A/N: Next update here! Woo! Snagging in a bit of Kite/BlackRose. I currently have the ideas of several other fics cooking in my mind, so... Nonetheless, I hope this is a quality chapter for you all. If you have any particular comments or constructive criticism [yes, I know my chapters are short], I implore you to IM me.

I have taken a specific direction for this fanfic. There may not be a colossal battle--the entirety of The World versus Skeith?--but there will be something... Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Tasogare Ookami Konyo does not own .hack. ...Reki is mine. Mine I tell you.

Reki ;_; Help me.

^*^

Chapter 11: There's No Place Like It

And no one knows what it's like
To feel these feelings
But I do
And I blame you
But my dreams, they aren't as empty
As my conscious seems to be...
Behind Blue Eyes - Limp Bizkit [Or The Who, depending on how old you are.]

^*^

Sora toed silently, almost catlike, behind Tsukasa and glanced at the flat-screen monitor, upon which was stationed a rather zoomed-out view of the Root Town. At the bottom of the screen, words flickered in and out like clouds, appearing either very quickly or at a more steady pace, and Sora deducted that they were surely being spoken. A small pair of earphones sat abandoned at the center of the monitor, perhaps only large enough to fit snug in your ears and nothing more.

Ah, and what is this?

His mother said nothing, and Sora was not surprised; instead, he fumbled blindly for a slot in which to place the plug. Finding one, he clumsily pulled only one end to his ear and listened intently; his crimson eyes would occasionally glance at Ryo or Annako. They were very absorbed in this...whatever it was...

Who's that? Detecting that the user's party had gathered relatively close together, the camera zoomed in on the small group huddled at the near outskirts of Carmina Gadelica. The boy studied each person closely, and with ease was able to discover that at least two of them represented the very people plopped down next to him. Sora utilized the wire's stretching capabilities, and moved farther away.

A white-haired guy in a dress... Sora hummed to himself as he thought. ...Annako's eyes, he thought quickly upon seeing the violet hues. And the other guy in a skirt with the finger paints on his face...

He chuckled to himself. Ah, mother, what is going on? I'd prefer if you spoke in something other then ellipses.

A game.

He stopped chuckling abruptly as the game's camera pulled backwards once more; he extended one arm to tap the screen. I've seen these places somewhere before. Sensing that she was ready to interrupt, he continued-- Memories from dreams, right? he asked, the smarmy tone his mind's voice adapted raised to sarcastic levels. Rings a bell.

I recall you mentioned something about a brother, and with some hesitation, you gave me his name. Am I right? Sora asked calmly, crossing his legs and plopping on the ground behind Ryo and Annako's chairs.

Yes, came the fearless reply.

I can put two and two together. I think you slipped up. Standing, he took off the earphones and proceeded to tap Annako on the shoulder; the girl tilted her head for a moment and mumbled something along the lines of "be right back" into a voice receptor before lifting the goggles from their perch on her nose and looking up at Sora. She blinked, and then smiled brightly.

"Ah...Sora..." She made a particular effort to shield his eyes from the computer screen, but to no avail. "...Do you need anything?" she asked weakly.

"May I play?" Sora asked suddenly, trying a boyish, innocent tone; to compliment it, he folded his arms behind his head, strands of dark green with black streaks shading his left eye. "It looks like...fun." Annako blinked again, this time in unmistakable disbelief; she nodded slowly, turned, typed something rapidly into the computer, and then a small window popped up. She shifted out of her seat to allow her "brother" a spot, and he was all too happy to oblige, resting his weight on the soft black leather.

Username:
Password:

"I can make you a character if you want," she said softly, hands clasped behind her back. A thought, like a large white light being turned on, occurred in Sora's mind. The boy smiled again. It was more wicked this time. He pulled the visor over his ears, and the microphone stationed itself above his mouth.

There's no need. ...I know what to do.

"There's no need." After some thought, Sora resumed his replay of what Mother had told him: "I know what to do." He closed his eyes for a moment, and allowed the presence in his mind to temporarily possess his fingers as he made a mental inquiry.

Username: Sora
Password: *******

LOGIN CONFIRMED.

The World's main menu switched on; a sword shifted into the left-hand view, the sketchy letters reading "Key of the Twilight". Sora did not question as to why his mother bristled as he read that. The real world faded to darkness, and in its place, intricate cathedrals and building stood in its place; specifically, the staircase at his feet when he entered The World. Annako's alarmed inquisitiveness drained from his consciousness; his hands no longer clutched the computer mouse, but instead remained limp at his sides.

He tousled his hair, specifically the dark strands that shaded some of his peripheral vision--dark green.

He stared at a glass; blood-colored eyes stared back through the fabricated reflection.

He looked down; he was taller and lankier.

And lastly, he looked at his hands; thrusting them out ahead of him, he watched blades eject themselves from his wrists.

He examined the katars; a low chuckle bubbled in his throat, and the voice modifier made it louder then usual. It erupted into a sinister, high-pitched and cold laugh, prompting players to halt due to the chills racing in their spine (or the fact they just considered him clinically insane).

It's good to be home.

^*^

In the recently rebooted Net Slum, the hacker named Helba appeared, clad in her aesthetic robes of white and black and gold. Her expression was shielded by the dark visor on her face as strange lines began to carve themselves in the air of her Net Slum...

The lines began to glow faintly, taking the shape and form of a player killer often wailed about in elaborate death-tales on the UBB; the player killer who had mysteriously faded from the memory of those once-fearful newbies (now powerful players, no doubt)...

Perhaps the only uncomfortable gesture Helba would make in her life, she ran her tongue lightly on her lower lip.

This would be work...