.HackRelapse
A .Hack fanfiction by Renfro Calhoun
Disclaimer: Project .Hack and attached characters/concepts do not belong to me, no matter how much I wish for it. Damn you, shooting star. Damn you to hell!
Notes: Takes place during Outbreak. Parentheses = thoughts, brackets = writing. Getting closer... it's times like this I wish I had it all planned out from the get-go, but what's the fun in that?
Chapter 13 - Vicious Virtue
---------------------------
"Got it, Dean. I'm on my way to intercept right now; just keep moving and stay in one piece."
"Will do. And Mas... thanks, man."
The rumbling of the car soothed him through the seat, his focus shifting to what he felt as his eyes closed. The man's stomach answered with a shivering of its own, attesting to its emptiness. His mask had been discarded, along with the bulletproof vest.
"Heh. Don't thank me yet." A click signaled the death of the line. Dean shut off and folded the phone, and passed it up to Seijiro.
"Ohhh... god, what a day," murmured the detective.
"There's the understatement of the year," Miku's voice remarked to him; up front, she had similarly disrobed, her mask and vest lying in a heap beneath her outstretched legs.
Dean grunted. "First Cyber Connect, now the CIA... the whole goddamn world's against us, I swear to god."
Seijiro made a noise, a halted chuckle. He turned the wheel right and the car responded accordingly, rounding a corner.
"Just out of curiosity, was that you who emailed me?" asked Miku. "Before they came for us last night?"
He confirmed her suspicions with a nonchalant, "Yeah." After a beat, he followed up with, "They monitor my email traffic from my terminal; had to put it in through my PDA and upload it to the 'net. Barely had enough time to mask the address as well."
"Hey, you tried," said Dean with a half-hearted smile that quickly vanished. "What I don't get is this: why would the CIA even let you know they were in town?"
"Like I said, the patent for the core Echelon code is mine," explained Seijiro. "Legally, I can do whatever I want with it, but since it was developed under U.S. government protocols I can't say how it was made, or for what it was originally intended." He paused long enough to sigh. "Until now, there hasn't been a need to."
He glanced back at Dean for a moment. "I'm sure you've heard millions of conspiracy theories regarding the CIA. Even I don't know half the things they were up to, but I can say this. You leave them like you leave the mob, which is to say, you don't. Not really, anyway. Those men wanted to make sure I cooperated because unless you're drawing a paycheck from them, they can't trust you."
"Business as usual," replied Dean. "Well, guess that means all we gotta do is wait this out."
"In theory," said Seijiro. "I'll be safe so long as I'm with Cyber Connect, but this does beg the question of what you're going to do, detective."
"Think this one's out of my hands. Now that we know what's going on, not much left to do but make sure it doesn't happen and fork over the laptop to the police." Dean gave a small grin, adding "And I know a guy who's all over that first one."
"You're referring to the character Kite, aren't you?"
Dean nodded. "That's him. You know him?"
"Indirectly." He swallowed; the car rolled to a stop behind a crowded stoplight, brake lights glaring angrily through the windshield. "One of our security techs has been working with him - Francis Moritsu. You know him as Lios. Not exactly a 'people' person, but he knows his stuff."
The name 'Lios' triggered a black memory in Dean's head. He scowled. "How sweet. And here I thought you guys didn't care."
A faint growling erupted from Seijiro's throat. "Don't mistake silence for inaction, detective. As I said before, we've been working on this as well."
"Does that way include offing your former employees, or trying to kill me?" Dean shot as the car sped up again, a touch of ice to his statement despite its slow and labored delivery.
"Hey, that was not my call," Seijiro answered defensively. "I didn't have anything to do with Delphi, or those two agents. That was Lios's doing, and I sure as hell don't recall him giving the OK to kill you."
"Yeah, yeah," muttered Dean. Mere seconds later, he backpedaled, fatigue of the day's exertions forcing him to drop his barriers. "Look, I'm... christ. I know it wasn't your fault; I mean, if anything, I owe you. We didn't know what we were doing... the mistakes, the bad shit, they go both ways. But... like I said, now I'm here, now I know. Just hope that's enough."
"I know what you mean," the Cyber Connect employee replied. "Nobody wanted any of this, but sometimes things just happen that way."
"I hear that." Dean chuckled ruefully. "Know what really gets me, though?"
"What's that?"
"That damn kid, man, Hiroshi." Dean slid to his left, leaning against the door. "Guy's got a heart of solid gold. He's in this trying to get his friend back, and..." his voice dropped a notch or two in tone, "even had time to help out a guy like me. I mean... I saw his eyes, he wasn't lookin' at me like I was a bad guy, y'know?"
The detective's eyes drifted shut, blocking the car from view; now and then a light streaked by the window, almost visible through his eyelids. "We both had bad things happen to us. He empathized, it was the damnedest thing." His eyes opened, staring out the window. "And I told him, y'know... how I got kicked off the force." He shook his head. "Didn't matter... he and that girl, they could've just walked away, but they still helped us out. Didn't see us as thieves... just people trying to make the best of a bad situation."
A brief pause, his voice now a hushed mutter. "Been a long time since someone saw it that way."
If he was looking for consolation, he found none; Seijiro had fallen silent, concentrating on the road ahead, while a gentle snoring was heard from Miku's seat. He cocked his head and found the woman curled up against the door, her head resting against the window; the laptop earned its name, resting comfortably beneath her folded arms. Her weapons lay in the backseat next to Dean, still saftied and cold.
As he watched, her eyes twitched; the left one cracked open, just a touch. He stared, fascinated, as the brown orb rolled to meet his gaze, and he swore he saw the hint of a smile in the corner of her lips. She made a noise, interrupted by the car's engine but sounding a lot like that familiar throaty chuckle of hers.
(That could start to grow on a person,) he thought with a small smile of his own. (You did good, Miku.)
Light poured through the back window, bright and powerful; Dean sat up and squinted out at the approaching vehicle. "What the hell?"
"Some idiot's got his brights on," said Seijiro. He nudged the turn signal lever and gently guided the car out of the lane, sparing them from the direct focus of the headlights.
Out of the light, Dean got a good look at the vehicle; a white van, unmarked save for the license plate. To his surprise the van accelerated, quickly outpacing the sedan and pulling closer. The driver-side window rolled down, offering an unobstructed glimpse into its blackened interior.
(Geez this guy's in a hurry,) thought Dean. Somewhere inside, the closest analogue to a Spidey Sense that Dean possessed was going haywire. It was then that he caught a glimpse of the driver - or, more accurately, the driver's arm, which was covered by a sleeve of gray camouflage.
The point was driven home when the arm disappeared from view, only to reappear toting a submachine gun.
"Seijiro!" shouted Dean as he drew a pistol from one of his pockets. "Floor it, we got company!"
No sooner than Seijiro had glanced back at the nearby van than a burst of automatic gunfire tore sharply at the sedan, the SMG spitting out a dozen or so bullets, some of which punched through the nearest window and others clanging loudly against the frame of the car.
Miku 'awoke' with a start. "What's going on?!"
"It's them!" shouted Dean, taking aim through the wounded window. "Keep your head down!"
Dean fired at the van, 9mm bullets streaking forth and slamming into the hood and driver-side door, to little obvious effect. The driver returned fire, squeezing off another burst which tore at the trunk; Dean dropped down below the seat back, praying that it would offer the desired protection.
"Do something!" cried Seijiro, madly stomping on the gas pedal. "Stop them!"
The detective popped out of hiding, pistol raised to shoot; he started to aim for the wheel, but the driver guessed his intentions and swerved directly behind the sedan, protecting both wheels. Dean grunted, and fired upon the driver, hidden behind the veil of a tinted windshield. Six pulls emptied the magazine, forcing Dean to discard the weapon and duck back below the seat as the driver fired once more. He heard another weapon erupt, guessing that the passenger had now joined the fray.
He reached for the shotgun, and did a double take as he saw the slender frame of Miku snake around the passenger seat and snatch the submachine gun.
She threw a look at him, her lips pursed into a flat line. "It came to that," she said abruptly.
Dean groaned loudly and took the shotgun, taking aim as Miku rolled down her window and leaned out, leading with the SMG.
The two vehicles exchanged volleys of gunfire, the van chasing the smaller car with all the grace and finesse of Tom and Jerry. They tore through a crowded shopping district, ducking and weaving in and out of traffic, barely able to find room to keep going. Frightened pedestrians and other drivers scrambled madly away from the chase, some racing to the nearest pay or cellular phone, others rushing to the relative safety of nearby businesses and storefronts.
"Damn it, it's empty!" howled Miku against the rushing wind, leaning back in and dropping the SMG.
Faced with a similar problem, Dean exchanged his shotgun for one of the remaining pistols and offered the other to Miku. "Make 'em count!"
Before either could fire, the wail of sirens made itself evident, and a glance at the rearview mirror (which had been redecorated thanks to a stray bullet) revealed a single police car trailing close behind the van, its two occupants both wielding pistols and firing at the CIA agents on board.
"We've gotta stop that van! Seijiro, get alongside 'em, I'll take out the tires!"
Seijiro let out a frustrated growl. "We're penned in, it's all I can do to keep going!" he shouted back, pounding madly on the horn. "God damn it, MOVE!"
The van's passenger had apparently overheard and borrowed Dean's idea, for a sweep of gunfire sent a lucky shot straight at the rear tire, ripping the air out of it and dropping the rim onto the harsh concrete below; the sudden shift of balance, spun the car clockwise, spinning out into the other lane and flattening into a line perpendicular to the van, which almost instantly caught up and slammed into the rear passenger door.
"Aahhh!" cried Dean amidst a chorus of confused and pained shouts as the car shook violently, the force of impact firmly planting the car against the van's front fender. Desperate, Dean scrambled to the passenger side and took aim through the now-shattered window, getting a clear look at the driver for the first time.
Sighting down the barrel, he squeezed off a single round at the driver, and felt a small amount of satisfaction when he saw the man's camo-clothed figure rock back sharply, the bullet striking him in his right shoulder and forcing his hand off the wheel. Dean followed up with four more bullets, two of which hit their mark high on the man's chest, mortally wounding him.
The lack of a driver caused the van to decelerate; coupled with its collision, it quickly ground to a halt, and the wounded sedan shuddered as inertia tore it a few feet away from the offending vehicle.
Slightly dazed but unhurt, Dean hastily checked on his companions. "Y-you guys okay?" he shakily called. The driver-side airbag had deployed from the impact, and Seijiro had crumpled against it; he groaned quietly, still conscious but unmoving. Miku's airbag, however, had not opened, and a faint trail of blood oozed from a cut on her forehead; she lay back against her seat, out cold.
(Shit,) he thought, leaning forward into the front seat. With his free hand, he took her wrist and felt for a pulse, and was relieved when he felt her blood pumping through the tiny vein, slowed but clearly active.
Through her window, he noticed an agent climbing out of the passenger side of the van, still carrying his submachine gun; he took a few steps forward and trained the barrel on Miku.
Dean reacted instantly, his left arm curling around Miku and training the pistol straight at their attacker. His eyes zoomed down the barrel, past the sight and straight to the agent's eyes. His index finger curled around the trigger and pulled it quickly, yet smoothly, the small twitch of his finger transformed to a powerful explosion from the gun's barrel.
The bullet struck the agent square between his eyes, snapping his neck back sharply and dropping him to the ground. As the report from the gunshot faded, Dean heard several confused shouts and cries of panic, other motorists and civilians bearing witness as they scurried away from the action.
A second gunshot ripped through the air, and Dean felt something hot and hard stab into his right flank, drilling through his rib cage and exiting on an angle out the back. A blinding flash of pain tore at his nerve endings, and he cried out, dropping the gun as he was thrown back into his seat; through the window, he saw a third agent, who had climbed out from the front and was now training a pistol on him.
Dean wanted to scream, but found he couldn't; the air had been torn from his lungs, forcing him to cough loudly from the intended action. Weakly he clutched his wound; thoughts, wishes filled in the void left by his fading consciousness. (Leave us alone... leave her alone, god damn you...)
More gunshots; the agent lurched and staggered, and crumpled to the ground, drops of blood falling to the ground like a fine mist. Behind him stood a man in a tan blazer, pistol drawn and aimed at his corpse.
Dean was too weak to move, but his eyes held to the very last moment, watching as the police officer raced up to the broken sedan.
"My god... Dean!" he heard a familiar voice shout. The next words out of his mouth were in Japanese, and Dean was no longer in a condition to care what they were, lack of oxygen causing his vision to fade, but not before he could identify the speaker.
"Mas," he managed to whisper; he wanted to reach to him, but could barely twitch his hand before his eyes closed. His mind registered only the force that shoved against him when his tired, wounded body fell to the floor of the back seat, no longer moving.
- End of Chapter 13
A .Hack fanfiction by Renfro Calhoun
Disclaimer: Project .Hack and attached characters/concepts do not belong to me, no matter how much I wish for it. Damn you, shooting star. Damn you to hell!
Notes: Takes place during Outbreak. Parentheses = thoughts, brackets = writing. Getting closer... it's times like this I wish I had it all planned out from the get-go, but what's the fun in that?
Chapter 13 - Vicious Virtue
---------------------------
"Got it, Dean. I'm on my way to intercept right now; just keep moving and stay in one piece."
"Will do. And Mas... thanks, man."
The rumbling of the car soothed him through the seat, his focus shifting to what he felt as his eyes closed. The man's stomach answered with a shivering of its own, attesting to its emptiness. His mask had been discarded, along with the bulletproof vest.
"Heh. Don't thank me yet." A click signaled the death of the line. Dean shut off and folded the phone, and passed it up to Seijiro.
"Ohhh... god, what a day," murmured the detective.
"There's the understatement of the year," Miku's voice remarked to him; up front, she had similarly disrobed, her mask and vest lying in a heap beneath her outstretched legs.
Dean grunted. "First Cyber Connect, now the CIA... the whole goddamn world's against us, I swear to god."
Seijiro made a noise, a halted chuckle. He turned the wheel right and the car responded accordingly, rounding a corner.
"Just out of curiosity, was that you who emailed me?" asked Miku. "Before they came for us last night?"
He confirmed her suspicions with a nonchalant, "Yeah." After a beat, he followed up with, "They monitor my email traffic from my terminal; had to put it in through my PDA and upload it to the 'net. Barely had enough time to mask the address as well."
"Hey, you tried," said Dean with a half-hearted smile that quickly vanished. "What I don't get is this: why would the CIA even let you know they were in town?"
"Like I said, the patent for the core Echelon code is mine," explained Seijiro. "Legally, I can do whatever I want with it, but since it was developed under U.S. government protocols I can't say how it was made, or for what it was originally intended." He paused long enough to sigh. "Until now, there hasn't been a need to."
He glanced back at Dean for a moment. "I'm sure you've heard millions of conspiracy theories regarding the CIA. Even I don't know half the things they were up to, but I can say this. You leave them like you leave the mob, which is to say, you don't. Not really, anyway. Those men wanted to make sure I cooperated because unless you're drawing a paycheck from them, they can't trust you."
"Business as usual," replied Dean. "Well, guess that means all we gotta do is wait this out."
"In theory," said Seijiro. "I'll be safe so long as I'm with Cyber Connect, but this does beg the question of what you're going to do, detective."
"Think this one's out of my hands. Now that we know what's going on, not much left to do but make sure it doesn't happen and fork over the laptop to the police." Dean gave a small grin, adding "And I know a guy who's all over that first one."
"You're referring to the character Kite, aren't you?"
Dean nodded. "That's him. You know him?"
"Indirectly." He swallowed; the car rolled to a stop behind a crowded stoplight, brake lights glaring angrily through the windshield. "One of our security techs has been working with him - Francis Moritsu. You know him as Lios. Not exactly a 'people' person, but he knows his stuff."
The name 'Lios' triggered a black memory in Dean's head. He scowled. "How sweet. And here I thought you guys didn't care."
A faint growling erupted from Seijiro's throat. "Don't mistake silence for inaction, detective. As I said before, we've been working on this as well."
"Does that way include offing your former employees, or trying to kill me?" Dean shot as the car sped up again, a touch of ice to his statement despite its slow and labored delivery.
"Hey, that was not my call," Seijiro answered defensively. "I didn't have anything to do with Delphi, or those two agents. That was Lios's doing, and I sure as hell don't recall him giving the OK to kill you."
"Yeah, yeah," muttered Dean. Mere seconds later, he backpedaled, fatigue of the day's exertions forcing him to drop his barriers. "Look, I'm... christ. I know it wasn't your fault; I mean, if anything, I owe you. We didn't know what we were doing... the mistakes, the bad shit, they go both ways. But... like I said, now I'm here, now I know. Just hope that's enough."
"I know what you mean," the Cyber Connect employee replied. "Nobody wanted any of this, but sometimes things just happen that way."
"I hear that." Dean chuckled ruefully. "Know what really gets me, though?"
"What's that?"
"That damn kid, man, Hiroshi." Dean slid to his left, leaning against the door. "Guy's got a heart of solid gold. He's in this trying to get his friend back, and..." his voice dropped a notch or two in tone, "even had time to help out a guy like me. I mean... I saw his eyes, he wasn't lookin' at me like I was a bad guy, y'know?"
The detective's eyes drifted shut, blocking the car from view; now and then a light streaked by the window, almost visible through his eyelids. "We both had bad things happen to us. He empathized, it was the damnedest thing." His eyes opened, staring out the window. "And I told him, y'know... how I got kicked off the force." He shook his head. "Didn't matter... he and that girl, they could've just walked away, but they still helped us out. Didn't see us as thieves... just people trying to make the best of a bad situation."
A brief pause, his voice now a hushed mutter. "Been a long time since someone saw it that way."
If he was looking for consolation, he found none; Seijiro had fallen silent, concentrating on the road ahead, while a gentle snoring was heard from Miku's seat. He cocked his head and found the woman curled up against the door, her head resting against the window; the laptop earned its name, resting comfortably beneath her folded arms. Her weapons lay in the backseat next to Dean, still saftied and cold.
As he watched, her eyes twitched; the left one cracked open, just a touch. He stared, fascinated, as the brown orb rolled to meet his gaze, and he swore he saw the hint of a smile in the corner of her lips. She made a noise, interrupted by the car's engine but sounding a lot like that familiar throaty chuckle of hers.
(That could start to grow on a person,) he thought with a small smile of his own. (You did good, Miku.)
Light poured through the back window, bright and powerful; Dean sat up and squinted out at the approaching vehicle. "What the hell?"
"Some idiot's got his brights on," said Seijiro. He nudged the turn signal lever and gently guided the car out of the lane, sparing them from the direct focus of the headlights.
Out of the light, Dean got a good look at the vehicle; a white van, unmarked save for the license plate. To his surprise the van accelerated, quickly outpacing the sedan and pulling closer. The driver-side window rolled down, offering an unobstructed glimpse into its blackened interior.
(Geez this guy's in a hurry,) thought Dean. Somewhere inside, the closest analogue to a Spidey Sense that Dean possessed was going haywire. It was then that he caught a glimpse of the driver - or, more accurately, the driver's arm, which was covered by a sleeve of gray camouflage.
The point was driven home when the arm disappeared from view, only to reappear toting a submachine gun.
"Seijiro!" shouted Dean as he drew a pistol from one of his pockets. "Floor it, we got company!"
No sooner than Seijiro had glanced back at the nearby van than a burst of automatic gunfire tore sharply at the sedan, the SMG spitting out a dozen or so bullets, some of which punched through the nearest window and others clanging loudly against the frame of the car.
Miku 'awoke' with a start. "What's going on?!"
"It's them!" shouted Dean, taking aim through the wounded window. "Keep your head down!"
Dean fired at the van, 9mm bullets streaking forth and slamming into the hood and driver-side door, to little obvious effect. The driver returned fire, squeezing off another burst which tore at the trunk; Dean dropped down below the seat back, praying that it would offer the desired protection.
"Do something!" cried Seijiro, madly stomping on the gas pedal. "Stop them!"
The detective popped out of hiding, pistol raised to shoot; he started to aim for the wheel, but the driver guessed his intentions and swerved directly behind the sedan, protecting both wheels. Dean grunted, and fired upon the driver, hidden behind the veil of a tinted windshield. Six pulls emptied the magazine, forcing Dean to discard the weapon and duck back below the seat as the driver fired once more. He heard another weapon erupt, guessing that the passenger had now joined the fray.
He reached for the shotgun, and did a double take as he saw the slender frame of Miku snake around the passenger seat and snatch the submachine gun.
She threw a look at him, her lips pursed into a flat line. "It came to that," she said abruptly.
Dean groaned loudly and took the shotgun, taking aim as Miku rolled down her window and leaned out, leading with the SMG.
The two vehicles exchanged volleys of gunfire, the van chasing the smaller car with all the grace and finesse of Tom and Jerry. They tore through a crowded shopping district, ducking and weaving in and out of traffic, barely able to find room to keep going. Frightened pedestrians and other drivers scrambled madly away from the chase, some racing to the nearest pay or cellular phone, others rushing to the relative safety of nearby businesses and storefronts.
"Damn it, it's empty!" howled Miku against the rushing wind, leaning back in and dropping the SMG.
Faced with a similar problem, Dean exchanged his shotgun for one of the remaining pistols and offered the other to Miku. "Make 'em count!"
Before either could fire, the wail of sirens made itself evident, and a glance at the rearview mirror (which had been redecorated thanks to a stray bullet) revealed a single police car trailing close behind the van, its two occupants both wielding pistols and firing at the CIA agents on board.
"We've gotta stop that van! Seijiro, get alongside 'em, I'll take out the tires!"
Seijiro let out a frustrated growl. "We're penned in, it's all I can do to keep going!" he shouted back, pounding madly on the horn. "God damn it, MOVE!"
The van's passenger had apparently overheard and borrowed Dean's idea, for a sweep of gunfire sent a lucky shot straight at the rear tire, ripping the air out of it and dropping the rim onto the harsh concrete below; the sudden shift of balance, spun the car clockwise, spinning out into the other lane and flattening into a line perpendicular to the van, which almost instantly caught up and slammed into the rear passenger door.
"Aahhh!" cried Dean amidst a chorus of confused and pained shouts as the car shook violently, the force of impact firmly planting the car against the van's front fender. Desperate, Dean scrambled to the passenger side and took aim through the now-shattered window, getting a clear look at the driver for the first time.
Sighting down the barrel, he squeezed off a single round at the driver, and felt a small amount of satisfaction when he saw the man's camo-clothed figure rock back sharply, the bullet striking him in his right shoulder and forcing his hand off the wheel. Dean followed up with four more bullets, two of which hit their mark high on the man's chest, mortally wounding him.
The lack of a driver caused the van to decelerate; coupled with its collision, it quickly ground to a halt, and the wounded sedan shuddered as inertia tore it a few feet away from the offending vehicle.
Slightly dazed but unhurt, Dean hastily checked on his companions. "Y-you guys okay?" he shakily called. The driver-side airbag had deployed from the impact, and Seijiro had crumpled against it; he groaned quietly, still conscious but unmoving. Miku's airbag, however, had not opened, and a faint trail of blood oozed from a cut on her forehead; she lay back against her seat, out cold.
(Shit,) he thought, leaning forward into the front seat. With his free hand, he took her wrist and felt for a pulse, and was relieved when he felt her blood pumping through the tiny vein, slowed but clearly active.
Through her window, he noticed an agent climbing out of the passenger side of the van, still carrying his submachine gun; he took a few steps forward and trained the barrel on Miku.
Dean reacted instantly, his left arm curling around Miku and training the pistol straight at their attacker. His eyes zoomed down the barrel, past the sight and straight to the agent's eyes. His index finger curled around the trigger and pulled it quickly, yet smoothly, the small twitch of his finger transformed to a powerful explosion from the gun's barrel.
The bullet struck the agent square between his eyes, snapping his neck back sharply and dropping him to the ground. As the report from the gunshot faded, Dean heard several confused shouts and cries of panic, other motorists and civilians bearing witness as they scurried away from the action.
A second gunshot ripped through the air, and Dean felt something hot and hard stab into his right flank, drilling through his rib cage and exiting on an angle out the back. A blinding flash of pain tore at his nerve endings, and he cried out, dropping the gun as he was thrown back into his seat; through the window, he saw a third agent, who had climbed out from the front and was now training a pistol on him.
Dean wanted to scream, but found he couldn't; the air had been torn from his lungs, forcing him to cough loudly from the intended action. Weakly he clutched his wound; thoughts, wishes filled in the void left by his fading consciousness. (Leave us alone... leave her alone, god damn you...)
More gunshots; the agent lurched and staggered, and crumpled to the ground, drops of blood falling to the ground like a fine mist. Behind him stood a man in a tan blazer, pistol drawn and aimed at his corpse.
Dean was too weak to move, but his eyes held to the very last moment, watching as the police officer raced up to the broken sedan.
"My god... Dean!" he heard a familiar voice shout. The next words out of his mouth were in Japanese, and Dean was no longer in a condition to care what they were, lack of oxygen causing his vision to fade, but not before he could identify the speaker.
"Mas," he managed to whisper; he wanted to reach to him, but could barely twitch his hand before his eyes closed. His mind registered only the force that shoved against him when his tired, wounded body fell to the floor of the back seat, no longer moving.
- End of Chapter 13