Disclaimer: I don't own the Matrix or anything related to the Matrix. I do,
however, own the parts I added-yes, that includes the déjà vu.
Author's Note: Hey! You know what?! I'm re-writing the Matrix! So that must mean I'm the Architect, right! I RULE YOU!
Chapter Two: A Small Glitch
Trinity pulled out her cell and waited, pacing the room as it rang. One, two. Then, an answer, from a deep, rich male voice.
"Operator?"
"Morpheus!" Trinity stopped pacing and spoke, frantic. "The line was traced, I don't know how-"
"I know, I know, they cut the hard line," his reply was uptight, as well. "Stay calm. You're going to have to look for another exit."
Trinity paused, not sure if she wanted to hear the answer to her question. "Are there any more agents?"
"Yes."
"Goddamn it!" Trinity cursed.
Morpheus's voice was calming. "Trinity, you have to focus. There is a phone. Wells and Lake." He hesitated, studying his information. "You can make it."
"All right."
"Go."
She dropped the phone, sprinting out of the room as her orders commanded. She glanced down the hallway, beyond the ancient pumps and wires to the elevator. Just as Morpheus had stated, there were agents; three of them. And cops. Shit.
Trinity raced down the hall, not yet tired despite her great speed. Where to go, where to exit? She looked up, spotting the vents. They were old and rusted, they must be loose. She jumped, pounding one it in, but instead hit solid flesh. Looking up again, an agent was wedged in between the sheets of metal.
He grinned honey-slow. "Hello, Trinity."
Her mouth twitched as she fell, picking herself up and then sprinting down the hallway. Old lights flickered on and off, catching the dust as their rays fell. The cops could not keep up, but the agents were gaining on her.
There, at the end of the hall. A door, leading back to the side staircase by which she had entered. Run, run, down, get to Wells, get down.
She stopped abruptly, staring through the rusted iron bars. Damn; another agent. She could only go up.
Up she went, racing through the twisted spiral of stairs. When she reached the top, she glanced back, pausing for a moment. Were they still after her? Where were they?
Trinity had hesitated a moment too long. Immediately, a stream of cops rose from the steps, an agent leading them. Trinity backed up, running into a ladder. She turned and climbed, for her life.
Trinity grabbed the highest rung and flipped over. A cityscape shone around her, stars and skyscrapers glowing in the dark. Steam and smoke rose from pipes; it was cold out. The rooftops; a great escape, quick and efficient. Running, Trinity heard the steps clatter behind her. If only there were no agents!
As the hotel building cut off, Trinity glided over the alleyway to the next rooftop, her movements clean and graceful. The cops followed, but barely succeeded, tripping and falling as they landed. Next, however, came an agent, and his movements were as unnaturally smooth and graceful as Trinity's.
The next roof was a zigzag of rusted metal. Feet rattled and clanked up and down, in cold pursuit. As the roof ended, cop sirens screamed through the air below, and although they were tearing away at Trinity's ears, she remained placid. The next roof would be over forty feet away, but she pushed on, jumping the gap with great elegance. The cops stopped in place, their jaws slacking wide open, realizing that something ugly was about to happen as the girl they were chasing flipped through the air.
She tumbled into a landing and continued on, forcing herself behind a brick chimney as she heard the agent jump the gap. He landed hard on one knee, pulling up a shoulder and drawing his gun. Back on top of the previous building, the cops were staring, dumfounded. "That's impossible," the lieutenant called.
Trinity smiled slightly to herself as she pressed against the wall. She took a deep breath, her clavicle poking out beneath her skin as she examined her surroundings. Hurry, hurry.
There, ahead. Across a fifty foot gap, there was a window, a yellow glow in the midst of a brown brick building. Her only chance.
Setting her jaw in determination, she sped out from behind the chimney and across the building. Thirty more feet; twenty; fifteen; ten; five; jump!
She hurtled herself through the air, vaulting over the railing and streamlining towards the window. Time seemed to slow as bullets whizzed past her. So close--
The glass shattered as Trinity fell through the window, breaking a light and tumbling down the stairs as she drew her guns. Her lip was cut, she noticed, as well as her forehead. She licked the blood from her lips and halted in position at the bottom of the stairs, aiming at the window. Would the agents come? Where were they, where were they?!
Trinity lay on the floor, shaking. "Get up Trinity, just get up. You're fine, these aren't real, you're fine, get up!"
She did as her body commanded, filing down the stairs and onto the street. In a pool of shadows, she limped, but proceeded on. There, in a pool of light, she saw it; the telephone booth. The exit.
She started down the concrete path, still hurt, as the phone began to ring. Her pace quickened-where were the agents?-just a little more-but wait. She hesitated slightly, recalling an incident.
"Get up, Trinity, just get up. You're fine, these aren't real, you're fine, get up!"
She drew in a deep breath, approaching the phone. Déjà vu. Déjà vu! There had to be a glitch, it was a trap, it was where the agents went, where were they, where were they?
There, sure enough, a garbage truck u-turned and began streaming down the street. In the drivers seat sat a man, clad in sunglasses and a dark suit. Its headlights streamed through the night, one pointing at the phone and the other at Trinity. It was taking aim. The tires screamed as it accelerated, tearing through the night.
Trinity raced the truck, gritting her teeth in pain. She slammed open the door and, just a few yards in front of the speeding truck, answered the phone. She stared into the headlights for a moment, pressing her hand up to the wall ahead of her in silence. An instant of silence.
Then slamming, as the hulking mass of dark metal lurched into the phone booth. The Plexiglas shattered into a pulp, the brick wall was strewn apart. The garbage truck rebounded and steamed to a halt.
After a few precious seconds, a black loafer emerged from the truck. Then, five more. Agents Smith, Brown, and Jones stand silently. Smith inspected the wreckage, finding no body. He set his jaw in frustration and began to rub his temples.
Jones walked up behind him. "She got out," he spoke, disappointed.
Brown approached, as well. "Doesn't matter. The informant is real."
"We have the name of their next target," Jones continued, completing the sentence of his fellow agent.
"The name is Neo," stated Brown.
Smith nodded slowly, coming to terms. "We'll need a search running."
The reply came with certainty as the three agents stared intensely at the phone. "It has already begun.
Author's Note: Hey! You know what?! I'm re-writing the Matrix! So that must mean I'm the Architect, right! I RULE YOU!
Chapter Two: A Small Glitch
Trinity pulled out her cell and waited, pacing the room as it rang. One, two. Then, an answer, from a deep, rich male voice.
"Operator?"
"Morpheus!" Trinity stopped pacing and spoke, frantic. "The line was traced, I don't know how-"
"I know, I know, they cut the hard line," his reply was uptight, as well. "Stay calm. You're going to have to look for another exit."
Trinity paused, not sure if she wanted to hear the answer to her question. "Are there any more agents?"
"Yes."
"Goddamn it!" Trinity cursed.
Morpheus's voice was calming. "Trinity, you have to focus. There is a phone. Wells and Lake." He hesitated, studying his information. "You can make it."
"All right."
"Go."
She dropped the phone, sprinting out of the room as her orders commanded. She glanced down the hallway, beyond the ancient pumps and wires to the elevator. Just as Morpheus had stated, there were agents; three of them. And cops. Shit.
Trinity raced down the hall, not yet tired despite her great speed. Where to go, where to exit? She looked up, spotting the vents. They were old and rusted, they must be loose. She jumped, pounding one it in, but instead hit solid flesh. Looking up again, an agent was wedged in between the sheets of metal.
He grinned honey-slow. "Hello, Trinity."
Her mouth twitched as she fell, picking herself up and then sprinting down the hallway. Old lights flickered on and off, catching the dust as their rays fell. The cops could not keep up, but the agents were gaining on her.
There, at the end of the hall. A door, leading back to the side staircase by which she had entered. Run, run, down, get to Wells, get down.
She stopped abruptly, staring through the rusted iron bars. Damn; another agent. She could only go up.
Up she went, racing through the twisted spiral of stairs. When she reached the top, she glanced back, pausing for a moment. Were they still after her? Where were they?
Trinity had hesitated a moment too long. Immediately, a stream of cops rose from the steps, an agent leading them. Trinity backed up, running into a ladder. She turned and climbed, for her life.
Trinity grabbed the highest rung and flipped over. A cityscape shone around her, stars and skyscrapers glowing in the dark. Steam and smoke rose from pipes; it was cold out. The rooftops; a great escape, quick and efficient. Running, Trinity heard the steps clatter behind her. If only there were no agents!
As the hotel building cut off, Trinity glided over the alleyway to the next rooftop, her movements clean and graceful. The cops followed, but barely succeeded, tripping and falling as they landed. Next, however, came an agent, and his movements were as unnaturally smooth and graceful as Trinity's.
The next roof was a zigzag of rusted metal. Feet rattled and clanked up and down, in cold pursuit. As the roof ended, cop sirens screamed through the air below, and although they were tearing away at Trinity's ears, she remained placid. The next roof would be over forty feet away, but she pushed on, jumping the gap with great elegance. The cops stopped in place, their jaws slacking wide open, realizing that something ugly was about to happen as the girl they were chasing flipped through the air.
She tumbled into a landing and continued on, forcing herself behind a brick chimney as she heard the agent jump the gap. He landed hard on one knee, pulling up a shoulder and drawing his gun. Back on top of the previous building, the cops were staring, dumfounded. "That's impossible," the lieutenant called.
Trinity smiled slightly to herself as she pressed against the wall. She took a deep breath, her clavicle poking out beneath her skin as she examined her surroundings. Hurry, hurry.
There, ahead. Across a fifty foot gap, there was a window, a yellow glow in the midst of a brown brick building. Her only chance.
Setting her jaw in determination, she sped out from behind the chimney and across the building. Thirty more feet; twenty; fifteen; ten; five; jump!
She hurtled herself through the air, vaulting over the railing and streamlining towards the window. Time seemed to slow as bullets whizzed past her. So close--
The glass shattered as Trinity fell through the window, breaking a light and tumbling down the stairs as she drew her guns. Her lip was cut, she noticed, as well as her forehead. She licked the blood from her lips and halted in position at the bottom of the stairs, aiming at the window. Would the agents come? Where were they, where were they?!
Trinity lay on the floor, shaking. "Get up Trinity, just get up. You're fine, these aren't real, you're fine, get up!"
She did as her body commanded, filing down the stairs and onto the street. In a pool of shadows, she limped, but proceeded on. There, in a pool of light, she saw it; the telephone booth. The exit.
She started down the concrete path, still hurt, as the phone began to ring. Her pace quickened-where were the agents?-just a little more-but wait. She hesitated slightly, recalling an incident.
"Get up, Trinity, just get up. You're fine, these aren't real, you're fine, get up!"
She drew in a deep breath, approaching the phone. Déjà vu. Déjà vu! There had to be a glitch, it was a trap, it was where the agents went, where were they, where were they?
There, sure enough, a garbage truck u-turned and began streaming down the street. In the drivers seat sat a man, clad in sunglasses and a dark suit. Its headlights streamed through the night, one pointing at the phone and the other at Trinity. It was taking aim. The tires screamed as it accelerated, tearing through the night.
Trinity raced the truck, gritting her teeth in pain. She slammed open the door and, just a few yards in front of the speeding truck, answered the phone. She stared into the headlights for a moment, pressing her hand up to the wall ahead of her in silence. An instant of silence.
Then slamming, as the hulking mass of dark metal lurched into the phone booth. The Plexiglas shattered into a pulp, the brick wall was strewn apart. The garbage truck rebounded and steamed to a halt.
After a few precious seconds, a black loafer emerged from the truck. Then, five more. Agents Smith, Brown, and Jones stand silently. Smith inspected the wreckage, finding no body. He set his jaw in frustration and began to rub his temples.
Jones walked up behind him. "She got out," he spoke, disappointed.
Brown approached, as well. "Doesn't matter. The informant is real."
"We have the name of their next target," Jones continued, completing the sentence of his fellow agent.
"The name is Neo," stated Brown.
Smith nodded slowly, coming to terms. "We'll need a search running."
The reply came with certainty as the three agents stared intensely at the phone. "It has already begun.
