Snatcher

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The Junker stepped out of his patrol vehicle and crossed the rain-slick street to the apartment complex, confirming the apartment number before knocking on the rusted reinforced metal door. He didn't have any solid leads, just a few hints that the man in apartment 202 might know something about one of these dangerous humanoid robots wrecking havoc in the city. After rapping his knuckles on the door a small bipedal robot that looked like an antique camera with legs leapt up on his shoulders. Metal gear units were standard issue for all Junkers, but he couldn't help but resent the feeling that they were just a way for Central PD to micro-manage his investigation. Through his earpiece it gave a chipper declaration of: "movement detected!"

He waited - no response. "Can you confirm movement?" he asked the metal gear under his breath.

"Yes - one humanoid!"

He knocked again, louder, announcing. "This is Inspector Russ Antioch, I'm just here to ask a few questions. My gear's already sensed your movement… I'm not leaving here until someone opens this door."

"J-Just a minute!" A woman's voice, muffled. He waited, muttering to his gear. "Can you get a read of what she's doing in there?"

"Yes! She has spent a significant portion of time in the northwestern quadrant of the apartment. She now approaches the door."

It opened on squeaking hinges - on the other side stood a lovely woman in a slinky cocktail dress, the black silk flowing across the contours of her gorgeous figure. The neckline plunged low enough to expose her sumptuous cleavage, one strap hanging off her shoulder to show even more of her ripe breast, seemingly ready to burst free at the slightest provocation. Her short green bob swept to the side, much of its falling across her right cheek - apparently trying and conceal the gauze compress applied to her jaw.

"Sorry, was just about to go to bed," she said, furrowing her perfectly manicured green brows in concern. "What's this about?"

Russ pulled out his badge from his coat, flashing it at the woman. "Sorry to disturb you this late, ma'am, but I'm with Central PD. I'd like to speak to Mr. Freddy Nielsen; ask him a few questions, if possible. Is he in at the moment?"

She scanned the badge quickly, biting her lip, her cherry red lipstick expertly applied. "Fred's out at the moment - but I'll let 'im know you came by!" She flashed a halfhearted smile and began to shut the door, "Good night, Inspector!"

"Wait, ma'am," Russ put his foot in the door, releasing a grunt of pain as it struck with more force than he anticipated. "I've already been by the KojiMac downtown office earlier today. Were you aware that he never came to work? Do you know where he is now?"

"No," she said plainly. It didn't look like she was exerting much force on the door, but it felt like he was trying to prop open a bank vault.

"When a man wanted for questioning disappears and the woman at his door doesn't seem to know or care about his whereabouts, that tends to make people in my profession suspicious," Russ said through the pain. "Which means I'll be back in a couple of hours with a warrant and a few more officers, at a time I'm sure you'd much rather be sleeping - so could you at least humour me by answering a couple of questions?"

Her eyes darted from his eyes to his foot, her painted nails slightly scratching the surface of the door. "Alright, Inspector," she finally relented, pulling it open to release his foot, then placing a hand on her hip - she did a nice job of filling the doorframe, barring him from entry - but he certainly don't mind the form of this 'barricade', her long, sleek legs crossing at her juicy thighs, just under the short hem of her silky black dress. "I'm not sure quite where Fred is, but sometimes he misses work. Sometimes he goes out. Is there reason to be concerned?"

"Well, my investigation into his work at KojiMac Industries has given me some reason to be." No reaction there... "Fred was a no-show for a meeting with his manager about some missing parts for a new prototype. He ever talk about work?"

A slight shift of her bare thighs as she adjusted her lean on he door frame - and silence.

"When was the last time you saw him?"

She took her time before finally responding with, "He was gone when I woke up."

"So... you saw him last night?"

"Boy, you really are a detective."

"What happened here?" he asked, gesturing to his cheek, the same one she had taped with gauze and almost concealed behind a sweep of her emerald bangs.

"Cut myself shaving."

Russ sighed. "I don't love this any more than you do, but would you mind letting me in, just to have a quick look around?" At the obvious displeasure in her gaze, he added, "There's boxes I gotta tick, and like I said before, I'd hate to have to come back when both of us would much rather be in our bed." When she raised an eyebrow, he quickly amended, "Beds! Uh… separate. In our own distinct apartments."

She wasn't having it. Of course, it could be that she just wasn't happy to let a cop into her apartment. Usually his looks carried a little more sway with the ladies, but she wasn't biting.

Then, out of the blue, she was all smiles. "Come in, Inspector... Russ, was it?" she stepped out of the way, holding the door for him. "You'll have to excuse the place, I wasn't ‘’expecting’’ guests..." ‘’there’’ was a tinge of that former acid.

Russ stepped inside the living room of the relatively small apartment, his metal gear skating down his jacket to putter about on the floor. The area was neatly kept, a sunken seating area with fake leather couches, a gas fireplace inset, a modest flatscreen on the wall. A half-wall separated the small dining area and kitchen, and a short hallways lead to a pair of doors - one door barely open, an unlit room where he saw the silhouette of the bed, the other door closed. The 'northwestern quadrant' of the apartment one might call it.

She shut the front door with a bit more force than necessary before stepping into the living room. She crossed the carpet toward a liquor cabinet with a scissoring stride, her cocktail dress hugging the hemispheres of her shapely derrière, its plentiful softness jiggling slightly with every heeled-step. He noticed a discoloration along her right thigh - maybe a birthmark? "Can I get you something to drink?" she asked.

"No, thank you. I don't drink while on duty." The impeccable, unnatural neatness of the place seemed less like two people lived here and more like this was a model apartment.

"You notice anything unusual about Freddy over the last couple weeks, Ms...?"

"Mrs." She turned away from the liquor cabinet. "Nielsen. I figured you would've put that one together, Inspector," she added with a teasing smile.

"I didn't want to presume, Mrs. Nielsen," he replied evenly.

She considered his question with a gentle tapping of a finger to her chin. "But did I notice anything unusual? Let me think... He's always kept to himself. Doesn't talk about work. He can be gone for stretches at a time and doesn't like it if I ask him a lot of questions… So I don't." She sighs, her hand dropping to rest on her hip. "You married, Inpector Russ?"

Russ coughed, realizing he was eying her figure in a manner that he hoped wasn't obvious. "No, uh... not married."

He turned toward the kitchen, noting that despite offering him a drink, Mrs. Nielson made no move to make herself one either. He had to admit he was glad the metal gear was here, recording details he might otherwise miss - especially since he wasn't seeing anything of note aside from this place was so damned ‘’clean’’.

Finally, he stopped by the half-open bedroom door, clearing his throat and asking, "Mind if I take a look in here, Mrs. Nielsen?"

"Lisa," she says, her casualness seeming a bit forced by his estimation. "If you think it'll help, have a look."

He clicked on the light, finding a neatly made bed, its sheets perfectly tucked in, pillows fluffed - this wasn't a bedroom, it was a stock photo.

"Good looking guy like you?" her voice startled Russ, and he turned to see her leaning against the bedroom doorframe, her tantalizing figure carving out a negative space of soft curves around her. "I'd figure somebody would've snatched you up by now." Again, that teasing bite to her tone. "Why, if I weren't married myself..."

"Warning, sensing heart palpitations!" the metal gear chirped into his earpiece. "Are you feeling alright, Inspector Russ?"

"Well, most people don't see past the job," he said as he tried to focus on the investigation, refusing to answer the mechanical babysitter he was saddled with. He delivered his next line casually, making sure he could watch her from the corner of his eye. "If being an investigator at Central PD wasn't enough, they gave me Junker duty... Talk about a conversation killer."

"I would think so!" she said, crossing her arms beneath her ample bosom. "Who wants gun-wielding nutjobs blowing the heads off anyone they 'suspect' is a Snatcher? And besides, those stories about Snatchers all over this city are waaaaaay overblown! Did you know, there was a news report the other day that said there were maybe three still active in the entire city? Three! At that point, if I were running your department, I'd just close down shop and let them live out their lives... it's not like they're hurting anyone!"

She seemed to be glossing over the fact that they were almost always armed with concealed weaponry and had no reservations about using it. Plus there was always the 'snatching' aspect where they'd kill a human to steal their victim's appearance and identity without missing a beat. "And besides, you know the false positive rate on those metal gears? A lot higher than 'zero'!"

Russ double checked the metal gear's snatcher warning system - it read clean. She was right about false-positives, but the false-negative rate was also higher than zero. Russ held up his hands, "Look, I'm just doing a job here," he protested. Some snatchers might try to fabricate a unique persona and appearance instead of taking someone else's, but they would inevitably stand out - either something was just off about their appearance, or they made themselves far too attractive... "One more place to look, then I'll be outta your hair. What's in the room next door?"

Lisa's eyes flashed. "The bathroom... which is just a bathroom. Haven't you seen enough, Inspector Russ? It's getting late, and I think both of us have things we'd rather be doing."

"I really don't want to come back here," he replied, pointing down at the metal gear now standing before the closed bathroom door like a pet waiting to be let out. "But this lil' guy gets checked by the tech-heads the moment I return to the station. They might not care about my own lack of diligence, but they WILL notice he's scanned every room but one, and then they send me right back here."

Her eyes narrowed as she took in his small robotic companion, the apertures of its own multi-lens gaze whirring as it looked back. Her hand rose to the gauze on her cheek and she grumbled, "Fine… knock yourself out."

Russ opened the door and for once come across signs that someone actually lived here - cabinets opened, bottles, vials, and beauty products scattered around in a stark contrast to the immaculate neatness of the rest of the house… along with a faint plastic scent he immediately recognized.

Putting his toe on a pedal-bin, he saw a discarded container of synth-skin repair gel. Maybe it was innocent. Maybe Lisa just had some cybernetics that needed fixing… His metal gear scampered to the bin, rising up on its metal toes to peer inside when suddenly a searing hole appeared in its head with a flash of sparks, the small robot making a weary keening sound as it teetered and then collapsed on the bathroom tile.

"Oh no, the little guy just blew a fuse!" Lisa gasped, and Russ whirled around to see a faint upturn at the corner of her lips, a trace of smoke drifting between them. "I'm guessing that means you're done here?"

"Yeah… just about ready to wrap things up," Russ answered, his hand already on his holster. He didn't see a gun on her, nor any place she might conceal it in that skimpy dress - could it have something do with her mouth? Even now, smoke still drifted from the corners of her lips, from beneath the gauze patch. She had him pinned, the best he could do was stall. "You mind telling me what really happened with your cheek?"

She chuckled, tearing off the patch and brushing back her green hair - beyond her torn synthetic skin he could see the dark metal of her jaw, a few winking lights from the components within. "What, this? It's nothing! All you need to know is that I'm standing here in front of you, and the one who did this to me isn't." She traced a finger around the damage, flinching slightly as it made contact with the bare metal, giving a slight intake of breath. In that moment, Russ charged at her - her expression flickered and there was suddenly a light shining in the back of her throat.

He made contact just as an energy blast seared the air by his ear. They both bounced off the door, the exposed metal of her cheek splintering the cheap wood and putting off a shower of sparks before they tumbled into the adjacent bedroom.

The snatcher grabbed the detective and lifted him over her head to slam him on the mattress, her body contorting unnaturally until she loomed directly above him, her mouth open, the device within crackling with energy. "Say goodnight, junker!" she cried, her voice reverberating with disdain. Despite the danger, his mind fixated on two things. One, that both straps of her dress had slipped down her shoulders, threatening to fully expose this murderous robot's breasts… and two, that the damage in her cheek seemed to be putting off an awful lot of sparks.

There was a burst of electricity and her head snapped back without firing. Lisa stood wide-eyed and completely stunned, smoke pouring from her mouth, energy crackling about her jaw and temple.

"'It's nothing', eh?" He chuckled as he sprang up to grab her by her shoulders, flipping her into a pin, the motion finally freeing her sizable chest from her dress. The murderous laser in her mouth continued to flicker and pulse angrily, but never managed to fire.

"I still have more th-than enough strength to beat y-you, human!" she barked, her servos squealing in her struggle, seams beginning to tear at her bicep - evidence of a hasty repair job. The cabling of her artificial musculature burst through at her shoulder, flexing as she still fought to overpower him.

Unsure how long he could hold her and still not sure how to shut her down, he tried to stall. "What do you think happens at Central PD when a metal gear gets taken out? There's going to be a SWAT team sent out to its last broadcast location. Unless I call them off, you're going to have them busting down your door!"

She stopped struggling for the moment, her body coming to rest beneath you, her bare breasts settling against the rumpled top of her dress. "Alright, j-j-junker," she growled, sparks continuing to broil in the back of her throat. "I'll bite - what would get you t-to call in, tell 'em your little b-bot is just on the fritz?" Russ was careful not to loosen his grip - he could still feel the power in her servos and coiled musculature.

"First you stop trying kill me."

"I'll have to ask that you give me the same c-c-courtesy," she purred. Russ tensed as he felt her thighs shift beneath him - was she preparing to make a move, or just… getting comfortable? "Let-let's see you make that call, and I'll just lie here, m-tame as a lit-lit-little lamb." She batted her eyelashes, the meek gesture undercut by the exposed metal in her jaw, sparks still issuing from the weapon at the back of her throat.

He sat up, releasing her as he tapped his earpiece - she didn't move, just giving him that same, unnerving smile. "This is Inspector Antioch. My gear just toasted itself… no, no need. I'll submit a report when I get back in an hour." He tapped the earpiece to close the call. "There. No more unwanted guests."

She bit her lip. "So wh-what now, j-junker? You c-c-came all this way t-to destroy me, and now…?"

"I'm just investigating a missing person and potentially some stolen parts. I didn't actually expect to find that his wife was a snatcher."

She grinned, raising one of her immaculately trimmed eyebrows. "Y-you're an odd sorta j-j-junker, aren't you?" You can feel her body relax, the tension going out of her. "S-so maybe you file th-that there was no snatcher." She licked her lips, adding, "M-maybe leave here a little happier than when you c-c-came knocking..."

Despite the obvious sensuality of this snatcher unit, he couldn't help but be caught off guard by her suggestion - especially since it was clear her damage wasn't just cosmetic. Was she still planning on trying to take him out when he was at his most compromised? His eyes lingering on her voluptuous breasts, and then on the damage at her shoulder. She probably killed Freddy, he reminded himself. She tried to kill YOU! But he still couldn't stop himself from reaching out, grasping the pillowy flesh before him, gently kneading them in his grip as her pink nipples swelled against his palms.

"Th-that's right, inspector, I'm f-fully f-function-nnnngh!" She gasped, her back arching, sparks flaring from her throat once more. He couldn't be sure what just happened, but apparently something triggered inside of her. "J-just a bit of un-ex-ex-pected sensory data," she panted, quickly changing the topic. "What w-would central P-PD think if they found out you f-f-fucked a snatcher?"

"They'd be jealous if it was you," he hummed. Deciding to test a theory, he leaned in to kiss her, at the last second planting his lips on the tear of her injured cheek. He tasted metal and the tingling bite of an electric shock while she gave another cry. He heard her throat laser charge again, only to fizzle out in a cascade of sparks, her body shuddering in his grasp. Her right arm spasmed, another hasty repair torn as loose sparking wires revealed themselves, sparks firing across her tensing figure. "In-invalid in-in-input!" she stammered, pulling back from his kiss, the light in her throat still glowing brightly.

He paused, uncertain if he had just broken the snatcher - but after a second's hesitation she lunged at him, tearing at his clothes and jerking her panties down from beneath her cocktail dress.

Soon his pants were off, his cock out, her hand guiding him to her synthetic sex, the sudden hot, wet embrace giving no clear sign of what she truly was. She moaned through her fervent kiss, a strange scent of ozone and plastic flooding his senses.

With some difficulty, he held on to the thought that he would still have to disable her - it was unthinkable that she'd let him leave this place alive, even if some part of her programming seemed to be 'enjoying' this development. He ran his hands along her body, feeling for where she had made repairs, noting a strangely smooth texture on her inner thigh, detecting a thinner her dermal layer across the mechanical joint of her knee… before he knew it, he was thrusting faster, harder into the damaged bot.

"I-I-I have to admmmmmit - nnnngh!" she panted, her servos whining as they sought to match his increasing enthusiasm, "I.. I've b-been eager to en-engage th-this protocol! I-I ‘’ahhh’’!" The lights in her jaw blinked faster, the one at the back of her throat sputtering and putting off sparks. He could feel the repair separating at her thigh, taking a moment to glance down and see severed wires sparking with alarming regularity.

Her hips began to falter, offering an arrhythmic bucking to his steady acceleration. Her voice pitched higher and higher, the lights in her jaw flashing red. Patched-over synth-skin tore on her hands, her knee, the metal machinery inside twitching and sparking under the strain he was putting her through, and he heard a charging capacitor whine suddenly catch in her throat, a light glowing inside.

Russ pulled out of her, flipping her over face-down in the bed, then plunged into her from behind.

"Wh-what a-a-are you-!?" she gasped before her face hit the pillow, her shapely hindquarters shuddering from the impact of his hips. She let out a squeal and her mouth-laser fired, a whirlwind of charred feathers swirling in the air. Russ continued pumping into her, her body suffused with electrical discharge as she gave another cry, another whining charge and a second blast scorching the mattress.

He felt himself tumbling over the precipice of climax, his own unbidden release firing inside her while she spasmed wildly. "C-c-can't.... c-control-!" she managed, only for her laser to fire again and again, until her throat made a strange keening sound. There was a strangled cry, her face illuminated with a flash of greenish light, and then her voice trailing off into a digitized moan, smoke pouring from her mouth and ears as her head slumped face-first into the smoldering mattress. A few errant twitches ran through her still sparking body, but as he struggled to catch his breath, it seemed he had managed to disable the snatcher.

Almost reflexively he reached up to the earpiece to call it in, and then stopped. The drive-scraper at the station would leave her junked for sure, and it was coin toss on whether the data recovered would be usable. Free from the scrutiny of his metal gear, maybe the play was to bring her over to his place, get her back online - try asking her nicely about facts of the case. Besides, this was the first time a snatcher had done him the courtesy of waiting at least five minutes before trying to kill him…

————

He was back by the service elevator of his apartment building when he got the call from central, wondering why he hadn't reported back. Opening the trunk of his car, he took in the sight of that gorgeous, damaged machine wrapped in scorched bedsheets.

"I won't be back for a while. Yeah. I’m following a new lead."