if it's Jamie, I'll kick him in the shin.

Even with her internal countdown clock ticking away the seconds, Vicki couldn't help but grin about her current situation---the fembots had no idea that, rather than backing her into a corner, they were, in all actuality, setting themselves up for a massive failure. And I ddn't even need to do anything more than back awy from them....

Her navigational software kicked in once more with a notification that the wall behind her was now less than two feet away. Good---let them think I'm trapped. All the better for me. By the time Vicki felt her hand brush up against the wall, the fembots were less than five feet from her, prompting flashbacks to the ending of the “Thriller” video. Except none of them are pop stars, she mused, and I hope I never have to face the Starlet Dolls in a situation like this....
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“Is she going to activate it or what?” Elena whispered. “They're closing in around her---”

“She'll activate it,” Anton assured her. “Just give her time...”

Inspektor 12 nodded his agreement. “If she was just dealing with this, I'd be impressed, but after everything else she's been through today.....”

“She has been under tremendous stress,” Elena mused. “Especially with Faceless' WiFi attacks---”

A frantic gesture from Anton prompted her to stop talking. “She's about to trigger it. Dear Mother of Christ, she's actually about to trigger it....” He made a quick sign of the cross, muttering under his breath and clasping his hands together.

All Elena could do was watch, and wait....and hope.
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Five.....four.....three.....two.....one.........

One of the fembots' hands brushed up against Vicki's shoulder---

---and in that instant, she opened her mouth and screamed.

To the human ear, there wasn't any actual sound to be heard---it was as if she'd simply opened her mouth and was now pantomiming the act of shouting. Indeed, any human being who might've been present would've been able to observe the moment without feeling so much as a slight headache.

To the fembots, however.....

…..the scream was hell.

Anton's upgrade had given Vicki a subsonic transmission that, by itself, wouldn't have harmed even a toaster oven---or any other gynoid or android running any other operating system, even if they'd been pushed to the breaking point the way these fembots had. The upgrade did, however, allow Vicki to effectively turn the binary algorithm that the fembots used to receive their programming against them, overloading their processors with conflicting instructions and data that, quite simply, drove them insane. Coupled with the tortures Aaberg and Hannsen had put them through, their mental framework simply collapsed under the strain.

A few seconds later, they physically collapsed as well.

What transpired next wasn't so much an epic battle as it was a cleanup operation---with the structural analysis of the fembots' cranial modules having been completed in-house by Anton and his team, Vicki had no problem moving from one fembot to the next, popping their heads open and removing their internal processors and flash-memory backups.

From start to finish, the entire thing took well under five minutes to complete.

It took even less time for the “All Clear” signal to be sent throughout the building.

Anton, Inspektor 12 and Elena arrived ten minutes later, expressing their approval that the fembots had been taken care of without further physical damage. “I have to hand it to you, Vicki,” Elena mused, “I think you may have outdone yourself in terms of.....how do you say it....epicness.”

The brunette gynoid grinned. “Just doing my job.”

“And mine,” Anton chimed in. “That upgrade really did the trick, didn't it? Every single one of them, dropping like stones at the same time....truly incredible. Restoring their internal BIOS shouldn't be a problem, and once Wyss and Faber can finish working on the new OS software for them....” He chuckled. “Vicki, you've made the ALPA proud.”

“She'll get another chance to make them proud once we get to Aaberg and Stahl,” Inspektor 12 began, only for a trilling from his pocket to cut him off. “Probably just Oberon calling to make sure we're okay....y'ello?”

Vicki glanced around at the fembot bodies being picked up and loaded onto handcarts. “So...what happens to them now?” she quietly asked Anton. “I mean....I've got all the chips removed, so they're pretty much...empty at the moment...but scrapping them just seems like sort of a waste. I mean, Oberon did come up with a plan for what to----” A half-choked gasp from behind Anton ended the discussion rather abruptly. “Something wrong, Inspektor?” Vicki inquired.

It took her a minute to realize that the mumbled reply included the words “diversion” and “break-in”.

“You'll have to speak up,” Anton began, only to be stopped by the brunette gynoid. “Vicki, we need to–-”

“He said the attack was a diversion,” V.I.C.I. stated. “He also mentioned something about a break-in.”

The bluntness of the reply was enough to stun the roboticist into a brief silence. “You're sure?”

“Positive. And I remember you mentioning that we were going to go after Stahl and Aaberg as soon as I neutralized the fembots....so what better time to leave than now?” Vicki allowed herself a smirk. “Besides, I'd hate to let Björney the Dinosaur think he was getting off scott-free after all he's done...”

Anything Anton could've said was cut off by a moan from Inspektor 12. “There's....more,” he croaked.

“More what?”

“Rescued units.....the ones from Dawley.....they've been taken.”

Those last three words wiped any trace of a smile off of Vicki's face. “Taken where?”

“Can't tell for sure....the truck....two fembots at the wheel....one redhead, one brunette....broke the driver's legs and threw him out.” The Inspektor shook his head. “They broke through the garage door when they drove out,” he added. “We can use the tracker to follow them---”

“Except all the vehicles in the garage were disabled,” Anton cut in, frowning. “The EMP fried the electics---”

Vicki held up a hand to silence him. “Didn't you say you had a hydrogen-powered truck in a shielded sub-floor of the garage a few weeks ago?”

Anton's only response was a torrent of profanities and stomping.

“Not to worry, Professor. If the truck is ALPA issue, we can still track it....and if we can track it, I can catch up to it, and I think you get the idea of how things are going to go from there.” Vicki steered Anton to a chair and let him sit down; “We'll get this done, Anton,” she assured him. “Even if it takes us all week, we'll find the truck and rescue the androids in it. We haven't come this far to stop now---”

“I know,” Anton hissed. “I just...they were all supposed to be locked in the lobby. How did those two---”

“Get past security shutters, locked doors and enough alarm systems to make Fort Knox look like a common piggy bank?” Oberon's voice called out. “I have a few theories of my own, but none of them are important right now.” The man himself strode over to join the group. “Very nice job with that scream attack, Agent Lawson, if I do say so myself....speaking of selves, I assume your sense of self is fully intact after the WiFi assault you've been forced to endure at the hands of the Butcher of Lake Gilmour?”

A few seconds of silence passed before Vicki replied: “Whatever he was hoping to accomplish with me, it didn't work. I know who I am, what I'm here to do and what my limits are...and I wouldn't change anything about it if I could.” She smiled. “But enough reminiscing for now....I think it's time we make sure Silicon Valley doesn't get turned into a valley of the damned before the night is through---with your permission, Mr. Chairman.”

Oberon returned the brunette gynoid's smile with one of his own. “Granted.”

“Thanks. Think you could spare a few of our expert Field Agents for this op, or should I try to go it alone for the time being?”

“I'll have a team put together within seven minutes.”

“Fair enough. And one other thing......can someone get me a motorcycle? I don't really ride horses....”

The ALPA chairman couldn't help but laugh. “I think that can be arranged.”
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[Uhoh]

Great piece, can't wait to read what happens next .

[DollSpace]

Heh.. screaming into the wind...isn't that someone else's sppecialty? I liked it loads; moving on to Part 16 now!