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Realistic or Modern #𝗠𝗮𝗿𝗿𝘆𝗠𝗲 // Dystopian AI Matchmaking IC

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IceCave

IceCave

Lucky Member
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Enormous panes of glass glowed with the artificial light as streams of color glanced off the empty skyscrapers erected under the inky sky. Scattered stars timidly winked up above, humbled by the flashy performance of the city neons and the distant thunder clouds. The evening was warm and inviting for the after hours stroll. But the designated, future spouses had another reason to arrive Downtown.

The government buildings were often formal, stripped from the glamour, just glass, metal, and concrete. But the MarryMe facilities were the exception. The diamonds. Donned in the upscale, royal-like facades and bursting with swank, exclusive inside. Despite the elite-like atmosphere the future marriers had to follow the protocol attached to the message that happily announced:

"You've been matched!"

Giving no further information about the spouse in question, only the directions to the place. Whoever they would spend the rest of their days with…would be a surprise.

All of them had to appear at the checkpoint and give the old fashioned, in person signature on the glass tablet that a smiling lady passed them over the marble counter. The digital document they were signing was proof of their attendance. Something to use against them if they ever tried to claim they didn't participate in that matchmaking experience.

Finally left to wait in a pink tinted space that resembled a huge womb, they could see the unfamiliar faces of their fellow marriers, waiting with them. Until 8:30 pinged on their phones and the doors opened…

Inside they were greeted by a fine selection of appetizers and a large cup of drink with two straws. Whole room was a round space painted by the pastel hues of ash, lavender, and honey that stroked across the artificial skyscape. Restaurant by the beach, facing the ocean, with the sun slowly sinking upon the horizon. It was just a hologram but almost indiscernible if not for the fact they were inside a building.

Soon the other door opened and finally their future partner stepped inside so they could meet and attempt to bond within the ridiculous 30 minutes that the government gave them.
 
"You've been matched"
​

The words that had shown on Stephen's phone etched into his mind. When he saw it he had just woken up after a one night stand with someone. He couldn't quiet recall their name now. All he knew was it was a good time.

He didn't really believe in the AI dating app but he signed up since his marriage was ending anyways. Why not trust an AI when his first marriage was set up for monetary and business gains?

His wife, Rose, a lovely woman looks wise. Looks that most would kill for but the lust they once held for each other fizzled out. Between work, Stephen's former party habits and current drinking problems all they did was fight.

The only reason he hadn't divorced fully was legal reasons. Rose had put funding into his company now separating he didn't want to get totally fucked over and loose everything he worked for. So currently he supported her by paying for an apartment for her to stay in while his legal team worked on the fine details. However since the government determined their marriage unsuccessful anyways something had to be done soon consider he got matched. Rose hadn't been matched but he figured it was only a matter of time.

Tonight though that wasn't on his mind. Only the thought of who he would be meeting. He knew the government building they were told to go to all too well. His company did manage all the security cameras and recording equipment contracted by the government. It wasn't something he shared openly though for numerous reasons, and had no plans of sharing anytime soon with whomever he was about to meet.

Even for a warm summer night Stephen wore a navy blue Armani suit. He skipped the tie and had a simple white button up paired under it. Always one to dress to impress down to his high end smart watch and designer dress shoes. He pulled up to the venue in his red Mercedes letting valet park it before heading in.

One hope he had for tonight was that there would at least be drinks. He signed the tablet he was presented before waiting where he was told. He took the time to make sure his hair was styled nicely back, deep down he was pretty vain about looks. He just hoped the AI picked well since he didn't even get to see a profile yet for this person who was supposed to be the 'perfect match'. Stephen was lucky he was let into the room first. He didn't really care for the setting they provided. He'd much rather set up his own first date but he didn't really have a choice.

He saw a large cup with two straws hoping whatever drink was in there was something strong. Just to calm the nerves, or at least that's what he told himself. He stood by the table drinking from it. He paused hearing a door open again. Standing up straight his dark hazel eyes focused on the entry to see who was about to greet him.
 
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After a week of the bitter grind, Vivian finally found the time to settle down for one moment at last.

The light was set in a dim fuschia red. The tinge pours over the long, sturdy, half-folded leaves hanging off of two of their exotic plants. Light glimmers from a smaller three, with petals as soft and bushy as the feathers on a bird. Behind every plant were walls filled to the brim with prints and paintings of all varieties, often alternating between black and white and cyan and yellow color scales.

With a glass in hand and a satin nightgown, they lay across a white couch; One they had commissioned from a local 3D printerman. Vivian had taken a scan of their body and then created a blueprint for a couch that perfectly fit to their form, so that every last surface of their house could be exactly adjusted to their comfort.

The ease of the night finally settles into her aching form. Sore joints become empty containers and pinched nerves hold an illusion of mobility, believed only as long as they stay still.

The accursed device rings. And it’s a mandatory notification.

Vivian pulls their gaze away from the twinkling art piece that was their home.
They feel their heart stop in their chest. Wine shatters against the ground.

Before they’ve even seen the name of this apparent match, they are staggering against their own legs to get changed and out the door immediately.
They keel into their bedroom and search like a ferret through a barrel of socks for anything even remotely clean to wear.
They resort to the two viable articles of clothing; A blood-pressure-increasing pair of skinny jeans that they had worn once for an Instagram ad for a brand they despised, and the nightgown they are wearing.

In a panic, they roll the nightgown up and tuck it into the top of this unbearable pair of pants and then hastily pull over the first belt in sight; A blue belt with “artistic”, uneven holes throughout it’s leather, giving the relative appearance of swiss cheese.
And what does she have to reasonably wear outside? To meet the person she will live with the rest of her life? A custom ordered thigh high pair of black ugg boots ordered for comfort, not for the purpose of being seen in.

They relent to destiny. They wear the shoes. They leave Enya playing; They are gone like a ghost from the house.

Despite their exhaustion, mobility restricting clothing, and lack of helmet, they board their motorcycle and rush to the… Assigned Marriage Facility, Vivian groans sarcastically in their head. How I love a trip to the Assigned Marriage Facility… We love an all efficient world. Just hand all of my life choices to an AI I guess. I am so fine with that, actually. Not like I wanted to think about any of this, or anything.

Before they are done cathartically complaining to themself, they are suddenly confronted by this building that was moments before just a minuscule artifact of mockery to them.
It had suddenly become real; All too real.

Upon entering the facility, everything enters a blur. They know that, somehow, they navigate to where they are meant to be, but they can barely bring themself to process it. They feel like their breath is behind stockpiled within their chest, as though they could simply drop dead at any moment and they had to prepare for everything to absolutely change.
 
It was a weekday, and Vida spent most of it in bed. Working evenings and often late into the night resulted in her sleeping in until nearly noon most days, sometimes past. The few hours between waking and work again she had puttered around her small studio apartment, folding clothes, throwing out take out containers, and lighting a candle to chase away the smell of the trash until she took it out that evening. As the time ticked later she showered, dried her thick blonde hair, then applied mascara and smudged liner to her eyes. Gloss and a light blush were next, then she mussed her hair and moved to the closet. The Inferno, where Vida worked most days- nights - was a classy bar/club that catered to higher end clientele and expected their employees to look the part. She flicked through the clothes hanging on the right hangers, the clothes she wore for work. Everything was nice, everything was black, and everything showed cleavage. She wrinkled her nose, pushing down the discomfort for the millionth time since taking the job. The Inferno paid well for a bar, and the clients tipped even better, so she could put up with the skimpy dress code. Not for the first time, she was thankful she was just the bartender.

Vida slipped on a formfitting, short black dress. It was nice, but plain. The collar of it hugged her neck high, and a teardrop keyhole cutout over her chest showed off her assets (as was required). It was sleeveless, showing off the china patterns of blue tattooed up both arms and across her shoulders, and barely covered her butt, but it was one of the more modest choices she had to pick from. She sighed as she viewed herself in the mirror, wrinkling her nose again as she turned this way and that, her fingers pulling at the hem as if she could cover more skin if she tried. Not happening. Throwing up her hands in defeat she went back to her closet to pull on a pair of sheer tights and slip on her heels. As she left the tiny apartment she made sure to blow out the candle and grab the full trash bag before locking the door behind her.

After tossing the trash in the dumpster behind the complex, Vida stood on the side of the busy road out front and held out her hand to hail a cab. "Take me to the Inferno," she told the driver who stopped for her as she slipped into the backseat. She pulled her phone out of her bag as the car pulled back into traffic, settling in for the ride.

"You've been matched."
​
The blonde stared at the message, her brain slowing to a snail's pace as she processed what it meant. Her heart leapt to her throat as she noticed that the notification was dated nearly 5 hours ago and quickly tapped into the details. She cursed loudly. 8:30 PM. The clock currently read 8:15. She would be lucky if she wasn't late.
"I'm so sorry!" She said to her driver, leaning forward in her seat, "I actually need you to reroute me to the MarryMe facility in downtown." Her cheeks flushed as the man raised his eyebrows at her in the rearview mirror, but he dutifully changed directions without question. Nobody questioned it when you were summoned by the MarryMe gods, it was an expected part of life nowadays. She had filled out the app without much thought, because it was required, but seeing an actual match made her stomach drop and her hands become clammy. She wasn't ready. With another sickening drop in her chest, Vida glanced down at her skimpy outfit and her dread skyrocketed. This was definitely not what she would have picked out to meet her future partner for the first time. Way to make a first impression, she cursed herself silently. How did I miss the alert?

It was 8:27 when the cab pulled up in front of the large glass building. Artificial lights made it glow a soft pink, classy yet cute. Vida thanked her driver as she pushed out of the car and all but ran up the steps and into the foyer. She tried to calm her beating heart and uneven breaths as she signed the tablet the smiling attendants handed her and pulled at the hem of her too-short dress as they lead her into a room to wait. It looked like a womb, she noted absently. She could barely hear the dim chatter of excited fiances around her as blood thundered in her ears. She cracked her fingers in anticipation and fought the urge to throw up. She wasn't ready.

"Vida Cara?" Called a woman wearing the classic MarryMe uniform. Her heart leapt unevenly as she stood quickly, trying to keep the nerves off her face. "Your match is ready for you."

Vida was lead to a closed door. "Are you ready?" Her attendant asked, smile never faltering. Unable to form words, she just nodded. The woman opened the door, stepping through first to hold it open for her, and Vida reluctantly followed. The room was round, all the walls displaying hologram images of a sunset beach. She sucked in a breath at how much detail the program put into the scenery - she could almost believe she were actually there if she hadn't walked inside the skyscraper herself, the night outside dark. A small table stood with plates of appetizers and one large cup of something - a smoothie, maybe? She wasn't sure. It had two straws she noted. Finally, the striking young woman turned her blue eyes to the man who stood next to that table, waiting.

He was attractive, she noted first. And very well dress. Is that Armani? The suit was tailored to his exact measurements and complimented his physique nicely. Designer shoes, smart watch, not a hair out of place. Not inimidating at all, Vida thought, fighting the urge to once again pull at the hem of her outfit, overly aware of how much cleavage she was showing through the teardrop hole on the chest. The man looked like a model straight off the cover of GQ, and she looked like she was ready to hit the clubs, tattoos and all - which wasn't far off considering she had thought she was heading for her job at a said club and not her first date with her extremely serious match.

The sound of the door shutting behind her startled her out of the thoughts, and she glanced over her shoulder to realize they were now alone. Besides the hidden cameras, that is. She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry," she said to break the ice, turning back to face the not-scary-at-all man in front of her. "This is definitely not the first impression I meant to make." She spared a quick look at her dress. "My name is Vida."
 
Downtown hadn’t changed a bit, even after the two years he’d spent at the food bank. Was it two years? Between those cracked concrete walls, the days flowed together. This might have been the first time Vixtor had felt the rumble of an engine under him, and it was a state-ordered rideshare that pulled up almost seconds after he’d gotten a #MarryMe ping.

“You’ve been matched.”​

When the notification rang out, Vix was in the middle of preparing a freshly-grown delivery to one of his regulars. Despite seeing his face for months, none of the facility’s patrons so much as looked up from their mush and seltzer to see the face of their newly-matched host. As always, he grimaced at his phone, but held it in shaking hands. What kind of person had they given him with the answers he’d provided? Or maybe he’d been too foolish, too brash, and Affinity or some technician thought that-

“Volunteer 9505?” came the modulated voice of a HouseMate, serial number on its forehead wrinkled only a little as it imitated concern. Like everything else in the facility, it had holes and spots in its flesh, exposing a few ratty wires underneath. “There is a car waiting for you in the vehicle bay. It departs in three minutes and fourteen seconds.”

Vix barely had time to throw the package he‘d prepared into the incinerator and scrub some kitchen scud off his face before hopping into the car.

Gazing placidly at the car’s GPS screen, Vix saw they’d just passed 23rd street. There was a rooftop bar around here that was a quick walk from his old company. He’d been on a first-name basis with the regular security guard, Becka. From his reflection in the car window, though, she’d hardly recognize him- far from the tans he’d get from living on rooftops, he’d grown pale from spending so much time indoors, and his eyes refused to unpack their bags in their new ‘home’. Oh, also he had green hair now. That was different.

The facility itself was as ritzy as the rest of the #MarryMe program, though all Vix noted as he signed the tablet was the odd look that the receptionist offered him. What was that thing she was doing with her mouth? Did the two know each other? The formation of her lips seemed familiar, and Vix wondered if the two had gone to university before, or if she’d been sent to the food bank before to spy on him perhaps.

“Don’t worry honey,“ she said with a sympathetic smile, “you’ll be able to eat a nice, warm meal inside.”

Oh, wonderful. She just thought he was a transient. And now that he recognized that, he was able to tell that the strange look she was giving him was a smile. It had been a long time since he’d seen one of those. Vix couldn’t even blame her for thinking so- he still had on the black rubber gloves and his battered apron, and the thick rubber boots that he’d been given at Reassignment. Wasn’t like he could dress up anymore, like some of the other gentlemen in the waiting room. He guessed that their commutes to the facility had been a lot shorter than his own.

Vix didn’t say much while he waited, but kept his head on a swivel. He knew he was rather underdressed, but any state eyes following him wouldn’t have expected any differently. That was a good thing.

By the time he was led out of the uterus-like room, Vix was still unsure if the other ‘marriers’ were real people, or if this was all some kind of strange setup. With the profile he’d filled out, they were probably going to set him with some freak and see how long it took for him to break.

For the first time that day, though, his eyes widened in true shock- he was the first one into the private room, so there was no one waiting for him, but temptation stared him dead in the eye. Sure there was the sickeningly-sweet pink smoothie on the table that was stinking up the whole room, but it was like they’d pulled the appetizers straight from his dreams. Or his lifetime food delivery history, he rectified. Shrimp ceviche, crab rangoons, seared ahi tuna- the food truly matched the artificial oceanside they’d projected in the room’s walls.

But it was an odd-numbered day, and he couldn’t have anything with plant product, even though these dishes were mostly seafood. So instead he just glared at the table of hors d’oeuvres, back turned to the other door.
 
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CARLOS WESSON

12:03 PM
The massive police vehicle rocked on its shocks with added weight of the metal-clad men hauling into the front seats. The doors thumped and the silent interior drowned out the early afternoon traffic. Carlos swiped his augmented glove in front of the center console glass panel and it popped up to life with holographic icons and screens displaying in high quality 3D.

"Hey Dispatch, One-Hoover-18 and Two-Hoover-18 are 10-4, show us in service."

The melodic blip mimicking old radio connection sound was followed by a robotic female voice filtering through the speakers. "Welcome, Sgt Wesson, and Sgt Dimitryjev. The temperature outside is the moderate 82F, the traffic on the Skyline bridge active to heavy, the—"

"I had to cover half of Roose's swing shift and didn't have lunch yet." Carlos yawned, reaching back for the military styled sunglasses resting at the back of his neck, putting them front over his eyes. "Let's stop at that new Chinese place at the corner of Rogers and Christ The Savior Ave. What's the name…..I swear it's something that rhymes with 'pies'." He laughed.

"—blocked at the Charleston square before the midnight festival. Have a safe shift, officers. Godspeed."

"Safe shift my ass." Sneered the burly man behind the wheel, pulling off and heading for the nearby chicken place instead. Dimitryjev didn't plan on eating what he'd call some chink shit.

Blip

"Hoover-18, I need a unit at 7 Elon Musk Blvd, KS 67037 to domestic 10-101. I'm setting your navi."

"Copy that, Dispatch." So an assault, not just disturbance. Great start… "We're on it." Carlos chuckled, jabbing the hologram to get the 3D map of the place they were heading to.

"No vacation here."


1:27 PM
"It's not a bad chicken, man." Grease glistened on the black fingertips of his gloves and on his lips. Fresh bruise slowly began to swell at the side of his face. "But can we-" Carlos took a bite, speaking and chewing simultaneously, damn hungry. "Start trying new things?"

Their slowing down cruiser shook with the tumbling energy of the enhanced muscle car that whooshed past them, cutting a red light.

"Shit-" Carlos dropped the drumstick and it missed the bucked, bouncing off his lap.

"Hey Dispatch." He quickly unfolded his helmet and a crystalline visor shielded his face, lighting up with different stats on the edges, locking in on the speeding vehicle that Dimitryjev sprung after, barely missing the intersecting traffic.

"Illegal Chevy just blew by us-" Crack of shots outside sped up his accelerating heart rate. "Fuck I think it just capped a round off at us!"

"Just backfired." Dimitry corrected but Carlos dismissed it, not knowing much about old tech vehicles, and even though it was far from his life motto - better safe than sorry.

"They're going westbound. Occupancy might be armed, use caution."


1:31 PM
The cruiser took another turn, couldn't be too hot on their tail because safety limits but it kept tracking.

"Fuck-" Carlos' mouth gaped. "Look what they're doing- They gonna-" His breaths came out faster before halting.

"Fuck! Hey Dispatch, they just rammed into a school bus! I need medical assistance on site asap!" Carlos hollered when jumping out of the barely stopped vehicle, followed by his companion. They run toward the crash site. The smell of the long forbidden fuel instantly hit their noses. Gasoline.

"Get the kids out!!!" Wesson shouted. His movements accelerated with each grunt of struts and hiss of hydraulic suspension of his armor. He sprinted at the Chevrolet drowning in the billows of smoke. It suddenly ignited right in front of Carlos' eyes. Blowing heat against his titanium covered figure, making him stumble back in surprise.

The scream from inside the car pierced through the commotion of children abruptly leaving the larger vehicle that was reinforced to ensure their safety. Only the rancid smell of burning hair and skin was worse than the visceral cry.

That didn't stop him. With the superior strength upped by the exoskeleton snug to his arms, legs and supporting his spine, Carlos plunged his toughened fingers into the mangled metal and ripped the driver's door off the hinges, shoving it aside. Then without second thought he dove into fire, wrapping his arms around the man caught aflame.


2:18 PM
"I'm alright." Smirk audible in his tone. "Or should I say, invincible." Carlos playfully winked before dragging his gaze down the petite figure of the lady medic standing beside him. "Just some burn mark on my neck where he tried to grab me." Officer's dark armor-propped frame a stark contrast to her short figure dressed in the bright red and navy blue EMT uniform.

"That's the kind of thinking that gets people killed, Sergeant." The woman put out his flirty attitude without even looking at him. "Let me apply some-" She added, pulling out a can of cold spray but he interrupted her with a hand gesture, no longer focusing on her cute ass.

"Be right back, doc." Wesson's gaze now fixed on one of the kids. They were hugging their arms on the curb away from the others.

The officer jogged away toward his cruiser. The door opened with a soft sigh and he peered in. Touching the glove compartment to prompt the lid to slide open. Whole glovie was filled with misc objects surrounded by a bunch of teddy bears. He smiled at a blue bunny. Then picked it and headed for the lone child with a wet face and red eyes.


4:38 PM
The sun dipped lower, peeking from behind the tall buildings with an orange flare. Carlos's face was radiant with it and with the swelling red on his cheek. Forehead covered in a sheen of sweat, black dust smeared by the corner of his brow. Reactive, colorful lenses of his sunglasses glinted with the late rays of the afternoon light.

Dimitryjev looked at the other sideways before exhaling defeatedly. "Hey Dispatch. Put some music on." He paused before saying with mild disgust. "Something from the 20s or earlier."

Carlos's lip curled into a small smile. His gaze cruising along the shimmering ocean waters as they crossed the bridge, heading for the affluent district. "It's my birthday today or something?" He knew his friend hated the early century tunes that Carlos enjoyed.

Sharp sounds of drums and female huffs filled the vehicle, prompting Wesson to laugh as the melodic notes flowed around them. He adjusted in his seat and looked ahead as they got to land. Humming he waited before joining the singer in her refrain. "I'm not here for your entertainmeeent! You don't really wanna mess with me tonight!"

Dimitryjev sat there, driving with his infamous 'sitting on the toilet' expression as he listened to his work partner's jagged howling. That did earn the tiniest upward curl of big guy's lip.

"Keep your drink, just gimme the money!! It's you and your hand toniiig..." Carlos tapered off, gesturing ahead at the young teen. "What's this kid doing?"

"Looking at the tree." Dimitryjev stated like it was a dumb question.

"No I mean, why?"

The other grunted. "Better not be another damn cat in the tree."


5:35 PM
Wesson hopped back into the car, scratching the fresh bandage around his arm. His uniform longsleeve cut off so he didn't have to get out of the armor when they treated the animal bite.

"See, it was quick." He pulled something out of his belt's pouch. "And I stole a lollipop for you." He said with a toothy grin, holding out the candy. The other stared daggers but snatched the treat and put it to his door before pulling off from the hospital lot, muttering profanities.

Carlos eyed him before relaxing back with a heavy exhale. "At least it wasn't a cat huh." His mouth twisted into a cheeky smirk.

Blip

"Sgt. Wesson." The video call came up on one of the center screens. The face marked with the name Ackles. "You won't believe who was just spied at his mommy's house."

Carlos frowned, glancing at his partner. Before his shades covered eyes widened at Ackles' next words. "Jackson Briant, the kid that you cut loose after he signed to cooperate? That tried to kill you the day after?" Dramatic pause. "He's back."

"Motherfucker…" Carlos shook his head, focusing on the video call again. "Did you talk to the chief? We got the green light??"

"Yup."

Carlos smirked. "So what's the plan?"
THE COP
 
“Doctor?”

Hank peeled gloves from his wrists and dropped them into the trough. “You think?” Blood swirled red with running water. Ice cold, washing the sweat and caked powder from his palms. Beside him, the young asian male followed suit.“That’s what I heard.” Soap, scrubbed up arms to the elbow. Louis cut the tap and shook drops sharply from his fingertips. “From Foxett. They’ve already implemented it at Saint Andrews.”

“Andrews is state run.” Not that it would make a difference. Privatized or otherwise. Hank felt the tension in his face. Lines pinched between his eyes. “It would keep hacks like Hanson in line.”

“Doctor, your-”

“Yeah, right.” Louis scoffed. “Might get him promoted. That’s the thing. It’s not even about best practice.”

“Or politics.” Hank added.

“No. That’s what I don’t understand. Who's listening!? Some poor bastard at Sentinel hearing Ms. McQueen complain about her instant mash?”

Hank snorted. “Yeah. I doubt it.” Wide shoulders lifted in a shrug. "The more protection we got, the better. As far as I'm concerned. They might actually see what we put up with in ED."

Hands cupped under the faucet, he splashed his face. Rivulets streamed from the faint stubble on his jaw to soak the front of dark blue scrubs. Pricking gooseflesh on his neck. He stank like sweat. The odor of chlorhexidine and gizzards lingering at the back of his throat.

"Like they give a shit." Louis passed him a towel, same way he’d pass a tool. “It won’t happen.”

“It will.”

“Doctor Pierce!!”

“What!?” Hank turned sharply to face the nurse, the rush of breath from his lungs exasperated. Benvinda’s stare was burning. Her wide, dark eyes met his. Holding the black square of his phone extended in her hand. “You’ve been matched.”

“... What?”

“You’ve. Been. Matched.” She enunciated. Slow. But it still took a moment.

“Fuck!”

She gasped, brows popped in shock. The phone snatched from her hand. You’ve been matched. “Fuck!!”

Louis laughed. Uncomfortable. His eyes averted. Benvinda's lips pursed. "Well?"

"Well what?" A frown deepened the edges of his mouth. Staring at his screen. An unpleasant prickle of heat crawling up the back of his neck. *Matched?*

"Who is it?!" The eagre grin on her face held no empathy. Leveled with Hanks flat stare. “Don’t tell anyone about this.”

“I wouldn’t!” Her protest pitched, She leaned back, slim arms wound tightly around her chest in defense.

“Benvinda. This is not to pass around.” His tone dropped, a breath expanding his deep chest. “If I hear it so much as breathed outside official channels, there's a snowball's chance in hell my signature will be on your residency. Am I clear?”

Her jaw fell, a protest bubbled on her breath. Hank cut her off, his palm raised. “Am I clear?”

Like a petulant child, Benvinda’s nose creased. But she nodded. “Yes. Sir.”

“Then we won’t have a problem.” He really couldn’t care less about her offense. The girl wasn’t thick. Far from it. But he felt no guilt for threatening her career if it drilled into her skull. Hank suppressed a ragged sigh, his phone tossed to the bench where it bounced in the hardcase. “Get moving!”

---

His head swam. Pulse throbbed through his body. Focus shattered by the jarring and intrusive thought. Matched. Hank clenched his jaw. A glance at his watch. Analog. Platinum hands against a titanium blue face glaring under bright corridor lights. And had to check it twice. Fuck. Get a grip. No matter what he’d hoped. He’d known this was coming sooner or later. He needed a cold shower. Smoothing his expression as a man approached from the opposite direction.

Paramedic, in dark green scrubs and sneakers. One hand tucked into his pocket and swagger in his walk. His arms and face darkened with a spread of tattoos. Their eyes met. Briefly. Hank’s frown tight. No greeting. Passed close enough their shoulders nearly clashed.

Hank stopped. Knuckles raised to rap sharply on a door.

Dr. Truth Foxxett.

He didn’t wait, pushing into the sterile office space. The faint hint of spiced perfume melded with disinfectant. Foxett glanced up from her desk. “Okay. Hang on, I have to call you back.” Waving Hank to sit down. “Okay, okay. Bye. Bye.” Loose auburn hair tossed from her shoulder, she hung up. Her chair scooted in closer to the desk as Hank sat. “Thanks for coming.” A small smile creased inot her cheek.

He leaned back, resisting the urge to shake his knee. Curt. “What do you need?”

“Christ, not even a hello? Alright, Fine. I want to talk to you about the proposal-”

Not this again. “Truth.” He couldn’t, didn’t hide his exasperation. Rubbing at the lines of tension that instantly tightened his forehead. “We’ve talked about this. I’m not interested.”

“Yes. But why!? You could double your earning potential. You-”

“The hospitals. You mean.” There was no denying who would benefit more, though that wasn’t the picture they painted. .

“Yes. The hospital.” She hummed, “But you. You’d have a better contract. You’d have more predictable hours. No more night shift.”

Hank Shrugged. “Ever think that I like the unpredictability?”

“You do?” She blinked, tinted with genuine surprise.

“Come on, Truth. What aspects of my life aren’t predictable?” Like marriage? “I don’t want to spend the rest of my career putting in pace-makers.”

“But-”

“No!” He bit his sudden frustration, tried to hide it, his hands curled under the desk. But she read it, loud. Keen, hazel eyes quick as they scanned his expression. He could see the question curling on her lips. And cut her short. “I need to leave early.” Paused, his next words level and forced. “I’ve been matched.”

The reaction was immediate. Her eyes, round. A tumble of shock across her fine features. And hurt. Rapidly wrapped up in a curt nod. Truth swallowed, her throat bobbed. “Right. Okay. Of course. Do you want leave or an RDO?”

“RDO. Thanks.” It was too hard, too much work to look at her. Dropping his gaze to her hands as they shifted to her keyboard. Neat, natural nails. No jewelry. A faint tremble in her fingers. Truth cleared her throat. “Anything else?”

Hank shook his head. Silent.Trying to keep the tension from his shoulders as he stood and turned his back.

----

His pace picked up as he got closer. Steps cushioned by sneakers in the echoing concrete car park. Lit by dimmed yellowed light that gleamed from the roof of his car. The locks beeped remotely. The second he reached the car Hank dropped, heavy, into his seat. The door pulled shut with a dull thud. HHis skull hit the headrest. Pale eyes pinched shut. Dragging in a deep breath that failed to chase the tightness from his lungs, and rushed out. Ragged. Grip, white knuckled, on the steering wheel.

----

There wasn’t much that made his heart race. Aware of the dampness on his palms. Hank squirted some sanitiser from the desk, and tucked a hand into the pocket of dark suit-pants. Idly tracing the shape of a small package.

The women at reception smiled, wide and white. “Mr. Pierce?”

“Doctor.”

She didn’t blink. “Yes, Doctor Pierce. Your table is ready. Follow me, please.”

He nodded. Shadowing her steps. His breath stopped as she opened the door.

Only to find an empty table. The relief, palpable. If momentary. His smile, tight and absent as the woman left. He didn’t want to sit, too much energy threaded through his body despite the rapid workout he’d pushed through. Forced still as he folded himself into the cushioned arm-chair. Red velvet. Sleeves of a crisp white button up tugged over his forearms. The glimpse of a faded tattoo hinted at the hem.

Who would she be? Who… had the AI picked for him? The catastrophic potentials that rushed through his head rapidly shut down. He’d adapt. He’d adjust. There wasn’t another choice. And… there was the chance that this would be exactly what he needed.
 
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CARLOS WESSON

"Why am I doing this again?" Dimitryjev grumbled from the back seats. Just strapping a plate carrier filled with Kevlar and ceramic over his undershirt. Carlos looked up from the console and to the rear view mirror. Seated behind the wheel in his full armor he seemed much more confident about the plan than the big guy putting on the civilian clothes.

"Told you, they know my face in this hood. Can't risk someone spotting me stroll and tipping the fucker off."

"No." The big guy grabbed a plain, dark shirt and pulled it over his thick arms with some trouble. "Why am I doing this at all. You spend at least 24 on planning an ambush like that, and this one is staged in an hour? Smells like a shitshow."

Carlos huffed a deep breath and turning to look directly at the other he put his armored palm to the force field partition, making the transparent surface glow emerald blue where it was touched. "Cause I'm your boo and you know-"

"You're just a pain in my ass."

"-how important this case is for me and if we don't act fast the guy will fuck off again and we might never find him. Trust me, Dim." Carlos turned back in his seat and swatted the 360° live model of Briant mother's house on the central screen, watching it turn like on an invisible gyro. "This coder is more dangerous using a basic computer than you when using that big gun between your legs."

That warranted the big man's scoff.

"I made the mistake of trusting him the last time." Carlos swallowed against the bile building up in his throat as images of recent terrorist attacks flickered through his mind. Was the kid responsible for any of them? How many people died because Carlos made the wrong call...

"We have to lock him up."

The back door sighed and the heavy duty suspension wobbled the vehicle when his partner climbed out. It prompted Carlos to swing the driver door open and peer out.

"Hey Dim?"

The big guy looked over, adjusting his shirt over concealed vest and weapon. "What."

Carlos smirked. "Don't fuck this up."

Getting grumbled swears in a mix of American and Slavic as a response he added. "Love you too." Then he yanked the door back and settled in his seat.

"Let's do this." Wesson muttered to himself, glancing at the holographic side mirror, about to pull off when his phone beeped. It was always muted when he was on the job. Only emergency notifications had a way of bypassing the silent mode. So Carlos pulled it out and frowned at the two messages from…oh fuck. MarryMe. Jesus, now? That was like- Fuck, he didn't have time for that shit!

Wesson's mind raced as he put the phone away and took the cruiser for a ride along the parallel street to get to the suspect's house from the opposite side than Dimitryjev would approach it. His hands felt moist inside the reinforced gloves clutching the steering wheel. Pulse in his neck faster and lighter for all the wrong reasons. Focus!

"Hey Dispatch, connect me with Charlie-33." He took a turn, vigilant gaze skimming the empty streets, shoddy houses, and unkempt lawns. All veiled by the ashen light of late dusk that his helmet visor helped him see through, sharpening the murky view.

Blip

"It's Charlie-33, you two already there?"

"Yeah, Dimbo just left, I'm flanking. How far out are you? He'll set up like we talked and I'll be parking down the street to wait for his sig-"

"I see the house." Dimitryjev's transmission punched through their conversation. "Hold up." He added and Carlos glanced at the feed from the camera pole in front of Briant's property, seeing what his partner was just about to announce. "He's outside. I didn't get to my post yet."

"Fuck…." If the suspect saw them coming or got into his car and started it, the chances of getting him without some serious street heat were fucking narrow. "Stand by." Carlos slowed down the cruiser, he needed to think.

"He's getting to the car." The big guy said and Carlos felt something turn in his gut when he heard the follow up. "I'm going to get him."

"What? No!" Wesson turned another corner, getting to their street. "Dim, wait!" He ordered but he could see his friend on the screen, already approaching the car with Briant just entering the driver's seat. Clenching his teeth Carlos hit the pedal, racing for the scene. Head on a swivel, snapping between the view up ahead and the screen.

Commotion by the open driver door.

He was almost there.

Dimitryjev stumbled back.

"No-"

The muzzle poked from the open door and gunshots flared in the darkening light.

"NO!!" Wesson's heart jolted in his chest, mind reeling. Fuck. No. It can't!

He got there, seeing the big guy staggering, dropping to his knees. Carlos didn't know if the shooter was out of bullets or didn't bother to shoot the man in the head, all he knew was that he had to neutralise the threat. Jabbing finger into the nitro booster on the console he kept pressing the pedal down hard, ramming his speeding vehicle into the boot of the sedan. Full force. He swept it off the parking spot like a toy car and slammed it's front into the old, lone tree that when impacted folded the sedan's hood like paper, bisecting the cabin.

Crushed front of the cruiser was stuck in the other's trunk. Carlos ripped the airbag off the way, protected by his armor and helmet but winded and dizzy. "Hey Dispatch-" He rasped out. "I need an ambulance! I got 10-999!" He groaned, forcing the door open.

"Dimitryjev is down!" His voice wavered, whole body buzzing from adrenaline as he scrambled out and bolstered by the armor's speed he sprinted across the sun bleached grass where his brother was trying to crawl away from the street. The sight squeezed Carlos's chest so hard he felt out of breath.

He dropped next to the fallen man, his kneepads jabbed into dirt. "Hey…" He tried to be as gentle as possible when turning Dimitryjev to his back. "Let me look-" His words cut. There was blood everywhere. Pouring out of the multiple holes in the shirt and vest. Black tip rounds. Illegal bullets designed to penetrate military grade armor.

"Don't-" The man on the ground was trembling. He reached his shaky palm up and grabbed the collar of Carlos' suit, baring teeth like an animal. "Don't look at me like that." But there was fear in his eyes and that snapped Carlos out of it. He abruptly grabbed the man's shirt and ripped it off of him.

"I'm not letting you die!" He pledged, quickly cramming the folded material under man's vest. Then he pressed it with unnaturally stiff fingers. He was going to speak again but the woman's cry alarmed him.

"Jackie no!"

Carlos spun around and immediately felt off balance. Like kicked in the head. Back then he didn't realize he was just shot to the side of the helmet. Another round ricocheted from his visor, leaving a tiny crack, but he didn't falter, following his training. He whipped out his sidearm and locked on the guy with precision provided by the HUD's guidance system. His shots muffled the screams of the mother that rushed to catch her falling son whose center mass was now filled with lead.

"Dim-" Carlos pivoted back to press man's chest again. And his brain short circuited when he realized it was no longer rising. Dimitryjev wasn't breathing. His eyes were still open though. Fixed on the early night sky.

Since then, everything was a blur. The feeling of ribs cracking under Wesson's interlocked palms as he began the heart massage. The wailing of the mother in the background. "Murderer! He was just a kid! Just a kid!!" Hitting his armor again and again. Until her bruising hands bled. Until the backup arrived and pulled her away from him.

"He's gone. Wesson. He's gone."

Carlos stumbled to his feet, away from the hand that pulled on his shoulder to make him stop trying to reanimate a corpse.

It was dark now. He spun around, mind swimming, skimming the faces of the bystanders behind the yellow tape hologram. Some onlookers further in their front gardens or drinking beer on the porch. Like it was just another Friday. Just another evening.

Wesson halted and bent over, throwing up by the storm drain. His rigid figure retched and heaved until he was done. Then he just watched the half digested bits of chicken on the ground. Dimitryjev's favorite chicken.

Beep

His eyelashes fluttered and he straightened up, instinctively wiping his mouth with the back of the glove. His chest felt constricted, heart split open. But his gaze was hollow when he pulled out his phone and stared at the unread messages from the same sender. Dismissing the first two he swipe-opened the last one. It illuminated through the red smear.

Reminder. The date with your future spouse starts in an hour. You don't want to be late!

"Wesson." He flinched, taken off guard, unable to feel his Captain's hand on his shoulder plate. The older man just arrived, didn't know the details, but he knew enough. Offering his subordinate a rueful look he guided him toward the ambulance. "Let's take a seat."

They stayed like that in silence while medics tended to mother's hurt knuckles on the porch of her house. Carlos watched everything on autopilot. Going through motions. When they asked him to fold the helmet to check if he didn't have a concussion from getting hit to the head. And when he had to give his official statement. He did kill a man that day after all.

"You're relieved for the rest of the shift, Wesson. But write the report down tonight. You know it's best when it's all fresh, no matter how bad."

Carlos responded with a mindless nod. "Yes, sir."

The Captain's brows drew in. "And get some rest. You need it, son."

The officer looked back at his partner in the grass. Now just a body in a hermetic bag. The urge to run over and rip the plastic off Dim's face was nauseating. As if the big guy was still there, still breathing, waiting for Carlos to take him away from that shitshow. To go get a pie from Franky&Lenny's that they often ate at the end of the shift. Dim would complain about the day and Carlos would mess with him, telling him he's getting fat.

"I will, Captain."

It was 8:47 when the cop car pulled over in front of McDonalds near the MarryMe facility.

"Thanks for the ride." Carlos exited the vehicle and his buddies that were second on site farewelled him with concerned looks. By the time he got to the right building he was twenty minutes late. So when the door to the private room slid open for him, Carlos wasn't expecting anyone on the other side anymore.
THE COP
 
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'Goddd damn' was the first thought when he saw his match in such a sexy dress. It fit her curves perfectly and showed off her cleavage to make a man want more. Having beautiful blond hair married with the ocean blue eyes blew him away. He even thought the tattoos suited her. Something seemed familar about her but he couldn't quiet place why. Regardless now he had hope that maybe there was some promise in this app. She was the type of woman he'd easily pick up at a bar.

Though once she walked closer he was met with an apology. "No need to be sorry" said simply sticking out his hand. A warm smile still resting on his lips. "Stephen Everfield, pleasure to meet you." His voice smooth but heavier in tone. One that didn't waver or seem nervous over the fact he was meeting someone he was supposed to marry. Confidence was key in and out of the boardroom.

He completely gazed over how uncomfortable she was especially with how she was dressed. They only had thirty minutes though so he couldn't just sit there gawking at her.

"Vida is a beautiful name" Stephen told her as he pulled out a chair for her. He had no problem being the gentleman to impress his match. "I'm sure you have as many questions as I do" he chuckled lightly. He also wanted to break the ice a bit. Before he went to sit he remembered the list. Along with this arranged first date there were certain activities they had to do. One was share a drink, right one drink and two straws it made sense. "I guess we gotta share some things acording to the message" He was all aware why they had cameras in this building. To watch over their date and make sure the rules were followed.

If he had to guess it was to make sure the algorithms for the AI worked and forced two strangers to actually try and to participate. Though he didn't know what happened if one chose not to participate, it was information he wasn't privy to. With that in mind he'd follow the guidelines given not willing to take risk. It did help he was already incredibly attracted to his match. He definitely was liking this whole system a bit more. "So tell me about yourself."
 
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Vida let her body relax just a bit, trying to ease the tension out of her shoulders and fists as she took his hand in greeting. Stephen. He seemed quite the gentleman she noted. He complimented her name and pulled out her chair, and she tried to mimic his confidence in this situation as she took a seat. He didn't seem flustered at all, the opposite of her, despite the fact that they were both expected and required to be each other's life match from this point on.

Her eyes wandered over the plates of appetizers between the two of them as he spoke, pausing on the giant smoothie with two straws that they were expected to share. As if this were just a simple first date and they didn't know that they'd be married soon after this. Married. Vida's chest squeezed uncomfortably at the thought. Stephen was very attractive, and so far kind, but she didn't know him. 30 minutes wasn't enough time to develop an attachment that would encourage her demisexual nature to want him in more physical ways. She wondered if he'd be disappointed if she didn't want to... give it up right away. While she considered herself a sexual person, she was also very monogamous and she found that she couldn't really muster the desire to interact with men in more intimate ways if she didn't already want them in a more emotional sense. How long would it take her to see Stephen in that light? Would he be patient with her, or would he grow frustrated at the time she needed?

"So tell me about yourself." Vida looked up and met his eyes, her face flushing slightly as she realized the direction her thoughts had taken. I'm definitely not telling him that yet, she thought with an inward cringe. She schooled her face into neutral confidence, praying her face wasn't as pink as it felt, and hummed thoughtfully. "I almost wish they would give us a list of questions to ask to help us along. My mind tends to go blank when I'm under pressure, and I'm definitely feeling it with our time limit here. How do you seem so cool right now?" She laughed. "But I guess to start, I am 28 years old, I have a small studio apartment not too far form here, and I am a bartender most evenings and nights. I actually was on my way to work when I realized I had completely missed the match notification and had to change directions, hence my, uh, outfit. So I found out about this-" she waved her hand vaguely between them "-about 30 minutes ago and definitely did not have time to cool my nerves."

Maybe she shouldn't have told him that, seeing as it made her look a bit like an airhead, but she waved the thought away. If he was to be her husband she should be honest. "What about you? What's a day in the life of Stephen Everfield like?" She blinked her blue eyes up at him, trying hard not to stare - he really was very attractive - and put one of the smoothie straws in her mouth, sucking lightly as she waited for his answer.
 
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Vivian enters the room with shotglass-wide eyes that seem to be absorbing a diffuse impression of the room containing their now life-bound partner. It takes her a good few seconds to even look in the direction of the human in the room, let alone focus well enough to make out their features.
Cold relief flows over their spine yet makes their ears ring like tin. A smile twitches onto their face, but does not quite reach their eyes, as they skirt the room to their side of the table.
"Hello. Oh, wow, hi, ok." They approach their seat as though it's a wild animal that may bite them. "I'm- I'm so, glad," They sit down as they attempt to gain composure while swallowing a lump of squids, ink and all. "It's so, fascinating, that little app it just... Puts us all together!"

Their stomach drops; An identical sensation to the exact feeling of forgetting your monologue in the school play and making a dirty joke out of nervousness. "Our lives are very... Our life. Now. Welcome, welcome to it." She picks up the smoothie, weakly thrusts it into the air as though toasting, and then begins to sip it down just to have something obscuring her face from this stranger's sight.

She's trying hard to appear as charismatic, but the persona has dissolved before she entered the room. Her stomach has plunged trench-deep into every embarrassing moment that's ever happened to her, every false romance, awkward moment, and lost friend. She thinks to her dear living room, arranged perfectly through years of curation, about to be manipulated and malformed beyond what is comprehensible or comforting to her. She nearly trembles thinking of her quiet hours being suddenly filled with noise.
 
Pierce
Hank


The longer he sat, the tighter the tension in his body. Finally giving in to let his knee bounce under the table. His hands, clean and forcefully steady, knitted above a starched white tablecloth. Glance flicked between the door and his watch as the seconds crawled.

The holographic sun sank into the ocean until he was left, alone, in a surreal haze of pink that wrapped every corner of the room. The low melody of an old-school love song playing above an artificial track of soft waves on sand.

Sail away with me honey. I put my heart in your hands.

Hank pursed his lips on a steadying breath, and let his eyes slip shut. The weight of his head hung forward. Pulled with the tension that pinched down his traps and into the scapula between his shoulders.

Sail away with me. What will be will be.

A pair of soft eyes filtered into his thoughts. Imagination. Or memory? A fringe of lashes, the way a cheek curled with a smile. What it felt like to be looked at like that. To be the one to have brought that smile...

I want to hold you now… now. Now.

He opened his eyes to the cold plate of untouched sushi. The rice looked dry.

Perhaps, there had been a mistake? But the AI did not make mistakes. That was the party line.

Or perhaps the woman he'd been matched with didn't get the message. Perhaps they did, and chose to take one of the alternative options.

Louis caught his arm. Squeezing. "Doctor Pierce?" Voice tremored on nerves that made Hank look twice. "There are other ways. Ah- If you know what I mean."

Sharply, Hank pulled free. Louis shrank under his look. "I have no idea. You have work to do."

Another breath, he leaned into the soft crush of velvet at his back. The lights so low, he could hardly make out the small camera dome on the roof.

Sail away with me honey. I put my heart in your hands.

What happened next? If she didn't show-

The door cracked. He straightened, prepared to force a smile onto his face.

Armour!

The sleek black silhouette of the exoskeleton cut straight to his core. Hank stood so fast the table clattered, his chair knocked to the ground with a bang. Caught under his feet, stumbled, rapid retreat. Hands raised instantly. A cold shock of adrenalin in his veins and the color bleached from his face. "Don't! Shoot. I'm unarmed. I'm unarmed."
coded by reveriee.
 
CARLOS WESSON
Carlos' brows drew in as pink glare assaulted his dark eyes. They gleaned of exhaustion after he was revved up for hours, pumped with adrenaline and cortisol. That now again spiked his system when the human inside jerked off the chair, firing Wesson's already jagged nerves.

His palm jolted to the sidearm snuggly tucked into the holster integrated with the exoframe thigh. Just reflex. But soon he let his fingers slide off the granulate grip, registering the sight of the startled man. Well dressed. Good looking. Strong.

Carlos cleared his throat, turning back. But he wasn't leaving, he closed the door. Then he straightened up as if to puff out his chest, facing the other again. "Sorry I'm late." He glanced down, staring at the black metal cradling his body. "Didn't have time to change."


THE COP
 
Stephen could see his match was a bit more nervous. The man had no issues with talking to strangers. With how much he hooked up in the past few years a date with a stranger felt like a cake walk when he didn't focus on the fact they were supposed to get married.

Once he settled in his seat he looked to her letting her speak. "I mean I'm a CEO so I'm used to high pressure situations I guess" he shrugged a bit. Of course he kept his job vague as possible. He thought on her job maybe that's where he recognized her from. He did frequent the local high end bars. He was sure he'd find out where soon enough.

A day in a life? He thought on it relaxing back. "Well to start with I'm 37, like I said I'm a CEO, so most days I'm at work running meetings. I make sure things operate smoothly as possible." He said not getting into finer details unless asked. "When I'm not working I go to the gym, I like boxing a lot. Then at night I'm often going to get a nice meal with a good drink" or two...usually more. "That or I'm hanging out in my apartment which is down town."

"The message did give suggestions. Beyond sharing this drink-" he jestured to the smoothie "they suggested to share three fun facts. Not sure what you consider fun but I'll share" he said wanting to make her at ease by talking more. "So let's see.....I did some modeling in my early twenties.....I graduated top of my class" despite how heavy he was partying. "Anddd I've been deep sea diving." He finished off looking to her. "Want to share some facts about yourself? "
 
His pulse thudded. Burning instinct in his gut to put as much space between him and the threat, to run, but with no more space to retreat. "What?" Late? Brow knitted with confusion. His hands were slow to fall as the officer shut the door. What the fuck was going on…? He couldn't hear anything outside, no gunshots, or sirens, but this was a government facility. Affinity would be the last place standing if the rest of the city got washed into the sea-

With his helmet folded back, Hank could see the red swelling and the bruise of broken capillaries on the officer's cheek. The expression on his face looked- shaken. The white of his eyes flashed around dark pupils. Face, pale. Small signs of shock impossible to hide.

And blood. A lot of it. Dark smears on the man's hands, his neck. The pale pink light gleaming wetly from patches of black armour.

"You're injured." The alarm dropped from his voice, Hank stepped past his chair and towards the officer. Gaze dropped from the man's face to hunt metal plate and the body underneath for a wound.

Not superficial, he could see from the amount. Not all of it fresh. Not a major artery, or the man would be standing in it. But the source could be under the plate. Abdominal, or muscular? Wouldn't be the first time he'd had to pry a body out of armour to pull bullets.

Hank grabbed the back of the second chair and dragged it around. His hand on the officers arm. Hard metal body-temperature to touch. "Sit down." His tone, softened. Lower, quieter. But an unmistakable command. There was no way he could make the officer do anything. Not in that suit. "I'm a doctor.” LEO or no, Hank had a hippocratic oath to uphold. “Are you hurt?"

Pierce
Hank


His pulse thudded. Burning instinct in his gut to put as much space between him and the threat, to run, but with no more space to retreat. "What?" Late? Brow knitted with confusion. His hands were slow to fall as the officer shut the door. What the fuck was going on…? He couldn't hear anything outside, no gunshots, or sirens, but this was a government facility. Affinity would be the last place standing if the rest of the city got washed into the sea-

With his helmet folded back, Hank could see the red swelling and the bruise of broken capillaries on the officer's cheek. The expression on his face looked- shaken. The white of his eyes flashed around dark pupils. Face, pale. Small signs of shock impossible to hide.

And blood. A lot of it. Dark smears on the man's hands, his neck. The pale pink light gleaming wetly from patches of black armour.

"You're injured." The alarm dropped from his voice, Hank stepped past his chair and towards the officer. Gaze dropped from the man's face to hunt metal plate and the body underneath for a wound.

Not superficial, he could see from the amount. Not all of it fresh. Not a major artery, or the man would be standing in it. But the source could be under the plate. Abdominal, or muscular? Wouldn't be the first time he'd had to pry a body out of armour to pull bullets.

Hank grabbed the back of the second chair and dragged it around. His hand on the officers arm. Hard metal body-temperature to touch. "Sit down." His tone, softened. Lower, quieter. But an unmistakable command. There was no way he could make the officer do anything. Not in that suit. "I'm a doctor.” LEO of no, Hank had a hippocratic oath to uphold. “Are you hurt?"
.
coded by reveriee.
 
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Vida leaned back in her seat, licking her lips as he talked. Her eyebrows shot up at the news that he had done some modeling, and her eyes lit up in glee. She wasn't surprised, not really. He looked good for a man nearing 40, too good. He'd likely been quite the catch 20 years ago, just like he was now. "Deep sea diving?" She said with a laugh, feeling herself relax more and more. His confidence did seem to be doing her some good and she could feel the adrenaline rush she'd had when she first walked in the room beginning to leave. "That's very impressive. I want to say I'm adventurous, but the ocean terrifies me. Who knows what's lurking down there?"

Vida pushed the smoothie towards Stephen as it was her turn to think on her life. Three fun facts? Nothing about Vida's life the last few years had been much fun, but he didn't need to know that yet. "I don't have anything as exciting as you to share, definitely not anything fun." She tapped a finger to her lips, eyes wandering up to the holographic dome ceiling above them as she thought. The simulated cloudless sky had turned a dusky pink and orange as the fake sun set into the fake ocean, washing them in a soft, rosy light. She was half tempted to lie just to make herself sound more interesting - circumstances had kept her grounded and busy most of her life and she couldn't think of anything that interesting to share in the slightest.

"I guess I'll just start with some basics. I'm an only child, my mother raised me herself for most of my teens," Vida hoped she successfully kept the grimace off her face at the mention of her mother. "I didn't graduate high school, but I had been top of my class during what time I attended. And I never learned how to swim so I'm a little nervous about the beach." She waved a hand at the scenery around them with a laugh, then dropped it with a small grimace. "I'm sorry, those really weren't fun, were they? I think I've had a pretty bland life thus far." She hoped her match wasn't disappointed. From what she'd heard so far both their backgrounds and present lives seemed to oppose each other. High school drop out versus college genius, successful CEO who has been deep sea diving versus weeknight bartender who has never even seen the ocean. It made her heart twinge a little in embarrassment, but they had to have been matched for a reason. From what she'd heard, Affinity was almost never wrong.
 
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CARLOS WESSON
He'd laugh. Normally. At the confusion. Poor man was expecting someone else. Who the fuck wouldn't. Carlos wasn't blind. The fact they didn't shout fuck the police into his face didn't mean he couldn't see it in their eyes. It bothered him but not to the point where it would become a problem. Guess it would be now.

But man's gaze wasn't like those judging eyes. It switched from fright to equally genuine confusion, then concern. Was Carlos injured? He was. Headache was setting in after those rounds to the helmet, swelling cheek, untreated burns on his neck, one sleeve ripped off beneath titanium skeleton, forearm bandaged.

But his answer would be no. Because all that was just a mark of another day on the job. If not for his brother's blood sprinkled across white cotton, splattered against his chest, still staining his dark metal covered hands.

Carlos idly watched the other approach. He glanced down at man's touch, then at the chair. The commanding tone a cue for the scrambled brain to follow. So he took a seat and his rigid posture finally slumped with fatigue.

His mouth twitched into a weak smile. "A doctor huh. Lucky me."

But the question resounded in his skull, tightening his chest. He stared into man's eyes with true pain shining in his. Was Carlos hurt? Yeah, he was fucking bleeding. Deep in his chest, behind sternum.

His gaze sunk down to his hands, staring, visibly out of it. "It's not my blood."


THE COP
 
"That's the point. I wanted go try and see what's down there. Didn't see anything that unusal" Stephen chuckled lightly seeing Vida relaxing a bit. Goal achieved in his mind. He looked to the smoothie drinking a little bit of it. The strawberry was too sweet in his mind. He preferred a green smoothie if he had the choice. Though watching her think for a moment he soaked in her natural beauty again as he sat back once he finished drinking.

He listened to Vidas facts, they did seem to be as light hearted as his. He guessed she was quicker to open up it seemed. "Well I could teach you to swim. Help you get some fun travel stories. I'm all about seeing the world with that special someone" he said trying to rely on his charm.

Maybe that's what he needed someone who hadn't had similar experiences as him so they could bond over them together? His former wife never seemed impressed by the things he came up for them to do.

"I'm sure there's a thing or two you can show me too" he grinned. He wasn't worried about his confidence being perceived as cockiness. "If you could do anything what would you want to try? Maybe I can plan for that to be our first real date. Not one set up by the government."
 
Vix was only alone in the first date room for a few more moments, but that was more than enough. Out of habit, he scanned the room, gaze lingering on corners for any concealed cameras. They were certainly being watched, but maybe if he was fast enough, he would be able to quickly scarf something down. It wasn’t like he had to follow that moronic act when there was no one around, so maybe if he stood at the right angle, he’d be able to keep his true desires a secret. Two years since he’d even seen something as well-made as the sushi on the table, and he even removed his cleaning glove from one hand to reach out ever so slowly and-

The other door opens in a loud swoosh, and Vix whipped around just in time to avoid breaking his self-imposed dietary vow. A close one, he scolded himself. Months of work would have gone down the drain if he would’ve shown any faults in his facade. If anything, he should be grateful to the blonde stranger who walked through and sat themselves down at the table, but the former chemist couldn’t help but scowl.

Sure, it wasn’t this person’s fault that he’d lost his only chance at eating actual food again and not just plant or animal based paste, but sometimes innocent civilians got caught in the crossfire.

As the blonde spoke to him, Vix opened his mouth to greet or perhaps sneer, but the words caught in his throat. He couldn’t explain it exactly, but it was almost as if his match was caught up in their own little world, talking to themselves more than they were talking to him. Not bothering to address the other’s fumbling attempts to relate to him, the man merely narrowed his eyes, tugging both rubber gloves snugly back onto his hands. Who exactly had they matched him with?

This person was too insecure of themselves to be a trained spy or operative. It was difficult to fake a voice quiver like the one this match had, but Vix supposed that it could be nerve-wracking to serve a corrupt and negligent employer. Even if they weren’t part of the formal state, Vix’s match seemed to be of the upper echelons. Clean complexion, healthy glow, the way they clearly consumed the squid as if they’d done it a thousand times before.

Vix had a feeling this person wouldn’t last a day in the foodbank. Hell, most people from his former life wouldn’t, and even though they’d never met, the green-haired cynicist could have sworn he’d seen the type countless times over. For a moment, he thought about responding in the way he would have back in those days- shameless brown-nosing, curt exIts. But he’d written his profile a certain way, and he wasn’t really that guy anymore.

“You look clean,” he began, voice even and arms crossed. “Too clean. You ever worked a day in your life? If my clothing isn’t as flashy as it should be for ‘our life’, it’s not meant to be. I’ve just come from helping people, real people.” People he honestly couldn’t stand. “Where’d you wander in from?”
 
Screenshot_20221025_090218_com.android.gallery3d.png


Chad Burton

"Thanks, sweetie."

The glass tablet looked fragile in his strong hands. Index finger drawing a quick "C" and two vertical lines, all marked by a horizontal one going across them. His gray eyes keen like a wolf as he caught girl's face while she was checking him out. Her flushed cheeks tugging his up with a crooked smirk.

"You got my number." He joked. Or not. Whoever he was going to meet now was better cool with his open relationship lifestyle. Was it even legal? Not like they would lock him up for banging a flight attendant or something right?

Chad strutted toward the empty waiting room. He was a few minutes late.

"Sir!" The sound of high heels knocking quick against the ground made him slow down. The girl caught up to him. "There's been a mistake." She explained in way too many words, showing him his match on the tablet.

The guy smiled with a spark of interest in his eyes. "Don't worry, sweetie. Go back and look pretty. I got this." Affinity and her error proof software? What a joke. He eagerly approached the right door and swung it open, thrusting his 6'4, gym carved body into the room.

"The fuck." His gaze dragged down Vivian's figure like an x-ray before skipping to Vixtor. "You hitting on my fiance, greeny?!" He swaggered at the other as if he was ready to throw a punch.

Hefty arm swung at Vixtor but not with violence. Chad threw it over shorter man's shoulders and forcefully pulled him in, prompting to walk toward the exit.

"Affinity summons you to the get-the-fuck-out room."

 
Last edited:
Vivian’s face drops the moment their counterpart begins talking down to them. Their barely-painted on grin fades to a wide-eyed sneer as the claws of social rejection come immediately barreling out of the mouth of someone she’s meant to spend her life with- Typical, she figures. Her manner of being has always succeeded in putting others off, regardless of their disposition. It is better, she figures, to know this pain with immediacy than with delay.

“You know, it’s funny you ask that, actually.” She reverts into a bizarrely cocky grin; The sting of rejection peels away her jittering and gives way to a twang that nearly rings rural, but is too far on the edge of her dialect to determine assuredly as being any accent. “You see I have a chronic pain condition, and just the journey here took quite a toll on me. My body can barely support me and my brain can barely support the three books I have to write by the end of this year so that depressed people can have something to look forward to.” Depressed people she did not purport to like. “So yes, I DO work very hard. Forgive ME,” She spits, “If I can only afford to help myself and the miserable people who enjoy my content.”

Just as she finishes her words and picks up her wine, she has the pleasure of watching a modern barbarian extricate this problem from her life instantaneously. Though his aggression and suspected lack of intellect immediately puts them off, for once, they actually cannot help but be swooned by this stranger who is saving them from this green-haired snot who’d managed to rip open her insecurities within seconds of meeting.

They, indeed, smile. “Oh, I’ve seen there’s been a mistake.” They sip their drink deliciously and drag their grin into a sneer. They are suddenly speaking with the clarity and fluency of a radio host auctioneer. “Doesn’t surprise me; Had a feeling that wouldn’t work out. Let’s hope they match you with someone who shares your ‘values’, yeah?”

Vivian slurps her wine and stares Chad up and down. Though she swore to herself she would not buy into this constructed love algorithm, she was impressed that the only situation in which she could develop the tiniest crush has manifested in front of her.
 
Hank knelt. Unthreatening. The twinge of pain through his knee ignored. "It's okay." It wasn't, he could read that on the young man's face. His eyes, wide and dark. Pupils normal for the low light, but features creased deep by an emotion that could not be masked. Pain. Grief. "You're okay." Low and level, spoke with learned self assurance. He knew what he was doing. The man could trust that he knew what he was doing. His touch steady as he took the officers hand in his and turned it. The pad of middle and pointer finding tender pulse point in his wrist with practiced ease.

The officer's heart-beat was even. Normal. No racing pulse. His breathing, steady. PNS and autonomic function regular. Sympatho-adrenal response deactivated, meaning the danger was over. Cortisol, stress, taking the place of epinephrine in his bloodstream. Hank wouldn't be surprised if he started to shiver in the next minute or two.

It settled his own heart. The officer's metal-framed hand released, Hank took the pink, fruity looking cocktail from the table. The glass, cold and sweating. "Drink this. The sugar 'll help."

If the blood wasn't his, whose was it? Hank could take an educated guess that they were dead. This amount of it? On someone else? Hinted at catastrophic trauma. His even gaze focused on the officers face above him. "Your neck needs treating. You should go to a hospital." Lightly touching the collar of his shirt, where fibers had melted into his skin. Whatever had happened, Affinity was not a trauma center. Why was a battered LEO in an exo busting in on his blind date? "What are you doing here?"

Pierce
Hank


Hank knelt. Unthreatening. The twinge of pain through his knee ignored. "It's okay." It wasn't, he could read that on the young man's face. His eyes, wide and dark. Pupils normal for the low light, but features creased deep by an emotion that could not be masked. Pain. Grief. "You're okay." Low and level, spoke with learned self assurance. He knew what he was doing. The man could trust that he knew what he was doing. His touch steady as he took the officers hand in his and turned it. The pad of middle and pointer finding tender pulse point in his wrist with practiced ease.

The officer's heart-beat was even. Normal. No racing pulse. His breathing, steady. PNS and autonomic function regular. Sympatho-adrenal response deactivated, meaning the danger was over. Cortisol, stress, taking the place of epinephrine in his bloodstream. Hank wouldn't be surprised if he started to shiver in the next minute or two.

It settled his own heart. The officer's metal-framed hand released, Hank took the pink, fruity looking cocktail from the table. The glass, cold and sweating. "Drink this. The sugar 'll help."

If the blood wasn't his, whose was it? Hank could take an educated guess that they were dead. This amount of it? On someone else? Hinted at catastrophic trauma. His even gaze focused on the officers face above him. "Your neck needs treating. You should go to a hospital." Lightly touching the collar of his shirt, where fibers had melted into his skin. Whatever had happened, Affinity was not a trauma center. Why was a battered LEO in an exo busting in on his blind date? "What are you doing here?"
coded by reveriee.
 
Vida's face lit up. "Having you teach me how to swim would be embarrassing as all hell, but honestly I'll take you up on that." She laughed. It really was a shame that they lived so close to the ocean and yet she had been too nervous - and busy - most of her life to really go. She'd been too timid as a child to learn how to swim and there weren't any opportunities for her to learn as she got older.

"Truthfully, I have always wanted to go snorkeling or swim with dolphins, both things that I wouldn't be able to do without floaties at the moment and that would be mortifying." She grinned at Stephen, amusing herself at the thought. "So not really good first date ideas since I need to get the not-drowning-without-help part down first. But I want to try everything I can - except maybe deep sea diving - before my time is up in this life. If you need an adventure buddy then Affinity matched you right."

Vida had always wanted to see the world but had figured it was something that wasn't in the cards for her for reasons that were too heavy for her to want to think about right now. Maybe with Stephen she'd finally get that chance. The man wasn't what she had expected for her match, although honestly she wasn't sure what she had expected in the first place. She had expected to be disappointed, she knew that much, but so far Stephen seemed pretty normal and kind. Well, as normal as a wealthy CEO who's been deep sea diving can be. She tried not to let that little flame of hope light up in her chest at what their life together could be. This was only the first date, and she knew that he couldn't be as perfect as the image he was presenting to her now seemed. Still, her heart felt lighter than it had in a while, like a weight had been lifted.
 
CARLOS WESSON
His body felt equally on edge and numb. The reassuring words just that, nothing more. Nothing magical that could lift the weight of the terrible day off his shoulders. Yet he welcomed them, always feeding on the kindness he was spreading himself. And now he really needed that fuel.

Watching the doctor's actions his pained expression softened just a little, body relaxed like it couldn't stay braced anymore. His future spouse acting like a medical professional more than a romantic partner was oddly cute. Even though the whole situation was too surreal to fully grasp on while his brain did half the leg work.

Obediently slurping on the overly sweet drink Carlos hoped he wouldn't feel sick again and barf pink all over the floor and the kneeling man. He tried to block the flashbacks adjacent to the thought.

Right, his neck. The officer stopped drinking when the smell of scorched flesh he held in his arms just hours ago hit him. Locked in the memory he was taken off guard by the question. His lips parted. Then an almost apologetic smile pulled on the side of his mouth.

"I take it I'm not your type."

Subtle alert pulsed a glowing light in the corner of their vision. Hologram signaling they had five minutes left. Wesson looked back to the doctor, at a loss for words. Usually he'd have a bunch of puns to throw. Something flirty to serve. Now all he had was…

"I'm your future husband, doctor." Taking his metal wrapped palm off the moist glass he mindlessly offered it to the other. "Carlos Wesson."


THE COP
 
Stephen shook his head "not embarrassing unless you make it that way." He enjoyed swimming as something to do. So he wanted his future spouse to be able to do so. There was part of him which did judge Vida for not knowing but he had to make good first impressions.

"Swimming with dolphins, haven't had the chance to do that but definitely can make it happen eventually" He grinned pushing the smoothie back to her. "Maybe our next date can be going to a museum if you're into that type of thing." He suggested, as he spoke he opted to go for some wine just wanting the taste of alcohol over the sickeningly sweet smoothie. "I'm excited to see what adventures we take" he said after sipping some wine. His tongue running over his lips softly.

Stephen put his glass down looking to her "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." He smiled hoping maybe she'd share what she liked about him so far. He hoped he was playing his cards right that he'd earn a kiss by the end of this date. Even if they just met he had no problem sharing a kiss.
 
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