/[-1]htt_Prologue_/
"What the fuck happened?" I stormed past the table of monitors and cables, slamming my gun down on one of the cabinets.
"I'll tell you what happened, we were set up." I said darkly, examining the two men carefully.
"Billy - who'd rat us out? We gave Parker his cut, remember?" Jacob said calmly, examining the wound on his arm.
"I'm not talking about Parker." I replied quietly, looking up at them.
"Fuck off." Davis said, walking away, shaking his head.
"Look, we did everything perfectly - we disconnected, disabled and no one else knew we were there. Next moment, a bunch of coppers show up? I don't buy it."
"So one of us snitched?" Davis was shocked by this. I held out my hands, looking at Jacob for his say. He mulled it over for a while, before turning to Davis.
"It makes sense."
"I can't believe you two!" I held my gaze with Jacob for a while, and we both thought the same thing. "What?"
"You seem pretty desperate to convince us there's no traitor."
"Are you shitting me right now? You think I'm the traitor? Why not Jacob? Why not you?"
"I was with Jacob when they turned up. They fired on both of us because they knew who we were. That leaves you." He stayed quiet, looking between Jacob and I. "I bet you thought we wouldn't get back here." He shook his head.
"Listen Billy, I'm no snitch."
"That's not convincing me." I said, picking up my gun from the cabinet.
"Woah, hold up Billy, we know Davis." Jacob stood up.
"You know him, I don't. And right now, I'm trying real hard to find a reason not to pull the trigger."
"Billy, listen to me-" Jacob stepped in front of me, and a single gunshot was fired. I flew backwards, clutching my stomach in pain. I saw Jacob shouting in front of me, trying to help me back up, only to see Davis pull him back. The two pushed each other before eventually running. I groaned, every sight blurred and every noise numbed. I was rolled onto my back, cold metal cuffs clamped around my wrists before everything eventually turned black.
/[168]/_ /One_week_later/...
I sighed, rubbing my eyes, utterly exhausted. Everyone else had left, leaving me alone, typing up my report at the screen. I leant back, exhaling loudly. As I stretched back however, I grasped my stomach in pain. It still stung slightly from the impact last week.
"You okay Billy?" I looked up at the relaxed figure in front of me.
"Yeah... I'm fine. Thanks."
"How's the...?" I sighed.
"Being shot hurts more than you'd think."
"It was a live round then huh?" I nodded.
"Yeah yeah, you try having a piece of rubber shot into your stomach." He chuckled.
"By the way, chief wanted to see you." I groaned - this never meant anything good.
"Now?" He nodded. "Thanks Seamus."
"Alright - take it easy Bill."
I sighed again, picking up my jacket from my chair and walking through the cubicles, towards the large office with the blinds hanging ever-so-slightly open. Narrows rays of moonlight kept the room dimly lit, revealing a silhouette of a chair, hidden behind a monitor. I straightened up.
"You wanted to see me sir?"
"Yes, I did William." The light turned on, and the man sitting in the chair was none other than the chief - Will Morrison. He was an old guy - Boston born and raised, with a shaved head of black stubble, unlike my messy array. "Take a seat." I did so, noticing another figure hidden from the light, noticeable only because he obscured a section of the moonlight at the window. "This here is agent Hanson, who has come from the NSA HQ in Langley to offer you a job." I nodded.
"Hello, agent Hanson sir-"
"Woah, hold on you little spit-fuck. You're going to answer my questions and will not reply to me unless I give you permission to, you got that?" Agent Hanson was a lean man, not much muscle on his body, but his face was riddled with scars. He spoke with a loud Philly accent, a brutish tone that coincided with his posture, as he leant against the window, folded arms and narrowed eyes.
My mouth hung open, leaving me unsure of what to do apart from look at Morrison with hesitation.
"Good answer." Hanson moved around towards the desk. "Now, you got some connections down in Chicago don't you?" I nodded.
"Yes sir, I do."
"And in Boston?"
"Yes sir."
"Yes, of course you fucking do." He smirked - a grotesque and irritating expression. "I read your file. Your daddy Seamus is big talk around Boston - got knifed ten years ago right?" I cleared my throat of the boulder-sized emotion.
"Eleven sir."
"Caused some trouble around Boston as a kid huh? Got a record for yourself here..."
"Yes sir, I did."
"Assault, breaking and entering... joyriding, arsenal... then your mommy made it all go away?"
"Apparently not well enough sir, if it is still in my file."
"She fuck the right people?" I clenched my jaw.
"She was one of said people sir."
"What a fucking notion." He laughed quietly. "So, your daddy Seamus, what did he do?"
"He worked on a construction site for Henry Marshe."
"He was local muscle for a mobster." Hanson 'corrected' me. "Got knifed by Marshe and turned up in a shipping container down by the docks." I had to take a moment to focus myself, remain professional and detached. Finally I looked back up at Hanson.
"That's right sir." I said hoarsely.
"Good." Hanson nodded. "Closed casket funeral - cover up what was left of his face right?" I swallowed the emotion again, taking a deep breath.
"Yeah...sir."
"What about your uncle Bobby? Bagman down in Central Chicago - worked for a lot of important men... member of the mob. Got popped back four years after daddy went out kicking and screaming." I took another hefty breath, trying to maintain control.
"That's correct sir." He chuckled to himself, murmuring my answer to himself.
"How the fuck did some little dirtbag like you get to somewhere like here?"
"Healthy eating and hard work sir." I answered.
"Smartass. Great. Fan-fucking-tastic." He said, opening up a file I presumed to be mine. "Quite a family tree here... I think between your uncle Ethan and cousin Jacob, we've got about two hundred confirmed charges."
"With respect sir, what does this have to do with me?" I asked as politely as I could.
"I want to know why a scummy little cocksucker like you is a cop." I stayed quiet. "Oh, now you want to shut up?" He kept my gaze focused on the floor. "Hey, asshole, I asked you a question, you want to answer me or what?"
"I wanted to serve my country-"
"You going to recycle that shit they teach you at the academy on me? How about you give me a real fucking answer?"
"Okay, I like working with german shepards." I retorted quickly.
"Listen here you smartass little shit - frankly, I couldn't care less why you wanted to become a cop, and I could care less about you. If it were up to me I'd have you chewing on lead right now because it's scum like you that poison the force!"
"Why sir?" I asked, trying to remain composed.
"Because I fucking said so, and my word is gospel! Now, tell me why a mick motherfucker like yourself wanted to become a cop!" I looked up to the chief behind Hanson's mauled face - he nodded.
"My uncle Gabriel." I said quietly.
"Ah, yeah... Gabriel McCain." He shook his head. "Good cop. Got popped a couple years back." I nodded. "So what? Trying to be like uncle Gabriel?"
"Trying." I answered stiffly. There was silence until the chief spoke again.
"Agent Hanson has a special offer for you." I looked up at the chief, then to Hanson, who dropped a file in my hands. I opened it up and looked at the photograph - a mugshot of a middle-aged man with thick, ruffled black hair. Heavy stubble lined his jaw and his piercing eyes stared out into mine.
"That guy there - Aiden Pearce. Came from the mick homeland, like you. He's been tearing Chicago apart by utilizing the CtOS." I looked up, impressed.
"He's a hacker?"
"The hacker more like. That's the guy who executed Joseph Demarco."
"This is him?"
"The and only, and I am going to nail this prick."
"So... what does this have to do with me?"
"Pearce spent eleven months in Cook County - computer fraud, illegal possession, grand larceny... he's in the big leagues. We suspect he may be working with a larger network of hackers - reportedly T-Bone Grady."
"I heard about that."
"What?"
"It was in my report... in my operation, the latest contact, Parker, mentioned programming software for someone he called T-Bone. I figured it was a pretty unpopular name, so I ran a search, and Grady showed up." Hanson smiled at the Chief. "Sir, I'm still unclear as to what my job is."
"Good. Because if you want to get out of this alive, you will not know what your job is around other hackers." I paused. What was he saying? "We want you to infiltrate the network." I paused. What? "Your background and connections make you ideal... with your uncle Bobby biting it down in Chicago, it'd make sense for you to look for Pearce - forging an partnership to find the people who were responsible."
"With respect sir, my last operation didn't go as planned."
"Yeah, I heard - you really fucked up." I hung my head in shame. "But, it's only been a week. We're thinking that we convict you of a charge - computer fraud and theft seems like a safe bet. You'll do time to convince everyone you're not a cop - Pearce in particular. All bets are off on this operation, you're to do whatever it takes to infiltrate the network and shut it down, apprehending Pearce in the process."
"What do you mean, whatever it takes?"
"I mean you're going to do whatever it takes! Look, I saw the surveillance tapes of you with your cousin Jacob - with skills like that, you would've been better off on fucking TV."
"What exactly do you mean sir?"
"You know what I mean," Hanson rolled his eyes, "dropping your 'l's, mugging little old ladies and pulling a gun on anyone you have to to convince everyone you're another mick fuck that crawled out of that cesspit of an island."
I pondered on this... whatever it takes? I had already spent six months stealing to convince Jacob and Davis I wasn't a cop, and now I had to do it again - but including jail time? I wasn't a fan of that idea... but something clicked inside of me - the idea of catching Bobby's killer. Revenge... that dark and bloodthirsty beast in the pit of my stomach that demanded death - it was a hard thing to deny.
"When do I begin?"
"Two days time and you'll face a trial, which you'll plead guilty to." I nodded.
"Okay." The two men nodded, and Hanson took out his phone, tapped the screen a few times before speaking into it.
"Operation Watch Dogs is a-go."