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The Meeting; OPEN
Topic Started: Oct 4 2008, 01:25 PM (199 Views)
Cage
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The rain poured down upon the gateway to the graveyard with relentless fury. It had been almost a week since Cage had returned to the main system and since that fateful night the systems weather program had yet to repair. On the previous night he had received a message from an individual, someone keeping their name a secret, requesting a meeting within the graveyard. Most would see this as the perfect trap, an easy way to end the life of one so troublesome to the machines, Cage did not fear this. If the machines wanted to smite him down then let them try, he would fight to the end. Luckily for him subtle, indirect, hints granted he by the spirits of the matrix led him to believe all was well.

Poncho covering his suede jacket and accompanying attire, Cage pushed against the eight foot gates and opened them. A blood curdling screech emanated from the rusted joints as the old gates swung open revealing a long, dark pathway. Just less than six hundred yards ahead of him stood the abandoned chapel, a gothic building protected by the evil eyes of six stone golems. Striding forward Cage made his way towards the eerie structure, head held high, hood pulled up to shadow his face. All around him the empty graves of those long dead raised a sense of anger in his heart. To those without knowledge of the truth, these graves were filled with the bodies of their beloved deceased, but to those who knew they were hollow graves. A simple illusion created to match the rest of the matrix when in reality when an individual died they were ditched in a sewer. Cage felt his fist clench at the thought of such horrid deeds. Not even in the new age had the machines allowed humans to give the deceased the respect they deserved. Now with the war taking a new turn that day was even further away.

After ten minutes trudging along the muddy, puddle filled pathway leading to the chapel, Cage arrived on its steps. Taking shelter underneath the over hang, he pulled pack his hood and removed a set of smokes from his inside pocket. Despite tobacco or any drugs for that matter, having no effect on him Cage felt a strange calm when smoking and so continued to do so. Plus buying smokes was now free considering he could get his friends to just hack him a pack; he would still buy a twenty occasionally. The weather saw no signs of changing; in fact it was perfectly consistent, un-naturally consistent. Soon a program somewhere would realise that the weather program was still causing problems and would summon another program to deal with it. It always made Cage laugh when he considered how complicated the machines had made their own system for controlling humans. Building programs to monitor programs that monitored programs and then creating others when those programs went rogue. A degree of ignorance was apparent on their part considering the amount of exiled programs that went unchecked. Not even the agents could do a successful job of keeping them all under control, the machines most prized programs. As such Cage tended to help them on that front by dealing with such programs, it wasn’t however to assist the machines but rather make passage through the matrix easier for his comrades of the real. It was these such actions that had brought Cage to this very spot, or so he believed.
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Throttle
ready steady GO!

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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Cage
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Cage watched on, staring deep into the night, as the rain thrashed the grave stones of the previously plugged. The code was doing mysterious thing's here, he could feel it. Spirits embedded deep within the code, the remnants of the minds that had inhabited their own space before, walked without a purpose. Causing havoc where ever they had the chance, not always out of malice but out of a need to communicate with the world they once lived in. Cage felt for these spirits having walked as they do, he knew their pain but he also knew their purpose. Without the spirits the code would be unstable, it was their presence hidden deep within that stabilised the code; Cage believed the one was one of these spirits now.

Breaking the journey into his thoughts Cage's senses alerted him to the presence of another. All around the approaching young man spirits sailed, investigating him, questioning his code, he intrigued them. Immediately Cage knew this was his contact, the matrix wanted him to meet this individual. Stepping out of the shadows, hood firmly up, Cage took a step towards the man. He did not wish to be intimidating. In truth he did not believe this was a kid he could intimidate, he just wished to keep his identity hidden at first. The age of the young man suggested he would not have known of Cage before his reincarnation. Indeed some of Zion would talk of his actions, his successes, his failings and his sacrifice for Zion, but ultimately Cage was just another hero in a long list.

"There is a lot of interest surrounding you stranger" Cage, his tone calm and collected, spoke as he seemingly merged from the shadows. With so much interest surrounding the kid Cage anticipated the coming months would be interesting. Zion needed a fresh injection of determination, of action, and he believed this guy was the man to do it.
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Throttle
ready steady GO!

He didn't notice what he couldn't change, and so whetever spirits did or didn't gather around him went unheeded. There was just that usual edge of difference that he'd noted all his life, even before he was unplugged, that feeling that he'd learned was the Matrix trying to pull the wool over his eyes. His eyes, and everyone else's. But apparently he was wired differently to most of those still plugged in to the Matrix. Literally wired differently, in fact. He'd felt the differences all his life, had them niggling away in the back of his head. Freeing his mind had been an interesting experience.

He turned his head as someone spoke, gave a little half smile that had nothing to do with humour. He was somewhat bemused, in fact; it was sheeting it down with rain, even if it wasn't real, and he was stood in a cemetary. He never had liked cemetaries much, too much death and decay in them. And even though the offered plenty of cover in case of attack, the weather meant the chances of someone sneaking up on them were higher. Of course, the sneak would have to be lucky to see them too, but it still didn't seem like the best time or place to be having a random meeting.

"My name's not stranger," he said, after a moment's appraisal of the figure in front of him. Of course, he also had more sense than to say what his name was, either the slave name he'd had while he was still plugged in, or the more descriptive one he'd used ever since he first started hacking. After all, he didn't know for sure that hte figure in front of him was the one he'd be set up to meet; his captain had set the whole thing up, and just told him that he'd 'know when he saw the guy'. Typical cryptic stuff.

"I think I was supposed to meet you."
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Cage
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With a smirk Cage withdrew his hood, the rain slowly drenching his hair and exenterating his chiselled features. His expression was dark and he stood with his hands deep in his pockets, beneath his poncho. After taking a quick glance around, accompanied by a cliché flash of lightning and rumble of thunder, Cage offered an accepting nod.

"My name is Cage and although I may not look it, I'm one of you" he spoke, his voice as calm as a lake on a summers morning, "I believe, as you do, that we are suppose to meet but for which purpose I am unsure". Cage motioned his arm towards the shelter and then proceeded to walk in that direction. Word's exchanged within cover would be easier yet would remain muffled to outside listeners; maybe this was the reason for the continual rain and the choice meeting.
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Throttle
ready steady GO!

With the revealing of the guy's face, and the accompanying meteorological theatrics, Throttle was sure that he had the right guy. He didn't know what he could do within the Matrix yet, having spent more time in the training programmes than actually plugged in at broadcast level, but it seemed to him that the Matrix knew what it could do with him. And the machines didn't mess about; when it came to the resistance, to the children of Zion and the unplugged hackers, they made their intentions clear. They were more theatrical than any film director, more dramatic than any soap opera script writer, and everyone who went into the Matrix knowing what it was knew to be careful.

"I'm Throttle," he said, with a shrug, following after the figure in front of him. "And I was supposed to give you this."

A hacked pack of cigarettes was pulled from a pocket as they entered the shelter provided by the church. In truth Spence was too young to smoke and too wet behind the ears for any important messages to be left in his hands, unless there was something in the packet he didn't know about. But perhaps this was just a test to make sure that he himself wasn't having second thoughts; there were stories told about unplugged fighters losing their zeal, becoming disillusioned and selling out to the machines. So maybe this was just a test of Throttle's mettle, of his ability to follow orders. Throttle didn't really know, he just had to do as he was told.
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