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Ordr

Join the First Order’s largest intimate social network!*

Download free today for your datapad -- casual, discreet & fun!

*not officially sanctioned by the First Order

 

Hux squinted down at his datapad, entirely dubious of the whole prospect. It felt wrong, dirty, and very much like he was giving up. But Phasma had suggested the whole deal, had even recommended this app in particular from personal experience. It’s worth it, Hux. Just give it a shot. The little red icon blinked into existence at the bottom of the screen and he quickly dragged it into a folder within a folder to hide it from prying eyes -- and maybe also from his own guilt. He wasn’t lonely, alright; he just wanted to get laid. With a schedule like his, it was nearly impossible to get enough free time to make it to the gym, much less to one of the sanctioned leisure areas, regardless of where he was stationed.

With a sigh and a casual admission of defeat, he opened the app and watched it spring to life on his datapad.

The graphics weren’t eye-searing like he might have expected, but the whole thing screamed utilitarian , which he supposed was at least par for the course. It was very First Order: everything was trimmed in sleek black lines with red accenting, with easy to read text overlaying it all in varying boxes and buttons. The name, Ordr, in large red letters at the top left of the screen, stayed judgingly put, even as he scrolled to complete his registration.

Not for the last time, Hux was struck with the harrowing thought, Have I really stooped this low?

Instead of reevaluating his life choices and moving on to the far more respectable option of completing his monthly personnel reports, he moved onto the next page.

Complete your profile and then click “Browse” to view your most compatible neighbors!

He skipped the username and profile picture sections, deciding he would leave those until last. After all, he did have to think of a suitable, yet discreet username for himself that was simultaneously fitting for a man of his title and also still approachable. Instead, he filled in the rest of the profile, adding in his height, weight, body type, and hair color with a small sense of satisfaction: forms were a personal weakness of his. He enjoyed the order and simplicity of filling out minute details and facts on his own reports, and this profile completion task scratched that same exact itch.

The ‘ Looking for ’ section gave him momentary pause, his eyebrows furrowing at the dearth of choices. Was he looking for Right now , Networking , Friends, Relationships, or Dates ? He certainly wasn’t going to be wasting his time looking to find a friend, that was for certain. He mentally crossed off Relationships and Dates as well, noting how he barely had the time to settle down for an after-work drink with his long time peer and confidant, Phasma. That lack of time for something he enjoyed doing didn’t bode well for fostering new relationships. As for Networking -- what did that even mean? As General, Hux was practically as networked into the First Order as he possibly could be without actually becoming a droid, amassed into the collective. Right now seemed to be the only viable option, though the definition wasn’t as tailored as he would’ve liked.

Once he had added a few other details, including choosing "male for male," all that was left was the nuisance of a decision about his username -- and, of course his picture. He sighed, taking a quick glance around his quarters for inspiration. He had never been entirely skilled at this sort of creativity; Hux favored tactics and science, not the arts. Eventually, his eyes fell on his chessboard and lingered. Without any other inspiration, he decided something to do with a personal interest would be as good a name as any. And, failing any other spark of creativity, he also decided that a randomly generated string of numbers to finish it off was probably for the best, especially in terms of personal security. After all, he did want this to be at least moderately anonymous, at least until he found someone satisfactory enough to actually meet up with. Of course, at that point in time, he would also be protected by his position: no one would dare call out General Hux, nor would there be rumors flying afterward, as their jobs would be at stake. His reputation and his pride (to some extent) would stay intact. And, as long as he made sure to not approach a direct subordinate, he would not be violating any codes of conduct.

After some thought, it all seemed -- remarkably doable. Perhaps Phasma was right.

The picture, however, was a bit of a challenge. For the same security reasons as wanting a generic username, he also didn’t want a recognizable picture of himself floating around for all of the app to see. He was already stooping to somewhat ridiculous levels, and he neither wanted nor needed to advertise that, even if it was something commonly done. He took a moment to browse a random selection of people and found the results helpful, if not slightly disappointing in terms of choices: it appeared he was certainly not limited to pictures of his face. In fact, he would be in good company, even if that company was not necessarily top-drawer.

Company aside, Hux did not think he was capable of degrading himself quite so much as to take a picture of certain anatomy in such a risque pose, much less than to set it as a user icon for everyone to see. But -- on the other hand, he also had no intention of using a picture of his face.

He sighed and stood. Once the app was set to take a picture, he pointed the camera lense at his stomach and hiked up his shirt with one hand, exposing his toned stomach to the viewfinder. The picture snapped, and Hux drew the datapad closer to his face to inspect the final product. It was -- adequate. He had a nice body: toned and muscular, just like all of the other officers. There was no room for laziness in the First Order, no room for sloth or gluttony. In small moments of weak self deprecation, Hux often wished he were perhaps larger, bulkier with more mass. He was blessed with height, but his shoulders could slope broader and his muscles could be more defined. Genetics had blessed him with long and graceful fingers, too much like a musician’s for his liking. While they made up for their visible lacking by being more than adequate to crush necks beneath their grip, which Hux had done on more than one occasion, he often still wished for sturdier hands. His features in general leaned closer to delicate, opposed to rugged, but he had learned to school them into a vicious scowl at a young age. There was much he would change about himself, if given the opportunity, but there was little point in yearning after something that was not his. He gained little by dwelling on genetic shortcomings. Long ago, he had learned to accept his body and be proud of his commanding stature as it was, how to accentuate it, how to make himself more imposing.

The picture showed his hand hiking up a black regulation uniform, stark against his pale and freckled skin, exposing a line of solid muscle down to his trousers. There was nothing extraordinary about the picture, perhaps except for the line of red hair that cascaded from his bellybutton downward. Red hair was uncommon in the galaxy, but also not unheard of. It wouldn’t necessarily point directly at General Hux, as a picture of his face might, but it would also be enough to draw some attention to his profile, which he supposed was the entire point of the endeavor.

He tapped the save button and apprehensively watched the app load through to the next screen.

 

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