by Jane Brooke
No one ever fucked with the rich, hell that’s why they were rich to begin with. Then, hard line orders had come from Central Command. Krull, other seared out cops like him had again become front line soldiers in a new war. It was something they, already stressed to the max, just hadn’t needed.
How do Ozone-Cops fight legions of crazed, savage and berserk hyper stoned out killers. Maniacs that didn’t remember that a blast from a laser canon could vaporize them as easily as a flame thrower could incinerate a moth; well there was a way.
Krull’s thing, well, why not, no time on the clock left. Why mess around, use blunt force trauma, leave nothing to the imagination. Find the source, cauterize it and take a pair of bolt cutters, snip, snip and snip. There-goes finger digits, knuckles, tongue, balls and King Mohammad’s dick.
Why not make a snuff movie out of the playa making the shit? Pass the hologram flick around the stalls, a real visual, visceral carrousel of what happened when a gangster fucked with an Ozone Cop.
But, maybe not tonight; not this night; why the fuck not?
For Krull was a driven maniac, a mad dog at times. He was a burnt out cop and once he had the bit, well, Krull seldom spit it out until the flesh was ripped from the bone. Krull hated loose ends. He was a duty kind of guy after all.
Coming back, Krull’s brain, frying, and static light altering reason blinked as he lowered his goggles and looked at Venus through his agitated and burning eyes; that fixed him for the moment. He saw her smile, her blue lips, and her white perfect teeth. He thought more about it. He nodded and kinda smirked, as he pulled off a silver glove.
He leaned forward, touched her silver face and graced her full azure lips with his trembling fingers. He saw her blue tongue dancing around her pout. White teeth again, small nose, those eyes, always her eyes, her smile, so filled with love. He nodded that she was right. Leaning in, he kissed her.
She felt like she was melting, she always did from his kisses.
Lacing her fingers around the back of his head, she kissed him deeper, longer. She felt her heart thump, thump, thumping, her gills expanding, her body beginning to liquefy.
The kiss ended, they always did. Krull backed away, touched her face sweetly, which broke her Bot heart to its core.
He was silent staring at her. Her heart broke further, for he was a human, a man and fallible, breakable, and would age, grow old and, then would die in her arms.
Her life storage value, well her kind aged slowly and never would feel the bliss of a crushing life ending moment. Unless, of course they choose The Crushers or a poison pill or a magnum lead pellet through their own brain.
How long human Krull had left on the planet, she did not know. But she knew in the end, when his eyes closed finally, his heart stopped breathing that he would not be alone on his final journey to where ever humans went when they died.
Moments passed, Krull slotted his goggles over his blue eyes, ticked his head at her. His face twitched and, then he growled,
“Fuck it. We see Master Assad, and then call it a night. You OK with that, Doll?”
Her silver skin grew a little more translucent, glowed a little more, her kind of blush, for he always called her doll, something she so loved. Not a good idea tonight visiting Assad, but that was her Ranger for you. Never abort a mission, always do the right thing, even if the gig made no sense; no sense at all.
She smiled, touched his face, whispered. “Yes my Major, anything, anything you want my love.”
He chuckled, for he loved her rye sense of humor, her wit, for it was razor sharp, something that few knew that The Cyborg Girls even had. Why, because rarely had anyone ever loved them at all so they could see it.
Slotting his air breather to his chapped lips, he inhaled. He winced from the burning oxygen striping down his lungs. Nodding, he, un-holstered his 357 magnum, chambered a hollow point into it. Turning, he began to walk towards the blue neon, Adray leading point.
Bad news, much like a drone strike, spreads quickly in THE ZONE; especially when Ozone Cops are rumbling.
Some twenty meters away from Master Assad’s blue neon pulsing crib, suddenly eight men, appeared. Four were huge Droids, gargoyle like accompanied by four huge men, diseased men, and all armed with knives, spears, clubs and blade men appeared out of the smoke.
Venus, on point by a meter stalled. She waited for Krull to amble up along side of her. When he was, she looked at him and, then at the men that were formidable. She looked back at him, thus getting a rye smile from Krull, which made her smile.
In unison, they both starred directly at the men and Androids.
They appeared formidable and wore mismatched clothes, rags, reflector stuff, body armor, battle-armament; three of the brute droids had gladiator helmets on; berserk eyes leering at the two cops.
Obviously they were the last line of defense for any fool that thought they were tough enough to get a sit down with Boss Assad, THE MASTER without an invite.
Venus looked at Krull; he shrugged his shoulders, tilted his head at the gang, whispered.
“You need some help here, Sergeant?”
Venus grinned, her lips seemed soft, her eyes radiant, as she whispered.
“No darling. You have a smoke, OK, I’ll be right back. I need the practice.”
Krull nodded and not surprised in the slightest, he watched as his girl unlaced her laser carbine from her shoulder and her 357 magnum from her hip. She handed them both to him. She mischievously winked at him, just to get a wink in return, which made her skin glow even further.
Venus turned, and began her stroll, and when eight meters from the point man, a huge, powerful Droid, maybe 6 ft 5, 320 lbs, carrying a twelve foot spear, and wearing a brass face mask, she smiled at him.
She could see his red tinted eyes through the eye slits, and they showed no fear. She figured he was hyped up by The Pink, stoned, crazed, manic, or all of the above. It was the usual MO for street rumblers when they had been Zooming.
Since she was not a sadist, but a realist, and did not enjoy killing for killings sake. She then, as clearly as she could, gave the man his ultimatum; the only one he would get from her.
“Ozone.” Please... (She actually said please) move aside and there will be no trouble.”
For a moment her words stunned him. That’s what THE PINK did to a thug. It made them forget the ABC’s of street survival. With his gang support behind him, all insane deviant killers, he leered at her. He laughed, looked back at his buddies and roared in laughter.
“LOOK BOYS. A FUCKING TIN CAN WITH A CUNT AND IT CAN TALK TOO.”
His troop exploded in laughter, banging spears, machetes, club and blades against home made shields, which some of the men held. They also banged their body armor and their own heads, obviously impervious to pain.
Venus smiled to herself. She liked a joke as much as the next girl. And, then in an instant all of that changed from the guys next words, which wiped her sweet smile right off of her face.
“Fuck you BITCH...Come GET SOME ya pile a bolt’s.”
“BITCH.” The magic word she hated, for she had heard it so often when in the trenches.
She was Krull’s bitch, and only Krull’s bitch. Monitoring her battle arena her mood altered, turning bad.
She heard uproarious laughter, screams, taunts, shouts as after a moment she reached over her shoulder with both of her hands, grasped the handles of her swords.
“Swish.”
Was the sound that the twin blades made as she withdrew them from her scabbards?
As the men taunted her and began to nudge towards her, she calmly moved to sideways battle stance. She bent her knees and lifted one sword above her head, allowing the other to remain prone along her side.
Looking at the silver spindle holding the swords, and of course being completely de
ranged from THE PINK and forgetting just what they were dealing with, the men laughed and chided her more and, then in an instant, it all began.
The leader bellowed, reared back and unleashed his spear. It whistled across the alley and in a ballet, perhaps of war, Venus allowed her one blade to rest against her knee.
With reflexes and muscle twitch almost three times faster than a human, she gripped the spear in mid flight, a foot from her breasts. She stood, and as the leader looked at her in shock, consuming what he had just seen, he bellowed again. He pulled a sword and with his gang following, began to bull rush her.
With her pulse barely metronoming out of kilter, and within a quarter of a human eye blink, she reared back and with in a micro second sent the spear speeding across the expanse. It impacted the brute between the eyes.
Whether he knew he was dead, she did not know. As he fell, she gripped both blades and very Ninja like, and instead of waiting, she fluidly moved towards the rabid dog’s rushing her.
It is quite an awe inspiring thing to see a Spec-24-3 in a full war mood, for their muscle twitch, tendon memories were genetically engineered for speed and perfection. They had been designed for complete anillation of any foe that should care to challenge them.
Within a micro second, the first head was lopped clean off. And, then another skull joined that one, as she bent, twirled, and savagely thrusted and slashed arms, legs and torsos off. All of that happened in the first few second.
Men screamed, bellowed, and gurgled and chocked to death in their own blood. Like a threshing machine she went through them with her blades, leaving dead chafe behind her.
All but three were dead, as she then avoided a machete thrust from a seven foot Droid. She bent and severed the man’s legs off of his torso, brought the blade up, drove the blade point through his heart.
She whipped around, and sensing through her in house sensors a man behind her, she never looked back. She simply slashed her sword back, impaling him in the chest.
She withdrew the blade and in a crouch, both blades raised above her head, she faced a huge giant of a Droid, a spear in his hand, pointed directly at her.
She smiled, just as he lunged with the spear aimed at her breasts. Her hand, much like a bull whip moved, gripped it, and pulled it forward, ripping it from his hand. His eyes blinked and it took no more than that amount of time, for her to flip the spear up and drive into in his throat.
Jugular artery severed, he gawked at her as she pulled the spear from his throat, raised her blade and severed his head from his neck.
For a moment, in her war pose, knees bent, blades raised above her head (she was a diva after all) her blades were ready for more fight as she perused the carnage. She tilted her head curiously she saw death everywhere and, then seeing only corpses, she fell to a knee. She wiped the blades clean of blood on the dead mans shirt.
She stood, pushed her blades behind her back, re sheaved them and scanned the area. Seeing no problems, she turned and a contented girl, she strolled back to Krull, who as she had asked, was smoking a cigarette.
Krull, shaking his head back and forth and feeling rye, so proud of his girl, smiled and cynically said.
“That went well. What took you so long?”
Venus gulped, blinked and, then got his human sense of humor. She bent over, began to belly laugh. It was something she mostly only ever did when they were alone. Few men on the planet had ever seen a Cyborg Girl laugh, only having ever seen their indigo tears.
Watching her giggling away, he simply felt awe. For the magnificent species he had just witnessed chain saw her way through a gang of heinous murders, loved him. He knew he was the luckiest grunt in the world for it.
After a few moments of wild chuckling, that actually brought blue tear drops to her massive set of eyes, she straightened. Allowing her pulse to calm, she stared at Krull with an intensity he felt drilling through his loins.
She smiled, touched her lips with her blue tongue and wrapped her fingers around Krull’s head. Pulling him in, she pressed her body against his, felt his hands on her butt and pressed her lips against his.
The kiss lasted for sometime as Venus felt her toes curling in her sensor boots, her gill plates expanding and deflating, her heart pounding, a moisture building between her legs.
She was allowing herself to be the complete female that so few of her kind ever felt.
Krull, on the other hand was fighting an erection. Not every guy was so lucky to have a such a stunner girl friend with such a brain, body, THAT BODY.
With the hour glass still dripping mission time sand into Krull’s brain, he ended the kiss. Placing her at arm’s length, he saw her intense breathing, the glow in her eyes at its ultimate mood level. He knew that, meant lots of fun later. He touched her face, smiled, tilted his head playfully, winked at her and whispered.
“You just calm down, you. We’ll settle this later. Let’s see Assad and, then get the hell out of here. OK?”
She smiled, touched his face, felt her pulse lesson and exhaled. Duty was duty, so she cowboy upped her desire, nodded and said through a whispered.
“Yes Lieutenant, Sgt. Adray Venus ready for duty.”
Krull looked at her coyly and, then burst out in laughter, which always please her so. After a few moments, he got right, grew his cop skin back. He reached to the alley floor, picked up her laser carbine and Magnum, handed them to her and said.
“Yeah, you just behave your self, doll. Let’s go.”
She saluted him, which got amused head shakes back to her. They turned in unison and began to walk through a waste pile of human corpses.
Moments later, they stalled in front of the massive carbon door, blue neon hand pad glowing against their eyes.
“BOOM, BOOM, BOOM” cannon shots exploded from some place out in THE ZONE.
They heard multiple screams and gun shots coming from THE ZONE. There was nothing new about that. They knew that other Ozone Cops were doing their thing; Street Cleaning is what they called it.
Other cops were scanning digital, Bionic Digital ID’s, checking out Cyborgs, Droids, humans, half or otherwise and others of the desperate. They were making sure that they had the right digital Life Transit Permits to be out, doing what ever they did when they were out in THE ZONE.
A cyborg, a Droid, had the wrong Scan-Info, counterfeit, or an expired Walk-Around-Badge well that’s why The Crushers were running, 24-7.
No questions asked. No court, no habeas corpus, nada. Chromium bracelets and a Cyborg Girl’s blue tears and a one way ride in a cop’s Magnetic Confine Truck, the end, final and forever, The Crushers.
Ignoring the usual street noise, Krull looked at the door slot, the small Dot Camera pointed at them. He looked at Venus; the neon lit Hand Pad, nodded at the Dot camera.
No doubt they were in Digital Optical already, no doubt about that at all. Venus stepped to the door, took the butt of her 357 magnum, whacked the carbon three times, stepped back and waited.
Time clicked bye. The slot slid open as a pair of massive yellow eyes leered at them, along with a voice that sounded like a gravel pit seeping through the slot.
“What you want? Who you?”
Both cops stood off to the side, just a little. Neither wanting to be the recipients of a laser gun blast, Venus slapped her glowing, digital Ranger badge against the slot, lowered it and growled.
“Ozone, open door, NOW.”
The yellow eyes blinked, scanned Krull and clearly agitated, leered at Venus. They blinked again and, then vanished behind the slot as the door latch slotted back into its carriage.
Who ever, or what ever Yellow Eyes was, IT didn’t need a mind refreshing experience to know that you just never fucked with a Cyborg Ranger. Perfect example; the eight dead cadavers polluted along the alleys floor.
Nope, that was
a one way ticket into a permanent home of a Carbon Street Casket. Most thugs knew that.
They heard multiple latches, locks being disengaged as then the door creaked open.
Instantly, a horrific thermal stench hit their faces. Krull stepped back, winced, felt like vomiting, didn’t; Venus hardly was affected by it at all. A blast of torrid air hit both cops. They were not surprised by it and they had expected it. It actually felt comforting to Krull’s human, cold skin.
Front line, always, to take the first in coming salvo to protect Krull, her sensors monitoring everything, auditory, optical, chemical analysis, all of it, she measured the room tempt at 120 degrees.
Standing before them was a hulk, a 6ft 8, at least, 350 LB behemoth sweating black man, tumors covering his face, scabs, blistered bald head, bare massive chest and muscled arms. He was naked and wearing a simple black vinyl apron. A curved, one meter foot blade was gripped in his powerful hand.
His eyes were bright yellow, pupil’s black, lined with red veins; a pure MO that he was using The Pink.
He leered at Krull as he scowled through a set of drug ravaged black teeth. Of course that look vanished when his rabid eyes jerked off on Venus.
Venus might have been a chirping sweet and loving bird with her man, a real sugar cube, but in the trenches she was formidable, a violent killing machine, most likely two times stronger than Big Boy leering at them.
A Cyborg Cop, no reading her violent stat sheet was needed. A hard rep always for-shadowed her kind, and did he know it. He also knew if he fucked with her, most likely having witnessed her dismantling of his cronies through the Pin Cameras, that he would be a dead giant; very dead, right pronto.
Krull mostly let the mere presence of Venus handle the initial sit down. That usually worked. For fear usually unglued a tough dude’s tongue, no matter how big or stoned they were when confronted with a pure threshing combine of violence.
With his cryptic red eyes pin balling back and forth, her weapons, eyes, Krull, her eyes again, twin curved blades strapped to her back, he took a step back.
Venus asked in the low growl of that voice of hers. “Ozone, Master Assad.”
