A/N: Ah, chapter six. Will Tib become a rebel? Find out!
Disclaimer: The Matrix is owned by Warner Bros. and the Wachowskis. Agents: The Series is co-owned by myself and Stormhawk. Tib, Zelda, and Blackbird_King are mine. Movies, songs, web-pages, books, etcetera belong to their respective creators unless otherwise mentioned.
All characters and events in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events or people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Chapter 6...The Truth
Tib looked up at the contact, sleek, attractive, action-hero type lady. No mistaking her for the damsel in distress. A moment of panic washed over the fanboy, followed quickly by resolve. He lifted his chin.
"Yes, that's me," He motioned for her to sit down. "Who are you?"
She seated herself, managing to look just as dangerous in the new posture. Tib tried to draw himself up and look impressive, but, he thought he probably failed miserably. He felt slightly sick to his stomach, and the aftertaste of his sweet coffee had come back to haunt him.
"My name is Niobe, and I have come to show you the truth." She had both hands resting on the table, her fingers forming a pyramid.
The dust-haired boy swallowed quietly. He found himself about to ask what truth she meant, but bit the question back. That wasn't what he was here for. He was here to find his friend, Blackbird_King and find out if these people had them. Lacking a decent plan he tried the direct approach.
"That's all well and good," he said, trying to sound confident, nonchalant even, "but I have a different question to ask you."
Niobe raised an eyebrow, seeming incredulous. "What question?"
"What happened to Blackbird_King?"
She looked genuinely puzzled, and Tib felt his determination falter.
"I- you don't know?"
"I'm not sure what you're talking about."
Tib grimaced, but continued. They probably didn't remember him; they probably didn't have the time to remember everyone who came in contact with them. "He was a friend of mine on line, we emailed back and forth more than once a day, and then one day he just disappeared. I did a little investigating, and one of the last places he visited was a site that lead me to contact you, because I think I did the same."
The woman frowned. "The name doesn't sound familiar, but I can check for you."
"I'd appreciate that."
Niobe stood up. "I'll be right back." She walked out of the diner.
***
Niobe took out her cell phone. So this kid had only contacted them because his friend then, but that didn't matter, they needed to free all the minds they could. Sparks had said that on a small level the boy was already aware of the matrix, and he seemed a perfect candidate in a lot of other respects as well.
"Sparks,"
"Hey captain," the operator greeted cheerily.
"See if you can pull up a file on Blackbird_King."
"Thought you might need that, I already got it up."
Niobe pursed her lips. "If you thought I'd need it why didn't you give it to me before I left?"
"Well, uh, you see it's not really good news..."
She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Just tell me already."
"He's a traitor, an agent recruit. Name of Vincent Greer. Came to the rendezvous and tore the place apart."
She scowled. "Wonderful." She closed the phone and stalked back into the diner. The boy was looking at her hopefully, and uncertainly. She sat back down.
"Your friend did contact us, but he didn't want to hear the truth. We have no record of him after he rejected that truth."
Niobe watched as J_Tiberius_K's face fell, and a split second afterwards his eyes narrowed in suspicion.
***
She said they didn't know anything else, but Tib could feel it, she was lying. He couldn't believe that they'd just let someone go. Had they killed him? Or maybe she was just claiming to know what he was talking about, and had made it up to keep him interested, although, if that, why not say he'd joined?
Tib bit his lip. "Can you tell me," he asked, "what his real name was?"
She appeared to hesitate, but replied "According to our records it was Vincent Greer."
The fanboy's jaw literally dropped. Vincent Greer, from high school, for real? He had entertained the unlikely possibility for a moment but... "You're kidding!"
"Why would I be?" She paused. "Listen, Tib, may I call you Tib? This meeting was arranged for one reason. Do you want to meet with Morpheus and learn the Truth?"
Tib continued to stare at her, lost in his own thoughts. He could find him now, if Vincent really was BBK, follow the name through the real world. How could she be lying? Unless they new a hell of a lot more about him...the chances of saying the name at random were astronomically low. But he forced himself to push that information to the back of his mind; he needed to focus on the decision. What about this Morpheus, and this truth? Did it interest him at all? He couldn't decide. Before this meeting he was firmly convinced that this was some sort of cult, he still thought it was, pretty much. But meeting this representative, it had him a bit intrigued, a bit curious, much as he hated to admit it. It was dangerous, he knew, but this Morpheus, he was so mysterious, everyone wanted to meet him. Tib remembered now little references in conversations going back years, mentioning the name. Surely it would be a thrill to see this person nobody could find. And what was the harm in listening for a little while, Niobe seemed really cool, like the female lead in an action video game, like Lara Croft.
His heroes would all go for it in an instant, you couldn't just back away from a mystery at this stage. So there was danger, what was life without a thrill?
And besides Tib knew without a doubt if he left now, he would spend the rest of his life agonizing over what the great secret of Morpheus was. It was like in 'The Magician's Nephew' by C.S. Lewis and the bit of poetry that had stayed with him since he read it in fifth grade. 'Make your choice, adventurous Stranger; Strike the bell and bide the danger, Or wonder, till it drives you mad, What would have followed if you had.'
He grimaced. This was something he had to do, or he wouldn't be able to live with himself. But, he promised himself, he was just going to listen, he was not going to join.
"I-I'll meet with him," he said, his hands beginning to shake.
Niobe smiled for the first time, and Tib noticed it made her even more attractive. She leaned closer to him, and he noticed she smelled faintly of honey. He couldn't help blushing, even though she was probably like ten years older than him.
"Good," she said. "Now listen to me, three days from now, be at the corner of Field and Pembroke at 10:15 pm. Understand?"
He nodded slowly. "Alright."
Niobe stood, and his eyes followed her upward. "We'll be waiting for you Tib," she said, more gently than she had spoken before.
Tib nodded again, unable to find a suitable reply.
The woman turned and stalked out of the diner, her red leather coat flapping behind her, and Tib wondered what in the name of the Valar he'd just done.
***
Tib must have sat there, just staring at his coffee, for at least ten minutes. By the time he picked it up to take a sip, it was stone cold. The waitress sauntered over, it was a different woman, Tib must have failed to notice the shift change. The old men were gone too.
"You want some more coffee?" the woman asked.
"No," he said dully, then asked. "Could you tell me what time it is?"
Her eyes, Tib noticed her nametag said 'Mal', darted up to the clock on the wall. "'S 3:56."
Tib winced. "Thanks," he said with a grimace, the woman was already gone, she had left the bill. Without bothering to look at it, he put five dollars under the mug, picked up his hat and left the White Knight.
There was absolutely no one outside, and a deep chill cut through the air. Tib pulled his high collar closer around, and shove the hat down over his eyes. He stuck his hands in his pockets, and his left discovered his phone, his mother's phone. Memory cut through his stupefied haze. Mikhail, he was going to call him after the meeting. Never mind that he really only met him this morning. Never mind that he was probably exaggerating when he said he didn't sleep. But he'd heard of Morpheus, and he seemed to know more than he let on.
Tib pulled the cell phone and the slip of paper from his pocket. In the lights of the diner Tib just barely managed to make out the number. He dialed it into the phone's glowing pad.
He was very startled when someone picked up on the first ring. But it was a woman's voice, not Mikhail's and the accent was British, not Russian. "Hello?"
"Um," Tib's hands trembled. "I'm calling for Mikhail, is he awake?"
"Yes he is, just a moment," Tib heard her cover the phone's mouthpiece, and then yell loudly, "Oy, Mikky!! Call for you!"
A moment later came a thick Russian accent over the phone. "Hello?"
"Mikhail, it's me, Tib, I mean, David, David Madison" he half whispered.
"Dahvedt? It is good to hear you, buht, you sound dhistressed. Is somethink wrong?"
"I just talked to someone from Morpheus, they want me to meet him."
There was a silence.
"Where are you?" Mikhail demanded.
"I'm at the White Knight Diner...why?" an uneasy feeling grew in the pit of Tib's stomach.
"I vill pick you uhp in five minutes. Stay outside, and ifv you see any men in blahck suits, I adwise you to run very fast."
Tib's voice stuck in his throat. "O-okay."
"I ahm going to hang up now. If I am noht there in five minutes, run home."
"Alright, see you."
Mikhail hung up, and Tib, very much shaken, shoved the phone, and his hands, in his pockets. He was now doubly uncertain. Men in suits? The FBI perhaps? He grimaced. What on earth had he gotten himself into? He could have just let the whole thing go, he could have called the police, he could have done any number of things that he hadn't done.
But no, he had to go about this like he was the hero in some video game, like there was a reset button he could push, like he could save and quit any time he liked.
Tib took a deep breath. It was too late now, wasn't it? Too late to go back, so he might as well make the best of it, play it to the hilt so to speak. Hopefully Mikhail would have some new information for him.
As he stood there in the cold he kept looking over his shoulder, his movements twitchy, expecting government agents to pop out at him at any moment.
Tib spotted the weak headlights of a car approaching as it slowed, and stopped in front of him. It was a boxy red car, two-doors, foreign-made and exceptionally small. Tib had never seen the particular model before. Tib couldn't see who was in it, due to the glare of the streetlights.
Someone rolled down the window, and the small fanboy stood in apprehension until he saw Mikhail's concerned face looking out at him.
"Nice ouhtfit," the Russian greeted. "Get in."
Tib hurried around the car and got into the cramped passenger seat. Mikhail started driving practically before he'd closed the door. He shifted uncomfortably as he buckled his seat belt, the seat felt like it was made of shrink-wrapped cardboard.
"Um, hey Mikhail," Tib said nervously.
"Hello Davedt." He fell silent for a moment then, "Did you find your friend?"
"Sort of. They said he didn't go with them. But I found out his real name."
"Ah. That is good at least. You are in grave danger my friend."
His eyes widened slightly, despite the fact that he already figured as much. "From who?"
"From everyone Davedt."
"What?"
"You haf stumbled into the middle of a wahr of two and half armies."
"What do you mean?" Tib had hoped Mikhail would explain things to him, not confuse him more.
Mikhail shook his head. "This I cannot answer you. Tell me, do you plahn to meet Morpheus?"
He nodded slowly. "But I'm just going to listen, not join the cult or anything."
The Russian sighed. "You mean that at the moment my friend, but I do noht know if you will mean it when the time comes." He pulled up in front of Tib's house. Mikhail put a hand on his shoulder. "Davedt, I vill noht make your decisions for you, but you must remember that there are some that cannot be unmade. Remember also that unless a time comes when it is impossible, I will always be around to talk, and you are always welcome to call me."
Tib sat in dazed silence, the nodded. "Thank you Mikhail."
"No problem kid."
Tib opened the door and climbed out. He waved once back at the car before unlocking the door and walking in. He closed it behind him, standing in the hallway, and stopped.
He hadn't told Mikhail where he lived.
Tib put his head in his hands, why were things like this happening to him? He shuffled into the kitchen, and whipped his coat off, throwing it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. He slumped down in it, setting his hat on the table.
So Blackbird_King was Vincent Greer. Whoopee. What was he going to do about it? He folded his arms on the table and rested his head on them. What was he going to do?
***
Tib must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, his mother's hand was on his shoulder. He winced, and swore mentally.
His mother sighed. "Up all night again, David? I should have known." She sat down next to him. "Baby we need to talk."
He looked at her blearily.
"You're not well David, and I know, it's partly my fault, and damn if it isn't partly your father's fault as well." She paused. "Am I a bead mother, David?"
He shook his head, confused.
"I'm sorry, honey, but, I've tried everything, and I know, I know you're going to be upset, but it's for your own good. David, I'm taking you to see a doctor. I'm taking you to the hospital."
Disclaimer: The Matrix is owned by Warner Bros. and the Wachowskis. Agents: The Series is co-owned by myself and Stormhawk. Tib, Zelda, and Blackbird_King are mine. Movies, songs, web-pages, books, etcetera belong to their respective creators unless otherwise mentioned.
All characters and events in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events or people, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Chapter 6...The Truth
Tib looked up at the contact, sleek, attractive, action-hero type lady. No mistaking her for the damsel in distress. A moment of panic washed over the fanboy, followed quickly by resolve. He lifted his chin.
"Yes, that's me," He motioned for her to sit down. "Who are you?"
She seated herself, managing to look just as dangerous in the new posture. Tib tried to draw himself up and look impressive, but, he thought he probably failed miserably. He felt slightly sick to his stomach, and the aftertaste of his sweet coffee had come back to haunt him.
"My name is Niobe, and I have come to show you the truth." She had both hands resting on the table, her fingers forming a pyramid.
The dust-haired boy swallowed quietly. He found himself about to ask what truth she meant, but bit the question back. That wasn't what he was here for. He was here to find his friend, Blackbird_King and find out if these people had them. Lacking a decent plan he tried the direct approach.
"That's all well and good," he said, trying to sound confident, nonchalant even, "but I have a different question to ask you."
Niobe raised an eyebrow, seeming incredulous. "What question?"
"What happened to Blackbird_King?"
She looked genuinely puzzled, and Tib felt his determination falter.
"I- you don't know?"
"I'm not sure what you're talking about."
Tib grimaced, but continued. They probably didn't remember him; they probably didn't have the time to remember everyone who came in contact with them. "He was a friend of mine on line, we emailed back and forth more than once a day, and then one day he just disappeared. I did a little investigating, and one of the last places he visited was a site that lead me to contact you, because I think I did the same."
The woman frowned. "The name doesn't sound familiar, but I can check for you."
"I'd appreciate that."
Niobe stood up. "I'll be right back." She walked out of the diner.
***
Niobe took out her cell phone. So this kid had only contacted them because his friend then, but that didn't matter, they needed to free all the minds they could. Sparks had said that on a small level the boy was already aware of the matrix, and he seemed a perfect candidate in a lot of other respects as well.
"Sparks,"
"Hey captain," the operator greeted cheerily.
"See if you can pull up a file on Blackbird_King."
"Thought you might need that, I already got it up."
Niobe pursed her lips. "If you thought I'd need it why didn't you give it to me before I left?"
"Well, uh, you see it's not really good news..."
She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Just tell me already."
"He's a traitor, an agent recruit. Name of Vincent Greer. Came to the rendezvous and tore the place apart."
She scowled. "Wonderful." She closed the phone and stalked back into the diner. The boy was looking at her hopefully, and uncertainly. She sat back down.
"Your friend did contact us, but he didn't want to hear the truth. We have no record of him after he rejected that truth."
Niobe watched as J_Tiberius_K's face fell, and a split second afterwards his eyes narrowed in suspicion.
***
She said they didn't know anything else, but Tib could feel it, she was lying. He couldn't believe that they'd just let someone go. Had they killed him? Or maybe she was just claiming to know what he was talking about, and had made it up to keep him interested, although, if that, why not say he'd joined?
Tib bit his lip. "Can you tell me," he asked, "what his real name was?"
She appeared to hesitate, but replied "According to our records it was Vincent Greer."
The fanboy's jaw literally dropped. Vincent Greer, from high school, for real? He had entertained the unlikely possibility for a moment but... "You're kidding!"
"Why would I be?" She paused. "Listen, Tib, may I call you Tib? This meeting was arranged for one reason. Do you want to meet with Morpheus and learn the Truth?"
Tib continued to stare at her, lost in his own thoughts. He could find him now, if Vincent really was BBK, follow the name through the real world. How could she be lying? Unless they new a hell of a lot more about him...the chances of saying the name at random were astronomically low. But he forced himself to push that information to the back of his mind; he needed to focus on the decision. What about this Morpheus, and this truth? Did it interest him at all? He couldn't decide. Before this meeting he was firmly convinced that this was some sort of cult, he still thought it was, pretty much. But meeting this representative, it had him a bit intrigued, a bit curious, much as he hated to admit it. It was dangerous, he knew, but this Morpheus, he was so mysterious, everyone wanted to meet him. Tib remembered now little references in conversations going back years, mentioning the name. Surely it would be a thrill to see this person nobody could find. And what was the harm in listening for a little while, Niobe seemed really cool, like the female lead in an action video game, like Lara Croft.
His heroes would all go for it in an instant, you couldn't just back away from a mystery at this stage. So there was danger, what was life without a thrill?
And besides Tib knew without a doubt if he left now, he would spend the rest of his life agonizing over what the great secret of Morpheus was. It was like in 'The Magician's Nephew' by C.S. Lewis and the bit of poetry that had stayed with him since he read it in fifth grade. 'Make your choice, adventurous Stranger; Strike the bell and bide the danger, Or wonder, till it drives you mad, What would have followed if you had.'
He grimaced. This was something he had to do, or he wouldn't be able to live with himself. But, he promised himself, he was just going to listen, he was not going to join.
"I-I'll meet with him," he said, his hands beginning to shake.
Niobe smiled for the first time, and Tib noticed it made her even more attractive. She leaned closer to him, and he noticed she smelled faintly of honey. He couldn't help blushing, even though she was probably like ten years older than him.
"Good," she said. "Now listen to me, three days from now, be at the corner of Field and Pembroke at 10:15 pm. Understand?"
He nodded slowly. "Alright."
Niobe stood, and his eyes followed her upward. "We'll be waiting for you Tib," she said, more gently than she had spoken before.
Tib nodded again, unable to find a suitable reply.
The woman turned and stalked out of the diner, her red leather coat flapping behind her, and Tib wondered what in the name of the Valar he'd just done.
***
Tib must have sat there, just staring at his coffee, for at least ten minutes. By the time he picked it up to take a sip, it was stone cold. The waitress sauntered over, it was a different woman, Tib must have failed to notice the shift change. The old men were gone too.
"You want some more coffee?" the woman asked.
"No," he said dully, then asked. "Could you tell me what time it is?"
Her eyes, Tib noticed her nametag said 'Mal', darted up to the clock on the wall. "'S 3:56."
Tib winced. "Thanks," he said with a grimace, the woman was already gone, she had left the bill. Without bothering to look at it, he put five dollars under the mug, picked up his hat and left the White Knight.
There was absolutely no one outside, and a deep chill cut through the air. Tib pulled his high collar closer around, and shove the hat down over his eyes. He stuck his hands in his pockets, and his left discovered his phone, his mother's phone. Memory cut through his stupefied haze. Mikhail, he was going to call him after the meeting. Never mind that he really only met him this morning. Never mind that he was probably exaggerating when he said he didn't sleep. But he'd heard of Morpheus, and he seemed to know more than he let on.
Tib pulled the cell phone and the slip of paper from his pocket. In the lights of the diner Tib just barely managed to make out the number. He dialed it into the phone's glowing pad.
He was very startled when someone picked up on the first ring. But it was a woman's voice, not Mikhail's and the accent was British, not Russian. "Hello?"
"Um," Tib's hands trembled. "I'm calling for Mikhail, is he awake?"
"Yes he is, just a moment," Tib heard her cover the phone's mouthpiece, and then yell loudly, "Oy, Mikky!! Call for you!"
A moment later came a thick Russian accent over the phone. "Hello?"
"Mikhail, it's me, Tib, I mean, David, David Madison" he half whispered.
"Dahvedt? It is good to hear you, buht, you sound dhistressed. Is somethink wrong?"
"I just talked to someone from Morpheus, they want me to meet him."
There was a silence.
"Where are you?" Mikhail demanded.
"I'm at the White Knight Diner...why?" an uneasy feeling grew in the pit of Tib's stomach.
"I vill pick you uhp in five minutes. Stay outside, and ifv you see any men in blahck suits, I adwise you to run very fast."
Tib's voice stuck in his throat. "O-okay."
"I ahm going to hang up now. If I am noht there in five minutes, run home."
"Alright, see you."
Mikhail hung up, and Tib, very much shaken, shoved the phone, and his hands, in his pockets. He was now doubly uncertain. Men in suits? The FBI perhaps? He grimaced. What on earth had he gotten himself into? He could have just let the whole thing go, he could have called the police, he could have done any number of things that he hadn't done.
But no, he had to go about this like he was the hero in some video game, like there was a reset button he could push, like he could save and quit any time he liked.
Tib took a deep breath. It was too late now, wasn't it? Too late to go back, so he might as well make the best of it, play it to the hilt so to speak. Hopefully Mikhail would have some new information for him.
As he stood there in the cold he kept looking over his shoulder, his movements twitchy, expecting government agents to pop out at him at any moment.
Tib spotted the weak headlights of a car approaching as it slowed, and stopped in front of him. It was a boxy red car, two-doors, foreign-made and exceptionally small. Tib had never seen the particular model before. Tib couldn't see who was in it, due to the glare of the streetlights.
Someone rolled down the window, and the small fanboy stood in apprehension until he saw Mikhail's concerned face looking out at him.
"Nice ouhtfit," the Russian greeted. "Get in."
Tib hurried around the car and got into the cramped passenger seat. Mikhail started driving practically before he'd closed the door. He shifted uncomfortably as he buckled his seat belt, the seat felt like it was made of shrink-wrapped cardboard.
"Um, hey Mikhail," Tib said nervously.
"Hello Davedt." He fell silent for a moment then, "Did you find your friend?"
"Sort of. They said he didn't go with them. But I found out his real name."
"Ah. That is good at least. You are in grave danger my friend."
His eyes widened slightly, despite the fact that he already figured as much. "From who?"
"From everyone Davedt."
"What?"
"You haf stumbled into the middle of a wahr of two and half armies."
"What do you mean?" Tib had hoped Mikhail would explain things to him, not confuse him more.
Mikhail shook his head. "This I cannot answer you. Tell me, do you plahn to meet Morpheus?"
He nodded slowly. "But I'm just going to listen, not join the cult or anything."
The Russian sighed. "You mean that at the moment my friend, but I do noht know if you will mean it when the time comes." He pulled up in front of Tib's house. Mikhail put a hand on his shoulder. "Davedt, I vill noht make your decisions for you, but you must remember that there are some that cannot be unmade. Remember also that unless a time comes when it is impossible, I will always be around to talk, and you are always welcome to call me."
Tib sat in dazed silence, the nodded. "Thank you Mikhail."
"No problem kid."
Tib opened the door and climbed out. He waved once back at the car before unlocking the door and walking in. He closed it behind him, standing in the hallway, and stopped.
He hadn't told Mikhail where he lived.
Tib put his head in his hands, why were things like this happening to him? He shuffled into the kitchen, and whipped his coat off, throwing it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. He slumped down in it, setting his hat on the table.
So Blackbird_King was Vincent Greer. Whoopee. What was he going to do about it? He folded his arms on the table and rested his head on them. What was he going to do?
***
Tib must have fallen asleep, because the next thing he knew, his mother's hand was on his shoulder. He winced, and swore mentally.
His mother sighed. "Up all night again, David? I should have known." She sat down next to him. "Baby we need to talk."
He looked at her blearily.
"You're not well David, and I know, it's partly my fault, and damn if it isn't partly your father's fault as well." She paused. "Am I a bead mother, David?"
He shook his head, confused.
"I'm sorry, honey, but, I've tried everything, and I know, I know you're going to be upset, but it's for your own good. David, I'm taking you to see a doctor. I'm taking you to the hospital."
