Title: Frames of Reference

Author: Stormhawk

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: (This is for the whole fic so I don't have to do it at the start of each chapter.)

The original Matrix universe and associated characters: Wachowski Brothers. Duh.

Agents universe: co-owned by me and Overlord Mordax

Stef, Stevie, Hummer, Nathaniel, Charlie, Jonas, Carol and the crew of the Exodus: Me

Greer, Rom and Recruit Anne as well as the saying 'programs are people too' and the game VWS: Overlord Mordax

Yami: Rogue McAllister

TMNT: someone, not me.

Star Trek: Brainchild of Gene Roddenberry

Notes: Speaking of Yami, you should check out the new pic on Deviant Art by Yami's creator. And don't forget to look at the rest of Mordax's art while you're there. Yes, I'm shamelessly advertising the site but the art is so cool. The link is on Mordax's page.

While you're at it, go join the board. Link on my page.

Do we have anyone out there that can program games or can suggest a good (preferably downloadable) program? Cause we really want to play Virtual World Smackdown.

This fic is in chapters but it's been uploaded in its entirety because it was way to big to upload as one.

Whole Story Word Count: 21269

This chapter: 3206

Summary: Not all the rebels are happy with the real world. Some want to come back into the Matrix. Meet the crew of the Exodus.

Please Read and Review.

"So that's why…" Stef started to say as a small paint covered child ran up to her and Smith as they walked down the street.

"Hello," the multicolored imp said.

"Hi," she said with a smile. The little boy broke out in a broad smile; his gentle brown eyes were shining. "What a cutie," she said to Smith as he looked down in distaste at the small urchin.

"I'm lost," the apparently human child said.

"So?" the older agent said, the rebel had really pissed him off today, or at least that was what Stef believed to be wrong with him, the truth was a far greater problem than any number of rebels.

"Don't you have any compassion?" she asked, playfully slapping him on the arm – though he had raised a daughter he still had problems dealing with kids. Smiling lopsidedly, "we have to help him."

"You can, don't be long. I'm going back and don't forget about the conference in twenty-one minutes."

"Do I ever?"

"Would you like me to list every time you have arrived late?"

"Not really, don't worry – I'll be on time." Nodding, he shifted from sight. Looking down at the small child she took the time to take in his clothes. A blue tie-dyed shirt and faded green pants, the seeming three-year-old had a bandana tied around his neck and his light red hair was unkempt.

Boy he reminded her of someone. "You've got to be related to Hummer." He nodded furiously, "ok, I can take you back." Hummer was a kooky, beach blond hippy-surfer, stuck in the sixties and the eighties. Exactly the kind of friend she needed. He was an exiled program; his original function had been to look after, govern was the right word, humming birds – hence the name Hummer. That was cool, she had known Hummer in an alternate history – one that had been erased and nullified thanks to Jonas – and though she had only known Hummer for a couple of days in that history she wasn't ready to lose him as a friend in the real world.

Not that this was the real world, this was the Matrix. But then again, the real world was dead and only the stupid rebels lived out there.

Stupid rebels and Stevie Smith.

Poor Stevie, Smith's human daughter – part of one of the mainframe's humanity experiments, helping them to blend in with humans better; whenever she thought about those experiments she had a nagging feeling in the back of her mind that something was wrong…suspicious about them.

Considering that human behavior was a bad thing for agents to display.

Even if they had been human to begin with.

Strange, but as Brown was so fond of saying, no one questions the mainframe.

The mainframe had been a human…maybe, she wondered if that was the truth or just something that Jonas had made up, she had always imagined the mainframe to just be a machine but in that alternate history she had met him, he had been a jerk, he had designed the Matrix two hundred years ago, the only human willing to work with the machines at the time.

But for her that was in the 'whatever' category, he was high and mighty, hiding and watching over his world, sending Clarke to issue his orders. Most likely he was real but instead of ruling the matrix, he merely looked over it, seeing the result of his brainchild – that was why there was thousands of programs to look after each part of the matrix.

But over the years, some had been replaced or not needed anymore, enter the exiles.

Rogue programs that had not accepted their deletion and chosen instead to hide in the system, living out their immortal lives.

Hummer spray painted as a hobby but had a job at McDonalds. Others were far less normal, in some cases it was because they had less than human appearances. Every story about aliens, bigfeet, monsters, vampires and the like could be true, depending if the person telling it had actually seen something.

In many cases they were exiles.

She knew as she had met a pair of ghosts, albino twins, One and Two. British accents and silver clothes they were honest-to-Jonas ghosts.

They worked as bodyguards to The Merovingian.

Ah, Mero…the memories. A self-proclaimed king among the exiles, he was very old, very powerful and very French. It was his language of fascination; he especially loved to swear in it every single time that something went wrong. He had many exiles working for him and was married to one. Persephone.

Persephone, since Mero was the king would be the queen. Jonas, with his imaginary flair had called her 'the white queen' and despite it sounded like something the Alice-in-Wonderland-high Morpheus would say it seemed to fit.

Stef felt sorry for Persephone, Merovingian was so obsessed with money and power that she was often forgotten about, and it was a well-known fact among his guards that he regularly cheated on her.

Shaking herself out of her depressive funk she knew Persephone wasn't helpless, she was as good at playing power games as her husband and the French man was going to learn that one day. What a good day that was going to be.

The kingdom of the exiles.

A secret people, the exiles had plenty to fear. As powerful as they could be and despite their abilities exiles could be killed.

Agents killed exiles.

A fact she had almost become very aware of herself in that alternate history. Yes it had been dark in that room because of the power outage and he had thought she was dead but he had almost killed her. The image of a rage-filled Smith beating the life from her was not an easy image to forget. And Jonas hadn't planned on bringing her back.

It didn't happened, just forget about it, she thought to herself.

After the history had been erased, she had sought out Hummer. Since she was an agent this time around it had taken her a little while, but only a little while because it was Hummer, to convince him that she had no intention of killing him and wanted to be his friend.

Though he had his serious side, Hummer was for the most part a very big kid. How he had a kid was beyond her. He hadn't had one when she had met him the first time around. Maybe it wasn't his, how could it be? It was 'digilogically'…the word had to do with the humanness of programs, perceptions of the senses and reactions like crying and throwing up…digilogically impossible for programs to have children, so far as she knew anyway.

What would be the point? Programs are designed with purposes in mind and not for evolution beyond those parameters, children were most likely not in the picture.

"What's your name anyway?" she asked the kid as they walked down the street toward one of the special doors.

"Nathaniel."

Stef smirked, that was the last thing she had expected. "That name is bigger than you." Again, he nodded. He was a very quiet kid. Strange, people his age were usually bursting with energy.

That was of course, if he was human.

Agents can see the difference between humans and other programs, a kind of static if they look closer. With other agents it is cancelled out but is amplified when it comes to exiles. It helps agents to track them so that can destroy them.

If this kid was a program, why hadn't Smith said something? Maybe he was just distracted, something had been bothering him. Scanning the kid he came out as…kind of nothing. Human if you didn't look too close and unknown if you looked too close.

Strange, she'd have to ask the hippy.

She would never kill an exile. She had been one of them. She understood them, all they wanted to do was live, not be deleted by the system that had created them. Not that it mattered; it was usually the combat agents that dealt with them. In this Agency's case that would be Brown.

There were hundreds of agencies all over the world. Was the world like this before the humans and machines had started the war centuries ago?

Probably, machines love details. The major continents had been digitized, allowing the world to function as it had all that time ago, even though the billions of inhabitants were all plugged into the power plants connected to a worldwide virtual reality world.

That's what the rebels were fighting. They believed that the humans were better of in the real world just because it was the truth. The truth could suck. An endless dead desert was all that was left of the real world, and one city near the earth's core. Who in their right mind would want to live out there?

Her theory was that they were all…deranged was a good word to use.

Especially Anderson, the scourge of the Agency. Their worst enemy. The rebellion called him 'the one' for some reason, apparently – from what they had gathered from their prisoners – he was supposed to end the war.

Good luck Anderson.

He'd need it.

Turning and walking down an alley Nathaniel followed her. They were headed toward the backdoors. The best kept secret of the exiles. Their safe passages and escape routes from the agents, their quick path from one point of the matrix to another.

If the agents…the other agents of course, found out about them there would be a lot less exiles to worry about.

Charlie would have to work overtime. Charlie was the Grim Reaper, Death. But he thought black robes were passé so he donned casual clothing. He gave the programs who had become obsolete or attempted to be deleted The Choice.

As heavy a decision as Red Pill or Blue Pill but nowhere near as hard, it was only the choice between life and death. Ha, was there even a choice? No, everyone wanted to live.

Requiring her key, the key to the backdoors from her office to her hand she pushed it into the lock of the abandoned door and twisted it. She had to keep it in her office, as it was unable to be copied, she had tried countless times to require it to copy itself to no avail.

Opening the door they were exposed to the shocking repetitiveness that was the back doors. An endless hall of identical white doors. God knows how anyone ever found the right door but somehow they managed.

One door was easier to find than the others. Hummer's door.

It would have something to do with the peace sign stickers on it. They were the dead giveaway. Nathaniel smiled as soon as he saw the door.

Reaching out to knock on the door she stopped when she heard voices. Looking up as a door a little down the eternal hall she saw Mero, Persephone and the Twins walk out into the hall. Probably coming from the restaurant where the king did all of his business, trafficking information and whatnot.

The Merovingian stopped in mid sentence he looked down the hall to see the female agent. She was five and half feet tall with short brown hair, the standard suit that they all wore but her coiled earpiece was lying down on her collar.

"What…? Who…? How…?" the last thing he had expected was to see an agent in the hall, it couldn't be a good thing. Stef smirked and held up her key. "Whom did you steal that from?"

"I didn't steal it from anyone. It was given to me."

"You're an agent," Persephone said calmly, giving the pasty ghost bodyguards a pointed look, both nodded and silently prepared themselves for a fight. There was a great deal of silent communication between the two, though they were most defiantly two different people, not the same person split in two as many thought. 

"Yes, I'm an agent." With that confirmed, Mero nodded at his guards.

"I don't time to fight ghosts at the moment," she said calmly as they went see-through.

"Afraid are you?" he teased.

"Unlikely. No, I'm babysitting and I don't want to expose the kid to violence," she said as she stepped aside and let them see Nathaniel who had hidden behind her as soon as he had seen them come through the door.

"What is that?" the powerful exile asked, expecting some sort of agent trickery.

"It's a kid Mero," she answered sardonically with a sigh.

"You…know who I am?" he said confused but at the same time flattered that one of his, albeit many, enemies knew his name.

"But of course," she responded in a blatant mockery of his own accent. "The Merovingian, Persephone and One and Two," she said nodding to the ghosts.

"Since you know who we are we should have the same privilege."

"I thought you knew everything."

"Given time I can know everything and anything about everyone and everything. I know what you are but so far your name has eluded me."

"Agent Mim, you found him," Hummer said with the glee of a happy child as he opened his door.

"Mim?" Merovingian asked incredulously, such a low class name – even for an agent.

"It's Mimosa. Mim is a nickname."

"I see."

Turning away from the others, she looked at the surfer. "Hummer is this kid yours?"

"Nah, I'm just watching him for a friend. Nat's a new generation of program."

"What are you talking about? A new exile – a second generation replacement?"

"Nothing doin' dudette. This kids isn't an exile he's just a kid. He's an experiment by an exile, a programmer as a matter of fact is running an algorithm to make us indistinguishable from humans."

"Why would we want that Humming Bird?"

"Just shut up and listen Mero. Part of…most of what makes us easy for the agents to see…no offense kitty, present company is excluded," she nodded, "we light up like Christmas trees to them. This is how they catch us. If he can take that away we can hide forever. They will have to look for us, not just see us."

"Well, that does seem like a good thing. Does it work, Agent?"

"Yes."

"Then in that case you must send this exile to me."

"I'll ask him if he wants to talk to you."

"He will come to see me Hummer or I will send these two to bring him in."

"Want a drink Mim?" Hummer said, ignoring the other program.

"Sure," she said with a nod. Hummer walked back into his house so Stef and Nat followed. Hummer shook his head and pushed some blond hair out of his eyes. Nat waved hi to him then walked into the spare room that had been converted to a bedroom for the child.

"Usual?"

"Usual."

"Orange juice coming up," he said as he pulled the carton from the fridge. Turning around she pulled two glasses from the cupboard and placed them on the kitchen counter. "So Nat's programming works? Or were you bull-pooping to Mero?"

"Dead serious dude. Smith thought he was some human kid."

"Ok, Smith is the stupid one isn't he?"

"Hummer!" she said, even though she knew he was joking.

"Joking kitty," 'pretty kitty' was a nickname he had for her for no particular reason, he loved rhyming nicknames. It was just a Hummer thing.

"Brown is the stupid one. Jones is the geek, Smith is Smith."

"You got any free time or you got to run? I was going to take Nathaniel to the park, you could come with."

"Shit, I would if I could – I have to get back. Blame Mero for interrupting."

"I hate the Merovingian."

"Are you ever going to tell me the real reason or stick with 'I hate him cause Charlie hates him'?"

"Maybe one day kitty. Not yet. Curiosity killed the cat."

"That's ok, everyone has their secrets," she said as she put her earpiece back in. Immediately it crackled to life.

^Mimosa where are you? The conference starts in forty-five seconds. You know Clarke is never late.^ she could just image the bored look on his face as he sat in his standard chair in the conference room.

Pressing two fingers to her earpiece she swallowed the rest of her juice before answering him. "Fine, I'm coming." Smiling at Hummer she called goodbye to Nathaniel before shifting away. Articulating the shift, she landed sitting in her chair. Shifting slightly, she saw the suspicious look of Agent Brown.

"Where were you this time?"

"Chasing an exile Brown. It got away from me." Nothing more was said as they all turned to the head of the table as Clarke shifted in. The mouth-of-the-mainframe delivered one of his trademarked boring speeches. He had no chance of evolution, he had next to no subroutines – if any at all – he was merely an extension of the mainframe.

Brown was only slightly suspicious in her interest in the exiles. Then again, he was suspicious of everything she did. He didn't trust her as far as, proverbially, he could throw her. Taking care of the exiles was his job. It was the one thing that the combat did better than the command or technical agents could, he was an efficient killer.

Probably the best there was among the ranks of agents.

After Clarke was finished, he looked to the agents. "Any queries?" All of the agents, of this agency and the others, were mutations of a single form, each was unique but in ways similar. They all looked exactly like stereotypical government officials, which wasn't far from the truth. This way, no one suspected them of being computer programs.

Plain, able to blend in without drawing attention.

That was the way it had always been, it was the way it always would be.

Each agent was distinct; they had their own features, a shade lighter or darker of their hair, their builds, stuff like that. Clarke was different, indistinct was probably the best word to use, his face wasn't deformed by any stretch of the word, more it was devoid of features. He didn't have a face; he had a living theatre mask.

"What of project 002?" Smith asked suddenly.

"That is not for querying at this point in time. Any other queries?"

No one had anything else to ask…to ask Clarke anyway…so he shifted away. There was an exceedingly uncomfortable silence.

"Fine, I'll bite since no one else is going to do it. What's project 002?"

Brown's nostril's flared; he didn't look unlike an angry bull. "We will learn the details when the mainframe chooses," pushing his chair out from the table he paced from the room. 

"Well?"

"It's nothing," she knew it wasn't nothing – it was probably what had been bothering him all morning but she nodded and left.

After Stef's footsteps had disappeared down the hall Jones turned to Smith, his green eyes full of worry behind his sunglasses. "Why would the mainframe be initiating 002?"

"It may not be."

"Let us hope not."

"It won't be good for us if it does go ahead." Jones nodded in agreement.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Hope you liked the first chappie. What the hell is Project 002? You won't find out this fic, don't flame me – the foreshadowing is well worth it. I promise.