The Alpha
By Adam Morgan
Amoena Meanwhile, the feet of Crooks were sore from running up the stairs, his breath rattling and his lungs thumping into his chest. He slumped onto the handrail, his arm drooping over the side. His head buried in his arms, he looked up, two more flights and he'd be on the roof. His eyes behind his shades were weary, mirroring his face. His eyebrows dropped. He was so tired, he looked back down the stairs, he hoped Angel was all right. He had heard the shots and the crashes, he hadn't seen his captain. He lifted his arm up and shoved his hand onto his knee to lift himself up, this was no easier in the Matrix. As he lifted himself up, the phone in his pocket rang.
'Shit', it was too loud, if anyone heard it, they'd be up there in a flash.
'Crooks?'
'Amoena. Is Angel alive?'
'Shit man you should have seen him, he's okay.'
'What's going on?'
'Four SWAT teams, I make two now, one on the ground floor and the other coming up the stairs, you've got to get to the roof, there's a small emergency phone up there. You can use that.'
'Great. I'm shattered here, this is surprisingly high.'
'Stop whinging, just go.'
Clicking his phone down, he pressed forward, dropping the phone into his deep pockets. He slid his hand up and down the rail, looking hopefully up at each turn, before being met by a small green door in an outlet that stuck out three feet of the well. He sighed with relief and pressed his hand against it before stepping out onto the roof into a blast of cold air. He pressed forward, stopping briefly to lean on the wall and scope out the roof. Small power lines ran across, stopping to tighten themselves at wooden pylons. They were three small outlets like the on he was standing outside of. Ahead, mercifully stood a small read box on a pole, with holes marking out the distinct shape of a phone. Upon seeing this he could hear the beautiful sound of the ringing phone. He smiled and began walking towards it.
Ahead, twenty metres behind the phone, one of the outlet's doors opened, the door shielding whoever had opened it. Instinctively, Crooks began running, increasing his speed when he saw the incoming attacker. An agent, standing just a little under six foot, his sharp suit, twisting as he reached inside his holster for his gun. His mouth contorting as he heard the phone, his eyes glinting evilly behind the shades as he aimed for the phone, but Crooks was already in mid air, holding out his hand for the phone. The bullet hit the phone as he held it to his air, the air rippling behind it, stopping abruptly to begin the fireworks that erupted from the phone as it split in the middle, it's wires exposed and sparks jumping out, escaping into the air. But, as you could see by Robert's face, Crooks had gone, his body digitising in mid air, like water almost, his facial features morphing together before disappearing into thin air. The force of his body still acting on the phone, pulling it of the set.
******************
Back at The Alpha, a beautiful young woman, her cut regulation short, pulled out the plug on her brother, whose face twisted as he was brought out of the Matrix. His black hair a stark contrast to his sister's short, flowing blonde hair. She smiled as she turned back to the command centre, her deep green eyes scanning the screen, reflecting some of the code that dashed across the small monitor. She brushed back her hair, that was hung over her shoulder, before reaching across to one of five keyboards that lay around her and placing her headset around her ear and across her face.
By Adam Morgan
Amoena Meanwhile, the feet of Crooks were sore from running up the stairs, his breath rattling and his lungs thumping into his chest. He slumped onto the handrail, his arm drooping over the side. His head buried in his arms, he looked up, two more flights and he'd be on the roof. His eyes behind his shades were weary, mirroring his face. His eyebrows dropped. He was so tired, he looked back down the stairs, he hoped Angel was all right. He had heard the shots and the crashes, he hadn't seen his captain. He lifted his arm up and shoved his hand onto his knee to lift himself up, this was no easier in the Matrix. As he lifted himself up, the phone in his pocket rang.
'Shit', it was too loud, if anyone heard it, they'd be up there in a flash.
'Crooks?'
'Amoena. Is Angel alive?'
'Shit man you should have seen him, he's okay.'
'What's going on?'
'Four SWAT teams, I make two now, one on the ground floor and the other coming up the stairs, you've got to get to the roof, there's a small emergency phone up there. You can use that.'
'Great. I'm shattered here, this is surprisingly high.'
'Stop whinging, just go.'
Clicking his phone down, he pressed forward, dropping the phone into his deep pockets. He slid his hand up and down the rail, looking hopefully up at each turn, before being met by a small green door in an outlet that stuck out three feet of the well. He sighed with relief and pressed his hand against it before stepping out onto the roof into a blast of cold air. He pressed forward, stopping briefly to lean on the wall and scope out the roof. Small power lines ran across, stopping to tighten themselves at wooden pylons. They were three small outlets like the on he was standing outside of. Ahead, mercifully stood a small read box on a pole, with holes marking out the distinct shape of a phone. Upon seeing this he could hear the beautiful sound of the ringing phone. He smiled and began walking towards it.
Ahead, twenty metres behind the phone, one of the outlet's doors opened, the door shielding whoever had opened it. Instinctively, Crooks began running, increasing his speed when he saw the incoming attacker. An agent, standing just a little under six foot, his sharp suit, twisting as he reached inside his holster for his gun. His mouth contorting as he heard the phone, his eyes glinting evilly behind the shades as he aimed for the phone, but Crooks was already in mid air, holding out his hand for the phone. The bullet hit the phone as he held it to his air, the air rippling behind it, stopping abruptly to begin the fireworks that erupted from the phone as it split in the middle, it's wires exposed and sparks jumping out, escaping into the air. But, as you could see by Robert's face, Crooks had gone, his body digitising in mid air, like water almost, his facial features morphing together before disappearing into thin air. The force of his body still acting on the phone, pulling it of the set.
******************
Back at The Alpha, a beautiful young woman, her cut regulation short, pulled out the plug on her brother, whose face twisted as he was brought out of the Matrix. His black hair a stark contrast to his sister's short, flowing blonde hair. She smiled as she turned back to the command centre, her deep green eyes scanning the screen, reflecting some of the code that dashed across the small monitor. She brushed back her hair, that was hung over her shoulder, before reaching across to one of five keyboards that lay around her and placing her headset around her ear and across her face.
