Trigger warning! This chapter contains sensitive material, including mass shootings. If you find such material to be offensive, please skip this chapter. You've been warned.

Marcus

I stared blankly at my reflection in the mirror as I washed my hands. It was weird, I looked completely normal— no visible signs of exhaustion, but on the inside, I felt so physically drained, maintaining my stance was a struggle.

I was tired as hell. I needed sleep.

For as long as I could remember, every night before bed was an endless battle of opposing thoughts. There were days where my tiredness came in both forms, physically and mentally, but it was rare. See, it was usually my body that needed rest, but not my mind. It'd keep running and running, repeatedly reminding me that time waited for no one— I could be doing much more important things than lounging about. More often than not, I'd give into my thoughts and pull an all-nighter.

Tonight was different however. Usually I could go on for days without sleep, provided I had the aid of caffeinated substances. But coffee wasn't helping, and neither were naps. None of my old methods seemed to replenish my energy. My movements were languid and clumsy; my insides numb like a zombie.

I studied the exhausted man staring back in the mirror. I appeared to be okay, at least I had that going for me. But something was off.

Honestly, I didn't feel like myself. That night I spent trapped in a cellar a month ago must had done something to me, the damage ran deeper than just physical scars. Not that I had much to show for it, my fractured bones had healed back stronger; the bruises, cuts and lacerations were nothing more than faded scars now. No one would be able to discern all the shit I went through based off sight alone.

I couldn't recall much of the events anyhow. I could remember only bits and pieces. It was as if my brain had buried the memories deep down, maybe as a coping mechanism, or something. The same happened with Horatio, I subconsciously pushed the guilt of his death aside, to focus on taking down Blume. And once I did, it all came rushing back in like a waterfall, flooding me with the pain, sorrow and remorse of not being able to save him when he needed me most. So I partied non-stop, alcohol and drugs flushed the negative emotions away.

Maybe I'd be alright by morning. I wanted to be okay for Sitara, I didn't want her to worry about me anymore. That girl was always worrying, poor thing. I knew the uncertainty of my well-being constantly gnawed at her heart. I just wanted my baby to be happy, so I've been doing my best trying to hide my fatigue, but I was barely running on fumes now—

"This is war!" Wrench's voice boomed through the apartment. "Those motherfuckers!"

"Calm down, Wrench!" Sitara yelled. "What the Hell happened?"

Curious of the commotion, I dragged myself out of the bathroom, and into Sitara's bedroom. Wrench stood before her, his black studded jacket and faded blue jeans drenched in blood. There was so much…

The gory sight of him caused one of the many hazy memories I had buried deep down to emerge from the depths of my mind. There was a woman trapped in the cold, dark cellar with us. She was tied to a chair, covered in her own blood. The deep incisions carved into her pale, frail body, the shallow breaths she took, the hopeless pleading she made to me as she teetered on the brink of death— I remembered it so well.

She was undoubtedly one of the many who had been kidnapped. But I couldn't save her. She was too far gone, her punctured eye socket pooled with blood, bleeding profusely. It ran down her cheekbones, dripping from her chin onto her clothes, droplets staining my hands as I tried to free her from her restraints.

It was hopeless. I couldn't even save myself. Things had escalated so quickly; everything had gone so horribly wrong…

Unable to get her mutilated face out of my head, I sagged down onto the bed, gazing blankly at the white ceiling.

"We were fucking ambushed!" Wrench shouted, tugging off his bloodied jacket and tossing it aside in a fit of rage. "There were snipers on the rooftop. The fuckers started unloading shots on our people at the party, popping heads like ripe fucking watermelons. It was a massacre!"

Sitara stared at him incredulously. "W-what? That's crazy—"

"Don't believe me?" He whipped out his phone, his unsteady, blood-stained fingers tapped on the screen frantically. After a moment or two, he passed it to her. "Take a load of this."

A woman's voice erupted from the device's speakers. "This is WKZ TV live special report, to update you on the situation if you're just now joining us. At least six dead, thirty injured, many of those injuries severe after multiple gunmen armed with military grade weaponry opened fire on civilians at Salty Bay beach in San Francisco, California, less than an hour ago. Details are limited at the moment as the investigation is underway, but we have multiple unverified reports that the shooting took place during a highly publicized event hosted by the infamous hacker group DedSec—"

Josh appeared, stealing my attention from the broadcast. He slipped through the open front door of the apartment, laptop in hand. He passed me a weak nod as a greeting and took a seat on the edge of the bed.

The news reporter continued. "San Francisco police are at the scene of the massacre, where there is apparently an all-out manhunt underway for the gunmen, who are still at large and on the run. Investigators have few clues of where the gunmen may have fled, but they are warning the public to be on the lookout, as they are armed and dangerous…"

I listened to as much of the broadcast as I could, my stomach hardened as I took in the information. Reluctantly, my attention eventually returned to the woman's maimed, disfigured face. It continuously gnawed at the back of my mind. How did she survive the torture for so long? What if she didn't die?

"What the fuck," Sitara voice snapped me back to reality. "Six people dead? Thirty injured? How the Hell did you and Josh make it out of there alive?"

"We got lucky," Wrench's gaze dropped to the floor. "I rather not get into the nitty-gritty of how we escaped, it wasn't pretty. One of the DedSec members we lost was an old friend of mine."

"I'm so sorry," Sitara mumbled. "How many of the confirmed deaths were our people?"

"All six were ours, mostly scouts and green hat hackers," Josh stated, his eyes twitched with anxiety as his fingers swiftly mashed down on the keys of his laptop. "They were targeting DedSec members specifically. Someone's retaliating against us."

"Oh my God," she shook her head, beginning to pace about the room. "They've crossed the line. This is sick. What did we ever do to deserve retaliation this extreme?"

"We need to find out who the fuck did this," Wrench grumbled, glancing at Josh. "We have to find out everything about them, names, addresses, social security numbers, everything."

"How?" Josh asked. "We have nowhere to start. The police haven't identified the shooters, and we have too many enemies to try and narrow down our options. I can name dozens of gangs, corporations and tech giants we've angered in the past. Even the FBI are after us."

"What was I thinking?" Sitara mumbled to herself as she paced. "We should have been prepared for this."

"Sitara, this isn't your fault," Wrench argued. "How could any of us had seen this coming? Sure we have enemies, but retaliating with a mass shooting? This is next level shit, no one's ever gone after us this hard before. It feels like we're in a gritty crime movie now."

"What are we going to do?" Josh asked. "We need an actual plan, something that makes sense."

"If only we could find out a name, we can trace it back to whoever ordered the hit on us." Wrench said. "Then we can fill em' with bullet holes, like the Bolivian cartel did to Tony Montana."

"We don't have that many bullets to spare," Josh said.

"Jesus guys," Sitara snapped. "Screw the bullets, we're not a gang. And we're not crazy, egotistical drug lords either. We don't have soldiers, thugs, or goons armed to the teeth with guns, willing to go to war with our rivals and die for us. We're just hackers."

"Scarface reference aside, some of us are more than just hackers," Wrench said. "We're vigilantes. Do you remember what we did a month ago? What you did a month ago? You killed a murderer."

"I'm not proud of what I did," she frowned. "I had to. If I didn't, Marcus wouldn't be here right now."

"Speaking of M," Wrench gazed at me. "What's up dude? Why are you so quiet? We need a plan. Help us figure something out, like you always do. We're all drawing blanks here."

"I don't have a plan man," I mumbled.

"So you're just gonna lay there and not say anything at all?" His mask went blank. "Do you even care about what happened? That some of our members— our friends, were killed?"

"Of course I care."

"You sure as fuck aren't acting like it. Did you lose your mojo while you were in that coma? Where's the old M? The one who would go through Hell and back to defend us?"

Without a word, I grimaced, scrubbing a hand over my face. I honestly didn't have an answer. My burnt-out brain was still processing what was going on, and whether I had the strength, or even the drive, to do something about the vendetta against us.

Maybe I did lose my mojo. For the first time ever, I just wanted to disappear, to get away from all my problems, especially the death and bloodshed. It seemed to be following me wherever I went, shadowing my every step. The nightmare started when I lost Horatio. Was it ever going to end?

I had to bury my afflictions, the team needed me. But how could I? In my current state, I was more of a liability than an asset. My body and mind wasn't up to par. Everything was still cloudy, as if I was observing the world through fogged lenses, struggling to piece together the events unfolding around me— unable to identify the small details, and complexity of the situation we were facing.

Josh closed his laptop, and jammed his hands into his armpits, hugging himself. "We're way in over our heads. This isn't going to end well for us."

"We're going to be fine, Josh." Sitara sat beside him, and rubbed his shoulder gently. "We're going to figure this out. The cops will capture the creeps who opened fire on our people anytime now. For now, let's keep a low profile and see how things play out."

"Seriously? That's the plan?" Wrench's hand balled into fists. "Look at me! I'm practically fucking drenched in the blood of our friends, who have just got their brains blown out all over the fucking pavement." Veins budging with anger, he pounded his fist against the wall. "I'm not going to sit around and wait for them to ambush us again. They know who we are guys. Out of everyone at the party, the snipers killed DedSec members only. They must be trained professionals, you have to be experienced to pull off clear, accurate shots like that at a crowded party, right? How do you know they won't stop until we're all rotting six feet under, being fed on by maggots and—"

"Wrench, that's enough!" Sitara snapped. She hugged Josh's quaking body close, as he anxiously rocked himself back and forth in her arms. "Calm down, you're scaring Josh."

Wrench folded his arms across his chest. "Fuck being scared, we should be furious. Get a grip Joshy-boy, and let's cornhole these motherfuckers, before they cornhole us, again."

"W-we need to get to the hackerspace," Josh scrambled into a stance. "I need my equipment. I can monitor WKZ's live broadcasts for updates on who the shooters might be. We should hack the security cameras around the beach's perimeter, rewinding the time codes and scouring the footage might give us a clue."

"Now we're talking Josh!" Wrench fist pumped the air with enthusiasm. "At least someone here gives two shits about what's going on."

"Will you quit it already?" Sitara glared at him. "We all care, alright? Things may seem bleak now, but we're going to get through this like we always do, as a team. We can't turn against each other."

Wrench shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever. Someone has to hack the access points of the security cameras and send the data back to Josh, so he can rewind the time codes. Problem is, none of us can get close enough to pull it off, not with police and the media flooding the crime scene. I'm gonna take Josh back to the hackerspace, get a change of clothes and some sleep. Come morning, I'll head out to get the footage we need."

"Marcus and I will meet you at the hackerspace before you leave, so the three of us can go together. It's not safe for any of us to be out and about alone."

Wrench nodded, and quickly made his departure, Josh following at his heels.

Sitara gravitated to the front door and shut it, securing the locks behind them. She turned, abruptly pressing her back against the wall. Slowly, she sagged down onto the floor, hands hanging limply over her knees.

"Think Wrench will be alright?" I asked, still staring blankly at the ceiling.

"He will." Sitara murmured. "He's stronger than most of us. This won't break him. Sometimes I wonder if anything can."

"Do you think she's dead?"

"Who?"

"The woman who was trapped in the cellar with us."

"I don't know." She frowned. "The police are still searching for bodies, they haven't found any yet, besides the two murderers we put down. All the missing people around the bay area still haven't been found." She let out a stiff laugh. "It's ridiculous. After all the evidence we turned over from that awful, forgotten house, you would think that investigators would have cracked the case by now. But nope, the FBI and the San Francisco police department claim to be still in the dark, chasing shadows."

"Fuck," I mumbled. "We should of have known better. The SFPD is hopeless, they couldn't find their own assholes with a magnifying glass and a map."

"I couldn't agree more. Wrench thinks they're making progress, but I think he's being naïve. Cops are fucking useless; they can't do a damn thing without public watch dogs holding their hands. Wouldn't be surprised if they were in on it themselves. They've turned a blind eye to gang activity and corporate corruption for years now, who's to say they wouldn't throw the missing person cases under the rug too?"

She sat there, as still as a statue, her eyes puffy and bloodshot. "If only they went after gang members, drug traffickers and murderers like they do with hackers. People wouldn't be dying left and right, I bet the streets would be as clean as a whistle. Depending on the cops to catch the gunmen responsible for killing our people? Tough fucking luck, they're probably throwing a donut party right now as we speak, six less hackers for them to worry about."

She paused for a moment in quiet contemplation, her eyes grazing the ceiling. "Sometimes I wonder, after everything we've done… if we all were to die, would the world even give a damn? I doubt they would. No one cares about the people that have gone missing either. Everyone is content living their simple lives, happily unaware of poor, homeless, and less fortunate souls being snatched off street, disappearing right before their eyes, never to be seen again. Just like Thomas Gray said, 'Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise.'"

As much as I would had loved to engage in a deep conversation with Sitara, everything she was saying was going through one ear and out the other. I didn't have the mental acuity to keep up with that big, beautiful brain of hers' tonight. Hopefully listening, or trying to listen rather, would be enough.

Tears brimmed on her long eyelashes, dipping onto her high cheekbones. "What if Josh is right?" She asked, lips trembling. "We're in over our heads, we've never dealt with anything like this before."

I watched the tears descend Sitara's face, my chest caving in. I hated to see her hurting, but I knew she had to let it out, holding it in always did more harm than good.

She used to carry herself with an air of strength, and assurance whenever we were together, as if she could handle anything the world threw at her. However, there was so much sadness in her eyes lately, I could see it even when she masked it behind the pretty smiles and cute laughter.

She was fragile. I wasn't sure if it was due to all the bad shit that's been thrown at us recently, or whether she was always this sensitive and emotional, merely letting down her walls for me to see who she truly was deep down inside. Her feelings were justified, no doubt, I was scared too. But she didn't hide it like I did, she trusted me enough to show me her pain.

I was flattered, although technically, it was my job to listen and support her. I was a taken man now, no more wild parties, one night stands or getting drunk and high at the same time. I had to put that crazy shit behind me if I wanted what we had to last. I needed a new coping mechanism. Maybe having a shoulder to lean on and someone to confide every now and then would do the trick.

Although, letting down my walls and rendering myself vulnerable scared the shit out of me. But if she was willing to tear down her defenses for me, then she deserved someone who would at least try to return the favor. Right now though, all I wanted to do was cuddle and go to sleep.

"Talk to me Marcus?" She asked sweetly, her tone much softer than usual. "I need you to say something, anything. I'm scared for us."

"Why are you on the floor girl?" I reached out to her. "Come here."

"No, I don't wanna," she shook her head. "This is my safe place. When I'm feeling like total crap, I just wanna sit here on this cold floor and be miserable."

"Why? It's comfy over here, we can be miserable together. I miss you."

"If you miss me so much, then come and get me."

"Nuh-uh, I'm tired."

"Clearly you don't miss me that much," she smirked, and climbed to her feet. "I need a drink, tonight has been such an emotional roller coaster. I can't deal with all of this, I feel like I'm about to lose my fucking mind."

Sitara turned away and took off down the narrow hall. I reluctantly rose from the bed, and jogged after her, playfully locking my arms around her slender waist and sweeping her off her feet. Trapped in my embrace, she let out a yelp of surprise, followed by involuntary, bubbly laughter.

She wiggled and squirmed for freedom, but to no avail. "Let me go jerk!"

"Nope! You're mine now." I carried her back to the bedroom, and dropped her on the bed. Determined to escape, she tried to crawl away on all fours. I latched onto the waistband of her shorts, holding her in place.

"Oh my God, I'm not a toy, Marcus. You can't manhandle me like this."

"You're a big girl, you can take it."

"Douche," she grumbled.

"Can't help it, I get grumpy when I'm tired."

"So go to sleep already."

"Not without you."

"You're so clingy."

"You know you like it." Still clenching onto the waistband of her shorts, I pulled her toward me.

"Marcus!" Sitara whined cutely. "Let go of me right now, or so help me God, I will kick your ass."

"You better start kicking girl, cause' I ain't letting go."

Giggling, she reached out, her soft hand slapped my face gently.

I smiled. "Was that supposed to hurt?"

"That was a warning shot, jerk. Get off, or the next one is really gonna hurt."

"Doubt it. Bet you won't do it again—"

With little delay or restraint, she raised a palm to my face once more, faster and harder this time, like a whip. The hit caused a sharp, stinging pang in my cheek. "Not bad," I snorted, laughing off the pain. "That kinda hurt."

"Wait a second…" She smirked. "You like this, don't you?"

"Maybe." I finally set her free, and collapsed on the bed, letting out a drawn-out yawn and closing my eyes. "It's cute when you're frisky, but I can't take anymore abuse right now. All I want is some sleep, and maybe a little lovin' too, if I'm lucky?"

Sitara's slender frame gravitated close, and hovered over me. Her warm, minty breath on my neck, the tip of her button nose softly rubbed mine. The random Eskimo kiss forced a fleeting, tingling sensation throughout my weary body. I beamed, her silver hoop septum ring tickled my nostrils.

Her plump lips lowered to my jawline, where she began to plant a downward trail of subtle, feather-light kisses. I remained perfectly still while she explored my neck with the small, chaste pecks, laced with hesitation and shyness. It was as if this level of intimacy was brand new to her.

Contrary to her usual fiery, assertive persona, she seemed to be more modest and submissive in the bedroom. Not that I minded, her coy advances and overall meekness served as a refreshing change of pace from the women I had dated in the past. Most of my previous relationships were casual anyhow, based solely on sexual gratification with no strings attached.

Those types of relationships never ended well for me. In my experience, they were dysfunctional, ticking time bombs, where one of us would undoubtedly start falling for the other, only for those feelings not to be reciprocated, and it all crashed and burned from there. It's a vicious cycle, I've seen it too many times.

With Sitara, it was different. What we had wasn't built strictly on lust. The bond we had was something real, and it took a Hell of a long time to build. We had our pitfalls, but the work we put in to climb out of them was worth it. I was young, and reckless at times, but I wasn't naïve. I knew the feelings I had for her only came around once in a lifetime, and that was only if you're lucky.

I actually dozed off a couple times in between her tentative, delicate caresses. It was hard not to, usually I had trouble sleeping in the summer due to the heat, but the temperature in here was nice and chilly thanks to the air conditioner. Sitara's body heat was an added bonus, she made everything feel just right.

Although, her kisses kept pulling me back to my senses after a moment or two. It was a little frustrating, considering how damn tired I was, but at the same time, I didn't want her to stop. I liked the attention.

"Marcus? Are you awake?" Sitara asked. Her lips brushed over the corner of my mouth.

"Mhmm," I mumbled sleepily.

"I know you're tired hun, but can you stay up a little longer, for me?" She asked sweetly. "I just got you back handsome, and I don't want this to end. You're such a good distraction from everything. Nothing relieves my stress and worries like you do."

After a long, languorous stretch, I managed to open my eyes. "Sure baby, whatever you need." I smoothed my fingers through her beautifully thick, recently washed hair. Her dark, damp strands were heavy, like a silky weight, and cool to the touch. "Today's been tough. You hanging in there okay?"

"Barely. I'm trying to hold it together. But I'm so scared. I feel like I'm hanging on by a thread here. Bad things just keep happening, one after another…" Voice cracking, she paused momentarily to regain her composure. "It'll only get worse from here; I can feel it—"

"Shh," I cupped her chin, forcing her to look at me. "Don't think like that Sitara. It ain't good for team morale. You need to get your head in the right mental space, so we can get shit done tomorrow. I know it's hard, but you have to find a way."

"I didn't sign up to be kidnapped, or for my friends to be killed when I joined DedSec, Marcus."

"Should have read the fine print, girl. It's dangerous to rebel against the rich and powerful, people are killed on the daily for much less. I put my life on the line countless times trying to make a difference in this world. It ain't easy, but someone's gotta do it."

"How do you do it? After everything you've been through, how do you stay so strong?"

"Hmm," I furrowed my brows. "Well, underprivileged, and constantly struggling to make ends meet in this fucked world, I spent most of my life just going with the notions. That is, until I joined DedSec— until I met you, Wrench and Josh. I realized how amazing it feels to help those who are underprivileged like me, who don't have a voice, or the ability, nor the access to the necessary evils needed stand up to the pretentious fucks stepping all over them."

She sniffed. "I guess it does feel good, when we actually win. Do you think we will this time?"

"Don't we always?" I tucked the long strands of her hair gone astray behind her ears, and kissed away the salty, dried tearstains on her face.

"But we don't even know who or what we're up against. I just don't get how you're so levelheaded right now."

"Nah, I ain't levelheaded. If I was, I'd probably be a lot less calm right now, plotting and fanatically brainstorming our next move. Instead, I'm just existing, over here feeling fatigued and brain fried. I know we're in deep shit, and I should be doing something about it besides lying here, but I'm running on fumes baby. I don't have it in me to figure out what to do from here. I don't the energy to do much at all actually. I'm a fucking waste of space."

"Stop being so hard on yourself. You've just woken up from a coma not long ago, remember? You can do amazing things Marcus, but don't forget that you're only human, okay?"

I nodded weakly. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Okay, I'm going to quit bothering you and let you sleep." She carefully slipped off my glasses, and gently set it down on the nightstand, beside the bright lamp illuminating the room. I peeled off my sweater, and Sitara snuggled close to me, her head resting on my chest, our bodies entwined. "Are you comfortable like this? Do you need the lights off?"

"Yeah, I got it." I clicked off the lamp, cloaking the space in darkness. "Night baby."

"Night handsome."

I woke up to the blazing gold rays of the July sun, the strong streaks of light penetrated the window and shined into my face, practically blinding me. I winced and rolled over, shoving a pillow over my head.

It felt like a damn sauna in here, which was odd. Despite the summer heat, Sitara's tiny apartment was always cool, and well ventilated. Maybe the air conditioner is broken, although it seemed to be doing its job perfectly fine last night.

The humidity became unbearable after a while. It kept getting hotter and hotter. My throat was as dry as sand paper, and my stomach was growling like crazy. Irritated, I flung my pillow away, and stole a peek at Sitara. She seemed to be sleeping just fine, her body bundled and wrapped tightly within a warm cocoon of bed sheets, stealing all the covers to herself. How the Hell did she sleep so peacefully in these conditions? I was sweating bricks.

"Sitara?" I gave her a nudge. "Wake up, girl. Ain't you hot with all those covers on?"

"No," she murmured, half asleep. "It's freezing."

I furrowed my brows. She must be joking.

I slipped on my glasses and slowly began to rise from the bed. A severe, throbbing pain gripped both sides of my head the moment I sat up. And to make matters worse, the room seemed to be spinning around and around nonstop, leaving me unbalanced and nauseous, as if I had just gotten off the craziest roller coaster ever.

I grimaced, clutching my aching head. "Fuck me…"

Sitara chuckled. "Isn't it too early for that?"

I fell back onto the bed, the pain and discomfort to severe for me to stand. Fuck, it hurt so bad. Why was it so hot? What was happening to me? This type of shit wasn't normal. I've never had a migraine like this before. Why the fuck was the room spinning?"

"S-Sitara…" I muttered weakly. It was a struggle to speak, as if I had forgotten how to articulate and frame sentences aloud overnight. "A brother bout' to have… a God damn… heat stroke up in here."

Sitara began to rouse from her slumber, lazily peeling off the mass of blankets draped around her. "Are you okay?" I shook my head. She scooted close, studying me intently through half-lidded eyes, her brows narrowed. "You don't look so good, hun. What's wrong?" She touched a palm to my forehead. "Jeez, why are you sweating so much?"

She abruptly skipped from the bed and darted down the hall, returning a moment later with a wet cloth. "I need you to talk to me, Marcus." Lightly, she dabbed my face, cleansing away the sweat and impurities. "You need to tell me everything that's wrong, so I can try and help make it all better, okay? How bad are you feeling? Do I need to call an ambulance?"

"Burning," I mumbled. "Head hurts, room spinning… hungry, thirsty, tired…"

"When's the last time you ate?"

"Don't know."

"Did you drink anything yesterday?"

"Coffee."

"How much?"

"A few sips."

"How did you feel after you drank it? Did it give you any energy?" I shook my head. My tongue was growing numb. "Stay there. I'll be right back." She disappeared into the hall again.

My heart hammered against my chest— the realization that I was gradually losing more and more of my ability to speak and articulate myself, had started to sink in. For the life of me, I couldn't piece together what was going on, or why the fuck it was happening in the first place. I was trying to keep my cool, but I wasn't sure how much more of this shit I could take. It felt like a bomb had exploded within me, burning my organs from the inside out.

Sitara came back in a hurry, with a large, blue colored sport drink in one hand, and a quickly prepped turkey sandwich in the other. "I need you to sit up so you can drink and eat, okay?" She clasped my arm and very slowly, I managed to perch myself up, her hold helped me maintain my balance. Her manicured fingers twisted off the bottle cap. "Chug the whole thing down, it'll make you feel better."

I wasn't sure how it would possibly help, but I was too thirsty to care. I snatched the bottle and guzzled down the entirety of the cold, blue sugary liquid, in a matter of seconds. I hastily devoured the turkey sandwich right after, like it was the last bit of food left on Earth. And damn, did it hit the spot.

Sitara climbed onto the bed and appeared behind me. Her soft hands grasped my shoulders, guiding my head down into her lap. Tenderly, she caressed my aching temples, massaging them in light, circular motions. Her gentle touch did wonders to relieve the intensity of my migraine. With my stomach finally at ease, and my throat slowly regaining its usual moisture, it was a little easier to relax.

The searing heat incinerating my insides, and the numbness in my mouth, faded within minutes. The cloudy haze that's been distorting my perception, and ability to think and reason, dissipated soon after. Curious of what the Hell just happened, and how things led up to here, I shared my thoughts aloud with Sitara.

"So I was feeling fatigued all day yesterday," I said. "I didn't eat anything, but I had some coffee."

"Clearly not enough of it," she responded. "That wonderful brain of yours needs more than just sleep to function, it needs glucose too. If your blood sugar gets too low, you can go into shock, have a seizure, or worse."

"I don't have diabetes girl."

"Doesn't mean you don't need your carbs. Remember my niece, Cindy? She used to skip meals too, starving herself to keep her body in shape for that stupid live stream, where she does nothing but shake her hiney for the world to see." She sighed. "I was with her the day her blood sugar had dropped dangerously low. Besides the bad mood swings, like worse than normal for a teenager, you had a lot of the same symptoms she did."

"So that's how you knew I needed carbs, huh?"

"Yep. Everything is good in moderation, including sugary drinks and sandwiches."

"Maybe the basement dweller diet ain't so bad after all. Think you can get me another sandwich and a soda mom?"

"I'm not your mom, Marcus," Sitara snapped. "Stop implying that I am, it isn't funny anymore. Actually, it was never funny in the first place." She pulled away, the comforting massage ending abruptly.

I grinned. That joke never failed to push her buttons. "Aw, don't be like that baby. I was just playin'."

"Shut up." She strolled over to her closet and scoured through her neatly arranged, colorful wardrobe for an outfit. "If you want more food, get it yourself. Everything you need is in the kitchen. Think you can manage that? I have to go meet Wrench at the hackerspace."

"Don't you mean 'we'?" I rose to my feet, only to realize the room was still spinning, and keeping my balance was just as much of a challenge as earlier.

Sitara appeared before me, her hands clutched my shoulders, stopping my fall. "You're in no condition to go anywhere. Stay here. Me, Josh and Wrench can handle things from here."

"So I'm supposed to just hang back and do nothing while y'all handle business? Nah, fuck that. I have to do something—"

"Marcus, this isn't up for debate, you can barely walk. The sooner you stop fighting me on this, the faster you'll recuperate, and the faster you'll be back on your feet. Make sense?"

As much as I hated to admit it, she had a point. I wasn't cool with the idea of her and the team running ops without me, but in this state, I was more of a liability than an asset. Maybe if I focused on getting some rest, I might bounce back to my old self soon. Man, why did she have to be right all the time? "Alright, guess I'll just be chillin' here then. Gimme' some love before you go?"

She leaned in, her toned, graceful arms wrapped around my neck. I clasped her waist. We held each other lightly at first. Our bodies gradually drew close, pressing together in a passionate embrace, chest to chest, thighs snuggling. I didn't want her to leave, but I knew she had to. Taking in one final whiff of the clean, citrus scent rising from her skin, I kissed her forehead and reluctantly pulled away.

I gazed into her delicate brown eyes. "Don't leave me hanging here by myself for too long girl. Come back to me, alright?"

"Don't worry so much, that's my job." She planted a quick peck on my lips. "I'll be back before you know it. Keep your phone close so I can check in with you every now and then. And don't forget to eat and drink like a normal person. I think you should go cold turkey on the coffee too, your caffeine addiction can't be healthy. You and Wrench should try substituting all the coffee and beer for water every once in a while—"

I cleared my throat awkwardly. "Speaking of Wrench, isn't he waiting for you?"

"Yeah, I'm running super late now. He's not gonna be happy."

"Right, so you should probably get going girl. Unless you wanna stay here and lecture me about my shit dieting habits, which is cool with me."

"Trust me, you're going to get the meanest lecture when I get back. But before I go anywhere, I need to pick out a proper outfit, its boiling hot outside." She turned away and returned to her closet. "Wrench can wait a little longer."

"Patience ain't really his strong suit. Chances are, he already left without you." I crawled into bed, resting my head against the cool, feathery pillow.

"No biggie, I'll catch up with him."

"Better put on your running shoes then. You're gonna need it."

Poor Marcus just hasn't been himself after that night in the cellar :( Do you guys think he'll bounce back soon? I certainly hope so. Leave a review, let's discuss it!