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| Throttle | Oct 6 2008, 07:50 PM |
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ready steady GO!
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Rain. It was supposed to be some kind of mood thing in the movies, wasn't it? When it was raining in a movie, it was supposed to show that the main character in the scene was on a downer or something. Depressed. The young man currently jogging through the rain now wasn't surprised, although he did rather wish he had some ability to meld to Matrix to his wishes. He code sit and watch the Matrix decoding all night, and had done so more than once since being released, but the fingers which wrote basic training programmes itched to actually hack the Matrix. Not a mind hack; they were a pretty standard part of the Resistance. He wanted to actually get a computer and hack the code, like the machines did when they turned windows into walls, or pulled some other stunt that really messed thing up. That would be extremely cool. But that was a thought for another day. Throttle, who had once been known to many as Spencer Sharpe, had other things on his mind, such as avoiding rogue programmes that might take offence to him, keeping out of the way of agents and making sure he got the the church yard on time. This last thing was most important, if the rest of the crew were to be believed, especially since he was actually flying solo for once. Well, not for once, he was sure that there would be other times when he would fly solo in future if he survived long enough, but this was the first time he'd entered the Matrix alone since he'd been released from its clutches. Every other time, someone else had been there to watch his back, to keep the rookie out of trouble. Not that Throttle considered himself a rookie, of course. He was just young, freed at sixteen and thrown into a strange world where he could actually be useful instead of just being tolerated because he had money. As well as being useful he had trained hard, and while he was by no means a match for the programmes running around, his residual self image was young and healthy, and had plenty of guts. Style, too; even with the collar of his raincoat turned up, and the rain trying to soak him to the bone, you could tell that Spencer Sharpe had been rich. No ripped clothes or out of season stuff for him, no sir. He might know that the Marix was a dream world, but that didn't mean he had to go walking around in it like a scruffbag. His RSI was very refined. Reaching the appointed meeting zone with a minute or two to spare, he looked around for any sign of life. He wasn't aware of who he was looking for; apparently the guy he was supposed to be meeting would show himself when he felt the time was right. Still, what could Throttle do about that? He just had to be patient, and hope all the rain didn't make him think he had pneumonia or something. |
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| The Meeting · The Graveyard | |
8:52 AM Dec 2
