Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Marcus’s boots crashed into the pavement as he hit the ground running. He dashed across city back alleys with feet light as air. The world was a whirlwind, shouts and blazing sirens and the far off echo of an explosion bleeding into a single distant sound at the back of his skull. All he picked up was the fitful giggling of Wrench over the comm. Marcus’ chest was tight with exertion and the wild laughter escaping his lips as he flew through the night.

Marcus hadn’t stopped laughing by the time he’d put enough distance between himself and the mayhem to slow his pace. The explosives were probably overkill, no, definitely overkill but the way Wrench had presented the lovingly wired canister of nitroglycerin with mischievous carats over his eyes — Well, you can’t turn down a gift like that.

And selling fake drugs to desperate cancer patients, the place had been asking for a nuclear renovation.  They’d gotten off easy really, with a few blown out windows and a seriously trashed top floor, detonation centered in the glitzy executive sweet.  

When Wrench had slid it into his hands, Marcus had been sure the warmth in his chest and the heat over his skin would have ignited the unstable compound, blown the hacker space and everything else on the block to kingdom come.

Marcus watched as the smoke thinned and vanished into the washed out purple sky, breathing heavy. Getting into the building had been easy, the whole place had been cleared out all week for fumigation. It didn’t take much poking through their systems to find enough evidence to prove that the pharmaceutical company had been tampering with the data on clinical trials to get away with selling sugar pills as medicine to terminal cases. A video laying it all out will go live later in the night. Tomorrow the board of directors are going to wake up to find their empire burned to the ground.

His brow was cool with sweat as the night air blew by him. Marcus’ body was spring loaded and coursing with liquid adrenaline. Wrench and him were still giggling at each other like madmen.

“Oh man! Did you see the - shaboom!” Marcus heaved. He was walking through a haze of wild joy, riding a high he hadn’t known was possible. It was the sure fire conviction and the thrill of the ride. He and his friends were out there changing the world, Marcus thought to himself, feeling like a goddamn superhero.

The second he’d made it back to HQ, Wrench sat him down for a full, 360 degree montage of the explosion from every street camera he’d found inside a mile radius.

____

Marcus was sure DEDSEC was the best thing that’d ever happened to him.

Once Horatio had set up him up with admin access to their private server Marcus began running detection programs against the firewall looking for any chinks in the armor. In his early days with the group, when it was late and he couldn’t sleep, he’d stay up coding elaborate algorithms to test their networks reliability and patch in line over line of malware detection. If they’re was a vulnerability, Marcus wanted to make sure he was the first one to know about it - not some punks who thought they could hack with the best of them. He had a good thing going with DEDSEC and no one was gonna fuck with it.

“Joshinator!” Marcus said bounding down the stairs. Things had been heating up lately in their rivalry against Blume and the danger that posed to their mission had left Marcus feeling apprehensive and wired all night long.

“I was pinged about an update request at 4:03 AM.”  Josh said, instead of hello.

“Yeah, I was running through the servers outbound traffic and scoped out a few suspicious data packets exhibiting abnormal behavior. Probably nothing -- but I was hoping you could pull the logs and check to make sure it’s not someone pulling info we're not keen on sharing.”

Josh nodded though with no attempts made at direct eye contact. But he smiled, small and bright. They both knew it was probably nothing but Josh liked to be just as thorough as Marcus when it came to keeping their operation secure.

Marcus didn’t plan on waiting around for Zero Day. So he’d run the diagnostics ragged if it meant —-

“I’ll check.” Josh said, swiveling back around in his chair with a relaxed set to his shoulders.

“Marcus! Marcus! Marcus!” A synthesized voice yelled eagerly from across the basement. He was holding a modified pistol, lousy with wires and ducked taped to the disassembled pieces of a megaphone, waving it enthusiastically through the air. “I made a phaser!”

He pulled the trigger at the ceiling and while it was faint, Marcus had heard the cheesy, scifi blaster sound effect before his ears had started ringing with the very real explosion of gunshot. Sitara was yelling now, barely heard because both Marcus and Wrench laughing their asses off as they clutched their aching ears.

____

The acrid desert air stole the water from Marcus’ throat and from his lips. The oppressive sun had finally sunken into the sand, leaving behind a thin sheen of sweat on his skin. But now he was shivering in the breeze of night, as cold as the day had been hot and just as insufferably dry.

The deep swell of the bass line rocked him from the inside out, deafening and enchanting. He wandered around alone for a while, watching bodies melt into each other and the swirl of color from the disco lights. Tonight the desert was alive and teeming with hedonistic hope.

Marcus’ dizzy feet carried him around the edge of the crowd, trying not to focus on them too much lest he be sucked into the sea of movement. He licked the dryness from his lips as he moved further and further from the sounds and the flurry of dance.

These last months had been hard on the group and Marcus felt alone on a rope, trying to keep his balance above the uncertainty of it all. He was terrified that DEDSEC was dying and that after finally getting a sweet taste of belonging he would be left fluttering in the wind again.

Marcus would fight for this family any way he knew how.

Marcus lurched suddenly as a heavy weight was thrown around his shoulder.

“Heyyy man…” Wrench cooed, practically hanging off him. His skin was scorching hot at every point of contact as psilocybin ran heavy through both their veins. The heat of it brought Marcus back down to earth.

“Hey there buddy.” Marcus said softly, as he held up the both of them. “How ya feeling?”

“Oh man, I am tripping out. Did you see that light show, like with the fireworks. Blew my fucking dick out of the water.” Wrench rattled on, animated and aimless. Marcus licked his lips because the desert had left them dry and cracked again.

“Like I look down and I’m like where's my dick? Sorry, I just saw some crazy lights in the sky that blew it clean off my body. It’s gone now.” Wrench went on and on and it wasn’t the words themselves, not really, that threw Marcus into hysterics, laughing with every muscle in his body. Maybe it was just the feeling behind them. The two were barely standing up on their own, only vertical because they both had each others weight to lean on. For a moment, the desert’s quiet overtook them. “But it was pretty right? The fireworks?”

“Yeah, man. It was.” Marcus had been over the moon when he’d finally convinced the crew to go on this little field trip in the sandy ass-crack of nowhere. He was glad to be here with his friends. He was so grateful for the destabilizing weight at his side. He’d been endlessly agonizing over the idea that this life he was trying to build would slip right through his fingers, but finally he found something to hold on to. And well, DEDSEC’s future was still uncertain but when Wrench had said it so easy, that he’s still got Marcus’ back, no matter what.  Marcus could finally exhale after holding his breath goddamn months.

DEDSEC was his family now but him and Wrench had clicked together seamless, in an instant. They just worked. Shit, they’d only known each other a few months and the idea of going on the whole rest of his life without his easy company made Marcus’ stomach maybe a little bit queezy.

Maybe it could just be the shrooms.

Right now Wrench was really the only one on board with a revival. Even if it was just the two of them taking on the world, Marcus fucking knew they could make it work. They were, after all, one hell of a team.

Marcus stood smiling at the expanse of stars laid out in front of them, dancing in rainbow colors before his eyes. So many stars. More than you could see from beneath the city lights. The open sky was endless and inviting, full of everything Marcus dared to hope for.

____

Marcus had been the one to suggest going to “Pho Kit”. One thing he had noticed in his months at DEDSEC was that Wrench barely ate.

“God fucking… stupid piece of shit.” Wrench grumbled as he held his mask away with one hand and tried to maneuver chopsticks into his mouth with the other. Marcus caught a glimpse of pale lips, curling in frustration when Wrench growled as the pho noodles he had been desperately trying to consume fell back into the bowl. He saw them again, thin, pink, as Wrench took an aggressive swing of beer.

“Not too easy with the mask, huh?” Marcus observed. He’d noticed a while back that Wrench’s entire diet was informed by the weirdo fetish gear he insisted on wearing. They all spent long hours in the hackerspace, taking the world by storm was a time consuming line of business. All the members of DEDSEC had become attuned to one another’s mundane routines. Marcus’ attention gravitating to Wrench especially.

Marcus might not know what Wrench’s non-alias, non-stupid name was or the color of his eyes but what he did know that Wrench does not do breakfast. Period. Sometimes he’ll remember to eat dinner before 3 am but it’s usually because Marcus reminded him. It’s no wonder the guys skinny.

When it comes to sustenance, Wrench values efficiency over all else. Sandwiches, protein bars, anything that can be inhaled in three seconds or less is the gold standard. Any time Marcus tries to put real food in him, the guy’s mouth is more full of complaints than any given micronutrient.

“Right? I mean what idiot designed this thing?” Wrench said sarcastically, though considering the angry slashes coming up on the display as he made another go for the noodles, he probably really was regretting his choice to forgo installing a mouth flap.

Marcus knew better than to suggest he take it off, so he kept his mouth shut and sipped at his beef broth instead. He thought about it a lot, more than he should really, the Wrench hidden away under there.

Wrench took another swig and Marcus saw it again, the flash of pink that’s there then its gone. All he really knew about Wrench was in flashes. Quick, blurry moments where something real slips past the rambunctious veneer.

Marcus figured the mask had to be more than a safety measure to protect Wrench’s identity. He had to trust him, them by now right?  But what it was hiding, Marcus had no clue.

“You could just lose the mask.” Marcus said abruptly, forgetting himself for a moment. Marcus looked around at the vacant tables around them. The 2 am streets illuminated by a single fluorescent light of the joint’s window, stark against what felt like an endless blackness.

It was just them in this restaurant. Them and the waitress that was giving Wrench and his mask wary looks.

“And what? Lose the sexy aura of mystique I’ve been cultivating?” Wrench deflected cleanly.

Another wall. If it wasn’t fiberglass and emoticons, Wrench would throw a raunchy joke like a smoke grenade at your feet to keep anything from becoming too tangible.

Wrench kept himself bricked off, always behind some kind of barricade to distance him from the rest of the world. You don’t get that careless and aloof without dedicated practice. Marcus should probably learn to take a hint by now after getting shut down at every turn.  

But it’s like Wrench half daring Marcus to dig deeper just to see if he can handle it. Thankfully, tearing down firewalls is Marcus’ spec-i-ality.

Marcus finished his meal in silence.  He took the last sip of broth before setting cash on the table.  Enough for both of them plus a generous tip. Wrench was sitting across from him, pretty discouraged by the mechanics of eating even though he was the one overcomplicating it. Marcus stood. Wrench went to follow but Marcus set his hand on his shoulder.

“Nah man, you finish up. I’m gonna get some air.” Wrench settled back down in his seat without a word as Marcus walked away, allowing the man his privacy.

Marcus stepped out into the cool night. He felt heavy with fullness and exhaustion from the long day behind him. He peered in through the window at the single black silhouette in the empty restaurant. Wrench’s back was to him, his mask tipped back slightly as he ate.

Marcus flicked a pack of American Spirits from his back pocket and began unraveling the plastic wrap. He pulled a cigarette, moving away from the light flooding out from the building. He took the first deep lungful of nicotine.

He didn’t look up when he heard the jingle as the door opened.  He felt the presence of Wrench shuffling closer. They took in a moment of silence as Marcus’ cigarette burnt down in his hand.

“Didn’t know you smoked, Golden Boy.” Wrench jeered.

Marcus chuckled, smoke unfurling from his mouth. “Golden- , I’ll have you know I’m a professional trouble maker.”

They were leaning against the brick wall of Pho Kit as it closed up for the night. Marcus could feel Wrench’s spikey shoulder brushed up against his own.  The heat cast radiating from his body was a stark contrast to the cold morning hour.

“And I don’t. Smoke. Not really.” It was Marcus’ first cigarette in shit, a year maybe.

Marcus couldn’t see Wrench’s eyes but he could feel them tracing the path of his cigarette to his mouth. The two blank Xs betrayed nothing but a passive cool.  It was the subtle twitch of Wrench’s pointer and index finger gave him away. Marcus wanted to ask when Wrench had quit. He could have asked him why he ever quit too.  But studying the mask out of the corner of his eye, veiled by a thin curtain of smoke… Marcus had a pretty good guess.

Curious to see what the mystery of a man would do, Marcus held the cigarette between them as a silent offering. Wrench hesitated for a moment, then two, before shrugging Marcus off and reaching up to secure his mask tighter to his face.

So Marcus smoked and Wrench just watched. Following the flame to Marcus’ lips and back until there was nothing left to burn. He threw it down and tampted it out under his shoe.

Wrench watched him do it, then turned back to the hazy night sky, a long sigh rupturing from deep in his esophagus. Layered underneath the mask’s voice filter, it was almost melodic. Marcus looked up too and blew out the last of the smoke in his chest.

Chapter Text

“Wrench?  Yo, Wrench?”  Marcus yelled, trying to get above the thunderous sounds of the garage.  He’d first heard it almost two blocks away.  The cacophony of music and metal tearing was deafening even before he stepped through the unlocked side door.  “Wrench!”

“ What! ”  Wrench screamed.  Marcus took a step back and blinked, he didn’t really know what to make of what he was looking at.  Wrench was standing atop of the hood of a dusty Honda Civic, knees locked with his legs spread apart in a powerful stance.  Held aloft in both hands a chainsaw, still ripping and filling the space with abrasive sound.  It was nearly unbearable together with the violent music flooding the building at maximum volume.  Wrench was surrounded by plumes of ash and smoke.  Marcus covered his ears, his eyes following a line of serrated metal down the middle of the car as Wrench pulled the chainsaw from its body.  Wrench’s gaze zeroed in on him, his chest rising and falling like he was breathing hard.

“Why are you chainsawing a car in half?”  Marcus screamed.  Wrench cut the brake switch and the chains began to slow.  Marcus hesitantly uncovered his ears.  

“Marcus,” Wrench said.  He had clearly been going for playful but the edges of his words were clipped and angry, straining like they were about to snap, “What are you doing here?” 

“You weren’t answering your phone.”  Marcus replied to loud, deaf ears still ringing from the chainsaw.  The ongoing assault of death-punk-metal certainly didn’t help.  Wrench didn’t move to come down off the car.  His body was wound tight like the chains slowly wirring to a stop.  

“Why are you chainsawing a car in half?”  Marcus asked again.  

“Why are you here?”  Ok, guess two can play that game.  

“There’s a Arcade-a-thon today.  Figured you wouldn’t want to miss it.”  

Wrench stared at him.  There was tension radiating off him like a smoke cloud.  Marcus looked down at himself then scanned his surroundings looking for a clue as to what was going on, what the hell was wrong.

“I’m busy.”  Wrench said.  

“Busy?”  Marcus said the word slowly, as if it had more information to offer him if only he examined it further.  

“Yeah. I’m busy today.”  Wrench said, throwing down his chainsaw.  It bounced off the hood and crashed to the ground with a destructive sound that made Marcus wince.  Wrench didn’t seem to notice.  “Thought you guys had caught on to that by now.”  

“I haven’t hit up the other guys yet.”  Marcus said, eying him warily, “Figured I’d see what you were up to first.”  

Wrench stared at him, a scowl lit up over his mask.  Marcus felt like Wrench was willing him away with his stare.  Then a few beats later, the expression on his mask softened, Wrench’s body slouching in on itself. 

“Oh, right.”  Wrench said softly.  Marcus could barely make it out under the thrashing bass line reverberating off the walls.  Wrench straightened, looking up at the ceiling for a moment.  His ribs expanded as he took a deep breath in.  He took his time letting it out. 

The car crunched under him as Wrench hopped off and hit the floor next to the busted up chainsaw. 

Wrench started walking towards his work bench, away from Marcus.  Marcus followed cautiously.  As he approached he noticed bits of broken machinery and weapons of destruction littering the ground.  Marcus had never in his life seen a bigger sledge hammer.  Now that he was looking closer Marcus realized how many of the dent’s along the car’s body were sledge shaped. 

Wrench was standing still with his back towards Marcus.  His phone was sitting face up on the desk.  Wrench passed a hand over it and the music came to an abrupt halt.  A silence overwhelmed the space between them.

“Sometimes I forget you're a new recruit.”  Wrench sighed, running his hand through his sweaty hair.  “How has it only been a few months since we met you?”  

“Hah.  Feels like forever sometimes, right?”  Marcus said, aiming for levity but his friend didn’t make a sound.  He studied Wrench from behind.  He wasn’t wearing his spikey denim armor, only a thin black t-shirt clinging to the salt on his skin.  His blonde hair was messy, full of debris and matted in a thick layer of powdery gray.  From this close Marcus could smell the grease and sweat off him.

“Right nows not a good time.”  Wrench said, the fire and fury seemed to have burnt up leaving him smoldering.  The strain bled out of his shoulders.  They hung low on either side of his head.  

“Oh?”  Marcus prompted.  Wrench didn’t respond.  “What’s up man?”  

“Nothin’.  Just.”  Marcus could hear the forced smile underneath the mask.  

“If I didn’t know any better, I say the car slept with your girlfriend or something.”  

Wrench didn’t laugh.  Marcus took a hesitant step towards him.  That’s when he saw the tiny gold band on the desk, it seemed worn out but still gleaming under the glow of the desk lamp.  It almost looked like an old wedding band.  

Wrench glanced over his shoulder at Marcus and as if following his gaze looked back at the desk.  Then as casually as one really could he swept his arm over the surface of the table, dashing everything to the floor, the ring, the lamp, a scatter of pencils and screwdrivers.  Marcus flinched again as the cacophony hit on the floor.

“You should probably get out of here.” Wrench said, without looking.  “Don’t want to miss the arcade … thing.” 

“Sure, yeah.”  Marcus sighed, returning to himself.  Marcus knew well enough his curiosity was usually unwanted, it had gotten him into plenty trouble over the course of his life.  And still, once something got it’s hooks in him he had no idea how he was supposed to let it go.  

“Wrench.”  He said, not sure what words came next.  “Are you..” Good? Sane? Are you ok? “Sure you don’t want to come?”

“Yeah, I’m … busy.”  They both stared at the car.  The artifice of expression on Wrench’s face was unflinching.  Giving nothing away.

Marcus took a step back and brushed off the arms of his jacket.   The second he’d walked in he’d been subsumed in a flare of dust.  It was all up on his skin, in his hair, he could feel the speck that had made its way inside him stubborn in his lungs.  He coughed but he could still feel it lingering around refusing to be expelled.  He cast around the warehouse for a mirror he could straighten himself up in front of.  Looking around he noticed something he hadn’t before, there wasn’t a single mirror in the building.  He wondered how he hadn’t caught that for months.  Come to think of it, even the bathroom was just an empty room with a toilet, shower, and sink.  Marcus sighed dejectedly, shaking a hand over his hair.  

“See ya, I guess.”  He did a little wave but Wrench was standing stubbornly facing the other direction.  

“Yeah.”  Wrench said.  He didn’t turn to watch him go.  Marcus exited the garage and began walking towards the Hacker Space and away from the warehouse district.  He pulled out his phone.

“Hey Sitara.”  

“Marcus!  What’s up?”  She said on the other end.  

“There’s a Arcade-athon going on today.  Wanna come?”  Marcus said, shooting for casual. He glanced back at the building behind him, rubbing his neck but kept moving, walking as he talked. 

“Hmmm.  I’m in the middle of a project but I guess we could give Blume a break for the afternoon.”  She laughed.  “Who all is coming?”

“Yeah, that’s only fair.”  Marcus laughed.  “I went to check on Wrench, he … didn’t want to come.”  

“No?”  Sitara asked lightly, then “Oh shit, is it the 23rd?  Shit, Marcus I’m sorry.”

“What do you mean?”  

“August 23rd.  I don’t know what his problem is.  Happens every year, but Wrench has a pattern of  kinda losing his shit today.  We’ve learned to give him his space.  I’m sorry, we should have warned you.”  

“No one knows why?”  He asked.  

“Who knows, it’s Wrench.  What’s he gonna do?  Tell us?   Maybe he doesn’t even have a reason.  All I know is that this happens every year, and it’s in everybody's best interest to steer clear of his crosshairs.”  Sitara replied flippantly.  

“Huh.”  Marcus said. 

“Don’t worry about it too much. He’ll be fine by tomorrow.” 

“Yeah, aight.”  He said.  He didn’t buy it.  “See you in ten.”  

———

August 24th Wrench texted him asking if he wanted to get a pint and play some darts.  They didn’t talk about anything but Marcus took it as an apology.  

———-

Marcus wasn’t afraid of heights.  He was always hijacking the monkey bars during recess, way back when.  He saw a peak and his first instinct was to scramble his way to the top.  

The city is a variegated macro circuit board, people shooting off like sparks down the street.  The pavement is conductive to the flow of energy that permeates the city.  It’s always noisy and exciting and exploding Marcus on all sides.  It’s up here in the clouds staring across the ascending cityscape that Marcus remembers what DEDSEC is about - what he’s about.  

If DEDSEC is the how then that live wire city is the why.  

He looked over at Wrench lazing on the rooftop railing beside him, the who.  The who the hell is this guy, and the why do I even care so damn much.

Some days he’s just the what.  Because what is it about this guy that has Marcus feeling like he’s at the top of the world, whatever the altitude.  

Wrench is leaning bodily over the ledge, looking down at the sprawl below.  He’s so the type to spit off the top of tall buildings if not for the mask, Marcus thought with a huge, goofy grin.  

Marcus stepped away from the ledge, just letting the scene play out in front of him.  Wrench stood out in stark contrast to the bright bustling metropolis.  Somehow the most chaotic thing in this cyclone of a city.  Adamantly defying understanding while somehow daring you to dig a little deeper.  

Marcus wanted to see, he wanted to know and feel.  He wanted to pick up a shovel and dig until it hit something golden.  

The sun glazed city left the two of them hot and sweltering.  Marcus stripped off his jacket.  Wrench’s vest clattered to the floor next to it with their fabric entangled.  The light bounced off their skin, warming Marcus’s face and dancing on Wrench’s bleached hair.  

Sweaty and sun drunk, Marcus sat down on the roof, resting his back on the railing while Wrench stood beside him like an obsidian obelisk.  Marcus felt his weight crushing the stoges in his back pocket.  He had promised his mom he’d stop smoking back in highschool when she’d found an empty pack in his backpack one day after school.  She’d been furious at the time, rippling with anger and disappointment.  

Marcus didn’t know much about his dad.  Besides from what his mom had told him.  That he was a good man and a damn good father.  He had a few hazy memories of a time before the car crash that took him.  He remembered sitting on the piano bench listening to him play.

Marcus didn’t remember it but he knew he used to smoke from what he’d seen in old family photos.  When his mom found those cigarettes she screamed at him, grounded him.  His indignant teenage self didn’t know what the big deal was until she said “what about Kayle, what kind of example are you setting for your little sister?” He heard his moms crying through the wall that night.  To this day he doesn’t know how that woman managed to love them that hard after everything this world took from her.  

Shit, man.  He should really stop again,  one of these days.

“We should get a pirate ship.  The old school kind.  With like sails and cannons and shit.”  Wrench said abruptly, looking into the bay past the buildings.  Marcus laughed.  “We could see the world, Marcus!  Pillaging, plundering - taking mother fuckers out!”  Wrench said gleefully, slashing with an invisible blade.

“Would you even know how to sail this ship of yours?”  Marcus leaned his head back looking up at him, watching Wrench stretch himself out over the railing.

“Details, details.”  Wrench brushed him off.  “I mean what the fuck else are we gonna do with all this cash rolling in?  It’s that or start using it as toilet paper.”  

“Man, whatever creavesis you're putting that money is your own business.”  Marcus chuckled.   “My cut is spoken for.”

“What?  You’ve been blowing through hookers and cocaine that fast ?”  Wrench said playfully, nudging Marcus with his thigh.  Marcus swayed for a moment, letting out a bark of laughter.  He had barely touched his payout for his work with DEDSEC.  All of Marcus’ money was stacking up in a dozen anonymous bank accounts across the Caymans. 

“Nah man, the only thing that's got a hold of my dick is the rising cost of education in America.”  Wrench looked down at him blankly.  

“Got a little sister, Kaylee.  I’m trying to send her to a private school upstate next year.  Pft - you wouldn’t believe what theyre asking for these days.”  He had scheduled small, seemingly insignificant deposits to his mom’s bank account to go out at random intervals over the course of the next few years.  Whatever's leftover was collecting into a college trust.  

Wrench was lingering overhead in silence.  He looked down at Marcus, the mask betraying nothing behind it, a blank slate.  Wrench turned his gaze, pressing back out into the expanse extended before him.  This was the first time, Marcus was keenly aware, that either of them had brought up the matter of family.  The space they held in the world when they weren’t wanted vigilantes.  

“It’s not so bad though, if it means she’s got a better chance out there.  I guess that’s just how it goes when it comes to family.”  Marcus pressed, pausing for a reaction.

“I guess.” Wrench repeated.  

Marcus let his eyes linger, waiting for something to slip past the shiny black veneer.  Just a flash of context for Marcus to scrutinize.  Some subtle clue that might point him to the next.  But Wrench was perfectly poised, motionless except the thin blonde wisps of hair picked up in the breeze.  

Marcus stood, stretching languidly like a cat, feeling his skin soak up the warmth of the sun.  He made for the case of beer sat on the roof's cooling duct, plucking two bottles from the pack.  The glass felt cool as it sweat in his hand.  He used his lighter to pop the lids and returned to the ledge.  

Marcus looked down at the deep brown bottle in his hand, the slosh and bubbling liquid trapped just below the surface.  He traced the edges of the simple logo with his eyes, farmiliar as ever.  It was no one in DEDSEC’s favorite brand except Marcus’.  Wrench liked the hipster shit, but Marcus had a far more cultured taste for German brews.  He tried to think back to exactly when he had expressed fondness for this label in particular, and how quickly it had become Wretch’s go to on a beer run.  

Marcus took a long swig, the taste of cheap beer settling in his mouth.  It had gone lukewarm under the sun but was a relief to his dry throat.  Wrench took the other bottle from his hand with a nod. Their shoulders were just barely brushing.  

“How bout this,” Marcus said looking out past the city into the San Fransico bay, dotted with ships far off in the distance.  “We jack one instead.”

“You're right,”  Wrench said happy to slip back to  indulging in a daydream. “What kind of pirate acquires his ship through legal means?”  He slipped his fingers under the edge of his mask, about to pull it up for a drink.  

“Oh that reminds me.”  Marcus said suddenly, digging around his messager bag.  He pulled out three wrapped, gas station bendy straws.  “Figured you could us these.”

“Oh, Marcus, a man after my very own heart.” 

Chapter Text

“Wrench?” 

There was a blue screen moment in Marcus’ higher brain functions as the line went silent.  He felt liquid nitrogen in his veins.  Time slowing down to a crawl, Marcus suddenly out of breath as if he’d just been running, yelling. 

And on the next beat his body was moving reactively, like the rush of movement after you get hit in the face with a cold splash of water.  He redirected power flow through the radio tower’s nodes silently, sweat starting to form at the base of his neck despite the mild San Francisco weather.  There was a thought threatening to enter his mind, and Marcus knew that once it did it would overtake him.  Marcus created a wormed in access point into the code.  

But God.  What if this was it and he’d never see Wrench again.  Marcus was having a hard time picturing his friend behind bars.  No spikey leather, no daring digital winks.  No mask and nothing DEDSEC could do for him, leaving Wrench exposed and at the mercy of a cold and unjust system.  

Marcus didn’t even know what the FBI had on Wrench but together they’d had done enough to receive easy life sentencings.  They might decide to leverage all of DEDSEC’s crimes against one guy, one rowdy extremist.   

MISSION BRIEF (CLASSIFIED)

DEDSEC : SAN FRANCISCO CHAPTER 

Marcus pulled up the live feed, heart somewhere in his throat.  

Wrench was sitting on a steel chair in a desolate room, shoulders curled into himself, his mask sitting on the table beside him and his whole body rigid like a live wire. 

Marcus cycled to the camera sitting directly in front of Wrench.  His hands were shaking. 

Blue eyes.  The slope of a nose.  Angry, red scar.  

It took a moment for his head to bridge the two, the anarchist hooligan and the angular blonde attempting to sink into his chair, into a singular stream of data.  

It was hard seeing Wrench like this, so alien to himself but also intriguing.  It was like he had been stripped naked leaving Marcus with the urge to look away.  But right now Marcus had a mission.  

----

Marcus was slow on the approach.  Wrench’s dark, tense figure framed by the golden San Fransico sunset drew him closer.  He’d never seen Wrench like this.  Bared open like a wound that’s bandage had been ripped away, unsure how to heal exposed to fresh air.  

Marcus sat down on the bench beside him, gripping the mask in his lap like the tender thing that it was, something valued beyond what even he had the words for.  For a fragile moment they sat together watching the skyline bloom in bright colors.  Marcus couldn’t help feeling disappointed.  He hadn’t wanted it to play out like this.  He had enjoyed the act of slowly peeling back each layer of encryptions, the way they danced around each other.  It was a game, like strip poker, sifting through everything until there was nothing left between them.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”  Marcus said, eyes down at his lap, the only face he’d ever known of his friend staring back - lightless and lifeless.  He looked into the blank expanse but there was nothing staring back.  The longer he stared the more unsettling it became.  There was a thick silence hovering between them.  He moved his thumb almost imperceptibly over the face of the mask, caressing the sharpness of the spikes.  But Wrench wasn’t there looking up at him, he was off to his side, not daring to meet his eyes.  

“You know all those things Duscan said -”  Wrench said slowly. “I would never turn on you.”  

Marcus let out a puff of air, relieved to hear Wrench’s voice.  He was surprised at how moved he was hearing it clean and unfiltered for the first time.  His voice was … soft, and subtle, just a hint of gravel to his timbre.  

“I know that.  I’ve always known that.  He’s just trying to separate us, tear us all apart.  But I know who you are, man.”  Marcus said, looking straight ahead at the blazing orange cityscape.  Wrench didn’t give any response. His gaze turned firmly away, transfixed by the spectacle as the light of day melted away.  

“Do you really though?”  Wrench said, finally, voice entirely devoid of inflection.  Blank.  Empty - Marcus thought, looking down at the deactivated mask sitting in his lap.  Wrench was on the retreat, desperate to escape back into an enigma.  

“Look,” Marcus said patiently, “I get it’s been a rough night.  You’ve been through a lot.  I heard those things they were saying about you and it’s ok-”  

“No.”  Wrench said, forcefully cutting Marcus’ words down.  “Those guys don’t know shit.”  Wrench still wouldn’t look at him.  “Neither do you.”  

Marcus shook his head.  He closed his eyes and exhaled hard.  He was thoroughly burnt out from fear and panic and relief.  The endless surging rapid of emotions leaving him ragged and fucking sick of Wrench’s stupid game of push and pull.  

“I’m fucking trying here, man.”  Marcus said, his voice sounding too loud, too raw, on the deserted rooftop.  “But you can’t let up for a fucking second, can you?”  The silence that followed was deafeningly sharp.  

Marcus sighed, setting the mask down between the two of them, a stark unease he wasn’t used to around Wrench creeping over him.  The temperature in the air was dropping as the sun continued it’s descent, flushing the both of them with a cold gust of air. Marcus felt goosebumps settling over his skin.

“Marcus, you don't know fucking anything about me.”  Wrench said with a deadly tightness, staring off into a vast nothing.  He reached down for the mask between them.  “Trust me, it’s better that way.”  A deep chill set in.  Just like that Marcus became devastatingly aware that the walls were coming back online and after tonight they would be impenetrable.  The vulnerability would be patched and he’d have no way back in.

Marcus set his hand down over Wretch’s.  

“Except I do, Wrench.  You used to smoke before you started wearing this.”  Marcus said. That startled Wrench into stillness.  Marcus continued.  “You're not on speaking terms with your family anymore.  You like to blow things up to get attention but don't know what to do with it once you have it.   And all those lines you got about foxy ladies walking by, you just say because you think it’s funny, even though you’re actually gay.”  

For the first time since Marcus walked up here, Wretch turned to look at him.  They held each other's gaze for a moment, Wrench’s eyes shining with vulnerability and the edge of panic. 

It was the first time he ever got a good look at the guy.  He looked so young, stripped out of his sharp costume.  His eyes, a striking pale blue, staring back at him nakely.  His left eye was mottled with a thick scar that disappeared past his hairline, an entire history lingering there behind it.  In this light Marcus couldn’t tell if it was the remnant of burnt flesh or a gnarled gash that barely stitched itself back together.  He wanted to ask.  Wretch’s lips were thin and pink, parted in a noiseless sound.  

Right above the angled line of his jaw sat a small brown freckle and something about that revelation sent electricity up through Marcus’s limbs.  He wanted to study that face, commit it to memory, no matter how many hours that took, he wanted it.

He didn’t want to let all these rising flames that had been building between them over the past few months dissipate into far off smoke.  His heart rate slowed.  He swallowed, pulling his hand back, still feeling the raw heat under his finger tips.  

“I’m trying.”  He repeated again.  Softer this time, a deeply weighted confession.  He turned his gaze back to the city laid out before them but he felt Wrench’s eyes lingering on him.

“Who -”  Wrench said, trailing off into nothing.  

“Nobody man.  It’s not like I was asking around or looked you up on some database.”

“So how do you know that? Nobody knows that.”  Wrench said, awed, not detailing what piece of information he meant in specific.   

“Guess I’m observant or something.  I don’t know, you make me listen, pay attention.  Look, I know there's a lot you keep to yourself but you're not as big a mystery as you might think.  I wish this - I wish it hadn’t gone down like this.  I like this - us .”  Marcus said gesturing vaguely at the two of them.  “I like figuring you out.  I like it when you let me. You're my best friend.   And I’m worried after tonight, I’m worried this is gonna fuck it all up.”

Wrench was silent.  It was kind of unnerving, being in the same room as Wrench without the stream of consciousness dialog constantly firing off in Marcus’ direction.  Just a different side to Wrench, he figured.  But that was just another hypothesis.  Marcus wanted to know the truth of it.

“Why bother, I mean -”  Wrench said, tracing the inky black lines etched into the hands in his lap, anxiously fiddling with his fingers.  He sighed.  “You just saved my life,” Wrench said, with his head in his hands, dragging his palms down his face.  “I can’t get out of my head for 5 minutes to say thank you.  I’m over here trying to start a fight.”  Wrench remained hunched over on his elbows, still holding his head. “Why are you still even here?”  

“Man, I don’t even know.”  Marcus laughed tiredly.  “I can’t help it.  Just something about you I guess.”  Marcus paused for a moment to think, wondering just how much he should say.  He could continue to let everything remain unspoken and leave this great yawning chasm lingering between them.  There was just so much lying beneath the depths, dying to come up for air.  At the same time, he knew Wrench was spooked.  Teetering on the edge of retreat and that any movement too sudden would send him fleeing back beyond the murk like the wild thing he was.  

“I’ve never met anyone like you.  Ever.  You’re something else.  You light my fire, man, like I’m alive instead of just living.  And it’s like for the first time in my life, I feel like I fit.”  The sun had gone all the way down, leaving the two of them in a gloomy purple twilight.  Neon lights were beginning to make their way up to the rooftop as the city prepared itself for everything tonight had in store, illuminating them in an artificial sunrise.  Marcus followed the patterns in the light with his eyes as he waited for a response.  Red, blue, and green.   The glow from below flashing and dancing over their little rooftop.  

“Oh.”  Wrench said plainly.  “I - I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say to that.”  Marcus winced.  He’d fucked up and this was Wrench shaking him off.  He took a quick breath.  

“I just wanted to say my piece - be real with you a second.  You don’t need to -”  Marcus said, but Wrench cut him off.     

“No, I just mean, I don’t know what to say.  No one’s ever said something like… that to me before, so I don’t know what to say to that.”  Wrench said without inflection, gaze lost in the skyline.

“You don’t have to say nothin’.”  

“Okay.  Yeah, okay.”  Wrench said, clearly floundering with where to go next.  The silence came back.  They sat with it for too long.  Wrench’s leg was bouncing, tension was overflowing out of his body.  Marcus repressed the urge to reach out to still him, trying to remain disaffected as Wrench coiled tighter and tighter.  Marcus began to feel the same restlessness the longer the silence he was suffering dragged on. 

“You know, why don’t we just go back to how it was.  Wipe the slate, like today never happened.”  Marcus relented.  He had pushed too hard, revealing his hand.  The game was over.  Might as well call with some of his dignity to go home with.  

“No, Marcus, there’s no going back.  You saw… me, today.”  

“Yeah, I guess so.  Doesn’t mean it needs to change anything.”  

“It’s just, it’s been a while since I-.  It’s been a long time since -”

Wrench wasn’t looking at him anymore.  He was staring down at the mask in his hand, holding on tightly.  Oh.  “It’s been a minute since someone’s seen your face.”  

“It’s been a minute since I’ve seen it.”  Wrench said.  It was Marcus’ turn to be lost for words.  

The Wrench that lived in Marcus’ mind’s eye kept evolving, kept shifting.  Like it couldn’t keep still.  There was so much unexpected revelation stirring in the ocean of personality disorders laid out before him.  Marcus wanted nothing more than to dive in and swim .  

For the first time, everything clicked directly into place.  He could laugh at himself right now.  Because thought he had it all figured out.  The Mask, The Wrench, the mythic persona.  Marcus had thought it was a game - not a shield.  Not a great, impenetrable firewall that sealed him off from the world.  No way in, no way out - no way to see past the shiny, chrome veneer.  

Maybe Wrench thought he was safer that way, impenetrable, untouchable, and alone.  

It was only now Marcus realized why he clung so tightly to his illusion.  Because without it to cover his face, his eyes betrayed his tragedy.  Something even Wrench wasn’t ready to face.  Marcus cradled the vulnerability he was being presented with, the thought of it crashed over him in waves.  The shock of it was cold, but the gratitude was warm.  Marcus smiled.  

“I guess I’m pretty lucky then.”

“I don’t know if lucky’s the right word.” 

“It is.  To me it is.”  

“I’m not sure who I’m supposed to be around you anymore.”  Wrench said quietly.  

“How about just Wrench?”  Marcus said.  Wrench chuckled softly.  

“In that case, can I be real with you too?”  Wrench said, Marcus kept his gaze level over the cityscape, giving Wrench the floor.  “I don’t think I’ve ever felt alive like I do now.  Well, not like, now now.  You get what I mean.  Lately.”  

“You saying I light your fire, Wrench?”  Marcus ribbed.

“Yeah.  Guess I am.” 

Marcus smiled to himself for a moment basking in the glow in what was a very simple confession.  Closing his eyes he leaned back on the bench seat and let the warmth of it fill up his body.  Suddenly, the silence felt like a hot bath they were lounging in together, it staved off the cold.  They sat like that for a long while and when Marcus glanced over, he saw a small smile peeking out from the shadow of Wrench’s hood.  

The sun had finished setting and darkness had flooded the skies.  But the city, the city was still surging, electric with life.  

“How’d you figure out I was gay?” Wrench said abruptly into the night.  “Sitara must of told you.  Right?”   Marcus laughed.  Wrench let out a little chuckle too.  

“You're nowhere near as sly under that mask as you think you are.”  Marcus teased.  

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  Wrench said, a little too defensive.  

“Calm down,” Marcus said lightly, “You really don’t think people can’t see you turn your whole damn head to follow a man’s ass walking by.”  Wrench choked out a laugh.  

“That’s what gave me away?”  Wrench scoffed.  

“That and you threw away the napkin that nice waitress at the coffee shop had left her number on.”  

“What napkin?”  Wrench asked incredulously.  

“You seriously didn’t see it?”  Marcus laughed.  

“Hey the peripheral vision on that thing fucks me up, alright.”  Wrench said, shoving him.  Wrench was laughing again.  Marcus savored that noise, never having heard Wrench’s naked laughter.  When he had first made his way up here, Wrench’s silhouette lingered like a statue on a lonely mountain above the rooftops.  It was easier connecting this face to his friend as it lit up with a wide smile he seemed like less of a stranger.

Suddenly they had found each others eyes again, trapped in the gravity well of their locked gaze.  Wrench cleared his throat.  Marcus pulled back, not realizing he had drifted so close.

Wrench held his mask in one big palm, slipping it back into place.  He pulled back his hood, deftly adjusting the straps at the back of his skull while the display screen booted up.  Symbols flashed in his eyes.

“We should probably scadadle.”  Wrench said.  Marcus could hear his voice filter layering over, Wrench’s tone suddenly more assertive and casual.  Marcus missed his cool blue eyes already.  

“Thanks, M.”  Wrench said after a beat, his voice authentic and raw behind the airy modulator.  

“Any time, dude.” Marcus said, raising his fist.  Wrench gave it a tap.