.Hack//Heist
A .Hack fanfiction by Renfro Calhoun
Disclaimer: I claim ownership of nothing related to Project .Hack.
Notes: Takes place between Infection and Mutation. Parentheses indicate thoughts. This half of the story begins just after the end of Infection, and runs in between the plot of Mutation. Bonus points if you can identify the game referenced in the initial exchange, and try not to think too hard about why people would still be playing it six years from now. As always, comments and critiques are very welcome. That said, sit back, relax, and enjoy!
Chapter XIV - WASD
------------
"Do you see 'em?"
Squinting through the scope, he carefully panned the rifle over the small enclosure; three men stood guard around an armed plastic explosive, easily enough to bring the whole structure to the ground.
"Yeah. 3; one Elite, 2 UMP."
He almost heard the sneer in his teammate's reply. "Elites? Whatever, it's his funeral. Cover me, I'll make a run for the bomb."
"Got it."
Footsteps retreated from his position, cautiously approaching the trio of terrorists; he noted that the steps were perfectly spaced apart, each making exactly the same noise as the last as they faded to silence. Shrugging it off, he trained the rifle on the leftmost enemy, raised the scope to the man's head, and fired.
The gun echoed with a mighty crack, sending a bullet straight through the man's skull, killing him instantly. His body unceremoniously dropped to the ground as the other two instantly went ballistic, firing blindly at the perceived location of the sniper.
He smirked, taking aim and firing again, killing the second SMG user, leaving only the man sporting two pistols. At this the sniper's partner leapt from hiding, brandishing a Desert Eagle; the deafening gunshots barely registered to the sniper as the heavy slugs easily perforated the terrorist's vest, blasting him off his feet and to the ground, where he lay very still.
"Woo-hoo!" came the shout as the counter-terrorist raced for the bomb; he holstered his pistol and effortlessly disarmed the brick of C4, rendering it harmless.
"Good job!" cheered the sniper, rising to his feet and moving to join his companion.
(SoW)Ph4tm4n: WTF!! idiot c4mper w/ GAYWP!!!!!
The sniper blinked. "Huh?" he muttered, peering quizzically at the letters that appeared before his eyes.
GrIm_ReApEr1819: AWP whore U sUXX0rz
The second counter-terrorist rolled his eyes and groaned loudly. "I can't take this anymore."
(SoW)D35TR0Y4R: deagle = n00b cannon
"So this is why you're always on that other game," replied the sniper.
Without warning, gunfire erupted from behind the sniper as a MAC-10 sprang to life, spraying both men with the entirety of the magazine in a matter of seconds; their bodies crumpled lifelessly to the ground, and from the shadows stepped the weapon's owner, a fourth terrorist.
"pwned, CT bitches!" he cackled, jumping up and down in place for no apparent reason.
(NLK)Orca: among other reasons
(NLK)Kite: I was wondering why the match hadn't ended yet...
(SoW)Ph4tm4n: hahahha n00b
GrIm_ReApEr1819: kekekekekeke
(NLK)Orca: let's go
--(NLK)Orca has disconnected--
-
Heavy-lidded eyes slowly cracked open, gazing up into a blurry white ceiling; a hazy brown X spun before his eyes, slowly sharpening to reveal itself as a ceiling fan, whirring gently in the small room. Another noise became evident, the persistant humming of a computer from out of his view.
"What happened?"
He gradually lifted his body to a sitting position, feeling a dull ache in his joints from unknown exercise. A brief glance reminded him of his immediate circumstance; to his left lay the headset and controlling unit for The World, the former of which was flashing the message "DISCONNECT" in the visor.
His rich brown eyes darkened, less recent memories coming to mind as he trailed the headset back to the computer to which it connected, the bright blue Altimit desktop serving as a contrast to the plain white ceiling and walls of his bedroom. "Skeith... right," he muttered. "But what was that other thing?"
The boy moved to his feet, and tensed suddenly when he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye; he turned and found himself staring into a mirror, a weary 14-year-old meeting his gaze. His head and boyishly-rounded features were topped with a patch of short, spiky black hair, slightly unkempt from his unscheduled nap on the floor.
He met his own eyes, almost seeing the ocean-blue of his avatar's staring back at him; the eyes belied the boy's age, hinting at experience and hardship wholly uncommon to someone of his youth.
Breaking contact with the mirror, he collapsed into the chair before the desk, letting out a soft sigh. Though the battle had taken place in another world, the stress and fatigue of his digital self were felt as readily as any physical pain. He recalled mindlessly hacking and slashing at the skeletal monstrosity, narrowly surviving its counterattacks and consuming health drinks and healing potions by the gallon; he heard the shouts of his companions as they valiantly joined him in combat, striking the beast known as Skeith again and again in the near-vain hope of bringing it down; he remembered how the very ground beneath him shook as Skeith was shattered into a billion bits of data, stripped of its hacked protection and finally hammered into submission by the Twin Blade and his comrades.
Most of all, he remembered the violent explosion which immediately followed, and not solely because of the hideous creature that preceded it; he remembered feeling the heat and force of the explosion, thankfully cut short through his sudden loss of connection.
Again his muscles ached, and a gentle throbbing came from the left side of his chest, where he remembered being struck by the blast before all went dark. He winced and shivered almost at the same time. The World had physically hurt him.
His mind went over the battle again, and as though a switch were suddenly turned on he remembered his party: the Heavy Blade BlackRose, and the Wave Master Mistral. He gulped, the dryness of his throat making the activity all but painful; the event had left him more shaken than hurt, but what happened to them?
Instantly he turned to face the monitor and took hold of the mouse, pointing it to the email icon on his desktop. He blinked in surprise as a cornucopia of new mail was presented to him, one for almost every player whose address he had - including the player he sought to contact.
-
From: BlackRose@theworld.com
To: Kite@theworld.com
Subj: Is this for real?
I thought once we got the thing with the red wand, everything would be solved. It was baseless, but... I thought everything would be back to normal... what did we do? Was what we did right?
I'm not wrong, right?
-
From: Kite@theworld.com
To: BlackRose@theworld.com
Subj: I hope so
There's no point in being negative about it. Let's just believe in ourselves.
-
(I'd really like to, at least...)
He sighed as he thumbed the latest forum postings with his mouse, reflecting on the question posed to him by BlackRose's player. (What DID we do?) he thought, eyes glazing as he read the responses to the sudden server outage.
(What about Yasuhiko?)
One topic at the bottom of the list caught his attention. Again his eyes roamed absently over the text, hurriedly reading through to join BlackRose in the game. A narrow eyebrow crooked at the mention of an invulnerable monster, and lacking the field's keywords, he scribbled down the poster's name on a nearby notecard: TamonAdillo.
(I'll have time for that later,) he thought, reaching down to grab his discarded headset as his free hand clicked the login button.
- End of Chapter XIV
A .Hack fanfiction by Renfro Calhoun
Disclaimer: I claim ownership of nothing related to Project .Hack.
Notes: Takes place between Infection and Mutation. Parentheses indicate thoughts. This half of the story begins just after the end of Infection, and runs in between the plot of Mutation. Bonus points if you can identify the game referenced in the initial exchange, and try not to think too hard about why people would still be playing it six years from now. As always, comments and critiques are very welcome. That said, sit back, relax, and enjoy!
Chapter XIV - WASD
------------
"Do you see 'em?"
Squinting through the scope, he carefully panned the rifle over the small enclosure; three men stood guard around an armed plastic explosive, easily enough to bring the whole structure to the ground.
"Yeah. 3; one Elite, 2 UMP."
He almost heard the sneer in his teammate's reply. "Elites? Whatever, it's his funeral. Cover me, I'll make a run for the bomb."
"Got it."
Footsteps retreated from his position, cautiously approaching the trio of terrorists; he noted that the steps were perfectly spaced apart, each making exactly the same noise as the last as they faded to silence. Shrugging it off, he trained the rifle on the leftmost enemy, raised the scope to the man's head, and fired.
The gun echoed with a mighty crack, sending a bullet straight through the man's skull, killing him instantly. His body unceremoniously dropped to the ground as the other two instantly went ballistic, firing blindly at the perceived location of the sniper.
He smirked, taking aim and firing again, killing the second SMG user, leaving only the man sporting two pistols. At this the sniper's partner leapt from hiding, brandishing a Desert Eagle; the deafening gunshots barely registered to the sniper as the heavy slugs easily perforated the terrorist's vest, blasting him off his feet and to the ground, where he lay very still.
"Woo-hoo!" came the shout as the counter-terrorist raced for the bomb; he holstered his pistol and effortlessly disarmed the brick of C4, rendering it harmless.
"Good job!" cheered the sniper, rising to his feet and moving to join his companion.
(SoW)Ph4tm4n: WTF!! idiot c4mper w/ GAYWP!!!!!
The sniper blinked. "Huh?" he muttered, peering quizzically at the letters that appeared before his eyes.
GrIm_ReApEr1819: AWP whore U sUXX0rz
The second counter-terrorist rolled his eyes and groaned loudly. "I can't take this anymore."
(SoW)D35TR0Y4R: deagle = n00b cannon
"So this is why you're always on that other game," replied the sniper.
Without warning, gunfire erupted from behind the sniper as a MAC-10 sprang to life, spraying both men with the entirety of the magazine in a matter of seconds; their bodies crumpled lifelessly to the ground, and from the shadows stepped the weapon's owner, a fourth terrorist.
"pwned, CT bitches!" he cackled, jumping up and down in place for no apparent reason.
(NLK)Orca: among other reasons
(NLK)Kite: I was wondering why the match hadn't ended yet...
(SoW)Ph4tm4n: hahahha n00b
GrIm_ReApEr1819: kekekekekeke
(NLK)Orca: let's go
--(NLK)Orca has disconnected--
-
Heavy-lidded eyes slowly cracked open, gazing up into a blurry white ceiling; a hazy brown X spun before his eyes, slowly sharpening to reveal itself as a ceiling fan, whirring gently in the small room. Another noise became evident, the persistant humming of a computer from out of his view.
"What happened?"
He gradually lifted his body to a sitting position, feeling a dull ache in his joints from unknown exercise. A brief glance reminded him of his immediate circumstance; to his left lay the headset and controlling unit for The World, the former of which was flashing the message "DISCONNECT" in the visor.
His rich brown eyes darkened, less recent memories coming to mind as he trailed the headset back to the computer to which it connected, the bright blue Altimit desktop serving as a contrast to the plain white ceiling and walls of his bedroom. "Skeith... right," he muttered. "But what was that other thing?"
The boy moved to his feet, and tensed suddenly when he spotted movement out of the corner of his eye; he turned and found himself staring into a mirror, a weary 14-year-old meeting his gaze. His head and boyishly-rounded features were topped with a patch of short, spiky black hair, slightly unkempt from his unscheduled nap on the floor.
He met his own eyes, almost seeing the ocean-blue of his avatar's staring back at him; the eyes belied the boy's age, hinting at experience and hardship wholly uncommon to someone of his youth.
Breaking contact with the mirror, he collapsed into the chair before the desk, letting out a soft sigh. Though the battle had taken place in another world, the stress and fatigue of his digital self were felt as readily as any physical pain. He recalled mindlessly hacking and slashing at the skeletal monstrosity, narrowly surviving its counterattacks and consuming health drinks and healing potions by the gallon; he heard the shouts of his companions as they valiantly joined him in combat, striking the beast known as Skeith again and again in the near-vain hope of bringing it down; he remembered how the very ground beneath him shook as Skeith was shattered into a billion bits of data, stripped of its hacked protection and finally hammered into submission by the Twin Blade and his comrades.
Most of all, he remembered the violent explosion which immediately followed, and not solely because of the hideous creature that preceded it; he remembered feeling the heat and force of the explosion, thankfully cut short through his sudden loss of connection.
Again his muscles ached, and a gentle throbbing came from the left side of his chest, where he remembered being struck by the blast before all went dark. He winced and shivered almost at the same time. The World had physically hurt him.
His mind went over the battle again, and as though a switch were suddenly turned on he remembered his party: the Heavy Blade BlackRose, and the Wave Master Mistral. He gulped, the dryness of his throat making the activity all but painful; the event had left him more shaken than hurt, but what happened to them?
Instantly he turned to face the monitor and took hold of the mouse, pointing it to the email icon on his desktop. He blinked in surprise as a cornucopia of new mail was presented to him, one for almost every player whose address he had - including the player he sought to contact.
-
From: BlackRose@theworld.com
To: Kite@theworld.com
Subj: Is this for real?
I thought once we got the thing with the red wand, everything would be solved. It was baseless, but... I thought everything would be back to normal... what did we do? Was what we did right?
I'm not wrong, right?
-
From: Kite@theworld.com
To: BlackRose@theworld.com
Subj: I hope so
There's no point in being negative about it. Let's just believe in ourselves.
-
(I'd really like to, at least...)
He sighed as he thumbed the latest forum postings with his mouse, reflecting on the question posed to him by BlackRose's player. (What DID we do?) he thought, eyes glazing as he read the responses to the sudden server outage.
(What about Yasuhiko?)
One topic at the bottom of the list caught his attention. Again his eyes roamed absently over the text, hurriedly reading through to join BlackRose in the game. A narrow eyebrow crooked at the mention of an invulnerable monster, and lacking the field's keywords, he scribbled down the poster's name on a nearby notecard: TamonAdillo.
(I'll have time for that later,) he thought, reaching down to grab his discarded headset as his free hand clicked the login button.
- End of Chapter XIV