Part 6: Strange Luck

The Audi did a complete 360, swerving onto the median and spinning. By the time their pursuers had time to react, their vehicle had already passed them. Collins hit the gas again and now they were chasing the Jag.

"So this was your plan? You were using Morpheus and I as bait, to get the exiles to show themselves?" Smith growled, grabbing at the seat and handrest to keep himself in place.

"Technically, no," Evans said brightly. "Bait is consumed."

"And it's only yourself who's of interest to the exiles we pursue," added Chapman. "Or so it seems. There are always increased exile sightings whenever you're in the Matrix."

"We knew we couldn't keep this part of the secret forever…they probably want to know why you're still alive, and what you might be planning," said Morpheus, just as someone in the Jaguar began shooting at them. Instinctively he ducked down, as did Smith, drawing his own weapon as he did so. Bullets hit the hood of the Audi and the mirror on the driver's side, knocking it into the window and cracking it.

"I will not allow them to escape again," Collins declared, and punched through the already broken glass, shattering it completely. With her right hand still on the wheel, she leaned out of the window and began shooting at the Jaguar. Morpheus had rolled down a back window and was firing at them as well. "Be careful, Morpheus, we don't want you to be injured," she cautioned.

And what about me? Smith thought, watching Collins pull back to avoid the shots that were now aimed at her. He shook his head, wondering if he'd gone through all he had just to be killed in a car accident. Which brought up another disturbing subject…the human body's limited lifespan. The night he'd fought Neo that final time, he'd expected to either triumph over the One -- and continue existing forever -- or die then and there. Even after inheriting a physical body, he'd never given a thought to slowly succumbing to old age. That might not be relevant, considering what was happening to him right now. Weren't the agents supposed to be protecting him?

"Why does your command unit drive?" he asked, his fingers still digging into the leather seatcover.

"What do you mean?" replied Evans, who also appeared to be hanging on for dear life.

"It's been my experience that a team's combat unit is typically the driver; wouldn't that be Agent Chapman?"

"Agent Collins always drives," Chapman said calmly.

Evans nodded. "Agent Collins is an excellent driver," she said, as their team leader leaned out the window to fire again. "Because you and Morpheus are here, she's taking very special care so that neither of you will be hurt. Normally she would have stopped whoever we're chasing by crashing into them."

"I suppose we should be thankful that she hasn't thrown us out of the car so she can crash into them," he muttered. Collins turned and eyed him, looking at him as if she was considering doing just that. He shook his head. "Oh no, you can't be thinking of—"

"No," she said oddly, still staring at him. "I need you for something else." She tugged him closer. "Take the wheel," she ordered, and pulled herself halfway out of the car so that she was sitting in the window, her entire upper body outside the vehicle. She began shooting again.

Smith slid over as quickly as he could, trying to avoid the agent's legs -- she seemed determined to kick him each time she dodged an incoming bullet -- and stared in disbelief as Morpheus climbed into the front of the Audi and began firing at the Jaguar as well. Incredibly, he looked like he was enjoying himself. "Is everyone in here crazy?" he demanded.

"Smith, this is just like tangling with sentinels in the Neb," Morpheus replied, smiling broadly.

"The Neb was rebuilt out of bits and pieces of other ships after a sentinel attack. There's less than a third of the original left, that's why it was renamed -- that's why now it's called the Ishtar and not the Nebuchadnezzar," he said, gripping the wheel tightly as he tried to bring them directly behind the Jag. "And if you hadn't noticed, we can't be put back together as easily as your ship."

Morpheus just smiled again and kept on shooting. Evans and Chapman were encouraging him, their higher visual acuity allowing them to spot openings to target before any human could.

Smith shook his head once more. He was now officially the sanest person there. He risked a quick glance at Collins and then wished he hadn't…the lead agent had somehow pulled herself even further out of the window, and was steadying her arm against the roof of the car. "Hold us steady," she called, over the rush of the wind. "It has to be smoother."

"It's rather difficult at a hundred miles an hour, but certainly, whatever you say," Smith shot back. "Would you like anything else while I'm at it?"

"No, that won't be necessary," she replied evenly, and fired one more time.

From where he was sitting, Smith could tell that Collins had been aiming for the left rear wheel. And she hit it. Smith saw her hit it. There was no way the bullet from her Desert Eagle could have caused anything more than a blown-out tire. The car ahead of them should have immediately begun to slow down, and then should have shuddered to a stop.

Instead, the silver Jaguar exploded into a ball of flame.