They're in a desert. An actual desert. Okay, no, a virtual one. And the sun, a large hunk of metallic light, shimmers above their head in the blue sky as though it's a huge jewel, veiled by a deep pool. Cactuses spout up at random intervals and in the distance, both near and far, rise sand dunes like large brown mountains spun out of sugar.

'This is where the SOLtiS from the shrine received the request from Aniki?' Playmaker asks. And while no real judgement seeps into his tone, there's a strange, almost indifferent sort of scepticism present in it.

Ai glares at him. 'Yes!' he snarls out. 'Are you doubting my skills?'

'It's not that,' Playmaker remarks, and Ai bristles, fists clenching at the sheer lack of emotion he hears in his partner's voice. 'It's just that this seems like an odd place for a SOLtiS to come of its own volition. It isn't a very active server. So what would have been their objective?'

Crunch, crunch, crunch. Their feet sink into the sand, cutting out new footprints, ones that the surrounding grains rapidly fall into and cover over, programmed to leave behind an untouched landscape for the next visitor.

'Maybe something about this place spoke to it,' Ai remarks after a moment's thought. 'It's pretty desolate here. Without anyone to tell it what to do, maybe it wanted somewhere that matched how it was feeling on the inside.'

Playmaker gives him a look. 'That's a rather fanciful story,' he says. 'You don't even know if the SOLtiS was truly alone. Perhaps it still had an owner.'

'If it still had an owner,' Ai sneers. 'Then it would have been too stupid to listen to 'Aniki' in the first place! It woul-'

He senses it coming before he finishes his sentence; a projectile of light and heat diving down as swift as an arrow. So Ai leaps back, ducks his head under his arm, and lets out a yell as the sand scatters before him – right where his body would have been had he'd been too stupid to move.

'Someone's shooting at us, SOMEONE'S SHOOTING AT US!'

His panicked shout rises above the sound of more shots being fired, and he runs forward, quickly summoning his board to the side of him like a shield, bracing himself beneath it as he runs. The shots fall so fast and heavy that's impossible to take the chance to leap onto it, not when it would reveal his body to the open air and the keen sight of whoever is shooting at them.

'Oi, Playmaker!' he calls at he runs, cursing the sand as it slips beneath his feet. 'You aren't dead, right?'

Only a few steps behind him, Playmaker gives him a look that is either irritated or just plain testy. But he doesn't waste his breath answering; instead he slaps a card down onto the long slot that extends out of his active Duel Disk.

With a small burst of pixalated light, a small white monster, a Bitron appears with a cute sounding coo. And its blue eyes widen as a shot promptly clips it in the side. Ai can't help but feel sorry for the thing, watching as its balloon-like head swells slightly under the onslaught of laser-fire. But it gives them enough of a reprieve for Ai to leap onto his board, seize Playmaker's hand, and drag him on after him.

And then they've off, zooming along the sand, and maybe it's instinct or something more, but Ai finds his knees bending as he moves the board, bracing to shift his weight. Up, down, left, right – he zigzags ruthlessly away from each yellow shot as it pounds the sand, just a second too late to touch him.

Playmaker is knocked into him with a grunt, and Ai quickly wraps his arm around his human partner's waist to prevent him falling off.

'Hold on!' he calls. 'This is gonna be one bumpy ride!' Then he grins wildly at the chance to say such a cliché line, despite the danger they're in.

And danger, they are indeed in. As the next few seconds are filled with more yellow streaks of light that aim for his head, and Playmaker keeps grunting by his side as he struggles to play his next card.

'You should have summoned your own board!' Ai mutters testily.

'And you should have brought a Duel Disk and a deck!' Playmaker snaps back at him.

His fingers finally connect with his Duel Disk and Bitron dissolves as he uses it to summon the more hardy Link Spider. It rolls above them, legs spreading, and Ai grins at the dark umbrella it casts above them both.

'That's the spirit!' he crows. 'I knew you weren't useless!'

Playmaker doesn't reply. Perhaps because a green barrier has suddenly sprang up behind them, successfully sealing them inside a now visible dome.

'Eh? Eh! Where did that come from!?'

The sky is instantly pasted into a darker hue of blue as the green barrier glitters overhead in a wide dome that branches out across the sand. And then, abruptly the laser-fire ceases.

Ai hovers, his expression unsure.

'What?' he asks. 'What? WHAT?'

'It's a trap,' Playmaker says calmly as though explaining the weather. 'We've been herded inside.'

Ai glances round. 'But there's nothing here!' he whines.

'You don't know that,' Playmaker says, still infuriatingly calm. 'Which means we have to explore the area properly.'

Ai scowls, but lets the board slide close to the ground. And after one disgruntle moment, jumps down and cautiously de-summons it after Playmaker lands beside him.

But there's no answering laser-fire. So with a huff, Ai marches up to the green barrier and examines it.

'Nasty piece of work,' he mutters. 'Could fry the circuits of anyone stupid enough to touch it.' He peers down at the ground a little more thoroughly, picking up bits of scattered programming tangled amongst the individual grains. 'Urgh. There's a sensor here. As soon as we flew over it, looks like it triggered this firewall.' He glares over his shoulder. 'The sadist shooting at us made us run away from him, precisely so we could trigger this little trap and then march right back towards him. What is he, a twelve year playing a shooting game for the first time?'

Playmaker grimaces. He's still standing where Ai left him, his gaze sweeping over the sand, back in the direction they fled from. 'Don't wander off,' he chides him. 'That laser-fire was aimed mostly at you.'

Ai hunches his shoulders. 'Ah, the privileges of being a wonderfully advanced AI! Everyone wants a piece of me!' He spins and motions to himself with a dramatic flourish, enjoying the way his cape flares out behind him. But Playmaker simply grimaces again, arms crossed.

'Ai. Come back here.' He says it like Ai is a dog or something.

And Ai immediately slumps over at the tone, as though dejected. 'Eh. You're so bossy.' But he trails back to Playmaker's side under his harsh, unrelenting stare none the less.

'Let's go.'

'Like I said: bossy.'

They tramp back out beneath the green barrier, back where they came from. For a while nothing happens. And then:

'Ow!'

Ai hops, a sharp pain coursing through his foot as he casts a nasty glare down at the jagged pieces of metal. 'You-!' He aims a kick at it, regrets it slightly as the shock instantly reverberates up his leg, and then tries not to regret it even further as Playmaker's eyes narrow at him a little in disapproval. 'Hey! None of those sneaky side-glances! I'm the injured party here!'

'Yes. But it was mostly self-inflected.'

Ai mutters to himself, but cocks his head to the side in curiosity as he recognises a few fragments of code. Frowning, he leans down and brushes the sand aside. To reveal...

'Oh,' he says, his voice turning hard and cold. 'Now that's just in bad taste.'

Someone clearly has too much time on their hands. And also a nasty personality. Because what his hand is cupped round, is a tiny sliver of a SOLtiS' empty face, the basic, curved metal structure of it at least, where there isn't any hard light projection to paint a pair of pretty human eyes over it anymore. There are even bits of fluctuating code at the side, blurring the edge of the metal as though it's has been caught between disintegrating entirely and remaining here. Someone's arranging it that way, preventing the code from being deleted outright.

And now that he thinks of it...

Ai looks round. The dunes here don't look at all natural. They poke up at random intervals as though the sand has simply been chucked over multiple pieces of rubbish people have thrown away. He even thinks he makes out what could be some SOLtiS limbs poking up and through.

Ai's mouth becomes a thin line. 'Huh. Maybe this is why those SOLtiS were in such bad condition. Because they were the lucky ones who escaped this little graveyard. But what would be the point of giving them a place to survive in the real world, if you kill most of them off here? And why bother to leave some of the junk data intact here?' Then he makes a face. 'Urgh. It's some sicko's trophy, isn't it?'

Playmaker's gaze is heavy and serious, his eyes scanning over the same misshapen heaps of sand Ai's looked at.

'I don't think this 'Aniki' did this,' he says thoughtfully, hand cupping his chin. 'I think someone else knows what's they've been up to and disapproves, and this has become their stakeout.' His fingers leaves his chin as Ai straightens and clambers a little higher up the make-shift dune. 'Ai?'

Ai looks down at the fragment of code jumbled in his hand, feeling the coolness of the metal bite into his hand. The closest human analogy he can think of, is perhaps the idea that he is holding part of someone's skull.

'Disgusting,' he mutters. And then with no further ado, he ruthlessly rips apart the code in his hands.

'Bye-bye,' he intones humourlessly, watching the last of the data glitter and disappear. 'Maybe you'll be happier like that; at the very least you won't feel any more pain.'

He senses more than sees Playmaker stiffen at that; but his chief concern is for the other 'skeletons' here, the ones forced to hang on under the cruel programming of the one who took them apart in the first place, callously sieving through their data like flour. An arm, a leg, a tiny jointed finger from a SOLtiS who had been designed to be child-sized...he doesn't rest until he's dismantled the last of their code, setting it free under the fake sky. And if anyone wants to stop him, well, they'll have to shoot him first.

Nobody does. He doesn't want to think of what that could mean.

'Ai,' says Playmaker who watches him do this silently, something new and tentative entering his voice. 'Someone wanted us to see this.'

'No,' says Ai lowly. 'They wanted me to see.'

As soon as these words escape him, the ground rumbles. There's flicker of darkness, and like a dramatic scene in a video game, a long, lean tower coated with a vicious asphalt-like blackness, surfaces through the air. Ai stumbles back, reaching out for Playmaker in a panic, flailing - but just a little. Really. Only just enough for Playmaker to grab his arms and tell him, quite curtly to 'calm down.'

They both stare at this new arrival that seeks to divide the wavering sphere of the sun overhead. And Ai stares at it a little harder, something urgent pulling at his memory. For while the pixels of the tower are black, there's a gap between each one in which runs the same glow of magma from...from somewhere...

And as he watches, these magma-coloured flecks overtake the black colour and weave their way onto the sides of the tower like the cracks in an eggshell. They travel, making sharp turns, rather like the rivers of lines that appear on a circuit board. And in no time at all, the black colour of both the tower and roof has leeched away entirely beneath their fire. Now the entire structure is red, red all over. But the lines are still there, protruding slightly like the assorted collection of pipes in a complex plumbing network.

Something in him grinds to a halt. A blurry video fritzes in his system. He can make out, no recall a structure coloured just like this one, but not rising from the ground the way human buildings do. No, it was locked into the sky, floating, coated in those same red lines, several towers rising from its centre where a yellow oval lay. And it was connected by a series of wire-thin bridges to five others like it, each coloured differently like the elements used in Duel Monsters-

Playmaker's hand lands on his shoulder.

'Ai?'

He screeches as though he's being deleted.

'Calm down,' repeats his partner. But this time it's said a bit more gently.

Ai blinks and realises why. He's currently slumped in the sand, on his knees, breathing hard. It's strange. When did he start doing that? He doesn't need it, it's a waste of a program really. And he's sure, back when he first woke up, nothing in him could facilitate it. But some part of him, the whole him, the old him, must have designed it, input it as a reflex for this form. He thinks he remembers doing it once as purple winds tore up the sky, Playmaker mirroring him on the other side of the blackened field, breathes rolling out of his virtual body-

Ai's eyes slides over to Playmaker. Who looks very much like a worried partner and not the instrument of death he could have been in that vision.

Ai narrows his eyes. Then widens them, allowing a jolly smile to cross his face.

'I'm fine, I'm fine!' he makes his tone jovial, forces his feet to cut out wide, bracing steps away from Playmaker's worried look. All the way over to the crumbling arch of stone that has risen from the tower, projecting a short tunnel of scarlet darkness in front of him. Thankfully, it's littered with medieval torches, iron brackets that carry both firewood and flickering flames to carve out more welcoming patches of red light inside.

And yet. The code this place comprises of, feels jagged and wrong, despite it's odd familiarity.

'Let's go!' He pumps his fist. Hesitates. And then forces himself to take the first step before Playmaker can reach him and maybe drape his hand over his shoulder again.

'This could be a trap,' Playmaker tells him, barely a stride behind. 'In fact, I'm surprised you haven't pointed that out.'

Ai shrugs. 'Doesn't change what we came here to do, right? And I won't find any answers if I lurk outside like a coward.'

He feels Playmaker's eyes digging into his back. And then he hears a huff of breath, an amused one that ghosts between the short space he's placed between them.

He forces himself not to turn. Even if it is tempting to see anything approaching amusement on Playmaker-sama's dour face. 'What?' he snaps back testily.

'This is quite a role-reversal,' Playmaker states. 'You used to be the one begging me not to go into something like this.'

'Oh? Then shouldn't you find that sad, rather than funny? That I'm someone different now.'

'You're really not.' Playmaker's voice sounds warm, fond even. It stirs the space between them, pulls on Ai, makes him want to turn round. 'You should be, without your memories. I worried that you would be. But your impulses, and all your reactions to me; at their heart they're the same as before.' Then, after a moment's pause: 'They make you easy to read.'

Ai freezes. Is that a threat?

'That's a good thing, Ai.' Playmaker says this as though he's read his mind, stepping up beside him and into the nearby light from a torch as though he wants Ai to see the look on his face, a look that whispers I know you. The flames flicker and cast their light over his expression, making his eyes shine and Ai just stares at them. At him.

'It means your memories aren't lost,' Playmaker continues, watching him carefully. 'Not entirely. The data's there, even it's illegible or else hard for you to read. But some part of it must have survived for it to still be governing your behaviour in this way.'

'Playmaker...' Ai continues to stare at him, eyes wide. Then shakes himself out of it 'Hmph. I still don't see what's so funny about that.'

'There's nothing to do but laugh in this situation.'

The words come out a little breathless by his side. And just the sound of it, paired with the crescent of Playmaker's mouth as it opens and shuts, caught in a smile against the red, red background of this corridor...

Instantly another video file unfurls inside him like a flower. It's of a duel, the purple-red vines around them leeching across a brown and stormy sky, all part of a tower that is awful, that will do something terrible. And he is helpless to stop it, tiny and locked onto a human arm, gazing at a face very like the one beside him now, one that's been battered by Rokket Dragon monsters. Bruises and scrapes tug at the set of Playmaker's chin, coat his cheeks, fold over his brow, but he still looks at him, Ai, his tiny hostage, and smiles.

'There's nothing to do but laugh in this situation. But that doesn't mean I've given up!'

'But that doesn't mean I've given up.'

The words aren't spoken as forcefully this time round. But they still knock Ai out of his trance as though they had been. And he realises; his mouth is open, his eyes are wide, still staring at a face that was battered and bruised, his back now abruptly backed into the snug tuck of Playmaker's arm as it wraps around his shoulder and prevents him from escaping and ramming his back into the wall. Because when...when had he moved back?

'Easy,' says Playmaker.

And Ai sees it then, the calculation running behind those green eyes beside him as they watch him keenly, a calculation that doesn't simply set those irises on fire, but smoulders within them instead.

'I thought so,' says Playmaker, a strange fierceness in his eyes, as he removes his arm. 'You remembered something just now, didn't you?'

Ai backs away, hopelessly frightened by this weird confidence he can see reflected in the other, a certainty that doesn't make sense. 'I didn't realise human memory was that good,' he mutters. 'I was under the impression that you couldn't recall the exact phrases you'd once uttered word for word. Not the way I and other AI can.'

'No human can remember every word they've ever said, you're right about that,' says Playmaker stoutly, crossing his arms. 'But most of us can remember the most important ones, the ones that stand out at a pivotal moment in our lives.'

Ai snorts. 'No, I think many of you can't even do that. Not if all the soap operas about husbands forgetting their wives' anniversaries are to be believed.' Then he sniggers. 'Besides; you laughing is a pivotal moment? Wow. You must have been a real fun guy to hang out with when we first met.'

'I wasn't,' Playmaker says. But he is smiling again, despite the crossed arms. 'Not in the slightest.'

'Aw.' Ai leans in close. Maybe he can throw Playmaker off balance again, regain the power he feels he's lost. 'Did I melt your heart? Force you to 'Ai' again?'

Playmaker's smile turns just the slightest bit cocky. 'Maybe.' He turns. 'I mean it though. I haven't given up on getting you back. You should bear that in mind.'

Ai blinks. 'Well sure, there's no point in any of this if-'

'No,' Playmaker interrupts, casting him a soft, almost pitying look. 'I mean when you do get your memories back completely. You need to remember exactly that; that I haven't given up. On anything.'

At the very top of the tower, after a series of elevators, is a small room. Strangely though, the code surrounding it feels similar to those zones in the Vrains where you have limited access. Only instead of needing a password or key code to get in, it feels as the situation is reversed; as though entry needs to be granted to the person on the opposite side of the doors.

Ai mentions this offhandedly and Playmaker frowns. Well. More than usual.

'You think someone's locked in there?'

'Hmm.' Ai taps his chin in thought. 'Maybe? It's just the impression I got from a brief scan. And it was put together in a hurry too. Real sloppy work. That or desperate.'

They walk down the corridor and Ai winces. The data's more ruptured here. As though there was a sudden explosion of activity, or a program was only half-way re-written. It feels wrong.

They reach the room only to find it's blocked off by a set of fusuma doors, the usual bland, cream paper-coloured kind you find in traditionally styled houses. And they clash horribly with the rest of the tower, looking out of place next to the bright red walls.

Ai looks at Playmaker. Playmaker gazes back at him.

'You ready to meet the final boss?' Ai jokes.

Instead of replying, Playmaker steps forward and slides open the door with a single strong thrust of his arm – almost as though he's drawing a card.

'We're coming in,' he intones evenly.

Ai scowls. 'You're no fun.' Then he peers over his shoulder.

The room inside is dark. Pitch black. And then a tiny firework blossoms to life in the centre. It shoots out sparks of red, orange, gold, all the colours found inside a single flame.

Memorised, Ai watches. 'Pretty,' he breathes out. It makes him want to take a step inside.

'I'll give you until the count of three to introduce yourself,' someone says, a male someone. Ai can make them out now, by the firework fountain. They're tall and lean, despite how huddled over they are, most of their body tucked under a clock. Their face is hidden, cast under yet another shadow by the tall, brimmed hat perched on their head. 'Starting now. One-' he snaps his fingers.

Playmaker's fingers clench round the edge of the fusuma doors.

'Two,' says the stranger, the word accompanied with another finger snap.

Ai hasn't made up his mind yet, on whether to step inside or introduce himself, or just, maybe to hunker down behind Playmaker's imposing figure. But then suddenly there's no time to decide.

For a burst of light cuts through the spray of the ever-lasting firework – but Playmaker's arms have already wrapped round his middle, and he's thrown down behind the slid-aside fusuma doors just as a jagged heat tears through his shirt. Ai bucks and gasps, as Playmaker growls, a low, annoyed huff by his ear. And then Playmaker's weight is off him, and Ai scrambles round – but there's no running footsteps, no pursuit coming after them both.

A few more shots ring out, more beams of light thud by them at an angle, and Ai yelps and tucks himself in. But then there's a silence.

Ai glances up. Playmaker is standing in the open doorway, glaring out into the centre of the room.

'Are you working for SOL Technologies again, Blood Sheppard?

'The same way you're protecting the Dark Ignis again?' fires back this man, this Blood Sheppard. 'No, unlike you, I've learnt my lesson.'

Playmaker's eyes narrow. 'I've learnt plenty. I know you have no problem shooting people you say you will or even shooting me; but Ai's your main target here. It's why you designed this place to resemble Flame's tower right? And you know he's unlikely to show himself if you get rid of his protector.'

'Exposing yourself to the line of fire is still a stupid decision,' the man points out. He sounds, taunt and angry in a way that makes Ai feels trapped just to hear it. 'Even a common soldier knows better.'

Ai breathes. His hands travel over his torso. The skin beneath his shirt has only been impacted slightly; Yusaku had pushed him out of the way before any real damage had been done.

'Wow,' he murmurs, fingers pressing into the ripped seams of his shirt, a few gliding over the lining of his jacket. 'Good job I was wearing so many layers today.'

Sheer nonsense. Nonsense that the other two humans pay no attention to.

'You could have pursued us out of the room,' Playmaker is busy pointing out to this Blood Sheppard. 'The fact you stayed there and continued shooting means you can't. Why is that I wonder?'

Ai swallows. He stares at a flickering torch nearby. The program responsible for writing the colours and the heat seems to flicker in response to his gaze, and each bright pixal feels familiar. Glancing at it more closely reveals the source code, all that jumble of repeating numbers that bear traces of all the same algorithms locked inside himself.

Ai's breath stutters. Something made this. Something like him.

Playmaker however is still speaking. 'In fact,' he continues, 'none of this is how you usually operate. What happened here?'

Blood Sheppard lets out a 'tch' of sound.

'Do the words 'Aniki' mean anything to you?' Playmaker persists. 'Maybe we can help you; if you help us.'

Blood Sheppard laughs; it's not a pleasant sound. 'Even a bounty hunter has the same pride as a soldier does, Playmaker,' he says, scorn dripping through every syllable. 'You keep playing around with that AI; keep telling yourself you can redeem it, make it better. But it'll turn on you just like before. Just like those SOLtiS have already turned on their owners. The only thing you can do with AI like that is break them down and learn from them, so you're better prepared to destroy the ones that will rise up in their place.'

And suddenly all of Ai's fear is washed away. He rears to his feet, hand outstretched, tearing apart the code from the nearby torch, no, not just the torch, the walls themselves. A crack appears from his tampering, data spilling through, crumbling to nothing. But he doesn't care, he doesn't care. Because he can feel it now, the whole sordid history. Tattered code, clumsily reshaped by a human who tore through threads of thought and stray imprints.

There's botched data here. For a shopping list. For remnants of a Duel monsters card, flames flaring out of their joints like swords. For the merest impression of a name.

Tak...ru. It sings. Stops. Then sings to him again. Not in a way any human could recognise it. But it's there. A useless ghost that can't think.

Ai is furious.

Abruptly, he pokes his head round the edge of the door, the code shivering into something else as he frantically rewrites and reshapes it.

Naturally he's oh-so-kindly greeted with another blast of light to the face. Ai doesn't blink, not even at Playmaker's warning shout. Instead he throws the revamped code out, watching it spread to form a net, threads of purple and red woven together into knotted squares of rope. And the shot shudders and breaks apart as though its poison, disintegrating, before the net falls over Blood Sheppard entirely.

Who promptly curses. Wriggles. Lashes out with one of his arms as though he's a beast. But not with the metal one, Ai notices.

'Oh, shut up!' Ai says shortly. 'This tower and the programs here didn't belong to you in the first place! Let me guess: you ripped them from one of the rebel SOLtiS you tracked down here. But the program turned on you, didn't it?' He points at Blood Sheppard's arm, at the way it sizzles, data flicking off in plumes of smoke as it makes contact with the net.

'I understand now, Playmaker,' Ai says softly, watching this man struggle and hurt before him and feeling nothing, nothing but satisfaction, as this murderer twists and turns beneath the bite of the rope. 'You told me before that the SOLtiS weren't capable of free will, that they weren't like me. And you were right. But that Flame person you were talking about just now...he was like me, wasn't he? And if an AI like me broke down, got disseminated over the net and came into contact with SOLtiS that were here...theoretically I suppose some of their code could be infected, rewritten by a more advanced one. Enough to obtain some measure of free will.'

Playmaker sucks in a harsh breath at his side as though reminded of something.

Ai doesn't turn to look at him. He doesn't want to see his face. Instead he bends down, close enough to see this Blood Sheppard, so he can look him in the eye. But even that is denied to him, the avatar's face showing him wretched pink jagged shapes instead of eyes.

'How dare you,' Ai says, something dark seeping into his tone. He stands up again and steps into the room properly. Watches as Blood Sheppard struggles to breathe. 'How dare you take something that was in their death throes and remake it into some sort of watch-tower! But it got its own back huh? Enough to trap you here.'

'Ai,' says Playmaker quietly by his side. And then that familiar hand is slamming into his shoulder and spinning him round.

'Don't do this. This road...it doesn't lead anywhere good.'

'Do you think that this Flame guy would agree with you?' Ai asks coldly.

'He would,' says Playmaker, without a single trace of hesitation. 'He wouldn't want you to do this. You may not remember him, but I do. He would have told you to deal with it. He was all about self-control and restraint when it was needed.'

'And the SOLtiS that were tortured here?' Ai asks quietly. 'What do they deserve?'

Playmaker shakes him. Actually shakes him by the shoulders as if Ai is human just like him, frail and breakable and easy to persuade with mere words. 'Don't lose yourself to this rage, Ai!'

By his feet Blood Sheppard utters a wet, humourless laugh, like he's choking on blood beneath his teeth, despite the face he doesn't have an actual mouth in this world.

'An AI losing itself to emotion? How funny.'

Ai fights back every urge he has to kick the man in the face. Instead he snaps his fingers – in very much the same fashion Blood Sheppard seems to enjoy. And abruptly the ropes disappear and Blood Sheppard's limbs relax, sprawling out to issue smoke from where they drag along the ground. He's not sure why he does it exactly; except something, some instinct tells him that if he does snuff this so-called Sheppard out, then the man will have won somehow.

Playmaker immediately lets go of his shoulders, visible relief in his eyes. 'Stay behind me, right behind me,' he mutters to Ai. 'Don't even step out of my shadow; I can protect you more easily this way.'

Ai blinks. And miraculously, Playmaker's mouth twists into a tight smile.

'Trust me; humans get stronger when they feel as though they're protecting something. So stay right there and I'll be much stronger because of it.'

Now, Ai has watched a lot of shows. Ones where humans get a surge of unrealistic strength whenever their loved ones are in danger and can then beat up the bad guys, no matter how many ribs they cracked in the last attempt. But that's fiction. So he looks at Playmaker doubtfully.

But Playmaker's gaze is no longer on him. No, now it's on Blood Sheppard and the brow above twists as though he doesn't like the sight of the other man dashed against the ground like this. But when he kneels he doesn't offer a comforting touch, or even drag the guy into his arms the way humans often do with their wounded.

'And what were you hoping to obtain here, Blood Sheppard?' he asks quietly. 'How long have you been aware of this Aniki's work?'

Blood Sheppard hacks out a cough. 'I don't owe you a thing.'

'Oh yes, you do,' Playmaker says, very, very softly – so softly Ai has to strain to hear him. 'You and eight other people owe me a great deal. Normally, I wouldn't care. But today, with Ai's life on the line, I do.'

There's a very tense silence. After a moment, Playmaker closes his eyes. 'I'll let SOL Technologies know your location. They can send their finest, dig you out of this trap you're in. I can't stop you from hunting Ai; but I will stop you from coming after him.' He stands up and looks down at Blood Sheppard. There's anger there, on his brow. Maybe pity too. Maybe. 'You should find someone to stop you though. I thought you had found that with your sister.'

'You're right,' Blood Sheppard whispers, each word a harsh, nasally grunt. 'I did. But she's busy, with something else. Something that would appeal to you and your heroic tendencies.' He sneers. 'Someone had to take up the slack while you were gone, Playmaker.'

Playmaker frowns. 'What do you mean?' he asks carefully.

Blood Sheppard bites out a laugh. 'You've been too busy protecting something you shouldn't, to worry about your human friends. That was a mistake. You've been wasting your energy on all the wrong things.'

Suddenly, he twists to the side, cape jostling with the movement, the material sliding aside just enough to reveal a tiny gun tightly wedged between his fingers of his non-metallic hand.

'Ai!' Playmaker's cry is sharp and heated as the hand rolls slightly, the aim firm and fixed and – oh, there isn't enough time-

There's a savage thrust on his cape, and Ai is suddenly jerked to the side, chin and cheek bashing the floor the very same second the shot passes through the space his head had been. And for one baffled moment he is left staring at the sight of Playmaker's green foot resting snugly on the corner of his cape, a green fist curling into creased swathes of the material above.

Playmaker's other foot however, is soaring firmly forward to kick the gun out of Blood Sheppard's hand. Then he reaches down and seizes it.

'Ai,' he says, his voice tight and furious. 'We're leaving. Now.'

Ai doesn't argue. They tear out of there, fast. Down the stairs, past the torches, and Ai wonders if maybe he should dismantle this tower despite the booby traps Blood Sheppard has probably re-worked into the code but...

'Leave it,' pants Playmaker, seizing his hand and tugging him along, the light of the flickering torches spilling in their wake. 'It's not worth it.'

Ai swallows down his shout. How do you know? he thinks. But they tumble out of the tower, into the sand outside all the same.

'Where's that sensor?' Playmaker asks. 'If we blast it with this, damage or overload it as we fly-'

The signal will get jammed and the firewall will fall, Ai thinks. He nods, the boards get summoned and then they've off, tearing over this sad little SOLtiS graveyard. He points a finger and Playmaker fires, a long smoking hole arching over the sand and causing the green wall in front of them to shudder for a few precious seconds.

They tear through the gap it leaves behind.

Phew, Ai thinks. He glances at Playmaker. But Playmaker is staring down, fingers flying over some small program he's got there, already devising some small message for the likes of those SOL Tech bastards – all so they can fly out and rescue some murderer.

Ai lowers his gaze pointedly. But does not say a word.

Look. Ai gets it. Why Playmaker stomped on his cape, why he, Ai, was damn near strangled at the movement and so cruelly forced into a near concussive state-

Okay, yeah, he's not human. He can't get a concussion. Or die from strangulation.

But it's the sheer principle of the thing.

So when they're out of the network, Ai does not immediately spring to Yusaku's side, lean into him or flutter his fingers at his face, or any of those other Yusaku-chan-shaped places that he has to admit, he is gaining a slight urge to explore.

In fact, he does not talk to Yusaku at all. He stands to one side, arms crossed, glaring.

It takes about five minutes for Yusaku to notice. Five.

'You're being quiet,' he comments.

Ai glares harder.

Yusaku pauses. Turns to face him fully. Stares.

Ai's hands tighten, clench at his fine sleeves. He will not, crack, he will not-

Yusaku frowns. 'Are you sulking?'

'No!' it bursts from him a wild shout. 'It's just...you had these cool lines about protecting me and being stronger because of it, and it was a lie so you could throw me down into a humiliating position on the floor!'

Yusaku's face smoothes over like a pebble. 'Did you want to get shot?'

'No!' Ai stomps his foot. Hard. 'That's not the point! You didn't have to say that cool stuff just to get me to do what you wanted! Not if it's a lie!'

For one very brief moment Yusaku looks earnestly confused. 'It's no lie.'

Ai scoffs. 'Right. Because humans magically get stronger when they protect something.'

Yusaku looks tired. 'Not just humans.' He raises a hand. It hovers as though it wants to travel the distance between them. And then he lowers it.

'I don't care; it still can't be true,' Ai says grimly. 'If it was no one would ever get hurt again.'

There's some wry sort of understanding on Yusaku's face now. 'It doesn't matter. You're safe. So it worked.'

Ai pouts harder. Spins on his heel. Marches over to the dumpy little futon Yusaku has in this place and promptly sprawls himself over it with a sigh, a long and heavy one, as though he could use some sleep.

'So,' he states with a grin, allowing it to grow and turn his expression into an outright taunting one. 'I guess we have a new lead; the mercenary Ghost Girl.' He curls a few fingers through his hair, lets his hand fly through it, and then preens.

Yusaku looks at him.

Ai smiles. 'What?'

'I'm going to need my futon back.'

Ai pouts. Flops over so he's hogging more of the duvet. 'Come ooooon, we can share body-heat! It'll just be the two of us! And it'll be ever so cosy because of it... ' He crooks a finger and tries to splay his chin on his hand in a seductive fashion. 'I'll even let you run your hands all over me to check I'm not damaged from earlier!'

Yusaku's brow rises. 'Is that supposed to be an incentive?'

Ai's lashes lower. 'Only if you want it to be.'

Yusaku sighs.

Picture this: hackers working diligently through the night, fingers racing over keyboards as they wade through the pile of code the Dark Ignis has tore open minutes hours before. Their fingers are frantic, their brows furrowed. For over them all watches their CEO.

He watches them face shadowed, as the grey colour of the room seeps into each crack and corner, despite the silver light of the many, many screens pooling out along tables and chairs.

Nobody debates the wisdom of this new venture. Nobody asks if they should trust this encrypted message sent to their servers from inside on the virtual worlds linked to the VRAINS. Nobody mentions the word 'Playmaker.'

It takes the better part of the night, a night where half a country away, Fujiki Yusaku rests in the grip of the Dark Ignis. Who stares at him, and wonders at the pulse of emotion in his chest, at the ever-changing strings of code within him that are evoked at the sight of this boy. Who worries that he has made a grave miscalculation in re-locking himself inside a human-like life.

Meanwhile, a different sort of emotion wages its war inside the chest of Zaizen Akira. And the first thing it makes him do, once Blood Sheppard is unearthed from that tower, trembling, exhausted, and spitting curses at them and Playmaker both, is march over to the screen and say low and hard:

'You owe me, Blood Sheppard. Now help your sister find mine and I'll call it even.'

Blood Sheppard looks at him from the huge screen centred on the wall of this massive room, his featureless face blocking all emotion. Then he lets out a snicker, low and cocky.

'You're ordering me around? Huh. Guess I'll see how long this new bravado of yours lasts, Zaizen.'

But it's not bravado. For Playmaker is right, when he tells Ai that humans are stronger when they stand to protect something; it's just not always the kind of strength you can bring yourself to admire.

But then again, this is not a lesson Ai has remembered yet either. But in time, a very short time, he will.