I don't own the matrix, it owns me....
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A large pale man with sunglasses was standing right in front of us. I hadn't even seen him approach. He was dressed in black... well, mostly. Black shoes, black pants, black sunglasses, black suit, but he had a red tie and spiked fire engine red hair on his head. I thought it was Raul, but of course why not be sure?
"Are you Raul?" I said, perhaps a bit more shakily then I wanted to.
"And you must be Uberlegen." Then he turned to Gabby "You must be Vicious."
"Hi Raul." Wait... Gabby knew Raul?
"How do you two know each other?"
"The same way I know you," came Raul's quick reply. "Now, listen, we haven't got much time. C'mon."
He led us to the curb and opened the door to a black P.T. Cruiser. We got in wordlessly and just as Raul was coming in after us the Quickeez clerk was firing at us. Well, what had been the clerk. Instead, a classic FBI figure stood shooting at us. SHIT! My parents wouldn't mind me meeting strangers at night, but eluding the cops? Screw it, I didn't want to go back home anyway. Apparently I wasn't the only one upset by someone wanting us to die. The person in the driver seat noticed and didn't look too happy.
"Shit- an Agent! Dammit! What the hell are we supposed to do now Raul?"
"Drive! Drive the hell away from here, we should be able to make it where we need to!"
And with that we were off. Skidding down side streets, swerving gunfire as another agent popped up nearby on the street. Damn, this was really starting to scare me. We kept driving down deserted allies, and the FBI seemed to have lost us. We pulled up to an old, disheveled apartment building.
"We're here," said Raul. "Let's get to work."
"Right-o, boss."
Everyone got out of the car then, even Vicious and me. We followed Raul and the driver into the building. It was really run down. No doorman, the halls had graffiti, and it was completely filthy. Raul seamed unaffected and led us up several flights of stairs to apartment number 77. He opened the unlocked door, then motioned for us to come inside. It was as you'd expect from a place like this. Old, beat-up furniture, and another room.
"Vicious, come with me. Uber, just have a seat."
Then Vicious and Raul disappeared behind a pair of large doors. I took a seat in a comfortable brown armchair and the man that had been driving took a seat next to me.
"The name's Reo, and I already know yours."
"What was with the FBI? What do you guys do?"
"Oh, the FBI? Bah, they've always been on us, think we're terrorists or something. Don't give it too much thought."
"I'll try, but it won't be easy..."