The Matrix: Unneed Heroism - The Story of Mors

Soon they arrived at his quarters. The room was decked out with paintings, statues, and other expensive things, as well as a soft, red-lined carpet and walls. The man sat at his desk.

“Forgive me, but I am about to eat and I see no reason to change that.” A waiter walked in, setting down a soup as a starter. “I am Ni Zhan. I understand you wish to speak with me?”

Hephaestus and Cloud nodded for Mors to speak, standing behind him respectfully with there hands clasped behind their backs. Mors nodded in return, then turned to Ni Zhan.

“Yes, we wish to speak of Jericho.”

“I see. And are you...friends, of Jericho?”

“Yes, in a way. He was supposedly killed, but we heard he was alive.”

“I see. But he is most assuredly not dead, as you must know if you are searching for him. And let me tell you now...if you are a friend of Jericho's...you are no friend of mine."

“Is that so?” Mors hid his surprise, wondering why the Oracle would send them to someone who despised Jericho. “Friend or not, a women we call the Oracle directed us to you to help us find him, and she is rarely wrong.”

"I do not know of this woman you speak of, but clearly she does not know much. Jericho is my hated enemy, and I would not help you find him even if I knew where he was myself. Now...who are you people, who dress like he does...?"

“We are from the same organization.”

Ni Zhan stared at Mors. "Wait...I know who you are. The business at the airport. I heard about that. You and Jericho both going for the same package, and rendering it useless..." He laughed slightly. "You are no friends of Jericho! Why do you pretend so? You have come badly informed about me. What is your grievance with Jericho, has he betrayed you? He certainly does not work with whoever your masters are."

“Like we said, we assumed he was dead till his friends appeared at the airport,” Hephaestus butted in.

“I see," said Ni Zhan. "He fakes death to escape you, and now you come for him...but you will not find him, believe me. I tried. Maybe you will meet again...if that same package was to become available again, hmm?"

“What do you mean?” Hephaestus asked.

“Well, it has to come again some time, does it not?" said Ni Zhan. "Everyone has been shaken up by the incident at the airport. Everyone failed." He smiled, a horrible smile. "I imagine Jericho's employer was most displeased..."

“And who might his employer be?” Mors inquired.

"Ahh, you do not know...I do, I know his employer well. Jericho has little personal use for packages like the one you were after...but Melitus does. Yes, Melitus, a powerful man. And I used to be his partner, the man he depended upon. Until Jericho took my place..."

“No, we did not know of Melitus.” Mors glanced at his companions. “Can you tell us how to find him?”

"Yes," said Ni Zhan, as his main course arrived. "I can indeed tell you where Melitus is. I am sure he will wish to talk to you."

“Good. It is urgent that we go immediately.”
"Yes, immediately..." says Ni Zhan. "But I think you misunderstand me. I have no intention of helping you, any more than Melitus will. You have, after all, ruined Melitus' plans. And maybe if I hand you all over to Melitus, he will start to favor me again..." The waiters that had brought in the main meal, eighteen total, now turned away from the delicious meal that they had brought in, facing the three of them.

“Um, Mors? That’s not exactly cutlery they’re carrying,” Hephaestus notified him.

“Thank you, Heph, I think I know.” The waiters had all brought out machetes, sais, hookswords, and cudgels.

“Take them,” Ni Zhan ordered. “But...make sure they can still speak...” Ni Zhan then slipped into a trap door, disappearing like a villain out of James Bond film of the twentieth century.

As the goons moved in, there was a blur of motion, a screech of metal on metal, and a cry as Mors had drawn his katana with lightning speed and driven it into the ribcage of one of the waiters. Everything paused as the hookswords clattered to the ground along with the man, and then everything commenced. Hephaestus spun in staff and unleashed a double jab, smashing the tip into the chests of two waiters, throwing them against walls. Cloud lacerated the stomach of another.

Then the attacks came at them. A cudgel-armed man took an overhead swing, but Mors caught it with the tip of his katana and parried. A chain swung and missed, clanking on the floor. Twin sais stabbed at Mors, but they only stabbed empty air. A machete gave Mors a glancing cut across the hand. The hooked part of the twin hookswords hooked onto Mors’ katana, but he twisted and nearly disarmed the man. Heph to his right and Cloud to left both parried easily, and Cloud even manage to riposte, twisting his blade around and slashing, then driving his blade through the fellow to finish him.

A hookswords-wielding guy twirled his blades around and locked them together to parry Mors’ next attack. With a quick flick of the sword, Mors cast his guard aside and stabbed inwards. He keeled over as the next attack came, and Mors turned to the cudgel-wielder. Before his opponent’s attack could land, Hephaestus’ staff knocked against the side of his head, as well as another of the mooks. Both remained standing but were clutching their heads in agony.

Then the sais spun in again, Mors dodging with great agility, his years of experience as a warrior of Zion allowing him to predict the attacks. He bent left, right, and back, laughing as the sais missed him by inches. He looked to Cloud, who raised his sword to block a machete exactly in the middle. He pivoted and twirled his blade to smack away the sais, dropped low under the swinging chain, and locked with one of the hook swords, just as the second hook sword scratched his front. Impressive... Heph sprinted up a wall, spinning his staff and sailing over the attackers as blades clunked into the walls.

Heph dropped to the ground after his remarkable defense, spinning his staff and shattering a hookswords-wielder’s knee with a sickening crunch. Cloud slashed open the chest of the chain man, but he continued fighting. A spinning blow from the chain clanked against Heph’s ribs, and he shouted angrily. Mors turned and drove his blade into a man, then watched as Hephaestus attacked again. He spun and flipped the machete man attacking him head over heels and whacked him up into the ceiling, then spun, grasping the end of the pole firmly, and batted the cudgel-wielder into a wall. Cloud slashed again, through the chain and cutting open its wielder a second time, dropping him. Heph jumped gracefully into the air...and in a second the chain clanked to the floor, its wielder stuck in the wall behind Ni Zhan’s splintered desk.

Bullet hammering was loud downstairs, and Mors was sure that the place would be full of Triad members, swarming around his companions. But that was not the immediate problem as he was confident in the abilities of the crew, and the attacks missed him by centimeters. Air whistled by his sword, the metal blade singing as it gyrated wildly and hacked through one of Mors’ attackers. Cloud dropped low and swept the feet out from under the hookswords man, then drove his blade deep into his gut with a soft slicing noise. Hephaestus pole-vaulted off the lone attacker, pinning him to the floor and flying backwards.

“I’m going after Ni Zhan!” he called out to the others upon landing by the exit. He opened the door from the office with his staff, pulling out his butterfly knife. Mors did not keep watching, as he severed the arm of another, the momentum of the chain propelling it across the room. The cudgel man attacked, his face swollen from Heph’s staff hitting hard, but Mors caught the cudgel with his own sword, and brought spun the blade around, disarming the man. Shink! The man fell back with a slit throat. Shink! Shink! Mors and Cloud annihilated the last two men.

“Good lord, I’m gonna need some new clothes...” Cloud said, flicking at some of the blood on his white shirt and black trench coat.

“And Ni Zhan will have to pay over time for a cleaning service...now come on, we need to find Ni Zhan.” Mors, katana still unsheathed, followed Hephaestus out the door. He saw no sign of Hephaestus, only hearing “Zuban smash!” from one of the doors. “Heph, what have you gotten yourself into now...”

Suddenly, a knife landed with a thud in the wall, just an inch from Mors‘ head. Mors plucked it from the wood and looked for the owner of said knife, finding the man from the bar who had asked them why they wanted to see Ni Zhan, wielding a large Chinese hunting knife. He grinned cunningly, the same hideous smile.

“Cloud, I can handle him, you go into one of the doors...” Mors twirled his katana around and leveled it into a fighting stance as Cloud picked a door and went through. The Chinese man approached and aimed a slash for Mors’ wrist, but Mors was faster and cut across his front. The knife flicked upwards at Mors’ face, but a slash countered the blow, and a jab drove the man back.

Mors would have liked to rub his eyes the next instant as the knifeman performed a vicious attack. The hunting knife became a blur and sliced across and through Mors’ clothing and flesh, the fourth slash sliding nastily across his chest. Mors gave a shout of anguish and swung back, the tip of his katana cutting into the knifeman’s thigh. The knife nicked his arm in response as Heph flipped through a door, a massive mace swinging inches from his body. Mors slashed for the jugular but missed, but was missed in return. Mors began to riposte, but the large cook’s mace nearly smashed open his head, and he was forced to duck, his riposte going nowhere. He slashed again, gashing the knifeman’s side, knocked away the next attack, but then felt the bite of the knife again as it scratched his hand. It then bit into his arm again.

“Hector and Atlas would be making mincemeat of this man...” Mors said to himself, the katana hitting the knifeman lightly. The knife hit him again, the constant pain from the bleeding cuts becoming numb. The katana whirled and missed, the knife hitting again. Mors’ mind was racing, but felt very determined, continuing his assault as Heph continuously knifed and kicked the massive chef. Gun shots still rang out in the background.

Swoosh! Mors’ katana hacked through the man’s chest again, just under the mark left by his first blow. Swish! Another attack missed the knifeman, soaring above his head. The knife leapt back, but also hit nothing but air. Mors lost his grip on his katana, the blood from his cuts making the hilt slick, and missed again.

“Damn!” Mors shouted as the knife became a blur of motion. He bent back and the first two jabs swished past him, the third driving deep into his shoulder. Behind him, Hephaestus drove his own knife into the cook book stored in the uber-thug’s jacket, and unleashed a deadly nerve strike, his fist smashing into Zuban’s neck. A second nerve strike must have hit a nerve bundle, as the massive chef screamed in agony, striking back with the large mace and knocking Heph aside.

With a roar of determination and fury, Mors jabbed forwards at great speeds, his katana glinting in the lighting of the room. It sunk into the knifeman’s chest with a sickening sound, and he stepped back, blood coming from his mouth. Mors pressed home after the triumphant, holding his sword high above his head and preparing to give another yell.

A pain shot through his chest, and he staggered backwards, coming off the hunting knife. He stumbled and slumped against a wall, breathing shallowly. His katana dropped with a metallic clatter, and the knifeman closed in...

The gargantuan cooker crashed the ground as Hephaestus final kick brought him down. The kick propelled the young fighter off of the mass of human flesh and he soared across the room towards the knifeman. A fast punch connected wrong, yet the follow-up punch to the jaw caused the knifeman to stagger slightly. Despite this, it was not long until the knife grazed Hephaestus’ side.

“Ha!” Heph shouted with another extremely powerful nerve strike, sending the knifeman screaming to the ground. Heph stabbed him once he was down and approached Mors, just as Fire entered the room. Mors noticed that the gunfire had ceased.

“Are you alright my friends?” Fire asked, his own katana slick with blood. Multiple bullet impacts dotted his trench coat and body.

“I will be alright...” Mors replied quietly, trying to get up. Castor entered the room and helped him rise as Fire noticed the sound of Cloud shouting behind his own door.

“You alright Mors? You look real bad...” Castor looked around to the two battered bodies nearby. “What happened?”

“Heph and Cloud went ahead, we ran into trouble, but we will be fine...”

“I’m sure you will be. It’s a clean cut.”

“Indeed. Now, get me a gun...”

Ares and San entered next, the former handing Mors an assault rifle. “Fresh from the hands of a coppertop,” Ares informed him with a grin. Like Fire, he and San were speckled with bullet wounds.

“Mors, maybe you should just rest here...” San said with a hint of worry.

“No, I will be fine. I intend to see this mission through.” Mors took out his phone and dialed Ariadne.

“Operator.”

“Ariadne, is there a hard-line I can get to?”

“Stay with the others. I can’t guarantee your safety if you try to leave.”

Mors shut his phone, but Burn entered with his out. “Ariadne, where is the helipad?” He waited for the reply. “Alright, thanks.” He looked to the others. “Two rooms north, everyone.”

Fire emerged from the room he had entered, dragging an unconscious Cloud. “No worries, gentlemen, he will be alright.”

“He won’t be if we return to Dallas empty-handed,” Mors replied, cocking his AK-47 with the side of his hand.

01001101011011110111001001110011

The trigger was pulled down, and a swarm of bullets headed for the helicopter that was now taking Ni Zhan off of the ground. Burn’s accurate shots only nicked the gunner of the aircraft, who was powering up a mini-gun.

Ares took to the right of the row of barricades, firing nearly two dozen bullets in just a few seconds, injuring two of the soldiers preparing to attack the crews of the Shez and the Percy and killing another. San followed him, making no attack immediately, just strafing the bullets coming her way.

Hephaestus took a brave charge in between the left and center barricades. He charged headlong past the soldiers, rounds from AK-47s whizzing past him. Burn took his eye off the gunner and prepared a few covering fire shots, but the mini-gun roared to life.

The concrete was turned to powder next to Heph, a line of it kicking up into the air. The heavy gun turned to Ares and San, both diving out of the way as the bullets exploded near them. Castor dived for cover, the bullets pinging off of the barricade and nearly hitting some of their attackers. Burn was missed, but only narrowly.

Thok! A bullet entered Hephaestus ribcage as he made his charge, but he continued onwards towards the chopper.

“And this is my crew in their prime...” Mors said as he supplied some covering fire for Hephaestus alongside Castor.

“I’m glad you think so,” the boy replied. Cloud was slumped against the wall behind them, Burn acting as a human shield for his benefit. He remained comatose.

“Hai!” Fire hollered, flipping out of the entrance they had come through, toppling from one handstand to the next. Ares attempted to fire again, but his gun clicked empty and he had to reload, San pushing him into cover as more bullets streamed in their direction, firing a burst as she went, injuring another attacker.

Celsius tossed Rade his gun with a call of “Give ‘em hell!” and Burn moved up to take out gunners of the second barricade. Mors remained in cover, firing just to give the attackers something to think about.

More bullets whizzed past Hephaestus, and he bent backwards, his back parallel to the ground, as what would have been a direct hit whizzed over him. He bent back up and continued his deadly dash, even as the helicopter gunner’s aim swooped past him, more concrete expelled into the air. The line of dust and gravel continued until it reached Burn, who sidestepped easily as he moved up and killed another, taking cover to reload.’

“What the hell is Heph doing?” Ares hollered back to the others. “He’s going to get himself killed!”

Castor moved up as the men behind one barrier reloaded, snatching the rifle from him and twirling the butt around the smack it into the man’s chest. While disarmed, the man remained standing, scared and wounded. Celsius charged up to the other one behind the barricade, nimbly avoiding the shots and also disarming his man, cracking the gun against his head. Burn charged up, having run out of ammunition, and joined them, picking up one of the guns. He fired at the two neutralized soldiers, blowing them back.

More shots were fired on Heph as he sprinted for the helicopter, which was now leaving the ground. Enough of the soldiers had been killed and the cover fire was having effect, though the mini-gun still roared by at top speed. The mini-gun roared by Fire as well, loud cracking noises occurring as the bullets ricocheted off the barricade just next to him. Castor was less lucky, and a round of bullets from the mini-gun tore through his arm.

“Die coppertop!” Fire hollered, charging down one of the remaining soldiers on the right side of the barricades, slashing at him awkwardly for a minor cut while dodging gunfire. Within a second, Fire had driven his blade through the mook, finishing him.

Rade killed the final second barricade guy with a quick burst, as San and Heph reached the third barricade set. Ares riled up a duo of soldiers back there, bullets throwing them backwards as San did a bit more damage with her own gun, having gotten past their cover.

Mors took it all in, staying back while the others pushed onwards. “This is going well, don’t you agree?” he asked the semi-conscious Cloud, who was coming to. The younger man paid no attention and shook his head, then rubbed his eyes and pointed.

“Look at Hephaestus!” Mors followed Cloud’s gaze and his jaw dropped as Heph started to run in a way that Mors remembered. Heph had done the exact same thing in the Jump Program. Running at great speed, Heph launched himself into the air, soaring upwards towards the helicopter, which was now fifty feet off the ground, the mini-gun still spitting lead. Heph latched neatly on to the rungs of the copter, pulling himself in. From his viewpoint, Mors could not see what happened next, but the gunner was flung out of the copter. The helicopter landed just as Ares, San, and the others finished the remaining soldiers.

The rebels hopped into the helicopter, aiming a surprising variety of shotguns, assault rifles, and Uzis at Ni Zhan, who managed a weak, friendly smile. “So, you wanted me to take you to Melitus then, hmm?”

Chapter 11: Melitus

A black GMC Yukon and a black, flame-painted Ford Mustang Fastback pulled up outside of an obscure warehouse, directed by Ni Zhan. The crew of the Shez poured out of those two cars, Mors stepping from shotgun of the Fastback.

“Obscure warehouse, those don’t usually bode well...” Burn said to the others, stepping out of the Mustang.

“Indeed,” Mors replied, putting his sunglasses back on. “They don’t.” A blue Plymouth Barracuda drove up alongside the Yukon and Fastback, driven by San. Celsius and Cloud stepped out of the vehicle with another of the Percy’s crew, a young lad named Azrael.

“Welcome aboard,” Mors greeted him, shaking his hand. “Glad that Captain Marduk decided to take people off of observation duty...”

“Thank you, Mors. Captain Marduk has been impressed with your work here, though that flesh wound was unfortunate.”

“I’m glad he is. Now, let’s move along.” Mors snapped out his cell phone. “Ariadne, what is inside?”

“About two dozen guys, lots of machinery, it seems to be a factory...they aren’t waiting for you.”

“Thank you.” Mors put the cell phone away and marched towards the warehouse, Ni Zhan leading him. The crews fell in behind him, reloaded weapons of their choosing having been grabbed from Burn’s Mustang’s trunk.

As they approached, a patrolling guard with an M16 spotted them. “What the hell do you want?”

“I have brought friends of mine to see Melitus,” Ni Zhan replied nervously. The guard snorted in a “Yeah, right!” fashion, but indicated for them to move along. These guards were not the triads that Zhan kept with him, but rather the standard United States criminal type.

Just inside the entrance sat a pick-up truck. Climbing onto it was tall guy with blonde hair, flanked either side by armed guards, who watched curiously as the rebels entered with Zhan. He lit a cigarette.

"What the hell is this shit, Ni Zhan?" he asked. He looked them over again.

"Ah, honorable sir, I bring these people to...um..." responded Ni Zhan, as half a dozen armed guards surrounded him and led him away.

Blondie looked them over a third time. "Who the hell are you then? And what do you want here?" He took a drag on his cigarette.

“We are here to see Jericho,” Mors informed him.

“Jericho? And what business could you possibly have with him?”

“We have some questions for him.”

“Oh really? Well, I...” Suddenly, the man’s mobile phone rang. He answered it, “Yup? Yup, that’s right. Well, ok,” then hung up. “You guys are to come up. Come with me.”

As Ariadne had pointed out, it was in fact a factory. A huge steelworks, with great machines clattering all around, pouring molten lead, turning out sheets of metal, and bars, among other things, surrounded them. Blondie led them to a cargo elevator, a grill blocking the entrance, and motioned for them to enter. The crew entered and they rose about three floors, exiting into what appeared to be a corridor inside a luxury mansion.

“Bizarre...” Ares exclaimed, pulling off his shades. The contrast from the lower levels could not be more marked. The walls and ceilings were well painted, the floor lushly carpeted, and works of art hanging from the walls.

“Benefits from our line of work,” Blondie told them, leading them onwards to a smart wooden door. He knocked, and it opened. “In you go.”

“Thank you,” Mors said, stepping through the door. It was decorated much in the same way, made better by wooden paneling on the walls. Mors took of his own shades to examine as the rest of his companions moved in.

"Good evening sirs and madam," welcomed a man who had been waiting for them. He was quite plainly a butler, sporting smart black formalwear, immaculately pressed, with a starched white collar. Obscuring all of his features was a plain white harlequin mask, his voice somewhat hollow because of it. "I trust you had a comfortable journey?"

“Decent,” Mors said plainly.

“I understand you suffered some discomfort at the hands of Ni Zhan. On behalf of my master, I apologize profusely.”

“Thank you, now may we speak with Jericho?”

“Jericho, sir? I am afraid that Mr. Jericho is not on the premises.”

“That is unfortunate. May we speak to his employer instead?”

“Of course. If you shall accompany me, I shall take you to him. This way.”

They walked through several rooms, each more ornate than the previous one. More expensive vases, sculptures, expensive works of art...and then a blank white room, quite unlike the others. So white that the crews could barely distinguish where the floor ended and the wall began. So white that their eyes hurt. Mors put his shades back on, which gave little liberation from the blinding white. The butler closed the door behind them, and Mors could not tell where the door had been now that it was closed.

"If you would mind waiting here for a few moments, the process will be very short."

“Process?” Mors asked, even as a slight humming sound began and he felt a slight prickling heat within him, moving throughout his body, across his skin, through his mouth, everywhere.

“My apologies," said the butler, "but the disinfectant process is quite painless, as you see. I am afraid that my employer has to be extremely careful about the microbes and bacteria that can be taken into his personal chambers. But there! We are done already." Mors had not noticed that the feeling had stopped quite suddenly.

“Is he that sick?” Burn questioned. “Or does he just have germ phobia?”

"Ah, I am afraid my employer is not in the best of health," the butler responded. He stepped over to the far side of the room and opened a door that Mors could not see through the glare. As soon as it opened, they could hear violins playing. The butler led them through one more corridor to a room with the same decor, only higher and larger. Upon a raised area and a pedestal stood the string quartet, also wearing blank white masks. Doctors stood over a large metal cylinder, bookcases against the wall behind them.

Mors identified it immediately, having studied such a thing in school during his time as a boy in the Matrix. It was a large iron cylinder, a couple of feet longer than a man and a few times as high and wide. The contraption looked exceedingly heavy. At one end, just visible, was a man's head, resting on supports. The man looked pale and sickly, immobile and only able to see directly behind him due to a mirror.

The cylinder was an iron lung. It was used in the first half of the twentieth century primarily to aid tuberculosis sufferers who were left with damaged lungs without the power to draw breathe. The unfortunate sufferer would be entombed inside the lung where the environment for his chest would be re-pressurized, allowing the subject to breathe, and giving a life of sorts. Rows of children in iron lungs are some of the most striking pieces of archive footage that could be found, in advance of the use of mass antibiotics to treat such diseases.

But Mors found it odd, seeing as it was fifty years out of date by the time period the Matrix simulates. It was a complete anachronism, out of place in the simulated late twentieth century.

“Boccherini’s Minuet?” San guessed, having played violin in the Real World, glancing over at the quartet.

"Ah," said the sickly man. "You are here, and that is correct. Please, if you would...” a loud ...ssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... issued from the machine as it pressurized to allow the man to breath, “...move to a place where I can more easily see you, that would be appreciated.”

“This explains the decontamination,” Fire whispered to Celsius and Mors, both of them standing behind Mors.

Mors just nodded, then moved behind the mirror slowly, everyone else following.

"Thank you," he thanked. "Though I am sure my butler has already done so, I must apologize for the actions of Ni Zhan. It was exactly for such reasons that I..." ...ssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... “...ceased having dealings with him.”

“Wise decision, if I do say so myself,” Burn said, standing just on the edge of the mirror’s reflection. “You seem to be a well-informed man, could you possibly tell us about Jericho?”

"If you do not mind," he says "before we talk..." ...ssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... "...business, I shall ask for this to be a private audience." His eyes flicked to the doctors. "Please leave.“ The doctors gathered up their tools and headed for the door. ...ssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... "All of you.” The musicians stopped playing, packed their instruments, and left, followed by the butler. Left in almost dead silence, punctuated only by the man's labored breathing, they felt quite, nearly a dozen heavily armed individuals holding an awkward audience with a cripple.

"Now, first things first. My name is Melitus. And whom is it I am addressing, may I ask?" he asked, saving his breath until the end of the sentence.

They introduced themselves one at a time, Mors going last.

“I see. Well, it is interesting to meet you all. You caused quite a stir tonight.”

“It wasn’t entirely our fault that we caused a stir, as you put it,” San said.

“Of that I have no doubt. But, nonetheless, a stir you have caused. Most impressive.”

“Glad you think so,” Ares piped up.

“Very well," says Melitus. "Now then, what was it you gentlemen wanted to..." ...sssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhh... "...talk to me about?"

“Jericho...” Rade said.

“Yes, what of him?”

“It seemed obvious to us that Jericho was dead, but we saw his...friends, recently,” Castor answered.

"I am sorry," Melitus said, "but I am not entirely sure what you are talking about. I simply employ Jericho because he is a useful operative for someone in my line of work. I have no idea..." ...sssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhh... "...how I should answer any questions about him apparently being dead. I can assure you he is not."

Mors passed Castor and Rade a look to get across that maybe he, Fire, and Celsius should do the talking. “That is good to know. He was once a friend of mine, but we assumed he was dead after an unfortunate accident, and yet he turned up under your employment. Where is he now?”

“Ah, I am afraid there we may very well have a problem. You say you are friends of Jericho? I..." ...ssssssssssssshhhhhhhhh... "...find that very confusing. If you know Jericho, then you should know that he is a man who very much values his..." ...ssssssssssssshhhhhhhhh... "...privacy."

“I do, in fact, know that. He never liked to talk. But, maybe, with your help, we can locate him.”

"That places me in an awkward position. I have reason to doubt that..." ...ssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... "...you are in fact his friends. I think all those who are friends of Jericho, and there are not many, know already..." ...ssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... "...how to find him. I suspect I would be doing him a great disservice by revealing his location."

Mors nodded slightly in agreement, though he would rather not. “Well, if you do not believe he was our friend, then how about if we had the same employer? We all have codenames like Jericho and his crew do.”

"Us being his friends or enemies is yet to be revealed by meeting him. We don't have hostile intentions, if that's what you're thinking," Rade added.

"Were it for my own part I would take your word," Melitus spoke to Rade and Mors. "But I can hardly..." ...ssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhh... "...take it upon myself to risk another's safety without his agreement. And I know he does not wish to be found. You say that..." ...ssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhh... "...you used to work with Jericho but thought him dead? Surely then, if he is alive, that must have been a forgery. And so therefore..." ...ssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhh... "...he must have forged such a thing to get away from your employers, so now I can only be more certain than before that..." ...ssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhh... "...he could not possibly want to meet you, representatives of his employers he escaped. However, I now have a better..." ...ssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhh... "...idea of who you are. Jericho did mention a case of unfortunate timing and crossed purposes at the airport. Neither your employers nor myself ended up with what we wanted. And I feel this puts your visit here in some..." ...ssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhh... "...perspective."

“Did Jericho ever mention why he wanted to get away from our employers?” Fire asked.

"I do not see why that was any concern of mine. I was interested..." ...ssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... "...in Jericho purely because he is a man of extreme talents, a trait he shares with you people. Such people are hard to come by.

"So now we reach an impasse. You want information that I cannot think of any direct reason to give you. Though..." ...ssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhh... "...I can be certain if I do give it to you, a confrontation will ensue. But somehow I suspect that the prospect of extreme violence will not discourage you.”

“Confrontation is inevitable, whether you give us the information or not, we will find Jericho,” Fire curtly stated.

“That is where you are incorrect. I am your only means of finding him. You will discover no other.”

“We have run into him once, we shall run into him again, if that is meant to be so,” Fire continued. “You may be our only lead, but we still have alternatives.”

“Jericho and myself will not allow such accidents to happen again. It is no mystery to me that you have no other..." ...ssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... "...leads to follow else you would not have taken absurd risks like going to Ni Zhan or myself. So now I find myself faced with a very interesting choice."

“Maybe we are all just insane and take absurd risks all the time?” Ares butted in.

More than likely in your case... Mors thought to himself.

“No," says Melitus, "I have no reason to believe that you behave in such a way and would seek a fight when an alternative was possible. You..." ...ssssssssssssshhhhhhhhh... "...have no other options other than what I can offer you. Which leaves me with two unattractive alternatives. Either..." ...ssssssssssssshhhhhhhhh... "...I give you Jericho's location, and betray one group of mercenaries with whom I have a working arrangement, or I stay quiet, and aggravate another group of mercenaries who are with me at this very moment. Difficult...” ...ssssssssssssshhhhhhhhh... Melitus stopped for a moment to think. “Can you give me any reason why I should choose the first option rather than the second?”

“It is very urgent we reach Jericho. Being from the same employer, he might carry information that should not reach other ears...” The thought of Agents holding Morpheus captive for the want of the Access Codes had quickly flashed into Mors’ mind.

“I do not underestimate your need to find him, and the not unlikely prospect that he will kill all of you when you try will not dissuade you, I am sure. My concern..." ...ssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... "...is on what option creates the least inconvenience and possible harm for myself."

“I hate to sound cocky, Melitus,” Burn supplemented, “but I am sure we could handle any mercenaries you may piss off.”

"And I hate to sound like I have no faith or confidence in you, but the mercenaries I am talking of are Jericho's followers and I do not rate it at all unlikely they can deal with you. There are more of you, but Jericho’s purpose is clear where yours is confused. And besides, you are without...” ...ssssssssssssshhhhhhhhh... “...your leader.”

“I think I am a sufficient leader, but Dallas has suffered a blow to the head that keeps him down...but how did you know?” Mors notified Melitus as Burn headed to the door of the containment chamber and popped out his cell phone. He dialed the Shez and the Percy, both with no response.

“My apologies, but cell phone reception is notoriously bad in here...” Melitus said, then returning to his conversation with Mors. "You named yourself as merely currently leading these people. Not a term you would use for a permanent position. Especially as, to judge by Jericho, you..." ...ssssssssssssshhhhhhhhh... "...people are very particular about the position of your leaders. Jericho named himself as a Captain, you have not."

“I was once a Captain, and Dallas is, too, a Captain.”

“Then my logic appears to have been consistent and the situation as I said it was. My decision is therefore no more advanced."

“I should point out that my concern is less with..." ...ssssssssssssshhhhhhhhh... "...the advice your Captain would give you or I. But in that you would be without your Captain, and so presumably your most competent team member, whilst..." ...ssssssssssssshhhhhhhhh... "...rather by definition, Jericho's team will be with theirs. This at least in part erodes your numerical advantage."

Competent...not quite a word that matches Dallas... thought Mors.

Castor looked down at the sickly man. “Let me ask this...” he started. “We did not know Jericho’s purpose. Maybe you could tell us why he disappeared rather than having us meet him?”

“What I was referring to is your specific purposes should the two of you meet. You people seem unsure about exactly what it is you want out of..." ...ssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhh... "...Jericho. Talk to him? Kill him? You do not know. He, on the other hand, would be in no doubt. He will endeavor to eliminate you and this single, unalterable focus will give him strength. As for your..." ...ssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhh... "...offer, any information I gave you about Jericho he would consider it a betrayal, and if the information I give you is in any way useful you will act on it and he will know it..." ...ssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhh... "...came from me and take revenge accordingly, and if it is not useful it will not satisfy you. No, whatever I chose, I either make an enemy of Jericho, or yourselves."

“We only wish to find out why he disappeared,” Ares said. “We ran into Loomis and Medea...”

“Yes indeed, I know them as well. But I can only reiterate- Jericho does not wish to be found, and he will kill to protect himself."

“Maybe a compromise?” Castor pondered.

“How could six win against a dozen?” Azrael questioned. “As well as the rest of our friends?”

“I would be surprised if you have the manpower for reinforcements. In fact I would guess that you have already committed very great resources to this problem. And Jericho is very good. But do not..." ...ssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhh... "...misunderstand me, I think it is a good possibility that you would triumph over him. I find it hard to have a decisive idea of what will happen at all. Jericho's tactical ability counts greatly in his favor. I am sure...” ...ssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhh... “...in any fight he would be in a considerably advantageous position unless you are of equal ability which I have no reason to believe."

He stopped and took another breath before replying to Castor. "There would be no need to pay me for the information. Your solution would not solve my basic problem- that if you failed, Jericho will take revenge upon me."

“Maybe a test of some kind?” Azrael asked.

“Sadly, I cannot see such an operation making my life much easier. I think, in my limited tactical experience, I can only guess that it is a roughly..." ...ssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... "...even chance that one of you will eliminate the others either way, despite what evidence is presented before me. And I think now would be the most apt time for me to decide."

“Enough!” Fire, fed up with the circles they were running in, drew his katana and pressed the blade to Melitus’ neck. Mors moved to stay him, but Fire pushed his hand away.

“Hmm.” Melitus’ face did not show any expression and he could not move, being almost completely paralyzed by the iron lung, and did not seemed as terrified or surprised as a normal being would. "I am afraid it looks as if your logic is impeccable. No matter what retribution Jericho would offer against me, it cannot be as large a problem as the threats you can give..." ...sssssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhh... "...to me. I am left with only one option. I shall tell you where Jericho is, and I will simply have to hope that it is you that kills him and not the other way around. I will do this on one condition only, a condition..." ...sssssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhhh... "...without which your threat becomes less relevant to gauging my safety."

“Name your condition,” Fire snarled.

“The condition is very simple. It is simply that after your confrontation with Jericho, that you return here and tell me what happened. If you do not return, I shall assume that Jericho eliminated you, and..." ...ssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhh... "...take the appropriate precautions."

“No tricks? Because I can get scarier than this...”

"This I understand," says Melitus. "There is only one place I know of at which I can contact Jericho. He has taken a job at the Circe Computer Corporation. He can be found there between eight in the morning and midday once every three days."

Fire lifted his blade. “When is the next day he will be there?”

“I am afraid he was there today. You will have to wait another three days.”

The crews nodded, satisfied that they had their information, and looked to Mors as the doctors returned to swarm about Melitus, the string quartet resuming their performance of the Minuet.

"Well, gentlemen and lady, it seems our business is done. I hope for your sakes that we meet again, and maybe for mine also. My butler will escort you back out of my..." ...ssssssssssssssssshhhhhhhhh... "...personal chambers, from there I am sure you can easily find the lift and the way back out. Good day to you."

“Good day,” Mors replied, leading the crews from the containment chamber. The butler escorted them to the exit.

"I trust you had a pleasant stay here, sirs," the butler said to them, sounding slightly creepy behind the mask, his moving lips unseen. "My employer hopes you will return soon."

“We hope so too,” Mors answered, before the crews left the factory and got back to their cars.

Suddenly, as they all hopped into the cars, Castor answered his phone. “Hello?”

Dallas hollered down the line quite audibly, and Castor turned it on speakerphone. “Where the hell have you guys been?”

“Chill Captain, we’ve been chatting with Melitus, Jericho’s employer,” Castor answered back, Ares starting the car and looking back at him, Mors riding shotgun. “Couldn’t you see us?”

“See you? You guys have been nowhere for the last fifteen minutes!” Dallas hollered.

“You mean...we weren’t in the code?”

"Nothing! Nada. Zip! One moment you were at the top of the factory, the next we couldn't locate you anywhere in the entire damn Matrix! Where did you go?"

“We were in the factory, we met with Melitus after we handed Ni Zhan's ass to him...”

“You weren't in the building! And, err, what guy? You say you found Melitus? Someone tell me what is going on!"

“Castor, give me the phone,” Mors commanded, taking the phone and explaining everything that had happened to Dallas, with many an interruption. “We have to wait three days until we can find Jericho at the Circe Computer Corporation,” Mors finished.

“Oh, I am sick of this damn goose chase and weird things happening. Jericho's going to pay for this one! Whatever the hell it is he has done! So, we got the lead, that's what we came for. You trust this Melitus guy?"

“I did not get any bad vibe from him, he’s a cripple stuck in an iron lung,” Mors said, Ares glancing from the road to him. “He made his decisions logically; either Fire was going to slit his throat now or he was going to give us our information and defend himself from whatever revenge Jericho would exact upon him for a betrayal. He opted to live.”

"Logical type, huh? Hmm... ok then. We got three days, pull it out. We've got an exit lined up nearby, bunch of public phone booths so both teams can jack out at once. Nice work."

“Thank you, Captain.” Mors grinned as he snapped the phone closed and handed it to Castor. “I think his comment speaks for me. We did good.”

They reached the public phone booths, the Yukon, the Fastback, and the Barracuda, with all eleven of them, in a short time after that. They approached the phones and Ariadne called.

“Line’s all clear for you guys,” she alerted, then hung up. Castor nodded and reached for the phone, along with San.

“Well, see you all back in Zion!” Castor chuckled, putting the ringing phone to his ear. There was the familiar buzzing as Castor’s and San’s bodies faded away to green as they started to go back through the phone. But something went wrong. Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!! Their images flickered and started to disperse...when suddenly their bodies reformed and were flung backwards, landing on their backs and getting up with a look of shock. The rest of the warriors mimicked their panicked faces, as Mors’ phone rang.

“Oh...shit...” Ariadne cursed as he answered it.

Chapter 12: Trapped

“Hey Mors!” Dallas cheerful voice, an aural equivalent of a large, fixed grin, rang over the phone. “How are we all doing down there?”

“Well, things could be worse,” Mors replied, quite annoyed. Ares tried the phone as he was talking to the Captain, getting the same results as Castor and San. He landed flat on his back, cursing and preparing to blow the phone to pieces with a MAC 10 from the Fastback.

“Now, don’t you worry about anything, we’re gonna have this little problem solved any time now!” A few minutes later, Dallas called again. “Mors, here’s what we’re going to do. There’s a bridge just a couple miles out of your way...”

01001101011011110111001001110011

Mors sat up, rubbing his head as he had just hit the pavement. The phone had propelled him out, after they had watched Captain Roland and the crew of the Mjolnir use it to jack out.

“Captain, it didn’t work.”

“Hey there Mors, still a slight technical hitch, one moment...” Dallas and Ariadne conversed for a minute before he got any attention. “Ok, Mors,” he said. “We’re going to back out on this whole ‘returning to the ships’ thing for now…tell you what, I’ll get Ariadne to find you guys a motel to stay at somewhere whilst we get ready to head to meet Jericho. I am sure you guys will be fine in the Matrix for a few days!”

“A few days, Captain?” Mors inquired with obvious surprise. “A few days?”

“You’ll be fine! There are a dozen of you, I’m sure nothing bad will happen! Strength in numbers, eh?”

“Right Captain...now send us some money and a key to a motel room...”

01001101011011110111001001110011

The crews of the Shez and the Percy crowded together in one of the two rooms at the White Rabbit Motel they had rented, just north of the Hampton Bridge. A simulation of rain poured down heavily, drenching them. There they would wait for Captain Marduk and Captain Dallas to come in with fresh clothes, more money, and more weapons.

Ares took one look around the room, filled with wet, miserable people. “I’m sleeping in the Yukon...”

“I call back seat of the Fastback!” Burn shouted much to everyone’s annoyance as Mors flopped down on the bed. “San, care to join?”

“No thank you,” she said, throwing her tattered trench coat over his head and pushing him out the door towards his car. She flopped down on the bed next to Mors. “I want a good night’s sleep, not a raunchy lip-smacking contest...”

“I think sleeping here will be hard,” Cloud said from the second bed, sitting up and looking over at Mors. “I’m not comfortable here.”’

“Nor am I,” Castor agreed. “It is very...odd...”

They did not relax long as Dallas appeared at the door, having driven a small purple ‘57 GMC Stepside. A Matrix replication of his ten-gallon hat sat perched upon his head and a smart shirt was tied at the top, his mirrored shades reflecting their miserable faces. He threw four duffel bags down on the ground, then went to fetch a fifth

“Hey there, boys!” Dallas greeted. “Sorry for all the hitches, you know what life is like…” Ares and Mors opened the bags.

Guns and clothes.

Lots of guns, and lots of clothes.

“Take what you need,” Dallas told them. “Throw the rest into the river.” His phone rang. He answered it, met with Ariadne‘s shrill and worried tones. He mimed a talking mouth with his hand as she talked, and hung up. “Yeah. I gotta go. Ariadne seems convinced I am about to lose my signal and die. Or something. Well, good luck!” The hard-line rang, Dallas answered, and he returned to the Real World as the rest of them watched enviously.

“I wonder why we can’t return...” San asked as she twirled her Glock 18’s around on her fingers, setting them down next to her fresh clothes and numerous clips.

“It is beyond me,” Mors responded, undoing his belt and setting his katana sheath down. “But I know what I want to do right now...” He grabbed his fresh casual wear, a red dress shirt and loose black pants, and went into the bathroom. He emerged with a bag of toffees that Dallas had slipped into his pocket, as Ares pushed past. He tossed one to Cloud and put another in his mouth.

“Coconut?” Cloud guessed.

“My favorite,” Mors replied. “Too bad it isn‘t real.” He divided them between everyone as they sorted their weapons and clothes, and the general talking began.

“So, who has some good theories on how Dallas became a Captain, comrades?” Celsius asked, pouring some vodka into a shot glass with the Soviet Union’s red and gold hammer-and-sickle emblem imprinted on it.

“I bet he won it in a contest...” Ares suggested, setting his MAC10 and clips down in a bundle and examining a Colt Singe Action Army revolver thoroughly.

“The Zion Lottery perhaps?” Burn responded, buttoning his jeans.

“No, more like something on the internet...”

“Printable Captain’s License?” Everyone laughed at this.

“How about blackmail?” San said.

“Yes, I’m sure he has pictures of Commander Locke and Trinity stashed somewhere in his hat...” More laughter, and then a shatter as Castor played around with a pair of nunchuks and hit a lamp. Mors chuckled heartily, some of the others falling down, splitting their sides with glee. They entertained each other for another hour, the bags of weapons still lying open on the ground, when suddenly the door opened.

“Room service!” tiny Hispanic woman called out into the room in her best English. The crews stopped laughing, freezing in place. Mors and Cloud had started sparring with their katanas, and Celsius had been singing a Cossack tune in a drunken stupor. Ares and Burn both had revolvers and other numerous firearms strapped to them. San’s Glock 18s lay strewn on the floor along with the other couple dozen guns, where she lay trying to find her clean pants under them.

Before the woman could scream and call the police, there was a sharp BLAM! and she fell back with a bullet hole in her chest. Ares’ revolver was smoking at the barrel, and he muttered a few swear words to himself as he stashed the body in the closet.

Mors came out of his stunned silence and grabbed Ares’ by the scruff of his neck. “Damn Ares, now we’ve got to get out of here! Celsius, gather your crew and their things and get into your Barracuda, get out of here! We’ll clean up our things and follow shortly...”

BLAM! Thok! A bullet tore through Mors’ shoulder, spattering blood on the wall. Mors stumbled back as Ares stopped removing the body and fired another shot from his revolver at the figure in the doorway.

“Bad time for an Agent to show up,” Celsius mumbled, still slightly tipsy.

BLAM! Thok! Another bullet shattered Mors’ forearm as he grabbed a MP5K and opened fire, the Agent in the doorway becoming a blur. San and Heph leaped for the Agent, both planting scorpion kicks firmly against his chest. He flew out of the doorway, leaving an open path.

“Quick!” Mors shouted with a sign of anguish, clenching the wound in his arm. “Out!”

The crews pushed out of the doors, Ares and Burn leaping through the large window and getting cut up by glass, firing their automatic weapons at the Agent as he rose to a standing position. He became a blur of motion as everyone crowded into the cars, pushing the bags of weapons in along with themselves. Ares hopped into the driver’s seat of the Yukon, still firing his MAC10 while turning on the engine and pounding the pedal to the metal, the Mustang Fastback following quickly. Neither driven bothered closing their doors, continuing the rapid string of rounds in the direction of the Agent. Soon the Agent was out of sight, only the glowing lights of police cars visible by the motel.

The crews sat in silence as they drove at high speeds, towards the less dangerous parts of the city. No police cars or black Lexus cars with tinted windows pursued them, no Agents leaping out of windows and landing on their cars. The Yukon, Mustang, and Barracuda stayed together and parked in an open field, not too far away from the City.

Mors sat, his wounds numbed, in the passenger’s seat of the Yukon. Ares turned off the car, glancing from the bullet wounds in Mors to the First Mate‘s face. Rade and Fire had parked themselves in a slouching position in the second row of seats, saying nothing, and Hephaestus slept amongst the bags of guns in the very back. The Mustang pulled up alongside them, the muzzle of an assault rifle propped against a side view mirror, Castor’s finger on the trigger. The Barracuda pulled up on the other side, San and Azrael dead asleep with Celsius at the wheel, Cloud getting out and stretching.

Beep-beep! Mors phone rang, but he did not move to answer it. Instead, he turned it off, knowing full well that it would be an angry Dallas on the other end.

“Ares, what you did could not have been done any other way,” Mors said, breaking the silence. “An Agent was sure to have popped up eventually at our foolhardy gathering. We should have been more careful.”

Ares looked to him, but said nothing.

“We should get some rest, I think Heph has the right idea,” Rade said, slumping over and resting against the window. “Let’s just leave this thing out of the report...”

Mors nodded and got out his cell phone, calling Burn and Celsius in the other cars. “Sleep while you can, we’re moving out tomorrow.”

Chapter 13: Spam

The Yukon, the Mustang, and the Barracuda pulled up in the City’s commercial district, just outside of the Circe Computer Corporation. Mors was on the phone as everyone else left the vehicles. Dallas spoke to him on the other end of the line, briefing him for the situation.

“I know this situation ain’t ideal and there is all sorts of shit going on, but don’t you guys worry your little heads about it. Those of us in the real world will sort out all the technical difficulties, and all of us can work out what the deal with freaky iron lung guy is later. Right now, we still have a mission to do and we are not going to fail it! We have to find and deal with Jericho.

“Now, what you have to understand about Jericho is that he is a nut. Thinks too much, like Morpheus. But he’s a clever nut and he’s been on the lines for a long time. Watch out. And should you have to go toe to toe with him…well…heh, he’s no Dallas! But he’s good enough. Very much into the whole Samurai thing as well. Nut.

“But the one you should really look out for is Khali, and not just because she was Jericho’s heavy duty crewmember. Khali is…unhinged. I don’t think she was a very nice kid to start with but the whole trauma of being pulled out the Matrix affected her badly…she’s a disturbed girl. Genuine sociopath. In a war, it’s very handy to have someone like that on your side but in this kind of situation…well, I’ll just say…if anyone is going to not hesitate to pull the trigger on another human, it’ll be her.

“So just stay focused, ignore all our other troubles, and do your job.”

“Yes, Captain, I will do my best.” Mors put away the phone and kept his katana concealed under his trench coat. “Barb, come along! We need to get in there...”

Captain Marduk had put another soldier under Mors’ command, seeing as Celsius was drunk and wounded. Barb, brother to San, was a fast fighter with a level head, but quite frankly was not up to the job. He nodded, getting out of the Barracuda and quickly hiding a Desert Eagle and a MAC10 under his coat.

The nearly one dozen soldiers of Zion moved towards the massive skyscraper which was covered in mirrored glass. All of them entered the lobby, walking past a beautiful fountain and displays that demonstrated computer technologies of the Circe Computer Corporation. They approached the desk, and Mors asked if they could go up to see Jericho.

“Do you have an appointment?” asked the receptionist.

“No, but I am sure he would like to see us,” Mors replied.

“Alright, I’ll call his department, he’s a busy man.” She dialed the phone and spent a minute describing them. She looked up at them. “Can I have a name?”

“Dallas.”

She put the phone down shortly after. “Alright, floor thirteen, go on up.”

“Thank you.” Mors led the party to the lift, but Fire’s phone rang. He answered, talked with Dallas for a few seconds, then hung up. “Rade, Heph, Castor, Azrael, and I are going to go up to see Jericho. Dallas wants us to split up, as to be less threatening.”

“That is fine by me, since they are Captain’s orders,” Mors agreed. “Good luck.”

“Thank you, old friend...” Fire turned and entered a different lift with his four. At Dallas's orders, they took the smooth and clean lifts up to floor thirteen with a ping! and Mors kept his group just outside his lift as Fire entered Jericho’s office.

After a few minutes, Mors’ phone rang. It was Fire. “Jericho doesn’t seem to be in the building, but Ariadne is picking up some strange coding somewhere in the building. She thinks it may be a data port, the System puts them in computer companies apparently. Fire out.”

“They’re climbing up to the fourteenth floor, everyone,” Mors alerted them.

Ping! The lift ascended to the sixth floor, but Mors did not remember it even going down.

“Anyone else notice that?” Ares asked.

“Yes, I did...odd...” Burn responded, viewing the lift lights.

Ping! The lift ascended to the sixth floor, but Mors did not remember it even going down...let alone leave the sixth floor in the first place.

“Anyone else notice that?” Ares asked, drawing his MAC10 cautiously and gesturing towards the large metal grill that had just appeared in front of the stairwell where Fire had taken his crew, cutting them off from one another.

“Damn, a System change,” Mors cursed as he answered his now-ringing cell phone. “Hello?”

“It’s Dallas, we’re writing this one off, you have a ton of SWAT taking the lifts up to that floor, as well as the stairs! Go!”

“Move!” Mors commanded as the lift doors started to open. Burn immediately reached for his MP5K and sprayed a hail of bullets into one of the lifts, as did San with another. The bullets punched through the doors, killing two SWAT right away and injuring another at the hands of Burn, and killing another at the hands of San. Cloud’s sword flashed out and cut down a SWAT quickly, two shotgun bursts whizzing past him. Mors own sword merely skittered across the armor of another, but that SWAT was blown back by Ares’ bursts, wounding but not killing him. Another two dropped, and another injured, as Ares continued to fire with his MAC10, having put in a fresh clip already. Burn snapped another magazine into his MP5K and gunned down another two, maiming another, then dropped the automatic gun and brought out his Desert Eagle. Barb’s MAC10 expelled large amounts of bullets, dropping two, San firing again to injure a SWAT. A bullet nicked Cloud, but Burn killed his attacker stone dead.

“We need to get going!” San shouted over the roar of Ares’ MAC10 right next to her, which dropped two. Cloud lashed out with a kashing! and a SWAT fell back with a severed hand, still firing his assault rifle from the floor with one hand. “Emergency stairs, now! There are more coming!” San fired herself, peppering a SWAT with bullets but not killing him. Ares reloaded with great speed and finished him.

“Listen to San, because that SWAT has an RPG behind the gate!” Burn informed them while flipping towards a shotgun, and Mors saw a SWAT loading the explosive weapon, preparing to blow down the gate and swarm them with more SWAT. Mors spun back to the battle, fending off blows from the nightsticks that the SWAT brought out, having used all of the ammunition in their assault rifles.

Burn picked up the shotgun while doing a handstand and fired, point-blanking a SWAT and throwing him backwards. Ka-chink! He narrowly missed a SWAT, splintering a wall instead. Ka-chink! Another SWAT was thrown backwards by the force of the bullets. Ka-chink! A SWAT was spun around, the bullets tearing into his arm, but remained standing. Ka-chink! A reflex attack due to the charging SWAT missed, pattering against the lift door. The soldiers swung their nightsticks, but Burn bent back and forwards and the three missed. Ka-chink! The closest SWAT slumped over, the shot having blown through his chest, the muzzle blast scorching his armor before piercing it. Ka-chink! Burn dropped another SWAT and ran into the office, flipping over to grab a few cartridges for his shotgun, Mors leading the way. San performed a kick on the remaining SWAT, throwing him back into the lift.

The group of them moved into the main office just as the grenade launcher blew out the gate. A SWAT ran through, his assault rifle poised in a ready-to-fire position. “Corridor clear!” he shouted back to his colleagues. “Proceed to ggggggnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn rrrrrrrgggghhhhhhhhhhhh!!!” The soldier’s body distorted and the black body armor disappeared, becoming a black, crisp suit. The goggles and helmet on the soldier’s head vanished, becoming a pair of square shades and perfectly combed hair. Combat boots became smartly polished shoes. Assault rifle dropped, and a hand reached into the suit, grabbing a Desert Eagle and aiming for Burn.

“Agent!” Burn shouted, ka-chink! and the Agent moved his arm at insane speeds to avoid having it blown off. Ares’ head pivoted to see the suited menace, and fired a couple of bullets at the Agent, who became a blur. San also fired, running away from the Agent. The Agent remained stationary, only bending back to let the bullets miss him. BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! Burn took a bullet to the shoulder, but kept running.

Mors held his katana firmly, looking back to see the Agent. “I wonder where Daniels is...”

“I remember you...” Mors turned to see Agent Daniels in front of him, aiming his own Desert Eagle at him. Three SWAT stood behind him, assault rifles aimed at Mors’ cohorts. Ares and Barb fired in unison, Ares’ target dropping dead, Barb’s target clutching his bullet wounds but still up.

“Windows, get to the windows!” San relayed Dallas's orders. Ares and Barb turned to run towards the windows, as did the rest of the group. The two SWAT fired, missing Barb but hitting Ares.

“Daniels...” Mors flipped towards him, somersaulting over the rounds that Agent Daniels put forth, which collided with a cubicle instead. As he came down, he jabbed at the Agent, but Daniels merely deflected his arm. In response to the attack, a smiling Daniels attempted to backhand Mors with the butt of his pistol, but Mors bent his head back just enough to allow it to miss.

The other Agent tore through the door and into the office with a look of frustration, firing at San. The bullets missed, powdering part of a cubicle. He fired again, denting a file cabinet. He fired again, putting two bullet marks in the window that the others were headed for. With a determined expression and an empty gun, the Agent threw it down and continued to leap over the cubicles.

Mors kicked up, but the blow connected with Daniels’ arm to no effect. Suddenly, Mors was forced to get back as Agent Daniels became a blur, shots from Ares and a ka-chink! from Burn killing both soldiers and infusing the wall with dozens of bullets.

“The windows have been toughened!” Ares said, causing only slight cracks in the window with the butt of his gun.

“Let me do it...” Cloud stood back and with a loud “Hai!” swung his sword. The window shattered.

“Well, bon jour mein freund,” Barb said, hopping out, followed by Ares and a shout of “Bonsai!” Burn’s shotgun went ka-chink! and Daniels blurred again. Mors sent a foot into Daniels’ chest as the Agent’s fist smacked against his own, then ran up his opponent, kicking Daniels upside the head and soaring through the room, turning to run.

He sprinted as Daniels’ final shots hit the floor near his feet, watching Burn ka-chink! at the Agent that had just grabbed San and punched. San bent back, letting the Agent’s attack fly past. The Agent kicked at her, but she was missed. To get her revenge, she leaped into the air almost in slow motion, planting her foot firmly against her chest in a solid kick, which smashed him into an office wall. He pushed his way out of it as she escaped, jumping down to the window box. Burn jumped down to the second window box, firing a final ka-chink! at one of the Agents, but missing.

Picking themselves up or stopping after a blur, Agent Daniels and the other Agent stepped side by side, and made their way slowly towards Mors and Cloud.

“These are not who we were expecting,” the second Agent said.

“It makes no difference,” Agent Daniels replied. “We shall proceed.”

“Eliminate them.”

The Agents moved forwards, but Cloud and Mors, glancing at one another for a brief second, shouted “Hai!” and lashed out. Cloud’s katana cut across the hand of the Agent, but Mors’ katana was knocked away as Daniels punched his fist and backhanded him. He had done the same thing last time.

“Never learn, do you?” Daniels asked with a confident smile.

“You just taught me, thank you,” Mors replied.

Cloud dodged the Agent narrowly next to Mors, then attempted to leap out of the window. The Agent pulled his fist back for an almighty blow, and it flew forwards, breaking something in Cloud’s back and throwing him out of the window. Mors took notice of this and kicked off of Agent Daniels, flipping head over heels out of the window.

Clang! He landed on the window cleaning box, down on a knee with his katana horizontal in front him. Burn helped Cloud up next to him.

“That was mighty bad luck there, Cloud...” Burn told him, patting his back in a bad spot.

“Ow...yeah, luck isn’t with me...” Cloud looked up towards the fourteenth floor. “Uh oh...”

“He’s gonna jump!” Burn shouted, he and Mors following Cloud’s gaze to the Agents. Ares, San, and Barb, three floors below at the eighth floor, noticed as well, Ares firing up at the Agent that had punched Cloud. The Agent, at the window’s ledge, twisted and turned, just before he smoothed out his suit and leaped. Agent Daniels watched, fixing his tie as he made some judgment of how to reach Mors and company without missing the box.

The Agent landed in Barb’s box, landing on one knee before twisting away from Ares’ bullets, who had just smashed another window and entered the building at Dallas’s command. Barb had followed him in, leaving San alone. As she had the time before, seeing as it had been effective, she prepared to leap into the air, defying gravity in slow motion and planting the kick. This time, however, the Agent moved forwards and grabbed her by the waist, hurling her through the metal side of the box. She grabbed onto the box, dangling above the vast distance to the street, just as he continued his assault with a drop punch after tightening his collar. She pulled herself up and twisted in a somersault over him, his punch bending the metal rather than cracking bone.

Clang! Agent Daniels landed in similar form to Mors, rising to jab at Burn. Reacting quickly, Mors tried to sweep the feet out from under him, but to no avail, and the jab hit Burn solidly in the jaw.

“Easier than before...” Agent Daniels scoffed. He stepped forwards, pulling his fist back for another punch. Burn just arced out of the way, the fist knocking out one of the safety walls on the box.

“Have you helped your gunner today? If you said now, help now!” Burn shouted to Cloud and Mors as they reached the eighth floor. Mors whirled in, spinning his blade wildly. Agent Daniels blocked many of the whirling blows without looking, sticking his arms in Mors’ path, but the final twirl caught his shoulder, grazing it slightly. Cloud shouted another “Hai!” and shattered this window too, just as Burn was grabbed by the throat.

Agent Daniels hurled Burn at full strength at Cloud, using him as a projectile. Burn collided with Cloud, knocking Cloud to the floor and Burn bouncing off the side of the box, rolling into the now shattered window.

“Shit that hurt!” Burn yelled in pain, getting to his feet. Mors paid him no heed as broken glass fell from above, the Agent blurring and Mors strafing. Looking up as the glass missed him, Azrael, eight floors above him, had jumped out of a window and grabbed onto the large Circe Computer Corporation billboard on the building.

And that was the last thing Mors remembered, as Agent Daniels fist collided with his nose, breaking it and throwing him into the building. Bloody and concussed, Mors passed out, the sounds of Cloud and Burn shouting and a shotgun going ka-chink!

01001101011011110111001001110011

“Mors being the heroic again...” Ares mordantly stated. “How are you feeling, First Mate? Shattered? Bloodied? Bruised?”

Mors shook himself to consciousness, his body aching, and looked to Ares. “A little of everything...” he replied, feeling weak and tired. “Where are we?”

“Cloud dragged you to the lift while I fired,” Burn told him, shoving another cartridge into the shotgun. “We met up with the others, if you haven’t guessed...”

“You mean Fire?”

“No, San, Ares, and Barb.”

Mors looked over, and San was on the phone, talking with Captain Dallas. “How’s Mors’ stats looking? Uh huh. Well, we have him, and he’s talking to us, must mean he’s alive...alright, we’ll do our best, Captain.” She snapped the phone closed and ran her hands though her hair in slight frustration.

“What did the Captain say?”

“Your vital signs are weak, according to Ariadne, but according to Dallas all that’s wrong is that your nose looks weird...oh, and we need to fight our way through the underground car park.” She ran her hands through her hair again, then reloaded her Glock 18 with a final clip. She cocked it, then looked up. “One floor left before we have to storm out of her into the SWAT supply area...”

“I wonder what Captain Dallas had in mind for us...” Mors pondered as the lift doors slid open, revealing over a dozen soldiers, armed with shotguns and assault rifles. San charged out of the lift with a cry, firing her Glock and hitting two SWAT, but not killing them. Barb followed her out, killing the shotgun-user she had fired upon and hitting the other SWAT again. Cloud leaped down and his katana skittered off the body armor of a SWAT, but a spinning thrust dropped the SWAT, driving the blade through his chest, letting Mors off of him to run to the armory. Ares fired, hitting two shotgun-users, then fired again, killing one of them. Burn ran in, ka-chink! ka-chink! ka-chink! and two of his targets flew back.

Mors, sprinting towards the armory woozily as shots whizzed past him, and he looked back to Cloud only to have his look of confidence in the boy become a look of horror. Ka-chink! A scattershot tore across his chest at close range, throwing him to the floor. He did not get up.

“Cloud! No!” Mors shouted, running back to his friend. San grabbed him by the arm, pulling him into cover behind a silver BMW, the windows shattering as scattershots and rifle ammunition hit.

“Let Ares get him! If you get shot you‘ll die!” San said to him, pulling him back. Mors stopped resisting, taking her words in.

“You’re right, San...” Mors got down on the ground, staying low to avoid taking hits. San turned around and blew away a SWAT, then grabbed an assault rifle. Barb moved from cover near them and charged down an injured soldier, performing a cartwheel and then grabbing the assault rifle, spinning it around, and cracking up upside the man’s head with a war cry.

BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! Agent Daniels had used one of the SWAT as a host and fired three bullets from a fully-loaded Desert Eagle. Burn arched his back, the bullets flying past him, then did a few gymnastics, reaching the armory and firing backwards. More bullets poured in their direction, all of them taking a few hits as they reached for shotguns and M16s from the armory.

“We’re gonna get killed here if we don’t do something fast!” Ares shouted to San. “Call Dallas!”

San ducked down, dropping the M16 and taking Ares’ Ingrams MAC10. “Captain, what do we do?”

The second Agent appeared, taking another SWAT, standing next to Agent Daniels and also drawing his Desert Eagle. They joined in the flurry of fire, the second Agent scoring a hit in Ares’ ribcage. The gunner’s shotgun fire went wide, but managed to send a SWAT to the ground.

A third Agent appeared, having lost track of their companions. He too drew his Desert Eagle and fired, his shots just nearly missing Mors’ limp form and hitting San as she turned to fiddle with the explosives in the armory.

“San, what are you doing?” Mors asked.

“We’re blowing the armory! Dallas says we’ve got another couple dozen men heading our way, and we have three Agents right there!” Another bullet hit her.

“Let’s take down as many of these assholes as we can!” Barb yelled at the top of his lungs, firing an M16 he had snatched up. He unleashed a hail of lead upon the SWAT and Agents. The Agents blurred, but he killed a few SWAT alongside Ares and Burn. The three of them screamed war cries with determined but grim effort, mowing down SWAT but still taking gruesome hits.

They were still screaming as San was successful in her tinkering with the explosives. She dived backwards, the explosives going off with a tremendous sound in the confined environment. Mors, having been limp on the floor, was picked up by the force of the blast and tossed through the air, as if a titan had brushed his arm through the room and obliterated all. Mors flew backwards, unable to determine what was what in the now pitch blackness. The sound of the explosion was nonexistent as Mors had been deafened, the only noise being crumbling as supports and foundations collapsed. The entire portion of the building slipped into a fiery ruin, directly on top of him.

And then all was quiet.

Chapter 14: Medea & Chemical Fires

Shortly before San had blown the armory, the rest of the men had been on the run, running low on ammunition and carrying a semi-conscious Hephaestus. An Agent was after them and planted a few heavy blows on Castor before a girl in skin-tight red leather showed up and proned the Agent, someone that the crew was now familiar with after a briefing: Medea of the Bounty.

“You guys ok?” Medea asked, as the van shook with a loud explosion from somewhere nearby.

Castor looked up to Medea, who had just climbed into the back of their stolen van from the top of it, observing that she looked quite nice in skin-tight red leather. “What’s your deal? First your against us, and now this.”

“Hey, I was never against you!” she replied. She took off her under-rimmed shades and placed them in her jacket.

“And what’s the deal with your crew?”

“My crew? They’re fine.”

“Oh no they ain’t, not with the stuff Jericho’s pullin’...”

“We’re all better for what Jericho is ‘pullin.’ You shouldn’t have come after him.”

“Last time I checked, Jericho was making our lives a living hell. How are any of you even alive?”

“That’s simple, there was never anything wrong with us, the Bounty is just fine.”

“But I thought...”

“I know, we faked it.” Medea looked back out the windows of the van to view the burning Circe Computer Corporation as Rade drove the van through a SWAT barricade easily.

“Why would you do that? Was it cleared by Zion?”

“No...it’s...a long story...”

“Okay...well...how did you find us? And why can’t we leave the Matrix?”

“Well, I knew you were at the CCC; Jericho set a trap for you. If you can’t leave...well, probably Melitus' doing.”

“Why would Jericho set a trap for us then send you?”

“Umm...he didn’t send me...”

Fire turned from the passenger seat to look at Medea after giving Rade some directions. “We thank you for your help back there, Castor needed it. That makes it twice that you have aided us. Zion has some questions for Jericho, but I want to know why you came if he didn’t send you.”

“Because I could not stand by and let Agents kill you...”

“How did Jericho know we were going to be there?”

“Oh yeah, Melitus called in advance and told him. Jericho left a spammer.”

“Spammer?” Castor asked.

“A spammer is a trick the old school used to use,“ Medea informed the young boy. “Back when the current Captains were newbies. It's basically a deliberate disruption of the code in the Matrix, 'white noise' ad it were. Brings Agents coming damn quick. They were used as distractions- you would spam the system somewhere, Agents ran over there, and you would be making your move- normally grabbing someone to be freed- somewhere else.

“They became too dangerous to use in the end. Agents got wise to it and the people doing the spamming ran into trouble. But Jericho said it was perfect for this. He set it up to go off in the CCC building just as we left; the Agents turned up just after you arrived."

“Why would he go through all that trouble to kill us?” asked Heph.

“I told you. You shouldn't have tried to look for him. He doesn't want to be found and he will kill anyone who tries. He has no time for Zion any more."

“Why are you working for Melitus rather than Zion, then?” Heph continued. “Zion needs you more than a crippled coppertop in an iron lung does...”

“Melitus isn’t a coppertop! And like I said, long story.”

“He isn’t?”

“Of course. This whole plan of Jericho's; he put it together with Melitus. Melitus is a Machine- a powerful one. But...he doesn't seem to work for the System. He's some sort of renegade, it seems."

“Hmm...” Hephaestus pondered, but he did not ponder long. “Damn, tell us about the Bounty already!”

"Well...It started...I mean...things had been going badly for a while. We had a load of missions go wrong with us; we lost one of our crew. And Jericho had been getting downhearted as well. He's been fighting this war too long. But he never told any of us what he knew. It's the same thing I guess none of you have been told."

"Jericho is a smart guy, he was one of Zion's best captains. He has a great talent- he's always been able to empathize and reason like a machine. He knows how to think the way they do, and he was Zion's expert in Game Theory- he was the head of the Strategic Planning Group."

"Jericho spent years upon years predicting machine strategy, their next move, their overall goals. And his lifetime's work came to one conclusion. Zion will lose this war."

Heph thought about this for a moment. “What about Neo?”

Medea looked at him strangely. “Who?”

“Heph, the Bounty went missing a month before all that...” Fire told him, patting him on the shoulder.

“Before what?” Medea questioned.

“Neo is the newest member of the Nebuchadnezzar. I think you’ll remember that Morpheus was very much into finding the One...”

“Morpheus thinks he’s found the One?” Medea looked at him with hesitation for a moment. “No...I’ll believe it when I see it...”

“It’s true, Medea, he has found him. I believe it, though not all of Zion does...”

“But Jericho did not get a chance to know that, and just because it seemed like Zion was doomed he threw the towel in,” Fire butted in. “So what did he do? Defect?”

"Don't be ridiculous. If we had defected we wouldn't be running around like this, would we? We wouldn't have been after the Machine's codes. And by now Zion would be already destroyed- Jericho knows enough info about Zion to compromise it totally. And just because we think we will lose does not mean we want to join the winning side- that price is too high and why would I want to damn humans personally?

"And you say 'just because'...you seem to dismiss it. You don't understand, this isn't mere supposition, this is fact. No-one could deny anything Jericho said, no-one could raise any objection. It was a decision based on all information, looking at all possible options and future scenarios. It is inevitable. There is nothing we can do to hold off the machines in perpetuity. Sooner or later with their superior resources they will amass an attack force capable of destroying Zion. No matter how many people we free, no matter how many operations in the Matrix we disrupt, the Machines will win.

"No-one wanted to listen to him, of course. No-one wants to hear the truth. Everyone knew he was right, but no-one wanted to listen. Every Captain knew he was telling the truth. Well, all except two, and they're both insane."

“Morpheus and Dallas,” Azrael guessed. “So what happened?”

"Jericho's comments were censored. The Captains were forbidden to tell anyone what he had said, and Jericho was going to lose his command. So he put his plan into action.

"I don't know how he met Melitus, but he had been talking with him in secret for some time. He knew Melitus was a machine. Melitus gave Jericho an alternative to dying for Zion. He said he would offer Jericho sanctuary in the one place that the Machines would always keep safe- the Matrix.

"Jericho convinced us all one by one to go with him. He was our Captain, we believed him and trusted him. Like I say, morale was low. And there was nothing for us in Zion any more.

"We took the Bounty out on a test flight, no Operators. Then we went ahead with what we planned. We faked our distress signal. We created the wreck out of parts from previously destroyed ships and sentinels. It looked very convincing, and who the hell would be suspecting we would fake our own destruction? We knew Zion would do what they always do- find the wreck at the last known site of transmission, and head home before more sentinels turned up. And that's what happened, everyone thought the Bounty was destroyed."

“But they were wrong,” Fire said, grimly.

“Where have you been hiding? What work do you do for Melitus?” Azrael asked.

“I don't know how...but Melitus gave Jericho the real world co-ordinates to head to. Melitus...he has the ability to hide things. To remain invisible. Inside the Matrix...and in some way outside as well. Inside the Matrix he shields himself and us from the System. He lives in a place that doesn't seem connected to the rest of the Matrix. And he knew where Jericho could take the Bounty to without it being found.

"I don't know where it is. I just know we were flying for a long way...a long, long way. Way beyond our range, we would never get back to Zion. And then we found it...a broadcast point. It was weak, but stable. No-one knows of it, neither Zion nor System. And...Melitus seems to have some real world resources. I don't know how it all works. But Machines refuel and re-power our ship, and bring us food and water.

"And so we went to work for Melitus. As I say, he is no friend of the System. As well as widening his underworld power base, we've been running missions against the system as well. It's just the same as before! Fighting the Machines. But now we have a chance of survival. It seemed a good deal.

"But at the airport...when I saw you people there...and it all went wrong, we were worrying so much about you that they found the cleaner we'd tied up. And then the Agents turned up. And then I finally realized...that what we were doing might be hurting Zion...and I can't deal with that. But Jericho...he doesn't seem to care any more. He wants you dead, he set up that spammer without a second thought. I didn't sign up to fight other humans. I just wanted...a chance to live."

Medea looked at her wristwatch. “If you’ll excuse me, I really need to get going. I’m anxious to get back.”

“For what reason?” Fire asked.

“Jericho has complete control over me. If he even suspects I have been treacherous then I will be dead within minutes.”

“Maybe we can help you, in return for the favors we owe you?” Castor suggested. “Maybe get us an appointment with Jericho...”

“He’s never in the same place twice, and if I betray his location I am just as dead. And like I told you, I do not know where the ship is. Jericho will not talk. The only way to end this is to stop looking for him. You won't gain anything from it and there will only be more conflict."

“We can’t, if he’s connected to Melitus. Melitus has made us trapped in the Matrix,” Castor notified her.

"Then you will have to speak to Melitus about it," says Medea. "I can't help you. You see...I was the last to be convinced. Jericho does not fully trust all of us. We don't have much reason to be in the Real World any more, but we need to be fed and watered. But only Jericho and Khali know the auto-dial code to return to the Bounty. They tend to our bodies once a week. I never leave the Matrix. So you see...I am totally vulnerable. If Jericho knows what I am doing, he'll just pull my plug."

01001101011011110111001001110011

Mors snapped his phone shut after Ariadne relayed the entire conversation that Fire and his bunch had with Medea.

“So that is that...” Mors said. “I remembered Jericho’s spiel...but I never expressed my opinions upon them, for I was relieved of Captainship at that point.”

“Jericho’s had it tough, but we’ve had it tougher, Mors, we’ve had it tougher,” Ares told him, fiddling around with the broken shotgun he had been clinging to when San blew the explosives. The crewmembers of the Shez and the Percy were currently trapped underground in a pocket of air, waiting for Dallas to give them the go ahead to dig out of there.

“A spammer, who would have thought?” Mors continued. “Jericho is very tactical indeed, the use of the spammer proves it.”

“It was not something we had seen before,” San commented. “Ariadne did say she’d seen something in the code, but she was not going to be able to recognize it. Finn might have, but we weren’t talking to him...”

“Unexpected and could not be helped.” Mors pushed himself up from the ground, battered and sore, propping himself up on his katana. The katana sunk slightly into the dirt and he lost his balance, but stayed up.

Ares and Burn wandered around, looking for spare ammunition in case the Agents decided to make their way down.

“This is some serious shit Dallas has gotten us into,” Ares said, hands on his hips, giving up on finding anything that could repair his shotgun.

“Yep, and I doubt he has a way to get us out...” Burn hobbled slightly, leaning on his unloaded shotgun for support. “Do you think we could...”

As he and Ares rattled off insane ideas on getting out, Cloud joined Mors and San in their conversation.

“Why do you think Morpheus and Dallas disagreed with Jericho?” Cloud asked, sitting on a rock, laying his katana across his lap. He was covered in dust like all of them were, but had multiple scattershots sprayed across his body.

“You look like a shotgun pancake!” Burn had said to him when they pulled him out of the rubble.

“I think those two Captains disagreed for very obvious reasons, Cloud,” Mors replied, looking up at him. Mors’ brown eyes were tired and red, mostly because Agent Daniels had broken his nose. “Morpheus believes in the One, believes in a higher purpose above Jericho’s strategy-based theories. And Dallas’s personality doesn’t allow him to believe Jericho, he’s much too hardcore a Captain to believe that there is no alternative. He likes to see ”

“What did you believe, Mors?” San asked him.

“I was much too drunk at the time, having just lost the Jabberwocky, but...I disagreed.”

“For what reason?”

“Jericho was my friend, as I have said to Ni Zahn and Melitus, but I didn’t like the way the man thought. He was too morbid and grim. That, and I believe in the One.”

“Did you know he was the leader of the Strategic Planning Group?”

“No, for I was not a member myself.”

“Why not?”

“I preferred to be with my crew. I did not know family growing up in the Matrix, and I suppose you lose family anyway, when you are freed. But, in essence, the crew of the Jabberwocky was my family. We were very close to one another.”

The crewmen of the Percy and Shez fell silent, looking around, cleaning cuts, wiping off dirt and grime, etcetera. Mors’ beeping phone broke the tranquility of the underground cavern.

“Hi-ho, Dallas here. There is a big pile of rubble on the north side of the room. You want to kinda climb two-thirds up that, and start moving through rocks there.”

“I think we should make an assembly line of sorts,” Burn suggested. “Have people handing rocks down to more people, and so on.”

“Sounds like a capital idea to me,” Mors told him, forcing himself to his feet again. “Just tell this broken man where’d be of most help...”

After some teamwork digging, the formed a sort of tunnel.

“Why should we be trusting this kind of stable tunnel again, Dallas?” San asked into the phone.

“Because it is the only bit of stable thing in this damned cave, get in there!”

Burn and Ares got in first, then San and Barb, and then Mors and Cloud. Combat crawling in the complete darkness, Dallas called them to a halt.

“Whoa! You may want to tell Burn to hold up. About five meters in front of him, the ground down below has subsided, the rubble has fallen into the subsided hole, so basically we got a gap in this tunnel of about eight meters.”

“Figures...wait up, Burn, or you’ll fall into a big hole...”

Burn stopped immediately. “Damn, how did I know this would happen, how?”

“Because you are the Shotgun Deity...” Ares mumbled.

“Any idea how deep it is?”

"Err... hard call that. It goes about fifty meters down all told, but there are all sorts of jaggedy bits all over the place; it's not a smooth drop."

Ares turned to shout something at San, and San relayed it to Dallas. “What’s at the bottom, and are their any ledges we could use to hop across?”

“The bottom? More rubble. Earth. Probably some magma if you went down far enough, that kinda thing...err...maybe there are, could be tricky.”

“Burn, look for ledges,” Ares told his friend.

“Well, there might be some more blackness behind the blackness...”

Ares smacked his forehead and had San relay another question. “Could we dig around?”

“Nope. Remember, that tunnel you are in is only stable because of that supporting beam the rubble is piled on. Go either side of that and you are in serious trouble."

“Nothing crossing it?”

“No, but like I said, lots of jaggedy bits, semi-connecting rocks.”

“So if we fall we’re deader than dodos...” Cloud said.

“Quite true...” Burn agreed. “Hey, I found the edge of the gap.”

Over the next half hour they formulated a plan, crawling back out of the hole, dumping their guns, ammunition, and melee weapons, taking off their trench coats and linking them together, then crawling back in the appropriate order. Burn was lowered down into the hole until he found a good foothold, and the trench coat rope loosened as he leaped across. There was the sound of falling rocks and a cursing Burn.

“You alright Burn?” Ares asked.

“A frickin’ rock hit me in the head, but I’m ready to get outta here.”

The rest of the crewmembers got across fine except for San, who slammed into a solid rock face, nearly skewering herself on the jagged ones. Mors swung across through the inky blackness of the tunnel, but climbed up last without a problem, letting the trench coats drop into the pit.

They emerged into a wider, buried service tunnel, punctuated every now and then by the release from broken steam valves, filling the area with boiling steam. Dallas still cautioned them, the crewmembers hearing loud thumps and voices. “Ssh...rescue workers. Don't let them hear you. If they do, they will be Agents a moment afterwards. Oh, and by the way, that support beam you just wandered under is about to give way. It will bring down that tunnel and, err, probably the one you are in as well. Actually, you have about thirty seconds before the whole lot gives way. You need to get through to that broken lift shaft on the far side pretty darn quick..."

They made a mad dash towards the end of the tunnel. Ares scorched himself on a pipe as he was running, biting his tongue to keep from cursing loudly. Mors was too busy keeping Ares quiet to notice the large shard of metal that dug into his thigh lightly. The two who had the biggest trouble were Cloud and Barb, who got hit by debris as the tunnel came down. Cloud and Barb gasped for air when they were able to rest.

“I’m not having fun...” Cloud notified them, but nobody replied.

"Now, I am leading you to an area that is unguarded, so you can sneak off,” Dallas said. "Yeah... ok, Ariadne says I should probably mention that it is unguarded because there is some kinda chemical spillage and fire risk there..."

“Dallas is insane,” Cloud muttered.

“That vibe might have been gently hinted once or twice,” Mors said with a wink.

The crew was guided to a broken lift shaft, which they climbed to a ventilation shaft. “Now," Dallas said, "the shaft runs through parts of the building where you may be visible, so be careful. And parts of it might be a tiny bit on fire. Oh, and its broken at one point where it runs across a ceiling, so you will have to drop down into the building, but you won't be able to get out of there without being spotted so you will have to kinda climb back in again at the other side.

"Then, crawl on through the rest of the chemical spill then I should be able to route you through the sewer system and back out into the big wide world!"

“Easy as that then?” Cloud asked sarcastically.

“That’s the spirit!” Dallas replied, not picking up on it.

The crew climbed up the shaft and into the vent. Shuffling along, Cloud’s section of the vent suddenly gave way. It would not have been a bad thing if there was no ferocious chemical fire coming his way, but there was. Burning chemicals began pouring towards his body, which was trapped under the fallen vent.

“This is heavy guys...and that is hot!” Cloud shouted as the heat intensified around him.

Mors dropped down, having been right behind Cloud. He landed on one knee but bolted to the upright position, lifting the vent off of Cloud as the flames licked at his boots.

“Get up in the vent, Cloud!” Mors shouted over the roar of the closing flames. “That’s an order!”

Cloud nodded, then, with a running start, sprang back up to the vent, climbing on and pulling himself in. Mors boots caught fire as he ran through chemicals, but his own leap ensured his safety, and he followed the crew out of the shaft and into what would have been freedom if they could jack out.