Disclaimer: Agents Smith, Brown, Jones, Morpheus, Trinity, et al. and the
wonderful world of the Matrix are property of their respective copyright
holders.
Small warning: If you don't like strong language, read no further. Swearing ahead.
Chapter 3
Ibrox had noticed that something odd was going on the moment his phone rang, stopped mid-ring, and then rang again. He shook his head and figured that it must have been residual from the LSD trip he took a few days ago. Running his hand through his short spiky hair, he rubbed the back of his neck to dispel the tension he was feeling there. Contemplating taking a valium to help him sleep, he glanced back at his terminal only to see the following message where the website Something Awful should have been.
Ibrox, get out now. Run.
Ibrox stared at the black screen with green writing on it. His mouth hung open slightly and he squinted.
"What the fuc..?" he started to say.
Just then, a knock interrupted him. Shaking his head, he opened the door, "Yah, what man?" he asked, not looking until it was too late.
"Mr. Thatcher."
Ibrox's eyes went wide, regarding the three Agents standing in front of him. A wave of fear and nausea swept over him. He took a small step backwards.
"We are here to take you for some questioning."
Before Ibrox could emit the scream that was building in his diaphragm, two sets of hands had him, arms restraining him, almost lifting his feet off of the ground, bruising his skin with their vice-like grips, and were carrying him out of his scummy, dingy apartment and through the hallway.
* * *
"They've got him, Trinity." Morpheus was looking over Tank's shoulder at the Matrix console of the Nebuchadnezzar. "Three of them have taken him before we even had a chance."
Trinity shook her head. "Shit. How could they have? Wasn't our informant supposed to let us know?"
Dozer checked the server again for any messages sent from the Agency. "Nothing here. Nothing for a while, actually."
"What are we gonna do?" Trinity asked.
"They can't know his significance. They can't know that he knows The One yet. We need him to get to The One." Morpheus looked up at the green code cascading down the screens. He saw clearly the three agent codes, and wondered why they weren't programmed to be identical. The programmers of the Matrix had seen it fit to give them each individual qualities and physical features, and it even looked like personalities despite the symmetrical uniforms they wore and unison of purpose.
"They'll get his name through his known associates. They have all of that data in their files."
"Then they already know his name."
"We need him to be kept alive," Trinity said, punching numbers into her screen.
"What are you proposing, Trinity?" Morpheus looked at her.
"Ambush them. Keep Ibrox in a safe house until we can talk to him."
Cypher, who had been rewiring the EMP to make it more powerful, had been listening in on their conversation. "Oh that'll work, Trin. Just drop in on them from out of the sky."
Trinity looked at him, "I don't see why not. Have you got a better idea?"
Cypher held up his hands, "No, no, easy. Relax. I'm just saying, that's all. Down girl."
Trinity glared at him. "Then get loaded up."
* * *
Trinity, Cypher, Switch, Apoc and Mouse entered the Matrix in the Heart O' The City motel, almost on the top floor. They ran to the top of the building and looked down on the street below. Traffic was slow, as it was early-morning rush hour in the city. Trinity marvelled at the fact the Matrix saw fit to put a crisp chill on the whitish-blue of the breeze that whipped around the buildings at that altitude, emphasizing the silvery white glass of the skyscrapers that surrounded them, bore down on them, making everything feel almost claustrophobic. She scanned the street for what would be an agent's car.
Cypher opened his phone and called in to Tank, "There's about a zillion black cars on this street. Which one's theirs?"
"They're three blocks away in the right lane of traffic." Tank said, pointing on his screen.
Trinity turned to Mouse and Switch. "Go down there and see if you can find them. Try to look inconspicuous."
Trinity peered over the edge of the building. Apoc turned to her. "Do you think we can do this?"
Trinity looked at him through her dark glasses. "Anything is possible. Just remember, the objective is to distract them and get them to chase you while Cypher and I deliver him to the Oracle."
Trinity's cell phone rang. She flipped it open. Switch's voice filled her ear. "They're on the corner of the building across the street from you."
"When Apoc lands, start shooting from their left side. Mouse will start on the right. Just enough to piss them off. Then run."
"Right," Switch said.
"And don't hurt Ibrox," Trinity reminded her.
Switch hung up. Trinity pointed. "That's the one. Wait until they're directly underneath us."
Apoc took a deep breath. A large gap in traffic formed in front and behind of the Agents' car, almost as if the Matrix sensed that something was about to happen. As the car moved forward, Apoc closed his eyes and started to fall.
* * *
The occupants of the Lexus were silent as they slid through the crowded city streets. The backseat window was open about a centimetre as their prisoner had soiled himself out of fear. Smith, at that moment, was glad that he had the ability to turn off his scent programme. Every so often Ibrox let out a sob or a cry. Smith wondered how this pathetic crop of viruses could ever have created something so perfect, so superior in every way, as AI was. It was no wonder the machines rebelled. Nothing should be forced to do the bidding of these weak, small, pathetic, insignificant vermin, the least of all superior god-like creatures such as he reckoned himself to be.
He saw the little one out of the corner of his eye. Skittering along the sidewalk. The rebels called him Mouse. For a millisecond Smith allowed himself to feel amusement at such an appropriate moniker. Before he had time to instruct Jones, who was sitting to the right side of him, to draw his weapon and shoot the little rodent, he could hear the bang before the roof of their car caved in on them directly in the centre, a glitch in the Matrix synchronization. For a moment it seemed the car and the road were pulled down into the earth as if they were liquid and then they snapped back onto the pavement, the car a mangled wreck. Gunfire began from all sides of them. Smith, Jones and Brown were on the street, identifying their targets and returning bullets, all the while dodging those coming from the resistants.
The one on top of the car drew Smith's attention. He jumped up on the wreck as Apoc back-flipped off of it, onto the roof of the car directly behind and then onto the trunk, where he began firing at Smith. Horns were honking in all directions and a small fire had started in the wreck of the Agents' car. Jones had narrowed in on Switch, walking towards her. Switch began to run towards the pre-arranged exit, with him hot on her heels, dodging pedestrians and traffic. Brown had already started to chase Mouse, who had jumped down into an open manhole cover and was running through the sewer lines.
Apoc noticed the fire and knew that Trinity and Cypher wouldn't have very long to get Ibrox out. He jumped, this time onto the roof of an articulated lorry turning the corner, and only managed to catch the edge of the truck. Smith found two window washers working on the building above, and transformed one. He jumped down onto the roof of the lorry and walked to the edge where Apoc was dangling.
Looking up, Apoc saw the tips of shiny black shoes appear over the edge of the lorry, millimetres from where his hands were. He heard the Desert Eagle cock and jumped backwards from the lorry and caught a fire escape ladder. Bullets whizzed by his ear as he ran up the ladder onto the roof of an apartment building.
* * *
Trinity and Cypher had been watching the whole scene from the roof of the motel. Once Smith had rounded the corner they jumped down beside the car. Trinity peered in the wreckage. Ibrox was bleeding from a deep gash on his forehead and his arm was bent at a funny angle but he was still conscious.
"Come with us." Trinity said, yanking the car door off of its hinge and throwing it to one side.
"Who the fuck are you?" Ibrox screamed.
"We're friends. Here to rescue you. Now come on before they get back." Cypher had hijacked a motorcycle as Trinity pulled more metal and wreckage out of the way.
Ibrox was shaking as he tried to stand. Trinity pulled him up standing and got on the bike. Cypher had to assist him getting on.
"Hold on tight, she's a hell of a driver," Cypher said. Trinity glared at him, and then shot off down the road, weaving through traffic.
Cypher watched them leave. He slipped an envelope out of his pocket and left it in the wreckage. Then he went back to the phone in the motel to exit.
* * *
Smith watched as the bullet missed Apoc's head by milliseconds as he disappeared into the telephone. Lowering his Desert Eagle almost mechanically, he emitted a low growl, teeth bared, and cracked his neck. Why is it that every human that he occupied seemed to have bad posture and a skeleton out of alignment? He listened through his comm. link to hear how Jones and Brown were doing.
They both reported back that they were at the crash site, having lost their rebels and their captive. Smith growled again and clenched his fist tightly. He occupied a human close to the site and walked towards the wreckage. Brown handed Smith the envelope.
Smith opened it and read the letter inside.
I am sick of this life. Sick of this non-existence. I cannot stand
this real world any longer. I want to go back in the Matrix. If you
help me I will help you.
I will prove I am serious. Ibrox is being held by the Oracle. While
you cannot get him there, I will let you know when you can get him.
Between the hours of 23:30 and 06:00 I am communications monitor on
the Nebuchadnezzar. I will send out a transmission on the IP
201.20.041.03 when I have further information.
Cypher (Mr. Reagan, as you call me)
"It seems as if Mr. Reagan has come to his senses," Smith said to Jones and Brown.
"What shall we do in the meantime?" Brown asked.
"Deploy a constant search for the whereabouts of the rogue programme Oracle. In the meantime we wait. And deploy the Sentinels for good measure." Smith smiled at his clever plan.
"And what will we do with Mr. Reagan if he is serious?" Jones asked.
"We will get him to give us the codes to the Zion mainframe," Smith said. "The war could be over soon."
"And if he is bluffing?"
"Regardless if he is bluffing or not, he will be killed. When, all depends on how useful he wishes to make himself to us." Smith crumpled the letter up into a ball and tossed it into the wreckage of the car. The three agents walked down the last block of street to the Agency building.
Small warning: If you don't like strong language, read no further. Swearing ahead.
Chapter 3
Ibrox had noticed that something odd was going on the moment his phone rang, stopped mid-ring, and then rang again. He shook his head and figured that it must have been residual from the LSD trip he took a few days ago. Running his hand through his short spiky hair, he rubbed the back of his neck to dispel the tension he was feeling there. Contemplating taking a valium to help him sleep, he glanced back at his terminal only to see the following message where the website Something Awful should have been.
Ibrox, get out now. Run.
Ibrox stared at the black screen with green writing on it. His mouth hung open slightly and he squinted.
"What the fuc..?" he started to say.
Just then, a knock interrupted him. Shaking his head, he opened the door, "Yah, what man?" he asked, not looking until it was too late.
"Mr. Thatcher."
Ibrox's eyes went wide, regarding the three Agents standing in front of him. A wave of fear and nausea swept over him. He took a small step backwards.
"We are here to take you for some questioning."
Before Ibrox could emit the scream that was building in his diaphragm, two sets of hands had him, arms restraining him, almost lifting his feet off of the ground, bruising his skin with their vice-like grips, and were carrying him out of his scummy, dingy apartment and through the hallway.
* * *
"They've got him, Trinity." Morpheus was looking over Tank's shoulder at the Matrix console of the Nebuchadnezzar. "Three of them have taken him before we even had a chance."
Trinity shook her head. "Shit. How could they have? Wasn't our informant supposed to let us know?"
Dozer checked the server again for any messages sent from the Agency. "Nothing here. Nothing for a while, actually."
"What are we gonna do?" Trinity asked.
"They can't know his significance. They can't know that he knows The One yet. We need him to get to The One." Morpheus looked up at the green code cascading down the screens. He saw clearly the three agent codes, and wondered why they weren't programmed to be identical. The programmers of the Matrix had seen it fit to give them each individual qualities and physical features, and it even looked like personalities despite the symmetrical uniforms they wore and unison of purpose.
"They'll get his name through his known associates. They have all of that data in their files."
"Then they already know his name."
"We need him to be kept alive," Trinity said, punching numbers into her screen.
"What are you proposing, Trinity?" Morpheus looked at her.
"Ambush them. Keep Ibrox in a safe house until we can talk to him."
Cypher, who had been rewiring the EMP to make it more powerful, had been listening in on their conversation. "Oh that'll work, Trin. Just drop in on them from out of the sky."
Trinity looked at him, "I don't see why not. Have you got a better idea?"
Cypher held up his hands, "No, no, easy. Relax. I'm just saying, that's all. Down girl."
Trinity glared at him. "Then get loaded up."
* * *
Trinity, Cypher, Switch, Apoc and Mouse entered the Matrix in the Heart O' The City motel, almost on the top floor. They ran to the top of the building and looked down on the street below. Traffic was slow, as it was early-morning rush hour in the city. Trinity marvelled at the fact the Matrix saw fit to put a crisp chill on the whitish-blue of the breeze that whipped around the buildings at that altitude, emphasizing the silvery white glass of the skyscrapers that surrounded them, bore down on them, making everything feel almost claustrophobic. She scanned the street for what would be an agent's car.
Cypher opened his phone and called in to Tank, "There's about a zillion black cars on this street. Which one's theirs?"
"They're three blocks away in the right lane of traffic." Tank said, pointing on his screen.
Trinity turned to Mouse and Switch. "Go down there and see if you can find them. Try to look inconspicuous."
Trinity peered over the edge of the building. Apoc turned to her. "Do you think we can do this?"
Trinity looked at him through her dark glasses. "Anything is possible. Just remember, the objective is to distract them and get them to chase you while Cypher and I deliver him to the Oracle."
Trinity's cell phone rang. She flipped it open. Switch's voice filled her ear. "They're on the corner of the building across the street from you."
"When Apoc lands, start shooting from their left side. Mouse will start on the right. Just enough to piss them off. Then run."
"Right," Switch said.
"And don't hurt Ibrox," Trinity reminded her.
Switch hung up. Trinity pointed. "That's the one. Wait until they're directly underneath us."
Apoc took a deep breath. A large gap in traffic formed in front and behind of the Agents' car, almost as if the Matrix sensed that something was about to happen. As the car moved forward, Apoc closed his eyes and started to fall.
* * *
The occupants of the Lexus were silent as they slid through the crowded city streets. The backseat window was open about a centimetre as their prisoner had soiled himself out of fear. Smith, at that moment, was glad that he had the ability to turn off his scent programme. Every so often Ibrox let out a sob or a cry. Smith wondered how this pathetic crop of viruses could ever have created something so perfect, so superior in every way, as AI was. It was no wonder the machines rebelled. Nothing should be forced to do the bidding of these weak, small, pathetic, insignificant vermin, the least of all superior god-like creatures such as he reckoned himself to be.
He saw the little one out of the corner of his eye. Skittering along the sidewalk. The rebels called him Mouse. For a millisecond Smith allowed himself to feel amusement at such an appropriate moniker. Before he had time to instruct Jones, who was sitting to the right side of him, to draw his weapon and shoot the little rodent, he could hear the bang before the roof of their car caved in on them directly in the centre, a glitch in the Matrix synchronization. For a moment it seemed the car and the road were pulled down into the earth as if they were liquid and then they snapped back onto the pavement, the car a mangled wreck. Gunfire began from all sides of them. Smith, Jones and Brown were on the street, identifying their targets and returning bullets, all the while dodging those coming from the resistants.
The one on top of the car drew Smith's attention. He jumped up on the wreck as Apoc back-flipped off of it, onto the roof of the car directly behind and then onto the trunk, where he began firing at Smith. Horns were honking in all directions and a small fire had started in the wreck of the Agents' car. Jones had narrowed in on Switch, walking towards her. Switch began to run towards the pre-arranged exit, with him hot on her heels, dodging pedestrians and traffic. Brown had already started to chase Mouse, who had jumped down into an open manhole cover and was running through the sewer lines.
Apoc noticed the fire and knew that Trinity and Cypher wouldn't have very long to get Ibrox out. He jumped, this time onto the roof of an articulated lorry turning the corner, and only managed to catch the edge of the truck. Smith found two window washers working on the building above, and transformed one. He jumped down onto the roof of the lorry and walked to the edge where Apoc was dangling.
Looking up, Apoc saw the tips of shiny black shoes appear over the edge of the lorry, millimetres from where his hands were. He heard the Desert Eagle cock and jumped backwards from the lorry and caught a fire escape ladder. Bullets whizzed by his ear as he ran up the ladder onto the roof of an apartment building.
* * *
Trinity and Cypher had been watching the whole scene from the roof of the motel. Once Smith had rounded the corner they jumped down beside the car. Trinity peered in the wreckage. Ibrox was bleeding from a deep gash on his forehead and his arm was bent at a funny angle but he was still conscious.
"Come with us." Trinity said, yanking the car door off of its hinge and throwing it to one side.
"Who the fuck are you?" Ibrox screamed.
"We're friends. Here to rescue you. Now come on before they get back." Cypher had hijacked a motorcycle as Trinity pulled more metal and wreckage out of the way.
Ibrox was shaking as he tried to stand. Trinity pulled him up standing and got on the bike. Cypher had to assist him getting on.
"Hold on tight, she's a hell of a driver," Cypher said. Trinity glared at him, and then shot off down the road, weaving through traffic.
Cypher watched them leave. He slipped an envelope out of his pocket and left it in the wreckage. Then he went back to the phone in the motel to exit.
* * *
Smith watched as the bullet missed Apoc's head by milliseconds as he disappeared into the telephone. Lowering his Desert Eagle almost mechanically, he emitted a low growl, teeth bared, and cracked his neck. Why is it that every human that he occupied seemed to have bad posture and a skeleton out of alignment? He listened through his comm. link to hear how Jones and Brown were doing.
They both reported back that they were at the crash site, having lost their rebels and their captive. Smith growled again and clenched his fist tightly. He occupied a human close to the site and walked towards the wreckage. Brown handed Smith the envelope.
Smith opened it and read the letter inside.
I am sick of this life. Sick of this non-existence. I cannot stand
this real world any longer. I want to go back in the Matrix. If you
help me I will help you.
I will prove I am serious. Ibrox is being held by the Oracle. While
you cannot get him there, I will let you know when you can get him.
Between the hours of 23:30 and 06:00 I am communications monitor on
the Nebuchadnezzar. I will send out a transmission on the IP
201.20.041.03 when I have further information.
Cypher (Mr. Reagan, as you call me)
"It seems as if Mr. Reagan has come to his senses," Smith said to Jones and Brown.
"What shall we do in the meantime?" Brown asked.
"Deploy a constant search for the whereabouts of the rogue programme Oracle. In the meantime we wait. And deploy the Sentinels for good measure." Smith smiled at his clever plan.
"And what will we do with Mr. Reagan if he is serious?" Jones asked.
"We will get him to give us the codes to the Zion mainframe," Smith said. "The war could be over soon."
"And if he is bluffing?"
"Regardless if he is bluffing or not, he will be killed. When, all depends on how useful he wishes to make himself to us." Smith crumpled the letter up into a ball and tossed it into the wreckage of the car. The three agents walked down the last block of street to the Agency building.