.HackRelapse
A .Hack fanfiction by Renfro Calhoun
Disclaimer: Oh, c'mon, you know damn well what goes here :P
Notes: See above. Sorry for taking so long with the updating and corrections; tell you all about it in chapter 24, which WILL be up later tonight, or my name isn't Renfro Calhoun. Well... okay, technically it isn't, that's just a pen name... so, that means, uh... um...
...BLAST!
Chapter 12 - Tiebreaker
-----------------------
"Yo!"
Turning towards the greeting, Dean did his best to steady his nerves, putting on his best pokerface. "Hey," he said simply, using the same low voice as before.
To his left stood Miku, who, like him, had stolen the uniform, vest and mask of her former captor. The Kevlar was sufficient to hide her curves, and a pair of gloves in the agent's back pocket served to hide the rest of her skin and nails. Though she carried her submachine gun with a somewhat unsteady hand, the loose camo cloth concealed her nervous posture, and despite her attempts to avoid looking at either of the new guards her eyes did not, in the slightest, betray her.
Stealing a glance at her, Dean wanted to smile. Instead he focused his attention on the newcomers and nodded slowly. Behind him, he heard Seijiro pacing back and forth, mocking impatience.
"They've been pretty quiet," said Dean, lifting a hand off his own weapon and removing the keyring from his pocket. "Here's the keys."
The nearest guard - similarly dressed and armed - stepped forward and took the keys. "Thanks. See you later, Spence."
"Yeah, you too." He turned away and started down the hallway. "Let's go, Tanaka," he ordered, gesturing with his free hand.
Together they strode away from the storeroom/prison, each expecting the new guards to see through their ruse at any moment. The hallway, though well lit by fluorescent lights, was nonetheless dark enough to be foreboding and oppressive; rusted floor vents bringing in a chilling draft, an unexpected coldness compared to the warmth of their former environs.
Seijiro quickly took point, leading the two around the corner of a T-juncture into an identical branch of hallway. They stopped briefly before a map, mounted on the wall behind a scratched and dusty plastic casing.
As the programmer scanned the diagram, Dean noticed Miku shudder involuntarily, her grip on the gun looking more awkward by the second; clearly unaccustomed to holding a firearm, her eyes twiched slightly, jumping back and forth along with her head from one end of the hallway to the other, as if they'd turn in opposite directions and watch both ends of the hallway at once, if only they could.
Dean noticed her discomfort, sharing it invisibly through his beating heart and shortened breath; unseen goosebumps crept up his arms, and he could only imagine that his companion was similarly disposed. A flick of his wrist turned the knob that controlled the radio's power, killing it. "It's not gonna come to that," he tried to assure, both her and him. "Just keep the safety on and try not to think about it." Without thinking, he reached out and gently patted her shoulder, the material tough and surprisingly abrasive to the touch.
Nonetheless, she appeared grateful; her eyes met his, and she nodded gingerly. "Yeah," she mumbled. "I'll try."
"This way."
Seijiro started again, followed closely by Dean and Miku. They followed up through a thick iron door, and then another; the latter led to a staircase, which carried them two floors higher. Just before the door, he stopped, cracking it open gently and peering through.
Satisfied that no one lay in wait on the other side, he turned back to Dean. "Is that..." he began, nodding to the radio.
Blindly double-checking the button with his hand, Dean nodded when he felt it in the 'off' position. "Go ahead."
The portly programmer pulled out his cell phone and punched in 119, waiting just long enough for the emergency operator to identify himself. "I need the police, I've been kidnapped," he said in hushed Japanese, glancing up at Dean for instruction.
"Ask for detective Aniki Masamoto," said Dean. "Tell him you're with me and Miku."
He listened carefully as Seijiro explained what was happening, knowing just enough to recognize their names as they were spoken. After a minute or so of conversation, Seijiro disconnected the call and powered off the phone before stuffing it back in his pocket.
"Let's go," he urged. "They'll be suspicious if we take too long."
Stepping through the door, they entered the second floor hallway, another door at the opposite end marked with an aged metal plate that marked it as the manager's office.
"I'm not counting on this 'boss' to fall for our disguises," Dean stated plainly, "so how do you propose we do this?"
Seijiro hesitated for a moment, if a highly visible one. "I'm working on that," he answered uneasily. "But if we can get it and get to my car, we'll be okay. The operator said Masamoto was out, but that units were on the way. All we have to do is keep them from destroying the evidence."
"So, in other words, we play it by ear," said Miku.
"Yes."
She shot Dean a look that bordered between stern and worried. He could only offer an apologetic frown in response.
They neared the office door; their footsteps were loud amidst the silent hallway, but not loud enough to obstruct the sound of voices from another room - though it could just as easily have been from one of the adjoining rooms, and not the manager's office.
"Stop," Dean said out of the blue; as they turned for an explanation, he added, "Seijiro, you're sure that this guy has the laptop with him?"
"It was on the desk. I saw it myself before I came down to see you."
"All right." He glanced at Miku. "Stand outside the door; when the shooting starts, point your gun at it like you're not sure what's going on. Anybody comes out, say you heard some commotion and you called for backup... or, something like that."
She shot him a look that easily conveyed her confusion, but she said nothing as he continued. "Seijiro, you walk in first, count to three silently, then drop to the floor and close your eyes."
"You have a plan," he accused, watching him carefully and with a curious eye.
"Whoa, hey, whoa," Dean replied in a less serious tone. "Nobody said anything about a plan. Just go with me on this, okay?"
Seijiro sighed in obvious disapproval, but grunted in compliance.
"Wait, what if they figure out I'm not one of them?" asked Miku.
"Shoot him," was his flippant response. With Seijiro in the lead, he made his way towards the office door; the programmer hesitantly turned the knob and pushed the door inward. At that moment, Dean snapped open a pocket on the side of his slacks and stuck his thumb into the plastic pin of a waiting flashbang.
As the two men stepped in, he pulled the pin, keeping his hand solidly wrapped around the base of the device; he lifted it out and did his best to conceal it behind his back.
(One...)
Past the shoulders of his pointman, Dean saw a drab, uncomfortable-looking office with barely functional furniture and shaggy brown carpeting. A disused blackboard sat on one wall, an empty bookshelf on the other. Behind the desk, mounted near the ceiling, was an almost antique PA speaker, the only evidence of technology - aside from the lights - that also looked native to the room.
A brand-new desktop computer sat on the desk, partially obscuring a plain-looking white man in the same military camo cloth, solidly in his middle ages; Dean guessed somewhere from 40 to 50. His face was cast with weariness, but still held a spark of retained vigor, eyes appraising him carefully, as if ready for the unexpected.
(Two...)
Next to the stationary computer sat the laptop, closed and disconnected. Dean's eyes fell on it like a magnet, and his heart beat faster, preparing for battle.
He counted a total of three men in addition to the commander, four in all; two flanking the desk, one to his immediate right, watching the door.
(Three...)
Seijiro dove forward onto his stomach, covering his head and burying his face in the floor. Dean heard the confused shouts of the CIA agents as they witnessed the maneuver, and they grew to a crescendo as he brought his arm around and threw the grenade to one corner of the room.
(Four...)
Hearing the clicking of weapons being raised, Dean spun to the nearest guard and raised his submachine gun with his left hand; he squeezed the trigger, and just as the first bullet erupted from the barrel, the grenade exploded in a flash of brilliant light and high-pitched white noise.
Against the roaring of his SMG, Dean heard the pained cry of the door guard as the first bullet hit home. As he hadn't been looking in the direction of the grenade, he didn't see it explode and was spared from the full force of its effects; nevertheless, he found himself momentarily blinded when he ceased fire and turned his attention to the three by the desk. The light left trails of color in his eyes, and though it had quickly receded just enough for him to again make out the details of the room, the exact position of his enemies was lost to him.
Fortunately, this was doubly true for the commander and his men. Within seconds Dean's vision cleared, and without pause he took the SMG in both hands and triggered a burst of bullets at the trio of agents - two still helplessly clawing at and rubbing their eyes, one with a pistol drawn but firing random shots at seemingly nothing.
The 'battle' was over in less time than it took for the grenade's fuse to burn. The presence of Kevlar brought some doubt to Dean's mind whether any of his targets were actually dead or merely injured, but in either case he was unimpeded as he raced forward and snatched the laptop from the desk.
He turned around to Seijiro, who quickly scrambled to his feet once he heard Dean moving. "You got it?!"
"Yeah, let's go!"
Together they raced into the hall and rejoined Miku, who was watching the office door as instructed; were he less rushed, Dean might have noticed the barrel trembling.
"What the hell is going on out here?!" came the muffled shout from beyond one of the side doors. The left-hand door opened, revealing an unmasked agent - can of soda in hand, shotgun loosely slung around his shoulder. His eyes went wide when they spotted the computer tucked under Dean's arm. "Holy shit!"
He dropped the can and gripped his weapon, prying it off his shoulder, but Dean was quicker; he squeezed the trigger, gun shaking violently in his one hand. The agent lurched back and crumpled to the floor, the 9mm bullets stopped by his vest but striking him with enough force to stall him.
"Take the computer!" shouted Dean. "Go!"
Seijiro pried the laptop from under his arm, freeing up Dean's hand. He bent down and relieved the gun from the agent's hands, thrusting an arm under the strap and slinging it over his back. "All right, let's get to my car, it's right outside!"
"Lead the way!"
Dean and Miku fell into step behind Seijiro as he dashed for the stairwell door; he practically tore it open, and the three madly scrambled down the stairs. Before they could set foot on the ground floor, a distant alarm began to wail; were it not for the loud clanging of shoes and boots on metal, they might have heard the confused shouts and cries of panic as the 'base' was brought to full alert.
"Out here, there's a fire exit leading straight into the parking lot."
Tanaka reached for the door, but it burst open before he could touch the knob; two agents charged through, and raised their weapons to fire before any of them could react.
"Ah, shit. Scared the hell out of us," said the lead agent. "What are you doing here?"
Dean found himself tongue-tied, and quickly began to panic as he grasped for the first lie his mind could conjure up.
A lie that was wholly unnecessary. "There was shooting on the second floor," said Miku, her voice deep and gruff - obviously as best a mask of her true voice as she could manage. "Boss wanted us to take Tanaka to a safe place."
Seijiro quickly played off her ruse, showing the laptop and giving it a good shake for emphasis. "They're after this. We're getting it out of here."
After a moment's consideration, the second agent waved them on with the tip of his gun. "All right, get to the rendezvous point. We'll check it out. Let's move!"
Not waiting for the spooks to think again, Seijiro squeezed past them with Dean and Miku in tow. Two doors and two short hallways later, they found themselves in front of a dull red fire door, the gray metal push-bar surrounded by bright yellow lettering that Dean was certain meant an alarm would sound.
"Just past this door!"
Tanaka shoved the door open, and another alarm started ringing, more familiar than the last - a traditional hammer-and-bell that sounded with the speed of a machine gun.
As they spilled into the parking lot, Dean heard what sounded like a man shouting "Hey, what are you doing?!" from behind. Without thinking, he half-turned and pointed the SMG at the still-ajar doors, firing as they slowly swung shut. He got a vague glimpse of a man in black taking cover, but opted against any facade of accuracy and simply emptied the magazine in the direction of the door. Muzzle flare caused shadows to dance at his feet as bullets punched tiny dents into the thick metal door, with their shells clinking harmlessly to the pavement, wisps of smoke trailing from them as they fell.
"Dean! Over here!"
He heard an engine being gunned, and tossed the empty weapon aside as he resumed his prior course and caught up with his companions. Quickly coming upon a black Lincoln Continental, he yanked the rear passenger door open and dove into the backseat.
"All right, go!" he hollered, somewhat muffled against the leather seats.
Gunshots rang out as tires squealed; the Lincoln roared to life and sped away from the parking lot, past an open chainlink fence and into the empty streets.
- End of Chapter 12
A .Hack fanfiction by Renfro Calhoun
Disclaimer: Oh, c'mon, you know damn well what goes here :P
Notes: See above. Sorry for taking so long with the updating and corrections; tell you all about it in chapter 24, which WILL be up later tonight, or my name isn't Renfro Calhoun. Well... okay, technically it isn't, that's just a pen name... so, that means, uh... um...
...BLAST!
Chapter 12 - Tiebreaker
-----------------------
"Yo!"
Turning towards the greeting, Dean did his best to steady his nerves, putting on his best pokerface. "Hey," he said simply, using the same low voice as before.
To his left stood Miku, who, like him, had stolen the uniform, vest and mask of her former captor. The Kevlar was sufficient to hide her curves, and a pair of gloves in the agent's back pocket served to hide the rest of her skin and nails. Though she carried her submachine gun with a somewhat unsteady hand, the loose camo cloth concealed her nervous posture, and despite her attempts to avoid looking at either of the new guards her eyes did not, in the slightest, betray her.
Stealing a glance at her, Dean wanted to smile. Instead he focused his attention on the newcomers and nodded slowly. Behind him, he heard Seijiro pacing back and forth, mocking impatience.
"They've been pretty quiet," said Dean, lifting a hand off his own weapon and removing the keyring from his pocket. "Here's the keys."
The nearest guard - similarly dressed and armed - stepped forward and took the keys. "Thanks. See you later, Spence."
"Yeah, you too." He turned away and started down the hallway. "Let's go, Tanaka," he ordered, gesturing with his free hand.
Together they strode away from the storeroom/prison, each expecting the new guards to see through their ruse at any moment. The hallway, though well lit by fluorescent lights, was nonetheless dark enough to be foreboding and oppressive; rusted floor vents bringing in a chilling draft, an unexpected coldness compared to the warmth of their former environs.
Seijiro quickly took point, leading the two around the corner of a T-juncture into an identical branch of hallway. They stopped briefly before a map, mounted on the wall behind a scratched and dusty plastic casing.
As the programmer scanned the diagram, Dean noticed Miku shudder involuntarily, her grip on the gun looking more awkward by the second; clearly unaccustomed to holding a firearm, her eyes twiched slightly, jumping back and forth along with her head from one end of the hallway to the other, as if they'd turn in opposite directions and watch both ends of the hallway at once, if only they could.
Dean noticed her discomfort, sharing it invisibly through his beating heart and shortened breath; unseen goosebumps crept up his arms, and he could only imagine that his companion was similarly disposed. A flick of his wrist turned the knob that controlled the radio's power, killing it. "It's not gonna come to that," he tried to assure, both her and him. "Just keep the safety on and try not to think about it." Without thinking, he reached out and gently patted her shoulder, the material tough and surprisingly abrasive to the touch.
Nonetheless, she appeared grateful; her eyes met his, and she nodded gingerly. "Yeah," she mumbled. "I'll try."
"This way."
Seijiro started again, followed closely by Dean and Miku. They followed up through a thick iron door, and then another; the latter led to a staircase, which carried them two floors higher. Just before the door, he stopped, cracking it open gently and peering through.
Satisfied that no one lay in wait on the other side, he turned back to Dean. "Is that..." he began, nodding to the radio.
Blindly double-checking the button with his hand, Dean nodded when he felt it in the 'off' position. "Go ahead."
The portly programmer pulled out his cell phone and punched in 119, waiting just long enough for the emergency operator to identify himself. "I need the police, I've been kidnapped," he said in hushed Japanese, glancing up at Dean for instruction.
"Ask for detective Aniki Masamoto," said Dean. "Tell him you're with me and Miku."
He listened carefully as Seijiro explained what was happening, knowing just enough to recognize their names as they were spoken. After a minute or so of conversation, Seijiro disconnected the call and powered off the phone before stuffing it back in his pocket.
"Let's go," he urged. "They'll be suspicious if we take too long."
Stepping through the door, they entered the second floor hallway, another door at the opposite end marked with an aged metal plate that marked it as the manager's office.
"I'm not counting on this 'boss' to fall for our disguises," Dean stated plainly, "so how do you propose we do this?"
Seijiro hesitated for a moment, if a highly visible one. "I'm working on that," he answered uneasily. "But if we can get it and get to my car, we'll be okay. The operator said Masamoto was out, but that units were on the way. All we have to do is keep them from destroying the evidence."
"So, in other words, we play it by ear," said Miku.
"Yes."
She shot Dean a look that bordered between stern and worried. He could only offer an apologetic frown in response.
They neared the office door; their footsteps were loud amidst the silent hallway, but not loud enough to obstruct the sound of voices from another room - though it could just as easily have been from one of the adjoining rooms, and not the manager's office.
"Stop," Dean said out of the blue; as they turned for an explanation, he added, "Seijiro, you're sure that this guy has the laptop with him?"
"It was on the desk. I saw it myself before I came down to see you."
"All right." He glanced at Miku. "Stand outside the door; when the shooting starts, point your gun at it like you're not sure what's going on. Anybody comes out, say you heard some commotion and you called for backup... or, something like that."
She shot him a look that easily conveyed her confusion, but she said nothing as he continued. "Seijiro, you walk in first, count to three silently, then drop to the floor and close your eyes."
"You have a plan," he accused, watching him carefully and with a curious eye.
"Whoa, hey, whoa," Dean replied in a less serious tone. "Nobody said anything about a plan. Just go with me on this, okay?"
Seijiro sighed in obvious disapproval, but grunted in compliance.
"Wait, what if they figure out I'm not one of them?" asked Miku.
"Shoot him," was his flippant response. With Seijiro in the lead, he made his way towards the office door; the programmer hesitantly turned the knob and pushed the door inward. At that moment, Dean snapped open a pocket on the side of his slacks and stuck his thumb into the plastic pin of a waiting flashbang.
As the two men stepped in, he pulled the pin, keeping his hand solidly wrapped around the base of the device; he lifted it out and did his best to conceal it behind his back.
(One...)
Past the shoulders of his pointman, Dean saw a drab, uncomfortable-looking office with barely functional furniture and shaggy brown carpeting. A disused blackboard sat on one wall, an empty bookshelf on the other. Behind the desk, mounted near the ceiling, was an almost antique PA speaker, the only evidence of technology - aside from the lights - that also looked native to the room.
A brand-new desktop computer sat on the desk, partially obscuring a plain-looking white man in the same military camo cloth, solidly in his middle ages; Dean guessed somewhere from 40 to 50. His face was cast with weariness, but still held a spark of retained vigor, eyes appraising him carefully, as if ready for the unexpected.
(Two...)
Next to the stationary computer sat the laptop, closed and disconnected. Dean's eyes fell on it like a magnet, and his heart beat faster, preparing for battle.
He counted a total of three men in addition to the commander, four in all; two flanking the desk, one to his immediate right, watching the door.
(Three...)
Seijiro dove forward onto his stomach, covering his head and burying his face in the floor. Dean heard the confused shouts of the CIA agents as they witnessed the maneuver, and they grew to a crescendo as he brought his arm around and threw the grenade to one corner of the room.
(Four...)
Hearing the clicking of weapons being raised, Dean spun to the nearest guard and raised his submachine gun with his left hand; he squeezed the trigger, and just as the first bullet erupted from the barrel, the grenade exploded in a flash of brilliant light and high-pitched white noise.
Against the roaring of his SMG, Dean heard the pained cry of the door guard as the first bullet hit home. As he hadn't been looking in the direction of the grenade, he didn't see it explode and was spared from the full force of its effects; nevertheless, he found himself momentarily blinded when he ceased fire and turned his attention to the three by the desk. The light left trails of color in his eyes, and though it had quickly receded just enough for him to again make out the details of the room, the exact position of his enemies was lost to him.
Fortunately, this was doubly true for the commander and his men. Within seconds Dean's vision cleared, and without pause he took the SMG in both hands and triggered a burst of bullets at the trio of agents - two still helplessly clawing at and rubbing their eyes, one with a pistol drawn but firing random shots at seemingly nothing.
The 'battle' was over in less time than it took for the grenade's fuse to burn. The presence of Kevlar brought some doubt to Dean's mind whether any of his targets were actually dead or merely injured, but in either case he was unimpeded as he raced forward and snatched the laptop from the desk.
He turned around to Seijiro, who quickly scrambled to his feet once he heard Dean moving. "You got it?!"
"Yeah, let's go!"
Together they raced into the hall and rejoined Miku, who was watching the office door as instructed; were he less rushed, Dean might have noticed the barrel trembling.
"What the hell is going on out here?!" came the muffled shout from beyond one of the side doors. The left-hand door opened, revealing an unmasked agent - can of soda in hand, shotgun loosely slung around his shoulder. His eyes went wide when they spotted the computer tucked under Dean's arm. "Holy shit!"
He dropped the can and gripped his weapon, prying it off his shoulder, but Dean was quicker; he squeezed the trigger, gun shaking violently in his one hand. The agent lurched back and crumpled to the floor, the 9mm bullets stopped by his vest but striking him with enough force to stall him.
"Take the computer!" shouted Dean. "Go!"
Seijiro pried the laptop from under his arm, freeing up Dean's hand. He bent down and relieved the gun from the agent's hands, thrusting an arm under the strap and slinging it over his back. "All right, let's get to my car, it's right outside!"
"Lead the way!"
Dean and Miku fell into step behind Seijiro as he dashed for the stairwell door; he practically tore it open, and the three madly scrambled down the stairs. Before they could set foot on the ground floor, a distant alarm began to wail; were it not for the loud clanging of shoes and boots on metal, they might have heard the confused shouts and cries of panic as the 'base' was brought to full alert.
"Out here, there's a fire exit leading straight into the parking lot."
Tanaka reached for the door, but it burst open before he could touch the knob; two agents charged through, and raised their weapons to fire before any of them could react.
"Ah, shit. Scared the hell out of us," said the lead agent. "What are you doing here?"
Dean found himself tongue-tied, and quickly began to panic as he grasped for the first lie his mind could conjure up.
A lie that was wholly unnecessary. "There was shooting on the second floor," said Miku, her voice deep and gruff - obviously as best a mask of her true voice as she could manage. "Boss wanted us to take Tanaka to a safe place."
Seijiro quickly played off her ruse, showing the laptop and giving it a good shake for emphasis. "They're after this. We're getting it out of here."
After a moment's consideration, the second agent waved them on with the tip of his gun. "All right, get to the rendezvous point. We'll check it out. Let's move!"
Not waiting for the spooks to think again, Seijiro squeezed past them with Dean and Miku in tow. Two doors and two short hallways later, they found themselves in front of a dull red fire door, the gray metal push-bar surrounded by bright yellow lettering that Dean was certain meant an alarm would sound.
"Just past this door!"
Tanaka shoved the door open, and another alarm started ringing, more familiar than the last - a traditional hammer-and-bell that sounded with the speed of a machine gun.
As they spilled into the parking lot, Dean heard what sounded like a man shouting "Hey, what are you doing?!" from behind. Without thinking, he half-turned and pointed the SMG at the still-ajar doors, firing as they slowly swung shut. He got a vague glimpse of a man in black taking cover, but opted against any facade of accuracy and simply emptied the magazine in the direction of the door. Muzzle flare caused shadows to dance at his feet as bullets punched tiny dents into the thick metal door, with their shells clinking harmlessly to the pavement, wisps of smoke trailing from them as they fell.
"Dean! Over here!"
He heard an engine being gunned, and tossed the empty weapon aside as he resumed his prior course and caught up with his companions. Quickly coming upon a black Lincoln Continental, he yanked the rear passenger door open and dove into the backseat.
"All right, go!" he hollered, somewhat muffled against the leather seats.
Gunshots rang out as tires squealed; the Lincoln roared to life and sped away from the parking lot, past an open chainlink fence and into the empty streets.
- End of Chapter 12