Hunter rubbed his fresh undercut nervously. He’d always kept the sides and back short, but without the longer flop of brightly-colored hair on top, he didn’t feel like himself. Because he could handle only so much blending in, he’d bleached what was left almost white. The effect, along with his pale eyes, was admittedly a little spooky, but when he changed into an old white polo and cargo, the effect was chilling. Sure, he didn’t have a tiki torch or anything, but it was creepy how easily he could be this person.
Well, look like him anyway.
Usually when he fratboy’ed out to slip into software companies, he could tuck his hair under a baseball cap and get to where he needed to go with a swiped card.
This time, he would need to interact. In-person social engineering.
They were meant to meet at what was basically a neighborhood park, which was fortunate, because he could take Bruiser and not miss their afternoon walk.
He also figured having a cute dog with him might keep the Nazis from wanting to beat the shit out of him for being gay. Of course, it wasn’t part of his initial idea to take Bruiser, but Bruiser still had the pizza shits.
Hunter could wait for another meeting, but Cal was on him to do something. Besides, soon Hunter was going to meet Barnes, and who knew, Hunter might be engaged in a job after that. So really, today was his only chance to have a peek.
Knowing he was likely to see Chad, Hunter fortified his pants with little blue dookie bags for Bruiser and bottled water for them both. Couldn’t be too careful.
Cal was safely at work, probably until late. Hunter didn’t have plans to hang around long. It was supposed to be a short rally.
He hoped no one would take pictures and show them to his sister, but it was worth the risk if Hunter could prevent violence, or at least see what these guys were about. And maybe bring Chad a little more justice.
Hunter dressed Bruiser in a white sweater, figuring that was about as on-brand as he could get. Everyone else probably had Rottweilers or something. A Pomeranian was probably asking to get punched. But Hunter just couldn’t leave Bruiser home with a tummy ache and no walkies.
So off they went.
Instead of taking his Prius—those seemed to trigger the alt-right—Hunter called a Lyft. He’d book a car back after the rally ended.
The park was unremarkable. There were tables and grills for picnics, jungle gyms for families, and places for dogs to roam, surrounded on one side with glorious evergreen trees. Across the street was a mix of dilapidated rowhouses and brand-new modern glass and wood homes that appeared to overflow their property allotment.
The neighborhood was obviously mid-gentrification with coffee shops across from abandoned warehouses, ramshackle gas stations, and dingy dive bars.
Hunter walked the trail until he saw a few men dressed like him. One slipped him a piece of paper with another address on it. Great.
Directions indicated it was only a couple blocks away, but the instructions stated in no uncertain terms that attendees were to take the SIM cards out of their phones.
Eerie.
All the cloak and dagger could be paranoia, or maybe Hunter was in way over his head. Gamely, he removed the card and then slipped it, and his basically useless phone, into his pocket.
“Cute dog.” Hunter looked up to see another team of guys fall into step with him.
They nodded at Hunter. Each one looked the same. White. Blank eyes. Same haircut. They smiled and patted him on the back. They encouraged one another as they passed a derelict convenience store, turned in at a dilapidated bar, and guided Hunter down concrete steps into a crowded room.
Bruiser remained surprisingly quiet. Hunter picked him up as he scanned their surroundings.
Good fucking god. Hunter recognized some of these guys from school. There were a few absent-eyed women along the perimeter, but mostly the room was full of men clad in everything from frat casual to dapper young Nazi.
Chad stood off to the side, red hat on backwards, nodding to a man in an elegant, perfectly fitted suit. Chad’s eyes gleamed. He was smiling. Enthralled.
Where’d Nazis get the kind of scratch it took to own a suit like that?
The well-dressed man turned slightly in Hunter’s direction but then headed back to the front of the room before Hunter could get a good look at him. Gerald Hogan stood at the head of the crowd with the suited guy. Hogan must be the speaker; he was known for scathing, angry blog posts about white genocide.
Lovely.
No longer distracted by the suited guy, Chad fixed his gaze on Hunter. Inevitable. Hunter gave Chad a quick nod, keeping his expression neutral and drawing comfort from Bruiser’s warm, tiny body. If Bru could be brave in front of all these Nazis, so could Hunter. They were in this together.
“Hunter.” Chad approached warily, which was appropriate because Bruiser’s guts weren’t happy. He stank. It amused Hunter to see Chad wrinkle his nose in disgust.
Chad looked between Hunter and Bru and raised a brow as if to ask why Hunter had brought a little rat dog to a white supremacist meeting. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Considering what their last meeting had been like, Chad seemed remarkably unruffled, as if he didn’t possess any guilt over what had happened. Even more than being sick for days or the panic of realizing he’d been drugged, that was what horrified Hunter.
Rationally, Hunter knew Chad never entertained the idea he’d done anything wrong. He just kept doing his thing as if he’d been victimized by women on a chat board.
That’s what had brought Hunter here, right?
On the bright side, Bruiser’s stink would provide cover for Hunter’s potentially pained expression. “Yeah, well, I mean, I’ve been doing some reading and thinking lately. Thought this was going to be an outdoor rally.”
Hunter held Bruiser up and forced an expression of unease as he leaned in. “Wasn’t sure if it was one of those Antifa set ups or whatever, so I brought a friend’s dog so I could play it off, you know?”
“Oh.” Chad smiled as if Hunter had impressed him. “You’ve always been good at the sneaky stuff. You have a gift for deception.”
If only you knew.
But Chad probably thought Hunter’s getting into and out of frat parties and bathroom trysts spoke for his skill.
He waved his hand in front of his nose and cleared his throat before gesturing at the exit. “Speaking of outdoors… Why don’t we, uh, talk outside?”
The people around them would probably be grateful, though no one was crowding. A few were looking their way, even if they didn’t break into the conversation. It would probably be better to take Chad up on the opportunity for a private chat, as scary as the idea was.
Besides, if they were outside, Hunter could make a cleaner getaway if he needed to. Missing the avalanche of bullshit Hogan would spew didn’t sound like a sacrifice.
Chad was his primary motivation for being here, after all.
He followed Chad out of the basement, through the bar, and outside. Hunter set Bruiser down to let him sniff around at the end of the leash. “You know me. All part of the hacker thing. Think we both know that I know how to make an exit.”
Chad’s expression clouded from its usual lazy self-satisfaction. “Listen, Hunter…” Chad looked around as if somebody passing by might overhear him. When no one looked their way, Chad lowered his voice and met Hunter’s gaze. It was unnerving how little remorse he felt. “I just thought that night you seemed a little tense. I thought you could use something to help you relax. I didn’t have any poppers or anything, and I knew you liked to party, so… I mean, women always seemed to feel a lot better after I hooked them up.”
Oh yeah, being unconscious probably felt great.
Hunter forced what he hoped would be a smile but was pretty sure was just baring his teeth. Bruiser noticed Hunter’s concealed upset and growled at Chad. At least that took the focus off Hunter’s grimace.
Yeah. This was why Hunter was here. This guy just moved on as if he didn’t rape anyone.
“It’s all right, man. I’d taken something already. Kinda combined bad with it or something. If I’d known you were gonna bring the party, I would’ve laid off. Or could’ve brought something better.”
How had Hunter ever thought this guy was cute? Now all he could see was a monster.
Before Hunter could lose his nerve or snap, Bruiser let out another smelly fart.
“This dog, man. Don’t know what he’s been fed.” Hunter set Bruiser down.
“Jesus.” Chad waved his hand in front of his face and scowled. “That’s a lot of stank for a tiny butt.” He shivered as if overwhelmed with revulsion and then laughed. “Reminds me of being back in the frat.”
At that, he seemed to sober, and he sighed as he looked at Hunter. “Listen, man, you’re cool. You get it. But most people.…” He seemed to regroup and then said quietly, “I ended my college career under this really fucking unfair black cloud. I’m trying to reclaim my life and reputation. It’s why I’m here.”
“Yeah.” Hunter knew he’d lose it if they talked about the particulars. He believed the women. He couldn’t stand to listen to justifications.
Change of subject.
“Been having a bit of a rough time since school myself. Been looking for something meaningful, you know? I’ve got the skills, it just seems like there’s no room for a white guy anymore.”
Did he make any sense? Not really, but it was the omnipresent whine of the mediocre he’d seen on social media.
“I know, right? It’d be so much easier if I weren’t a white guy, but it’s like there’s a ‘kick me’ sign on my back. They wouldn’t have piled on like that at the school if I were a minority.” Chad sounded so sure of that, as if—had he been black—he wouldn’t have been held accountable for all those rapes.
“But those guys in there understand.” Chad gestured at the bar they’d just left as he stared intently into Hunter’s eyes. “They get it. They’ll have your back. What you need to ask yourself is… Will you have theirs?”
Hunter knew one thing about human nature, and it was that if he agreed too readily, it would be suspicious. Hunter knew a lot of very unfortunate things about human nature.
If there were a bomb about to explode with all those people inside, would he be in a rush to stop it? He knew Cal would, in a heartbeat: Human life was human life.
Hunter wasn’t so sure. If he were a totally virtuous person, he’d be here to save Chad from himself instead of trying to find ways to put him in jail.
This wasn’t something he could discuss, so he looked at the building and shrugged. “Would they have my back if they knew I was gay? Lots of people turned their backs on Milo. Can’t really change being gay, but don’t want to use it, you know, like libs do.”
“You remind me a lot of Milo.” Chad seemed to size up Hunter anew, as if comparing him to Yiannopoulos, the former poster child for gay White Nationalism. “People didn’t turn their backs on him because he was gay. If you’re not trolling too hard and saying the wrong things to podcasts, you’d have a place here.”
“Yeah. He kind of painted himself into a corner. Hilarious, though.” Indeed, there was a lot about the famous troll that Hunter had enjoyed. Getting people riled up was just plain fun. Putting targets on random people’s backs, though…
Sure, that’s what he was here to do to Chad, but Chad wasn’t random; he was a rapist. “I don’t want to just be a clown though, you know? Identity politics shit isn’t me.”
“You’re a hacker, right? That already sets you apart. Maybe identity politics was all Milo had to offer, but you’ve got skills. Programming is real desirable right now, in our group.” As Chad spoke, a mother and her child skirted them carefully, crossing the street to avoid them. Their cautious blackness around Hunter and Chad’s screaming whiteness was the most aware Hunter had ever been of his race, even growing up in a household with a black stepfather and biracial sister.
Chad followed his gaze and grunted in apparent dissatisfaction. “These people need a place of their own. Can you believe that? Crossing the street like we’re the dangerous ones.”
Hunter could totally believe it. Normally, he’d try to offer a smile or a nod, some reassurance that he saw that they were all just people on a street trying to get to their destination, but today he had to play a role. “Yeah, I’m sure they dindu nuthin’ right?”
He smirked as if that was clever, an expression he’d seen far too many times on 4Chan and its offshoots. A place of their own had been tried in the ’20s in Oklahoma, and white people had gotten jealous of the prosperity of the suburb of Tulsa and destroyed the Black Wall Street. Not that any of these jagoffs knew anything about history, let alone black history.
Hunter glared after the pair, not out of malice but to provide a reason for his irritated expression. When they turned the corner, Hunter nodded at Chad. “Yeah, I do software development.”
Not really, but whatever. “Wouldn’t mind one of those cushy jobs if the Asians have left any.”
Chad laughed and raised a brow in a “right?” expression. Then he leaned in, his closeness revolting, and whispered, “We’ve got connections at Microsoft. Google, too. We could get you in one of those cushy jobs, if you wanted to report back to us, give us sort of ‘state of the company’ updates.”
Chad’s breath stank like the beer he must’ve been drinking before Hunter arrived.
“Listen, though. Hunter. Listen.” Seeming to build up to something, Chad pursed his lips and then continued in his gross whisper. “We’ve got something planned. And we need real warriors for it. You could do so much more than hold the line at a software company. I know you don’t wanna play identity politics, but we could use someone like you.”
Hunter tilted his head. That sounded both scary and promising. He eased up on Bruiser’s leash and stepped closer into Chad’s space, though it killed him inside. “Someone like me meaning a gay person, or a hacker? ‘Cause I can’t do the Milo thing, man. I can troll, but I’m not a drag queen.”
“Someone with plausible deniability.” Chad met Hunter’s eyes as if he could read his mind. Thank god he couldn’t.
Plausible deniability. Mysterious, and maybe an avenue for Hunter to exploit.
Then Chad asked something that froze Hunter’s blood: “How are you with a gun?”
That wasn’t where Hunter expected the conversation to go. He couldn’t say he had FBI supervised training, nor did he want to come off as being that great with a gun, because who knew what Chad would ask him to do? “I’m good at Call of Duty. Been to a range a few times. I can handle myself. Prefer handguns. Why, you wanna knock over a liquor store?”
Hunter smirked, but his pulse was racing. Had he just stumbled into a terrorism plot?
Chad just laughed quietly and shook his head, eyes gleaming as if he were enjoying his secret knowledge. “Handgun knowledge is what’s required. Just want to make sure you’re comfortable with them. Listen, let’s head back inside. Let me get you a drink.”
Hunter snorted and winked, though all he felt was sick to his stomach. “You know, I think we’ve been there with you getting me drinks. I’m good.”
He looked down at Bruiser and then back up at Chad. “Dunno if it’s smart to go back inside just now. How about a rain check on that? We can pick a time when I don’t bring a farty dog.”
Laughing again as if delighted with Hunter, Chad nodded and gave Bru a look equal parts dirty and amused. “Yeah, let’s exchange contact information. I’ll loop you in.” He sobered and gave Hunter a head-to-toe look that recalled the way he’d used to look at him when fucking was still on the menu. “I’m kind of a big deal here.”
That was just great. But whatever, Hunter could defend himself now he knew what was coming. “You kidding? You’ve always been a big deal, Chad.”
A big deal rapist.
Hunter needed to gin up a way for Chad to contact him that wouldn’t lead him back to Hunter in a meaningful way. He should ask Sam for some tips and tricks about eluding a tail or something now. “Tell me where to find you on social media. I’ll slide into your DMs or something like that, yeah?”
“Sure thing.” Chad seemed buffed up by Hunter’s compliment and happy to comply. He gave Hunter the name of a personal account, one Hunter was aware of, that he didn’t use as much as his others. “You’ve always been a cagey one. Guess that’s a good thing now. You’ll suit our operations just fine, Hunter. I’ll expect to hear from you.”
Chad looked from Hunter to the door and then started toward it. “You take care of that stinky dog, and I’ll get back to the rally. See you soon, man. Glad you’re on our side.”
“Yeah. Good to see you, Chad. Really good.” Hunter gave him a once-over, trying to remember what it was like back when he thought Chad was cute.
Compared to Cal, he was doughy, immature, like he was half-baked.
Cal was also a good man. A real Steve Rogers to Hunter’s Iron Man.
Of course, the only problem now was going to be trying to explain this lead to Cal. And how Hunter came by it.
Surely Cal would understand the greater good.