My first chaptered story for the Matrix genre using all original characters. I'm kinda nervous to see how you all take to it but, unlike a few others I've seen, I've put my heart into this and pushed my writing skills to new levels...so it should be pretty good. I'm about halfway done with the next chapter, so, depending on how well this one goes over with my readers, it should be posted within the month.
This was written for a dear friend of mine, Centress (aka Nithke), and the main character is hers, taken with permission from her amazing story A Mad Mad World. I have written a short story about him once before, and it will be tied in to this later on...if you've already read that or Mad you should have a jump on the others who are just now falling into our little web.
Disclaimer: I own only the characters -save Jeremy and any you may recognize later- so please do not use them without my written permission. The basis of the plot belongs to the infamous brothers who made the movies to begin with.
xxxxx
The Calling
Chapter 1: Ill Tides
"Get your ass outta bed, Jeremy," Miranda snarled, violently kicking the mattress on the floor.
"What it your problem?" Jeremy snapped as he pulled a blanket up over his head to obscure his face from the blinding light coming from the window on the other side of the room. "I was up all night...just let me rest in peace!"
"You know, I'm sick of you staying on the computer the whole freakin' night." The young woman grabbed her purse from the rickety chair by the door. "I also hate how you always make those ugly comments about your morbid fascination with death. And while I'm at it," she shot a nasty glare his way, "it bothers me how you mumble in your sleep about Adele. Who's Adele, Jeremy? Your other girlfriend?"
"Andy, wait..." Jeremy stood from his bed and was about to take a step toward her when she left. As she slammed the door, small flakes of orange paint dislodged and fluttered to the floor.
"There goes another one," he muttered, pulling a black shirt over his head. He glanced at the blank screen of the computer, which was by the window. He'd spent all his money on the piece of junk, and it had all been worthless. She was still gone, and he had no idea how to find her even with his hacking skills. How many years had it been since then? Four? Five, six?
Damn you, Adele, he thought. This is all your fault.
Jeremy sighed and ran a hand through his spiked black hair, messed with sleep. After hitting the power button on the machine he went into the bathroom. Miranda had been cleaning again; the mold had been scrubbed out of the tiles by the sink. When he turn on the water, the faucet sputtered and spat out some brown muddy liquid that didn't look safe enough to give the weeds that had managed to crack through the cement stairs of the dilapidated apartment building. A few seconds later, though, the mud became water. He splashed some on his face, careful not to hit the new piercing in his eyebrow. The third one. Three...my lucky number.
When he returned to him computer, the little letter in the corner of his Internet screen flashed. He had mail. After further inspection, he found it to be from one of his hacker buddies who had been helping him locate the missing half of his soul, who had disappeared all those years ago.
Trinity Strikes Again the subject read.
Trinity, that kid who had entered their circuit a while ago. So far, he'd only caused trouble. What was he up to now? Jeremy opened the message. It had been copied and pasted from an online tabloid article three years old.
The now famous hacker known as Trinity finally let his skills be known. Early this morning at exactly 3:03 AM, he broke through the many security barriers of the IRS. Although there were hundreds of files to be looked through, none seemed to be tampered with except for one. The contents of this file are unknown, but many believe it to have contained information on the well sought-after Morpheus. Where will Trinity strike next? But what I really want to know is this: who taught this guy how to manipulate the world?
Jeremy felt a chill go up his spine. "Well I'll be damned," he mumbled under his breath. He closed the message and leaned back in his chair. Trinity. The name sounded so familiar. Not familiar like Morpheus, but more familiar like he knew him. Or her, his mind nagged.
Quickly making up his mind, he stood from the chair and ran back into the bathroom. After applying a thick layer of black eyeliner around his eyes, he grabbed his long black jacket from the crooked coat hook and ran from the building, not bothering to lock the door behind him.
xxxxx
"Hey, man, it's the Vampire." Logan, more commonly known around the club as Hippo, glanced up from where he was chatting rather loudly over the music with his little group. "A bit early for you to be out, isn't it? That pretty pale skin of yours might burn."
Pinkie, whose real name Jeremy didn't know, chuckled. "How ya doin', Vampie?"
Jeremy scowled. "I told you, I'd rather go by Ruhk, if you don't mind." It took a lot of self-control to keep from returning to his old habits and smacking this guy across the face. "Where's Ginger? I need to talk to her."
"Ginge is busy," Hippo said suspiciously. "What's so important that you actually came out during the day?"
"That's none of your business," was the curt reply. "Where is she?"
"With a client, if you catch my meaning," Cassandra spoke up from her position by the wall. He hadn't even known she was there, her dark skin blending easily with the shadows. She quirked an eyebrow. "Everything okay there, Ruhk?"
Jeremy sighed. At least one person was being moderately helpful. "No. I just want to talk to Ginger."
"She's in the back, first door on the right." The woman smirked. "Knock first, kiddo."
He nodded in thanks before turning toward the bar. The loud music thundered around him, dancing bodies already crowding the large room even though it was only three o'clock. The bartender hadn't shown up for work yet, so Jeremy easily slipped into the back area of the club, which was supposedly restricted to the crowds.
He stopped outside the door Cassandra had specified, but just as he was about to knock the knob turned and a man stumbled out. He had bright red lipstick smeared on his flushed face, and probably elsewhere. The man didn't even notice who he had almost barreled over as he continued his stumbling way out into the main room.
Jeremy rapped his knuckles on the open door. "Ginger?" he called into the darkness inside.
"Who is that?" an airy voice rasped.
"It's Ruhk," he answered, too wary to take another step. "I wanted to talk to you."
"Well, I was wondering when you'd come to me! Come in, come in!"
Unable to resist then, he went inside and closed the door behind him. His hand brushed across the wall until he found a switch, which he promptly flicked on. Dim light filled the room, bringing the woman in the far corner into focus. She was in her mid-40s, with thick chestnut hair and gold skin. Her face was sunken, as though she hadn't had a good meal in years, and he was sure that more than a few ribs were visible beneath that thin robe she was wearing.
"You have the most potential out of anyone here, you know," Ginger went on, oblivious to his discomfort. "I was starting to get worried that you'd never get up the courage to ask around outside that computer of yours."
Jeremy frowned, feeling his heart pounding in his chest with nervousness. "I don't think I know what you're talking about."
"Oh, yes you do," the older woman countered. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. And I'm sorry to lay it on you like this, but I can't tell you a thing."
He was about to mutter another protest, but she continued. "However, I can give you a name."
"A name?" His frown deepened. Subconsciously, his left hand went up to his ear and tugged gently at the little hoop hanging from his earlobe. It was his nervous habit.
"Wraith is what he goes by." Ginger smiled smugly up at him from where she sat among her pillows on the floor. "I've already told him about you, my boy...about your promise. You may not be the best hacker in the world, but you have that feeling, don't you? That feeling that something's wrong in the world?"
She didn't wait for an answer. "Wraith wants to meet you. Tonight. He'll have all the answers you need."
"I'm afraid I'm still confused," Jeremy spoke up, startled at how fast everything had happened. "How did you know what I wanted?"
Ginger sighed and looked away. "I've been watching you for quite some time. I've been watching many people. I've been around for much longer than you know." She pierced him with her dark eyes. "I know where she is, Ruhk. Your precious Adele. But believe me when I say that you won't recognize her now. Do you still want to find her?"
"Hell yes."
A faint smile passed over the woman's lips as she picked up a piece of paper from a short table beside her and scribbled something on it with a pen. "I must warn you, though," she paused to make sure he was listening. "Whatever choice you make you can't take back. You'll have to live with it for the rest of your life."
Jeremy nodded, resisting the urge to raise an eyebrow. Ginger extended her arm and he took the paper from her well-manicured fingers. "How do you know all this?" he asked her quietly, not quite able to wrap his mind around all that had just happened.
"I know more than you think, my boy." She sighed. "That address," she gestured toward the paper in his hand, "it's not in a good part of the city. Be careful out there. Lots of people would want to get their hands on that pretty body of yours."
He looked at the floor, not sure of what to say. "Thank you, I guess. For this."
Ginger chuckled. "You'll find her, Ruhk, but I'm not sure if you'll like what you find. She's not the same person she used to be."
The comment was met with silence. After a moment, Jeremy turned to go. Her last words followed him out the door.
"Don't make the same mistake I did. Be daring."
xxxxx
Once he left the club, Jeremy looked at the crumpled paper for the first time.
908 West 33rd 9:30
West 33rd. Right. He pursed his lips. That was all the way on the other side of town. Just how was he supposed to get there? It's not like he actually owned a car, or had nearly enough money for a cab. He looked at his watch. 4:17. I'll walk, then. Plenty of time.
He headed back to his apartment. The trip was short; only three blocks from the club. He quickly mounted the stairs in the lobby and made the climb to his floor, but once he got there he stopped short.
"Shit!"
The door to his apartment was wide open. He rushed inside, only to find that everything he owned had either been stolen or broken. The whole apartment was in complete disarray. Papers were scattered on the floor, lamps and tables overturned. His mattress had been thrown against the wall. And his computer was gone, ripped right from the wall.
He looked around wildly, suddenly realizing that the person who did this might still be there. Though no one was visible, he bent and broke the leg off a nearby chair just in case. He briefly considered calling the police but promptly dismissed the idea. The police didn't really like people like him. They'd probably just scrape together a report and throw it in the trash on their way out. No worth even bothering with them.
Jeremy kicked at an empty tissue box, sending it flying across the room. "This is crap!" he yelled to no one. He looked at the paper in his hand again. Wraith, that was the guy's name. "I sure hope he's got answers for me."
In the bathroom he gathered his eyeliner and toothbrush, then switched his black running shoes for the large black string-up boots that had been thrown from his closet to the far wall of his bedroom. He picked up a few bits of clothing, all black as well, and tossed them unceremoniously into a black duffle bag.
As he made his way toward the broken door, he paused at the dilapidated bookshelf and grabbed a well-worn picture of a young woman with dark shoulder-length hair and bright blue eyes. She had been scowling at the camera, not happy about having the shot taken. He stuffed it into the pocket of his jacket.
"Forget this, man." He scanned what had once been his home and left, never wanting to see that place again. Once he reached the street, he began the long walk toward his final destination. If this didn't work out… Well, he'd been contemplating suicide for a while.
He subconsciously rubbed his fingers over the picture in his pocket. I'll find you, Adele. I will. One way or another.
xxxxx
The sun went down quickly, leaving the city to its nighttime inhabitants. Usually this was the time Jeremy loved the most. But tonight, it felt as though he were slowly approaching his death. He unfolded the paper for the umpteenth time. The closest street sign read West 28th. Almost there.
The building loomed up ominously as he approached. It was made of crumbling red bricks, probably an old manufacturing company. There were few street lamps here, but he could tell that this was the place. A large sign on the side marked it as 908. He glanced at his watch. 9:28.
After a quick look around, he noticed a shiny black car parked on the curb a ways down the street. He spotted a door in the windowless brick wall and made his way toward it. Here goes, he thought as he adjusted the bag still hanging from his shoulder and pulled the rusty piece of metal open. It creaked on its hinges.
Almost immediately he was met with the musty smell of mold and old chemicals. The door swung shut behind him, casting the large room into darkness. All around was an eerie silence. Jeremy strained his ears but couldn't hear anything except the faint drip dripping of an old sewer pipe.
"Hello?" His voice echoed off the walls, making him feel even more alone. "Is anyone here?"
"That depends."
The suddenness of this second voice made him jump. He spun around. "Where are you? Who are you?"
"Who are you?" He noticed the lilt in the words, a distinctly feminine sound. From the slight dialect he guessed she was Irish.
"My name is…Ruhk." The name now seemed more normal than the name he had had his entire life.
"We've been expecting you." The sound of boot heels clicking on the cement floor was the only warning before someone reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. He jumped again, the adrenaline coursing through his body. The owner of the hand spoke, and he knew it to be the same person as before. "My name is Banshee. Follow me."
The hand left his shoulder and Jeremy turned to see the back of a tall woman with dark red hair, which had been tied back in a rubber band. She was thin, as could be told easily through the tight black vinyl shirt and short skirt she was wearing. The boots he had heard earlier reached up to her knees, with no zipper or strings to be found.
She paused and looked over her shoulder, her face cast in shadows. He could just tell that she had very pale skin and high cheekbones. "Are you coming?"
Without waiting for an answer, Banshee turned on her heel and continued on her way through the darkness. Jeremy sprinted to catch up with her.
"Where are you taking me?" he asked, trying to come up on her side to see her face. He received no answer.
She led him toward the back of the large room and took his bag, gesturing for him to go down a hallway. "Last door on the left."
"Aren't you coming with me?"
Banshee quirked an eyebrow at the hint of fear in his voice. "You're a big boy, Ruhk," she paused, looking him in the eye. "I've got to prepare for the next step in this long, drawn out process. Not to worry, though. Wraith is perfectly harmless. Most of the time."
Jeremy looked down the hall. He could barely see the door in the gloomy distance. When he glanced back she was gone. His boots made a dull thud with each step, echoing around him as he swallowed back his fear and moved toward his future.
The door, when he could finally make it out, was made of wood, painted black and blending perfectly with the shadows. There was a brass knob, which was cold to the touch. It took all the restraint Jeremy had to keep from jerking his hand away and running from the building. There is no place to go, he told himself, nothing for you to do except die. You have to do this. Open the door.
The door swung open smoothly, revealing a room that looked to be in the same condition as the rest of the building. An old desk, probably filled with termites, sat dejectedly in the far corner. Pieces of furniture were scattered everywhere, only two chairs still intact. But what really attracted his attention was a man, leaning against the wall with long arms folded across his chest.
"It's about time." His voice was thick, but not too deep.
"Sorry…" Jeremy slowly shook his head, still feeling his heart pounding almost painfully in his chest. He studied the man before him. Tall, lanky, dark blonde hair tied back in a short ponytail, dark eyes - probably brown - pale peachy skin, but not as pale as Jeremy's, dressed in dark brown. He looked to be in his late thirties.
"Do you know why you're here?" The man - Wraith - asked.
"I was sent here," Jeremy answered, trying to gather his growing confidence around him. "She told me that you could help."
"Apparently you're not the best hacker in the world, but the way Ginger talks about you…" Wraith shook his head. "I figured I should check you out."
There was a heavy silence before the blonde spoke again. "You feel it, don't you? That nagging pang in your gut that something's wrong. I can tell just by looking at you that you want out."
"What are you saying?" Jeremy took a step forward, his interest spiked.
"I'm saying that yes, I can help you. But that help comes with a large price to pay."
"What do you mean?" The younger man shook his head again. "I don't have any money, if that's what you want. Shit, man, I was just robbed. I don't have anything left."
Wraith snorted. "The only thing I want is you. I just lost one of my best soldiers, and I need a replacement. You seem like the kind of guy I'm looking for."
"Looking for for what, exactly?"
"To help us fight." Their eyes locked. "I can give you a new life, Ruhk. I can't promise you that it will be a life you'll like, but we're all in this together for the same cause. To win the war we've been fighting since before you were born."
"What do I have to do?" Jeremy, now falling into his other self as Ruhk, watched as the other man approached him.
"You have to choose." Wraith gave him a solid glare, his brown eyes glinting. He reached into his pocket and removed a pill case. As he did so, the door behind them opened and another woman, younger than Banshee, entered the room with a glass of water.
"You have to choose," Wrath continued, "between staying here and living out the life you have now, or letting us take you back with us, to a new life of fighting and war."
"War…?" Ruhk blinked. Everything he had heard, everything he had read…it was all true? Good God, he thought, is this where Adele is? This 'real world?' Does she fight this war? His fingers brushed across the picture still in his pocket. It took only a split second for him to decide. "I'll do it."
"Are you sure?" Wraith's voice was quiet, cautious. "Once you're free you can't come back to this. Everything you know now, it is all going to be different once you're out. You will be different…you'll have to learn to live again."
The young man nodded. "I'll do it," he repeated. "I don't have anything to gain here. I want something to live for…something to fight for. I'll do it."
"You've made the right decision." The blonde opened the case and extracted a large red pill. "Swallow this." He handed the pill and glass of water to the person before him. When he sensed slight hesitation, he said, "It's harmless. We're going to use it to trace your location so we can get you out."
Ruhk raised his eyes to Wraith's face. Ignoring the questions flaring in his mind, he took the pill and put it in his mouth. It was cool and smooth, and easy to swallow with the water. "Now what?"
"You come with me."
xxxxx
The car ride was short. Ruhk sat in the back with the young woman, probably still a teenager, while Banshee and Wraith talked quietly in the front. He couldn't hear what was said. The vehicle stopped outside another warehouse, this one just as dilapidated as the last. Banshee opened his door and waited for him to get out. She gave him a small smile of encouragement.
"Everything will be okay," she whispered so only he could hear.
The small group led him inside and bolted the door behind them. The room was small, and minimal space was left around what looked to be an old dentist chair and a large bank of computers. A black phone sat easily on an antiqued stand. The young woman led the newly annointed Ruhk to the strange chair and helped him lean back.
"Close your eyes," Wraith instructed, walking over to where Banshee stood at the computers. "It will all be over soon. Do we have a signal?"
Banshee nodded. "He's right there."
The man pulled a phone from his pocket and spoke to the person on the other end. "We're ready, Mace. Let's get him out."
Ruhk closed his eyes and waited for God only knew what. Before he could even open his mouth to ask what was going to happen, his world went black as consciousness was jerked from his body.