FGI 5: The Master of Metal

“Son... of a beeeotch,” I get out on a harsh breath. I swallow as my heart pounds in my chest, my gaze focusing on the scene before me.

So this is how it feels to be beamed through the grid of our universe. Being converted into nanoparticles and put back together in a matter of seconds will trip you out.

My skin feels numb and tingly all at the same time, and I can hear my heartbeat echoing in my head.

I pray everything is where it needs to be because if my vagina is now on my stomach, we’re going to have a big problem.

Bright, vivid colors. I blink as I look around me, trying to keep my cool.

I’m on a sidewalk in the middle of a large city with towering, sparkling buildings reaching the sky’s limit. The city bustles with life, and there are tons of people everywhere.

I feel like I’m on a set of a 50s movie with all of their identical fashion—perfect hair and immaculate suits.

My eyes widen when I see the 50’s style vehicles, gliding down the streets with some extreme technology. No wheels—like a hybrid aircraft. They even make a light, hovering buzz as they pass.

I have seen worlds like this before, just never in the flesh.

I was always happy I did not live in such a place. Personally, if I were to choose, I’d be in a dark castle on some barren mountain.

I take a deep breath and realize I’m holding a shiny yellow bag and a computer tablet. I look to my left and see Mama adjusting, eyes blinking.

Her agent bot form is cute and bubbly looking, like an older version of Betty Boop, even down to the beauty mark. She glances at me, eyes full of excitement, then her smile falters.

“Hun, wipe the frown off your face,” she whispers, and smiles sweetly at passing people. “You’re a bot, programmed to be musical and perfectly delightful.”

Everyone looks like they’re having the time of their lives.

I take another breath as I frantically gaze around, taking notes. Well-mannered men with exquisitely dressed women on their arms, as if nothing in this utopia bothers them.

Some are eating ice cream, and others are listening to the outdoor music performers blaring their swing-style music—dancing, cheering, laughter... It’s utterly nauseating.

Mainly because I know why—because half of these creatures are bots putting on a show, and others are possibly chipped or straight faking it to fit in.

My vision lands on the teal street benches with women gossiping, eyes wide, their expressions showing disapproval, whispering behind their hand-gloves.

At the same time, other ladies have men running after them with all their pretty wrapped shopping boxes as if this were a scene from an unrealistic Earth movie.

“Shit,” I mutter. “I can’t do this.”

I feel a wave of extreme annoyance, the penetrating rage from all the fake smiles flowing my way makes me want to see my therapist. Otherwise I might be the next Dexter, except without any moral direction.

Mama gives me a stern look, the finger waves of her short black hair catching the lowering sunlight.

“If you want to survive for more than a day, deary, listen to Mama. Smile, child! You look like you grew up in a religious cult and can’t function in society without imagining everyone’s death.”

I force a grin and look at Mama. “Cute. Tell Pierce I’m the wrong girl for this job.”

So wrong.

Mama makes a face, her lip-injection red lips pursing. “Oh, dear, your smile is terrifying,” she says. “We need to work on that.”

“No, we don’t,” I hiss. “You tell him I want out—”

“Good evening,” a male in a black suit says with a couple of men behind him. He nods at the building I am standing next to. My gaze slightly widens when I read the massive golden letters.

Le’ Rose Enterprises. ~

Of course.

It’s a giant skyscraper with a mammoth entrance. I look back to the men and force a smile, then I hear Mama whisper,“No, noooo smile.”~

I stop smiling, pulse jumping.

His gaze lands on my chest, and I realize I’m wearing a name tag with numbers on it. The man looks Italian, handsome in that bodyguard type of way.

He looks me over with a shocked expression on his face, then turns to his buddies, saying something to them that I can’t make out. They look like Italian mobsters—not friendly.

“Hun, Mama here,” ~she says in my head, making me tense.~“These are Dion’s top men. Not his scientists, but the men that do his bidding.

~

“Well, they are Dion’s father’s men. But, according to my files, they only take orders from Dion. Dion’s best man is Oscar Colaianni, the one talking to you.”

Mama looks at me with a shrug, then glances at the men. “Excuse me, gentlemen.”

They turn to look at Mama. She bats her eyes at them and walks up to the one called Oscar.

“Darling, this is Dion’s new secretary, just sent from the factory. Just like you ordered.” She sounds slightly robotic, but still sultry. “Model Luna 24, Code: D7463748-20003.”

He looks back to me then to his friends with a chuckle, checking his computer-watch. “Who made the new Luna models? Damn.”

The fat one frowns, his eyes eating me up. He is sweaty with curly black hair, glistening from some gel against the low sun. “Doesn’t matter. Dion needs her. The files need to be relocated.”

Oscar walks up to me and sighs. “Luna 24. Command mode.”

I weirdly knew exactly what to say. “Systems updated to version 24.”

He nods. “Turn on social settings and information input.”

“Activated,” I say, heart pounding.

“Alright, let’s proceed.”

“Just follow him, deary. Just look indifferent—~no smiling. ~” Mama says, like I’m a walking time bomb.

I follow him into the large entrance of the Le’ Rose’s doors, and it’s like a museum.

A bot, I assume, is on an elevated stage, blaring a trumpet in a fast beat with his Big Band that brings this place alive. I see shops and restaurants littering the main floor, people everywhere.

My heels clip on the pale marble ground as I walk quickly to keep up with Dion’s men.

I curse to myself.

I know this is going to be a hard role, being a robot, but it’s only three months. I can do this. All I have to do is think of happy thoughts—positive thoughts.

I’m not after this man, but I am an undercover FBI agent, so I have to at least help out in that aspect. Unless I get found out first.

“Good afternoon!” a woman suddenly says next to me, with a broad smile showing off her perfect teeth. Her long chestnut hair is pulled back in shiny waves. She smirks at me.

“I think I will get tea this afternoon. I hear the lavender brew is to die for!” She giggles like she thinks herself adorable.

I level my gaze at her, and my bipolar personality taps on my shoulder. “Fuck off,” I say, and keep walking. I hear her gasp behind me, and for once, a genuine smile spreads over my lips.

Damn, that felt good.

“Mercy, child!” I hear Mama gasp. “~Don’t do that again~!”

I roll my eyes. “She will be fine,” I mutter.

“Look for yourself,” Mama chides in my head. “~No one talks like that here. Or, at least, not the women.”~

Oh please.

I look behind me and see a crowd of people around the woman, smoke coming from her ears like my profanity made her have a meltdown, frying the sensitive motherboard.

Oscar looks back with a frown at the commotion, and my pulse jumps. We slow, and he says something in his ear pierce, nodding to one of his men to go check it out.

No one saw me, right?

I mean, except for Mama.

I only said fuck off. She acted like I straight slapped her across the face and poured acid on her. I feel my pulse jump as I stand as still as possible.

I whisper. “No one saw me, right?”

“They have pretty advanced technology here, hun. I wouldn’t be surprised if they watch video footage to see what happened. We are in the Le’ Rose’s corporate building after all,”~ she says, sounding nervous~.

~

“You need to keep a low profile from now on. You will be Dion’s secretary. You’re kind of a big deal.”~

Perfect.

No cussing?!

I might actually go insane here.

“Let’s go,” I hear Oscar say. “They can handle whatever happened.” He turns and starts walking through the multitude of people again.

My nerves are on high alert. I walk with my head down, clutching my purse to me. What happens when they zoom in on me, up the audio, and hear me say ~fuck off~?

That’s clearly not what a bot would do. They would most likely deem me an imposter, a spy.

Which is exactly what I am.

We walk through large double doors with the label Staff Only on them, and Oscar swipes a card, illuminating a green light above the door.

I swallow. Beyond this point, it’s much more industrial—sterile. I see a wide elevator at the end of the hallway. I look at Mama and she nods at me.

“You know what to say and how to act?”

I nod.

“No showing signs of anger.”

No shit. God forbid I make another bot have a meltdown.

Oscar presses buttons on the door, and a loud pressurized sound echoes as it opens. We all walk in, and it’s awkward. The silence is deafening.

I feel eyes on me as if they are sizing me up. Or just checking me out.

If anyone tries anything, I will knee them in the balls. I have done it many times throughout my life, and I’m good at it.

I can tell we are going way underground. The numbers on the elevator now read B25, and the entire room turns red suddenly.

I tense at the red lights, and the alarm sounds as the doors open.

I walk into a massive facility—and it’s actually quite spectacular. As I walk down metal stairs, my eyes try to take everything in as much as possible.

In the center of the room, a robot is on display without the skin, looking like something from the Earth movie The Terminator.

Computers are everywhere with large screens displaying data, lots of men in white coats seemingly doing what scientists do.

“Oscar!” a man yells with white, graying hair—very stylish.

He walks up to us in a fancy business suit, a cigar in his left hand. Oscar shakes his hand. “We have the Luna 24, sir.”

He takes a pull of the cigar as his brown gaze lands on me. “Well, fucking shit. Who the hell made her?” comes his harsh voice.

Oh, so men can cuss. I see how it is.

I’m on edge, giving him my most indifferent expression. But I know what to say.

“I came out of sector five, sir. Head Scientist William Grant saw to my production,” I say, trying to sound sweet and professional.

The man frowns. “I always knew that man was a pervert.” I refrain from saying something nasty, though it’s hard.

Oscar sighs. “She is in fine working condition and will get the job done,” he says. “Where’s Dion?”

The man laughs, and something tells me that this might be his father, the owner. Saffo Le’ Rose. He turns and glances behind him.

“Dion won’t give a shit about her.” He continues as he eyes me, his gaze lowering to my body. I’m getting creepy vibes.

“He’s being unreasonable. I want you to deal with him. He doesn’t want a bot secretary to keep his new designs. But I’m putting my foot down, and I don’t want the FB-FUCKING-I to get closer.

“They’re breathing down my neck, and I’m sick of it.”

“That’s Saffo,” Mama chimes in. ~“Don’t let him get to you, men like that have small dicks. I’d put money on it.~”~

Oscar nods then looks at me. “This way. I will show you to your station.”

I walk in front of workstations and different experiment sections, feeling eyes on me. I swallow as my heart pounds, my heels clipping on the shiny metal floor.

I’m shown to a nice desk next to a large office with the door shut.

Dion’s office, no doubt.

Mama is taken away and seated with other bots across the massive room who are doing some sort of information logging at desks.

My eyes widen as I see Alicia, her red hair piled high on her head. She smiles at me, and then it’s gone, like she forgot her role.

I want to roll my eyes.

Great.

“Luna, please begin transferring data from the file D-Innovate to your hard drive,” he orders, and leaves for Dion’s office. He looks back. “You may activate passcodes.”

“Sure thing, asshole,” I whisper under my breath.

I’m chipped, but FGI makes it so that it does not interfere with my mind. The FBI installed it on me to fool Dion and his men. I just pray that it works properly.

I hear the door open and I look up.

Dion.

I swallow and glance away, but not before my brain has ten-tenths of a second to realize that he is a powerful, larger-than-life type of man.

I’m tense, feeling his eyes on me, the hairs on my neck standing on end. My pulse is pounding in nervousness, praying he can’t see straight through me, through this fake guise.

I bite my lip and get to work with slightly shaking hands.

I’m never messed up over a man, trust me. I’m usually the one that does the scaring, not the other way around.

“Luna 24,” I hear him say, closer. His voice is low and quiet, causing me to look in his direction. I keep my face indifferent as our gazes clash.

Stay still.

I can see the red light of his mechanical eye, the center widening and narrowing as if he is zooming in and out. I swallow, feeling fear dot my skin like needles.

I have seen his picture and know that he is handsome, but in person, I will go as far as to say that he is heart-stopping. I’m not blind. The other girls will love him—easy win.

I will not say anything more than that because... I don’t want to.

Nope.

Minutes pass as he regards me with an indifferent expression. He looks at Oscar. “What sector did she come from?” he says softly, but it has deadly undertones.

Is he on to me then?

“Five.”

Dion glances back to me and walks closer, placing his hands on my desk, leaning down close to me. I will not scream because I have never done that in my life unless it was in anger.

It takes every ounce of my willpower not to shake, though my pulse is pounding hard.

I’m so done for.

This is almost dumb.

Dion looks like his real father was some exotic Italian model while his mother was a robotic android from the future. I can see his red eye moving around my face, zooming in and out.

He has metal on the side of his face that connects to his robotic eye, like he could be part android.

Get some balls, Zoya.

“Do you need anything else from me?” I say with only a slight quiver, making me want to punch something.

His real eye is a very pale blue, and both of them together are intimidating. He stands up to his full height, which is well over six feet. I think I read that he is 6′4” or something.

Hands in the pockets of his perfect black suit, he says calmly, “Update your vocabulary. Fuck off is frowned upon for any android on any level.”

Then he leaves.

I'm glad he does because I’m blushing like a cherry.

Red alert.

Pulse pounding.

“Well, at least he didn’t get rid of you, hun!” ~Mama says soothingly, though I can sense the worry.~

“Yeah,” I whisper. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”