RATING: PG 13
AUTHOR: Sólia
STORY: What would have happened if, when the whole crew was in the wall in the first movie, Trinity had rushed to the aid of Morpheus, rather than forcing Neo to leave him?
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thanks to all of you who reviewed! It's really appreciated, especially the great comments I received from you! Thanks again.
Chapter Three
Neo had finally been convinced to eat, but it was a brief meal before he hurried back to the Core. Trinity hadn't moved, but the computers beside and around her showed that something had changed.
"What's happened?" he asked, jogging over to Tank, sitting at the operator's station in the centre of the room.
"Some self-hired psychologist is injecting her with some truth serum stuff," the Zion-born operator answered worriedly. "I doubt if it'll work but if we leave her alive long enough to be interrogated by the agents, it could have a reaction with their serum, which is much more powerful." He turned to Neo, a serious expression dominating his face. "I know what you think, but it may be kinder to let her go."
"Don't tell me you agree with Morpheus?" Neo demanded. "It's his fault she's there to begin with."
"I'm remaining neutral in this little argument," Tank said, holding up his hands in surrender. "Really. I have no desire to see Trinity dead, but I also can't stand by and watch those agents torture her. Could you? I think that if you could see what Smith will do to her, you'd agree with Morpheus, too."
Morpheus entered right then, rubbing his face lethargically. He noticed the other two and walked over.
"First of all, I'd like to apologise to you, Neo," he said. "I understand that my actions have no real reasoning behind them as far as you are concerned, and I'm sorry. You don't understand the way things work here, but you must learn." He took a deep breath. "Trinity is being held in a military-controlled building. She is handcuffed to a chair in a room with an interrogator, and that room is well guarded. The entire level is guarded. The building itself is top-security. And by the looks of those graphs, she's been drugged, too." Morpheus studied the screens briefly with a frown. He turned back to Neo. "I can assume that you see how hopeless her situation is. Even with the whole crew, we could not fight our way inside. All we would succeed in doing is getting ourselves killed, and that is the last thing Trinity would want to hear from the agents."
"And make no mistake, the second they know you're dead, they'll tell her," Tank agreed, very sadly and sombrely. "They'd be so pleased to be able to tell her that you lot had died trying to save her."
"Why?" Neo asked without thinking.
"They're going to try and break her," Morpheus answered. "Can't you see, Neo? She is lost. I hate to admit it, but I have, through my actions, lost her. This should not have happened."
"Damn right," Cypher said, entering. He looked angry. "If someone hadn't let her climb into the bathroom, she would be here now, and it'd be Morpheus the agents had." He gave Neo an evil look. "I knew you weren't worthwhile. You should have stopped her. Now she's as good as dead and you're blaming everyone but yourself." He turned to the other three, but then Switch, Apoc and Dozer entered.
"I didn't want her to get caught," Neo snapped at Cypher, but now Switch had started to speak.
"I say we go and get her," Switch said firmly. "I can't stand waiting – I'd rather die trying to free her."
An argument broke out. Neo went quiet. No one seemed able to agree, he noticed. The whole crew argued for a few minutes before Morpheus called for quiet.
"The agents are coming for her," he said, indicating the screens. Everyone hurried over to see. Neo couldn't see anything but green numbers and weird little symbols, but everyone else watched with bated breath.
"That guy is in trouble now," Switch murmured.
---
Footsteps somewhere, no idea where. Trinity could barely think. She had so little control over herself and her actions. All of her thoughts were little scraps of information. Footsteps were what I wanted; Garrison is evil; I'm under influence; my hands hurt. It made no sense.
Nervous, Dr Garrison gripped her shoulder tightly.
"Hurts," she snapped. She had enough strength to break away but didn't.
"Answer me! I know you're human. Everyone is-"
"Smith isn't," she answered. Garrison shook her, hard. "Cut it out," she added.
"Just answer, before they get here… The only emotions you have shown are anger and hate. Is there nothing else in the heart of a terrorist? Joy, misery, amusement? Friendship? Love?"
"Everything. You ask dumb, useless questions," Trinity informed him, blinking as the door burst open. She had control over her speech and her will, and no truth serum was going to make her spill. But of course it was true. Why ask questions about her when he could be asking about the military might of Zion, or the latest plans of the Resistance? Not that he would get answers with this pathetically weak stuff. All it did to her was cloud her thoughts and make her feel weak and ill.
"What happened?" a familiar voice asked coldly from the doorway. The voice sent a shudder through her, although she couldn't place it immediately.
She hated that voice. Whose was it?
"Mr Smith… Uh, we were just… questioning the suspect," one of Garrison's friends spoke up finally.
Mr Smith? Who was Mr Smith? She knew an Agent Smith, but… No, that voice was Agent Smith!
"Then why, doctor, is she drugged? I thought I left you instructions not to harm her," Smith said in a frosty-cold voice. "You were allowed to question her. But you have broken my trust." He indicated to two guards in the hall, which hurried to his bidding. "Accompany these four downstairs. My associate, Agent Brown, will speak to them momentarily."
The men allowed the guards to lead them silently from the room. Smith, alone with Trinity, pulled her to her feet roughly, allowing the cuffs to slide over the top of the chair. If she were able to rotate her arms into such a position, she might have escaped earlier. He dragged her from the room.
Trinity didn't really know what was happening. She knew that she disliked Smith terribly, and that she should be as much of a pain as possible. So she allowed herself to be an utter nuisance, dropping to the floor at random intervals like an annoying, temperamental child.
Presently she was aware that she was being handcuffed to another steel chair in a huge, almost empty room. One entire wall was glass, showing a beautiful city view. She was metres away from that wall, but she was facing it, in her chair.
Smith walked to the other side of the room, where there stood a desk with another steel chair, although his desk chair had wheels. He stopped it in front of her and sat down.
"Trinity, I must stress that this drugging was not of my doing," he said. The door opened, and someone else entered. "Dr Garrison was a terrorist psychology expert who thought he could benefit us."
"They are being questioned," the newcomer said, staying where he was, somewhere behind Trinity.
"Dr Garrison has injected you with a low-level truth serum," Smith continued. "It takes a minimal effect on people like you, causing negative effects but not taking away your will, like it would any person connected to the Matrix. For weaker minds it would instantly take away all mental strength, resilience and logical thought. People like Dr Garrison believe it to work. However, you now know as well as I do that it won't on you. You're too strong to break so easily."
"What do you want?" Trinity asked, disturbed by how calmly her enemy sat before her. On every other occasion he had tried his utmost to either capture, or, more commonly, kill her, but now he sat so placidly. Why?
"Dr Garrison wants information to continue with his studies of terrorist psychology," Agent Smith explained. "He believes that if he can figure out the warning signs of a psycho, he will be able to eradicate terror forever. By studying your childhood, lifestyle, thoughts, emotions, fears, et cetera, he believes he will unlock all of your secrets, compare yours to other subjects, and therefore be able to pinpoint potential criminals in their early childhood."
"A noble quest," Trinity muttered.
"We might have adopted his ideas if we didn't already know everything there is to know about the childhood habits and differences of future rebels," Agent Smith added lazily. "But there is never a fool-proof method. If we killed every single child with that potential, we would have trouble with our power cells. Some of those children outgrow the idealism, some lose interest, some choose the blue pill…"
Smith allowed a slow, twisted smirk to take over his features.
"That is what Dr Garrison wants," he said. "That is why he gave you the injection. But me… I want the codes to Zion, Trinity. And one little injection is going to get them for me."
Trinity felt herself go cold.
"But you said… This serum won't work on me. You're wasting your time," she said as strongly as she could.
The second agent walked over. It was Agent Jones.
"Didn't you hear?" he asked. "Dr Garrison's injection wasn't our doing."
"This is."
Without warning, Smith stabbed the tip of another needle into her skin, just above where she had received the first. But he didn't inject it.
"I want the codes, and I will have them," he said, readying himself.
'Just say it,' Trinity told herself. 'As soon as they know, they'll kill you, but hey, that has to be better.'
She swallowed.
"I don't have them," she murmured. Smith sneered at her.
"Of course you don't," he said. "I know that. But your friends don't know that I do. Humans are emotional and irrational – by doing this, I will ultimately get the codes."
"How? Breaking my mind won't do you a scrap of good, except to get me killed. I suppose that's what you want, though. Giving me this will make them pull the plug on me."
Smith's mouth curled into a smirk.
"That is one possibility," he said. "When they start to fear for your life, they will be forced to kill you. You humans are far from rational. Determined to exact revenge, your friends, including your captain, Morpheus, will enter the Matrix to avenge your death. Believe me, the traps are being determined even now."
Trinity said nothing. Of course it was true. They would kill her and come straight here to destroy Smith for taking her away. But they would fail miserably.
"But who is to say that they won't try to rescue you?" Smith continued suddenly. "Well, I don't doubt it, although it would be a wasteful errand. You see, you probably won't survive long enough for them to get to you."
"Kill me now," Trinity snapped. Smith injected her with the clear/whitish liquid.
"It won't kill you instantly. It is designed to crack into your mind, break you. We plan to use it on Morpheus once we get him. The stronger the mind, the longer it will take, but no one can resist forever. It is not designed to kill. However," the agent added with a low chuckle, "you also have the truth serum in your system. The two will react in about twenty seconds. You won't last an hour."
"What do mean, react?" Trinity demanded, straining her hands. She had to get free. Her wrists ached from being rubbed against the handcuffs.
"It will attack your mind and try to break you at such speeds that your body won't be able to keep up," Jones answered. "You have about eleven seconds. We can assure you that you won't have felt this kind of pain before."
"Lucky your walls are soundproof, then," she responded coldly. "No one to hear my screams."
Smith leaned close and smiled wider than ever before.
"That's right," he agreed. "No one to hear your screams."
Trinity unconsciously leaned back and away as far as she could. She couldn't think of anything to say as she suspiciously looked between her enemies. They watched her with something too much like satisfaction.
Stupid programs.
There was no warning, no slow introduction. The agony hit all at once. Searing, digging, pain all through her consciousness. There was no escape. There was no comparable pain in her past to this. Her thoughts and logical reasoning abandoned her, and she was left with one reminder in all of her knowledge – Do not scream for them. They – whoever they were – wanted her to scream. Scream for the burning behind her tightly shut eyes, blinding her. Scream for the deafening soundlessness rushing in her ears, blocking all real noise. Scream for the racking physical pain, so intense and so all-consuming that she couldn't have told where exactly she hurt, except to say everywhere. Scream for the mental agony, directing away all thought, leaving her powerless. Not that she could have fought back anyway – she couldn't feel her body, couldn't feel anything but the incredible pain…
Do not scream for them. She mustn't. She mustn't give them the satisfaction. Do not scream.
Trinity knew it was taking all of what remained of her will to hold her screaming back. She must not scream. She must not scream. She. Must. Not. Scream.
The pain intensified just by the slightest amount. But it was immediately too much. She screamed.
Sólia