SECTION III: The Law of Causality

  ———xxx——-

  The morning was greeted with a weekly announcement echoing on the speakers: "Remember, survivours. Everything is for the sake of humanity. All for the sake of humanity."

  In the Center, humans lived peacefully knowing the military strength—comprised of Espers and Guides without choice—would protect them. It was only natural that the strong protected the weak, even at the sacrifice of their own lives.

  Sure, rebellion stewed in the street's depths. The other week, a fire had been set to three of the speakers, and the accused culprits had been dragged out of their homes and beaten half to death.

  Everything retained its natural order.

  Their shared bed had long become familiar, against Ian's will.

  He could toss the blankets, scrub the familiarity away, and rearrange it anew nightly, but it didn't change the shape of the body that lay beside him, the chill of the Esper's skin that sparked across Ian's body, like a fire taking flight.

  Following a routine, one Ian both loathed and anticipated, Victor pressed open Ian's hands as he crouched on the bed, dazed, and slotted a ceramic mug between his fingers.

  The heat seeped into him.

  It was tea. A tea made of lord knows what herbs, scraped beyond the barrier, when the old world's plants seldom grew. But it eased him, deluded him into thinking Victor provided warmth, and not an unsettling cold.

  Victor bent, his golden hair loose over razor-sharp eyes, making him appear younger. He was young, younger than Ian, though the sweep of his hair and his mocking smile made him appear every bit of the bastard he was.

  Fingers glided past Ian's cheek, purposely lingering, as the muzzle loosened, the latch unclasped with a click. Victor retrieved it, setting it by the orange pulse of the lamp on the bedside table.

  He removed it every night, as if granting Ian a semblance of control, when all he remained was entertainment to Victor's fleeting amusements.

  But for now, he wouldn't resist.

  Not Victor, nor the Center, which claimed control over his powers.

  Powers that didn't manifest.

  The burning simmered like an ache plaguing his heart, and sometimes it stirred. Yet when he coaxed it to rise, it would sizzle away disobediently.

  Then, the sheets rustled as Victor reclined against the headboard, lazily looping an arm around Ian's waist to drag him closer, until he pressed against the Esper's raised knee. Ian, by habit, didn't resist.

  He leaned into the pronounced leg, drawing one leg up as he cupped the mug.

  He glanced sideways, lifting his brows. "What? If you're poking for a guiding, I'm not in the mood."

  Fingers tapped against his waist, drifting to strum against his hip bone. He could feel their impression through the thin cloth of his shirt and swallowed.

  "I'm always in dire need," mused Victor lowly, stretching past Ian to tap his own mug to the table as the crisp sound of ceramic cut across the night. "But I don't engage in non-consensual acts. I'd prefer your begging."

  "And I'd prefer you to stop dreaming, but we can't all have what we want."

  He resigned to this intimacy now burrowed into his bones, into habit and time—but there was a sense of helplessness that came in not being able to read the Esper.

  Wondering about what they were and how Victor felt was a useless thought.

  Because for now, he still needed that Esper.

  "What're you thinking?" murmured Victor. Was it an illusion of midnight that his voice almost sounded softer—genuine, when he lacked such a thing?

  He averted his eyes, settling on the rich, steaming liquid in his hands. "The two survivours of that Rift that killed my sister—arrange a way for me to meet them."

  "You'll interrogate them?"

  "I want to know the truth."

  "Even if you've ascertained their fate, regardless?" A cold mocking twisted the corners of Victor's lips, a mirth in his chilling voice. "But I am at your command, Guide. Killing them can only be done somewhere unpredictable, for there are many eyes on them."

  "There's an emergence of unpredictable Rifts. It's no longer a surprise if one or two die."

  A pause, and Victor tugged Ian even closer, so his back pressed against the man's shoulders. He slipped his long fingers between Ian's, tracing the grooves of his knuckles.

  An itching, lingering touch.

  "You've been keeping poor company that only feeds you gossip."

  "It's better than a company that only speaks in riddles," sneered Ian as he curled his fingers, only for them to be smoothened flat by the Esper's insistent touches.

  By the bedside, a pot of wilting, pink flowers swayed, shriveled petals collecting on the table. His gaze strayed to it. Sylvan had stormed in, insisting on adding colour to wash away the edginess of the room, which came from Victor being the embodiment of misery.

  Sylvan's words, not Ian's. Although he agreed.

  Ian might be pathetic and hateful—in fact, hating brought him joy. But Victor was born, trashed, and then plucked unwashed into the person he was today.

  The flowers, despite Sylvan's occasional care, wisely knew the nature of the Esper and wilted, unable to endure life, locked in a room and watered full.

  Victor followed his gaze. "They're not meant to live here. Wilting is inevitable."

  Ian propped a leg up with a scoff as the wandering hands fiddled with his growing hair. "I know." He thought of that garden that Ares had shown him, chuckling mockingly. "Everything in these walls is artificial, and who's to say we aren't?"

  Victor's fingers traced over Ian's nails, taking them with a scientific scrutiny, like a mechanic examining a curious product. His pale gaze dissected every groove, every cell woven to make Ian.

  Then, their fingers were suddenly intertwined tightly, and a spark flowed as Ian's guiding automatically jolted. He grimaced, tugging uselessly as the Esper held with an iron grip.

  "68% compatibility, Guide."

  The tests had arrived a few days prior, though Victor pocketed the letter.

  Ian laboredly glanced sideways, speaking in a tired, drab tone. "Amazing. My heart's really thudding at that wonderfully dull and average score."

  He'd wanted to cheat, but Victor possessed a childish insistence that Ian decided he didn't want to know the consequences of. If he had to deal with this bastard's tantrum, he would personally return him to the disposal bin.

  The hands holding his squeezed even tighter, as if trying to crush his bones. Or, thought Ian oddly, trying to merge directly into his flesh using sheer force.

  Again, Ian couldn't read him. But they weren't lovers, or even friends, so what did he expect?

  "My highest matching rate is 49%," remarked the Esper.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  "Looks like even biology knows that you're incompatible with everybody."

  "Over 50% is a passing grade, isn't it? More than that."

  Ian yawned. "More like the world telling you to hurry up and be eaten by the Infection already. With your unstable energy, you'd need a 100% match to calm that mess."

  A hum, and then that infuriating smile. "I could let you eat me."

  Ian grimaced, trying to yank away again. "I'm not interested in food poisoning."

  "Am I a poison to you, Guide?"

  The severe blue gaze fixed on him, and Ian's free hand twitched. Then, he leaned closer, eyes dark and etched in venom. "No. You're like that stomach-curdling dump that refuses to come out—"

  Victor squeezed his fingers, and Ian hissed irritably. "You're not a child. Can't handle some bathroom talk?"

  "If it's bedroom talk, I can think of plenty of other things to say." Victor's smile was thin, an eerie line always tilted up, like a habit. A mask. "Through history, civilizations have risen and fallen. Illness sweeps away countries, and wars end countless lives. I'm not resisting the Infection, Ian."

  There was something perfectly inhumane that molded his face, a robot forced to life. Ian was certain that if he scraped away some skin, metal would gleam underneath.

  It was always there, quiet, that monstrous indifference.

  Ian feared it was contagious.

  Why fear illness?" Victor's voice hummed against Ian's ears. "If it's part of nature?"

  Ian twisted, finally yanking away his hand. "Part of nature? Your brain degenerates every time you open your mouth, you know that? The Infection is clearly taking effect."

  He swatted Victor's knee down to roll onto the other side, placing his lukewarm tea away. When he slid off his socks, the Esper's voice carved against his spine.

  "Espers and Guides are already Infected—in resisting it, aren't we stagnating evolution?"

  Ian stilled. "What?"

  Victor chuckled without a change in his expression, tipping his cold tea to his lips as his frosted eyes peered over the rim. A vein ticked on Ian's jaw. He swept his legs over Victor's hips and slammed a palm against the headboard.

  "Put that down."

  Victor reached out and returned the cup.

  "Now answer me, dammit."

  When Victor tilted his sharp chin, wayward hands slipping under the hem of his shirt until chilled fingers pressed into his skin, Ian furrowed his brows.

  But Victor stopped, resting his hand there quietly. "The failure to determine the grades of recent Rifts is telling of our stagnating research. Our current rate of growth has dramatically fallen behind. Nature is growing faster than we can keep up."

  Ian frowned. "That's ridiculous. The Base preaches all this nonsense—"

  "Their research is foolishly contained. The study of cores has allowed them to mimic a magnetic barrier to prevent flying beasts, but the study of Guides and their blood is lacking. Maybe they'll succeed in making a stabilizer for Espers—if they last long enough to receive it."

  Their breaths synchronized. In the evenings, when Victor gathered him close under the blanket of night, Ian listened to that thumping heart.

  A living, human heart.

  Habit, Ian remembered once more, was a terrifying prison.

  "There will come a day that humanity ceases."

  Such a thought wasn't one anybody dared to imagine—the utter extinction of humankind. Ian's thoughts had always been a one-way track.

  The Base was corrupt—he knew that.

  But if it was the Base that catalyzed humanity's extinction, what should he say? Think? He remembered the Alliance, then. What world did they hope to shape after upturning the Base?

  Then, he felt anger.

  Guides endured countless experiments, stripped into expendables that provided fuel to humanity's best weapons: Espers. All for the sake of humanity, and yet all those sacrifices did nothing but ensure humanity's eventual destruction?

  While regular humans remained cushioned, some enjoyed countless luxuries, drawing experiments from Guides. Somebody had to take the fall, the derogatory label to deem them lesser.

  Humanity insisted on hierarchies, even if they were built on lies.

  Remember Ian. Remember death.

  All for the sake of humanity's survival.

  The base's motto rang in his ears once again, a cruel mocking, burned to memory.

  Remember to live.

  Shadows drew against Victor's face, making the sharp lines rigid, colder. Ian swallowed, scrunching the blankets into his fist. "What do you want me to do with that knowledge? Throw a tantrum?"

  And he wanted to, he knew. He wanted to see it all burn, but that would be a terribly cruel thing to do. So he directed all his resentment and frustrations toward vengeance.

  Perhaps it was a way of blindfolding himself.

  "I'm only educating you, sheltered Guide." Victor reached for the light, and it clicked, plunging them into darkness as the glass window overlooking the Center shuttered, veiled in a black screen. "Tomorrow, we'll enter an A-rank Rift, as you've requested. Can you survive in?"

  "I'll survive," gritted Ian.

  There was nothing he was better at, these days. Just surviving.

  Surviving with rage renewed in his heart and a coiling resentment, fanned by Victor's words. Provoked and stirred. Oh, Ian loathed that man and his twisted views, his hollow view that scrutinized the world and drew all cruel truths to surface.

  His vengeance. It grounded him, gave him purpose. But in relying on that motivation, he knew it made him twisted, broken. Cruel.

  It made him like Victor.

  ——+++——

  They sat in silence on the shaking seats of the train, worn and empty. Most kept to themselves, retreating to corners. Victor had organized the group somehow, and Ian didn't ask.

  What was the point in curiosity when the other wouldn't answer?

  Once more, they approached the outside gates where a group of five waited. The tallest man smiled, waving, and Ian rubbed his dry throat.

  "Hey! Ian and Victor, right?" The Esper grinned, with a neat row of teeth and a charming smile. "I didn't imagine I'd get an opportunity to work with the duo that's been taking the Center by storm."

  Victor said nothing, and Ian nodded. But the Esper remained undeterred by their quiet, cocking his head that was covered in a bed of chestnut curls. "You might know already, but I'm Ryan. This is Oliver, my partner."

  Oliver, short and lively, flushed and nodded his head like a chicken. He beamed. "Nice to meet you." Shyly, he shuttled closer to Ryan and clutched the man's sleeve.

  Ian decided he didn't like him. Why? Just because.

  He turned to the last woman, who yawned lazily against the vehicle with one hand shoved in a brown coat. Upon his gaze, her hazel eyes, speckled with greens and yellows, sliced to him.

  A white, skeletal mask settled over her nose, shaping a sharp beak.

  Ian stepped toward her. "Your name?"

  "You haven't given yours, Mutt." She tapped her ears, mimicking the straps where Ian's muzzle was strapped. Scars criss-crossed over her hands, leaving not a single space spared.

  Ian's fingers brushed over the smooth leather, and he scoffed. "Your ears seem to work, Bird Beak."

  Her eye twitched. "Don't call me that."

  "Unfortunately, I'm limited in things to call you."

  She snorted, pressing off the vehicle to take a step closer. For a second, she seemed to take him to pieces in her hardened gaze. "You don't think it's unfortunate."

  Ian smiled faintly, lifting his chin. "I don't give a damn. If you want to pocket your name, go ahead." He passed her and wrenched the back door of the armored truck open, climbing inside. "When you're done killing time, feel free to come inside."

  Ryan peered over and pulled Oliver along by the hand. He swung the keys around his finger and slid into the driver's seat.

  While the rest crammed into the back, Oliver claimed the glorious shotgun position, and Ian tucked beside a bulging bag and the front seat.

  He indulged in zoning out as they rumbled past the desert front.

  All the killing had left the surroundings a barren land, marking the Base as an inconspicuous ground. They carved a space out of the apocalypse to settle, insistent on shaping themselves away from the changing world.

  A body calmly settled beside him, as if he were an attached limb. Ian glanced sideways at the silent Esper, who almost looked cute when he shut his mouth.

  Then, he turned to the front mirror, meeting Ryan's gaze. The other coughed.

  "Hey, has anybody told you that you're pretty good-looking?" Ryan spun the wheel, jerking as the scenery changed into foliage, draping across the reinforced glass. "I'm guessing you're pretty used to the Rifts, aren't you?"

  Ryan Alexander.

  One of two who knew the details of the Rift that led to his sister's decline. The information was sealed up, but after, she'd been reported and forced to endure 'punishments' by that woman.

  His nails drove into his thigh before a hand wordlessly pried it away, and slotted their long, angled fingers into his. Ian stilled as Victor brought their interlocked hands to his lap. But the Esper showed no reaction, as if he hadn't known what he'd done.

  "Ian? Sorry, are you trying to sleep?" Ryan peeked up again.

  Ian snapped back to attention.

  Ryan was flirtatious and friendly, but indulged in pleasures often. Ian wished he'd been more terrible, or held a sneer to his lips. He wished Ryan could be a villain who somehow made his killing just.

  But then Ian recalled those three scientists who believed they worked towards humanity's future.

  Who could say?

  "I'm not." Ian attempted to jerk his hand away, but imprisoned in the other's vice, he could do nothing but click his tongue. "I've been in several A-Ranked lately, so this shouldn't be a problem."

  Ryan laughed brightly, his lips tugging with tease. "Both confident and handsome, aren't you the killer combination?"

  "Macabre." Victor suddenly spoke, sweeping his chilling gaze through the air as the temperature plummeted, submerged in frost. His grip tightened, almost painful. He smiled. "A writer once associated that word with me."

  The car twisted over a bump, and the entire vehicle trembled.

  "Oh?" Ryan peered over, gripping the wheel as his smile strained. "What does it mean?"

  "Something strange and unpleasant associated with death or violence."

  The wheels screeched as Ryan slammed on the brakes, color leaving his cheeks. He gasped and squeezed out a smile. "We're here. Let's take a look."

  He fled the vehicle with Oliver in tow, but across them, the woman's eyes slowly cracked open. She sneered, venom dripping from her gaze. A hatred so vile, it couldn't have been directed at Ian.

  Ian twisted, but Victor only smiled, that similar flat, chilling tilt of his lips.

  "Always the disturbing bastard," she spat, spinning around to leave.

  The open doors ushered them into an endless field of delicate white flowers, but the two men remained silent in the dark of the truck.

  "You have many connections," remarked Ian dully. "Sometimes, I wonder where your loyalties lie."

  When he pried away, rising, a hand yanked him down. Ian's knees collided heavily with the metal ground, and he hissed, glaring.

  Victor remained undisturbed, a picture of cold perfection, of inhumane beauty. "My current loyalties are with you, puppy."

  "Current," sneered Ian. "Stop wasting time."

  "Ian."

  Ian froze in his thrashing movements. Victor's expression flattened, the smile retreating. This was his true face, one Ian saw on occasion, but rarely in public.

  "Remember your desire."

  Ian set his jaw and tore away. "You're so damn insistent. Are you lonely in your world of misery, trying to drag me down with you?"

  He shook his head and swung out the open door, but his gaze lingered backward to that lone man in the dark. He was going crazy if he thought that the other seemed lonely.

  "...I didn't come this far to hesitate now."

  He slammed the door shut.