.Hack//Heist
A .Hack fanfiction by Renfro Calhoun
Disclaimer: Project .Hack and attached concepts are property of Bandai and Cyber Connect.
Notes: Takes place just after Mutation begins. Parentheses indicate thoughts. Ah, anime... the one genre where scrawny, nondescript young men can somehow attract a cabal of increasingly gorgeous women. Clearly, I'm doing something wrong.
Chatper XXIII - Save Me
------------
Too much. It was just too much. He didn't even know what had happened, and it was still too much.
He remembered his own cries of alarm; panicked, terrified, he scrambled away, mercilessly plowing through his bedroom door and tearing down the stairs, down to the farthest corner of the house.
He had waited there, almost regained his nerve; slowly he came back to his room, but it hadn't been long enough. He ran back to the corner, but it hadn't been far enough. This time he had kept going, out the door, into the yard. He didn't know how far he would have gone if he hadn't tripped over a rock and fallen, face-first, on the ground. The earth kissed him with all the tenderness and grace of a knock-out punch from a prizefighter, sharp blades of grass scratching his eyelids and staining his shirt.
No words and no thoughts, he was well beyond either. The red letters had burned into the back of his mind, and with every passing second they reminded him yet again why he was out in the yard, face-down on the lawn, trembling like a dead leaf on a tree branch in autumn.
Delphi had found him. He didn't know how, nor did he care; the digital beast had tracked him down, and it was still in there, waiting for him. Waiting for them.
Them. BlackRose, Deisart and Stolls; all of them were in danger. But this didn't register with him, not at first; too much had clouded his mind. Being used by the thieves, then agreeing to be used; knowing that lives had hung in the balance, had literally been placed in his hands and vice versa; that each and every one of them could very well have died tonight, and might still; that somewhere on the Internet, a vengeful entity was waiting for him; that the company who made The World was watching him, wanted him dead.
It was just too much.
He sniffed, hiccuped, hands clawing into the dirt; the gritty, slightly damp soil registered to his sense of touch, a gentle reminder that he was not Kite, that there would be no magic bracelet that could blast away his problems, no party to back him up, no message board to offer advice, no one.
Faint droplets of rain twisted free from the sky, falling over his prone form, joining their brothers in his already-soaked clothes. For the first time he realized how cold it was, giving him a slightly more immediate excuse to shiver.
Slowly he pushed off the ground, drawing his knees up and glancing around. Darkness inked the streets, perforated by house lights. Above, storm clouds churned as they shed their tears, pulling with them a strong breeze that turned the raindrops into tiny arrows, splashing mercilessly against his exposed skin.
Somehow, Hiroshi stood up and shambled back to the house; small miracle he'd remembered to close the door behind him, or done so on instinct. Either way, the house was exactly as he left it; he trudged into its humid warmth, the contrast drawing sweat from his body but otherwise a welcome change from the cold of the rain. He closed the door once again and locked it, trapping himself inside.
He sniffed again, the humidity reminding him of his burdened clothes. He glanced at the clock and grimaced; 3AM, and still no sign of his mother.
(She must be working overtime tonight,) he thought.
With his toes, he pried off his wet socks and picked them up, depositing them in the bathroom hamper as he proceeded towards his bedroom. Stopping only to wash his hands, he wearily entered the bedroom; his eyes were drawn like a magnet to his monitor, which was still on, having since reset to the desktop.
"...three men found dead on the scene. Police are investigating whether this is related to the hospital shooting earlier tonight, though no official statement has been made."
He punched the on/off switch as he passed, killing the TV set. The springs on his closet door groaned as they were compressed, and he dug out the first shirt and pants his hands fell upon. He wasted no time in changing, his fatigue vanishing as he slipped into the dry, infinitely more comfortable clothing.
He threw another glance at the monitor, and blinked; the e-mail client was flashing with a new mail notification. Curiosity overruled caution, and he opened the mail.
-
From: Stolls@theworld.com
To: Kite@theworld.com
Subj: It's Over
Kite... thank you for your help. Without you and BlackRose, I don't think we would have made it this far. That said, I owe you both an apology. In asking for your help, I've put you both in terrible danger. I understand you're in at least that much in regards to your friend, but the last thing I wanted to do was add to your troubles.
Be that as it may, it's all over now. Shinji and the Cyber Connect agents are dead, and I'm sure it's only a matter of time before the police find me - and that's if I'm lucky. I intend to destroy the Delphi data. All of it. I don't know if this will stop the current copy roaming The World, but I'm out of time and options. If it works, you'll probably hear about it on the news.
I advise staying off the 'net entirely, but should you encounter it... kill it. I think your Data Drain is the key; I don't know if Shinji told you, but this thing seems to have been modified specifically to combat creatures like Skeith, so it should work on similar principles.
No matter what happens, though... just be careful. And don't forget what I told you.
- Dean
-
(Dean...)
Mixed thoughts filled his head, attaching themselves to emotions in short order. Concern, for the man he had known for such a short time, and yet knew so much about. Fear, for his own life. Frustration, for having to face this alone.
(Face this?) The thought came to him before he realized he'd thought it, and yet he knew it was what he had to do. Like Skeith, he knew this thing would not just go away; more may find it, and more may get hurt, or worse.
The burden fell upon the boy like a ton of bricks. If not him, who? If not now, when? The questions tormented him with the ugly truth: he had to stop it. His emotions shifted gears instantly, fear fueling anger, anger feeding courage. His eyebrows narrowed, his fists clenched, his face tightened into a hard-set expression.
'And don't forget what I told you.'
The last line of Dean's letter puzzled him. The detective had told him many things, which he sifted through one by one. None appeared applicable to this situation, then again he was in no condition to remember much.
Shrugging off the comment, he closed the mail client and reached for his visor. One hand guided the mouse to the 'The World' icon, the other plopping the visor down over his spiky black hair, mercifully free of tangles thanks to its shortness.
(Come and get me.)
-
A faint breeze pulled across the white plains, drawing mists of snow from the hills they clung to. Towering rocks stood caked in snow and ice, jutting out from the ground like the teeth of some long-dead, gargantuan beast. Smaller clumps of rock dotted the land here and there, weaving between the snowy hills like footprints.
The only evidence of habitation sat in the shadow of one of the taller rocks, casually leaning against it, eyes open and alert, palms resting against the twin blades which hung low in their sheaths.
Briefly, Kite wondered why he hadn't sought to contact any of his friends, one in particular.
(It's different this time,) he reasoned. (It knows I'm here, and it's coming for me. If I can get to it first, maybe I can stop it.)
(And what makes you think you can stop it alone?)
He sighed. (It's not that... I just don't want anyone else to get hurt.)
(And what about you? Aren't you always afraid of being alone? Having no one to rely on?)
(Who CAN I rely on?)
(What about her?)
He frowned, dropping his hands into the snow and digging up small handfuls, balling them up in his clenched fists. (What ABOUT her?)
(You heard her; she's in this as much as you are.)
The snow crushed into tighter clumps in his hands. (But what if she got hurt? Or worse, killed?? This isn't a game anymore!)
(And you think she doesn't know that? She wants to help, you know she does. Let her... you need her help. And she needs yours.)
He thought about that for a moment. (You're the one who's always saying you need to believe in yourselves. Acting tough doesn't mean acting stupid.)
Hiroshi let out a long sigh, Kite miming his exhalation as usual. His dueling thoughts had once again exposed a key design flaw, one only enhanced by the events which had plagued his existence in The World: an inability to trust his own judgment.
He thought long and hard about BlackRose, the beautifully-rendered Heavy Blade who was every bit as thorny as her namesake, which nonetheless hinted at an inner softness and warmth. For all her posturing and pseudo-egocentric behavior - most of which he suspected was roleplay - she had proven time and again to be a reliable companion, and one of the few he could share his troubles with.
He almost smiled, remembering how he had thought these very thoughts before, earlier this evening. He'd made a silent promise to himself to warm up to her more, less a partner and more a friend. He owed her that much, and more to the point he found that he wanted to. A touch of color stained his cheeks at the thought, but a cooler head prevailed.
He forced himself to think the thought he was still afraid to say. (I like her.) This time, he didn't bother to hide the smile. (I do like her. I like BlackRose... she's a good friend.) He leaned back, gazing up into the falling snow. (The best I could've hoped to make here.)
Remembering his earlier list, the Twin Blade froze as his controller opened the e-mail client and began composing a letter.
-
"Hey."
Footsteps crunched through the snow, approaching the sitting Twin Blade. He glanced up at the newcomer and smiled. "Hey. Thanks for coming."
BlackRose smile back, sitting down next to him, leaning back against the rock. "Do you think it'll show?"
"It said it 'found' me... I think it's waiting for us somewhere on this server."
She nodded. "Me too. I wasn't sure what to make of it, then I lost connection. When I got back, you and Deisart were gone."
"I guess things got really bad where they are." Kite sighed. "I don't know what happened, Dean said if it worked, we'd hear about it on the news."
The Heavy Blade snorted. "That's comforting," she said flatly.
"So I guess that just leaves us and... it."
A gust of wind swooped down to caress their faces, tousling azure and pinkish-white hair alike. "Yeah," she muttered, glancing down at the ground. Resting her blade next to her, she idly drew her index finger in a circle in the snow, lost in thought.
(I guess it's now or never,) he thought. He'd had the guts to storm off and wait for certain doom alone, and yet the act seemed to pale in comparison to what he was about to do. He swallowed hard, looked at her again, and smiled. With her traditional bare minimum of armor and leggings that couldn't possibly afford any real protection, she looked wholly out of place in the snowy environment, and yet she sat there, remarkably serene despite their circumstances, her player safe from the biting cold that he also didn't feel.
His face felt a tad warm, though, and he knew why. Bracing himself, he snuck his hand across the gap between them and gently clasped hers. Lightly at first, but quickly he tightened his hold, wrapping his gloved fingers securely around the armored back of her hand.
She started, and glanced down at the offending digits in surprise; she followed them up to their owner, her eyes meeting his questioningly. A faint smile tugged at her lips, yet it was all Kite could do not to immediately draw his hand back and stammer out an apology.
He nearly did a double-take when she turned her hand responsively, pressing their palms together and lacing her fingers securely between his. For good measure, she gave his a light squeeze, which he instinctively responded to with one of his own.
Their eyes met again, and they both smiled. At any other moment, he might have noticed that she, too, was blushing. He felt obligated to say something, but stopped himself, not trusting his brain to send anything suitable past his lips. Instead, he opted to scoot in a little closer to his partner, and she reciprocated in kind, still smiling, still holding hands.
And they waited.
- End of Chapter XXIII
A .Hack fanfiction by Renfro Calhoun
Disclaimer: Project .Hack and attached concepts are property of Bandai and Cyber Connect.
Notes: Takes place just after Mutation begins. Parentheses indicate thoughts. Ah, anime... the one genre where scrawny, nondescript young men can somehow attract a cabal of increasingly gorgeous women. Clearly, I'm doing something wrong.
Chatper XXIII - Save Me
------------
Too much. It was just too much. He didn't even know what had happened, and it was still too much.
He remembered his own cries of alarm; panicked, terrified, he scrambled away, mercilessly plowing through his bedroom door and tearing down the stairs, down to the farthest corner of the house.
He had waited there, almost regained his nerve; slowly he came back to his room, but it hadn't been long enough. He ran back to the corner, but it hadn't been far enough. This time he had kept going, out the door, into the yard. He didn't know how far he would have gone if he hadn't tripped over a rock and fallen, face-first, on the ground. The earth kissed him with all the tenderness and grace of a knock-out punch from a prizefighter, sharp blades of grass scratching his eyelids and staining his shirt.
No words and no thoughts, he was well beyond either. The red letters had burned into the back of his mind, and with every passing second they reminded him yet again why he was out in the yard, face-down on the lawn, trembling like a dead leaf on a tree branch in autumn.
Delphi had found him. He didn't know how, nor did he care; the digital beast had tracked him down, and it was still in there, waiting for him. Waiting for them.
Them. BlackRose, Deisart and Stolls; all of them were in danger. But this didn't register with him, not at first; too much had clouded his mind. Being used by the thieves, then agreeing to be used; knowing that lives had hung in the balance, had literally been placed in his hands and vice versa; that each and every one of them could very well have died tonight, and might still; that somewhere on the Internet, a vengeful entity was waiting for him; that the company who made The World was watching him, wanted him dead.
It was just too much.
He sniffed, hiccuped, hands clawing into the dirt; the gritty, slightly damp soil registered to his sense of touch, a gentle reminder that he was not Kite, that there would be no magic bracelet that could blast away his problems, no party to back him up, no message board to offer advice, no one.
Faint droplets of rain twisted free from the sky, falling over his prone form, joining their brothers in his already-soaked clothes. For the first time he realized how cold it was, giving him a slightly more immediate excuse to shiver.
Slowly he pushed off the ground, drawing his knees up and glancing around. Darkness inked the streets, perforated by house lights. Above, storm clouds churned as they shed their tears, pulling with them a strong breeze that turned the raindrops into tiny arrows, splashing mercilessly against his exposed skin.
Somehow, Hiroshi stood up and shambled back to the house; small miracle he'd remembered to close the door behind him, or done so on instinct. Either way, the house was exactly as he left it; he trudged into its humid warmth, the contrast drawing sweat from his body but otherwise a welcome change from the cold of the rain. He closed the door once again and locked it, trapping himself inside.
He sniffed again, the humidity reminding him of his burdened clothes. He glanced at the clock and grimaced; 3AM, and still no sign of his mother.
(She must be working overtime tonight,) he thought.
With his toes, he pried off his wet socks and picked them up, depositing them in the bathroom hamper as he proceeded towards his bedroom. Stopping only to wash his hands, he wearily entered the bedroom; his eyes were drawn like a magnet to his monitor, which was still on, having since reset to the desktop.
"...three men found dead on the scene. Police are investigating whether this is related to the hospital shooting earlier tonight, though no official statement has been made."
He punched the on/off switch as he passed, killing the TV set. The springs on his closet door groaned as they were compressed, and he dug out the first shirt and pants his hands fell upon. He wasted no time in changing, his fatigue vanishing as he slipped into the dry, infinitely more comfortable clothing.
He threw another glance at the monitor, and blinked; the e-mail client was flashing with a new mail notification. Curiosity overruled caution, and he opened the mail.
-
From: Stolls@theworld.com
To: Kite@theworld.com
Subj: It's Over
Kite... thank you for your help. Without you and BlackRose, I don't think we would have made it this far. That said, I owe you both an apology. In asking for your help, I've put you both in terrible danger. I understand you're in at least that much in regards to your friend, but the last thing I wanted to do was add to your troubles.
Be that as it may, it's all over now. Shinji and the Cyber Connect agents are dead, and I'm sure it's only a matter of time before the police find me - and that's if I'm lucky. I intend to destroy the Delphi data. All of it. I don't know if this will stop the current copy roaming The World, but I'm out of time and options. If it works, you'll probably hear about it on the news.
I advise staying off the 'net entirely, but should you encounter it... kill it. I think your Data Drain is the key; I don't know if Shinji told you, but this thing seems to have been modified specifically to combat creatures like Skeith, so it should work on similar principles.
No matter what happens, though... just be careful. And don't forget what I told you.
- Dean
-
(Dean...)
Mixed thoughts filled his head, attaching themselves to emotions in short order. Concern, for the man he had known for such a short time, and yet knew so much about. Fear, for his own life. Frustration, for having to face this alone.
(Face this?) The thought came to him before he realized he'd thought it, and yet he knew it was what he had to do. Like Skeith, he knew this thing would not just go away; more may find it, and more may get hurt, or worse.
The burden fell upon the boy like a ton of bricks. If not him, who? If not now, when? The questions tormented him with the ugly truth: he had to stop it. His emotions shifted gears instantly, fear fueling anger, anger feeding courage. His eyebrows narrowed, his fists clenched, his face tightened into a hard-set expression.
'And don't forget what I told you.'
The last line of Dean's letter puzzled him. The detective had told him many things, which he sifted through one by one. None appeared applicable to this situation, then again he was in no condition to remember much.
Shrugging off the comment, he closed the mail client and reached for his visor. One hand guided the mouse to the 'The World' icon, the other plopping the visor down over his spiky black hair, mercifully free of tangles thanks to its shortness.
(Come and get me.)
-
A faint breeze pulled across the white plains, drawing mists of snow from the hills they clung to. Towering rocks stood caked in snow and ice, jutting out from the ground like the teeth of some long-dead, gargantuan beast. Smaller clumps of rock dotted the land here and there, weaving between the snowy hills like footprints.
The only evidence of habitation sat in the shadow of one of the taller rocks, casually leaning against it, eyes open and alert, palms resting against the twin blades which hung low in their sheaths.
Briefly, Kite wondered why he hadn't sought to contact any of his friends, one in particular.
(It's different this time,) he reasoned. (It knows I'm here, and it's coming for me. If I can get to it first, maybe I can stop it.)
(And what makes you think you can stop it alone?)
He sighed. (It's not that... I just don't want anyone else to get hurt.)
(And what about you? Aren't you always afraid of being alone? Having no one to rely on?)
(Who CAN I rely on?)
(What about her?)
He frowned, dropping his hands into the snow and digging up small handfuls, balling them up in his clenched fists. (What ABOUT her?)
(You heard her; she's in this as much as you are.)
The snow crushed into tighter clumps in his hands. (But what if she got hurt? Or worse, killed?? This isn't a game anymore!)
(And you think she doesn't know that? She wants to help, you know she does. Let her... you need her help. And she needs yours.)
He thought about that for a moment. (You're the one who's always saying you need to believe in yourselves. Acting tough doesn't mean acting stupid.)
Hiroshi let out a long sigh, Kite miming his exhalation as usual. His dueling thoughts had once again exposed a key design flaw, one only enhanced by the events which had plagued his existence in The World: an inability to trust his own judgment.
He thought long and hard about BlackRose, the beautifully-rendered Heavy Blade who was every bit as thorny as her namesake, which nonetheless hinted at an inner softness and warmth. For all her posturing and pseudo-egocentric behavior - most of which he suspected was roleplay - she had proven time and again to be a reliable companion, and one of the few he could share his troubles with.
He almost smiled, remembering how he had thought these very thoughts before, earlier this evening. He'd made a silent promise to himself to warm up to her more, less a partner and more a friend. He owed her that much, and more to the point he found that he wanted to. A touch of color stained his cheeks at the thought, but a cooler head prevailed.
He forced himself to think the thought he was still afraid to say. (I like her.) This time, he didn't bother to hide the smile. (I do like her. I like BlackRose... she's a good friend.) He leaned back, gazing up into the falling snow. (The best I could've hoped to make here.)
Remembering his earlier list, the Twin Blade froze as his controller opened the e-mail client and began composing a letter.
-
"Hey."
Footsteps crunched through the snow, approaching the sitting Twin Blade. He glanced up at the newcomer and smiled. "Hey. Thanks for coming."
BlackRose smile back, sitting down next to him, leaning back against the rock. "Do you think it'll show?"
"It said it 'found' me... I think it's waiting for us somewhere on this server."
She nodded. "Me too. I wasn't sure what to make of it, then I lost connection. When I got back, you and Deisart were gone."
"I guess things got really bad where they are." Kite sighed. "I don't know what happened, Dean said if it worked, we'd hear about it on the news."
The Heavy Blade snorted. "That's comforting," she said flatly.
"So I guess that just leaves us and... it."
A gust of wind swooped down to caress their faces, tousling azure and pinkish-white hair alike. "Yeah," she muttered, glancing down at the ground. Resting her blade next to her, she idly drew her index finger in a circle in the snow, lost in thought.
(I guess it's now or never,) he thought. He'd had the guts to storm off and wait for certain doom alone, and yet the act seemed to pale in comparison to what he was about to do. He swallowed hard, looked at her again, and smiled. With her traditional bare minimum of armor and leggings that couldn't possibly afford any real protection, she looked wholly out of place in the snowy environment, and yet she sat there, remarkably serene despite their circumstances, her player safe from the biting cold that he also didn't feel.
His face felt a tad warm, though, and he knew why. Bracing himself, he snuck his hand across the gap between them and gently clasped hers. Lightly at first, but quickly he tightened his hold, wrapping his gloved fingers securely around the armored back of her hand.
She started, and glanced down at the offending digits in surprise; she followed them up to their owner, her eyes meeting his questioningly. A faint smile tugged at her lips, yet it was all Kite could do not to immediately draw his hand back and stammer out an apology.
He nearly did a double-take when she turned her hand responsively, pressing their palms together and lacing her fingers securely between his. For good measure, she gave his a light squeeze, which he instinctively responded to with one of his own.
Their eyes met again, and they both smiled. At any other moment, he might have noticed that she, too, was blushing. He felt obligated to say something, but stopped himself, not trusting his brain to send anything suitable past his lips. Instead, he opted to scoot in a little closer to his partner, and she reciprocated in kind, still smiling, still holding hands.
And they waited.
- End of Chapter XXIII