.Hack//Relapse
A .Hack fanfiction by Renfro Calhoun
Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I claim ownership of, any aspect of Project .Hack.
Notes: Takes place during Outbreak. Parentheses are thoughts, brackets are writing. After careful review, it does indeed seem like Gray has a point; I'd forgotten that the name gets dropped earlier than Outbreak. With that in mind, it would seem some rewriting is in order. More on this later, when I figure out exactly how much gets altered; knowing my luck, a lot.
Lesson of the day, folks; it pays to pay attention. Anyway, for the time being I've decided to blindly press forward because... well, why not? Usual warnings apply, namely that vagueness in the game's timeframe and specific date force me to make things up as I go along.
With that in mind, enjoy. And do pardon the angst; believe me when I say I'm going somewhere with this :)
Chapter 21 - Pretense
---------------------
"What the hell?" whispered Kite, eyes fixed on the empty shell. "Did someone..."
BlackRose knelt down, and hesitantly touched a finger to it. The shell refused to budge, stubbornly resisting any effort to move, as if it were rooted to the ground. She immediately withdrew her hand, standing up with a worried look on her face.
"The chair," said Balmung, "the wastebasket, and... that... it's like someone was..." Even he was reluctant to finish the thought.
One of their new companions - the Long Arm - showed less reluctance. "Killed."
"What did that voice say earlier?" asked BlackRose. "Something like... 'I still have a choice'? It sounds so familiar..." She turned to Kite. "Didn't it sound like the one we kept hearing? The one we found with those fragments?"
"Yeah... now that you mention it, it did sound like him."
"Hey, check it out," called the female Blademaster, who had since moved over to the desk. "There's a note here."
Balmung threw a puzzled glance in her direction. "What? I didn't see a note before... what does it say?"
She cleared her throat, and turned around to address the two parties. "They are coming for me. By the time you get this, I will be..." she trailed off, fidgeting uncomfortably. "...dead, but not by their hands. I know now what happened to her, what you did to her. I can try, but I do not know if I can stop her. They want her because they know what she can do... because they made her what she is. Through you."
The Blademaster stopped to swallow, armor rustling as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other. "Guilt... is meaningless. Responsibility is all that matters now. I ask only this of you: do not let them take her." She looked up. "There's a date on it, it's... about six months ago."
Kite's eyes widened. "Six months ago? Can I see it?"
She nodded, and handed over the sheet of paper to the Twin Blade, who promptly gave it a thorough once-over. "Six months ago... that's about when I started playing."
"And also when... Orca..." Balmung started, trailing off quickly, his eyes downcast.
"You said the voice was familiar," said the Long Arm. "Do you know what this is all about?"
"Not exactly." Kite shook his head. "There's some kind of... thing in 'The World' that's behind all the problems lately, something called Morganna, I think that's who... well, whoever wrote this was talking about. And the 'she' that the voice was talking about," he looked away for a moment, "I think it's referring to Aura, that girl in white that's been reported on the boards."
"Weird," said the Blademaster, idly chewing her lip. "Well, I guess there's not much else here. We should get going."
"Just as well." The Long Arm rapped his spear against his shoulder impatiently. "I gotta get going anyway, it's almost time for dinner." He threw a glance at Heavy, who hadn't moved since spotting the bullet. "C'mon, let's get going."
No response. Though the bespectacled Wave Master was moving - simulated breathing, idle shifting of stance programmed into the character - she made no indication that she had heard her leader's instruction.
"Heavy? You okay?"
Without warning, she blinked out of sight, vanishing with no fanfare or hesitation. A second later, the Blademaster's head twitched, eyes shifting back and forth as if reading unseen text.
"What is it?" asked Kite, raising an eyebrow.
She smirked. "Disconnected."
Shaking his head, the Long Arm moved next to his remaining party member, and, with the aid of a Sprite Ocarina, the two of them teleported out of the dungeon.
Stepping into the center of the room, BlackRose spoke up. "So... what now?"
"I don't know." Kite tilted the paper back and forth, watching it twist and bend against his hand. "It's like every time we find something like this, all we find is half a clue." He looked up at BlackRose, who was obviously grinding teeth behind her pursed lips. "I guess we should go, too..."
"Yeah," she mumbled half-heartedly, keeping her gaze level but not looking directly at Kite.
He caught a glimpse of her eyes as she turned away, and felt a minor pang of guilt at the disappointment written on them. (It can't be easy for her,) he thought. (At least I was there when it happened to Yasu... I knew something was wrong. I can only imagine what she went through...)
"Let's get out of here," Balmung said in a sotto voice, stealing a brief glance at the empty shell on the floor. "This place gives me the creeps."
"Me too," agreed Kite. Pocketing the note, he stepped away from the center of the 'room', towards the outer edges and what he could only assume were walls. After ten or so feet, the white void was replaced by a black one, furnitures and features vanishing instantly; just as suddenly, he found himself back in the field's dungeon, in the long hallway before the gate leading to the white room, which was now closed. Seconds later, his companions joined him, appearing out of thin air.
"Got an ocarina?" asked BlackRose.
Kite nodded, taking only a moment to rifle through his inventory and retrieve the instrument. Before he could activate it, he took one last look at the closed gate, and nearly jumped.
Standing just beyond the gate, silhouetted quite clearly against the blackness, an older, white-haired man stared back at him; garbed in gray pants and a button-down shirt, a revolver in his hand and pointed at the right side of his head, about an inch above and before his ear.
Before he could cry out, move, or even think, the figure was gone, blinking out of existence in the time it took the Twin Blade to catch sight of him.
-
"...no information available as to the identity of the suspects. We have two men in custody, and two more have been hospitalized."
He pried off the headset, feeling the straps and plastic sweep over his short, straight hair; the chatter of TV news filled his ears, common background noise he had become accustomed to, and even found disturbingly relevant given the reported rise of cyberterrorism. Somewhere deep inside, he knew it had to do with 'The World', and more specifically with what he was fighting.
Setting aside the controller and goggles, Hiroshi spun around in his chair and eyed the glowing TV set curiously, watching as a picture of an older man in a tan blazer was replaced with the more familiar anchorwoman, navy blue jacket and youthful face.
"Lieutenant Masamoto declined any further comment, but later confirmed that the two break-ins were committed by the same group. The houses were empty at the time, but apparently both Sakuma and Kurasawa returned to their homes during the crime, catching the thefts in progress."
Hiroshi stood up from his chair and shambled over to the bed, sprawling out on it and arching his back as he stretched, releasing a satisfied groan as his distended muscles went to work for the first time in several hours.
"There are unconfirmed reports of a third individual who intervened in both cases, though the nature of his or her involvement remains a mystery."
(That old man... is he really the creator of 'The World'? Why did he appear like that?)
He recalled an earlier fragment of the Epitaph, that same man's voice speaking of the limits of a physical body, needing to speak to Morganna; coupled with the empty shell, the overturned chair, and the figure with the gun, Hiroshi couldn't help but jump to the nearest conclusion.
(He killed himself... so is he in 'The World' then? Like... like a ghost or something? No, that can't be... but what the hell is he, then? I better let Lios know what we found... it's not much, but maybe he'll know what it means.)
His body betrayed him, the thought of jumping back into 'The World', and more specifically the chair, not altogether very appealing. The mattress massaged his muscles and bones, coaxing him to rest. Slowly his eyes closed, seeing the spinning fan blades on the ceiling above just before the darkness closed in around him, soothing and serene. He folded his hands beneath his head, sighed, and gave in.
-
Above the rolling of thunder and the crunching of grass beneath his boots, he heard his heart pounding.
Above that, the clash of steel on steel. He doubled his pace, praying in his head and aloud.
"Is that the best you can do?!" a girl's voice hollered, obviously nearby yet out of sight. He looked around the grassy plain, spotting no one and nothing; no boulders, hills or structures to block his view.
Blades clashed again, yet he still saw nothing. The grass waved in the wind, clouds rolling in overhead, bringing with them another booming thunderclap that briefly overshadowed the sounds of battle. He heard feet scramble against the earth, strained grunts and gasps in between whooshes of air that might have been weapons being swung.
"Ow!" cried the girl, and Kite noticed portions of grass flatten in two long trails, as if someone had been dragged across the ground. "Damn it all," she muttered.
He recognized the speaker, and cried out in surprise. "BlackRose!"
Though he saw no movement, Kite guessed that the Heavy Blade was facing him. "Stay out of this, Kite!" she growled. "I can handle him myself!"
"But..."
"Just back off! I don't need your help!"
Shocked, Kite took a step back, mouth agape and eyes wide. He didn't notice when his twin daggers slipped from his hands and fell to the ground, nor did he notice the foot-shaped impressions in the grass as the invisible BlackRose charged towards her equally invisible opponent.
He did, however, hear the distinct sound of something sharp and thick carving into human flesh, followed by a loud sucking noise as the weapon was pulled from the wound it had caused.
A flash of lightning split the sky, and in that instant BlackRose became visible; she lay on the ground, blade at her side and hands desperately clutching her belly.
With a cry of alarm, Kite raced for his fallen comrade, and dropped to his knees next to her, assessing the wound. He instinctively called for for a healing spell - any and every variant of Repth - but none came. His inventory was equally inaccessible, empty bottles and useless scrolls replacing the multitude of potions he knew he should have had.
"K...Kite," said BlackRose in a weak voice, calling his attention to her wounded form. Her pinkish hair lay in a sad state of disarray; drops of sweat covered much of her skin, some mingling with the blood that was gurgling from her gut wound; her hands were covered in the red liquid, purple gauntlets stained to a deep crimson; several large gashes and smaller cuts ran the length of her legs, the vine-patterned tights thoroughly torn and soaked with blood.
"B-BlackRose...!" Kite stared, dumbfounded, into the Heavy Blade's tear-filled eyes, at a loss for words.
The female warrior spoke in his stead, pausing only to release a loose, hacking cough. "Why... wh-why didn't you... didn't you help me?"
Kite gulped hard, feeling his chin quiver. "But... you said you could..."
"I lied," she wheezed, wincing as she squeezed the wound tighter. "...you were supposed to help me... you were my partner."
"I-I-I trusted you... I believed you," he urged, desperately. "I thought you could do it, I... I couldn't see you."
Shakily, she lifted a hand from her abdomen, and touched it to Kite's face, trailing some of the blood across his tattooed cheek. "You... didn't know?" Her voice dropped slightly in pitch, and her eyelids lowered a little.
"I..." He sniffed, taking her hand in his and caressing it softly. "I didn't see..."
Her hand slipped out of his, falling back to its prior resting place. "I need your help, Kite," she whispered. "Can you help me?"
"My magic, it's... and I'm... I just..." he struggled in vain for an explanation.
"Can you help me?" she repeated, her voice softer than the wind. Her eyes shut, and her breathing slowed; the hands fell from their position to her sides, allowing the wound to bleed freely.
"BlackRose, no... no, please, don't! Come back!" He begged, reaching down and clasping her shoulders, shaking her desperately. "Come back to me! Please!!"
"Hiro... can you help me?"
"BlackRose..."
"Hiroshi!"
A single blink replaced the field with a bedroom. A humming fan, a chatting TV anchorwoman, a whirring computer, and an easily recognizable voice.
"I'm back from the store, Hiro!" called his mother from downstairs. "Can you help me put away groceries?"
Sitting up, Hiro felt the sweat on his skin, felt the pounding of his heart; the vivid details of his dream were gone in that instant, but the dream itself lingered. Instinctively, he reached up and touched his cheek, recoiling in horror when his fingers touched a liquid; it took him a split second to realize it wasn't blood, and a real second to determine what it was.
With a fitful sigh, Hiroshi stood up, wiped the tears away with his shirt sleeve, and headed for the door.
- End of Chapter 21
A .Hack fanfiction by Renfro Calhoun
Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I claim ownership of, any aspect of Project .Hack.
Notes: Takes place during Outbreak. Parentheses are thoughts, brackets are writing. After careful review, it does indeed seem like Gray has a point; I'd forgotten that the name gets dropped earlier than Outbreak. With that in mind, it would seem some rewriting is in order. More on this later, when I figure out exactly how much gets altered; knowing my luck, a lot.
Lesson of the day, folks; it pays to pay attention. Anyway, for the time being I've decided to blindly press forward because... well, why not? Usual warnings apply, namely that vagueness in the game's timeframe and specific date force me to make things up as I go along.
With that in mind, enjoy. And do pardon the angst; believe me when I say I'm going somewhere with this :)
Chapter 21 - Pretense
---------------------
"What the hell?" whispered Kite, eyes fixed on the empty shell. "Did someone..."
BlackRose knelt down, and hesitantly touched a finger to it. The shell refused to budge, stubbornly resisting any effort to move, as if it were rooted to the ground. She immediately withdrew her hand, standing up with a worried look on her face.
"The chair," said Balmung, "the wastebasket, and... that... it's like someone was..." Even he was reluctant to finish the thought.
One of their new companions - the Long Arm - showed less reluctance. "Killed."
"What did that voice say earlier?" asked BlackRose. "Something like... 'I still have a choice'? It sounds so familiar..." She turned to Kite. "Didn't it sound like the one we kept hearing? The one we found with those fragments?"
"Yeah... now that you mention it, it did sound like him."
"Hey, check it out," called the female Blademaster, who had since moved over to the desk. "There's a note here."
Balmung threw a puzzled glance in her direction. "What? I didn't see a note before... what does it say?"
She cleared her throat, and turned around to address the two parties. "They are coming for me. By the time you get this, I will be..." she trailed off, fidgeting uncomfortably. "...dead, but not by their hands. I know now what happened to her, what you did to her. I can try, but I do not know if I can stop her. They want her because they know what she can do... because they made her what she is. Through you."
The Blademaster stopped to swallow, armor rustling as she shifted her weight from one leg to the other. "Guilt... is meaningless. Responsibility is all that matters now. I ask only this of you: do not let them take her." She looked up. "There's a date on it, it's... about six months ago."
Kite's eyes widened. "Six months ago? Can I see it?"
She nodded, and handed over the sheet of paper to the Twin Blade, who promptly gave it a thorough once-over. "Six months ago... that's about when I started playing."
"And also when... Orca..." Balmung started, trailing off quickly, his eyes downcast.
"You said the voice was familiar," said the Long Arm. "Do you know what this is all about?"
"Not exactly." Kite shook his head. "There's some kind of... thing in 'The World' that's behind all the problems lately, something called Morganna, I think that's who... well, whoever wrote this was talking about. And the 'she' that the voice was talking about," he looked away for a moment, "I think it's referring to Aura, that girl in white that's been reported on the boards."
"Weird," said the Blademaster, idly chewing her lip. "Well, I guess there's not much else here. We should get going."
"Just as well." The Long Arm rapped his spear against his shoulder impatiently. "I gotta get going anyway, it's almost time for dinner." He threw a glance at Heavy, who hadn't moved since spotting the bullet. "C'mon, let's get going."
No response. Though the bespectacled Wave Master was moving - simulated breathing, idle shifting of stance programmed into the character - she made no indication that she had heard her leader's instruction.
"Heavy? You okay?"
Without warning, she blinked out of sight, vanishing with no fanfare or hesitation. A second later, the Blademaster's head twitched, eyes shifting back and forth as if reading unseen text.
"What is it?" asked Kite, raising an eyebrow.
She smirked. "Disconnected."
Shaking his head, the Long Arm moved next to his remaining party member, and, with the aid of a Sprite Ocarina, the two of them teleported out of the dungeon.
Stepping into the center of the room, BlackRose spoke up. "So... what now?"
"I don't know." Kite tilted the paper back and forth, watching it twist and bend against his hand. "It's like every time we find something like this, all we find is half a clue." He looked up at BlackRose, who was obviously grinding teeth behind her pursed lips. "I guess we should go, too..."
"Yeah," she mumbled half-heartedly, keeping her gaze level but not looking directly at Kite.
He caught a glimpse of her eyes as she turned away, and felt a minor pang of guilt at the disappointment written on them. (It can't be easy for her,) he thought. (At least I was there when it happened to Yasu... I knew something was wrong. I can only imagine what she went through...)
"Let's get out of here," Balmung said in a sotto voice, stealing a brief glance at the empty shell on the floor. "This place gives me the creeps."
"Me too," agreed Kite. Pocketing the note, he stepped away from the center of the 'room', towards the outer edges and what he could only assume were walls. After ten or so feet, the white void was replaced by a black one, furnitures and features vanishing instantly; just as suddenly, he found himself back in the field's dungeon, in the long hallway before the gate leading to the white room, which was now closed. Seconds later, his companions joined him, appearing out of thin air.
"Got an ocarina?" asked BlackRose.
Kite nodded, taking only a moment to rifle through his inventory and retrieve the instrument. Before he could activate it, he took one last look at the closed gate, and nearly jumped.
Standing just beyond the gate, silhouetted quite clearly against the blackness, an older, white-haired man stared back at him; garbed in gray pants and a button-down shirt, a revolver in his hand and pointed at the right side of his head, about an inch above and before his ear.
Before he could cry out, move, or even think, the figure was gone, blinking out of existence in the time it took the Twin Blade to catch sight of him.
-
"...no information available as to the identity of the suspects. We have two men in custody, and two more have been hospitalized."
He pried off the headset, feeling the straps and plastic sweep over his short, straight hair; the chatter of TV news filled his ears, common background noise he had become accustomed to, and even found disturbingly relevant given the reported rise of cyberterrorism. Somewhere deep inside, he knew it had to do with 'The World', and more specifically with what he was fighting.
Setting aside the controller and goggles, Hiroshi spun around in his chair and eyed the glowing TV set curiously, watching as a picture of an older man in a tan blazer was replaced with the more familiar anchorwoman, navy blue jacket and youthful face.
"Lieutenant Masamoto declined any further comment, but later confirmed that the two break-ins were committed by the same group. The houses were empty at the time, but apparently both Sakuma and Kurasawa returned to their homes during the crime, catching the thefts in progress."
Hiroshi stood up from his chair and shambled over to the bed, sprawling out on it and arching his back as he stretched, releasing a satisfied groan as his distended muscles went to work for the first time in several hours.
"There are unconfirmed reports of a third individual who intervened in both cases, though the nature of his or her involvement remains a mystery."
(That old man... is he really the creator of 'The World'? Why did he appear like that?)
He recalled an earlier fragment of the Epitaph, that same man's voice speaking of the limits of a physical body, needing to speak to Morganna; coupled with the empty shell, the overturned chair, and the figure with the gun, Hiroshi couldn't help but jump to the nearest conclusion.
(He killed himself... so is he in 'The World' then? Like... like a ghost or something? No, that can't be... but what the hell is he, then? I better let Lios know what we found... it's not much, but maybe he'll know what it means.)
His body betrayed him, the thought of jumping back into 'The World', and more specifically the chair, not altogether very appealing. The mattress massaged his muscles and bones, coaxing him to rest. Slowly his eyes closed, seeing the spinning fan blades on the ceiling above just before the darkness closed in around him, soothing and serene. He folded his hands beneath his head, sighed, and gave in.
-
Above the rolling of thunder and the crunching of grass beneath his boots, he heard his heart pounding.
Above that, the clash of steel on steel. He doubled his pace, praying in his head and aloud.
"Is that the best you can do?!" a girl's voice hollered, obviously nearby yet out of sight. He looked around the grassy plain, spotting no one and nothing; no boulders, hills or structures to block his view.
Blades clashed again, yet he still saw nothing. The grass waved in the wind, clouds rolling in overhead, bringing with them another booming thunderclap that briefly overshadowed the sounds of battle. He heard feet scramble against the earth, strained grunts and gasps in between whooshes of air that might have been weapons being swung.
"Ow!" cried the girl, and Kite noticed portions of grass flatten in two long trails, as if someone had been dragged across the ground. "Damn it all," she muttered.
He recognized the speaker, and cried out in surprise. "BlackRose!"
Though he saw no movement, Kite guessed that the Heavy Blade was facing him. "Stay out of this, Kite!" she growled. "I can handle him myself!"
"But..."
"Just back off! I don't need your help!"
Shocked, Kite took a step back, mouth agape and eyes wide. He didn't notice when his twin daggers slipped from his hands and fell to the ground, nor did he notice the foot-shaped impressions in the grass as the invisible BlackRose charged towards her equally invisible opponent.
He did, however, hear the distinct sound of something sharp and thick carving into human flesh, followed by a loud sucking noise as the weapon was pulled from the wound it had caused.
A flash of lightning split the sky, and in that instant BlackRose became visible; she lay on the ground, blade at her side and hands desperately clutching her belly.
With a cry of alarm, Kite raced for his fallen comrade, and dropped to his knees next to her, assessing the wound. He instinctively called for for a healing spell - any and every variant of Repth - but none came. His inventory was equally inaccessible, empty bottles and useless scrolls replacing the multitude of potions he knew he should have had.
"K...Kite," said BlackRose in a weak voice, calling his attention to her wounded form. Her pinkish hair lay in a sad state of disarray; drops of sweat covered much of her skin, some mingling with the blood that was gurgling from her gut wound; her hands were covered in the red liquid, purple gauntlets stained to a deep crimson; several large gashes and smaller cuts ran the length of her legs, the vine-patterned tights thoroughly torn and soaked with blood.
"B-BlackRose...!" Kite stared, dumbfounded, into the Heavy Blade's tear-filled eyes, at a loss for words.
The female warrior spoke in his stead, pausing only to release a loose, hacking cough. "Why... wh-why didn't you... didn't you help me?"
Kite gulped hard, feeling his chin quiver. "But... you said you could..."
"I lied," she wheezed, wincing as she squeezed the wound tighter. "...you were supposed to help me... you were my partner."
"I-I-I trusted you... I believed you," he urged, desperately. "I thought you could do it, I... I couldn't see you."
Shakily, she lifted a hand from her abdomen, and touched it to Kite's face, trailing some of the blood across his tattooed cheek. "You... didn't know?" Her voice dropped slightly in pitch, and her eyelids lowered a little.
"I..." He sniffed, taking her hand in his and caressing it softly. "I didn't see..."
Her hand slipped out of his, falling back to its prior resting place. "I need your help, Kite," she whispered. "Can you help me?"
"My magic, it's... and I'm... I just..." he struggled in vain for an explanation.
"Can you help me?" she repeated, her voice softer than the wind. Her eyes shut, and her breathing slowed; the hands fell from their position to her sides, allowing the wound to bleed freely.
"BlackRose, no... no, please, don't! Come back!" He begged, reaching down and clasping her shoulders, shaking her desperately. "Come back to me! Please!!"
"Hiro... can you help me?"
"BlackRose..."
"Hiroshi!"
A single blink replaced the field with a bedroom. A humming fan, a chatting TV anchorwoman, a whirring computer, and an easily recognizable voice.
"I'm back from the store, Hiro!" called his mother from downstairs. "Can you help me put away groceries?"
Sitting up, Hiro felt the sweat on his skin, felt the pounding of his heart; the vivid details of his dream were gone in that instant, but the dream itself lingered. Instinctively, he reached up and touched his cheek, recoiling in horror when his fingers touched a liquid; it took him a split second to realize it wasn't blood, and a real second to determine what it was.
With a fitful sigh, Hiroshi stood up, wiped the tears away with his shirt sleeve, and headed for the door.
- End of Chapter 21