Guest Post: Legion and Lover (3/6)

by Seuzz

Vincent knocked patiently at the bathroom door. "Ryan? Please open the door. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry."

He heard a blast of water in the sink, and guessed that Ryan was either washing his face or trying to cover the sound of his crying. "If you'll give me a chance," Vincent said, "I'll make everything okay. We'll cuddle and I'll stroke away all the -- "

The water shut off. "If you're sorry, you'll take back what you said!"

"I take it back, Ryan," Vincent said patiently.

"All of it?"

"All of it, sweetheart. Every word. Only -- "

Vincent rested his forehead on the door. How did Ryan manage to do it? How did he manage to get himself in the right and Vincent in the wrong even when it was so obviously the other way around?

He got the answer when the door opened and he lifted his head. Ryan stared at him from eyes brimming with tears. Vincent felt his heart crack.

Ryan had always had doe-like eyes. There was nothing special about their color -- brown with a hint of hazel -- but they were large and glistened every day with the laughing, innocent malice of a child. His chestnut hair drooped in a way that begged to pushed back, and held back lest it droop again. His skin was soft and smooth, unflawed by any blemish. The lips were never still -- always trembling on the edge of a smile or laugh -- and always flushed with excitement.

Vincent knew that it actually took a lot of work to keep Ryan looking like a very wise fifteen-year-old boy. The shampoos and conditioners, the moisturizers, the razors and tweezers, and more bottles and tubes and instruments that baffled Vincent. Sometimes he thought the technicians at the Company's Plastics division didn't have as many tools as Ryan, for he had the rest of his body to take care of too, right down to the cuticles of his toes.

Vincent put his hand to Ryan's cheek, and with his thumb wiped away a trickling tear. "I take it all back. I'm sorry. I was only surprised -- "

"How can you be surprised?" Ryan exclaimed, and more tears started to stream. He stepped backward into the bathroom, and probably would have shut the door again, but Vincent restrained him.

"You're the one who put the idea in my head!" Ryan shouted. "And you're not here to -- ! To -- !" He gasped back a sob. "That's why I go to the club! I sit there and I look for you, I imagine you're there, I fantasize that it's you! That might him! That's what I sit there thinking, ever since you told me you were going into your stupid Plastics job! That might be him! Or that's him! Maybe it's him over there!" Ryan started to tremble all over. "I close my eyes and I imagine it's you next to me, teasing me, driving me crazy with all your waiting to ask me if you can buy me a drink or, take me on the floor, or put your hand on me!" He hiccupped. "It's you, they're all you out there, and because you're not here I have to go out and pretend that they're you! I have to surround myself with -- ! With -- !" He broke off with a cry and buried his face in Vincent's chest. Sobs wracked his narrow shoulders.

Vincent stroked the back of his head and tried not to think the obvious question: And if you pretend they're me, do you go home with them and pretend it's me in bed with you?

* * * * *

"I thought there'd be more physical variety," Vincent said as he glanced at the photograph. "It's getting a little stale, don't you think?" He handed it back to Tito and returned to studying himself in the mirror. There was not a lot of difference, he thought, between the dark face he was wearing now and the dark face they were prepping him for.

"This one's only twenty," said Tito. "Your last one was in his fifties. Isn't that variety enough?"

"What about a nice, I don't know, Uzbek for a change?" Vincent settled himself more comfortably in the chair as the technician touched his feet, calves, thighs -- his entire body up to his neck -- with rubbing alcohol in preparation for the injections of anesthetic.

"You know it's hard enough lightening and darkening skin tones without also making a jump across races. And why'd you say 'Uzbek'?"

"Is there a reason I shouldn't? I was just picking someone as different from me as possible."

"Thought maybe you were referencing Cho. He's replacing a Kazakh on his next assignment. You didn't hear that from me, by the way," Tito added.

"No shit? No, that wasn't a reference to Cho, and I already forgot you told me." In the mirror, Vincent saw a shapely black woman stride past behind him. "Lookin' fine there, Leda Jane," he called in a lazy voice. She ignored him. "What's got into her?"

"She doesn't know you're talking to her," Tito answered. "That's not Leda Jane."

"It isn't?" Vincent tried to sit up and turn around, but the technician pushed him back down. "So who is it? Yo, what's this shit about 'no cross-racial physical changes' if you got someone else playin' in Leda Jane's territory?"

"That's Imani, she's new, officially transferring in Monday, and she's just as African as you or Leda Jane. We'll make the introductions tomorrow." Tito lowered his voice. "She's taking Leda Jane's spot on the roster on account of Leda Jane's on disability and a glide path to retirement. You also didn't hear that from me."

Vincent's eyes widened. "What happened? She alright?"

"Plasticity failure. That's why everyone got tested last week. It happens to everyone, eventually, but it snuck up on Leda Jane,  and she was in mid-sculpt for her last job before the technician realized she wasn't, uh, responding well."

Vincent paled. "Fuck. What happened?"

"Oh, they got her looking human again, more or less, and after the therapy and rehab she should get enough plasticity back to give her a final form and face. After that, the pension and social reintegration with a new identity. Won't be the one she was planning on, though," he sighed.

"How were my test results?" Vincent asked quietly.

"You know the answer to that. You wouldn't be sitting here if they weren't good. But from now on everyone gets a test before a new assignment and sculpt."

Vincent made a face as the needles started going into his legs. "Just as long as I don't wear out before I can collect on my final face."

Tito clapped him on the shoulder. "DeShawn's still in the bank waiting for you, so don't worry about that."

Vincent smiled, and closed his eyes tight as a technician reached for his genitals.

* * * * *

"You're late," Vincent snapped as he closed the hotel room door.

"Don't yell at me, baby," Ryan pouted as he brushed past Vincent. In one motion he twitched off his shirt and dropped onto the bed, arms and legs outstretched in a welcoming embrace. "I was unavoidably detained." He looked Vincent up and down hungrily. "What's this one named?"

"You couldn't pronounce it. And I shouldn't even be here," Vincent added in an undertone, and glanced back at the door.

"Unpronounceable. Mm, that makes it even more exotic." Ryan wriggled on the bed as he undid his jeans -- revealing red underwear -- and pulled out a cock that was already growing visibly turgid. "You have to let me inside this one, oh God, no more teasing me with selfies. That last one!" He closed his eyes in ecstasy and sucked on his lower lip. "And you had him all to yourself, you fucker, all to yourself, inside and out. Oh, why didn't you share him with me?" he cried.

 "For the same reason I shouldn't be sharing this one. The real guy's still out there."

"So? Wasn't -- What's his name? The one I drove out to meet in Knoxville?" Ryan shuddered, as at an unpleasant memory. "Wasn't he out there someplace, and you didn't mind -- "

"No he wasn't, Ryan. He wasn't out there, because he was dead. You understand that, don't you?" Vincent blinked a couple of times as Ryan just smiled up blandly at him. He leaned in toward his lover, whose impish smiled only widened. "I killed him, baby," Vincent said with slow emphasis. "I killed him, hid his body, and was leaving a trail for the bad guys to follow when I met up you. That's why I didn't mind being out in public with -- " He broke off in consternation at the unfailing smile Ryan was giving him. "Did you hear me?"

"Of course I heard you, I'm not deaf and I'm not stupid. You killed him, whatever his name was. That's your job, you expect me to be shocked? Oh, but that's not your job, that's just how you pay for us." Ryan reached for Vincent's neck. "Your job is to make me happy, and I won't be happy until -- " He went back to grinning.

Vincent sighed. "My point is, this here job didn't involve killing, just some quick impersonations while the real face was distracted out of town. But he's back now, so if I happen to get spotted -- "

"Oh God, you're serious, you're actually worried about what would happen if you got spotted!" Ryan laughed gleefully. "You're actually worried someone will see you and deduce that you're a -- " He gasped with laughter. "That you're a shapeshifting secret agent on a mission to -- !" Ryan continued laughing, despite Vincent's glower. "Oh, be smart, baby! If anyone saw you, they'd just think you were the regular kind of doppelganger. You know that, don't you? Or doesn't the Company know that everyone has a double? Everyone on the planet has a double, or two or three doubles." Ryan prattled. He bit his thumb and giggled. "I'd sure like to meet and fuck my doubles. I'm cute, don't you think? Oh, show me you think I'm cute!"

With a sigh and a groan of his own, Vincent crawled onto the bed and between Ryan's legs. Hands groped at vital spots, and mouths opened and tongues came out.