.Hack//Relapse
A .Hack fanfiction by Renfro Calhoun
Disclaimer: Project .Hack and attached concepts/characters do not belong to me.
Notes: Takes place during Outbreak. Parentheses indicate thoughts, brackets = writing. Sorry for taking so long, folks; between back-to-back exams, going through Outbreak again to remember what happens when, and that weird bug on Fanfiction.net that kept me from logging in, I've fallen a bit behind in updating.
Towards that end I went back through the earlier chapters and changed a few details - nothing plot-altering, just stuff like fixing names and tweaking the circumstances in which Kite starts his half of the story, to better match the game. Suffice it to say it's been a busy couple of days, but none of that! Spring break starts now, more than enough time to catch up :)
Anywho, if you read Heist, you know the drill; this half covers Kite's POV of the same events ala Pulp Fiction. Expect a little less action, a little more drama, and - if you're good - some good ol' fashioned angsty fluff. Enjoy!
Chapter 15 - Vicarious Living
-----------------------------
Digital lips parted to release a heavy sigh as Kite slumped against the railing, head hanging low and eyes in an empty gaze at the horizon. Above and around him, the Sigma root town - an aerial fortress consisting of several cannon-equipped battlements, all linked by a series of stone bridges - was visibly coming apart at the seams, with spots of code and data replacing textures here and there; the sky shattered upwards like broken glass, fragments splintering away into nothingness.
The Twin Blade kept his eyes on the pristine horizon, fearful of looking up or down, or even at the very bricks which supported him; only the horizon lay completely untouched by the corrupting force gnawing away at the fabric of The World, and only it offered the respite that he desired.
His shoulders sagged, his body leaning heavily onto his folded arms. In stark contrast to his beleaguered posture, his mind was abuzz with activity, his thoughts a replay of everything that had happened in the past 24 hours - more than enough to saddle the boy with a lifetime of guilt.
(Here I am again,) he thought, his teal eyes falling. (Every time I think we're a little closer, it just gets worse...)
The encounter with the phase Magus had ended in victory, but a hollow victory at best; returning to the root town of the Lambda server, he and BlackRose were horrified to discover that the corruption of that server's fields had spread to the cultural city itself. No longer a sanctuary from the entity that seemed all too willing to destroy 'The World', Carmina Gadelica - and the root towns of every other server - had started to decay.
He sniffed back what felt like a tear gathering in the corner of his eye, as more immediate concerns came to the forefront of his mind.
On top of this, his encounters with the few players who were up at this hour - specifically, his allies Mia, Mistral and BlackRose - had gotten progressively worse. The bizarre cat-woman had staggered about in a punch-drunk haze, babbling nonsense about a celebration before logging out; Mistral had confessed to Kite that she would be out of action for awhile, on account of being pregnant and understandably concerned about the safety of her child.
He closed his eyes, his throat tightening at the implication of her revelation. (I put them both in danger... what would have happened if I had brought her with to fight Magus? That thing was even worse than Skeith...) He gulped loudly, balling his hands into fists, bunching up the white sleeves of his tunic. (What could have happened...)
Perhaps most damaging to the boy's troubled conscience were the words that his closest friend and partner had shot at him mere hours ago, a painful reminder of fears he thought he had left behind, that the two of them had grown past.
The pictures came to him with brutal accuracy: a melancholic moment of reflection, standing alone in the deserted broadway of the cultural city; the Heavy Blade dropped in behind him, casual as ever, yet with a hint of shyness about an email he had yet to receive; a confession of his belief, fleeting though it was, that they were doing more harm than good, causing the rose to bare her thorns.
("Whining over the situation isn't going to help!")
BlackRose had been right, he knew that, but it helped neither of them to say so aloud, instead serving only to deepen his concerns.
(That's why I was afraid of saying the wrong thing,) he thought. (It hurts...)
Following this event, he learned of a location on the newly-opened Sigma server that Orca had visited, and found none other than Balmung deep within that field's dungeon, locked in a pitched battle with a Data Bug. Channeling his malaise into anger, Kite fought with an uncommon ferocity that surprised even him; he barely maintained enough composure to Data Drain the gargantuan beast when its defenses finally fell.
The exertion had taken all the anger and fight out of him, but even at his worst he held no malice for the winged Blademaster who fought by his side, knowing that Balmung's distrust of Kite stemmed from a deep misunderstanding, one which the two warriors quickly set about rectifying. With a respectful crossing of swords, an alliance was forged, and Kite found himself with one more ally to count on in 'The World'.
Nonetheless, the moment Balmung had left, Kite found himself still unwilling to log out; his depression would not be so easily denied, which was not helped by the fact that the boy had little else to do, and even less in the way of leads to follow.
Kite released another sigh, only to draw the air right back in with a gasp when he heard loud, clanking footsteps to his right. Initially shocked, he relaxed when he saw a Heavy Axeman approaching, covered head-to-toe in silver armor, which was decorated with intelligible orange runes along the edges of each plate. One hand gripped the shaft of a large gray axe, which, if stood on end, was taller than the warrior that wielded it.
"Sorry to startle you," called a surprisingly feminine voice from within the walking pile of man-shaped metal. "I was just surprised to see someone else on, what with all this. Delta server's nearly deserted, it's kinda freaky."
"Yeah," began Kite in reply, turning to face the newcomer, whom his HUD now identified as 'Faranis-48'. "I haven't seen too many others on, either."
The Axewoman strode up to him, obviously bent on further questioning. "Do you know what's going on?"
Still feeling responsible for the broken server around him, Kite played dumb, shaking his head firmly. "No, not really... something about hackers, I heard, but nobody's saying much else."
The helmet nodded, somewhat awkwardly considering it was practically flush with the breastplate. "That's what I heard, too," she said, a mild squeak entering her voice. "I think it has to do with Fragment."
Kite blinked. "Fragment? What about it?" he asked, his curiosity aroused.
"Well," said Faranis, shifting her stance, "I haven't exactly followed up on this - it was for a report in my computer class - but there was an article in Wired a few years ago, about Fragment, that claimed they were having problems with the virtual interface, the servers, that kind of thing."
"Like this?" Kite indicated the broken hub around him with a glance.
"Sort of. It didn't go into too much detail about what was causing it, though," she answered. "Actually, hang on, I might still have the paper."
Her body froze, the metal coming to a dead stop, devoid of a natural sway or any other idle movement. Seconds later it began again, and she hefted her axe to rest over her shoulder. "Here it is. The quote's from someone named Seijiro Tanaka, I think he was a programmer or something. He said 'For a while, the problem was just too hard; VR has come a long way in the past decade, but even now it's extremely difficult to code. Back then, fields and servers had to be periodically locked and repaired; some of them appeared to be in various states of decay, textures and objects would be missing, monsters had their stats altered to be invincible, things like that. It was a playtester's nightmare, to say nothing for administration.'"
"That's the end of it," she added after a brief pause.
"I see," said Kite. "So Fragment had these problems too?"
Faranis nodded. "I think so." Tacked to the end of her sentence was a confused emote, a colon followed by a backslash.
"Hmm." Kite's eyes wandered back to the pristine horizon, and slowly drooped shut as he covered his mouth to stifle a yawn. "Well, I can't reach any of my friends, so I think I'm going to log off for the night."
"Me too. See you later!"
Both logged off in tandem, Faranis before Kite. 'The World' disappeared from view as golden rings slid vertically over his body, causing the picture to fade to black. Gradually he became aware of his real self, seated in front of a flatscreen monitor and equipped with the requisite controller and headset, which he set down and pulled off in that order.
Ambient noise rushed into his ears, the familiar humming of the computer fan dwarfed by the churning of the one mounted on the ceiling. He blinked thrice, his pupils dilating from the change in light as they focused on the login screen, now proudly displayed on his monitor.
(Not much to do now,) he thought as he logged out, watching as the screen reset to his desktop. Drained but not tired, he tapped the arrow keys until the audio player was highlighted, and punched 'Enter'. With a single click of the mouse, the player began cycling through his list of songs, the first being a simple acoustic tune, notes uncomplicated and lyrics uninspired, but catchy nonetheless.
Perfect for thinking, and he had no shortage of that to do. He closed his eyes, leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head, fingers sliding between the short, semi-spiky strands of jet black hair.
Time wasted little of itself getting the boy's thoughts to the important issues of the evening. The bubbly, emote-happy Wavemaster's revelation had punched a very large, very painful hole in the tentative truce Hiroshi had forged with the state of 'The World'. The game's interface succeeded in distancing, at least psychologically, him from the danger he was in, but more than a moment's thought reminded him of what they were fighting for, and what it could cost them.
He felt his chest tighten, and he sucked in a deep breath, forcing his lungs to expand against the mental pressure of his conscience. (No... it's not my fault,) he struggled, (they choose to help me. She chose to help me... she knows what I'm up against.)
'She' morphed from a lifeless pronoun to the avatar that had occupied much of his recent thoughts, the Heavy Blade BlackRose. He held no malice, not a trace of even momentary anger, at her for what she had said, admitting silently to himself that her words were not wrong.
Not that this kept them from stinging; her thorns were sharp indeed, and had caught him at precisely the wrong moment.
He sighed. (This isn't helping,) the rational part of his mind objected. (I've got to talk with her; something was obviously wrong, she wouldn't just lash out like that over nothing.) A light clicked on in his head, adding (she still hasn't told me why she's playing, why she's helping me. Maybe that was it.)
(I'm sure she has problems of her own... maybe just like me, with Yasu. I know there have been others...)
Their comraderie hadn't made the situation any less complicated. More than any single player he had met in his tenure as a Twin Blade, and almost more than any offline as well, he had no reservations calling her 'friend', and thought of her as something even closer; as a partner, as someone he knew he could rely on, and as someone he would not hesitate to help if needed. She had proven her loyalty and reliability to him many times over, and he doubted that his faith in her could ever be shaken.
More than that, he found himself *wanting* to spend more time with her, outside of their struggles in the game, and - perhaps one day soon - outside of the game itself. He couldn't help but find endearing the contrast between her in-character personality, and the evidence of her softer, kinder inner self, whom she had shown more than once to Kite (and Hiroshi). Not just because they apparently shared an interest in solving the mystery behind 'The World', and not just because how well they complimented each other in battle, Hiroshi liked both BlackRose and her puppeteer; were a surplus of confidence encoded in the boy's data, he might have dared to believe that she liked him, too.
(I just wish she'd tell me what's wrong,) thought the side of him still clinging to depression.
The song changed, a faster-paced rock song, a cover of another, older song that he cared not to recall at the moment. Sleep was fast claiming the prize of his consciousness, unnecessary but certainly not unwelcome. One by one his senses faded to black, leaving him with his thoughts as he dozed off in his chair.
(BlackRose...) There was a hint of longing in his mental voice. (Please... let me know you.)
- End of Chapter 15
A .Hack fanfiction by Renfro Calhoun
Disclaimer: Project .Hack and attached concepts/characters do not belong to me.
Notes: Takes place during Outbreak. Parentheses indicate thoughts, brackets = writing. Sorry for taking so long, folks; between back-to-back exams, going through Outbreak again to remember what happens when, and that weird bug on Fanfiction.net that kept me from logging in, I've fallen a bit behind in updating.
Towards that end I went back through the earlier chapters and changed a few details - nothing plot-altering, just stuff like fixing names and tweaking the circumstances in which Kite starts his half of the story, to better match the game. Suffice it to say it's been a busy couple of days, but none of that! Spring break starts now, more than enough time to catch up :)
Anywho, if you read Heist, you know the drill; this half covers Kite's POV of the same events ala Pulp Fiction. Expect a little less action, a little more drama, and - if you're good - some good ol' fashioned angsty fluff. Enjoy!
Chapter 15 - Vicarious Living
-----------------------------
Digital lips parted to release a heavy sigh as Kite slumped against the railing, head hanging low and eyes in an empty gaze at the horizon. Above and around him, the Sigma root town - an aerial fortress consisting of several cannon-equipped battlements, all linked by a series of stone bridges - was visibly coming apart at the seams, with spots of code and data replacing textures here and there; the sky shattered upwards like broken glass, fragments splintering away into nothingness.
The Twin Blade kept his eyes on the pristine horizon, fearful of looking up or down, or even at the very bricks which supported him; only the horizon lay completely untouched by the corrupting force gnawing away at the fabric of The World, and only it offered the respite that he desired.
His shoulders sagged, his body leaning heavily onto his folded arms. In stark contrast to his beleaguered posture, his mind was abuzz with activity, his thoughts a replay of everything that had happened in the past 24 hours - more than enough to saddle the boy with a lifetime of guilt.
(Here I am again,) he thought, his teal eyes falling. (Every time I think we're a little closer, it just gets worse...)
The encounter with the phase Magus had ended in victory, but a hollow victory at best; returning to the root town of the Lambda server, he and BlackRose were horrified to discover that the corruption of that server's fields had spread to the cultural city itself. No longer a sanctuary from the entity that seemed all too willing to destroy 'The World', Carmina Gadelica - and the root towns of every other server - had started to decay.
He sniffed back what felt like a tear gathering in the corner of his eye, as more immediate concerns came to the forefront of his mind.
On top of this, his encounters with the few players who were up at this hour - specifically, his allies Mia, Mistral and BlackRose - had gotten progressively worse. The bizarre cat-woman had staggered about in a punch-drunk haze, babbling nonsense about a celebration before logging out; Mistral had confessed to Kite that she would be out of action for awhile, on account of being pregnant and understandably concerned about the safety of her child.
He closed his eyes, his throat tightening at the implication of her revelation. (I put them both in danger... what would have happened if I had brought her with to fight Magus? That thing was even worse than Skeith...) He gulped loudly, balling his hands into fists, bunching up the white sleeves of his tunic. (What could have happened...)
Perhaps most damaging to the boy's troubled conscience were the words that his closest friend and partner had shot at him mere hours ago, a painful reminder of fears he thought he had left behind, that the two of them had grown past.
The pictures came to him with brutal accuracy: a melancholic moment of reflection, standing alone in the deserted broadway of the cultural city; the Heavy Blade dropped in behind him, casual as ever, yet with a hint of shyness about an email he had yet to receive; a confession of his belief, fleeting though it was, that they were doing more harm than good, causing the rose to bare her thorns.
("Whining over the situation isn't going to help!")
BlackRose had been right, he knew that, but it helped neither of them to say so aloud, instead serving only to deepen his concerns.
(That's why I was afraid of saying the wrong thing,) he thought. (It hurts...)
Following this event, he learned of a location on the newly-opened Sigma server that Orca had visited, and found none other than Balmung deep within that field's dungeon, locked in a pitched battle with a Data Bug. Channeling his malaise into anger, Kite fought with an uncommon ferocity that surprised even him; he barely maintained enough composure to Data Drain the gargantuan beast when its defenses finally fell.
The exertion had taken all the anger and fight out of him, but even at his worst he held no malice for the winged Blademaster who fought by his side, knowing that Balmung's distrust of Kite stemmed from a deep misunderstanding, one which the two warriors quickly set about rectifying. With a respectful crossing of swords, an alliance was forged, and Kite found himself with one more ally to count on in 'The World'.
Nonetheless, the moment Balmung had left, Kite found himself still unwilling to log out; his depression would not be so easily denied, which was not helped by the fact that the boy had little else to do, and even less in the way of leads to follow.
Kite released another sigh, only to draw the air right back in with a gasp when he heard loud, clanking footsteps to his right. Initially shocked, he relaxed when he saw a Heavy Axeman approaching, covered head-to-toe in silver armor, which was decorated with intelligible orange runes along the edges of each plate. One hand gripped the shaft of a large gray axe, which, if stood on end, was taller than the warrior that wielded it.
"Sorry to startle you," called a surprisingly feminine voice from within the walking pile of man-shaped metal. "I was just surprised to see someone else on, what with all this. Delta server's nearly deserted, it's kinda freaky."
"Yeah," began Kite in reply, turning to face the newcomer, whom his HUD now identified as 'Faranis-48'. "I haven't seen too many others on, either."
The Axewoman strode up to him, obviously bent on further questioning. "Do you know what's going on?"
Still feeling responsible for the broken server around him, Kite played dumb, shaking his head firmly. "No, not really... something about hackers, I heard, but nobody's saying much else."
The helmet nodded, somewhat awkwardly considering it was practically flush with the breastplate. "That's what I heard, too," she said, a mild squeak entering her voice. "I think it has to do with Fragment."
Kite blinked. "Fragment? What about it?" he asked, his curiosity aroused.
"Well," said Faranis, shifting her stance, "I haven't exactly followed up on this - it was for a report in my computer class - but there was an article in Wired a few years ago, about Fragment, that claimed they were having problems with the virtual interface, the servers, that kind of thing."
"Like this?" Kite indicated the broken hub around him with a glance.
"Sort of. It didn't go into too much detail about what was causing it, though," she answered. "Actually, hang on, I might still have the paper."
Her body froze, the metal coming to a dead stop, devoid of a natural sway or any other idle movement. Seconds later it began again, and she hefted her axe to rest over her shoulder. "Here it is. The quote's from someone named Seijiro Tanaka, I think he was a programmer or something. He said 'For a while, the problem was just too hard; VR has come a long way in the past decade, but even now it's extremely difficult to code. Back then, fields and servers had to be periodically locked and repaired; some of them appeared to be in various states of decay, textures and objects would be missing, monsters had their stats altered to be invincible, things like that. It was a playtester's nightmare, to say nothing for administration.'"
"That's the end of it," she added after a brief pause.
"I see," said Kite. "So Fragment had these problems too?"
Faranis nodded. "I think so." Tacked to the end of her sentence was a confused emote, a colon followed by a backslash.
"Hmm." Kite's eyes wandered back to the pristine horizon, and slowly drooped shut as he covered his mouth to stifle a yawn. "Well, I can't reach any of my friends, so I think I'm going to log off for the night."
"Me too. See you later!"
Both logged off in tandem, Faranis before Kite. 'The World' disappeared from view as golden rings slid vertically over his body, causing the picture to fade to black. Gradually he became aware of his real self, seated in front of a flatscreen monitor and equipped with the requisite controller and headset, which he set down and pulled off in that order.
Ambient noise rushed into his ears, the familiar humming of the computer fan dwarfed by the churning of the one mounted on the ceiling. He blinked thrice, his pupils dilating from the change in light as they focused on the login screen, now proudly displayed on his monitor.
(Not much to do now,) he thought as he logged out, watching as the screen reset to his desktop. Drained but not tired, he tapped the arrow keys until the audio player was highlighted, and punched 'Enter'. With a single click of the mouse, the player began cycling through his list of songs, the first being a simple acoustic tune, notes uncomplicated and lyrics uninspired, but catchy nonetheless.
Perfect for thinking, and he had no shortage of that to do. He closed his eyes, leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head, fingers sliding between the short, semi-spiky strands of jet black hair.
Time wasted little of itself getting the boy's thoughts to the important issues of the evening. The bubbly, emote-happy Wavemaster's revelation had punched a very large, very painful hole in the tentative truce Hiroshi had forged with the state of 'The World'. The game's interface succeeded in distancing, at least psychologically, him from the danger he was in, but more than a moment's thought reminded him of what they were fighting for, and what it could cost them.
He felt his chest tighten, and he sucked in a deep breath, forcing his lungs to expand against the mental pressure of his conscience. (No... it's not my fault,) he struggled, (they choose to help me. She chose to help me... she knows what I'm up against.)
'She' morphed from a lifeless pronoun to the avatar that had occupied much of his recent thoughts, the Heavy Blade BlackRose. He held no malice, not a trace of even momentary anger, at her for what she had said, admitting silently to himself that her words were not wrong.
Not that this kept them from stinging; her thorns were sharp indeed, and had caught him at precisely the wrong moment.
He sighed. (This isn't helping,) the rational part of his mind objected. (I've got to talk with her; something was obviously wrong, she wouldn't just lash out like that over nothing.) A light clicked on in his head, adding (she still hasn't told me why she's playing, why she's helping me. Maybe that was it.)
(I'm sure she has problems of her own... maybe just like me, with Yasu. I know there have been others...)
Their comraderie hadn't made the situation any less complicated. More than any single player he had met in his tenure as a Twin Blade, and almost more than any offline as well, he had no reservations calling her 'friend', and thought of her as something even closer; as a partner, as someone he knew he could rely on, and as someone he would not hesitate to help if needed. She had proven her loyalty and reliability to him many times over, and he doubted that his faith in her could ever be shaken.
More than that, he found himself *wanting* to spend more time with her, outside of their struggles in the game, and - perhaps one day soon - outside of the game itself. He couldn't help but find endearing the contrast between her in-character personality, and the evidence of her softer, kinder inner self, whom she had shown more than once to Kite (and Hiroshi). Not just because they apparently shared an interest in solving the mystery behind 'The World', and not just because how well they complimented each other in battle, Hiroshi liked both BlackRose and her puppeteer; were a surplus of confidence encoded in the boy's data, he might have dared to believe that she liked him, too.
(I just wish she'd tell me what's wrong,) thought the side of him still clinging to depression.
The song changed, a faster-paced rock song, a cover of another, older song that he cared not to recall at the moment. Sleep was fast claiming the prize of his consciousness, unnecessary but certainly not unwelcome. One by one his senses faded to black, leaving him with his thoughts as he dozed off in his chair.
(BlackRose...) There was a hint of longing in his mental voice. (Please... let me know you.)
- End of Chapter 15