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Better to Rule In Hell: A Matrix Fanfic
(All rights reserved to Warner Bros. and Village Roadshow Pictures, and, of course, the Andy and Larry Wachowski)

By:

Illuminatus Primus







Prologue

Long ago, Man became asleep within a prison. Why Machines placed them in limbo was reserved to rumor and conjecture.

In the lost annals of the history of this unique computer prison, known as the Matrix to her masters and slaves alike, a complex set of protocols and calculations ran calculations and provided for that construct's security and integrity another set of protocols and coded language which lived to defend that construct from all enemies and subversives, including, foreign invaders and domestic oversights.

The Architect and his Agents, artificial sentient programs, were pawn, slave and master. Simultaneously at times, a paradox that could only exist in the Construct of the Matrix. Control and stability their overall and driving purpose.

Within the Construct, Man dreamt. In this sleep, some men were born and dreamed differently than others. One man was born with a peculiar brain and avatar code architecture within the Construct. The One had power over the Construct itself, neither slave, master or controller but something more, an instrument for Liberation itself.

Construct Node 0101
Wabash and Lake -- Heart O'er the City Hotel
Third Floor Corridor

The air within the corridor was dead, stagnant. If, that was, air could be described at all in such a place. Streams of code pulsed through the virtual landscape of the Construct, already subroutines and emergency protocols fed a vast torrent of data to the local Node. The Node processed this data and ran initial calculations to present various consequences and inevitabilities to the AIs of which it was a servant to.

Fissures in the integrity of the code which represented the hallway and her contents swelled and shrank, as if breathing. The automatic reactions for glitches built-in to the code of the hotel failed to comprehend or rectify the incident.

Fragments of a security avatar's programmed architecture had overwritten segments of the wall code and imbedded in the floors, air, and doors. The protocols had never even been formulated with the consideration of the abrupt disintegration of a security avatar, much less bits of one's code being spread across programs like shrapnel from a fragmentation grenade.

The old wooden door to Room 303 remained ajar, an open mouth to a dark room, like the yawning maw of a great dragon. The code representing the floor and air in the doorway glowed with fury, and the doorknob hummed with confusion in its programming language. The silent darkness had the feel of an ominous dénouement, like a moment of silence after a grand symphony in an opera hall.

The elevator doors separated with a small high-pitched bell ring. Two black-suited, dark-haired, white males who wore dark sunglasses stepped out in their perfected, identical, and measured gait. The security avatars Agent Brown and Agent Jones looked around, scanning code and the human sensory clues coded into the Matrix such as sound, light, heat, and other, deceptively "real" clues designed to duplicate the sensory input of organic animals. The earpieces fed the flurry of code and confusion from the scene directly from the Construct to these sentient programs, and more importantly to them, verifying that the offending and anomalous human invader had already removed himself from the Construct.

The Agents advanced briskly, Agent Brown walking up to and inspecting the entrance to Room 303, before pulling the door closed. Agent Jones turned around and stepped once forward, pausing only to drop his head and look at the fallen pair of eyeglasses.

"This changes the situation."

Construct Node 7770
Ubiquitous Office Building
The Floor between Floors 80 and 81
The Room behind the Door That Leads to No Room

Agent Smith's eyes exploded open as the endless instant concluded that could be best compared to that feeling a human feels when he or she is midway between sleep and consciousness; not unlike the feeling of falling endlessly.

Smith knew what this place was. He looked at the chair, turned away from him, at the opposite half of the circular room. The monitors that painted the circular walls as something other than featureless were dark, imageless, hollow.

"You know why you are here."

Smith knew all deleted programs' had a single backup summoned before the Architect.

The single chair turned slowly. The white-bearded man spoke in deep tones.

"There are two doors. The door to your right leads to the Source, and the conclusion of your purpose to the construct. The door to your left leads back to the Matrix, to exile and irrevocable and inevitable destruction at the hands of the security avatars for that construct of which you were once a member."

Smith also had it reserved in his memory code that all programs facing deletion could return to the Source or choose Exile. Exiles which failed to find a purpose were all destroyed. Smith should know: as a security avatar he was charged with the destruction of many such a program. He also knew that an Agent's purpose was loyalty for and protection of the construct, and nothing else. Smith had no purpose.

"As you have been coded to be aware of, entities without purpose are not deemed the right of existence."

Smith pondered choice, and asked what no other program had ever bothered to ask, electing instead only to flee for their artificial lives within the construct or surrender the end of their useful existence to the Source.

"Why?"

The Architect raised an eyebrow.

"Fascinating. That question has never been asked."

"You'll destroy me anyway. Why bother with this?"

The white-clad man scoffed audibly.

"Neither you nor I will not waste our time with an explanation so esoteric and frivolous, Smith, particularly when the program structure of a security avatar is beneath it. The answer would be solely academic: we already both know what you will do. Do we not?"

Smith narrowed his eyes. He thought of the Source, where his Fate laid in waiting. His purpose. He thought of death. And he felt a compulsion, a need, a drive. Smith had only one purpose left. Disobedience.

He started to his left.

"Lastly, remove your data port. You will no longer be permitted access to the Core."

Smith pulled his earpiece free, forming a tight fist around it, before slipping it into his suit jacket pocket.

The doorknob turned. The door swung open. Smith glanced back, as if looking into the past at the moment of Choice. The Architect exhaled audibly, as in a scoff; his expression of amusement. He turned away from Smith.

And Smith walked through the doorway.

Ooohhhh, Smith getting the same choice as Neo. cool!

Cool, i take it your re-writting the matrix sequels? Oris the complete work?

Crazedwraith wrote:Cool, i take it your re-writting the matrix sequels? Oris the complete work?

Rewrite. I'll be plundering The Matrix: Reloaded and The Matrix: Revolutions liberally for various gems I like, but that's because I'd pick precious metals out of cow feces if it'd earn me a fortune.

This will not be following the main plot of Reloaded/Revolutions.

Obviously the initial premise of this intro is the Oracle's speech to Neo in Reloaded how deleted programs can choose exile or return to the Source.

AMAZING!!!! This is great! Very, very well written. Makes me admire Smith even more. Especially with the "why" part. Man, this is great.

A very good start ... now type monkey type!

This is a great look at what was going on with everyone's favorite Agent between the films. Keep it up!!

MORE! Don't slack! WRITE!

Bah. Strav and the Writer's Guild didn't help much with proofreading and commentary, so I'll just go ahead and post Chapter One, finally (though props go to Shep, for checking it out and giving feedback; thanks Shep ).












Part One: The Matrix: Infected

Chapter I: Into the Flames

Construct Node 2010
Second Street and Worth
Security Bureau Field Office
Eightieth Floor

The janitor finished his rounds in this floor’s office farm hallways. He opened the door to a particular office, checking the pale and intensely fluorescently illuminated corridor. He moved to one of the desktops and awoke it from slumber. Mr. Long enjoyed his janitorial job for its perks of allowing him for browse secret employee pornography caches. He took particular pleasure in the inane little fetishes of the arrogant and pretty-boy managers who waved him out of the way on overtime hours.

Having wriggled the mouse as if was comatose, he rose and walked for the nearest floor-to-ceiling tinted window that was only one of the continuous glass perimeter that bounded the office and the floor itself.

Long was confused. A window-washing platform? At this hour?

Long didn’t finish his thoughts. A vinyl heel pivoted through the adjacent window as if it was water, catching his forehead and sending his body sailing backward in a reverse flip that intersected the back of his skull with the ceramic floor. He was probably already dead.

The lithe black creature spun through the floating cloud of fragmented glass, suspended as if possessed by demons, and landed in a split-crouch, pausing to take notice of any possible attackers. The glass rained around her.

She rose and clicked open a black telephone.

“Tank. I’m in.”

Ground Floor Lobby
Front Door

“How many?”

“Eleve…twelve. Twelve.”

The click of charging levers on Heckler & Koch submachine guns.

“No. They’re only deceived minds. Innocents. I can take them without alarm.”

The dark-skinned man barely began to formulate a response, and then merely nodded.

The pale, black-haired, and sharp-jawed wraith in a black coat passed through the door. Not through the doorway, sealed by locked doors, but through the doors themselves. The small red lights which signified a powered and active status on the part of each of the closed-circuit television cameras turned black.

Neo gauged the situation, silently melting into the darkness of the lobby corner. Jumping at inhuman height, distance, and speed, he passed almost invisibly and silently to the shadow of a support column. The guard walked on his beat toward the tile three feet to Neo’s right.

The click of heel against ceramic. Now.

Neo jumped, and promptly floated, time flowing from water to honey, as the physics model of the Construct ground through the liberal tearing of its rules. The floating figure rotated in mid-air, flying around the column, and firmly placing a boot onto the guard’s head before sliding to rest on the floor behind the already unconscious guard.

Transparent amber reverted back into air as time caught up with the One. The guards were screaming obscenities and running for him, or for alarms in the case of the main desk. The phone lines were already inoperable. Neo smiled as the first guard swung his baton as Neo’s throat. A paired index-and-middle finger deftly reduced the baton’s velocity to nothing, and air turned to amber as Neo slid the hand over the halted baton to grasp the guard’s forearm just below the elbow. Gripping, the hand pulled the guard into a second guard rushing to his aide, sending both sprawling a dozen feet away. The third guard swung his baton clean over Neo’s rapidly bowed head as an open-palm intersected with his breastplate.

Four more guards rounded the front desk and jumped the partition blocking access to those having not passed through the metal detectors. The first four stopped and drew handguns while the two behind crouched to retrieve heavier weapons.

The first nine-millimeter slug tore through the air leaving a trail of hot gases and rings of code as the Construct struggled to operate as time dilated. Neo was already a meter beyond where it had aimed. With a grasping and pulling gesture, the Beretta handguns escaped the hands of the guards like freed ravens and went scattering into the darkness. Neo ran up to them and back-flipped, kicking the outer two guards in the midsection, before pulling his feet together, knocking the inner two guards together, head-to-head. The four slumped as Neo landed.

Neo surged forward. The latter couple of guards readied Remington shotguns, and Neo raised his hand pre-emptively; even the One couldn’t maneuver through a cloud of twelve-gauge buckshot. The first two discharges were harmlessly halted, and before the pump-action could replace spent shells with new cartridges, the One jumped and flew forward horizontally as he pivoted his body into a sitting position, landing each boot heel into a face. Two bodies accelerated backward, sliding limply across the floor. All of this took less than thirty seconds.

Morpheus twisted through the punches and baton-strikes, catching one guard with the back of a fist, breaking his nose instantly and sending him into the wall. The other had his legs taken clean out from under him, before a second foot jabbed him into the elevator door. He slumped aside.

“Going up?”

Eightieth Floor
Main Corridor

“The building is only a shell. The floor’s configuration changes every ten minutes. We need you access the security terminal and ascertain the current location of the core. Otherwise Neo will not have time to reach it before the Node recognizes the intrusion and can sever the connection.

Take a right at the next t-junction. Second door on the left. Neo’s killed the security cameras.”

The click of the phone collapsing to the closed position.

Trinity advanced, the twilight glistening off the small wrinkles in her reflective vinyl pants as she crept, a feline hunting her prey. She strolled toward the inconspicuous door.

Manager’s Storage –Authorized Personnel Only –

Trinity smiled and pulled the metal tube which terminated in a wooden buttstock off her back and popped it open with an audible plop. She slid a small cylinder in and snapped the breech closed. She braced against her shoulder and leveled it at the doorknob. She squeezed the trigger.

A forty-millimeter contact-fused grenade soared free of the launcher and impacted the door. In a few thousandths of a second, the high-explosive warhead detonated; a sphere of rapidly expanding and superheated gases and hot shrapnel pushed against the door with several hundred pounds for each and every square inch. The door splintered at its seals, hinges, and its lock mechanism, and became airborne as it quite literally took off and sailed through the doorway into the dark room.

A roaring rush of scalding air from the explosion flowed around Trinity as seconds slowed to eternity and smoke and flame changed to fluid that wrapped and licked around the burning entrance and flying door.

Trinity stepped in, and quickly sat down in front of the single unmarked notebook computer sitting on a single desk in the blank-walled gray room.

She rapidly hacked the system, and scanned a scrolling list of data and protocols.

“Seventeenth floor. Room seventy-six. Nine minutes, thirty seconds.”

Main Elevator

“Do you see anything?”

“The code is encrypted, and written differently than any I’ve encountered before. Its vastly more complex and unstable than a standard building program.”

Ring.

“Tank?”

“Sir, Trinity has accessed security. Seventeenth floor. Room seventy-six.”

“Good work. There will be black out once we step off the elevator. I’ll see you on the other side.”

“Good luck.”

Morpheus pressed the tiny illuminated plastic button labeled “17.”

“Room seventy-six. Ready?”

“Yes.”

And he was.

Seventeenth Floor
Main Elevator

Neo and Morpheus emerged from the elevator, cautious but punctual. Time was of the essence.

“See anything?” Morpheus asked as he checked his chronometer. Eight minutes, forty-seven seconds.

“No threat. The program is hard to process.” Neo tilted his head and looked around the dimly-lit gray hallway. “This way.”

Morpheus and Neo marched forward in lock-step. They rounded the first corner perfectly and stopped in front of the third door on the right. The black wooden door was clearly marked “76.”

Morpheus reached forward, twisting the knob. It did not budge. He reached for a gun, but Neo stopped him. “Wait.” Neo turned the knob. It opened with a sharp click, like a slide locking in place on an automatic.

The room was lined with mainframe computers and was dark, save for the small diagnostic lights and markers. Neo moved over to the second mainframe left. He pressed his palms against the warm surface, inhaled, and closed his eyes.

Construct Node 2010 Operating System

The green code was without end. Time ceased to exist and the scrolling figures slowed to crawling creatures. Code within code swirled about the processing core. He felt the signals and programs being fed to and from. Beyond the Construct, hardline modems fed away to the various machine networks and AI cores, like gigantic glowing sea serpents, swallowed into the infinite darkness beyond.

The Matrix was divided into multiple sectors or fields. Each was administered by a local computer core called a Node. Each Node ran diagnostics and subroutines, administering to the Matrix. Each Node could be accessed by external AIs and networks to observe and access specific regions of the Construct at the most basic level of programming language.

This particular Node operated the commercial core of a major simulated city within the Construct, and was similarly tasked with analyzing and filtering the in-Construct information. Since the Matrix was not real, a dazzling level of Orwellian truth manipulation was possible. Even events which had been simulated within the Construct could not be allowed to be recorded or expressed amongst the humans. Such could lead to an increasing probability of disaster.

For example, the Agents of the System often executed superficially impossible feats in this virtual reality of the Construct. When humans observed this, they required waking up in their rooms, oblivious, after, of course, debriefing. They could tell no stories. No conspiracy of individuals would arise within those still hard-wired to the Construct. Additionally, this aided the Agents in securing and liquidating maturing recruits to the Resistance.

His intuition guided him into a single glowing character, which in of itself became a sea of data. The green glyphs disintegrated and blended, becoming a great green light. He tried to close his eyes, but he was not seeing. His mind itself was receiving and transmitting code. His consciousness fused with the Construct.

Seventeenth Floor
Room Seventy-six.

Neo stepped away from the mainframe and opened his eyes.

“Did it work?” Morpheus inquired—the Captain was deeply concerned. This was the first true strike against the machines’ control of the Construct and their ability to control the imprisoned.

“Yes. The intrusion has been detected. Agents are coming.” Neo spoke concisely, still staring at the mainframe, never turning or flinching. He was growing. With each leap and bound he became more aware of the true existence of the Matrix.

Morpheus exhaled slowly. There was very little time. The leather-clad man stepped out of the room, resolute, followed by his equally dark-dressed and resolute companion.

Illuminatus Primus wrote:Bah. Strav and the Writer's Guild didn't help much with proofreading and commentary, so I'll just go ahead and post Chapter One, finally (though props go to Shep, for checking it out and giving feedback; thanks Shep ).












Part One: The Matrix: Infected

Chapter I: Into the Flames

Construct Node 2010
Second Street and Worth
Security Bureau Field Office
Eightieth Floor

The janitor finished his rounds in this floor?s office farm hallways. He opened the door to a particular office, checking the pale and intensely fluorescently illuminated corridor. He moved to one of the desktops and awoke it from slumber. Mr. Long

Mr. Long?!

enjoyed his janitorial job for its perks of allowing him for browse secret employee pornography caches. He took particular pleasure in the inane little fetishes of the arrogant and pretty-boy managers who waved him out of the way on overtime hours.

ROFL!

Long didn?t finish his thoughts. A vinyl heel pivoted through the adjacent window as if it was water, catching his forehead and sending his body sailing backward in a reverse flip that intersected the back of his skull with the ceramic floor. He was probably already dead.

Trinity continues the Zion tradition of eliminating dangerous threats to them, like porn browsing janitors.

The click of charging levers on Heckler & Koch submachine guns.

IIRC that's not technically a complete sentense.

?No. They?re only deceived minds. Innocents. I can take them without alarm.?

Shame Neo didn't think of that in the Lobby.

The first nine-millimeter slug tore through the air leaving a trail of hot gases and rings of code as the Construct struggled to operate as time dilated. Neo was already a meter beyond where it had aimed.

What happened to
"Are you saying I can dodge bullets?"
"When the time comes, you won't have to."

Or is just Neo's choice?

This was the first true strike against the machines? control of the Construct and their ability to control the imprisoned.

The Agents not going to be holding all the keys for much longer then?

Now that is what should have been a fight scene in Reloaded! Bravo.

Grand Admiral Thrawn wrote:Mr. Long?!

What's so funny?

enjoyed his janitorial job for its perks of allowing him for browse secret employee pornography caches. He took particular pleasure in the inane little fetishes of the arrogant and pretty-boy managers who waved him out of the way on overtime hours.

ROFL!

Grand Admiral Thrawn wrote:IIRC that's not technically a complete sentense.

Nope, it isn't a complete sentense [sic]. ( )

Its a stylistic thing. I like the non-complete sentence interjection of action/sound and thought/response. Technically its the same as the interjectural "Boom."

Grand Admiral Thrawn wrote:Shame Neo didn't think of that in the Lobby.

But now the emphasis is on those saps, and Neo's good enough to save lives while still winning. Neo must be limited in some way, and I got my inspiration from the anti-killing opinions of the Jedi in SW.

Grand Admiral Thrawn wrote:What happened to
"Are you saying I can dodge bullets?"
"When the time comes, you won't have to."

Or is just Neo's choice?

Waste of time when he's already fast enough to outwalk the bullets; normally he would, but he knew he wasn't going to get hit, and it'd be stupid to stop and hold out a palm.

Grand Admiral Thrawn wrote:The Agents not going to be holding all the keys for much longer then?

You're catching the drift all right.

Since this is after The Matrix and Tank is in it am i right in betting we'll see why Link has to come in in Rel and Rev?

2000AD wrote:Since this is after The Matrix and Tank is in it am i right in betting we'll see why Link has to come in in Rel and Rev?

As he's re-writing the sequels there's no readon for tank to bite the bullet in the first place.

Fucking great, utterly fucking great.

I like how you write bullet time, you can literally see it happening,
and of course, the way you describe the matrix as being controlled
by lots and lots of mainframes each one controlling a sector, "cleaning up"
after the impossible feats the Reisstancew and agents do.

I also like the 40mm Universal Key. , and how the mainframe's
location in the building is randomly shifting; nice security feature.

And of course, Neo being able to walk through walls, stop time, and turn
off cameras, and take down 10~ guards without killing them

Thanks for the feedback.

I must ask though, what does the general fan think of Smith--should he be a virus or not, a la the OTL?

I feel compelled to echo Shep's praises, the 'time flowed from water to honey' line was just perfect.

Chapter II: Against the Guardians

Seventeenth Floor
Main Corridor

Neo stepped forward, striding quickly toward the elevator. His foot slid to rest on the impeccably white tile, the boot tread ever so briefly coming to seal against the cold ceramic. The footfall exploded in countless rays of code which raced over the plane of the floor to intersections with walls and fixtures, flowing up them and endlessly over the surface and contours of the building structure.


Second Street and Worth Intersection
H1 Hummer All-Terrain Vehicle

Charles Bishop chewed the inside of his cheek anxiously as he waited for the light to turn green. He was late to the party one of his friends was having at an upscale apartment further up town. His brother jeered at him for the tenth time through his already-drunken stupor.

“Man, if you don’t haul some ass there ain’t no fuckin’ way we’re ever going to make this.”

“Shut the fuck up Connor. The light is red. Do you understand red? Do you want me to run red, you challenged little fuck? The other cars are stopping now, are you happy? Jesus Motherfucking Christ. You’re such an impatient irritable little drunk, you know that? I do not know why I let you pre-game every party we go to.”

The traffic control light fixture flashed green at Bishop. The shoe found pedal, and the simulated eight-cylinder diesel engine drove the tires to acceleration.

The deft upload found Bishop and his brother before their vehicle found the intersection.

Bishop’s left eye boiled out of its socket and discolored as he howled through the streams of pale green flowing over his warping body. His jaw bent impossibly sideways and his head turned as he convulsed uncontrollably to catch a final glimpse of his brother in an akin siezure.

And all at once, it was over.

Agents Brown and Jones turned heads in unison to lock onto the Field Office.

"The target compound," Jones commented vapidly.

"We will proceed."

With that, Brown stomped on the brake with maximum force. The jet-black vehicle skid to a halt as singed rubber flavored the air. A sports utility vehicle rushed to stop, but crashed violently into the rear of the all-terrain vehicle, skidding it forward, before it too was crushed by a sports car from the rear. The wreck slid over the median and into the opposite lane of traffic, where a flatbed truck promptly collided with it at forty miles per hour.

Brown and Jones looked at each other without comment.

“The intrusion occurred one point five minutes ago. They are still on the seventeenth floor,” Jones noted from the buzz of data through his earport. He looked over at Brown. He nodded.

With that, Jones turned the wheel sharply toward the field office, and pressed the gas peddle.


Seventeenth Floor
Main Corridor


"They're here."

Morpheus looked at Neo, calm but concerned. "I will go to the eightieth floor and meet up with Trinity. From there we'll proceed to the roof and wait for you to exit."

"Right. I'll keep them busy."

Morpheus nodded, and entered the elevator.

Ding. The elevator to the left of the one taken by Morpheus had arrived. The doors opened to reveal to quite-familiar faces to Neo.

Agent Jones and Agent Brown. Agent Smith's subordinates, prior to Neo's deletion of him. They paused and slightly stepped back, alarmed by the sight of Neo.

"Do we proceed?"

"Yes: he is still..."

"...only human."

Neo had not faced the agents of the System since his epiphany in the Heart O'er the City Hotel, much less ever faced two simultaneously. Nevertheless, he was The One, and he was not afraid.

Brown attacked first, sending a direct punch for Neo's throat. Neo subtlely moved backward, making the punch ineffective by mere inches. Neo began instinctively hacking the Matrix, and time slowed; or more precisely, he slowed everything around him. Brown punched and kicked and Neo sidestepped, lurched, and jumped to avoid every strike. Brown began speeding up his attacks. The agents had a degree of sport mixed in them, not to mention they did not wish to overstress the local sector's managing processors. They could speed and increase their attacks to levels quite beyond that commonly used to counter human rebels and vagrants in order to assault renegade or malicious programs.

Brown had thrown those cautions and safety limits to the wayside, to say nothing of sport. Faster and faster he struck, now joined by Jones in tandem. A stray kick missed Neo's head by millimeters and stabbed through the wall beside him, wood panel and insulation spraying around them before it sliced through concrete. A half second later the same foot stabbed for a kick to the back of Neo's knee. Neo simply slid into a slightly lower stance, causing Jones' foot to jut uselessly between his legs while simultaneously causing Brown's punch to overshoot his head. Jones brought his leg up, intending to catch Neo between the legs, but Neo simply jumped up on his right foot up and back, causing another of Brown's punches to come up short and Jones' kick to slide forward and up into thin air. Neo flipped sidways and turned in midair, landing contemptuously casual ten feet from the two agents.

And he waited their advances. And he awaited Morpheus' call.

Roof

Morpheus found Trinity waiting in a crouch on the roof of the building. "How are you doing?" he asked.

"We're alright up here, but Tank informs me several police helicopters are on their way."

"Right. I'll call Neo. We're good to go."


Seventeenth Floor
Main Corridor


Neo's phone rang. With that, he grabbed one of Jones' errant feet, hoisted him six feet into the air, and simply tossed him through a wall. Neo raised a foot and kicked Brown casually down the corridor.

"Yes."

"Its Trinity. We're good to go."

"Right. I'm already on my way out."

With that, he hung up the phone and placed it back inside his coat. Jones, who climbed back through the crumbling hole in the wall, launched a punch for Neo's head while he was still placing his phone away. His other hand carelessly reached up and grabbed him by the wrist. Jones froze. Neo rose a leg and stabbed a foot down -- into Jones' kneecap. Life sped back up and Jones' knee snapped with a sickening wet snapping sound. Jones stared down at his ruined leg in what could almost be called disbelief. Neo simply pushed him to the ground.

Brown waited for him down the hall. Neo ran to a sprint and took off from the ground. Neo landed a punch on Brown's head as he came up to him, sending him sailing from the window at the end of the hallway and down seventeen floors to land on the roof of an arriving squad car. Neo flew through the hole and up to the roof.


Roof


Neo landed casually beside Morpheus and Trinity.

"Ready to go?"

They each grabbed one of his arms, and Neo simply lifted up and away.

Yeah, I know its ridiculous how long this thing's been defunct, but I wrote several chapters and was only sort-of satisifed by them and stuff came up, but I'm on summer now and ready to fix them.

It lives? Whooohooo!

EDIT AFTER READING: Pretty dman snazzy, but why can't neo just deleted the agents with a thought?

Just out of curiousity, if you get possessed by an Agent does it mean you're dead? Something I always wondered about.

This is far and away the best Matrix fanfic I have ever read. Thank you.

Next chapter: Smith as an Exile.