.Hack: Penance
A .Hack fanfiction by Renfro Calhoun

Disclaimer: Project .Hack and attached characters/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.) Nothing in particular to note about this chapter, but stay tuned nonetheless. Pretty please :)

This chapter done to the tune of: H2SO4 – Imitation Leather Jacket

Chapter 34 – Lessons Soon Learned

Flipping one page over the back of the clipboard, Dean scanned the next as he walked next to Masamoto, both traveling down one of the police station's many hallways; brightly lit and neutral in color.

"Jesus," muttered Dean. "He sang like a canary."

"Turns out Rosenberg was under the same impression you and I were," said the Lieutenant. "Those men in the room were waiting for Rosenberg and his, planning to ambush them. Rosenberg caught onto them, however, and they in turn must have figured out we were watching them."

"So they were first going to kill him, and then they tried set him up as the brains of the operation," said Dean.

"Basically. They obviously didn't know we were coming in." He cocked his head towards Dean for a second. "By the way, there's a message for you on page 4. We found it in the lot."

The detective obediently flipped to that page, and uttered a "huh?" when he saw a photograph of an index card, lying in an empty parking space, held in place at the corner by a small stone. A second picture was close enough to read the card itself.

'Dean

You forgot something that night. It follows every step I take.

You were fighting someone else's fight then, too.

But he won't help you fight yours. Nobody will.

Sato'

"What the hell is this guy's problem?" Dean grumbled. "He was grilling me last time, too."

"Who is that?" asked Masamoto. "You said he seemed to recognize you."

"Some guy named Sato. Just some nut with a katana, but he seems to know me. No idea what he's talking about here, though." He looked up. "Did you get the plates on his car?"

"Yeah, they were fake."

"That figures."

"It wasn't found in the lot, though; we found traces of paint flecks and such in that space; must've changed coats."

"Damn, they can do that?"

Masamoto eyed Dean again. "You used to be a cop, you know how a paint-and-spray works. It's not too hard to make the concept mobile."

"And here I thought Grand Theft Auto was just making stuff up," Dean said dryly.

Dean moved behind Aniki as a uniformed officer pushed a cart with a computer on it past them. His eyes returned to the clipboard, flipping to another page. (These were the three in the hotel. 'Tetsuya Kinichi; money laundering, gun running, former Cyber Connect security guard. Lamar Townsend; drug smuggling, assault, former Corrections Officer, San Quentin. Vincent Calieri; breaking and entering, grand theft auto, no known affiliation.') "Felix got himself a regular dirty dozen," he remarked. "I know this guy in the center. Lamar was one of his contacts back when he was running that coke heist."

"Mmm. Rosenberg claimed he was contacted by a Cyber Connect representative for the theft. He then brought on Felix, and Felix assembled his own team."

"That explains that," said Dean. "Two bigwigs in Asara and Cyber Connect stand to gain from getting Aura out of 'The World,' so one pays the other to sweeten the deal; plus their heavies, plus Felix and his guys." Dean frowned. "Looks like CC gave Felix a better offer than Asara did."

"Either that or they were planning to dump Rosenberg once they got what they needed." He glanced back at Dean. "Which, by the way, he claimed was some kind of, uh…" the older officer fumbled briefly. "What did he call it…"

Dean followed Masamoto around a corner, and finished his sentence. "A software reconstruction program," he read from the report. "I didn't even know Asara made these."

"What does it do?"

"Basically what it sounds like, recovers deleted or old data. Some of the more advanced ones… shit!" he hissed. "That's where Delphi came from, what that kid was talking about." With a frown, he glanced at Masamoto and explained. "I thought Delphi was destroyed that night at Cyber Connect, I even destroyed the copy we made – back before we knew what it was. That's what they needed to get to Aura once they found her."

('Rosenberg: We didn't recover it all, but just enough of the hacking protocols to be useful. It wasn't autonomous, just a modification to an existing character. Their rep – Sato – promised 500 million and the encoding for this program. We wanted to make our own. They just wanted it out of 'The World.')

"So that's it," Dean said to himself, going over the pieces aloud. "CC brings the Delphi fragments to Rosenberg and Asara, who brings back the program they need to get rid of Aura and secures manpower. Felix, on the other hand, sides with CC to betray him as soon as they get Aura, meaning he gets a bigger slice of the pie and CC doesn't have to pay Rosenberg a dime."

"That still leaves the question of 'why get rid of her'." asked Masamoto. "And the name of the Cyber Connect figure running the show."

"This whole thing," said Dean, "it's more like they're trying to get rid of a witness, or evidence, instead of some program nobody's heard of."

The lieutenant nodded. "I'm thinking the same thing. This is far more complex than theft. Even what you pulled that night didn't come close." He stopped, and turned to face Dean. "So what are we looking at, here?"

"By my count, there are seven more individuals who have stolen the most advanced AI the world has ever known." He stared evenly at Masamoto, doing his best to keep a straight face. "Cyber Connect used Rosenberg and Felix to get it off their networks, possibly to destroy it, but something went wrong; the program is still technically there, in some… kind of dormant state, I wasn't sure myself."

"So getting rid of her isn't as simple as putting her in a container and destroying it."

"That seems to be the case." Dean looked away for a moment, thinking as he chewed on his lip. "Maybe they need to get her to whoever's running this thing, or maybe there's some other step they have to do to get rid of her completely."

"If he's Cyber Connect – that is, if Rosenberg isn't lying to us – then he'll probably be at the conference on Saturday. That's the final night, and it coincides with the Tech Expo. It'd be an ideal cover to make the exchange – the disc for the money. They wouldn't dare do it just anywhere with an all-points out on both Felix and this 'Sato' figure." He half-smiled. "Good pictures, by the way."

Dean chuckled. "I try. So, it looks like we sit and wait, huh?"

"We'll be watching CC officials closely," Masamoto added, "and I, personally, will be at the conference helping with security. If you wouldn't mind, I'd appreciate your help covering the Expo."

"I'll be there anyway," said Dean with a full smile. "You can count on me. We'll nab this guy one way or another."

"Earlier today, police lieutenant Aniki Masamoto issued a statement that did not confirm the rumors of Cyber Connect's involvement in the affair. However, an All-Points Bulletin has been issued for the following suspects, wanted in connection to the attempted theft."

Though the words were in Japanese, Dean clearly understood the name "Croker, Felix" in the female announcer's bright, chipper voice. Instantly he whirled towards the TV, pointing the gun at the handsome gray-and-white mug shot displayed on the screen.

CLICK. A pull of the trigger released the projectile, firing it clear across the room in a small parabolic arc, landing smack between Felix's colorless eyes.

Dean grinned. (Gotcha, you bastard.) He set the dart gun on the counter next to him. (I still got it,) he thought, turning his attention back to the phone wedged on his shoulder. "Sorry, ma, had to swat a fly. You were sayin'?"

He took the phone in his hand, wandering back over to the couch. Grabbing the remote, he turned down the volume as he settled in. A glance at the wall clock told the time; close to midnight, meaning it was close to noon half a world a way. "Oh, where was I," muttered an older woman's voice in his ear. "Wait, here it is!" She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, it's two teaspoons of salt, not one."

He blinked. "Really? I've been makin' it with one."

"Well, you don't need two, it'll just be a little sweeter otherwise."

"Heh heh. Yeah, I guess so. I'll give it a try, thanks."

"That's all right," she said between chuckles. "Gotta make sure you get at least one good meal while you're over there!"

Dean stretched out on the couch, propping his feet up. "Ahh," he groaned. "Ah, c'mon, ma, you know me. I'm in an apartment, and I'm still coasting on that investment. Meals are a luxury until I get paid." A heartbeat later, he added. "Kidding, I'm kidding. Don't worry, I'm eatin' right. Just had a hankering for some oxtail soup."

"I knew I should've given you the recipe. Your father kept saying 'Why would he need a cookbook? You're spoiling him!'" Her mock male voice got a laugh out of Dean. "You know how he is."

"Yeah, I know how he is," he said, his voice dry and lazy, "I know, I know how you guys are. He spoils me too, y'know. Last week he sent me 4,000 and a brand new Cadillac, are you gonna let him one-up you like that?"

More laughter. "Yes, yes I am."

"Heh heh… ahh, I miss you guys," he sighed. "Anyway, I better hit the hay, I was runnin' all over. Tell Dad everything's fine, I love him, and I love you too, ma. You take care, all right?"

"We love you too, sweetie," she said. "Are you still coming back in May?"

"Oh, sure!" he replied. "Yeah, don't worry. Wouldn't miss dad's birthday for the world."

"Glad to hear it. We all miss you too back here. Good night, Dean!"

"G'night… er, bye, ma!"

He hit the 'off' button, hanging up just in time to notice a soft chime from the computer, audible – just audible – over the sound of the TV.

One of his backbones cracked slightly as he stood up, sauntering over to the computer, depositing the cordless phone on a nearby chair. (When he closes a door…) the saying ran through his head, doing laps; he gave the mouse a shake, removing the screen saver and revealing an Instant Message addressed to him.

He slid into the chair, smiling slightly as he started to type. "Heya, Miku," he said aloud.

(You're up awfully late.)

(Technically, I'm up really early.) He added a winking emote, then typed, (took a nap a couple hours ago. Been a long day.)

(So I gathered. How'd it go?)

Dean mentally slapped himself. (Ah, right. Heh, guess I forgot to let you all know. Of course, you can probably figure it out if you watched the news today.)

(Hmm. So that was you?)

(In a way. We got a big lead with this one. Everyone's eyes are on Cyber Connect now.)

(Hold on.)

Seconds later, the phone rang. Dean stood up and retrieved it from the chair where he had left it. "Y'ello?"

"You were saying?" said Miku.

He chuckled. "This is better," he replied, walking back over to the computer and closing the instant messenger. "Anyway, it's good news all around. We're still looking for Felix and the disc, plus whoever's behind this, but it's just a matter of time now."

"Sounds like you did rather well, then," she said, sounding amused, and even slightly impressed.

"Well, we're definitely better off than we were," was his answer. "Not to change the subject, but were you looking for me for any particular reason?"

"Just now, or earlier today?"

(Question with a question. Heh. You sure can pick 'em, Dean.) "First one, then second one."

That familiar, soft, delightful throaty laugh. "No, then yes. Let's just say that… knowing you has been very… interesting, so far."

"There's a feather in my cap," he remarked.

"After being in the middle of your last escapade, did you think I would just sit this one out?" He could hear the smile in her voice. "You're not the only curious one in this city, you know."

"Hah. I suppose not." He leaned back, the chair creaking under his weight. "Though for what it's worth, I do owe you for helping out earlier."

"For playing a game? Oh, I'm sure I'll think of a way for you to repay me."

His mind moved quickly, a light brightening above his head. "I've already thought of one. You going to the Tech Expo on Saturday?"

"Valentine's Day?" she responded, a touch of incredulity. "Isn't that a little on the nose, detective?"

One of Dean's eyebrows shot up. "Wha… no, no, I didn't mean it like THAT," he fumbled, slightly flustered. "I was just gonna ask if you're going there. I could give you a ride if you need one."

That laugh again. "Relax, Dean. I know what you meant. And no, I don't need a ride."

Ordinarily, he would've given up at that. Something about the way she said 'need' got him to rephrase the question. "In that case, would you like a ride?"

"If you're offering."

"I am."

"Then I accept. How does 4 o' clock sound?"

Dean tore a post-it note away from a pad of them, grabbing a pencil and hurriedly scribbling the time down. "4pm. Sure, sounds fine. I'll see you then."

"Great. Oh, hang on, someone's on the other line."

"Sure."

There was a click, and her voice went away. Dean closed his eyes, relaxing against the chair and releasing a contented sigh. (Finally, things are starting to go my way. God knows it's been long enough.)

A moment of silliness took hold, and he glanced up at the ceiling, pointing a finger upward accusingly. "That's right, I'm onto you," he said jokingly.

The line clicked back in. "Sorry, I have to take this," said Miku.

"No problem," said Dean. "It's late anyway, I'll see you Saturday."

"Sweet dreams, detective," she said. Something about her voice sent a small shiver down the back of his spine, though he couldn't tell if it was actually something in her voice or something he was imagining.

"You too," he said, voice a little deeper than he intended.

He heard the line click, and was about to hang up when he heard her again. "Hi, Ryo."

Every ounce of Dean's blood froze in his veins. Feigning good cheer, he said "Nope, still Dean," into the receiver.

"Oh… oh! Oh, sorry, I guess I didn't press it hard enough."

"No problem, take it easy."

This time, he hung up first. Without even starting to stand up, he lightly rapped the phone against his forehead, an unwanted yet undeniable lump welling up in his throat, a byproduct of an unfamiliar and unsolicited emotion.

(Just when I think I've got her figured out,) he thought ruefully. (Damn it… why am I so goddamn jealous of her having friends?)

His thoughts were quick to answer. (Because you don't want to be just friends, Sherlock, remember? First attractive woman who's shown an even passing interest in you since you got out of prison. No freakin' wonder.)

He sighed, letting his head roll to one side, his feet sliding off the desk and dropping to the carpet below. (Damn, I hate being right.)

- End of Chapter 34