Aerobatron (1985)

Linda dangled from single arm and held on to Lucas with all of her strength as a helicopter opened fire on them with an autocannon. Sparks exploded all around them as the massive 20 millimeter rounds collided with the fire escape. Linda let go and they plummeted to the next floor where she caught onto the railing. She tossed Lucas safely onto the staircase. She swung back and forth on the railing to pick up momentum and then flipped herself onto the staircase, crushing the door open with a hard kick.

Linda and Lucas sprinted through the hallway as the helicopter blasted the side of the building with rocket. The impact knocked them to the floor and the wall crumbled around the doorway.

Women in lingerie and men in boxer shorts flooded out of the rooms and into the hallway, running for their lives. Linda and Lucas were caught in an all-out stampede of working girls. There were high-waisted panties and stockings and teddies in all directions. Some of the women were topless and their breasts bounced excessively as they ran by.

Linda and Lucas ran along with the prostitutes to the end of the hallway and Linda elbowed open a door to an emergency staircase, pulling Lucas along with her. Linda kicked open the door on the next level and they found themselves in a seedy hotel lobby. A group of businessmen at the front desk watched in surprise as Linda pulled down her leotard to show them her tits.

"Duck!" Linda yelled at them. She could see the SWAT team approaching the hotel entrance just over their shoulders.

The business men looked at each other in confusion so Linda fired a few shots into the ceiling above their heads. They dove for cover as chunks of ceiling tile fell down around them.

Linda felt a tinge of guilt as the team of armed policemen approached the entrance in tactical formation. Killing off ninja mercenaries was one thing, but these were real working guys and who knows what they were told before they embarked on their mission. She had no choice but to shoot her way out.

"Where's your gun?" Linda asked Lucas.

"I lost it."

"Good. Just hide behind me."

"Of course! Where else am I going to go?"

The SWAT team burst through the entrance and fired off a blitz of M-16 rounds at Linda, bouncing bullets off her body and blasting holes in her dancewear. She aimed for their trigger fingers and calf muscles and fired away, downing one officer after another with non-fatal wounds until they were all disarmed and rolling on the ground, crying out in pain.

"Sorry guys! Get better soon!" Linda said as they ran out the door.

"Oh boy," Linda said as she stepped out onto the street. She stared back at an even bigger group of armed police, positioned strategically behind their squad cars and aiming their weapons at her.

Linda unleashed a firestorm of non-fatal laser pulses before the men could fire a single shot at her. She was temporarily blinded from the intense flashes of light. Her chest felt like an oven. She fell to her knees in exhaustion. The chorus of groaning, injured policemen tortured her eardrums.

Lucas threw Linda's arm over his shoulder and lifted her up. They limped away from the scene, surrounded by the sounds of helicopters and emergency sirens.

"I don't know how much longer I can go. I'm overheated," Linda warned.

"Just hang on. I'll get us out of here," Lucas assured her.

"There!" Linda said, spotting an opportunity at the end of the street. "We can get lost in the crowd."

"What's with the parade? Isn't Chinese New Year in February?"

"Who cares?! Just go!" Linda yelled.

Arm-in-arm, they stumbled as fast as they could down the street and submerged themselves in the crowd.

It was a scene of stereotypical chaos in Chinatown. People were banging on drums and gongs. Firecrackers exploded everywhere, startling Linda and Lucas with every 'pop.' Street vendors were hawking their wares. A big people-dragon ambled through the center of the crowd. Through all the noise of the busy street, Linda honed in on the sound of a motorcycle engine.

"We need to run now!" Linda yelled to Lucas. The words pained her to say. Her legs felt like jelly.

The crowd was already parting to let the motorcycle through. Striker came rolling through at full speed, aiming a shotgun at Linda and Lucas. They shoved their way through the crowd, occasionally looking back to see that Striker was closing in. He drove his motorcycle right through wooden crates and fruit carts and chicken coops, sending a mess of produce and feathers flying through the air in his wake.

Linda and Lucas reached the end of the parade and were stopped dead in their tracks by the sight of a police barricade on the next street over. They turned in a different direction only to find a squad of armed ninjas charging at them.

Linda tried to power up her lasers and could only generate the faintest glow in her nipples.

"Shit. I'm almost out of juice. We need to keep moving!"

Linda and Lucas ducked into the nearest alley only to see that Striker was already waiting for them next to his motorcycle. He was puffing on a cigar and resting a shotgun against his shoulder, nonchalantly.

Linda pulled down her top and fired lasers in his direction, missing him entirely and blowing off tiny bits of the brick wall at his side. Striker dusted off his shoulder and laughed at Linda. She fired weaker and weaker laser pulses and not a single one of them hit her target.

Lucas heard the sound of a butterfly knife flipping open. The cold steel pressed up against his throat.

"Don't move, dweeb," Estrado warned him.

Lucas raised his hands and watched helplessly as a team of armed goons formed a barrier of reinforcement on both sides of the alley. A man in a lab coat was among them, looking oddly out of place.

Linda aimed her tits at Estrado. "Let him go!"

Estrado pressed the blade against Lucas' neck, sending a tiny trickle of blood down to his collar bone.

"Put those things away now!" Estrado warned.

Linda reluctantly covered her breasts, as he commanded.

"Okay, we surrender! Don't hurt him!" she begged, holding up her hands.

Linda heard the racking of a shotgun behind her and turned to see that Striker was approaching.

"I said we surrender. What are you going to do? Shoot me?" Linda asked.

"That's the idea," Striker replied.

A deafening shotgun blast echoed through the alley and the steel projectiles collided with Linda's stomach, knocking the wind out of her. She fell onto her back and struggled to take in a breath. The pain was intense, nothing at all like the previous gunfire that she had been repelling. She felt around for wounds on her stomach and there was nothing but smooth skin and fragments of singed spandex.

"Stay down," Striker warned, racking the shotgun.

Linda tried to sit up and was met with another shotgun blast to the chest. Her body slammed back onto the pavement and she gasped for air. Striker racked the shotgun again and pressed the barrel against her forehead, looking down at her with a satisfied smile.

"Stop! You're killing her!" Lucas begged.

"She going to be just fine. I'm sure it hurts like hell, though," Striker said.

One of Linda's nipples lit up in a dim glow.

"Hey! Don't try anything stupid!" Striker warned. "In case you haven't figured it out yet, you're targeting doesn't work on me."

"At this range, who needs targeting?" Linda asked.

She fired off a tiny pulse and burned a hole through Striker's good eye.

"Ahhgg!!!" he cried out as he collapsed to the ground.

The men around the perimeter opened fire on Linda. They hammered her to the ground with hundreds of rounds from their automatic rifles and incinerated what was left of her clothing.

"Stop!" the doctor yelled, holding up a hand to call off the attack. He ran over to Linda and pushed a combination of pressure points under her breast to deactivate her laser weapons.

"That's enough fighting for you. Your impact shield is starting to wear off," the doctor warned. He pushed another combination of buttons beneath the skin on Linda's wrist and warm buzz washed over her entire body, rendering her immobile.

"I'm going to kill that bitch!" Striker vowed, blindly clawing around on the ground. One of his men attempted to help him to his feet and Striker punched him in the stomach.

"I'm afraid she is not yours to kill," the doctor corrected. "Don't take it so hard, Striker. I am a doctor. I can fix you."

The doctor looked down proudly on the cybernetic wonder of his creation. He couldn't help but be impressed by how she took down Frank Cox's number one man. He stroked Linda's cheek affectionately while Lucas watched in anger.

"I applied an experimental shield to your skin," the doctor explained to Linda. "Essentially, it is a bullet proof spray tan. And like a spray tan, the results are only temporary. You must reapply once a week. If we found you a few days from now, the bullets would have easily penetrated. You should thank me for saving your life."

Linda was powerless to respond. She was in a state of complete paralysis. She looked up at the doctor with seething hatred. Her vision scrambled into a mess of TV static while the doctor whispered the next part into her ear.

"You've been a naughty girl. I am taking you home."

CH. 04
01:12:06

"Armageddon in Midtown," news anchor, Brent, announced dramatically with looping video footage of an exploding helicopter over his shoulder.

"That was the scene earlier this evening when special police units put an end to an explosive and bloody standoff with suspected terrorists. After a city wide chase the suspects were finally apprehended and taken into custody. The names have not been released, due to the ongoing investigation."

"In related news, the recent surge of inner city violence has given auto tycoon-cum-Mayoral candidate Frank Cox a huge lead in the polls," Marcy said.

"Although it is still early in the race, his tough-on-crime positions are clearly starting to pay off. We caught up with Frank Cox outside of downtown office."

The newscast rolled the footage of a reporter, rushing to get a statement from Frank as he approached his limousine.

"Mr. Cox, they are calling this the most violent summer in Motor City history. What do you have to say to the voters?"

"These are dark times," Mr. Cox began. "The voters, like me, have had it with scourge of crime. The time has come to restore Motor City to its former glory."

"If you win in November, what steps will you take to restore the peace?"

"From the start of my campaign, I've been advocating for a fully-militarized police force. Recent events have made it crystal clear that the fight for the streets can only be won with superior firepower. Read my lips—a vote for Cox is a vote for law and order."

Click.

"Were you watching?" Frank asked Linda, stepping away from the TV. "If you were, you can plainly see that everyone on that television station works for me. No one knows who you are or where you are and they sure as hell aren't going to come looking for you."

Linda just looked back at Frank coldly. He was dressed in his finest tuxedo and she was completely naked and restrained at the wrists and ankles to an upright table. The doctor was scrubbing the brunt spandex off of Linda's skin and inspecting her for damage.

"Can she hear me?" Frank asked the doctor.

"Yes. Her weapons are deactivated, but she is otherwise fully functional, as the brain surgery requires. She is choosing not to respond."

Frank's face reddened with anger. "Leave us."

"But—"

"I said fucking leave us!"

The doctor scrambled out of the room and shut the door.

"So you don't want to talk? Fine. You're going to listen instead."

Frank walked over to a precariously placed wardrobe rack in the corner of the room. He ran his hands through all of the flashy, tailored outfits: ball gowns, cocktail dresses, fashionable suit jackets with boxy shoulder pads, silk teddies, and French cut panties with lace trim. There was even a collection of colorful leotards and other dancewear accessories for her physical conditioning.

"Do you know where you are, Linda?"

Linda looked over the sixty-something auto tycoon and tried to think of a retort that would cut the deepest.

"An old folks' home?"

"She speaks!" Frank exclaimed. "No, this is not an old folks' home. It was going to be your home. I think you got the wrong idea about our arrangement. I went to a lot of trouble to make you feel comfortable here. You were going to live in luxury. The finest clothes. The best parties. All the exercise you could dream of. After you proved your loyalty, I was going to move you out of the lab and into a penthouse looking over the city skyline."

"I don't want your fucking penthouse. Who cares where I live? I would have been a slave."

"The job would have been demanding, yes, but you were not going to be a slave. You would have lived a long and fulfilling life. You could have even won that golden leotard that you wanted so badly. I was going to put you on TV for everyone to see."

"Bullshit."

"It's true. Ask anyone in the CIA. The best assassin isn't a nobody. It's a somebody. Somebody in the public eye, such as an Aerobathon champion. Somebody who people would never suspect was a cold-blooded killer."

"You were going to sell me to the CIA?"

"No, no," Frank replied with laugh. "Quite the opposite. Don't you find it strange that you remember nothing of your childhood? That there is no evidence that you've had any life at all before you stumbled into that aerobics studio and met Old Joe Pennino? Can you even tell me the names of your parents? Go ahead. I'll wait."

"That's because you operated on my fucking my head!"

"We did, but I'm afraid that is not the whole story. You were selected for this project for more than just your good looks and your toned body. Your mind was already primed. We wanted to start with an empty canvas, so to speak."

"You're a fucking liar."

"I am. But I have no reason to lie about this. This is just simple efficiency. Laziness, even. Why waste time and money attempting to break a person down psychologically from scratch? If you have friends in the right places, you can easily track down the former subjects of classified CIA mind experiments. Hell, in a few decades, it will probably all be public information. The bottom line is that you came to us mostly empty headed and we, in our generosity, gave you a reason to live."

"Great. So I'm the perfect weapon for a lazy old man. But why? What is the point? Why did so many people have to die for this? Not that I didn't enjoy it—"

"The point is that I'm about to be elected to public office. I've already got more enemies than I can count and it's only going to get worse. I need to protect myself. Striker is a great soldier, but he's not exactly subtle. And his vision isn't what it used to be," Frank added, squinting at Linda in anger.

"You're welcome."

"Don't worry. You're going to pay me back. It just so happens that I need a beautiful woman who can infiltrate private parties. Pick up targets at the club or the gym. Deflect bullets. Climb buildings. Execute without hesitation and without leaving behind any evidence."

"And I never will. Not for you," Linda assured him.

"Well, that brings us to an interesting crossroads and to the conclusion of all this exposition. You see, the person that I'm talking to right now, she is going to disappear into the ether. Like so many others—union boss Jack Rourke, your beloved trainer, Joe, and eventually, that dweeb friend of yours. After we reprogram your brain, you will no longer be you. All traces of you will be long gone and the new girl that occupies your head, so to speak, won't hesitate to use your friend for laser target practice."

"If I'm not going to exist anymore, why don't you just shut up already? I'm not going to remember any of this, so the least you can do is stop boring me."

Frank grabbed Linda by the chin and she struggled to turn her head away. He admired the intensity in her eyes.

"You've got a lot of fight in you. I kind of like that, so I'm going to humor your question before the doctor empties out your brains."

Frank stepped back and proceeded in his usual, calm demeanor.

"To be perfectly honest, I don't know why I'm talking to you. Why did I give a letter to my business rival before I had him blown to pieces? Why did I record a video tape for Ol' Joe? I guess there is some small part of me that thinks that life is bigger than our physical bodies. If I send someone to the other side, I want them to know who done it. I want the credit that I deserve. When I get to hell, my reputation is going to precede me."

"You're not going to hell. You're going to be worm food. By the looks of you, it's going to be soon."

"Worm food or not, my body is still mine. You've got a big mouth Linda, but I take small comfort in knowing that it's really my mouth. I own that fit young body of yours and I assure you that I'm going to give it the workout of a lifetime. Doctor!" Frank yelled.

"Yes?" the doctor ran into the room.

"Wipe her brain. When I get back from the Aerobathon, I want to play with my new toy."

****

Lucas awoke with a gasp. He squinted at the painfully bright lights in the ceiling above him. His heart was pounding. He tried to move his arms but they were cuffed to the operating table.

"He's awake!" the twins announced.

"Take his pulse."

Lucas squirmed at the sensation of cold metal pressing against his chest.

"Stay still," Tonya warned him.

"We're listening to your heart," Tammy explained.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

"I think that shot of adrenaline did the trick."

"Yes, he is definitely awake."

Lucas focused in on the women above him. The twins were dressed in identical one-piece nurse gowns, which were short enough to reveal the lace tops of their thigh-high stockings.

"Where am I? Is this heaven?" Lucas asked.

The twins shared a look and giggled.

"You're in the hospital."

"You are a very sick boy."

"Where is Linda?" Lucas asked, struggling against his restraints. He looked down to see that he was wearing a tiny hospital gown that barely covered his groin.

"Calm down."

"Don't worry about your girlfriend."

"We don't want you to overwork that heart. Now where was I?" Tonya asked.

"You were using your stethoscope," Tammy reminded her.

"Oh, right. Hey, do you think I'll hear anything if I put it on his dick?"

"Only one way to find out!"

The twins lifted up Lucas' gown for the examination. He gasped as the metal stethoscope rested against his cock. He couldn't help but swell up with an erection as the nurses listened in.

"Oh my gosh. I can hear something!"

"Give it to me. I wanna hear!"

"Yeah, totally. It is kind of like a heartbeat, but softer. This cock is throbbing!"

"Let's put the scope on his balls!"

Lucas fought against his restraints, but it was useless. He was overwhelmed with guilt as the nurses played with him. Linda was god knows where, with evil men doing god know what to her, and here he was popping the biggest boner of his life.

"Yeah, I think I can hear his balls too."

"Wow. His scrotum is so tight."

"His cock is so hard."

"Are you getting aroused in front of your nurses?" Tonya asked.

"No. I prefer brunettes," Lucas replied.

"Sure you would say that," Tammy said with an eye-roll.

"But hard dicks don't lie," her sister added.

The twins unzipped the front of their uniforms.

"Our boobs aren't as big as your girlfriend's," Tammy said, pulling her uniform open to reveal a pair of big round breasts and pink nipples.