Hacker of Solomon

Chapter 1: Fallen

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Witch Hunter Robin characters, blah blah blah. If I did, I would be off making another season!!

Rating: safely PG-13, for language and violence. (mostly in future chapters)

Summary: Something happens to Michael, landing him in a coma at the hospital. But when Solomon immediately sends a replacement hacker, suspicions arise in the STN-J. Is this some plan cooked up by those down at HQ, or are things not what they seem?

Author's Note:

Well, now I've gone and done it.

I've gotten obsessed with Witch Hunter Robin, and after reading everyone else's awesome fanfics, I have decided it's my turn to give it a go. My first WHR fanfic, but not my first attempt at a fanfic. I doubt I'll be able to live up to the other great people on this site *cough*Golden-sama*cough!* but it's been fun. MY FIRST FANFIC ON FF.NET!!! *dances around* I feel so sch-pecial!!

Enjoy! R&R!

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Darkness had long ago fallen on the world, and the silence with it had pretty much enveloped everything. On the streets, the normally steady stream of cars and buses had become a trickle, only maybe ten to be seen on a mile long stretch of road. But in the STN-J office, the usual flow of key tapping had hardly stalled. Because, of course, Michael Lee was putting in another long day's work.

"Arg," he said softly to himself, scratching his head as his eyes scanned his computer screen. He was busy doing research on a new case. A witch had been discovered on the outskirts of town, but so far, his powers were unknown. Michael narrowed his eyes and continued his typing.

"Come on, there has to be something on this guy . . . " he growled, leaning over so his nose was only an inch from the screen. His fingers were tapping harder on the keyboard than they should, his exhaustion and frustration getting the best of him.

"We need something on this guy by tomorrow," Amon had told him several hours earlier, as he threw his trenchcoat over his shoulder and strolled stoically out.

"No problem," Michael had said.

But clearly, it had become a problem.

Michael reached over and grabbed his cup of coffee and took a sip. His face contorted into a sneer. A two hour old cup of coffee just didn't have the same refreshing quality as a fresh one did. He finished it anyway, and then stood up and stretched, glancing over at the clock on the wall.

It was a little after midnight. Michael sighed and pulled his earphones out of their spots, the world going from crashing guitars to the soft humming of his processor. He set them on the desk and walked to the coffee machine, his body swaying a bit from sitting for so long.

"Aw, man!" he groaned, lifting the empty pitcher of coffee. "Great. Just great." He slammed the coffee pot down and ran his fingers through his orange hair. He glanced at the small bags of coffee grindings sitting next to the machine, but decided he was too lazy and impatient to make himself more. He bent down and opened up a small refrigerator concealed beneath the coffee machine and pulled out several Coca-Colas. They should help him last the next hour or so.

A noise caught his attention and he turned to see what it was. It sounded like it was coming from the computers. But after staring several seconds, he decided that perhaps sleep depravation was getting to him. He groaned sleepily and scratched his head, then unscrewed the cap of one of the soda bottles. He pressed his lips against it and took a long sip.

But then there it was again. Michael looked over the bottle toward the computers again, and then pulled it away quickly, coughing as he inhaled the soda.

The computers' monitors had all awoken from their nighttime standby mode all on their own.

"What the hell?!" he said aloud, walking briskly over to his own computer, setting his soda and the other unopened bottles down on the desk along the way. He bent over his chair to look at his screen.

It had gone completely blank.

His heart leapt in horror. No . . . it was impossible . . . He wheeled his chair back and threw himself on it, then rolled up to the keyboard and began to type. He tried to bring up an override window, but no matter what keys he pressed, nothing happened. He felt his face grow pale, and then rage filled him.

"NO! Dammit!" he growled, slamming his hand against the side of his computer screen before he reached over to reset the computer. All the hard work he had done! Gone! The only explanation had to be a hacker, but how could a hacker have gotten through his system again? He then remembered the other computers and turned to see if they were in a similar state. He blinked twice to make sure his eyes weren't deceiving him.

Words were slowly appearing across the screens, all by themselves. He stood up and walked over to Sakaki's computer, and leaned in to see what it was. He furrowed his brow, his tired eyes struggling to take in everything at once. The words were in another language, or perhaps just encrypted, but Michael couldn't make sense of them. He sat down and began to type on the keyboard, but nothing he typed had any effect on it. The words just continued, just as fast, and just as unreadable.

The words suddenly stopped, then vanished. Michael clenched his teeth together. What the hell?

"Damn hackers . . . " he growled, unaware that he had just cursed himself. He got up and returned to his desk. He reached under and pulled out his own laptop and connected it to his office computer. His laptop started up fine. Automatically, his fingers began to fly across the keys, typing in the codes he knew better than anything else.

How the hell did they get in?! he thought angrily, his fingers banging harder than ever on the keys. After getting hacked several weeks before, he was quite sure that he had made their security system fully impenetrable. So how . . . ?

The other computers began to whir louder, and Michael glanced over his shoulder at them. His fingers stopped as his eyes fell on the nearest machine.

Across all of the computers was one word.

His own name.

"What?" he whispered under his breath, getting back to his feet. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He felt like he was being watched. He glanced toward the window, as though expecting someone on a gaffold typing away on a laptop. Of course, no one was there. He spun around, the feeling lingering. But no one was around. He returned his gaze to the computers and saw, with a jolt, that profiles, articles, and various things that he normally used himself to figure out the pasts of witches began to appear. Only, they were all concerning himself, back from when he won a typing contest in second grade, up to a file created by Zaizen when they had dragged him into the STN-J.

Then, the screens went blank, and more strange words popped up.

"Dòruinn a suthainn dorchadas. . ."

Michael felt a shiver run over him. This didn't look good...

Then, all at once, the computers shut down. The world went momentarily black. Michael spun around. Even his laptop had turned off. He realized that someone had gotten to the electrical power, because the coffee maker's green digital clock had vanished too. He growled and went for his communicator. He needed to get a hold of Amon right away.

But as he reached for it, a sudden brightness blinded him and he threw his arms over his face to block it out. After a moment, his eyes readjusted, and he peered through the gap in his arms, and a spasm of fear went through him at what he saw.

The floor beneath him was glowing . . . a circle of light. Then more streams of light began to snake their way around him, creating squiggles and shapes that he recognized as being runes.

It was a Ring of Ogham.

Michael was rooted to the spot. He was paralyzed with horror . . . or perhaps it was the circle of runes doing it. But for a few seconds, nothing happened. All he could hear was his own harsh breathing.

Then, laughter sounded around him. He twisted around, his feet remaining planted in their places. Another shudder passed through him, and he widened his eyes in terror.

"What the hell is going on?!" he shouted at the laughter. "Who the hell are you?!"

The laughter didn't falter. If anything, it grew louder. Michael felt his heart pounding in his chest. He was trapped, and didn't have any means of protecting himself. He had an orbo gun, but it was out of reach, in his desk drawer.

It was several moments before he realized that the light beneath him was moving around.

The squiggly shapes morphed into other designs, creating a new circle of ruins. Michael could only take in what he was seeing for a split second. His vision went bright red and a thunderclap sounded in his ears. He gasped and felt dread fill him, as though he knew what was going to happen. A split second later, his whole body exploded in the most unbearable pain, like someone was driving nails into every inch of his body. He tried to scream, but nothing came out. He was vaguely aware that his feet had begun working again, but all that did was cause him to fall over. He was on the floor, thrashing around in agony.

Help! his mind screamed, as darkness began to fold over him. Oh god!

Someone help me! Robin . . . Amon . . . !

But no one came. The pain reached its peak, and the world shattered into nothingness.

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Robin yawned and rolled over in her bed. She glanced over at the clock and sighed hard.

It was six in the morning. She would have to get up and head over to work soon. She closed her eyes, but the bright stream of light peeking through the curtains prevented her from falling back to sleep. She gave up after ten minutes and got up. She took her time putting her usual black clothes on, and putting her hair up in its bizarre pigtails. She tiptoed out the door, being careful not to wake Touko.

But at the bottom of the stairs, she stopped. It was six thirty. Why head to work right away? She continued down the hall, thinking about her various options. Perhaps she could stop and get some donuts. Michael was probably up most of the night trying to find information on that witch. It would be a nice little reward for his hard work. She walked out of the building and over to her Vespa. She carefully pulled her helmet on over her hairdo and sat down. With a few kicks of her heel, the Vespa roared to life and she pulled out of her parking space and onto the street. The streets hadn't reached their morning traffic velocity yet, so she reached the mart down the street from the STN-J in good time. She quickly went in and got the donuts -- powdered for her, chocolate-covered creme-filled with sprinkles for Michael.

She pulled into the parking garage of Raven's Flat to find it deserted. She was the first one there. Not even Zaizen or the usual security guard was there. She unlocked the gate and walked over to the elevator. She pressed number five, highlighting it, and the elevator lurched as it began its ascent to the top floor. The floors passed by slowly, one right after the other, until she reached her stop. The gates opened noisily and she stepped onto the platform and looked down toward the office entrance, expecting to hear the normal clicking of keys. But either her hearing was low today, or Michael wasn't working just yet.

The elevator behind her shuddered suddenly and she turned in time to see it disappear down the gaping elevator shaft. She chuckled a little and wondered if it was Amon who called for it. He was the only other one who would come forty-five minutes early.

"Michael?" she asked as she turned a corner, pulling off her trenchcoat. She folded the coat over her arms and looked up, expecting to see him making coffee, since his keyboard was strangely quiet. But he was nowhere be seen in the large office. Robin thought about it a moment. Perhaps he was up so late that he was sleeping in. She shrugged. Not like that mattered. She walked into the office and headed over to the coffee machine. She opened one of the bags of grindings and poured it into the machine.

Something caused her to stop. At first, she wasn't sure what. But then she realized that there was a strange noise coming from behind her. She turned around, looking around for what it could be. After a moment she realized it was Michael's CD player blaring out his usual heavy metal music. She blinked in surprise. That was unlike Michael to leave his player going like that. She walked over to the desk, narrowing her eyes. The desk was it's usual state of disorganized, candy-covered messiness, but some things just popped out at her. Mostly it was the bags of uneaten candy and chips. Michael was a slob, but his love of food caused him to at least close up bags of chips to prevent them from going stale. And leaving a bottle of soda left unopened like that. That was peculiar...

That was when she saw him.

"Michael!" she gasped under her breath, fear filling her as she caught sight of him over the desk. Michael didn't respond. She hurried around the desk and kneeled over him. He was halfway on his stomach, half on his side. His orange glasses weren't on his nose, but rather laid shattered beside him. His face was very pale, almost white. Robin reached over and laid a hand on his cheek. She felt her breath catch hard in her chest, her stomach churning in terror. He was as cold as a corpse .

The elevator pinged and she heard the gate slide open. She stood up slightly and glanced over Michael's desk.

"Amon!" she gasped, her voice coming out as barely a whisper. The tall, shady-looking man looked over at her, and his eyes narrowed as he read the look on her face.

"What is it?" he asked, quickly tugging his trenchcoat off. Robin looked back down at Michael, unable to respond. Her throat had closed shut. She listened to Amon's footsteps as he walked over to them, but as they reached the desk, the steady rhythm skipped a beat.

"Michael," he said softly. There was a flutter of his clothes as he knelt beside them. Robin watched him apprehensively as he placed two fingers underneath the young man's jaw. She held her breath and stared up at the older hunter's face, but it remained still.

"He's still alive. But his pulse is faint," his eyes flicked around at the room, probably noticing all the differences that Robin had. His eyes fell onto Michael's screen, and he gave a small grunt, his eyes widening a little in surprise.

"Huh?" Robin asked, turning to look, then took a quick breath at what she saw.

Michael's computer screen was blank save for three words:

"He is Ours."

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What do ya think so far? Lemme know! Your opinion counts!

~Lighty~