2-19-98

London, England

13:10:23 local time

It was hard to kill a person you knew. He'd killed plenty of people he didn't know and had occasionally enjoyed it. A friend was something else, and a ship full of them a greater challenge still. There was no helping it at this point. The Agents weren't biting at his lure; he needed to get their attention and make sure they knew--and that only they knew--who had helped them out.

Morpheus was in the news all of fifteen minutes after the situation resolved itself. Elusive terrorist makes appearance at Heathrow, slips through net of security, eyewitness reports sketchy at best. This could ruin his plans, and he fully expected a phone call, Tank telling him to get out after he put up DO NOT DISTURB signs around the city for their people to find. He'd waited hours and no call. Damn it. First Trinity, and now Morpheus was behaving like an amateur over this Neo guy. Whatever the brouhaha was back on the ship, it was keeping people from doing their jobs. Like Tank not calling him, not sending him an exit signal or new orders.

He'd invested so much effort in this set-up, in this time, and now it was bye-bye, baby. For the past week, Cypher had systematically winnowed down the Neb's roster to select a fall person for his sacrifice to the Agents. Not Morpheus, they'd want him alive, and this was a definite kill opportunity. Trinity...he didn't want to think about losing her just yet. A part of him understood this plan meant she would die, but he wanted to have one more conversation with her before the machines killed her. Things needed to be said. Maybe even done, should fortune so favor him.

Apoc cared too much. Apoc would want to make sure he was okay if he betrayed any signs of nerves. That was great, if he wanted his ear talked off up to the point where he could hear the Agents capping the guy. Switch didn't care enough; she'd be off the phone too soon for a trace. Trinity cornered the market on reticence, but Switch made up for any verbosity on her part by allowing for no discussion. Oh, he was upset by developments involving their latest candidate? That's life, baby, so get over it. Click.

Mouse was naive, still relatively new to reality and unreality. This had singled him out as the front runner, especially given how annoying the kid had been over the past week, ruining his one escape from the cold, dank, metal world. Thanks to some personality mods Mouse'd picked up in Zion, the Lady in Red was making frequent visits to the construct, and Mouse didn't always remember to clean up and reboot after himself. Last time he'd jacked in for some quality time alone, Cypher was greeted by Red Riding Hood naked and cooing: I love your cock, Mouse. Do it to me? No matter his gift for visual imagination, and despite his not inconsiderable verbal skills, Mouse had no vision for acting. Red wasn't a good actress for pornography, even with the assets.

Still, strategy saved Mouse's life for today. The kid was a greenhorn, and his lack of experience equated in Cypher's mind as an asset for later. In the near future, when his plans were settled, the trap sprung and the rest of the rodents scurrying away, he might need Mouse's naivete. Might need him to make a crucial mistake, to trust him at the wrong moment, to serve as a distraction. Plus, there was timing to be considered. If he wanted to do this now, that was. And what better time could there be? Morpheus' narrow escape followed by the death of one of his crew? That couldn't possibly be coincidental, had to be connected, and only he could know they wouldn't have anything to do with each other. It would seem like it to anyone who looked, and that's what counted.

So, as it was Switch who would replace him now, and as the opportunity could not pass him by, he had to hope her game would be off. Rattled by Morpheus' near capture, anyone replacing him had a good chance of slipping up, being so tightly wound they missed something freaking obvious. Best part? He would be forgiven for sounding shook up, too, if he faltered, but he wouldn't. And Switch wouldn't care or notice if he did. Switch was second on his list anyway. She was a career tough, not a computer guru, though she learned what she needed for her shifts. Toughs had ears for guns being cocked, not phones being traced. Rats, though, goons like her could smell them if they didn't play right. Not him. Good old Cypher. First-class alright for an asshole, she'd said once.

Easy-peasy, if you pleasey. Too easy, hence his nerves. He shifted over data pirated from Neo's computers back at his apartment and various security cameras that tracked his movement through London. London was the perfect city for this kind of operation; the surveillance cameras watched every street, and an established means of tracking their target made the job a piece of cake. A delayed feed of Neo arriving at his hotel. One of him from the camera outside an internet cafe. Cypher flipped between photos and personal information on Neo like a coke-addicted ADD case.

He was watching a dead man walking. An ephemeral grin fluttered over his lips. God, he wanted to tell him, too. Security be damned, walk straight up to Neo and tell him: Someone you don't know has got it so bad for you she's gonna get you killed. Have a nice life. An image of Neo spilling coffee on his shirt waiting for a taxi wrested a chuckle from him. Idiot. Their savior couldn't balance a cup with both hands. He glowered at the photo. Dumping on Neo never improved his mood; it made him think of Trinity and how she preferred a bumbling recluse--albeit an admittedly talented one--to him. If Neo was a pathetic wreck, what was he? He was just good old Cypher, and damn them all for that.

His mobile phone rang. Cypher stared at it. Do or die time. Do and die time, he corrected himself. Answering it was a death sentence.

"Alas poor Switch, we hardly knew ye." He raised an empty hand in mock toast and clicked the send button. "Yeah?"

"Is everything in place?"

Trinity. "You weren't supposed to relieve me." He suppressed surprise; her presence made too much sense for him to have ever seen it coming. Her precious pet project might be in danger. That's why Tank hadn't pulled him, why he hadn't spent the past few hours following Morpheus' brush with infamy contacting soldiers on other ships. She had done it, left him to babysit.

"I know, but I felt like taking a shift."

I just bet you did. No mention of Heathrow. Too dangerous. She would assume he knew enough on his own. Despite her proclivity for bucking protocol for Neo, Trinity never involved anyone else in her personal agenda. He was safe. Safe, he watched the connection as she accessed his computer; she was in the States, thousands of digital miles from him. If Morpheus' stunt screwed him over, she was still safe, too. Bitch. God, if she'd been there in the room, he would have strangled her. Shot her. Beaten her. Raped her. Done something to make her voice tremble and sound less smugly indifferent when he knew she was excited, obsessed. There was a clicking noise. Maybe he would get his chance. Better make these last words count, bucko.

Petulant. "You like him, don't you?" Then, sulky. "You like watching him." Of course, the answer was yes. Beyond the fact she tracked his every movement, absorbed every detail of his life and outlined them down to the minutiae in her reports. Mouse could see that, but for all his hyperactive libido, he didn't see what Cypher saw. Didn't see Trinity lick her lips until they were chapped when she watched Neo in the Core, didn't understand just how many rules she broke to keep Morpheus interested in him.

"Don't be ridiculous." Her face, staring back at him from memory, a thousand times. No sneer, no curl of her lip or raise of an eyebrow. She was so good at telling him he was shit without doing anything at all, and oh, sometimes he loved that, loved it. Hurt so good, just for good old Cypher. And he believed her when she reprimanded, believed he was shit--if only she knew--because, like every thing she said, Trinity always meant it. Maybe she'd been born without a sense of humor. The urge built, the need to hurt, to wound, to reach through three thousand plus miles of the Matrix and hit her, once, square in that boxy jaw of hers.

He voiced the fury as frustration. "We're gonna kill him, understand that?" I'm gonna fucking go out and do it myself. Right now, he was. Putting a bullet between her eyes, placing a tail on Neo. Another click. He never thought he would love that sound like he did now. We're killing him right now, and that's the last thing you're going to do with your life. Even if she hung up now, got away again, she was dead. And her little dog, too.

"Morpheus believes he is the One." And don't you forget it. No, he could never forget, never forget that Morpheus' faith escalated daily, supported and supporting itself in a ceaseless positive feedback loop. All thanks to her.

But, what about her? Morpheus believes, my ass. "Do you?" The charm slipped through gritted teeth, forked tongue wrapping around sweet words. This was her last chance to admit it, to confess and cleanse her soul.

"It doesn't matter what I believe." Dismissive. So Trinity, but different somehow.

It took all of a second to know, to comprehend.

"You don't, do you?" Bored in tone, anything but in soul. Suddenly, there was a God, and he was smiling on Cypher. She doesn't think he's the One, she just wants to fuck him. Morpheus would go to his grave knowing Trinity didn't believe, if he could arrange it. The longer she hesitated to answer, the higher his hopes soared. Everything was coming up Cypher, and it was about god-fucking-damned time!!!

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" He answered too quickly, wincing and silently cursing himself for it. Calm down, idiot. Breathe, affect nonchalance. Don't panic.

"Are you sure this line is clean?"

"Yeah, of course I'm sure." That's right. Good old Cypher, always the one you can count on.

"I better go."

And that was it. So quiet. Not like her. He hated this new her as he hated and loved the old Trinity. The Trinity who cleaned up in the construct and mowed 'em down in the Matrix. Ruthless Trinity, commanding Trinity. Tell-you-where-you-can-stick-it Trinity. Cypher-Shut-Up-Get-Over-Here-And-Fuck-Me-Already Trinity from his dreams (that was acting). His Trinity. Gone, gone and replaced with a whisper. Soft Trinity. Being-destroyed-slowly-and-loving-it Trinity. Morpheus' Trinity. Neo's Trinity. Not his.

The phone rang again almost as soon as Trinity disconnected, while he was still lost in the empty breathiness of her last words. There was no time to wonder at what he might have said, what she might have heard, what was about to happen. Trinity was dead. Dead. No way she could walk out of this one, no way. Her guardian angel was about to be caught unawares. Incessant bleeping cut through his stupor; he hit send and raised his mobile to his ear.

"Mr. Reagan."

"Speaking."

"We know." This voice was the one that always contacted him. He knew, logically, that there had to be more than one agent in the system--hell, even if they were damn near identical, he'd seen different ones. Nonetheless, he knew that he had only ever talked to this one, whichever one this was.

"Who are you?"

"You may call me Agent Jones."

"Jones, right. You satisfied I'm for real?" No time to dick about. If--and it would take a miracle--if Trinity waltzed out of this, he would have some explaining to do. The last thing he wanted was for this to have all been for naught. Running the wrong side of Trinity's temper was not something to risk foolishly.

"We will see."

"What else do you need?"

"Our voice recognition protocols indicate that this is not Morpheus."

"It's Trinity." There was a pause, what he assumed was the program absorbing and relaying this information. "I told you, you don't get Morpheus until I get what I want."

"That will be difficult, Mr. Reagan. Morpheus is quite elusive, we are not sure you are capable of assisting in his capture. We are not willing to discuss the matter of your return until you demonstrate to us that you are in a position to deliver."

Fan-fucking-tastic. He was a dead man. Just his luck. Trinity would dance through them, find a way, just like always, and if she suspected anything, he was a dead man when she got out. Worse, the Agents didn't believe he could bring them Morpheus. Trinity was going to kill him because the logic programming of these Agents didn't include any parameters for trust. Their judgments were predicated on proof. Proof! They want proof, I'll give 'em proof!

"Neo."

"What, Mr. Reagan?"

"Check your goddamned guest list in there, Jones. Neo. Morpheus is after a guy named Neo. You find Neo, you'll smell Morpheus all over him."

"We will keep this in mind, Mr. Reagan." Jones was dismissive, as thought the conversation were already over.

"You do that, Jonesy, but you remember who told you."

"Rest assured, Mr. Reagan, we will."

"I have your word?" He needed it. It was his lifeline.

"Of course, Mr. Reagan. We honor all our agreements. It is a trait sadly lacking only in your species."

What he meant was the machines hadn't developed the capacity to lie as well as their creators. Even the Oracle, with her penchant for omitting details, never lied, not directly. There was another click, and Agent Jones was gone. After Trinity or Neo, he couldn't say. He prayed and needed it to be Trinity, but a niggling spite wished it were Neo. Maybe he could catch the show, see Neo hauled off. Or, better, out-right blown away by an Agent. He could picture it, and vividly. Neo struggling to get out of the sink-hole seats of a London cab, spilling more of his coffee in the process. The doorman walking up to him, welcoming him to the hotel, then changing before Neo's eyes, his red coattails turning into a black suit. The Agent bringing out an impossibly large weapon, and aiming it at Neo. Neo sporting one last look of dopey docility as the Agent put the business end of a Desert Eagle between his eyes and pulled the trigger.

If he could see that before he got his exit, he would die a happy man. He could go to Hell smiling, spitting in Trinity's eye while she throttled him to death.

Initiated 2-19-98 13:54:23 REC: Log
Search parameters: Neo AND male
Search program: running...
SEARCH FAILED