Cyborg Girls Read online

  Title Page

  CYBORG GIRLS

  By

  Jane Brooke

  Publisher Information

  Cyborg Girls

  Published in 2013 by Andrews UK Limited

  www.andrewsuk.com

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  The characters and situations in this book are entirely imaginary and bear no relation to any real person or actual happening.

  Copyright © Jane Brooke 2013

  The right of Jane Brooke to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  Part 1

  The Bubble Worlds

  FUTURE EARTH...DATE...2111...BUBBLE 234...MIAMI...AMERICAN FEDERATION.

  OZONE RANGER, badge #233, Lieutenant Timothy Krull, accompanied by Cyborg female partner Spec 24-3, Sgt. Adray Venus moved through the ally’s of Miami Beach, their infrared sensor boots leaving foot prints in the snow.

  Their in THE ZONE violence, death, broken androids, cyborgs, diseased human beings, it’s where ninety-eight percent of the population lives, in THE ZONE. It’s where the elite deposit their trash, human or other wise.

  Krull, human, 6ft. 3, 200 lbs, lean, face scared, tough, blond, blue eyes, no robotics replacing severed limbs yet was attired in his standard reflector silver Ozone Weaponry Shield clothing. He’s spent, skin burned pink, his 847 laser canon automatic in his silver gloved hands.

  He is hunting late night, every night.

  Stalling out, he stared through his face plate at the bio engineered female that he loved.

  He thought about her, he always did.

  Adray Venus was his life partner and was a Spec-24-3, 6-2 ft, 120 lbs, stunning, exotic, sky high forehead and domed bald head to hold THAT brain. She had no ears and a small nose, just for cosmetics. She didn’t really need a nose for she had three sets of carbon filters gill grills on each side of her chest. The geeks at Scientific Model wanted the Spec 24-3’s to be beautiful, go figure.

  Because Krull loved her, he had read all of the specs on her.

  Watching her as she patrolled before him on point, it didn’t matter to him that she was constructed of Stainless and Chromium bones and, silver colored engineered Nanominium skin. She was plated in scaled pure Platinum, twice as malleable as the real deal, twice as tough too. Not a hair on her body, from dome to toes.

  Guys in the Spec Labs figured that out, bad atmosphere, radon, x-rays, radiation, CO-2, Ozone, gamma rays, micro waves, shit that had no names. They had figured why bother with hair; some bots got all the luck.

  He loved how super thin, cut and tough she was. He knew her IQ engulfed his by two and well, the tech guys could never really go that high. They had figured hyper high or something like that. It was real Biomimicry, Interfaced and cloned Genetic off the chart stuff.

  Hell the bio engineered beauty bitches were perfect, or at least the lab guys had thought so. That was until they had found out the bots had hearts like a fragile jewel, began breaking down.

  They needed them smart back then, battle hard, to run the Spectrum Machines, sonar’s, gun turrets, it was a butt fuck the wars. The SPEC 24-3’s managed all of the armaments, especially the radar laser artillery during the wars.

  SPEC 24-3, Cyborg females were soldiers and Krull remembered that during the Hispanic wars multiple years earlier they had fought side by side.

  Her eyes we’re constructed of the gem stone, Peridot and they were green almond eyes, twice the size of human females. She had gem stone Sapphire cobalt blue irises and genuine Amethyst purple pupils, real optic digital suckers.

  The girls could see in the night, through the smoke and pollution. Her eyes drove Krull wild with desire.

  When she was angry or sexually aroused, as her skin did, they turned to a violet color.

  No night vision goggles for these dolls. The geeks at Scientific Model had figured hell, what could be wrong with a little GI eye candy; every grunt likes a model looking twist. Hell, they were combat Marines after all, testosterone run amok.

  Genetically engineered, hybrid constructed of fire proof elements, Spec 24-3’s were built for war, running those guidance systems as the gas fell from the sky, the bombs, the missiles too. Having triple sets of Carbon Filtered Gill Lungs those were paramount in filtering out the deadly shit falling from the sky.

  They had been impervious to the viruses that had finally aborted out of China. Once again SiFi Model made Filter Lungs had fixed that.

  Krull thought back of the front lines of the wars. He remembered that she had been made for killing and that she had been fearless. Hell, no one ever thought the starlets felt anything, pain, stress, loneliness, could fall in love. They had been wrong. Krull was proof of that.

  After the last war, there was always a last war they had been refitted for sex. Lots a demand for Platinum plated girls with seductive green eyes. Especially for whacked out soldier killers, hard liners, hard-on’s rampaging, wild savages, coming back to the BUBBLE worlds.

  In reality no one cared about a twist with a motor in their heads, but Krull did and he felt he was the luckiest ex Grunt in the world for having done so.

  The returning troops, Cyborg, Android and human, no jobs, no lives, no clean air, busted up atmosphere, no futures, except a toilet of one.

  Gotta give them something, anything and so they did. So the SPEC 24-3’s had been re-equipped as Sexual Pleasure Vehicles. That had been a bad thing for the Cyborg Girls.

  Venus had been lucky, met Krull, a major, he had a heart, one no bullet had found yet. He fell for the cyber dish, hard. After all she was an angular, perfect looking bio-engineered half/machine with a heart of gold. Saved from the whore houses by her lover, human Timothy (Connor) Krull, they were in love, go figure. Krull wouldn’t have it any other way.

  He remembered the turned eyes; no questions asked by Central Military. He was a war hero. Hell the heroes always get the girl in the end.

  Basic rule was, don’t ask/don’t tell and if you didn’t want to know why a stud would opt for a Bot, don’t ask, but Krull had. Why, well she had saved his live in the Bolivian trenches and he fell for her; fell for her hard.

  As Ozone Rangers, they had a few privileges, had an off shoot ware house, hermetically sealed near THE SHOOT separate from the cops barracks.

  Krull had seniority, he had his own digs. Venus, indescribable in sexuality, courage, combat skills, brains (they made them right back then) was his girl and she knew it.

  Half human, Ridnium powered heart, all sex, DNA altered human brain, mix match of rare elements, that Nanominium silver colored skin. She could have been a super model, except there were no more super models.

  She had silicone here and there, tiny tits, no hips, human organs, Pigeon Egg blue cunt, azure lips, altered genetically engineered blue blood, real pretty color, clotting factor off the charts. They were tough broads, hard and it took a lot to kill the Spec 24-3 glamour girls.

  In reality, not Virtual, the truth was that she was a one hundred percent bitch queen, proud, loyal and courageous. She adored Krull more than she feared The Crushers.

  AS she disappeared into the pollution, snow and fog, she turned and looked at the man she loved.

  Options were, The Crushers or a whore house which were coffins where her kind usually ende
d up, after they wore out, finally broke down. Eventually breaking down, force fucking a battalion of Rangers, front force marines.

  She knew one thing and one thing only and that she would die for Krull, no doubt about that.

  TEAM Adray Venus, Krull walk through the madness of summer Miami snow. Zero degrees, cold, shop venders hawking dead dogs, cats, pigeons and Magic Meat and other stuff like electronics, Filter Machines, air breathers, psycho-tropic drugs, name your poison. No more heroin, cocaine, the Amazon had been stripped mined.

  There were lots of psycho tropic drugs, mind altering stuff, trip-pity dip the mind. Anything was better than reality. Better to be a semi conscious, stoned out Virtual Reality zombie than live in the hard core reality sewer of THE ZONES.

  The shops, stalls, black markets were a place a puke could buy anything and get most basics things that at least made life bearable. All kind of stuff half-human beings needed to live in a cesspool called planet earth.

  A-muck could get a lot of stuff in the alleys and street bizarre. Neon, a tube of lipstick, clean water, Diode Sniffers, knives, hatchets, sugar, propane, rats for a barbecue, a bot to fuck for the night, or at the high end bordellos, a real human girl it was all there.

  No foreign currencies, gold and silver still had value, though the street criminals could not eat gold or silver. Precious metals were usually used by remaining intact governments for inter -government trade.

  The new coin of the realm was American Script.

  Since the Americanos had the only functioning military industrial base left they ruthlessly ruled the world, mostly through their flotillas of air craft carriers. The Script was it. The American fucks had kept it simple and they had black mailed and flogged their demands to the planet, what was left of the world. Nobody had said no to their demands.

  There major allies as was through most of time were the British. With their technologies and superb techniques of running high caliber logistics, the Brits ran the satellite bases in Control Center in deep space, beaming the protective the protective BUBBLES back to earth. It had been a good deal that had been offered to the Brits. They had taken it.

  There was another reason the Brits had been included and that was because they had discovered British Moon in deep space.

  In the slag slums of earth and more valuable were commodities like tobacco, sugar, tea, salt, coffee, and a bar of soap, anything real. Script was the coin of the realm. It was mostly a barter society.

  You had an Isotope Air Breather, a pint of real whiskey or a pack of Twinkie’s and a pair of nylons, a girl would fuck a guy for a pair of those. Hell most gals would give it up for a Meat -Popsicle, no questions asked of what kind of meat that was.

  The atmosphere had collapsed multiple decades ago, not entirely, but enough and still was doing it.

  Global warming ramped up as well as the Green House Effect, O-zone gone and the increased temperatures melted half of the poles, most of them. That fucked up the world good and flooded the coast lines, more than half of the habitable planet.

  The Miami dykes had held and that had been a good thing especially if someone actually snow skied any longer.

  No more tigers, elephants, rhinos, birds, of any kind, lions all gone, pythons, they ate them too. When the population reached twenty billion the savages called humans ate everything that swam, walked and flew, including each other.

  Then, planet earth stressed to the max, revolted.

  The earthquakes came, hurricanes, tornados, cyclones, flooding tsunamis too.

  Gone were Japan, the USA East Coast, West Coast, Malaysia, Hawaii, Africa, Indonesia, Pacific Islands, coastal Europe and anywhere two hundred miles from the sea. Multiple hundreds of millions died and, then came the bird virus; that was another fucking story.

  There had been time though, and then the British BUBBLES being shot down from orbiting satellites had saved most of the major capitols of the world.

  London, LA, New York, Sydney, Tokyo, etc had been saved by the dikes and the protective Bubbles being beamed down from space.

  The bird flu’s tripped out of China. Eight billion people rumbling for space, no more jobs, no more food and, then the floods came, famine, crazy times, psycho times.

  China imploded for there were no more Wal Marts, Targets, Western economies intact to flog stereos, plastic junk, dildos and the rest of the shit they made that in the end no one wanted.

  Over six billion died there and, then more later. Another ten billion were evaporated around the rest of a dying slab of planet once so promising.

  Your genetics were either right, or they weren’t. You were either immune from Z-W-3 birdie flu, or you sucked gas and died. Of course that changed marginally when the CDC in Atlanta, found the cure.

  Once again, America, the only game left in town, and with their still viable military complex in tack, mostly from multiple carriers task forces pirating around the world oceans, black mailed what was left of the planet.

  Cold, mercenary, brutal, what was new about that within a USA monastic religious and pagan-voodoo-society?

  The motto went like this and it was genocide prompting simple.

  “Pay up, or die.”

  That’s what happened, and the elite of the worlds had coughed up the mostly commodities that the gringos had always lusted for.

  Time passed and the world imploded further, collapsed around its self. Oceans mostly died, tunas, turtles, sea birds, no more whales, dolphins, other air breathers. They needed clean oxygen to live. Who didn’t?

  More billions died, cannibalism had run amok and of course that was before Ridnium had been discovered, thus creating the satellite fed BUBBLE worlds.

  That was what finally saved parts of the planet, the domed BUBBLE worlds and of course only for the rich, the elite, the connected, what was new about that old story survived within their elite atmospheres.

  The planet then died, well all most. Some human beings had survived, a billion plus or so, for they had that basic survival instinct, like cock roaches. They were like insects crawling around the primal ooze, eating garbage, survivors existing with in a slow rolling holocaust, a deteriation of the human soul.

  Time rumbled on, it always did, and a new order aborted out of the womb.

  THE BUBBLE DOMES came, and then the Ozone Cops were created.

  Ex soldiers, they became the last ditch stance men and Cyborg Girls that held off the criminals, murders breeding, maniacs teaming as killing machines in THE ZONE. They went rabid at a wholesale level and only the Ozone Rangers could stop them.

  OZONE Cops, cool names, hard people and now as two of those cops moved out of the Miami alleys, Adray Venus, cloned green eyes digital scanning everything in grids, leading point, always protecting Krull, began their patrol.

  Even in a freak zone of androids, fucked up human engineered people, real people, Venus stood out.

  Krull stared at her body that as always was painted out in her skin tight silver body SKINS (Suit), calf boots, gloves, 357 automatic magnum hand gun, slung on her nothing hips. He loved how tough she was. How sweet she was. How fucking deadly she was.

  She was shadowing and monitoring Krull as he wearily moved through the teaming street crowds and vendors and the calliophy of human madness that was THE ZONE.

  Though he had their Repeater Laser Cannos slung on their shoulders, they both were Old School weapons romantics. They were Vibe Hunters and loved real copper and lead in the chamber. Thus they had opted for Smith & Wesson magnums hand guns, 357 Pythons.

  Though those weapons were formidable, Venus had her own mojo going. She carried two four foot swords, handle to tip point, Titanium blades, very Samurai like. They were shone to razor sharp, topped off and plated with pure Platinum just like her.

  The Spec-24-3’s had learned early on, in the sewers, trenches of Bolivia that someti
mes a gal needed that little something extra, an edge to succeed in life. Guns, carbines ran out of ammunition sometimes and ceased up. The war was street to street combat, sewer to sewer, hand to hand savagery. So they opted for the blades. The dolls had brutally fought their way through the sewers, alleys, street wars; these girls were no dum dums.

  Moving through the falling snow, Krull’s eyes were riveted on her. Her pure platinum skin was tricked out in The Skins looking like no other gal. She could hurt a man’s eyes when the Sun was out, which almost never happened, seeing that the human fucks had vaporized the atmosphere.

  As they patrolled through the blizzard and down another alley hunting for King Mohammad, the brutal Islamic War Lord of Section 28-56, they stalled out. Adray hesitated, went to infra red eyeballs, scanned the smoke, fog, saw nothing and remained silent as she stared at her man.

  Krull’s carbon sensors were blinking, time to slot a new oxygen power source plug in, gotta keep the oxygen rolling. Adray doesn’t worry about that stuff. She could inhale a whiff of pure cyanide, think it a lovely perfume.

  Krull ejected the spent vacuum cylinder to the filth of the alley floor. She smiled. She waits and watches as he reloads his breather. Looking through his goggles, he winks at her, gets a wink back. They begin to move and begin to cruise.

  Allowing her 357 magnum to dangle at arms length she is worried. Krull is exhausted, and her great heart breaks every moment from that fact.

  Back to business as she was scanning, not only monitoring what she can see, but what she cannot see. Her genetically engineered brain, placed in a human, would over load, kill any human with in minutes.

  It is a Receptor Vehicle and can decipher micro waves, gamma rays, infrared electronic wireless impressions, all connected to her super eyes. This means she sees it, meaning death, trouble and the bad guys before they actually appear. Her Sensory Optic characteristics monitor Krull’s ever failing health and that is killing her.

  Ridnium of course made the BUBBLES possible.