Watch Dogs Revenant

Revenant: "a person who returns as a spirit after death."

Prologue: the Belly of the Beast

Clara

"What the hell do you think you're doing calling me!?" she says. "They can trace this call!"

She grips her phone so hard her hand shakes next to her ear.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" a girl's voice squeaks through the phone. "I didn't have a choice. They're after me."

Clara's heart nearly jumps out of her chest. "What? Slow down- who?"

If it's the same people she's running from, then she's burned.

"Someone new," the girl says. "Someone dangerous."

If the people are new, they won't have a beef with her. She lets out a real sigh of relief and slumps on the bed, one hand stroking her hair.

"Lucy," she says. "Who is after you? Why did you call me?"

"Something happened, Clara. Something-" She pauses. "I was involved in something bad. And now, they're tying up loose ends. I need help, Clara."

"What? How can I help from here? You need money? Or a place to holed up-"

"I need you, Clara," Lucy's voice is urgent now.

"I can't come back to Chicago. You know that."

"What I know is that you owe me."

And Clara cannot deny that. It was Lucy who introduced her to Dedsec, and it was Lucy who hooked her up with a splatter vest and everything else she needed to disappear— everything from blackmailing the shooter to clean phones, a new identity, clean records, startup money, all of it thanks to Lucy.

"And that I'll be dead in two days without you," Lucy says.

"I can give you a number," Clara says.

"The Vigilante can't help me."

Clara shakes her head, resisting a curse. "What can I do that he can't?"

"These people— a gunman won't help me. My only hope is to find something— some kind of leverage. You're good at finding things— you're the best."

(******)

The train clicks and clacks to a stop. A voice on the PA tells the passengers to disembark.

You should not be doing this.

Dressed in a simple gray hoodie and blue jeans, she grabs her bag and steps off the train onto the platform, instinctively looking both ways. She tucks a lock of her now shoulder length dark blond hair behind her ear, then starts for the station. Her tattoos and piercings are also gone. As much as she loved them— as much as they were a part of her— she's seen too many people found by their tattoos— and the person she was died at that graveyard. She had to leave everything behind, that's the only way her disappearing act would work.

Now, she walks right back into that old life. Right back into the belly of the beast. The station is crowded just as she'd hoped. The more faces in the crowd, the less chance she'd be spotted. Not that anyone is likely to recognize her, but you can't be too careful. She checks the parking lot and finds a blue hatchback where Lucy said it would be. Grabbing the key from the rear fender where Lucy said it would be hidden, Clara checks around her again, not seeing anyone suspicious. She dumps her bag in the backseat and hops behind the wheel.

Are you really ready for this? she asks herself. What if things go bad? And what if he-

No. She can't think it— she can't think about him.

(******)

Checking over her shoulder as she walks through the hallways of the seedy hotel, she doesn't see anyone following her. She had picked up the key from the front desk and headed straight up the stairs. The hallway is empty. She stops at her door, gripping the stun gun hidden at her waist, she sticks the keycard into the reader. It clicks green and she opens the door. The light is already on, casting a pale orange over the modest room. A bed in one corner, facing a small desk and tv, and a door in the other corner leading to the bathroom. Two small windows with stained blinds fail to hide the pink light of the neon sign just outside of it.

Home sweet home.

She steps inside and locks the dead-bolt, then slides the chain lock into place. She pulls out the stun gun and creeps toward the bathroom. Her heart pounding, she flicks the light on. Harsh white light hurts her eyes. She moves past the sink and toilet to the shower. She summons her courage and throws the curtain back, ready to pounce-

Nothing. No one there. She's alone. She breathes a sigh of relief and exits the bathroom. She slumps onto the foot of the bed, burying her face in one hand, drawing her new phone out with the other. She dials Lucy's number and listens to it ring.

"Hey, this is Lucy," the recorded message says. "Sorry I missed your call. Leave me a message, kay?"

"It's me," Clara says. "I'm at the hotel. Call me back."

She ends the call and falls back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, wondering for the millionth time what she is doing there, and why she came in the first place.

Was it because- NO! she cuts herself off.

She did not come here to see Aiden. She does not want to see Aiden, nor the look of betrayal on his face, nor the hatred in his eyes.

What if he'd forgive you?

The thought always manages to creep itself in, no matter how hard she tries to banish it.

"He might," she says to herself. "Because that's the kind of person he is. But you aren't the kind of person who deserves it. You don't deserve his forgiveness, and you don't want his pity. So enough already!"

She curses and shakes her head, growing more tired by the second. In the morning, she'll meet with Lucy, then they'll get started. She looks at the clock on her phone: 1:27 AM.

She decides to close her eyes for a minute, then clean herself up, and get ready for the day.

A metal sound draws her from her sleep. Her body knows to fear the sound even before her brain registers why. As the realization dawns on her, she knows that she's made a huge mistake.

"Well, well," a male voice says from somewhere to her right. "I'm surprised you made it so easy, Clara."

That's it. The whole thing was a setup from the beginning. Hell, how could she have been so stupid? She can't pretend to be asleep, she can't run for she knows the sound that woke her was a gun being loaded. There is nothing for her to do, but sit up and accept her fate. She slowly sits up, her phone still in her left hand.

"Who are you?" she says, trying to focus her eyes and dropping her hands into her lap.

A man stands before her, wearing a pinstripe suit and mirrored sunglasses like pilots wear, even though it's still the dead of night. He's dark-skinned- or is it olive? She can't tell tell in the poor light. He has short black hair and he stands like a man who knows how to handle himself. He smiles, revealing impossibly white and perfectly straight teeth.

"I wouldn't think about using that phone, honey," he says. "I have men in the hallway, the stairs, the parking lot, everywhere."

He nods towards the bathroom, and she sees two more men, both with guns.

"Who are you?" she says again.

He shrugs. "Does it matter?"

"I'd like to know the name of my killer."

This is it. She's ready to die. She's not afraid.

"Kill you?" He laughs. "No, no. No. Who said anything about killing you?"

She scowls.

"What do you want then?" she says.

"I want. Everything," he says. "But. I'll start with Aiden Pearce."

(******)

Watch_Dogs: Revenant

Part One: It's Always Raining

Aiden

I duck under a punch and shove against my attacker, slamming him into the alley wall. I spin him around in front of me just as his partner opens fire. Two flashes explode into the night, both shots slam into the man in front of me. I toss him aside, drawing my silenced pistol. I pull the trigger. The bullet drills into the shooter's leg and he falls, dropping the gun. I kick it away and stomp towards him, my boots splashing on the rain-soaked pavement as yet more rain continues to fall. He tries to crawl away from me, but it's useless. I lean down close to him, slamming the butt of my gun against his jaw.

"Where's the shipment coming in?" I growl.
"I don't know-" He lets out a curse.

I stomp on his injured knee. "Wrong answer!"

He wails like a man on fire. I lean down close again. "Tell me where, or I'll put a bullet in your other leg."

He answers with a curse and I press the barrel roughly into his good knee-

"NO!" He curses again. "I'll talk, I'll talk! Just please-"
"Tell me where!"

"The docks," he says. "East side."

"Container number?"

He shakes his head and curses, then gives me the rest of the info. I thank him by knocking him out with my baton. I step away and pick up my fedora that fell off at some point during the struggle. I try to shake off some of the excess water, then put it on. I pull out my phone to drop a tip to the cops when a spotlight nearly explodes my vision. Now I hear the chopper and the cop over the loud speaker: "Put down your weapons and put your hands over your head."

I sprint further into the alley, the spotlight from the chopper follows me. The chopper is just the beginning, the cops must have surrounded the area long before they revealed themselves-

A patrolman steps around a corner, gun drawn. I swing my baton into his forearm.

Crack!

He cries out as the gun falls to the pavement. I swing backhanded, catching the side of his head full-force. He drops to the ground and I run on, cutting left, climbing over a dumpster and onto a fire escape. Sprinting up the stairs, the chopper keeps following me as I ascend up and up and up. I reach the roof and don't slow down as I run for the edge. I hear the cop barking orders into the loudspeaker, but I ignore him and leap over the edge.

For a second, I'm flying, the world passes below me.

Then gravity starts ripping me down. My boots slam into the roof of the adjacent building and I roll to distribute the shock. I made the jump. Barely. No time to celebrate, I come back up at a sprint, looking to jump to the next building. The jump is easier the second time, I manage to land without rolling or losing speed. I can still hear the chopper above me, but I'm not worrying about that right now. In a minute, the cops will come pouring out of the staircase onto the roof. I check my phone, hoping I got the timing right. Then I hear it, the unmistakable clack-clack, clack-clack-screech of the L-Train. I look down. Seems I'm higher than I'd like it to be while attempting this-

The door bursts open and cops come pouring out, guns raised, barking orders. I guess I'm not so high up after all.

"Freeze, Pearce." An older man not dressed in uniform steps forward. "I'm taking you in." He's either a detective, or a private contractor hired by Blume. Either way, I'm not going with him.

"You've got nowhere to run," he says. "Don't make this any harder on yourself."

I hold my hands up above my head, then pinch the brim of my hat and then let myself fall off the roof back first. Wind whistles in my ears and tugs at my coat tails. My intestines try to climb out of my throat, then attempt to rip out of my back as my body collides full force with the roof of the train. Pain explodes all over me and I can't breathe. My lungs won't work. I grip my phone with a shaky hand and press my thumb on the button. Something on the chopper sparks, then it wobbles in the air, and seconds later, it flies away, not risking that the chopper might drop out of the sky in a populated area.

I lay there, unmoving, knowing I don't have much time before the cops pursue, but feeling much more concerned about my lungs refusing to work. I just got the wind knocked out of me, I'll be fine in a few seconds, I tell myself. Just try to breathe deep breaths. As I finally draw air into my lungs, my chest feels like it's on fire, but I force the air in and out, resisting the urge to cough, forcing more air in then out. A few good breathes later, the pain subsides and my lungs start working more normally. I force myself to roll over to get my bearings. The train starts slowing down, the stop is coming up. That's where the cops will be. I crawl to the back of the train and climb down the ladder.

I summon my will and leap to the tracks behind it. I roll and roll and finally stop, breathing heavy, agony screaming at me from everywhere. I force myself to my feet, and start looking for an opportunity to get off the tracks.

There must be something.

Sure enough, a ways down the track I see a building's roof within jumping distance. I hobble toward it as fast as I can, then leap for it. The landing hurts, but nothing like the last one. I roll off the roof, to the pavement of the alley below, and once again, force myself to my feet. I look over the alley for vehicles. Nothing. I hop the fence to my right to find myself in a parking lot.

Bingo.

An older green sedan. I rush to it, using my phone to disable any alarms systems, unlock the doors, and start the car. I put it in gear and pull out, merging into traffic. The cops drive right past, sirens blaring, lights flashing. I breathe a huge sigh of relief. Safe for now. I send a text to the police, letting them know about the shipment of slaves from overseas that's to arrive soon, then I sit back and try to breathe, listening to the rain pounding against the sedan's roof. It's always raining.

Author's Note

Hey, all! I see the fandom for Watch_Dogs isn't very active right now, so I thought I'd throw a fic into the pile, see what happens.

I know it is highly unlikely for Clara to have faked her death, but I think she has a ton of potential, so here's a fic about it. Let me know what you think. Reviews are appreciated. Thanks for reading. Hope life finds you all well.

mojo