Fleshware Requiem Book 01

"No, it's a trap!" I rasped in warning. They barely spared me an angry glance; they knew I'd say anything to divert them from their carnal objective; but it seemed that their mistrust of me, and lust for the girl was blinding them to any other possibilities. Including a smeared sigil painted upon the asphalt; depicting an arrow penetrating a row of several, cartoonish hearts. Made with long-dried blood.

Soon, she led them into an area apart from the other crumbling structures; past the tangled threads of what was once a high-security fence; past a guard-booth inundated with darkened blood stains from within, towards what was once a sprawling, high-tech compound. Odd, that there was no company/corporate logo? Though the sign should have been in disrepair by now, still... it seemed that there was no identification whatsoever concerning who had funded this large campus. I couldn't see the entire structure, but it appeared more spacious than most stadiums. Finally; I did see a sign:

PRIVATE PROPERTY

TRESPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED

SMOOTH-SKINNED DEFIANCE

Wow. A massive compound sprawled over several acres before us. A LOT of private property. Clearly, something this massive had to have been built before the war; but no clue as to who or what had paid for it. As spacious as the structure was... it could have been a factory; perhaps some processing plant; I could see a metallic reticulum of pipes and conduits rising about two stories above the south side. Yes, a high-tech operation. It must have cost millions; before E-day you just... just couldn't build something like this without some serious governmental/corporate backing. This wasn't just the backyard of some crazy old coot with a shotgun. But no, not government property; private. Curious.

The rest of my band seemed to catch on at this point; she could be hiding an army inside that compound! The chase of these brutal, desperate gas-masked men of one lone woman was as savage as the Serengeti, the driving urges just as primal, just as bestial. Though they all attempted to speed up, to catch her, grasp her, claim her before she could reach a segmented sliding hangar door, her own velocity -- even in high-heels was sufficient that even the greatest bursts of speed humanly possible gained no ground.

This was entirely too suspicious. How could anyone not realize she was toying with them?

But again, I understood these men, as they did me. When Garland, or especially Cleary, took to hunting something; once their pride was at stake; they would pursue it beyond reason, beyond sensible acknowledgment of danger. It was true of most of the band; when they wanted something badly enough, it was conquer-or-die. To give up on the Woman in White now... it would also send a tacit message that Nailer had died for nothing. McConnaught surely knew it was a setup by now, but that no longer mattered. It was the team's greatest asset -- and no doubt the pig-headedness that would get them all killed. And me with them.

That was when Cleary drew his knife. Holding it delicately. I'd seen this tactic. The obvious danger had suddenly hit home, and his intent was to catch her, grab her, and use her as a hostage against whatever reinforcements would be inside waiting for us. He just had to catch her. How could she possibly run so fast? But I realized that her maintaining a constant distance of thirty feet ahead no matter how fast we were bespoke of greater abilities not yet apparent. I tried to shout out another warning but... after so much running, behind the mask, I didn't have the breath to make more than a hoarse whisper.

I should have stopped short, should not have run into the hangar with them. But dammit! We needed each other! I can't just watch them die with a bemused chuckle and expect to survive on witty repartee. So... if I was with them, maybe I could find the words negotiate with whatever gang of armed men where waiting for us; defuse the disaster waiting to happen.

The Woman in White was backed up against a wall, her posture fearful, as if she were trying to press herself into the pitted cement. And yet... the expression on her face, it was neutral -- none of the terror I would have expected. A vision as unique as she was gorgeous.

She was young and fit, yet with an ageless grace accentuated by a flowing mane of snow-blind- white hair glistening with a stark, ivory purity. But her sculpted face had not a trace of age. Her form seemed so hale, hearty, unlined and youthful, that she could flaunt what should have been a sign of age as a symbol of smooth-skinned defiance towards the natural cycle of mortality.

Those eyes that showed a fearlessness belying her posture were heterochromic; one blue, the other iris green. The white that she wore was, evidently a wedding dress. It was a shape-hugging trumpet-mermaid design that enhanced her curves and flared below the pelvis with diaphanous layers of organza-weave silk. Her bare shoulders poked above the lacy caress of the fabric as if to proclaim a shapely grace I never dreamed could be found among the ruins. She seemed to thrust out her bustline at me; artfully contained in a elegant bodice of heart-embroidered lace appliqué as she slowly rose away from the dull wall of graying concrete. Yet somehow, she had just outrun all of us, dressed in such constricting finery, high-heels clicking. Not a drop of sweat. Didn't really seem to be breathing heavy.

Cleary made his move; still seething with adrenalin, he lunged at her bosom, knife at the ready. He would grasp her, intentionally ripping her clothing to make her seem more vulnerable to what ever backup she had now watching us; as he held his savage blade to her smooth, quivering throat. I'd seen his merciless strategy evolve over at least four similar encounters over the course of our eight years; only this time; I would do something. This time, I vowed I would bury my fears and find a diplomatic resolution.

"Don't touch her!" I commanded, my voice brooking no argument.

His gloved, greedy hand was mere centimeters from her heaving chest.

"I've had it with your knight-in-shining-armor routine, you sanctimonious prick!" That hand became a fist, which then reached for his Luger-pistol. "We all know you've got some stick up your ass over your worm-food fiance' and now you've gotta play the hero whenever we want some female action!" If he only knew. Cleary's voice deepened as he spoke into a threatening rumble. "We're all sick of it, and you. Maybe you shouldn't run with us anymore; if you're gonna be such a tight-ass every time something sweet comes our way." His posture tense, his breathing heavy, he was still pumped up from the chase, it would be easy to switch from flight to fight.

"Sure, I get you." I lowered my Winchester, but not too much. "You don't give a shit what happens to these girls when you're done with 'em. I've tried to talk some sense into you, but we're all adults here, you've made your choice.

"But maybe you will give a shit about an intact Intercontinental Think-bomb, that only I can salvage. You know neurolectrics is my specialty. You missed it, didn't you? All of you? This 'female-action' you've been chasing totally blinded you to the real find! A machine like that has filtration systems, fuel, mag-rails... I can take it apart to build us some real pulse guns! I can use its chips to make code-slicers for electric locks! Power supply can get our next car up and running. Hell, we can use its casing for armor! You know only I have the skills to make use of it; IF I'm alive and happy." I paced back and forth through the sterile hanger, marshaling my thoughts.

"A real find eh?" Garland muttered in a double-edged question. "So we last a little longer with some more tech. But in the end, what are we surviving for? Moldy energy bars in the next clear-zone we find, sitting around in ammonia-treated tents tryin' not to think about who died today? Look around you Salvador, what do all those high-minded bullshit laws and ethics mean now? It's back to basics. The most basic."

"Maybe we'll have something else to do in the next clear-zone!" Cleary rumbled. "Or someone."

"Basic doesn't mean we have to be animals! That Preserve is still out there!" I reminded them, ignoring Cleary. "We can find a home, a shelter there! Live as men, not savages!" The woman's frightened posture was gone now, and she began to look us over as if studying some shiny, new toys. Didn't she realize what I was trying to save her from? She strode closer to me. "Leave her! Even if you nimrods retraced your steps back to the location of the missile, I won't help you unless you let the girl stay here, safe." It wasn't going to be easy; somehow the nearness of the girl began to affect me like a drug. It wasn't simply a matter of her glamor-model good looks; something about the aura of her presence kindled in me a primal, covetous instinct -- to protect, possess, mate. I suspected the first item on that list would be forgotten by my companions.

"Not sure it's gonna matter one way or another," Tannerman argued. "This Preserve-place, sounds like a fortress; sounds like the place where men that can handle themselves are gonna be welcome. We got food, supplies, and skills. Really, I doubt they're gonna turn us away if our - " he snickered sarcastically. " - background checks come back a little rough around the edges! As if there was such a thing anymore." The Sniper chuckled. "I don't think it matters one whit to our future whether or not we leave a trail of broken hearts behind us." What a nice way to whitewash it, I thought.

"Maybe..." Cleary drawled threateningly as he flicked his symbolic cigarette at me. His chest was still heaving, he was still ready for action. "Maybe I take her with us! Sal cares so much about her - " He grabbed for her elbow -

and his hand passed right through her!

"... maybe I'll use her to make you... you... wha -?" He shook his head. I backed away, not certain what I'd just seen. The Woman in White shrugged sheepishly.

Cleary lunged angrily at the hem of her bodice, not to be denied.

He was denied.

Somehow, his hand passed entirely through her chest and torso, blending into her shapely form and reemerging out of her right hip, without meeting the slightest hint of material resistance of any kind.

"H- Hologram?" I stammered. "No... no, that's not possible. I saw you -- I saw your feet kicking up rocks, I saw you disturb the ivy as you touched it. No... she's real, can't be just a light-show "

"I apologize;" The woman spoke for the first time. Her voice trilling melodically over our ears. "I have a separate process for my Decontamination. We can't be in the same room while it's happening."

Tiny spigots on the ceiling above us began to spritz us with some frothy, synthetic, chemical mixture, even as we heard the sliding door seal shut behind us. I knew I shouldn't have blundered in here with them! Still, not an army awaiting to attack. Just an unknown chemical cocktail spraying down on us.

"We'll need to wait for the agent to saturate your belongings. Please keep your masks on," She instructed, as an adult might a room of first-graders -- if there still were first-graders. "Direct ingestion of the compound tends to cause unpleasant side-effects in human bone-marrow." Garland startled at that. Here though, it seemed impossible that she could be the same, very solid woman we had chased through the ruins, as the spray vanished into her body without moistening her surface.

The chemical soon changed to water, which then changed to gusts of warm air, swirling and convecting around us to draw up whatever remained of the airborne toxins of the ruins. Then we felt the room shaking, a sinking feeling.

"We're descending to sub-level-2 now," The holographic female explained. I hadn't been on a working elevator since before the War. "Once there, you'll find ample food, water, filtered air, and lodgings. You'll also find me. The real me. After you're all finished using my body for your pleasure, feel free to explore the compound, and select personal quarters for yourselves." Did I hear her right? God, I hoped not.

"Uhm..." I tried to speak, unsuccessfully.

"And YOUUUUU!" she enthused, turning to me with a mega-watt smile. "You were concerned for my well-being! I certainly appreciate what you think you were trying to do. And I'll be glad to show you how much I appreciate it!" A few ribald chuckles from the men as she suggestively ran her hands over her thighs. She turned her green eye back towards the crowd. "I surrrre hope no one will mind if this stud gets the first crack at me!" The men didn't reply; understandably confused.

I sighed mournfully. The poor thing was attempting to save herself with some sort of reverse-psychology strategy to trick the men, flustering them enough to reconsider their lust-fueled agenda. I doubted she could succeed. And yet...

"I... I am concerned for your well-being," I assured the hologram. "You don't need to play these games; I'll do my best to - "

"Why do you think I brought you here?" She interrupted with a sheepish grin.

"You weren't trying to escape us by running;" Tannerman concluded, though his posture looked as though he was about to make a run for it himself. If there had been anywhere to go. "You were... herding us." It wasn't a question.

"Oh pretty please, mysterious band of armed men, why don't you follow me into my fortified compound where you can have all the supplies you need, live in secured comfort, and do things to me your wives and girlfriends would never have allowed in a thousand years?"She teased in a mocking voice, Arms gesticulating for emphasis. "Would you have believed me if I had told you straight-up what I wanted?"

The obvious denial went unspoken as the chamber continued its slow descent through the earth.

"And... that IS what you want?" McConnaught wanted to know.

"My big friend here was looking out for me," She turned her glistening gaze back to me. "But not everyone can bottle-up their desires the way he tries to. Suppressing your normal, male drives is unnatural, I fully appreciate the futility of resisting these intrinsic needs.

"But clearly, trust is an issue for men in your position. So I had to portray an obvious motivation that would be instantly believable. The Damsel." A strand of ice-white hair fell over her sapphire-blue eye.

"But not in distress." I added. She whirled on Cleary, his hand still twitching, as if eager for what he could not possess. "You're prepared to use force to gain liberties I would have granted freely." Even behind his mask, I could tell Cleary's scheming had been derailed. He clenched the pistol at his hip; even without knowing what to do with it.

"Damn, Clearly blew it for us; she could have automated defenses, bombs down there, who knows?" Tannerman speculated with a clenched fist.

"But there are no ... hard feelings... above the belt, at least." The woman quipped. "I'm the one who wanted you here in the first place. I'm the one who wants what you have even more than you want to give it to me." Her pearly smile was positively scandalous.

"WAIT!" I cried out; my mind scrambling for answers. I put a hand to my head as if to focus my thoughts. "Think about what happened to Nailer. He snapped. The stress, the death, the frustration. She's... probably alone here, just machines to run the place, I bet. Maybe... maybe she's snapped too. The loneliness; it's gotten to her. She's gone stir-crazy.

"Listen guys; you don't want anything to do with her," I waved my hand at the men in a warding gesture. "A crazy bitch like that will slit your throat the moment you turn your back on her; probably got all kinds of blades hidden in that gown. Don't touch her -- the real her -- it's too big a risk. She probably lures survivors into her compound.... to make trophies out of our bodies... ya know, some black-widow psycho thing. Maybe we never saw her outside without a suit on; maybe she's rigged up holograms to make it look like she can run around without protection." Luckily, not being able to see my face behind the mask, they shouldn't be able to read the insincerity in my eyes. The Woman in White made a surprised gasping noise.

"You are so precious..." She cooed. "You're afraid you can't stop the others by force, so you're trying to save me by making me seem undesirable!" Well, calling attention to it certainly won't help! I fumed silently. "You... are going to be my best friend." She made a motion that walked her fingers up my chest flirtatiously. "But I bet you're the jealous type too -- what fun we're all going to have!" I shook my head in exasperation, at my wit's end. If this poor woman was so demented that she actually wanted to be raped by strangers, maybe there was nothing more I could do. Maybe I should cut my losses. "But it's funny you should suggest that I have only machines to take care of me..."

Though previously silent since we entered the compound; Mouse suddenly stepped forward, just as we felt the floor settle to a stop on Sub-level 2.

"P-A-C-1 Presentation Protocol." He called out in a clear, firm voice at odds with his slender stature. The woman's eyes widened, and a shudder passed through her. Her holographic self turned its back to us, and raised her snowblind-white hair to expose the back of her neck.

The tattoo resembled a silhouette of a reclining woman laying atop a slanted, capital P. The entire image colored with an alternating black-white striped barcode pattern.

Of course! It had been so long since I'd seen one! It all made sense now. I sighed with audible relief.

"Well?" The woman swept her gaze over us after lowering her hair. "Any incredulous cries of -- 'She's a robot!' Anyone?" she chided, placing her hands to her cheeks in mock surprise.

CREATOR'S REMORSE

November 3rd, 2077 Present Day

My densely-muscled frame shuddered as I opened my gray eyes with hesitant flutters, I had already dropped the crowbar, and was leaning - panting against the wall. She was standing right in front of me, but for the moment I tried not to look at her. Looking always made it worse. I tried to focus on the room, my laboratory, my prison. The feelings were still there, but lessened. Perhaps I could try again, even though she stood directly before me. No crowbar. Must have moved it while I was captivated. That alone gave me hope. Hope borne of her fear - unless she was toying with me; as had invariably proven true on past occassions. The rest of the implements in the room consisted of cluttered work-benches, various nano-soldering guns, and the crane-like profiles of hyper-precise robot arms poised like mechanized scavengers over irridescent, filamentous circuit-wafers.I tried not to think about the sheets of human brain tissue growing in sealed plastic panels awash in nutrients over to my right. And the bank of ten dormant television screens on the southeast wall I studiously ignored.

"You lasted longer that time." Celeste teased, with a velvet voice bathed in honey.

"I'm becoming...resistant... to your neuropulses!" I grunted defiantly, even as I gauged my surroundings for yet another weapon.

"Why would you WANT to be resistant? That's the whole point. The pleasure is enhanced beyond anything Nature intended." She shook her head to push the gossamer-lace white veil upon her head away from those moist, kissable, strawberry lips. She was, as usual adorned in her figure-hugging wedding dress, but I hadn't yet determined the signifigance of the veil. This artificial she-demon seemed to hunger after symbolism. Perhaps she -- it wanted to prove its demented genius with every facet of her synthetic body's appearance. My existence, my sanity depended on comprehending the monster; but in my heart, I couldn't even get my pronouns straight.