Kill Processes or Delete Child
Prologue
The night was crisp and he could see his breath as he walked the perimeter of the large, landscaped yard. The flare of a cigarette tip caught his attention as he rounded the corner—one of the guards near the back porch who shouldn't be taking a cigarette break. He made a mental note to chew the man out when he returned to the house.
The only other light, apart from the half-moon in the sky occasionally breaking through the clouds, was a single window on the second floor where their current charge was probably working. The young Italian was some sort of brilliant software engineer, prone to working most of the night and sleeping much of the day. Philips had flown him in and set him up in one of his 3 private residences for the week to prevent distractions from some important deadline looming at BioTech, one of Philips' many corporations. Their team had been put in place not just to protect the developer but to keep him from wandering off, since he apparently had a habit of claiming he was running to the corner store for some quick item only to disappear, showing up 2 days later in some random hotel room reeking of booze and sex.
Philips was shrewd enough to let the leash out so the young man could release his pent-up energy regularly but when it came down to the wire, his patience was non-existent. The developer was on lock-down and the security team was there to insure he stayed that way until the deadline was met.
The insistent buzzing of his private phone had him pulling the cell out of his pocket to see who might be calling him. Unusual, since only 3 people currently knew this number-his sister, Barty and Mars (the only people he trusted). Glancing at the caller id had him frowning, brows snapped together. Barty never called during an assignment...unless he'd found something to obsess over.
Swiping to answer, Trevor had barely said "Yeah" before he got an earful of angry voice punctuated with words like "fucking," "sadistic," and "bastards." The other man's Scottish burr was thick in his impassioned state. Trevor kept quiet, letting the turbulent words wash over him until he could hear the man's speech start to slow a bit.
"Barty. Take a breath, man." Trevor interrupted the tirade. "I can barely understand you as it is."
He heard a little huff that might have been a frustrated laugh and then the sound of someone taking a deep breath. He could picture Barty rubbing his eyes as he tried to calm himself down a bit. Something was playing in the background; a movie, maybe. Trevor rifled through his memories, trying to recall what Barty's assignment was this week but Barty's response solved the mystery for him.
"Trev, what the hell did they do to this kid?" Barty's accent was thankfully lighter. "He's twitchy as fuck, doesn't speak or, when he does, it's a whisper and he won't look at me. I couldn't tell you what color his eyes are."
Oh, that assignment. Trevor gave a heavy sigh. This was going to be a problem.
Bartholomew Campbell (and boy did he get harassed over that) was an excellent soldier and mercenary. They'd worked together off and on for years from legitimate military ops to mercenary jobs before they both ended up working for William Philips as part of his own private security force, PHISec (Philips Holdings, Inc. Security). Barty was ruthless and deadly, no family ties and never seemed to let pesky things like guilt or sentiment get in the way of completing a job. It wasn't that the man had no feelings or was unable to care about anything. You could just never tell what he would care about. And, unfortunately for Trevor, he was frequently the one left having to clean up the mess when Barty went off on one of his obsessions. And this was going to be one huge problem if he didn't manage to curtail it.
Trevor's train of thought was interrupted with, "You remember that dog, when we were overseas? The one that practically pissed itself every time someone came near it?"
Trevor rolled his eyes, "Yep." The fucking dog that almost ruined their op and got everyone killed. The epitome of everything that can go wrong when Barty decides to care.
"That's what this reminds me of, Trev. I'm not even sure they feed him. He's a scrawny little shit."
"I don't remember things ending well for that dog, Barty." And he wasn't lying. The dog had been killed. Bad enough that the whole op had almost been blown trying to get the critter somewhere safe but when it died, Barty had turned into one rage-fueled motherfucker. Which led to him doing some pretty stupid shit trying to get revenge. Over a fucking dog.
"This is different, Trevor. You know it is."
"Yeah. The man you're thinking about crossing could snap his fingers on the other side of the world and have you killed in a heartbeat. And then where's that kid gonna be? That idea you're toying with right now? It's a really, really bad one."
"How'd you do it. How did any of you do it?" Barty asked through gritted teeth.
"After I got home and showered off the…" guilt, which he would never admit out loud, "...and showered, I contacted Reece and requested he never put me on that security detail again. And then I put it out of my mind completely." At Barty's growl, Trevor continued, "Vance, Jimmy, Lanie, Mars...all of them did the same. There are plenty of people who weren't phased by it. Let them take turns with that one and do your best to forget about it."
"I can't do that," came the whispered reply. There was a brief silence then, "I'm here for four more days, Trev. I'm sure I can figure something out."
Huge fucking problem.
3 years later
Trevor shoved the door open watching it bounce off the brick wall with a loud bang as he stalked angrily into the cool night air. A couple of deep breaths to try and clear the stench of the place from his nostrils and then he began a brisk circuit around the outside of the complex. It wasn't unusual for Trevor to walk the yard, ostensibly to check building security but the truth was he needed to get out of the damn building at regular intervals or he was likely to lose it and do something that would've made Barty proud in one of his more obsessive moments.
The thought of Barty brought a tinge of sadness that Trevor quickly tamped down into the abyss that was probably once his soul. Slam the lid down quickly and hope it stays closed. Problem was that this particular assignment kept popping that lid back off. Memories of Barty, memories of the kid (he'd heard his name was Brandon). Even though he'd only spent one day with him, it was enough to dispel any doubts Trevor may have ever had about the type of man Philips was. This assignment just established that understanding more fully.
"Security," as in "private security force," apparently had a rather fluid meaning for Philips. Your average person might wonder why the multi-billionaire owner of a massive corporate group might need a "security" force that was capable of toppling the government in some small third world country, extracting information from an unwilling party, or quietly assassinating some key figure stupid enough to get in his way. William Philips was an incredibly powerful man, with impressive connections, both political and financial, in most major countries on most continents. His business wasn't just business and he'd done more than his fair share of pulling strings in the background to set the stage properly for whatever venture he was investing in.
They all knew what they were getting into when they took the job. Even Barty had known, though he'd apparently forgotten towards the end there, cared a little too much. As Trevor rounded the corner of the building, he stepped over to one of the trees along the outside edge of the facility yard and leaned up against it with a deep sigh. He felt a bone-deep weariness starting to set in and scrubbed a hand over his face, thinking for the umpteenth time he needed to ask for reassignment.
The main facility for Biotech, the public front they showed everyone, was situated amongst a cluster of biotechnology companies just north of the San Francisco airport. A very sleek, modern facility all glass, steel and clean lines. Bright and airy and very different from the ugly side of the company that they hid out in the ass-end of nowhere surrounded by two electrified fences, barbed wire and a full rotation of guards. Philips was obsessive about protecting his secrets. Well that, and in an obvious violation of the National Research Act, the excessive security measures prevented their "volunteers" from escaping. Trevor didn't give a shit about the various merc, low-lifes and gang members that passed through but every once in awhile, Biotech would bring in some civilian that had probably never done anything worse than some minor moving violation. He didn't know what exactly Biotech was researching and, frankly, didn't want to know, but the security assignment here was an exercise in self-discipline already having to block out the sounds, smells and some of the visuals of what they did here. When you added in some poor schmuck from the suburbs who probably had a family and certainly had no experience in what was, essentially, torture, Trevor's self-discipline usually ended up stretching to the point of breaking. He was definitely at the breaking point now.
Then all hell broke loose. A loud security alarm in the complex suddenly sounded insistently while both his company and private phones began clamoring for his attention. Glancing at both phones, Trevor quickly swiped answer on his private phone-Mars calling in the middle of whatever was going down meant he needed to give Trevor the heads up on something before Reece hit him up.
"You'll never guess what happened, man," Mars chuckled quietly. "The little one finally snapped, I guess. Gave a final grand Fuck You to his father and took off."
Trevor's eyes narrowed, "What do you mean by Fuck You? What did he do?"
"Apparently he hacked into Daddy's private system, stole as much data as he could take and then dropped a virus that played porn artfully dubbed over with Philips' voice from various interviews through the years." The smile in Mars' voice turned into a full out cackle at this point. "It was a thing of beauty, Trev."
Trevor gave a grunt of amusement. "That doesn't sound like snapping. That sounds very well planned out." He shook his head, giving a surprised chuckle. "Well, I'll be damned. Did not see that coming."
Mars sobered, "I think we all wrote him off without even giving him a chance. But, really, how does someone get over that kind of damage? Personally, I think Philips put his money on the wrong kid. Lance may have the looks and the charm, but he certainly never had the brains of the younger one. It's a shame the kid had that damn birthmark."
"Mmmm. Never stood a chance with a man that's obsessed with 'perfection.' Not sure Philips really wants to share his power anyway. Lance is the perfect tool for his Father-smart enough to get things done but not so smart he'd be any kind of competition."
"Yeah. Look, Lanie, Jimmy and I are all kinda laying low on this one. Philips is flipping out, of course. Michele is in super-bitch mode, though, I get the impression Momma might be a little amused by her son's...er, statement. Our whole team's in the clear, since they didn't need any of us at the main residence this weekend, but Reece is gonna be under pressure to produce some results quickly. Heck, even Vance, who's always playing like he's completely objective, is refusing to step up for this one. Fortunately, the usual group of butt-lickers on the team are more than happy to take point on this. But, uh, with your past experience, you're probably at the top of Reece's list." Trevor could hear the apology in Mars' voice. No wonder he'd called to give him the heads up. This was definitely an assignment that would land squarely in Trevor's lap. His forte was tracking and hunting targets.
Trevor sighed. "Thanks for the heads up. I'll be...careful about…" he paused, his brain trying to sort through all his options to find one he could live with. He certainly didn't want to have to bring the kid back but he couldn't refuse the assignment or fail it without looking incredibly suspicious. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed again. "Dammit."
"Look, Trev. Everybody liked Barty, but he could be, well, downright stupid when he got a bug up his ass about something. Nobody was really surprised when he got taken out over the kid. We were all just wondering what was actually gonna do it to him. You gotta figure out if it's worth it, you know." Mars paused a moment, "All I'm saying is, don't be a Barty. Lanie and I got your back whatever you decide to do, no questions asked, just...be smart about it."
"Thanks, Mars. Preciate it, man."
After ending the call, Trevor considered giving Lanie his private number on the spot. He was fairly sure he'd end up needing her help before it was all said and done, but the company phone was ringing and Reece would have his ass if he kept him waiting any longer.
In the end, it didn't matter. None of them managed to nail the kid down. The best tip he ever got over the course of a year left him both mildly amused a bit confounded. He'd gotten word of a young man that might fit Brandon Philips' description in the downtown area. When he first saw the target, he had no idea why someone would suggest him. The kid was about the right height and definitely the right build (i.e., scrawny as shit) but he couldn't see the guy's face because he had some weird BDSM looking mask on and he couldn't see his hair because of the hood covering it. It would be an ingenious way to avoid the facial recognition software Philips had hooked into pretty much every camera he could gain access to. Both of those clothing choices obviously had Trevor's tracking senses on full alert.
What had him almost immediately brush off the tip as a waste of time was the kid's attitude. He was loud and belligerent, almost knocking someone on their ass when they accidentally bumped into him. Trevor found him a little intriguing but couldn't really wrap his brain around the idea that this brash, aggressive individual had any connection to the frightened and damaged 13-year-old he'd been assigned to keep an eye on 4 years ago.
Trevor followed the young man for about half an hour, watching him do all sorts of nothing, for the most part, and wondering if he'd actually tattooed the smattering of crudely drawn images on his arms or just used a bic pen. The kid spent part of his walk fiddling with something that Trevor couldn't see, would periodically pause and play with his phone and, at one point, came to a full stop near some deli and appeared to be writing or drawing on the wall. When Trevor reached the wall a few minutes later, he found a poster of William Philips with "lies" written multiple times and a poop emoji coming out of his mouth. To top it off, the kid had drawn a headband on the man with a little spring popping out of the top holding up a remarkably detailed picture of a penis. And, if that wasn't a clue…. The kid had surprised Trevor before when he'd stolen Philips's data and run off. Maybe he was just full of surprises.
With a wry smile, Trevor looked up in time to see the young man turn the corner into an alley. He set off after him at a quick pace, reaching the alley a few moments later. Turning the corner, he was greeted with double birds that startled a laugh out of him as he watched the window cleaning lift carry what was almost definitely Brandon Philips out of his reach. For the final insult, Brandon gave him a mocking salute before easily vaulting over the side of the lift and disappearing across the roof.
He never told anyone he'd found the kid and didn't see him again for another 10 years.
A/N
I totally did not start a new fanfic in the middle of writing for a different fandom. .
So, I decided to place my ramblings at the end instead of making y'all read them up front. Sorry the prologue doesn't have much of our favorite hackers in it. I don't envision any other chapters that don't include at least one of the DedSec team for most of it.
On my first play through, I was convinced Wrench had a port wine stain birthmark. After re-watching that scene recently, I'm not so sure since part of it looks actually damaged. However, my story is essentially based on him having a birthmark so I'm sticking with that.
I debated putting Abstergo into this universe but after reading through the wiki for it, they're freaking insidious and I can't imagine DedSec focusing on anyone else if they actually existed in their universe. So I opted to go with the official Ubisoft comment that they aren't the same universe and created my own massive corporate group to play with.
I'm estimating 10 chapters total. That could change. Also, I suck at writing romance and sex so no promises on that front, either.
Two final things:
1. I absolutely refuse to believe that Wrench's real name is Reginald. Period.
2. I'm not convinced I'll be able to write any of our favorite character's here very well, so you're welcome to rant and rave (or just politely point things out) when you see me mangling them.