.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. Oh, uh... and this story. Story = mine. Go me.
Notes: Takes place between Infection and Mutation. Parentheses indicate thoughts. I could see you if I wasn't anywhere near you. Think about that.
Chapter VI - Setup
------------
Shinji fidgeted nervously as he watched the counter rise with the elevator; hearing the motor growing closer, he stepped to one side, out of immediate view of any occupants. He held his breath as the doors opened, and cautiously tilted his head out, peering into the elevator.
Spotting nobody inside, he let out a sigh of relief and boarded the elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor. He watched the doors slide shut, and leaned against the wall as the elevator began to descend; he slid a hand through his short, spiky black hair and scratched an itch along the back of his neck.
(First Max gets data drained, now Cyber Connect is after us.) His thoughts darkened, and he lightly pounded a fist against the wall, the blow almost lost in the swaying of the elevator. (After me... what the hell. How did they know?)
His mind quieted as the elevator slowed to a stop; the doors slid open smoothly, and Shinji stepped through, his trenchcoat adhering closely to his body.
Rounding a corner, he passed through the reception area, carefully picking his way past patients and clerical staff. As he approached the sliding glass doors covering the entry, he stopped short; his blood ran cold and his eyes zeroed in on the pair of dark, expensively dressed men who were walking through the doors.
His stare did not go unnoticed. The two men - one American, one Japanese - halted their conversation and stared back at him. Both froze where they stood; seconds passed as hours before either spoke.
"Carl, that's him! Get him!"
Shinji's nerves held, barely, as he turned and bolted away from the entrance; behind him, he heard the confused, startled cries of patients and staff as the men gave chase.
"Shinji! Stop!"
Disregarding the order, Shinji blindly raced down the halls, mere steps ahead of the pair. Panting heavily, he ducked around a corner, running into and knocking over a pushcart as he scrambled. Fluorescent lights, medical equipment, doctors and nurses sped by him in a blur as he followed ceiling-mounted exit signs, quickly reaching a pair of double-doors leading out of the building. He charged, shoulder-first, into the door, slamming the push bar and knocking it open, allowing him to rush through without breaking stride.
Flashing blue and red lights slammed into him like a brick wall, forcing him to a sliding stop. Still panting, he reached up to adjust his glasses; the blurry lights sharpened, forming the emergency lights of the police car which sat in the hospital's rear parking lot, occupied by two uniformed officers.
(Oh, SHIT!) he mentally shouted.
The passenger-side door opened, and one of the officers stepped out, glancing curiously at Shinji's ragged countenance. "Is everything all right, sir?" he called.
Shinji's mind began racing. (What do I do, what do I do... okay, stay calm, stay calm... c'mon, think! Gotta be something... maybe they won't recognize me...)
The answer came as the exit doors were shoved open; Shinji whirled around to face his pursuers. To his surprise, only one man came through, and Shinji's eyes widened as he got a good look at the man's face.
"Kenichi..."
The trenchcoat-clad, long-haired Japanese man smirked. "Hello, Shinji," he said, his dark blue eyes narrowing, his sharp, angular features adding to his menacing stare. Shinji noticed a large bruise around his right eye; his nose seemed battered, and his right hand was stained with blood.
He heard a car door slam; a glance over his shoulder revealed that the second cop had left the squad car, and now both were approaching them cautiously, faces marred with confusion.
"At ease, officers!" said Kenichi as he raised his pistol, pointing it at Shinji. His other hand dug through his trenchcoat, digging a badge from the pocket. A quick flick of the wrist opened the badge, revealing his ID. "Inspector Fukada. I was tailing this man. Black Chrysler Sebring, license plate LV-426. Reported reckless driving about five minutes ago."
Shinji went pale as the lead cop nodded. "We just got the call. Is that him?"
"Car's out front," Kenichi affirmed.
"Bullshit!" cried Shinji. "This guys' not a cop, he's -" he was cut off as Kenichi struck him across the face with the butt of the gun, knocking him down and aside.
"Quiet!" Kenichi growled, lowering his pistol.
One cop looked at the other, and then back to Kenichi. "Hey, dispatch said they reported another occupant of the car, an American. Brown-haired... was he inside?"
Hearing the officer, a light clicked on in the back of Shinji's mind. (Wait a minute... where'd the other one go?) He groaned as he slowly tried to move to his feet, his own trenchcoat scuffing on the pavement of the lot.
He froze, startled, as two soft, yet distinct buzzing noises pierced the air, followed immediately by two thuds as bodies crumpled to the ground.
"What took you so long?!" shouted Kenichi in English.
Glancing back, he spotted the second man standing behind the police car, a smoking, silenced handgun in his hands. Before him lay the two cops, dark pools of blood slowly gathering beneath their bodies.
"Had to make sure nobody was around," said the American. He nodded to Shinij as he stepped closer; with his free hand, he popped the magazine loose from his weapon and pulled the bolt back, discharging the loaded shell. "Good shot, Mr. Kayora."
Shinji's mind filled in the blanks as he noticed the brown-haired man was wearing gloves. "At least one of them got a shot off," he continued, bending down to draw one of the fallen officer's pistols, which he then pointed at Shinji.
"Carl, there's no time." said Kenichi. "More cops will be here soon; just give him the gun and let's get out of here."
Carl sighed, but relented, turning the empty gun and clasping it by the barrel before offering it to Shinji. Kenichi prodded Shinji in the back of the head with his own weapon. "Take it," he urged.
Shinji reluctantly reached up and took the gun from Carl's hand, grasping it firmly. Quickly, he pondered his options, slim to none were his chances that either would leave him alive in the end, he reasoned. This in mind, he leapt at the first idea his mind could generate.
"That's a good boy," said Kenichi. "C'mon now, Shinji, let's... oh, shit."
Headlights flooded the back entrance as a beige car pulled into the lot, occupied by one man. As he spotted the squad car, he immediately stopped his car and got out, distracting the three men. Shinji felt the barrel leave the back of his head, and watched as Carl half-turned to face the newcomer.
"What's going on here?" called the man.
"Police business!" shouted Kenichi. "Stay back!"
In a flash of dexterity, Shinji spun around and brushed Kenichi's weapon arm aside with his left, and brought the empty pistol up with his right. He aimed for Shinji's nose, but connected with his forehead, nonetheless rapping him hard with the weapon and stunning him.
Kenichi grunted in surprise and pain, and felt Shinji reach for his gun. He struggled against Shinji's grip and instinctively pulled the trigger, sending a very loud explosion forth from his non-silenced weapon.
The gunshot rang loudly in Shinji's ear, deafening and startling him but doing little else; a second strike across the forehead threw Kenichi violently to the ground, forcing Shinji to release his hold on the gun. Hearing a cry of pain from behind him, he turned around, still holding the unloaded pistol, and reeled back in surprise.
Carl lay on the ground, a fresh gunshot wound drilled into his left shoulder. Alive but injured, Carl groaned and struggled to stand; he came around with his healthy arm, the policeman's gun locked in his death grip, and pointed vaguely in Shinji's direction, prompting him to run.
Shinji dashed back through the rear entrance, hearing more gunshots ring out from behind him. Madly he scrambled down the hallway, shoving his way past the confused, alarmed hospital staff that had gathered near the door.
Realizing that he didn't remember the way back, he came to a stop before a frightened nurse. "Which way to reception?" he asked breathlessly, his heart pounding. When she didn't answer, he prepared to shout at her, and then remembered what he was still holding.
Pocketing the silenced pistol, he raised his hands and tried to reassure her. "It's okay, relax, I'm not gonna hurt you. Just tell me where the reception area is, and I'll go, okay?"
He barely waited long enough for her to gingerly point the direction before he took off; he quickly made his way through the hospital and emerged into reception, where he half-walked, half-ran up to the automatic doors and stepped through, fishing through his pockets for his keys.
(Damn it,) he thought, unlocking and climbing into his car. (This is not good... I have to find Dean. That data might be our only insurance now.)
- End of chapter VI
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. Oh, uh... and this story. Story = mine. Go me.
Notes: Takes place between Infection and Mutation. Parentheses indicate thoughts. I could see you if I wasn't anywhere near you. Think about that.
Chapter VI - Setup
------------
Shinji fidgeted nervously as he watched the counter rise with the elevator; hearing the motor growing closer, he stepped to one side, out of immediate view of any occupants. He held his breath as the doors opened, and cautiously tilted his head out, peering into the elevator.
Spotting nobody inside, he let out a sigh of relief and boarded the elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor. He watched the doors slide shut, and leaned against the wall as the elevator began to descend; he slid a hand through his short, spiky black hair and scratched an itch along the back of his neck.
(First Max gets data drained, now Cyber Connect is after us.) His thoughts darkened, and he lightly pounded a fist against the wall, the blow almost lost in the swaying of the elevator. (After me... what the hell. How did they know?)
His mind quieted as the elevator slowed to a stop; the doors slid open smoothly, and Shinji stepped through, his trenchcoat adhering closely to his body.
Rounding a corner, he passed through the reception area, carefully picking his way past patients and clerical staff. As he approached the sliding glass doors covering the entry, he stopped short; his blood ran cold and his eyes zeroed in on the pair of dark, expensively dressed men who were walking through the doors.
His stare did not go unnoticed. The two men - one American, one Japanese - halted their conversation and stared back at him. Both froze where they stood; seconds passed as hours before either spoke.
"Carl, that's him! Get him!"
Shinji's nerves held, barely, as he turned and bolted away from the entrance; behind him, he heard the confused, startled cries of patients and staff as the men gave chase.
"Shinji! Stop!"
Disregarding the order, Shinji blindly raced down the halls, mere steps ahead of the pair. Panting heavily, he ducked around a corner, running into and knocking over a pushcart as he scrambled. Fluorescent lights, medical equipment, doctors and nurses sped by him in a blur as he followed ceiling-mounted exit signs, quickly reaching a pair of double-doors leading out of the building. He charged, shoulder-first, into the door, slamming the push bar and knocking it open, allowing him to rush through without breaking stride.
Flashing blue and red lights slammed into him like a brick wall, forcing him to a sliding stop. Still panting, he reached up to adjust his glasses; the blurry lights sharpened, forming the emergency lights of the police car which sat in the hospital's rear parking lot, occupied by two uniformed officers.
(Oh, SHIT!) he mentally shouted.
The passenger-side door opened, and one of the officers stepped out, glancing curiously at Shinji's ragged countenance. "Is everything all right, sir?" he called.
Shinji's mind began racing. (What do I do, what do I do... okay, stay calm, stay calm... c'mon, think! Gotta be something... maybe they won't recognize me...)
The answer came as the exit doors were shoved open; Shinji whirled around to face his pursuers. To his surprise, only one man came through, and Shinji's eyes widened as he got a good look at the man's face.
"Kenichi..."
The trenchcoat-clad, long-haired Japanese man smirked. "Hello, Shinji," he said, his dark blue eyes narrowing, his sharp, angular features adding to his menacing stare. Shinji noticed a large bruise around his right eye; his nose seemed battered, and his right hand was stained with blood.
He heard a car door slam; a glance over his shoulder revealed that the second cop had left the squad car, and now both were approaching them cautiously, faces marred with confusion.
"At ease, officers!" said Kenichi as he raised his pistol, pointing it at Shinji. His other hand dug through his trenchcoat, digging a badge from the pocket. A quick flick of the wrist opened the badge, revealing his ID. "Inspector Fukada. I was tailing this man. Black Chrysler Sebring, license plate LV-426. Reported reckless driving about five minutes ago."
Shinji went pale as the lead cop nodded. "We just got the call. Is that him?"
"Car's out front," Kenichi affirmed.
"Bullshit!" cried Shinji. "This guys' not a cop, he's -" he was cut off as Kenichi struck him across the face with the butt of the gun, knocking him down and aside.
"Quiet!" Kenichi growled, lowering his pistol.
One cop looked at the other, and then back to Kenichi. "Hey, dispatch said they reported another occupant of the car, an American. Brown-haired... was he inside?"
Hearing the officer, a light clicked on in the back of Shinji's mind. (Wait a minute... where'd the other one go?) He groaned as he slowly tried to move to his feet, his own trenchcoat scuffing on the pavement of the lot.
He froze, startled, as two soft, yet distinct buzzing noises pierced the air, followed immediately by two thuds as bodies crumpled to the ground.
"What took you so long?!" shouted Kenichi in English.
Glancing back, he spotted the second man standing behind the police car, a smoking, silenced handgun in his hands. Before him lay the two cops, dark pools of blood slowly gathering beneath their bodies.
"Had to make sure nobody was around," said the American. He nodded to Shinij as he stepped closer; with his free hand, he popped the magazine loose from his weapon and pulled the bolt back, discharging the loaded shell. "Good shot, Mr. Kayora."
Shinji's mind filled in the blanks as he noticed the brown-haired man was wearing gloves. "At least one of them got a shot off," he continued, bending down to draw one of the fallen officer's pistols, which he then pointed at Shinji.
"Carl, there's no time." said Kenichi. "More cops will be here soon; just give him the gun and let's get out of here."
Carl sighed, but relented, turning the empty gun and clasping it by the barrel before offering it to Shinji. Kenichi prodded Shinji in the back of the head with his own weapon. "Take it," he urged.
Shinji reluctantly reached up and took the gun from Carl's hand, grasping it firmly. Quickly, he pondered his options, slim to none were his chances that either would leave him alive in the end, he reasoned. This in mind, he leapt at the first idea his mind could generate.
"That's a good boy," said Kenichi. "C'mon now, Shinji, let's... oh, shit."
Headlights flooded the back entrance as a beige car pulled into the lot, occupied by one man. As he spotted the squad car, he immediately stopped his car and got out, distracting the three men. Shinji felt the barrel leave the back of his head, and watched as Carl half-turned to face the newcomer.
"What's going on here?" called the man.
"Police business!" shouted Kenichi. "Stay back!"
In a flash of dexterity, Shinji spun around and brushed Kenichi's weapon arm aside with his left, and brought the empty pistol up with his right. He aimed for Shinji's nose, but connected with his forehead, nonetheless rapping him hard with the weapon and stunning him.
Kenichi grunted in surprise and pain, and felt Shinji reach for his gun. He struggled against Shinji's grip and instinctively pulled the trigger, sending a very loud explosion forth from his non-silenced weapon.
The gunshot rang loudly in Shinji's ear, deafening and startling him but doing little else; a second strike across the forehead threw Kenichi violently to the ground, forcing Shinji to release his hold on the gun. Hearing a cry of pain from behind him, he turned around, still holding the unloaded pistol, and reeled back in surprise.
Carl lay on the ground, a fresh gunshot wound drilled into his left shoulder. Alive but injured, Carl groaned and struggled to stand; he came around with his healthy arm, the policeman's gun locked in his death grip, and pointed vaguely in Shinji's direction, prompting him to run.
Shinji dashed back through the rear entrance, hearing more gunshots ring out from behind him. Madly he scrambled down the hallway, shoving his way past the confused, alarmed hospital staff that had gathered near the door.
Realizing that he didn't remember the way back, he came to a stop before a frightened nurse. "Which way to reception?" he asked breathlessly, his heart pounding. When she didn't answer, he prepared to shout at her, and then remembered what he was still holding.
Pocketing the silenced pistol, he raised his hands and tried to reassure her. "It's okay, relax, I'm not gonna hurt you. Just tell me where the reception area is, and I'll go, okay?"
He barely waited long enough for her to gingerly point the direction before he took off; he quickly made his way through the hospital and emerged into reception, where he half-walked, half-ran up to the automatic doors and stepped through, fishing through his pockets for his keys.
(Damn it,) he thought, unlocking and climbing into his car. (This is not good... I have to find Dean. That data might be our only insurance now.)
- End of chapter VI