.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) Welp, this is what it all comes down to. Words will be spent, bullets will fly, men will fall, and other objects will do other dramatic things.

This chapter done to the tune of: Kill Hannah – Kennedy

Chapter 41 – Mistakes, Crimes and Sins

Yumi took a slow, controlled breath of air as she vigorously typed, watching the white letters appear in the black window before her. "Aura… please, stay with us. We're here."

"But I don't see anyone. Where… where are you?"

It was just text, she told herself, but it was typed out slowly, painfully slowly. If it were a human hand typing the letters, Yumi had little doubt it would be shaking. Over her shoulder, Francis loomed darkly, muttering things to himself every so often.

"You'll see us soon. We're working to free you even now, but you have to help us," Yumi pleaded digitally. "Do you know who's doing this?"

"Who is… it is that man. The one, he took control of me. I saw… I saw him take another. Was it… was it you?"

The hacker cringed, for more than one reason. "Yes, that was me. I know how it felt. Someone IS coming, but you have to help us. Please… tell us what you know."

"Yes… yes, it was him, and there was another. A name. So many…"

Francis let out a small grunt, leaning towards the desk and propping himself up with one hand. "Ask if either Takahashi or Hakamura are involved."

Yumi complied silently. "Aura… do either the names 'Takahashi' or 'Hakamura' appear?" To Francis, she said, "Didn't Dean see the impostor that night? Can't we just show him a picture?"

"He broke in that night, shot at our guards." He smirked. "Not that he wasn't provoked, but his word won't hold on that. We need hard evidence, and I don't think any of the bad guys are going to give it to us."

"Point," she murmured, typing again. "Are you there?"

"Those names… yes, yes! They are familiar, I recognize one. I recognize… I… which one…"

"She knows something," Yumi parroted. "Come on, Aura, who was it?"

Dean watched absentmindedly as Masamoto spoke into a cell phone, the lieutenant's words indecipherable to him. Masa looked back at him dispassionately, though the way he was pacing told the detective there was something more underneath his expression.

Joining him next to Masa's Buick, Miku asked, "Who's he talking to?" The tone of her voice suggested she was less interested in an answer than in breaking the silence.

Dean was privately grateful for the chance. "Guy who owns an apartment building, near where they found my phone. Masa had some pictures sent over, it looks like we might have a lead."

Masamoto kept talking, and the American picked up something along the lines of "Yes, I understand." He grew more excited; his pacing hastened.

"What's the plan?" She turned away, watching other officers scurry around the command post-slash-parking lot. "Once you find them, I mean?"

"Masa and I are gonna go look into it first, so we don't send everything we have on a bad lead." He leaned back against the car, his tattered leather jacket contrasting with the tan finish. "Also, they've got Hiro; going in noisy, sirens and all, that could… that…" he blinked, his brow twitching, "might not be a good idea."

She nodded, eyeing him with concern, saying nothing.

"Hai. Arigato." Masamoto hung up, shutting the phone off and turning to Dean. "We've got a live one. The owner says he saw someone earlier who matches Hiro's description; the kid came in with an American, or so he says. Let's check it out."

Dean promptly stood up straight. "All right, let's get a move on." He faced Miku, a slight look of unease in his eyes. "Uh, Miku…" he began, quickly fumbling with what to say.

She nodded again, this time looking away, her face unreadable. "Go ahead," she said quietly, "I'll call a cab."

He didn't immediately reply. After a moment's thought, he dug his car keys out of his pocket and held them out to her. "You remember where we parked?"

Miku looked first at the keys, and then at him, brief hints of doubt in her voice. "W-what… are you sure?" she asked as she reached for his offering.

He smiled, just a little, when her hand touched his. "I'll pick it up later," he said, as sincerely as he could, and he quickly shifted to a more casual tone. "G'won, get outta here. I'll see you later."

Brief annoyance flashed across her delicate features, but it faded away as she studied him. Gone was much of his earlier despair and frustration, replaced instead by weary, yet steadfast resolve and determination. He was battered, but compassionate; tired, but focused; scared, but stubborn.

Somehow, despite all doubts and worries, she knew he'd see this through. She gently clasped the ring of keys, her fingertips gliding over his palm. "You too," she replied evenly, trying not to sound too soft. He shot back a confident wink, and she couldn't help but chuckle, even as something inside got a little lighter.

A car door opened, and the Buick rocked on its wheels as Masamoto climbed inside. Brought back to the present, Dean clasped the door handle, giving a short wave to Miku with his other hand. "Take care, Miku."

She smiled as he opened the door and joined Masa inside. "You too," she repeated. As the door closed, and he was safely out of earshot, she added, "You'd better."

The engine coughed loudly, struggling to life; Masamoto stopped turning the key and shifted to drive, his foot still on the brake. Glancing at Dean, he launched right into the details. "It's about 20 minutes away," he said. "We have a positive ID on one of the suspects, and two other possibles, including Felix. The building's also only a block away from the nearest subway line."

"How's backup?" Dean asked.

Masamoto set foot on the gas, pulling away from the lot. "We've got our hands full canvassing the area here. Until we find the hostage or our men, you're it. Speaking of which, are you armed?"

Dean reached into his jacket, double-checking the safety on the handgun in the inside pocket. "I took Sato's gun. It's a .45, nine rounds left."

"What about your Glock 40? You still have that?"

"Yeah, but it's empty."

"Good. Take a look in the glove box." As Dean reached for it, he said, "And don't worry, it's my treat."

Puzzled, Dean flipped the ancient black knob on the compartment. The flap fell open, revealing the owner's manual, an insurance card, a flashlight and a single 9mm magazine in a clear plastic bag.

"Just in case," said Masamoto.

Dean swore he felt the Glock, stowed safely in another pocket, tremble in anticipation. His eyes gleamed as he picked up the bag. "Aww… how'd you know?"

The lieutenant smirked. "I had a hunch."

The aged landlord tapped one of his fingers on the nearest photo – a photo of one Cole Evans, still in his security guard's outfit. "Yeah, that's the guy," said the landlord. "He came in here with that kid. And this guy," he dragged his finger across the desk, tapping a mug shot of Felix, "I'm pretty sure I saw about an hour ago."

"You're positive about all this?" asked Masamoto. "What about either of these two men?" He pushed forward two more pictures, one a Japanese man in the same uniform, and another of an American in a suit. "Have you seen either of them?"

"This one I haven't seen personally, but one of the clerks said this guy," he pointed to Takeshi's picture, "came in here the other day. He was with someone else, a tenant named Mako who had a problem with the water pressure in his apartment. The other one, though," he indicated Sebastian, "I'm positive I saw go up not fifteen minutes ago."

Dean looked knowingly at Masamoto. "That's five by my count."

Masa nodded grimly. "Those are our guys. Which apartment is this Mako staying in?"

"219."

"Good." Masamoto reached for the phone. "May I?"

The landlord nodded. "Of course."

Dean glanced over his shoulder absentmindedly, gazing out the window of the landlord's office into the lobby. He heard Masamoto start to speak with the emergency operator, issuing a few hurried commands in Japanese. The detective could only assume that his elder partner encouraged discretion in the process. As he gazed out the window, he saw a few people in the lobby: two men, one women; two entering, one leaving. He half expected Felix or one of the others to pop up at any moment, and was half disappointed when they didn't.

The phone clicked as the receiver was set down. Masamoto stood up. "They're on their way," he said. "Thank you for your time, sir. Mr. Stollis, shall we?"

Dean got out of his chair, feeling the guns in his pockets rattle nervously. "Let's go."

Politely excusing themselves, the two men stepped out of the office, into the brightly lit lobby. As they approached the bank of elevators, Dean asked, "How long until backup gets here?"

Masamoto's eyes went straight to a digital wall clock. "They've got units on patrol in this area, they'll be here in about five minutes. For now, we keep an eye on the elevators and stairs."

"Keep an eye on things," said Dean. "I can do that."

Just then, the elevator dinged merrily, its wood-finished doors creaking open. Its two occupants entered the lobby before Dean and Masamoto could get close to the elevators; they were not, however, far enough away to be unrecognizable.

Dean felt a chill run down his spine as he spotted the brown-haired, suit-clad bodyguard; before he could call out his name, Sebastian had seen him and frozen in place, and his Asian companion was not far behind.

"Shit, it's them!" cried Sebastian. "Takeshi, look out!"

"Hold it!" bellowed Masamoto. "Police!"

Within seconds, everyone had handguns drawn. Dean trained his .45 on Sebastian, while Masamoto kept his piece pointed squarely at Takeshi.

"Police! Drop your weapons!" Dean ordered. "Put 'em down, right now!"

"Oh, right, like hell I will!" Takeshi shot back. "We're walking out of here!"

"Where's Felix!" Masamoto growled. "Where's the kid!"

Sebastian took a step forward, keeping his gun aimed at Dean. "Get out of the way, Dean. You too, officer. Nobody's taking us to jail."

"Put your goddamn weapons down!" Dean's eyes grew wide, furious, though his hold on the gun remained steady. "Do it!"

Amidst their back-and-forth shouting, the cries of the few bystanders in the lobby could be heard as they scrambled madly away from the scene. The elevator bell rang out again, causing Dean's eyes to leave his target for a fraction of a second.

His sight went back to Sebastian just in time to see the bodyguard raise the gun to eye level, the barrel pointed squarely at Dean's head. The detective didn't have time to think; he hammered down the trigger and felt the gun convulse and explode.

The shot missed its mark, but it was disorienting enough to cause Sebastian to lose his aim; he fired back and put a bullet into the ceiling roughly 30 feet behind Dean. The detective was first to fire again, and Sebastian was not so lucky this time. With a mighty bang, the .45 spat out another bullet, slamming it deep into the bodyguard's chest. Another pull of the trigger sent a second bullet to join its brother, and with a painful grunt Sebastian crumpled to the ground, the gun tumbling from his hands.

At the first gunshot, Takeshi had sprung to his right, diving over a nearby sofa chair as he loosed a round in Masamoto's direction. The lieutenant was quick to return fire, but not quick enough; his bullet missed Takeshi's upper thigh by a few inches as he dove. Takeshi quickly took cover behind the chair, reaching up and firing blindly, forcing Masamoto to scramble away as he fired back, several bullets punching through the dark red obstruction, to little effect.

With Sebastian down, Dean turned to his left and saw Takeshi firing over the chair, the mighty explosions almost deafening in the confines of the lobby. Bits of cloth and padding were blown all over the place as bullets tore through and sailed around the chair; Dean blindly fired into the center of mass, hoping to strike Takeshi in some part of his body. One, two, three bullets stabbed brutally through; their attacker's hand fell back behind the chair, but a few clicking noises explained why. Sure enough, seconds later Takeshi popped up from behind the chair, taking aim at Dean.

Lacking cover, Dean managed a few awkward shots as he circled right, hoping to get to cover. Bullets sailed past him as he frantically pointed the .45 at Takeshi and fired, the Asian's exposed figure only half-clear to him. One more pull of the trigger expelled the last bullet, locking the bolt of the handgun back; the bullet slamming uselessly into the wall behind Takeshi.

Takeshi had momentarily ignored Masamoto, but the lieutenant didn't grant him the same. More shots from the left. One to the chest and then another to the head; the gunshots ceased as Takeshi fell over, dead and twitching.

"Jesus," hissed Dean, swallowing hard and catching his breath. He gave one look at the empty gun in his hands, and tossed it to the ground. "Mas, you okay?"

The lieutenant, similarly flustered, walked up to him as he slid a fresh magazine into his pistol. "I'm okay, how about you?"

Dean took a quick assessment of his person, briefly wondering if he would even have noticed being shot. His injuries from before still stung, but he was relieved to discover no new ones. "I'm all right," he said shakily, turning to Masamoto. "Yeah, I'm okay."

"They must have heard the shots," said Masa.

Dean nodded. "Then we can't wait for backup," he replied, taking the Glock out of his jacket. "Let's go!"

They made a dash for the stairs, Masamoto reaching it first and practically tearing the door off its hinges. He stormed into the stairwell, Dean following close behind. Their shoes clapped softly on the carpeted steps, matched by their labored breathing as they climbed to the next floor, the pale fluorescent light bathing the two of them in a sickly glow.

Masa stopped at the door, one hand on the knob. He glanced back at Dean, who gave him an affirmative nod. In one fluid motion the lieutenant twisted the knob, shoved the door open, and sprang into the hall, gun at the ready. His eyes scanned the hall with frantic caution, searching for any targets.

"Looks clear," he said. "219. Let's check it out."

Masamoto stepped into the hallway, and Dean followed, gently closing the stairway door behind him. The detective glanced at a nearby door: 206. Slowly they crept down the hall, both with pistols raised and ready to fire.

The door to room 209 opened, and a slightly chubby Japanese man poked his head out, muttering something to himself. Upon seeing Dean and Masamoto, his jaw dropped in shock and he slammed the door shut, exclaiming something in his native tongue.

"Dean," the lieutenant began, "watch where you shoot."

"I know," Dean replied gravely. (No room for error,) he thought. (Hang in there, Hiro, we're comin'.)

Seven more doors. Six. Five. The detective started to get nervous. (How could they not have heard us? These walls might as well be paper. They had to hear it!)

Four. Three. They tensed up as they heard footsteps, though local noise from other nearby apartments made their exact location difficult to ascertain. They were only two doors down from 219 by the time they noticed the door was slightly ajar.

"Masa," Dean whispered. "Look."

Both men kept their guns pointed at the door, expecting it to fly open and someone to jump out any second. The hall suddenly became deathly silent, and neither could hear anything from the room beyond the door.

"Either side," Masamoto said quietly. "It could be a trap."

Dean nodded, and got on the right side of the door. Masamoto took the left, carefully reaching around and pushing the door open.

He drew it back the second he heard a loud gunshot from inside, a cloud of buckshot sailing through the open door and into the one opposite 219. The pellets blasted into the door, blowing small pieces out of it without actually punching through.

"Haaaaaah!" a man shouted from the room, firing again and again, the telltale shuck-shuck of a shotgun being pumped between shots. Around them, some of the other tenants began to cry out in confusion and panic, their screams adding to the gunshots.

Dean dared to poke his head around the corner, just long enough to get a bead on the shooter. Cole fired at him from behind a flipped over table in the living room, chasing Dean back behind cover; the detective retaliated with a single blind shot, to little obvious effect.

"Cover me!" Cole shouted, and in his place a machine gun sprang to life, firing a short burst through the doorway.

"Shotgun's right down the hallway!" Dean yelled to Masamoto. "Taking cover behind a table!"

It was Aniki's turn to take a glance, and he caught sight of a dark-haired man poking his head around the corner leading to the bedroom. The shooter held an Uzi with one hand, his arm hugging the wall as he leaned out. Seeing Masamoto, he let loose another few rounds, causing the lieutenant to duck back.

"Can you see him!"

"Yeah, the guy with the SMG is on the right!" Masamoto turned to Dean. "We'll go in together!"

"Right, we'll cover each other!" Taking a deep breath, he shouted at the top of his lungs, "Hiro! Can you hear me!"

No response, save for another salvo of automatic gunfire. "Hiro, if you can hear me, if you can move, get down on the floor! Keep your head down!"

He almost choked when an all-too-familiar voice called out to him. "Dean! Dean, I'm in here!"

He threw a look to Masamoto, and with a nod the two took a couple blind shots into the apartment, being careful to aim high and away from the bedroom. Together they spun around and moved into the tiny foyer, leading with their weapons.

Cole popped up first, the length of his shotgun giving him away. Masamoto fired once, then Dean, both putting a bullet into the table and forcing him down. The SMG goon was next, leaning out of the narrow hallway and taking aim. He stared to fire, but his two targets were quicker, and he had to duck back.

"Run for it!" shouted Cole. "Out the window! Mako, come on!"

A familiar brown-haired man sprang from hiding behind a nearby counter. "Felix! Stop!" Dean shouted, raising his gun to shoot. He was distracted, however, when Cole raised his shotgun again.

"Dean, look out!" Masamoto shot three times, and one of his rounds hit the mark, punching into the shoulder. Cole squeezed off a round, but his aim was thrown off and the shotgun fired harmlessly into the kitchen. Dean followed up with two of his own, both landing into the man's chest and knocking him onto his back, as good as dead.

"He's down!" Dean shifted his aim from the table to the corner leading to the bedroom. "You're all alone, pal, give it up!"

The blistering chatter of the SMG drowned him out as bullets collided with the far wall. Bits of porcelain shattered and exploded outward as a stray bullet struck the table lamp, blasting it into a million pieces. Then, just as suddenly, the shooting stopped.

"Keep back!" Mako growled. "You come any closer, I'll wax you AND the kid!"

Dean cringed on the inside, but masked his disgust with a scoff. "Shoot your only hostage?" he challenged. "You're new at this, aren't you?"

There was a harsh banging, a door being kicked open, and Dean took a chance on looking around the corner. The detective's blood turned to ice when he saw the man aiming into the open bedroom, still facing down the short hall towards Dean.

Masamoto joined him in holding up the shooter. "Drop the gun!" he ordered.

"I'll do it, I swear!"

Dean swallowed, the back of his throat stinging. "Don't," he said. "Just put it down. It's over no matter what you do."

Mako stared daggers at the detective. "Why should I?"

Taking a deep breath, Dean answered slowly. "Because you don't come back from that."

"You really want to die just to spite us?" asked Masamoto. "C'mon, it's not worth it. Put it down and you can walk out of here."

Mako's arm, already trembling, slowly started to descend. His eyes still burned with anger, but his shoulders slumped in defeat. With a sigh, he dropped the gun at his feet and kicked it down the hall, raising his hands in surrender.

"Felix went out the window," said Dean.

Masamoto nodded. "Go ahead, I'll take care of things here."

Dean didn't need to be told twice. He bolted towards the window, seeing the black metal of the fire escape beyond; he climbed out, and noticed the flashing lights below. A squad car had parked at the end of the alley, blocking the only exit. Above, Dean heard loud clanking noises, and through the moonlight he saw Felix scrambling up the ladder and climbing off onto the roof.

The detective hastily pursued, climbing up the ladders as fast as he could. He ran out of breath somewhere around the 6th floor, but that didn't stop him. He had enough sense to slow down on the next landing, and as he climbed to the 8th floor he kept his eye – and gun – on the edge of the roof. Spotting no one, he stepped up onto the ledge and climbed over, scanning the darkened rooftop for any sign of Felix.

A shadow crossed his sight, running from him. Dean gave chase, taking care to maneuver around a nearly invisible ventilation duct. The shadow rounded the corner of the distant stairwell, and Dean doubled his pace, leading with his gun.

Dean crept around the stairwell – a smallish structure, locked tight – and saw the silhouette of Felix standing against the other end of the roof, looking out towards the nearest other building.

"Felix!" called Dean, taking aim. "Give it up, you've got nowhere to go!"

Felix cursed as he turned around. His hazel eyes, barely visible, stared long and hard at Dean, as if he could kill the detective simply by doing so. "God damn it," he muttered.

"Nothing fancy, Felix," said Dean. "Just come towards me, hands in the air, nice and slow. You know the drill."

"Yeah, yeah," Felix replied, obeying the instructions.

As he neared, Dean shook his head pitifully. "Why'd you do it, man?"

Felix raised an eyebrow, almost playfully. "What, exactly, are you referring to?"

Dean gave a frustrated sigh. "Why, man? You were a good cop, once."

"I was a good cop," said Felix flatly. "I had a good partner."

The detective winced, a familiar pain stinging deep in his chest. "So did I," he said sadly. "And then he became captain."

"You think there's a reason?" Felix asked, turning slightly to one side. "You think there's something that explains it all? Something that says 'Oh, that'd happen to anybody in his shoes'?" He scoffed. "Money. I wanted more of it. More than just some no-name LA cop could make." He eyed Dean knowingly. "I'm sure you can relate."

"Bullshit!" Dean challenged with a glare. "I got forced into your little deal. Yeah, I wanted the money, hell, who wouldn't? But that money was forced on me. You know that, Felix, and you know DAMN well I didn't turn anything over to Internal Affairs before they found me out."

Felix scowled. "And you expect me to believe that? Besides, what does it matter?"

"I want to know why," Dean pressed. "Why'd you drag Hiro into this? Why'd you cut a deal with Rosenberg, CC and the others? Why all this?" He stopped, catching his breath. "Is it really just about the money?"

"Getting rid of Aura, that was about the money," Felix confessed, his face blank. "Turning on Rosenberg, that was about the money. Getting to torment you, though," he smiled wickedly, "that was for the fun. And killing you… shit, I'd pay to do that."

Dean started to tremble, and not because the air was chilly. "You were my friend, man."

"I thought much the same," said Felix, the menace clear in his tone. "Even back in San Quentin, I tried to tell myself that. As you… remember, it didn't quite work out that way."

Dean remembered with picture-perfect clarity. The flash of steel as the improvised knife cut across his chest; the sickening crunch as the length of chain collided with one of his attackers' skulls; the feeling of several sweaty hands grabbing him, forcing the fighters apart; a panicked voice calling for a medic; his own hands stained with blood, some of it his.

"So, that's it?" Dean asked in disbelief, lowering his gun. "You act like I sold you out, and you go from that to trying to kill me? Is that really it?"

Felix shrugged. "It's like I told you, Dean… I needed money… 'cause I had none." He started to smirk. "And I fought the law… and the law…"

"Aw, can it," Dean interrupted. "You're coming with me. Let's see those hands."

"Time to play the good cop, huh?" Felix asked. He started to turn, his exact movements masked in the dim light. "Well, I guess if you gotta take me in, sergeant…"

"Hey, hold it!" ordered Dean. "Hold still!"

"Then that's what you gotta do."

Something glinted in the light of the moon, almost too briefly to be seen.

"Felix, stop!'

"Die, Stollis!"

Bang. Bang.

"Up here, let's go!"

Masamoto grunted as he climbed the final ladder, and then hauled himself up over the ledge onto the roof. He was followed by two police officers, both brandishing flashlights as they joined him.

"Dean!" called Masamoto. "Dean!" Hearing no answer, he threw a look at the two officers. "Come on, this way."

They strode across the roof, flashlights swaying madly as they looked this way and that. Halfway to the other side, one of the officers caught sight of a man-shaped shadow, which was sitting down and leaning against the side of the stairwell.

"Over there!"

Masamoto hurried towards the shadow, panting as he ran. "Dean? Dean, talk to me! Are you okay?"

The shadow let out a weary groan; one of the cops shone a light into his eyes, and he cringed and looked away. "Ohhh… damn, man, watch the light."

"Dean!" Masa cried. "Are you all right? Where's Felix?"

The three officers gathered around the fallen Dean, and watched as he gestured vaguely to a body not five feet away. Felix lay curled up, his pistol several feet away, a bullet hole in his upper arm and an exit wound on his shoulder. He coughed loudly as the police turned their attention to him, raising his wounded arm weakly to shield his eyes.

"He was aiming for my head," said Dean. "I was aiming for his chest. We both missed."

End of Chapter 41