Disclaimer: Something I nearly forgot about, so I will be making a larger one than usual here to cover all the chapters: All the characters and locations not mentionedhere belong solely to the Wachowskis. I have created the new characters General Peterson, Libby Peterson, Patch, and Scrap for the purpose of this fanfic, and will add more as I see fit. I don't own the Matrix. The end.

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Four

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Ex-general Peterson had returned, just as he said he would. The ease with which he had done it thoroughly tried Agent Brown's limited patience for humans. Once again, Peterson was at the door to what was supposed to be their private space. Brown could tell his remaining counterpart was becoming frustrated as well.

Just as though they were dealing with the anomaly that Brown and Jones still had no answer to, nothing had turned him back. After their initial meeting, they had instructed the secretary, and the security on the entry floor to turn him away if ever he returned. They never wanted to see his fleshy, revenge-pumped visage again.

Hadn't worked. They hadn't seen it firsthand, but Jones had already calculated a 97-percentprobability that Peterson had shown them a gun as his 'passcard'. Motioning to Jones to remain stable, Brown took a deep breath and answered the caller.

"Who is it?" As if he couldn't extrapolate…

"It's me again. I have some new information you boys might find interesting."

Brown looked to the dull tile ceiling in imagined agony. Why? Why was this human so persistent in annoying them with his needless information? "I must confess, I am surprised to hear from you after our last discussion, Mr. Peterson. Maybe you… missed the part where we told you to go home and get some rest."

"I will do you a favor and pretend I didn't hear that", Peterson replied over the microphone with an equal amount of will. "And a field agent doesn't instruct a general to do a damned thing, sonny."

"Ex-general", Brown corrected dryly. "Now, I'm a reasonable man. I will give you two minutes to leave us in peace and never return."

A short pause later, the microphone responded. "It's about the youngest of the abductees. Eyewitness accounts from a kind of mini-orphanage in an apartment owned by a Miss Foster. I believe I've found the location of the woman called 'The Orac-"

Jones shut the mike off in distaste and raised his new right arm code. "We should have him shot."

Brown rose from his seat at those words, cracking his neck calmly. "Why wait for other humans? He has ties with no one. I will do it."

Once he had faced away from Jones, a satisfied smirk crossed Brown's face. At last- a chance to work off some of the anxiety that had built within their cores towards their inevitable deletion if things continued as they were. He would be sure not to kill this one too quickly.

Ex-general Peterson had come expecting the door to the main office of the Metacortex to slide open. He had not expected Brown to come bursting through the drywall beside it and tackle him into the iron railing that ran along the office perimeter, bending it outwards.

Brown rapidly moved up and flung Peterson over the edge, disregarding the property damage- they could easily refresh the coding at a later date. The program was halfway through a Herculean leap downward onto the first floor lobby when he saw Peterson jut both of his legs out in time to keep from hitting the tile floor, and flipped right back into a standing position.

"No doubt you realize", Brown spoke smugly, "that your actions will sever all previous ties with this country's government and places you under wanted status."

A human would have found the expression on the other man's face, as well as his voice, to be savage and terrifying in its mix of despair and rage. "I-DON'T-FUCKING-CARE!", he screamed at Brown at the top of his lungs, beyond reason, beyond humanity. "I DON'T GIVE A DAMN ABOUT MY RANK ANYMORE! REVENGE IS THE ONLY THING I HAVE LEFT!"

Unable to calculate a suitable response to his screaming, Brown simply charged, his left hook catching the human in the gut and knocking him back into a marble pillar, shattering it. Peterson had barely risen from that blow when Brown kicked him into the secretary's desk, with similar consequences. Stray computer paper flew everywhere now, a light drizzle of white.

But Peterson hadn't always been an 'armchair' leader. Indeed; he had been near the top of his class when it came to unarmed combat in the military. He turned his tumble into a roll across the floor away from Agent Brown. The blood that was already trickling down his face was less than a nuisance.

Undaunted, Brown advanced at twice the pace. His opponent was, after all, merely moving a human-level speed and reaction time. Disguised it might have been, but the Matrix was still a computer program. Meaning that those who were part of the system could both move and think at computer-speed. Only the despised anomaly had been an exception to this rule- he moved beyond the speed or strength of computations.

Once again, Brown laid into Peterson with a devastating collection of strikes mainly directed at the chest, knocking Peterson's mauve coat right off to reveal a threadbare white shirt beneath, and dirtying that bit of clothing with as much blood as he could knock out of him. This time, Brown knocked him through a window, out into the vacant parking lot.

He could not help but feel a kind of amazement blossom in his core- the human was actually getting up! After a beating that should have killed him three different ways!

One more kick to the chest would do it, Brown deduced. One more kick would crack his weak ribs in on each other, and even if they not impale some vital organ, the blood loss alone should be enough to finish any biological being.

"That… the best… you got?", Peterson croaked from the pavement, still showing some signs of fight left in him. "What a pansy."

"Enough", Brown replied curtly. "This has gone on too long."

"True."

It took a moment for that last word, so casually uttered, to make impact with Brown. By that time, Peterson had not only twisted and spun back to his feet- he had struck out with a long kick of his own while spinning. While Brown had reacted in time and moved his arms to block that, he was helpless against the follow-up blow from Peterson's right fist.

Shades cracked, Brown fell to the pavement along with his utterly depleted foe. As he forcibly viewed the cloudy sky above him, Brown saw one other thing- his colleague at the window. He'd seen it all.

Ascending to his feet without using his arms or legs, Brown quickly flipped open a cell phone in his front pocket. He used it to call the closest hospital and request immediate medical assistance, including a wheelchair and replacement blood.

Snapping the phone shut, he looked back down at Peterson's form with a different vibe. He no longer saw a worthless coppertop, but a key.

-

"Zee said she'd take care of you for now, at least until I get back from the next trip back out."

Fully rested, Neo walked back along one of Zion's circular perimeters, careful not to lose the young girl. The walkways were not nearly as crowded now, but the lights were always on. Even if the thunderous black shroud that now covered the world some day parted, no ray of light would ever shine down upon Zion- it was in too deep.

He hadn't expected Alice to respond- he was just trying to keep her mind focused on things besides the revelation that was coming her way, that she had already started to wonder and ask questions about. Like the kids at the Oracle's place, he mused. She always seems to figure things out faster than I expected her to.

A while back, an old friend of Link's had offered him the most sensible- and yet the most alarming- theory for why greater numbers of Potentials were showing up. Obviously, since 'coppertops' did not partake of physical sex, the machines would clone them to keep up their numbers. It had been that way since long before anyone could remember.

But now things had started to escalate. This older guy Scrap, he had learned a few things about cloning from old history files, and one important thing was that repeated cycling of the same gene caused inevitable mutations, more and more often the more the same sequence was copied. Lest he forget, everyone he knew that had the plugs in their heads and arms was a clone, including himself. Only the people born here in Zion were a truly new source of genetic material.

Unconsciously, his hand reached back to push the hair around the back of his scalp away and feel the cold metal of the plug. Disgusting, but it would always be there. It could not be removed without killing him, and the same went for the rest, including Alice. It was the eternal mark of those who had, only years before, been unknowing slaves of the machines. Only a month ago, he'd been back there himself.

"You're going out there?", Alice managed to speak up. "Why?"

"So we can free more people like you. We'll bring them back here."

"But not my parents. They don't see what I see in the fairy world, right?"

Feeling the certainty in that tone, he looked back down at her newly grown hair. Christ, she really is sharp. "Right. We're supposed to find people with special gifts, like yours and mine. But Morpheus has always said that I would be the one to free the human race, and that includes them. Someday."

She seemed satisfied with that, and actually ran the last few paces to Link's quarters, letting Neo knock on the old metal and summon a groggy-looking Asian woman to the door.

"Hello, Neo", she said not unkindly. "Link tells me we have a new guest. This is her?"

"Yeah. She won't be here for long, just until I get back. Then I'm going to take a break for a while and raise her back at my place."

She gave him back a skeptical grin. They had not met often, but from what Neo gathered from snatches of conversation with his Operator, Zee was among the minority that didn't believe he was their savior. Given what had happened to her brothers, he couldn't blame her. "Even 'The One' can't be working all the time, I guess. But what about the Nursery?"

Involuntarily, his gaze hardened. "I don't want her to spend much time there if I can help it. She's not a kid."

"Not an adult either", she countered, eyeing Allison's white-toned face. "but I suppose we can make room for a bit. Just knowing you've got people to come back to as well is worth something."

A bit puzzled by this response, he searched the are behind her for Link, but only saw Zee's kids further back. "He's not here", Zee said angrily when she saw him staring. "Went to check in with the commander for a job from the shipyards. Sometimes…"

"You wish he could be back here more often", Neo continued her sentence. Even he could figure this one out. "You think he's going to die."

Zee stopped to bring Allison in and introduce her to the quarters, taking several minutes, but somehow he knew she would return to the door. "Every single damn night", she finally answered humorlessly.

At once, he felt too uncomfortable to talk about it further. Even if she didn't admit it, deep down she wanted to hold someone responsible for Tank and Dozer's lives. Someone whom she could rage at. It made sense that he was the prime candidate. The One couldn't save Tank, he remembered solemnly, because he was blasted outside of the Matrix. Can't blame Cypher- he's gone.

Feeling as though he was talking to a grown-up version of Allison now, heart filled with regret as to what he had to say, Neo looked up at her face one last time. "All I can promise you is that it won't ever happen that way again. And that it won't happen in the Matrix while I'm still breathing."

"-Thought you'd have figured it out by now", she answered him, half joking-half crying as she closed the red metal door. "The Matrix has no place for him. His place is here."

Slowly turning away from the door, Neo found himself face to face with someone else who obviously wasn't enraptured by the myth of his 'messiah-hood'.

Squat shoulders, standing ramrod straight at all times just like a drill instructor. Average-spread black hair over a thin skull devoid of plugs. For a moment, Neo almost imagined him as a brown-skinned version of his old boss, Mr. Rhineheart.

"Commander Lock", he coughed out to mask his surprise. "Is something the matter?"

Jason Lock looked down at Neo in much the same way Zee just had- as though he was sizing up a big disappointment. "Not at all. I was just hoping to get a closer look at the kid everyone is so infatuated with. You're 'The One', huh."

"It's what I'm told", Neo replied neutrally, refusing to be bullied by the larger man. "Did you see Link? He had something to ask you-"

"It was denied", Lock said flatly. "The Nebuchadnezzar was in for a complete hull reconstruction just a month ago. It was in the shipyards for a week, we can't afford the resources to do that again."

As much of an affront to his crew as that was, he had to admit that everything Lock had said was true. While he had been trying desperately to escape from Smith and the others that last time, he hadn't realized at the time that the ship was being cut apart by Sentinels- Sentinels that they couldn't EMP without frying his mind while he was in the Matrix.

Still, he felt he had to offer some kind of resistance for Link's sake- they might not get back to Zion for a while. "It's not that again, Link just wants to be able to decode information feeds like the Logos-"

"I said no."

That seemed to end that topic. Instead of leaning on the rail like Neo had seen so many Zionites do, Lock simply folded his arms and stared off into the sea of lights on the other side of the massive circle. "So you believe it, then? You believe Morpheus?"

"I have to", Neo reasoned, following his gaze at the hundreds of Zion quarters. "I'm sure I'm not the only one who's run the numbers in his head. How many craft do we have in total, commander?"

Lock seemed surprised by the request, but he obviously knew the answer off by heart. "Ninety-two hovercraft, and six carrier craft. Why?"

He leaned on the rail himself to hide a short smirk, closing his eyes. His estimation had been pretty accurate then, and not just of Lock's character. Neo had seen his type before. "Long odds."

"Yes", Lock agreed behind him sternly, practically radiating annoyance at his detatched attitude towards their situation. "Against odds like these, some people will believe anything to make it all better. My job to make sure they hang on to reality- we've a tenuous enough grip on that as it is."

"But you have to understand if people start looking for other ways to end this."

He made no audible sound, but Neo could sense the commander's mood darkening. "The fastest way to make it end would be to invite the machines here and be done with it. We're not here to end this conflict. We're here to survive it."

So that was it, then. Jason Lock wouldn't be changing his mind any time soon, and wouldn't be bothered one bit if the wars continued past his lifetime. "Well, my ship finishes charging in a few hours. I'd better get ready."

"No need to worry", the commander said. "Morpheus wouldn't dare leave without his golden boy. He's short two crewers as is."

Abandoning the railing, he cast a dirty look back at Lock before throwing the quickest of salutes. "That's why I have to go. Commander."

That same acid glare followed him all the way back to his quarters, but he did not dare return it.

-

Program 31B had been awaiting a response from his colleague the moment he returned to their space within the Metacortex. Yet, either through some sort of mimicry of what humans laughably referred to as 'professional discipline', or out of simple shock, Program 57J did not voice his opinion on the matter at hand until 31B was comfortably seated across from him.

"It is a waste of time and resources. A human could never hope to compete with us."

Agent Brown tilted his head in acknowledgement- this was exactly the response he'd expected from his more by-the-book colleague. "I have been tasked with creating a probable solution to the anomaly, and now I have done so. What I felt was no mistake."

Left arm on his fake cast, Agent Jones did not look at all convinced. Once again, their thoughts were in consecutive conflict. "But this is folly. What you felt is irrelevant, you still defeated him."

In response, Brown placed one hand to his jaw as if to remembered pain from his fight with general Peterson. "The potential anomalies have appeared in biological strains in the past. Those were purged, of course, but they continue to appear. He is the male progenitor of the girl. She was cloned from his cells."

Jones tiled his head leftwards, slowly considering the concept now that the one named Trinity who had humiliated him twice had been mentioned. He could no longer deny her potential, even if she was a human. "Extrapolation. Do we know of any humans of biological relation to Thomas Anderson?"

"None", Brown smiled, seeing Jones take the bait. "In any case, none of them would be motivated as this one is. The alteration occurred when his heart rate was 25 percent higher than normal, neurokinetics level 57 percent greater."

"We should ask him, then."

On cue, a nurse wheeled ex-general Peterson into the hallowed space where no human had ever set foot before. Of course, it still looked like an ordinary, run-of-the-mill office. The difference was one only Jones and Brown would notice- it was totally, blissfully free of all human excretions. Until now.

The human had adapted surprisingly quickly to his new situation. His arms were sitting limply on the hand rests of his wheelchair a needle injecting blood into the right one, while his legs were wrapped in thick black cloth, holding them down. However, the strength in his left arm was more than enough to wheel him around to where he wanted to sit.

As a notification of the altered circumstances from their last meeting, Brown slowly removed his shades and placed them on the table. "I trust your recovery is being handled adequately, Mr. Peterson?"

He shot Brown a look of hatred, but couldn't help but was too experienced not to notice the change in his attitude. "What's your game, son? You beat me. I don't know how, but you did. You could have let me die, but you didn't. Why?"

"After seeing the way that you fight, Mr. Peterson, we have slightly reconsidered your usefulness to us."

"Wasn't enough", he replied, sounding unmistakably depressed, and looking at his long legs, now stretched useless in front of him.

Brown nodded, not out of empathy but simple acknowledgement that Peterson knew he could never have won. "No. But you have demonstrated a certain talent that may help us."

He paused, shooting Jones a look as warning not to interrupt, even as he was entering the most controversial part of the plan he had made. "Mr. Peterson… what I am about to tell you is beyond the scope of this room or this country. It is as classified and top secret as it is possible to be. Even a man in your position may not have heard the slightest inkling."

Still disciplined despite his injuries, the human nodded. "Not a problem. My lips are sealed."

"Yes", Brown acknowledged smoothly, ignoring Jones' strong aura of disapproval. "We have prior evidence against Morpheus and Zion that, combined with the contact broadcasted before, has made perfectly clear their intent."

Interested, Peterson leaned forward. "And that is?"

"The destruction of modern civilization as we know it. The returning of the world to the Dark Ages. As you may know, we have seen this motive in the past, but this is the first group we have seen that may be able to realistically accomplish it."

"Sweet Jesus… how?"

At an invisible signal, Jones removed a paper file from his suit and slid it towards Peterson's spot at the table, knocking the first few photos loose. Most every one of them was of one of Morpheus' people, each wearing mirrored shades in various karate-action poses as they battled what appeared to be ordinary cops.

"You may not be able to discern from those photos, Mr. Peterson, but we have reason to believe that the Zion group has access to certain paranormal abilities beyond those of normal humans."

He almost laughed until he remembered who and what he thought he was dealing with. "What, you mean some kinda voodoo? Come on."

Brown perfectly mimicked clearing his throat to grab Peterson's attention. "It is real, Mr. Peterson. We know this, because our own people have attempted to harness these powers. Now, we believe we have found them once again, in you."

This, he did laugh at. "I am a lot of things, son, but I ain't no magician."

Not backing down, Brown leaned towards him on the table. "Tell me. When I was about to deliver that last kick… how did you feel?"

For a moment, Jones sat back and admired the way the pieces were linking together in the human's memory. Perhaps there is some hope for him yet- he shows excellent analytical skills.

"I felt furious, of course", Peterson finally answered. "Then things got kind of strange. It was like I could see into you. Into… everything. And there was something under your skin that told me what you were planning on doing. Yeah, I know it sounds crazy, but-"

"Not at all, Mr. Peterson", Brown answered quickly, inwardly pleased. "In fact, you've proven my theory. Now, in the interest of brevity, I'm going to offer you the final choice: do you want to help us, or not?"

"You want help from an insane cripple?", Peterson asked incredulously. "If I thought I could make a difference, then yes. But I can't. Not now."

Brown nodded. Human depression. It was a common occurrence after an injury of this magnitude to someone as vaingloriouslyproud as this human. He could only hope the reverse was true.

"Mr. Peterson, there is an experimental procedure we have developed. It will likely repair your damaged body, and allow you to help us find and terminate Morpheus. You will be one of us."

The ex-general absorbed all this in silence, looking hard at the metal of his wheelchair, motioning for Brown to continue.

"That choice is up to you", Brown continued. "However, I should warn you that our superiors are absolutely adamant that whoever joins us, stays with us for the sake of security. Once you have undergone this… procedure, you can never ever go back. It will require you to surrender a portion of your individual will."

As he finished, Brown then nudged his shades, sliding them effortlessly across the smooth table to Peterson. The language was clear to everyone in the room: to take the shades was yes. To refuse them was no.

The human stared hard at the black shades, seeing his reflection in them stare right back at him, the emotionless mirror daring him to show his tears of grief. "I deeply appreciate the warning, son. Not to mention the choice. But you heard me the first time. Morpheus took away from me the two people I love more than life itself. The only thing I have left now, is vengeance. I'm in, andI don't care what it costs me."

All in one motion, he pocketed the shades and slid up to Brown's spot on the table. Brown extended a hand, and Peterson shook it with equal strength.

-