.HackRelapse
A .Hack fanfiction by Renfro Calhoun
Disclaimer: Project .Hack and attached characters and concepts do not belong to me.
Notes: Takes place during Outbreak. Parentheses indicate thoughts, and brackets are for writing or text. This, my friends, is where things really begin to change. Saying more would spoil it, though a careful observer may notice something that correlates to the other half of the story. Enjoy :)
Chapter 11 - Team Player
------------------------
"What the...?!"
Growling deep in his throat, Dean barged through the open door, leading with the chair; he rammed it straight into the first goon - covered head to toe in gray camo cloth and a kevlar vest - and trapped him between the legs, pinning his right arm to his chest, shoulder-slung submachine gun and holstered pistol just out of reach.
"Shit!" someone shouted from his left; metal clinked and cloth rustled from behind him, and he could only guess that another guard was preparing to fire. He threw a glance in the direction of the noise, and followed up a split-second later with a weak kick to the stomach of the second guard. The attack missed its mark but connected with the guard's weapon, throwing it off-target for a single precious second - just long enough for Dean to come around with the chair and smash it across the guard's masked head.
The chair, surprisingly sturdy, stayed intact through the swing and knocked the guard's head and body a few inches to the side, stunning him; before even hearing the first guard move again, Dean spun around and whacked him in the head, harder this time. Confidence and adrenaline aiding his strength, he pulled the chair back and thrust one of the legs into the guard's face, smashing the nose hard enough to draw blood.
"Dean, look out!"
Several masculine grunts and groans came from behind, clearly from two individuals and neither of them Miku. Keeping focused on his current adversary, Dean rammed the chair into the man's head and chest two more times, the second blow throwing his head against the hard brick wall; his skull connected with a sickening CRACK and he fell to the floor, no longer moving.
Still hearing the struggle with the second guard, Dean hastily discarded the chair and scrambled for the fallen man's pistol; leather slid smoothly against a steel and nickel-plated barrel as he drew the weapon, and he frantically whirled around to face the survivor, taking a step back to keep out of close quarters.
He cocked a surprised eyebrow when he saw a familiar Asian man - black shirt, tan trousers, hair short and stringy - wrestling with the guard. To further surprise, the stocky newcomer had the upper hand, pinning the masked man's right hand to the wall with his left, and firmly squeezing the neck with his right.
It took him but a moment to remember the voice he heard from within the storeroom.
Seijiro released the guard's neck long enough to elbow his face, and received a knee to the groin in retaliation. His legs buckled but he kept the gun out of the man's hand, and left an opening wide enough for Dean to march up and put the barrel squarely on the guard's left temple.
The effect was instant; his struggling ceased, and his nearest eye swiveled to stare at Dean. The detective noticed that his skin tone was white.
"Ease down," ordered Dean. "And don't move a muscle."
Soft footsteps came from inside the room; he guessed them to be Miku's. Seijiro released his hold on the guard and backed off. "Arigato, Mr. Tanaka," said Dean in a low voice, eyes locked on his captive as he too took a few steps back. "I believe you have some explaining to do."
"So it would seem."
Dean motioned with the gun for the guard to step away from the wall. "Turn that way," he said, nodding down the hall. Just as the order was followed, Dean stepped up and brutally, yet carefully whacked the guard on the back of his head, sending him to the floor unconscious, but with no lasting damage. He then saftied and pocketed the pistol, turning to Seijiro. "I don't know why you're helping us, but let's search and tie these guys up before we get to talking, okay?"
Silently, he agreed; with Miku's help, the two men brought the unconscious CIA agents into the room they have previously been guarding, and bound them with the rope and to the chairs that had been used on Dean and Miku. A moment's search stripped them of everything that could obviously be useful, to either party - weapons, knives, flashbang grenades and a single headset radio.
Having secured the agents, Seijiro turned to his newfound companions. "Did the lieutenant discuss with you what I told him before?" Hearing an affirmative mumble from Dean, he continued. "Well... it was half-true. I was the one who modified Morganna for use in 'The World,' and she was intended solely for administrative and maintenance purposes - certainly not what she's been doing lately, if the incidents this past week have been any indication."
"And the part that was half-false?" asked Dean flatly.
Seijiro sighed. "What I didn't tell you is that the so-called upgrade to Morganna... was in fact the AI algorithms from a U.S. government project. I patented the code when I worked for the Defense Department on their Echelon project, but it failed with their software. Harold didn't seem to have a complete AI either; it was functional, but it lacked - or seemed to lack - the true cognitive and adaptive abilities of an Artificial Intelligence. That is, it seemed incapable of learning or self-modification, at least as we understand the concept."
"I must stress that it seemed that way at the time; you should know that even we still aren't sure what to make of Morganna, and that includes me. All I'm sure of is that when I modified it with the Echelon code, I didn't know how well it had worked until it was far too late."
"So we've gathered," replied Dean. "And now the CIA is in town and they want it back, don't they?"
"You have to believe that I didn't want this," said Seijiro, his brow twitching briefly, a hint of remorse sneaking into his voice. "I didn't have a choice. They put me under surveillance, and everyone associated with the crisis a while ago, regarding that girl who was comatose. Told me to keep my mouth shut, not say a word about Echelon to anybody - not the police, not my boss... not anybody. I just now found out that they'd captured you, and I was hoping to talk with them before they did anything rash... obviously, it's a tad late for that."
"Did you just now decide to help us?" asked Miku, arms folded across her chest. She shivered briefly, as if cold, despite that the room itself was comfortably warm, if a bit dusty.
"Not just now, but..." he hesitated, eyes twitching as they bounced between Dean and Miku. "Recently." After swallowing, he added, "Let's just say that this is all partly my fault, in more ways than one. To say more would take far too long."
"Fair enough." Glancing around the room, Dean asked, "Where are we, anyway?"
"A warehouse on the south side of Tokyo. They've been using it as a base of operations."
"Why did they single me out?" Miku persisted.
"Of all the players from that same incident, you were the only one who did not have publicly accessible information. From what I can tell, they systematically tracked down each individual and somehow determined whether or not they knew about Echelon. Some, apparently, divulged that you had a habit of logging information; combine this with your hidden address and telephone number, and they got nervous." He nodded to Dean. "Mr. Stollis' intervention wasn't helping the matter either. It's possible your actions forced them to hasten their timetable."
"Oh, goody," Dean remarked flatly. "And here I thought I'd screwed up."
"So, what was Project Echelon, anyway?" Miku wondered aloud.
"Datamining, basically. Information retrieval, processing and monitoring terabytes of data in seconds, centralizing communications... that kind of thing." He sighed again, heavier this time, as if in frustration. "I don't know exactly how Harold had intended Morganna to function - or Aura, for that matter - but my AI code worked better with it than it did with the DoD's own software. Damned if I know why."
After a pause, Seijiro continued. "Harold was a sentimental fool, as far as I could tell. He based the whole of 'Fragment' on a poem written by Emma Wielant - the Epitaph. Think she was his wife, or fiance or something, but she died before I met him. I didn't pay much attention to the meaning behind Morganna, and the other things he had programmed into it; kept babbling about Emma, none of it made sense. I assumed it was all a metaphor for their function, that Aura was a software lock designed to keep Morganna in check, and nothing more."
"And now it's like that Epitaph is coming true," said Dean quietly. "And your friends know that means that real AI is not only possible, but that it already exists."
"Indeed. The CIA determined that Morganna was far more sophisticated than any of us knew, and both feared that we were connected somehow via Echelon, and wanted to see what else my program could do." He shook his head, a few strands of his hair coming loose from the rest and twisting into loose bangs over his eyes. "If only we knew what Harold was trying to accomplish, what it was all intended for. But it's becoming clear that he knew something went wrong with the upgrade, that my code... may have been responsible for what Morganna became. She grew to understand what she was, configured herself to survive when we tried to delete her, and is continuing to evolve within 'The World.'"
"And now that she's become self-aware," Miku chimed in, "she knows Aura can stop her... which is why she had Tsukasa to cultivate her, and then tried to corrupt her forcibly... to prevent Aura from fulfilling her purpose, that which Harold had intended."
"Precisely. Whether Echelon is the sole reason for her awareness or merely a catalyst I'm not sure, and it may be a moot point now. Be that as it may, I can no longer let them cover up my involvement in this mess."
"So that's why you're helping us?" asked Dean.
The question lingered in the air, the room silent save for the humming of some distant generator. "Because I think I let the genie out of the bottle," he said softly. "Because I'm tired of lying to my boss and co-workers when they ask me if I can think of any reason why she's doing these things, attacking people and trying to destroy 'The World'. Maybe because I just plain feel guilty." He met Dean's eyes. "Take your pick, detective, but I could just as easily ask you the same. Right now, motive doesn't matter a whole lot, does it?"
Dean frowned and started to reply, but stopped himself. (Motive always matters,) he wanted to say, but Seijiro had a point; there were more immediate problems. "So how do we stop this? I don't think we can shoot our way out of this one."
"If the CIA gets out of Japan, then maybe I can do something," said Seijiro. "To do that, we need to prove what they've been up to."
"How do we do that?" Miku asked.
"The commander has a laptop which contains all of the information they've gathered regarding 'The World', Morganna, and everyone who was involved in the event six months ago." He nodded to Miku. "Including their more aggressive moves. If we get that to the police, you can bet the CIA is going to have a lot of explaining to do."
"The State department would have a heart attack, and probably the whole administration with it." Dean smirked ruefully. "It's just asking for trouble, but it's better than anything I can think of right now."
"Trust me," Seijiro insisted, "the agency wouldn't dare do anything while under so much public scrutiny. Even their cloak-and-dagger stuff follows a set of rules, and believe me when I say this violates almost every one of them."
Dean shared a look with Miku, then turned back to Seijiro. "All right, where can I find this thing?"
"Second floor, this wing. They've set up a command post out of the manager's office. There's a map at the end of the hall." He dug through his pants pocket and removed a cellular phone, flipping it open with his free hand. "I'm parked outside; I'll call the cops and wait for you to grab the computer, then we can get out of here."
"Right then. Miku, you go with him. I'll be right behind you."
Though she didn't verbally object, she shot him a look of thinly veiled concern. "You sure you'll be okay?"
"Not in the least," he said, a half-grin creeping onto his face. "But that's never stopped me before and damned if it's..."
A burst of static cut him off through the radio. "Eagle 3, this is Nest," called a voice through the earpiece. "Come in, over."
Instantly, all three froze, sharing varying looks of panic. Heretofore dangling limply from Dean's hand, the headset radio was quickly adjusted to its proper position; he ceased blocking the mouthpiece and cleared his throat, speaking in a deliberately low voice. "Ahem. This is Eagle 3, go ahead Nest," he said, praying the operator wouldn't notice the difference in voice.
"A patrol car just passed by the premises; no response has been heard, but as a precaution the boss is advancing the schedule by an hour. You will be relieved in five minutes. Over."
Fighting the urge to gasp, sigh, or emit any other aurally conspicuous noise, Dean answered, "Copy that, Nest. Over."
"One more thing," began the operator. "Has Tanaka left the area yet?"
Dean glanced at Tanaka, both men with blank expressions on their faces. "Negative."
"Good. As soon as you're relieved, both of you bring him up to the office. Boss wants to have another word with him. Nest out."
A momentary silence followed the cessation of radio contact. Covering the mouthpiece again with his hand, he smiled wryly at Miku. "Looks like I'm gonna need your help after all."
- End of Chapter 11
A .Hack fanfiction by Renfro Calhoun
Disclaimer: Project .Hack and attached characters and concepts do not belong to me.
Notes: Takes place during Outbreak. Parentheses indicate thoughts, and brackets are for writing or text. This, my friends, is where things really begin to change. Saying more would spoil it, though a careful observer may notice something that correlates to the other half of the story. Enjoy :)
Chapter 11 - Team Player
------------------------
"What the...?!"
Growling deep in his throat, Dean barged through the open door, leading with the chair; he rammed it straight into the first goon - covered head to toe in gray camo cloth and a kevlar vest - and trapped him between the legs, pinning his right arm to his chest, shoulder-slung submachine gun and holstered pistol just out of reach.
"Shit!" someone shouted from his left; metal clinked and cloth rustled from behind him, and he could only guess that another guard was preparing to fire. He threw a glance in the direction of the noise, and followed up a split-second later with a weak kick to the stomach of the second guard. The attack missed its mark but connected with the guard's weapon, throwing it off-target for a single precious second - just long enough for Dean to come around with the chair and smash it across the guard's masked head.
The chair, surprisingly sturdy, stayed intact through the swing and knocked the guard's head and body a few inches to the side, stunning him; before even hearing the first guard move again, Dean spun around and whacked him in the head, harder this time. Confidence and adrenaline aiding his strength, he pulled the chair back and thrust one of the legs into the guard's face, smashing the nose hard enough to draw blood.
"Dean, look out!"
Several masculine grunts and groans came from behind, clearly from two individuals and neither of them Miku. Keeping focused on his current adversary, Dean rammed the chair into the man's head and chest two more times, the second blow throwing his head against the hard brick wall; his skull connected with a sickening CRACK and he fell to the floor, no longer moving.
Still hearing the struggle with the second guard, Dean hastily discarded the chair and scrambled for the fallen man's pistol; leather slid smoothly against a steel and nickel-plated barrel as he drew the weapon, and he frantically whirled around to face the survivor, taking a step back to keep out of close quarters.
He cocked a surprised eyebrow when he saw a familiar Asian man - black shirt, tan trousers, hair short and stringy - wrestling with the guard. To further surprise, the stocky newcomer had the upper hand, pinning the masked man's right hand to the wall with his left, and firmly squeezing the neck with his right.
It took him but a moment to remember the voice he heard from within the storeroom.
Seijiro released the guard's neck long enough to elbow his face, and received a knee to the groin in retaliation. His legs buckled but he kept the gun out of the man's hand, and left an opening wide enough for Dean to march up and put the barrel squarely on the guard's left temple.
The effect was instant; his struggling ceased, and his nearest eye swiveled to stare at Dean. The detective noticed that his skin tone was white.
"Ease down," ordered Dean. "And don't move a muscle."
Soft footsteps came from inside the room; he guessed them to be Miku's. Seijiro released his hold on the guard and backed off. "Arigato, Mr. Tanaka," said Dean in a low voice, eyes locked on his captive as he too took a few steps back. "I believe you have some explaining to do."
"So it would seem."
Dean motioned with the gun for the guard to step away from the wall. "Turn that way," he said, nodding down the hall. Just as the order was followed, Dean stepped up and brutally, yet carefully whacked the guard on the back of his head, sending him to the floor unconscious, but with no lasting damage. He then saftied and pocketed the pistol, turning to Seijiro. "I don't know why you're helping us, but let's search and tie these guys up before we get to talking, okay?"
Silently, he agreed; with Miku's help, the two men brought the unconscious CIA agents into the room they have previously been guarding, and bound them with the rope and to the chairs that had been used on Dean and Miku. A moment's search stripped them of everything that could obviously be useful, to either party - weapons, knives, flashbang grenades and a single headset radio.
Having secured the agents, Seijiro turned to his newfound companions. "Did the lieutenant discuss with you what I told him before?" Hearing an affirmative mumble from Dean, he continued. "Well... it was half-true. I was the one who modified Morganna for use in 'The World,' and she was intended solely for administrative and maintenance purposes - certainly not what she's been doing lately, if the incidents this past week have been any indication."
"And the part that was half-false?" asked Dean flatly.
Seijiro sighed. "What I didn't tell you is that the so-called upgrade to Morganna... was in fact the AI algorithms from a U.S. government project. I patented the code when I worked for the Defense Department on their Echelon project, but it failed with their software. Harold didn't seem to have a complete AI either; it was functional, but it lacked - or seemed to lack - the true cognitive and adaptive abilities of an Artificial Intelligence. That is, it seemed incapable of learning or self-modification, at least as we understand the concept."
"I must stress that it seemed that way at the time; you should know that even we still aren't sure what to make of Morganna, and that includes me. All I'm sure of is that when I modified it with the Echelon code, I didn't know how well it had worked until it was far too late."
"So we've gathered," replied Dean. "And now the CIA is in town and they want it back, don't they?"
"You have to believe that I didn't want this," said Seijiro, his brow twitching briefly, a hint of remorse sneaking into his voice. "I didn't have a choice. They put me under surveillance, and everyone associated with the crisis a while ago, regarding that girl who was comatose. Told me to keep my mouth shut, not say a word about Echelon to anybody - not the police, not my boss... not anybody. I just now found out that they'd captured you, and I was hoping to talk with them before they did anything rash... obviously, it's a tad late for that."
"Did you just now decide to help us?" asked Miku, arms folded across her chest. She shivered briefly, as if cold, despite that the room itself was comfortably warm, if a bit dusty.
"Not just now, but..." he hesitated, eyes twitching as they bounced between Dean and Miku. "Recently." After swallowing, he added, "Let's just say that this is all partly my fault, in more ways than one. To say more would take far too long."
"Fair enough." Glancing around the room, Dean asked, "Where are we, anyway?"
"A warehouse on the south side of Tokyo. They've been using it as a base of operations."
"Why did they single me out?" Miku persisted.
"Of all the players from that same incident, you were the only one who did not have publicly accessible information. From what I can tell, they systematically tracked down each individual and somehow determined whether or not they knew about Echelon. Some, apparently, divulged that you had a habit of logging information; combine this with your hidden address and telephone number, and they got nervous." He nodded to Dean. "Mr. Stollis' intervention wasn't helping the matter either. It's possible your actions forced them to hasten their timetable."
"Oh, goody," Dean remarked flatly. "And here I thought I'd screwed up."
"So, what was Project Echelon, anyway?" Miku wondered aloud.
"Datamining, basically. Information retrieval, processing and monitoring terabytes of data in seconds, centralizing communications... that kind of thing." He sighed again, heavier this time, as if in frustration. "I don't know exactly how Harold had intended Morganna to function - or Aura, for that matter - but my AI code worked better with it than it did with the DoD's own software. Damned if I know why."
After a pause, Seijiro continued. "Harold was a sentimental fool, as far as I could tell. He based the whole of 'Fragment' on a poem written by Emma Wielant - the Epitaph. Think she was his wife, or fiance or something, but she died before I met him. I didn't pay much attention to the meaning behind Morganna, and the other things he had programmed into it; kept babbling about Emma, none of it made sense. I assumed it was all a metaphor for their function, that Aura was a software lock designed to keep Morganna in check, and nothing more."
"And now it's like that Epitaph is coming true," said Dean quietly. "And your friends know that means that real AI is not only possible, but that it already exists."
"Indeed. The CIA determined that Morganna was far more sophisticated than any of us knew, and both feared that we were connected somehow via Echelon, and wanted to see what else my program could do." He shook his head, a few strands of his hair coming loose from the rest and twisting into loose bangs over his eyes. "If only we knew what Harold was trying to accomplish, what it was all intended for. But it's becoming clear that he knew something went wrong with the upgrade, that my code... may have been responsible for what Morganna became. She grew to understand what she was, configured herself to survive when we tried to delete her, and is continuing to evolve within 'The World.'"
"And now that she's become self-aware," Miku chimed in, "she knows Aura can stop her... which is why she had Tsukasa to cultivate her, and then tried to corrupt her forcibly... to prevent Aura from fulfilling her purpose, that which Harold had intended."
"Precisely. Whether Echelon is the sole reason for her awareness or merely a catalyst I'm not sure, and it may be a moot point now. Be that as it may, I can no longer let them cover up my involvement in this mess."
"So that's why you're helping us?" asked Dean.
The question lingered in the air, the room silent save for the humming of some distant generator. "Because I think I let the genie out of the bottle," he said softly. "Because I'm tired of lying to my boss and co-workers when they ask me if I can think of any reason why she's doing these things, attacking people and trying to destroy 'The World'. Maybe because I just plain feel guilty." He met Dean's eyes. "Take your pick, detective, but I could just as easily ask you the same. Right now, motive doesn't matter a whole lot, does it?"
Dean frowned and started to reply, but stopped himself. (Motive always matters,) he wanted to say, but Seijiro had a point; there were more immediate problems. "So how do we stop this? I don't think we can shoot our way out of this one."
"If the CIA gets out of Japan, then maybe I can do something," said Seijiro. "To do that, we need to prove what they've been up to."
"How do we do that?" Miku asked.
"The commander has a laptop which contains all of the information they've gathered regarding 'The World', Morganna, and everyone who was involved in the event six months ago." He nodded to Miku. "Including their more aggressive moves. If we get that to the police, you can bet the CIA is going to have a lot of explaining to do."
"The State department would have a heart attack, and probably the whole administration with it." Dean smirked ruefully. "It's just asking for trouble, but it's better than anything I can think of right now."
"Trust me," Seijiro insisted, "the agency wouldn't dare do anything while under so much public scrutiny. Even their cloak-and-dagger stuff follows a set of rules, and believe me when I say this violates almost every one of them."
Dean shared a look with Miku, then turned back to Seijiro. "All right, where can I find this thing?"
"Second floor, this wing. They've set up a command post out of the manager's office. There's a map at the end of the hall." He dug through his pants pocket and removed a cellular phone, flipping it open with his free hand. "I'm parked outside; I'll call the cops and wait for you to grab the computer, then we can get out of here."
"Right then. Miku, you go with him. I'll be right behind you."
Though she didn't verbally object, she shot him a look of thinly veiled concern. "You sure you'll be okay?"
"Not in the least," he said, a half-grin creeping onto his face. "But that's never stopped me before and damned if it's..."
A burst of static cut him off through the radio. "Eagle 3, this is Nest," called a voice through the earpiece. "Come in, over."
Instantly, all three froze, sharing varying looks of panic. Heretofore dangling limply from Dean's hand, the headset radio was quickly adjusted to its proper position; he ceased blocking the mouthpiece and cleared his throat, speaking in a deliberately low voice. "Ahem. This is Eagle 3, go ahead Nest," he said, praying the operator wouldn't notice the difference in voice.
"A patrol car just passed by the premises; no response has been heard, but as a precaution the boss is advancing the schedule by an hour. You will be relieved in five minutes. Over."
Fighting the urge to gasp, sigh, or emit any other aurally conspicuous noise, Dean answered, "Copy that, Nest. Over."
"One more thing," began the operator. "Has Tanaka left the area yet?"
Dean glanced at Tanaka, both men with blank expressions on their faces. "Negative."
"Good. As soon as you're relieved, both of you bring him up to the office. Boss wants to have another word with him. Nest out."
A momentary silence followed the cessation of radio contact. Covering the mouthpiece again with his hand, he smiled wryly at Miku. "Looks like I'm gonna need your help after all."
- End of Chapter 11