.Hack//Relapse
A .Hack fanfiction by Renfro Calhoun
Disclaimer: I claim ownership of nothing related to Project .Hack.
Notes: Takes place during Outbreak. Thoughts are in parentheses, text is in brackets. About half-done with revisions, but I'll probably have the next chapter up before I change the first half. Very little in terms of plot has changed; there is some dialogue tweaking, and one event in later chapters had to be altered to better fit what this half is shaping up to be (more on that later), but suffice it to say (god, I love that phrase!) I'll try to keep re-reading to a minimum :)
That being the case, here is the chapter that follows the one that preceded it, the aptly-named "Chapter 23"; expect startling revelations, which shouldn't be too startling if you've been paying attention or... aren't easily startled, I guess. Yeah... I'm just gonna go now. *skitters off*
Chapter 23 - Playback
---------------------
"What did you tell them?"
The voice on the other end was quiet, but clear. "Nothing they didn't already know."
Francis scrolled through the list of email on the screen with one hand, the other clutching the phone receiver. "I think we're beyond subtleties at this point, Tanaka."
Seijiro paused. The aging security officer heard him swallow before replying. "They knew about Morganna."
He bolted upright, his hand falling off the mouse. "What? How?!"
"I don't know! Somebody found out from inside the game... something Harold left behind, maybe, I'm not sure. They've connected it to several disturbances on and offline; no hard evidence, but it's probably only a matter of time."
"You've got to be kidding me," muttered Francis. "So, what did you tell them?"
"I told them how Morganna was intended to run 'The World', how Harold designed it and I modified it when we bought out Fragment and modified it." He sighed. "I told them how it seemed to be following the Epitaph."
"Shit." Blue eyes stared back at him from a darkened corner of the monitor, the mail client windowed and leaving a portion of the screen black. "You just made my job about ten times harder. If there's even a word about Morganna out there, in the media, we'll all be finished. Already they're starting to get skeptical about whether Helba is responsible, and I'm sure at least one or two aren't buying it."
"Hmm... what about you?" asked Seijiro. "What do you think?"
"What do I think?" He snorted. "I still don't trust her; she knows far too much to be completely benevolent, and we still know very little about her." There was a long pause, and he added, "but this is not her. It can't be anything other than Morganna, it just doesn't make sense otherwise."
The programmer on the other end grunted loudly. "Figures... I'll bet they found out 'cause of him," he said, seemingly to himself.
"What's that?"
"Uh? Oh, the police; it was just one officer, but he came with an American."
Francis blinked, leaning back in his chair. "An American?" he asked, adjusting his shirt collar with his free hand.
"Yes... average height, dark hair; he stared at me through the questioning. The officer did all the talking, but I think that man told him what to say."
"Average height, dark hair," said Francis. "Average height... dark hair..." His eyes shot open, as wide as they could. "Oh no... no no no." He began shaking his head. "Not him. Anybody but him."
"Frank?" Seijiro called, sounding worried.
"Uhnnn..." He let the receiver slip away, lifting a hand to rub his forehead, which seemed to have developed a dull, steady ache all of a sudden. Adjusting the phone, he heard Seijiro call his name again.
"Are you all right? Do you know the guy?"
"Hmm... heh heh." Francis smiled, genuinely amused and fighting the urge to chuckle, if ironically so. "Funny you should ask. Remember the break-in a few weeks ago?"
Through the phone, he heard the distinct sound of breaking glass. "Oh, shit! Um... you... y-you can't be serious. That was *him*?!"
"It sounds like the same man." He rolled his blue eyes. "Dean Stollis, former LAPD officer and, apparently, a freelance detective. He's been annoyingly persistent in this matter, and is even helping the player Kite in 'The World'."
Faint grunting noises came through the receiver, followed by the sound of glass being swept up. "Any particular reason why?"
"None offhand. Although if I were you, I would be very careful. He's shown himself to be surprisingly resourceful."
"That's all we need. Well... I need to clean this up, I'll talk to you later."
The line went dead before Francis could reply. His eyes drifted along his desk, to the silver plate which bore his name; he zeroed in on the small engraving of the Cyber Connect logo, briefly wondering who - or what - his co-worker meant by 'we'.
-
From his prone position on the alley floor, Kite cocked his head upward at his companion; BlackRose stood deathly still, staring blankly at the apparition which had fired upon her.
"Es ist zu spat," it muttered as it lowered its weapon arm, turned and ran.
Kite quickly got back on his feet, diagnosing the Heavy Blade as best he could. "BlackRose?" he asked, clearly worried. "Are you okay?" He waved a hand in front of her, testing her consciousness.
"Uh??" she spluttered, recoiling and gasping lightly. She met his concerned gaze, and nodded shakily. "Y-yeah, I... I'm okay."
He breathed a sigh of relief, shoulders sagging for a moment as he exhaled. "He missed."
"No, he... it hit me." She gulped. "I felt it... um.. that is, my visor, it detected the hit, but it didn't do any damage."
"What??"
The two shared a glance down the alley, bewilderment evident in both their expressions. "Something weird is going on here," she said, anxiety long gone from her voice. "That thing is definitely not supposed to be here."
"Yeah... let's go after it. Maybe we can find out why it's here."
"Right!"
Together they dashed down the narrow corridor of buildings and derelict storefronts, their footsteps again the only aural compliment to the whistling wind. The branching pathways were no more, with only a single winding passage leading deeper into the heart of Mac Anu.
"Stay away from me!" came the shout in English without warning. A half-second later, the apparition popped out from around a distant corner, pistol at the ready.
"Down!"
Kite and BlackRose dropped in unison, flat on their stomachs as they were fired upon; shots rang out overhead, wisps of smoke trailing through the air as ethereal bullets sailed past them.
The Twin Blade kept his eyes on the shooter; squinting into the haze, he swore that the pistol hadn't followed them to the floor, instead aiming horizontally at the space where they had been standing.
"Ich brauche mehr Zeit," it muttered in a distinctly masculine voice, lowering the gun long enough to attempt to reload.
Spotting his chance, Kite sprang to his feet and whirled back, flipping one of his swords into an underhand grip and throwing it at their assailant with a mighty heave. The blade sang as it cut through the air, slamming itself into the apparition's chest and bursting through to exit out the back, taking a large chunk of the cloudy substance with it. It came to rest against the far wall, imbedding itself several inches into the stone surface.
Squinting, Kite watched as the thing slowly reformed, the hole in its chest shrinking and eventually closing. In fact, it didn't even seem to notice the attack, still fumbling with the pistol, frantically feeding it live ammunition.
Mere seconds later, it recoiled backwards, lurching to the right as if something had slammed into that shoulder. A strangled cry escaped the lips, and it staggered around the corner, out of view, clutching the shoulder as if wounded.
BlackRose, who had since gotten back up, approached Kite, her eyes still on the alley before them. "Did you see that? It didn't respond, and then it got hit in the shoulder." She furrowed her brow, creases appearing in her tanned skin. "It's like it didn't even notice us..."
"Yeah... and if it shot and hit you, but it didn't actually hurt, then..."
As usual, she was there to finish his thought. "It's not responding to us... is it some kind of ghost?" she asked, a hint of a tremble in her voice at the last word.
"Maybe," he said quietly. "Or maybe... a memory."
Without further comment, he took the lead and she trailed close behind; stopping only to pick up the sword he had thrown, they rounded the corner and found themselves face-to-face with the white figure.
He - for it was obviously a he - appeared to be sitting in an invisible chair, knees bent and back reclined against the empty air behind him. His long, flowing white hair hung around his face in ragged clumps, and he wore a gray button-down shirt and matching slacks. The revolver dangled limply from his hand, just tight enough in his grasp for his thumb to draw back the hammer.
Kite stepped before the phantom, his face somewhere between inquisitive and accusative. "It's you... from the other field."
The man coughed loudly, balling up the fist of his wounded arm and covering his mouth. "Just a little longer," he whispered. "Just a little longer..."
"Who are you?" asked BlackRose, stepping in front of Kite. "Why... what were you shooting at?"
"They're coming... they're closing in." He leaned forward, then backward, looking like a bizarre midair rocking motion. "How did they know? How did they find me?"
A shout from behind made both players spin around. "Herr Hoerwick! Dies ist die Polizei!"
"What's going on?!" yelled BlackRose, a part of her calm enough to recognize the name 'Hoerwick'. "Who's there?"
More shouts, from an unseen point of origin; they sounded hollow, with traces of feedback, as if coming out of a microphone or another means of amplification. "Stellen sie ihre Waffe hin und kommen Sie mit ihren Handen auf heraus!"
Kite frantically glanced back and forth, at the misty man and the point he guessed the voices were coming from, his heart pounding. (What is all this?!) he thought, trying desperately to achieve some measure of control and comprehension.
A bright flash, and the alley fell away; in its place was the same whiteness that accompanied the broken rooms Kite and BlackRose had found before. Again, they found themselves in what looked like an office - the same desk, chair, computer and wastebasket they had seen before, this time populated by flesh-and-blood beings. All around them stood men in dark, intimidating body armor and carrying deadly-looking weapons - Kite recognized one as some kind of pump-action shotgun, and another as a submachine gun.
The ghostly man no longer sat in the chair, as it now lay on the floor; he stood before it, a look of horror in his eyes. The guns were all trained on him, though no one appeared to be moving or breathing.
"He knew," came the whisper.
Just as suddenly, the image disappeared, leaving a bewildered Kite and BlackRose back in the mazelike corridors of Mac Anu. Unseen footsteps retreated from the area, and before the unnatural event ceased completely, Kite made out what sounded a phone ringing.
The phone stopped, and in its place he heard a voice that sounded an awful lot like the one that had been shouting earlier. "We have him," the voice said in Japanese, with a distinctly German accent. "Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Tanaka. We will deliver him to the proper authorities."
An alarm went off in Kite's head as he recognized the name. (Tanaka... is that the same guy I told Dean about? Did he... is he responsible for this?)
"Kite."
Her voice was soft, but firm. He looked over and saw a strange look in his partner's eyes, a morbid curiousity tempered by confusion. "I know who that was," she said.
Tempted to ask the obvious question, Kite instead answered with a statement of his own. "And I think I know what happened here."
She gave a curt nod. "We should get back to the Gate area." There was a hint of a frown as she added, "We need to report this."
"Yeah, we do," agreed Kite, glancing both ways along the east-west alleyway. "Which way is out of here?"
"Follow me," said BlackRose. "We'll take the boat back."
Despite himself and their circumstances, Kite found himself fighting down a blush as he obediently fell into step behind her.
- End of Chapter 23
A .Hack fanfiction by Renfro Calhoun
Disclaimer: I claim ownership of nothing related to Project .Hack.
Notes: Takes place during Outbreak. Thoughts are in parentheses, text is in brackets. About half-done with revisions, but I'll probably have the next chapter up before I change the first half. Very little in terms of plot has changed; there is some dialogue tweaking, and one event in later chapters had to be altered to better fit what this half is shaping up to be (more on that later), but suffice it to say (god, I love that phrase!) I'll try to keep re-reading to a minimum :)
That being the case, here is the chapter that follows the one that preceded it, the aptly-named "Chapter 23"; expect startling revelations, which shouldn't be too startling if you've been paying attention or... aren't easily startled, I guess. Yeah... I'm just gonna go now. *skitters off*
Chapter 23 - Playback
---------------------
"What did you tell them?"
The voice on the other end was quiet, but clear. "Nothing they didn't already know."
Francis scrolled through the list of email on the screen with one hand, the other clutching the phone receiver. "I think we're beyond subtleties at this point, Tanaka."
Seijiro paused. The aging security officer heard him swallow before replying. "They knew about Morganna."
He bolted upright, his hand falling off the mouse. "What? How?!"
"I don't know! Somebody found out from inside the game... something Harold left behind, maybe, I'm not sure. They've connected it to several disturbances on and offline; no hard evidence, but it's probably only a matter of time."
"You've got to be kidding me," muttered Francis. "So, what did you tell them?"
"I told them how Morganna was intended to run 'The World', how Harold designed it and I modified it when we bought out Fragment and modified it." He sighed. "I told them how it seemed to be following the Epitaph."
"Shit." Blue eyes stared back at him from a darkened corner of the monitor, the mail client windowed and leaving a portion of the screen black. "You just made my job about ten times harder. If there's even a word about Morganna out there, in the media, we'll all be finished. Already they're starting to get skeptical about whether Helba is responsible, and I'm sure at least one or two aren't buying it."
"Hmm... what about you?" asked Seijiro. "What do you think?"
"What do I think?" He snorted. "I still don't trust her; she knows far too much to be completely benevolent, and we still know very little about her." There was a long pause, and he added, "but this is not her. It can't be anything other than Morganna, it just doesn't make sense otherwise."
The programmer on the other end grunted loudly. "Figures... I'll bet they found out 'cause of him," he said, seemingly to himself.
"What's that?"
"Uh? Oh, the police; it was just one officer, but he came with an American."
Francis blinked, leaning back in his chair. "An American?" he asked, adjusting his shirt collar with his free hand.
"Yes... average height, dark hair; he stared at me through the questioning. The officer did all the talking, but I think that man told him what to say."
"Average height, dark hair," said Francis. "Average height... dark hair..." His eyes shot open, as wide as they could. "Oh no... no no no." He began shaking his head. "Not him. Anybody but him."
"Frank?" Seijiro called, sounding worried.
"Uhnnn..." He let the receiver slip away, lifting a hand to rub his forehead, which seemed to have developed a dull, steady ache all of a sudden. Adjusting the phone, he heard Seijiro call his name again.
"Are you all right? Do you know the guy?"
"Hmm... heh heh." Francis smiled, genuinely amused and fighting the urge to chuckle, if ironically so. "Funny you should ask. Remember the break-in a few weeks ago?"
Through the phone, he heard the distinct sound of breaking glass. "Oh, shit! Um... you... y-you can't be serious. That was *him*?!"
"It sounds like the same man." He rolled his blue eyes. "Dean Stollis, former LAPD officer and, apparently, a freelance detective. He's been annoyingly persistent in this matter, and is even helping the player Kite in 'The World'."
Faint grunting noises came through the receiver, followed by the sound of glass being swept up. "Any particular reason why?"
"None offhand. Although if I were you, I would be very careful. He's shown himself to be surprisingly resourceful."
"That's all we need. Well... I need to clean this up, I'll talk to you later."
The line went dead before Francis could reply. His eyes drifted along his desk, to the silver plate which bore his name; he zeroed in on the small engraving of the Cyber Connect logo, briefly wondering who - or what - his co-worker meant by 'we'.
-
From his prone position on the alley floor, Kite cocked his head upward at his companion; BlackRose stood deathly still, staring blankly at the apparition which had fired upon her.
"Es ist zu spat," it muttered as it lowered its weapon arm, turned and ran.
Kite quickly got back on his feet, diagnosing the Heavy Blade as best he could. "BlackRose?" he asked, clearly worried. "Are you okay?" He waved a hand in front of her, testing her consciousness.
"Uh??" she spluttered, recoiling and gasping lightly. She met his concerned gaze, and nodded shakily. "Y-yeah, I... I'm okay."
He breathed a sigh of relief, shoulders sagging for a moment as he exhaled. "He missed."
"No, he... it hit me." She gulped. "I felt it... um.. that is, my visor, it detected the hit, but it didn't do any damage."
"What??"
The two shared a glance down the alley, bewilderment evident in both their expressions. "Something weird is going on here," she said, anxiety long gone from her voice. "That thing is definitely not supposed to be here."
"Yeah... let's go after it. Maybe we can find out why it's here."
"Right!"
Together they dashed down the narrow corridor of buildings and derelict storefronts, their footsteps again the only aural compliment to the whistling wind. The branching pathways were no more, with only a single winding passage leading deeper into the heart of Mac Anu.
"Stay away from me!" came the shout in English without warning. A half-second later, the apparition popped out from around a distant corner, pistol at the ready.
"Down!"
Kite and BlackRose dropped in unison, flat on their stomachs as they were fired upon; shots rang out overhead, wisps of smoke trailing through the air as ethereal bullets sailed past them.
The Twin Blade kept his eyes on the shooter; squinting into the haze, he swore that the pistol hadn't followed them to the floor, instead aiming horizontally at the space where they had been standing.
"Ich brauche mehr Zeit," it muttered in a distinctly masculine voice, lowering the gun long enough to attempt to reload.
Spotting his chance, Kite sprang to his feet and whirled back, flipping one of his swords into an underhand grip and throwing it at their assailant with a mighty heave. The blade sang as it cut through the air, slamming itself into the apparition's chest and bursting through to exit out the back, taking a large chunk of the cloudy substance with it. It came to rest against the far wall, imbedding itself several inches into the stone surface.
Squinting, Kite watched as the thing slowly reformed, the hole in its chest shrinking and eventually closing. In fact, it didn't even seem to notice the attack, still fumbling with the pistol, frantically feeding it live ammunition.
Mere seconds later, it recoiled backwards, lurching to the right as if something had slammed into that shoulder. A strangled cry escaped the lips, and it staggered around the corner, out of view, clutching the shoulder as if wounded.
BlackRose, who had since gotten back up, approached Kite, her eyes still on the alley before them. "Did you see that? It didn't respond, and then it got hit in the shoulder." She furrowed her brow, creases appearing in her tanned skin. "It's like it didn't even notice us..."
"Yeah... and if it shot and hit you, but it didn't actually hurt, then..."
As usual, she was there to finish his thought. "It's not responding to us... is it some kind of ghost?" she asked, a hint of a tremble in her voice at the last word.
"Maybe," he said quietly. "Or maybe... a memory."
Without further comment, he took the lead and she trailed close behind; stopping only to pick up the sword he had thrown, they rounded the corner and found themselves face-to-face with the white figure.
He - for it was obviously a he - appeared to be sitting in an invisible chair, knees bent and back reclined against the empty air behind him. His long, flowing white hair hung around his face in ragged clumps, and he wore a gray button-down shirt and matching slacks. The revolver dangled limply from his hand, just tight enough in his grasp for his thumb to draw back the hammer.
Kite stepped before the phantom, his face somewhere between inquisitive and accusative. "It's you... from the other field."
The man coughed loudly, balling up the fist of his wounded arm and covering his mouth. "Just a little longer," he whispered. "Just a little longer..."
"Who are you?" asked BlackRose, stepping in front of Kite. "Why... what were you shooting at?"
"They're coming... they're closing in." He leaned forward, then backward, looking like a bizarre midair rocking motion. "How did they know? How did they find me?"
A shout from behind made both players spin around. "Herr Hoerwick! Dies ist die Polizei!"
"What's going on?!" yelled BlackRose, a part of her calm enough to recognize the name 'Hoerwick'. "Who's there?"
More shouts, from an unseen point of origin; they sounded hollow, with traces of feedback, as if coming out of a microphone or another means of amplification. "Stellen sie ihre Waffe hin und kommen Sie mit ihren Handen auf heraus!"
Kite frantically glanced back and forth, at the misty man and the point he guessed the voices were coming from, his heart pounding. (What is all this?!) he thought, trying desperately to achieve some measure of control and comprehension.
A bright flash, and the alley fell away; in its place was the same whiteness that accompanied the broken rooms Kite and BlackRose had found before. Again, they found themselves in what looked like an office - the same desk, chair, computer and wastebasket they had seen before, this time populated by flesh-and-blood beings. All around them stood men in dark, intimidating body armor and carrying deadly-looking weapons - Kite recognized one as some kind of pump-action shotgun, and another as a submachine gun.
The ghostly man no longer sat in the chair, as it now lay on the floor; he stood before it, a look of horror in his eyes. The guns were all trained on him, though no one appeared to be moving or breathing.
"He knew," came the whisper.
Just as suddenly, the image disappeared, leaving a bewildered Kite and BlackRose back in the mazelike corridors of Mac Anu. Unseen footsteps retreated from the area, and before the unnatural event ceased completely, Kite made out what sounded a phone ringing.
The phone stopped, and in its place he heard a voice that sounded an awful lot like the one that had been shouting earlier. "We have him," the voice said in Japanese, with a distinctly German accent. "Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Tanaka. We will deliver him to the proper authorities."
An alarm went off in Kite's head as he recognized the name. (Tanaka... is that the same guy I told Dean about? Did he... is he responsible for this?)
"Kite."
Her voice was soft, but firm. He looked over and saw a strange look in his partner's eyes, a morbid curiousity tempered by confusion. "I know who that was," she said.
Tempted to ask the obvious question, Kite instead answered with a statement of his own. "And I think I know what happened here."
She gave a curt nod. "We should get back to the Gate area." There was a hint of a frown as she added, "We need to report this."
"Yeah, we do," agreed Kite, glancing both ways along the east-west alleyway. "Which way is out of here?"
"Follow me," said BlackRose. "We'll take the boat back."
Despite himself and their circumstances, Kite found himself fighting down a blush as he obediently fell into step behind her.
- End of Chapter 23