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Sitara
The warehouse's corrugated, metal roof was domed thirty feet above Wrench and I. The massive space was full of large, red shipping containers, many of them were piled on top of one another, some were stacked all the way to the solid steel ceiling.
The warehouse was quiet, way too quiet. The pitter-patter of our footsteps seemed to echo throughout the vicinity as we skulked about in a crouch. Although we were extra mindful of the security cameras overhead, and made sure to evade their line of sight, I couldn't help but feel as if we were being watched. Time and time again, I found myself looking over my shoulder, and around corners for potential enemies. But there was no one— no guards or personnel around to watch over the colossal amount of cargo.
Where was everyone? Considering the overwhelming amount of guards patrolling the place outside, it'd be safe to assume security would be even tighter on the inside. Something wasn't right. Or maybe I was just paranoid, the silence and emptiness was getting to me. However, I had every right to be paranoid, and if there's one thing I've learned over years from all the dangerous shit I've done and countless ops I've ran, it was to trust your gut above all else.
"I don't like this, Wrench," I mumbled.
"Me neither," he replied. "Just look at this place. Can you imagine all the sweet tech and goodies possibly stored in here? Figured there would be at least a couple of dudes around to protect it. This is just too easy."
I halted, and gripped his arm. He turned to face me, his mask lighting with question marks. "Maybe we should turn back while we still can," I whispered.
"No way, Sitara. We didn't come this far for nothing." He gazed at a large shipping container to our right. "C'mon, let's see what kind of precious cargo is behind door number one, shall we?"
"If there's anything inside worth taking, there are trucks located in the back of the warehouse," Josh radioed in. "You can load them up, and use them as your getaway."
"Will do." With a touch of his phone, Wrench released the container's electronic locks. The bulky, red door slowly rolled open.
My heart nearly stopped at the sight of what lied behind it. Dozens of young women were packed inside like livestock, some of which were children barely over the age of twelve. With little more than ripped, dirty rags for clothes, they sat on container's cold, steel floor, hands and feet bound by rope, and mouths gagged with duct tape.
The horrific sight made my flesh crawl. Human trafficking was a thriving market, and I knew fully well that it was happening all over the world, but witnessing such a heinous crime before my very eyes, was enough to strip away my love and faith in humanity, and all that was good and just in the world.
The women were silent, their droopy, bloodshot eyes stared blankly at the wall. They were completely unresponsive, seemingly unaware of our presence. "Jesus Christ," I cried, pressing a trembling hand over my quivering lips. "What's wrong with them?"
Wrench cautiously stepped into the container, and knelt before one of the girls, inspecting her closely. "She's out of it. Looks like their all high on something."
"What's going on?" Josh asked.
"We found shipment full of drugged out chicks," Wrench responded.
"Human trafficking victims," I added. "Some of them are just kids, Josh."
"Forced labor, and sexual exploitation— it's modern day slavery," Josh said. "People are stripped of their rights and treated as property. Traffickers are more likely to go after homeless youth, they make easy targets. No one will miss them."
Wrench stood, his hands balled into fists. "This is fucked! Who would do something like this?"
"Fucking human shit-stains, that's who," I replied. "We need to get these girls out of here, Wrench—"
"You there!" A deep voice demanded from behind us. "Hands in the air!"
Surprised by the sudden outburst, I shuddered, and whirled around. A horde of guards appeared, dressed in dark fatigues and wielding rifles. They held Wrench and I at gunpoint, each with their fingers near the trigger, prepared to fire. With the odds so heavily stacked against us, we had no choice but to follow their demands. Slowly, we both raised our hands above our heads.
The click-clack of dress shoes tapping against the polished, concrete floor filled the spacious warehouse, each step became louder and louder than the next. Someone was approaching us.
Click-clack. Click-clack.
A man in an expensive, neatly pressed suit appeared in the distance. He held a lit cigarette between his thin lips, a small trail of smoke seeped into the air, dancing around him.
His movements were slow and leisurely, and there was an air of authority and entitlement in his stride. The eyes of the guards darted in his direction, and they hastily stepped aside, clearing a path for him. He paid little attention to this however, and as if he had all the time in the world, he continued to take his sweet time approaching us.
It felt like ages before he finally reached Wrench and I. Silently, he studied me for a moment, his dark, heavy-lidded eyes stared deeply into mine. He was a handsome man surprisingly, middle aged, his face clean-cut and perfectly symmetrical, and dark, tousled hair freckled with gray. Despite his sophisticated appearance, something about him put me on edge.
His expression was completely deadpan, and his glare was piercingly cold. He stared straight through me, as if I wasn't a person, but merely an obstacle in his path. Unnerved, I crumbled beneath his frigid stare, retreating a step, and huddling behind Wrench for protection.
"Nice suit," Wrench muttered, breaking the silence. Unlike me, he wasn't afraid. Amazingly, Wrench seemed to be unfazed by the dangerous situation we were in, head raised high, and arms crossed over his chest. I don't know how he managed to appear so level-headed and confident, but I was grateful for it. His display of courage was damn near contagious, and slightly comforting, despite the enormous odds against us.
The suited man lowered the cigarette from his mouth, and plucked it aside, snuffing it out with the back of his heel. "Quite the mask you have there," he stated, his voice was low and so even, the slightest changes in his tone were discernable. "Hiding something?"
"Maybe. I'll tell you my secrets if you tell me yours."
"What more is there to tell? The cat is already out of the bag." He glanced at the vulnerable women and children within the shipping container. There wasn't a shred of guilt or remorse in his eyes. It made my flesh crawl.
"Why?" I asked. "Why are you doing this to innocent people? How do you live with yourself?"
"The concept of ethics and morality are of little concern to me. I have much more pressing matters to attend to." He began unbuttoning his jacket. Slowly, he peeled it off, revealing a white, long-sleeve shirt beneath, and a small concealed handgun, which hung loosely from a shoulder holster strapped to his torso. My stomach churned at the sight of the weapon. I clenched onto Wrench's studied jacket tightly. We didn't have much longer…
"Hold up dude," Wrench pleaded. "What's the rush? Can't you just humor us for a sec'? We have questions, and I know you have answers."
He raised his arm, and stole a glance the gold Rolex on his wrist. "I suppose I have time." He muttered. "You both are DedSec, I presume? The hackers and watch dogs who put Dušan Nemec behind bars?"
"You know an awful lot about us buddy, but we don't know a thing about you," Wrench said.
"Yes, I know quite a bit about you, Reginald. This world we live in, so technologically advanced and innovative, yet so susceptible to be exploited, and manipulated. You never really know who's listening."
"You seem like a powerful guy, with a lot of powerful friends. Who exactly are you?"
"You may call me Quinn."
"Your business partner Giovanni seems to think you were behind the beach massacre last night," I said.
"Orders are orders." Quinn replied.
"What the Hell does that supposed to mean?" Wrench asked. "Why are you targeting us? What the fuck did we ever do to you, man?"
"Haven't pieced it together yet, have you?" He shook his head. "On the contrary, I'm not a powerful man. I have nothing against DedSec, I'm simply a man working for a wage, merely a pawn on the chessboard. These women and children are not my property, and neither is this warehouse. I merely safeguard the shipments from thieves and vandals, such as yourselves." He gazed at me. "Do you remember the man you shot down a month ago? He was an important man—"
"He was a murdering psychopath!" I argued. "Someone had to put him down, and I'm glad I was the one to do it—"
"Wait," Wrench gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You said you were a working man, so that means you have a boss, right? Why's he got his panties all in a bunch over some old geezer we killed? The dude was batshit crazy, we did the world a favor putting him down."
"My superiors would wholeheartedly disagree. Anyhow, I'm done talking, it's becoming quite dull." He removed his handgun from its holster. "I'm going to kill you both now, no offense—"
A guard tapped his shoulder, interrupting him. "Forgive me, Mr. Quinn, but there's been another breach, at the loading docks. Four of our personnel have gone off the grid."
"Another intruder?" Quinn scoffed, and pointed at two of the guards. "You there, load up Reginald and the girl with the rest of the cargo. The rest of you, come with me."
Wrench and I gazed at each other. There was another intruder? Who could it possibly be?
Quinn turned and forged off, most of the guards followed at his heels. The pair of guards who remained continued to hold us at gunpoint. One of them was bald and large, over six feet tall with a rugged beard and a pot belly that hung low over his waist. The other was short, skinny, and unnaturally pale.
"Get in there!" The guards demanded, pointing the barrel of their guns at the open shipping container full of girls.
Wrench refused to move, however. Feet rooted in place, he came face to face with the beefy guard, and glared at him in challenge. "I'm not going anywhere, asshole—"
Crack!
The large guard slammed the blunt of his rifle against Wrench's face. He stumbled back, the blow dented his mask, and completely shattered his goggles. Broken pieces of glass tumbled onto the floor.
"No!" Wrench groaned, dropping to his knees and frantically collecting the severed shards of his beloved mask.
Amused, the guard let out a disgusting guffaw, and hit Wrench with his gun yet again, this time, knocking him out cold.
The short one grabbed ahold of Wrench, and hauled him up. "I'm gonna load this one into the truck, the driver is already here and ready for transport. Might as well hurry up and get rid of him before he causes us anymore trouble."
"No!" I shouted, as he pulled Wrench away. I attempted to sprint after them, but giant mitts caught onto my ponytail from behind, and tugged me back roughly.
"Going somewhere?" The large guard snorted. As if I were nothing more than toy, he carelessly flung me aside by my hair. I crashed into the cold metal of yet another shipping container. My scalp throbbed painfully, and the hard collision caused my entire body to ache.
The guard started laughing once again. At that very moment, time seemed to come to a slow as I stared intensely at the potbellied grease-ball. My muscles tensed, and my hands curled tightly into fists. I wasn't going to sit here and let him bully me. No, I wanted to destroy him— to make him regret ever laying a finger on me. These people were monsters, and this egotistical, bullying shithead was the worst of them all.
Nostrils flaring, an animalistic cry escaped the depths of my throat, and I lunged at the guard, sinking my nails into his pudgy neck. He wailed, dropped his gun and jerked about, trying to throw me off. But I wouldn't let go. Instead, I jammed my fingertips into his eye, and squeezed with all the strength I could muster. I was determined to gouge his beady eyes right out of his pudgy head, and pop them like a cherry.
Desperate to set himself free, he latched onto my arm and peeled me off, tossing me onto the ground.
"You little bitch," he spat, and locked his grubby mitts around my ankle, dragging me across the floor and down the aisle of countless containers.
"Let go!" I cried out helplessly. I clawed at the floor, groping for something, anything to use against him. Luckily, I managed to snatched up a small, sharp shard of broken glass from Wrench's mask. Without hesitation, I jabbed it into the guard's leg.
He stumbled, a shriek of agony escaped him. The stab only angered him however, his grip on my ankle became even tighter. Still yanking me along on the cold floor, his path abruptly changed course. He limped toward the rifle he dropped earlier, and swept it up into his hand.
The veins in his face and arms throbbing with fury, the enraged guard turned his firearm on me. My heartbeat roared in my ears as I gazed into the rifle's long, hollowed barrel.
His finger slowly inched around the trigger. The guard grinned. "Say goodnight—"
The warehouse's bright, industrial lights suddenly powered down, cloaking the space in total darkness. The world around me had gone so pitch black, I wasn't sure whether I still had eyes.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
An ear-splitting barrage of gunfire overwhelmed the warehouse, the flash of flying bullets and exploding gunpowder flickered through the darkness. Various screams of panic, terror and absolute anguish filled the air. I squeezed my eyes shut and curled up into ball, knees hugged to my chest, hoping at praying that Wrench was okay, and that somehow, we'd make it out of this alive.
I wasn't sure how much more I could take before having a mental breakdown. I was so close to the edge, the violence and carnage seemed to be never-ending. I could feel the hail of gunfire zipping past me, missing by mere inches. An uncomfortable pang invaded my chest. It was becoming harder and harder to breathe. The darkness was pressing in and smothering me like a heavy, thick blanket.
I felt like I was dying on the inside. Shivering violently, and on the verge of hyperventilating, a burst of tears spilled from my eyes. I sobbed without restraint, the roar of gunshots drowned out my hysterical crying.
I just wanted it all to end. Why wouldn't it end?
"Sitara!" A deep voice called out to me. Moments later, a pair of strong arms embraced me tightly, and the warmth of a muscular frame pressed against me. The hard-sculpted planes and curvature of the broad body sheltering me from harm was familiar, and oddly comforting, given the circumstances.
It didn't take long to realize Marcus had come to my rescue. But his touch, usually so soothing and tender, did little to calm my nerves this time around. Bullets were still flying like crazy, the warehouse was still shrouded in darkness. There were footsteps all around us, most likely people were running for their lives. Our luck was bound to run out eventually, it was only a matter of time.
"W-we're going to die!" I sobbed, my throat hoarse with emotion. "We're going to die, Marcus. It's all over."
"Keep your head down, girl," Marcus shouted over the gunfire. "I issued a false APB on one the personnel here, so the police came to crash the party! But we'll be perfectly fine, cops make a great distraction, am I right?"
"Are you crazy?" I paused to suck in a wheezing breath. "We're caught in the crossfire of shootout! Your stupid plan is going to get us killed."
"Trust me, I've got this all under control. Just relax."
"No, I'm not going to relax! Where's Wrench? Have you seen him? They took him, Marcus!"
"I know, I hacked the security cameras and saw everything. They took him to the truck loading docks on the other side of the warehouse. That Quinn motherfucker is a real piece of work, ain't he?"
"What are we waiting for Marcus? Let's go! There's women and children trapped in the containers too! We have to save them. We have to do something, we have to do something right now o-or—"
"Just breathe," he repeated. "In and out."
"Stop telling me to breathe!"
"You're hyperventilating girl, it sounds like you're about to have a heart attack."
"Marcus, I'm going to die of a heart attack and a stroke if we don't get off our asses and do something!"
"I hear you, but now's really not a good time. Trust me, we really don't want to move around in complete darkness while bullets are flying all around us. Odds are, we'll get shot."
"And what are the odds we won't get shot lying here?"
"They aren't much better. There's actually a pretty high chance a stray bullet will hit one of us any time now. But considering I'm like your human shield at the moment, it'll most likely hit me, so don't worry—"
"Marcus!" I squirmed beneath him, letting out a high-pitched whine. "You can't get shot. You're my knight in shining armor, my royal steed. I need you, you can't die. You're supposed to beat up all the bad guys and save me, and then we're going to live happily ever after. That's how the script goes."
"I'm gonna try my hardest to stick to script, baby." His soft, full lips brushed over my sweaty, tear-stained cheek. "Whatever happens, I'll be by your side to the very end, no regrets."
"Forever?" I sniffed, burying my face in his jacket.
"Forever and always." He replied softly. "When I count to three, the lights are gonna come back on. I need you to be ready to move by the time they do, alright?"
"And then what? Do you have a plan?"
"Well, the plan is pretty straight forward. We need to make it to the loading docks without dying miserably. First thing's first, we gotta focus on not being killed in the crossfire by cops as we fight our way through the bad guys. Next, we find Wrench, and then we improvise a great escape plan on the fly afterwards, because I can't think of one right now. Piece of cake, right? Once we're safe, we can meet up at the hackerspace and find a way to put the brakes on this whole fucked up, human trafficking bullshit."
My heart sank. We were doomed. "O-okay…"
"One…" Marcus began counting slowly. I swallowed deeply, and his muscles tensed. Despite the façade of confidence he was trying so hard to display for me, I could tell he was nervous. I didn't blame him, the chance of us making it out of this alive felt slim to none. "Two…" He leaned in, capturing my lips with his own. Although fleeting, the kiss we shared was so deep and passionate, both of us fully aware that it could very well be our last. It was a bittersweet moment, but one I wished would last forever.
Sadly, Marcus reluctantly pulled away, and muttered, "Three."
The industrial lights overhead came back to life, the bright glare warded away the darkness and illuminated the space in its entirety.
Marcus and I sprung into a stance, only to realize we were trapped in the very center of a crowded aisle, in the middle of a bloody brawl between the cops and the guards. People punched, kicked, and wrestled with one another, fists and feet being thrown from every direction. All the while, bullets were soaring from both ends of the warehouse with no regard to human life, hitting walls, ricocheting off containers, and tearing through flesh. The floor was riddled with bleeding, battered corpses.
It reminded me of a bar fight, just that instead of trying to break up the altercation and keep the peace, the police seemed eager to paint the walls with blood, beating their opposition repeatedly with metal batons until they ceased movement altogether. It was a mosh pit, a massacre— complete insanity.
"Stay behind me," Marcus demanded, pushing his way through the angry herd.
Most men were easy to maneuver around and slip by unnoticed, many of them were too distracted fighting one another to pay any attention to us. However, every now and then, one of them would block our path, and engage Marcus in combat. One after another, every police officer, and guard who dared to challenge him were easily defeated. Marcus was agile, and flexible, but most importantly, his attacks packed power. He fought like he was born for it, putting on a beautiful display elegant kicks, and lightning fast jabs, knocking his opponents senseless with seemingly little effort.
By some miracle, we successfully fought our way through the crowd, and made it to the loading dock unharmed. There wasn't a truck in sight however, just a bunch of boxes lying about, and long rows of forklifts stationed against the wall. The warehouse's massive garage doors leading to the parking lot were wide open, but oddly enough, there weren't any vehicles to be found outside either.
"What the fuck?" Marcus muttered under his breath. "The cargo was just here. Where the fuck did it go?"
"Maybe the container Wrench was loaded inside is already in transport?" I asked. "The truck couldn't have gotten far. C'mon." We hustled toward the parking lot. However, the heavy, steel garage doors promptly fell shut, locking us inside.
"Going somewhere?" Hearing Quinn's dry, dull voice sent a shiver down my spine.
Marcus and I turned around, and spotted Quinn. He stood a short distance away from us, hands tucked within the pockets of his slacks. The moment Marcus locked eyes on Quinn, they both swiftly drew their handguns on each other.
Quietly, Marcus and Quinn sized up one another, their fingers hovered over the trigger of their firearms, prepared to shoot if necessary.
"Where is Wrench?" Marcus asked, breaking the silence.
"Gone," Quinn answered, a smug smile tugged at his lips. "And you're never going to find him."
Poor Wrench T_T. Watch dogs is a great series, and I decided to write this work when I realized the lack of fan fictions written for it. I was actually upset over the lack of variety, and the fact that there are NO Sitara/Marcus fan fictions. And if there are, I have yet to find them lol. Is there anyone else that's bothered by this? I can't be the only one.
Being an aspiring romance writer with a deep love for the series, I decided I had to write a multi-chapter fic for the pair. And because there are so little fics to choose from, I have decided start to working on a collection of one-shots between Marcus and Sitara, and possibly other characters if someone makes a request! Tell me what you want to read, people! Leave a review, or send me a message, and I'll do my best to respond as quickly as possible.
Thanks for sticking around for my rant lol. I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, leave a review if you liked. Your feedback is greatly appreciated, thank you so much for reading. :)