THE

MATRIX

RESURRECTION

Prologue

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Mega City

12-5-03

9:14PM

It was cold that night. Very cold, as a matter of fact. No one could remember the last time the weather was this bad. The snow fell from the sky like small pieces of glass, hitting people in the face with a cutting sensation that made them turn away if they made the mistake of looking into the opposing direction of the snow fall. One would say it was hail but it wasn't heavy enough. It was just the collaboration of snow, and really harsh winds. They crashed into the windshield of the black sedan driving down the dark icy street.

The driver, a man in his late 20's, 29 to be specific, ignored them as the windshield wipers pushed them off to the side like someone making lines of cocaine with a razor-blade. Funny I should think that,the man thought to himself with a chuckle and a smirk, as he looked down at his Detective badge that was attached to the chain he wore. It read, "Detective" and underneath that, "Narcotics Unit". Oh well, he said to himself in an assuring tone. I guess I could say my mind is always on the job, technically.

He laughed. He was such a bullshit artist at times, and he knew it. He did it on purpose to get out from being between a rock and a tight space. Most of the time it worked. Sometimes though, it backfired. Like when he had to explain to his girlfriend why he came home late the night he promised he'd be home for dinner that night and to go to bed with her at the same time, rather than coming in and sneaking into the bed after she'd already been asleep. She was still peeved at him for that. He thought of what had been said during that argument, while his eyes were fixed on the road ahead of him.

"Vince, what is the matter with you, you promised me you'd be home by 9:30!"

"I know Cheryl, I got caught up with work I couldn't help it!"

"You told me that no matter what, that even if it meant you would have extra work to do that you would put work on the side and come home to see me!"

"Yeah I know but--rrgh, Howard wouldn't let me off the hook he said if I left he'd suspend my pay for a month!"

"Oh bullshit you know he wouldn't have done that, you always say how he tells you you're one of his best cops!"

That was only half of it. Usually Vince would be hearing that when it was attached to the bad end of a complaint from Captain Howard, the head of Vince's precinct. Something always along the lines of "You're a good cop Vince, but you get into so much shit that I don't know what to do with you, y-you're driving me up a fuckin' wall, listen to me I'm stuttering over here!" Always about his spontaneous way of doing things. He got a reputation in the precinct for that.

The officers would say "Burnett? That guy's a loose cannon, I don't know how the Captain puts up with him." Or the other Detectives would say "Vince's chaotic, he'll shoot first and ask questions later." It all made him smile. But Vince couldn't blame Howard on his tardiness from home. He let him get away with too much stuff, any other Captain would have either suspended him and assigned him to a desk job or have him thrown off the force all together.

It's Irvine's fault, he told himself. Irvine. The name had been his best friend for the past year. A search warrant was out for this guy, and he was one the more sought after convicts on the "Wall of the Wanted" back at the precinct. He was a suspected murderer, kidnapper, drug dealer, and hacker. This Irvine character was Vince's case, and he'd had no leads on the guy, just searches around the city that turned up with nothing. His mind went blank. Cheryl's voice came back into his head, like a reminder to come out of thinking of work. It was like purgatory was following him around, making sure he got more pissed off at Irvine for the stupid reasons that caused him and Cheryl to fight all the time.

"You're always late! If you're late one more time after you make a promise like this, I swear Vince, I'm getting out of here!"

"Babe come on, what am I supposed to do?"

"Straighten out your priorities and get your shit together! Wake up already and get with the program."

The words echoed in his head as if he woken up from a nightmare. Who was to say he wasn't in one now? He chuckled and shook his head. What the hell am I thinking? He looked at the clock on his console, the time read 9:14PM. He checked his watch to make sure he wasn't seeing things, and it said the same. I finished early tonight? he asked himself. He couldn't remember leaving his office so early, but he shrugged. "Whatever," he figured. His apartment was around the corner and that meant he'd made it home early. He stopped at the red light, and looked to make sure no other cars were coming down the intersecting street.

When he felt he was clear, he made the right turn and drove down the street until he came up to his apartment building. Parallel parking the car along the sidewalk, he shut off the ignition and hesitated before he got out of the car. He looked up at the window of his apartment and stared. I can't believe I'm home this early. I could have sworn it was eleven... he said to himself in his thoughts. He stayed there looking up at the window, as if there was some outside factor wanting to stop him from getting to his home early, and stay in the car for another two hours. Blinking, he shook his head and got out of the car, gently shutting the door.

The night suddenly seemed calm, despite the snow and the wind. His black leather blazer kept him warm enough to survive the 15 foot walk from the car to the door of the building. He looked down the dark street as he made it to the door, and saw nothing but black when he looked yonder. "Dark future down the road," he jokingly suggested to himself. He pushed the door open, and stamped his feet to get the snow off of his feet. His eyes scanned over the mailboxes on the wall, looking for his own mailbox. When his eyes fell upon the name "Vince Burnett", he stopped, and moved forward with his key. He shook his head. I've lived here for almost a year now and I can't remember where my mailbox is. He inserted his key, and after turning it, he slowly opened it a tad and peeked inside. Ever since he saw Magnum Force, when the mailbox was opened and the bomb exploded, he was always careful of nonchalantly opening his mailbox.

However, like always since then, he saw nothing out of the ordinary in there. Actually, this time he saw nothing in there. No mail, he thought. Maybe Cheryl got it. Closing the tiny door and locking it, he turned and made his way over to the elevator. Running his eyes over the buttons, he pushed the "6" button after the door closed, and waited for that sudden jolt that took place when an elevator first started to move. When it occurred, it rocked him a bit as he stood in his place. He reached under his blazer and grasped his gun, a black Colt 1911A1 with wood grips. He looked at it for a few seconds before making sure the safety on the slide was secured. After he was sure that the safety was activated, he slid it back into it's holster, and then he felt that jolt of the elevator again. The next thing he heard was "ding", and the doors opened. Running his hand through his shoulder length dark brown hair, he stepped out onto thin carpet that covered the floor of the hallway.

Cracking his knuckles like he usually did as he walked to his door, he counted the cracks as they went off. 1, 2, 3, 4...5, 6, 7, 8..9, 10. He stopped in front of his door and made claws out of his fingers, and extended them straight, and did this twice. He got a hold of the doorknob and twisted it. To his surprise, it was open. He pushed it open and stepped in, immediately looking around the apartment. No one in the kitchen, which was a few feet in front of him. Then he noticed the TV on in the living room right in the next room. He peered around the wall and looked to the couches, and his eyes automatically locked with Cheryl's. She looks surprised, he registered to himself before thinking anything else. In reality, she was.

"You..you're home." She said in a gentle tone, with a touch of disbelief. It was as if she was whispering because it was too good to be true, and if that was the case, she didn't want to disturb this vision of Vince that stood before her, or else it might disappear. "Yeah, I'm home," he answered, to her surprise. She didn't know what to ask or what to say. So, to improvise, she got up from her seat on the couch and walked over to him. She was dressed in dark grey sweat pants and a random t-shirt, with white socks on her feet. She was shorter than him, but not too short, a 5'3 to his 6'0. She stood not even a foot away from him, and before he could react, she went up on her tippy-toes and gave him the tightest hug she could. It startled him for a moment, he wasn't expecting it. After a few seconds, he let the fact seep in, and rested his head on hers, which she had pushed tightly into his chest. He blinked, breathing in through his nose and taking in the scent of her hair, the scent of peaches.

He exhaled slowly and kissed her head, preparing to let go so he could get off his jacket, holster, and boots, so he could sit with her on the couch and relax, but instead she pulled him into a kiss. The sudden pull and the last sight of her head coming closer to his caused him to close his eyes tight, and as she wrapped her arms around his neck for better leverage, he relaxed and let them stay closed comfortably. As he wrapped his arms around her waist, he thought to himself, I honestly didn't expect this kind of reaction from her. Maybe I was underestimating her. Maybe I underestimate myself. When she let off of him, she looked at him in the eyes with a warm, caring look.

"Welcome home," she told him with a smile. He smiled back.

"Good to be home."

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