Isaac lay restless in bed staring at the shadows on his ceiling cast by the slivers of ambient light pouring in from between his Venetian blinds. Somehow, the warm, soft body of the boy resting on top of him did little to dispel the darkness. He was tired of living in it. Between those shades stood everything he’d become accustomed to avoiding in life—that was, everything the light touched.
Where his Dispatcher duties were concerned, he was of course quite adept at throwing on a mask and joining the others in their pointless social banter regarding the opposite sex, and he could appear tough when required to. He’d had plenty of practice after all, considering his father’s abusive tendencies. His mother, naturally, went along with it up until their divorce, at which time his father grew weary of her newly progressive attitudes picked up from a women’s book club she had joined. But she still often berated her son.
Once Isaac became aware of the laws dictating Dispatcher behavior—that he was forbidden to engage in the debauchery of a homosexual lifestyle without facing judgment and harsh scrutiny—he realized all too late that he had exchanged one prison for another. It seemed a cruel twist of irony, then, that he had enrolled in the training programme for the specific purpose of escaping the clutches of his family. Still, he was provided his own flat from the deal, and thus, a private place in which he was somewhat free to be himself. So why was he still so terrified?
“Your heart’s beating fast,” the younger boy whispered, stroking his cheek.
“What are you thinking?”
“Too much,” Isaac smirked. He pulled his lover close and planted a gentle kiss the boy’s forehead as he stroked his dark brown hair. “Don’t worry about it.”
Tomas was fourteen, two years his junior, but far from naive. He’d first caught Isaac’s eye about a month prior while on patrol in the Barreau District. Edmond thought it best to do security sweeps around the canal and check up on the orphanage now and again, so Isaac always volunteered. If anything, it seemed a good excuse to lay eyes on that beautiful boy. He’d been stealing food from a corner convenience store when they’d first met, and that sly smile offset with sky blue eyes was all Isaac needed to look the other way. Both of them in that moment knew what the other desired.
When Isaac’s squad would split up to survey separate streets, Tomas would sneak out and pull him into a secluded alley where they’d have sex. At first, the young Dispatcher feared he might be taking some sort of advantage of the orphan boy, though it soon became abundantly clear who was in control. Tomas had far more sexual experience than him, and while he favored submission, he knew exactly what he wanted and could turn eerily dominant at times, tinkering with Isaac’s phase unit to use it in ways that made one blush.
But considering the recent attack on the city wall and General Rodin’s demand that security be increased surrounding the Barreau blocks, Isaac began to fear the very real possibility of getting caught. To that end, he had provided Tomas with his home address. It seemed to be a good solution at the time, although in retrospect, it had the potential to make things so much worse. Edmond was the only friend on the force he trusted enough to confide in regarding his activities. And while he was certain nothing would happen to Tomas—debauchery was overlooked among the lower classes of society—Isaac could go to prison for it if any of his fellow peers in the building found out.
“You really should relax more,” Tomas grinned, kissing Isaac’s tender neck.
“I’m sorry, I can’t.”
“Would you like to fuck me again?” The boy sat up, straddling his waist and started running his hands over the Dispatcher’s chest. “No? Not even if I nibble your ear?”
“Stop that!” Isaac giggled.
“Mmm, I have an idea,” the boy said, climbing off of him. He grabbed a silk bathrobe from the lounge chair and draped it over his slender, naked frame before lighting up a cigarette. “Turn over on your stomach.”
“What are you going to do?
“Just trust me.” Tomas handed him the cigarette and grabbed his phase unit from off the nightstand.
“You realize, sir, that you are breaking the law,” Issac said in his official voice. “I’m afraid I’ll have to take you down to the precinct for questioning.”
“Shut up and do as you’re told.”
“Fine,” the Dispatcher smiled, setting the cigarette on the edge of the ashtray. He rolled over to face the wall and heard a slight electric snap as Tomas powered on the phase unit to its lowest setting.
“Don’t be scared, I’m not going to hurt you much.”
“That’s not what I’m scared of.” Isaac suddenly found himself whimpering and felt stupid for it. As a Dispatcher, he’d grown accustomed to setting his feelings aside because the job required it. But hiding in the narrow shadows between so many slivers of light had become exhausting.
“What’s wrong? Talk to me,” Tomas said with empathy in his voice. “Please.” He put down the phase unit and threw off the robe, crawling back into bed under the sheets. Isaac shifted onto his side and pulled the boy close to kiss him deeply. Tears were flooding his eyes.
“If I’d had a better choice, I would never have joined the Dispatchers. But it was the only thing I could think of to get away from my parents. And then I met you, and it was the warmest, brightest moment of my entire life. My job led me to you. I’ll never regret it. You have nothing to fear about being who you are,” he said, stroking Tomas’s cheek. “But for me, my career could be over. I’m just afraid of losing the only good thing I have left in this life.”
“Don’t talk like that. You’ll never get rid of me, I promise,” the boy smiled. He kissed Isaac as he climbed on top of him again, and the Dispatcher squeezed his buttocks. “Now fuck me again before I have to-”
They were interrupted by a loud bang as the door to Isaac’s flat suddenly burst wide open. A tall, dark-featured older man clad in a black suit stormed in with a squad of four Dispatchers, all of whom wore face masks and had their phase units drawn and ready to fire. Tomas shrieked and backed away behind Isaac, who pulled the covers up over them. The young Dispatcher shook with fear. His thudding heart dropped to his stomach. A wave of panic overtook him. Cold sweat followed. His erection died. This was it. It was finally happening. He didn’t know how, he didn’t know when they’d found out, but somehow they had. A thousand questions swarmed his mind. How long had they known? What was going to happen? He would go to prison for this tryst, he knew that much. But what about Tomas? No time to think. No time to act. The only thing either of them could do was lie there in shame with those thin sheets covering what little remained of their dignity. Isaac shut his eyes and prayed for the best. It was over.
“Well well, what have we here?” the tall man bellowed. “Seems we’ve caught the young lieutenant and his secret lover in the act of homosexual debauchery.”
“No please, you don’t understand!” Isaac cried. “This isn’t what it-”
“Looks like?” the devil laughed. “Oh, I think it’s pretty clear to the rest of us. Seize them, boys!”
“Leave him alone!” Tomas protested.
“No, please! You can’t! STOP!” Isaac shouted as two of the squad members forcibly dragged him from the mattress and shoved him to his knees. The other two pulled Tomas out by his arms as he tried to wrestle them away, until they dislocated his shoulder and stunned him with an electrical pulse. The boy screamed as one of them yanked him off the bed by his hair and threw him hard onto the floor at the end of the bed like a rag doll, where they held him down to cuff him. Isaac’s heart ripped in two as the teen’s helpless, muffled cries rose from the rug. “YOU BASTARDS, you’re hurting him! Don’t touch him! You hear me?! Don’t you TOUCH him!” Isaac struggled beneath the grasp of the two squad members placing him in shackles, but it was no use.
“You brought this on yourself with your sickness,” the older man spat. “As a Dispatcher, I am sure you’re well aware of the rules. Besides, what do you care for an Outlander?”
“What?!” the lieutenant shrieked. “He’s got proper documentation, he’s not…oh god…” He watched in horror as one of the Dispatchers holding down Tomas produced a small branding iron from his trench coat and began heating the end of it with his phase unit until it gave off a bright orange glow. “NO! PLEASE GOD NOOO!”
“Do shut him up,” the older man instructed Isaac’s captors.
The fallen Dispatcher felt a sharp pulse fire into the back of his neck, sending a shockwave of electricity surging throughout his body. Pain jolted in his chest and down to his stomach. He lurched over and vomited. Through the blurred vision of his tears, he watched helplessly as they turned Tomas over and pressed the hot iron hard into the boy’s chest. The Barreau teen’s screams were enough to make him pray for the boy’s death, after which he vomited again. Isaac closed his eyes, unable to watch anymore—not as if he had to. The squad members holding him in their talon-like clutches gagged him and placed a black hood over his head.
“Isaac, I’m sorry!” the battered boy sobbed. “I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have come here!”
“It’s not your fault!” Isaac cried. “Don’t you dare say that, it’s not your fault, okay?! Don’t you ever think that!”
“He’s lying. You’re nothing but a filthy faggot Outlander,” one of the Dispatchers spit on him. “He’s had plenty of boys before you. You are nothing to him.”
Isaac shuddered. He recognized that voice, though could not place it, but it was one he knew well. He’d heard it almost every day down at the precinct. As the symptoms of electric shock began to subside and his thoughts coalesced back to rationality, he searched for that elusive, familiar thing.
“I am!” Tomas cried, “I am nothing, I’m just a stupid filthy Outlander-”
“Antoine!” Isaac growled. A silence hung in the room following his utterance of that name, the name of a boy he had once called his friend. Over and over again, he played that sentence in his head, you are nothing, matching it with previous conversations recalled from the day. Soon enough, he wouldn’t have to wonder anymore. Agitated footsteps charged their way toward him and tore off the black hood without hesitation. The Dispatcher in question lowered his face mask. “You son of a bitch!”
“And what are you going to do about it, nancy boy?” The older teen struck him across the face. “You disgust me! I should have known from the way you looked at Tomas every time we showed up to Barreau for a shakedown.”
“Oh, I bet you’d like to. But don’t worry, there’s plenty of other boys in prison who I’m sure would love to have their way with a former Dispatcher,” he smirked. “Of course if you’d like to be an Outlander…we can arrange for that as well. You would never see this city again.”
“I HATE YOU!”
“Good!” the teen spat, choking Isaac as he held the hot brand close to his face. “Because with all the corruption we’re sniffing out, there’s about to be a new sheriff in town, and he won’t take kindly-”
“Enough,” the older man cut him off. “Justice first. Take the Barreau boy to the alley and cut him loose. We are finished here.”
“Who the hell are you?!” Isaac roared.
The fallen Dispatcher again found his vision blacked out as the hood was replaced and the squad dragged him to his feet to lead him out. Please let them kill me, he thought. Please. For living in Cavarice—the so-called “City of Eternal Life”—now seemed a fate worse than death, and if this were to be a sign of the coming future, he would much rather rot than live in it. As it was, his only light had been taken from him. There seemed no way to fight his fate, and he knew no one would step to the plate in his defense. For better or worse, he would serve his time in whatever circle of Hell was fit for his supposed illness. He managed to whimper one final ‘I love you’ to Tomas before they shoved him out the door, but his voice was too shot. He doubted the boy even heard him.