Neon Rush {M/M} ❀

Ch. 3.1 Too Squishy for Prison

On Zef's first day of work, there are army vehicles and cop cars parked outside Bionic Capital HQ.

He can't miss his first day, and it's not likely they're here for him, but still. After a night of fleeing pigs, flashing blue and red lights get a Pavlovian response of perspiration and mounting blood pressure.

The elevator takes him up to an office in chaos. Nobody occupies their desks, instead backed against the wall like rows of starlings on hydrolines. They watch as soldiers, a cop, and a couple people in snappy suits that cost as much as Zef's annual salary root through desk drawers and scan computer data. A soldier goes through the crowd of employees, demanding they relinquish their biometrics. His uniform is crisp, Bionic Capital blue.

Despite no evidence this has anything to do with Zef's instincts cream, Run. Get out.

Beside him, a person in a soft, yellow hijab eyes him with suspicion. "Who are— Oh, wait. Are you the new guy?"

According to Zef's implant scans, their pronouns are they/them. He feels a brief flicker of solidarity finding another trans person in the office, but it's quashed by the soldier advancing through their ranks.

"Yeah, just started," Zef says.

"Ah, I'm meant to give you the tour but—" they click their tongue, jerking their head towards the investigation in progress. They've got wide, expressive brown eyes. A delicate nose piercing. A fancy moustache with curly ends. Lines of gold gild run from the corner of each eye into their hijab. The implant is like Zef's, only brand name, not homebrewed. "Someone pissed somebody off, so the company soldiers have been let loose. Give it a minute. What's your name?"

"Zef."

"Naveen. Or just Nav." They speak in a whisper as the soldier approaches.

The soldier sports an intimidating amount of gild, with body armour up to his chin. He takes Nav's hand, palm up, and holds the scanner over it. Lord only knows what data they're taking. Biometrics, sure, but what else? Grocery lists, GPS coordinates of past locations, phonebook contacts—

Zef's breath freezes in his lungs. He remembers Gray's fingers leaving a touch like a scar against his bare inner wrist. He remembers their flight through the sub-city, the drone of air vehicles in pursuit, escaping by the use of Zef's own nav system.

The thing about tech this convenient? You pay a price for it in privacy. The tech knew where he'd gone, who he was with.

That meant soldiers could find out, too.

He could delete Gray from his contacts, but it would be pointless. A toddler could recover deleted data. No, he'd have to scrub it, fresh install, but that took time and right now—

He takes a breath. They're Bionic Capital soldiers. Employed by the company to defend it against competitor attacks and subterfuge. It's nonsensical to worry they're here about a stolen car. Zef's association with CyberSuite is so loose; his dad worked for them years ago, and he was just a soldier. Nobody important.

Zef's inner monologue is still a long string of fuck shit rotten testicle goddamn as he holds out his wrist, though. What else can he do? Give it legs? He's not a sprinter. Built for endurance. Would get winded halfway to the elevator.

The soldier scans his hand, squinting at the data on it. "You work here?"

"Just started," Zef confirms.

"You're not coming up as an employee."

"He won't be in the system yet." Nav, bless their soul, speaks up on Zef's behalf. "I'll be the one inputting his data once we go through the tour."