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    The Last Of The Fembots: The Further Adventures Of Fembot Sally, #1
    The Last Of The Fembots: The Further Adventures Of Fembot Sally, #1
    The Last Of The Fembots: The Further Adventures Of Fembot Sally, #1
    Ebook44 pages43 minutes

    The Last Of The Fembots: The Further Adventures Of Fembot Sally, #1

    By Samantha Faulkner

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    About this ebook

    Rogue Fembots are running amok across the globe and Sally Shagwell has been tasked by British Intelligence to track them down. But the other androids are more advanced than she is and every confrontation will be a fight to the death.

    In the end, there will be only one survivor.

    Ah well. Who wants to live forever anyway?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSamantha Faulkner
    Release dateFeb 23, 2019
    ISBN9781386258032
    The Last Of The Fembots: The Further Adventures Of Fembot Sally, #1

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      Book preview

      The Last Of The Fembots - Samantha Faulkner

      The Last Of The Fembots

      Ordinarily the sight of two large, sweaty men in brightly coloured underpants pummelling each other senseless would be more than enough to hold my attention. The largely male crowd are certainly enthralled by the crude spectacle; and the heavy rock music blaring out of the speakers across the auditorium only adds to the sense of occasion. In the ring the local hero, Mick the Brickhouse, is facing off against the Big Turk. Mick is the larger of the two men; and by larger, I mean fatter. He looks about eight months pregnant, with that wobbling belly of his. And as for his boobs – well, they put me to shame. If ever a man needed a bra, it was Mick the Brickhouse. The Big Turk looks positively svelte in comparison. He is the villain of the piece and delights in the pantomime boos of the hyped up audience. He already has his arm clamped firmly around the other man’s neck. Needless to say, the Big Turk isn’t actually Turkish – according to the programme, he is from New Hampshire – but he is wearing a large red hat – a fez – which appears to be glued to the top of his head. Everyone needs a gimmick, I suppose. He smacks the Brickhouse down onto the canvas and gets another hiss from the crowd. The Turk snarls back at them theatrically and then slams his rump down onto the other man’s stomach, bouncing back up again in one fluid move as if he is on a trampoline. The crowd boo again. They are lapping it up and I can’t say I blame them.

      My attention, sadly, is elsewhere. I am here on a mission, and I cannot allow myself to be distracted by the colourful events in the ring.

      A young woman with large glasses sits on the far side of the arena, in Seat 38 Row D. She looks out of place, amid the leery wrestling fans. Her hair is tied back in a bun and an unflattering trench coat covers most of her body. But appearances can be deceptive. Nobody here could possibly know it, but the woman bears an uncanny resemblance to Monika Lukas, a White House press secretary. She even has the same beauty spot on her left cheek, which I can see in glorious 3D, even from thirty yards away. She blinks precisely and returns my gaze with a slight smile. She knows I am here. Any ordinary woman would not be able to see me, across the gloomy, smoke filled auditorium. But she is not an ordinary woman.

      She rises up from her seat and makes her way slowly along the line of seats, past a dozen or more enthusiastic wrestling fans, whose attentions are focused wholly on the ring. There is a slight bulge in the waist of her trench coat which protrudes noticeably as she walks. If she were a man, somebody might jump to the wrong conclusion, but I know exactly what is stashed inside that coat. That is why she dressed that way in the first place. A trench coat isn’t exactly de rigueur for a wrestling match. The fake Miss Lukas strolls nonchalantly towards the nearest exit and disappears from my view. She doesn’t need to look back. She knows I will follow her.

      If I were a real human being, rather than an android simulation, I might feel a little nervous about our upcoming encounter. It will not be at all easy, tackling this particular woman. Luckily, I am a Fembot, and nerves are unknown to me, though I do have

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