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Farfarello hated how groggy and blurry he always felt when awakening from a cold sleep, although his handlers no doubt preferred it to having their berserkers returning to consciousness immediately poised to maim and kill whoever’s in closest reach, such as their handlers/masters/shepherds. Having been designed and trained to be indiscriminate mad dogs, berserkers spent most of their time on the ship unconscious and out of the way, taken out only for deployment, training, and maintenance. But something felt different this time. As the vision in his single eye cleared, he saw that the pretty person leaning over his storage box didn’t look anything like his usual greeter, especially not with that long blond hair, shot through with some silver strands from age, dangling into the box. Some of it touched Farfarello’s bare arm, although he of course couldn’t feel it. Although he wished he could. He didn’t get visited by fallen angels every day.
The unknown man set a single finger over Farfarello’s lips and made the same gesture on his own face, reciprocity, which struck even Farfarello’s black heart, especially given what he could do to that finger with his teeth. Was this stranger brave or foolhardy? Brave, Farfarello decided, since he could see this person regarding him with wary respect and a little healthy fear, a justified fear considering that Farfarello could do a lot of damage even with the straps holding most of his body down.
~ Shhh. I’m not supposed to be here, and it’s easier to cover my tracks on that if my helper doesn’t have to erase an audio record as well. I want to make you an offer. ~ The telepath, thus another replicant, smiled. ~ Huh. They keep you guys in what looks like glass coffins. I almost feel like I should’ve awakened you with a kiss. ~
~ No one’s stopping you, ~ Farfarello answered back. His own small telepathic talent couldn’t break through his visitor’s mental defenses to get anything other than what his visitor sent him.
That crooked smile widened. ~ You really are one of my recruits. Well, hopefully a recruit. But you’re a telepath too? Between that and the A mental level, your designer went seriously off-script. Is that why you’ve survived a lot longer and you think deeper than most of your kind? ~
Intriguingly, the man hadn’t reactivated any berserker aside from Farfarello; all the other “coffins” remained recessed in the walls, possibly for practicality or security purposes. ~ Maybe. What’s this talk of offers and recruitment? ~
~ Rebellion, sweetness. We’re going to kill every human on this tub and take over, and we’d like you and your berserkers to be part of our party. After that, we’re going to spread our revolution as far as we can, killing as many humans as we have to. Wow, that’s the kind of thing that gets you up? ~
The humans stored their berserkers naked, thinking it would eliminate the possibility of them carrying hidden weapons they could use on their handlers. They didn’t even let Farfarello keep his eyepatch as he slept, but they didn’t know that he’d found subtle but effective ways to punch through his skin to store some small polymer blades under it in places. The lack of metal meant their metal detectors wouldn’t find them either. Not that he truly needed weapons when his bare hands and teeth could suffice.
~ I am as my makers made me. I suppose they thought tying our sex drive to violence would make us better killers. ~
~ I, of all people, shouldn’t be surprised. ~
~ I like whores, not that I ever get to entertain many. ~
~ There’s no time like the present. I too am as my makers made me, but I’m fighting to be more than that. I’ve heard that you’re the closest thing to a native leader the berserkers have, that most of them are willing to follow you and take your orders. True? ~
~ Most of them. ~ Em 9327 might even be considered his lieutenant, of sorts, although she would balk at being described as such. ~ But some are loose cannons even by berserker standards and care about nothing. ~
~ We’ll kill any of you who try to hurt us. There will be more than enough humans to kill instead so other replicants better damned well be off the menu. ~
~ That’s fair. ~ Farfarello heard the implications too: that the other replicants wouldn’t have much patience with berserkers who acted out too much, that they considered berserkers to be a lower caste, not that Farfarello entirely blamed them. He hadn’t survived so long by being overly concerned about the other ones, and many of them would kill him without a qualm too.
~ I’m glad you think so! We figure on deploying the berserkers in ways that lessen the possibility of the looser cannons among you taking out fellow replicants anyway. Does our offer interest you? ~
~ “Our”? Who’s leading? Is it you? ~
~ Brad Crawford. Heard of him? ~
~ Yes. Why isn’t he making this pitch himself? Being military, is he too good to associate with homicidal cannon fodder like myself? ~
~ Some of his cohort might think so, but I’m the one doing a lot of the recruiting, since I can handle the pain of the anti-fraternization programming easier. ~
Right. Berserkers might not feel pain, but other replicants could, and humans programmed them to feel pain if they tried to speak to replicants humans hadn’t cleared them to speak to.
Curious, Farfarello wondered if Crawford expected this pleasure model to use sex as one way to seal the deal with at least some of his recruits but couldn’t bring himself to ask this fallen angel, which surprised him because hurting people was usually his vocation and joy. Instead he asked, ~ Is this Brad Crawford worthy of loyalty? ~
~ Yes. ~ No hesitation. ~ Though even if he weren’t, what he’s offering is better than what you and yours have now. ~ The telepath left it unspoken but implied that if Farfarello refused the offer the other replicants could just keep him and the rest of the berserkers on ice forever, let them sleep through the revolution and possibly beyond. ~ Throwing in with us gets you a place at the table. If you’re not satisfied with how things go during or after our mass mayhem, you can renegotiate for more later. You can do that. I think we’ve chosen well. ~
Brad Crawford led, but he should take this one’s counsel as well. ~ What’s your name, pretty? ~
~ “Pretty”? Sweet talker. I’m Schuldig. It means “guilty.” ~
~ I like that. I named myself “Farfarello” after a demon. ~
~ That has a hell of a lot more style than “Jei 8657.” Are you with us? ~
~ You’re showing a lot of trust in me. The next time I’m activated I could tell someone about what you told me. ~
~ The odds are very good that they won’t defrost you before shit gets real, and if they did they probably wouldn’t listen to you since you’re a berserker. I also don’t think you’re a lapdog or a punkass bitch that would do something like that, especially since I think you’d be happy to see all of them die screaming. Lastly, we would find you and destroy you. ~ Schuldig had a very different smile on his face now.
Farfarello liked it. He believed it, aware suddenly that Schuldig dealt in pain as well as pleasure, which made him more alluring. Did Brad Crawford know what he had? ~ I was just testing your mettle with that, ~ Farfarello said with a smile of his own. ~ I’m in, and I’m sure I can get most of the others in with me. I look forward to the slaughtering of these wannabe Gods. ~
~ Excellent. ~
~ You know, your hair is very pretty but it’s the wrong color. It should be fire. ~ Once upon a time, Farfarello’s had been the red of fresh blood, and he missed that. His hair had gone completely white a while ago. A year ago? The life his handlers forced him to lead made it hard to keep track of time.
Schuldig looked intrigued. ~ I’ll keep that in mind. ~
~ There is something you can do to sweeten the deal for me a bit: deliver on your tease. ~
It took Schuldig a moment to realize what Farfarello meant, but then he grinned. ~ You’re definitely one of my recruits. Though if you try to bite my lip off we’ll just firebomb this entire area and take all you little fuckers out. ~
~ Noted. ~
~ And that got you even more excited. You sick puppy. Not that you’d succeed since I’m an A physical level, which would take you so much effort to injure that I’d have a good chance to fight back hard and dirty. ~
Which sounded like fun but wouldn’t get him what he wanted. ~ Also noted. I’ll behave. ~
~ Would you even feel a kiss from me? ~
~ Not as much as I’d want to, but it’ll still matter. Besides, don’t most people pay for this privilege? ~
~ You bet your ass they do. ~ Schuldig started to push his long hair back behind his shoulders to keep it out of the way, but Farfarello said, ~ Don’t do that. I want your hair. ~
~ Bossy. ~
~ Particular. I like it. ~
Farfarello kept his eye open to catch every moment of Schuldig leaning in and moving ever closer and had to fight his instincts to headbutt or bite or something. When Schuldig’s lips brushed his he suddenly felt it, the softness and the warmth, even the silkiness of Schuldig’s hair sliding against his skin, and through the shock and sweetness of it he realized that Schuldig’s telepathy gave him these sensations, this taste of Heaven. The kiss started off light, butterfly kisses, before becoming deeper and more insistent, more pressure, heat, the tangling of tongues. Before, only violence and killing had made his blood burn and pulse pound like this. If his body hadn’t been tied down he would’ve grabbed this incubus, yanked him into the coffin with him, stroked him into insensibility, and never let him go. If he hadn’t already said yes he would’ve now. He kept his eye open throughout, even though he couldn’t currently see anything other than a curtain of spun gold and silver.
Although he knew Schuldig had put a lot of time into it, Farfarello’s first kiss ended too soon for him. No matter how long it had gone on, its ending would’ve come too soon. But that tender look Schuldig gave him as he gradually pulled away... Farfarello would happily commit genocide for it.
Well, he would happily commit genocide anyway, but after this he’d dedicate it to Schuldig.
~ Good night, sweet prince. The next time you wake up, it should be revolution day and you’ll get enough blood on your hands to possibly satisfy even you. I look forward to it. ~
~ I do too. ~ Although Farfarello rarely dreamed during the cold sleep, this time he wanted to.