Memoirs of Chaos: A History of the Matrix, Version the 7th, through One Woman's Eyes
By Lady Return of the Devil's Advocates, aligned with the Merovingian Organization
Introduction
There are many stories in our world. They are created every day with every slip of the tongue, pull of a trigger, and simple thought that may bubble through our neuropathways. However, many of these stories are forgotten or passed up after they are created. They are almost doomed to death the second they happen, and a lot of our very vibrant culture is lost with each brief second.
Some of these stories, however, find a way to survive age. These are the stories that seem to glide along the tongue and find ways to re-appear, be it through general gossip or becoming committed to a page of a book. Sometimes, some of these stories aren't worthy of being remembered. Other stories can capture the heart, ensnare your mind, and bring you back to days gone by.
Apparently, people tell me that my story happens to be one of them. So here I am, sitting in a chair, setting down on paper my very soul for others to view.
My name is Sarah Angela. Well, that's what my parents called me after my first birth, my birth inside of the Matrix. After my very rude awakening though, others wished to call me Violet. Those were back during my days with Zion, and personally those are the days I'd rather not remember. The first thing I did when I got out of that military, that second prison of mine, was change my name. Everyone calls me Return… and some have enough respect to call me Lady Return. The latter are certainly the smarter ones, and they include the ones who understand what I had to do to deserve a title such as that.
Too many people today like to attach titles to themselves. I find that improper and generally in poor taste. You cannot give yourself honor – someone else has to do that for you. And yet, I walk about and I hear people giving themselves honor. "Lady (Insert Name Here)" or "Master (Insert Name Here)" or the ever popular "(Name), (Adjective)". These newbie redpills have a lot to learn, especially when it makes me look bad.
I have a lot to tell you and very little time to elaborate about it. I know some people will wish to burn this book and the contents thereof, but I kindly ask to whoever reads it that you sit down and take me seriously. Even if you know who I am, even if you hate my guts out for what I have done, they need to be re-told. They still happened, and to hide them from the world would be an attempt to erase a part of the past. I will cover how I became who I am now, why people call me Lady, how I got to the Matrix and why I loathe it but can never leave it, and a lot of the events that people have forgotten in the past that need to be remembered. They may be my views of our rich history, but they are a view of what we all share together.
Chapter 1 – Opening the World (Event: Game Launch)
The simplest place to begin is the beginning, what can I say? I was new, I was blind, and I was easily misguided into thinking Zion could be my new home. I was still amazed by how quickly my world had changed in such a small period of time.
One night, I was working for MetaCortechs. The next day I was lying on the floor of a small hovercraft, people looking at me and wondering who I was. They kept asking me, "You took the red pill, right? Someone offered you a pill; do you remember who it was?" I didn't know why they were so shocked when I told them that I was never offered a pill and the last thing I could remember before ending up on the ship was that I felt a very striking pain in my chest and was staring into the eyes of a man who I knew simply as Agent North.
Self-substantiated. That's what they like to call it in this new world. Very briefly, it's a person who somehow figured out that their world was a lie and was able to free themselves from the horror of the unseen prison. Some say that these people have a deeper understanding of the code of the green and black simulation and that's why they were able to free themselves. Others say that these people are internally insane and just happened to find a way out via sheer luck. Still more people claim that powerful trauma has the ability to clear our vision and let us see the "world" for what it really was.
For as much bickering as there is about self-substantiation, people agree on what let me out of the Matrix. It was a cross of all three methods at once.
Either way, I was cold, confused, weak, and lying helpless on the deck of this Zionist ship. I soon came to learn everything I know about the Matrix from that crew. And when I say everything, I mean everything. From faction warfare, to the three organizations, to combat; I got it all from them. With them, I got to meet all of the movers and shakers of the Matrix. I got a compliment about my purple dress from Captain Niobe, I shook the hand of her partner, Ghost, I got to speak with the Oracle for the first time (but not the last time) and sadly declined my chance at a cookie – I was watching my weight at the time – and I was honored to be in the presence of him.
Yes, you heard me right, I said I was honored to meet Captain Morpheus and hear him speak. As nuts as Old Baldy was, he had a lot of things right. There was a lot about what he had done that… well… I still do admire. The way he walked, the way he spoke… the air about him was filled with command and this deep knowledge. I may have diffused his code bombs to preserve the Matrix, but I still have to applaud the guy for having the guts to lay them down. Where as Zion has absolutely no clue why they fight anymore, I know he had a damn good reason. If he didn't have a good reason, I wouldn't have been cutting those wires and ruining my manicure.
I'm getting ahead of myself. Captain Morpheus will get his section. As for now, well, I pitied the crew of that Zion vessel. I'll keep this brief… I was simply just a curious girl, and I wanted to see my options. After Agent Gray and Flood contacted me over my cell phone, both offering me employment, I wanted to hear a little more. My captain told me not to return the phone calls, but I don't listen to orders very well. Especially when I found out that the Merovingian happened to be someone I actually worked with before. He ordered a few things from my region at MetaCortex. I got to meet him once when there was a shipping error. Charming man… I wanted to speak with him.
Apparently that was a very large no-no in Zion. But, how was I to know that? I was a newbie at all of this. My captain would have found out, however, if the operator wasn't keeping such a good record of my cell phone conversations. What a bastard. That's why they all had to die. A very well placed charge on the engine given to me by a rogue sentinel and poof, my worries disappeared as I viewed the explosion from a distance. My path was set and I began to walk the path of chaos – the path of a Merovingian supporter.
I became favored for my cold judgment, loud leadership, and unique… flair. Apparently the Merovingian liked the way I took advantage of everything in a social situation, from my looks to my abilities in understanding what people desired. It was good for business, and whatever was good for business rose in the organization.
After a short time, I found myself working quite closely with two others. A young man with shining green hair and a green duster jacket to match, and a young woman with a love for cruelty. We complimented one another quite well, in my opinion. I was the brains of the group, able to formulate plans and conduct leadership. Nepaethe was the jokester, who slung his guns at his sides and was an excellent sharpshooter when he needed to get serious. And lastly, Coraxian was a woman with a deadly punch. She had the same "no-fuss" attitude that I was known for, and it was probably why we got along so well.
The missions that we ran were flawless, and we soon, once again, attracted the attention of the Merovingian. He said that of all of the new redpills that were flowing into his organization, he felt that he could trust us with a high honor. The day he met with us was the day that the Devil's Advocates, the elite social arm of the Merovingian, the ones trusted with the bulk of his precious information, was created. We were allocated three old, broken down, rust buckets that barely could pass as hovercrafts that the Merovingian redpills had captured from Zion to use as a starting point. I still felt proud when I walked aboard that ship though and relished in my new title. Commander Return. Captain Coraxian. Captain Nepaethe. We felt like there could be no end to what we could do.
That changed in a heartbeat and an order. Just as we began our recruiting, Nepeathe was called by Flood to do some charting of a new section of tunnels in the real. He came to our first recruiting party, announced what had happened, and we gave him a hug, knowing full well that he would be back in just a couple days and finish gathering his crew.
We were wrong. Nepeathe never came back. The third founder of the Advocates… lost to the Real… forever.
We had a short ceremony at Camon Heights church. It was attended only by me and Coraxian… no one else new Nepeathe as well as we did. Just as we finished the services and turned around, a couple sarcastic claps came from the back row of pews. Flood had kicked back his heels onto the bench in front of him, a piece of paper in his hand, and a nasty smirk on his face. We were being re-assigned. Something big had come up.
