.Hack//Heist
A .Hack fanfiction by Renfro Calhoun
Disclaimer: I claim ownership of nothing whatsoever related to Project .Hack, save for characters created solely within this story, and the Cthulhu plush doll I bought on the same day I bought Infection. I love that little elder god.
Notes: Takes place between Infection and Mutation. Parentheses indicate thoughts. "Big Trouble in Little China" is the most underrated movie ever.
Chapter V - Modus Operandi
------------
Dean's eyes shifted from the driver to the passenger, who faced him with a pistol drawn. The former was a well-built American in a tan overcoat, with a look that just stepped out of an Army recruitment ad: square-jawed, clean-shaven, sharply cut brown hair, piercing blue eyes. The latter could have been an extra from any number of John Woo flicks: a trenchcoat-clad Japanese man with shoulder-length dark hair and unflinching hazel eyes.
Both men bore the appearance that there were a lot more where they came from.
Dean folded his arms over his chest, leaning back against the leather backseat of the black sedan he now sat in. "All right, who the hell are you guys?" he asked, eyes narrowing. "You're a bit too well-dressed to be mercs. Who do work for, CC?"
"We're asking the questions," said the driver. "Now shut up and tell us who you're working for."
"Which one do you want me to do?" asked Dean with a smirk.
The passenger replied by pulling the trigger, sending a silenced bullet into the backseat, just inches from Dean's head. "Shit!" he cried as he lurched right, clumsily attempting to dodge the shot that had already passed him. "All right, I'll talk! Damn!" he shouted, panting quietly, trying to calm the suddenly frantic beating of his heart.
"Let's hear it," said the Japanese thug.
Dean sighed. "We were hired by Asara Corp. to hack into CC's mainframe." He paused as the sedan jolted slightly from a bump in the road; the car's pace went uninterrupted as it rumbled along the streets, darkened through tinted windows. "The deal is $50,000 a head, U.S. currency, for accounting data from last year."
"Asara Corp?" asked the American.
"Software manufacturer, one of CC's lesser competitors," explained his companion. "They're trying to develop an operating system to rival Altimit." He turned to face Dean again. "You were planning to go through the old backdoor in The World, weren't you?"
(They know an awful lot about this. They're Cyber Connect goons all right,) thought Dean, eyes moving to the pistol, waiting for the barrel to move from him. His pokerface failed him, and he let out a defeated sigh. "Got it in one."
A burst of static and voices interrupted him, calling attention to a previously-unnoticed device sitting on the dashboard. Knobs, switches and lights covered the front, and a speaker was mounted on top. Another burst poured through the speaker; his cursory knowledge of Japanese allowed him to understand a few numbers and words, enough to identify them as police radio chatter.
Dean managed a smirk. "Nice toy. I fancy antiques myself."
"Shut up," answered the driver as he turned off the scanner.
"So, what do they want with accounting data? Especially old data?" asked the passenger, threw a glance at the road before turning back to Dean.
Dean shrugged. "Don't ask me. I'm a P.I., not a tech."
"Yeah, we know," said the passenger. "Sergeant Dean Stollis, LAPD, 12 years. Fired after Internal Affairs revealed you'd been on the take for the past two years."
Dean glared at him. "Now, wait a goddamn minute, how do you know that? Who the hell are you guys?"
The gunman sighed. "Not that it matters much, but yes, we do work for CC Corp. You may be aware that your friend Shinji used to work for us as well. We discovered that he'd been contacted by a corporate entity, but we weren't sure who. So the higher-ups had us tail him; yours and Mr. Kerrek's names came up simply by association."
"So, if you're after him, what do you want with me?"
A sneer snaked onto the gunman's face. "In a nutshell... you're sloppier and easier to tail, and you're a bent cop to boot - much more disposable than Mr. Kayora." He chuckled. "Oh, I'm sorry; ex-bent cop."
Dean frowned, his brow creasing sharply, his eyes darkening. "Yeah, and I'm sure you're just a pair of saints, Chino."
"Ken, actually," he replied. "And the big guy's Carl. Pleased to make your acquaintance."
"Well, that just makes this all the more enjoyable, Ken." Dean faked a smile. "So, are you gonna shoot me now, or what?"
"Oh, we're not finished," said Ken. "We still want to know why Asara wants year-old accounting data."
"That makes two of us."
"And that's why we need to find Shinji," said Carl. "And you're going to lead us to him."
Dean cocked his head. "Now, why would I do a thing like that?" He flinched as Ken waved the pistol lightly in his face. "Oh, right. The gun."
Ken grinned darkly. "Among other things... as your friend Mr. Kerrek can attest to."
The sentence hit Dean with the subtlety of a point-blank gunshot. He growled. "You son of a bitch... *you* sent that thing after us?!"
"Where is Shinji?" asked Ken firmly, his cold stare locked on Dean.
Dean paused for several seconds, glaring hard at Ken. "He was going to catch up, he's probably at the hospital now." A wry smirk worked its way onto his lips. "Of course, since I'm not there, who knows how long he'll stick around? And after that, you're on your own."
Ken scoffed. "You expect us to believe that?"
"Look, asshole, I'm beyond expectations at this point. You have a better idea where he might be, I'm all ears."
Ken grit his teeth, his eyes not moving from Dean. "Carl, turn around. We're going back."
"You sure?" asked Carl.
Ken threw a look at the driver. "Just do it."
Carl paused for a moment, waiting for a break in traffic. Spotting a fair-sized gap, he gingerly tapped the brake, slowing the sedan; he turned the wheel in his hands and brought the car around in a sharp turn, causing everyone to sway to the side.
Dean held his breath as the pistol barrel moved slightly off-target, pointing wide to the left; Ken still had his eyes on Carl, chiding him for his carelessness. Spotting the opening, Dean lurched forward, one hand unbuckling and shrugging aside his seatbelt, the other reaching for Ken's pistol.
Ken noticed Dean's surprise move, but was too slow to react; his wrist was pinned in Dean's powerful grip and forced against the driver's seat, pointing the barrel well away from either man. Ken instinctively shouted a curse and pulled the trigger, firing into the rear driver-side door; a hollow *ping* shot through the tight confines of the sedan as metal collided with metal.
Free from the seatbelt, Dean brought his right hand around and punched Ken in the face, stunning the gunman; he cocked his fist back and punched again, this time knocking Ken's head back violently, drawing some blood from his nose and a pained groan from his lips.
"Ow, shit! Carl!"
The driver began flailing backwards with his arm, vainly attempting to strike Dean, who ducked down and began prying the silenced pistol free from Ken's hand. Distracted, Carl lost sight of the road, his hand blindly snapping the wheel back and forth like a whip. The car shook and rolled accordingly, tires squealing as it slid all over the road.
"Look out!" screamed Ken, pointing with his free hand out the window. Carl slammed on the accelerator frantically pulling the wheel away from the oncoming car, sending the vehicle careening off the street and onto a dirt path leading through an empty park. Seconds later, Ken let out a scream of a different kind as a set of teeth latched onto his trapped hand.
Dean bit down hard, cringing at the metallic taste of blood that flooded his mouth as his teeth broke skin. Ken reluctantly dropped the pistol and tried to jerk his hand free. He brought his free hand around and pounded hard on Dean's head with his fist; the blows jarred his brain but otherwise did little, failing to prevent Dean from grabbing the silenced handgun.
Dean looked up just in time to see Carl come around with a black handgun - the Glock he'd confiscated from Dean. "Ahh!" he cried in surprise as he ducked to his left, scurrying for the door.
Carl fired, the gunshot deafening compared to the silenced weapon that had preceded it; the bullet slammed into the leather seat, effortlessly blasting through the material and continuing through the back, drilling a hole into the trunk.
Fumbling with the lock, Dean hastily popped the door open, which instantly and recklessly flapped back and forth in the wind as the sedan swerved. Mustering up every ounce of courage he could summon, Dean torpedoed through the open door, tucking up and covering his face with both arms as he flew out to the ground.
He heard the vehicle speeding away as he came in contact with the earth; the dirt road reached up and struck him several times as he rolled, battering him unmercifully but quickly slowing him down. His body slid to a stop, a burning ache coursing through his arms, legs and back as his sense of touch caught up with him.
He cautiously tried to move; thankfully, nothing appeared broken. He struggled to catch his breath as he moved to his feet, limbs bruised, jacket and pants ripped and torn, but otherwise unhurt. He groaned and wearily dusted himself off, throwing a glance in the direction of the sedan, its tail lights already a distant memory.
(Shin... I gotta warn him.) Dean let out a long sigh, glancing down at the silenced pistol he held. With a flick of the safety, he reached up and unscrewed the silencer, deftly pocketing both. (This just got a hell of a lot messier.)
-
"Right this way."
The nurse quietly opened the door and half-stepped through, glancing into the room and at the comatose man on the bed. "He's unconscious, but stable."
Shinji nodded. "Has anyone else been in to see him?"
"Yes, there were three of them. They left not long ago."
(They?) "Thank you," he replied as he stepped through the door, closing it behind him. Slowly he walked up to the bed, taking a seat in the chair nearest the prone Max.
Shinji sighed, reaching a hand up to adjust his glasses. Through the window, the sky flashed, flickering briefly into the darkened room. The light was followed seconds later by a low, powerful rumbling, the unmistakable rolling of thunder.
(Damn it, Max... what happened in there?) He folded his arms over his chest as he leaned back, trenchcoat pulling on his shoulders as it bunched up behind his back. (And where the hell is Dean?)
A faint trembling in his coat pocket interrupted his thoughts. Digging through it, he pulled out the vibrating cell phone and flipped it open, the bright blue LED identifying the caller as anonymous. With a shrug, he pressed the call button and brought the device to his ear. "Hello?"
"Shin, it's me."
Shinji felt slight prickles of uneasiness along his skin. "Dean? What's going on, where are you?"
"Internet café. Listen, man, they're coming for you." His voice was subdued, but desperate; a subtle urgency highlighted his words.
"Who's coming? What happened to you?"
Shinji's eyes widened, growing more uncomfortable with each word spoken. "These guys from CC Corp. grabbed me at the hospital. They tried to kill me."
"What?!" hissed Shinji. "Shit, are you okay?"
"I'm fine, I'm fine," answered Dean. "But they were looking for you. Somehow they got tipped off about the contract from Asara; they sent Delphi to stop us, and they're after you to find out why Rosenberg wants those files so badly. They're headed for the hospital... where are you?"
He somehow fought the urge to bolt, calmly standing up and making his way to the door despite the sudden speed at which his heart now raced. "Leaving."
"Be careful, they're not kidding around. I'm going to meet with Kite in The World; we need to find out why they're trying to protect this data so much, and get it ASAP. It's our only chance."
"Why him?" he asked as he exited the room, quietly closing the door behind him, eyes scanning up and down the well-lit hallway.
"I think he can help us. Those guys know where I'm staying, so I'm going to head to your place after I get some of my things."
"Okay." Shinji strode towards the elevator, watching the digital red floor indicator for any change. "You still have your key?"
Dean chuckled. "Yeah. Least one of us thought ahead about that. See you there, Shin."
Shin tried to smile. "I hope so," he said before shutting off and closing his phone, punching the elevator call button with his free hand.
-
To: Kite@theworld.com
From: Stolls@theworld.com
Subj: Let's talk
I don't know what Tamon has or hasn't told you, but we're out of options. I'll tell you whatever you want to know, but we need your help. For real this time.
Delta, Bursting Passed Over Aqua Field. One hour.
- End of Chapter V
A .Hack fanfiction by Renfro Calhoun
Disclaimer: I claim ownership of nothing whatsoever related to Project .Hack, save for characters created solely within this story, and the Cthulhu plush doll I bought on the same day I bought Infection. I love that little elder god.
Notes: Takes place between Infection and Mutation. Parentheses indicate thoughts. "Big Trouble in Little China" is the most underrated movie ever.
Chapter V - Modus Operandi
------------
Dean's eyes shifted from the driver to the passenger, who faced him with a pistol drawn. The former was a well-built American in a tan overcoat, with a look that just stepped out of an Army recruitment ad: square-jawed, clean-shaven, sharply cut brown hair, piercing blue eyes. The latter could have been an extra from any number of John Woo flicks: a trenchcoat-clad Japanese man with shoulder-length dark hair and unflinching hazel eyes.
Both men bore the appearance that there were a lot more where they came from.
Dean folded his arms over his chest, leaning back against the leather backseat of the black sedan he now sat in. "All right, who the hell are you guys?" he asked, eyes narrowing. "You're a bit too well-dressed to be mercs. Who do work for, CC?"
"We're asking the questions," said the driver. "Now shut up and tell us who you're working for."
"Which one do you want me to do?" asked Dean with a smirk.
The passenger replied by pulling the trigger, sending a silenced bullet into the backseat, just inches from Dean's head. "Shit!" he cried as he lurched right, clumsily attempting to dodge the shot that had already passed him. "All right, I'll talk! Damn!" he shouted, panting quietly, trying to calm the suddenly frantic beating of his heart.
"Let's hear it," said the Japanese thug.
Dean sighed. "We were hired by Asara Corp. to hack into CC's mainframe." He paused as the sedan jolted slightly from a bump in the road; the car's pace went uninterrupted as it rumbled along the streets, darkened through tinted windows. "The deal is $50,000 a head, U.S. currency, for accounting data from last year."
"Asara Corp?" asked the American.
"Software manufacturer, one of CC's lesser competitors," explained his companion. "They're trying to develop an operating system to rival Altimit." He turned to face Dean again. "You were planning to go through the old backdoor in The World, weren't you?"
(They know an awful lot about this. They're Cyber Connect goons all right,) thought Dean, eyes moving to the pistol, waiting for the barrel to move from him. His pokerface failed him, and he let out a defeated sigh. "Got it in one."
A burst of static and voices interrupted him, calling attention to a previously-unnoticed device sitting on the dashboard. Knobs, switches and lights covered the front, and a speaker was mounted on top. Another burst poured through the speaker; his cursory knowledge of Japanese allowed him to understand a few numbers and words, enough to identify them as police radio chatter.
Dean managed a smirk. "Nice toy. I fancy antiques myself."
"Shut up," answered the driver as he turned off the scanner.
"So, what do they want with accounting data? Especially old data?" asked the passenger, threw a glance at the road before turning back to Dean.
Dean shrugged. "Don't ask me. I'm a P.I., not a tech."
"Yeah, we know," said the passenger. "Sergeant Dean Stollis, LAPD, 12 years. Fired after Internal Affairs revealed you'd been on the take for the past two years."
Dean glared at him. "Now, wait a goddamn minute, how do you know that? Who the hell are you guys?"
The gunman sighed. "Not that it matters much, but yes, we do work for CC Corp. You may be aware that your friend Shinji used to work for us as well. We discovered that he'd been contacted by a corporate entity, but we weren't sure who. So the higher-ups had us tail him; yours and Mr. Kerrek's names came up simply by association."
"So, if you're after him, what do you want with me?"
A sneer snaked onto the gunman's face. "In a nutshell... you're sloppier and easier to tail, and you're a bent cop to boot - much more disposable than Mr. Kayora." He chuckled. "Oh, I'm sorry; ex-bent cop."
Dean frowned, his brow creasing sharply, his eyes darkening. "Yeah, and I'm sure you're just a pair of saints, Chino."
"Ken, actually," he replied. "And the big guy's Carl. Pleased to make your acquaintance."
"Well, that just makes this all the more enjoyable, Ken." Dean faked a smile. "So, are you gonna shoot me now, or what?"
"Oh, we're not finished," said Ken. "We still want to know why Asara wants year-old accounting data."
"That makes two of us."
"And that's why we need to find Shinji," said Carl. "And you're going to lead us to him."
Dean cocked his head. "Now, why would I do a thing like that?" He flinched as Ken waved the pistol lightly in his face. "Oh, right. The gun."
Ken grinned darkly. "Among other things... as your friend Mr. Kerrek can attest to."
The sentence hit Dean with the subtlety of a point-blank gunshot. He growled. "You son of a bitch... *you* sent that thing after us?!"
"Where is Shinji?" asked Ken firmly, his cold stare locked on Dean.
Dean paused for several seconds, glaring hard at Ken. "He was going to catch up, he's probably at the hospital now." A wry smirk worked its way onto his lips. "Of course, since I'm not there, who knows how long he'll stick around? And after that, you're on your own."
Ken scoffed. "You expect us to believe that?"
"Look, asshole, I'm beyond expectations at this point. You have a better idea where he might be, I'm all ears."
Ken grit his teeth, his eyes not moving from Dean. "Carl, turn around. We're going back."
"You sure?" asked Carl.
Ken threw a look at the driver. "Just do it."
Carl paused for a moment, waiting for a break in traffic. Spotting a fair-sized gap, he gingerly tapped the brake, slowing the sedan; he turned the wheel in his hands and brought the car around in a sharp turn, causing everyone to sway to the side.
Dean held his breath as the pistol barrel moved slightly off-target, pointing wide to the left; Ken still had his eyes on Carl, chiding him for his carelessness. Spotting the opening, Dean lurched forward, one hand unbuckling and shrugging aside his seatbelt, the other reaching for Ken's pistol.
Ken noticed Dean's surprise move, but was too slow to react; his wrist was pinned in Dean's powerful grip and forced against the driver's seat, pointing the barrel well away from either man. Ken instinctively shouted a curse and pulled the trigger, firing into the rear driver-side door; a hollow *ping* shot through the tight confines of the sedan as metal collided with metal.
Free from the seatbelt, Dean brought his right hand around and punched Ken in the face, stunning the gunman; he cocked his fist back and punched again, this time knocking Ken's head back violently, drawing some blood from his nose and a pained groan from his lips.
"Ow, shit! Carl!"
The driver began flailing backwards with his arm, vainly attempting to strike Dean, who ducked down and began prying the silenced pistol free from Ken's hand. Distracted, Carl lost sight of the road, his hand blindly snapping the wheel back and forth like a whip. The car shook and rolled accordingly, tires squealing as it slid all over the road.
"Look out!" screamed Ken, pointing with his free hand out the window. Carl slammed on the accelerator frantically pulling the wheel away from the oncoming car, sending the vehicle careening off the street and onto a dirt path leading through an empty park. Seconds later, Ken let out a scream of a different kind as a set of teeth latched onto his trapped hand.
Dean bit down hard, cringing at the metallic taste of blood that flooded his mouth as his teeth broke skin. Ken reluctantly dropped the pistol and tried to jerk his hand free. He brought his free hand around and pounded hard on Dean's head with his fist; the blows jarred his brain but otherwise did little, failing to prevent Dean from grabbing the silenced handgun.
Dean looked up just in time to see Carl come around with a black handgun - the Glock he'd confiscated from Dean. "Ahh!" he cried in surprise as he ducked to his left, scurrying for the door.
Carl fired, the gunshot deafening compared to the silenced weapon that had preceded it; the bullet slammed into the leather seat, effortlessly blasting through the material and continuing through the back, drilling a hole into the trunk.
Fumbling with the lock, Dean hastily popped the door open, which instantly and recklessly flapped back and forth in the wind as the sedan swerved. Mustering up every ounce of courage he could summon, Dean torpedoed through the open door, tucking up and covering his face with both arms as he flew out to the ground.
He heard the vehicle speeding away as he came in contact with the earth; the dirt road reached up and struck him several times as he rolled, battering him unmercifully but quickly slowing him down. His body slid to a stop, a burning ache coursing through his arms, legs and back as his sense of touch caught up with him.
He cautiously tried to move; thankfully, nothing appeared broken. He struggled to catch his breath as he moved to his feet, limbs bruised, jacket and pants ripped and torn, but otherwise unhurt. He groaned and wearily dusted himself off, throwing a glance in the direction of the sedan, its tail lights already a distant memory.
(Shin... I gotta warn him.) Dean let out a long sigh, glancing down at the silenced pistol he held. With a flick of the safety, he reached up and unscrewed the silencer, deftly pocketing both. (This just got a hell of a lot messier.)
-
"Right this way."
The nurse quietly opened the door and half-stepped through, glancing into the room and at the comatose man on the bed. "He's unconscious, but stable."
Shinji nodded. "Has anyone else been in to see him?"
"Yes, there were three of them. They left not long ago."
(They?) "Thank you," he replied as he stepped through the door, closing it behind him. Slowly he walked up to the bed, taking a seat in the chair nearest the prone Max.
Shinji sighed, reaching a hand up to adjust his glasses. Through the window, the sky flashed, flickering briefly into the darkened room. The light was followed seconds later by a low, powerful rumbling, the unmistakable rolling of thunder.
(Damn it, Max... what happened in there?) He folded his arms over his chest as he leaned back, trenchcoat pulling on his shoulders as it bunched up behind his back. (And where the hell is Dean?)
A faint trembling in his coat pocket interrupted his thoughts. Digging through it, he pulled out the vibrating cell phone and flipped it open, the bright blue LED identifying the caller as anonymous. With a shrug, he pressed the call button and brought the device to his ear. "Hello?"
"Shin, it's me."
Shinji felt slight prickles of uneasiness along his skin. "Dean? What's going on, where are you?"
"Internet café. Listen, man, they're coming for you." His voice was subdued, but desperate; a subtle urgency highlighted his words.
"Who's coming? What happened to you?"
Shinji's eyes widened, growing more uncomfortable with each word spoken. "These guys from CC Corp. grabbed me at the hospital. They tried to kill me."
"What?!" hissed Shinji. "Shit, are you okay?"
"I'm fine, I'm fine," answered Dean. "But they were looking for you. Somehow they got tipped off about the contract from Asara; they sent Delphi to stop us, and they're after you to find out why Rosenberg wants those files so badly. They're headed for the hospital... where are you?"
He somehow fought the urge to bolt, calmly standing up and making his way to the door despite the sudden speed at which his heart now raced. "Leaving."
"Be careful, they're not kidding around. I'm going to meet with Kite in The World; we need to find out why they're trying to protect this data so much, and get it ASAP. It's our only chance."
"Why him?" he asked as he exited the room, quietly closing the door behind him, eyes scanning up and down the well-lit hallway.
"I think he can help us. Those guys know where I'm staying, so I'm going to head to your place after I get some of my things."
"Okay." Shinji strode towards the elevator, watching the digital red floor indicator for any change. "You still have your key?"
Dean chuckled. "Yeah. Least one of us thought ahead about that. See you there, Shin."
Shin tried to smile. "I hope so," he said before shutting off and closing his phone, punching the elevator call button with his free hand.
-
To: Kite@theworld.com
From: Stolls@theworld.com
Subj: Let's talk
I don't know what Tamon has or hasn't told you, but we're out of options. I'll tell you whatever you want to know, but we need your help. For real this time.
Delta, Bursting Passed Over Aqua Field. One hour.
- End of Chapter V