It was just as the Oracle had described; a house neither pretentious nor modest in the middle of an upscale neighbourhood, on a street where smiling young mothers pushed their strollers without fear past manicured yards. No graffiti, no outward decay, all freshly painted like the face of an underage but beautiful whore about to turn her first trick without shame.

"Nice digs," remarked Cross.

"Not too close," Trinity responded. They passed the house, turned around at the end of the street, doubled back and pulled the car over, leaving two houses between the one they watched and their position.

"Cross, Angel, Strike. Stay low. Two people waiting will attract less attention than a carload."

"This ain't gonna work," grumbled Angel.

"It might," Neo countered from the driver's seat.

"If it doesn't, we haul ass before the shit really hits the fan," Strike added dourly.

"Incoming. Get down," Trinity snapped. A nondescript car passed. Not the one they were waiting for. It wouldn't be long. The woman they were seeking followed a predictable schedule. The Agent did not.

Trinity reflected in spite of the rising adrenaline. How times had changed. In the few short years since Neo's defeat of the Agent programs, they had been totally reworked, rewritten. They were now virtually indistinguishable from the rest, except by their actions. Tough as hell to get a line on. Respectable members of the digital society. Less than a year ago one of them had damned near infiltrated Zion. Too real, too close. They were adapting to the threat of the Resistance, making it impossible to second-guess them.

The one they were after now was in a league of his own, more cunning than his predecessors, formidable, far more dangerous than those who had come before him, though in many ways exactly like the rest. Just another subroutine, keeper of the peace, guardian of the master program; another illusion ensuring society that they were well-protected, valued.

Farmed was the word that fit. Trinity and Neo wouldn't have much time to get through to this woman. If they were detected too soon, Neo would most likely go back alone, and it wouldn't matter anyway.

"Here she comes," Neo whispered. Trinity breathed. The staccato clicks of the safeties being released on every gun forced an exponential rise in adrenaline and heightened her senses further. Trinity glanced at her watch. 4:45. They'd have half an hour if they weren't detected. Maybe.

Neo studied the woman as she exited her car. Impeccably dressed in a dark gray tailored jacket. Short matching skirt. Nice legs. Close-cropped, stylish hair, medium brown. High cheekbones. Made-up but not overdone. Her perfume would be the sort that was there but barely detectable. Subtle, erotic. A model wife, a suitable ornament for the Agency. Not that her job there would ever net the Resistance one iota of useful information. Access denied.

"Let's go," Trinity hissed. She reached into her pocket and released the safety on her gun, felt for the phone next to it, her anchor to the Real World.

"Where are the kids?" Neo asked.

"Shit," she muttered under her breath. The unexpected rarely meant anything in their favour. They'd have to talk even faster.

The door had barely closed behind the woman when Neo knocked. She opened it again, smiling hesitantly. She was pretty. Innocent. Trinity steeled herself.

"Hello, Celt. It's Trinity. This is Neo. It's been a long time. Do you remember me?"

The woman's face drained of all colour. Neo was struck by her eyes, which were a pale green and now seemed the colour of mist, and fear.

"I-I'm afraid you've got the wrong person." She was about to close the door on them. Trinity knew she wouldn't slam it. Too polite. The dignified wife of an Agent.

"Gillian Smith?" Neo asked before the door obscured her from their view. She opened it only enough to see them, and to answer.

"I don't speak to anyone online anymore, Trinity. Whoever you thought Celt was doesn't exist anymore."

"Bullshit. We used to talk all the time, Celt. I came a long way to meet you."

"Why?"

"Let us in and we'll explain."

"No. I don't expect you have much time at all. My husband will be here soon." Her eyes grew hard. "Come in then. You can't be here when he comes home, however."

"No problem," Neo growled sarcastically.

Trinity noted the details as they followed Gillian through the foyer. Hardwood floors, framed photos of the offspring. A place for everything. Domestic bliss. Gillian led them to a room that was obviously for display only. Tasteful gray carpeting, plush furniture, no sign of the passage of unruly children, and wide windows that overlooked the drive and the street beyond. A panoramic view of enemy territory.

"What's this all about?" Gillian asked with no pretense of friendship, her eyes nervously darting to the windows and to the street beyond.

"Your husband. Your life. The truth. Don't talk for a while. Just listen. You were getting close to the truth back in the days. Now it's time you knew what you're trapped with here."

"How dare you-"

"Just listen," Neo said, his voice and eyes so ominous that Gillian fell back from reproach and sank down onto a small divan.

"Go on, then." She looked back at him with a vague air of superiority that she didn't feel. They both seemed too young, and too hip, though she was younger than they were. Their dark gazes and dark leather jackets made them seem impervious, and cold, as if they hid far more than she'd ever want to know. She grew cold. Neo began to speak.

Trinity wavered between watching Gillian's ever-changing expressions and scrutinising the row of photographs on the glass table behind the couch upon which Gillian was perched. Agent Smith surrounded by colleagues. Children in various stages of missing teeth. No more real than a long-forgotten dream, though Gillian would most likely die for all three of them without hesitation. She'd die for nothing, for no-one.

Neo managed to explain it all far faster and better than Trinity felt she ever could have. New was the living embodiment of the Unplugged, the One. He hadn't been easy to convince, either. And the Oracle had been dead-on about him in every sense of the word. She wouldn't be wrong this time, either.

Gillian laughed when Neo fell silent. "You don't honestly expect me to believe any of this, do you? I've been married for ten years now, Trinity. Ten very happy years. I've given him two children. Now you're asking me to believe that they don't really exist? That none of this is real? How the hell did you find me, anyhow?"

"It wasn't that hard. A lot of the others in a similar position as your own have realised something wasn't quite right. Most of them haven't been seen again. You're in the best position to help us."

"And betray my own husband, and the Agency along with him? You're both mad."

"Celt-"

"Don't call me that! That was a long time ago, Trinity. When I came here from England, I was looking for a different life. It was one disaster after another. I could scarcely land a job, much less keep one for long. I was on drugs. I was lost. Then I met Owen, and everything changed. He got me in at the Agency, after I went through detox. He was there when no-one gave a damn. I won't help you betray him, I don't care what rival Agency sent you here., or who's backing you."

"He's a program, Celt. Sooner or later you're going to understand that. None of this is real!"

"You've no idea how hard he works, how hard they all work, to keep you safe, nor how dangerous it is-"

"We know firsthand," Neo snarled. "We know how fast he'd blow us away if we gave him an opening."

Gillian opened her mouth to order them both out of her house when Trinity's phone rang. "Agent," uttered Tank into her ear, from the Real World. Trinity snapped the phone off and grabbed Neo's arm.

"He's coming. Let's go." Outside the shrieking of tires against pavement made Gillian jump.

"Don't tell him what we discussed, if you don't want to get hurt," Neo warned over his shoulder as they fled, wrenching the door open, knocking over potted geraniums as they passed. Neo smacked the metal cylinders of windchimes out of his way as they leapt off the front porch and tore across the lawn. Another car was just coming around the corner, moving slowly. As Trinity and Neo dove into their car the approaching vehicle picked up speed.

Trinity knelt on the passenger side seat, gun in hand, her other hand gripping the headrest as she looked back. The Agent exited his car and signalled toward the house. Gillian came running to collect her children. Trinity saw the Agent's gun already in hand just as the children's backs were turned. He had just reached the open door of his car when they sped around the corner.

"Operator."

"Tank, we need an exit fast. He's following."

"Didn't want to shoot in front of the kiddies?" Strike sniggered from the back seat.

"We're armoured. We got Neo. Fuck him," answered Angel.

Tank's voice came crackling back, and Trinity gestured for them all to shut up.

"Got one."

"Where?"

"Madison and Frontage."

"That's too far!"

"The only one left in that sector. You're way behind enemy lines. Haul ass. Don't forget Strike's arsenal. You can make it. Abandoned warehouse, end of the road. South entrance."

"Got it." She relayed the directions to Neo. The Agent was right behind them now and already firing. The armour was holding thus far.

"Bullets fly in surburbia," joked Angel.

"They ain't seen nothin' yet," said Cross.

"Partytime, Strike. Fire one up. Get ready, Neo. This is gonna be fun."

Strike snickered and opened the briefcase on his lap. A lighted panel in the top displayed his wares. An array of all the latest toys currently in use against the Agent programs, most of them created by him.

"Relay disruptor?" Cross suggested.

"Nice choice." Strike selected one. His tech was all grade-A, and this series was unique; each device differed in modification, to prevent the Agent programs from adapting to the designs. When used in tandem with Neo's unique skills, they were unmatched. Sooner or later though, the Enemy would catch up.

"Take the wheel," Neo said to Trinity, and closed his eyes to concentrate as soon as she did. They skidded before Trinity could gain control.

"Jesus!" Angel cried.

"Don't take the Lord's name-"

"Shut up, Cross!"

"Intersection! Now, Strike!"

Strike twisted and hurled the device out the open window, hooking it back over his shoulder, and he hooted as it shattered against the Agent's windscreen. A passing bullet singed Strike's hand, and he crumpled in sudden agony.

"Shit!"

"I'm alright," Strike wheezed. Bullets pounded like hailstones against their back window.

"It's not gonna hold much longer," yelled Angel. "It's starting to crack."

Cross cheered. "Agent's losin' it. Cut off from the mainframe. Gonna be a big crash."

They all opened fire, while Neo lent his skill, deepening the effect of the disruptor on the program in pursuit, gratified when he felt the loss of control from behind. He stomped on it then, knowing such defeat would only be temporary. The back window shattered.

Neo floored it, running two red lights, causing a wreck as two cars attempting to make the yellow light in the next intersection were too late and collided head-on. The Agent's careening car smashed into them both.

"Kick it!" Angel screeched. "We're gonna make it now!"

Gillian herded the kids from the front yard to the table to the back yard, seeking one distraction after another to keep them occupied, quiet. At last Garrett stopped asking why Owen had left so abruptly and Amanda had stopped asking if Owen was coming home for dinner, and in despair she tucked her hands under her arms so neither of the children would see how they shook.

Calmly she phoned several of the neighbors, and invited their children to come and play in the pool, even though it was far too cold. Garrett and Amanda seemed thoroughly satisfied with this strange good fortune and weren't about to question it, and Gillian simply cranked up the controls until the water was warm as a bath, and sat on a lawn chair watching until her own fear threatened to choke her and she felt as if she might vomit. Everything Neo and Trinity had said spun round and round in her head. The laughter of the children became shrill to her ears, mocking. She smiled reassuringly when Amanda caught her eye, and bit back tears.

"Damn it," the Agent cursed. The warehouse was empty. The Matrix was empty of their presence. The disruptor had cost him the few seconds he'd needed.

He filed away all he had learnt, ready for the next encounter. Bold, to have come that close, seeking him in his own arena. The sooner Zion was comprimised, the better. Once it was brought down the conflict would end and his true potential could at last be complete. Neo, he would shred personally.

He moved with ease through the data stream, down the avenues of pure logic, past docking ports, negotiating the switches with cunning grace. In seconds home was before him, an exact replica of his destroyed car down to the contents of the glovebox parked in the drive. One of the neighbours watched him stroll toward the house, pretending to half-heartedly rake at a pile of leaves. The Agent from behind his shades was inscrutable as always, and halted, nodding acknowledgment with a vague menace, and the neighbour looked away, quailed. It was too easy most of the time.

Gillian met him at the door, her physiology indicating she neared hysteria. Calmly he inquired what the unwelcome guests had been doing here, and dutifully she told him everything. He admired the manner in which she swiftly regained her composure, such emotional grounding due largely in part to his own influence over her. He despised weakness, though many of her weaknesses he enjoyed thoroughly, and would exploit each at his convenience once night fell, and in so doing drive every doubt from her mind.

He held her as she wished, reassuring her that she had done what was best by telling him everything, and comforted her with the knowledge that Trinity and her associates had not been harmed, but only taken in for questioning and then released, and told her that he had not been harmed in apprehending them. Her ceaseless questioning grated at him, yet her devotion and loyalty reached him as they sometimes did in a surreal sort of way, as if he momentarily wished to be all that she thought he was.

When the house was quiet and darkness complete she was his to manipulate, though nearly all his mental processes he devoted to Neo and Trinity and how they might attempt to contact Gillian again. Gillian was in a low-level and expendable position at the Agency. The Resistance must be getting desperate. The Agent sorted and categorised all he knew of Neo as Gillian writhed beneath him, powerless to his technique, and he drove any chance of rebellion from her. She could not possibly comprehend in her state the processing now taking place within. From her point of view he was just as into it as she was.

Neo. Every previous encounter with him was cached away in high memory. He accessed all related data, seeking some detail previously scanted. At length the search was relegated and he gave in to what was before him. The new programming allowed for the entire spectrum of experience, not that his race was lacking, nor did they seek to follow humanity down the road that had led to their own doom. It was merely a matter of reaping their own harvest. Still, many of the Agent programs had been taken offline for sybaritic tendencies, and failsafes had been installed.

Such would not be his fate. He had it under control. This was one of the few ways Gillian could serve him. Her kind had only one real use, and they now fulfilled that role to the breadth of their capacity.

Her movements became more kinetics as he became more forceful, the lending of fear making it more interesting than usual. Humans had been parasites, an infestation now well under control; still he fed off her in a fascinating reversal of roles. In the end they both got what they wanted.