Chapter Two: Preliminary Exercises
The three Agents stood on the highest floor of the tallest building, surveying the sprawling city below. The sun was rising, and the sunlight beaming straight onto them would have been blinding if not for the identical sunglasses they wore.
Hewitt turned to Levine. "The anomaly defeated us."
"Yes, he did. But the mission was a success."
"How so?" Jackson asked their leader.
"Many rebels were killed, including a captain. The rebel that contacted us earlier contacted us again, bringing a slain captain as proof of her intentions. Their careful plans were ruined."
"What plans?"
"They wait for contact from the Oracle. The ship assigned to stay suffered heavy losses and left. Only the anomaly's ship remains."
"Are they inside the Matrix?"
"Two are at all times."
"Who is inside right now?"
"The ones they call Phoenix and Fallen Angel."
A cardboard copy of an Agent popped out of the ground. There was a gunshot and its head became a bullet hole. Another Agent popped up across the floor, and Phoenix flipped forwards and shot through it. The cardboard copy fell to the floor.
Phoenix walked out of the training room and made his way to where Fallen Angel sat. He plopped down beside the silent rebel and waved his hand in front of Fallen Angel's closed eyes. Fallen Angel shot his hand out and snatched Phoenix's wrist. He opened one eye.
"Don't do that."
"Sorry," Phoenix said unapologetically.
"No you're not," Fallen Angel accused, and Phoenix nodded good-naturedly.
"So the Oracle, huh?" Phoenix began. "I remember the Oracle. Scary woman. Do you remember her?"
"Yes."
"What was she like with you?"
He had still been Angel then. It was years ago. His captain and lover, a strong-willed woman named Tsunami, had led him to the Oracle's apartment and stopped in front of the door.
"There's no turning back now," she had warned him. "The choice is yours. I cannot make it for you."
Angel opened the door. A tall black woman had met him and led him into a room filled with children. Angel sat down beside a young, bald-headed boy bending a spoon. The boy had turned to him.
"Do not try to bend the spoon, that's impossible. Only, instead, try to realize the truth. There is no spoon."
Angel concentrated. The spoon had bent. Then it had snapped in two. Looking back years later, he had realized it was an omen. At that moment the woman had summoned him into the kitchen to meet the Oracle.
It was not what he had expected. A rather short woman, smoking a cigarette, was sitting at a table. She offered him a seat, and he accepted. As Angel stared across the table at the Oracle, he suddenly had a sense of overwhelming disaster.
The Oracle had faced him clearly and greeted him.
"Welcome, Angel. Welcome to my humble home." She had laughed at that before continuing.
"Well, you have finally realized the truth. I knew it the day I saw you playing on the street outside your front door. You are slated for greatness. You have a chance, Angel, to be the one of the best. You will have to make a choice, though, before this dream becomes a reality. Poor Tsunami."
"What?" Angel had asked.
"Though I guess it is a small consolation that she won't live long enough to realize how bad it will be."
"Tell me," Angel had insisted.
"If you insist. You will have a chance to become a captain, the best of them all, and one of the most honored rebels. But you will throw it all away for the sake of a greater ambition. And you will change your name to something much less."
Angel had been very shaken. He had remained quiet until after he had left the apartment. Tsunami had cornered him in the hall and asked him about the visit. He brushed her off by saying it was nothing, just the inane ramblings of an old fortune teller.
It was a year before he was proven wrong.
"She was," Fallen Angel replied, lost in thought, "correct."
The only door into the room swung open and another Agent entered. Levine raised his hand in greeting.
"Agent Matthews."
Matthews nodded his own greetings.
"Agents Levine, Hewitt, and Jackson. Greetings. I bring word from the Motherboard."
"What does she order?"
"Levine and Hewitt, report to Room 303 for an upgrade. Jackson, report to Room 101."
The Agent's eyes grew wide. He stumbled backwards and braced himself against the wall.
"No," he whispered in horror.
"Yes," Matthews confirmed. "You are now obsolete. Due to your quick loss to the anomaly and failure to destroy your secondary targets, it has been determined that you will be replaced with a newer model who has increased capacity for advanced battle tactics."
Jackson suddenly drew his gun and shot out the window. He ran and dove out the hole he had made, landing on a building many floors below. The three other Agents looked out at him, but yanked their heads back in when he fired at them. He broke into a run, yanking his earpiece out and flinging it to the ground.
Matthews turned to the other two.
"Report for your upgrades."
"And Jackson?"
"He is of no consequence."
Voyd sat idly staring into the Matrix code, watching Fallen Angel tutor Phoenix in hand-to-hand combat. It was pretty boring. Voyd was drifting off to sleep when the message bell rang. He pressed a button and Commander Locke's visage filled the screen.
"Holy shit," said Voyd, taking in Locke's extremely annoyed expression. "I mean…I'll just get Morpheus, sir," Voyd assured the commander, dashing off to fetch his captain.
Morpheus slid into the communication seat slowly, summoning his courage for the upcoming battle of wills.
"Greetings, Commander," he began.
"Don't 'greetings' me, Morpheus. Why the hell aren't you back in Zion yet?"
"I decided that - "
Locke slammed his hand down.
"You decided? You decided! I'm the commander of this army, and I make the decisions. I gave you a direct order to return to Zion - "
"We need a presence inside the Matrix to await contact from the Oracle."
"I don't want to hear that shi, Morpheus! It's too dangerous. The Sentinel patrols have increased tenfold in the past two weeks alone! The Agents have stopped fifty percent of the last twenty operations we've ran. And, in case you forgot, there's a goddam army coming right at us!"
"With all due respect commander, there is only one way to save our city."
"And what is that?"
"Neo."
Phoenix and Fallen Angel faced off in fighting stances. Fallen Angel bowed down and Phoenix followed suit. He rushed at Fallen Angel and kicked at his side. Fallen Angel grabbed Phoenix's ankle and pushed off of it, hit his feet on the wall, and cartwheeled over Phoenix, making the rebel flip over and land on his back. Phoenix pushed himself up with his hands and faced off again.
"You are arrogant, Phoenix," Fallen Angel told him calmly. "And that is why you lose. Learn to accept that someone might be better than you, and you have a better chance at winning."
Phoenix sent a punch Fallen Angel's way, but Fallen Angel just batted it aside and slashed his hand across Phoenix's shoulder. Phoenix lifted his other arm and smacked the attack away, then brought his left leg up into Fallen Angel's side. Fallen Angel jumped over the feeble attack and brought his foot to meet Phoenix's head with a thud. Phoenix sagged sideways and grabbed Fallen Angel's foot, bringing him down at the same time.
Hewitt plugged the jack into his ear piece and gasped-something he picked up from the humans-as the upgrade hit him. New information flew into his brain, advanced fighting techniques, logic upgrades, a tactics program, and, most importantly, a tracker that showed the positions of any rebels who stayed in the Matrix for more than two hours.
There were three dots now - two right next to each other, one inside the Mainframe building itself. Hewitt and Levine headed for the two rebels.
With an understandable amount of trepidation, Jackson knocked on the door that was home to the third most powerful program in the Matrix. A man answered the door. He wore only tight pants and now shirt. His black hair was totally messed up, and he had two long, sharp fangs.
"Agent Jackson," he growled. "We've been expecting you. Come this way."
The servant led the former Agent through a large hallway and into a large office. Behind the desk sat a man, his feet casually propped up on his desk. He spread his hand apart.
"Welcome, Mister Jackson, to my humble home. I understand you wish to join us?"
"Yes."
"And why is that?" inquired the Merovingian.
"I do not wish to be deleted."
"A noble goal, one we can all identify with, I am sure. And we could always use a former Agent. We'd be happy to have you, but first, I must apologize."
"For what?"
"I must test you - "
Jackson leapt up from his chair and squared off in a fighting pose. Three of the Merovingian's servants had crept into the room and were circling him now.
Fallen Angel jumped when the hard line rang. He picked it up.
"Yes?" he asked.
Fallen Angel vanished from view. The phone rang again, and Phoenix picked it up, put it to his ear, and disappeared.
The first man rushed in at Jackson. Jackson put his foot under the chair he had been on and shot it out at the man, knocking him backwards. He caught the chair as it returned and swung it behind him, knocking the second werewolf back. The third leaped on Jackson's back and bit his neck. Jackson grunted in pain and slammed the chair into his face, knocking him cold.
The Merovingian applauded slowly, almost mockingly.
"Very good. Come with me."
The Merovingian led the exiled program threw a twisting maze of corridors to a large underground cavern. In the center of the cavern was a small cup of wine. The Merovingian picked the cup up and handed it to Jackson.
"If you really want to join us, drink this program."
"What's it do?" asked Jackson curiously.
"It will permanently separate you from the Mainframe. The process will change you somehow, like it did the Twins. They used to be Agents, you know, during the second version of the Matrix."
Jackson shrugged and drank the wine.
Jackson felt a hot pain shoot through him. His body collapsed, leaving his naked code hanging there, exposed. Jackson felt his code shifting, rearranging.
Jackson opened his eyes.
Voyd answered the phone.
"Is this the Nebuchadnezzar?" asked a heavily accented voice.
"Maybe," Voyd answered suspiciously.
"Give me the phone," ordered Morpheus. "Hello?"
"Send Lynx in," the voice continued. "The Oracle needs to see her."
The man hung up.
He stood in the underground cavern, the Merovingian looking at him.
"Well?" the Exile asked.
"What?" inquired the fallen Agent.
"How do you feel?"
"Free," answered the rebel hunter, grinning evilly.
Lynx awoke within the Matrix. She drew both her guns and searched the rooms. She felt a hand on her back and whirled around to see a small, Asian man dressed in a white suit with a black undershirt.
"My name is Seraph," he told her. "I can take you to see the Oracle, but first I must apologize."
"For what?"
Seraph put his hands together and bowed slightly.
"For…this."