.hack//Relapse
A .Hack fanfiction by Karlinn
RCalhoun35@aol.com

Disclaimer: Project .Hack and attached concepts and characters belong to Bandai and Cyber Connect.

Notes: Takes place after the start of Outbreak. Parentheses indicate thoughts, brackets are for writing or text. This is a direct sequel to Heist, using characters established in that story alongside characters from the games and the show. I tried to make it unnecessary to go through Heist to understand this story (although I do recommend it :) - any important events from Heist will be summarized herein to expedite this.

As before, this is a story told from two points of view; chapters 1-14 cover Dean's perspective, and 15-28 cover Kite's. I did my best to get the proper real names of characters from the series, however where necessary I just made them up. See if you can tell which are which!

With that in mind, read on, critique to your heart's content, keep your eyes open for the Splinter Cell reference (among others) and above all, enjoy!

-----------------------
Chapter 1 - Footnotes
-----------------------

"Okay. Let's go over it once more, from the top."

His brown eyes drifted away from his voice - the black tape recorder, merrily whirring away on his desk as it replayed the conversation - and to his thoughts, hastily scrawled out on a white notepad.

"I'd prefer not to use my real name," said a different voice, deep and gruff.

He trailed the notes as his voice spoke once more. "That's fine. I'll refer to your character name in my notes."

At the cue, he read the top of the current page, where two words sat underlined: [Silver Knight].

"He had been trapped in The World apparently to cultivate this... 'Aura' to her liking. 'Her' being... well, I'm still not sure."

["Her" --> needs Aura cultivated (trained?) Aura = Key (of Twilight?)]

"And you can confirm that the monsters you fought, that she sent after you, were clearly out of the system's programming - capable of causing real harm to players?"

"Yes. One of them..." he paused, swallowed hard. "One of them hit me... I was out for a short while. I later learned that she produced these things as a means to protect him."

[Guardians - defense mechanism. Designed for use in The World. Related to Project Delphi?]

"Lady Subaru and the Heavy Blade pursued Tsukasa into a location of her design. I'm still not sure what happened afterwards, though the server was knocked out shortly after that. The Hacker, Helba, mentioned something called 'Skeith'..."

"Right. Supposedly one of the Phases, I've heard of it as well. Combined, they precede some sort of 'Wave'."

[Eight phases. Wave = danger unknown. Expansion beyond confines of The World (conjecture). Dictated in Epitaph of Twilight.]

"Yeah, I've heard much the same. Anyway, it wasn't long after that I stopped playing... most of the other knights did as well. It was just too much to handle. However, some of the others who investigated this stuck behind, you may want to ask them as well. Bear, Mimiru... I thought BT was around as well, but I can't say for sure."

[Possible contacts: Bear, Mimiru, BT. Find names, addresses, info; low-level surveillance only.]

There was a short pause before the player spoke again. "Can I ask you something?"

"Go right ahead," said his recorded voice.

"What's your involvement with this, anyway? I mean, this... this is huge. I filed a formal report to CC and the police, but nobody's called me back. So why are you doing this?"

He heard himself sigh. "It's a long story. Suffice it to say, I'm not so sure myself."

The man chuckled. "Well, you got you work cut out for you. Did you have any other questions?"

"No, that's it," said Dean. "Thanks for your time."

He reached out and stopped the tape, his eyes coming up from the notepad to survey his surroundings. A cheap, yet serviceable white-walled one-bedroom apartment in the heart of downtown Tokyo, Dean had taken the liberty of giving it a personal touch - posters from old Bogart movies, a neon 'Coors' light, a calendar of artwork from some cartoon whose name escaped him, and a worn-out La-Z-Boy serving as a computer chair. On top of the desk sat a dusty black desktop computer and flat-screen monitor, and next to it a rack of DVDs and video games.

Off in the corner, a couple game systems sat before a television/stereo combo, on which the news was displayed, white text on the bottom translating the anchorwoman's words to English. Like the desktop, a mild layer of dust covered the TV set and attached electronic miscellany.

(Can never keep this junk clean,) he thought as he gingerly elbowed the monitor with the sleeve of his shirt, brushing away the dust before the bright blue Altimit background. Nudging aside his notepad, he scrolled the mouse to the internet browser icon, but was interrupted by a soft beeping from his watch.

(8 o'clock). He reached for the cordless phone with one hand, his other sifting through the pile of papers next to the keyboard. "Ah-ha," he muttered, producing a small index card with a phone number and a name neatly printed on it, the former he punched into the phone.

Two rings, and a click as the receiver on the other end was lifted. An unremarkable voice answered: "Masamoto."

"It's me, lieutenant. Just checking in like the judge said."

"Good. Any problems?"

"Nope," said Dean, kicking his feet back up on the desk. "All quiet over here."

"Glad to hear it. Keeping out of trouble, are you?"

"Heh," grunted the P.I. "You could say that."

Dean heard a snort. "I could. But would it be true?"

(This guy's good.) "Well, it is right now," Dean replied. "The night is young."

"Right. Well, I could give a damn what you do after my shift ends, but at least try not to do anything stupid until then, okay?"

That got a smile out of Dean. "Sure thing, lieutenant. Scout's honor."

"Works for me. Oh, by the way, your gun will be cleared to go tomorrow, you can pick it up then."

"I just might do that. Take it easy, man."

"Sayonara, Dean." Another click, and the line was dead.

(I always did like that gun,) he thought as he sat up straight and hung up the phone. Slowly he stood, trudging away from his desk. He passed the doorway to the bedroom, entering the small kitchenette and prying open the refrigerator. He snatched a half-empty 1-liter Coke bottle from its icy clutches and opened it as he turned back, kicking the door shut with his foot.

Before he reached the desk again, his eyes crossed a familiar framed photo - a police station office room, crowded with over twenty officers in two loose rows, some garbed in LAPD uniforms, some not. A familiar young man in the center of the back row grinned happily and waved to the camera, the cap in his hand having left his black hair mildly askew. To his left stood a stout, jovial man wearing a "We survived Y2K" t-shirt. Below the picture in the frame sat the words [Los Angeles Police Department, precinct #4 - January 7, 2000]

Dean chuckled. (And here we thought it'd all blow up at the drop of a hat...)

This thought called others to his attention, fast-forwarding five years into the future - thoughts of the Internet going black the day before Christmas, and the world going mad; thoughts of chaos and panic unheard of in the history of man, much less in that of Los Angeles.

It was years ago, yet the feelings were still crystal clear: the safety of a comfy bed and warm household left behind, bulky riot gear offering little protection from the cold, plastic shield and heavy baton like dead weight in his hands; shouts and cries of panic tore at his ears, aided by wailing sirens and helicopter rotors; his body shook as fists of protest and rage beat against his shield, fists belonging to the frightened, the scared, the hopeless - people just like him, only without arms and armor. It was all he could do to stand with the rest of his unit until backup arrived - to serve and protect, yet he could do neither.

Then the gunshots started.

The screaming became cacophanous as those who struggled to get past now sought only to get away. Bullets went flying to and from the crowd; some in his unit drew theirs, fired upon by unseen assailants. As the crowd cleared, bodies were visible in the street: almost a dozen, including two cops. He got a clear look at the nearest one's face, his eyes wide with surprise and shock.

His mind fast-forwarded once more to more recent events.

Hired by a rival software company to steal data from Cyber Connect, he and his team - the hacker Shinji, and their employer Max - were attacked by the same data they were charged to steal, though they were told it that it was accounting information. The anti-hacker program called 'Delphi', yet another digital entity capable of causing very real harm, was disguised as said accounting information, and demonstrated its power by mortally wounding Max's character in 'The World' and putting his player in a coma. Not content to simply protect their data, Cyber Connect had dispatched two agents to finish what Delphi started; they killed Shinji, and Dean retaliated, killing one and fatally wounding the other.

("Prove it to me," he says...)

A shotgun shell exploded in his mind's ear, clouds of buckshot slicing and tearing into clothed flesh. The look on the agent's face matched that of the cop's - brief, but intense pain and surprise, even fear.

Using the agent's identification badge, Dean infiltrated Cyber Connect's Tokyo office and deleted the files necessary for Delphi's existence. He knew now that no one should have it, that too much harm could come from giving men a weapon that could kill others over the Internet.

(Just wish we'd all figured that out sooner.)

Tearing away from the wall he'd been staring at - his eyes long since drifted away from the picture - he turned back to the computer. (Whatcha doin', Hiroshi?) he thought, remembering his meeting at the hospital with the player who had helped him, the boy behind the outlaw character Kite who had saved both his and Max's lives. With the Heavy Blade BlackRose, he stood against Delphi as he had so many other abberations in the system, risking life and limb for their own sakes as well.

(All in a goddamn video game.) Dean shook his head as he sauntered back to his chair. (Jesus... "Tron" had it right all the time. Who knew?) he thought with a bitter chuckle, sitting down before the computer, now darkened to show a field of stars soaring past the screen.

(Guess I'd better get cracking. Let's see if I can't find these players as well. Who to start with?) He set the Coke bottle down and gave the mouse a vigorous shake, dispelling the screen saver; opening 'The World', he wandered over to the forum and dragged out his keyboard.

-

Topic: To Bear

Author: Stolls

Interested in obtaining information regarding Key, Epitaph of Twilight, your experiences involving both. Would like to meet w/ you to discuss; respond to DStollis@mailserv.net if interested."

-

From: Bear@theworld.com

To: DSTollis@mailserv.net

Subj: Discussion

Will be at Theta root town for the next hour. Meet me there.

-

His now-green eyes watched the warrior before him with calculated interest. A powerfully-built middle-aged man, the Blademaster Bear wore his heart on the sleeves he didn't have - eyes kind but studious, square jaw set but not in stone, arms folded casually across his broad chest but one hand within inches of the hilt of his massive blade. Blue body-paint covered half of his body and face, the latter of which was framed with a head of shortish brown hair, and his posture was decidedly neutral, if only because the contrasting signals cancelled each other out.

In a nutshell, Bear looked every bit the steadfast, reliable old man of the group - assuming there was a group, though he spotted no one else nearby; the two men stood in the shadow of a towering windmill, out of the direct line of traffic between the skyborne, grassy islands which comprised Dun Loireag.

"So, what's your interest in the Epitaph of the Twilight?"

"I'm looking into the bizarre events happening in 'The World'," said Stolls. "I understand you've had some experience with this, correct?"

Bear nodded, his lips flat and unreadable. "That's right. I encountered some of the strange creatures, the ones that have infinite hit points. I also met the Wavemaster Tsukasa."

"Tsukasa... right, that player that was supposedly trapped in 'The World'." An alarm went off in his head as the sentence tumbled out, and he froze. (Damn it! Rookie mistake... can't let him know how much I know.)

If the Blademaster noticed, he made no comment. "Yes. I still don't know how, exactly, he came to be trapped in 'The World'... but I do know that she was responsible."

(She... that has to be the thing that Silver Knight mentioned.) "She?"

Bear uncrossed his arms, gestured vaguely with his weapon hand. "Some kind of artificial intelligence, I think. She needed Tsukasa to remain in 'The World'."

"I see." Stolls glanced left and right, making sure that no one was listening. "Do you think she's behind this as well?" For emphasis, he gestured to the sky, fractured and splintering away into the nothingness above, the reality of 'The World' being torn away into visible code and data - which had been blamed on recent hacker attacks by Cyber Connect.

"I do, but if you asked me to support the theory, I couldn't." Bear shook his head.

Stolls nodded. "So, she's an AI? How did she come to be? I mean... in here?"

"Part of the original programming, I think; they said something like 'She is The World', but I'm skeptical. Her power doesn't seem to be absolute, at least not anymore. Even before, she usually acted through monsters - like the Guardians."

"Hmm." The Wavemaster rubbed his chin, scratching at the jawline with his middle finger.

A short silence passed between them before Bear spoke again. "Something happened to you, too... didn't it?"

(I thought he was watching me a bit too closely.) Stolls hid his brief surprise. "Is it that obvious?"

Bear chuckled, shook his head. "This isn't something anybody just up and starts investigating. Especially since these things have hurt people in the real world." He gestured to the black-robed Wavemaster. "

Shifting his weight, Stolls idly tapped the tip of his spear to his foot, toying with it for a moment before resuming his earlier posture. "Got it in one. I lost a friend of mine to this... and that ain't even the half of it." He lifted his head and met the Blademaster's gaze evenly. "Tell you what; I'll tell you my story if you tell me yours. Not here, though. Somewhere safe."

Bear creased his brow, clearly pondering the offer. After a fistful of seconds, a smile crossed his lips. "I know a place," he said. "I'll mail you instructions."

"All right then."

---------------------
Chapter 2 - Follower
---------------------

"Registration please."

Aged leather creaked as Dean flipped his wallet open, showing the appropriate identification to the officer before him - the nasal-voiced desk clerk who occupied the evidence locker, secure behind bulletproof glass, his voice muffled by the speaker. To his right stood another man, an older thin-faced officer in a light brown suit, receding gray hair and tired blue eyes, a slight bulge in the left breast of the suit concealing a handgun.

Another weapon caught his eye; the clerk presented a Glock 40, bolt back, chamber and magazine empty. "Do you have the case?"

Dean hefted the metal box, opening the drawer with his free hand and depositing the box within; he gave the drawer a nudge, shutting it, and nodded to the clerk. "Code's 4558."

"You understand we can't return the bullets to you, right?"

Dean glanced at his escort. "I know, lieutenant, I know. No big deal, I wasn't planning on using it anyway."

Masamoto smirked. "Nobody ever does."

A clunk was Dean's cue to open the drawer again. He reached in and snatched the box, now heavier with the pistol inside. After double-checking the lock, he took it by the handle and turned to the lieutenant. "Thanks, Lieutenant. Anything else?"

"No, that should be everything. Still waiting on the records from your precinct, but nothing you need to stick around for."

"Cool."

Masamoto led Dean back through the cold, pristine corridors of the police station, passing through an electronically-locked door leading to the main hallway.

"Never thought I'd be back here so soon," thought Dean aloud.

"Least you're not in handcuffs this time," Masamoto pointed out.

"True." Dean fell behind the lieutenant as he pushed through a set of double doors. "Although I have to say that this is one of the cleanest I've ever been in."

"Just had an inspection," he explained. "Losing those two kids put everyone on edge, and the chief's fixing to blame someone."

Dean nodded, remembering how the CC agents killed two cops who had accosted Shinji, and attempted to frame him for their deaths. His face fell, and he stepped up alongside Masamoto. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry about your men."

"Yeah," muttered the lieutenant. "Well, it wasn't your fault... if anything, we owe you for stopping the guys who did it." His voice dropped a notch or two deeper. "Just wish we could've gotten some solid evidence. Nothing we had on them tied them to Cyber Connect except their employment and Shinji's murder... neither of which helps in proving they were taking orders, at least not enough."

"They're not invincible," said Dean. "There's gotta be something you can nail 'em on."

As they reached the lobby, Masamoto stopped and turned to Dean. "Dean, I'll say this once; I understand what you're doing, and I respect that. If I had my way, we wouldn't even waste the paperwork on you. But you know as well as I do that faceless multinationals don't go to jail, and for very obvious reasons." He sighed. "Cyber Connect effectively owns the Internet; nobody anywhere is going to touch them without a bulletproof case."

"Yeah, I know, I know that." Dean lightly kicked at the floor, shoving his free hand into his coat pocket.

Masamoto gave a long, hard look at the younger detective, appraising him silently. He then said, "Listen, you know I can't let you break the law, but... if you find anything, or something happens, call me first, okay?"

Dean blinked. "Mas?"

Masamoto inched closer, turning away from the reception desk and facing the glass doors leading out. "You know and I know and everyone in this building knows that the whole thing stinks. It stinks and we can't do a damn thing about it, but maybe you can. Maybe you can find out something we can't, get someone to talk who won't talk to a badge."

"Planning on doing that anyway. I was hoping for a chance at some legit work for a change." After a beat, he added, "Well... work, at least. Guy's gotta eat and all." He grinned.

The lieutenant smiled. "Works for me either way. Good luck, Dean."

"Workin' on it," replied Dean with a wink as he turned to leave.

-

Grass crunched and shifted beneath his shoes, still damp from the previous day's rainfall. A strong breeze pulled through the expansive garden, rustling the trees and offering slight relief from the humidity - which was only made worse through the sun's intervention, hanging high in the sky with not a single cloud to interrupt its light.

Dean regretted bringing his brown leather jacket as he tromped through the outlying gardens surrounding the Meiji shrine, the garment doing much to trap the rising heat of his body against his skin; sweat started to soak into his blue shirt, and even his khaki cargo pants felt uncomfortable in the heat.

Needless to say, he also regretted forfeiting the choice of locale for meeting Bear offline.

Fortune gave him a break, however, when he came upon the target: a lone wooden bench, sitting at a T-junction for the walkway, about a hundred or so yards away from the shrine itself. Sitting on the bench was a man of moderate build in his forties, decked out in a simple jeans and t-shirt combo. His short, thick hair was of the same shade as the Blademaster, and he shared a similar facial structure as well - square jaw, sharp features, visible amiability in the eyes.

Slowly, Dean approached the bench. He removed a small post-it note from his coat pocket and squinted as he tried to read his own chicken scratches.

"There's no getting off this train we're on."

The man turned his head; spotting Dean, he smiled slightly and stood up, turning to face him. "No, there isn't," he replied. "Dean Stollis, I presume?"

Dean smiled back and nodded. "Ryo Sakuma. The man himself." His smile quickly vanished. "Why the cloak-and-dagger stuff?"

'Bear' threw a glance behind him. "Sorry. I've been having this funny feeling lately, like I'm being watched. I think something's going on."

Dean crooked an eyebrow. "Well, not that I didn't wanna try the code phrase thing myself, but what do you mean?"

"It started a few days ago, when 'The World' became corrupted," said Ryo. "Started seeing the same cars driving by my house - black, with tinted windows - and kept feeling like I was being followed in the game. When you contacted me, I thought you might've been one of them."

"What changed your mind?" asked Dean.

"Well, I thought about it; why contact me publicly for the information if you were trying to keep an eye on me? Thought you might be working for Cyber Connect at first, but then I figured if you were really corporate, you'd be a little less obvious about what you wanted."

Dean smirked. "Unless I was trying to fool you into thinking that."

"No, I wondered about that too, but it seemed like an outside chance at best. More likely you were government or something." Ryo hinted at a grin, which Dean returned.

"Eh, close enough. Used to be a cop. You watch a lot of spy movies, don't you?"

"Lot of movies, period," he replied. "Goes hand-in-hand with being a gamer."

"Heh heh... it does indeed." Dean shifted his weight. "So, what say we go for a stroll?"

-

"Uh... how much is a Coke?" he asked, his gaze shifting from the menu on the noodle vendor stand to the vendor himself - a gangly, thin-faced teen in a bright red-and-white uniform. While his weak grasp of spoken Japanese was slowly improving, the written language might as well have been invisible, a fact that the elder of the two quickly gathered.

"Relax, I"m buying," Ryo assured the detective.

"Yeah," Dean said. "You do your thing... where you talk to people and they understand you."

Sakuma bartered with the vendor as Dean slowly stepped away, hands in his coat pockets, eyes toward the heavens. "Mildly envious of that," he muttered, wishing he'd spent the extra few thousand yen on the rest of the "Japanese for Dummies" audio tapes.

(This just keeps getting better and better,) he thought, going over the details the veteran gamer had shared with him. (Morganna... so she's behind all this. And I still have no idea what exactly she is, or what she's doing in 'The World.' well, aside from tearing the hell out of it.)

He gazed out across the pond before him, almost still enough to be mistaken for a mirror, the sun reflecting brilliantly off of it. On the opposite side, two men conversed, their reflections joining the sun, their movements perfectly mimed by the water. (Like he says,) he thought, (she had to be part of the original programming. This all seems to come down to that Epitaph of Twilight, but that still leaves the question of what it has to do with 'The World'. Was the game based on it or something? And why include an AI with that kind of power in a video game?)

A whistle from behind brought Dean's attention back to Ryo, who now stood nearby holding two bottled drinks, one of which he offered to Dean. "Here you go."

Dean smiled. "Thanks, man."

"You're welcome."

Ryo took a sip and started along the path again, and Dean followed. "Hey, you said something about a guy named Harald earlier," said Dean. "Tell me about him."

"Harald Hoerwick," said Ryo, "is the creator of Fragment, which he later sold to CC and it became 'The World.' He also claimed to be Aura's father when we spoke to him."

"Claimed to be?" Dean blinked. "You met him?"

"In the game," Ryo answered with an affirmative nod. "It was more like a recording of some sort, kept repeating himself." His brow furrowed. "Strange things... saying he was a bad father, asking us - or someone - to take care of Aura. He'd been sending messages out that we all assumed were about the Key of the Twilight, that's how we all came to find him."

Dean nodded. "I see... so he created Fragment, and that became the test version of 'The World'. And this Morganna tried to use Aura to..." he trailed off as he glanced to his side, seeing another pair of men standing several yards away, engrossed in conversation. He swore they looked familiar, but quickly shrugged it off.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, just thought I saw someone," said Dean with a shake of his head.

Ryo sighed. "Well, I'll be honest, there's still a lot about this that I don't understand. I don't know what Aura was intended for, either by Harald or Morganna; all I know is what Helba told us, that if Aura was corrupted then 'The World' would ultimately be destroyed. Or something to that end."

"Mmm." Dean frowned. "There's so little to go on. Every question you answer just brings up two more."

"Yeah. I can say this, though: Harald created Aura and 'The World', or at least the basis for it; either he's behind Morganna - and could tell us all about her - or he knows who is. No matter who's doing what, he'd be the guy to see."

"There's the rub, isn't it," Dean said, pausing to take a long swig from his drink. "Guy hasn't been seen for who knows how long."

Ryo stopped, a thoughtful look on his face. "Wait... there is one other thing."

"What's that?"

"When we met with Harald in 'The World', there was someone else who saw him first - the Wavemaster BT." He turne his free hand, gesturing to his side in emphasis. "She was in kind of a daze, said that we should escape as soon as possible."

"Yeah?"

"I wouldn't quote me on this," he started, "but it's possible she learned something else from Harald. Something he didn't tell us."

Dean cocked his head, peering quizzically at Ryo. "Wasn't it a recording?"

"Maybe the wrong word," said Ryo with a shrug. "Maybe a memory would be better... an echo. Needless to say it was... alive enough to respond, in a limited way. She may yet know more than she told us."

"I see... well, I'd heard about her from another one of your friends, so she was next on the list anyway. I don't suppose you could put me in touch with her?"

"I could try." Ryo took another sip from his Coke. "She's gotten a little reclusive lately, but I think I could get ahold of her for you."

Dean smiled. "I'd appreciate that. It might make finding her a little easier," he jokingly said.

Ryo spoke again, but his voice fell on deaf ears as Dean's gaze flew past Ryo and onto the two men behind them on the path, still several yards away. He finally recognized them as the pair that had he had spotted earlier by the pond, and again just seconds ago - two Asian men, dressed in unassuming clothes and neither with any remarkable features, save for the cellular phone that the left-hand man was currently speaking into.

"Dean?" asked Ryo, somewhat unnerved by the detective's descent to silence.

"I don't want to alarm you," said Dean in a near-whisper, "but we're being followed."

----------------
Chapter 3 - They
----------------

"How many?" Ryo started to turn.

"Don't look, don't look!" hissed Dean, facing Ryo but eyeing the two men tailing them. "Two of 'em, plainclothes. Might be CC, might be cops."

"Cops? Why would they be following us?"

Dean sighed. "It's a long story, I'll tell you all about it soon as we get out of here. Where'd you park?"

"I didn't, I took the train here." Ryo twitched, struggling to remain still.

"Relax," urged Dean. "If you act all nervous, they'll know we're on to them."

Ryo took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, trying to stay calm, fighting his furiously pounding heart. "So, now what?"

Dean carefully scanned the surrounding area, eyes roaming up and down the footpath through the garden. "We have to get to my car, but we gotta lose them first."

"Should we run for it?"

"No, not yet. If they figure out we've spotted them they'll back off, and we won't find out anything." His mind raced, generating numerous possible escape plans and discarding them one after another. Finally he fell on an outlandish idea that nonetheless appealed to him. His eyes lit up as the proverbial light in his head clicked on. "Take out your wallet."

Ryo blinked, confused. "What? My wallet, why?"

"I'm gonna snatch it and bolt, and you chase after me." Dean moved in closer, placing his right hand on Ryo's shoulder. "We're gonna play a little game of 'tag'. Chase after me down the path yelling 'stop thief', or something; once you hit the archway, head through, bank right along the wall and follow it to the parking lot, make like I lost you. I'll cut through the commons to get there faster and have the car waiting."

He wasted no time in deliberation; Ryo nodded. "Got it... wait, what kind of car?"

"Blue Honda Civic; look for dice in the window."

"All right," said Ryo, angling his body away from the two followers and digging his wallet out of his pocket.

Dean eyed the wallet, then the tail, then the wallet again. "You ready for this?" he asked.

"Ready as I'll ever be," muttered Ryo. "Just go. Now!"

Steeling his nerves, Dean lashed a hand out and ripped the leather wallet from Ryo's waiting hand; in the same motion he turned and broke into a dash down the path, his eyes trained on the distant archway leading out of the inner garden.

He heard Ryo shouting behind him in his native language, his voice muffled slightly by the pounding of shoes against gravel. A handful of onlookers, in various tongues, also offered their shouts of surprise and alarm as Dean raced by, quickly tucking the wallet into his jacket pocket and doubling his efforts to exit the garden.

What took no more than half a minute felt like six whole ones. Dean scrambled beneath the arch winded, flustered and sweating bullets; the humidity helped nothing, adding the appearance of weight to his overdressed body. Slowing to a jog, he made his way through the lush commons, avoiding eye contact with any of its human occupants.

All the way, his mind fired off questions, a condition he was more than used to by now. (Masamoto said nothing about a tail. Who the hell were those guys?)

He dropped to a casual saunter as he entered the parking lot, one hand fishing through his pants pocket for his keys, chest still heaving as he caught his breath. (CC, maybe... that guy Lios? Nah, they got bigger fish to fry than me, but who else is there? Another company? Government? The mob?)

None of the answers fit the picture in his mind, so he shrugged them aside and stepped up to his car, pressing the unlock button and giving the door handle a gentle yank. The detective climbed into the driver's seat of the Civic, immediately regretting having opted for a leather interior as a wall of compacted heat pushed into him, impeding no progress into the car but making the journey quite uncomfortable, to say nothing of cooling down from his dash.

No sooner had he closed the door behind him than he shoved the key into the ignition and started the engine; his second act was to turn on the air conditioning, an act that was not necessary considering he had left it on. He scanned the sidewalk before the gardens through the windshield, eyes carefully watching for his companion. (C'mon, Ryo, hurry up.)

*knock knock knock*

Dean froze, his heart skipping a beat as someone's hand rapped the passenger-side window; he cocked his head right, and breathed a sigh of relief as he spotted Ryo, waiting patiently outside the still-locked door. Dean flipped the lock switch and opened the door, which was promptly opened by Ryo. "I think I lost them," he said as he climbed in and closed the door behind him, "but we'd better get moving, they weren't far behind."

Dean nodded and hastily slid on his seatbelt before shifting to reverse. He glanced out the rear window as the car idled out of the spot; a quick turn of the wheel and shifting to drive later, and the car was off and away from the parking lot.

With his free hand, he pulled Ryo's wallet out of his jacket and tossed it onto his lap. "Here," he said, turning the car left from the lot and into light traffic. "You got here fast, I'm impressed."

"Track team in high school," explained Ryo with a small smile, a slight redness to his face hinting at his own exhaustion. "Been a while, though," he said amidst a heavy sigh, falling back against the seat with his eyes shut.

"So can you put me in touch with BT?" asked Dean as he glanced right over his shoulder; spotting no one close behind, he changed lanes.

Ryo's eyes blinked open. "That depends," he replied. "Why would the cops be after you?"

Dean clenched his teeth. (Damn... was hoping I wouldn't have to go into this.) "You remember those shootings at the hospital and at CC's headquarters about a week ago?"

"Yeah, they were all over the... news..." Ryo trailed off. He recoiled slightly, his eyes wide. "You don't mean..."

"That was me," said Dean. He noticed Ryo's reaction, and lifted a hand off the wheel to wave it dismissingly. "Relax, it's not what you think. I'll explain."

"Please do." Ryo eyed him cautiously, appraisingly.

Dean could feel the impending judgment in the man's eyes, but continued. "Before I started this case, I came here on a contract from Asara corporation to steal data from Cyber Connect. I was working with two men, one of whom died at the Takashi complex shooting that same night. CC sent goons out to silence us; they're the ones that killed those cops at the hospital, and they killed our partner Shinji, who used to work for them."

Ryo nodded slowly, his expression blank. "Uh-huh..."

Dean sighed. "See, Asara told us they wanted accounting information from Cyber Connect; what they didn't tell us was that the 'accounting information' was actually a program called Delphi in disguise, a prototype AI and some sort of a super virus-protection program. Asara wanted it because the same thing it used to block hackers and viruses was capable of harming people through 'The World', just like those Guardian creatures you told me about."

"I see." Ryo furrowed his brow for a moment. "So they hired you to steal this... Delphi?"

"Yeah. And CC wanted to protect it, so they had it attack us. At the same time, they dispatched two agents to kill us and keep this thing under wraps. They didn't want anybody finding out. They killed Shinji and tried to kill me, but I stopped them and destroyed the rest of the data, with the help of my friend Kite - a hacker in 'The World'." He slowed the car to a stop as the light before him turned red. "That's when I decided to stick around and investigate CC, see if I couldn't find out what was going on with all the disturbances online."

"That's... that's quite a story," said Ryo quietly.

Dean nodded. "I already did time for the mess, so it's not like you think with the cops; but I am on bail, that's why I thought it might've been them. Still, I don't think it was."

"Me neither. I'm not sure what to make of it, myself."

"That's why we have to get in touch with BT and get to the bottom of this mystery. CC may not be responsible for all that's happening online, but somebody made this Morganna thing. Finding this guy Harold may be the only way we can get some answers."

Ryo swallowed dryly, lack of moisture causing his throat to burn. "All right," he said. "Take the #4 and drop me off at my place, I'll get ahold of her and give her your number."

The light turned green, and Dean pulled into a right turn onto the next street. "Why don't you just give me her address and I'll mail her?"

"I told you she's kind of a recluse lately." Ryo shook his head. "She's worried about something same as me; she might not buy it if you contact her out of the blue.

"All right," said Dean. "The #4?"

He nodded. "I'll tell you when."

-

The door clicked as Ryo popped it open, climbing out of the comfortably-cooled Civic, he glanced back at Dean, a smile on his lips. "Hey, good luck Dean."

"Thanks, Ryo. Be careful."

Ryo grinned. "You too."

"I'm workin' on that," replied Dean with a chuckle.

The door slammed shut, prompting Dean to release the break and drive off, away from the Sakuma household. With nothing new to add to his thoughts - outside of questions regarding what to expect from the woman behind BT - he twisted the dial on the radio to the nearest rock station and turned the volume up.

Guitars and drums, loud as they were, did nothing to quiet his inner discourse. (This brings back way too many memories. Hell, do they even count as memories? It happened a goddamn week ago! Now they're after me again, Jesus Christ. Of course, I don't even know if it's them this time...) He lightly pounded the steering wheel with the flat of his palm. "Goddamnit," he whispered under his breath.

(Who's really behind all this? Is it Cyber Connect, or is it Morganna? Who do I blame?) His eyes narrowed. (And what if this BT doesn't know anything else? What then?)

These thoughts led him to the next question of who, exactly, BT was; a question he had no immediate answer for. His guesses ran the gamut of stereotypes, from demure bookworm to icy femme fatale - none of which seemed to fit what little Ryo had told him about her.

(Let's hope the mystery woman can tell me something I don't already know,) he thought.

A muffled warbling erupted from the glove box; he turned down the radio with a flick of the wrist, and popped open the box to reveal a ringing cellular phone, which he promptly snatched up and opened. "Hello?"

"Hi, Dean! It's Hiroshi."

Dean grinned. "Hey, Hiro man! How's it going?"

"Pretty good. How about you?"

A left turn brought him face-to-face with the sun, forcing him to drop the visor over the window. "Not too shabby. Haven't heard from you in a while, man; what's up on your end?"

"Well, I ran into Balmung - one of Yasu's friends in the game - and straightened things out with him; then I found out the name of someone involved with 'The World'." Hiroshi paused. "Someone named 'Seijiro Tanaka,' but I'd never heard of him before. Have you?"

"Nah, doesn't ring a bell. Who is he?"

"I don't know. The player we talked to said it had something to do with 'Fragment,' how they were having problems similar to what's going on now. I was wondering if maybe you could find out more?"

"Hmm." Dean chewed his lip. "Well, it certainly couldn't hurt to check it out. How do you spell Seijiro?"

"S-E-I-J-I-R-O."

Doing his best to mentally store the name, Dean replied, "Thanks, I'll see what I can dig up. If I find anything, I'll let you know. And you do the same."

"Sure thing. Thanks!"

"No problem." Dean smiled. "Hey, tell BlackRose I said 'hi'."

"Will do. See you later!"

"Later man." Dean pressed the 'off' button and folded the phone back up, tossing it into the glove box from whence it came. (Seijiro Tanaka, huh? Well, not like I had any other leads aside from BT. Maybe the lieutenant will know something.)

-

"Please, for the love of all that is holy, tell me it wasn't you."

Dean drew back from the receiver, puzzled. "Huh?"

He heard the lieutenant sigh. "Dean, we got a report about a mugger near the Meiji shrine that looked an awful lot like you. Now I know you wouldn't think about lifting some poor guy's wallet so soon after getting out of jail, would you?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, sir, I wouldn't. I can explain."

"I think you'd better."

"Listen, I met with a guy trying to find out more about what's going on, he was involved in that fiasco about a year ago involving some girl, one of the first that fell comatose while playing 'The World.'"

"Oh yeah, I remember that. So what happened?"

"These two guys were following us; we had to pull a fast one to lose 'em, so I made like I robbed him and had him chase me so we could get out of there."

Masamoto sighed again, this time in obvious relief. "Okay, so it wasn't a mugging. Good. I was wondering why no report was filed. Who were they?"

Dean blinked. ('Who were they?') "I thought they might've been your guys."

"No, we didn't have any plainclothes officers around the garden at noon. Why, what did they look like?"

"Just regular guys. Wasn't sure who they were, guess they could've been CC goons as well, but I don't know what they'd be after this time."

"Damn. Did you find out anything?"

Dean spun in his chair, reclining and kicking out the footstool. "Ahh... nothing much, really. I got two more leads, one I'm meeting with later, and another I was hoping to ask you about. Does the name 'Seijiro Tanaka' sound familiar?"

"No. Should it?"

"Found out from another one of my sources. Supposed to have something to do with that test version of 'The World'; y'know, Fragment? Haven't been able to find out anything on him, though. I was hoping maybe you could tell me something about him. An address, for starters."

"Well, I'll try, but no promises."

"Thanks, lieutenant."

"No problem. And Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Next time, pretend the guy following you stole something from you. Gives you a reason to turn the tables."

Dean laughed aloud. "Ha ha! I'll keep that in mind. Later, Mas."

"Have a good one."

He shut off the phone and leaned back, letting the receiver drop into his lap. His eyes drooped shut, the ceiling of his apartment the last thing they saw before darkness filled his vision. He threw his arms up over his head, stretching in the chair and letting out a deep groan of satisfaction as his stagnant joints and muscles were pulled and twisted.

Folding his hands beneath his head, he let his body relax and mold to the chair. (Hope they don't call for a while. I'm beat...)

Hope springs eternal, but not fortune; the phone rang, jarring him from his moment of peace. Slightly irritated, he picked up the phone and answered the call. "Y'ello."

A woman's voice answered him. "Is this Dean Stollis?"

Ears perking up, Dean erred on the side of caution. "Depends who's asking."

"Someone who doesn't plan on getting off this train we're on."

That got his full attention. He sat up. "Another gamer, huh?"

She let out a soft, throaty noise that might have been a very brief chuckle. "It was Ryo's idea."

Dean smiled, moving off the chair and to his feet. "Then I presume this is the BT I've been hearing so much about?"

"You presume correctly. What is it you wanted to speak with me about, detective?"

--------------------------
Chapter 4 - Just the Facts
--------------------------

Dean clicked the button on the pen, causing the ball-point to slide out of its plastic sheath. He twirled the pen in his fingers briefly before pressing the point to the pad of paper before him. In his other hand, the cordless receiver for the phone, on and to his ear.

"There's a few things I've taken a more than passing interest in regarding 'The World'," said Dean, "and I'm pretty sure you can guess what they are."

"Go on."

"I need to know what you know about Morganna, Harald, and Cyber Connect. Specifically, how they're all related."

"Hmm. Well, one indirectly created the other and it intends to destroy the third, if that's what you mean."

Dean smirked. (Cute.) "Not exactly. Ryo told me that Morganna's behind everything that's going on with 'The World'. I'm trying to find out who's responsible for her creation, and what role Cyber Connect has been playing in this."

"That's quite a mystery," said BT. "Unfortunately, I doubt I could tell you anything that Ryo couldn't. If anything, he would know more than I; he was in contact with Tsukasa and the others far more often than me."

"All right." Dean idly scratched the pen on the paper, drawing invisible lines back and forth before the ink started to flow. "Then how about this; Morganna needed to corrupt Aura in order to take over or destroy 'The World', right?"

"Yes..."

[Aura = key] "And Tsukasa, who was trapped in 'The World' to cultivate Aura to her liking, escaped - preventing Morganna from using Aura towards that end, is this also correct?" He waited for an affirmative "Mm-hmm" before adding [Tsukasa = tied to, keeper of Aura] "Then would it be fair to assume that Aura could have been intended, by Harald, to stop Morganna?"

"I believe so; at least, that's how I understand it." [Aura = stop Morganna. Harald knew about Morganna, how did it get there?]

"Okay," he started, "let's talk about Harald. Do you remember..."

"Didn't you already ask Ryo about this?" she cut in.

"I did, but I want to hear your side of the story." Hearing no protest, he continued. "Ryo told me that you went to see Harald before he and his team could get there. What did he tell you?"

"N-nothing," she stammered. Her voice dropped in pitch by a note or two. "I... I told Ryo everything he told me."

"What did Harald say?" Dean asked again.

"I said nothing!" she suddenly exclaimed. "It's not important, it shouldn't..." she sighed. "It doesn't matter. It's all over now."

"It's not over, BT, and you know it," countered Dean, his voice neutral but firm. "People are dying. 'The World' is coming to pieces, and I got a hunch it's not gonna stop there."

There was a long pause; he could hear her breath over the phone, tight and strained, clearly uncomfortable. "Look," he said, choosing his words carefully, a deliberate softness to his tone. "I'll level with you; I know why you'd want to leave this all behind. God knows I wanted to, too; but I owe a friend of mine a favor. He's the one that's trying to get to the bottom of this mystery; I'm just trying to help him because he helped me, and he didn't have to."

His eyes closed, his throat tightening. "He risked a lot to help us out, even though we weren't exactly doing good things. It's because of him that we found out that there was more to this than meets the eye, that Cyber Connect knew about the problems in 'The World' and had done some very bad things on their own." He swallowed hard. "I told him I'd help him out, and I will, but you're my last lead. Nobody else has turned up anything for me, nothing that gets me any closer to finding out what the hell's going on, and who's responsible."

Dean sighed, opening his eyes once again, staring down at the pad of paper; his hand had since drifted off to one side, the pen slipping from his grasp and coming to rest on the paper, a light trail of ink drilled on its surface from where the pen had been standing. "Please," he said, "if there's anything... anything at all that you didn't tell Bear or the others... just tell me and I'll say "thank you" and hang up, and you won't hear from me again."

A voice in the back of his mind remembered that BT had called *him*, and that he didn't have her number or address, more or less making the statement less a truth than a mathematical certainty; a voice he ignored when hers spoke into his ear.

"He said... something about a lock."

Dean sat up straight, resisting the urge to ask the obvious follow-up question, instead waiting for her to continue.

"There was another name," she said slowly. "Something like... 'Seijiro'. It was hard to tell, his voice was... very unusual. A long echo, lots of reverb."

"Mmm," Dean murmured, his mind doing cartwheels at her mention of Seijiro. [Harald Hewick, Seijiro (Tanaka?) = connected via 'Fragment'. Harold knew Tanaka.]

"'Seijiro... your lock is broken.' Those were his exact words." [Aura = key, made by Harald. ??? = lock, made by Seijiro. Could be Morganna.]

He waited ten seconds for her to continue, then another ten, and then another. Realizing she had nothing further to add, he fought down the urge to ask any further questions, honoring his unofficial promise. "Thank you," he said, drawing the receiver away from his ear and reaching for the 'off' button.

"Wait."

Her voice was faint from distance, but he heard it. "Yeah?"

"Your name." She waited a moment before clarifying her statement. "In 'The World', what is your name?"

Caught off-guard, Dean cleared his throat and said, "Stolls," adding "I'm a Wavemaster," after a beat.

That quiet, short chuckle again; "Interesting," she half-whispered. A click, and the line died.

Dean reached over and set the phone down on the recharder, a little red light flashing on as it slid into place. (Interesting indeed,) he thought, smiling slightly. (Guess I should inform the troops) He dragged out the keyboard and opened his mail client, shattering the field of stars covering his desktop.

-

From: DStollis@mailserv.net

To: Kite@theworld.com

Subj: Seijiro Tanaka

Hey man. Found out some bits and pieces about that Seijiro guy you mentioned; it seems he was working with Harald Hewick, creator of 'The World' - or, at least, Harald knew him. My sources have hinted that Seijiro is somehow responsible for the A.I. entity that is behind the incidents in 'The World'; his program was referred to as a 'lock', whereas Aura is a 'key' of some sort.

Most of this is speculation, but it would explain why Aura is being pursued by those phases you mentioned. Regardless, I'm going to try and track down Seijiro and see if we can't get some answers. I'll have more for you soon. In the meantime, follow up anything on your end and let me know if you need anything else, or if you find out anything.

- Dean

-

(Officer Stollis... we meet at last.)

Masamoto opened the blank manilla folder in his hands, revealing several pages of information, still warm from the branding of letters upon them by the printer. He set the folder on his desk and pulled the chain hanging from the lamp, throwing a spotlight on the text before him.

The aging lieutenant skimmed over the introduction page, which highlighted the important parts of Sergeant Dean Robert Stollis' service record. The next few pages cited the events in detail, along with the testimony of other members of the Los Angeles Police Department.

(Good standing, was never late to work, always finished paperwork on time... no prior misdemeanors or felonies, no civil complaints... not exactly the most exciting record but it looks like he was a good cop.) He read further. (Awful lot of work; everything from undercover work to riot control. High marks in negotiation, marksmanship, surveillance... commendation from FBI and DEA.)

Masamoto smirked. (Where's the punchline?) He turned to the next page and found one.

[Excerpt from Incident D7-424

August 17, 2007

Summary: A large drug shipment on the eve of December 22, 2005, was successfully intercepted by LAPD officers; in the wake of Pluto Kiss, however, all records of inventory were lost, including the recently acquired shipment. It is believed this is what permitted several key LAPD and California State officials to participate in trafficking the drugs and laundering the money virtually unnoticed for almost two years (Incident D5-109). A combined Internal Affairs and FBI investigation revealed that fourteen officers and intermediaries were paid large sums of money for ther silence in the operation.

Conclusion: In regards to incident D5-109, Sgt. Stollis was one of the complicit officers. He was discharged from the LAPD August 18, 2007, charged with obstruction of justice and withholding evidence, and was sentenced to two years of incarceration at San Quentin State Prison. He served one year, and earned an early release on parole for good behavior.]

(So, that's how it happened... damn.) He frowned, shook his head. (Well, I guess he's paid his due. And then some, these past few weeks.)

*knock knock* "Lieutenant?"

Masamoto looked up to his door. "Come in."

The knob turned and the door swung open, allowing the young, uniformed officer behind it to enter. "Here's the info request, sir," he said, handing a clipboard to Masamoto.

Taking the board, Masamoto dismissed the officer with a wave of his hand. "That will be all. Thank you."

The door clicked shut as he eyed the single sheet of paper which decorated the clipboard. (Tanaka, Seijiro... let's see... employed at CC corporation from 2004 onward, head of research and development in artificial intelligence... doesn't look too out of... wait a minute...)

[1997-2004: U.S. Department of Defense

1999-2000: 'ARPANET' project leader

2001-2002: Envoy to United Nations; WNC administrator

2002-2003: 'Echelon' project leader (conjecture)

2004: Termination of employment]

Masamoto blinked. (He worked for the American government? What is all this about?)

With one eye on the line that read "last known address", he reached for the phone. (Something's not right here... if he worked for the government, then how did Cyber Connect pick him up? And for what?)

He brought the phone to his ears without remembering having dialed a number, though the ringing told a different story. "Hello?"

"Dean, it's Masamoto. I found something on Mr. Tanaka."

"Great! What'd you find?"

The lieutenant took in a deep breath. "I'd prefer to share it with you in person. I go off duty in an hour, meet me in front of the station."

-

"He worked for the Defense Department?!"

Seated in the passenger side of a tan Buick, Dean could only stare at the officer next to him, jaw slack and eyes wide.

Masamoto nodded. "That's right. He was a fed before Cyber Connect made him a better offer. He worked on ARPANET, Echelon... internet and surveillance, and the centralization of both."

"Hmm. How does that fit into 'The World', though? What would Cyber Connect want with him?"

He shrugged. "I'm not sure why him, specifically, but he's got credentials and experience; I'm sure he was on a lot of short lists."

Dean idly scratched the back of his neck. "Hmm... 'your lock is broken'... your lock..."

"What was that?"

(If he worked for CC when Harold sold them 'Fragment'... he made the lock and Harold the key. Worked in internet technology and surveillance... administration... yeah.) "Yeah... yeah, I think he did it."

"Did what?"

Dean turned back to Masamoto. "Does it say anything about artificial intelligence on there?"

"Actually," he gave the paper another look, skipping over a few highlighted sections, "something like was on here somewhere. Where is it... ah, here. It says he was, or is, head of research and development for A.I."

"Son of a bitch. He did do it." Seeing Masamoto's confused look, he explained. "He created an A.I. called Morganna, and she's behind all that's going on in 'The World'."

It was Masamoto's turn to look surprised. "You've got to be kidding me. An A.I. is putting people into comas?"

"Where does he live?" asked Dean. "I'll explain on the way, but I think we need to ask him some questions."

Facing forward, Masamoto gave the ignition key a sharp turn. "I concur," he said flatly.

----------------------------
Chapter 5 - To Remain Silent
----------------------------

A low whistle preceded his comment. "Not too shabby."

Grass crunching beneath their shoes, Dean and Masamoto trudged up the lawn towards the two-story house, largely barren save for a hanging trail of paper lanterns around the front porch and a bird feeder hanging from a nearby tree. The lawn, though bare, was well cared for, and the house itself looked clean, if sparsely decorated.

Excepting the Buick from which they had emerged and a white van across the street, no other cars were nearby; no lights filled the windows, appearing as empty eyes staring away from the darkened household. Clouds had secretly rolled in overhead, dark gray and eager to burst forth in a shower of rain.

As they reached the porch, Dean gestured to the doorbell. "It's your show, Mas."

Masamoto stepped up to the door and gave the bell a push. "Mr. Tanaka!" he called over the ringing. "This is the police; we'd like to have a word with you."

No response.

The two exchanged confused glances; Dean shrugged, Masamoto rang again. "Anybody home?" he hollered.

"Think we've been pre-empted," said Dean.

"Hmm."

A voice from within caught them both by surprise. "Just a minute!" Footsteps, a click of a latch being undone, and the knob turned. The door opened inward, revealing a short, stout man in his forties: eyes blue, hair short and stringy, face somewhat chubby, skin darker than the norm, and damp to boot; covering most of his body was a dark blue terrycloth robe.

"Sorry, I was in the shower," explained the man. "Can I help you, gentlemen?"

"Sorry to bother you," said Masamoto. "We're looking for a Mr. Seijiro Tanaka."

"I'm him," said Tanaka with a curt nod. "You are police?"

"Yes. We'd just like to ask you a few questions."

Seijiro's narrow gaze moved from Masamoto to Dean, and back again. His eyes went wide for a moment as Dean reached in his jacket, but relaxed as the younger man appeared to scratch an itch. "Hmm," he grunted. "Come on in."

The robe-clad man padded away from the door and into the house, leading Dean and Masamoto to the front room; the two politely removed their shoes at the entrance before following beyond the foyer.

"Before you start, who's the... American?" asked Seijiro, eyeing Dean suspiciously.

Dean's eyes met those of the Cyber Connect employee, trying in vain to read his expression and body language. He guessed that the was being spoken about, and not understanding the words didn't help to put him at ease.

(I don't like this,) he thought. (We found this guy too easy...)

"He's my... charge, I suppose you could say," replied Masamoto, mock disdain in his voice as he threw a glance in Dean's direction. "Ignore him."

"Very well." Seijiro sat down on a nearby chair. "What can I do for you, officer?"

"I'd like to ask you some questions about your work with Cyber Connect," said Masamoto. "Specifically, Morganna."

Seijiro tensed upon hearing her name; Dean detected a trace of fear on the man's face. "What about it?"

"We have reason to believe it's behind a number of related disturbances in 'The World', and that it's connected to the shootings a week ago."

The programmer nodded. "Yes, terrible business, that; I knew the programmer who died at the Takashi complex." He shook his head solemly, his eyes lowering to the floor. "I'm afraid I can't be of much help to you, Mr. Masamoto; if Morganna is still alive then it's doubtful it would be within my capabilities to stop her."

Masamoto blinked, confusion written on his face. "What do you mean 'alive'? What exactly is she?"

Seijiro inhaled deeply, his already ample chest expanding as air filled his lungs. He sighed, the robe sinking with his skin. "Morganna... was born in the original version of 'Fragment'. A primitive artificial intelligence designed, by Harald and his programming staff, for administration purposes."

"She was meant to run 'The World'?"

"In a manner of speaking," said Seijiro. "It was I who modified the program with the rest of 'Fragment' when it became 'The World'. She was to administrate, protect, and watch over 'The World' - an autonomous program that would be capable of responding to the unique challenges of its player base, evolving the game itself to suit their needs as they grew in number." He frowned. "Unfortunately, she... was not as advanced as we had hoped, not enough for our plans, or so we believed. When it was revealed that true artificial intelligence was somewhat out of our grasp, the system was scrapped and Morganna was... deleted, if you will."

Masamoto leaned forward. "Deleted?"

Seijiro nodded. "Yes, but by then she had somehow become self-aware... still not true artificial intelligence, but 'alive' enough to view its own demise as undesireable. She copied core elements of her A.I. patterns into the fabric of 'The World', meaning that even if she were deleted, she could eventually restore herself, given proper time."

"I don't understand; if you knew about this, why was 'The World' still released?"

"We didn't know about it at the time," he admitted. "Harald may have known, but I can't be certain."

Facing accusative stares from Dean and the lieutenant, Seijiro gave an exasperated sigh. "You don't understand; it's not like the company has been waiting for this to happen and trying to cover it up. We're doing what we can, but she's simply grown far more intelligent and powerful than we had anticipated; most of our staff didn't even know of her existence, and some still don't. And Harald was the one who based Fragment on the Epitaph of the Twilight; this all does seem to be following it word for word, but we're still not sure what it means."

"That puts us in the same boat," said Masamoto. "What will happen if this... Morganna... succeeds in destroying 'The World', or whatever her ambition may be?"

Tanaka turned his head away from both men; he swallowed, his face contorting in a brief grimace. "She may spread beyond it."

Masamoto glanced back at Dean and gave a small nod, and turned back as he reached into his jacket. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Tanaka," said the lieutenant, "we have no further questions for you."

Both turned to leave, but stopped in their tracks when Seijiro spoke again. "Are... you going to arrest me?" he asked, his voice sounding small and timid, accenting his vulnerable posture.

Masamoto drew a hand up and scratched at the edge of his hairline. "I wouldn't worry about that, sir... but I wouldn't leave town either, if I were you. We may yet need your cooperation again."

Seijiro nodded slowly. "Very well. Good day, Mr. Masamoto."

He froze, his face tensed, just briefly but long enough for Dean to catch notice. "Good day," he said quietly before turning away, a slight edge to his voice.

Stopping only to put on their shoes, Dean and Masamoto left together, the latter closing the door behind him, the chill of air conditioning being replaced by the uncomfortably sticky warmth of the air outside.

As they walked across the yard towards the parked Buick, Dean threw his companion a look. "You all right? What happened?"

"Did you get everything?" asked Masamoto abruptly.

Dean reached into his jacket, and removed a tape recorder from the inside pocket. "Soon as we stepped in. What'd he say?"

Pulling a ring of keys from his pocket, Masamoto circled around the front of the car. "He said my name."

"...and?" asked Dean after a beat.

The lieutenant stopped, turned towards Dean; his skin looked a shade paler than the American remembered it.

"I didn't."

-

(No messages... I'm in demand.)

Dean's sarcastic thoughts ceased as he leisurely strolled into the adjoining bedroom, his body going limp as he unceremoniously flopped down upon the cushioned surface.

From what Masamoto had translated, most of Dean's hunches had been correct; Morganna, a self-replicating artificial intelligence meant to govern 'The World', intended to grow beyond its meager constraints for purposes that couldn't possibly be benign. The men who created her were now in no position to stop her, and all their hopes apparently lay in a 14-year-old boy and a 'key' whose true function he didn't yet understand.

Dean wasn't ready to accept everything Seijiro had said as gospel; the tone of his voice left the detective a little distrustful of the programmer's remarks, but his information fit too well to be completely made up. Nevertheless, he found himself fixated on the last words the lieutenant had spoken before they left Tanaka's place.

("He said my name"... are they watching us? Which one of us?)

He thought further. (It has to be Cyber Connect; if they remember me, then they've probably been following me. And all of us. Son of a bitch...)

Dean let out a satisfied groan as he stretched out on the bed, the mattress adhering to his back; he closed his eyes and folded his hands beneath his head, his thoughts fading to silence as his muscles relaxed.

-

From: Bear@theworld.com

To: DStollis@mailserv.net

Subj: Urgent

I need to speak with you. In person, not over the internet. Meet me in front of my house.

- Ryo

-

(Well, this keeps getting better and better. Wonder what he wants this time.)

The Civic rolled gently down the street, shadows rolling off the dashboard as it passed streetlight after streetlight. Dean drummed his fingers against the wheel, the hard leather delightfully cool to the touch; the humidity of the night air was forgotten in the wake of the car's air conditioning.

More questions drifted through Dean's mind as he neared the Sakuma residence. (There's gotta be more to it than what Seijiro told us; maybe they knew what Morganna was capable of, maybe not, but I still don't see how it got entered into the system in the first place. Why consider using A.I. to administer 'The World' if it was still just a pipedream? And how could it evolve so fast if it wasn't 'true' A.I. in the first place?)

These questions and more fell by the wayside as he rounded the corner leading to Ryo's house, and a man in black stepped in the path of the vehicle, waving his arms wildly.

Dean was caught off his guard but had more than enough time to brake. The man shielded his eyes as the headlights stared him in the face, but a moment of thought was all Dean needed to recognize the man. With a puzzled frown, Dean beckoned to the man with his hand; a push of the lock button allowed him to open the door.

"Thanks," said Ryo as he climbed into the car. "Kill the lights and park. They're at my house."

"What? Who??"

"Just do it!" he urged. Dean followed the instructions, then turned in his seat and faced Ryo, covered almost head-to-toe in some sort of black cloth, from dark sneakers and trousers to a navy blue overshirt, buttoned shut. "Think it's the same guys who followed us at the shrine. Two of them in a white van."

"White van," muttered Dean. He flashed back to the Tanaka house; a similar vehicle had been parked opposite the lieutenant's car. (So they ARE following us...) "Who are they? Are they the same guys who you've seen before?"

"I don't know. All the guys I saw were in expensive cars, like company cars, usually black with tinted windows. Like they were more worried about being seen than being noticed." Ryo shook his head. "These guys just look like your average mooks."

"Where's your kid? Is she okay?"

Ryo nodded. "She's over at a friend's for the night."

Dean grit his teeth and sucked in a sharp breath of air. "All right," he said, taking the car out of park and letting it idle towards the curb, far enough away from the corner to appear inconspicuous. Parking it once more, he killed the engine and turned back to Ryo. "Cell phone's in the glove box. Call the cops, I'll go check it out."

"What are you going to do?" asked Ryo as Dean reached under the steering column and pushed the trunk release button.

"Beat some answers out of them with a tire iron," he answered flippantly, accenting the statement with a raising of both eyebrows.

Ryo's eyes almost popped out of his head. "WHAT?!"

Opening the door, Dean threw a look at Ryo. "Just call 'em. We can't let them get away, this corporate "1984" shit has gone too far."

"But I... ah..." Ryo spluttered; he ended in a groan of tenuous approval as he reached for the glove box.

Dean wasted no time in exiting the vehicle and snatching a long, heavy tool from his trunk; normally suited for changing tires, he deemed it a suitable interrogation tool for the task at hand and found himself with a growing desire to use it.

He smirked, gripping the iron with both hands and wielding it like a baseball bat. (Wonder if Big Brother'll see THIS coming...)

---------------------
Chapter 6 - Cop Karma
---------------------

Counting houses, Dean quietly strolled along the sidewalk, tire iron clutched possessively in his hands. From what little he had seen of Ryo's house, he tried valiantly to form a plan of attack, which were all dismissed in time for him to gather first-hand intelligence; approaching the Sakuma residence, he ducked off the sidewalk and crept up through the lawn, eyes on the white van parked before the house.

Though his jacket blended in fairly well with the darkness, he regretted that the same couldn't be said for his khakis, which were quite far from invisible against the grass and greenery of the lawn. A small hill separated Sakuma's place from the house next to it, and Dean crouched down low against it as he spied on the van.

(Hmm... engine's off; doesn't look like anybody's there. Guess they're both inside,) he thought, turning his attention to the house. His thought was partially proven as a man-shaped shadow crossed the window facing the lawn, illuminated from within against the drawn blinds.

Tensing his muscles, Dean rose from his hiding spot and carefully snuck up the lawn, along the side of the house; each footstep was calculated with care, blades of grass offering minimal cries of pain as they were crushed under his shoes. He carefully rounded the house, passing a metal drain pipe which marked the corner, and found himself in the backyard, standing before a large wooden patio.

Spotting no one, he relaxed momentarily, still gripping the iron tight but letting his muscles loosen and his nerves calm; he took a few deep breaths, fighting the rebellious pounding of his nervous heart. (Easy,) he silently told himself. (Easy does it. Let's see what's going on here first.)

Rising up onto the porch, Dean flattened his back against the wall of the house and crept towards the back entrance, a sliding glass door that looked easy to breach, albiet noisily so. Throwing a glance into the kitchen beyond the door, he spotted no one and reached for the handle.

"Hey, Mark! Check this out!"

Silently frantic, Dean ducked back behind cover, moving far enough from the door to remain unseen; he heard footsteps as they descended a flight of stairs, past the darkened kitchen and into what he assumed was a family room. After a lifetime of five seconds, he moved back towards the door, repeating his earlier stolen glimpse of the kitchen and reach for the handle.

Thankfully, Ryo had left the door unlocked. Dean gave the door a mild tug, pushing it open slowly, steadily. He cringed as the door made a slight sucking noise, insulation material dragging against metal, but it appeared to attract no attention. Prying the door open wider, Dean crept inside, careful to keep low. He drew the door as close to shut as possible, keeping it slightly ajar to avoid making any additional noise.

"So? What's the problem?"

The hair on the back of his neck stood on end, an instinctive response to his proximity with the intruder. The voice floated up from a short set of stairs, beyond which lay a well-lit family room. Though Dean could not see either man, a light in the corner cast shadows far enough to achieve similar ends.

A light clicked on in the back of Dean's mind when he realized he could understand their words. "What do you mean, 'What's the problem?' That's the guy who was with him earlier!" exclaimed one of the men in English.

"He must've seen us coming." A sigh. "Wonder why he didn't call the cops," he mused.

"Hell if I know. Did you find the address?"

Dean crept behind a nearby island, staying low to keep out of sight. Gingerly, he pried his shoes off one by one and set them on the floor, performing a minor feat of juggling genius as he cradled the iron and kept it from even touching the ground.

"Got it here," replied one of the men. "Radio it in, I'm going to dig through here a little more."

"All right, but hurry; if Dean got that email then we may have company coming."

(My reputation precedes me,) thought Dean's sarcastic side, a futile attempt to ease the tension. He heard footsteps again as the speaker climbed the stairs, trudging past the island and through the doorway to the front of the house.

Taking the chance of a lifetime, Dean crept from hiding, iron in hand; his shoeless feet made almost no noise, allowing him to move quickly towards the stairs.

"Boss, this is Alpha team, over," came the voice from the front hall.

Tentatively, Dean tiptoed down the first step. Keys clacked merrily from the family room at the bottom, mingling with the burst of unintelligible radio static as whoever the mook was speaking to answered him.

"We have the address of the Kurasawa residence, but Sakuma is a negative. Repeat, Sakuma is a negative. Both of them. Over."

Another step. And another.

"Unknown. Just discovered an email from Sakuma to Stollis. We may have incoming. Tell Bravo team to proceed with extraction ASAP. Over."

(Extraction? What the hell's going on here?) One more... Dean deftly came to a halt on the carpeted floor of the family room, decorated with an eye towards the warm colors of the spectrum. Past a small coffee table, one of the goons sat at Ryo's desk, tapping away at the keyboard and browsing the information on the monitor.

"Off the Meijiro-Dori. 673..."

The voice became muffled as Dean tiptoed into the living room, closer to the seated man. He bore the look of a military covert ops unit, dressed all in black, with a kevlar vest and a pair of thin gloves completing the outfit. A Beretta 9mm pistol lay on the desk next to the keyboard, drawing Dean's eyes to it like a magnet.

"Copy that, boss. Over and out."

The words cut through Dean's stealth act instantly; Dean faltered, nearly losing his balance. (Gotta hurry... god, I hope this works.)

He raised the iron and lurched forward; before the man could turn around, Dean brought the tool down hard on the back of his head. The weapon connected with a loud thump, violently throwing his head forward and onto the desk; he collapsed in the chair, his hands dropping over the armrests, a weak groan escaping from his lips.

Dean blinked, one eyebrow crooked in surprise, the iron still ringing in his hands. (Hmm. That was easy.)

It got harder; footsteps came from beyond the stairs, urging Dean to take more drastic measures. He reached for the man's gun and discarded the iron; checking the safety, he whirled around to face the newcomer, who looked more than a little shocked to see Dean standing over the unconscious body of his partner.

"What the hell... it's you!" he cried. "What are you..."

"Stop!" yelled Dean as the man reached for his pistol, trapped in a side holster. "Don't even think about it! Get your hands up!"

The black-clad man twitched, his eyes narrowed in frustration. "Rrgh," he grunted in defeat, reluctantly raising his hands over his head.

"All right, start talking." Dean hardened his gaze, adjusting his grip on the pistol. "Who sent you here and why?"

"I'm not telling you shit," spat the man.

"Wrong answer." Dean nudged the barrel down and to the left, and pulled the trigger.

A sharp cry of pain pierced his lips as a 9mm bullet blasted through his right leg, forcing him to his knees. Spots of blood splattered over the brown carpeting as he desperately clutched the wound, groaning loudly, his brow furrowed and jaw clenched. He was caught off-guard when Dean marched up and placed the barrel of the gun against the man's forehead, the detective's other hand clenching his neck.

"Listen good, G.I. Joe," hissed Dean, his eyes ablaze. "I am not a patient man. You play it straight with me and I'll let the cops take you away. Otherwise, I still have your friend over there," he glanced over his shoulder, double-checking to ensure that the chairborne goon was still unconscious.

His brown eyes were wide and brimming with tears from the pain; his face had become soaked in sweat. Dean met the man's eyes and spoke slowly, carefully pronouncing every word. "What... are you... doing here?"

He briefly figdeted, shivered before answering. "W-we were sent to find the address of the Kurasawa woman... she wasn't listed. Sakuma knows where she is."

"Why? Who is she?"

"She's..." he broke off, gulping loudly. "She is one of the few that knows the true nature of the incidents in 'The World'. She also knows about the boss's connection to it all."

Dean's intuitive side kicked in. (That's gotta be BT.) "Who's your boss?"

"I... I can't..." he raised a hand weakly to protest. "He'll kill me..."

Dean's anger returned, but only briefly; seeing the look of fear and pain in his eyes, Dean called off his bluff and removed the pistol from the man's head. "Here," he said, taking both of the man's hands and forcing them onto his wounded thigh.

Stunned, he could only watch as Dean molded his hands to the injured flesh, squeezing firmly. "Keep pressure on it," Dean said, his voice unusually calm. "The cops are on the way." At this, Dean reached down and took his pistol from the holster; with both guns, Dean brought himself face-to-face with his adversary. "How many of you guys are after her?"

He looked away, giving a wheezing sigh. "Two more."

"Good. Don't go anywhere."

Dean stood up and jogged towards the stairs; a loud BANG echoed through the house as a door was violently opened. As Dean reached the top of the stairs, Ryo dashed through the front hall into the kitchen to join him.

"Dean," he panted, his shoulders sagging. "Problem..."

Momentarily startled, Dean relaxed his guard as he recognized Ryo. "It's all right man, I got 'em," he said, gesturing to the wounded and unconscious men downstairs.

"No!" Ryo shook his head. "Another problem... your phone." He held his hand up, revealing Dean's cellular phone in its clutches.

Dean squinted at the bright blue LED, puzzled over Ryo's behavior; confusion turned to concern when he saw the words [low battery] on the screen.

"No way," he muttered. "Tell me you..."

A look at Ryo's ragged countenance and worried expression told him all he needed to know. Ryo himself told him the rest. "I couldn't get a signal."

"DAMN IT!" Dean suddenly shouted. "You've got to be shitting me!"

Ryo winced, recoiling slightly; he glanced down into the family room, scratching the back of his head in bemusement. "What's going on??"

"They're after BT," said Dean. "They got her address from your computer."

"No..." Ryo's face fell. "What do we do?"

Dean spun one of the pistols in his hand, offering the butt to Ryo. "Take this, keep an eye on them and call the police," urged Dean. "For real this time. Send 'em to her place, too."

Ryo hesitantly took the weapon with his right hand, experimentally turning it before his eyes in a mixture of curiosity and fear. "What about you?"

Hefting the other pistol, Dean gulped hard. "I'm going after her. Where does she live?"

-

(Piece of crap phones, can't keep a charge worth a damn.)

The road sped by Dean's eyes as he drove down the Meijiro-Dori, streetlights vanishing through the windshield and reappearing in his rearview mirror, casting shadows which played a slow, repetetive waltz against the dashboard. The pistol, saftied and harmless, rattled nervously in his coat pocket, eager and willing to start a dance of its own.

(It's gotta be Seijiro,) he thought. (He's after all of us because we know he made Morganna; but what difference does that make? Why tail us, and why go after them? There's gotta be more to her than what he said... there has to be.)

A left turn brought him to the street Ryo had specified. (What's he trying to hide? And who the hell are these guys? They were speaking in English... were they Cyber Connect, or somebody else?)

As they had less than an hour ago, Dean's idle thoughts drifted away as he came up to the house numbered 673 - BT's address, complete with a white van parked by the curb and the front door wide open. A man in a black getup similar to the Sakuma thugs stood behind the van, slamming the rear door shut and giving it a firm slap with his hand.

Dean's blood ran cold. (Dammit! I'm too late!)

"Let's get going!" shouted the thug to an unseen companion. "Boss said to forget... huh??"

The Civic's headlights gave a golden makeover to the black-clad goon; he shielded his eyes with one hand and squinted. "Who the hell?!"

Dean slammed on the brakes, coming to a harsh, sliding stop. In one fluid motion he had his seatbelt off, the door open, and the Beretta live and in his hand. He stepped out of the car and pointed it square at the man's head. "Police!" he shouted, his old habit dying hard. "Freeze!"

Through the light, Dean saw the man go for his gun. The detective took aim and fired, sending a bullet straight at the man's chest. The report rolled up and down the quiet streets as the 9mm round hit home, slamming hard into the kevlar vest and knocking him backwards. Two more shots followed suit, failing to penetrate the vest but knocking him off his feet and to the ground with a pained cry.

"Jason!" came the shout from his right, preceding more gunshots; Dean instinctively ducked and heard several bullets pelt the hood of his car, some punching through while others glanced off. Through the passenger-side window, Dean spotted the shooter, standing in the doorway of Kurasawa's house, lit up like a jack-o-lantern against the room beyond.

Throwing vehicular insurance to the wind, Dean fired twice through the window, blasting holes in the glass which quickly spiderwebbed outwards. Neither shot hit the man, but they succeeded in forcing him behind cover, allowing Dean to get up and circle around his car. Gun trained on the door, Dean advanced through the lawn.

The mook popped out from hiding again, but Dean was ready; a short burst of three shots put one round through the man's shoulder, drawing blood and sending him careening backwards. He collapsed in the tiled floor beyond, gun slipping from his hands and bouncing once before coming to a loud, rattling halt.

Dean advanced on the man, kicking his gun further out of arm's reach, a stern look on his face. "Surprise, asshole."

He struggled briefly to sit up, but Dean planted a foot on the wounded shoulder, forcing him back onto the tile. "Where is she?" he half-shouted. "Where is Kurasawa?"

"She's..." he stopped, groaning in obvious discomfort. "We were told to bring her in..."

"Where is she?!" growled Dean, tightening his grip on the pistol.

A startled cry drew Dean's attention behind him; he spun around, pointing his pistol towards the doorway and into the shocked face of a slender, long-haired Japanese woman.

She said something in Japanese, her brown eyes wide and accusative, if somewhat frightened. Without understanding entirely, Dean guessed that it had something to do with one stranger who was holding another at gunpoint in someone else's house, which had been broken into.

"Who are you?" he asked, lowering his gun.

Taking some measure of control over the situation, she spoke again in English. "I live here," she replied. "Who are YOU?"

Her first three words had cut through Dean's haze - a mix of adrenaline and testosterone, with a hint of bloodlust - and brought out a part of him that suddenly realized how the scene must have appeared to her.

He stuttered, fidgeted, took his foot off the wounded man and shifted his stance uneasily. "B... but... didn't they... I thought you were..." he muttered, eyes shifting from the woman to the man. "Uh... uhhhh..."

"I was at the store," she explained tersely. "Now for the third time, who are you and what is going on here??"

A rush of color flew to Dean's cheeks. (She wasn't even here... oh, man... oh, this is great. This is just fantastic.) "Uhm, I... I can explain..." he began weakly. "I-I... I'm Dean." After a beat, he added, "the private eye you spoke with?"

Taking a few steps into her home, 'BT' gave the detective an analytical gaze. "You're Stollis?" she asked in disbelief. "How did you find..." she stopped herself. "No, wait, first tell me who these... no, wait. FIRST, tell me what the HELL is going on here!"

"I, uh... these guys were gonna try to kidnap you, I... was trying to stop 'em, and I thought they had..."

Sirens wailed from outside, a chorus of approaching police cars; within seconds, several tires screeched, halting the cars to which they were attached. Footsteps crunched through grass, heralding the arrival of two police officers, guns in hand and pointed at the occupants of the Kurasawa residence.

Dean followed the shouted orders of the police, which he imagined involved the laying down of his pistol and putting his hands on his head. He dropped to his knees as one of the cops approached, the other keeping a close eye on the wounded man next to him. As the officer forced Dean's hands behind his back and produced a set of handcuffs, the detective glanced over his shoulder and offered a wry grin.

"Would it help if I said I can explain?" he said innocently.

---------------------
Chapter 7 - Reconcile
---------------------

His blue eyes opened, staring into the flat of his palm, massaging his forehead with the thumb and forefinger. The throbbing in his skull eased a little, and he slid his hand back up his head, smoothing the remnants of his hair.

"So, let me get this straight."

Across from him sat two men and one woman, their faces lit in a sickly pale glow from the sole hanging lamp of the interrogation room; between them and he, a solid wooden table, and behind them a one-way mirror concealing two observers and a mess of recording equipment.

Masamoto's weathered face bore an expression of exhaustion more than anger, which was given further credence with a deep sigh and a shake of his head. He turned to the first man - Ryo Sakuma; a tall, square-jawed man in his forties, head topped with short, thick hair and eyes which looked somewhere between nervous and excited. "These men broke into your house," he said, pointing a finger at Ryo.

He moved the finger to the woman next to him - Miku Kurasawa; average height, slender with soft features and long hair, yet a guarded look to her eyes that suggested she was secretive by nature. "To get your address," he continued.

And then to the second man - Dean Stollis; an American of moderate build, short black hair and vacant brown eyes, boyishly rounded features contrasting with a hint of stubble along his chin and lips. "And you showed up just in time to intervene."

Dean lowered his head. On the table, he idly pressed the index fingers of his hands together. "Well, I wouldn't say it was that nice and neat, but... that's basically it."

Masamoto gave Dean a hard stare. "So what were you trying to do, going in like that? Why didn't you or Ryo call us earlier?"

"I wanted to get..." Dean started, but held himself back, remembering that not everyone in the station - particularly those listening to the conversation - had unofficially given him carte blanche to investigate Cyber Connect. "Ryo emailed me and asked to speak in person, I didn't know anything about those guys until I showed up. Cell phone was dead, so I thought I'd go in and have a look around."

"One of 'em spotted me, and things got outta hand," he added with a shrug. "When I found out that they were going after her, I was worried the cops wouldn't get there fast enough." He suspected that Masamoto knew there was more to the story, but his version was true enough to tell it with a straight face.

The lieutenant frowned, but nodded slightly before turning to Ryo. "And why didn't YOU call, if you knew you were being watched?"

"I didn't, then." Ryo shook his head. "The van didn't show up until after I sent the email; all I saw was two guys in black coming up to the house. That's when I snuck out the back and tried to catch Dean."

"Hmm. And you, you said you were at the store. Did you know anything about this before you arrived?"

Miku sighed, a hint of annoyance in her voice. "No, nothing. I'd spoken with Mr. Stollis over the phone, and Be..." she caught herself, "Ryo I knew from 'The World'. I can't imagine why those men would've come to my place, though."

"Well, whatever it was, they wanted it bad enough to raid Sakuma's first to get your address." Saying this aloud caused a light to click in the back of Masamoto's mind. "Are you unlisted for any particular reason, Ms. Kurasawa?"

She shook her head. "A personal preference." She cleared her throat. "So, who were those men?"

Throwing a quick glance to the mirror, Masamoto shook his head. "We're... still not sure," he said, his voice notably weaker, hastier. "Three of them are in the hospital, but we do have a fourth in custody. We'll know soon enough; I'm going to see him as soon as we're done here."

"Does that mean we're free to go?" asked Dean.

A long, deep sigh preceded Masamoto's response. "Yes. Though your actions were somewhat reckless, we've deemed that the injuries you inflicted upon the men were in self-defense, and no innocents were harmed as a result. You're all free to go."

"Thank you."

Chairs scraped against tile as the three opposite Masamoto stood up, each politely pushing their chairs back in before heading for the door. As it clicked shut behind them, he buried his face back in his hands, fingers kneading his temples vigorously.

(You poor bastard... you have no idea what we've all been brought into.)

-

"Yeah, I'll call you. You sure you'll be all right?"

Ryo nodded. "I just need to clean up a little. Thanks for the help. How about you?"

"Car's fine; just some dents in the hood, busted side window. Nothing I can't drive to a shop myself."

"All right. Take care, Miku; Dean, you too."

With a wave, Ryo climbed into his idling car and sped off, tail lights boring holes into the darkness of the street. His exit left Dean alone with Miku, standing next to his own wounded vehicle before her house.

Eyeing the scars on the hood and passenger-side window, Dean groaned loudly. "I hate this city."

Arms folded across her chest, Miku leisurely strolled around the front of the vehicle. "I'd say it's not too fond of you either."

Dean looked up at his companion. His own troubles were forgotten as he recalled why he had come here in the first place. "Listen, I'm..." he began, his unease forcing him to pause for a moment. "Sorry, about what happened tonight."

"It's not your fault," she replied, though her eyes seemed to hold a different opinion.

Stepping past the front fender, Dean joined her. "Do you have any idea why they would come after you?"

She shook her head. "No... maybe because I told you about Seijiro, but that doesn't explain how they found out or why it would matter."

"Yeah, I don't get it either," Dean said with a frown. "These guys... they didn't seem to be from Cyber Connect, if you ask me. Almost military, I'd say, but that makes even less sense."

"Mmm."

A soft breeze floated along the street, tugging gently on their clothes and hair, carrying with it a few stray leaves and offering momentary respite from the humid, heavy night air. The noise from its passing served only to amplify the awkward silence to which they had fallen.

(So, now what?) he thought. (No more leads, no more ideas... just more damage done. What am I doing here, anyway?)

He turned and glanced up at the well-lit porch, standing in contrast to the darkened windows of the house. A stray bullet had lodged itself in the frame of the door, since pried away by crime scene personnel, with only a small black hole to mark its presence.

(All for nothing... she wasn't even here.) He sighed. (Well, no sense just standing here.) "I... should probably get going."

No response. He stepped around her and dug through his pockets; a ring of keys jingled merrily as he searched for the proper one. He slid it into the lock and gave it a turn, doing a double take as he realized the door wasn't locked, hadn't been since the police had arrived.

(Miracle it wasn't stolen,) he thought. (Least Tokyo has that over L.A.)

"Hey."

Dean stopped, glanced over at Miku, still standing before the car. Her eyes held a distant look as they gazed up at her house, her posture had become unsteady, almost timid - or at least, as close to timid as he believed her capable of being.

"Yeah?"

She turned back to him; a gust of wind caught locks of her hair, pushing them back over her shoulders, providing no barrier between her face and his. "They'll be back, won't they?"

A tiny dagger twisted itself into Dean's gut. "Probably," he said quietly. "This all has to do with 'The World'. Morganna, Harold, Seijiro, Aura... I don't know how, and I don't know why, but it's all about them."

"But what does that have to do with me?" she insisted, approaching the driver-side door. Her voice had a touch of acid to it, subtle annoyance entering her words.

"If you don't know, how the hell am I supposed to?" he shot back. "Christ, I don't even know what I'm doing here. Ever since I came to this city I've been chased, kidnapped, attacked and shot at - offline AND online." He turned away, leaned against his car, folded his arms on the roof and rested his chin on them. "Company goons following me everywhere, now these military spooks, all sorts of crazy shit happening in 'The WOrld', people dying."

Miku stood back, watching him carefully, deducing his honesty through his haggard and weary body language.

"All I know is that whatever-it-is in 'The World' - you saw it yourself, it wants to destroy 'The World'. And nobody can give me a straight answer as to why, or how it even came to be."

"Can you blame them?" she said. "Everyone you bring into this seems to end up in more trouble."

He turned, glared hard at her; she stood her ground, though her expression was trying hard to hide its frustration.

"This isn't about me," he said in a low voice. "Not this time. Those men followed me and Ryo earlier today at the Meiji shrine. They were after Ryo, not me. They went to his house, and then they came here looking for you." He pointed to her, accenting the statement. "You weren't brought into this, you're already neck deep in it."

Sensing cracks in her facade, and anger starting to choose words for him, Dean cooled his approach. "Look... I believe that you don't know why they're after you, but that doesn't change the fact that they are. The cops said they'd patrol this area, we'll know as soon as they do who those guys were, and that'll be something. All we can do now is wait."

Miku turned away in a huff, sighed loudly. "I've never liked waiting..."

Leaning against his car again, Dean replied, "Yeah... me neither." Before silence could again come between them he added, "Like I said, I'm sorry about all this - the mess and everything. I... well, maybe it was kinda my fault, I mean you weren't even here and I think they were leaving..."

He stopped when she raised a hand dismissively. "No... no, you were right, it's... not that simple. They came here regardless, I was lucky."

He half-smiled. "Not a bad thing to be. Just wish I didn't dirty up the place in the process."

She visibly relaxed, throwing a look over her shoulder, a slight smirk on her lips. "The feeling is mutual."

"Look, if you think of anything or find out something, give me a call, okay? I want to solve this just as much as you."

A slow, controlled nod. She faced him once more and asked the eternally rhetorical question. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Fire away."

She cleared her throat. "Why are you doing this, anyway?"

He took a long pull of air through his nose, held it in his lungs; his eyes closed, his face relaxed to an almost meditative trance. After several seconds, he released his breath, opened his eyes, alight with a degree of honesty that Miku found mildly unsettling.

"That's a good question," he answered softly. Hearing her snort, he continued, "Look, I don't want you to think I'm one of these banzai action nutjobs that do this kind of thing for fun, like in the movies or something. I've got a few things to answer for in my life, sure; if Ryo told you anything, then you know what I'm talking about." His head tilted slightly, and he reached up to rub the back of his neck. "But it's more than that; I've tried, but I just can't walk away from this, knowing something bad's coming down the pike and not doing anything about that."

"Somebody - somebody human - is responsible for this, and people are getting hurt. Killed even. Maybe it's Seijiro, I... I don't know for sure, but I gotta find out. I know I'm new at this, but it's just how I feel."

She raised an eyebrow. "New at this?"

Dean fidgeted. "Yeah. How much did Ryo tell you?"

"About why you're here, the contract to steal from Cyber Connect and all that. And that you used to be a cop."

"Right," said Dean. "Well, that's all true... I just started this detective stuff a year ago. Can count the number of jobs I've had on one hand," he admitted with a hint of shyness, looking away from Miku.

She chuckled, faintly. "A newbie, huh?" she asked, the tension eased somewhat from the change of subject.

"Yeah, pretty much." He shrugged. "Not too many people hire a crooked cop." Turning away, he added, "Heh, Bogart made this crap look so much easier..."

"Bogart?" Another raised eyebrow.

"Oh, dad loved Bogart; kinda rubbed off on me. The guy had class, y'know? Made it seem a whole lot more glamorous. I tell you, if I knew being a PI meant all this work, I'd have dropped it before I could even print up business cards," said Dean with obvious aggrandizement. His movements became looser, less mechanical and more casual.

The statement forced another chuckle past Miku's lips - less the content than how Dean had said it - and she found herself wanting to smile, despite the circumstances surrounding them.

"Which reminds me," he continued, digging into his pants pocket and producing a wallet. The leather creaked as he flipped it open and produced a small card, his name printed on it in big bold letters alongside his number and email address. He held the card out for her inspection, and she took it from his fingers with an amused expression on her face.

"You do this yourself?" she asked with a smirk.

"Oh, god no. I'm all thumbs with that; there was a sale at Kinko's last week."

"Just a geek with a gun, hmm?" With a flick of her wrist, she brought the card flush against her palm, looking up to stare at Dean expectantly.

"All right, all right, I should probably get out of your hair. See ya, Miku."

She nodded and waved to him, stepping out of the way as Dean climbed into his car and brought the engine to life. Lights flickered on and tires began to roll as he changed gears, pulling away from the curb and speeding off into the darkness, quickly vanishing from view.

Miku's eyes followed the tail lights, her smile coming out of hiding.

-----------------------------
Chapter 8 - Business as Usual
-----------------------------

Boots clunking against wood followed a quiet, off-key whistling as the black-robed, gray-haired Wavemaster strolled casually from one island to the next, crossing one of the bridges that connected Dun Loireag. Staff in hand and resting over one shoulder, Stolls absentmindedly scrolled through his inventory with his free hand, scanning a list of foodstuffs that had been almost as animate as the creature he now sought to feed.

Coming to a stop in the grunty pen, he smiled down at the semi-mature cow beast he'd taken upon himself to raise. "Hey, big guy. Got somethin' for ya."

The animal's prior preference of piney apples in mind, Stolls produced one and knelt down, hand out and offering the food. The grunty wagged its tail happily as it snatched the apple from his hand and greedily gobbled it down.

(There, that should do it... that's what the FAQ said. I think that's what it said. Didn't it?)

A bright light and white mist gathered around the growing animal, obscuring its form to all eyes as it took a more defined, unique shape. It reared up on its hind legs and twisted its body left and right in a bizarre celebratory dance, or possibly some sort of seizure - Stolls could never decide which.

The mist dissipated, the light subsided. Stolls rubbed an eye with his free hand, and blinked twice to clear his vision. Upon identifying the shape the grunty had taken, he broke into a deep frown.

(God. DAMN it. ANOTHER one of these things, you've got to be kidding me!)

"Mon ami!"

The dust finally settled to reveal a Noble grunty standing where the immature one once was - hair blonde with curls, body garbed in some misshapen finery of clothing, twisted to odd contortions to fit the beast's ample girth.

The overemphasized French accent didn't help things either. "Although I am now a gentleman... there is no need for two Noble Grunties in this town."

"I didn't see a need for the first one either," muttered Stolls.

The grunty stuck to the script, paying him no heed as it scampered away, climbing up into the sky. "Adieu! Thank you, mon ami!" it belted out before vanishing in a puff of smoke.

The Wavemaster gently caressed his forehead with his gloved hand for a moment before running it through his hair, giving the gray strands a good ruffling. (Another freakin' waste of food. Last of my apples... those were a bitch to find.) With a frustrated sigh, he turned away from the ranch and stepped back onto the bridge, crossing to the next island.

Coming up to the chain of shopping islands, Stolls came to a stop as he recognized a familiar figure before the item vendor. "Hey, Kite!"

Hearing his name, the Twin Blade spun around and faced his addressor, a smile on his tattooed face. "Stolls!"

"Hey man," said Stolls as he smiled back. "How you doin'?"

"Pretty good," replied Kite. "And you?"

The Wavemaster strolled up to the counter. "Oh-ho-hooo, man... busy day. I'm actually glad I ran into you, I've been finding out more about this Tanaka guy you mentioned."

"Oh?"

"Crazy stuff," he continued. "A guy I know helped me to meet Tanaka face-to-face. Turns out there was this AI - or, something close to it, at least - called Morganna. It was intended to administrate Fragment; you know, the game that 'The World' is based on?" He folded his arms across his chest, tucking the staff against his shoulder. "They never actually used it, though; it was Seijiro that modified it to work with 'The World' when they incorporated Fragment, and they wanted to use it for basically the same thing, but they never did."

Kite looked at him strangely. "Did you say Morganna?"

Stolls threw the look right back at him. "Yeah... you know what it is?"

"Kind of... a while back I found a note in the game with her name on it, and Helba spoke about it, too. She said... that Morganna was 'The World'."

He sighed. "That sounds about right, least that's what I've been finding out. Tanaka said... well, it was technical, but the end result is a part of her code is almost everywhere in 'The World'."

"But... why use something like that to control a game?"

Stolls' lips twisted into a bizarre amalgam of a smirk and a frown. "I'm not so sure about... Seijiro said they wanted something that would evolve with the game itself, handle quality control and be self-updating, or something like that. They put the kibosh on her when they figured out they were in over their heads; couldn't get it to work right, or it wasn't advanced enough or something, so they tried to delete it. Somehow, it survived, grew back."

"It sounds awfully advanced to me," Kite mused.

"I agree. Seijiro said the AI wasn't complete, but that doesn't add up when you consider all it's done here. And even he admitted he wasn't sure about Morganna's original purpose, or why this all is so closely following the Epitaph of the Twilight." He paused, cocking his head at the Twin Blade. "I still don't buy that this is the work of an incomplete AI that was never even put to use. At the very least, I'm positive Seijiro wasn't telling me everything about her."

"Me too." He frowned. "If she's following the Epitaph, then it's almost like someone meant for this to happen. But what for?"

"I have no idea." Stolls relaxed his arms, gesturing vaguely with his free hand. "But this whole thing stinks. Just tonight there was a pack of thugs trying to kidnap a few of the people I interviewed. Commando-types. No idea why, but it seems like they're working for Seijiro."

"Wow..."

"Yeah, I know. Like I said... busy night," said Stolls with a weak chuckle.

It was then that he took actual stock of Kite's countenance; though his face was the picture of youth, Dean could swear he saw what looked like exhaustion in the eyes of the Twin Blade. His posture was also slouched somewhat, evidence of long hours of play. "How 'bout you?" he asked. "You okay? You find out anything on your end?"

-

"Lieutenant?"

Masamoto looked up from his desk, blinking twice to compensate for the bags beneath his eyes, dragging his eyelids down with them. "Yes?"

The young officer stood before him, clipboard trembling in his nervous hands. "You may want to take a look at this, sir." As the lieutenant took the clipboard, he explained. "It's the IDs for those men from the Kurasawa and Sakuma incidents."

"I was waiting for these," Masamoto said, dismissing the officer with a tired wave of his hand. "Thank you, Koji, I... huh?" He stopped short as his eyes fell upon a few key phrases.

A long wait followed as Masamoto skimmed the information again, and then again. "Is this information accurate?"

"It's what we had in our database," he replied, "combined with personal identification from each of their effects. We also obtained information from their vehicles; it's definitely American."

(This can't be true,) thought Masamoto. (What on Earth are they doing going after a bunch of computer geeks?)

Realizing the officer hadn't left, he looked up and cleared his throat. "Koji, get me Seijiro Tanaka's file again. I want to cross-reference this with his and see if there's a match."

Koji blinked, confused. "Sir?"

"Call it a hunch," said Masamoto with an invisible smirk. "Get to it."

-

Stolls found his player gawking along with him as he listened to the Twin Blade finish his story. "So... that's why she's playing."

Kite nodded. "Yeah... because of her brother Kazu. I had thought it was something big, but I didn't know..."

"Me neither," said Stolls. "That explains it, though; it seemed to me like she took this whole thing kinda personally."

"I guess we all have our reasons for playing." Kite hung his head.

"Guess so." A sigh escaped the Wavemaster's lips, mirroring the actions of his puppeteer. "Some game, huh?"

The teal-haired Twin Blade made no reply, save for shaking his head slightly. Stolls heard a noise from his throat that could have been him swallowing hard.

(Poor guy... hell, poor both of 'em; both have people they care about whose lives are on the line here. She's in the same boat as him.) At this thought, an idea sprung to the tip of Stolls' tongue. "Although... if you think about it..."

Kite lifted his head, his eyes questioning, curious.

"If you think about it," Stolls repeated, "it means she trusts you."

Kite's eyes lightened somewhat at the idea, and the Wavemaster continued. "Well, she's stuck by you through all this, right? I told you before, she'd have to like you to stick by you for so long. Now we know she's got as much stock in figuring this out as anybody." He pointed to Kite. "And you have somebody who knows what you're up against, someone else for whom this isn't just a game."

"It's not like that," said Kite dismissively. "I don't feel like I'm alone in here anymore, I know that my friends are willing to help me, especially her; in a way, I knew that back when we fought Delphi together." He stared off into the distance, an almost wistful sigh escaping his lips. "She risked her life to help me out."

In the background, Dean heard his phone ringing. (Not now, dammit,) he thought. (Let the machine get it.)

"You both risked your lives," corrected Stolls. "For me, for us. For your friend, for her brother." He smiled. "All this means is that now you know you're both after the same thing, instead of just thinking you are; she trusts you enough to want you to know why she's helping you, you obviously trust her with the same."

Hearing thoughts that he shared spoken aloud, Kite found himself smiling along with the Wavemaster. "Yeah... I do."

"Well, there you go!" Stolls stepped forward and clapped the Twin Blade on the shoulder. "Now you got a partner you like, you trust, and now you know she's feeling likewise for you, and you've even got the same goal. You couldn't ask for a better setup, if you ask me."

Stolls' semi-sudden exuberance swept Kite up along with it, and he couldn't help but grin in response, shyness tossed to the side as he replied with a smiling emote.

Seeing the floating smiley face attached to Kite's text box, Stolls laughed aloud. "And wouldn't you know it, boy meets girl while trying to save the world, even if it is a fake one. Hey, do both you guys a favor, you gotta make your move before the final climactic battle between good and evil."

"What do you mean by that?" he asked, turning away slightly as if to hide a blush.

"C'mon, man, you play RPGs, you know how it is," Stolls said, still grinning, a sense of grandeur and exaggeration to his words. "In all the best stories, either just before or just after the final battle, the guy and the girl have a private moment to themselves to confess their feelings for each other. That's the way these things work!"

Kite's imaginary blush turned quite real. "Um... well, uh, I guess so... I mean, I do like her and all..." he muttered, eyes widening in disbelief at his own confession.

"Just like the games, it's scary, I tell you," continued Stolls, a silliness seeping into his grin. "Everybody likes to see a little romance now and then. At least here you don't have to worry about some hack writer awkwardly pairing you guys off in fanfiction because he has too much time on his hands and is overly obsessed with the minutiae of videogames and their characters."

That got a chuckle out of Kite. "Well, THAT makes me feel better," he replied jokingly.

"Nah, y'know what?" Stolls began with a nonchalant wave of his hand. "You gotta do what you gotta do. Yours is a relationship I would highly encourage for you to continue, and that constitutes the extent of my meddling, my friend."

"Just forget about the 'what ifs', huh?" asked Kite, an unusually sly grin on his face.

"Hah!" belted out Stolls, hearing his own advice come from Kite's mouth. "It seems my work here is done," he added with an extravagant bow. "But that's how you gotta do it, Kite, that's how you gotta do it." His smile vanished, but not the softness of his eyes. "This isn't a game, no one's doubting that, but that doesn't mean you can't have fun along the way. Doesn't mean you have to be 100% serious all the time."

He turned away from Kite, arms raised to his sides. "Gotta have these things, my friend. This is my release, right here; and you, you and BlackRose," he said, glancing over his shoulder, "this is yours, too. Just 'cause you're here on business doesn't mean you can't have a little fun too."

Hiroshi met Dean's eyes through their avatars, sharing a moment of silent, yet jubilant honesty. H