.Hack//Heist
Karlinn
RCalhoun35@aol.com




Disclaimer: Project .Hack and attached characters and concepts are property of Bandai and Cyber Connect.

Notes: Takes place between Infection and Mutation. Parentheses indicate thoughts. What follows is a story told through two separate viewpoints. Chapters 1-13 cover the perspective of the three thieves - Dean, Shinji and Max. Chapters 14-25 depict the same events through Kite and BlackRose's point of view.


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Chapter I - Symphony
------------
From: TamonAdillo@theworld.com
To: Stolls@theworld.com, Deisart@theworld.com
Subj: Recon

Title sketchy, tempo sketchier. Performed on strings. Maintaining intermission; if Mozart becomes suspicious, performing on wind and reducing intermission is advisable.

We are running out of time. Considering changing the title of the symphony. Will meet with you and Deisart at mezzanine to discuss, 7pm. Bach will arrive at 8.

- Tamon

Dark brown eyes blinked once, twice at the message displayed before them. (Damn this code,) thought their owner. (Could Max be more cryptic?)

He began sifting through the mass of paper covering his desk, the slender fingers of a pianist picking their way to and fro between handwritten notes, printed documents, and newspaper clippings; highlighted sections caught his eyes for fractions of seconds, calling attention to various events related to The World, and to the global economy. The words 'CC Corp', 'found comatose', and 'Key of the Twilight' appeared frequently. Player names appeared less so, excepting three in particular: 'Kite', 'Helba' and 'Tsukasa'.

(Ah, here it is.) He smiled, pulling a week-old post-it note free from the pile, the adhesive strip covered with far too much dust and dirt to be of use. He quickly scanned the contents, comparing each word with the e-mail before him.

'Target sketchy, information sketchier. Left via Sprite Ocarina. Maintaining surveillance; if Admin becomes suspicious, leaving via logout and reducing surveillance is advisable.

We are running out of time. Considering changing the target of the mission. Will meet with you and Deisart at Mac Anu to discuss, 7pm. Kite will arrive at 8.'

"Excellent." He covered his mouth and gave a wide yawn, collapsing into the leather swivel chair and propping his feet up on the desk. He drew his hand through his short, unkempt black hair and propped it behind his head as he leaned backwards, the chair creaking slightly under his weight. His eyelids slowly drooped shut, blocking the dull glare of the monitor from his sight.

The piercing whine of a ringing telephone broke his reverie, forcing him to sit up to reach the receiver. Passing it easily in his hand, he pressed the call button and brought the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

The voice of a quiet young man answered him. "Hey, Dean."

"Shin, hey man." Dean smiled again. "What's up?"

"Just got Max's letter. What do you make of it?"

Dean let out a heavy sigh, failing to stifle his yawn. "Ahh, I don't know... I think it was a long shot when we were looking for Helba. Now we gotta ask some kid for help."

Shin chuckled. "I know, I know... but Altimit isn't number one for no reason, and finding an 'in' at CC Corp. is a hell of a lot easier than trying to make one."

"I thought you said it was beatable."

Another chuckle, dryer than the last. "Well, nothing's unbeatable... but trust me, this gets pretty damn close. We need a hacker, and we need to go in through The World. More to the point, we need one to do the other."

He nodded, letting out a murmur of cautious agreement. "I still don't understand why you can't do it, though."

"It's not that simple; The World is a game, the interface isn't designed for hacking. Fact is, these two are ready-made to hack from the inside, and that's why we need them. C'mon, you saw what that bird thing did to us; you think fiddling around in binary is going to get through that, much less through the backdoor?"

Dean leaned back, the chair creaking under his weight. "Whatever, it's all Greek to me. I'm just wondering what they want with year-old data. Time was, anything older than three months was practically irrelevant."

"No kidding. Well, we'll see what this 'Kite' can do for us."

"All right then. See you in an hour, Shin."

"You too."

Dean pressed the off button and set the receiver back on the base. He threw a glance at the monitor, still brightly displaying the encoded e-mail.

(This guy better be the real deal,) he thought. (This World shit is starting to get to me.)

He stood up, stretched, took a few paces around the dimly lit bedroom. A long glance in the mirror revealed a disheveled, middle-aged man staring back at him; a worn pair of khaki trousers and a buttoned-shut blue shirt hung loosely around his moderate build, adding a casual touch to his otherwise dark appearance.

Dean walked to the window and brushed open the curtains, casting an inquisitive gaze onto the streets before him. Despite the highly visible Tokyo cityscape - a veritable forest of metal, concrete and glass - a lone object caught his attention: a black sedan, windows tinted. Perhaps the same that had tailed him from the airport, perhaps not.

Mocking levity, he smiled and waved at the sedan before releasing the curtains, retreating to the confines of his hotel room; he slowly returned to the desk and began tugging at the mess of wires about it, eventually producing a headset and goggles, designed specifically for interfacing with The World.

He remembered the scant media coverage of its release; fresher in his mind - and aided by the articles on the desk - were rumors of incidents where its users were harmed by the product. Another name appeared in the mass of clippings and notes, a recent instance in which a student had been found comatose while playing The World.

Setting the goggles to one side, Dean sat down before his terminal and closed the e-mail. With obvious reluctance, he scrolled through the desktop and highlighted "The World," clicking it twice.

(Time for the next move.)

-

A sprawling network of stone bridges, canals and buildings, a massive waterfront bazaar. The picture became more definite as he stared at it; slowly it grew, expanding beyond his field of vision and wrapping around him, encompassing him, until it was less a picture and more a place.

Golden rings swirled about him, covering him from head to toe, signaling the transition from one world to the next. The rings soon vanished, bringing to view the multitude of characters who inhabited the bazaar, running to and fro between the shops of the aqua capital.

He looked down to where his body should be; gone was his comfortable, loose-fitting attire, and with it his body. In its place, a simple black robe adorned the slender, pale form he now occupied. He lifted a hand - covered by a brown leather glove - and gave the robe a slight tug, only slightly unnerved by his inability to feel the garment. A glance at his other hand revealed that it now clutched a long, blue wand.

"Interesting."

He turned away from the broadway of Mac Anu to face the spinning Chaos Gate, just in time to witness two others enter The World - a Heavy Axeman and a Long Arm, the former covered entirely in rust-red armor and carrying a huge, tacky golden axe, the latter tall and athletic, decked out in loose blue pants and an open, matching vest.

The Long Arm cocked his head at Dean, causing a few locks of his shoulder-length blonde hair to spill forward over his eyes, the bright yellow mingling with his olive-colored stare. Resting the length of his ornately decorated spear over his shoulder, he grinned. "Stolls!"

The Wave Master smiled back, nodding to both as they approached. "Heya, Tamon."

"Hope we didn't keep you waiting," said the Long Arm.

Stolls shook his head. "Nah, just got here myself. So, this guy's showing up in an hour?"

The Axeman's armor clanked slightly as he glanced around, shifting his stance. Satisfied that no one was nearby, he nodded. "That's right. All my research indicates he's a hacker, too... I think he's worth a shot."

Tamon grunted in agreement. "It's not like we have much choice. Helba doesn't seem to play by the rules. Hell, she doesn't seem to play at all, as far as I've been able to determine. Hey... you sure we've been secured?"

"For now," replied Stolls. "Shinji, you..."

"Deisart," corrected the Axeman.

"Right, sorry. But you encrypted the voice uplink, didn't you?"

Deisart nodded. "Yeah."

"So, what do we do once he shows up?" asked Stolls. "Ask him to hack through an oversized firewall for us?"

"I think a test is in order," answered Tamon. "There is that Data Bug we found the other day... the bird creature."

The Wave Master let out a soft sigh, glancing away from the gate and down the broadway again, towards the bridge. "I don't know... I mean, I know this's the only way we can get it, short of going in shooting, but this guy, Kite... he's just a kid, I don't wanna involve some kid in this."

"I agree," said Tamon, a dark look crossing his tanned face. "But we're out of time. Rosenberg wants the data by Sunday, that's two days from now. He agreed to meet with us in an hour. You have a better idea, I'm willing to listen."

Stolls shifted his stance from one leg to the other, leaning slightly to his left, his eyes closed. "All right," he muttered. "One hour."

-

"Kite!"

Two turned as the Long Arm called out. On the left stood a tall, lithe female Heavy Blade with short, pink hair and wine-colored eyes. She bore spiked red armor and bracers, purple vine-patterned tights and silver boots; covering her body in short, narrow streaks were a series of jagged, thorny tattoos, and slung over her shoulder was her class's trademark weapon.

To her left stood the character Kite; short, spiky blue hair poked out from beneath his red cap, mingling with his blue eyes, while the rest of his body was covered by an orange-red vest, matching pants and a thick white undershirt. Clenched in both of his gloved hands was a pair of sharp-looking short swords, marking him as a Twin Blade.

He smiled and raised a hand, waving to Tamon. "Tamon, hi! Are these your friends?"

Tamon jogged up to Kite, answering him with a nod. "Sorry we're late." He glanced at the Heavy Blade, and then again at Kite. "I suppose introductions are in order." With a smile, he turned back to the woman. "I'm TamonAdillo. Just Tamon will do in a pinch."

He threw a glance over his shoulder towards the bridge, where Stolls and Deisart stood. "That's Stolls," he indicated the Wave Master with his thumb, "and the Axeman's Deisart."

Kite bowed slightly. "Nice to meet you both. I'm Kite, and this is BlackRose," he said, gesturing to his companion, who politely nodded but threw a curious glance at each member of the trio.

"So, you wanted to ask about something?" BlackRose spoke up, addressing Tamon.

Tamon cleared his throat. "Yes, well... this may sound a little strange, but..."

Deisart took a step forward, his armor making an audible clank as he moved. "We need your help," he finished for Tamon. "There's a monster at Delta, Buried Geothermal Spiral, and we believe it's been... altered."

"Altered?" said Kite, peering curiously at the armored Deisart.

"Hacked," replied Stolls, joining the conversation. "It had infinite hit points, as far as I could tell." He sighed. "It got all of us."

Tamon nodded. "We were going to try again, but I'm afraid that without a hacker, we can't do anything. That's why we need your help." After a beat, he added, "So, what do you say?"

Kite and BlackRose exchanged looks. A moment's pause, and they nodded to each other. "What's the name of the field again?"


------------
Chapter II - Broken Ice
------------
Eyes opened to a changed field. Gone were the streets, bridges and canals of Mac Anu; further gone was an even passing semblance of a real world.

Gaps dotted this conceptual reality - an expansive, desolate landscape; barren earth and rock as far as could be generated in an endless loop, a slight drizzle of digital rain creating the area's only soundtrack. All of it perforated by spots of code, patches of ground and sky gone to reveal a solid mass of computer-generated text beneath them. Numbers and letters trailed through the air, nonsensical yet predictable, mocking the idea that The World could be perceived as real.

"This is new," remarked Stolls, dryly concealing his surprise.

"It wasn't like this before?" asked Kite, notably unfazed by the unreality of their surroundings.

Stolls shook his head. "No. The creature was in the dungeon, but this..." the Wave Master trailed off for a moment as he walked up to a missing patch of ground, experimentally tapping his foot against the lines of code in its place. "I... don't know what to make of it."

BlackRose carefully scanned the area, watching for monsters. "Did you know about the creature before you came here?"

"Well," began Tamon, lightly rapping the end of his spear against his leg, "not exactly. We thought there would be some kind of boss monster here, but we didn't know about these Data Bug things... least we'd never seen any."

Kite removed a small orb from his pocket, and held it up over his head. In a flash, it vanished; Kite's eyes widened in surprise, and he let out a quiet "huh?"

"What is it?" asked BlackRose.

He stared off into space for a moment before turning to face her. "All the portals in this field are open."

Stolls blinked. "What? Someone beat us here?"

"When did you guys come here?" asked Kite, glancing over at Tamon.

"Was about three days ago. We cleared the place out, except for the bug, but they should've respawned by now."

(The bug,) thought Stolls. "Hey, maybe we should get moving, find the monster before somebody else does."

Kite's glance shifted from Tamon to Deisart, then to Stolls. "All right, let's go."

"Should be on the bottom floor," said Tamon. "Right where we left it," he added, a shadow crossing his eyes.

The five moved into a loose, circular formation and advanced towards the dungeon in the distance, halting momentarily as a bright flash and sharp crackling of static lashed at their eyes and ears; Kite and BlackRose seemed not to notice, but Tamon, Stolls and Deisart were caught off guard, each reacting with varying surprise.

Tamon noticed that Kite and BlackRose's reaction - or the lack thereof - regarding the strange, out-of-character phenomena hinted towards experience. The Long Arm's puppeteer made a mental note, reminding him to reevaluate the youthful hacker.

(Maybe we can use him after all.)

-

From: TamonAdillo@theworld.com

To: Stolls@theworld.com, Deisart@theworld.com

Subj: Title

Consider title of symphony re-named. Maintain intermission and watch for Mozart; corrupted tempo not likely to escape scrutiny.

-

The party kept formation as it moved through the decaying dungeon, solid walls of data and code replacing texture here and there. A single thought was shared between each member of the party, one which succeeded at keeping them all on edge.

Tamon was the first to voice the thought. "You know what I don't like about this?" he asked to no one in particular. "Where are the monsters? I haven't seen a single goddamn creature since we got here; someone cleared the way before us."

BlackRose cautiously scanned their surroundings as they came to a four-way junction. "None above ground, and none here," she added. "Someone's definitely here with us."

Deisart suddenly stepped forward, towards the northernmost exit. "The monster is this way," he said, his gentle voice nonetheless conveying a sense of urgency. "Let's go."

Stolls eyed the exit. (There was smoke last time,) he thought. (What's going on here?)

Exchanging confused glances and shrugs, the rest fell into step behind the Axeman, following him through the stone archway and into a large, empty antechamber. Walls of solid, evenly cut stone surrounded them, providing no form of cover or hiding place, and despite the lack of visible light source the room was highlighted with an eerie purple hue.

"I don't like this," said Tamon in repeat, his voice echoing in the vaulted room. "I do not like this, this is too easy."

"Someone beat us to the punch." Stolls glanced around, icy claws of uneasiness taking firm hold of him. "Someone else brought down a Data Bug. Somebody tell me why this worries me."

Kite slowly stepped into the center of the room, the implications made by his companions all too clear. "Does someone else have access to Data Drain?" he wondered aloud.

Tamon cocked his head at Deisart, who had once again opted to remain utterly motionless. (Shin's a machine... how the hell does he do that?) Closer examination revealed that the polished, dark red helmet was tilted upward slightly, the visor facing the ceiling on an angle.

"Deisart?" called Tamon, a tinge of fear tainting his voice, his heart skipping a beat.
The Axeman made no movement, which did nothing to alleviate the sudden feeling of dread which enveloped the party. The feeling was amplified as Kite noticed he was standing in the shadow of something very large.

"Look out!" came the cry from BlackRose.

Tamon and Stolls followed Deisart's gaze and gasped aloud. BlackRose reacted instantly, charging towards Kite and spear-tackling him, knocking him out of the shadow; a second later, the avian carcass came crashing to the ground, pulverizing the corrupted earth where the Twin Blade had been standing

The impact rocked the ground beneath them; slowly, the three men approached the giant, lifeless creature - a nightmarish cross between a bird and a dragon - their weapons cautiously brandished.

"Mmnn... aw, damn it," groaned BlackRose as she moved off of Kite to a sitting position. She threw a concerned glance down at him. "Are you okay?"

Kite nodded weakly, gathering his weapons as he stood up. "I'm fine... I think," he said, drawing an unnecessary breath of air and releasing it. "Thanks," he added with a smile, sheathing a blade and offering a hand to help her up.

The Heavy Blade winked at him and hauled herself up to her feet. "Don't forget, you owe me now... partner."

Smiles disappeared as the two turned to the monster. Kite glanced over at Tamon, who gingerly poked the creature with his spear. "Is that what you were fighting?"

Tamon nodded. "That's it, all right. Somebody worked it over but good."

"But there's no one else here," said Stolls, brown eyes darting from one corner to the next, desperately seeking any sign of movement, of life.

"Potential hostiles detected."

The voices came from all corners of the room, echoing deeply; a chorus of cold monotone, piercing falsetto and powerful baritone, all speaking at once and as one.

"Who's there?!" called Tamon, whirling about to face the newcomer.

"That question cannot be answered," spoke the voices. "The language necessary to define Delphi as 'who' does not exist."

"Delphi?" said Kite, nonplussed.

A sharp current of electricity tore from the creature's body, arcing several feet into the air and striking at nothing. The bolt danced and writhed, causing everyone to step back in surprise and bewilderment.

The electrical bolt continued to swirl above the body, which slowly began to dissolve. In the midst of the dancing current gathered a darkened void; the void grew rapidly, slowly expanding to form humanoid features - arms, legs and a head. Lines of white code, ones and zeroes, cryptic letters and symbols, all flashed through the void where the thing's body should have been. It stood perfectly still, hovering above the spot formerly occupied by the avian beast.

"Guys?" muttered Tamon, his spear trembling slightly in his hand, simultaneously eager for and anxious of the battle he subconsciously knew was coming.

"Did you kill that thing?!" accused BlackRose.

"Negative. The host was attached to this location; it was discarded."

A shouted command came from Deisart's helmet, the voice no longer calm or collected.

"Run!"

Before any could move to strike or retreat, the shadowy apparition raised an arm skyward; a shockwave burst in a circle from the center of the room, rolling across the ground and shaking the entire room.

Nearest the point of origin, Tamon was blown off his feet and to the ground. The unforgiving rock floor struck back of his head before the rest of his body had finished falling, drawing a cry of pain and alarm past his lips.

"Tamon!" shouted Stolls, flailing his arms wildly in an attempt to keep steady.

The phantom slowly descended to the ground, approaching the fallen Long Arm; Its feet touched the ground, yet its legs kept still as it moved.

"Viral scan completed." The voices came again; in a more intellectual moment, the Wave Master might have noticed that they did not come from the apparition. "Entities... unknown," they continued, an analytical edge to their tone.

"Haaaa!"

A loud battle cry preceded a large blade slicing diagonally through Its body, splitting the creature in two; BlackRose ducked right, quickly recovering from the swing and attacked again, slashing sideways through Its waist and dividing the halves into quarters.

A bright bolt of electricity rocketed from Its severed right hand, lashing out at BlackRose, who barely brought her weapon up in time to block. The bolt struck the blade in a brilliant explosion, knocking her back several paces.

Startled but unharmed, she prepared to charge again, and found herself preempted as Kite and Deisart sprung into action; attacking from both sides, the two quickly dismembered what was left of the floating apparition. Blade and axe sliced again and again through otherwise empty air, meeting no resistance but nonetheless shredding the human-shaped void in seconds.

A blast of fire soared through the air, expertly weaving between the warriors to strike the shards of the creature, 1incinerating them almost instantly. Nearby, Stolls held his wand high, eyes wide, lips parted to reveal gritted teeth.

The remains quickly dissipated, taking the sounds of battle with them. Nothing was heard, save for hard panting, sighs of relief, and the groaning of a weary Tamon as he got to his feet.

"What... what just happened?" asked the Long Arm, blinking as he glanced at each of his companions. "What was that thing?"

Kite slowly relaxed, eyes fixed on the spot where the phantom stood. "Did... did we get it?" he wondered aloud.

BlackRose stepped forward. "I think so. I've... never seen anything like that monster. What was that... that 'Delphi'?"

A single voice - cold, mechanical, monotone - caused all to start, weapons raised, muscles tensed, eyes searching. "Analysis: the purging has failed."

A second voice answered it, high in pitch yet equally lifeless. "Status: the primary defense system has been compromised by hostile entities."

Everyone stood rooted to his or her spot, sharing the uncertainty of what to say or do as the third and final voice spoke, the ground seeming to tremble from its deep baritone. "Conclusion: the primary defense system is obsolete."

(Primary defense system?) thought Stolls. (What on Earth are they talking about?)

The first spoke again. "Suggestion: a vessel for the primary defense system is desirable."

Then the second. "Warning: all previous vessels were confined to one location."

And then the third. "Action: a different vessel is required."

"It is so," said the three, the voices again merging to speak as one.

All eyes returned to the center of the room, where the darkness began to gather once more, slowly reforming the body of the apparition.

Kite lunged forward and struck at the shadow's neck, narrowly missing as It suddenly sprung into action, ducking down to dodge the attack. It responded by dashing behind Kite, one arm raised high, energy crackling and condensing in Its open palm.

The Twin Blade was quick to react, but not quick enough; the shadow struck Kite on the back, the ball of energy exploding and blasting him several feet forward onto his stomach, where he slid to a stop just before a statuesque Deisart.

"Kite!" shouted BlackRose as she leapt at the humanoid blackness, sword held high. With a mighty growl, she brought the blade down towards the apparition, which quickly retreated backward. It took to the air as Deisart rushed forward, swinging in a wide arc at Its back; the large axe barely grazed the soles of Its feet, and BlackRose was forced to take a step back to dodge the swing.

Both recovered from their respective attacks just in time to see a second bolt of fire race towards the apparition from Stolls; without turning to face him, It thrust an arm out and summoned an even larger fireball, which quickly and unerringly flew straight towards his own.

Stolls watched in shock as his fireball deflected harmlessly off the phantom's; he went into a diving roll away from the massive fiery projectile, only to be blown against the wall as it collided with the ground and exploded, tossing the Wave Master aside like a rag doll.

The apparition descended towards BlackRose and Deisart, but was interrupted halfway as a spear hurled through the air and struck a glancing blow to Its side, knocking it away.

"Go!" shouted Tamon, racing forward to retrieve his spear as it clattered to the ground.
"Everybody go, now! Get out of here!"

BlackRose glanced at Deisart, who obediently vanished from sight. She muttered a curse under her breath as It turned to face Tamon.

"Let's go!" came the shout from her right; a hand took hers, and she glanced right to see Kite standing next to her, a Sprite Ocarina in his free hand.

Stolls wearily moved to his feet, an unfelt pain coursing through his body. He rubbed his back, stumbling for a moment before righting himself.

His eyes widened as he hastily scanned the area. Deisart, Kite and BlackRose were nowhere to be seen; Tamon charged the apparition alone, spear whistling as it sailed through the air, mere inches away from It, which dodged with automatic finesse.

"Tamon!" shouted Stolls, dropping his wand and cupping both hands over his mouth, forgetting that his companion could hear him from anywhere in the room, or on Earth. "We gotta go!"

Tamon slid backwards as he leapt from the shadow's arm, which slashed at him like a knife. He threw a desperate glance at Stolls, releasing one hand from his spear to gesture vaguely at the Wave Master. "Dean, get outta here! Log out, now!"

Stolls caught his breath. (Dean? Why did...) "Max, what is it?!"

"I said go!" screamed Tamon, his voice cracking. "I... I can't! I can't log out!"

The silver-haired avatar felt his controller's blood turn to ice. "What?! What do you mean?"

Tamon adjusted his hold on his spear and leapt forward. "You want a piece of me, bitch!" he shouted, aiming his weapon at the creature's chest.

It deftly spun and kicked at his spear as it neared, knocking it from his hands and sending him towards the ground. The apparition dove down and caught him in mid-air by the neck, holding him aloft.

Stolls' vision faltered, flashes of light and static racing across his eyes. He barely saw Tamon frantically struggling to get free; translucent, crystalline shapes surrounded him, and lines of code and data raced through the void that was the apparition, faster and more frequently than before. The shapes gathered to form a crude sphere around Tamon and slowly began to rotate.

"Maaaaaax!" cried Dean as his vision finally gave; his hearing went next, but not before an agonized scream could reach him, lasting for a full five seconds before subsiding.

-

Dean gasped in surprise and tore the goggle and headset off, throwing it violently to the ground. He stumbled backward and fell on his rear, panting heavily as he briefly scrambled away from the terminal; a chill swept through him as his sweaty blue shirt clung possessively to his body, a physical byproduct of his mental exertions.

The interior of the visor flickered; the words "SYSTEM ERROR" flashed over and over in big red letters, a slight buzzing from the headset the only sound in the room aside from his breathing.


------------
Chapter III - Consequence
------------

"Son of a bitch," muttered Dean between breaths. "It can't be."

He jumped, startled, as the phone rang; slowly he moved to his feet, grabbed the receiver and punched the call button.

Shin's voice greeted him. "Dean?"

"I'm here... I'm okay. You all right?"

"I'm fine," replied Shin, his voice quiet, yet lacking his earlier composure. "But Max, he... he didn't answer his phone."

The uneasiness that had taken hold of Dean in The World tightened its grip. He glanced again at the visor, still flashing the error message. "I, uh... I think he might have been data drained."

"What? Are you sure??"

"I don't know... he told me he couldn't log out." He paused, swallowing loudly. "That thing, it... it caught him. It was... ah, I don't know, something happened. Goddamnit..." his voice cracked, and he paused to calm himself, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly.

"All right, all right, relax. I'll be there in five minutes to pick you up, we'll check on him. Bring your piece."

"Got it," Dean answered. He then hit the 'off' button and set the phone down on the base. With a sigh, he turned towards the bed. (Son of a bitch,) he said in his mind.

Slowly he strode towards the bed, where he knelt down and pulled a small metal box from beneath it. He carefully set the box on the bed and punched a combination into the keypad mounted on the lid. A soft click of a lock, and Dean flipped the lid open.

Inside sat a clean, civilian model Glock 40 handgun, bolt locked back, barrel visibly empty. Buried beside it in the cushioned container was a full 9mm magazine, a single round protruding from the top.

(Haven't used this in a while,) he thought as he pulled both out. He tilted the gun and double-checked the safety before he slid the magazine into the waiting chamber; a satisfying click escaped as it locked into place, pushing the bolt forward.

He sighed, shaking his head vigorously to dispel the image of Tamon being Data Drained; his comrade's scream echoed through his mind as he recalled the event. He shivered, the familiar chill of uneasiness sinking deep into him.

(Hang in there, Max.)

-

"Excuse me, miss."

The receptionist glanced up from her paperwork at the men who now stood before the desk. She blinked in surprise; were the two not of obviously different race, they could have been twins. Both sported short black hair, brown eyes and similarly rounded facial features - though the American, or who she assumed was an American, appeared slightly older. They even stood at similar posture.

An inch of height, a pair of glasses and choice of outfit were all that separated them; the Asian half of the duo was clad in a tan trenchcoat, a brown shirt, matching slacks and expensive leather shoes, while the American bore a dark green windbreaker, khaki trousers and a pair of worn gym shoes.

She smiled at the men, making a mental note of the conspicuous bulges in their coats. "Can I help you?" she asked in fluent English.

Windbreaker nodded and glanced over at Trenchcoat, who answered in Japanese. "Yes, we're here to see Mr. Max Kerrek. Could we have his room number, please?"

"Certainly," she answered, turning her attention to her computer. A few seconds of keystrokes brought up the desired information. "Suite 317."

"Doumo arigatou," said Trenchcoat with a slight bow before nodding to Windbreaker. "Let's go."

-

"Go ahead, I'll keep an eye out."

Dean turned around and leaned against the wall, glancing up and down the long, white, well-lit hallway of the hotel. He folded his arms across his chest - his left hand lightly nudging the concealed Glock in his windbreaker - and idly toed the teal blue carpeting which ran the length of the hall.

He looked right and watched for a moment as his trenchcoat-clad companion removed a small card-shaped device from inside his coat, which he slid into the card reader on the door to room 317. Dean noticed a small cable running from the tip of the card to a small black box, partially hidden in one of the coat's interior pockets.

"Starting now," muttered Shin as he reached in and pressed a button on the box. The card reader reacted instantly, blinking off the red light and shifting to yellow, indicating that the 'card' was being read. He furrowed his brow, and with his free hand pressed his narrow, wire-rimmed spectacles back to their perch on the bridge of his nose, from which they had slipped. "Almost there..."

Dean cocked his head down the hallway, and felt his heart stop as a man in a black suit stepped out of the elevator. A two-way radio dangled from his belt loop; pinned to the lapel was a shiny metal object, which, despite the distance, bore a remarkable resemblance to the hotel's logo.

"Aw, Christ," whispered Dean. "Shinji, hurry up, we've got company."

Shinji prayed silently as he waited for the reader to unlock, throwing a sidelong glance at the security guard. (Don't look over here, don't look... oh, damn, he sees us! Come on, come on, hurry up and work!)

Dean's blood ran cold as the guard approached, his expression unreadable, one hand already reaching for his radio. Mind racing, he pounded on the door. "Max, c'mon! Quit jokin' around, open the door man!"

Soft footsteps against the carpet grew louder, barely heard over the beating of the men's hearts. Feigning a broad grin, Dean chuckled and rapped on the door again. "You better not have gotten into the minibar again, you know this is all on my dime!"

(YES!) Shinji wanted to shout as the reader blinked green. He leaned forward against the door, covering the reader with his coat and deftly pocketing the electronic lockpick. Out of view of the guard, he gave the handle a quick twist and pushed it inward, almost stumbling as the door opened.

Dean smiled at the security guard as Shinji stepped through. "Tourists," he said with a wink before following his companion and nudging the door closed behind him.

"Max?" called Shinji, eyes carefully scanning the room. Despite signs of recent use - lights on, microwave dinner set before the microwave, beer bottles empty and lining a coffee table before the TV, which was also on - the room was empty.

Dean noticed a light from beneath the door leading to the adjoining bedroom, and indicated it with a nod. "There," he muttered, eyes narrowed. "Come on."

Shinji's eyes narrowed as the two approached the door and opened it. Stepping through into the bedroom, he gasped aloud at the sight.

"Jesus... Max!"

Clad only in a hotel robe, a white t-shirt and a pair of striped boxer shorts, the tall, blond-haired young man lay motionless on the floor, still connected to his glowing terminal via his headset and goggles.

Dean and Shinji raced up to aid their friend; Dean pulled the visor from his face and recoiled in fright as he saw Max's face, his expression contorted to a mix of pain and terror, his mouth agape. Shinji took Max's wrist in his hand and felt for a pulse.

"Son of a bitch... just like those goddamn kids," Dean hissed. "Son of a bitch!"

"He's still alive," said Shinji. "Call an ambulance, now!"

-

"Status: superior vessel acquired."

"Condition: outside interference terminated."

"Conclusion: vessel shall serve to allow greater mobility for Delphi."

"Recommendation: data concerning additional assets of vessel is desirable."

"Experimentation in combat versus other intruders is necessary."

"It is so."


------------
Chapter IV - Third Party
------------

Flashing emergency lights swirled about at a dizzying pace, bathing the streets, sidewalks
and onlookers in their primary colors.

"Let's go!"

On a three count, the two paramedics lifted the gurney holding Max's prone body up and pushed it forward into the maw of the waiting ambulance.

Standing nearby, Dean threw a look at Shinji. "Shin, maybe, uh..."

Shinji nodded, his face set in a no-nonsense expression. "Go ahead, I'll catch up."

"All right." Dean hopped up into the back and immediately turned towards Max, making room for the medics as they went to work.

Shinji slammed the doors shut and pounded on the back of the ambulance, which quickly sped off. He watched as the white metal beast rounded a corner and disappeared, the piercing wail of its siren lingering for several moments before becoming inaudible.

(This can't be happening,) thought Shinji with a frown. (This was supposed to be a simple in-and-out.) He turned and laboriously strode towards the hotel, a stray gust of wind tugging gingerly at his trenchcoat. (Find the data, grab it, deliver it. That was the plan.)

Slowly he made his way back to Max's room, dark thoughts clouding his mind. He sighed as he walked up to room 317, praising himself for the foresight to pocket Max's keycard before the ambulance arrived. A beep from the reader and a twist of a knob opened the door; he stepped through and quietly closed the door behind him.

He worked his way to the terminal, briefly shuddering as he recalled discovering Max lying on the floor, utterly motionless, horrific expression locked on his face.

Shinji shook his head as he sat down before the monitor, which had since reset to the default Altimit desktop. (That wasn't normal... Asara Corp. said nothing about internal security.)

A cursory search around the desk produced a blank disc, which he slid into the drive. A few seconds of keystrokes and commands saved what he assumed to be relevant information: member addresses, e-mail, logs from the past few days, and personal memos. One in particular caught his attention.

From: ARosenberg@acor.net

To: TamonAdillo@theworld.com

Subj: Re: Orders

>We should obtain the desired information by this Sunday. We will acquire
>the necessary expertise to penetrate the mainframe through The World as
>per your specifications.

>However, I must again question the nature of the data. I know you aren't
>telling me everything for a reason, but if the data is more sensitive in nature
>than I am led to believe, then there may be extra security present that we
>cannot anticipate. Given the incidents that have occurred to players of The
>World, I'm sure you would agree that the safety of my team is a valid concern.

Mr. Kerrek, I assure you the data is utterly benign. We require their accounting information for the last fiscal year, and that is all you need to know. You have the desired filenames and their location. Acquire them by any means necessary. We will have a courier at the previously agreed upon meeting place, midnight.

- Aldous

(Rosenberg.) Shinji's eyes narrowed. (If the data is so benign, what the hell was that thing doing running around on the same server as the backdoor? That Delphi... it acted like it was trying to protect something.) A frown twisted his lips. (But that area wasn't it, though... so why was it there? Was it waiting for us?)

He closed the e-mail and opened the next file, a text document dated two days ago.

"Target file - 7,214,483 (.zip, 36 files)

FY XX file - 3 mb (variable, .zip, 4 files)

Extra 32 files/4mb. What is it?"

Shinji raised an eyebrow. "What the hell?" he muttered. (That's awfully big for accounting data...) With a mental shrug, he removed the disk and shut off the terminal. (I better catch up with Dean,) he reminded himself.

-

("Is there anything that can be done, doctor?")

Dean buried his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes vigorously, slouching forward in the chair. Before him lay Max, utterly motionless on the bed, hooked up to an electrocardiograph and artificial respiration machinery. A slight hissing indicated the movement of air in and out of his body, though the lack of movement made it very obvious that it was not through any will of his own; the only other noise was from the EKG, gently beeping every second or so to a predictable, mechanical rhythm.

("Mr. Kerrek is comatose; it's not something that has a proven treatment. I'm sorry, Mr. Stollis. There's nothing we can do but wait.")

Dean lifted his head and stared at Max through half-closed eyes. His face had lost its frightened expression, falling into a relaxed state, eyes closed, rings beneath them indicative of sleep long since lost. His short, spiky blonde hair lay in mild disarray, and his pale, slender arms sat peacefully at his sides, the right connected to an IV drip solution.

"Max... goddamn it, it wasn't supposed to be like this."

Reluctantly, Dean stood up and walked over to the window, gazing out at downtown Tokyo which stretched before him endlessly, lights shining from every visible corner like an overdecorated Christmas tree. (I know he needed the money... hell, we all do.)

A glance over his shoulder reminded him how much more Max was in need than he; in the dim light of the room shone a diamond, painstakingly perched upon a golden band which sat on his right ring finger.

(I'm sorry, man.)

His thoughts were interrupted as the door opened, spilling light from the hallway into the room. He turned and squinted into the brightness. "Shin?" he called as he saw a tall, shadowy man in a trenchcoat step into the room.

The man's features grew more defined as he neared, but Dean's attention was called to the object he held in his hand: a 9mm pistol, barrel sporting a silencer and aimed straight as his head. A second man entered behind him, similarly armed.

"Dean Stollis?" asked the lead man.

Dean's eyes narrowed, still zeroing in on the tip of the silencer. His hand slowly reached for his own weapon.

"Don't," said the man with a shake of his head, raising his pistol for emphasis. "Come with us, Mr. Stollis. We're going for a ride."


------------
Chapter V - Modus Operandi
------------

Dean's eyes shifted from the driver to the passenger, who faced him with a pistol drawn. The former was a well-built American in a tan overcoat, with a look that just stepped out of an Army recruitment ad: square-jawed, clean-shaven, sharply cut brown hair, piercing blue eyes. The latter could have been an extra from any number of John Woo flicks: a trenchcoat-clad Japanese man with shoulder-length dark hair and unflinching hazel eyes.

Both men bore the appearance that there were a lot more where they came from.

Dean folded his arms over his chest, leaning back against the leather backseat of the black sedan he now sat in. "All right, who the hell are you guys?" he asked, eyes narrowing. You're a bit too well-dressed to be mercs. Who do work for, CC?"

"We're asking the questions," said the driver. "Now shut up and tell us who you're working for."

"Which one do you want me to do?" asked Dean with a smirk.

The passenger replied by pulling the trigger, sending a silenced bullet into the backseat, just inches from Dean's head. "Shit!" he cried as he lurched right, clumsily attempting to dodge the shot that had already passed him. "All right, I'll talk! Damn!" he shouted, panting quietly, trying to calm the suddenly frantic beating of his heart.

"Let's hear it," said the Japanese thug.

Dean sighed. "We were hired by Asara Corp. to hack into CC's mainframe." He paused as the sedan jolted slightly from a bump in the road; the car's pace went uninterrupted as it rumbled along the streets, darkened through tinted windows. "The deal is $50,000 a head, U.S. currency, for accounting data from last year."

"Asara Corp?" asked the American.

"Software manufacturer, one of CC's lesser competitors," explained his companion. "They're trying to develop an operating system to rival Altimit." He turned to face Dean again. "You were planning to go through the old backdoor in The World, weren't you?"

(They know an awful lot about this. They're Cyber Connect goons all right,) thought Dean, eyes moving to the pistol, waiting for the barrel to move from him. His pokerface failed him, and he let out a defeated sigh. "Got it in one."

A burst of static and voices interrupted him, calling attention to a previously unnoticed device sitting on the dashboard. Knobs, switches and lights covered the front, and a speaker was mounted on top. Another burst poured through the speaker; his cursory knowledge of Japanese allowed him to understand a few numbers and words, enough to identify them as police radio chatter.

Dean managed a smirk. "Nice toy. I fancy antiques myself."

"Shut up," answered the driver as he turned off the scanner.

"So, what do they want with accounting data? Especially old data?" asked the passenger, threw a glance at the road before turning back to Dean.

Dean shrugged. "Don't ask me. I'm a P.I., not a tech."

"Yeah, we know," said the passenger. "Sergeant Dean Stollis, LAPD, 12 years. Fired after Internal Affairs revealed you'd been on the take for the past two years."

Dean glared at him. "Now, wait a goddamn minute, how do you know that? Who the hell are you guys?"

The gunman sighed. "Not that it matters much, but yes, we do work for CC Corp. You may be aware that your friend Shinji used to work for us as well. We discovered that he'd been contacted by a corporate entity, but we weren't sure who. So the higher-ups had us tail him; yours and Mr. Kerrek's names came up simply by association."

"So, if you're after him, what do you want with me?"

A sneer snaked onto the gunman's face. "In a nutshell... you're sloppier and easier to tail, and you're a bent cop to boot - much more disposable than Mr. Kayora." He chuckled. "Oh, I'm sorry; ex-bent cop."

Dean frowned, his brow creasing sharply, his eyes darkening. "Yeah, and I'm sure you're just a pair of saints, Chino."

"Ken, actually," he replied. "And the big guy's Carl. Pleased to make your acquaintance."

"Well, that just makes this all the more enjoyable, Ken." Dean faked a smile. "So, are you gonna shoot me now, or what?"

"Oh, we're not finished," said Ken. "We still want to know why Asara wants year-old accounting data."

"That makes two of us."

"And that's why we need to find Shinji," said Carl. "And you're going to lead us to him."

Dean cocked his head. "Now, why would I do a thing like that?" He flinched as Ken waved the pistol lightly in his face. "Oh, right. The gun."

Ken grinned darkly. "Among other things... as your friend Mr. Kerrek can attest to."

The sentence hit Dean with the subtlety of a point-blank gunshot. He growled. "You son of a bitch... *you* sent that thing after us?!"

"Where is Shinji?" asked Ken firmly, his cold stare locked on Dean.

Dean paused for several seconds, glaring hard at Ken. "He was going to catch up, he's probably at the hospital now." A wry smirk worked its way onto his lips. "Of course, since I'm not there, who knows how long he'll stick around? And after that, you're on your own."

Ken scoffed. "You expect us to believe that?"

"Look, asshole, I'm beyond expectations at this point. You have a better idea where he might be, I'm all ears."

Ken grit his teeth, his eyes not moving from Dean. "Carl, turn around. We're going back."

"You sure?" asked Carl.

Ken threw a look at the driver. "Just do it."

Carl paused for a moment, waiting for a break in traffic. Spotting a fair-sized gap, he gingerly tapped the brake, slowing the sedan; he turned the wheel in his hands and brought the car around in a sharp turn, causing everyone to sway to the side.

Dean held his breath as the pistol barrel moved slightly off-target, pointing wide to the left; Ken still had his eyes on Carl, chiding him for his carelessness. Spotting the opening, Dean lurched forward, one hand unbuckling and shrugging aside his seatbelt, the other reaching for Ken's pistol.

Ken noticed Dean's surprise move, but was too slow to react; his wrist was pinned in Dean's powerful grip and forced against the driver's seat, pointing the barrel well away from either man. Ken instinctively shouted a curse and pulled the trigger, firing into the rear driver-side door; a hollow *ping* shot through the tight confines of the sedan as metal collided with metal.

Free from the seatbelt, Dean brought his right hand around and punched Ken in the face, stunning the gunman; he cocked his fist back and punched again, this time knocking Ken's head back violently, drawing some blood from his nose and a pained groan from his lips.

"Ow, shit! Carl!"

The driver began flailing backwards with his arm, vainly attempting to strike Dean, who ducked down and began prying the silenced pistol free from Ken's hand. Distracted, Carl lost sight of the road, his hand blindly snapping the wheel back and forth like a whip. The car shook and rolled accordingly, tires squealing as it slid all over the road.

"Look out!" screamed Ken, pointing with his free hand out the window. Carl slammed on the accelerator frantically pulling the wheel away from the oncoming car, sending the vehicle careening off the street and onto a dirt path leading through an empty park. Seconds later, Ken let out a scream of a different kind as a set of teeth latched onto his trapped hand.
Dean bit down hard, cringing at the metallic taste of blood that flooded his mouth as his teeth broke skin. Ken reluctantly dropped the pistol and tried to jerk his hand free. He brought his free hand around and pounded hard on Dean's head with his fist; the blows jarred his brain but otherwise did little, failing to prevent Dean from grabbing the silenced handgun.

Dean looked up just in time to see Carl come around with a black handgun - the Glock he'd confiscated from Dean. "Ahh!" he cried in surprise as he ducked to his left, scurrying for the door.

Carl fired, the gunshot deafening compared to the silenced weapon that had preceded it; the bullet slammed into the leather seat, effortlessly blasting through the material and continuing through the back, drilling a hole into the trunk.

Fumbling with the lock, Dean hastily popped the door open, which instantly and recklessly flapped back and forth in the wind as the sedan swerved. Mustering up every ounce of courage he could summon, Dean torpedoed through the open door, tucking up and covering his face with both arms as he flew out to the ground.

He heard the vehicle speeding away as he came in contact with the earth; the dirt road reached up and struck him several times as he rolled, battering him unmercifully but quickly slowing him down. His body slid to a stop, a burning ache coursing through his arms, legs and back as his sense of touch caught up with him.

He cautiously tried to move; thankfully, nothing appeared broken. He struggled to catch his breath as he moved to his feet, limbs bruised, jacket and pants ripped and torn, but otherwise unhurt. He groaned and wearily dusted himself off, throwing a glance in the direction of the sedan, its tail lights already a distant memory.

(Shin... I gotta warn him.) Dean let out a long sigh, glancing down at the silenced pistol he held. With a flick of the safety, he reached up and unscrewed the silencer, deftly pocketing both. (This just got a hell of a lot messier.)

-

"Right this way."

The nurse quietly opened the door and half-stepped through, glancing into the room and at the comatose man on the bed. "He's unconscious, but stable."

Shinji nodded. "Has anyone else been in to see him?"

"Yes, there were three of them. They left not long ago."

(They?) "Thank you," he replied as he stepped through the door, closing it behind him. Slowly he walked up to the bed, taking a seat in the chair nearest the prone Max.

Shinji sighed, reaching a hand up to adjust his glasses. Through the window, the sky flashed, flickering briefly into the darkened room. The light was followed seconds later by a low, powerful rumbling, the unmistakable rolling of thunder.

(Damn it, Max... what happened in there?) He folded his arms over his chest as he leaned back, trenchcoat pulling on his shoulders as it bunched up behind his back. (And where the hell is Dean?)

A faint trembling in his coat pocket interrupted his thoughts. Digging through it, he pulled out the vibrating cell phone and flipped it open, the bright blue LED identifying the caller as anonymous. With a shrug, he pressed the call button and brought the device to his ear. "Hello?"

"Shin, it's me."

Shinji felt slight prickles of uneasiness along his skin. "Dean? What's going on, where are you?"

"Internet café. Listen, man, they're coming for you." His voice was subdued, but desperate; a subtle urgency highlighted his words.

"Who's coming? What happened to you?"

Shinji's eyes widened, growing more uncomfortable with each word spoken. "These guys from CC Corp. grabbed me at the hospital. They tried to kill me."

"What?!" hissed Shinji. "Shit, are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," answered Dean. "But they were looking for you. Somehow they got tipped off about the contract from Asara; they sent Delphi to stop us, and they're after you to find out why Rosenberg wants those files so badly. They're headed for the hospital... where are you?"

He somehow fought the urge to bolt, calmly standing up and making his way to the door despite the sudden speed at which his heart now raced. "Leaving."

"Be careful, they're not kidding around. I'm going to meet with Kite in The World; we need to find out why they're trying to protect this data so much, and get it ASAP. It's our only chance."

"Why him?" he asked as he exited the room, quietly closing the door behind him, eyes scanning up and down the well-lit hallway.

"I think he can help us. Those guys know where I'm staying, so I'm going to head to your place after I get some of my things."

"Okay." Shinji strode towards the elevator, watching the digital red floor indicator for any change. "You still have your key?"

Dean chuckled. "Yeah. Least one of us thought ahead about that. See you there, Shin."

Shin tried to smile. "I hope so," he said before shutting off and closing his phone, punching the elevator call button with his free hand.

-

From: Stolls@theworld.com

To: Kite@theworld.com

Subj: Let's talk

I don't know what Tamon has or hasn't told you, but we're out of options. I'll tell you whatever you want to know, but we need your help. For real this time.

Delta, Bursting Passed Over Aqua Field. One hour.


------------
Chapter VI - Setup
------------

Shinji fidgeted nervously as he watched the counter rise with the elevator; hearing the motor growing closer, he stepped to one side, out of immediate view of any occupants. He held his breath as the doors opened, and cautiously tilted his head out, peering into the elevator.

Spotting nobody inside, he let out a sigh of relief and boarded the elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor. He watched the doors slide shut, and leaned against the wall as the elevator began to descend; he slid a hand through his short, spiky black hair and scratched an itch along the back of his neck.

(First Max gets data drained, now Cyber Connect is after us.) His thoughts darkened, and he lightly pounded a fist against the wall, the blow almost lost in the swaying of the elevator. (After me... what the hell. How did they know?)

His mind quieted as the elevator slowed to a stop; the doors slid open smoothly, and Shinji stepped through, his trenchcoat adhering closely to his body.

Rounding a corner, he passed through the reception area, carefully picking his way past patients and clerical staff. As he approached the sliding glass doors covering the entry, he stopped short; his blood ran cold and his eyes zeroed in on the pair of dark, expensively dressed men who were walking through the doors.

His stare did not go unnoticed. The two men - one American, one Japanese - halted their conversation and stared back at him. Both froze where they stood; seconds passed as hours before either spoke.

"Carl, that's him! Get him!"

Shinji's nerves held, barely, as he turned and bolted away from the entrance; behind him, he heard the confused, startled cries of patients and staff as the men gave chase.

"Shinji! Stop!"

Disregarding the order, Shinji blindly raced down the halls, mere steps ahead of the pair. Panting heavily, he ducked around a corner, running into and knocking over a pushcart as he scrambled. Fluorescent lights, medical equipment, doctors and nurses sped by him in a blur as he followed ceiling-mounted exit signs, quickly reaching a pair of double-doors leading out of the building. He charged, shoulder-first, into the door, slamming the push bar and knocking it open, allowing him to rush through without breaking stride.

Flashing blue and red lights slammed into him like a brick wall, forcing him to a sliding stop. Still panting, he reached up to adjust his glasses; the blurry lights sharpened, forming the emergency lights of the police car which sat in the hospital's rear parking lot, occupied by two uniformed officers.

(Oh, SHIT!) he mentally shouted.

The passenger-side door opened, and one of the officers stepped out, glancing curiously at Shinji's ragged countenance. "Is everything all right, sir?" he called.

Shinji's mind began racing. (What do I do, what do I do... okay, stay calm, stay calm... c'mon, think! Gotta be something... maybe they won't recognize me...)

The answer came as the exit doors were shoved open; Shinji whirled around to face his pursuers. To his surprise, only one man came through, and Shinji's eyes widened as he got a good look at the man's face.

"Kenichi..."

The trenchcoat-clad, long-haired Japanese man smirked. "Hello, Shinji," he said, his dark blue eyes narrowing, his sharp, angular features adding to his menacing stare. Shinji noticed a large bruise around his right eye; his nose seemed battered, and his right hand was stained with blood.

He heard a car door slam; a glance over his shoulder revealed that the second cop had left the squad car, and now both were approaching them cautiously, faces marred with confusion.

"At ease, officers!" said Kenichi as he raised his pistol, pointing it at Shinji. His other hand dug through his trenchcoat, digging a badge from the pocket. A quick flick of the wrist opened the badge, revealing his ID. "Inspector Fukada. I was tailing this man. Black Chrysler Sebring, license plate LV-426. Reported reckless driving about five minutes ago."

Shinji went pale as the lead cop nodded. "We just got the call. Is that him?"

"Car's out front," Kenichi affirmed.

"Bullshit!" cried Shinji. "This guys' not a cop, he's -" he was cut off as Kenichi struck him across the face with the butt of the gun, knocking him down and aside.

"Quiet!" Kenichi growled, lowering his pistol.

One cop looked at the other, and then back to Kenichi. "Hey, dispatch said they reported another occupant of the car, an American. Brown-haired... was he inside?"

Hearing the officer, a light clicked on in the back of Shinji's mind. (Wait a minute... where'd the other one go?) He groaned as he slowly tried to move to his feet, his own trenchcoat scuffing on the pavement of the lot.

He froze, startled, as two soft, yet distinct buzzing noises pierced the air, followed immediately by two thuds as bodies crumpled to the ground.

"What took you so long?!" shouted Kenichi in English.

Glancing back, he spotted the second man standing behind the police car, a smoking, silenced handgun in his hands. Before him lay the two cops, dark pools of blood slowly gathering beneath their bodies.

"Had to make sure nobody was around," said the American. He nodded to Shinij as he stepped closer; with his free hand, he popped the magazine loose from his weapon and pulled the bolt back, discharging the loaded shell. "Good shot, Mr. Kayora."

Shinji's mind filled in the blanks as he noticed the brown-haired man was wearing gloves. "At least one of them got a shot off," he continued, bending down to draw one of the fallen officer's pistols, which he then pointed at Shinji.

"Carl, there's no time." said Kenichi. "More cops will be here soon; just give him the gun and let's get out of here."

Carl sighed, but relented, turning the empty gun and clasping it by the barrel before offering it to Shinji. Kenichi prodded Shinji in the back of the head with his own weapon. "Take it," he urged.

Shinji reluctantly reached up and took the gun from Carl's hand, grasping it firmly. Quickly, he pondered his options, slim to none were his chances that either would leave him alive in the end, he reasoned. This in mind, he leapt at the first idea his mind could generate.

"That's a good boy," said Kenichi. "C'mon now, Shinji, let's... oh, shit."

Headlights flooded the back entrance as a beige car pulled into the lot, occupied by one man. As he spotted the squad car, he immediately stopped his car and got out, distracting the three men. Shinji felt the barrel leave the back of his head, and watched as Carl half-turned to face the newcomer.

"What's going on here?" called the man.

"Police business!" shouted Kenichi. "Stay back!"

In a flash of dexterity, Shinji spun around and brushed Kenichi's weapon arm aside with his left, and brought the empty pistol up with his right. He aimed for Shinji's nose, but connected with his forehead, nonetheless rapping him hard with the weapon and stunning him.

Kenichi grunted in surprise and pain, and felt Shinji reach for his gun. He struggled against Shinji's grip and instinctively pulled the trigger, sending a very loud explosion forth from his non-silenced weapon.

The gunshot rang loudly in Shinji's ear, deafening and startling him but doing little else; a second strike across the forehead threw Kenichi violently to the ground, forcing Shinji to release his hold on the gun. Hearing a cry of pain from behind him, he turned around, still holding the unloaded pistol, and reeled back in surprise.

Carl lay on the ground, a fresh gunshot wound drilled into his left shoulder. Alive but injured, Carl groaned and struggled to stand; he came around with his healthy arm, the policeman's gun locked in his death grip, and pointed vaguely in Shinji's direction, prompting him to run.

Shinji dashed back through the rear entrance, hearing more gunshots ring out from behind him. Madly he scrambled down the hallway, shoving his way past the confused, alarmed hospital staff that had gathered near the door.

Realizing that he didn't remember the way back, he came to a stop before a frightened nurse. "Which way to reception?" he asked breathlessly, his heart pounding. When she didn't answer, he prepared to shout at her, and then remembered what he was still holding.

Pocketing the silenced pistol, he raised his hands and tried to reassure her. "It's okay, relax, I'm not gonna hurt you. Just tell me where the reception area is, and I'll go, okay?"

He barely waited long enough for her to gingerly point the direction before he took off; he quickly made his way through the hospital and emerged into reception, where he half-walked, half-ran up to the automatic doors and stepped through, fishing through his pockets for his keys.

(Damn it,) he thought, unlocking and climbing into his car. (This is not good... I have to find Dean. That data might be our only insurance now.)


------------
Chapter VII - Intermezzo One
------------

*click*
Cautiously, Dean turned the brass knob and pushed the door open, poking the silencer barrel through the widening crack.

"Shin? You home?" he called, mentally kicking himself; no one had answered the buzzer, nor his knocks. He stepped through the door and into the darkened apartment, leading with his pistol. He closed the door behind him, then passed the weapon from his right hand to his left, allowing his now-free hand to grope blindly along the wall for the light switch. His fingers came upon a large, rectangular button, which he pushed.

Dean squinted as the ceiling lights came on, revealing the interior of the one-bedroom apartment. Dull blue carpeting meshed with the off-white of the walls and ceiling to frame the room; a chest-high counter partially separated a small kitchen from the rest of the room, and doors to the north and east led to a bedroom and bathroom, respectively. A large TV and entertainment system dominated the west wall, and a well-worn pair of black leather recliners sat before it.

(Guess he's not here yet.) With a sigh, Dean flicked the safety for his weapon, unscrewing the silencer with his other hand, allowing him to fit both in his pocket. He then turned and locked the door behind him.

A glance at a nearby clock reminded him of his goal. (Almost midnight) he thought, kicking off his shoes. (I'd better get in there.) He unzipped and removed the weatherbeaten, brown leather jacket which replaced his windbreaker, and tossed it over one of the chairs as he strode towards the bedroom.

Passing through the open door, he started briefly when he saw a man in the room, staring back at him. In a flash he reached out and pounded the light switch, illuminating the room, revealing the 'man' to be his own reflection in a wall-mounted mirror.

He chuckled dryly, taking a moment to study his reflection. The events of the evening were visibly catching up with him. His posture was notably crooked, still nursing bruises from his escape, now hidden by the simple black shirt and jeans he had changed into. His short black hair was tangled and mussed, and not from the humid night air. His dark brown eyes carried a definite weariness, born from one long night and tempered by a history of long nights.

Dean sighed again, gazing through his reflected eyes. (You poor, dumb bastard.)

A shake of the head, and Dean entered the bedroom proper, which matched the color and carpet of the previous room. A glance beyond the comfy-looking futon brought his attention to the desired object: Shinji's computer, complete with state-of-the-art VR gear; a parting gift from CC Corporation, or so he'd been told. To its right sat a window, the Tokyo skyline staring at him in silent accusation.

(This stuff's probably bugged through the roof.) He frowned. (Hard to buy that they didn't know where to find him.)

He reached over and hit the power button, collapsing into the chair before the desk. (Accounting data my ass. They're protecting this for a reason, and I'll bet that's why Asara wants it.)

The computer slowly crawled to life, whirring and beeping. In seconds, the screen lit up, displaying the Altimit desktop. One by one the icons appeared, "The World" being the last. Dean reached over and grabbed the visor with one hand, double-clicking the icon with the other.

-

The rings passed, solidifying the image: a vast open field of green beneath a cloudless sky of blue, bizarre rock formations in three cardinal directions, a passage leading underground in the fourth.

His eyes, now a light green, carefully took in his surroundings. A gust of digital wind pulled against his black robe and lightly tousled the silver mass of hair atop his head. Gently he tapped the staff he now carried against the ground, fidgeting slightly, offering those and other visible cues to his anxiety to any who watched.

Stolls narrowed his eyes. (Where are they?)

The answer came from behind him. "Stolls!"

He quickly turned to face his addresser, and spotted two people - a Heavy Blade and a Twin Blade. With a slight smile, he waved. "Kite!" he called as he approached.

The instant he stepped within range, however, he found himself staring down the length of a very long, very sharp-looking sword. Behind it stood an angry BlackRose, her eyes locked on Stolls.

"Jesus, lady!" cried Stolls. "What's the matter with you?!"

"Why'd your friend come after us?" challenged BlackRose, placing the point of the weapon beneath Stolls' chin.

Stolls blinked, nonplussed. "What? Wait... what are you talking about?"

She glared. "Don't play dumb! Your friend attacked me earlier tonight, the Long Arm."

The Wave Master did a double take, glancing at Kite, then at BlackRose. Neither one looked particularly forgiving at the moment, and yet he couldn't believe what he'd heard. "Tamon?" he asked. "He... attacked you?"

Kite nodded, a stern look marring his otherwise soft features. "I found out about it before you e-mailed me. Why did he attack her?"

"Look, man, I don't know who or what you two saw," said Stolls, "but Max... Tamon's player, he's in the hospital right now, comatose."

BlackRose and Kite exchanged glances, the former shaking her head slightly. "But..." she started, lowering her blade. "I saw him... he attacked me. It was him, I recognized him!"

Stolls glared back at her. "Hey," he said, firmly. "I just got back from the hospital an hour ago, he's been a goddamn vegetable since that thing got to him."

BlackRose fell silent, averting her gaze. Kite took a step forward in her stead, a questioning look on his face. "Was he... data drained?"

Stolls peered quizzically at Kite. "Data drained?" He thought for a moment, recalling what Delphi had done to Tamon before the connection had been broken. "Well... before I got disconnected, the... it did something to him. I wasn't sure what..."

Kite nodded. "My friend... Yasuhiko, the same thing happened to him. Skeith data drained him." He turned and glanced over at the stairs leading underground, his words weighted with sorrow. "Right down there," he added, pointing towards the passage. "And the next day, I found out... he'd been put into a coma."

Stolls froze. The name 'Yasuhiko' triggered a memory, a brief image of a newspaper clipping, a player of The World found comatose at his terminal. (Orca... that's right, Kite knew Orca. Son of a bitch...) "Yeah," he muttered. "Yeah, that's... that's what happened. He went into a coma after that Delphi thing attacked him."

BlackRose looked back up, facing Stolls. "But I know it was him. More than that, he recognized me."

Rubbing his chin with his free hand, Stolls paused, thinking carefully before replying. "There was another player," he said slowly. "Supposedly he couldn't log out, and played outside the boundaries of System Administration. At the same time he was in The World, his player was in a coma."

"I remember hearing something about that," said BlackRose. "The character was alive in The World, independent of the player. I think his name was... Tsu... Tsukasa, maybe?"

"Right," replied Stolls. "That might be the case here... but the question is, why hasn't he contacted us? And for that matter, why'd he attack you?"

Kite tilted his head, idly scratching the back of his neck. "Stolls... who are you guys?"

The question instantly derailed Stolls' train of thought. "Huh?"

"I did some asking around," answered BlackRose. "Nobody I've spoken to has seen you around more than a week ago, and you told Kite you know about Skeith and the Data Bugs." After a beat, she added, "Why did you want Kite to help stop that creature? And why are you interested in these things?"

Furrowing his brow, Stolls pondered his words carefully. "Well, I said I'd tell you everything, and I will." He took a deep breath, and released it in a long sigh before continuing. "Tamon, Deisart and I were hired by a rival company to hack into CC Corporation's mainframe and steal data."

Kite blinked. "You guys are hackers?"

"Sort of." Stolls idly toed the ground with his show. "My name's Dean... I'm a private investigator. Deisart is Shinji, he used to work for Cyber Connect. And Max, or Tamon as you know him, he works with the company that hired us. The deal is we get the data for them, and they pay us $50,000 each."

"What kind of data is it?" asked Kite.

"I don't know for sure. They said it's accounting data, but just tonight CC sent some guys after us. Turns out, they were following us, and they sent Delphi in to attack us in The World."

BlackRose gawked. "They SENT that thing?!"

Stolls nodded. "Yeah. They're trying real hard to protect the data, whatever it is... that's why I don't think it's accounting data at all."

"So," Kite began, "what did you want with me?"

"Do either of you know about the test version of The World? The one that came out before the retail version?" Both nodded, and Stolls continued. "Well, they kept a backdoor directly through their mainframe onto what would become the Delta server, y'know for maintenance access and stuff. When they updated everything for retail, they never removed the backdoor. So, we need a hacker to break through the firewall around it; of course, this is accessible only through The World, so twiddling bits wouldn't cut it."

Stolls leveled his gaze at Kite. "That's why we needed you, Kite. We needed your help to hack through the firewall so we could access their mainframe. That's it."

"I..." Kite trailed off, lowering his head slightly. A gentle breeze rustled the grass, accenting the sudden silence. BlackRose fidgeted, but said nothing.

"I'm sorry," said Stolls quietly. "I didn't want to drag you guys into this. We didn't have any choice, though... we need to get the data by Sunday. Max is in the hospital, big guys with guns are after Shinji and me..."

*click*

Stolls turned, staring at empty air in the direction of the noise. "What was that?" he said to himself.

BlackRose raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"Dean?" called a voice from outside The World.

Stolls recognized the voice. "It's Shinji. Shin, in here!"

No one arrive in the green plains, but he distinctly heard footsteps approaching. Unseen through the visor, Shinji spoke up. "Damn, it's good to see you again." v
Dean grinned. "My thoughts exactly. You all right?"

"Barely," answered Shinji. "Those guys showed up a few minutes after you called. Got out quick as I could, but it got messy, fast. They shot two cops and tried to frame me for it."

"Shit," hissed Dean. "Like we don't have enough to worry about."

More footsteps, keyboard buttons clacking. "Are you in there with anybody?"

"Kite and BlackRose. Listen, Shin, I... I told 'em everything."

Silence. A slow, carefully drawn breath, and controlled exhalation. "All right," Shinji replied quietly. "We need the files, we need help. I guess we have no choice now."

"Right," said Dean. "If we don't get that data, we're all dead. Hang on, I'll log out. Get in here and tell them all you know about it, maybe..."

"We'll do it."

Dean jumped in surprise, turned around and faced Kite and BlackRose, having almost forgotten that they were there, the voice bringing him back to The World in an instant. He peered curiously through Stolls at them. "Uh... what?" he asked.

Kite tilted his head towards BlackRose, just long enough to see her nod in agreement. With a smile, he turned back to Stolls. "We'll help," he said.

"Are you sure?" asked Stolls. "Once you're in this..."

"We're already in this," said BlackRose. "If Kite's in," she continued, glancing at the Twin Blade, an unnoticed glint in her eye, "I'm in."

Stolls nodded. "All right." He looked over his shoulder. "Shin... it's on."


------------
Chapter VIII - Extraction
------------

Keys clacked to his right as the picture formed again; Mac Anu grew and stretched around him until he became a part of the picture once more, the streets and canals replacing the grasslands of the field before.

Shinji's voice came to him, seemingly from thin air. "I'll have this ready in a second. Go with Kite and BlackRose, make sure you have everything you need before we get started."

Dean nodded to Shinji, his character mimicking the action in The World. "Got it," he answered, and turned to face his new companions. "He'll be ready soon; let's hit the shops and resupply."

Both nodded, and the three went down the broadway towards the bridge. Upon reaching it, Stolls and Kite started down the stairs towards the item shop, but halted when BlackRose spoke up.

"I'm going to go save," she called. "I'll be right back!"

Stolls nodded as the Heavy Blade scampered off, rounding the corner and disappearing from view. "Good thinking... Kite, let's save, too, after we pick up some items."

"Do you really think this is going to be dangerous?" asked Kite, approaching the shop counter and hailing the NPC salesman.

"I honestly don't know." Stolls lifted his wand and lightly rapped it against his shoulder, shifting his stance. "Better to be on the safe side, just in case," he added, doubting his own advice as he recalled the earlier attack.

He heard Kite mumble in agreement as he turned and leaned against the wall, staring out across the canal. He watched in detached fascination as a team of adventurers boarded a gondola on the opposite side of the river, and pushed away from its mooring. All around him echoed voices, voices of merchants hawking their wares, of players looking to trade, of parties seeking additional members. Armor clanked, footsteps fell, water splashed; above him, a gust of wind drifted along the avenue, calling attention to the clear blue sky, complete with blazing sun and - much to Dean's amusement - lens flare.

The keystrokes stopped. "Done and done," said Shinji, dispelling the illusion of reality. "Be right back, I'm going to grab something to eat. You hungry?"

Dean shook his head. "No thanks."

Unseen footsteps retreated out of the bedroom he knew himself to be standing in. Smiling through his avatar, Dean took the in scenic view of the aqua capital at once. "Interesting," he said to himself.

His words did not escape the notice of the Twin Blade. "What is it?"

"Hmm? Oh," he mumbled, glancing over at Kite, who now stood next to him. "Sorry... just admiring the view," he explained, still smiling. "You got everything?"

Kite smiled back. "I think so. I know how you feel, I was a little overwhelmed myself when I started playing."

Stolls chuckled. "My first online RPG," he admitted, stepping away from the wall. "Was always more a shooter fan, myself."

Kite nodded, falling into step next to Stolls as he headed for the stairs. "So..." began the red-clad Twin Blade, trying to start conversation once more, despite the bustle around them. "Why can't you go to the police? I mean, if these guys are after you..."

Dean sighed, his character again mimicking the action to a tee. "That's... kind of a long story." He lowered his head as he trudged up the stairs; his steps became laborious, deliberately slow and heavy. "But in a nutshell, each of us has priors... that's kind of why they hired us."

"What do you mean?" asked Kite, peering curiously at the Wave Master.

Stolls climbed the last stair, and walked over to the bridge, leaning against the railing slightly; Kite followed closely as he continued. "Max... the guy you know as Tamon, he brokered the deal between us and the company because each of us had been convicted of something. In my case..." his voice grew weak, almost trailing off into silence. He paused long enough to swallow, feeling a lump grow in the back of his throat. "I was a cop. They hired me for security... and I got put away for taking bribes."

"That's the whole point, though. The job isn't exactly on the up-and-up, y'know? Company policy can't officially sponsor one of their business agents hiring people to steal from another company." Stolls shook his head. "Hence... we have no credibility. Going to the cops would make all our lives worse in the long run."

Kite fidgeted nervously, not knowing what to say. "I don't blame 'em, though," said Stolls. "It's what they had to do, I would've done the same. It's business, it's politics; that's all." He chuckled again, dryly. "Y'know, heh... Max found me in an LA Times want ad. I never met either of these two before coming to Japan."

"It was all so simple," he finished, gazing up into the sky. The silence between them returned, deafening even amidst the clamor and commotion of the aqua capital.

"Can I ask you a question?" Kite finally spoke.

"Shoot," came the reply.

Kite hesitated, visibly tensing up before speaking again. "Did you really do it?"

A long, deep sigh, head lowered, eyes closed, shoulders sagged. He then straightened his posture as he turned to face Kite, a haunted look in his emerald eyes.

His lips parted, allowing for one word of confession. "Yes."

Stolls turned away, feeling Kite's eyes on him, sensing the judgment he knew was imminent. The banging of a gavel echoed through his memory, his mind's eye recalling faces of men and women he once knew. He had long since given up trying to justify his actions; it had always been about the money. Money he didn't need, money he didn't even want, not really.

(I got greedy, simple as that.)

He leaned over the railing and gazed into the eyes of his reflection on the water, watching as it shimmered and twisted in the wake of a passing gondola; he almost didn't hear Kite as he stepped closer, his voice jarring the Wave Master out of his reverie.

"Dean," called Kite, causing Stolls to turn and face him. The look on Kite's face bore no hostility, no malice, no disdain.

His blue eyes showed that he understood, his expression soft and compassionate.

Dean smiled to Kite's player, offering a quick nod. "Let's go," he said simply.

Together, they turned towards the broadway once more, and headed for the Save Point, where BlackRose stood, apparently trading with another adventurer.

Stolls eyed the Heavy Blade curiously. "So, what's her story?"

"BlackRose?" asked Kite. "To be honest, I'm not so sure. She said she was new to The World, too, when I came in, but... she got mad when we encountered a Data Bug. Said something like, "It's you, I'll kill you!" and started attacking." Kite scratched the top of his head, pushing his cap further down against the mass of sky blue hair. "She helped me a lot while I was trying to find out about Aura and Skeith... she even came with me to stop him."

Stolls nodded. "Sounds like a good friend if I ever heard one."

"Yeah," said Kite with a smile. "She is."

Stolls glanced over at the Twin Blade, noticing a distant look in his eye; he followed his gaze straight to BlackRose, and a grin slowly crept across the Wave Master's face. "You like her?" he asked, keeping his voice quieter than usual.

He swore he saw Kite blush before he turned away, both players coming to a stop. "Well..." he mumbled, his stance becoming more guarded, more cautious; he slid his left foot behind his right, leaned back, and brought both hands before him, wringing them nervously.

Stolls got the message. "You should ask her out sometime, man."

Kite's eyes widened. "Uh??" he half-grunted before following with a stammered, "I-I don't know, what if..."

A shake of the head silenced him. "She likes you, Kite, I can tell. She'd have to to stick by you through all this, if even half of what you told me is true."

When Kite said nothing, Stolls continued again. "Sometimes, you just have to forget about the 'what ifs'." He smiled. "Let's leave it at that. C'mon."

-

The field changed once more. Mac Anu faded into distant memory as the rings fell before his eyes, drawing him into a wide, barren field.

Closer examination surprised all three as they discovered how empty the field was; devoid of all but dusty, gritty earth beneath them, the field stretched off into the horizon and beyond, without a single tree, rock, or other distinguishing feature to break the monotony. The air lay eerily still, highlighting the complete lack of any ambient noise; above them hovered a clear night sky, though neither moon nor star served to light it.

BlackRose cocked her head at Stolls. "Are you sure this is the right place?"

Stolls carefully scrutinized his surroundings, eyes searching for something, anything out of place. "Delta, Zero Optional Spire. This is it, all right..."

"Those keywords aren't normally visible to the players," came Shinji's voice, heard only by Dean. "Took a little trial-and-error to allow access."

Stolls nodded. "Right... this isn't a regular field. Supposed to be Admin only; guess they forgot to decorate."

"It wasn't locked, either," said Kite. "Do they even know about this?"

"No idea." Stolls shook his head. "Clearly, they didn't remove it... or couldn't. Somebody left it open." He narrowed his eyes. "And those guys seemed to know... damn, maybe they're expecting us?"

"Well, there's no turning back now," said Shinji. "Let's get this done and get out of here. The firewall should be due north of where you're standing right now."

Stolls idly chewed his lip. "Okay," he muttered, gazing up at the starless sky. "And which way might north be?"

A slight shuffle of movement caught his attention; he watched as Kite produced a Fairy's Orb and held it up. The orb vanished in a flash of light, and Kite blinked twice. "Well, there's no portals," he said, relaying the information.

"But... wait."

"What is it?" asked BlackRose.

"There!" he exclaimed, pointing in a direction Stolls could only assume was north. "There's something this way."

Stolls squinted towards the horizon. "I don't see anything. Let's get a closer look."

Together, the three moved in the direction Kite had pointed. Stolls swallowed hard, the featureless environs putting him ill at ease; if not for Kite and BlackRose, and the sound of boots colliding with dry earth, he wouldn't have known whether he was moving or not.

Kite slid to a stop, eyeing the air curiously. "It's around here somewhere... almost like a portal, but different." His brow furrowed, obviously puzzled. "Faint."

BlackRose frowned. "I can't see a thing."

"Me neither," said Stolls in assent.

"It's right in front of you," said Shinji to Stolls' player. "It's like a gate, have Kite hack it."

The Wave Master nodded. "He says the firewall's right here, that must be what you're sensing. Can you open it?"

"I'll try."

Kite stepped forward, hands raised, experimentally probing the air, as if searching for something. He came to a stop after two steps and flattened one of his hands, palm out, bringing the other around to brace it.

A flash of light split the sky, startling Stolls; BlackRose watched Kite intently as translucent crystalline shards formed in a large ring around his wrist. The shards began to spin, waves of force causing Kite's body to tremble and twitch. More bursts of light ripped through the field, briefly causing every color present, in both field and character, to switch to its polar opposite; Stolls watched, shocked, as his vision doubled, giving the impression of a hall of mirrors.

Kite grunted, loudly, as another flash of light restored both color and vision. Stolls tried to step forward to help him, but BlackRose held an arm out, stopping him from approaching.

"What's going on?!" shouted Stolls as he pointed to the air before Kite. "Is he okay?"

"He'll be fine!" BlackRose yelled back. "Trust me!"

Kite grit his teeth. "Almost... got it..."

One last burst of light rocked the area, causing the entire field to vanish instantly. Ground and sky disappeared from around them, leaving all three standing in an empty field of white. The sole noise to be heard was of Kite panting, his beating heart almost audible to his companions.

"What the..." muttered Stolls as he whirled about, eyes scanning the brilliant void.

"Kite?" asked BlackRose after a quarter-minute's pause, tentatively stepping up to him and touching a hand to his shoulder.

He jumped for a moment, startled, before turning back to face her.

He nodded. "I'm fine," he answered, letting out a short sigh. "I... think that did it."

Stolls gave a sidelong glance at Kite. "Were you able to open it?"

"I think so... it was a lot like a gate, but..."

"Dean!"

Stolls turned to face his companions. "One sec," he said before turning his attention elsewhere. "What's up?"

He heard the grin in Shinji's voice. "I'm in!"

"Yes!" shouted Dean. BlackRose and Kite peered curiously at his avatar, bringing him back to The World. "We're in," he explained, a smile forming on both of his faces. "Nice job, Kite. Shin, let's get the data and get outta here."

"I'm on it." Keys clattered, a chair creaked. "Starting download... okay. It'll take about five minutes; don't leave, the field might reset if you do."

"Got it." Stolls raised both arms over his head, leaning onto his toes as he stretched. "Mmm... says it'll be five minutes. Might as well get comfy."

Murmurs of agreement came from the other two; one by one the party sat on the undefined, invisible ground.

"So, what do we do next?" asked Kite.

Stolls leaned backwards, propping himself up on his arms. "Well, for starters we find out just what this stuff is. Like I said, I don't think it's accounting data, it just doesn't add up." He tilted his head back, gazing up into nothingness. "Of course, we also need to get the goons off our back. With the data, maybe we can force them to cut a deal."

"They tried to kill you," said BlackRose. "What makes you think they'd try to deal?" After a second's pause, she added, "And aren't you supposed to give that to the company that hired you?"

Stolls nodded. "First, despite all appearances, they're corporate; I know these guys, they'll bargain if they think we've something to bargain with. Second... we're mercenary." He lightly tensed his hands, pressing them against the intangible ground. "If our employer lied to us, then I won't feel too guilty about selling Cyber Connect's own data back to it."

Dean closed his eyes, feeling their combined stare upon him. "Look, it's not as simple as good guys and bad guys. This isn't about honor, or morals, or justice, or any of that." He sighed, deeply and slowly. "I'm sorry... me, Max, Shin, we're all in this for the money. That's what it's all about." His head lowered, his shoulders sagged again, his already deep voice growing darker, heavier. "That's all it's ever been about," he finished, his voice nearly a whisper.

"We're thieves," said Dean softly.

A long silence followed; Dean could hear the faint movement of skin, hair and cloth as Kite and BlackRose exchanged questioning glances. Beyond The World, he heard Shinji's slow, constant breathing, cool and collected as ever.

The breathing stopped, plunging Dean into total silence. He lifted his head and opened his eyes. The Heavy and Twin Blades peered at him, somewhat surprised at his sudden movement.

"Shin?" he called. "Everything all right?"

The voice that answered bore only superficial resemblance to the hacker he knew. "You've got company," came the high-pitched, almost squeaky voice that Dean knew meant trouble.

Additional noise reached his ears: the rushing of air; clinking of armor and a weapon; two startled gasps, followed by two sets of feet scrambling away from his position.

"Dean, look out!" shouted Kite.

All of his instincts and reflexes instantly switched from 'off' to 'high' as Stolls leapt back and away from the circle they had formed; he moved quickly to his feet and glanced at the shadowy form which descended on the spot he had been sitting in less than a second before.

His eyes went wide. His jaw dropped. He stammered, loudly, in disbelief as he took in the face of his attacker.

"Max," he muttered; the long-haired, olive-eyed Long Arm immediately turned to face him, spear at the ready, loose blue garments flowing dramatically about his muscular form.

The eyes the Long Arm stared at Stolls with weren't his own. Neither was the voice he spoke with. "Protected sector compromised," said Tamon, his voice sounding as three of varying pitch and depth. "Tagged entities Zero, One, and Three identified."

The voices brought a memory from the depths of Dean's mind and showed it to him in triplicate. "Delphi," muttered Stolls in recognition, speaking with obvious hesitation, as if attempting to escape the Long Arm's penetrating gaze, "Shinji, how much more time?"

"One minute, thirty seconds," came the quiet reply.

Stolls narrowed his eyes, staring hard at the hawkish warrior. "All right then."

"Warning: theft in progress," said Tamon as he stepped forward, his voice a cold, deep baritone.

"Suggestion," he began, his voice now a high falsetto, "tagged entities Zero, One, and Three are responsible."

"Action: termination of tagged entities is desirable," he finished in his final voice, a lifelessly insidious monotone.

Stolls brought his wand around before him as Tamon readied his spear; a slight twitch tugged at the Long Arm's lips, one that looked remarkably like the beginnings of a smirk to the Wave Master.

"It is so," said the voices as Tamon leapt at Stolls, spear held high.


------------
Chapter IX - Defragment
------------

"Haaaaaah!"

Stolls grunted as he launched into a diving roll away from Tamon, narrowly dodging the ornate, deadly-looking spear which he wielded. The Wave Master quickly stood up and brought up his wand, ready to block, when a swing from behind interrupted Tamon; he spun on his heels and blocked an overhead swing from BlackRose with the shaft of the spear.

The Heavy Blade smirked. "Remember me?!" she yelled, lifting her weapon away from the parry as Kite joined the fray, blades flying.

Stolls watched as Tamon simultaneously dueled Kite and BlackRose, deflecting both of their attacks, his spear wildly bouncing back and forth between the fighters. Six consecutive swings were blocked before Tamon could get the upper hand, dashing outside of the two-pronged attack and drawing his spear in a wide arc to his right, striking BlackRose's back and throwing her off-balance; what little armor she wore served her nonetheless, as the edge of the spear failed to more than scratch the metal plate.

Kite quickly lunged forward to continue the assault, drawing both blades before him in simultaneous wide hooking motions, lunging out at Tamon and quickly drawing them back; a loud *CLANG* echoed through the empty white confines as metal met metal, Tamon visibly rattled by the attack.

Strafing wide to his right, Stolls found an opening and raised his wand, pointing towards Tamon; one shouted chant and less than a second later, several dozen small flames appeared in a sphere around Tamon, and instantly converged, combining their energies into a massive explosion. Tamon was blown off his feet and backwards, and he landed on the 'ground' with a weighty thud.

He recovered just in time to roll away from a leaping slash by BlackRose, her head cleaving the air where his neck had been just milliseconds earlier. Pressing the attack, she dove forward, leading Tamon's dodge and scoring a powerful crossing slash to his chest as he struggled to stand.

Stolls threw his arm to his right, chanting even louder as he kept his wand trained on Tamon; a stream of fire lurched forth from its tip and spilled onto the floor, forming a fast-moving wall of fire which raced for the prone Long Arm.

Tamon almost dodged the attack, the flames colliding with his leg as he stood and dashed to one side. Shrugging off the damage, he brought his spear around to BlackRose, only to find it pinned between a pair of crossed short swords.

Half-shouting, half-exhaling, Kite pulled his wrists apart, using the blades as leverage to rip the spear out of Tamon's hands. The Twin Blade followed through by thrusting both weapons straight at the now-defenseless Tamon, impaling him through the stomach and embedding both blades deep inside him.

Caught slightly off guard by the sensation of stabbing through digital flesh, Kite released his blades and stepped back; mild shock changed to growing confusion when he noticed the complete lack of expression on Tamon's face.

"Critical damage detected," said the voices, Tamon's lips remaining perfectly still. "Engaging primary defen-" the voices were cut off as a large sword cleaved the tanned, blue-clad Long Arm in two at the waist, splitting the torso and legs, which crumpled to the floor and lay completely still.

Stolls let out a long, fatigue-induced sigh. He felt at least an hour older, though he knew it couldn't have been more than a couple minutes. A slight shiver came over him as he stared at the mutilated corpse of the Long Arm; slowly it lost all color, fading to shades of gray before stretching into the air and vanishing completely from sight, a slight hiss the only accompaniment to its' destruction.

He hung his head, a few silver locks drifting down over his eyes, still gazing at the spot formerly occupied by Tamon. For a moment, he was reminded of the incident they had researched prior to entering The World - one involving the player Tsukasa. As he understood it, the player's recovery from her coma coincided with an event in the game, one in which Tsukasa was directly involved. His instincts alone drew him to the logical conclusion.

"In pace requiescat," he muttered softly.

"Is he... dead?" asked Kite, no small amount of hesitation in his voice.

"I don't know," answered Stolls, unsure of whom Kite was referring to.

Sheathing her blade, BlackRose glanced over at Stolls. "If Delphi could possess the character... I don't think it's gone just yet."

Briefly coming back to himself, the Wave Master shook his head, derailing his train of thought. "You're right. We should get out of here," he said, turning to his companions. "God only knows whether the Admins have figured out we're here or not. Shin, what's the word?"

Shinji's voice spoke directly to Stolls' player, appearing to come from the empty white void. "Yeah, I got everything. Have them both log out; I'll set up a chatroom so we can go over these out of The World. Tell them to look for Alias; I'm locking it with the word Origin."

Stolls nodded. "Let's get out of here. You guys got chat plug-ins?" He waited for the expected nods before continuing. "Good. Log out and meet us at #Alias. We'll dig through this stuff together. Password's Origin."

The white nothingness fell from around him, replaced with a black nothingness as he issued the log-off command. Slowly his senses came around from psychological neglect, reminding him that he was playing a game, that he was attached to a computer via headset and goggles, which he quickly set about removing.

The first thing to greet him was a distant skyscraper, lights shining brightly from the visible portion of downtown through the window; no sooner had he caught sight of his real surroundings than a whispering Shin cursed in Japanese. Dean blinked and threw the hacker a look. "What is it?" he asked, taking note of the wide eyes and slack jaw that now decorated his otherwise nondescript facial features.

A large text file reflected off Shinji's glasses; turning his attention to the screen, Dean scanned the title, his expression quickly mirroring Shinji's.

"Project Delphi"

-

*Kite has joined #Alias*

>Kite: Hello?

>BlackRose: Hey, Kite!

>Deisart: Good, everyone's here. All right, there's no real way to sugarcoat this; we've got bad news, and we've got really bad news.

Shinji glanced over at Dean from his chair. "You sure we should tell them all this?"

Dean nodded, sitting down on the bed as Shinji typed. "We brought them into this; they deserve to know. And I think they're the only ones who can help us now."

>Kite: What's the bad news?

>Deisart: The bad news is, the files we got... weren't what they told us they were.

>Kite: What do you mean?

>BlackRose: What were they?

>Deisart: We were told this was accounting data. Long story short, the title of the first file was "Project Delphi."

>Kite: Delphi??? That thing?

>BlackRose: No way!

>Kite: What did it say?

>Deisart: Hang on, I'll C&P

The bed creaked slightly as Dean shifted his weight, watching the words as they appeared on the screen, visibly ill at ease as he read the sentences they formed again.

>Deisart: "Summary: An amalgam of digital entities, an ICE (Intrusion Countermeasure Electronics) unit is an automatic response system which acts independent of the user to defend a file, drive or server from hostile intruders. ICE recognizes over 22,000,000 known virus types, and - using advanced pattern-matching algorithms - is fully capable of identifying hacker penetration, adjusting its response to uniquely combat the attack, and even preemptively strike known hostile entities."

>Deisart: "Date of Inception: 7/31/2008. Postmortem: Prototype units deemed unreliable following incident 24b-09. Funding withdrawn, project discontinued 9/16/2008."

>Kite: Discontinued?

>Deisart: Some sort of accident; apparently, a trial run caused Delphi to identify and aggressively attack the programmer who tested it, even outside of the experiment. Delphi managed to break into The World through the backdoor on Delta server, and the programmer, who also served as one of The World's Admins, was attacked in the game by Delphi. He fell into a coma and died six weeks later.

>BlackRose: It killed him??

>Deisart: Yes. It wasn't designed to function in a virtual environment such as The World, though; its means of defense was through the rewriting of data - usually crippling the targeted software, and occasionally to the point where Delphi could take control of viruses, or the software of invading hackers.

>Kite: That sounds a lot like Data Drain...

>Deisart: Indeed. One other thing I found was that the company has a record of this programmer being contacted by another company, one of their chief rivals at the time.

A *snap* came from behind; Shinji turned around to face Dean, his eyes wide in revelation. "That's it," he said. "It's all about security."

"What do you mean?"

Dean frowned. "You said earlier tonight that Altimit was nearly unbeatable, as far as operating systems go; that's why straightforward hacking into CC's mainframe wouldn't work. Asara, Rosenberg... they want Delphi, that's what this is about. Same thing with the other company; they wanted a security system that would ensure their OS could compete."

Shinji visibly flinched, his eyes hardening behind his glasses. "Right... or maybe they wanted a weapon. I mean, if Delphi can attack people - real people - through The World..."

"Cyber Connect would be finished," said Dean. "And maybe Altimit with them. Hell, it'd be like the Pluto Kiss all over again."

Suddenly, Dean rose from the bed, throwing a stern look at the hacker. "Shin, keep talking to Kite and BlackRose. Tell 'em everything... especially the really bad news." He paused to take a deep breath, and released it slowly in a vain attempt to keep his calm. "I'm going to make a phone call."

Spinning on his heels, Dean purposefully strode through the bedroom door and into the living room/kitchenette, where a cordless phone rested calmly on a wall-mounted recharger.

He didn't get far; three steps into the room, the phone rang, a shrill, electronic pulse set to a machine gun beat. Dean started for a moment, the detective in him already starting to fidget and shiver nervously. Steadying himself, he picked up the phone and pressed the call button. "Hello?" he greeted the caller weakly, his basic grasp of Japanese slipping from his mind.

A second's pause. With more control over his voice, he repeated the greeting. "Who is this?" he added, listening hard for any sign of life on the other line.

A single voice: noticeable Japanese accent, smug and confident, yet subdued and controlled. "You're a bad man, Mr. Stollis."

Dean's eyebrows fused themselves together, a growing rage and fear battling in his gut. "Chino," he said, his soft voice belying his thoughts.

He swore he heard the thug grin. "Ken, actually," said the caller with a chuckle. "But I'm glad you still remember me."

Dean sighed amidst his answer. "Let's cut the crap, Ken. We've got the details about your little pet A.I. Records of your so-called security system killing one of your own employees. Proof that it's running amok in The World."

"You don't have shit," said Ken. "You were a cop; you really think stolen evidence would hold up in court?"

Dean faltered for a moment, but held his ground. "Have you thought for a moment about what this could do to you if we sold it to Asara? Think what just one copy of Delphi could do to your little game, to their players. Now I ask you: you really think nobody's going to notice the connection between the six or so coma cases related to The World?" He paused, lowering his voice a notch to a more threatening tone, fighting down the tremble from his pounding heart. "How about six hundred? Six thousand? Sixty thousand, maybe?"

Ken audibly faltered for a moment, but recovered just as quickly. "Let's be realistic, Stollis; you're bent, not evil. You wouldn't dare hand it over to another company if you really thought that was going to happen."

Thinking quickly, Dean waited for a pair of seconds before replying. "You're right... although in truth, we were thinking of dropping this off at the nearest news station."

Ken fell silent; Dean took that as a cue to continue, calming down as he felt more in control. "Things like sources and facts rarely get in the way of a good story. I think a lot of people would be very interested to hear that the geniuses behind The World were sitting on a digital weapon of mass destruction."

"So what do you say, Ken?" asked Dean. "Feel like saving your job tonight?"

Several seconds of pause followed. Dean crooked an eyebrow, the chill of doubt and anxiety gripping his inner self once more. "Ken?"

"As a matter of fact," came the reply, a raspy near-whisper, "I do."

Before Dean could speak again, the line clicked and went dead, eliciting a puzzled stare from Dean as he pulled the receiver away from his ear. "Huh?" he muttered, gazing at the phone as if it were to spring to life at any moment. He was about to call for Shinji when a faint, repeated thumping caught his ears.

Slowly setting the receiver down, he strained to listen, each sound he made seemingly magnified by the sudden silence which snaked around him. The noise came again, drawing closer with each thump, seeming to come from beyond the door.

Something pounded against the door, startling Dean. Shinji's voice came immediately from the bedroom. "What was that?"

More thumping, faster and retreating from the door; it triggered in Dean's mind that the noises were footsteps, and with this revelation came several more. Fear made him dash for his leather jacket, still slung over the lounge chair; alarm and instinct picked through the pocket and produced the 9mm pistol he'd taken from Ken, sans silencer.

"Shinji!" he screamed. "Take cover!"


------------
Chapter X - Hostile Takeover
------------

"What is it?!" shouted Shinji.

Dean ignored him, ducking behind a chair and pointing his gun at the door, waiting for something, anything to happen. More footsteps came through the door, moving up and down the hallway erratically; he guessed there were at least three pairs of feet attached to the noise.

"Dean, what's going on?" asked Shinji, poking his head cautiously around the corner.

Cautiously, Dean rose to his feet, keeping his weapon trained on the door. "That was Ken on the phone... one of the guys."

Shinji gasped. "Kenichi? Shit, how'd they find me?!"

"Oh, I don't know," replied Dean. "Employee records, maybe?" he added, sarcastically.

A muffled *wham* shot through the door, this one sounding further than the last.

Shinji glanced at the door briefly before turning back to Dean. "I moved a year after I left the company," he hissed, slowly stepping up to Dean. "And this is an unlisted number."

Turning his attention back to the door, Dean passed the weapon from his right hand to his left. "What the hell is going on?" he muttered aloud, hesitantly taking a step forward, sweat building on his forehead.

"What exactly did he say?"

Dean glanced back at Shinji. "Not much, just keep back and get ready to duck."

Shinji started to inquire further, but stopped as Dean moved forward, walking heel-to-toe, as silently as possible. His plain white socks left brief footprints in the blue carpeting, not a sound escaping either foot as it landed; from the bedroom, Shinji's monitor whirred quietly, almost deafening in the silence. Dean's right hand was raised defensively, as if to shield him, and the pistol trembled slightly in his left hand, half in fear and half in anticipation.

Reaching the door, Dean turned the lock and unceremoniously yanked the door open, leading with his gun.

Empty air greeted the barrel. Dean scanned the hall through the door, and took another step forward, the cool air of the hallway greeting him eagerly, contrasting sharply with the humidity of the apartment. He leaned forward, peering up and down the hallway, expecting a silenced bullet to come sailing in his direction at any moment.

Another pounding noise caught his ears; glancing right, he saw a young Asian teenager two doors down, one hand wrapped around a large stack of colorful paper, the other pressing against the door. He removed his hand and proceeded to the next door, revealing a flyer stuck to the previous one. Further down was one of his accomplices, equally equipped and occupied.

Dean cocked his head back to his own door, and breathed a quiet sigh of relief as he saw one of the flyers, decorated with all the colors of the rainbow, and then some. Obscure kanji wrapped itself around the edges, and highlighted amongst the colors was a silhouette of a young woman.

Dean snorted. "False alarm."

"What is it?"

Snatching the flyer from the door, Dean brought it to Shinji and showed it to him. "You tell me."

Shinji's eyes moved back and forth behind the glasses, his expression changing from confusion to amusement. He let out a chuckle. "What'd you think it was?"

Dean lowered his head slightly. "Well... with that guy on the phone, I thought they were gonna storm the place. Thought it might've been a breaching charge or something."

"Heh." Shinji stepped past him, closing the door. "This is an ad for a rave," he said with a smirk.

Dean groaned loudly, wiping his forehead with his arm. "Son of a bitch. I nearly had a heart attack over a goddamn rave flyer."

Shinji chuckled again. "No harm, no foul... but if Ken found the number then it's only a matter of time before they trace it. They might even be on their way here, but I doubt it."

"Right... so, now what do we do?"

At this, all trace of humor left Shinji's demeanor, quickly reminded of their prior conversation. "We can't stay here. We've got what we came here for, but we can't just hand it over to Asara."

Dean frowned. "I know, I know... hell, so much for the money. But you're right, this... this shouldn't be. This thing killed a man. It might have killed Max, and now it's after all of us, too. Last thing we need is more of them." He turned away from Shinji, avoiding his penetrating, emotionless stare. "We've gotta do something."

Shinji nodded. "Thinking the same thing. Question is, what?"

Dean stopped to think, idly chewing on his lip. "Hell if I know... on the phone, I threatened to take this public, get the data on the news or something. I don't know if that'd work, though... hell, I don't even know if we can." He let out a frustrated sigh. "We sit on it, Cyber Connect's gonna kill us. We turn it over to Asara, God only knows what'll happen."

Saying it aloud brought another question to mind. "Shinji, who are these guys, anyway? Even Microsoft didn't have corporate hit squads."

The hacker shook his head. "Microsoft didn't have the market share that CC does. They practically own the internet, and when you have that much capital you tend to want to hang onto it, no matter what." He gingerly scratched the back of his neck, cocking his head forward. "The guy you talked to is Kenichi Fukada. Been at CC's security corps for about five years. Arrogant little brown-noser who takes himself way too seriously." The rolling of eyes accented the statement as he continued. "Nobody's really sure what he did exactly, except that my section leader called on him for a lot of quote-unquote special projects. Don't know much about him past that... I left two years later. As for the American... he's new, that's all I can tell you."

Dean answered with a nod. "Perfect. He sure as hell won't deal, so what else can we do?"

Shinji paused, furrowing his brow in concentration. Suddenly, his eyes lit up, and he stared at Dean. "We have to destroy it all," he said simply.

Dean blinked, confused. "Huh? Destroy it?"

"The data," said Shinji. "They won't bargain because they've got the data and the prototype. With all that's happened tonight - on top of our priors - they have deniability if we go public. So, we make sure we're the only ones with a copy."

"You mean we go back in? With Delphi still waiting in there?"

"We don't know what's happened with Delphi, and we won't unless we go back in and make sure that it, too, is destroyed." Shinji's face flattened into a stern, no-nonsense look. "It's our only chance. We take it all with us, and then at least we'll be in a position to negotiate."

A moment's hesitation, and then Dean nodded in affirmation. "All right. You talk with Kite and BlackRose, see if they'll help us again. And get a copy of that data. I'll get the number for the nearest news station, that'll be our backup plan."

"Good idea." Shinji turned and headed for the bedroom. "And keep an eye on the hallway. We don't have much time."

As his partner disappeared from view, Dean started for the phone, but slowed to a stop before the bathroom. Fatigue suddenly caught up to him, a leaden weight that tugged at his eyelids. He clicked the safety of his weapon and stuffed it in the waist of his jeans, half-stumbling through the bathroom. Light from the living room shone in far enough to partially illuminate the room, reflecting off the mirrored medicine cabinet which hung above the sink.

With a sigh, he twisted the dial towards cold and pulled the handle, sending water gushing forth from the faucet. He bent over the sink and dove his hands into the icy stream, drawing small handfuls of water up to his face. Instinctively, he squeezed his eyes shut as the first splash struck his face, freezing him back to full consciousness and granting him blissful relief from the thick, moist air; the second and third soaked into his shirt collar and hair, removing all hint of exhaustion from his body.

Dean looked up into the mirror and stared at his reflection, his face outlined in shades of darkness against the bright doorway. (Son of a bitch,) he thought. (How in the hell did this get so complicated?)

A flick of the wrist shut off the faucet; the sound of keys clacking filled the void, coming from Shinji's bedroom, an aural texture to his thoughts. He gazed into the mirror once more, and for once saw a different man staring back at him.

(So much for 'all about the money,') he thought with a snort. (Once a cop, always a cop, I guess.)

A sudden crack greeted his ears, and the keystrokes ceased. Puzzled, he stepped out of the bathroom and into Shinji's room, eyes trailing the direction of the sound.

The first thing he noticed was a message displayed on the monitor, bold red letters on a black background: DELPHI HAS FOUND YOU. The second thing he noticed was Shinji sitting before the monitor, his body slumped to the left, his neck bent at an unnatural angle.

Dean felt all the color leave his face. "Shin?" he called, quietly. It was then that he saw the hole in the window, broken from the outside. The chair creaked from Shinji's weight, and it toppled over, spilling him onto the ground next to his bed.

A gasp came from Dean's lips, but not from spotting the hole in Shinji's right temple, still oozing blood. Instead, his eyes fell on the white wall opposite the window, which contrasted brilliantly with the flickering red dot that was slowly creeping towards him.

All rational thought and feeling left his mind as he bolted out the door, away from Shinji's corpse. He had barely enough sense to grab the phone and punch in the emergency number.

He didn't even wait for the operator to identify herself before he shouted, "I need the cops, they're shooting at me!"

"Sir??" asked the operator, startled by Dean's outburst.

"They just shot my friend through the window," said Dean between staggered breaths. "Uh... Takashi Arms, 5th floor... think there's two of 'em..."

The operator's reply was drowned out by a violent explosion from beyond the hallway door; a large hole was blasted through the door, taking the deadbolt with it and blasting bits of wood and metal across the blue carpet. Seconds later the door was kicked in, and Dean instinctively drew his gun and took cover behind the counter as a man marched through it toting a pump-action shotgun.

The man instantly spotted Dean and turned his weapon to fire, but Dean was ready first. A single pull of the trigger threw a 9mm shell forth from the barrel, the report echoing in the narrow confines of the apartment. The bullet missed its mark, but punched through the intruder's right flank with enough force to spin him to one side, throwing his aim off. Dean followed up with another shot, taking a quarter-second to aim before firing. A bloody hole was torn through the man's overcoat at the shoulder level, drawing a howl of pain from the assailant as he stumbled back against the wall.

A third pull of the trigger resulted in a disgusting, grinding *clack*. Panicked, Dean examined the ejection port and grimaced; the gun had become jammed.

Still stunned from the gunshot, the man was helpless as Dean raced around the counter and rapidly closed the distance between them; the detective shoved the shotgun aside and struck the intruder hard across the face, knocking his head painfully against the wall and causing him to slump the ground, groaning loudly.

Quickly pocketing the jammed pistol and grabbing the shotgun from the dazed man's hands, Dean held the man at bay as he analyzed his bruised, bloody face.

Memory finally kicked in. "Carl," he said with a low growl, remembering the details of the American agent.

The brown-haired man coughed loudly, leaning to his right. Dean noticed an additional bullet hole in the left shoulder of Carl's coat, stained dark with old blood. Through the hole, he spotted a trace of reddish-white bandages.

With a morbid smirk, Dean balanced the shotgun in his left hand, tightening his hold on the pistol-like grip of the weapon, and firmly squeezed the twice-wounded shoulder. "I'll say this once," he said, staring at the agent's deep, penetrating blue eyes. "I can make it hurt, or I can make it *really* hurt. Where's Kenichi?"

Carl turned his head to glare at Dean. "Go to hell.... graaaaaaaaahhhh!!" he suddenly cried as Dean harshly clamped his hand over the wound, agitating the still-bleeding flesh wound. This was followed up by a hammer blow to the shoulder, which instantly ignited the agent's nerve endings in a blinding flash of pain. "Ohhh, god..." he groaned weakly, tears of pain twisting free from his eyes.

"Where's Kenichi?!" shouted Dean.

"Augh... parking lot. Silver Lexus... nnng... section 4. KNZ-4224." Carl broke off as he coughed loudly, weakly clutching the wound in his side.

Dean released Carl's shoulder and moved to his feet, taking the shotgun in both hands. "Cops are on their way. If you wanna save your own ass, you're gonna stay right here."

At that, Dean moved to his feet and dashed out into the hall. He heard several gasps and cries of alarm as curious residents spotted him. "Stay in your rooms!" he ordered, being careful to keep the shotgun pointed before him, away from any of the bystanders as he raced by, heading for the elevator.

Mercifully, the door responded instantly to the call button. Dean scrambled inside and hit the button for the lobby, his mind stringing together a truly majestic volley of curse words in a vain effort to grasp what had just happened. The shotgun trembled in his hand as the elevator swayed and sank; his sweat-slickened palms readjusted their hold on the weapon, the acrid stench of spent gunpowder still detectable from the barrel.

He watched the floor counter decrease from five to one, and then to the ground floor. Barely waiting for the doors to open, Dean sprinted through, hearing a chorus of confused murmurs and frightened shouts as employees and guests spotted him. Seconds later, he found himself staring through the blackened, sliding glass doors leading out of the apartment.

As he approached, they slid open, a gaping maw threatening to consume him. Briefly, his mind flashed back to a dungeon, a doorway from mere hours ago, and yet it seemed like an entire lifetime. It beckoning to him with its darkness, purple, ethereal wisps of smoke heralding the danger that lay beyond.

(All right, Mr. Fukada,) thought Dean as he stepped forward to meet this field's boss, his shoeless feet gingerly falling onto the concrete of the parking lot. (It's just you and me now.)


------------
Chapter XI - Justify the Means
------------

Slowly he crept past row after row of lifeless vehicles, their headlights silently watching his every move. Crossing over into lot four, he hunched over to duck behind a dark red SUV, attempting to stay in its shadow against the lightpost which loomed overhead. The shotgun rattled slightly as the handle shook in its relaxed position, slick with sweat from the palm of his hand.

(Come on, Chino) thought Dean. (Show me what you got.)

He took another step forward, and gasped sharply as his foot fell on something hard and pointy, with little more than the sock to protect it. With a grimace, he lifted his foot and brushed the rock aside before continuing his advance. (God damn it.)

Cautiously, he peered around the back of the SUV, carefully scanning the next row of cars. Spotting a silver car roughly fifteen feet away, he cast a glance at the license plate; inwardly, he cursed again as he realized he'd forgotten the number given to him.

Taking a cursory appraisal of his surroundings, he spotted no one nearby, and promptly made a hushed, hurried dash for the next row. His lack of footwear aided greatly in his ability to remain quiet, his feet barely making a sound as he scurried along the blissfully smooth pavement. Quickly reaching the next row, he repeated the procedure, ducking down beneath the trunk of a sports car and cautiously poking his head around to search for his assailant.

Without warning, a tiny, yet intense flash of red light swept over his eye; he reacted instantly, ducking back behind the car and out of the laser's view.

(Damn, he saw me!) His heart, which had almost settled to a normal rhythm, began pounding once more; he sunk down low, half-sitting, half-laying on the ground, making sure no part of him was exposed.

An uneasy silence settled over the parking lot, as pervasive as the warm, damp night air; Dean cringed, realizing he had no real idea where Kenichi was.

The suicidal part of him took over, reasoning that anything was better than waiting for the sniper to advance. "Kenichi!" he shouted, wincing slightly from the uncomfortable position he occupied. "Come out and face me, you chickenshit bastard!"

To his surprise, Kenichi answered. "It's over for you, Stollis! You know there's no way you're coming out of this alive!"

Dean listened carefully, trying to deduce Kenichi's location from his voice. "The cops are on their way. Your man's down; all I gotta do is