THEN
Blackness. Mac was floating. He frowned. No, that wasn't right. His thoughts seemed to echo around him like a blaring horn. He opened his eyes. Were they open already? He couldn't tell. Ok, this was starting to freak him out. Mac took a deep breath. He couldn't feel it. He concentrated. He couldn't hear his heart beat, his breathing, his...He yelled, nothing. He moved his arm, he thought. He didn't feel anything. He couldn't tell if he moved or not. Did he have a body?
Mac was sure he moved everything, screamed, fought, but it was all a black void around him, inside him...Then-
THE WORLD.
Mac gasped dropping to gravel. The distant sounds of motors and horns, the brisk wind seemed to scour every skin cell. The gravel was hard, dug into his palms and knees. Warm. He squinted until he could see past the blinding sunlight. It took him another minute to remember how to move and balance on his feet.
Mac stumbled in a circle. He was on the top of a building, a very tall building. He took a step and fell to his knees. He bent over heaving. Everything swished around him as if he were swimming in Vaseline. Mac closed his eyes. For a second, he could see something else. Blackness...Mac shook his head and took a step. He was heavy. It took a concerted effort to move his right foot, then his left. He managed ten steps before he bent, hands on knees sucking in air. Mac closed his eyes. The world seemed to tilt. He fell forward.
"Hng." Mac grunted as he reached out to catch himself. His hand passed through...AIR? Mac opened his eyes. He tilted off the roof and was falling. Mac's body thrashed wildly trying to get a grip on something, anything to stop. Wind roared in his ears drowning out his screams.
NOOOO-The pain was unimaginable. The world went black.
Blackness. Roof top. Mac felt an odd sense of deja vu. Then fall. Mac screamed feeling every bone break and puncture every organ. The splat of blood then…
Blackness. Roof top. Something was wrong. Fall. Mac couldn't breath. Terror, terror, he'd never been more scared-
Blackness. Rooftop. Mac frowned. No, this wasn't right-Mac screamed…
Blackness. Rooftop. Mac turned to scan behind him. He was terrified of falling which was ridiculous since he was in the middle of the roof. Then tipping. Falling. Looking up at the blue reflecting off the silver glass of the tall building. Can't see when it's coming. Can't see-Mac stops, hard, one last breath, not enough to scream…
Blackness. Rooftop. Why was he up here? This made no sense. Falling. Agony.
Blackness. He'd been here before. He was sure of it, but he didn't know the city, the buildings. How did he get up on the roof? Why was he...out of the corner of his eye he saw a child staring at him. He knew her, of course, he remembered the face of everyone he failed. Mac stepped back. Please one, just one-His heart pounded. No, NO. There was no way she could be here. Falling. Scream. He stared up at the sky. The pain took a second to catch up to him. Was that shock or-AAAAAH!
Blackness. Then fire? Mac took a step toward the blaze. He could smell burned flesh...explosion, if he could just reach the last hut...falling, slammed into the world.
Blackness. A circle of huts. Mac fell on sand. He turned and puked. His brain was in a blender. The world was chopped up into painful shards that stabbed into his head. Mac screamed.
Blackness. Mac was lost. The village was all around him on the rooftop. He could smell the flesh burning, feel the heat blow over him, felt the edge falling. Arms around his waist. NO, LET ME GO...one just let me save one...falling. Brain burning pain, the physical agony came an hour later.
Blackness. Mac laid on the rooftop gravel/ sand. The sky/ village exploded around him. His heart banged. His head hurt so bad. He screamed. He was falling. Hands around his waist. No let me go, JACK-Jack? Mac turned. Jack smiled and pulled him back to the rooftop.
"What the hell are you doing up here? You gotta escape." Mac gaped at him. Jack was in his usual black jeans and T shirt. He crossed his arms perfectly calm. He dusted ash off his shoulder.
"Jack?" Mac asked falling to his knees. The world spun like a tornado, "JACK!" Mac screamed holding the sides of his head. Jack put a hand on his shoulder and the world stopped. Like really stopped. Mac frowned as he stood up. The flames were frozen. He felt no wind or heat or gravel...he looked at Jack who watched him with a grin.
"This is kinda cool, isn't it?"
"NO!" Mac snarled as he started to pace. He put his finger out to touch a frozen fire. He pulled back as the tip of his finger charred and burned. He whirled on Jack.
"Who are you? What are you doing?" Jack rolled his eyes.
"Mac, you're losing it, brother. Who do you think I am?"
"You aren't Jack." Jack frowned.
"Hmm, interesting. Rather an existential question isn't it. Am I Jack? Is Jack me?"
"Ok, now I know you aren't Jack. I love the big guy, but there is no way he's coming up with 'existential'." Jack nodded and stretched yawning.
"I think you are right. I'm not Jack."
"Who are you?"
"Who are you?" Jack eyed him. Mac squinted through frozen smoke. He walked to the edge of the roof. He turned and walked away from the edge. He'd fallen...he'd fallen? When had he fallen? Jack caught him, didn't he?
"Something is wrong." Jack clapped.
"Duh." He said leaning forward making a stupid grin.
"What do you know about it?" Mac demanded. Jack shrugged.
"What do you know about it?"
"What the hell-oh." Jack waved a hand.
"Finally!" Mac took in the world around him with more interest.
"This isn't real. You aren't real."
"Ding. Ding."
"What are you? Is this a dream?"
"What are you?" Jack countered. Mac huffed.
"That's really annoying." Jack laughed.
"Think how all the others around you feel, might want to work on that, bud." Mac rolled his eyes and winced as his head seemed to burst into electrical flame. Jack's familiar calloused hands ran over his head.
"You with me?" He asked. His face and the world seemed to wobble. Mac curled forward heaving.
Blackness. Voices. Mac moaned. He hurt. That was a hell of a fall. No...no that's not right. Jack caught him.
"Jack?" Nothing. Emptiness. Physical blankness. His body was on fire. He had to have a body for it to hurt, didn't he? Mac scowled. He focused on the voices, surprised to find one of them his own. He was giving the formula for-NO! Mac shook his head. Explosions blew across his skull. One just let me save one-no, that's not right. Falling. C18H34O3...That was the formula for Ricinoleic acid. Why was he talking about-well, shit.
Mac shook his head and ignored the shooters flying across the blackness. He remembered the mission. This was how they got the secrets. He moved his head and felt his scalp burn. That was real. Mac closed his eyes and moaned. He couldn't hear it, but he could feel the vibration in his throat as he made the sound. Probes. Needles in his head. In his brain? Mac was sure he felt his skin crawl. Immersive desensitization. They were sending jolts to his brain, controlling what he felt, thought, spoke. Mac took a minute to admire the technological achievement. It was impressive. Something that had been talked about for years-a real life Matrix. Who had...Mac shivered. He wasn't sure if it was from the cold or shock or something else. That was what they were really doing here. They weren't just selling the secrets they pulled out of operatives heads, they had been using operatives for perfecting this technology.
Mac thought about the slavic accents. Russian. Russian mafia? Russian agents? Mac shook his head. It didn't matter. The "therapy" -Mac mentally added the air quotes-he'd gone through at the legit Red House must have caused a glitch in the system somehow. Doesn't matter. He mumbled to himself. Right. Focus. Mac's brain sparked with agony as he mentally figured out exactly what they would need to make a Matrix work. Sensory deprivation tank. Mac smiled. They controlled his perceptions, but he would have to be somewhere no outside sensations could break through. He was probably floating in a dark tank. He probably wasn't even tied up. Mac frowned. How do you move an arm when you didn't have one, neurologically speaking? Shit.
"You gotta start watching your language, Angus." Mac froze. Murdoc? Mac felt his skin squirm. That was real, Murdoc was not.
"I'm as real as you want me to be, sweet boy."
"Sweet boy?"
"It's your brain, Angus." Mac wondered why the hell he didn't conjure up Jack instead, "Use that brain of yours, or ours? The last time you had to escape when drugged was thanks to me, of course you think of me. I'm flattered really." Mac's already sore head throbbed with his eye roll.
"So what are we going to do?" Murdoc's voice oozed with a maniacal glee.
"I have to get these needles out of my head."
"Ok?"
"I don't have an arm."
"You don't have-oh for the love of-ARE YOU SERIOUSLY THAT DUMB!"
"Stop shouting." Mac moaned.
"Oh that wasn't me, how many people do you have in here?" Murdoc replied.
"Wha-?"
"I can get rid of a few-"
"NO, there will be no killing of the voices in my head." Mac winced as soon as he said it. A chorus of voices formed a laughing track. Great. Mac forced himself to concentrate.
"You're doing it wrong." James. Great.
"What?" Mac huffed.
"Think, Angus-"
"Is he always suck a dick?"
"Yeah, kinda."
"ANGUS!"
"Shut up, Dad. You too, all of you." He had a moment of silence in his own head. He had to get these wires out…
"Ok, fine. What's your idea?"
"Roll over."
"What?"
"Roll over, your inner ear-"
"Yeah, yeah, got it. Go away."
"Angus-"
"Go, go on."
"But-"
"Bye!" Mac gritted his teeth. Not only did he have voices in his head, but they were petulant and annoying. Mac was pretty sure that made no sense, but he didn't care. He closed his eyes, at least he thought he did. He pictured himself in bed staring at the ceiling. Mentally, ignoring the snaps of pain burning up and down his body he rolled over. Mac cried out as he felt a million tiny claws tear at his scalp.
He hung upside down in blackness breathing hard. Salt, he smelled salt. He could feel a burning in his hand where Minerva had clawed the crap out of it. He heard it. Mac groaned and breathed out in relief he heard it, in his ears. He moved his arm and patted down his body. He was naked. The only thing he could feel on him was an oxygen mask with a tube leading to the wall of the container he floated in. He followed it and felt along the curved metal. It felt like a diving chamber. It was probably 2.5 meters long, about 1.5 at its widest, oval shaped...Mac rubbed his forehead as he worked the math. For 237ml of water they would need about 15 grams of salt...he was in approximately 1400 liters of water...Mac nodded. There was enough salt to give off enough positive ions to block the signal for a short time. Maybe a minute if he was lucky, assuming the techs or whoever didn't come running at the first sign of static.
Mac bit his lip thinking. He waited mentally counting. When he reached 60, he took a long breath in, out, in, then pulled hard on the tubing. He yanked off the oxygen mask and pushed against the lid to turn himself so he was crouched with feet on the bottom. He could feel the pull of the water draining. His scalp itched and his skin crusted with salt crystals as the water level dropped. Mac scrunched his face against the metal wincing as salt ground into his skin. He let out his breath and sucked in a thin rusty breath. He pressed his ear to the metal and smiled. He could hear loud alarmed voices approaching. He scooted to the edge of the tank and braced himself.
The clunk of a latch was deafening in the silent chamber. There was a whoosh and the water drained faster. The lid opened. Mac was blinded by light; he ignored it and pushed off aiming for the closest shadow.
He grabbed the lapels of a lab coat and rode the man to the floor. Mac grunted as a baton was slammed into his side. Mac felt a plastic clipboard under his left elbow. He grabbed it and whirled. He didn't know what he hit but a body thudded beside him groaning in pain. Mac slammed the clipboard down on the guy's head. He quieted but wasn't out. Mac raised up and brought the plastic down harder. It snapped in his hands. Mac cried out as he felt the sharp edge jam deep into his upper belly. Shit, shit, shit. Mac could see blurry figures. He could see two large bodies coming toward him. Mac yanked out the plastic shiv, turned and aimed up. He felt tender flesh split and the grind of a wind pipe as he perforated it.
Mac tripped over the man under him as he tried to avoid the body. He winced at the shower of blood that ran down his bare skin. Mac shoved through the bodies. The last man stared down at him. He was talking into a handheld. Mac didn't know what he was saying, but it was too rough and fast to be English. Mac scrambled to his feet and tackled the guy. The man had managed to step back. Mac belly flopped to the floor, his arms around the man's calves. Mac cried out, but stubbornly held on. The man kicked him in the face. Spots of blackness spewed across his vision. Mac shook them away. He pulled off the man's boot with his elbow, clung to the man's knees with one arm and used the other to bash the guy in the balls with the boot. The man let out a high whine and stopped struggling. He curled his hands around his crotch and whimpered. Mac shoved to his feet staggering and hissing in pain. He wobbled to the side as he took a step to the man's head. He thumped his bare heel into the man's head. Mac stepped backwards trying to keep his balance on a world that suddenly became very shaky.
Mac could hear other boots. He stepped toward the door then paused looking down at himself. Naked. Bloody. Not cool. Mac looked around him and saw a dirty room. Mac careened foot to foot until he entered the room. He dug through a pile of dirty laundry until he found a relatively clean brown patient's uniform. He found a pair of non-skid socks and put them on. He thought about going back and getting the guy's boots, but he could hear Xander's raised voice giving orders to what Mac could only assume was a group of large well armed tac soldiers. Mac had no idea if these guys were legit or not, but he wasn't going to find out. Mac scanned the room and froze in shock. A back door? Things couldn't be that easy, could they? Mac shook his head, but the screen door was still there. He shrugged and pushed through it. Mac took a step and fell on his face. Ugh, gravel.
A jolt of fear burned through his system. No! Not again. Mac scrambled to his feel with a cry of alarm and pain. He looked around him wildly. He let out a relieved breath. He was on the ground. He glanced behind him. The brick domed building wasn't large, but it was out of place in the pine forest around him. Mac tottered on his feet. He heard motors coming toward him. Mac turned the other way and held his belly as he lurched into a run deeper into the forest.
