Protector of Men Ch 44
Everything looked so familiar to her that she felt comfortable in the building. She remembered a time when she had come in with the rest of her crew, a time when she had been amazed at their different appearances that the matrix had rendered, a wholly different time than that of now. She put her cellphone in the belt of her leather pants and straightened her black leather jacket. It was going to be a long jack.
She had already decided to hotwire a motorcycle, she just didn't know which one. She remembered that there was a garage nearby, and hot-footed it there. She didn't want to be caught before she had a secure mode of transportation.
The garage was packed, and Zandra felt lucky. There were many to choose from.
A Harley Sportster! She smiled broadly, admiring the work of machinery. It would work well on the street. It wasn't a Ducati, but it was fast. Fast enough. Zandra hotwired the bike with ease and set out of the garage, popping a wheelie for effect. Kesia would enjoy that. She had no helmet, but did not worry. She didn't need one in the Matrix.
Liberté Street was what she was looking for. She remembered the grungy district, with its vociferous whores – Zandra recalled when one of them had turned into an agent in her most vulnerable time. It could have almost been funny, if it weren't so scary.
The power in the machine lifted her spirits. She enjoyed feeling the rumble of the engine underneath her, the sound of the processes that kept her moving… she was speeding down the abandoned streets quickly, enjoying the rush she got from each sharp turn. Her hair whipped behind her head, soon falling out of the tight ponytail that she had put it in earlier – but she didn't care. For the moment, she was actually enjoying herself.
In a few minutes she was at Liberté. She pulled herself off of her motorcycle (a bit reluctantly,) and gazed at the building in front of her. So familiar. Zandra was actually amazed that she had remembered where the place was – wasn't there supposed to be some kind of protection so that people couldn't find out where he was? Zandra hoped that he would still be there.
Third door, second left, first right, third door. She secured her guns in her belt while she wandered forward. There was no telling when the agents would come. Luckily, Kesia had uploaded a few… niceties… before Zandra jacked in. A nice pair of MP5K's, and one power-packing SPAS-12 that she carried in her arms. It was a bit heavy, but she didn't mind it. Zandra felt comfortable knowing that with her shotgun, it would take the agents a while to defeat her weaponry.
Second left. The hallways were so familiar that it gave Zandra an eerie feeling of continual deja-vu, leaving her helpless if a glitch had occurred. Kesia would keep her updated.
First right.
Third door. Zandra looked up to the ceiling panel above her – the wooden squares were back in their place again. Third panel, second row? Zandra thought that was right. She poked the square with her shotgun and a key fell to the floor. Zandra smiled as she picked it up, I'm almost here, Neo!
She unlocked the door and peeked in. It was the same as last time – well lit, white walls, a cherry wood conference table in front of her. Zandra smiled as she remembered the plants, but her smile fell immediately. The chair at the end of the table was turned as before. She had a bad feeling about it, and raised her shotgun in anticipation.
"Turn around," she told the chair. She didn't know who was behind it, and almost dreaded who it would be. You can defeat them!
The chair spun around – it certainly was an agent. He pressed his earpiece against his head for a moment, then jumped out of his chair. He leaned forward, onto the table, and Zandra got ready to move. She leaped into the air right as the table went skidding her way and into the wall she had just been standing against. She landed with a soft thump on the table, her shotgun still aiming at the program. He sneered, then made for her.
"Not so fast," she mocked, firing a few shots. The agent couldn't move any further, being that he was dodging bullets that Zandra was shooting. She walked up to him, continuing to fire her high-power missiles. She didn't expect that he'd be able to trip her while dodging her actions.
She fell with a thud on the ground and fired an accidental shot into the wall in front of her. The agent held his Eagle to her head.
"Only human." He paused for dramatic effect.
"Eat this," she told him, aiming her shotgun and tripping him to the ground. In a second she had pulled out her MP5K's and trained them on his body. He sneered. She fired.
But the agent had already left his host, and Zandra ended up firing on a young boy. He must have only been 13, he was so young. He shook uncontrollably on the ground, nursing his new wounds. She was horrified, and stepped away from his writhing body. He was screaming.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she repeated, stepping away slowly. He continued to cry in agony.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, and shot him in the head. He died instantly. Zandra sighed wearily and slumped to the ground. Another one gone.
She pulled herself up slowly and looked around. Soon enough the wall would be opening up, she'd see Neo and find the path to take. She shoved her guns back into her belt and waited. But the door did not appear.
In its place words came. They flowed like paint on the wall, appearing across its face as if someone was writing them. They appeared as dark paint, a black stain on the previously white walls. Some of the words bled, leaving others only somewhat readable. Zandra watched in wonder as they revealed themselves on the whitewash surface of the room.
"Gaul of the New World Order, Spawn of Quinotaur. Owner of many, a self-enslaved apostate. The Grail is at the Terrible Place: The House of God and the Gateway to Heaven. The Protector of Men will Endure."
Zandra observed the writing disappear as quickly as it had appeared, painting a mental picture of it in her mind before it faded away completely. She was stunned.
A loud banging thrust her out of her mind and back into reality. Someone was pounding on the door and couldn't get in. Where to go, she thought. There was only one door that led out. Fortunately, without a key, whoever was trying to get in wouldn't be able to. Zandra just hoped that it wasn't another agent. If it was, she'd have to move fast again. Faster. She didn't want to end up shooting a civilian again.
She stepped next to the door and waited a few moments. The banging was only getting louder. She aimed her shotgun at the door. Two blasts, and there was no door handle anymore.
Smith barged in immediately, knocking the table away from the door as if it were nothing. He wore a look of fury on his face. He looked at Zandra and stepped up right next to her, his head cocked a little to one side. He suddenly whipped his head to the left, looking at something intently.
It was another agent.
"Jackson," Smith wheezed. The agent looked away, pressing his earpiece against his head again. Zandra stood there watching the two. Something big was about to happen.
The two flew at each other quickly, but Zandra watched it moment by moment. They matched each other's moves identically until they collided, and then they rolled about on the ground for a few moments. After that, Zandra became distracted.
Smith came in again – no, was that another Smith? Zandra was overwhelmed. He too jumped in, the door swinging on its hinges behind him. So it was true: there was more than one of this man? Surely he'd be dangerous… but thankfully he wasn't interested in Zandra. He moved over to the first Smith and Jackson, and joined in on the fight. Zandra drew into a corner of the room, her shotgun loosely trained on the scuffling men, her MP5K on the door.
But the party was about to get much wilder.
