Alcoholic Anthologies from the Club Invertebrate #4: A Talk With Lisa by Denny Hill 2 (firebomb@technohol.com) Copyright 2001, 2009, 2012 All rights reserved. *** Imagine a surly woman in her thirties, strapped down to an operating table, several technicians and doctors swarming around her. They're chopping bits of her off and replacing them with mechanical upgrades; her arms, something in her torso - it's a royal bloody mess. The creepy thing is that they all seem to be unaware that she's wide awake, her face a mess of pain and homicidal rage; of course, it's also quite possible that they really could care less... (That should do for a 'cover', shouldn't it?) *** Notice: for those of you that are faint of heart, the following tale is not at all G-rated. It may include foul language, excessive violence, sexual innuendo, and other things that would get this story burned, were it in a printed form, by the more fanatical elements of every religion on earth. In other words, if these things offend you, you may want to stop reading now. (That should do for a 'disclaimer', shouldn't it?) *** "Was the procedure a success?" The senior technician looked at the patient, watching as his underlings installed the Normal Mesh over her new implants. She was the perfect candidate for the procedure, considering her combat experience and that overall will to survive. Oh, and the fact that she would have to pay for her new body, of course, would spur her to work for the company. Not that she saw this coming; she and her fellow mercenaries were extremely careful during their operation in Guatemala. In fact, their targets couldn't have ambushed her and ... removed the proper parts ... if he hadn't told them where Polanski and her company would be, and when. Perfect timing, those Guatemalans. Of course, gunfire is such a crude scalpel, and his cybernetic candidate lost most of her stomach in addition to both arms. But that little oversight was repaired, and she's been rebuilt to exacting Pastordyne specs. Now, all she has to do is get used to the fact that she's even more of a killing machine, in fact as well as in talent... "Yes, sir," the technical assistant told his towering superior. "The implants are all functioning properly, with no sign of rejection. Also, we have been playing the subliminal complex tapes for about a week now, making her more likely to enjoy her new status. Two months of proper therapy ought to make her like putty in -" "What?!?" Suddenly sitting up on the operations table, Lisa Polanski tried to shake off her drug-induced drowsiness as the six junior techs rushed to give her more sedative. By the time they reached her, however, she was off the table and swinging at the first techie that came at her with a nighty-night needle. And her punch crushed his head like a melon. With that, the other five techs ran away, leaving a bewildered Lisa to wonder just what Pastordyne had done to her. Realizing that more folks would be after her real soon, and that they'd probably have more than needles at hand, Lisa Polanski then made a dash for the door. At that point, the lead technician barred the way. "You can't leave, Lisa", he said. "You're not finished, yet. We don't want you to get hurt, now, being incomplete like this. Let us help you". With that, he pulled out a tranquilizer gun that he had in his coat and fired at Lisa. A lot. Instinctively flinching, Lisa never felt the impact of the two drug-filled darts. Opening her eyes, she saw the wide metal shield that had apparently sprung out of her left arm. Before her would-be doctor could react, she beat him on the head with the strange shield and ran out the door into the hallway outside... Smashing her way into the hall, Lisa Polanski realized just where she was: she was on the twenty second floor of the Pastordyne building! Now, if they collected her, these goons may have also collected her gear, and put it back in her locker. That left only two floors to climb, though in her current state, that wasn't such an easy task. Hitting the stairwell, Lisa drug herself up the stairs with relative ease, her arms not at all feeling fatigued by the effort. By the time she got to level twenty four, however, she could hear security alarms clanging throughout the building. She only had a little bit of time before somebody found her. Luckily, her weapons locker was right off the stairwell, where the commons room has been for the six or so mercs that have been in Pastordyne employ for the last eight months. Plowing through the door, Lisa saw one of her former compatriots gently nursing a beer, though he did nothing to impede her progress to her locker. Either he didn't care to stop her (not being paid to) or didn't care to get trampled by her indeterminate implants (if he knew what they did to her). As such, she yanked open her locker and saw that she was, in fact, correct; her stuff was there. Pastordyne did want her as a sort of cyber-assassin, after all. Gear'd be nice for that task. And if it were hers, well, that's just that much cheaper. Gotta watch the bottom line, eh? One Repulsor Suit: check. Funny how the arms were gone where she got hit, but the gloves were still with the rest of the suit. 'Waste Not, Want Not. Grubby suits...' she thought as she put on the rest of her gear. One Ionic Jet Pack with telescoping, forward-swept wings: check. Good thing the Pack didn't get hurt when she got blasted by Guatemalans. Twin Invium blades: check. 'That's nice'. Regardless of what strange and twisted things these Pastordyne toads had put in her body, she was still a master of swordplay. And with THESE swords, she could cut her way out of the blasted building if necessary. Or a lot of technicians. Twin laser pistols: check. These had been modified, though, now having strange plug-ins on the back. Hm... Hindsight may be twenty-twenty, so Lisa would probably think that firing the laser guns to test them out was a bad idea later on. This was, of course, since the fire alarms were now going haywire in the room, and water was now covering her and her stuff. Lisa put the guns in their holsters, promising to fix 'em later. Strapping on her twin gun holsters, her twin swords, her spare dagger, and her jet pack, Lisa actually felt better, and was more than ready to fend off the three security goons that had just rushed into the room after her. Drawing her swords, she made quick work of the trio before they could even think about tasering her into la-la land. Leaving the room before she was covered in the goo that used to be their innards, Lisa nabbed a taser rod from the former guards, thinking it would most necessarily come in handy in the imminent future. She then made for a second stairway, and began her climb up, so she could make for the roof. Upon reaching level twenty six of the Pastordyne tower, Lisa left the stairwell and made her way through the maze of corporate high-up offices, kicking over expensive desks and other assorted furniture, generally to blow off steam. She was now completely over the knock-out juice she was under after the mysterious operations on her were complete. Not that this was a good thing, as she could feel the pain that the procedures had left. Converting her pain into rage, Lisa smashed some more furniture, when she heard them: several armed company agents, exiting from the stairwell she was heading for. No rooftop escape for her, it would seem. She drew her swords. Of course, the damnable hurricane glass was being intractable, and quite hard to cut through. She'd only made a rough semicircle when the guards had finally found her again, and a dodge behind an extremely expensive oak desk saved her life. Burst after burst of gunfire hit the solid wood furniture, but Lisa managed to avoid each shot by staying behind it. Waiting for them to stop shooting (by which time the room was full of gun smoke), Lisa shoved the desk forward (which was much easier than it should have been), totally bowling over the corporate assassins that thought their dirty work was already done. Before they could recover, Lisa jumped her assailants. That strange shield had withdrawn back into her arm, but her right fist was now glowing. She swung at the nearest guard, and punched right through his Kevlar suit. And right through him. She then leapt into the center of the security guards who, in their zest to blast her to smithereens, mostly shot each other. When the gunfire again ceased, Lisa went to work on the last two guards. One gave her a good right hook, but her repulsor suit dampened that to a light tap, and she kneed him where he lives for his trouble. The other one blasted her with a full clip of ammo, but again, her suit cut the force of that down to a good kick in the back. With bruises. Lisa then threw a sword at the man, attempting to distract him while she was on the ground (and he was reloading), when a burst of energy came forth from her left arm, removing all of the guard from the room, save for his boots; in fact, there was nothing left but his smoking boots - no feet, even! Collecting her wits, Polanski then retrieved her sword and carved her way through the hurricane windows between her and freedom, and she jumped into the steamy Omaha air. 'Funny,' she thought, 'why such a large technical firm would make their base in such an odd duck of a town... mebbe it was the kickbacks from local government?' Ten stories down, her ionic jet thrusters finally came on line, those telescoping wings popped into place, and Lisa Polanski rocketed away into the night. She saw two Pastordyne helicopters lifting off from their building after her departure, but knew they couldn't keep up with her rocket pack. Of course, she couldn't fly full-bore just yet... she needed to get her a new breathing mask. As such, Lisa landed halfway across town, not wanting to risk an aerial battle without her laser pistols. Since she didn't know exactly how to use that beam weapon in her arm just yet, that wasn't reliable enough to depend on. Lisa touched down smack in the center of Omaha, Nebraska: the one and only Crossroads Mall. On 72nd and Dodge, this area of town was coated in people, all of which were apparently enjoying their weekend. Well, Lisa couldn't think of any other reason for so many people to be about at night. She needed a newspaper, and how. Lacking change, she smashed open a vending machine, and saw the date: she'd been under for over two months! No wonder she was so disoriented. She saw the Pastordyne 'copters pass overhead, and then go away; no use in getting sued for opening fire with thousands of civilians in the immediate area, after all. She knew they'd be there in force imminently, and decided to make for anywhere else. Knowing that a diving shop was nearby, Lisa went right to it, in order to grab an air tank before her corporate 'makers' arrived to either bring her back or wipe her out. Mind you, the guy at the counter didn't like the fact that she had no money. However, she did have swords. Two big pointy ones that cut right through said counter. He was more than happy to 'lend' her a fully charged air tank after that, and she bolted out the back door of the place before anyone could point out where she was; cops are typically leery of sword-wielding folks milling about town, after all. Right out back, she spotted a Pastordyne agent scouting out the area, looking for her and potential witnesses. She bore down on him with the rocket pack, nailing him with that taser rod before he knew what hit him. Taking his M-16, Lisa then put on the scuba mask and took off, making for parts unknown (to Pastordyne, at least). Spotting the two helicopters high up in the air, Lisa flew to meet up with them... most violently. As soon as the first was in her sights, Lisa opened up on it, and after the clip was empty, the copter started to plummet down on the hapless city below. Cursing her carelessness, Lisa flew after the stupid machine, and tried to make her arm work. Remembering what happened last time, she threw the gun at the 'copter, and her arm indeed started blasting again. She kept repeating the motion, and soon the helicopter was merely a pile of small metal bits, bits that luckily landed in an empty parking lot west of her last location. 'No need to wipe out anyone that don't need it, after all...', she thought. Before the other aircraft could get revenge upon her, Lisa rocketed out of town, thinking that she could head back to Tibet, in order to hook up with those kooky Zen Hell-Kites. After all, they taught her everything she knew about fighting. Maybe, just maybe, they could make her whole again... *** Morris threw Lisa another beer as she finished her story, seeing the lady could clearly use more alcohol. "So these monks helped you out I assume, what with you being back in town again?" Lisa slammed down half of her imported beer before answering, letting the cold and the alcohol numb her just a little bit more; it wasn't like the effect would last long, thanks to that artificial digestive system of hers. But for a short time, she could at least feel the buzz proper. "Yeh. The Hell-Kites are good at helping a body find their center, no matter how damaged they happen to be. And since I joined them before my so-called upgrades, they were more than happy to help. "Just in time for me to take Pastordyne down a few pegs." Morris nodded at this. He'd talked to a few folks who'd had dealings with the company in times past, and none of them had anything good to say - at least, nobody who'd worked with them for any length of time. "Well it's always nice to hear from you, Lisa, drop in anytime you're not shooting those clowns up and I'll have a few cold beers ready for you, hey?" Knowing her particular 'drinking problem', Morris threw her another beer before she could even answer. Catching it and slamming this one down too, Lisa grinned. It was always good to see a nice face now and then, even if Morris WAS only nice because it was his bread and butter. "You got it, buddy!" *** Come back in thirty or so days when Mike 013 makes his way to the Club Invertebrate to investigate... the Club Invertebrate! It's not like Morris the Quintuple Bartender is keeping a big secret here or anything, but what terrible tales took place in the Club Invertebrate before it was the Club Invertebrate? Inquiring minds just might want to know, and if they do, they should gleefully tune in next time to see. You don't want to miss out on all the excitement, do you? (That should do for a 'preview', shouldn't it?) *** Alcoholic Anthologies from the Club Invertebrate #4: A Talk With Lisa by Denny Hill 2 (firebomb@technohol.com) Copyright 2001, 2009 All rights reserved.