Do Androids Dream Of Electronic Tickles? - Part 8

Part 7

For anyone looking for a long tickle scene, I need to apologise as there ain't one to be found here. There's brief references but if you're after something more substantial I'd suggest looking at earlier posts in this series.
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Part 8

Fiona woke to the touch of a hand on her shoulder and opened her eyes to find Steve kneeling beside the bed, a smile softening his features as he watched her.

“Sorry to wake you lass, but we’ve got to move if we’re going to keep our appointment.” He said, stroking her hair back from her face almost absentmindedly.

“What….what appointment?” Fiona replied, trying to shake the last remnants of sleep from her mind.

“We’re meeting Tim at eight, remember? The computer finished working through the record of what happened last night and I really don’t like what it’s picked up.”

“Okay, okay, I’m moving. I don’t suppose you’ve got anything resembling a change of clothes around here by any chance?”

“Funny you should mention that, there’s some stuff over on the chair, I’ll meet you out front when you’re ready.” Steve said, closing the door behind him.

Fiona swung her body out of bed and, running a hand back through her hair as she walked, went to see what Steve had picked out. She realised immediately that this wasn’t going to be a simple night on the town as she saw the black leather of a motorbike suit draped over the back of the chair. A closer look confirmed that the suit was in her size, something she made a mental note to ask Steve about later on, and there was a small pile of suitable underclothes on the seat, including a set of jeans and t-shirt in a dark grey that definitely weren’t designed to be fashion statements.

Ten minutes later she left the bedroom, her left hand bust pulling her hair up into a short ponytail as the rest of her body tried to get used to the feeling of wearing an armoured one piece suit over the top of her clothes.

“You know, on most people a set of leathers wouldn’t look so damn sexy.” Steve drawled as she stepped into the corridor, his own body now covered in a similar leather covering, though his seemed to have a couple of extra pouches moulded into it’s shape.

“What can I say, I’m not most people.” Fiona replied, walking up to him and planting a quick, gentle kiss on his lips before walking to the front door. “Shall we get going?”

They walked out into the cool night air, Steve relieved that it was a clear night for a change, rain was the last thing he wanted that night. Walking out of the driveway he turned left onto the main road, then turned off into a small maze of back alleys and side streets, never once seeming confused about where he was going as Fiona followed behind him. After a few minutes she began to get a little impatient with the silence and decided there was nothing to lose by asking a question.

“So where are we going anyway?”

“Well, I don’t want to use the car after last night, it’s probably being looked for by everyone from both sides of the law about now. So we’re going to need another form of transportation.”

“Okay, as answers go that was short, to the point and totally useless. Want to try the long version?”

“The long version is as above my dear, though maybe this will help explain it.” Steve replied coming to a halt outside a row of six garages and pressing his palm against an ID pad. There was a brief pause, then a side door clicked open and swung out slightly, letting them slip inside into the darkened room. There was a pause as the door pulled itself shut again then, with a brief flicker, a set of overhead lights flipped on, revealing a row of dust-covered lumps laid out in two neat rows in front of them. Steve walked down the row, lips moving silently as he counted off the different lumps, stopping in front of a silver blanket and checking the number stamped on top.

With a quick flick of his wrist he pulled off the sheet to reveal what, at first glance, looked like an alien machine sitting under the florescent lights. After the initial shock had worn off Fiona took a second look at the machine and stared in shock.

“This…this is an FP1 isn’t it?” She asked, reaching a trembling hand out to touch the back of the bike, running her fingers over the curved hump over the three exhaust pipes, down over the seat and up over the fuel tank.

“Umm, yeah, one of only 75 they did for the road in the end. I didn’t know you were interested in bikes lass.” Steve replied, his own surprise etched on his face.

“Interested? My dad loved them, used to take me to school on the back of a Fireblade every day for five years. I’ve been riding these things since I was old enough to hold them up.”

“In that case, I suppose I can scrap the idea of you riding pillion and we’d better get you one of your own.” Steve grinned, casting a critical glance over the rest of the covered bikes. “Hmm, let’s see, how about this?” he said, pulling back a dust sheet and revealing a fiery red shape, twin exhausts poking from under the seat like the barrels of a shotgun.

“What the…?. Where the hell did you get a Ducati 916 from?” Fiona asked as she stared at the pristine bike in front of her.

“Picked it up about five years ago, someone had had it stored in a shed since 96 and wanted some quick cash. Took another two years to get her working but she’s as good as the day she came off the production line, actually, she’s probably better now than she was then.”

“So, and I know I’m going to regret asking this, why have you got a garage of classic bikes? I mean, this lot must be worth a fortune by now, why not sell them?”

“Some of them I do, those I’ve got bored of or if I find a better example somewhere else. The ones I keep. I don’t know really, there’s something about them, something that stirs the soul somehow, know what I mean?”

“Yeah, yeah I know.” Fiona replied, sliding a leg gently over the saddle of the Ducati and feeling it easily absorb her weight, reaching forward to the handlebars and savouring the racing crouch she found her body pulled into. “God, I always wanted to ride one of these, ever since I first saw one in the metal. Anything I should know?”

“Not really, as I said she’s probably better than new now, totally rebuilt and with a few modern parts to replace those wonderful Italian electrics. Just keep the revs up and watch out for the clutch, tends to bite quick.” Steve said, walking over to a cabinet on the wall and pulled out a black helmet before slinging it over to her. “You’re about a medium, right?”

Fiona pulled the helmet on, moving her head quickly from side to side to make sure it was a good fit. “Yep, perfect fit.”

“Good, I’d say we’re about ready to roll. Oh, one thing I did add, the bike’s got a heads up display and GPS system.” Steve said, leaning over and hitting the small red button on the top of the display stack. “I set it up before we left the flat, it’ll stick a map up on the screen showing you how we’re getting to where we’re going.”

A few minutes later they had both bikes outside, the steady burble of the twin cylinder Ducati mixing with the higher pitched tick over from the triple of the FP1. Steve reached up and pulled down the large metal door over the front of the garage, pausing only to set the security system before turning and sliding a leg over the FP1. He reached forward, pulled the clutch back and flicked the reverse racing gearbox down for first gear. A gentle twist of the throttle as he let the clutch out was all the bike needed and it started to roll under its own power, heading slowly forward down the quiet suburban street as he rocked it gently from side to side, doing a quick system check. Behind he could hear the thump of the Ducati as Fiona copied his moves, getting used to the bike. Then there was a wall of sound, the scream of something otherworldly being born and the Italian bike shot past, Fiona already crouched low over the fuel tank, helmet almost touching the bike as she started to explore it’s potential. Grinning Steve grabbed a handful of throttle and raced in pursuit, the howl of the race-bred triple rising into the night sky.

They barely slowed as they reached the junction with the main road, Fiona darting out into the light traffic with a skill that confirmed she hadn’t been boasting about her long experience. Steve followed her line out onto the three lane road, shifting his weight back slightly to find a more comfortable riding position, left foot dancing on the gear leaver as they topped one hundred miles an hour and kept on heading for the horizon. With the background blurring they carved their way past cars that seemed to be standing still, Fiona flicking the Ducati around as if born to it, Steve relying on his instincts to match her and slowly claw back the gap between them.

Fiona was laughing out loud under her helmet, the sheer exhilaration of what she was doing energizing her senses to a point she wouldn’t have believed possible. From alongside her she heard the scream of the FP1 as Steve finally managed to pull level with her, then gradually edge ahead, and she slid into his slipstream, matching every move he made. The bike seemed to dance under her, reacting to every movement of her body while, somehow, being stable enough not to twitch and jerk to the patterns in the road beneath her. The almost primal howl from the big exhausts coupled with the pulses of the big V-twin engine encouraged her on to go even faster and she managed to pull out and alongside Steve as they raced down into the city at almost a hundred and fifty miles an hour.

A gentle light started to glow on the screen in front of her and she started to ease the bike down to a more sensible speed as she followed Steve off the main highway and onto a two lane street, tall Victorian buildings flanking either side of the road as they rode between them. Steve tipped his bike right into a back street, then through a quick left-right-left set of turns to bring them out in the middle of Camden high street. After another two hundred yards he made one final turn and they swept into a multi-story car park, Steve taking them all the way to the roof before parking the bikes next to a familiar Suzuki.

“You okay?” Steve asked as he pulled off his helmet.

“Okay? That was the most fun I’ve ever had in my life!” Fiona replied, her smile stretching from ear to ear. “I think I’m in love with this thing.”

“Don’t get too attached, like any relationship the maintenance charges are extortionate.” Steve joked, ducking the hand that was aimed for his head with a chuckle. “Come on, Tim’s probably waiting for us downstairs.”

He led her down to the street, then across the road and into a small, rather non-descript pub with the legend “The Black Lion” on a small, weather faded sign outside. It didn’t get much better on the inside, it may have been a trendy spot once, but that had to be at least ten years ago. The furniture was battered and threadbare, the lighting dim and occasionally flickering. All around were groups of people having what were obviously private conversations and Fiona took her queue silently as she stepped in a little closer to Steve as he walked through the crowd, eyes flicking around but his head always locked straight ahead. Finally he spotted Tim in a corner booth and headed in that direction, pausing to let Fiona slide in between them before sitting down himself.

“What did I miss?” Tim asked, after a quick look at the two of them. “Come on, something’s up, what is it?”

“God, you need to cut down on those soap operas, they don’t do you any good man.” Steve replied, a casual grin deflecting the question, at least for the time being. “Look, the system finished crunching the data of our last little outing, and I think it came up with something.”

“I’m breathless with anticipation.” Tim replied, putting a near-perfect American deep south accent on the words.

“Right before that, well, that whatever it was came to life, there was a hell of a surge in the electric grid. Now whatever it was wasn’t power or I’d have been pulling bits of circuit board out of the walls for weeks, and after crunching it down it looks like it was a data stream.” Steve said, ignoring the sarcasm in Tim’s voice as he passed over a hard copy of the data surge.

“So you were right, this thing, whatever it is, is replicating over the power lines?”

“Not exactly, it was a huge data burst, but there’s no transmission back out until it left the scenario, which means that its autonomous.”

“Whoa, wait a minute, this ain’t enough code to run an AI, it had to be remote controlled somehow.” Tim said, his eyes flicking over the paper as he searched for anything he’d missed.

”Nope, sorry. No data transmissions in or out after that initial spike on any medium until the very end of the session. But you’re right, it can’t be an AI, not in that much code.”

“Okay, so if it’s not an AI, and it’s not a human hacking your sim, what the hell are we dealing with here?”

“That’s a damn good question, and I can only think of one way to find out.”

“Oh god, please don’t say what I think you’re going to say.” Tim replied. “Please don’t say ‘Let’s go and ask it’.”

“Well, as you said it, I guess that makes it your idea.” Steve said. “But seriously, can you think of any other way of doing this?”

“Unfortunately not, and I’m trying, believe me. So, how do you want to play this one, considering we pretty much got our buts handed to us last time?”

“Simple, we grab the biggest, nastiest anti-virals we can and hook the system up so that we can isolate it onto a generator when we want too. Once we get it trapped, we can try talking to it.”

“Umm, guys?” Fiona asked, her voice low as she forced herself to keep looking straight ahead. “Out of curiosity would a bunch of guys wearing a lot of tech kit and really fetching green and yellow armbands be of interest to you?” She felt Steve stiffen beside her, but was surprised when he stayed looking at Tim.

“Yeah, yeah it would. I don’t suppose by any chance by ‘a bunch of guys’ you meant less than four and they weren’t heading in this general direction in a casual but specific manner?”

“No, more like fifteen or so with suspicious bulges under their jackets who are, in fact, heading in this direction in a casual but specific manner.” She replied.

“Wonderful, you ever get the feeling it isn’t going to be your night?” Steve asked Tim, frustration evident in his voice.

“Yeah, but I think we’ve got a minute or two before the casual approach gets them over to us. I’m thinking exit out the back door might be a plan here.” Tim replied, eyes flicking left as he caught a glimpse of one of the Daredevils closing in.

“Sounds like a plan, alright let’s move, and keep it casual.” Steve cautioned, sliding out of the booth and waiting for Fiona to slide between himself and Tim. They made their way through the packed bar and ducked down a short corridor, at the end of which was a fire door. Tim took a second to bypass the alarm wire then shoved the door open and they walked quickly out into the cool night air, the door swinging shut behind them with a click.

Continued

A click that seemed to be echoed a hundred times over as a group of more than twenty men, all wearing the same gang colours of green and yellow seemingly materialised out of the shadows and cocked their weapons. A mix of pistols, shotguns and automatics there was no doubt that any of them were lethal on their own, if they all fired at once it’d take a DNA match to identify the remains.

Instinctively Tim and Steve moved forward, shielding Fiona behind them, Steve standing so close to her she was almost touching him. Out of sight of the men standing in front of them he quickly tapped a pocket on his left hip before bringing his hand back to his side, palm facing backwards towards her. Unseen by the execution squad in front of them Fiona slipped her left hand down and gently eased the zip open before carefully pulling out a thin rectangle maybe two centimetres square and passing it smoothly into Steve’s waiting hand. The Daredevils stepped back, widening the circle around them as they raised their assorted weapons to shoulder height, stocks braced against shoulders as they waited for the signal to fire.

They never got the chance. In one motion Steve flicked the square forward as if skimming a stone across a like and both he and Tim twisted their heads down, eyes screwed shut as a blinding burst of light exploded from the flashbang, a matching sound wave rolling over the execution squad and temporarily destroying their sense of balance along with their sight and hearing. The effect would only last a few seconds, fifteen at most, but it was all the opportunity they needed. Diving forward Steve pulled Fiona to the ground, shielding her with his body as the guns fired overhead, wild shots being directed in panic by men who had thought this a simple enough mission only a moment ago. Scrambling forward Steve pulled Fiona around the corner of the pub and into a small alley that ran towards the main street. Behind them there were screams of pain as the unmistakable sounds of bullets hitting flesh echoed to them, then Tim hurtled round the corner, holding two MP5 sub-machineguns he’d grabbed from the two nearest men on the way past.

“Run!” Tim yelled, passing one of the guns to Steve as he went by and the others needed no encouragement to follow him. Steve checked the gun and noticed whoever had owned it previously had stuck two ammo clips side to side to save carrying extra weight on their person. As he heard the first footsteps hit the concrete behind them Steve turned and fired a long burst of fire back up the alley, and saw two more bodies fall, and a few heads duck back around the corner of the building.

They hit the street at a dead run and had just about made it to the car park when the rest of the Daredevils burst out of the pub, their own weapons drawn and firing wildly at the retreating shapes. Bullets ricocheted off the concrete walls beside them as they raced through the entrance and ducked around the corner, Fiona heading for the stairs back to the roof as Tim and Steve returned fire.

“No!” Steve yelled as he saw her reach for the door to the stairwell. “Into the car park, hurry!”

Confused, but knowing better than to question Fiona turned and headed into the darkness, ducking down behind a BMW as Steve faded back into the shadows at the door and Tim crouched down at the edge of the entrance. They heard footsteps pounding across the street, then a silence broken only by muttered conversation. Then a single pair of footsteps echoed through the building as one of the men stepped cautiously inside.

The instant he was inside the building Tim jumped up, grabbing him from behind with an arm wrapped around his throat and spinning him round. The squad waiting outside reacted instinctively, opening fire at the new target. But it was already too late, Tim had snatched the mans shotgun and dived into the cover at the fire side of the entry way, the bullets fired after him finding only the unfortunate soul that had drawn recon duty. The now lifeless body dropped in the doorway and Steve’s eyes were drawn to a small, round object on his belt. Getting his feet under him he dashed into the open, spraying fire as he went, forcing those outside to duck behind whatever cover they could find. With one motion he yanked the grenade from the dead mans belt, pulled the pin and hurled the explosive outside before turning and returning to his hiding place.

There was a brief pause then the blast of the grenade ripped the air, the screams that followed immediately evidence that at least two more were out of the fight. Taking advantage of the confusion Steve and Tim raced deeper into the depths of the building, Tim passing his machinegun to Fiona as he went. She almost baulked at the feel of the weapon, but a brief glance back at the doorway showed her just how important it might prove to be and she followed the others behind a row of parked cars near one of the concrete ramps which led up to the next level.

They waited in silence, acutely aware of how well sound travelled in such an environment. Fiona tried to still her racing heart, watching as a seemingly impenetrable calm descended on both her companions, Tim easing his body over to cover her in case of a ricochet as Steve shuffled towards the front bumper of the SUV they were hiding behind. It took her a second to work out what he was doing, then she saw the glint of light reflected from the side mirror of a car parked in the next row and she realised he was watching as their attackers spread through the bottom floor of the building.

After almost a minute Steve inched back down to them and held up his left hand, clenching and unclenching his fist four times before pointing up to the next level. Tim nodded, and returned the gesture but with only two motions and a point out into the darkness. Steve grinned and pointed down, and for a moment both Tim and Fiona were confused as to what he meant, then with dawning comprehension they eased down onto their stomachs, letting them see under the car they were using as cover. Sure enough, ten pairs of booted feet were walking slowly down the main aisle, pausing to check behind every vehicle.

They waited until they were so close they could hear their breath hissing between clenched teeth, then three weapons barked fire from their hiding place, Steve and Fiona scything their guns back and forth as Tim took the two men walking on the far right of the group. The devastation was almost unbelievable as what had only a moment earlier been a group of fierce hunters was transformed into a screaming mass on the floor, the carnage wrought by the weapons on feet and calves enough to turn Fiona’s stomach.

Diving round the car Tim and Steve ran to the fallen men and quickly retrieved anything that may be of value, throwing what they didn’t need as far from their now crippled attackers as possible before dashing back and up the ramp to the second floor. Sticking to the deeper shadows at the edge of the ramp they managed to duck into the relative safety offered between a concrete pillar and a crash barrier and watched as half of the remaining Daredevils raced past them, heading for the source of the attack on their comrades, guns held at the ready. A few seconds later there was a brief burst of gunfire from below as one or other of that group mistook a shape on the ground for one of their targets and fired a three round grouping into their chest before anyone could stop him.

Taking full advantage of the opportunity Tim reached down and grabbed two liberated grenades from a pocket, pulled the pins and rolled them down the ramp. Keeping low, and mentally counting the seconds they ran along the wall to the next ramp and kept on heading upwards towards the roof. They made it as far as the bottom of the ramp before an explosion shock the building, concrete dust raining from the ceiling as both grenades exploded at once, tearing into the middle of the group that had just started heading back up the ramp once they realised their targets had slipped by them.

In barely five minutes the Daredevils had gone from being an organised force of over thirty men facing three unarmed enemies to a force of only ten seemingly surrounded by troops. An already dangerous situation was made worse as their own fears started to conjure up images of guns pointing from every shadowy corner, and as they turned to continue their search one of them saw a brief flash of light reflected from a window. Turning he unloaded a full clip from his handgun at what he had thought a target, before he realised it was one of his own. The unfortunate man fell back to the ground, dead long before he hit it, his cocked weapon discharging once as it hit the concrete, sending a single bullet into the centre of his killer’s chest.

The distraction was all that was needed for the intended prey to reach the roof and they crouched behind the brickwork of the elevators, scanning the flat surface for any sign of their pursuers.

“How many left do you think?” Steve whispered.

“Can’t be any more than ten, least not that have got any fight left in them.” Tim replied, his own voice hushed as he finished his own check of the rooftop.

“What do you reckon, take the bikes and run?”

“No, still too many of them and far too many automatic weapons that they can point at us. ” Tim said, his gaze falling on an old and rusting Transit van parked near one of the exit ramps. He motioned towards it and Steve nodded, motioning for Fiona to follow them as they dashed from their hiding place towards their new target. Tim headed around the back of the van, covering one of the two ramps up to the roof while Fiona took station on the other side. Steve dived under the van, his hand pulling a Leatherman pocketknife from a pocket of his leathers as he spent precious seconds looking for the fuel tank.

To his relief he found it mounted within reach on the underside of the van. The metal of the tank itself was of course far too tough to cut through, but the weld connecting the fuel hose to the tank was as old and worn as the rest of the vehicle. It was the work of a few seconds to break the connection and once more Steve offered up a quick prayer to anyone that might be listening as their luck held. The tank was almost full of fuel and the resulting stream of liquid quickly started flowing across the slopped roof of the car park, following the gentle contours that had been built into the building to drain rain water from the concrete.

They watched for a few seconds as the fuel spilled out and started running in several directions across the roof, forming small rivers as it headed for the edges. Once they had an idea of where it was going Tim pointed over to a group of six cars, parked close together that would provide some cover no matter the direction of fire. They positioned themselves in the middle of the cluster of cars and waited.

It didn’t take long, a minute at most, before they heard footsteps on the ramp to their left, and eight slightly twitchy men walked cautiously up to the roof, weapons raised to shoulder height as they searched for anything out of the ordinary. The leader looked around and spotted the distinctive shape of the three motorbikes in the middle of the roof, and pointed his team towards them. In the darkness no one noticed the trickle of liquid running past them, or the other small rivers in their path.

They made it another thirteen paces before Tim and Steve leant out from their hiding places, weapons pointed not at the men, but at the ground. Tim fired in front of the advancing party, while Steve took the rear. Almost instantly the petrol ignited, spreading like lightning over the ground and setting up a barrier around the stunned men. Two where unlucky enough to be standing directly on the petrol when it caught, but neither had long to regret that. The fire spread back to the van and up into the petrol tank, igniting almost twenty litres of fuel at once. The resulting explosion shredded the van like it was made of tinfoil, sending shards of metal in all directions. A few chunks of the shrapnel hit the cars behind Steve as he ducked back down, but for those caught in the open, surrounded by a ring of fire there was nowhere to hide.

Once the explosion died down Tim glanced out at the scene before him, performing a quick count to confirm eight people where on the ground where they should have been, then started jogging quickly towards the bikes, Steve and Fiona following behind.

“Okay, here’s the plan.” Tim said, reaching the bikes and sliding his key into the ignition. “We head back to your place and try and work out why the hell these guys have suddenly taken it upon themselves to kill us. Sound good?”

“Yeah, sounds great.” Steve replied, ducking around the back of the Suzuki to reach his bike while Fiona went in front to her Ducati.

“Wonderful, then as one shepherd said to the other, let’s get the flock out of her.” Tim joked, turning to check Fiona was okay before getting on his own bike. As he did so, he felt his blood turn to ice. Not ten feet away a figure was rising from the pile of bodies, blood pouring down his face from a long cut running from his forehead down past his ear to his chin. In his right hand was a pistol. A pistol that was aimed straight at Fiona’s back.

Without thinking Tim hurdled his bike, landing on his feet and, with one sweeping motion knocking Fiona to the floor, the bike following her down. Steve heard the movement and spun around in time to see the bike hit the ground, the scene imprinting itself on his thoughts like a cattle brand. He started to move forward but there wasn’t time. A single shot rang out and Tim’s head jerked back, his face a bloody ruin as the bullet ripped through his skull. His body seemed to fall in slow motion to the ground, any sign of life ripped away in an instant.

It had happened so fast Fiona only just finished turning around from where she’d landed as Tim’s body hit the ground behind her, mercifully with what remained of his head hidden by his body. She looked up as a howl of rage, of loss and grief echoed over the rooftops and she saw Steve move faster than she thought possible, charging the man who’d just killed his friend as if completely oblivious to the gun the man was even now bring round to point at him.

The click of the hammer hitting an empty chamber seemed, if possible, even louder than the Steve’s yell as it rang out in the darkness. A look of confusion passed over the man’s face and he tried once more to fire, only to have the same thing happen. He reached behind his back, hands grasping for a short sword attached to a sheath on his back, but the extra attempt to fire the gun had cost him valuable time, and now his panic cost him still more. In one motion he pulled not only the sword but its sheath clear of his back, a mistake that needed a second or two to correct. He never got them.

Steve hit him around the waist with the force of a charging rhino, sending the man sprawling to the concrete, the sword flying from his hand still sheathed. Steve landed on all fours and seemed to leap forwards, striking out with the right boot in a straight kick to the man’s shoulder that sent a resounding crack into the night sky and left the arm hanging at a very unnatural angle. The man managed to stagger back to his feet, only to find Steve right in front of him. He swung wildly with his left hand, a punch that Steve easily blocked with his right arm, bringing his left up to lock the mans arm off and with a single twist snap his wrist. A sharp kick downward shattered the right kneecap and before the pain could register a matching kick had destroyed the left.

Steve walked up to the now helpless gang member and looked down on him with a look that froze the marrow in the doomed mans bones. It was a look totally devoid of humanity, of compassion or of mercy. Fuelled by rage Steve reached down and wrapped one hand in the man’s jacket, the other sliding under his ruined knees, ignoring the fresh howls of agony that resulted. In one clean jerk Steve picked up the man and threw him the four feet to the edge of the roof, sending him hurtling out into space then down four floors to the cold concrete below.

Turning Steve raced back to where Tim lay, but a single glance confirmed there was nothing he could do, no chance of any last words. For a moment Steve stood still, the brief wish, the desire, that real life was more like Hollywood, that you always had time to say goodbye to you friends and say all you should have said before washed over him, but only for an instant. They were still in danger, and if they died here then what Tim had just done would be nothing more than a useless gesture. Moving methodically he gently pulled Fiona up to her feet, then pulled the Ducati upright and checked the controls were still in working condition. He punched in the simple ‘home’ sequence to the GPS system and waited for Fiona to climb on board before getting onto his own machine.

They dropped down the ramps as quickly as they dared, always aware that there were probably more people that had survived the fire fight and who were probably hunting them even now. With one burst of speed they shot across the ground floor, both tensed as they waited for a bullet that never came, then they were on the open road and clear.

Continued

The ride back was a sombre one, bereft of the playfulness that had been so apparent barely an hour previously. They didn’t even bother hiding the bikes as they parked outside Steve’s flat, simply pulling into a free space and killing the ignition they walked in silence to the front door. Steve pulled off his helmet and found his hands shaking as what had just occurred finally hit home, forcing him to take three attempts to get the key into the lock before they could walk into the comforting silence of his home.

A silence that was broken a second later as he threw the helmet against the far wall with enough force to shatter it into six pieces, the visor flying off and upwards to bounce off the ceiling before coming to rest in the middle of the debris. Strangely that was the only obvious sign of the feelings racing through his body as he closed his eyes, trying to hold back the emotional release for now, knowing he had a job to do before he could allow himself that luxury.

It took nearly two minutes for Steve to regain control, and as he opened his eyes his gaze fell upon the wreckage of the helmet in front of him. He started to turn when a glimmer of light caught his attention and he looked at the reflection in what remained of the visor. A reflection that showed someone behind him raising a sword to deliver a blow that would surely be fatal.

Without thinking he rolled forward, hand reaching out to grab a roughly circular piece of what was left of the helmet, the sword slicing through the air where his neck had been only a moment before. Pulling his hand back, Steve glanced up to pick a target for the jagged disc of fibreglass in his hands and stopped dead. There, standing above him with a look of delight across her face was Fiona, a short sword he recognised as the one the thug he’d killed had been carrying held above her head. Her intent was obvious, the first blow would have killed him, and her body language gave him no suggestion that she might hesitate with the second, third or fourth blow to finish the job.

His mind raced as he tried to understand why she was doing this, then he was forced to forgo that question for the time being as the sword darted out towards his stomach, forcing him to jump backwards, the remnant of helmet coming round in front of him to deflect the blow as he moved left into the living room. The grin on Fiona’s face was almost feral as she darted after him, moving with a speed and agility he’d never suspected existed. Another blow came flashing towards him, this time aimed high across his face and he ducked underneath, his right foot skittering sideways as he did so until it thumped into what felt like a plastic tube.

Steve glanced to his right and saw the tube was in fact the bottom of his golf bag. Before Fiona had time to realise his intentions his hand shot out and tipped the bag over between them, pulling a five iron out as he did so. It wasn’t much but it at least gave him a fighting chance as he kept back-pedalling, moving as quickly as he dared over to the cabinet housing his own blade. Now Fiona knew exactly where he was heading and she redoubled her efforts to strike him down before he could even things up. The blows rained in faster, a venerable storm of steel flashing in at his body and the size and weight of the golf club was working against him. Fiona slashed in at his right side, then as soon as he started to move to block the blow she spun to bring the blade arcing down towards his exposed shoulder.

There was no time for Steve to bring the club round to deflect the blade and in desperation he continued his movement to the right, spinning in place to present his back to the descending blade. There was a dull thud as the blade ripped through the leather covering Steve’s back and he dropped to the floor, landing awkwardly on his back, face a mask of pain as his right leg shattered the glass door of the cabinet holding his sword, a target that now seemed impossibly out of reach.

A triumphant gleam lit her eyes as Fiona moved slowly, almost leisurely towards the man that just a few moments earlier had been her protector. She stopped with her right foot on his chest, her sword held downwards, the point aimed directly at his left eye. With an almost ecstatic sigh she plunged the blade down, the very thought of the feel of the blade passing through flesh sending sparks of joy through her body, wishing only that Steve’s eyes were open to watch his end approaching.

A wish that was immediately granted as a blur of movement exploded under her, his eyes snapping open as his left hand wrapped around her foot, his body heaving and catching her off balance in the middle of the killing blow. Fiona went flying backwards, her feet swept from under her as Steve rolled away and bounced back to his feet. Fiona landed flat on her back and, with only a flicker of pain at the heavy landing, jumped back to her feet, only to find Steve facing her, his own sword grasped firmly in his hand. It took her a moment to work out why the blade was black and not the silver she knew it to be, then she realised he still had the sheath covering the edge of the weapon.

Glancing down at her own weapon she realised belatedly that there was no blood covering the blade, and Steve turned slightly showing the gaping gash in the back of his leathers, and the large scrape along the amour plate designed to protect the wearer in case of a crash that had deflected the blade from his body.

“Fiona, what, no, why are you doing this?” Steve asked as the two started to circle each other through the wreckage of the room.

“Why?” She replied, and Steve felt his skin crawl as he heard a second voice mixed with her normal tones. “Why not?” she said, launching forward in a sudden attack low towards his left thigh, the blade pressed flat against her arm as she dove forward, effectively turning her forearm into one long cutting edge. Steve had been ready for it though and her blade clattered harmlessly off the still-covered sword as he stepped left and away from her outstretched arm.

“Don’t make me do this Fiona.” He said, a note of desperation in his voice as he saw his options fast disappearing.

“Do what?” She said, and again the double voice, the second deeper tone almost echoing after her normal voice had spoken.

“I don’t want to hurt you, please, this is insane.” And now he was begging, all thought of decorum thrown aside in his desire to end this without bloodshed, a last desperate gamble.

“Insane?” Fiona replied, and this time it was her voice alone, confused and lost, as she seemed to view the scene in front of her for the first time. “Steve, what am I doing, why am…NO!” She screamed, back pedalling into the corridor, arms flailing at an opponent only she could see, laughter ripping from her throat as she went. Her back thudded into the bedroom door and her head dropped, immediately her frantic thrashing ceased as her entire body became still. Then her head lifted and Steve saw a change come over her, something in her eyes flickering and dieing as she drew a deep breath.

“Come on lover,” she taunted, the echoing dual voice back in full force, “let’s see what you can really do when it’s all on the line.” With that she threw herself at him, a straight forward dive that was aimed directly at his waist. Steve managed to block the sword point, but doing so meant he had no way to deflect her from tackling him and the hit the ground in a mass of limbs, Steve’s left hand locked around her right wrist to keep the blade at bay as she rolled on top of him.

“What’s the matter? I thought you preferred me on top?” She laughed, as her legs locked around his ribs, squeezing the air from his lungs as, inch by inch, the blade started to drop towards his face. It was a simple equation, while he might be stronger and maybe even faster than her, in this position all the leverage was hers and she could put practically her entire body weight behind her actions. As her legs tightened around him black spots started to dance at the edge of his vision and he realised he had no other choice.

His right hand was still holding the sheathed sword and, every fibre of his being protesting what he was about to do, he jabbed upwards towards Fiona’s stomach. The blade hit flush across her flesh, the sheath preventing it cutting into her, but the impact was more than enough to drive the air from her lungs despite the armour plate. She rolled off him and they both rose slowly to their feet, trying to suck enough air into abused lungs to fuel their movements. Steve had his back to the bedroom as Fiona stood in front of the front door. She pulled her blade back above her head, left arm raised in front of her in challenge. Her hand made a ‘come on’ gesture and, as Steve set himself to go on the offensive a smile slashed across her face, she turned and bolted out of the front door, an ugly laugh bouncing back to him.

“Damn.” Steve muttered under his breath, charging the door and ducking as he went through in case she’d stopped to take an opportunistic swing at an exposed head as he came through the portal. Looking around he spotted her dashing across the main road, pausing for a second on the central reservation for a suitable gap. Following her as quickly as he was able Steve reached the middle of the road as she reached the opposite pavement. She turned and blew him a kiss before running up the small hill in front of her and scrambling up the ten-foot fence that surrounded the now-locked park.

Steve followed her, though he picked a section of fence about fifteen feet from where she’d scaled up and over with an open patch of grass on the other side as he had no wish to find a blade at his throat when he landed. Dropping into the deserted greenery he glanced around and could just make out a dark shape, black against the blackness standing at the edge of a small wooded area, a hand beckoning him on as she disappeared beneath the trunks. Cursing under his breath, and knowing he had no real choice in the matter, he followed.

The local council had been cutting back on funding for maintaining the so-called green areas for years, and as a result almost everywhere was overgrown. The paths between the trees were still visible, but everywhere there were loose rocks and twigs waiting to trip an unwary foot, tree branches hung low overhead with some reaching Steve’s chest. He moved cautiously forward through the wood, every sense straining for a sign of where Fiona may be hiding. The sword was still in its sheath, held upright and slightly off to his right in guard position as his eyes searched ever shadow for something that did not belong.

Despite his best efforts every footfall caused a crackle of leaves as he walked, more than enough, he thought sourly, to let Fiona know exactly where he was if she had the sense to stand still. Ahead of him was the centrepiece of the wood, two giant trees that had been standing here for well over a hundred years, their lowest branches stood maybe ten feet off the ground where they intertwined to form a natural arch. Through the arch was a small clearing set up as a picnic area complete with the same wooden benches and tables that every single park had used seemingly since the beginning of time. Something told Steve that this was where she’d gone, a feeling, an instinct that he couldn’t explain was drawing him on towards this place.

As he stepped through the arch something sounded a warning bell in his head and he spun, the sword coming up and around to block the blow that would have pierced his skull as Fiona dropped from her hiding place above the arch, her knees bending to easily absorb the impact and she shifted round, walking backwards into the clearing. In the darkness Steve could only make out her outline and the dull glint of moonlight on the steel of her weapon.

“Time to die.” Fiona snarled and once more Steve’s blood ran cold. What had been an echo earlier was now the dominating voice, Fiona’s natural tones submerged beneath it to the point they were barely audible. With a heavy heart he realised he was out of choices. Without a word he reached up with his left hand and pulled the sword clear of it’s sheath, working the blade through a quick figure eight movement before turning to face her.

They stood like that for a long moment, two statues framed against the night, then as one they moved, coming together in a whirlwind of steel, each throwing everything they had, every once of skill, strength, speed and determination into the fight. The swords winked and flashed as they caught the light of the moon and the stars, the clash of metal on metal ringing clear in the still sky.

Steve lunged forward, forcing Fiona onto the back foot, twisting away from his original target to bring the blade slashing in at her right hip. Fiona’s hands raced downwards and managed to bring her own blade into position to block the blow an instant before Steve’s attack would have found its target. She jumped to her right, landing on one of the wooden benches, then jumping up to the tabletop, Steve right on her heels as she turned and delivered a vicious backhand blow with the outside edge of her blade that he couldn’t quite dodge in time as it caught him across the stomach and slashed the leather, though it didn’t find skin.

Steve suddenly found himself at a disadvantage, every time he tried to move up to match her on top of the table she forced him to stay where he was, and the lower bench was giving Fiona a significant advantage in terms of reach and leverage. She brought her sword down in a wide arc and Steve parried quickly, leaning into the blow as she matched the move. They stayed locked together for a long moment, the faint screech of steel on steel the only indication of the effort each was putting forth as the blades locked together bare inches from their faces. Suddenly Fiona lashed out with her right foot, using the blades as a pivot point to land the kick in Steve’s chest, forcing him to the ground.

Rolling quickly to one side Steve brought his blade up to guard his right side, and saw Fiona still standing on the table, gazing down at him with a look of confusion as she glanced around the clearing. For a moment Steve saw the woman he knew, the woman he’d come to love, standing in front of him. Then her arms flew to her sides as if a thousand fingers were assaulting her ribs and underarms, laughter pouring out of her uncontrollably as she staggered back to the edge of the table. Her head shock once, then as quickly as it started the laughter stopped and Steve once more saw her eyes loose focus for an instant as she seemed to regain control. And in that moment, that single, blinding moment as revelation struck, he knew what had happened, and what had to be done.

“Fiona, fight it!” Steve yelled, bringing the sword up and out to deflect her attack as she lept down to face him. “Whatever he’s done to you, you have to fight him!” They were all the words he had time for as she pressed her attack, a new ferocity edging into every move, forcing him back towards the centre of the clearing. It took every bit of Steve’s concentration just to block her attacks, every once of skill focused on trying to find a way out of this without being forced to deliver a fatal blow himself. The openings were there, and their occurrence was growing as whatever this thing was that drove her on got careless, frustrated at it’s inability to produce a decisive blow.

He saw Fiona stumble as she pressed forward, her foot meeting something hard hidden in the long grass. Steve took the opportunity and jumped forward, his sword pushing hers out of the way, a leg scything through the air to land behind her calves, forcing her to the ground. He didn’t dare let her back up, there was no telling if he’d get such a chance again, but she was already back up to a knee and in desperation he pressed his attack. Time and again he slashed at her chest, shoulders, arms and sides, trying to deliver blows that would penetrate her defences without inflicting serious damage. Time and again she parried, passing the sword from hand to hand as she twisted in her enforced position, never quite managing to get both feet flat on the ground, never quite finding the leverage she needed to regain her vertical base.

But fighting from such a disadvantaged position there was little she could do. Even though Steve was trying not to hurt her, the necessity of parrying each blow was wearing her down, and finally, as she passed the sword off from her right hand to the left one more time, Steve managed to bring the pommel of his sword down on her outstretched hand. The sword fell to the ground, a dull thunk coming from it’s landing place, as Steve brought his elbow up hard to land a solid blow on the side of her head, sending her sprawling to the ground. An instant later he had his sword at her throat as he stood over her, the moon glinting off the exposed armour beneath a dozen small cuts of her leathers as she lay, panting on the grass.

Continued

“It’s over.” Steve said, voice a deadly monotone. “Leave her alone.”

“Leave who alone?” Fiona replied, though now her natural tone was completely consumed by the deeper one.

“No more games, whatever you’ve done to her, whatever control you have over her, it ends now.”

“How can it end? This isn’t a trick, this is who I am?” Fiona, or rather whatever she’d become, said. “The only way you can end this is by doing what you must with that blade.” So saying she stretched her head back, exposing her throat to him in surrender. For what felt like an eternity he stood there, torn between what he believed and what he knew, the decision looming large ahead of him. Then, slowly he pulled the sword back and, for a moment, saw a ghost of a smile around her lips as he drove the blade forward.

Fiona opened her eyes and looked to her right, the vibrating steel of the blade not an inch from her face as it quivered in the ground. With a grunt Steve pulled it out of the ground and she snapped back around to face him. “No.” he said, shaking his head as he leant down to grab the short sword she’d been using. “I know who you are, what you are and I believe I can save her. Even if I can’t, if whatever you’ve done to her is permanent I won’t kill her.” With that, he turned to walk away, a shudder passing through his body as he wondered if he’d made the right choice.

A second later something heavy struck him hard across the back of the head and he sprawled to the ground face first, hands wrapped around the swords. Another blow an instant later to first the right, then left hands, loosened his grip and he heard his own sword being picked up behind him. He tried to stand but the world was spinning around him and the best he could do was to crawl forward. A bright, burning pain shot through him as the blade cut through the leather over his right thigh, cutting a shallow groove in his skin, blood seeping from the wound immediately.

Gasping he rolled away onto his back and looked up at Fiona as she stood over him, his sword clasped in one hand, the other holding the sheath he’d dropped earlier that had provided her with such a useful club only a moment before. Her face was blank as she slashed down, the blade finding the top of his left thigh, another thin cut opening beneath the leathers and he groaned as the new sensation washed over him. Sucking air between his clenched teeth he tried to speak, to use the only weapon he had left.

“Fiona, don’t…don’t do this.” He said, the only indication she’d heard him another slice of the sword, this time across his right bicep that caused red dots to appear in his eyes as he tried to fight through the pain.

“I know you’re in there lass, fight him.” Steve implored her, but it was like talking to a statue as the sword reached out again, carving a long line down his chest and stomach, forcing a thin scream from his lips as it bit into his flesh. Gasping for air, he tried to speak again, but before he could do so two quick slashes opened up two matching cuts, one on either hip, the one on his left curving down to meet the line of blood on his thigh.

Fiona moved, placing one foot either side of his rib cage, the tip of the point touching his throat as she tired of her sport and prepared to deliver the killing blow. She pulled the sword up and in that moment the moonlight lit her face, bringing her features into soft relief and Steve thought he had never seen anything so beautiful. With one last effort, knowing it would be the only chance he’d ever get to say what needed to be said, he managed somehow one final whispered confession. “I love you.”

The words seemed to freeze Fiona at the very apex of the swords arc, caught in the instant before driving the sword down to end the life of the beaten man below her. Her face flickered and through the red haze that had settled over the world Steve saw her blink and glance around, then down at what she’d wrought. Still the sword hung above him, the sword of Damocles supported not by a single thread, but by a single soul, a soul that was at war with something else hidden deep inside the same body.

He saw her muscles tense and fought the urge to close his eyes, wanting the last thing he saw to be her, knowing she’d tried her best to save him. The sword sliced down, and Steve felt it whistle over his throat, passing over his skin close enough to shave with as Fiona hurled the sword away. It arced into the air, flipping end over end until it thudded into one of the wooden tables. Then a scream echoed over the clearing, a scream of raw animal hatred ripped from Fiona’s throat in a voice far too deep to be hers. It seemed to go on forever, wracking her body, every muscle and sinew stretched tight as she stood above him, arms out to the sides and palms opened wide as if crucified.

Finally it died away and she collapsed on top of him, blood trickling from her mouth where the effort had turned her throat raw. Slowly she came too, crawling up to lie face to face with him, hands brushing the blood and sweat from his face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She sobbed as she cradled his head, her eyes locked on his as she talked. “I could see what I was doing, but I couldn’t stop myself, every time I tried it was as if, as if…”

“As if” Steve finished for her, the words coming slowly though gritted teeth. “As if you were back in VR, that black shadow crawling over you again?”

“Yes, but how…” She replied, confusion etched on her face.

“I should have….seen it coming lass….was….my fault.” He said, every word an effort now as his body tried to shutdown, the demands he’d imposed on it now taking their toll.

“No, no it wasn’t, please don’t think that, it wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t.” Fiona said, hands sliding around him as her tears splashed against Steve’s face. “I…the thought of loosing you, god, I don’t know what I…” She was interrupted as a dull rumble penetrated the clearing, the night sky suddenly turning a blood red off to the east. Steve turned his head in that direction, but the trees blocked the view and he slowly started to climb to his feet.

“Where….no, what do you think you’re doing?” Fiona asked, rolling off to one side and kneeling in front of him. “Lie still, you need an ambulance.”

“No, I’ll be alright.” Steve lied, “but I need to see, need to know what that was.” He tried to stand but his leg buckled beneath him. For a moment Fiona looked on, torn between what he wanted and what he needed, then extended a hand and pulled him to his feet, sliding herself under his left shoulder to help take his weight.

Together they stumbled to the edge of the clearing and up the gentle trail to the top of the small hill the park was built on. As they walked another two rumbles came to them, felt rather than heard as the ground itself shock. Finally they reached the top of the hill and looked out over London. In the East and South, fire lit the sky, black smoke pouring off into the sky, choking the stars themselves as it spread over the city. The sound of sirens echoed over the streets, a myriad blue lights flashing between distant buildings, interspersed with the distinctive sound of metal-on-metal caused by a car crash, repeated over and over again.

“What’s happening?” Fiona asked, her voice shaking as she looked out over a vista more suited to a country at war.

“Those fires look like they’re coming from power stations.” Steve replied. “You can usually see the plants themselves from up here on a good day, and they look like they’re in about the right place. I think we’d better get back home.”

“Good idea, you need to rest.” Fiona said, her body shaking slightly as the reason why he needed that rest returned to her, as she suspected it would for many days to come.

“True, but that’s not why we need to go back.” Steve said, gazing out over the city. “We need to go back into VR, I think it’s time we got some answers.”

“What! Are you crazy?” Fiona yelled, “What on earth could VR have to do with this?”

“Look, I don’t have time to argue with you, nor do I have the strength. I’ll explain on the way but right now I need you to do two things. Trust me, and help me get back home. If we don’t do this, I think an awful lot of people are going to die, now come on!” Steve replied.

This time Fiona didn’t hesitate; she nodded, lent in and kissed him, once, tenderly and passionately. Then they turned as one, and walked down the hill, turning their back on the city that seemed to be ripping itself apart behind them. A second after they dropped into the tree line there was another massive explosion, this one from the west, and from horizon to horizon, the city went dark.

Oh my God, they killed Timmy! You bastards!

Damn, man! You REALLY REALLY need to get a publisher! Your writing is gripping! Thrilling! This is dynomite stuff! Holy Mother Of All Epic Novels, Batman! This is worthy of the SCIFI Channel's attention, at least. Dude! Write this stuff and get it published! You'll make a mint!

Okay, I haven't had enough sleep recently as jokes regarding regular or super-cool (i.e. mint in the sweetie sense of the word) just jumped to mind.

That said, thanks man, made my night, especially as I've been beating my head against the desk trying to get this one straight and it took a ten hour combined editing / rewrite run today to finally sort out. I really need to stop ditching plot ideas AFTER I've written the gods damned things. Sounds like I got it about right in the end. As for making £££, I'll settle for enough to pay back student debt right now, it's getting depressing thinking I've got to wait till I'm 30 before my net worth reaches zero

Oh, side note (what, me keep a reply on-topic, perish the thought), have you seen Evanescence's new video for Going Under yet? All I'm gonna say is that there's surely a good bit of tickle fic to write about that video shoot (which I might actually get round to doing sometime this week if nothing goes kaboom in work).

While I remember, how's your Film Noir / Detective piece going?

BOFH666 said:

Oh, side note (what, me keep a reply on-topic, perish the thought), have you seen Evanescence's new video for Going Under yet? All I'm gonna say is that there's surely a good bit of tickle fic to write about that video shoot (which I might actually get round to doing sometime this week if nothing goes kaboom in work).

While I remember, how's your Film Noir / Detective piece going?

Click to expand...

Sounds like I'm gonna hafta start watching the music video channels more often!

And the story's as much as hit an iceberg in my brain and tragically sunk with all hands. I've got a nifty, totally stereotyped introduction, and then I fall flat on my face. ARGH! I guess I'm better suited to writing the short, bullet stories than longer, more elaborate ones. I'll keep chipping away at it, though, thanks for asking. I'm not submitting doodly-fudge, however, until I've got enough to post without getting readers interested and then frustrated because more's not forthcoming!

*Cough*

http://www.evanescence.com/music/

Hmm, wise man say, if story sinks with all hands, write about a submarine! God that was bad, sorry. Seriously though, I've had that happen so often it's silly, I have enough half finished stories sitting on my hard drive to, ummm, write a lot of half finished books. In fact one of them gave rise to this story (ha, on-topic, thhpppppp). About the best I can suggest, as odd as it sounds, is don't keep plugging away if you ain't getting anywhere. Either put it aside until insipration hits you with ye olde sledgehammer of plot or, and this is going to sound real strange, write backwards. Example, with this story I've had the beginning and end in mind for a while (albeit as two separate stories) but had no idea how to link 'em. Wrote the start, kept the other bit in my brain for a week or two, worked out where characters needed to get to in order for the end to make sense and started working around that. Ended up doing it as, basically, a series of scenes so I could write it as a set of shorts, then the final version will get edited with extra plot where it's needed.

BOFH666 said:

*Cough*

http://www.evanescence.com/music/

Click to expand...

You, sir, are The Man! Thank you! Gods, but I love these folks!

And may I say that you sir are an excellent judge of character You may want to check this out

Going Under Tickle Fic

Well, it seemed rude not to use such a wonderful source of inspiration. I'd love to know what you think, only my second, no make that third, attempt at tying a story in with existing material so all comments / criticism gratefully recieved.