Sitara
Just before I stepped foot outside my apartment, I received a rather cryptic text message from Wrench.
Change of plans, I need u 2 meet me somewhere, pronto. Sending u the coords. Bring fruitcake, and electro-shock grenades. I have a box full of them at the hackerspace. Don't forget the cake!
I grinned at the odd request. What in the world was he up to now? Hopefully he found a lead on the dirt bags who crashed our party last night. They gunned down six of our people, it was a declaration of war.
They were going to regret it. We had to find out who was responsible, so we can hit them back, hard. It was only a matter of time before their names were added to the list of countless idiots who dared to go toe to toe with DedSec, only to fail miserably.
Although, deep down, I was afraid. I didn't want anyone else to get hurt, but I couldn't afford to show my fears. I had to be strong for the team. Marcus was too sick to boost our team morale, and there was no way he could do any fieldwork, he could barely stand. So, the burden fell on Wrench and I's shoulders. We had to find a way to get things done without him.
I picked up the fruitcake from a local grocery store, and then stopped at the hackerspace to pick up the grenades. Wrench had dozens in hidden in an old shoebox beneath his bench, alongside the rest of his countless tools and makeshift devices.
Once I acquired the goods, I followed the coordinates Wrench provided to Silicon Valley. I was led to a shady, red brick alleyway, behind a long row of tall buildings. It was filled with piles of litter and trash bags, and there were homeless people lying on the ground among the filth, their bodies wrapped in ratty blankets. Rats and roaches scurried through the trash bags for food, the sight of it made my skin crawl. And the smell— God, the alley reeked of hot, rotting garbage. It was awful.
Wrench stood at the very end of the narrow alleyway, seemingly unbothered by the foulness surrounding him. He appeared to be tinkering with a ctOS box. I made my way to him, being extra careful to avoid contact with the roaches and rats, the constant squeaking of mice rummaging through the trash had me on edge.
I literally clung to Wrench the moment I reached him.
"Oh, hey there Sitara," his mask lit with two carets at my sudden embrace. "I'm glad to see you too."
"There better be a damn good reason you wanted me to meet you here," I grumbled.
"There sure is. You got the fruitcake and grenades?"
"Yep. Are you gonna fill me in on what's going on, or not?"
"Okay so, you and I are going to pay an old friend of mine a visit. Give me a sec' to patch Josh in through his penthouse's security and surveillance system, and we'll be ready to go."
"Um, mind if I ask why the Hell you and Josh are hacking into your friend's place?"
"It's a long story, Sitara," Josh's voice blurted through my earbuds from the DedSec channel. "Okay Wrench, I'm in. I can see everything. I'm hacking into his computer now, I'll let you know if I find anything interesting."
"Awesome." He shut the ctOS box and grabbed the fruitcake. "Sitara, you hold onto the grenades. Let's go—"
"No," I said. "I'm not going anywhere until you tell me why we're here, and what we're doing. Let me in on the plan, jumping head first into shit completely blind isn't my style."
"Sitara, the less you know, the better. This guy we're about to meet, he's black market weapon and drug dealer— a complete shit-stain in my opinion, but that's beside the point. He knows things, a lot of things. If there's any hope in finding out who's responsible for killing our people, we start with him. He won't tell us anything unless we play nice though. Trust me, I've got this all figured out. We'll be fine."
"Okay, fine. I've got your back."
"Great. He's waiting for us on the patio of his very fancy, and outlandishly expensive, penthouse suite." Wrench reached up for the fire escape latter hanging overhead, and pulled it down.
"Why are we taking the fire escape? Shouldn't we go inside and take the elevator? He knows we're coming, doesn't he?"
"Yeah, but elevators are lame and this way is sonic fast. Come on, let's get this over with."
He climbed the latter with haste, and I reluctantly trailed close behind. It was a long way to the top, and the intensity of the hot summer sun beaming down on us made the trip so much harder.
I didn't like the idea of meeting up with someone in the black market trade, but Wrench seemed confident that it was worth the trouble. I hope he's right. Although, it was best not to throw stones in a glass house— there was a lot shady contacts I kept on speed dial for when I needed information too.
We finally reached the penthouse's patio. It was certainly fancy just like Wrench mentioned— there was a wide, private pool smacked right in the middle of the deck, it's clean blue water sparkled gently beneath the sunlight. There were maids hustling about, sweeping the sleek, marbled floors and tending to the tall, exotic plants aligning the glass railing.
A couple of Umeni guards patrolled the area as well, but they didn't seem to mind our sudden arrival. They took one look at Wrench and went about their business as usual.
It was way more pleasant up here than it was in that alleyway. I couldn't help but think about the homeless people down there. It was hard to fathom how others could live in so much luxury when their neighbors were practically starving, barely surviving day to day. It was sad, no one deserved to live like that.
But when you live in the height of luxury like this, I guess it was easy to forget about everyone else. Why bother with the insignificant problems of the ant-sized people below, when you could waste the day away admiring the stunningly beautiful city skyline instead?
As the maids worked hard to keep the place tidy, there was an old, heavy-set man lounging about by the poolside in a red silk robe, the sun's strong rays illuminated his bald, mottled scalp like a beacon. His skin had an unnatural, deep orange tint, most likely from excessive tanning.
The old man lifted the black shades concealing his blue eyes, and glanced at us. "There you are, Wrenchie-boy! Come, come! I've been waiting for you." He spoke very slow and casually, his voice laced with a thick, Italian accent.
Wrench stole a peek at me. "Just follow my lead," he whispered.
I nodded. We took the man's side. There was a loaded Uzi laid across his silken lap, and a few small bags of a white, powdery substance in the palm of his hand. It had to be cocaine. My muscles tensed. Drugs and loaded guns weren't a good mix; it was a recipe for disaster.
"Still on the nose candy, dude?" Wrench asked. "You're not supposed to get high on your own supply you know."
"Nonsense, this was a freebie from a potential business partner, a gesture of good faith. You'd have to be nuttier than a squirrel on speed to reject a quality gift like this. So, who's your lady friend?"
"Sitara, this is my old buddy, Giovanni. Giovanni, meet Sitara, she's a good friend."
"Nice to meet you," I muttered.
He leered at me for a long while before responding, his beady eyes slowly ran up and down my body shamelessly. My chest caved beneath his hard, obnoxious gaze. The creeper was staring at me like a piece of meat. "The broad isn't half bad on the eyes," he said. "How much do want for her?"
I gasped, my hands balled into fists. I was a second away from tearing off his old, shriveled up balls and hurling them off the roof, but Wrench grasped onto my shoulder, holding me back.
"She's not for sale," Wrench stated.
"Nonsense, everyone has their price," Giovanni replied. "Ten thousand for the girl. Take it or leave it."
"I said she's not—" Wrench paused, his mask blinked with exclamation points. "Wait, did you just say ten thousand?"
My brows furrowed with disbelief. "Seriously Wrench?"
"Holy moly!" Giovanni yelled abruptly, his eyes darting to the fruit cake and grenades we were holding. "Are those beauties for me?"
"Hell yeah they are. It's Christmas in July!" We passed him the fruitcake and grenades.
He smirked, and opened the shoebox, his eyes widening at the sight of the electro-shock devices. "You're a stand-up guy, Wrenchie-boy. It's been what, five years since we last did business? And you haven't forgotten how much I love fruitcake, huh?"
"Wouldn't forget it for the world. Those electro-shock devices are custom made too, courtesy of DedSec."
"I know some connoisseurs who'd be willing to pay top dollar for these little beauties." He put the gifts aside and slowly climbed to his feet. He was much shorter than I realized, the top of his shiny bald head barely reached my chin. If it wasn't for gun in the palm of his hand, he'd look completely harmless.
"So, let's cut the shit, and get down to business, shall we?" Giovanni continued. "I might be old, but I'm not crazy, Wrenchie-boy. You have some nerve waltzing in here, as if everything between us is just fucking peachy. You could give me the whole world on a silver platter with a cherry on top, but it wouldn't change a fucking thing. I don't associate with hackers; you kids are bad for business. DedSec isn't welcome here. Now if you would kindly fuck off so I can get on with my afternoon in peace, that'd be great."
Wrench latched onto the collar of his robe sternly. "Listen here, you pudgy little fucker," he grumbled. "I'm tired of playing nice. You're gonna tell me what I want to know. You owe me."
"Did you forget who's holding the gun here, tough guy?" He asked, pressing the barrel of the Uzi against Wrench's stomach. "Let go of me before I fill your gut with lead."
Wrench hesitantly released him.
"Look, just tell us what we want to know and you'll never see us again," I said. "Please, we're desperate."
"Fine, anything to get you hooligans off my property," Giovanni lowered his gun. "Well? What do you want? Spit it out, I don't got all day."
"Tell us what you know about the mass shooting that went down last night at Salty Bay," Wrench demanded.
"The beach massacre?" He shook his head. "A real shame that was, I heard a lot of your hacker pals got clipped."
"The weapons they used aren't easy to come by," Wrench said. "They were military grade toys. I know all about your dealings with the 580s, the Bratva and Tezcas. You're their lead arms supplier, the only guy with a flawless enough smuggling operation to move hot product like that into San Francisco without a hitch."
"I see you've done your homework, Wrenchie-boy. Listen up, the weapon they used to rub out your pals— it's called the TAC-50. It's a bolt action rifle, fifty caliber. Once upon a time, it was the Cadillac of modern sniper rifles, but they're antiques now, rarities— outdated and no longer manufactured in our technologically advanced day and age."
"What makes you so sure that was the gun?" I asked.
"The thing is, the TAC-50 can make successful shots from over two-thousand yards and beyond, in the right hands of course. It isn't your grandpa's buck rifle, it requires serious skill to pull it off, but it's possible."
"In theory, it makes sense," Josh added. "If the shooters were more than a mile away, it'd explain why none of us could discern where the shots were coming from. There were hundreds of people at the party last night, and not a single eye witness of the gunmen. No wonder the police couldn't find them, two-thousand yards is far too much ground to cover."
"I actually sold a couple models a few days ago, to some wise guy claiming to be a gun connoisseur," Giovanni said. "A business partner referred him to me. He was uh, one of those reserved types, real quiet and cautious, and always wore a fancy getup, black suit and tie. Naturally, I was suspicious of the guy, I figured he was an undercover pig. So, I followed my gut. I gathered a couple of my boys, lured him to a place nice and quiet, and ordered them to gut em' like a fish."
"So you killed him?" Wrench asked.
"Nope. It was a bloodbath. I've seen people get killed before, but this guy— he took it to the next level. He literally bit one of my boys' throat, and tore out his Adam's apple, and then spit the damn thing on the floor. I mean, who has teeth that sharp? This guy was the real deal, I tell ya'. A cold-blooded murderer at its finest. Been having dealings with the guy ever since."
"Sounds like a bad ass. Does this cold-blooded fellow have a name?"
"No can do, Wrenchie-boy. I don't want this leading back to me, I gotta protect my own throat. Sorry, but you kids are on your own."
"No, you have to give us something," Wrench argued. "We're not leaving empty handed."
"Make good on what you owe Wrench, grandpa," I added. "Give us a lead."
A quick, disgusted snort escaped him. "Or what, little lady? What are you going to do?"
"Or, you can kiss this luxury lifestyle of yours good-bye. I'll drag you, and everything you hold dear so deep down into shit, it'll practically be coming out of your eyes." I stepped up to him, and glared into his eyes angrily. "Don't you get it, old man?" I asked calmly, menacingly. "You don't want to be enemies with DedSec. You're no different than the common criminal scum we dispose of on the daily. We will fuck you, and your whole smuggling operation so far into oblivion, you'll be begging us to stop." I pointed at the street down below. "But we won't stop. Not until you're down there, homeless and afraid, pleading for a handout, living among the rats and roaches. And maybe, just maybe, we'll ease up. No guarantees."
He grimaced, sweat rolling down his forehead. His eyes darted from me to Wrench.
"I wouldn't call her bluff, dude," Wrench muttered. "I've seen her screw people over before. It isn't pretty. Just tell us what we wanna know."
"H-he owns a storage warehouse in Marin," he stammered, turning away from us. "I heard there's quite a bit of precious cargo in there. Luckily for you, there's supposed to be some big auction going down there tonight, a lot of important people are gonna be there, him included."
"What kind of auction?" I asked.
"Hell if I know, why don't cha' go poke around and find out for yourself?" He pulled out his phone from the depths of his robe pocket, and began tapping away at the screen. "There, I sent you the address, Wrenchie-boy. Consider us even. Now you and your little lady friend can fuck off. We're done here."
By the time we made it to Marin, the sun had already begun to dip behind the city's tall rooftops, the blue sky slowly fading into vibrant shades of amber and crimson red.
The storage warehouse Giovanni mentioned was situated in a business district, beside a big, busy street. It was massive, even for a warehouse's standards, stretching wide across the sidewalk. It's sleek, metallic exterior was heavily guarded by armed Umeni security, and the remote access gate was fenced with barbwire. Getting in wasn't going to be easy.
Thankfully, there was a tall, swanky hotel building right across from it. With the help of a nearby forklift, Wrench and I managed to scale the building to the very top. From this high up, we could see the entirety of the fortified warehouse, including the guard patrols, and every single delivery truck that pulled in and out of the facility.
But even at our current elevation above ground, the roar of the multi-lane traffic below was loud and harsh on the ears. Vehicle horns honked noisily as they zipped down the street, tires screeching against the pavement. The annoying ring of police sirens seemed to be never-ending. Being a city girl, I thought I'd be used to the constant commotion of San Francisco by now. It was hard to think with so much going on at once.
"What's up with all these friggin' police sirens?" I scoffed, as I laid prone beside Wrench on the gravelly ground, gazing down over the edge. "It's driving me crazy."
"Dunno." He observed the warehouse below through the lens of binoculars. "Josh, you wouldn't believe how tight security is here. It's like we're trying to infiltrate Fort Knox."
"What do you think is in there?" Josh's monotone voice seeped through my earbuds. "Illegal narcotics? Drug money? Unwarranted tech maybe?"
"Could be all three," I muttered. "We won't know until we get in there though."
"What do you guys think about the tall tale Giovanni told, about the throat ripping dude with the suit?" Wrench asked.
"I hope the neck biting part isn't true," I said. "That's just gross. But if he is in there, we need to find out who he is and what's his beef with DedSec."
"Assuming the information Giovanni gave us is accurate," Josh said. "He could be lying."
"We don't have anything else to go on," Wrench replied. "Giovanni is a grade A shit-stain for sure, but it wouldn't be in his best interest to get on our bad side. He knows we have more than enough resources to destroy him. Sitara spelled it out loud and clear.
"Mind filling us in on how, and why you became friends with creepy grandpa in the first place?" I asked. "Why does he owe you? What did you do for him, huh?"
"Long story, little time," Wrench uttered. "So what's the plan?"
"Can you guys hack in the warehouse's ctOS box?" Josh asked. "If you two can get in close enough to patch me in through the surveillance system, I can get ahold of the facility's blueprints and help you on the inside. Better than going in blind."
"Not yet," Wrench replied. "Giovanni mentioned something about an auction going down inside tonight. Important people are supposed to attend, right? How about we wait until the esteemed guests arrive, and while the guards are distracted, Sitara can patch you in, while I slip inside and plant remote detonated explosives on all their shit? Then we hightail it outta here, and once we're at a safe distance— Bam! We blow all their shit to the moon. Flawless plan, right?"
"Flawless if executed correctly," Josh said. "But brutal. You'd kill everyone there."
"And way too risky," I added. "We're not murderers Wrench. We don't have to stoop down to their level to get revenge. There's other ways to send a message."
"Well how else are we gonna blow up their shit?" Wrench asked. "Wait, we are blowing up their shit, right?"
"Hmm…" My sight drifted to the amber sky in deep thought. "How about… we steal their stuff instead? There's plenty of trucks inside, we can load the most expensive crap inside one of them and make our grand escape on four wheels. Then Wrench can have the luxury of blowing it all to the moon without any unnecessary causalities."
"So we're gonna go all grand theft auto on their asses, huh?" Wrench nodded in approval. "As long as something goes kaboom, I'm a happy camper."
"It's a more reasonable plan," Josh said. "Stealing a truck is going to draw a lot of attention though. You'll need a distraction."
"If only Marcus was here, he'd make the perfect decoy," Wrench muttered. "The guy dodges bullets like he was born for it. By the way, where is he? Wasn't he supposed to be helping us with fieldwork today?"
"He got really sick this morning," I replied.
Wrench gazed at me. "M is sick? How? He seemed fine last night, quieter than usual though."
"His blood sugar dropped dangerously low. It was scary." I frowned, the memory of how sickly he appeared earlier was uncomfortable to remember. "A lot of the severe symptoms disappeared once I forced him to eat, but he's still not in good shape."
"That's weird," Josh replied. "He probably wasn't getting enough glucose in his bloodstream during his stay at the hospital. Bad doctors."
"We should sue those fuckers for negligence," Wrench grumbled. "How do you think he's holding up now?"
"I don't know, I'm gonna call to check up on him." I grabbed my phone from my back pocket of my shorts. The flat screen came to life at a touch of a finger, notifying me of all the calls I missed since this morning. There were ten, all of which were from Cindy. I sighed. Maybe it was an emergency, but it wasn't out of the ordinary for her to bombard me with calls for no good reason. Meh, I'll get in touch with her later. She could wait—
"Sitara!" Wrench tapped my shoulder. "Look! Filthy rich snobs incoming at twelve o'clock."
"Huh?" I gazed up from my phone.
Rows and rows of sleek, black limousines pulled up and parked along the warehouse's curb. The gates suddenly opened, and many of the guards left their posts to hustle toward the cars. Dozens of classy men in suits and ties emerged the vehicles, and were immediately greeted by the guards. They were all carrying briefcases, probably filled with dough to purchase the hot product being auctioned off inside.
Now that most of the guards had dropped their patrols, and were preoccupied escorting their guests into the warehouse, breaching their security and sneaking inside would be a lot easier. We didn't have a solid escape plan though, but there was no time. We'd have to wing it. It was now or never.
"Now's our chance," I rose into a stance. "C'mon Wrench, let's do this."
Wrench leapt to his feet energetically. "Time for some sweet, sweet revenge."
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