The Matrix: Rebellion

CHAPTER 7: UNE SERIE NOIRE

Like Wake, Janet’s prediction from the Oracle had remained a secret to the others, at Odysseus’ bidding. He was worried that if the others knew of the Oracle’s prophecy, it might influence their minds, making the choices they would eventually make harder ones.

“Has your prediction come true yet, Odysseus?” Wake asked.

“No, it has not. And if it did, the Oracle would give me another. Your predictions come true until the time of your death. Rusty’s first prediction has come true.”

“Some time ago, in fact! Your fiery personality will lead to the deaths of many, but in the end, you will be a savior for some. It turned out to be good! The deaths of many meant a whole damn SWAT team, and savior to some meant that I saved the crew of the Alchera and the Logos! Boy, that was a good day! Of course, then that Agent broke Adelard's vocal chords...” Adelard turned and gave Rusty a nasty look, and Rusty stopped talking about the incident. “Of course, I’m still waiting to see what happens with my current prediction...”

They had all crowded back into the Hummer and were driving down the street, stopping at the intersection of First and Charlemagne, then turning left onto Charlemagne. The streets were still crowded as they had been earlier, more than crowded if that was possible. It was midday, and the malls and shops were packed to the point of exploding. Wake had never remembered the city so crowded. Probably because I never lived in the city... Wake pondered. He also thought of glimpse at the future. You will have to make a choice, between your past and your future... he muttered in his mind. What could that mean? He then let go of it for a bit, knowing that it would come to him eventually, sifting through his thoughts lazily. He jumped when Odysseus’ mobile phone started ringing. The captain picked it up and answered.

“Bolt?” Odysseus asked instinctively.

“No, this is Operator Jack of the Melchizedek! I’m glad you are in the area...”

“What’s wrong, Jack?” Odysseus asked urgently but, as always, calmly. There was a brief pause as Jack hit a few keys on the keyboard on his ship, hard enough to be audible in the car.

“The Captain and company have hit a nasty situation, my friend. They went to see the Oracle about our new recruit and then a SWAT team appeared out of no where!”

Odysseus sighed. “Probably because there were too many of us in the direct vicinity.”

“Maybe. Still, no Agents have...never mind, a black Lexus just pulled into the area...along with two more SWAT vans...”

“Where are they now? And is any of the crew harmed or dead?”

“No one has been shot yet, and they are at the intersection of Charlemagne and Black. Get their quick, it’s getting hairy real fast.”

“We’re on our way,” Odysseus replied, and hung up on Jack. He dialed the Alchera‘s operator. “Bolt, are you watching?”

“Yessir, Captain, looks like the Mel has hit trouble.”

“Indeed. Monitor the situation, help their crew if possible. When we get to the intersection, I‘ll call you again, to find their locations.”

“Will do.” Odysseus hung up on him, and put a hand on the hilt of his katana.

“Are you all ready? The plan is that we split up, head for buildings away from the scene, most likely from the next street over. Adelard, make a U-turn and head for the intersection, then turn right...” Adelard nodded, turning the Hummer around and pounding the pedal all the way down, speeding up to the intersection and quickly spinning onto the next street over, which was Boobrie Street. He stopped the car about a block away from the blockade that had been set up by the SWAT team. Numerous vans were parked there. But among them, Wake noticed a familiar face. Perfectly combed hair, green-black suit, mirrored rectangular shades, and an audio feed.

Smith.

The Agent put a hand to his audio feed, listening intently to whatever information the System was relaying to him about the situation.

“Odysseus, an Agent,” he whispered cautiously, jabbing a thumb in the general direction.

“There are three, be careful. Do not let them see you.” Odysseus turned to the others, who were getting out of the car with him. “We’ll go into the alley of the building next to the surrounded building. Most of the SWAT team are at the front, so keep from view.” Odysseus turned on his cell phone briefly, getting a description of the building from Bolt. He then clicked it shut. “We shall go in pairs of two, each on a different floor. Rusty and I shall take floor nine, where Captain Arohirohi and Bishop are. Quicksilver and their new recruit, Carp, are on floor seven. Artemis and Janet shall be there. Adelard and Wake will provide assistance to Voodoo and Glitch on floor four.”

“Why not take the roof and go down, Odys?” Rusty questioned.

“Because...” Odysseus looked up as a helicopter zipped by overhead, full of SWAT and with heavy artillery to boot. “That is why. Now climb. We must act fast. SWAT have entered the building, but only a few, and have spread out. The crew of the Melchizedek are likely hiding from them, but it is not long before they are found.” Odysseus climbed up the ladder, Rusty behind him, making his way for the ninth floor. Artemis and Janet followed up. Wake made sure he got on the ladder behind Janet. She hung back and talked to him.

“I’m not sure I’m ready for this...” she said, a worried look on her face. “I’m capable of killing, but I’m not sure I want to.”

“I’m afraid that is what this has come to,” Wake sighed, sympathetically. “At least we are capable.” Adelard motioned with annoyance for them to hurry up, slinging his AK-47 over his back. Wake smiled nervously at Janet. “It will be okay. We won’t end up like Turbine.” Janet smiled, though the thought of Turbine’s death was not exactly comforting, even though they both had never met him. Wake had been hit by it worse once he knew about Agents. The fact that he and his friends had been in the classroom next to the phone is what gave the Agents the ability to kill Turbine. Had they not been there, Turbine would still be standing with the others in that building. Wake shook his head as if to get the thought from his mind, and kept climbing.

“See you soon!” Janet whispered, climbing up further as Wake and Adelard slipped silently into the window of the building. It was an empty room, thankfully, and they left the abandoned apartment, entering the hallway. The hallway had even worse lighting, having no windows. The filth and dust that coated everything from the broken light fixtures to the shaggy rug seemed to add to this darkness. Adelard seemed to think it a good thing.

“No windows, they won’t see us from the street...” Wake started, but Adelard put a hand to his mouth to hush him. He put an ear to the door of the next room over, to confirm that it was empty. It was, and they entered quickly, opening the window and jumping from the fire escape through a window into the surrounded building. They were in.

Adelard took out a permanent pen and scrawled something on the wall quickly. It read “Split up, I’ll go left, you go right. It is likely the others will be fighting someone.” He tucked the Sharpie back into his pocket.

“Gotcha...” Wake agreed, heading out into the hallway of the SWAT-filled building, with Adelard behind him. They glanced at each other, bringing out their guns, and went their separate ways. Wake found this building even more dilapidated and dirty than the building next door, and many even more than the Sunset Homes down the street from his old home. Remembering what had occurred between him and the rest of the crew of the Alchera at the Sunset Homes, he supposed that the crew of the Melchizedek used this old apartment building as a base in the Matrix. He also took notice of the bullet holes and smashed pottery that he found along the way.

He turned a corner in the hallway, one of his Desert Eagle’s in his hand, and ran into a SWAT from behind, bouncing off the protective armor.

“Holy shit, I found another one!” the SWAT hollered, giving away Wake’s position. Pumping the shotgun, the SWAT fired and the scatter shot nearly ripped into his torso, but he spun back behind the corner. The SWAT fired another shot as he slipped out of view, covering the wall with small holes, the dust shaken off of the wall by the sound waves and the bullets. Wake, thinking quickly as the soldier took aim again, duck beneath the shot and delivered a solid kick to the man’s shin. He flew off his feet, landing on Wake, but Wake used his training in Jujitsu to pick him up again and through him into the wall where the shotgun had weakened it. He flew through the wall, knock unconscious or otherwise. Wake turned the corner again, now confronted by another gunner or two. The scatter shots were pumped at him, sending bullets everywhere. He leaped forwards and up, over the shots, then landed in a roll. He rose to his feet with such speed as to take the soldier off guard, delivering an uppercut to his chin. He staggered backwards, surprised, but went down as Wake dropped low and swept his feet out from under him. Wake grabbed him and used him as a human shield, the other SWAT aiming precisely but not wanting to shoot his companion. Instead of waiting, he threw his hostage at the soldier, knocking them both to the floor and grabbing one of the shotguns.

Wake crept along, encountering no more SWAT for now, hearing in the distance the speaker phone of the police outside as well as the walkie-talkies that every SWAT had. Suddenly, the megaphone ranting became louder. He wandered into room 101, a spacious and empty, concrete room. A window let in the Matrix‘s representation of air, as well as a good view of the blockade outside. He peered out cautiously, seeing the armored vans and police cars. A single black Lexus was parked with the rest of them, three suited men standing their. Smith, Brown, and Jones... Wake reminded himself. Suddenly, two of the Agents disappeared, replaced with confused SWAT. They had switched hosts. Only Smith remained by the car.

He lingered a bit too long. A soldier walked through a squeaky door on the far side of the room. He gave a shout and fired his assault rifle, the bullets ricocheting off the floor and colliding with the wall as Wake dodged best he could. He fired a single bullet back, blowing the trigger and handle to pieces, rendering the armament useless. The SWAT gave a worried look as Wake took aim again...and his body began to blur. Wake looked over his shoulder briefly, noticing that Smith had now changed hosts. The new host was now standing directly in front of him.

“Mr. Thornton!” Smith said, not moving a muscle. “I see you have joined the insolent fools that try to fight us.”

“Better than being a battery,” Wake retorted, cocking his Desert Eagle.

“So it would seem...” Agent Smith said, a smug grin appearing on his face as he brought out his own Desert Eagle from his suit jacket. He squeezed the trigger at the same time as Wake, the round drilling into the wall behind Wake. Wake’s shot blew a hole in the ground. The gun flares reflected off their glasses as they fired again and again. Wake nervously pulled the trigger rapidly, remembering Odysseus’ teachings about Agents. They could punch through walls, switch hosts at any given moment, dodge all bullets shot at them, and so on. They seemed invincible to Wake. You fought only to run. Thing is, the doors were behind Smith.

Smith bound forwards as he fired, his shiny shoes kicking up dust. He squeezed his trigger one final time, leaving the one clip that Agents came with empty. Wake watched in terror as the bullet left a neat hole in his thigh, and he staggered backwards, falling below the window in a cloud of grime. Agent Smith tossed his pistol aside, knowing he had emptied it, and approached the fallen boy.

“Pathetic...” Smith muttered. “Usually it is much harder to put one of you down.”

“Hold it!” came a loud call, and a man jumped in front of Wake, meaning to defend him. He was wearing a gray trench coat full of bullet holes, a white shirt stained with sweat, and camouflage pants that were dirty and stained. His brown hair was cut short and spiked up, his goatee slight and neat. His glasses curved almost violently to match the curves of his face, but retained a round shape nonetheless. He turned to Wake. “Kid, as soon as you can, run.”

“I can’t, he shot me in the leg!”

“Ignore it!” He pulled two Uzi's from his trench coat as Smith approached further, his face masked with furious hatred. The man took aim and sent dozens of bullets at the Agent. Smith stopped stomping forwards and became a blur of motion, moving faster than humanly possible. Every bullet hit the wall on the far side of the room, missing the inhuman blur completely. The suited body bent in every direction, keeping balance while doing the most impossible positions. The magazines for the Uzi’s were finally empty. He tossed them aside, pulling out loaded Uzi’s as one fluid motion. Smith proceeded to close the gap between himself and the renegades, but stopped again to dodge the hail of lead, blurring from here to there and there to here. The man emptied those and reached for more guns. There were none. He panicked and glanced at me, turning around just in time to have his jaw shattered by a powerful blow that sent him reeling. Smith smiled confidently, kicking at the man’s kneecap. It bent in ways it shouldn’t have, and he nearly fell on top of me, screaming in agony as I rolled to the next window.

“Mr. Robertson! What a surprise,“ Smith taunted sarcastically. “Never the bright one, were you?” He pulled back his fist, letting it fall, shattering ribs. He pulled back the other fist, letting it fall likewise. He did this repeatedly, as Wake stood by, trying to reach for his pistol. He fumbled with his trench coat, his mind spinning as he heard the sickening crunches of Mr. Robertson’s ribs, sternum, and other bones, splintering, and he noticed that blood was gushing from his wound. Agent Smith’s blows gained speed, until they were blurs like Smith himself had been when fired at. The punches hit rapidly. Wake finally brought out his pistol, but it was too late. The man had been beaten into a pulp, and Smith lifted the lifeless form by the throat with a single hand. He aimed one last punch. Wake pulled the trigger, two bullets whizzing past Smith as he simply bent forwards at normal speed. He returned to his task of eliminating Mr. Robertson with pure satisfaction. A final blow to the chest sent the man out of the window. Wake looked away as he landed on the roof of a car, which was crushed.

“He is dead, Mr. Thornton. It is...inevitable that you shall join him...” Smith sneered. He walked directly in front of Wake, smiling smugly as ever. Wake aimed but failed to pull the trigger as Smith kicked the Desert Eagle from his hands and up to his. The firearm was disposed by being thrown out the window, leaving Wake disarmed. Smith stopped and fixed his tie, looking down upon him through the mirrored sunglasses.

He pulled back his fist again, preparing to beat the wounded boy into a bloody pulp. The punch started to fly, but then, so did Smith. Adelard came from behind, his feet firmly planted in the small of Smith’s back, the powerful kick propelling them both forwards. Agent Smith’s limbs and head jerked back as his torso went forwards and out the window. Adelard spun in midair, grabbing the window sill as Smith fell to the street below. The cops had removed the dead man from the shattered car, but Smith hit the car immediately afterwards. Adelard kept a firm grip on the sill as the plaster exploded around him, pulling himself up. He flipped back into the room, rolling away from the window.

“Adelard, I’ve been shot!” Wake said, compressing the wound. Adelard looked out the window for a good moment, realizing that they had lost another. He punched the wall and grabbed Wake by the shoulder, lifting him to his feet.

“Can you walk?” Adelard asked silently, moving his lips slow enough for Wake to read them.

“Yes, but it hurts terribly,” Wake replied, finally understanding. He limped alongside Adelard, who pulled out his AK-47 as the sounds of another combat reached their ears. Wake had one Desert Eagle left, but there were enough clips to keep him active in combat.

“Voodoo of the Melchizedek,” Adelard mouthed as he pointed at the door, only rasping noises leaving his throat. Wake nodded that he understood, and opened the door in front of them.

The scene was brilliant, as Voodoo laid down SWAT quickly and violently. Voodoo was dressed in a wild dark green trench coat, buttoned down the front tightly. Her shades were small ovals of green-tinted glass, serving her only to look her best when fighting coppertops. Her hair and the rest of her face were hidden by green bandannas, though a red ponytail poked out of the back. Even without the mask, Wake would not have seen her features. She was moving too fast for anything to be distinguishable.

“Take that ya coppertop!” the Haitian rebel shouted, bringing her wooden staff to a soldier’s kneecap, breaking it with an audible snap. She finished him by spinning it up to rap his chin powerfully. The soldier fell back, moaning in pain, as Voodoo flipped up and over the head of another. She dropped low and hit the back of a soldier’s legs, sending the armored policeman to the ground. She spun expertly and drove the spear tip through the armor and into the unfortunate man’s chest. Wake gave some cover fire, gunning down a soldier that was giving Voodoo trouble with his shotgun.

“Thanks kid,” Voodoo shouted quickly. The spear flew forwards like a bullet from a gun, puncturing the chest of another soldier. The spear jerked back suddenly, letting the stabbed man drop, and the dull wooden end hitting the SWAT behind Voodoo in the thigh, forcing him back. Voodoo flipped through the air, spinning wildly, and her staff made a cracking sound as it made contact with the guy’s head, physically throwing him across the room. Wake put down the another SWAT with a barrage of bullets. He snapped in another cartridge as Voodoo pole-vaulted into the one of the two remaining, launching him into the wall and nearly through it. One last SWAT remained, but scampered into the next apartment, blocking the door with something heavy.

“Hiya fellas!” Voodoo said cheerfully, giving Adelard and Wake both a hug. “Glad you could join us.”

“Yeah, wasn’t exactly what we were planning on, but Odysseus insists we be prepared for anything,” Wake said calmly, though his wound pained him as she hugged him. She slid off her bandanna and mask, tucking them into her trench coat‘s pockets. She looked about twenty or twenty-one, now that her face could be seen.

“As does Captain Arohirohi,” she stated, taking out her bandanna to wipe the sweat from her brow. “Have you guys found Glitch? The SWAT forced us to split.” Wake froze up. He didn’t know what to tell her. He hadn’t even really thought about the man who had defended him briefly. Adelard could not speak, and was not there to witness Glitch’s last stand. He’d have to tell her.

“Voodoo...I...I...” he stuttered, trying to think of something. “The Agent...” She got the message before he could finish. Tears welled up in her green eyes. She looked blankly at the wall.

“Why...? Why didn’t he run?” Voodoo asked, to no one in particular.

“He died trying to save me from the Agent...” Wake started. The door that the soldier had gone in opened.

“Speaking of Agents...” Voodoo snarled, turning with a war cry and rushing Agent Brown like a woman gone mad. Her staff became a whirlwind of fury, beating heavily at Agent Brown with blows that would have broken any ordinary man’s bones easily. Brown was no man. He merely warded off the beating with his forearms, extending them calmly, his face lacking any expression. Voodoo gave a war cry again, this time in French, and drove the spear through Agent Brown’s right forearm. He looked at it without any surprise or shock or anguish. There was no blood. His head slowly turned back to lock eyes with Voodoo, who looked confident, but realized too late that he did not mind the wound one bit. A backhand slap knocked her against the wall, and she sunk down to the floor. Agent Brown pulled the spear from his arm and snapped it in two on his knee, tossing the shards to his sides. With the arm that had been skewered, he sent a blow at Voodoo. She rolled to the side, and Brown’s fist went through the wall, crushing it with little effort. Voodoo went wide-eyed as he stomped at her shin, his foot crunching through the floor boards. He pulled up, but his foot was stuck. He frowned, as if confused, and looked up. He had an AK-47 bullet in his head at point blank. The body sparked and fizzled, returning to the original form of the soldier, his foot still in the floor and a large, gory hole through his right forearm.

Voodoo got up, recovering her glasses, which had been cracked to the point of uselessness. She threw them down to the body of the SWAT. “Let’s get our asses out of here, before any more come. Adelard, kill them before they become hosts...” Adelard acknowledged, spinning around and riddling a door with rounds. A surprised and quite dead SWAT fell flat on his face. Voodoo nodded. “Nice shot.” She turned and ran down a hallway, pulling out a few throwing stars. Two SWAT turned into the hallway, toting assault rifles, but Voodoo’s throwing stars sunk deep into their throats, and they crumpled to the ground. Another two emerged from his search of an apartment, startled to see three figures in trench coats approaching. Voodoo ripped the rifle from the first soldier’s grasp, whacking it over the head of his cohort. He kicked out, trying to defend himself, but Voodoo's steady hands grappled the leg at full kick, rendering the kick harmless. She delivered a solid kick to his groin, completing the Double Flying Butterflies move she had started.

Adelard emptied the ammo left in his AK-47, tossing it down. Another soldier brought out a cudgel, having just been relieved of his firearm by Voodoo, but not killed. Adelard bombarded him with a few solid punches, winding the SWAT momentarily. Then Adelard attacked with a combination that Wake recognized as the Tiger Leopard Double Fist. His muscular partner grabbed the shoulders of the SWAT, destabilizing him by pulling him forwards. Another punch broke his collar bone, finishing the combination, but leaving the SWAT gasping on the floor.

Another SWAT charged for Wake. The boy thought fast, and took aim. Pulling the trigger merely let Wake know that the magazine was empty. With time slipping from his grasp, Wake leaped into the air, arms extended from his sides. The kick he delivered was the best he had ever done, sending the guard flying backwards, off the ground, into two others, who crashed through the door of the apartment and lay in a heap. Another SWAT approached, but this time he was ready. He performed one martial arts move that he enjoyed doing, which he lovingly called the Pissed Swan. Wake waved both arms vigorously while rearing his head backwards. The SWAT gave him a look like he was some sort of idiot, but was watching the arm movements, expecting some sort of punch. The trap worked; giving a squawking cry, Wake rammed his head forwards, head-butting his opponent full in the face. The SWAT fell back, clutching his forehead and nose, dropping his rifle. Wake used fancy footwork to kick the rifle up to him, and emptied the clip into the SWAT and the three behind him.

Adelard raised his hand, his sign of calling dibs on the last soldier. He quickly ran over and the others had to turn away as Adelard performed a wrestling move that was called “PMS,” or “Painful Message to the Scrotum.” He rose from his screaming victim, and kicked him in the side, sending him sliding across the floor down to the end of the hallway, where a vase fell from the table he bumped and landed on his head.

“Well, that’s that. If that doesn’t avenge Glitch, then nothing will,” Voodoo said, holding back her tears this time. Then Wake’s cell phone rang.

“Wake speaking,” he answered.

“Wake, this is Odysseus. We have reached the others, as have Artemis and Janet. They are safe for now. Have you found Voodoo and Glitch?”

“They got Glitch, Odysseus. The Agent gave him no chance.”

“And Voodoo?”

“She is here, and very much alive. She’s only got a bruised cheek from being backhanded by an Agent.” There was silence on the line for a moment.

“Get to the elevator, Wake. It is still operating. Go to the tenth floor, then go down the fire escape and jump to the next building. Make your way to the Hummer. We’ll meet you there.” Odysseus hung up. Wake told the others what he had said, and they marched down the hallway to the elevator. A single SWAT was guarding it, but Voodoo took care of him with another well-placed throwing star. They crowded into the elevator.

“Floor ten,” Wake said to Voodoo, who pushed the button.
“I hope Odysseus remembers that helicopter,” Voodoo sighed.
“It nearly got the Captain earlier.”

“It didn’t see us when we entered,” Wake replied. “But we were on floor four earlier.”

The elevator stopped on floor ten. They stepped out calmly. Adelard gripped the pair of Arabic swords tightly, brass knuckles also on his fists. Voodoo still held several throwing stars, but she slipped out a sais for close combat. Wake reloaded his Desert Eagle, being the only one with a gun out. It had become obvious to him that Voodoo had no use for guns in her combat style.

They approached the window where the fire escape was located cautiously. So far, they had not encountered any SWAT or Agents. But they could appear at any second.

“Looks pretty safe to me...” Wake said, breathing easy. Maybe they would get out without any more pummeling or shooting. The lone SWAT that rounded the corner at the window changed that view quickly. Voodoo rolled her eyes and hurled a throwing star. The SWAT held up his rifle, and the star hit it just above the trigger.

“Useless junk,” he cursed as he threw it down and backed towards the window. Computerized noises filled their ears, and Agent Jones stood where the SWAT had been.

“You will not be eluding our grasp this time,” Agent Jones scoffed with mechanical tranquility, cracking his knuckles. Adelard charged him, aiming to dice him to pieces with his Arabic blades. He swung a few times, but Jones did some curious-looking dodges, bending into positions where humans would normally fall over. The large man swung with both blades, spreading his arms wide as Jones dodged again. But now the Agent took action, grabbing one of Adelard’s arms with his right hand. With his free hand, Adelard tried to lop off Jones’ head, but Agent Jones intercepted it, extending an arm to stop the rebel’s blow from gaining speed, then grabbing the wrist. Jones delivered a powerful kick to Adelard’s stomach, and he flew down the hallway.

Voodoo stepped up to the plate next, hurling her remaining throwing stars at Agent Jones. Agent Jones bent backwards, his body almost at a 90 degree angle. The stars shredded the wall just above him, missing him entirely. He stood up again, tidying up the cuffs of his jacket, then looked menacingly back at Voodoo. She brought out her other sais, aiming numerous, light blows at him. The blades skimmed across his arms as he tried to stop the hits. Voodoo spun around with a snapping motion. They stopped for a moment as Jones looked to the ground. His tie had been removed, he realized angrily. Voodoo smiled, jumping up to kick Agent Jones in the face.

“Nice try...” Jones muttered, grabbing Voodoo around the waist, grappling her in his powerful grip. “But like I said, you will not be eluding our grasp this time.” He spun around in a circle, Voodoo trapped in his outstretched arms, and threw her into the wall. She slumped down, but started to crawl away. Jones clasped his hands together and swung. Wake stared in terror as Voodoo narrowly avoided joining the wall in being devastated. A large hole was now in the wall as Jones stopped his spin. He moved in to finish Voodoo...

“Hey buddy, over here!” Wake hollered, not knowing where the courage had come from. He fired his Desert Eagle until the last bullet, all of them breaking the window behind Jones rather than puncturing his flesh. The gun clicked, and he brought out another clip, shoving it in as Voodoo kicked Agent Jones towards the window from the ground. Jones only stepped back calmly, reaching out to grab Voodoo’s foot to throw her again. Wake opened fire again, Jones dodging like all Agents do, unless at point blank. Wake was not willing to get that close, so he kept his distance. The clip was empty again. He reached for another while Jones waited to see what he was doing. No clips, Wake realized, terrified. Jones cracked his knuckles again, and prepared to step forwards to apprehend his target.

Fashink! Wake and Jones were both very surprised to see the sharp tip of a katana jutting out of the Agent’s chest. With the host dead, Jones was forced out of the soldier’s body, leaving armored SWAT hanging off of the katana. A kick from behind pulled the sword out of the SWAT. It was Odysseus.

“Odysseus, boy am I glad to see you!” Wake called happily. Adelard climbed to his feet and shook Odysseus hand in greeting, then picked up his Arabic blades. Voodoo joined them, leaving her sais on the ground and giving Odysseus a hug.

“We’ve lost Glitch,” she said sadly.

“I know. You couldn’t have saved him.” Odysseus sounded sympathetic, but he did not look like it.

Must be good at hiding his emotions... Wake decided.

“But he is not the only one we have lost,” Odysseus spoke up. “Rusty has been killed.”

“What!?” Wake shouted. Adelard’s face showed general shock and surprise that his friend was gone.

“We were overwhelmed by SWAT, and then two Agents appeared. Rusty made a bold move to save both Captain Arohirohi and I, firing his shotgun at the Agents and going trigger-happy on the SWAT. He suffered numerous bullet wounds, and an Agent broke his neck. But we escaped.” Odysseus stopped for a moment, thinking to himself. Then he looked up again. “Let’s get out of the building, quickly. Arohirohi planted a group of charges at the base of the building, knowing that the SWAT had found them. That is why they were making their way to the upper floors. Am I right, Voodoo?”

“Yes, I did forget about the bombs,” Voodoo said.

“When we jump to the next building over, she shall blow the charges, and hopefully kill any SWAT or Agents that are still in the building. Now, let us go.” Odysseus jumped out the window and climbed the fire escape down to the eighth floor, jumping over onto the roof of the shorter building. The others followed.

“Bad idea, Odysseus!” Voodoo hollered over the roar of rotor blades. The helicopter was bearing down on them, but they kept running. Odysseus' cell phone rang.

“Odysseus, everyone is out,” came a female voice.

“Good, Arohirohi, blow it!” Odysseus shouted at the phone, then tucked it back in his trench coat. Behind them, an earth-shaking explosion blew up from the street, lifting the building up into the air momentarily, then letting it drop. It crumbled, falling forwards onto the SWAT vans and police cars. The Agents had changed hosts and were currently standing among the alarmed soldiers, who were rushing to the vehicles. A few police cars managed to avoid the toppled structure, but the rest were crushed miserably.

“That should solve most of our problems,” Voodoo said. “But we still have one right now...” The helicopter opened fire with the minigun from the side, a line of chunks of pavement being blown out of the roof too close to Wake and Odysseus for comfort. They all flipped away as the helicopter made another pass, bullets whizzing past Wake’s body almost in slow motion. He landed on his back and rolled, clouds of bursting pavement surrounding him.

“This building is six stories above the street. There is a flag pole on the third floor. We have to jump,” Odysseus said passively, just above the noise. He ran to the edge of the building and leapt down, followed by Adelard and Voodoo. Wake looked over the edge, seeing them clinging to the flag pole. Like out of a cartoon, Voodoo and Adelard were hanging on to the flag, and it was ripped from the rings keeping it on the pole, falling to the street below. Odysseus, who had been hanging from the pole rather than the flimsy flag, dropped down smoothly. His boots stomped upon the reinforced roof of the Hummer as he landed on his feet. Now it was Wake’s turn.

“Freeze, or we shall be forced to open fire!” the pilot of the helicopter hollered down to him via speaker. “Put your hands in the air and drop any weapons you may be carrying!” Wake looked up at the helicopter and climbed onto the edge. Phwoosh! The helicopter left loose a volley of rockets aimed directly for Wake. Panicking, he slipped off the edge, the concussion throwing him farther than he intended to jump. He clawed the air, trying to grab something. His hand got a hold of the tip of the flag pole, which bent slightly, flinging him back up a few inches and breaking his momentum. With a stylish flip, he landed next to Odysseus. They could breath easy now, in Wake’s opinion. The remaining SWAT vehicles and police cars changed his mind.

CHAPTER 8: HOT PURSUIT

“Good work,” Odysseus said. “Now get inside. I’ll trust you to pick off the police cars that follow us. And that helicopter...” Bricks fell down upon the top of the Hummer and nearly hit them as part of the building above them broke. They clambered into the car, Voodoo with them, since the crew of the Melchizedek had already driven off in their gray SUV.

“Adelard, open the moon roof!” Wake said, spotting the police in hot pursuit. The driver and passenger of one police car blurred and became the hosts of Jones and Brown. Smith was not in sight as of yet. Jones leaned out of the passenger’s window, firing his Desert Eagle at the Hummer. Adelard nodded and pushed a button next to the steering wheel, the moon roof sliding open slowly. Wake grabbed the M-16 from under the seat, bringing it up from the car and taking aim from the roof.

In the car, the others readied themselves for the car chase. Adelard tossed his KG9 to Odysseus, next to him. Odysseus opened the glove compartment and handed two pistols to Janet, and another two pistols to Artemis, both sitting next to the car doors. They opened the windows, leaning out.

“Think fast,” Wake muttered to himself, firing his M-16 at the police car containing the Agent. Agent Brown blurred momentarily as bullets went through the windshield, slowing the vehicle momentarily. A police car started to accelerate, a cop firing a Beretta from shotgun. Of the entirely clip, only two bullets hit the Hummer, just above the back window. Wake blew him quickly, the cop falling out of car and getting hit by the next, then dispatched the driver. The car swerved out of control and slammed into the Agent-driven police car, which flipped. A burst from the M-16 to the fuel tank caused an explosion, destroying both cars. Wake smiled, satisfied with his job.

Agent Brown and Agent Jones changed hosts quickly, to the SWAT van that was pursuing. Wake put a few bullets into the tires, and the van crashed, taking another police car with it. More cars joined the pursuit. With so many bullets coming at them and Adelard driving wildly, most of Wake’s shots missed, plowing into the pavement or the headlights. A police car pulled up alongside with the Hummer, on the driver’s side. Janet took aim and easily blew away the driver and passenger, and it stopped so suddenly that the car behind it smashed into it, knocking it forwards into a lamppost. The collision caused a chain reaction, several cars swerving into other cars to avoid hitting the exploding police cars, running into street shops. The police had evacuated the streets to prevent civilian casualties.

“When we reach the intersection of Seventeenth and Tustin, turn right,” Odysseus instructed Adelard, getting the directions from Bolt. Odysseus fired three bullets into the driver of a police car that was trying to pull up behind, which subsequently collided with a fire hydrant, spraying water onto the Hummer. Artemis reloaded, trying to take out the next car driven by Agents. Janet blew out the tires of another vehicle.

“That sure was refreshing!” Wake bellowed above the din of screeching metal, shattering glass, and gunfire. A bullet from the Agents’ car skimmed his right shoulder, and he gave a cry. “Ah! Artemis, take them out, now!”

“Easier said than done!” she shouted back. “I’ve only got pistols, not an M-16!”

“There’s a spare rifle under the seat remember?”

“Goody!” Artemis leaned out her window, emptying her pistols at the Agent-driven vehicle. Click! Click! She dropped the pistols on the floor of the car, groping around under the seat for the remaining M-16. She leaned out the window again, nearly catching a bullet from Agent Jones with her shoulder. Firing back destroyed the windshield and the front tires. Artemis prepared to shoot the car again, but suddenly a rocket struck the back of it, obliterating it entirely. The roar of rotor blades joined the din of battle, missiles streaking about the streets as the police cars pulled back. A rocket created a pothole in front of the Hummer, having nearly singed off his hair. Adelard tried to avoid it, but the car landed in it and bounced out, jostling everyone in the car violently. Wake lost grip of his assault rifle as he was thrown back down into the car, bonking heads with Voodoo and landing in Janet’s lap.

“My assault rifle! Artemis, give me yours!”

“We’re out of ammunition for it!”

“Shit...” Wake thought quickly. Bringing pistols against a helicopter would be like trying to kill an elephant with a toothpick. Wake peered through the moon roof, seeing the helicopter accelerate to fly alongside the Hummer. The soldier at the minigun fired, but Adelard hit the brakes, nearly throwing him and Odysseus through the windshield. Bullets bore holes into the hood of the car and took out the left headlight, the rest riddling a parked Rolls-Royce. The fancy motor vehicle burst into flame, hurling parts across the street and setting the cars around it ablaze.

“Quick, the grenade launcher!” Wake shouted to the others. Janet, who had pulled herself back in the window as the helicopter fired its machine guns at the Hummer, reached under the seat and handed the M79 Grenade Launcher up to Wake. He loaded a grenade into it and popped out of the moon roof once more. He aimed at the cockpit, catching a glimpse of the pilot.

Smith.

Thwoomp!

Boom!

Wake’s shot had been good, smashing through the cockpit window and landing in Smith’s lap. The Agent gave an angry glare as the explosive detonated. The helicopter, now smoking and driverless, dropped in altitude and hit the street. The rotor blades snapped as they tore into the pavement, flying through windows or spearing cars. The helicopter vanished in the fiery blast and the Hummer turned the corner. The pursuit was over.

“Look out!” Janet hollered, seeing an old woman crossing the road. Adelard began to swerve, the Hummer spinning to the side and bumping into a parked car. The old woman began to blur.

Smith. Again.

Wake took no chances this time. “Adelard, gun the engine! I’ll handle the Agent!” He loaded another grenade into the M79 launcher and took aim. Thwoomp! The grenade bounced off the pavement, not reaching its target just yet, as the Hummer started charging at Agent Smith. Smith’s face became one of mild surprise as the grenade reached him, then contorted to an angry glare again. Boom! Agent Smith flew backwards, tossed by the blast. Wake’s plan proved good as Adelard smeared Agent Smith across the road, though they all knew that he would just find another host.

“That one was for Glitch, you bastard!” Voodoo shouted happily. “Booyah!”

“And for Rusty...” Wake said quietly, smiling faintly.

As the rebels celebrated their victory and the Hummer tore off for their exit, three policemen rushed out onto the street to see the damage done.

“How the hell did they do that!?” one policeman said, horrified by the mangled body that the terrorists had hit with a grenade launcher and run over.

“I knooooooooooooooooooooooooo...” the second started, but he blurred and was replaced by Agent Smith. The other two policemen were replaced by Agent Jones and Agent Brown.

“They have escaped,” Agent Brown said, the mechanical calm of an Agent’s voice ever present.

“So it would seem,” Agent Smith replied, slightly annoyed by the fact that he had been kicked out a window, blown up twice, and run over during the conflict. While his body would have been completely unrecognizable by those events, he was not human. It was like hitting the refresh button on a computer screen every time he switched hosts. He merely needed to fix his tie and tidy his cuffs when the job got dirty.

“Do we proceed?” Agent Jones asked, meaning to go after them.

Smith put a hand to his audio feed. He frowned. “No. We need to run a search on their location. They‘ll be out by the time it is finished.”

“Then will not be so lucky next time,” Agent Brown retorted.

“We managed to kill two of them,” Agent Jones added.

“Indeed,” Agent Smith finished.

They changed hosts to do other duties in the community, leaving three very confused policemen to continue gawking at the blazing wreckage of the SWAT helicopter that had pounded a hole into the street.

“What were we talking about?”

CHAPTER 9: OUT OF THE FRYING PAN

“We made it!” Janet cheered. She turned to face Wake and, without saying a word, lock lips with him. Wake was surprised, but gave in. Their lips parted, the two warriors smiling at each other.

“Aw, how cute,” Voodoo cooed. Adelard rolled his eyes and kept driving.

They drove for a few minutes, maneuvering the streets easily. To avoid being easily noticed, Adelard played it safe by stopping at stoplights and avoiding streets with police cars. Drivers of the cars that stopped at the lights next to the Hummer gave them disturbed looks, noticing the massive amount of bullet holes that covered the car. Adelard merely smiled and waved, then took off before any Agents decided to change hosts.

Wake looked out the window. A black cat walked by, hopping onto one of the crunched cars. Wake blinked, something he felt he had not done since the battle had started. A black cat walked by, hopping onto one of the brand new cars. “Hey Odysseus, did you see that cat? I felt like I was having deja vu...”

“You have deja vu when the Matrix changes something or repairs something. We blew up the building. The System repaired the damage. It always does.”

“The exit is in Sunset Homes,” Odysseus told Adelard. The driver nodded, pounding the pedal to the metal, and reaching the intersection of Marbury and White Rabbit in no time. The Hummer pulled up in front of the Sunset Homes. They abandoned it; it and whatever weaponry it still held would not be able to go back through the phone. A gray SUV, also riddled with bullets, had been abandoned as well.

“Hey...it’s my old street,” Wake said, recognizing the battered trashcan on the corner. He looked up at the glowing sign, the sun setting behind it. He almost felt like he was home again...but no. He was not home. He could not go home. The Alchera was his home now. He turned sadly to the building. Stepping up the stairs brought back his memories of pulling up to the building in the pounding rain, stepping out of the customized vehicle. The red pill, the blue pill. It was all very strange, thinking back to then. It seemed so long ago.

They opened the door to the abandoned apartment, which Wake noticed was much cleaner than the buildings they had been running through, they noticed that there were already people in the room.

“Glad you could make it, Captain,” said a black woman who sat in Odysseus’ normal seat. She wore black leather pants, a small black shirt that exposed her stomach, and a black trench coat. She wore no shades, her cheeks bruised, probably from fighting an Agent. Her hair had been thinned, black and straight. “You were quite a help back there.”

“Thank you for the greeting party, Captain Arohirohi,” Odysseus replied. “Glad I could help. I am sorry that we were not able to save Glitch.”

“And I am sorry that we were not able to save Rusty. It seems that both sacrificed their lives for others.” Arohirohi rose from her chair, her high-heeled boots clicking on the linoleum. “That seems to be how things work around here. There was nothing keeping you from leaving us to die, but you came anyway.”

“I believe that in order to win this war, we should not abandon ones in need,” Odysseus replied. “On the other hand, I do not believe that you have met our newest recruits, Wake and Janet.” Wake and Janet stage-bowed, smiling. Arohirohi approached, looking them over.

“You managed to keep your glasses on the whole time, good work,” Arohirohi chuckled. “As you can see, my crew has had the shit beaten out of them.” Wake looked to the crew, noticing that none were wearing sunglasses. The one called Bishop, first mate of the Melchizedek, shook Wake’s hand with his own good one. The other arm had been broken into a nasty position, among numerous other bruises. His trench coat was gone, his dark gray garb ripped in several places. Quicksilver, a man with slicked-back hair and a long, buttoned-up trench coat, had two bullet holes in his left arm and another in his right shin. Carp, a young Chinese boy, was severely bruised.

“Hey, you must be the new recruit of the Mel,” Wake said, extending a hand to Carp.

“Yes, I am,” Carp said simply, not taking his hand. He did not seem like he wanted to talk.

“Well, it is time for us to leave,” Odysseus stated, putting a hand on Wake’s shoulder. The phone started ringing. “The crew of the Melchizedek may go first.”

“Once again, I thank you, and apologize for the death of Rusty. We shall all be at the funeral service,” Arohirohi said, showing her gratitude towards them with a salute. She picked up the phone and put it to her ear. It seemed as if the phone was sucking her in, her physical form giving way to a green, wiry glow. Soon she was gone, and Bishop caught the phone. The crew of the Melchizedek followed one at a time.

“Our turn,” Artemis alerted when the phone rang again. She lazily put it to her ear and disappeared. The others followed, leaving Janet and Wake left.

“I didn’t think we’d survive that,” Janet said to Wake, reaching for the phone. “I thought I’d never see you alive again.”

Wake’s mind was running circles around the room, knowing that Janet actually did care for him. They had known each other since kindergarten, and had never been friends. He had been occasionally looked down upon and mentioned only as the boy on White Rabbit Avenue. No longer. “The important thing is that we are alive, and we are alive together,” he replied as she answered the phone. She was gone.

Rrrrrrrrrrrring! Rrrrrrrrrrrring!

Wake picked up the phone. “Hello?” he jokingly answered, but the phone began to consume him. Soon he was back on the Alchera, the Operator pulling the jack from his coaxial plug. Wake looked over to the bloody, unmoving form of Rusty. He had coughed blood onto his shirt, and his body was forming several dark bruises where he had been punched or shot. Odysseus had explained to him that the damage received in the Matrix went back into the Real World with you, though instead of broken bones and bullet holes, you had severe pain and large bruises. Death in the Matrix also meant death in the Real World.

“Wake, get to the gunnery! We’ve got Sentinels!”

CHAPTER 10: INTO THE FIRE

“Shit, the fun never ends here does it?” Wake asked sarcastically.

“I guess not,” Bolt replied, rushing back to his seat to charge the EMP. Wake dashed through the Alchera past the core and the mess hall. The ship shook and there was a screeching of metal-on-metal, the engines whining as they usually did when Odysseus was moving the ship fast. Up ahead, Janet and Artemis had already armed the quads on the left and right sides of the ship’s flank. Wake rushed to the remaining seat and screen, from which he could operate the topside turret, the second most powerful gun on the ship. The most powerful guns were the two cannons up front, which the co-pilot would fire to clear debris or kill Sentinels.

“Shook anything that comes near the ship!” Artemis shouted to Wake as he sat down and put on his ear set. She squeezed the triggers, and the screen in front of her flared as something exploded. Wake powered up his turret, the screen giving him a view of the top of the ship from between the two barrels of the giant gun, as well as a mass of Sentinels, or “Squiddies,” as they were affectionately named, swarming behind them, trying to destroy the Alchera. The man-made sewers that were once in use now served as tunnels for the hovercrafts of Zion to travel through, and they were passing by quickly, showing Wake where the Alchera had just been.

“Shoot them, Wake!” Artemis hollered to him. He nodded, taking aim with the assistance of the targeting computers. It was strange; in the Matrix, he could do just about anything with a gun, but in the Real World, he had very little experience. He pulled the triggers, the barrels blazing as the gargantuan rounds flew at the cloud of robotic death. Chwang! Chwang! Chwang! Chwang! Chwang! Chwang! Chwang! Chwang! Chwang! Chwang! A majority of the rounds hit the machines, ripping off pieces of the Sentinels and tossing them around. The Sentinels themselves swerved about unstably, bumping into one another or hitting pipes in the sewers and exploding. The smaller bullets from the quads picked off the Sentinels as well.

A few Sentinels managed to catch up with the Alchera, latching on with their powerful, clawed tentacles. One pulled itself towards one of the engines that kept the ship in the air, activating its laser and trying to cut it off. Wake turned the turret as fast as he could, firing both barrels at the Sentinel, which was blown to pieces. The engine was damaged, but still operating. It whined terribly as Odysseus turned ship into a spinning nosedive down a sewer line, ending upside-down in a pipe below. As he turned the ship over, the damaged anti-gravity generator hit a pipe and snapped off with a loud crunch.

“Odysseus, we’ve lost an engine!” Wake hollered into the headset.

“Make sure we do not lose any more,” Odysseus replied. “The EMP is still not charged, and we need to put some distance between them. We cannot do it without engines.” The ship’s computer automatically started scanning the surroundings, alerting the pilot to obstacles and letting him know just how many Sentinels were behind him. Wake ignored the count of Sentinels on the screen, pulling the triggers nearly as fast as he did in the Matrix, gunning down Sentinels left and right.

“Damn, there goes another engine!” Artemis yelled. There was another scraping sounds and the engines whined harder. Artemis shot the Sentinel that had taken it off, but it was immediately replaced by another. “And another!” The Sentinels were making short work of the engines, and they were struggling harder and harder to keep the massive hovercraft moving.

“We’re not going to make it!” Odysseus shouted into the headset. “We’re going for a crash landing! Bolt, is the EMP charged?”

“Yes Captain!” he bellowed, trying to stay in his seat with his hand ready to lift the lid covering the EMP button.

“Then be ready to fire it!” Odysseus fired the main guns to clear pipes out of the way. He hit a pocket of methane gas with a loud blast, shrouding the Alchera in flame. The Sentinels lost track for a moment, putting distance between them. The ship collided with a wall of the sewer, crumpling up against the wall. Wake was thrown from his seat, hitting the ground hard. The last thing he heard was Odysseus ordering the others. “Bolt, EMP, now!” He passed out within seconds, screeching metal and an electrical whoosh! being the only audible sounds.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

Wake came to, sprawled on the floor of the Alchera, or what was left of it. The room had been seriously crumpled, but he realized he had slid out of the gunnery, as had Janet, who was laying nearby, unconscious. He tried to prop himself up on his elbows, relieved that nothing was broken up there. He got to his feet, which were wobbly.

“Hello? Anyone?” Wake said hoarsely, his voice somewhat a whisper. The only sound was the sound of his feet stepping on the remains of the floor. He walked into what was left of the gunnery. The seats were bent from their erect positions, the triggers broken. A barrel from the topside turret had fallen through a gap in the roof, with broken pipes pouring coolant into the room. Underneath a section of the fallen wall, Wake could see the crushed body of Artemis. She’s dead. How many more? Wake wondered, jogging past Janet again, towards the main deck. Bolt lay against the wall, a heavy beam bending him in ways that the body does not bend. Wake had to look away from that, continuing on to the cockpit. It had been smashed against the wall, denying Wake access. Odysseus’ katana had skittered onto the main deck, out of the cockpit, having fallen from the dead man’s grasp. Wake fell to his knees, picking up the sword, and began to cry. Why did it end like this?

Janet remained unconscious, having suffered a severe blow to the head from bashing it on the wall when thrown from her gunner’s seat, so Wake wandered around the ship, trying to get to his room, encountering fuel leaks, busted coolant pipes, and live wires. Small fires were also common. He kept his head low, out of the smoke. His room was open, the door crumpled and thrown aside as if a Cyclops out of The Odyssey had walked in and hit it. All of his things had been thrown from their original spots. He picked up the few things he owned, mainly the sweaters that everyone wore in the Real World on the hovercrafts, and packed them into a bag, walking back to where Janet was still out cold. As he made make-shift beds for himself and Janet, he heard a clicking of machinery in the distance.

The Sentinels were still flying around in the sewers. If they found the wreckage of the Alchera and the graveyard of Sentinels around it, they would certainly search inside the remains and find two humans, one comatose, one wounded. God forbid that it would happen, but it was always possible. Wake got up quickly to grab one of the laser guns used against the Sentinels, then came back to Janet. He moved her behind a small of the roof that had fallen, hiding her from heat sensors, then crawled in after her.

Suddenly, the mechanical noises grew louder. A droning noise filled his ears, and then the Sentinels entered. There were three, obviously scouts. They began walking around on their thick mechanized tentacles, using the foremost ones to move debris. One went to investigate the gunnery, another to the cockpit. The remaining one probed around on the main deck. It spotted Bolt’s limp body, scanned it, and let the corpse be.

“Please don’t look over here...” Wake mumbled to himself, as quietly as he could. His finger wandered to the trigger of the gun as a tentacle pressed up against the wall next to him. The Sentinel caught a glimpse of him, then made a low buzzing noise as it went into a mode that Wake was sure was search-and-destroy. The sharp claws of the Machine shot towards him, but he dove forwards, firing the laser gun in the main part of the Sentinel. The beam burned into the shell and hit the vital components, effectively killing the Sentinel. The other two that had been searching zipped back into the room, tentacles pounding on the metal barrier that Wake had relied upon. More Sentinels poured in through the roof, having been alerted of Wake’s presence. He fired the gun at the wave of machines, scarring their frames and disabling some of their sensors. The one immediately next to him lashed out and ripped the gun from his grasp. He jolted back behind the barrier as they reached for him, drawing Odysseus’ katana. He was not sure the effects of what slashing at metal beasts would be, but he could try. A claw groped at him, and he swung down with all his might. The end of the thick arm flew off in a wave of sparks.

“Get out of here!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, slashing at more arms. Some retreated, but others reached ahead. Two got a firm grasp on his leg, pulling him from cover while another Sentinel used its cutting laser to bite through the metal slab. The heated metal gave Wake an awful burn on his palm, and he shouted as a Sentinel tried burning in from the outside. A Sentinel wrapped a limb around Janet’s waist, pulling her from the hiding spot.

This is it...this is the end... Wake thought, his mind panicking as a wall of Sentinels appeared in front of him, ready to tear him to pieces. One moved forwards to incinerate him with the cutting laser...

A large whoosh! sounded in the sewers, followed by several electronic noises, buzzing, clicking, shocking noises. The Sentinels began to drop to the floor, on top of Wake, as a wave of blue energy swept through the ship and electrocuted them. The falling robots cluttered on top of him, trapping him under their heavy weight. He could not move, but groaned under the weight, trying to lift them up. It was no use.

After awhile, Wake could hear the hum of a hovercraft’s engines. The hovercraft passed over the charred ruins of the Alchera, into Wake’s line of sight for mere seconds. Wake was sure he could hear it setting down, seeing the shafts of light emitted by the ship’s scanner play over the mangled remains of Sentinels and sewer pipes, penetrating the smoke. To confirm him, a black man jumped into the hole in the roof.

“Hello, anybody there?” he asked, his voice deep but less clear than Odysseus' voice. He pressed a button on his headset. “I’m sure the Sentinels would not be raiding an empty ship...”

“Here! I’m here!” Wake cried from beneath the heavy Sentinels. “Get us out of here!”

Well that took a long time to read, but it was well worth it! This is excellent!

Thanks Trickster. 🙂

CHAPTER 11: BOUND FOR ZION

The large black man called for assistance from two other men, shorter than him and white. One of the white men had thinning hair and large scar on his cheek, the other distinguishable by his curly hair. It took half an hour for the three of them to clear the scrap metal off of Wake, but eventually he was freed.

“What happened here? What ship is this?” the burly black man asked.

“This is the Alchera. The Sentinels found us after we helped the Melchizedek escape the Matrix,” Wake replied.

“The Alchera?” The black man looked to the cockpit, seeing it smashed in. “Is Captain Odysseus still alive?”

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“Any other survivors?”

“Yes, Janet, behind that slab of the ceiling.”

“Is that all?”

“Yes.”

The black man turned to the others. “Recover their bodies if you can. Then grab the ship’s log from the computers.” He turned back to Wake as the two white men split. “I’m sorry to hear about Odysseus. I’m Captain Ballard of the Caduceus.” He shook Wake’s hand.

“I’m Wake. I guess I was one of the newer recruits,” Wake responded.

“Yes, Odysseus sent all the ships a message that he had freed two minds from the Matrix. I take it that Janet is the other mind.”

“That she is.”

Ballard sat in thought for a moment. “It is hard to believe that Odysseus is dead. He was a damn tough Captain. You were lucky we were in the area, otherwise you would have joined him.”

“Yeah, I guess.” At this point the other two returned, carrying the bodies of Adelard and Odysseus.

“Where are the others, boy?” the scarred man asked. Ballard moved to get Janet out from her haven of metal.

“Artemis is in the gunnery. Bolt is over there against the wall. Rusty was already dead, he’s over there...”

“Thanks kid,” the guy said grimly, walking through a hole that had been torn in the wall and heading back to the ship with Odysseus.

“Ah damn, Artemis is dead?” the curly-haired man said, sighing. “Damned Squiddies...” He followed the other with Adelard’s mutilated remains. Ballard returned to Wake, handing him Janet.

“My crew consists of Malachi and Bane,” Ballard told him. “You won’t be with us for long, I don’t think, but long enough to know them, and maybe help out a bit.” Malachi and Bane returned after a bit. Wake walked out of the ship while they cleared the debris off of Artemis, towards the Caduceus. It was most likely the first time Wake had seen a hovercraft from the outside, and he had pictured them slightly different. The Caduceus and the Alchera looked very similar, except that the Alchera was completely totaled, both very dark in color with circular engines radiating electrical waves.

Eventually, all the bodies had been recovered. “Malachi, take control of the ship for now,” Ballard ordered. “I’ll get Wake and Janet squared away in the medical bay.” Ballard walked Wake down to the medical bay, a sterile room that was much cleaner than the rest of the ship, where Janet was stretched out on a bed, bandages on her forehead. “She suffered some head trauma, but Malachi has made sure she’ll be alright.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Wake said, staring at Janet. He caught a glimpse of the bed next to Janet. “I suppose I get the other bed?”

“Correct. We should reach Zion by tomorrow.”

“I’ve never been to Zion, what will I do there?” Wake asked. Odysseus had never spoken of going to Zion, though he had it planned.

“You will see what the Council decides to do with you, as a survivor of a Sentinel attack. The Alchera is unsalvageable, so it no longer needs to have a new Captain. They will likely station you aboard a ship that will accept you. Now get some rest, I’m sure you need it.” Ballard took his leave, closing the large hatch behind him. Wake settled himself into the cot next to Janet, falling asleep quickly.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

“Kid, wake up!” Malachi said, shaking him. “We’re going on a mission, orders from Zion.”

“What time is it?” Wake asked out of habit, pulling the cover back over him. Malachi pulled him up.

“Time for you to show us just how capable of fighting you are,” Malachi told him, splashing some water on Wake’s face. “Janet will stay here, she’s got a head injury. We might lose her if she jacks in and her signal fades. But Ballard seems to think you are well enough, and rested.”

Wake merely nodded, getting up to follow Malachi. “Your ship is a lot like the Alchera...”

“Well, the Caddy is a fine ship. She’s does the job well.” Malachi led Wake to the main deck, where Ballard, Bane, and their Operator were waiting. The Operator was a quiet man, saying nothing to Wake as he plugged the others in.

“Are you ready?” he asked Wake, plugging him in before there was an answer. The Construct formed around them, racks of guns rushing past them and stopping where the crew could grab their usual guns. Bane and Malachi grabbed a pistol each, Ballard doing likewise but also adding a 590 Entry Shotgun to his inventory. Bane and Malachi were dressed in very similar clothing, black shirt, black pants, black leather trench coat. Ballard was wearing a red dress shirt under a nice brown suit.

“Care to brief me, Captain?” Wake asked.

“We’re going to apprehend a group of renegades that have betrayed Zion and randomly enter the Matrix to do what they will...”

“We’re killing other rebels?”

“Yes, but these rebels are just plain idiots. They got sick of the war, so they stole a heavily-armed hovercraft called the Jabberwocky just recently. Their Operator comes up with scenarios and downloads specific things into their minds, then sends them in. We need to kill off the crew in the Matrix. We’ve been searching for the ship, but we can’t find anything. We’ll have to take them out of commission head-to-head. The crew consists of RAM, a gunner, and Io, a martial arts specialist.”

“Sounds like fun...” Wake says, grabbing a Desert Eagle, an MP5, and a grenade launcher. “We’re taking a car right?”

“Motorcycles, actually,” Bane butted in. “Easier to get around things with.”

“Don’t worry, your guns will fit,” Malachi assured. “Though, we don’t really grab more than a pistol and a shotgun.”

“Well, I use the grenade launcher in case there are Agents...”

“Just don’t hit us, hit them! I don’t feel like getting blown up today...” Bane spat, grabbing another pistol.

The Operator plugged them in, an abandoned shop being pieced together around them. Outside sat the motorcycles, ready to ride out into the city. They walked out of the old shop and hopped on. Wake had downloaded the program for motorcycle riding, at Bolt‘s insistence, but never thought he’d need it. He strapped down the MP5 behind him and slung the grenade launcher over his back, powering up the bike and roaring after Ballard and company.

“We’ve already found ‘em!” Ballard announced. A cloud of smoke was issuing from the city bank, burnt money flapping around on the ground. A conspicuous red car was roaring away from the scene, money whipping around in the air behind it like confetti in a parade.

“It’s the red Barracuda up there, Captain!” Wake shouted to Ballard.

“I see it! Let’s get it,” Ballard replied. They all started pursuing the Barracuda down Plymouth Street, racing past other cars at high speeds. Wake looked down quickly to take a gander at his speed, surprised that he had already reached one-hundred-twenty miles per hour. He looked back up, going faster and faster with a determined grimace. The wind lashed at their trench coats, ruffling Ballard’s red dress shirt and brown suit.

“Ballard, look!” Malachi hollered to the Captain, pointing to a car. Specifically, a black Lexus with tinted windows. “Agents!”

“What, you were expecting they’d let RAM and Io get away with blowing up a bank?” Ballard asked. He took out his pistol as the motorcycles closed the gap between the Barracuda and them. He unleashed a few rounds at the back tires, but missed. The Agents took notice of Ballard and rolled down the windows. Agent Brown sat in the passenger’s seat, firing across Agent Jones’ line of sight at Ballard. Ballard swerved, the bullets punching holes in a Volkswagen bus other the other side of the street. The Barracuda up ahead made a wide turn left onto Cricket Avenue. Ballard followed, rounds from the Desert Eagle pattering against the pavement and cars behind him. Bane fired his pistol at the tires of the black Lexus, giving a victorious whoop as the bullets shredded the wheels. The Lexus began to wobble precariously towards the sidewalk, its course ending in a large crash that knocked over a lamp post, tore off the front end of a parked car, and sent the Agents flying through the windshield and into a shop.

“Nice shot, Bane, now get the Barracuda!” Ballard ordered, accelerating after turning onto Cricket Avenue. RAM had taken notice of the four motorcycles stalking them and popped out of the passenger’s window. He shoved a clip into the SG-552 Commando that he was toting, then fired at them. Ballard barely avoided being killed, bullets flying past him. A bullet skimmed off Malachi’s forearm. Bane was safely out of the way, farthest from the vehicle.

“Wake, use the grenade launcher!” Ballard ordered, blasting away at the rear tires of the Barracuda again. The shots hit the hood of the trunk and the back window as Ballard hit a bump in the road.

“I can’t, it’s too difficult on motorcycles,” Wake responded, firing his Desert Eagle at the back wheels. A round found its mark, popping the right back tire. He tried to take another shot at the other back tire, but he had to drive out of the way of bullets. The Agents had switched hosts, now driving a black Cougar just behind them. Jones fired another burst at Bane, but he slowed down and got behind the car. Jones fired through the rear window.

“Ah, shit!” Bane hollered as his motorcycle spun out, a bullet blowing out his front wheel. He was thrown off and landed on the sidewalk, bruised but not dead. Wake looked back to see him hop to his feet. The motorcycle was still skidding down the street, but a bullet from Agent Jones’ gun blew up the fuel tank.

“Ballard, Bane’s been tossed!” Wake shouted.

“I know, not to worry,” Ballard said. He continued firing his pistol at the Barracuda’s back wheel until the clip was empty. Malachi took a few shots and finally nailed the rubber wheel, causing the Barracuda to slow down drastically. Ballard reloaded his pistol as fast as he could, then emptied the clip into the hood of the Agents’ car. The engine blew up, the car igniting and hopping up into the air for a moment.

“It’s not long before they get a new host...” Malachi said, knowing everyone was thinking it.

“Then let’s hurry up with the Barracuda and get out of here!” Bane hollered, pulling along side them in a hijacked car. Wake remembered that they had all downloaded forms of hotwiring, and could make off with a car faster than they could say the name of their hovercraft. “Wake, jump onto the car, it’ll be easier for you to use the grenade launcher.

Wake nodded, untying the MP5 from his bike and tossing it through the open door of the hotwired car, then leaping in after it. He pulled himself up and into the seat, closing the door. “Well, that was fun...”

“Quick, lean out the window and blow the car away with that launcher. RAM is thinking of abandoning the car, I can tell. We’d run him down if he kept on driving with a car with no back tires.” Wake agreed quickly, taking the grenade launcher off his back and loading a grenade in. RAM jumped out of the car as the grenade was fired, and Io hopped out as the grenade burst through the back window. The car was ablaze, but the rebels had gotten out of it.

“Damn, we’ll need to pursue them on foot then,” Bane cursed as RAM and Io rushed into a building. Wake could see RAM firing his SG-552 Commando into the air, telling everyone to get out of his way. Bane stopped in front of the building, Ballard and Malachi parking their motorcycles behind him. Without a word, they all hopped off of or out of their vehicles and sprinted into the building. The security force was waiting for them.

“Malachi, Wake, follow RAM and Io. They are likely on the roof...” Ballard fired pumped his shotgun and blew away a cop. “Go, quickly!”

I say again it was well worth the read! Misleading chapter name though 😛

Indeed. The Caduceus is headed for Zion, is the point. You think I'd dedicate a whole chapter to the Caduceus flying around? 😛

The next chapter is Rebellious Rebels. ✅

...that name's slightly redundant...don't you think? 😂

That's the point. 😉

lol good plan 😂

Still working on Chapter 12.

CHAPTER 12: RENEGADE REBELS

Wake and Malachi approached the elevators cautiously, trying to remain unseen by the security guards that rushed by, wielding nightsticks or security pistols. Two had stopped at the elevators to keep watch. Malachi made a hand motion, directing Wake towards the security guards. They charged at the unsuspecting men, Malachi delivering a bone-shattering kick to one’s spine, Wake getting the other in a sleeper hold. The guards slumped to the ground silently, the one that Malachi kicked whimpering quietly.

Malachi took out his cell phone, dialing the Caddy. “Operator,” the ship’s operator replied.

“Where is Io’s and RAM’s location?” Malachi asked, glancing about to make sure that no security guards were approaching.

“Io is on floor sixteen...RAM is on the roof...” the Operator reported. Malachi thanked him and put away the phone.

“Wake, you go after RAM on the roof. I am sure you are a much better gunner than I.” Malachi opened an elevator and closed the door behind him, headed for the sixteenth floor. Wake entered the next one and took it as high as it could go, up to floor twenty. He slipped out of the elevator quietly, hiding in a janitor’s closet as a brigade of officers rushed to his elevator, then sprinting for the stairs up to the roof.

“Now, where to find RAM...” Wake thought as he stepped up the stairs and out onto the roof. He looked around, seeing nothing except the rest of the city out in front of him, the pillar of smoke rising from the burning bank just a few streets away. As he turned to look past the wall that was on either side of the staircase, he found RAM. Actually, he found bullets from RAM’s SG-552 Commando, sending hunks of plaster and dust flying about. The clip was spent quickly, the powerful assault rifle firing them at high speeds, and RAM reached for another. Wake found this as an opportunity for him to gun down his opponent. He fished his pistol from his trench coat and fired a few bullets at RAM. RAM spun expertly to the left, spinning and spinning, reloading his assault rifle. He landed, facing Wake, and sent a volley of bullets. Two tore across Wake’s arm, drawing blood, but the rest further weakened the wall.

“Damn,” Wake cursed. They were minor wounds, nothing that would bother him.

He got an idea, realizing that RAM had him pinned down in his current position. He moved around to the other side of the staircase, not letting RAM see him. He put his Desert Eagle away and took the MP5 off his back. The daring dive that followed was thrilling. His body was thrown from cover, his fingers gripping the MP5’s trigger, spraying bullets at RAM as his opponent sprayed bullets at him. The wads of lead seemed to zip by in slow motion, only just missing his moving body. His momentum kept him going as he hit the ground, sliding on his trench coat to more cover. A sigh of relief escaped his mouth as he slid behind another wall. One of his rounds at passed through RAM’s forearm. But, once again, he was pinned down by the heavy automatic weapon.

“Come out and die like a man,” RAM hollered in his raspy voice. “I’m not the one going down.”

“Sure about that?” Wake hollered back. He sprung from cover again as RAM reloaded, the remaining five bullets in the MP5 ripping through RAM’s wounded arm. The man dropped his gun, unable to wield it with only one arm. He reached into his trench coat and pulled out an Glock 18 automatic pistol, firing a burst of ten bullets in Wake’s direction as he ran backwards. Wake leaped forwards, over the bullets, trying to fire back. He remembered that he had no more clips for his MP5, dropping it into the line of fire, where is was shattered. He landed in front of RAM, rising with a powerful uppercut to the injured man. RAM staggered back, giving Wake an opportunity to wrestle the Glock 18 from him. Wake sent it skittering towards the edge of the building.

“Those were cheap shots...” RAM snarled, putting up his single fist as if trying attain a boxing stance with his only good arm.

“Not as cheap as yours,” Wake retorted. He leaped up, time seeming to slow as he let his kick fly, planting it squarely on RAM’s chest. RAM flew backwards, flipping backwards, recovering by landing on his hands and flipping back to his feet. He charged Wake down, punching at the boy’s jaw, but a simple block batted the blow away. They exchanged rapid blows, RAM kicking Wake’s shin, causing him to drop to the ground. He landed in the push-up position, then forcing himself to flip back up and spin upside-down. His return kick knocked RAM backwards a bit.

“You cannot fight me, you are too wounded,” Wake said, taking up a stance from the Black Crane style of kung fu. An enraged RAM charged at him, pulling back his fist. His momentum got a hold of him and he stumbled as Wake slipped out of the way easily. A spinning kick to RAM’s spine sent him flying into the wall he had shot at in the beginning of the skirmish.

I just killed a fellow rebel... Wake thought for a moment. It felt odd, killing one of his kind. But then he remembered what Ballard had told him, that RAM and Io were just plain idiots for stealing a ship and using the Matrix as a playground. He stopped thinking about it, deciding to finish the mission at hand, and rushed back into the building. Instinctually, he called the Caddy’s operator.

“Operator, where is Malachi?”

“He’s just down the hallway, and damn, he needs your help. Io is beating the crap out of him.”

“Got it.” He snapped the phone closed and placed it back in his trench coat. It was not long before he found Malachi struggling to keep up with Io’s fast-paced blows.

Io was of average height, weight, and build, with hair dyed a vibrant blue. Her garments were comprised of a deep red trench coat and high-heeled black leather boots. Her sunglasses were very slim and close to her face. She was pale, her skin like ivory, seeming to glow with the red trench coat and blue hair, all of which was reflected onto the glimmering hook sword on the ground nearby. But while she was a sight to see, she was still beating Malachi to the ground.

“Wake, help m--” Malachi started, but Io’s powerful fists cut him short, pounding him against a wall. She performed a 1080 jackknife, jumping and spinning around in the air, throwing a roundhouse kick and a hook kick. Malachi slumped to the ground, unconscious.

“Next?” Io called out sarcastically. She turned to face Wake. “A young boy? Ha, you’ve got to be kidding me...” She took a few steps forwards, chuckling to herself, but nonetheless, she approached cautiously. “This is the best Ballard could send after me? This curly-haired loser and a pimply teenager with little or no combat experience?” She laughed again.

“I may be more experienced than you think,” Wake snapped. He slipped into another stance of kung fu, the White Crane.

“Prove your worth...” Io taunted, slipping into the Cat stance of Ninjitsu.

“If you insist...” Wake rushed in with a quick series of simple blows, Io springing backwards a bit as the blows came. Wake then fanned out his fingers and slammed his palm upwards towards her nose, but she slipped to the right, his blow meeting thin air. Now it was her turn. She launched a series of roundhouse kicks, her impetus carrying her forwards. Wake back-flipped away, the kicks passing just by his body. He stopped his flipping but jumped backwards once more, pushing off the wall with one foot and kicking Io in the jaw.

“I planted the first blow.” It was now his turn to taunt.

“But you shall not deliver the last.” Io performed a Triple Whirlwind Kick, but Wake’s cartwheel carried him to safety. Io landed on her feet, but jumped up soon enough to avoid Wake’s sweeping kick. Her jump front kick hit him in the back, and he slid a short ways down the hallway. Wake pulled himself to his feet, sprinting back to her. She went low and attempted to slide tackle him, but he saw it coming. He defied the law of gravity, dashing up the wall and running along it. He flipped off, landing on his feet behind Io. A karate chop to the back of her neck caused her to cry out. She twisted her legs about, getting up while causing Wake to step back to avoid her kicks.

Wake aimed a basic punch at her ribcage. Io, being the ever better martial arts expert, took a chance and slipped off to his right while his punch flew at her. Now on Wake’s side, she placed a hand to the back of his head, bringing up her right foot rapidly to smash him in the nose, bringing his head towards the foot. Wake clutched his nose in horrible pain, his footsteps faltering. He fell on his rump as Io put another kick into his stomach.

“I’m the first to draw blood...” Io says. Wake’s nose was gushing blood now.

“A bloody nose won’t kill me...” Wake climbed to his feet and assumed a fighting stance once more. Io punched at his throat, but a standard block deflected it. She followed up with an uppercut, her fist hitting him lightly on the chin. Another blow hit his throat, finally, and he choked for a moment. Io pummeled into him, kick after kick after kick. He felt a rib crack. He leaned against the wall as Io stopped punching.

“A bloody nose won’t, but maybe this will...” she snarled, lifting her hook sword from the ground. She reared up for a swing...

Bang! She dropped the sword, her face a mask of surprise. Falling to her knees, she revealed Malachi behind her, his gun smoking. A puddle of blood formed at their feet as the life drained from Io.

“Well, that’s a mission well done,” Malachi chuckled, blowing at the barrel of his pistol. “You okay, Wake?”

“Yes, Malachi. But now, I just want to rest again...” They hobbled off together, both very bruised.