Matrix: The Other One

[Aktariel]

I had an idea, and I'm not used to writing fiction, but I thought I'd give it a shot anyways. I think/hope/assume that it will get better as I go along - trying to strike a balance between action and plot is difficult - part of me keeps wanting to become a wank-tastic matrix fight scene whore. Anyways, here goes:


I'm postulating that after the end of M3, most/all Agents were freed because there was no longer any need to police the system more than the regular police did. The war is over, right? Also, there was this sort of “Rapture” thingie, where everyone was given a choice (subconsciously, so they don't remember) to ether stay in the Matrix like they have been, or leave and become a “free” human. (Though they can still Jac in, as normal.) This was explained by having a large Rapture-esque event. In the time since then, the Agents have turned mercenary. They're very good at what they do (killing people for money, added onto SWAT teams, becoming PI's, etc), but one is about to become even better...


Prologue: 2002 MD (Matrix Date) [Approx 2200 AD] New York City. Nighttime

The team was in position.
“Gunso – got the rope?”
“Check.”
“Romer – the taser?”
“Check.”
“Lia – various and sundry coding equipment?”
“Check.”
“Operator?”
“Standing by.”
“Everyone in position?”
“Yep.” “Check.” “Roger.”
“Lock and load.”
“Stet.” “On it” “Already done, Jac”
The team – four figures in black nightsuits – crept towards the warehouse. Lia defused the locks, and they penetrated into the perpetual gloom of the emergency-lit building.
Door after door was bypassed without issue, but suddenly the team leader held up a hand. “He's here – right on the other side of this door. Be careful. I want him alive.”

The old metal door burst open, and the team spilled into a brightly lit room full of computers, weapons racks, and some small items of furniture. A man, impeccably dressed in a well-tailored suit and sunglasses, sat regarding them from a chair across the room.
“Yes?” he inquired in a pleasantly modulated, velvet tone.
“We come to you to in need of your services,” the leader said.
“And the guns?”
“We're prepared to be...very persuasive,” replied Jac.
“I see. Why is that? I am not the best.”
“We merely seek to help you become more than you are. We intend no harm,” Jac said, baiting the hook.
“Explain.”
“We have captured the man who trained the One, acquired the only alpha level Agent training program ever extant and even hired a beta version of the One. All we need now is an agent to upgrade – but upgrade far more than the old system ever could.”
“Why me?”
“Because you are the best of the ex-Agents, already the most upgraded, the most lethal.”
“I accept ,” and here the team breathed a sigh of relief, “But...what's the catch?” the Agent said.
“You work for us for a period of time to be determined later, probably about five years. You will follow our orders, kill who we tell you, work for or against who we tell you, and you will not be paid. At least, not in money. We are going to forge you into a weapon, and we'd like to use it for a while.” Jac said with a small smile.
“Acceptable...subject to negotiation later.”
“Of course. Follow me.” Jac led the team out of the warehouse, followed by the Agent. “Oh, by the way – do you have a name or anything?”
“Yes. Agent Reynolds.”
“Ok Reynolds, just follow us.” Jac led the way outside, where the team jumped onto motorcycles parked outside; The Agent rode behind Lia. Cranking their throttles, they roared away into the night.