Dorothea Pt. 02

"Yes, but that is the point. What guy is going to trust you at the beginning when he knows what you are doing. And if you are so proud that it gives you control how is the guy to understand you are willing to share control in a loving relationship."

Michael went on, "Something else I am wondering about, there is an obvious ulterior motive in you sticking with me in this. After all we now think we know what has happened to Dorothea. From here on things could be dangerous. You could be safely winging your way back to Oz by now. Why are you even interested in continuing to be with me, Darnia?"

"I don't know. Stockholm syndrome, I guess." They gave each other a weak smile.

Michael left it at that. He could see she was chewing his words over as she leant on one hand supported on her elbow. "

******

They checked into a cabin unit situated to the rear of a camping ground. It was slightly out of holiday season so although there were several people camping, the other cabin units were empty. The cabins were clustered remotely from the camping ground and separated by a patch of bush so no one would see them coming and going. This suited them just fine. The cabin had a double bed that Darnia was ecstatic about it until Michael said that he would sleep on the sofa sleeper. Darnia whined about him not trusting her, but it was a fait accompli.

As it was getting dark, they drove down to the pub. Outside was a line of extraordinary looking bikes. "I think I spy steampunk bikes. I guess Copperhead must be here, that's good news," remarked Michael.

They decided to enter separately. Either one could take any opportunity when it arose, but they could also keep an eye on one another. Michael went in second and when he arrived Darnia already had beer in hand and was chatting to a couple of steam punk bikies. Michael ordered his own beer and just glanced from time to time at Darnia who to his amusement seemed to be practicing her flirting. 'Maybe she took my comments to heart.' he thought.

Across the other side of the bar, he spied who could only be Copperhead. He was dressed in leather pants and had an ornate embossed leather breast plate. This was obviously steampunk bike riding gear as the others were wearing similar gear but less ostentatious than Copperhead. On his head Copperhead wore a copper World War 1 German pickelhaube with spike and the obligatory googles. He was having an intense conversation embedded with a group of bikies.

Michael decided to stay close to the bar with the idea that when copperhead approached, he could speak to him there.

After a while Copperhead left the group to use the men's convenience. Michael was hoping he would come to the bar when he came out, but he saw Darnia slip in directly after him. 'Oh no, what the fuck,' thought Michael. 'she's walked into trouble.'

Michael decided to follow them in. He was sure there would be trouble but when he reached the door a guy was coming out who ushered him back saying, "I wouldn't go in there if I was you."

Michael replied still trying to push his way through, "Why not I need a piss?"

"Don't we all. Copperhead is shagging a piece of meat, he just told me to fuck off. Go and piss outside."

"Shit!" replied Michael and he went outside. He actually didn't want a piss, so he retired to the car to wait it out.

She finally came out the door looking remarkably composed and neat apart from a slightly bow-legged gait. Spotting Michael she was all smiles, Michael was all scowls.

When she reached the car Michael completely lost it. "You, stupid; stupid woman; something could have happened to you. And you went and did that after our discussion this afternoon. You will never learn if you are that compulsive. Just don't do that shit."

Darnia went from smile to a gape in a nanosecond. She actually looked vulnerable and about to cry. Michael began to melt with the look on her face. "fuckin' hell, Darnia, I just want the best for you and to be safe." He mumbled.

"You sounded then, just like my dad." Darnia quipped and they both burst out laughing.

It left him feeling a bit foolish, after all he was talking to an ex-member of the SAS. He was quite sure, Xena warrior princess, Darnia would have thrown Copperhead through the louvres if he had tried anything that she didn't want.

Darnia placated him, "Actually I am quite touched. At least it showed you cared even if you had to be a dork about it." She continued, "anyway I scored, we have a meeting at his place tomorrow morning. I just explained that we were her friends looking for her. He looked really upset when I told him that. So we are on at 10am for a brunch of road kill and hair of the dog..... haha. Oh, by the way I took what you have been telling me to heart. I cleaned up his cum before I left the bog."

"Don't goad me Darnia," Michael feigned a dirty look.

*****

In the morning they discussed their expectations. Michael still considered that Copperhead could be the killer of Dorothea or even her kidnapper if she was still alive. They arrived dutifully at the large double green gates of the compound on time the following morning. Darnia was decked out in her standard uniform of black akubra, braids tucked under and blouse and shorts. A sight Michael was now find alluring. It was a sexiness he was sure that must attract other males. Why had he missed it before?

The gates were set in what looked like a ribbed heavy steel wall covered in Virginia Creeper which was starting to turn red in the late summer It was still hot with the cicadas burring in the background. Flanking the gates were two huge steampunk statues.

Darnia announced themselves to the security and there was some burbling from the other side. They waited for the gates to open. There was the sound of some large vicious dogs barking. The bark was deep and powerful.

"Must be the Hounds of Hell," quipped Michael.

The gates finally opened and copperhead himself was standing there in full regalia with long greatcoat and a baton. In Australia he had been clean shaven. Now he had a van Dyke goatee and curling moustache. His once black hair was now greying. "Come in, come in, friends of Dorothea."

Inside was a sight to behold. It was unbelievable, Michael and Darnia had been expecting the traditional gang pad, but this was a fantasy like a setting in a Jules Verne novel.

"Welcome to my Steam punk Kingdom!"

There was a long line up of fantastical copper-coloured bikes; half bike half animal in conception "Those are our hydrogen powered velocipedes," explained copperhead. Despite the name the contraptions were certainly not human powered and somehow looked remarkably like the Harleys they were derived from.

"They look like they were once Harleys to me, but do they sound like Harleys," Commented Michael.

"My answer is yes; we can make them sound like Harleys... but we prefer other things."

They scanned the yard. At the end was a very large fantastical two storied house in art nouveau. It would have made Gaudi of the Sagrada Familia proud. Part of it was extensively covered in Virginia creeper. Construction was still going on. As an aside to Darnia Michael whispered, "I'd be interested to know where the finance came from for this."

There were not a lot of people in the yard in front. A Maori woman passed them. She was wearing a 19^th century gown with bustle. She sported a Moko kauae, a Maori woman's chin tattoo. She wore her hair pulled up under a bowler hat which had three tall black and white feathers pinned into the hat band. Copperhead introduced her as Brigadier Mahuta, leader of the Wahine Toa brigade.

Copperhead took them into the house through a large portico into what Copperhead described as their great hall. There was work still being undertaken here but at the end were two giant pictures each about four metres tall. One was of Copperhead looking regal and the other equally regal was clearly Dorothea in full dress but without her mask and strap on.

Copperhead pointed to her with his baton. This was Dorothea as he imagined her. "She came here you know, old chap," he said. "She promised to come back but to my grief not as expected." He screwed his face with emotion as he mentioned it. "She was going to be my princess; we could have ruled this place together."

Copperhead's voice and manner did not match an ordinary bikie. He spoke in an affected way as though he was trying sound like an 19^th century gentleman. Michael was taken with this. The others he heard speaking in the pub last night before spoke as you might expect any gang member. Copperhead spoke as if he was at Ascot.

He was speaking to fit his costume. He wore a big double breasted great coat with an array of medals. He had a brightly coloured waistcoat and copper watch chains. He had a cummerbund below with a lace up cod piece at the front of long chamois leather trousers. Today he was without his pickelhaube.

"What happened to Dorothea?" Asked Michael. he could feel the emotion in his throat and had difficulty in asking. Copperhead seemed to have the same affliction, but he began slowly, "I don't know what happened to her, or who did it. A woman's torso was thrown over the wall somehow. It had been decapitated and all her limbs amputated. Two men's cocks were in her arsehole and cunt. I do not know who the dead men were, but I am absolutely certain the torso was Dorothea. It had scrawled on it in felt pen 'steam punk whore.' It also had signs of torture."

"How did you know it was her?"

"I just knew."

"The murderer must have caught her in the act."

"I can't believe that. Dorothea was never like that. Someone has staged this for sure. Why would you suggest that?"

"Well, it was there in front of you... '' Michael began to visibly shake. "I... just don't know what to believe about her anymore."

"Whatever, Dorothea was a lady if nothing else. You knew her for that at least. She was to be my princess. She was pure. I will always believe that no matter what."

Michael sensed by the look on his face that he was telling the truth. It was probably then that Michael lost any vestige of denial of her death. He felt a strange kind of relief rather than grief. Copperhead though was obviously badly shaken.

"Somebody wanted to destroy my world. I suspect it was the Venga but I know she was on a dangerous mission."

"What did she tell you?"

"Very little but she wanted my help. There was some fuck named Fairchild connected to the Venga living somewhere near here. Her ex-husband works for him. She knew we have been battling with the Venga. We have several cousins over from Aussie right now to help us have it out with them. She was to come back with a plan so we could strike at the heart. She said if we were successful, she would come back and join me here as my princess." Copperhead pulled out his phone. "Here are the last photographs of her and I standing in front of the murals." Copperhead displayed them they were dressed as the paintings. Copperhead must have had her costume readymade so he must have hoped he would see her again sometime.

"Could you please send us copies. These would be the last pictures anyone would see of her for sure. " Michael gave Copperhead his contact address. As Copperhead sent the copies Michael thought about the other pictures, the ones that would have been taken at the crime scene and shuddered. Those would be ignored, not the memories he needed.

They continued discussion about the Venga. Copperhead clearly wanted retribution. They were joined by a couple of his men. They spoke in a similar affected manner as Copperhead. This is Colonel Phineas Fotheringale. He commands our cavalry, the Pokeno Hussars. And this is Colonel Sebastian Mahout who commands our cyberneers and his band of cybersappers." Both men had ornate copper breastplates on and breeches with riding boots.

"Is this a private army?" Enquired Michael.

"These are our warriors. It's a necessity you know. We are organized for the Vengas." It seemed that Copperhead was not engaged with the connected politics that were enveloping the land. This was personal, him and the Vengas.

He went on to describe what the cyberneers were creating. It was clear he was occupied in his own fantasy world that existed in immersive virtual reality. It was just unfortunate that in the real world they had to deal with the Vengas. They were happy to deal with that and leave the politics of the real world to others. The Freeon did not concern him, in fact many of his recruits came from the ranks of the Freeon although he did not subscribe to their own peculiar form of wackiness.

He understood that Fairchild was some a sort of crime boss leading the Venga and that the Venga were some kind of international cartel rather than a traditional local gang they had first taken them for. He knew that there were American's involved but did not know who they were. The Venga were the front line. Up until the death of Dorothea it was all about turf, drugs, trafficking and money. The Hounds of Hell had been joined by other gangs who had been intimidated by the Venga. The Hounds of Hell penchant for dress up had made them very visible and that accorded them a certain protection that apparently confused the Venga.

At the moment, with Dorothea gone, Copperhead was reevaluating a plan with his leadership but without Dorothea's intelligence to identify his target.

Darnia took all this in enthusiastically and was eager to help. It was all too eager for Michael. He had obviously lost a wife in part as a result of her association with Copperhead and he could see Darnia going in that direction.

Copperhead offered to show them the rest of complex, starting with the fantastical workshops with metal workers and smiths.

They moved on and were astounded by his cyberneers. It seems that before leaving Aussie Copperhead was already a cult hero online. Copperhead said it was his introduction to the metaverse that led him to his interest in Steampunk. In New Zealand the world had continued growing in the metaverse and now, physically in his fantastic compound.

Copperhead explained, "These fellows are the source of our wealth. We create non fungible tokens and such like and do battle over cyberspace in cryptocurrency transactions which are integrated in the virtual world of the metaverse. We are trying to disconnect ourselves from our more dubious activities, but we cannot while those Venga fellows threaten us. We must destroy the source of their wealth by dominating the market and squeezing them out, then we can clean up the market and concentrate on what we can now do best."

Michael glanced at the cyber laboratory. There were a number of cyber sappers wearing an array of masks absorbed in immersive technology partaking in weird terpsichorean behaviour. Meanwhile cybeneers were laying on recliners in booths seemingly orchestrating whatever the sappers were up to.

One cybersapper was braced against a wall thrusting their hips. Copperhead paused explaining, "We are experimenting with the interaction of an avatar with an android or gynoid. Miriam here is doing a gender reversal and is using a male avatar to have sex with gynoid."

Michael was puzzled, "and a gynoid is...?"

"A female artificial intelligence robot of course."

"Oh, silly me," Michael rolled his eyes as Darnia looked on with her mouth agape.

Moving on Copperhead ushered them into a different kind of laboratory next door. "This," he said, "is the future. It is my dream," he added grandly, "that my research facility will grow and eventually take us to the stars. But today we begin more humbly. I plan on attracting innovative scientists the world over to come and undertake research here."

He then introduced them to Nino Machetti who together with Mariana were husband and wife scientists, inventors. Machetti a physicist and his wife a neurologist. Michael wondered why serious scientists would link themselves to Copperhead. It came down to independence. Copperhead was offering them finance and resources without strings. He was already partnering an overseas institute and he had land to establish a research complex. In the meantime, Nino and Mariana had begun research at a modest level.

They were tinkering with a copper and glass contraption worthy of Heath Robinson. Machetti had a monocle, His wife had rimless specs perched on her nose with a cord lopped around her neck. Both had long lab coats. They discussed his machine.

"This, my dear friend is a machine I have devised for measuring love. Lovers are to stand in front, holding hands, each with the other hand in a long glove which is connected, to the machine. Each will also have a head band which is wired in as well. I ask the lovers to stare into each other's eyes for 10 minutes and the machine records and analyses the physical effects."

"How do you record the chemistry."

"Ah good question my man. No. The array of chemicals, Dopamine, norepinephrine, Phenylethylamine, serotonin and Oxytocin, what have you, are too complex for what we are attempting to achieve. We are not recording specifically lust or love for one's children. We are simplifying to record only the intensity; the depth of romantic love being felt by each lover. In short, how in-love are they."

Machetti continued," My experiments are creating data for the cyberneers. We intend to create emotion reality.

The intention is to make our androids and gynoids experience emotions, love, lust, and desire. Entities that can make sense of the intangibles such as appreciating art, drama and humour. It is part of the work on our android and gynoids to establish their self-awareness. So that they store knowledge of their own existence. "

Michael was shocked; his reflex was to immediately look at Darnia who was smirking back at him.

He turned to Machetti, "that's impossible."

"We believe not. I take it that is your wife with you. Would you both like to help us and submit to a trial on the machine."

A look of almost terror crossed both Michael and Darnia's eyes, both excusing themselves and backing away.

Finally, with Copperhead they retreated along the building and at the rear they entered a large room with a large painting in the manner of a hand tinted Victorian nude. The woman was buxom and plump though not fat with widish hips. She had a mass of dark curly hair with a reddish tinge.

The subject of the painting was actually standing in front of the painting although fully clothed in green quasi- Victorian dress with bustle. The dress was cut short revealing equally short petticoats and suspended red striped stockings. The same mass of curly hair cascaded over her shoulders and not apparent in the painting was her Irish light freckly complexion and infectious smile.

Copperhead took the woman's arm, "I would like you to meet Lady Nigella Fecundia. She is in charge of our breeding program. We plan on expanding our population, culturally raised and conditioned to our very own engineered civilization. We already have a group of reality mothers and in the room there," Copper head pointed through an open door, "There are some wet milkers to provide sustenance for our newborns."

There were four or five busty women lying in recliners plugged into milking machines.

Michael and Darnia were speechless. Finally, Darnia spoke. "Are you establishing a new society with this new culture?"

"Yes, you could say so. It will be our grand new world unencumbered by the constrictions and prejudices of our current society."

Michael introduced himself to Lady Fecundia. "Have you just employed Van Kerr by some chance?"

She replied. "Yes, indeed and do you know him?"

"We met yesterday. He mentioned he was to be employed as a service man."

"He certainly has been employed. He is to service our breeding stock."