Arc 7 | Chapter 258: Stop and Have a Chat

Hyr had been right: this was So. Much. Fun.

The Baalphorian the little syn had sent him to wasn’t just skilled, but also actively letting him test out his skills on him. It was sweet—kind, in the way only idiots were—and if he had been a better person, he might have lowered the power of his attacks so the Baalphorian man wouldn’t be killshotted if one happened to connect. The Free Colonier wasn’t a good person—in fact, he generally considered himself to be morally grey at best, sociopathic at worst—and despite his desire to continue playing with the man…

Well, playing was always more enjoyable when there was more on the line. Being kidnapped back to the raid’s start by the monitors wasn’t exactly a high stake, but it was there, nonetheless. It was unfortunate that his opponent screamed of being straight and vanilla because oh, the things they could put on the line that would be far more interesting.

The Baalphorian was beautiful, even covered with loose, monotone clothing as he was. Piercing blue eyes, the shade of the Zereth Sea in winter, hair so black it seemed to eat the light, all set against pale skin so gently sun kissed he must have needed to slather on sunscreen attempting not to burn. Tall, built—fuck, the muscles that must be hiding under those clothes. The things that man could do to him… if only he weren’t straight. Probably.

He couldn’t

always

read someone’s sexual preferences, of course, but he was rarely wrong. Such a pity. Maybe, if he hit the guy up while he was mellowed out by drugs or alcohol, he’d be open to hooking up with a guy for the first time?

A notification popped up over his eyes, startling his skill into activating way too soon. The skill collided with a wall, the gust it created sending both him and the other man flying in opposite directions.

“Shit,” the Baalphorian swore. Impressively, while the Free Colonier had fallen over and landed on his ass—sometimes, it really sucked being so small and light—the other man had managed to land on his feet. “What was that about?”

Clearly, his opponent was a much better person than he was—he would have attacked the man while he was down, guiltless.

“Are you alright?” the man asked, suddenly standing over him, something that was not helping him get a hold of his increasingly dirty thoughts about the man, despite the warning his temporary Censor had just supplied him with.

“Nah, my ass broke the fall~ It can take a lot of abuse~” he teased, propping himself up on his elbows to leer up at the man. “Seriously, though, some of the things your Censors do are both highly intrusive and rather… moral in a way that is uncommon elsewhere in the world?”

The man squatted, arms braced on his knees, and shit, his thighs were just as lovely as the syn’s. Too bad that kid was off limits. Too young—he had a strict

no hookups less than half my age

rule—and so into Emilia it was physically painful to watch. Luckily, she seemed just as into them, if completely confused about what was happening—probably the age thing as well, although given the things he’d heard about her, he doubted her policy was so strict.

Seriously, though, if he had to tell the northerner to talk to her about at least

some

of the situation for a third fucking time…

“I’ve been informed that your Censors don’t let you hookup while drunk,” he said in response to a questioning sound from the Baalphorian—something told him the guy was an excellent listener, if he was willing to temporarily halt their fight to listen to him ramble about this.

“Not without prior consent,” the man noted, telling him that some people hacked their consent monitors so they could have sex with anyone while intoxicated, although it wasn’t recommended. “More commonly, people will mark certain partners as safe, rather than a blanket acceptance for anyone. There… can be problems, if someone attempts to revoke consent while intoxicated, if they gave blanket acceptance.”

“So… what happens if someone violates the consent monitor thing?” he asked, wondering how he’d never heard of any of this before.

[

Zeno:

Because we were only fucking people within the unit, and Sil turned off the consent monitors for most of us.

]

[

Zeno:

He probably asked you if you wanted it off, and you forgot.

]

Yeah, that sounded like him—drunk and high sex was common among his peers, not just within the unit, but back home as well. The idea that someone would regret sex while intoxicated—that someone would take advantage of a partner they aren’t positive won’t regret it in the morning…

Wait.

[

Con:

Why are you stalking me? I’m not about to kill anyone or anything.

]

Their unit’s standard hack included a way for members to monitor each other’s mental state. It was more important for some of them than others. As much as he, for instance, could be pretty homicidal, it was assumed if he actually killed anyone they deserved it… probably—not that that had stopped Sil from shifting that particular function into the hack Emilia had made for him.

Their entire unit was just… dangerous and traumatized—by the war, by their lives before and after—some of them far more than others. Zeno had recently been babysitting one of them, although as far as he knew, that was more or less over now.

[

Con:

Bored?

]

Amusement filtered down the line as Zeno agreed that he so totally bored.

“Maybe I should come join you two on the ship. Been a while since I’ve seen you outside a raid. We could invite a few others.”

Yeah, cause Sil would enjoy that. Sil, their outlier member who was often more babysitter for them than anything. The responsible one, hiding his power deep inside. Had Emilia ever had an inkling of how dangerous her friend was? He didn’t think so. Oh, she’d probably known he was hiding something, and she’d certainly taken both of their memberships in their unit in stride, barely batting an eye—and how could she not, when she’d ended the entire fucking war?—but even now…

No, Emilia probably didn’t realize just how dangerous Sil was—how dangerous either of them were. That woman was used to being around dangerous people—from a young age, no less, given her friendship with Samina and the rest of her family—so she likely wouldn’t really care. Still, he was looking forward to her learning all of their secrets.

[

Zeno:

Dude, I can’t believe you managed to get around our information locks. Not surprised you’d be the first one to do so, but shit. Beautiful. Can’t wait to see how you get around more.

]

That was the other annoying thing Sil had moved from their unit’s hack to Emilia’s: the function that kept them from chatting about their experiences during the war with anyone. People often assumed they were silent and secretive by choice. They weren’t. The only people they could discuss their service with was other members, and as far as he—or Sil or apparently Zeno—knew, Emilia and Simeon accidentally figuring it out because they knew where every one of their CierSuits had ended up was the only time in the last three decades someone had figured it out.

It was a strange blessing—a freeing of something within him that he’d long known was there and never hoped to be rid of. An erasing of a part of himself, and even if he could never share more about what happened to him with anyone, it felt like this little bit was enough. Sure, he and the other Free Colonier members could remove their temporary Censors and tell people what had gone down, but the moment they put them on again?

Boom~

Dead. Head exploded, and he liked life too much to let that happen.

[

Zeno:

You know our heads won’t actually explode, right?

]

[

Con:

Why are you still inside my head?

]

He really didn’t need someone reading his thoughts at the moment. Normally, that function was used for spiralling thoughts—anxiety and panic attacks, mostly—and while his thoughts were continuing to spiral they were only in the direction of how seriously unfortunate it was that the Baalphorian still squatting so patiently in front of him was straight and not a potential mark for some good

I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be with a man, and you’re so cute

sex.

More amusement reached him, followed by a promise that his friend wouldn’t pop in to ruin his vacation, along with a contemplation of whether this even counted as a vacation, given the whole purist terrorist thing.

“I will be organizing a get-together, though. I expect you to show, assuming you don’t die on that ship.”

Pushing his former teammate out of his head—not that he could do so if Zeno were insisting on staying around—he focused back on the other man, still just watching him, waiting. “Been a while since I’ve used a Censor. Guess it’s pretty obvious if I start using it?”

The man smiled, and if he’d been beautiful before, now he was just… stunning. It was such a soft smile, a slight tugging of his eyes and mouth, happy little lines pulling at those blue eyes. A face that suited smiling, that had probably experienced decades of laughter and light. “Is that why your skill misfired?” the Baalphorian asked, nodding when he agreed—it had definitely been more the notification than the content of it that had distracted him—before answering his earlier question.

“It depends on how consent is violated and how intoxicated the person is. In theory, any consent violation should summon SecOps, but being intoxicated can disrupt how Censors record and report things. Back when I was still in compulsory schooling, even too much alcohol could interfere, leaving people to be assaulted with no records to report the person.” The man’s gaze darkened, and there had to be a story there—an event that had hurt someone he was close to.

Emilia, hyperventilating and curling in on herself inside the raid, struck through his brain. Someone had hurt her, decades earlier as well. It seemed like revoking and denying consent with a Censor was supposed to keep a person safe, and yet she had certainly been so afraid that he didn’t doubt what had happened to her had been violent, horrific. Had she been too young? Her Censor not yet there to call SecOps or one of her Black Knot friends to protect her? Or had she been so intoxicated the safety features hadn’t worked?

“The Censor System that has existed for the last forty years,” the man continued, perfectly happy to continue talking about this, “has included some fixes to the monitoring of consent while intoxicated. There are a few drugs that still interfere with it in large amount, and at least one interferes so immediately some people speculate it may have been designed to do so.”

“Someone designed a drunk specifically to rape people?” he asked, wondering if the horror showed on his face. While he had murdered and tortured people, the idea of drugging someone just to get around their consent monitors was…

The other man shrugged, standing and stretching his arms far above his head. The hem of his dark-grey sweater lifted, revealing his pale stomach—fuck, those muscles—and the dark trail of hair that reached from his navel into his black pants, stretching lightly outwards, over the rest of his stomach. “No idea. Could be that. It disables Censors altogether, though. Creates a big blank space where the Censor can’t connect to the owner’s mind or the aethernet.”

A hand extended towards him, offering to help him up. It was stupid to accept help from an enemy, even one as strangely polite and soft-spoken as this man, even if he was still extremely skilled in combat. Still, he accepted the help, refusing to even activate a skill to help the man lift him. Not that the guy needed any help, easily hauling him upright.

“No one has managed to find a way around that?” he asked, curious because Emilia definitely seemed the sort of person to be obsessed with finding a way around such things.

“If they have, I’m not aware.” The man shrugged, their hands lingering together, still clasped between them. “While it’s been around for about four decades, it’s not a popular drug, thankfully. So, there might just be no need? There are some pretty hefty punishments for even being caught with it—it’s actually one of the few drugs the government bothers to regulate—and it’s not like we’ve had an uptick in assaults on people under its influence—not unless they aren’t reporting it, but Censors watch for the black spots it creates, as well, and report for their owners… unless a hack has turned that off, which would be weird, but not unheard of.” Shrugging again, the Baalphorian added that they believed most people were good, even when they knew the option to not be is out there.

Snorting, he smiled up at the man, battling his lashes and… nope. Even making himself cute for the guy garnered no reaction. Why was he continuing to try, setting himself up for an eventual outright refusal? Partially because it was annoying—it was so rare he was actually attracted to anyone, and most of the time they weren’t into him back—partially because he wasn’t a good person.

There were only a handful of people on the planet he would be

good

for, and this man wasn’t one of them, regardless of his own desire to believe most people were good.

He

wasn’t good. He was cruel and mean, and watching the man’s eyes widen, just the smallest bit of shock reaching through that stunning blue as he realized a handful of skills were shuttering into existence, was worth it.

“Thank you for explaining, but you shouldn’t be so trusting,” he cooed, a moment before the skills unleashed.