Chapter 13
Neo has absolutely no idea what he's doing. He might be on a date with Trinity. But he isn't sure. All he knows is that he has attempted to sabotage and /or kill this woman several times in the past half hour, and yet she still said yes to coffee, which certainly cannot be a bad thing. Unless, of course, this is all an elaborate set-up to punish him in some unimaginable way (which he does not put past her; Trinity is a gifted assassin). But it would still be worth it, he thinks. It would be worth every second he gets to be close to her.
They walk side by side down the crowded sidewalk, clothing wet and a little tattered, both of them displaying several minor lacerations from their earlier activities. Neo has two giant MP5's tucked into his belt and a ridiculous amount of ammunition slung across his chest. And Trinity walks with a slightly bent-forward posture, trying to keep her T shirt from clinging to her breasts. Indeed, they are quite the couple.
Without a word, Neo removes his coat and wraps it around Trinity's shoulders to cover her up. She fastens the top button, letting it hang like a cloak, thanking him with a wry smile, as if she knows how much it had cost him to do it. As if she were fully aware of the fact that ever since she'd wrestled him to the ground over the telephone, pulling at his hair, and clawing at his skin and clothes like a girl, he has wanted her so badly he can think of little else.
As he looks over at her for what must be the hundredth time, Neo notices that Trinity has become quiet again, the way he is used to seeing her on the ship. Her expression is sober, her eyes temperate. Back to the Trinity he knows. Though strangely, it doesn't feel that way to him anymore. He may be accustomed to her stoic, professional alter ego, but the Trinity he really knows, the one he feels he has known his entire life, is the one who had just raced him down thirty three storeys of stairs. They'd been the only ones left in the building, and so she'd taken great liberties with her style, sometimes clearing entire flights with elegant, cat-like leaps and acrobatic back flips. He'd tried to imitate her, which had sparked something of a competition, which in turn had became a veritable circuits act, with Trinity crawling on the walls, and Neo running on his hands (which ended badly). And she'd laughed. She'd been laughing so hard, there were tears in her eyes, and in that moment, Neo had recognized her. She was the woman he used to imagine loving, a long time ago, back before he'd given up. She was everything he'd ever dreamed of.
Neo is pulled from his reverie as he narrowly avoids colliding with a lamppost.
"Are you alright?" Trinity arches an eyebrow.
"Oh, yeah." In fact, he has never been better, and he is about to tell her so when four huge red fire trucks tear around the corner, speeding towards the Metacortex tower. Sirens wail and ambulances and police cruisers follow. He catches Trinity as she momentarily shields her face, a reflex to law enforcement she has probably developed from years of being hunted as an international terrorist. Indeed, she is currently number three on the FBI's most wanted list (although there is no photograph and the feds also think she is a guy).
Trinity watches the emergency vehicles disappear down the street. "That was a nice touch, by the way," she says. "The fire alarm. Freezing the elevators. Not bad at all, Neo."
"Hmm," he hums his agreement. "But it felt a little juvenile, just breaking the glass and tripping the alarm. Very high school prankish."
"I was thinking the same thing. A bomb would have been much more dramatic. And effective. You could take out the whole lobby and quarantine the building in a hurry."
He smiles, amused by the casual tone of their conversation, as if they were discussing the weather. "Jesus."
"What?"
"This is a typical day at the office for you, isn't it?"
She chuckles. "Thank you for reminding me. This was supposed to be my night off. I was going to finish that inventory report and then sit back and watch you run your ass off for a few hours. As it turns out, you made both plans difficult."
"Both?"
"You're an oh-negative type transfusion. That's a pain in my ass like you wouldn't believe, Neo. We're nearly out of plasma, thanks to your precarious recovery."
He nudges her shoulder. "Well, that was bloody inconsiderate of me, now wasn't it?"
Neo expects her to laugh, but she doesn't. Instead, Trinity looks at him with a bewildered, nearly frightened expression. It is almost as if she has seen a ghost. "Are you alright?" he asks.
"Oh, yeah." She shakes her head and seems to recover, smiling as if to herself. Her eyes shine as she adds, "I've never been better."
The Starbucks at the intersection of First and Third is busy, with tables of chatting patrons pouring onto the side walk. Sophisticated men and women in business suits yammer on cellular phones, college students drown themselves in coffee, and a pair of speakers whimper James Blunt's new single in a cacophony of typical urban life. The routine is somewhat disrupted as Neo and Trinity arrive, however, looking like a pair of actors who just stepped off the set of the newest sequel to Mission Impossible.
"The other reason you may find it beneficial to carry smaller weaponry is it's more easily concealed," Trinity says in a whisper as people gape and gasp, some backing away, others running. "That way, you can kill off twenty SWATs and still enjoy a leisurely cup of celebratory coffee without everyone staring."
"I need to have my guns."
She folds her arms and presses her lips together. "I really fail to see how you-"
"Shh. Here." He hands her one of the MP5's. "I need you to cover me."
"What?"
"You said it. The people are annoying. Besides, I don't have any money." He loads a fresh clip and offers her one, but she just stares at him with priceless incredulity.
Neo shrugs and slips the ammunition into the pocket of the coat Trinity is wearing, and then takes her by the shoulders, meeting her eyes. They're green in here, though still very beautiful, and it's all he can do to keep himself from impulsively leaning in to kiss her. Instead, he forces a serious face and deadpans, "I'm doing this for you. Whatever happens, I want you to know that my last thoughts were of you. In that top. Without the coat."
Her jaw drops as he bursts through the doors of the Starbucks, yelling at the top of his lungs and shooting at the ceiling.
"Everybody out! Do it! Do it now!"
Glass shatters and light fixtures explode as people scream and cover their ears, scattering frantically.
"I'm a madman! I'm absolutely out of my mind!" he proclaims the obvious, secretly wishing he had dynamite strapped to his chest for effect. "That's it! Run! Be very afraid of me!"
He feels Trinity standing behind him, shadowing his back, and he can tell she's laughing at him through the whole thing, because her body is shaking like a paint-mixer. At this point, she is probably utterly useless as back-up, but the physical contact is welcome nevertheless.
When only one unfortunate waiter remains, Neo points the gun straight at him. "Wait. Not you," he says, trying to sound as dangerous as possible.
"Hey, man, be cool. The register's open, man. You can have all the money you want."
"We aren't here for the money," Trinity says, producing a cool, even tone out of nowhere. She's standing next to him, finger on the trigger of her rifle, playing into his fantasy with an Oscar-worthy performance. "Follow our instructions to the letter and you might live through this."
"Oh, God! Oh God! Then what do you people want?" The young man looks ready to cry.
"I'll take a double cappuccino with full cream and chocolate shavings. Trin, what do you want?"
One look at Trinity tells him she's absolutely loving this. She would; she's as twisted as he is, Neo thinks with growing affection. He smiles at her as she says to their captive that she'd like a decaf latte made with skim milk, not two percent, and certainly not whole. No whip cream, but he may leave the froth, though not in excess, just enough to be aesthetically pleasing, thank you. Oh, and can she trouble him for a sprinkle of cinnamon as well? It's fresh, right? All this over the barrel of her gun, specified as though she were listing her ransom demands. The poor man just can't take it, and he faints in short order, just as Trinity is stipulating that both beverages are 'to go.'
They both stare at the body impassively.
"Shit. Trin, look what you've done." Neo lowers his rifle and tosses it onto a table, covered with crumbs and broken glassware. "Well, I think there's another Starbucks on Park and Eliot. Maybe they have better service."
She snickers wickedly, and steps over overturned tables and chairs to get behind the counter. "I think we will manage. What was it you ordered? A heart attack with extra clots?"
"No, it was a double cap with cream. And chocolate shavings."
"Alright." Trinity removes his coat, replacing it with a green Starbucks apron. But when she turns to operate the complicated coffee machine, they notice that it's riddled with bullet holes. "You shut your eyes when you shoot, don't you?"
"Hence all the extra ammo."
She sighs and shakes her head, and with some effort, Trinity is able to find a pair of mugs that haven't been broken. "Black coffee it is, then. For the man with the admirable foresight."
As she pours them two cups of the house blend, Neo turns his attention to the desserts in the shattered display case. He spots something at makes him smile. "You think there's too much glass in that marble bundt for us to eat it?"
She starts, and gazes at him as he lifts up the doughnut-shaped cake and smiles. "Well, how about that."
"You know, I've been wondering what made you do it," he says, accepting the cup of coffee from her, and finding two forks so they can share the unexpected treat. "Why you left me birthday cake. It isn't… standard procedure. Is it?"
"Hmm. No." Again with the predatory smile. "But it was worth it to see the expression on your face when you opened the fridge and saw it there."
"You were watching that?"
Proudly, "I watched you eat it, too."
Neo shakes his head and sips his coffee. He knew it. "I'll bet you thought that was pretty funny."
"No." And she is serious now, but softer as well as her eyes flutter away. "Actually, I was sorry you had to eat it alone."
"But I wasn't really alone. Was I?"
She looks back at him, and all she does is shake her head, no. She'd been there, watching him the entire time, like an angel. In fact, Neo thinks with a bittersweet irony, his long-distance relationship with Trinity was probably the most meaningful connection he'd ever made with a woman.
He takes a bite of cake, prompting her to do the same as they share the silence. "So," he says, already missing the sound of her voice. "Did I pass the running test tonight? Have you been duly impressed?"
This has the desired effect and she laughs at him. "The only reason you even came close was because you cheated. And the armed robbery of this coffee did little to convince me of your skills with the guns."
"You can't lie to me. You're into this."
"Yes, but that's hardly the point. The purpose of tonight's exercise was not to get me into it. My intention was to prepare you for the field," she says soberly. "You need more work. You aren't ready."
He is delighted to hear it. "Then you'll just have to drill me, won't you? Every night, until I pass muster."
"Be careful what you wish for. I can be a very demanding instructor, Neo."
"You'll wear your PVC? Bring your guns? Hunt me down until I beg for mercy?"
She can't seem to stop smiling. "You like punishment, don't you?"
"No. But I like this. Next time, we'll get dinner, too."
She scoffs. "Neo. You're missing the point of the exercises-"
"No, hear me out. There's a great noodle place I used to eat at near the hotel."
"Are you kidding me? That Chinese take-out was awful!"
"Hey, how would you know?" She has a guilty look on her face and Neo's eyes go round as saucers. "You ate my leftovers!"
"I did nothing of the kind." Off his accusing look, she admits, "I may, in a moment of misdirected curiosity, have sampled some as I took the container from your desk to the garbage, where it belonged… but I assure you, I did not swallow."
"Hey, I would have eaten that."
"It was three days old!"
"You ate it!"
"I told you, I didn't swallow!"
"Well, that's it, you owe me a meal. You're treating me. I'm having dumplings with pea pods and a big noodle." She practically winces and scrunches her face at the suggestion. "You can have a soda if you don't like it," he says. "You're a caffeine-free diet coke, right?"
She rolls her eyes but doesn't deny it. "It sounds like a truly magical evening, Neo. But I'm afraid I'll have to decline. I'd rather scrub the power relays on E deck."
"Oh, come on. I promise you'll like it. It'll be a nice, calm… normal meal. No guns, or fainting waiters, or screaming people, or…"
"Helicopters."
"Well, I suppose not."
"No, listen." Suddenly, the front window of the café is flooded with a blinding white light, wind picking up under the loud flapping of chopper blades. Neo can faintly hear sirens as well, and a gruff voice over a speakerphone informs them that they are completely surrounded.
"Oh, Jeez. Nice going, Trin."
She glares at him. "Me? This is my fault? You're the one who called them in the first place!"
"But you're the one who killed twenty-five cops and stole a bike. Two bikes."
"And then you shot a cabby and held up a Starbucks."
"We. We held up the Starbucks!"
"This is the police!" A loud voice on the speakerphone interrupts their bickering. "You have ten seconds to surrender before we open fire. Come out with your hands in the air."
Neo sighs and pulls out his phone. "I'll have Tank freeze it." But she snatches it out of his hand before he can dial the operator. "Hey!"
"Call this your first field test."
"There must be three goddamn helicopters out there!"
She shields her eyes and peers into the white abyss. "Yeah, probably. But at least one has got to be the news crews. They're harmless and make great hostages."
"There's no way out."
"You should have thought of that before you-"
The rest of her sentence is lost in the deafening racket of weapons' fire. Caught by surprise, Neo freezes, and Trinity yanks him down with her behind the counter, covering his head until the first shower of bullets ends.
"Shit," he stammers, ears ringing and pulse racing. Neo knows it is an irrational fear, as all this is a simulation, and the program is designed to end if either of them is hit with a bullet. But he's never been shot at before, and everything here seems very real.
"You okay?"
"Fine," Neo replies, embarrassed. If she hadn't pulled him down, he'd be dead. Trinity was right. He isn't ready. "Sorry."
She seems not to have heard him, reaching up onto the countertop to grab her rifle and speaking quickly. "When running from PD, the roof is always your best option, especially in the city. The commercial complex above us is probably fifteen or so storeys high, which isn't too much to make it through the ventilation."
They hear the sound of boots crunching on debris as the first of the police officers step into the café, guns drawn. Neo's heartbeat pounds in his throat as he shuts his eyes in an attempt to free his mind. "I'll handle them," she says, tone smooth and cool. "Go for the stock room entrance; lock the door behind you."
"But what about you-"
"That's an order. Go, now."
There is no time to argue as she suddenly rolls out from behind the counter, avoiding a few bullets and plastering her back to a support beam. Neo simultaneously runs for the door marked 'staff only,' barging though it as he hears more gunfire. He looks back after Trinity, still wearing the Starbucks apron and red baseball cap, now holding both guns, having found his among the rubble at her feet. She takes a few shots at the infiltrating law enforcement, probably hitting one man for every two bullets, then pulls back to avoid being hit herself. "Neo, go!" she yells urgently.
The burn of superheated metal grazes Neo's left ear as he slams the door behind him, but in that moment, all he hears is Trinity scream.