Part 7
For anyone looking for a long tickle scene, I need to apologise as there ain't one to be found here. There's brief references but if you're after something more substantial I'd suggest looking at earlier posts in this series.
****************
Part 8
Fiona woke to the touch of a hand on her shoulder and opened her eyes to find Steve kneeling beside the bed, a smile softening his features as he watched her.
“Sorry to wake you lass, but we’ve got to move if we’re going to keep our appointment.” He said, stroking her hair back from her face almost absentmindedly.
“What….what appointment?” Fiona replied, trying to shake the last remnants of sleep from her mind.
“We’re meeting Tim at eight, remember? The computer finished working through the record of what happened last night and I really don’t like what it’s picked up.”
“Okay, okay, I’m moving. I don’t suppose you’ve got anything resembling a change of clothes around here by any chance?”
“Funny you should mention that, there’s some stuff over on the chair, I’ll meet you out front when you’re ready.” Steve said, closing the door behind him.
Fiona swung her body out of bed and, running a hand back through her hair as she walked, went to see what Steve had picked out. She realised immediately that this wasn’t going to be a simple night on the town as she saw the black leather of a motorbike suit draped over the back of the chair. A closer look confirmed that the suit was in her size, something she made a mental note to ask Steve about later on, and there was a small pile of suitable underclothes on the seat, including a set of jeans and t-shirt in a dark grey that definitely weren’t designed to be fashion statements.
Ten minutes later she left the bedroom, her left hand bust pulling her hair up into a short ponytail as the rest of her body tried to get used to the feeling of wearing an armoured one piece suit over the top of her clothes.
“You know, on most people a set of leathers wouldn’t look so damn sexy.” Steve drawled as she stepped into the corridor, his own body now covered in a similar leather covering, though his seemed to have a couple of extra pouches moulded into it’s shape.
“What can I say, I’m not most people.” Fiona replied, walking up to him and planting a quick, gentle kiss on his lips before walking to the front door. “Shall we get going?”
They walked out into the cool night air, Steve relieved that it was a clear night for a change, rain was the last thing he wanted that night. Walking out of the driveway he turned left onto the main road, then turned off into a small maze of back alleys and side streets, never once seeming confused about where he was going as Fiona followed behind him. After a few minutes she began to get a little impatient with the silence and decided there was nothing to lose by asking a question.
“So where are we going anyway?”
“Well, I don’t want to use the car after last night, it’s probably being looked for by everyone from both sides of the law about now. So we’re going to need another form of transportation.”
“Okay, as answers go that was short, to the point and totally useless. Want to try the long version?”
“The long version is as above my dear, though maybe this will help explain it.” Steve replied coming to a halt outside a row of six garages and pressing his palm against an ID pad. There was a brief pause, then a side door clicked open and swung out slightly, letting them slip inside into the darkened room. There was a pause as the door pulled itself shut again then, with a brief flicker, a set of overhead lights flipped on, revealing a row of dust-covered lumps laid out in two neat rows in front of them. Steve walked down the row, lips moving silently as he counted off the different lumps, stopping in front of a silver blanket and checking the number stamped on top.
With a quick flick of his wrist he pulled off the sheet to reveal what, at first glance, looked like an alien machine sitting under the florescent lights. After the initial shock had worn off Fiona took a second look at the machine and stared in shock.
“This…this is an FP1 isn’t it?” She asked, reaching a trembling hand out to touch the back of the bike, running her fingers over the curved hump over the three exhaust pipes, down over the seat and up over the fuel tank.
“Umm, yeah, one of only 75 they did for the road in the end. I didn’t know you were interested in bikes lass.” Steve replied, his own surprise etched on his face.
“Interested? My dad loved them, used to take me to school on the back of a Fireblade every day for five years. I’ve been riding these things since I was old enough to hold them up.”
“In that case, I suppose I can scrap the idea of you riding pillion and we’d better get you one of your own.” Steve grinned, casting a critical glance over the rest of the covered bikes. “Hmm, let’s see, how about this?” he said, pulling back a dust sheet and revealing a fiery red shape, twin exhausts poking from under the seat like the barrels of a shotgun.
“What the…?. Where the hell did you get a Ducati 916 from?” Fiona asked as she stared at the pristine bike in front of her.
“Picked it up about five years ago, someone had had it stored in a shed since 96 and wanted some quick cash. Took another two years to get her working but she’s as good as the day she came off the production line, actually, she’s probably better now than she was then.”
“So, and I know I’m going to regret asking this, why have you got a garage of classic bikes? I mean, this lot must be worth a fortune by now, why not sell them?”
“Some of them I do, those I’ve got bored of or if I find a better example somewhere else. The ones I keep. I don’t know really, there’s something about them, something that stirs the soul somehow, know what I mean?”
“Yeah, yeah I know.” Fiona replied, sliding a leg gently over the saddle of the Ducati and feeling it easily absorb her weight, reaching forward to the handlebars and savouring the racing crouch she found her body pulled into. “God, I always wanted to ride one of these, ever since I first saw one in the metal. Anything I should know?”
“Not really, as I said she’s probably better than new now, totally rebuilt and with a few modern parts to replace those wonderful Italian electrics. Just keep the revs up and watch out for the clutch, tends to bite quick.” Steve said, walking over to a cabinet on the wall and pulled out a black helmet before slinging it over to her. “You’re about a medium, right?”
Fiona pulled the helmet on, moving her head quickly from side to side to make sure it was a good fit. “Yep, perfect fit.”
“Good, I’d say we’re about ready to roll. Oh, one thing I did add, the bike’s got a heads up display and GPS system.” Steve said, leaning over and hitting the small red button on the top of the display stack. “I set it up before we left the flat, it’ll stick a map up on the screen showing you how we’re getting to where we’re going.”
A few minutes later they had both bikes outside, the steady burble of the twin cylinder Ducati mixing with the higher pitched tick over from the triple of the FP1. Steve reached up and pulled down the large metal door over the front of the garage, pausing only to set the security system before turning and sliding a leg over the FP1. He reached forward, pulled the clutch back and flicked the reverse racing gearbox down for first gear. A gentle twist of the throttle as he let the clutch out was all the bike needed and it started to roll under its own power, heading slowly forward down the quiet suburban street as he rocked it gently from side to side, doing a quick system check. Behind he could hear the thump of the Ducati as Fiona copied his moves, getting used to the bike. Then there was a wall of sound, the scream of something otherworldly being born and the Italian bike shot past, Fiona already crouched low over the fuel tank, helmet almost touching the bike as she started to explore it’s potential. Grinning Steve grabbed a handful of throttle and raced in pursuit, the howl of the race-bred triple rising into the night sky.
They barely slowed as they reached the junction with the main road, Fiona darting out into the light traffic with a skill that confirmed she hadn’t been boasting about her long experience. Steve followed her line out onto the three lane road, shifting his weight back slightly to find a more comfortable riding position, left foot dancing on the gear leaver as they topped one hundred miles an hour and kept on heading for the horizon. With the background blurring they carved their way past cars that seemed to be standing still, Fiona flicking the Ducati around as if born to it, Steve relying on his instincts to match her and slowly claw back the gap between them.
Fiona was laughing out loud under her helmet, the sheer exhilaration of what she was doing energizing her senses to a point she wouldn’t have believed possible. From alongside her she heard the scream of the FP1 as Steve finally managed to pull level with her, then gradually edge ahead, and she slid into his slipstream, matching every move he made. The bike seemed to dance under her, reacting to every movement of her body while, somehow, being stable enough not to twitch and jerk to the patterns in the road beneath her. The almost primal howl from the big exhausts coupled with the pulses of the big V-twin engine encouraged her on to go even faster and she managed to pull out and alongside Steve as they raced down into the city at almost a hundred and fifty miles an hour.
A gentle light started to glow on the screen in front of her and she started to ease the bike down to a more sensible speed as she followed Steve off the main highway and onto a two lane street, tall Victorian buildings flanking either side of the road as they rode between them. Steve tipped his bike right into a back street, then through a quick left-right-left set of turns to bring them out in the middle of Camden high street. After another two hundred yards he made one final turn and they swept into a multi-story car park, Steve taking them all the way to the roof before parking the bikes next to a familiar Suzuki.
“You okay?” Steve asked as he pulled off his helmet.
“Okay? That was the most fun I’ve ever had in my life!” Fiona replied, her smile stretching from ear to ear. “I think I’m in love with this thing.”
“Don’t get too attached, like any relationship the maintenance charges are extortionate.” Steve joked, ducking the hand that was aimed for his head with a chuckle. “Come on, Tim’s probably waiting for us downstairs.”
He led her down to the street, then across the road and into a small, rather non-descript pub with the legend “The Black Lion” on a small, weather faded sign outside. It didn’t get much better on the inside, it may have been a trendy spot once, but that had to be at least ten years ago. The furniture was battered and threadbare, the lighting dim and occasionally flickering. All around were groups of people having what were obviously private conversations and Fiona took her queue silently as she stepped in a little closer to Steve as he walked through the crowd, eyes flicking around but his head always locked straight ahead. Finally he spotted Tim in a corner booth and headed in that direction, pausing to let Fiona slide in between them before sitting down himself.
“What did I miss?” Tim asked, after a quick look at the two of them. “Come on, something’s up, what is it?”
“God, you need to cut down on those soap operas, they don’t do you any good man.” Steve replied, a casual grin deflecting the question, at least for the time being. “Look, the system finished crunching the data of our last little outing, and I think it came up with something.”
“I’m breathless with anticipation.” Tim replied, putting a near-perfect American deep south accent on the words.
“Right before that, well, that whatever it was came to life, there was a hell of a surge in the electric grid. Now whatever it was wasn’t power or I’d have been pulling bits of circuit board out of the walls for weeks, and after crunching it down it looks like it was a data stream.” Steve said, ignoring the sarcasm in Tim’s voice as he passed over a hard copy of the data surge.
“So you were right, this thing, whatever it is, is replicating over the power lines?”
“Not exactly, it was a huge data burst, but there’s no transmission back out until it left the scenario, which means that its autonomous.”
“Whoa, wait a minute, this ain’t enough code to run an AI, it had to be remote controlled somehow.” Tim said, his eyes flicking over the paper as he searched for anything he’d missed.
”Nope, sorry. No data transmissions in or out after that initial spike on any medium until the very end of the session. But you’re right, it can’t be an AI, not in that much code.”
“Okay, so if it’s not an AI, and it’s not a human hacking your sim, what the hell are we dealing with here?”
“That’s a damn good question, and I can only think of one way to find out.”
“Oh god, please don’t say what I think you’re going to say.” Tim replied. “Please don’t say ‘Let’s go and ask it’.”
“Well, as you said it, I guess that makes it your idea.” Steve said. “But seriously, can you think of any other way of doing this?”
“Unfortunately not, and I’m trying, believe me. So, how do you want to play this one, considering we pretty much got our buts handed to us last time?”
“Simple, we grab the biggest, nastiest anti-virals we can and hook the system up so that we can isolate it onto a generator when we want too. Once we get it trapped, we can try talking to it.”
“Umm, guys?” Fiona asked, her voice low as she forced herself to keep looking straight ahead. “Out of curiosity would a bunch of guys wearing a lot of tech kit and really fetching green and yellow armbands be of interest to you?” She felt Steve stiffen beside her, but was surprised when he stayed looking at Tim.
“Yeah, yeah it would. I don’t suppose by any chance by ‘a bunch of guys’ you meant less than four and they weren’t heading in this general direction in a casual but specific manner?”
“No, more like fifteen or so with suspicious bulges under their jackets who are, in fact, heading in this direction in a casual but specific manner.” She replied.
“Wonderful, you ever get the feeling it isn’t going to be your night?” Steve asked Tim, frustration evident in his voice.
“Yeah, but I think we’ve got a minute or two before the casual approach gets them over to us. I’m thinking exit out the back door might be a plan here.” Tim replied, eyes flicking left as he caught a glimpse of one of the Daredevils closing in.
“Sounds like a plan, alright let’s move, and keep it casual.” Steve cautioned, sliding out of the booth and waiting for Fiona to slide between himself and Tim. They made their way through the packed bar and ducked down a short corridor, at the end of which was a fire door. Tim took a second to bypass the alarm wire then shoved the door open and they walked quickly out into the cool night air, the door swinging shut behind them with a click.
For anyone looking for a long tickle scene, I need to apologise as there ain't one to be found here. There's brief references but if you're after something more substantial I'd suggest looking at earlier posts in this series.
****************
Part 8
Fiona woke to the touch of a hand on her shoulder and opened her eyes to find Steve kneeling beside the bed, a smile softening his features as he watched her.
“Sorry to wake you lass, but we’ve got to move if we’re going to keep our appointment.” He said, stroking her hair back from her face almost absentmindedly.
“What….what appointment?” Fiona replied, trying to shake the last remnants of sleep from her mind.
“We’re meeting Tim at eight, remember? The computer finished working through the record of what happened last night and I really don’t like what it’s picked up.”
“Okay, okay, I’m moving. I don’t suppose you’ve got anything resembling a change of clothes around here by any chance?”
“Funny you should mention that, there’s some stuff over on the chair, I’ll meet you out front when you’re ready.” Steve said, closing the door behind him.
Fiona swung her body out of bed and, running a hand back through her hair as she walked, went to see what Steve had picked out. She realised immediately that this wasn’t going to be a simple night on the town as she saw the black leather of a motorbike suit draped over the back of the chair. A closer look confirmed that the suit was in her size, something she made a mental note to ask Steve about later on, and there was a small pile of suitable underclothes on the seat, including a set of jeans and t-shirt in a dark grey that definitely weren’t designed to be fashion statements.
Ten minutes later she left the bedroom, her left hand bust pulling her hair up into a short ponytail as the rest of her body tried to get used to the feeling of wearing an armoured one piece suit over the top of her clothes.
“You know, on most people a set of leathers wouldn’t look so damn sexy.” Steve drawled as she stepped into the corridor, his own body now covered in a similar leather covering, though his seemed to have a couple of extra pouches moulded into it’s shape.
“What can I say, I’m not most people.” Fiona replied, walking up to him and planting a quick, gentle kiss on his lips before walking to the front door. “Shall we get going?”
They walked out into the cool night air, Steve relieved that it was a clear night for a change, rain was the last thing he wanted that night. Walking out of the driveway he turned left onto the main road, then turned off into a small maze of back alleys and side streets, never once seeming confused about where he was going as Fiona followed behind him. After a few minutes she began to get a little impatient with the silence and decided there was nothing to lose by asking a question.
“So where are we going anyway?”
“Well, I don’t want to use the car after last night, it’s probably being looked for by everyone from both sides of the law about now. So we’re going to need another form of transportation.”
“Okay, as answers go that was short, to the point and totally useless. Want to try the long version?”
“The long version is as above my dear, though maybe this will help explain it.” Steve replied coming to a halt outside a row of six garages and pressing his palm against an ID pad. There was a brief pause, then a side door clicked open and swung out slightly, letting them slip inside into the darkened room. There was a pause as the door pulled itself shut again then, with a brief flicker, a set of overhead lights flipped on, revealing a row of dust-covered lumps laid out in two neat rows in front of them. Steve walked down the row, lips moving silently as he counted off the different lumps, stopping in front of a silver blanket and checking the number stamped on top.
With a quick flick of his wrist he pulled off the sheet to reveal what, at first glance, looked like an alien machine sitting under the florescent lights. After the initial shock had worn off Fiona took a second look at the machine and stared in shock.
“This…this is an FP1 isn’t it?” She asked, reaching a trembling hand out to touch the back of the bike, running her fingers over the curved hump over the three exhaust pipes, down over the seat and up over the fuel tank.
“Umm, yeah, one of only 75 they did for the road in the end. I didn’t know you were interested in bikes lass.” Steve replied, his own surprise etched on his face.
“Interested? My dad loved them, used to take me to school on the back of a Fireblade every day for five years. I’ve been riding these things since I was old enough to hold them up.”
“In that case, I suppose I can scrap the idea of you riding pillion and we’d better get you one of your own.” Steve grinned, casting a critical glance over the rest of the covered bikes. “Hmm, let’s see, how about this?” he said, pulling back a dust sheet and revealing a fiery red shape, twin exhausts poking from under the seat like the barrels of a shotgun.
“What the…?. Where the hell did you get a Ducati 916 from?” Fiona asked as she stared at the pristine bike in front of her.
“Picked it up about five years ago, someone had had it stored in a shed since 96 and wanted some quick cash. Took another two years to get her working but she’s as good as the day she came off the production line, actually, she’s probably better now than she was then.”
“So, and I know I’m going to regret asking this, why have you got a garage of classic bikes? I mean, this lot must be worth a fortune by now, why not sell them?”
“Some of them I do, those I’ve got bored of or if I find a better example somewhere else. The ones I keep. I don’t know really, there’s something about them, something that stirs the soul somehow, know what I mean?”
“Yeah, yeah I know.” Fiona replied, sliding a leg gently over the saddle of the Ducati and feeling it easily absorb her weight, reaching forward to the handlebars and savouring the racing crouch she found her body pulled into. “God, I always wanted to ride one of these, ever since I first saw one in the metal. Anything I should know?”
“Not really, as I said she’s probably better than new now, totally rebuilt and with a few modern parts to replace those wonderful Italian electrics. Just keep the revs up and watch out for the clutch, tends to bite quick.” Steve said, walking over to a cabinet on the wall and pulled out a black helmet before slinging it over to her. “You’re about a medium, right?”
Fiona pulled the helmet on, moving her head quickly from side to side to make sure it was a good fit. “Yep, perfect fit.”
“Good, I’d say we’re about ready to roll. Oh, one thing I did add, the bike’s got a heads up display and GPS system.” Steve said, leaning over and hitting the small red button on the top of the display stack. “I set it up before we left the flat, it’ll stick a map up on the screen showing you how we’re getting to where we’re going.”
A few minutes later they had both bikes outside, the steady burble of the twin cylinder Ducati mixing with the higher pitched tick over from the triple of the FP1. Steve reached up and pulled down the large metal door over the front of the garage, pausing only to set the security system before turning and sliding a leg over the FP1. He reached forward, pulled the clutch back and flicked the reverse racing gearbox down for first gear. A gentle twist of the throttle as he let the clutch out was all the bike needed and it started to roll under its own power, heading slowly forward down the quiet suburban street as he rocked it gently from side to side, doing a quick system check. Behind he could hear the thump of the Ducati as Fiona copied his moves, getting used to the bike. Then there was a wall of sound, the scream of something otherworldly being born and the Italian bike shot past, Fiona already crouched low over the fuel tank, helmet almost touching the bike as she started to explore it’s potential. Grinning Steve grabbed a handful of throttle and raced in pursuit, the howl of the race-bred triple rising into the night sky.
They barely slowed as they reached the junction with the main road, Fiona darting out into the light traffic with a skill that confirmed she hadn’t been boasting about her long experience. Steve followed her line out onto the three lane road, shifting his weight back slightly to find a more comfortable riding position, left foot dancing on the gear leaver as they topped one hundred miles an hour and kept on heading for the horizon. With the background blurring they carved their way past cars that seemed to be standing still, Fiona flicking the Ducati around as if born to it, Steve relying on his instincts to match her and slowly claw back the gap between them.
Fiona was laughing out loud under her helmet, the sheer exhilaration of what she was doing energizing her senses to a point she wouldn’t have believed possible. From alongside her she heard the scream of the FP1 as Steve finally managed to pull level with her, then gradually edge ahead, and she slid into his slipstream, matching every move he made. The bike seemed to dance under her, reacting to every movement of her body while, somehow, being stable enough not to twitch and jerk to the patterns in the road beneath her. The almost primal howl from the big exhausts coupled with the pulses of the big V-twin engine encouraged her on to go even faster and she managed to pull out and alongside Steve as they raced down into the city at almost a hundred and fifty miles an hour.
A gentle light started to glow on the screen in front of her and she started to ease the bike down to a more sensible speed as she followed Steve off the main highway and onto a two lane street, tall Victorian buildings flanking either side of the road as they rode between them. Steve tipped his bike right into a back street, then through a quick left-right-left set of turns to bring them out in the middle of Camden high street. After another two hundred yards he made one final turn and they swept into a multi-story car park, Steve taking them all the way to the roof before parking the bikes next to a familiar Suzuki.
“You okay?” Steve asked as he pulled off his helmet.
“Okay? That was the most fun I’ve ever had in my life!” Fiona replied, her smile stretching from ear to ear. “I think I’m in love with this thing.”
“Don’t get too attached, like any relationship the maintenance charges are extortionate.” Steve joked, ducking the hand that was aimed for his head with a chuckle. “Come on, Tim’s probably waiting for us downstairs.”
He led her down to the street, then across the road and into a small, rather non-descript pub with the legend “The Black Lion” on a small, weather faded sign outside. It didn’t get much better on the inside, it may have been a trendy spot once, but that had to be at least ten years ago. The furniture was battered and threadbare, the lighting dim and occasionally flickering. All around were groups of people having what were obviously private conversations and Fiona took her queue silently as she stepped in a little closer to Steve as he walked through the crowd, eyes flicking around but his head always locked straight ahead. Finally he spotted Tim in a corner booth and headed in that direction, pausing to let Fiona slide in between them before sitting down himself.
“What did I miss?” Tim asked, after a quick look at the two of them. “Come on, something’s up, what is it?”
“God, you need to cut down on those soap operas, they don’t do you any good man.” Steve replied, a casual grin deflecting the question, at least for the time being. “Look, the system finished crunching the data of our last little outing, and I think it came up with something.”
“I’m breathless with anticipation.” Tim replied, putting a near-perfect American deep south accent on the words.
“Right before that, well, that whatever it was came to life, there was a hell of a surge in the electric grid. Now whatever it was wasn’t power or I’d have been pulling bits of circuit board out of the walls for weeks, and after crunching it down it looks like it was a data stream.” Steve said, ignoring the sarcasm in Tim’s voice as he passed over a hard copy of the data surge.
“So you were right, this thing, whatever it is, is replicating over the power lines?”
“Not exactly, it was a huge data burst, but there’s no transmission back out until it left the scenario, which means that its autonomous.”
“Whoa, wait a minute, this ain’t enough code to run an AI, it had to be remote controlled somehow.” Tim said, his eyes flicking over the paper as he searched for anything he’d missed.
”Nope, sorry. No data transmissions in or out after that initial spike on any medium until the very end of the session. But you’re right, it can’t be an AI, not in that much code.”
“Okay, so if it’s not an AI, and it’s not a human hacking your sim, what the hell are we dealing with here?”
“That’s a damn good question, and I can only think of one way to find out.”
“Oh god, please don’t say what I think you’re going to say.” Tim replied. “Please don’t say ‘Let’s go and ask it’.”
“Well, as you said it, I guess that makes it your idea.” Steve said. “But seriously, can you think of any other way of doing this?”
“Unfortunately not, and I’m trying, believe me. So, how do you want to play this one, considering we pretty much got our buts handed to us last time?”
“Simple, we grab the biggest, nastiest anti-virals we can and hook the system up so that we can isolate it onto a generator when we want too. Once we get it trapped, we can try talking to it.”
“Umm, guys?” Fiona asked, her voice low as she forced herself to keep looking straight ahead. “Out of curiosity would a bunch of guys wearing a lot of tech kit and really fetching green and yellow armbands be of interest to you?” She felt Steve stiffen beside her, but was surprised when he stayed looking at Tim.
“Yeah, yeah it would. I don’t suppose by any chance by ‘a bunch of guys’ you meant less than four and they weren’t heading in this general direction in a casual but specific manner?”
“No, more like fifteen or so with suspicious bulges under their jackets who are, in fact, heading in this direction in a casual but specific manner.” She replied.
“Wonderful, you ever get the feeling it isn’t going to be your night?” Steve asked Tim, frustration evident in his voice.
“Yeah, but I think we’ve got a minute or two before the casual approach gets them over to us. I’m thinking exit out the back door might be a plan here.” Tim replied, eyes flicking left as he caught a glimpse of one of the Daredevils closing in.
“Sounds like a plan, alright let’s move, and keep it casual.” Steve cautioned, sliding out of the booth and waiting for Fiona to slide between himself and Tim. They made their way through the packed bar and ducked down a short corridor, at the end of which was a fire door. Tim took a second to bypass the alarm wire then shoved the door open and they walked quickly out into the cool night air, the door swinging shut behind them with a click.
