.Hack: Penance

A .Hack fanfiction by Renfro Calhoun

Disclaimer: Project .Hack and attached characters and concepts are property of Bandai and Cyber Connect. They are used without permission, but with the utmost respect.

Notes: Happens after the end of Quarantine. (Thoughts look like this.) Sorry it's taken so long to get another chapter up; simply put, this past week has been hectic and confusing. If you're so inclined, check my LJ for the story (link's in the bio), but suffice it to say it involves car trouble and housing trouble, and if there's two places you REALLY don't want trouble, it's your wheels and the roof over your head.

But enough. My apologies for the delay; please read, and enjoy. Pretty sure I got Tsukasa's name right, but any corrections would be appreciated. Oh, and keep your eyes open for yet another not-so-subtle game reference. These things are like sugar to me :)

This chapter done to the tune of: Tom Petty – Breakdown

Chapter 25 – A Look Back, A Step Forward

Aniki massaged his temples as he listened to Dean's voice on the other end of the line. He reclined slightly in his office chair, the dull beginnings of a headache welling up in his forehead.

"They were posing as U.S. agents, from the State Department," said the detective. "He got a lead from work and spotted them at Shikima; looks like this Cahill guy paid a visit to the veep of CC."

"Cyber Connect?" asked Masamoto. "So they were meeting with both companies?"

"It would seem so. According to Hiro, Felix admitted that it has to do with money. First I thought he was trying to steal for Asara, like I was; now I'm not sure what to make of it."

Aniki frowned. "It almost sounds like they're setting up both of them."

Coughing, Dean replied, "Well, it could be that, but I don't know how they could use Aura against Cyber Connect. I mean, granted, she's not exactly on the game box, but she's not a nuke. Hell, I don't really know WHAT she is."

"Her existence alone could cause some headaches, though," said Masamoto. "Scientists and programmers would want a look, you'd have hundreds of consumer advocacy groups demanding to know why these things were put in a video game – which I still don't clearly understand myself, I might add..."

"Yeah, I know, man, it doesn't make a lot of sense to me either. From what I hear, Harold was a brilliant programmer, but otherwise certifiable. But anyway, I know a guy who knows a guy who can tell me about her. With any luck, that'll tell us what we need to do next."

"All right." The lieutenant looked through the windows of his office, watching warily for any eavesdroppers. "Listen, Dean... the police here are suspicious of Cyber Connect, but Aura... AI in general is something of a touchy subject. We have evidence of people working on it; we just can't prove it exists. Now, I believe you... but..." He paused as he searched for the right way to phrase it.

"Don't worry, Mas," Dean said reassuringly. "I'll bring you something you guys can use. Believe me, I'm gonna need your help again before this is all over."

Aniki smiled. "You have no idea how glad I am to hear that." He heard some commotion from Dean's end. "What's going on?"

"Ah, just watching CNN."

A loud, guttural voice echoed through the line. "Spawn more overlords!"

"What the hell was that?!"

"Larry King. Listen, I gotta run a few errands, I'll talk to you later, Mas."

There was a knock at the door, which went momentarily ignored. "Alright, talk to you later then, Dean," said Masamoto before hanging up. "Come in!"

The door opened halfway, and a familiar officer poked his head into the office. "Lieutenant? The chief wanted to see you as soon as possible."

Masamoto looked curiously at his younger subordinate. "Did he say what he wanted?"

"It has to do with the convention," said the officer. He looked away for a second and then added, "It's something about the security detail, I think he's looking for volunteers."

"The hive cluster is under attack!"

Dean growled. "Yeah, I know. I can friggin' SEE it."

The detective watched helplessly as his base was effortlessly destroyed, waves of enemies literally sweeping his units and structures off the map in an orgy of digital blood and alien screams.

Giving a frustrated sigh, he exited out of the game and popped the disc out of the drive, nostalgia having given way to lack of skill. (Dammit... I really should stick to shooters,) he thought as he placed the disc back in a scratched jewel case.

(Wonder if Ryo's gotten back to me yet.) He acted on the unspoken question, opening his mail account, which answered with a rather blunt 'no'. (C'mon, man. Gimme something to work with here. I need a clue.)

Spinning the chair to his right, he kicked out the recliner and leaned back, staring blankly at the news channel on the TV in the corner. (Bogart didn't have to wait for clues,) he silently grumbled. (It was all find the bad guy, shoot the bad guy, find who the bad guy was working for, take THEM out and get the girl while doing so. None of this 'get your ass kicked and get by on luck alone' nonsense.)

As if to accentuate his thoughts, an accidental shift to his left awkwardly bent the gunshot wound in his flank, which had since healed to a small, but noticeable scar. He flinched at the brief stinging sensation, and wedged a hand between the arm of the chair and the side of his chest to gently caress the injury.

A tired yawn worked past his lips. (12 years on the force, maybe three or four times I've ever been in real danger. Now I can't go two months without getting in the way of some asshole technophile. All 'cause I got greedy once. Just once.)

He looked up at the ceiling, leaning back until he was nearly laying flat on the chair. His eyelids, his entire body felt heavier, burdened by an unseen weight. (I'm... I'm tired of this.)

The phone rang, jarring him from his bout with malaise. Snatching it deftly with his left hand, he hit the call button and propped it up with his shoulder. "Y'ello."

"Hello, Dean."

He sat up straighter, a slight jolt sent through his system at the woman's voice. "Miku, hey." He briefly fumbled with his next words. "Uh, h-how's it going?"

"I'm fine. How are you?" There was an indistinct softness to her voice, one that might have been concern.

Dean took it as such. "Well, I'm okay now. I, uh... I suppose I've got some explaining to do, huh?"

She let out a short 'hmm', followed by an amused, throaty chuckle. "That would be appreciated, yes, although that's not the only reason I've called." She changed her tone to a more serious one. "Ryo called me just a few minutes ago, he said you mailed him and wanted to speak to the player of Tsukasa?"

Bemused, Dean answered, "Yeah, that's right. What's going on?"

"There were a few of us who were involved along with Tsukasa. He thought it would be a good idea to me to be there as well."

"The more the merrier," replied Dean with a smirk. "What time does he want to meet?"

"Seven tonight, his house."

He checked the clock, mentally going over his schedule – or lack thereof. "That's fine. If you get a chance, could you let him know I'll be there? I lost his number."

"Sure."

"Thanks." Dean craned his neck, reaching back with his free hand to massage it. "Mmn... so, I guess that gives me time to explain. I, uh..." he paused, an idea forming in his head that caused him to shift nervously in his seat. "I... don't suppose you'd mind me telling it over a cup of coffee?"

"Coffee?" she asked with a hint of disapproval. "It's 4:30 in the afternoon."

Startled by her reaction, he fumbled his reply. "Well, I-I mean... would you... I mean, last night I didn't sleep..."

Miku cut him off. "I was just going to suggest that perhaps dinner might be more appropriate."

"Dinner," said Dean, briefly wondering if he'd heard right. "Yeah... dinner sounds fine. Any place in particular you have in mind?"

Conversations and dialogue in multiple languages flitted past his ears amidst the sound of glasses and silverware clinking and clattering. Over the din, a television could be heard, broadcasting a news bulletin in Japanese. Various scents touched at his nose, appetizers and entrees, steaming soups and blackened steaks and everything in between.

All around, the restaurant had been decorated with colorful lights, posters and pictures, miscellaneous movie and sports memorabilia, looking and feeling every bit the day-of-the-week burger joint that was a dime a dozen back home. Artificial to the core, and yet, seated in that small green booth, facing Miku with a black-and-white photograph of a man he didn't know on the wall to his left, he couldn't help but feel like he'd been there a dozen times before.

"So there you have it," he said simply, capping the tale of his investigation, his trip to the hospital, everything that had come before. "It's once more into the breach. I'm trying to find Felix, and whoever he's working with. Kite helped stop 'em online but I'm fresh out of leads, and we need to know why they want her so badly."

Dressed in a pair of black pants and a brown, short-sleeved blouse, Miku nodded studiously, a serious look on her otherwise soft features. "Well," she said finally, "I suppose that explains why you never returned my call."

"Told you I had a good excuse," he said jokingly, reaching down to his plate, where two thirds of a massive cheeseburger sat next to a small pile of thick French fries. He popped one into his mouth, his teeth and appetite making short work of it. "Mmm. I have to say, you're taking this better than I did."

She picked up her sandwich – a bacon, lettuce and tomato, minus the lettuce – took a bite and swallowed before speaking. "When I first met you, you were standing in my living room over a wounded man holding a gun to his head, and there was another one on the street in front of my house. Then later, more of those men kidnapped the both of us, where I was tied to a chair until we escaped, all the while being chased and shot at, until we got into a car accident and were all nearly killed."

Dean managed a sheepish grin. "Yeah, well..."

Miku waved a hand, halting his speech. "Relax. We've been over this. It wasn't your fault. I'm just saying that interesting things seem to happen to you frequently, and the only thing I find surprising," she smirked, "is that you're the one who isn't used to this sort of thing yet."

He ate another fry, washing down the remaining bits of potato with a sip of his Coke. "Yeah, I was thinking about that earlier. Let's just say that this stuff wasn't exactly my area of expertise back on the force, and they didn't exactly have a course in cheesy crime drama clichés in college." He took another sip, and then added, "In other words, I'm kinda making this up as I go."

She chuckled openly at the remark, and replied, "It shows, believe me." Her lips fell into a smile. "But... it's still good to see you're all right."

"Heh," he grunted. "Thanks. Good to still be here. Although, if I might change the subject for a second, I'm a bit surprised you recommended a burger joint."

"And what were you expecting?" She raised an eyebrow. "A fancy restauraunt? Japanese cuisine perhaps?"

"No, no," he said, laughing softly. "Well... maybe. I just thought you'd be up for something a little more... y'know, upscale."

More chuckling. She took the sandwich in one hand and asked, "Where do you think my name online came from?" For emphasis, she waved the sandwich back and forth.

"No lettuce," Dean noted dryly. "You know," he hung and shook his head, "I should've figured that out."

"Yes. Yes you should've."

He hefted the burger and took another bite, savoring the taste of the juicy, medium-well beef. "Mmph... so who's this Tsukasa guy, anyway? I've heard about him before, had something to do with Aura, but I never really looked into it."

She set down the BT and wiped her hands on the napkin, leveling her gaze at Dean. "For starters, he's a she."

Dean cocked his head back, face scrunching up in confusion. "Huh?"

"Morganna trapped her consciousness in the game, somehow keeping the character playing while putting the player – An – in a coma. She was... dissociated from herself, I guess you could say." Her focus drifted away, to the right. "Morganna tried to keep her – or, at that point, him – from wanting to log out, as Tsukasa was a conduit through which she would corrupt Aura."

"So she was using the character to corrupt Aura," Dean said, simplifying it in his head. "How? What was so special about Tsukasa?"

Miku sighed. "An... was a miserable girl. An abusive father, an unhappy childhood... I don't know the details myself, but I do know Morganna was using her despair – through Tsukasa – to corrupt Aura. The two were connected somehow, and in keeping Tsukasa safe, and isolated, Aura would suffer from his depression by association. Thus, she – Aura – wouldn't pose any threat to Morganna."

"Ahh," murmured Dean, "I think I follow." He glanced around the restaurant, sorting the pieces out in his mind. Absently, he glanced over the nearby patrons, looking for anyone who might be listening too closely, experience telling him he couldn't be too careful. Satisfied, he turned back to Miku. "I don't understand how any of it is possible, but it fits what I've heard. So what happened to An?"

"We eventually got Tsukasa to log out," she explained, "and offline, An awoke. Ryo adopted her, and she lives with him now."

Dean's eyes widened. "Now that's something I didn't know."

She nodded. "He was rather protective of Tsukasa in the game, and even did some investigating of his own, offline. It was..." her face twitched, "...it was all very strange."

"Yeah, I can only imagine." Dean took another sip of his drink. "So she could tell me about Aura?"

"Probably more than anyone else could."

Their shoes clacked merrily on blacktop as they strode through the parking lot, the chilly evening air seeping through the openings in their jackets. Miku shivered, and Dean zipped his shut, scanning the lot for his car.

"Y'know, I never asked," said Dean as they crossed under a light, "but how do you know Ryo? Did you meet him online?"

"We met a while ago, back..."

The rest of her response fell on deaf ears; he spotted the Civic, but his eyes were drawn to the vehicle before it, parked perpendicular to trap Dean's car in the space. A silver Range Rover barred his exit, rumbling engine akin to a low growl, angry headlights staring coldly at him, license plate marked as "LS-3909".

Something screamed at him to start running. Incentive came when he heard the engine rev twice.

"Dean? What's wrong?"

The tires squealed as the vehicle peeled out, jumping from a dead stop to fifty miles an hour in just over a second.

"Miku, it's them! Look out!"

- End of Chapter 25