Enemy

By Blackheart Syaoran

AUTHOR: I am extremely sorry for not updating earlier, but incoming schoolwork, and video games, have absorbed my time, and I need money, so I have to wash dishes.

TO ALL: The song “Conflict” by Disturbed might as well be the theme song for this story, since it kicks ass.

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Chapter 4: Inexorable

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“Well, I think we’d better go ahead and order room service,” Niobe said, “because there’s no way Locke will let us leave to jack in anytime soon.”

“Things may be bad, but the Council will make the right decisions,” Morpheus said confidently.

Niobe looked at him, incredulous. “You can’t seriously believe that, not after all Locke’s gone through to ruin our chances of getting a fair trial?”

“This isn’t a trial—”

“Oh, get real, Morpheus!” Niobe snapped. “You heard what Locke was saying: He practically accused us of being moles for the Machines!

Morpheus gave his friend a disarming stare. “I know exactly what Locke said, Niobe. That doesn’t mean our fate is sealed; the Council and the city’s populace have their own minds, and they can form their own opinions. Besides, we need cool heads if we are to get through this and fight the real enemies.”

Niobe said nothing, looking around the holding room the gang had been placed in. The room was furnished sparsely, with only cots at each wall and a table in the center. Glancing around, she took a head count and gave each crew member a visual examination, making sure they were fine.

“And?” Morpheus asked, knowing what she was doing.

“They’re all fine,” Niobe assured. “I just need to—”

At her sudden halt, the hairless captain sharply turned to her, concern etched onto his features.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Switch is gone.”

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Locke was downing a small glass of whiskey in his office when someone knocked.

Frowning, the officer put the bottle and glass away, and hoped the visitor didn’t smell the liquor on his breath. He needed to also keep in mind that any further drinking would ruin his chances of looking good before the Council tomorrow, unless he wanted his newfound opportunity to destroy Morpheus tossed away.

Morpheus, Locke thought bitterly. It wasn’t enough you poisoned Niobe against me; you had to become a war hero while I get stuck in the shadows.

Taking a deep breath, Locke smoothed his tunic and opened the door—and immediately froze as a slice of solid cold slid into his chest, piercing his heart.

He tried to gasp, but failing that, he continued to mouth wordlessly. Stumbling backwards, knocking over a small military trophy, he arrived at his desk. His strength was fading fast, and the gun was locked in his lower desk drawer. It took everything Locke had to turn around in the right direction, and he nearly blacked out as he pulled his keys from his pocket.

The attacker must have followed him into the office, because the keys were gone from his fingers before he could find the one that opened the drawer.

He fell down then, and as he looked up at the ceiling, Locke could have sworn he saw white instead of black…

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“You don’t think she’d try anything, do you?” Morpheus asked.

Niobe sighed, and it was a moment before she answered. “Look, you need to understand the situation more fully, which is exactly what you haven’t done since we found Switch.”

“Go on.”

“You remember what the orphanage was like: Poor maintenance, poor bedding, poor heating and cooling, poor everything, and with an idiot for a head. That old woman was convinced that Switch, being an albino, was destined to be alone, and she convinced Switch of that malicious belief. When we arrived and took her with us, it wasn’t because we just felt sorry for her: It was because I thought those ‘disturbing, mad-child visions’ she kept having had something to do with her subconsciously accessing the outer layers of the Matrix.”

“I already knew most of that,” Morpheus said.

“But you didn’t comprehend it, Morpheus,” Niobe said. “Switch thought she was never going to have any friends. She had no social skills, and she still has difficulty with other people. Around you she’s good, but only because you were the one who told her that you weren’t going to hurt her.”

Morpheus frowned. “All I said was that it was all right and that we were friends.”

“That’s just it, Morpheus!” Niobe said. “Switch believed she’d never have friends, and the first outsider she meets says that he’s her friend. You proved the orphanage head wrong, and for someone with Switch’s life experiences, that must have been life-altering. You made her feel like a human being.”

“Niobe,” Morpheus said after a sigh, “all you’re telling me is that Switch is very taken with me—”

“No, Morpheus, she isn’t just ‘taken’ with you, she’s obsessed with you,” Niobe explained. “She’s always done her best to impress you, to make you see that she’s your friend too, and when you don’t notice her, she tries harder.”

Morpheus closed his eyes, taking her words in. “You’re saying she could do something others wouldn’t understand?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she already has.”

Abruptly, the door opened, and the young woman in question popped her head in. Quickly scanning the room to make sure everyone was all right, Switch nodded to Morpheus and Niobe, saying, “Coast is clear.”

The two senior fleet officers exchanged worried looks, and Morpheus turned to the albino. “Switch, where were you?” he asked carefully.

“Getting us free,” she answered innocently. “Why?”

“And Commander Locke is fine with this?” Niobe asked disbelievingly.

“He didn’t say anything about it.”

Morpheus and Niobe stared at her, not comprehending how she could have gotten them out of such serious charges.

“What are you waiting for?” Switch asked. “We need to get into the Matrix and stop those Agents!”

“Under the circumstances,” Morpheus said grimly, “I believe we are left with little real choice. From here we can do nothing.”

“And once we’re in the Matrix, then what?” Niobe argued.

“We will talk more on the ship, Niobe,” the other promised.

Reluctantly, she accepted this, and the crew quickly made a break for it.

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“Well, isn’t this just perfect?” Niobe asked, dripping with sarcasm, as the Neb made a hasty exit from Zion. “You do realize we’re going to be branded as outlaws?”

Morpheus rubbed the pain from between his eyes. “I have little doubt of that, though I am sure the Council will want us for questioning as opposed to outright destruction.”

Niobe leaned in close, dropping her voice so that only the captain could hear. “Morpheus, this is a dead-serious matter. There are only a handful of ways Switch could have gotten us free, and only one way she did it.”

Morpheus was silent before answering. “You think she killed Locke.”

“I don’t see any other realistic option. She couldn’t have convinced the Council without overwhelming proof, which she didn’t have, and I don’t think she’s the kind of person to offer herself to the good commander in exchange for our release.”

Morpheus shook his head. “You know that Switch, if she is the way you told me, might not be competent enough to stand trial.”

“If she left enough evidence to implicate herself,” Niobe pointed out. “She may not be sound upstairs, but she’s by no means stupid.”

“She’ll spend the rest of her life in prison.”

“Which could be as bad, if not worse, than being executed.”

Morpheus shook his head. “Look at us, playing God with people’s lives. We have to end this conflict, Niobe.”

She rested a hand on his shoulder. “I know.”

“Coming up to a good spot now, sir,” Link called. “Suggest you and the others strap in.”

“Agreed.”

As soon as the craft was settled into place, the crew, with the exception of its operator, entered into the Matrix.

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“Where to, boss?” Ghost asked as he and the others followed Morpheus through the crowded city streets, which were still packed despite the pouring rain.

“We need to try again with the Merovingian’s people,” Morpheus responded. “It’s our only chance of accessing the Architect’s command center and crippling his operations against us.”

“But he’s dead,” Mouse pointed out. “You planning on bringing him back?”

“No, but his wife might be of some assistance.”

The captain led his people off the streets and into an underground parking facility. As the group continued deeper into the structure, the sounds of the city faded away, disappearing completely as they approached a trio of bouncers in front of an elevator.

“Where are we?” Mouse asked.

“This elevator will take us to the Merovingian’s private resort,” Morpheus answered.

“He’s got a hotel and spa down here?” Mouse asked, eyebrows going up.

“No, but he has Club Hell,” Niobe replied just as they reached the bouncers.

“No invite, no entry,” the forward-most bouncer said gruffly.

“We need to see the Merovingian’s widow,” Morpheus told the Program.

“We’re under order to keep you guys out, since the Big M died in your company.”

“One way or another, we are getting in,” Morpheus said, his voice like steel.

The bouncer leaned forward until his and Morpheus’ noses practically touched. “And just how do you plan on doing that?”

Fourteen seconds later, the three bouncers were three broken bodies, and the Rebels were descending in the elevator.

“Everyone remember to keep their cool,” Morpheus instructed. “We don’t want a fight breaking out.”

The elevator gave a ping, and the doors parted—revealing a crowd of gun-toting individuals who seemed to be bondage freaks, their weapons aimed at the Rebels. To the center and back of the crowd, visible from the elevator, stood Penelope, her face without emotion.

“Is there a Plan B?” Niobe asked her friend dryly.

“Surrender your weapons and you will be spared,” Penelope said coolly. “If you refuse, my men have no qualms over killing you.”

“Gotta love the French,” Niobe grumbled.

Their guns were swiftly taken from them, and they were roughly pushed into following Penelope as she made her way through the club, ignoring the blaring techno music.

“So, my dear Rebels, what brings you to me?” she asked, settling into a red sofa on a balcony overlooking the club’s main dance floor.

“We need your help,” Morpheus said plainly.

“Against the Agents, yes? The same help you wanted from my late husband?”

“The very same.”

“Do you have any idea how insulting that is?” Penelope demanded. “You came to my husband, and when he turned you down, he was killed. Now you come to me, asking the same thing, and so soon after I was made a widow!”

“We were not responsible for your late husband’s demise,” Morpheus said cautiously. As he spoke, he kept an eye on the room’s weapon-loaded guards. Being unarmed, his crew didn’t have that great a chance if a fight broke out.

“I know that, imbecile,” Penelope snapped. “No Rebel can command the Architect or his Agents, no matter the power they wield.” Pausing, she took a deep breath and calmed herself. “I will give you the Keymaker, if you truly intend to use him against our mutual enemy. My husband’s death shall not go unavenged.”

“With us leading the assault, it will not,” Morpheus promised. He rose from his seat, the others following suit. “If you will give the Keymaker to us, we will leave now.”

Penelope nodded, also rising. “He is at a chateau in—”

She broke off suddenly as a resounding boom echoed throughout the club. Below the balcony, the partiers ceased their merrymaking, looking around in puzzlement as a second boom went off.

“Bomb?” Ghost asked.

“I fear worse,” Morpheus said softly.

Back in the coat check room, the coat check girl and the guards were looking up at the ceiling. Massive cracks had formed since the first boom, and the following reports only worsened the ceiling’s condition.

Without warning, the ceiling exploded, showing chunks of debris and sending a flood of bray-brown dust throughout the chamber. As this happened, a figure dropped down, landing in a crouch in the room’s center.

As the dust cleared, the guards tensed up, seeing the intruder for who they were.

“Knock, knock,” Agent Trinity said coldly.

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AUTHOR: Cutting it off at a good part, I know, but rest assured the next chapter will contain not only Trinity-fueled mayhem, but part one of a battle between Morpheus and Neo.

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