Marcus

The moment Sitara and I made it back to the hackerspace, we gathered around Josh and was soon joined by Wrench. Josh sat at his computer desk as always, eyes glued to a paused, grainy video on his monitor's bright screen. The lighting was terrible, and so was the video quality. I could just barely make out the scenery.

From the looks of it, it was a toolshed. The camera recording the scene was situated on the ceiling, the lens angled downward to present a broad view of the entire space for viewers to see. There was a bunch of various hammers, saws, screwdrivers and other rusted tools hanging from weathered, splintery wooden walls. A couple of rakes and shovels were leaning in the corner of the shed too. It was so dark and eerie, the shit had horror movie written all over it.

That wasn't the worst of it though.

There was a man tied to a steel chair in the middle of the room. His arms and legs were restrained by rope, and a black burlap sack was over his head, concealing his face.

"What is this freaky shit?" I asked.

"Yeah Josh, I'm confused," Sitara said. "What is this?"

"I found this in the Pharmingtons CEO's inbox," Josh replied. "Just watch."

He clicked the play icon, and the video set in motion. The dude bound to his chair wrestled and shuffled about helplessly, desperately trying to free himself. The video had no sound, so we couldn't hear his struggling, which I was thankful for. But the silence made it even more unsettling to watch.

A man strolled into the tool. He was massive, built and stocky— the type of dude you'd think twice about fucking with. Guaranteed seven-foot-tall, or maybe an inch or so under that. He wore a black, vinyl butcher apron, jeans, and a burlap sack over his head just like the other guy, except his had holes cut out around the eyes so he could see.

I had this bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, like something terrible was about to go down. Sitara must had felt it too. Her narrow frame was huddled near mine, slender fingers gripping my jacket. I've seen more than my fair share of serial killer movies, and the big ass dude with the butcher apron had super, obnoxiously obvious murder vibes. I would had been fine with watching it too, if it actually was just a horror movie.

This was something else entirely. It was raw, gritty, and undeniably… real. Josh wouldn't had wasted our time showing us this otherwise.

The butcher dude lurked toward the array of tools lining the wall. He observed them for a long while. The sick fuck was probably debating which one he wanted to use.

"I bet you a beer he's gonna pick the saw," Wrench muttered, appearing beside me.

"Anything but the saw," I frowned. "Please Lord, not the saw…"

And of course, despite my prayers, he latched onto the saw. With his chosen weapon of murder and doom in hand, he turned and closed in on the poor soul still wrestling with his restraints. He didn't even know what was coming, blinded by the sack over his head. I knew what was about to happen, but I couldn't look away, because there was a part of me keeping faith that it would end differently. Someone would barge in and save the victim from harm's way, or maybe he'd find a way out of the restraints at the last second and get the Hell out of there. It wasn't over yet.

The butcher raised the sharp, rusted saw high above his victim's head. In one swift strike, the top of his cranium had split in two, blood gushing rapidly from his skull.

"Holy fuck," I grimaced. The gore had my flesh crawling.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Sitara turned and paced away, holding her stomach.

Josh paused the video, and whirled around in his chair to face us. "Yeah, this is bad, like really bad."

"Bad is putting it lightly, man," I exclaimed. "This is fucked! Who would do some sick shit like that?"

"Some deranged asshole with too much time on his hands," Wrench answered. "Man, and I thought I had problems. This guy is a fucking psychopath."

"Someone sent this to the CEO, but I can't trace it back," Josh said. "They've covered their tracks really well. It's a dead end."

"Guys, I hate to be the voice of reason here, but solving murder mysteries is not part of DedSec's job description," Wrench said. "We're hackers, not feds or detectives. Although it'd be cool to be Sherlock Holmes for a day but still—"

"Nah, fuck that," I grumbled. "We gotta find this motherfucker. Trust me, this wasn't the first guy he killed. What if the dude in the footage that got executed is one people who went missing recently? There's no way to identify him with the bag over his head and shit, but it'd be too big of a coincidence for there not to be a connection, right?"

"It's possible," Josh responded. "The email was sent a month ago, just as the missing persons reports had begun to spike dramatically."

"See, the timing can't be a coincidence," I said. "You know what I can't wrap my head around though? Why would a serial killer send some shit like this to the CEO of Pharmingtons? What is there to gain?"

"Could be a threat," Josh said. "Maybe extortion? She's rich."

I shook my head. "I dunno man, maybe. I feel like there's more to it."

Josh spun around, returning his attention to his computer. "I'm going to scour through the data you transferred from the CEO one more time, just for safe measure. If I find anything, you'll be the first to know."

"Thanks man."

"No problem. You had a long day, you should get some sleep. The sun will be rising in approximately four hours."

"Yeah, no doubt. You should get some rest too, that data will be there in the morning. You work too damn hard."

"Did you know British soldiers were the first to develop a method for staying up thirty-six hours straight without sleep?"

"Uh, nah. But that's cool man."

"When fatigued, they wore special visors that emulated the brightness of sunrise, and it woke them up. I'm in the process of making my own. I'd be much more productive that way."

"Sunlight emulation?" Two question marks appeared on Wrench's mask. "Wonder if I can reconfigure my mask to do the same thing."

"We could binge on Jimmy Siska movies like you wouldn't believe." I feigned a smile.

"Dude, creating a sunlight emulating mask is totally on my bucket-list now. Anyhow, as much as I didn't enjoy watching some random guy get brutally murdered, it made for a pretty good reminder of how fucked up this world is, and why robots are much better than people. I'm gonna head back to the garage to put some finishing touches on Wrench Jr. 2.0. See ya' in the morning detective M."

"All right," we gave one another a fist bump. "Stay safe man."

"Sure thing, I'll try not to get kidnapped along the way."

"Really Wrench?" Sitara asked, lying prone across the couch.

"What? Too soon for morbid banter?"

"Much too soon, my stomach still feels queasy," she murmured.

Wrench grinned, heading toward the exit of the hackerspace. "Sorry Sitara. Break a leg at the breast cancer fundraiser tomorrow. I'll be rooting for ya'. Oh, and M, meet me at the garage tomorrow when you get a chance!"

"Will do," I called out as he turned and disappeared up the staircase.

So that's what Sitara had planned for tomorrow. I wasn't surprised, she always jumped at any opportunity to support a good cause. If she wasn't rallying against corporate corruption or the wealth inequality of capitalism, she was at the hackerspace helping us fight ctOS. The girl had a big heart, and wasn't afraid to stand up for what's right.

I joined Sitara at the couch, leaned over the back of it and gazed down at her. Observing her from this angle struck me with a lightheaded sensation, butterflies invading my stomach. I forgot about the whole nine yards of bad shit that's been happening lately, like Pharmingtons, the missing people, the shady video— for a moment, it all didn't seem to matter. My thoughts and concentration had completely fixated on her.

She was wearing her usual denim shorts. They hugged her delicately built hips tightly, leaving little to the imagination. Her thick, knee high socks did well to conceal her ankles, but left her tanned, supple thighs exposed. They were toned from her frequent free running. I found myself fantasizing about her legs on more than one occasion, distracted by the thought of how damn good they'd feel to finally touch.

Damn, I was crushing hard on her.

I was trying to keep it under wraps though. I mean, I couldn't help but flirt with her here and there, I was only human after all. But it was a constant battle trying not to get fully immersed in admiring her body. Nobody caught me checking her out yet, at least I didn't think anyone did, so I was doing a good job keeping it on the down low so far. Wasn't sure how long that was gonna last at this rate though.

Her glittering blue and green rogued eyelids were heavy, and her arm had hung limply off the couch. She looked so exhausted.

"Hey girl, how you doin?" I asked. "You hangin' in there okay?"

"I'm trying Marcus, it's been such a long day," she mumbled. "What are you up to? Heading home soon?"

"Nah," I gave her captivating frame a once-over. "I'm just enjoying the view."

She smiled weakly, her soft, manicured hand lifted to caress my cheek. "Stop being so sweet and affectionate all the time. You're too good at making me smile and I just wanna be sad right now."

My face grew hot beneath her touch. How'd she get me to blush so easily all the time? I needed to get better at taking compliments, and fast. I lowered my head, the brim of my hat shielded my face from her sight.

"That video," she continued. "I can't shake it. To think that that could be happening to all those missing people…"

I nodded. "There's some fucked up people in this world."

"What are we going to do?"

"I don't know. Wrench thinks we should turn a blind eye and leave it to the cops, but people keep disappearing and I don't see them doing shit about it. Doesn't feel right to sit this one out."

"Whatever you decide to do, just know that we're all on your side. We all trust you, including Wrench. You earned that, Marcus. You've never guided us in the wrong direction before."

"Nuh-uh, you give me too much credit sometimes. I'm pretty sure it was luck on more than one occasion."

"Or, it could've been you being… you?"

"Nope," I teased. "Definitely ain't that."

"Don't tell me you forgot about how much of a wonderful, amazing man you are—"

"S-stop," I stammered, unable to stop myself from chuckling. "You know I can't take flattery."

"You'll get used to it one day." A drawn-out yawn escaped her full lips. "I so need to get my sleeping schedule back on track. It's already so late, and the fundraiser starts at nine in the morning. I'm going home, I need a proper bed to sleep in tonight. This couch isn't cutting it."

"Need a lift?"

"No need, I'll be fine."

"You sure? I'd feel more comfortable escorting you there myself, considering everything that's been going on lately…"

"Marcus, I'm a big girl, don't worry. You know how close my apartment is from here. I'll be okay."

"Alright, my bad." I took her hand and helped her to her feet. "Promise me you'll be careful though?"

"I always am."

"Cool. So, I'll see you tomorrow. Good luck with the fundraiser." Just as I began to turn away, she tapped my shoulder gently. I gazed at her and smiled. "You good?"

"Yeah, um…" She fumbled with her green bracelet nervously, her delicate eyes stuck to her boots. "I'll be busy most of the day with the fundraiser, but we can still go on that date, if you want? At eight?"

"Oh, for sure." Even though Sitara was adorable when she was nervous, I didn't want her to be intimidated by little ol' me. I nudged her tense frame playfully. "You know I'm always down to chill. How about we meet up outside Games & Glory, and take it from there?"

"Okay, sounds like a plan. See you then, Marcus."

It was a bright, sunny spring afternoon in the heart of San Francisco. Birds were chirping, the cloudless sky was an endless blanket of blue, and the sun beamed into my face through the windshield of my car. Thankfully, there was a nice breeze to combat the rising temperatures.

The sidewalks were packed with pedestrians enjoying the weather. People were window shopping, loitering about and chatting. Gotta love the shopping district. Buskers had played music and entertained those passing by, kids with backpacks were hustling home from school, dog walkers were playing with their most trusted companions…

Man, I envied them. I was stuck in bumper to bumper traffic in what seemed to be the busiest intersection on the fucking planet. I swear it's been about fifteen minutes since anyone has moved. The road rage was crazy. Horns were honking like mad, drivers were shouting at each other from their rearview windows like lunatics. They were throwing insults at one another like it was going out of style.

I was tempted to start honking my horn and lashing out at people as well, as if that'd fucking help anything. I had shit to do and places to be. As frustrated as I was, it was pretty funny listening to the colorful slander and outrage.

I secured my earbuds into my ear, tuning out the rage, and grabbed my phone. I scrolled through my contacts until I found Wrench's number, and tapped the call icon. His phone rung twice before he picked up.

"Hello, this is The Wrench speaking," he said.

"Hey man," I greeted. "I'm on my way to the garage, but I'm gonna be late. I'm stuck in traffic. Yo, the road rage is fucking priceless, I wish you could hear some of this shit. You ever been called a cock-muppet before?"

"Nah, but I'm known on many forums as a cock-shiner and a mouth breather."

"No shit? I think I rather be a cock-muppet than a cock-shiner, and mouth breather. Muppets are actually pretty cool."

"Yeah, except you wouldn't be a frog, or a pig, or the cookie monster. You'd be a cock made out of cheap fabric and stuffing. But to each his own. It took some time, but now I wear the title of a cock-shining mouth breather with pride. By the way, you couldn't find a better time to drive here? It's fucking rush hour."

"Give me a break. I've been busy all day, tryna' fit a whole lot of bullshit into my schedule. Had to pay the rent, get a haircut, do my laundry, grocery shopping… Now is the only free time I have to meet up with you because I got even more shit to do later."

"Might I ask what exactly? Or is it a secret?"

"Since when have I kept secrets from you?"

"Well, funny you asked, because I heard from an outside source that you have the hots for Sitara."

I furrowed my brows. "Really? And who was the outside source that disclosed such information?"

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you—"

"You and Sitara have been talking, am I right?"

"I know all about your hot, and steamy seven minutes in heaven escapades at Pharmingtons," He continued, ignoring my question. "The smooth lines, the sweat, the passion, and the unmeasurable amount of sexual tension—"

"Fuck you," I grinned. Traffic had finally started moving again, thank the Lord. "Alright, the traffic jam is easing up, so I'll see you soon man."

"Do what you must to survive the salt and road rage, my friend. Godspeed!"

I hung up with a smile. Typical Wrench. He always found a way to brighten my day. What else were best friends for right? How in the fuck did he know so much about me and Sitara though? Did he tap my phone or some shit? Nah, he wouldn't do that. I bet him and Sitara have been talking. He sure as Hell avoided my question when I asked him earlier.

My phone began to vibrate in my lap. I stole a quick peek at it. Josh was calling. I answered, silently praying he found something— anything to help us get back on track with solving the shitload of mysterious disappearances around the state.

"Got some good news for me?" I asked.

"I found a lead," Josh replied. "I've been looking over the missing persons reports, and noticed something odd. I'm texting you an address of a restaurant in Elmhurst, Oakland. Nine out of the fifteen people who have gone missing in the district were last seen there. Too big of a coincidence to ignore."

"Yeah, way too big. The cops didn't think to check the place out?"

"They did but failed to find anything to help the investigation. Maybe you'll have better luck."

"Yeah, maybe. I'll head there as soon as I'm done meeting up with Wrench. Thanks."

"Be careful Marcus."

After another thirty minutes of pure agony battling with traffic, I finally pulled up to Wrench's garage. I parked along his concrete drive way and exited the car. He awaited me at the garage's wide, white doorway, arms crossed over his chest. His mask flashed with two large circles as soon as he laid eyes on me.

"What's good, man?" I asked, stepping up to him. "We going inside or…?"

"M?" He asked, head tilted to the side as he stared at me. "I-is that you?"

"Uh, yeah it's me. Why?"

"You look different." He circled around me slowly, studying me intently. "Like really different."

"What? You're making me nervous man."

"Your DedSec duds! They're gone! You don't look like a hipster anymore. You must be an imposter. Who are you and what have you done with Marcus?"

I grinned, glancing down at myself. I wore my favorite pair of black leather joggers, white hi-tops, and a white and black hoodie to match. Wrench has never seen me on a normal day, when I wasn't trying to keep a low profile from ctOS. He probably wasn't aware of the date I had planned in a few hours either. I guess he didn't know everything under the sun after all.

"Yo, chill out," I said, raising my palms defensively. "It's me. Felt like switching up my style for once. That's all."

"Sure," he said sarcastically. "Well, I'm digging the new duds. That designer hoodie looks great on you; the poker print really brings out your eyes."

"For real?" I asked, peering down at the large, king of diamonds depiction etched into front of my hoodie. "It's on sale at Street Flex, if you wanna pick one up real quick."

"No thanks. I'm more of an Axle Boardshop with a mix of Torque Rat Bike, if you get what I mean."

"I feel you. So, you need something right? I can't stay long."

Two question marks appeared on his mask. "What's the rush, M? Everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Being stuck in traffic really fucked my schedule, that's all."

"Well, I'll make this quick then. I wanted to link up so we can talk about the sudden disappearances around the city you, Josh and Sitara have been investigating. I know I'm not the one to pass the buck when shit hits the fan, but I really, really think we should let this go. It's too dangerous."

I narrowed my eyes at him. It wasn't like Wrench to back down from a fight, or anything, for that matter. He actually jumped at any opportunity to bring some pain. What was he so afraid of? "Wrench, is there something you're not telling me?"

"Dude, remember the creepy video Josh found? Where the dude got his dome sawed in two?

"Fuck yeah I remember, ain't gonna forget it anytime soon. What about it?"

"I couldn't sleep last night. Every time I closed my eyes, I'd see it. I've seen a lot of fucked up shit M, but that video takes the cake."

"That's exactly why we can't let this go—"

"No M, that's exactly why we should let it go. What if one of us ends up like that guy?"

"Don't say shit like that—"

"Dude, we should stick to what we do best, like hacking, and fucking nailing the rest of the smug fucks in the world like Dušan. Since when did it become our responsibility to chase after murdering psychopaths? We have so much other shit on our plate to worry about. This isn't our problem."

I glared at him, muscles tensing. "How could you say that, man? Human beings are literally disappearing right under our fucking noses, never to be seen again. People's mothers, their fathers, sisters, and brothers— gone. If you don't give a shit, that's on you. But I ain't about to sit on my ass and pretend everything's just fucking peachy. Fuck that."

I turned for my silver Sedan, only for Wrench's tattooed hand to clutch my arm tightly, holding me in place. "Dude, wait. Just fucking chill, alright? I do care, it's just… this path your heading down, it's a dark one. Let's say you do find the guy responsible for kidnapping and murdering that dude in the video. What do you do? Force him to turn himself in? Or do you take justice into your own hands?"

I sighed, lips pressed together in a tight grimace. I never thought that far into the whole situation. I honestly didn't have an answer.

"Becoming a self-appointed doer of justice— a vigilante or whatever, it changes you dude. I've been there before, and it wasn't pretty." He let go of my arm, and pat my shoulder gently. "Whatever happens, just keep that in mind, okay?"

Thanks for reading! Leave a comment if you like, feedback is greatly appreciated!