Realistic or Modern #𝗠𝗮𝗿𝗿𝘆𝗠𝗲 // Dystopian AI Matchmaking IC

[SteepVision]

Spoiler

“Nobody’s my type.” A smile pinched his cheek, the automatic half flash of teeth, his eyes on the blistered flesh across the LEO’s clavicle. Ready to dismiss the half-assed flirting. Nothing new, but-

Future Husband. What? Confusion furrowed his brow. Gaze lifted to the officer's dark eyes. Husband? The cascade across his face too fast. His hand retracted, his body too. Leaned back on his heels. A palm over his mouth, smoothing at the lines of a frown that etched into his skin. Hank’s exhale muffled. Suppressed. Under the pressure of his fingers. Swallow, tight.

Realizing too late he’d sold his every thought in two and half seconds. Shit!

Hank let his hand drop. Shoulders lifted with the depth of his breath. “Okay.” Christ. Forcing his gaze to stay on the officer's, Calos', face. None of this was o-kay. Scanning his features. The lines shaved into his eyebrow, and the bruises turning his skin dark purple. Ten years between them? Maybe. Trauma. So evidently written into his expression. He should be at a damn hospital. He should be with whoever he cared about. Whoever supported him. Not- watching a fake sunset over a fantasy caribbean, meeting a stranger he who was supposed to be his spouse from here until-

“Okay. That’s alright.” Speaking tight, but level. Hank nodded slowly and met that hand offered to him. His warm, smooth palm to sweaty, blood stained, callused skin wrapped in powerful bones of the exoskeleton. He didn't let go. Not quickly. “Hank Pierce." Just. Stay with it. Stay present. Future husband. "You surprised me. I wasn't expecting-" A man. Or a cop. Unable to smooth the lines pinched between his brow. Christ. Where was his empathy? Lifting his other hand to briefly wrap Carlos' in both of his. "I wouldn’t expect you to come like this.”

Pierce

Hank

“Nobody’s my type.” A smile pinched his cheek, the automatic half flash of teeth, his eyes on the blistered flesh across the LEO’s clavicle. Ready to dismiss the half-assed flirting. Nothing new, but-

Future Husband. What? Confusion furrowed his brow. Gaze lifted to the officer's dark eyes. Husband? The cascade across his face too fast. His hand retracted, his body too. Leaned back on his heels. A palm over his mouth, smoothing at the lines of a frown that etched into his skin. Hank’s exhale muffled. Suppressed. Under the pressure of his fingers. Swallow, tight.

Realizing too late he’d sold his every thought in two and half seconds. Shit!

Hank let his hand drop. Shoulders lifted with the depth of his breath. “Okay.” Christ. Forcing his gaze to stay on the officer's, Calos', face. None of this was o-kay. Scanning his features. The lines shaved into his eyebrow, and the bruises turning his skin dark purple. Ten years between them? Maybe. Trauma. So evidently written into his expression. He should be at a damn hospital. He should be with whoever he cared about. Whoever supported him. Not- watching a fake sunset over a fantasy caribbean, meeting a stranger he who was supposed to be his spouse from here until-

“Okay. That’s alright.” Speaking tight, but level. Hank nodded slowly and met that hand offered to him. His warm, smooth palm to sweaty, blood stained, callused skin wrapped in powerful bones of the exoskeleton. He didn't let go. Not quickly. “Hank Pierce." Just. Stay with it. Stay present. Future husband. "You surprised me. I wasn't expecting-" A man. Or a cop. Unable to smooth the lines pinched between his brow. Christ. Where was his empathy? Lifting his other hand to briefly wrap Carlos' in both of his. "I wouldn’t expect you to come like this.”

coded by reveriee.

 

[spacepirate]

Well, that interaction went about as well as expected. Strangely, even though he’d made his prospective spouse angry, it was almost nice to see that what he said was acknowledged. Even if it was by a potential government or corporate spy. Not that there was much difference between the two nowadays.

From the other’s rightfully vitriolic response, Vix could only think of one thing: people still read books? As in, to pass the time away? The notion sounded so farfetched, he hardly believed it. Though he supposed he hadn’t seen an ink and paper book in some time, it was easy to let the world pass you by slaving away in a state facility. And the majority of his studies beforehand had been through facilities, so it was safe to say he hadn’t read for fun in a very long time, if ever.

But if there was still a market for ingestible escapisms, he supposed it wasn’t too unbelievable.

There was little time for the green-haired man to stand on ceremony before a tattooed beast of a man lumbered in and began to accost him. After realizing there had been a mix-up of some kind, Vix was ever more suspicious of the MarryMe facility. Wasn’t everything automated? There were reactors and factories across the country that were computer-operated from hundreds of miles away that hardly made an error, but a state matchmaking program was rife with mistakes? Everything was suspicious to him, though, so it was hardly surprising he viewed the development with scrutiny.

If this was actuially how the plant operated, though, he supposed it was for the best the two of them hadn’t been officially matched. Vix had the feeling that the blonde was rather sharp, and he probably couldn’t have hidden his more… private… operations for very long.

Seeing as his replacement didn’t seem to mind a bit of showboating, Vix merely shot a longing glance at the food table before concealing a sigh to head right back into the waiting room. Absently, he checked the app once more. Maybe they’d sent him a notification by mistake, or his match had been hit by a semi on the way over.

 

[SteepVision]

“I’m getting married.” The window cracked, he blew smoke. Heavy, humid air and the smell of city smog melted into the conditioned cab. ”What!? To who?!” Connor fiddled with the vents until cold air blasted his face. Drying the faint sheen of sweat on his forehead. “I don’t know. I been matched.” Dark brown eyes briefly scanned the streetscape through a bug-splattered windscreen, before they dropped to the display on the dash. Mom in the left corner above the image of her face.

“O, my lord.” Her brow wrinkled. Corkscrew. The same way his might. ”That’s ridiculous! If you’re father was alive he’d-”

“You been askin’ me to bring a nice girl home since I left highschool.” He couldn’t help it. The amused smile that crept up his lips. A shrug lifting broad shoulders.

”Don’t you smile! It could be anyone, Connor. Anyone! It could be a… a street-walker!”

His brow cocked. “A street walker?” Failing to suppress the dimple squeezed into his cheek.

”You know…”

“A hooker, ma?” He drawled.

”You watch your language, Connor Grant.”

“Ma, the algorithm knows what it’s doin.”

She snorted, but he cut her short. “And If the algorithm don’t, God does.”

He knew that line would work. Listening to her sigh crackle over the speakers because she sat too close to the microphone. ”When are you comin’ home?”

It stilted the smile on his face. His gaze suddenly averted from the screen, searching the building outside his window. The street, near empty. Nobody loitered outside Affinity’s swank doors. “Soon. I gotta get goin, I’m already late. Love you, mom.”

“I love you Connie, call me ba-”

“I’ll call you.” Quickly, he cut the line. Sigh huffed as he leaned into his seat. His back stuck to warm leather, exposed in a thin, loose tank with a worn American flag emblazoned across the front. Another glance cast sideways at the gleaming glass entrance to the building.

The door of his truck groaned as climbed from the cab. Battered, mud splattered vehicle out of place on the up-market street. He’d been out country. It were lucky he’d had starlink at all, or he wouldn’t have got the notification. Typical government. Everything last minute, drop of a hat. Even the shit he knew was coming.
Cold air shivered through his shirt the second he stepped inside. His skin pricked with goosebumps under the dark span of tattoos that crossed his shoulders and chest. It wasn’t how he would have chosen to dress, if he’d been given more time. Something with sleeves and a collar, to make a good impression and bide a little time so they could get used to the idea. So he didn’t have to answer certain questions, straight up. But it was what it was. No point cryin’ over spilled milk.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” The woman jerked her head up from her phone. “I have an… appointment?” Was that what this was? He watched the confusion flick across her face, her nose wrinkled, until he held out the notification on his tablet.

“Umm-.”

“Is there a problem, ma’am?”

She didn’t answer, turning towards her screen to gesture a few commands. The projection was obscured from his vantage, but her eyes popped and her mouth, pink glossy lips, silently curved around her thoughts. Oh, fuck! She rushed to stand, her chair skittered back behind her. “This has never happened before-”

“I’m sure it aint.” His tone was easy, a smile slipped, second nature, onto his face. Stepping up to the desk, his arm braced against cool marble to lean forward. “Let’s work it out together, huh?” Neck craned to catch a glimpse of the screen.

Curly green hair, lines shaved across the temple. Neat, fine type of features. Victor Gusman

A frantic flip of her hand, the picture disappeared. “Stay behind the painted line!”

His palms lifted. “Yes ma’am.” Retreating back obediently. “I don’t want no trouble.”

Her eyes narrowed. Tablet silently presented for his signature. Connor drew with his left hand, traces of oil and dirt still clung the bed of blunt nails. “Follow me.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The click of her heels was muffled on carpet. Watching the sway of her ass in a clinging pencil skirt before his gaze turned to the unumbered doors. How many did he pass? Eight, ten, twelve. Narrow, pink lit tube extending ahead until it turned a sharp corner. How many couples could they cram in here at once? Powers that be weren't nothing, if not efficient. Connor stopped when she did, a pass swiped across the security panel, the door slid open.

More pink. A faint smell like vanilla and soft corny music from the 20’s. His ma would have a coronary if he tried to sit in one of the clean, velvet lined seats that ringed the room. No windows. Only a digital display with the time. Typical government head-fuck then. A faint note of voices, slightly raised, drawing him closer. Head angled to listen.

He couldn’t hear shit, surprised when the door swung open. Catching a glimpse of tattoos on an imposing figure as a man was ejected from the room. Shorter than Connor, dressed in some strange getup. And distinct, bright green hair. Connor’s arm shot out, his palm against the wall. Blocking the man’s way with an imposing frame. “Vixtor?” But a wide, easy smile disarming his face “I ain’t gonna loose you in a crowd.” His shoulders relaxed, offering a hand. “I’m Connor. They said there was a mistake…” His voice a low drawl. Smile dissolved into something a little softer. Letting his eyes wander. Head to toe. “I hope this ain’t it.”

 

[IceCave]

Chad Burton

Getting the green kid out was disappointingly unchallenging. Chad yanked the door open and swung the side of his body where he had his arm weighting over the other male's shoulders, pretty much flinging the guy out of the room.

But he wasn't paying attention to him anymore. Chad zeroed in on the man outside, locking gaze for the shortest moment. Like a predator meeting another one of his kind. His lip curled into a wry smirk before he slammed the door shut.

"So." Chad turned and looked at his future spouse with a hungry gaze. "You're my new favorite squeeze."

 

[Find it Find it]

Vivian’s eyes flare the moment he refers to her in such a crass way. The tension in her hand draws tight; She picks up her wine and sips it through her narrow mouth.

Any hint of attraction that had manifested from his heroic momentary gesture fades rapidly. Vivian can now see him clearly as a man who’s sense of security rests likely on his muscles alone and who’s libido would certainly become problematic.

“I am your government assigned spouse.” They state dryly and with visible disdain. “Nice to meet you.”

 

[IceCave]

CARLOS WESSON

It wasn't hard to read all the signs. It… It saddened him. To know that this man, Hank, his future husband, was not as content with the match as Carlos was. That it wouldn't be a happy ending to a terrible day. Silly of him to have hoped for that.

Carlos swallowed thickly against the lump in his throat, forcing a smile. Maybe a little apologetic one. "I-" He reached his free hand toward their clasped ones. Placing it on top. Gently squeezing. "I had to come." Not for the government, not even for Hank, but for himself. To try and cling to something good. To seek refuge in the world of pink drinks and sunsets. To hope for affection from a stranger he wanted to learn how to love.

Suddenly pulling his hands away the officer cleared his throat. Glancing at the clock and the date menu he leaned back. "I don't think we have time for all this but I'll give you some fun facts." He looked back to Hank with those tired eyes, his body involuntarily trembling under armor.

"I ate a ladybug when I was little because I thought it's a wild strawberry. I have the shortest splits from the whole department." He paused before admitting with a weak chuckle. "And I have Only Fans that I can delete after today."

THE COP

 

[IceCave]

Chad Burton

Chad fed on that fire, getting a rise out of his match just made this evening a whole lot better. Strutting toward the table he scoffed. "Bullshit." Vivien didn't look like it was nice to see him. "But I'll make it interesting." He winked.

The big guy stopped in front of the crystal glass slicked with a sheen of moisture and grabbed it in one strong hand. "And don't lie to yourself, Birdie. I'm an obvious improvement from the green-mo." Get it? Green emo. Guess it wasn't as funny as it was in his head.

Chad dismissed the two straws falling into his face as he tipped the thick cocktail and pressed the edge straight to his mouth. His throat bobbed as he swallowed a few solid gulps. Gasping for air with a grimace. "Fucking disgusting."

He licked his lip, either not aware or not bothered by the bit of pink substance trickling from the corner of his mouth to his stubble covered jaw. "Want some?"

He motioned the glass at the date menu on the wall, almost spilling some smoothie. "It says we should share."

 

[Find it Find it]

Vivian watches Chad closely as he makes his way nearer to her. Even as he comes close enough for Vivian to catch the telltale musk of a body not too long ago drenched with sweat and barely masked with cheap deodorants, their gaze remains steadfast locked with his.
Her eyes are feminine, large, and wide, yet surrounded by the gauntness of someone who has not left their computer screen in twenty years. The steadfast glare has a world of observation churning behind it; An unfamiliar program starts running in the left side of their brain and they begin to wonder how quickly they can subdue this man, as to prevent him from being the threat he was likely to be.

Yet, despite this inner terror she feels, she smiles wider with every sentence that Chad speaks. It is not a kind smile- It is a smile that asks ‘What fourth grader animated this homunculi, and why does it look so human’?

She waits until he is surely done speaking to react. She’d been still as a statue since she’d last spoken.

They tip their wine glass bottom-up and swallow the remainder of its contents. They reach for the drink that was being offered and do the same- More is better than less in this situation. She could ride the tide of charisma that came with the quick consumption of alcohol quite well.

They purse their lips, take a fistful of sushi, and put it directly on Chad’s plate, partially crushed.

“There. We have shared. I am so glad you hated your drink. I loved it. I hope you enjoy your sushi.” She smiles, smug and wicked.

“Do you have a routine, John?” Her top lip curls slightly upwards. She does not feel bothered to respect this man’s real name and makes a conscious decision to postpone knowing it.

 

[spacepirate]

For a government-sponsored app, MarryMe sure was slow. It was still buffering when Vix was interrupted on the way back to his seat. Great, now he’d never know if there was really a match-up mix-up or if this was all some conspiracy to trap him in a clevery-disguised federal prison! For all he knew, there might be some planned hit in the facility and they were counting on him getting his fingerprints everywhere so he could take the fall.

Maybe he shouldn’t have removed his gloves to look on his phone, even if it was only for a few brief moments.

Startled out of his internal onslaught and lack of reliable cellular connection, Vix‘s eyes locked onto the warm ones of the other man, then onto his hand planted firmly against the wall, and again to the eyes. Raising a single eyebrow at what he believed to be bizarre behavior on the other’s part, Vix nevertheless allowed his phone to slip back into his pocket. At the taller man calling his name, Vixtor stoned his expression, careful to not sneer or scowl. ”Maybe,” he admitted, pleading the fifth. It had been so long since someone had referred to him by name instead of ‘Volunteer 9505’ or, much more recently, ‘Greeny’, but Vixtor wasn’t sure if it was his name or the other’s drawl that gave him pause.

During impromptu interrogations, the best strategy might be strategic silence. Assuming that’s what this was, of course. Vix couldn’t be sure, but the stranger definitely had the build of an intel officer or LEO, even if his eyes did seem kinder than your run-of-the-mill mercenary.

Remaining silent until the other finished his set, the designated volunteer couldn’t help but let a closed-mouth chuckle escape, though he was quick to stifle it with a quick chest pound. But it was too late, he‘d already cracked- he was fairly certain that food bank workers weren’t meant to have a sense of humor. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you overheard the mess in there,” he returned, pointing at the door with a thumb. “Trust me, you’re better off if our being matched is a mistake.” In more ways than one, he wanted to add.

Still, his gloves were already off, so Vix shrugged and offered a firm shake. It looked like this one had some dirt under his nails, so Vix couldn’t pull the whole ‘never worked a day in your life’ stint that he’d done shortly before. Well, that was fine. He had plenty of other ways to be unlikeable, and that wasn’t even counting just being himself. “That pickup line was almost alright, but I’m not really cut out for… all this,” he admitted, gesturing to the too-pink room. “I mean, I’m in my work gear still. I didn’t even dress up like-“ he paused, looking around the near-empty waiting room for the elegantly dressed gentlemen and ladies who weren’t there anymore. Tiredly, his gaze fell back to the other, dressed in a tank top.

“Well, I guess neither of us are crazy about fashion, but still.”

 

[SteepVision]

Spoiler

Hank couldn’t quite read the expression on the officer’s- Carlos’- face. Hurt and sadness bleeding into surprisingly unguarded eyes, ringed in black lashes. The smile that he forced onto his lips, weak. A brave face. That did nothing to hide the dark emotion that clouded over his head. Hank let Carlos extract his hands, rising from his knee with a wince to retrieve his toppled chair. The timer on the wall climbing down.

None of this sat right with him. Feeling a tightness bind around his chest as he watched Carlos, throwing self disclosure onto the table like life-rafts. “Only fans?” A frown twitched his mouth. “Is it an income stream, or a hobby?” Shaking his head the moment the question left his lips. “Never mind. Later. I’m nearly forty-one.” Light eyes briefly flicked over Carlo’s features, and what he could see under the armor. Fit, healthy. Stong. “Quite a bit older than you, I suspect. I have a nice place, on the bay. With plenty of room and-” He paused. His sigh deflating. Chair shuffled closer, his body leaned forward, elbows on the table top. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been married. I had a wife, she died. A long time ago.” He tapped his fingers against the cloth. Hesitating. Then reached into his pocket.

The ring box was small, square leather. Slid towards the man seated opposite him. Didn't seem to matter that this was already a done deal, his pulse still picked up. “It won’t fit, but-.” He’d catered for a smaller size… But they could solve that later. The static of nerves wanting to shake his knee. “Carlos.” A stranger's name on his lips. “I’m here for this. I want you to know that. Whatever this will be… You don’t need to worry about anything. Okay?”

Pierce

Hank

Hank couldn’t quite read the expression on the officer’s- Carlos’- face. Hurt and sadness bleeding into surprisingly unguarded eyes, ringed in black lashes. The smile that he forced onto his lips, weak. A brave face. That did nothing to hide the weight that clouded over his head. Hank let Carlos extract his hands, rising from his knee with a wince to retrieve his toppled chair. The timer on the wall climbing down.

None of this sat right with him. Feeling a tightness bind around his chest as he watched Carlos, throwing self disclosure onto the table like life-rafts. “Only fans?” A frown twitched his mouth. “Is it an income stream, or a hobby?” Shaking his head the moment the question left his lips. “Never mind. Later. I’m nearly forty-one.” Light eyes briefly flicked over Carlo’s features, and what he could see under the armor. Fit, healthy. Stong. “Quite a bit older than you, I suspect. I have a nice place, on the bay. With plenty of room, and-” He paused. His sigh deflating. Chair shuffled closer, his body leaned forward, elbows on the table top. “This isn’t the first time I’ve been married. I had a wife, she died. A long time ago.” He tapped his fingers against the cloth. Hesitating. Then reached into his pocket.

The ring box was small, square leather. Slid towards the man seated opposite him. Didn't seem to matter that this was already a done deal, his pulse still picked up. “It won’t fit, but-.” He’d catered for a smaller size. They could solve that later. The static of nerves wanting to shake his knee. “Carlos.” A stranger's name on his lips. “I’m here for this. I want you to know that. Whatever this will be… You don’t need to worry about anything. Okay?”
.

coded by reveriee.

 

[IceCave]

Chad Burton

Chad observed the other down both drinks nearly in the same breath. He whistled at the end, impressed. Then a little confused by the other grabbing sushi like a bag of dog crap.

Wait, what?

The big guy laughed. "You're glad I hated it?" He scanned Vivian's face with an amused, somewhat curious expression. "What is wrong with you?"

Burton eyed the sushi as if it was staring back at him. "I don't eat shit that smells like an unwashed vagina." He glanced at the table and picked up a tiny burger instead, popping it without second thought.

"You got a thing for it or something, dude?" He asked with a full mouth. "Cause I ain't got no pussy but I can put a skirt on sometime." He mused.

 

[Find it Find it]

Vivian’s frontal lobe feels like it’s been stuffed full of orbeez. She has grown determined to embody a skunk; To make herself vile to this man in order to create space between them.

They grin at the first question. “The more the merrier, is all. I’ll drink any kind of cocktail, is all. If you don’t like something I can just take it. You know?”

She has stopped eating entirely. She is only focused on Chad with eyes growing larger and Sunken. Their stomach lurches at the direct crassness of Chad’s comments; The edge of their lip furls in disgust.

“No… Uh, no. That’ll be fine.” Their gusto fades into nauseated mush. They frown. “If you’d like to wear a skirt, that’s, that’s up to you I guess. No pressure. No preference.”
Chad’s joke about crossdressing induces a nervousness in her that breaks her sense of eye contact. They couldn’t tell if it was an honest offer and a sign that Chad saw it as an acceptable behavior, or if it was sheerly meant in jest. Worry burns in their stomach; Who am I being cornered into a room with?

They look at their plate and have a bite of sushi, barely masking the new kind of dread that’s just been brought to this situation.

 

[carrlavoie]

Vida smiled, accepting the smoothie and pulling it a little closer to sip it as Stephen opted for a glass of wine instead. She was a big fan of the blended fruit drinks, as sickly sweet as they usually were. Despite being a bartender for how many years now she ironically still didn't have the stomach for alcohol and found her gag reflex too strong for even casual sipping. "A museum sounds great, I would really enjoy that." She said, leaning back from the still half-full smoothie glass. Their time was almost up, and she doubted he'd be drinking any more of the sugary pink drink what with his glass of wine in hand. Neither of them had even touched the appetizers yet.

"Affinity suggested to share what we like about each other. A little hard to be in depth about that since we've only talked for a little bit. However so far I love your gorgeous looks, and your personality. At least what I've gotten to experience." Vida hoped the falter in her smile wasn't noticeable and she tried to cover the slip of her lips by glancing down at her lap and pretending to be bashful from the compliment. It wasn't Stephen's fault, she told herself, that he had zeroed in on her appearance. She was aware of her looks and knew she was pretty, and he was right - it wasn't like this was a real date where they had more than a few minutes to get to know each other on a level barely deeper than the surface. Still, she felt herself cringe internally a bit. Nothing more than a pretty face, a cruel voice echoed in her thoughts. She shoved it deep down and locked it away, looking back at him with a dazzling, full-teeth smile to hide her brief internal conflict. "You don't look so bad yourself, Stephen," She said in a tone she hoped was teasing. "I like that you seem adventurous and aren't looking for a boring life."

Vida's nerves began to return as her eyes pulled back to the artificial sun that had sunk completely beneath the waves by now. She didn't know what time it was, or how much longer they had, but it was likely only a few more minutes. She remembered with another internal cringe the last thing on the "to-do list" Affinity had given them for this meet up. A kiss, mandatory at the end of the date, it had said. No offense to Stephen, but Vida did not want to kiss him. While she was hopeful for what their future could be, she didn't feel that emotional connection yet that would make her feel comfortable with physical interactions and the thought of kissing Stephen now made her want to crawl under a rock. Hell, she didn't even wanna hold his hand or give him a a friendly hug. Maybe a handshake would do. Maybe. Her eyes flickered up to the round camera directly above their heads in the dome-shaped room. The list said mandatory, but it wasn't like Affinity could actually enforce it, right? She wondered what would happen if she refused. "How long do you think we have?" She wondered out loud.

 

[IceCave]

CARLOS WESSON

Corner of his mouth twitched with an uneasy chuckle at the Only Fans question. Carlos didn't have an answer at hand. He wasn't sure why he was doing it. For fun? For all the flattery? Cash was nice, sure. Since he used to spend a lot of his actual pay on other people, one way or another. Be it homeless he was checking on weekly or his buddies who were in need. Baby on the way, a new prosthetic, sick wife, you name it.

"Just a little older." He remarked to show he didn't mind, he didn't really care about age. The older male was handsome, well maintained, and appeared attentive. Carlos was lucky, even if it seemed that Hank wasn't in the current configuration.

Officer's brows furrowed with sympathy. A dead wife? Not only the man lost what was probably the love of his life but also… Carlos felt his mouth going dry at the realisation. His smoothie filled stomach churning. Was this man straight?

The thought easily slipped from the forefront of his mind, though. When he saw the ring box. His lips parted. He heard doctor's words with the thud of his own hastened heartbeat pulsing in his ears. More color blooming on his otherwise stress-pale face, chest flush under the exoframe.

He couldn't take his eyes off the box, listening to the man who didn't know Carlos but sounded so comforting. So kind. Who pried through that armor and squeezed his chest, and with it the vulnerable heart.

Finally reaching out the officer picked up the box. His fingers a little clumsy, a little shaky with the small, delicate thing grasped in metal digits. He was about to open it when the lighting changed, ripping his gaze away from the object. The room turned from the romantic pastels to navy blue nightscape embellished with breathtaking constellations. The music diverted from sweet and melodic to soft and serene. Soothing like the hologram of ebbing waves.

Carlos looked back to Hank whose face turned silver in the moonlight. He didn't break the silence between them, placing the box back on the tabletop.

The officer reached for his collar and tugged out the dark chain hiding under his shirt. The twin tags glinted in the ghostly glow. Each thin device, styled like oldschool dogtags, was a Black Box of the human that carried it. Recording his whole existence. The only thing it couldn't capture was his soul.

Carlos let it rest against his breastplate and with some trouble he unclipped the smaller chain with one tag. Leaning forth he gripped Hank's hand with both his and tucking the device into doctor's palm he curled man's fingers around it.

The younger male didn't trust his voice at the time, even with a simple but meaningful thank you. For everything. So instead he leaned over. Folding his armored body before Hank he turned man's hand and touched the knuckles with his lips, planting a small but firm kiss.

THE COP

 

[IceCave]

Chad Burton

Chad stared, loudly munching on another burger. What? That's it? No preferences? "What's with the mood swings, buddy." He didn't expect an answer. Grabbing the back of the chair he briskly hauled it like it weighed nothing, placing it with a thud in between them.

Then just like that he snatched his companion off their feet. Hooking his thick biceps around their back and under knees he lifted them up bridal style and plopped to the seat, setting Vivian in his lap. "It says to list some fun facts and shit. Or just tell me what you like about me." He said with a shark's grin full of perfect pearly teeth, even though two on the upper side were implants.

 

[Find it Find it]

Vivian’s chin tucks into her neck as Chad questions her internal state and simultaneously draw closer. “Uh…” They stammer to find a response, only for their attempt to be cut short as they find themself being whirled into the air.

Vivian’s eyes grow large. She temporarily leaves her body and disappears into the light fixture above them both.
Once she has miraculously settled back on the earth, she finds herself secured in Chad’s arms and… on his lap. They stare at Chad like a deer in the headlights, barely able to believe the gesture.

Though the pressure on the back of her ribs is slightly uncomfortable, she is shocked to find herself in far less pain than she’d imagine she’d be in this position. Chad’s arms were wide and adequately strong enough to support her, with enough surface area to distribute her weight evenly.
Vivian grimaces nervously; She cannot deny that it is a little touching to be embraced so openly by someone, even if she felt this was probably a sign of possession on Chad’s part.
“Well,” They speak cautiously. “I have a collagenic disorder… Please be, uh, careful when handling me.”

They overlook Chad, wondering if there’s a damn compliment that they can summon. They take a deep breath, deciding that some composure would be useful here. “Your… physique… suggests discipline.” They force a smile.

 

[Kendrix-lamar]

"I'll take you to one of my favorite museums then. I'm sure you'll like it too." Stephen noticed the mock sunset had turned into a star filled night. That he could consider impressive since one could only really see the stars if they were out in the country.

Stephen put down his empty glass noticing the faulter in Vida's expression when he complimented her looks. He didn't know why, she should be glad her soon to be husband was into her looks. "I'm far from boring and you'll find that out." He assured wondering if he was getting married to some prude. He was sure to find out as he felt their time was ending.

He scooted his own seat closer "I imagine only a few more minutes" he said reaching out and taking Vida's hand. Stephe's larger hands cusping hers in them. "We were matched for a reason so why don't we both put our best efforts into this." He told her letting his eyes meet hers. He would go in for the kiss, physical chemistry was important to him. The kiss would determine if they had that certain spark. "I can't wait to get to know you more " he spoke leaning forward and going in for the kiss. He never been turned down, so why expect it from someone who was supposed to be his "perfect match"?

 

[IceCave]

Chad Burton

His eyebrows shot up. "Woah, no shit. Sounds serious." But it was hard to tell if the news were to stick or the man would forget to be mindful of Vivan's condition five minutes later.

His broad frame wrapped in a dark, nylon t-shirt with aggressive strikes across each shoulder emanated warmth, as if the man was his own personal heater. His smell strong but not offensive. Just thin fabric of sporty shorts pressing to Vivian's backside.

"Oh yeah?" Chad's mouth split with another amused grin. "You like my physique?" He leaned in without inhibitions and his lips grazed Vivian's cheek on the way to their ear. "I like your body. I like how it will look under mine."

 

[Find it Find it]

Though Vivian blushes, rage begins to boil in their stomach. Was Chad the physical paradigm of an attractive male? Most definitely. His strength even piqued her interest in someone lacking in that capacity, she knew she stood to benefit from his physical adeptness, but his blase demonstration of it set off every red alarm in her.
"Put me down. Now." She practically growls at Chad, her eyes burning with an insistence that he will not defy her at this very moment in time.
The second that they are on their feet, they glower down at Chad with a stern look in their eyes.

"Look. You have a better shot with me than anyone's had in years. You are obviously successful in your pursuit of perfection. We could stand to get along in this regard, as I, too, am obsessed with perfecting my body, just not in a way you would be familiar with because I am in the business of preserving my body. Every day of my life, every hour, every minute, every choice I make is about my body, because if I don't I will not have a body left. You are clearly..." Vivian looks Chad up and down, particularly in the area of his lower stomach and hips. They snap their attention back to his face. "Gifted. But if you act like a bull in a china shop with me, you are going to seriously fucking hurt me." No pun intended.

Vivian grabs the back of their dress-made-shirt and tugs it, making it tight against their body to reveal the gentle curve sloping into their waist and returning to their almost shoulder-wide hips. She understands dogs need to be fed medicine with peanut butter. "If you want any chance at touching me you will do it on my terms. If you want to so much as hold my HAND, you will ASK. Do we have an understanding?"

Vivian stands tall and proud. The many heroines of the dramatic relational angst novels she writes would truly be proud of her. She has always wanted to have a bold character-defining moment with a real human being, and she's getting it. She decides to make this man eat out of her hand if it means acquiring the boundaries she requires from him.

 

[carrlavoie]

Vida forced herself to remain relaxed as Stephen scooted his seat closer to her and took her hand in his. She knew exactly what was coming next and her brain whirled through possibilities on how to get out of it without completely fucking things up. She stared down at their hands as he spoke, wondering at how much larger his were than hers. At his clean, blank skin against hers inked in blue. She found it oddly attractive, but not enough so. Not yet. "Yes," she agreed, glancing back up and meeting his eyes with her blue ones. "Though I feel we are not given nearly enough time to build a stable foundation before being thrown into life together. I hope you'll work with me to build that going forward."

Maybe her words would find purchase and soften the blow to his ego she was about to give him. As Stephen leaned forward for that classic - and mandatory - kiss, Vida turned her head to the side, letting his lips brush her cheek instead. Still a kiss, technically, she told herself. She figured dodging him completely would be too much, even for a gentleman like him. She leaned away, hoping the motion seemed natural and not as rushed as she felt, severing contact, and stood as she heard the doors on either side of the room open. Leaving now without giving him more felt a little disrespectful and cold, but after that awkward (at least in her mind) kiss she just wanted to leave and take a breath.

"Don't think ill of me, Stephen Everfield," She said as as she adjusted her dress. "But I would like to treat this transition as naturally as possible, despite how sudden and likely irreversible it is." Vida laid a hand on his shoulder. "It really was a pleasure to meet you, and I have higher hopes now than I did walking into this room 30 minutes ago." She flashed her winning smile, the flirty one she gave clients to make sure the tips rolled in, and gave his shoulder what she hoped came off as an affectionate squeeze before turning towards the door she had come through earlier. "I guess the next time I see you, it will be at our wedding."

With nothing more than that, she left. I really hope I didn't just fuck things up, she thought silently to herself as the door closed behind her.

 

[SteepVision]

It worked, watching the reluctant smile crack across Vixtor’s face. Helped him to relax, meeting the offered shake. His hand shadowed Vixtor’s. Palm rough with work thickened skin, but his touch gentle. No need for nothing firmer. Not from him. Connor held on a moment longer than necessary, a sheepishness edged into his smile. “I know- My mom would have my hide if she knew I came an' met my future…husband, lookin’ like this.” He could hear it, ringing in his ear, Connor Grant. You look respectful or respectful you aint! A waft of his own musky smell on aircon, sweat and dust clung to his skin. Grease stains on old gray jeans, the top laces on scuffed steel-capped boots hung loose. But it weren’t half as odd as the rubber gum-boots and gloves.

One look at Vixtor, and he could picture he ain’t spent a day in real dirt. Not the kind mixed with pig shit, that tolled up war relics every time the tractors went over. Naw, Victor looked like a city boy to him. A cheeky gleam creeping into his smile.. “I could take three guesses what you do in that getup, but I’d bet none of ‘em are close.”

 

[Kendrix-lamar]

Stephen was taken back when his lips met her smooth cheek. He was turned down for a kiss? Never had that happened. The rush to pull away was the nail in the coffin. Who exactly was he marrying? All the doubts came rushing back. So many things he wanted to say but part of said to hold back. He didn't need his own systems catching him on recording screaming at his future wife.

Her words pierced through his racing thoughts as he was still too stunned to say a word. The soft squeeze on his shoulder and flirty smile came off as some charade to him. All he wanted was another drink. Her parting words made him wonder why would he go to a wedding where his own bride wouldn't even want to kiss him?

No words managed to leave his lips as she walked out. He sat there in disbelief still gathering himself "what a fucking bitch." He pulled out his phone pulling up the app "what you married me off to some lesbo or something?" he cursed the app. He got up not really caring about the microphones hearing his words now that he was alone.

Stephen's next destination was a bar to drown what feelings were coming up. Also to find someone who had no problem with kissing him. If his own future wife didn't want to satisfy him he'd find his own means to get what he wanted.

 

[spacepirate]

For his part, Vix couldn’t even tell that their handshake lasted a little longer than ordinary. In recent memory, there was little he could compare this interaction with. If he were a different man, he could face a suspected spy with more brute force, but Connor had the size advantage, so he’d have to get creative.

The word ‘husband’ hung in the air when his spouse-to-be said it, though it had as much meaning as any other word like ‘amyloid’ or ‘sensorimotor’. Vix didn’t flinch at the word or its implications, instead nodding a bit awkwardly, suddenly uncomfortable in his heavy-duty cleaning gear. Not bothering to put either glove back on, Vix spoke without having time to think. “Well, I washed most of the blood off before I came here, so you’d definitely have a hard time guessing.”

Smirking for a splitsecond before realizing that what he said was probably the polar opposite of the person he was on his dating profile, Vix coughed a bit to get that rebellious snark back in check. “A-Anyways, because of that mixup earlier, I think our time is almost up. Don’t worry, I won’t show up to my own wedding in… all this.“ He took another look at the mostly-empty waiting room. “I‘m grateful to the malfunction, though. I think they were about to get us to drink this god-awful pink smoothie,” he relayed to the other, smiling and shaking his head at the thought. “And who knows what they put in it.”

 

[SteepVision]

Pierce

Hank

Hank watched the surprise ripple across Carlos face, inky dark eyes reflecting rose and gold, before they were suddenly plunged into twilight. Cool tones of the moon and stars that puddled in the shadows of the exoskeleton. The faint clink of ball-link sounded under lapping waves as Carlos removed a tag. A blue sheen gleaming on the thin black metal.

The lines between Hank’s brow deepened. He knew exactly what it was. How many times had he fished one off a casualty in ED? Ripping through footage recorded from the HUD to find exactly what, and how, the trauma occurred. How many times had he seen it in a courtroom, where he’d provided expert testimony on grievous bodily hard? Everything was on there.

Hank wanted to retract, to pull away. But when Carlos touched his hands, he felt the faint tremble. Even if the exoskeleton could crush Hank’s bones, Carlos was… weak. Shaken. Badly hurt. The wounds to his mind far deeper than those on his body.

Reluctantly, he curled his grip around the MSD. “Thank you.” Unable to shake his frown. The discomfort that crept into his chest. Resisting the urge to glance at the camera in the corner of the room. To give him this? Carlos had to be concussed. Or far too trusting. The small device slipped into the breast pocket of his suit-shirt, close to his heart, before he took Carlos hand and squeezed. “I’ll protect it.” Earnest. He meant it. But the responsibility… "Carlos, I-"

The doors slid open, a small shock disrupted the tension between them. And Hank withdrew his hand.

coded by reveriee.

 

[IceCave]

Chad Burton

What? Too much?

Chad let the other slip off his grasp and as Vivian's feet touched the ground he leaned back. Posture half rigid with the new alertness charging the atmosphere but his expression blank bordering indifferent. He watched, but it was difficult to gauge if he listened.

His bright eyes sparked with something primal when the shirt snug to every curve of other's tall, slender body. He would enjoy wrecking it. But the fact he could literally and easily do it by accident was not as appealing.

The blatant upward curve of his mouth forecasted a disrespectful remark but there was nothing but bold truth in the statement. "Damn." He gestured with tattooed hand at the other's silhouette without touching as told. "You're hot all fire and bite like that."