DotHack: Rejoinder

A DotHack fanfiction by Renfro Calhoun

Disclaimer: Project .Hack and attached concepts are property of Bandai and Cyber Connect. They are used without permission, but with the utmost respect.

Notes: To recap, since it's been TWO YEARS since I updated this thing (before the last chapter,) Dean's asking various CC Corp. personnel about Kazushi Watarai/Albireo's disappearance as it relates to the resurgence of anomalous activity in The World. In tonight's episode, interrogation and fistfights ahoy! Interesting side note, a scene very much like this was intended for Penance. But I ramble and spoil. Observe!

Surface Tension

"...who is described as white, in his late 30's, and bald. We'll have more on this story as it develops."

One hand on a tall draft beer, Dean scoffed and turned his eyes away from the hanging TV set. "Man. Glad that ain't me."

The crowd of barflies buzzed noisily around him, some brushing against his back as they squeezed by. He surmised that the small, but popular karaoke bar - Nina had called it Blackout 16 - saw a diverse lot of patrons; the cute bartender didn't so much as blink at the lone American humbly ordering a drink in slow, awkward Japanese. Dean thanked the smiling girl and wandered back over to his table, giving a wide berth to a drunk fellow mangling "Rocketman."

"Toki said you had some questions for me, detective?" asked the woman at Dean's table, perhaps a few years his junior. Casually dressed in khakis and an old gray college alumni t-shirt, Nina Chinari looked oddly at home in the club, if a far cry from the well-dressed woman in her dossier.

Dean quickly appraised her and made a few mental notes: her reddish-brown bangs were neatly trimmed, her ponytail ran down to her shoulders; a tiny scar marred her index finger, possibly from a papercut; her posture was poised and guarded, confident but somehow wary; the shirt and slacks were loose, effectively hiding what he suspected was a more athletic build.

"I do. Do you mind if I take notes?" he asked politely.

She regarded the detective with equal parts curiosity and caution, her brown eyes paying close attention to his hands. When he made no sudden, presumptuous moves, she gave a short shake of her head in response. "No, I don't mind. Go ahead."

"Thank you," said Dean, drawing a pen and a pad of paper out from his jacket. He pulled his appraisal back to her face and started to gauge her reactions. Tough crowd. At least the bartender smiled. "About Watarai. Do you know what he was working on just before he quit?"

Nina nodded, taking a pull from her own bottle. "A little, yes. He worked on the Japanese language version of The World under Mr. Tokuoka. He also was involved heavily in the clean-up operation following the resurgence."

Is that what they're calling it now?

"Well before his..." she hesitated, deliberately dancing around the word. "Before he left, actually before the resurgence, he was working on something called Lycoris. I don't know much about it myself."

"What can you tell me about him?" Dean asked, writing the word 'Lycoris' down on his notepad.

"Ask anybody about Watarai and they'll probably tell you one or two, or possibly all three, of the following things." She paused to sip at her beer. "One, he was compassionate; he cared about the game, its players, and his coworkers, and that's putting it lightly. Two, he was meticulous and methodical, very detail-oriented and good at problem solving."

Her use of past tense sounded odd to Dean's ears, though he didn't know why. He took a sip from his drink and asked, "And three?"

Nina glanced at him, studying him in return. "Three, under no circumstances would he give up on something he truly believed in."

"Your colleague said about as much," Dean replied. "Did Watarai have any enemies, any people he didn't get along with?"

She made a so-so gesture with her hand. "A couple. Toki and Kazu didn't see eye-to-eye, but only professionally. They were civil about their disagreements, from what I know."

Dean made a mental note of the shorthand for their names. She's familiar with both men, and Tokino didn't mention this. Curious. "What sort of disagreements?"

"I don't know the details, but some of them involve the World. Of course, what doesn't in this comapny?" A touch of acid dripped around the word 'company,' which did not go unnoticed by the detective. She lifted the bottle to her lips, taking another sip of her drink. "Kazu mentioned the Lycoris incident only in passing, something about a self-contained subroutine. Apparently it was acting independent of the system at large. Only a handful of people know the full story, especially once we had to deal with Pluto Again."

The detective drew a thick circle around the word 'Lycoris,' then a line to 'Tokino' and added a question mark over the man's name. "So what was the argument?"

"Investigating The World in general was putting a lot of strain on our admins and IT security. Kazu believed our administrators could handle it. Toki didn't, and once people started lapsing into comas again, including our own men, the facts were on his side."

A sharp peal of boisterous laughter cut through their conversation as a pack of youngsters pushed through the door, sporting leather and doing their best to look tough. One of them sidled up to the bar, rudely brushing past a few standing patrons.

Dean shook his head and turned back to Nina. "Did nobody know what they were up against with this thing?"

Nina took a long sip from her beer, sighing as she set the bottle down. "Turnover was high for a few years, such that most of us knew very little about the base programming. That is changing, but not fast enough. There are dozens if not hundreds of scripts that didn't fire. We're still finding fragments of data, both from our own programming and from Harald."

Dean stopped in the middle of taking notes, and quickly scratched out the word 'Delphi' on the notepad. He drew a question mark next to it and spun the pad towards Nina, tapping it with his pen.

She nodded. "Among other things. I don't doubt that our people did their best, but Toki's points were hard to deny. Watarai eventually was able to deal with Lycoris somehow, but it still showed how little we knew about what we were dealing with. The resurgence, as I said, forced our attention elsewhere."

"And then you have Asara coming in," Dean added.

"Precisely. When it turned out that our own executives couldn't be trusted, it's a miracle the company didn't just burn to the ground. Now that we have anomalous activity again, I'm not surprised they're bringing out the fire sale plans. It doesn't help that Lee, our vice-president, is half-Chinese, so there's some friction between him and the board."

"Why would that matter?" asked Dean, playing dumb. He knew there wasn't much love lost between China and Japan.

"It doesn't for the younger employees." Nina shrugged. "Most of the board is older, more conservative. Some have a family history dating back a century or so, others are just old-fashioned bigots. It's tangential to the in-game problems, but it is a stressor."

The detective quickly wrote 'Lee' down, drawing a back-and-forth arrow over to the word 'board'. He added the word 'hostile' over the arrow and said, "So Tokino was using Watarai's work to bolster his position. Did he ever advocate selling the game?"

"Not exactly. He never broached the prospect of selling the game, only that our security couldn't stop this thing. One of the board members first brought up the idea to sell." She motioned to the detective with her bottle. "This doesn't explain why Watarai left recently, of course, but it is why many in the company would want the game gone in the first place."

This sounds like the same thing Junichiro told me, only about Nina instead. "It can't be that easy. You're talking about your key property, just thrown out the window. Where would it go?"

"Anywhere, as long as it's not on CC's books when it blows up."

Dean took a large chug from his beer, smacking his lips and writing 'bomb metaphor' on the notepad off in the corner. "All right, let's talk about what's going on now. I understand you recently presented some research to the board, can you tell me a little about that?"

"You spoke to Lios about this?" Chinari asked. When he nodded, she continued. "You've probably heard the bullet points. I made a routine analysis of our intrusion countermeasures. We still periodically come across corrupted data, though only rarely does it manifest as an unkillable creature or something. I measured our success ratio versus the time it took to locate and deal with the thread, then recalculated to involve a sample problem on a larger scale. We even ran a few mock infections in hard isolation servers."

"Test bugs?"

Nina emptied her bottle in one last pull. "Correct. It's rather technical. Suffice it to say we manage well against mobile specimens, but our lack of knowledge about The World hampers our ability to respond to other things. Data purges no longer work as well against infected zones, for instance. And with these latest events, I'm afraid to say Tokino may be right."

"You agree with him?"

Dean studied her face, looking for any sign of smugness or deceit. She gave none, instead staring through her empty bottle with a blank expression. "Before this began again, I can't say that I did. In spite of having to rely on hackers from outside the company, I thought our staff knew what they were doing."

The detective had no answer. He instead jumped to his next question. "Could these anomalies be man-made? Modifications of your test bugs, maybe?"

"Maybe, but it'd be nearly impossible to infect the network in this fashion by remote. Simple infections are possible, but easy to track and stop. A true systemic attack requires server-side access at some point." She shook her head. "If it's an insider, they're very good at covering their tracks."

Dean let his eyes droop shut for a moment. It seems like my answers are with Watarai one way or another. Either they got rid of him because he could counteract this, or his work was related somehow.

"Tokino said he asked you what you thought it would take to drive away a driven man." Nina palmed her chin, looking up at the detective with curious eyes. "What if there is no answer?"

He blinked. "I don't follow."

"I know Lios believes a human is behind this, and I suspect you do too." She lightly rolled her bottle around on its edge, her other hand firmly on its neck. "You may want to consider that Albireo wasn't chased off, just in case it's true."

"So what, he just gave up? You said yourself that he's beyond dedicated."

Nina shook her head, candidly saying, "Just guesses, detective, nothing more. People are very often more complicated than we know."

Something about the way she said 'detective' rang familiar in his mind; a soft, playful voice attached to a more pleasing face. He cleared his thoughts with a shrug. "We'll see."

Smirking, Nina sat up straight and pushed her bottle away. "Are there any other questions?"

"Nah, that should just about do it, unless you know where I can find Watarai."

"Figures. He might have told someone on his way out, but it's doubtful. I'm afraid you're on your own there."

"Well, thanks for the help just the same." Pocketing his notebook and pen, Dean quickly took another sip from his beer. Motioning to her empty bottle, he asked, "Want one for the road?"

She gave a whisper-soft chuckle, and Dean initially mistook it for a sigh. "Been a while since someone bought me a drink. All right, Mr. Stollis, one more."

Dean stood up and started towards the bar, flitting through mental notes . So it all adds up to Watarai. Tokino was holding out on me, too. And I still wouldn't mind having words with Mr. Lee. Damn, too many people, not enough access.

"Too big a coincidence," the detective muttered under his breath, squeezing between patrons. Maybe I can get one more answer out of her.

Without warning a shoulder shoved hard into Dean's arm, causing him to stagger aside and bounce awkwardly off a seated young woman. He grunted in surprise upon impact, having just enough sense to apologize to the woman he collided with. Righting himself, he glared at the man who had run into him. A bit lightheaded from the beer, he had to think for a moment before babbling out "Hey, watch it man!" in Japanese.

A few inches shorter than the detective, the twenty something in the leather jacket scowled at him and snapped back in his native language. He pointed accusingly at Dean, jabbing the older man with his finger.

Dean glared back, his blood pressure quickly rising. "I understood 'stupid' and 'American,' and that's enough. Just watch where you're going." I don't have time for this, he thought as he batted the man's finger away and turned to leave.

"Hey, America, where you going?!" his opponent taunted, pushing at his other arm. "Not done with you yet!"

The detective stopped short, and faced the man again with fast-growing hostility. A few of the closer clients backed away, giving the two some room. "Oh, you do speak English. Good. Then watch where you're going, asshole. And keep your hand off me."

"You don't belong here, America." A few of his friends gathered close, jeering at the foreigner in their midst. Finally, the detective caught the scent of alcohol from the man's breath. His bleary eyes and unfocused stare told the rest of the story. He spat something else out in Japanese, and to the detective it didn't sound the least bit complimentary.

I really don't have time for this, he thought again, though that thought was fast giving way to the urge to just throw a punch. He gave a hard shove and put some space between him and the punk. "Last time I'm gonna tell you. Let me go."

Two of the thug's larger friends stood at his sides, glaring coldly at the detective. "Or what?!" belted the leader. He shoved back, nearly pushing Dean off his feet. "I fuck your mother, America! What you got?!"

Dean's eyes blazed, brown turning to steel as he clenched his fists and righted his stance. "Oh, that is IT!" he cried and lunged for the leader, connecting with a firm sucker punch to the mouth.

The thug reeled back in surprise, blood spilling from a cut on his lip. His two friends advanced on Dean, grabbing his arms and struggling to restrain him. One threw a punch into the detective's abdomen, drawing a loud grunt and forcing him to double over coughing; the other lurched upward and dropped his elbow hard on the American's back, sending him to the floor.

Eyes squeezed shut, Dean could do little but shield his face as one of the thugs kicked him hard in the stomach. Struggling to breathe, he heard what he assumed was the Japanese equivalent of 'fuck you', and feebly spit out the same phrase in English. Through the gap in his arms he saw another man wind a leg back to kick again, and instinctively lashed one of his feet towards the man's other leg.

A yelp and a tumble of leather and jeans signaled that his gambit worked; the attacker was caught off guard and fell over, bouncing painfully off a bar stool. Briefly ignoring his own pain, Dean lunged for the fallen thug and grabbed onto a pant leg, dragging himself into striking distance.

The third man awkwardly leaped onto Dean, wrapping an arm around his neck and grabbing his head with his free hand. An unfortunate finger wandered too close to Dean's mouth, and the detective cringed as his teeth bit into and broke skin. A shocked cry caused the fellow to retract his hand, and his hold on the detective's neck loosened as well. Dean, freed from the man's grip, took firm hold of the waistband of thug number two's jeans and dropped any pretense of fighting like a gentleman.

Thug two let out what could only be described as a piercing shriek as a fist rocketed into parts unmentionable. The shriek was cut short as the detective threw a punch to the man's stomach, bypassing his weak attempt at a block.

Arms restrained Dean, at least two pairs. He made one last grasp at his opponent, then kicked out as he was dragged away. "Fuck you! You're fucking dead! You and your asshole friends! Come on!"

He heard shouts from the leader, and Dean was released. Someone - Dean couldn't tell who through his blurry eyes - helped thug two to his feet, and he heard several sets of footsteps making a hasty retreat. It became obvious why as he heard a distant wail of police sirens.

Groaning and gasping for air, Dean struggled to stand and failed. "Those... motherfuckers..." he wheezed as he lay on the floor, keeping a sure grasp on what he had pulled from thug two.

Red and blue lights swept over the confused crowd gathered around the bar entrance, drawn by the parked police cruiser out front. From down the sidewalk Dean watched as uniformed cops canvassed the onlookers and spoke into dispatch radios. The detective folded his arms over his chest and winced as an arm made contact with a bruise hidden by his shirt.

An older, blank-faced officer in a trenchcoat and blazer stepped away from the crowd and towards Dean, and the detective avoided making eye contact. Shame colored his face red; he'd lost his cool, he was provoked, he shoved first. He heard the lieutenant's footsteps, and steeled his stomach.

"All right, I've heard everybody else's side," said Masamoto, tilting his head to catch the detective's gaze. "Let's hear yours."

"There's not much to tell," Dean said with a sigh. "We bumped into each other, I told him to watch it, and then he started insulting me. Told me to 'go home, American,' started getting personal."

"Apparently," said Masamoto with a raised eyebrow.

"I... I shoved him first, he shoved me back, harder." Dean was now clearly flustered, the words stammered as they came up. His mind was doing backflips trying to justify his actions, even as he forced himself to come clean. "I swung first, hit him. I just... snapped."

Aniki stared intently at Dean, and the younger man seemed to wilt. "Dean. I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt because I know you, but the only reason you're not sitting in back of there," he motioned with his head towards the cop car, "is because those three ran off. Bartender didn't know them, apparently they weren't regulars. Just punks out looking for a fight."

Dean swallowed around a stinging lump in his throat. "Maybe."

"We questioned Chinari a bit but had to send her home. She didn't see much after the crowd gathered, and she said you were done questioning her anyway."

Finally meeting the lieutenant's eyes, Dean said, "I had one more question, actually. So much for that, I guess."

Masamoto slid both hands into his coat, glancing quickly at the bar. The crowd was slowly dispersing, and one of the officers looked towards Masamoto. The lieutenant barked a quick order at him, then turned back to Dean. "Is this about the, uh..."

"Yeah," Dean muttered. "Not getting very far. All ties in to this programmer that quit for some... some apparently bullshit reason. He went dark. Bad things are happening in The World again, and someone's using it as an excuse to sell The World. Apparently this programmer's work was used as evidence, and he had the know-how to stop this thing in its tracks, or... or something. Still doesn't add up."

"Mm. You know I can't help you on this until you find out there's an actual crime being committed, right?" The officer waited to Dean to nod, which he did. "And I certainly can't help you with what happened tonight."

"I know," Dean said in a raspy voice. He sniffed and cleared his throat before continuing. "I know, Masa. I... it was an accident. Well, okay, not an accident, but I just... I just lost control."

"I'm too old to pretend people can cut off their emotions just like that, but you still have to be careful." Masamoto took a short breath, speaking in a lower voice. "Foreigners aren't exactly welcome these days, and I'm afraid you're no exception. After everything Asara did, on top of the CIA and even yourself..."

"I get it Masa, I get it."

Masamoto put a hand on Dean's shoulder, showing concern on his face. "Dean, I say this as a friend. Go home, get some rest, start fresh tomorrow, and be. Careful. We'll talk later."

The lieutenant turned and left without another word, returning to the squad car. The words 'go home' knifed into Dean, echoing what the punk had said to him earlier.

Slowly the shame subsided, and Dean reached for his pocket as the car pulled away. He dug out a leather wallet, not unlike his own, and flipped it open. The ID definitely wasn't his. A heavyset fellow named Manake Pirinako smiled back at him, looking an awful lot like the thug he had socked in the privates mere minutes ago.

You may want to consider that Albireo wasn't chased off.

Dean thumbed the ID, deciphering the Japanese text to get the man's address. Suspicion replaced embarassment. "We'll see."