It Came From Radio Shack by Kelly Keil Part 4 See disclaimer in Part 1 ________________________ Chapter Six "Thank you very much, Mr. Roboto, For helping me escape just when I needed to." Mr. Roboto--Styx Scully slowly swam upward toward consciousness. She lolled in bed, luxuriating in the warm sheets and the heavy weight of the quilt. What an odd dream, she thought. Wait until I tell Mulder. He'll laugh himself silly. "Good morning, sunshine," croaked a nearby voice. Scully bolted upright and opened her eyes. She seemed to be in a moldering Victorian bedroom, complete with cabbage rose wallpaper and dark, heavy furniture. This wasn't her bed. This wasn't her apartment. It hadn't been a dream after all. "Shit," she said. "You're not a morning person, are you?" Scully looked toward the voice and saw Velda, the gun in her lap. She looked from Velda's face to the gun and back again, assessing her chances of escape. Faster than should have been possible, Velda had the gun in her hand and aimed at Scully's chest. "I don't want to shoot you, but I'm not so foolish as you might think. You look like the type to kill me if given half a chance. I saw what you did to poor number twenty-three. Now you might as well get comfortable. Neither of us is going anywhere for awhile." "Where's Mulder?" asked Scully. "Mulder? Oh, right. Your friend, Fox." Velda rolled her eyes. "Disneyland. Where do you think he is?" Again she let the gun rest in her lap. "He's being measured by the Master for the new parts." Velda looked at her watch. "The Radio Shack order has to be in by noon, so he'd better hurry." Scully saw that Velda was distracted and decided that her chances weren't going to get much better. She dove out of bed and toward the door. A gunshot boomed out in the room and Scully saw a hole blossom in the wall a few short inches from her nose. "Sit the fuck down," commanded Velda, motioning Scully toward a small, upholstered chair. "You've lost. Get used to it. God knows I have." Scully sat. "Can I at least have my clothes back?" she asked, shivering in her bra and underwear. Velda gave her a look that Scully had seen many times before. Mulder in particular was a master of that look. "I like seeing you without them better." Scully shivered again. "I'm not. . . I don't. . ." Velda smiled. "I'm a patient woman. And how you feel now won't matter when the Master does your programming. You'll feel and think whatever I want. Master said I could have you. And heaven knows I don't ask him for much. Hell, he barely pays me minimum wage." "You mean Karl, don't you?" asked Scully. She refused to think about being programmed by Karl, or of what was happening to Mulder. Somehow, she had to distract Velda. "Karl, yeah. It's been so long since I called him that. He prefers 'Master' to Karl. He says it sets the right tone." "If you don't mind me saying so, Karl sounds like a pain in the ass." Velda barked out a laugh. "You have no idea, Dana. He calls me at all hours, demands I cater to his every whim, you name it." "You'd be surprised. My partner insists that I call him Mulder. And he's a night owl, so I'm always getting woken up in the middle of the night by him. Plus, I go pretty much wherever he goes, which is how I ended up here." "Karl and your Mulder seem like two peas in a pod. Why do you stay with him?" Scully curled up into a ball on the chair, hugging her legs to her chest and resting her cheek on her knees. She hated this question; it was stupid and pointless. It'd been asked a million times by her family and friends, and she gave Velda the same stock answer she gave all of them. "Because I love my job. It's my life. I can't see myself doing anything else. Is that why you stay with Karl?" "Not exactly. I needed a job, and Karl gave me one." "Working at the hotel?" "The hotel was my father's. I came back here after I failed to get into a doctoral program. There I was, with a degree in biotechnology, and no jobs in sight." Scully frowned. "But. . ." Velda waved her hand dismissively. "I had an affair with one of the faculty. When she ended our relationship, I was very upset and threatened to out her to the university. She retaliated by accusing me of academic dishonesty and manufacturing proof. I was expelled from the university and not allowed to finish my masters. The world of biotechnology is a fairly small one and word got around. No one would hire me. I came back home to run the hotel. What other choice did I have?" "Where did you meet Karl?" "In an online chat room. At first I thought he was a nut. Then I realized he was a nut with possibilities. Sure, what he proposed was probably impossible and certainly immoral, but what the hell did I have to lose? I needed a job and he needed someone to do the messy work--installing the components he designed into our subjects. Plus, I had this monstrosity of a house for him to work out of and a whole town of worthless nobodies to practice on. It seemed a perfect match." "But Velda, these are people we're talking about here." Velda shrugged. "I've worked with higher primates in the past. People aren't much different. And do you realize how hard it is to get test animals without a federal grant for research? Karl tried, God knows he did, to get animal test subjects, but we were never approved. We used pigs at first, because of their similar anatomy to humans, and when we were successful, we moved on to people. Besides, no one here was ever nice to me. I was always treated like a pariah. What loyalty did I owe them? And we made them better, didn't we?" "What about this craving for human flesh they seem to have? That seems like something of a problem," pointed out Scully dryly. "We're working on it. Your Mulder is our first test subject for that." "What?" "The cannibalism appears to be a genetic factor. It's a problem that seems to occur mostly in the members of the oldest and most inbred families in this area. An unforeseeable fluke. A few of our subjects had moved into Podunk fairly recently, and they don't seem to have the same problem. We've been looking for a genetically and geographically unrelated subject to test this theory out on, and the master has taken a fancy to your Mulder. I'm pretty eager to find out myself, but it'll be a few days before Karl has his parts made. Then it'll be my turn to install them. If you like, I'll let you watch. I'm sure that in your line of work you'd find it interesting." "My line of work? How do you. . ." "Karl did an online search on you and your partner. You two lead interesting lives, I'll give you that. He's a paranormal junkie and you slice up dead people. A regular Mr. and Mrs. Spooky." Scully flinched. "I see I've touched a nerve. What kind of hold does he have over you, anyway? Doesn't matter. In a few days there won't be a Fox Mulder. He'll be number seventy-six and you'll be number seventy-seven after him. Pity, though. The process does leave scars." Velda ran a finger over Scully's arm and down her leg. She forced herself not to pull away. "Why are you doing this? What are you going to do with them?" "Our robots? We're selling them. We've already sold the ones who didn't display this woeful taste for human flesh. There were only ten of them, however, and none of them particularly attractive. The highest amount paid was half a million dollars. I know that sounds like a lot of money, but without government funding, this sort of research eats up a lot of cash. The master thinks that Mulder will bring at least two million. Maybe more. If he doesn't want to eat people, that is. We'll have to see." "What about me?" "I get you for all my loyal service to the master. And if I grow tired of you, likely we'll sell you off as well." Velda smirked. "I suppose it depends on how well you perform." "Why do you have to make me into a robot at all?" Velda looked at Scully sharply. "What do you mean?" "If I were to perform of my own free will, as it were, you wouldn't need to." Velda narrowed her eyes. "I was under the impression that you liked men. Certainly you seem to like your partner." "We're not lovers," said Scully. She lowered her legs and sat forward. "I've always been curious. . ." Scully stood and slowly walked to Velda. She leaned down, showing Velda a great deal of cleavage, and kissed her. Velda stiffened, then relaxed. Scully's hands caressed Velda's breasts, then moved down her body. Velda melted into a pool of warm goo as Scully dropped her hands onto Velda's thighs and stroked them. Then Velda felt the gun press into her abdomen as Scully pulled away, spitting. "I'm going to pull the gun away from you, Velda, and you are going to get my clothes. And Velda, if I have to shoot you for trying to escape, I won't miss." Scully pulled away, keeping the gun trained on the very hurt looking Velda. She went and retrieved Scully's clothes, handing them to her sulkily. "Aren't you going to put them on?" Scully tucked them under her arm. "I'm not stupid or suicidal. Now take me to Mulder." * * * Mulder was having a very odd dream. He was the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz, explaining to a red-haired Dorothy how he'd lost each of his limbs due to a cruel enchantment. No matter what he said, however, she wouldn't oil his metal joints. She just widened her big, blue eyes at him. Tucked under one arm, her little dog yapped away. The dog looked like Queequeg. In the dream, Mulder tried to snarl back at the repulsive furry creature, but even his lips were rusted shut. "Wake up, man. You're driving me nuts." Mulder's dream evaporated and he opened his eyes, wondering where the hell he was. He was upright, manacled facing forward with the wall behind him, his feet touching the floor and his arms stretched wide. He looked to the left and saw only a distant wall with unfamiliar equipment in between. To his right he saw another person chained to the wall beside him. "Bobby, is that you?" "Yeah. Carol turned out to be one of the robots. I wonder when he got her?" "I'm sorry, Bobby. If it makes you feel any better, I didn't suspect her either. Are you okay?" "I guess so," said Bobby. "It's just that we've been going steady forever, and we had all these classes together next year in school. Now Gerry's dead and Carol's a fucking robot. It's gonna be my senior year. It's supposed to be the best year of my life. Now it's all shit." Mulder trying to think of something comforting to say when a man walked into the room. "Suck it up, kid," the man said. "High school is shitty and it's pretty much downhill from there." The man was of medium height with a stoop to his shoulders. He was fat, but in a cute, pudgy way. He looked to Mulder like a friendly snowman; jolly and white. He was so white, in fact, that Mulder wondered if he'd ever seen the sun. He'd have thought the guy was an albino if his hair hadn't been jet black. "Who are you?" barked out Mulder. "I'm the master," he replied. "Oh," said Mulder. "Karl. The mad scientist." "Don't call me Karl. And I'm not mad. I'm . . . just creative. No one but Velda understands. Cretins. They're all cretins." "What do you want with me, anyway?" The master gave him a pitying look. "Don't tell me you've gotten this far without figuring out our little secret." "You mean about the robots?" "But of course. I imagine that a good little FBI agent like yourself can connect the dots and come up with the correct picture." The master pulled out a tape measure and began to size up Mulder. Mulder squirmed, trying to make the task as difficult as possible. "If you know I'm an FBI agent, then you must know that my disappearance will be investigated." "I'm not stupid, Agent Mulder. Quite the opposite. Stop fidgeting. You're just making this harder on yourself. No one, save my creations, has seen you here in town, and there is nothing at all to connect you to Podunk. Soon, Velda will drive your car towards Harpersville as far as that pesky spare tire will go. Her uncle is pretty certain that it won't take more than twenty to thirty miles to blow out. Then she'll abandon it by the side of the road, your suitcases in the trunk. The FBI can make of it what they will. Problem solved." "What about the restaurant?" asked Mulder. "We were seen there." "The diner? The staff are all mine," the master smirked. "And that wasn't hamburger you were eating. I use that diner to serve my more finicky robots. Of all of the ones that crave human flesh, not all of them like it. . . au natural. That whole cannibalism problem, however, is halfway to being fixed." Mulder stomach churned, but he didn't want to throw up all over himself while chained to a wall. He took shallow breaths and tried not to think about it. He wouldn't let Scully ever find out, either. Not in this lifetime. She'd probably never want to eat meat again. Come to think of it, vegetarianism sounded very tempting. "Besides," the master continued, "even if the FBI ever does trace you back here, you'll already be somewhere else. Singapore, maybe. Or Berlin. Or Buenos Aires. Wherever. I expect you'll fetch a very tidy sum for me. A few million at least. Maybe more. You're such a pretty boy, Agent Mulder. I think the bidding will go high on you. On your partner too, if I decide to sell her as well." "Where's Scully?" Mulder demanded. "She's being looked after by Velda. She's to be Velda's pet, for a little bit, at least. I'll let Velda keep her a while if you fetch a high enough price." "What about Bobby?" The master smiled. "His family is too established in town to risk making him a subject. He'd surely be a cannibal. I'm keeping him here as a snack for you just in case my calculations don't work out and you turn out to be one of those pesky flesh eaters too." Mulder could hear Bobby whimper. "You won't get away with this," Mulder said, his voice sounding hollow to his own ears. Still, the words had to be said. The master chuckled. It wasn't the evil laugh one expected from such a creature. It was a human, friendly sound. Mulder shuddered. "Oh, I doubt that very much, Mr. Mulder. Very much indeed. Now where are those damn Ho-Hos? I left them around here someplace." * * * Upon further reflection, Scully had decided to get dressed after all. Somehow rescuing Mulder lost a little of its appeal when she thought of doing it in her undies. That and no one would ever let her live it down. Mulder would make sure the story go out. She was sure of it. She forced Velda at gunpoint to retrieve her purse and gun from where they'd been hidden. Fishing the handcuffs out of her purse, she'd cuffed Velda to the four-poster bed and quickly got dressed. "This is sort of a reverse fantasy of mine," remarked Velda. "Shut up," snarled Scully. Her heels were nowhere in sight, so she filched a pair of Velda's sneakers from he closet. They'd have to do. Scully tucked one gun into the waistband of her skirt at the small of her back and held the other on Velda. With Velda safely stowed in the bedroom, there seemed no reason to drag her along at gunpoint. This would be easier to do by herself anyway. Still, it would help if she knew where to start looking. "Where's Mulder being held?" she demanded. Velda just stared back at her. Scully sighed. She just couldn't bring herself to torture the information out of Velda. She turned and walked toward the door, resigned to searching the whole house if needs be. "Wait," called out Velda. Scully turned, an impatient look on her face. "Don't make me regret not shooting you, Velda." "I could help you. Take me with you." Scully looked skeptical. "Why the sudden change of heart?" "If you and Mulder manage to escape from the master, he's going to be really pissed off. I don't want to be here when he figures out what's going on." "Why should I trust you?" Velda shrugged. "You shouldn't trust me. Keep me cuffed. Keep the gun on me. Just don't leave me here for the master to find. Twenty years in Sing-Sing would be better." Scully debated with herself, then decided that keeping an eye on Velda was probably safer in the long run to not knowing what she was up to. She undid the cuff from the bed and attached it to Velda's other wrist. "Do you know where he is?" Scully asked. "The master or Mulder?" "Either." "I'm not sure about the master. Maybe the computer room, but he could be watching television, or taking a bath." Velda paused, thinking. "Or in the kitchen, eating. Probably that last one. Mulder's in the examination room. That's where we keep all the prospective subjects prior to the procedure." "Examination room it is," said Scully, forcing Velda to walk in front of her. "Lead the way." * * * Mulder hung his head down, his chin resting on his chest, and tried not to think of hamburger. He might never eat another burger for the rest of his life. "Do you think he's still out cold?" asked a familiar female voice. He was hearing things. That couldn't be Scully's voice, could it? "He's a big man," another voice said. "The ether should've worn off long before now." "We're going to have to wake him up somehow. Is there a bucket of water around here anywhere? That might work." This was definitely not a dream or a mirage. Mulder opened his eyes and looked up. It was Scully, with the double-bagger from the hotel. Scully to the rescue. Thank God. "I'm sure you've fantasized about seeing me wet, Scully," leered Mulder, somehow unable or unwilling to stop the words from coming out of his mouth, "but there are better ways to go about it. Do you have to throw a bucket of water at me?" "You don't seem too much the worse for wear from your ordeal, Mulder. I like the manacles. It's a good look for you." Mulder opened his mouth to retort but was forestalled by the double bagger. "Could you two stop being so cutsy? We're all gonna get caught down here by the master if we're not careful." Scully turned away from Mulder. "Do you know where the key is, Velda?" "There's a key ring in my pocket. I'd get it out for you, but. . ." Velda held her arms out in front of her and indicated the handcuffs. "My, my," said Mulder. "You've been busy, Scully." Scully gave him a dirty look but didn't reply. Instead she went over to Velda. "Which pocket?" Velda indicated which one with her bound hands and Scully went key diving. When her fingers closed around the key ring, Velda let out a gusty sigh. "Oh, yeah. Right there." Scully snatched her hand out of Velda's pocket and glared at the woman. Velda grinned at Mulder. "I see why you like her so much. She's a lot of fun to bait." "We're just friends," said Scully with irritation. "Yeah, right," said Velda. "Tell me another one. Now can we get this show on the road? The key with the yellow tape on it is the one you want." Scully freed Bobby and Mulder, both of whom swung their arms about in an attempt to get the blood flowing. "You're going to have to run the show, Scully. I don't think I could hold a gun," said Mulder. "No, I don't suppose you'd be able to. I'll leave you and Bobby here to guard Velda while I go hunt for Karl." "Are you crazy?" demanded Mulder, Velda, and Bobby at the same time. "He's a loony," said Bobby. "He's a maniac," said Mulder. "He's a psycho," said Velda. "But I have a plan that just might work." "A plan?" asked Scully. "You were--are--one of the bad guys. And now you have a plan?" "Call it insurance against the day all hell broke loose. It sure looks to me like that day's arrived." "And what do you want out of this in return?" "You could put in a good word with the judge on my behalf," suggested Velda. Scully knew that a good word from her and Mulder would probably be more damaging than helpful to Velda. She didn't think there was a judge in D.C. that the two of them hadn't pissed off at one time or another. "It's a deal," she said. "What's the plan?" Velda led them out of the examination room and into Karl's secret laboratory. "Let's just say," she remarked, doing a remarkable job of typing on the computer keyboard while in handcuffs, "that when I was installing the parts for the master, I thought to put in a safety net." * * * The master was having a very pleasant time indeed when everything got screwy. He'd been eating Ho-Hos and watching "Judge Judy" while being serviced by number sixteen. Number sixteen had just been fed, of course, so there was no immediate danger to his person. Would he have stuck his dick in a robot's mouth that hadn't been fed first though? Hell no, and this was the heart of his problem. No one wanted a man-eating robot. Not even if it was cute. This Fox Mulder had better work out. The master was beginning to run out of fodder for the robots, and that was worrisome. He was pondering this when he noticed that number sixteen was no longer doing her job. He looked down. She was gone. What the hell? He looked up, and there she was, standing above him. "Number sixteen, you naughty robot. Do what you're told. Don't make me adjust you." Usually that threat worked wonders, but number sixteen did nothing. She was listening to orders, he realized. What the fuck? Who was giving them? He started to stand but found forceful hands on his shoulders, pressing him down into the chair. "Number sixteen! I demand you cease at once!" The robot ignored him. Behind him, he could hear heavy footsteps coming down the hall. Lots of heavy foot steps. He tried to turn around but the hands on his shoulders wouldn't let him. One by one the robots walked in and grabbed him. He struggled and fought but the sheer mass of metal and flesh soon stilled his protests. He could hear all of them humming around him; the sound was maddening. "Get off of me," he screamed. "Get off, get off, get off! I order you. I'm your master!" All at once, the humming stopped. The power had gone off for the robots, locking each one in a rictus around him. Without power or refrigeration, they'd soon rot, he realized. He was trapped in an unmovable perishable prison. What had gone wrong? What could have possible gone wrong? The master opened his mouth, one of the few parts of his body that he could still move, and shrieked. * * * Epilogue "The problem's plain to see: Too much technology." Mr. Roboto--Styx "What do you suppose this is?" Frohike took the package he'd just signed for and shook it. It was heavy, and made a satisfying thump as he tossed it in the air and caught it again. "Dude, that could be sensitive computer equipment," said Langly. "From Mulder and Scully?" "It's from both of them?" asked Byers. "Maybe it's evidence," suggested Langly. "Nah," retorted Frohike. "They wouldn't UPS us evidence and forget to tell us about it, would they?" "Why don't you just open it and find out?" "Okay, Byers, keep your pants on." Frohike tore at the brown wrapping and found a wrapped present inside. "What the heck?" "Is there a tag?" asked Langly. "Nope. Just a big bow." "Well, open the thing already." Even Byers was beginning to sound impatient. "It's a bowling bag!" said Frohike in mixed tones of astonishment and disgust. "We don't bowl. And why a flowered bag?" "Maybe it's a practical joke." "What did you two do this time?" asked Byers. Frohike and Langly exchanged a look. "Nothing," they said in unison. "Then unzip the damn bag and see what's inside. What do you think it is, anyway? A human head?" Frohike unzipped the bag. "Funny you should mention that." "Who are you guys? Moe, Larry, and Curley?" "The head just talked," said Langly. "I heard it," said Frohike. He reached inside and drew it out. He turned it this way and that, examining it closely. "It's a machine," he pronounced. "Where did Mulder and Scully get it, and why did they send it to us?" asked Byers. He looked inside the bag and found a card. It had teeth marks in it and he supposed that the head had had it put in her mouth but that she had managed to spit it out. He could hear Langly and Frohike chatting with the head but he ignored them, instead reading the message. Byers, Frohike, and Langly, Recently we came across this piece of machinery in an investigation that doesn't exist as far as the FBI is concerned. The matter is being swept under the rug, for reasons Scully and I do not understand. This is the only evidence we have. Please treat her with care. Mulder Byers was musing over what this might mean when he heard Frohike chortle. "It sure gives new meaning to the phrase 'giving head.' OW! It bit me!" * * * The master really hated prison. He disliked the scratchy prison sheets, the uncomfortable orange uniforms, the monotony, and, most of all, the food. He hadn't even had a trial yet, but his lawyer wasn't very hopeful. The master foresaw a long, horrible future stretching ahead of him, without a Ding Dong or Nutter Butter in sight. He smelled cigarette smoke and looked up. "Hello, Karl," said the unfamiliar man outside his cell. "Do I know you?" asked the master. "Not yet," said the man, inhaling a lungful of smoke, "but you will. I have a proposal to make. I'll get you out of this place, and in return, you'll work for me." "And the catch?" The man chuckled. "No catch. You'll continue your work and I'll provide whatever you need." "What about a lab assistant? Velda will be hard to replace." "Velda has already accepted our offer. And you will be assistant to her, not the other way around. The computer programs she developed to override your orders were quite brilliant. Your ideas were revolutionary, but her execution of your designs was pure genius." "I am the genius," the master wailed. "I am the evil master." The man outside the bars shook his head sadly. "I don't need you, Karl. I can find Velda someone less. . . unstable to work with." The master lunged forward and curled his arms around the bars. Outside. He had to get out of here. Out there was pizza and Snickers bars and gourmet ice cream. "No. I'll do it. Just don't leave me in here." "I knew you'd see it my way," said the man, and he took another long drag on his cigarette. * * * Mulder stretched out on his couch and fought the urge to call Scully. He'd just received a yowling call from the guys regarding the "present." He grinned. He just wished he'd been there when it bit Frohike. They had it muzzled currently and were proposing a whole battery of unpleasant tests. In Mulder's opinion, it couldn't have happened to a better head. There had also been a call from Skinner, telling him that both Karl and Velda had managed to vanish from prison with no one the wiser. "Drop this," Skinner had said. "Just trust me on this one. You don't want to pursue it." Then Skinner had authorized a week of R and R for both of them. "You two looked like hell when I last saw you," he'd said. "Don't come back to work looking the same way. Get some sleep, Mulder. I've told Scully to do the same. I don't want either of you doing anything productive." So here he was. It was a rainy Saturday afternoon and he was cooped up indoors with nothing to do and nothing on television. He wanted to talk to Scully about Skinner, and the guys, and his theories about Velda and Karl's disappearances. He also wanted to chat about what had happened while they were in the closet. Still, he didn't pick up the phone. He had promised her a week of sleep, after all. He pictured her in her bedroom, sleeping peacefully with a contented smile on her face. He couldn't bring himself to destroy the tranquility of the scene. He said he'd give her a week. He would stand by his word. * * * It had been a blissful week, but Scully was ready for it to end. She lay on her back, luxuriating in the comfort of her own bed, and stretched. Various muscles protested and joints popped. She knew she needed to exercise and didn't care. There would be time enough for that tomorrow. Right now she had something to do that wouldn't be put off another minute. Getting down on her hands and knees, she located the plug that she'd yanked out of the wall days ago and reinserted it. There. That ought to do it. She lay back down on her bed, her eyes glued to the clock. The second hand swept by slowly and she counted down with it. "Three. . . two. . . one. . ." The phone rang. She picked it up. "Scully." It was him. The End If you made it this far, I hope you enjoyed the ride. I always like hearing from my readers, and I'd love for you to drop me a line at klkeil@butter.toast.net. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ How about a flat, no-fee long distance rate of 6.7¢ per min. - or less? Join beMANY! 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