Insidious

[Iviera]

Insidious Chapter 1: Prologue

Part 1

## The following record is date-stamped four months ago, before the end of the Truce. ##

Iviera first met Davis over two years ago. At that time she was a newly awakened operative on her first solo broadcast into the Matrix, and he was an older Captain that had served for years before the Truce. Given that his head jack was badly damaged during the assault on the Zion docks, he was assigned the only job he could take in the field: operating a Hoverbarge. She tracked him down recently, when she was given command of the Neptune, and insisted that he take the position as her Operator. He was ecstatic, accepting immediately.

“Yup, that’s the signal! No doubt about it,” Davis said, tapping away at his station. “So was it a lucky guess? I mean, how did you know to look in Chinatown?”

Iviera smiled, resting in her ecto-chair. “I remembered all of the corny artwork he had in the office, and how he was always so insistent about his appointments taking their shoes off at the door. I just needed to think about it psychologically, just like you taught me way back,” she replied. This was true, but it wasn’t the whole truth.

The real answer was the sinking black feeling she got any time she thought about that building. She had sensed things like this in the past – an unnerving impression that made her feel like she was standing at the edge of a deep dark crevice, and the more she looked into it, the more certain she was that she would be dragged down. That, combined with what she had just told her Operator, made her certain that this would be the place to look.

Davis walked over from his chair, picking up the neural spike that was resting behind her head. “Is that what I told you?” he chuckled, “You should never take advice from a crazy old bird like me.”

“Crazy isn’t so bad. I’d have to be a little insane to attempt this.”

His last words were lost to Iviera as the jack slid home. A familiar floating sensation filled her, and when she opened her eyes she was surrounded by an endless scope of white. The phone in her hand was ringing, and she opened it with a flip of her wrist.

“What’s it going to be?” Davis asked.

“No point in trying to be subtle,” she replied. “Let’s go with the big fireworks. And I’m going to need the box.”

With blazing speed a row of lockers rocketed by, stopping after several hundred of the same shiny metal doors. This one was different, in that it had the word “Ives” scrawled near the top, next to a small red heart sticker. Inside were hanging a thick leather trench and a pair of shades with a distinct green pattern glittering on the surface of the lenses. She donned both, pausing momentarily to adjust to the change as the code stream from the Awakening Glasses settled into her RSI.

Turning around, she found an office desk with a pair of .50 caliber semiautomatic pistols, a well-polished rifle, and a small old iron box with a padlock. She pulled the key from her pants pocket, then undid the lock and opened the container, which squeaked in protest as the worn hinges twisted against each other. Inside were a small holdout revolver and a single silver bullet, gleaming malevolently. She picked up the cartridge, turning it over to look at the craftsmanship one last time.

This is the best I can make, she thought, with a mix of pride and uncertainty, The virus is interlaced with the kill code, and all I need to do now is hit the target. She spun the chambers open and slid the bullet in. Even though I don’t usually approve of this kind of thing… With a click the chamber snapped closed again. There just isn’t any other way to do this. The holdout pistol was tucked at the small of her back.

She checked the sights on the twin .50’s, admiring the weight and action of the weapons. Most operatives preferred the lighter, more practical design of the FM-900’s, but there was something intimidating about the hand cannons that Iviera just couldn’t give up. That and they were perfect for clubbing enemies senseless when things got hot. The pistols went in tandem holders under her coat, and the rifle, Victory, was slung over a shoulder. She put the cell phone to her ear.

“Alright. I’m ready.”

“I’m putting you in,” Davis said. “It looks clear. Nice and quiet.”

“Not for long,” she replied with a smirk. White filled her vision and the Loading Area melted away.

[Emned]

((Oooh, continue, I love it ))

[Iviera]

Part 2

Solid concrete formed under Iviera’s feet, and a cool breeze began lapping at her cheek. She recognized the unassuming subtlety of the International District immediately; the vibrant color and foliage that were lacking in so many other parts of the city, as well as the clever sense of art that had been instilled into every building and trapping.

The Hardline was empty, just as Davis had suggested, and from it she had a perfect view of the obtrusive skyscraper that dominated the landscape in this area. Her phone rang, but she knew, before even speaking with her Operator, where she would be going.

“The signal is originating from somewhere in the main tower of Bishop Imports. You should be able to see it from your location,” Davis said, a touch of uncertainty in his voice. “Get inside and take the elevator to the 20th floor… I should be able to get a better read when you’re in there.”

She was at the door in a matter of moments, moving at a quickened pace. The feeling of dread, of looking over the edge of the abyss, had been lingering ever since she entered the Matrix, but moving with a sense of purpose was helping to fend it off. She refused to avoid it, simply would not be afraid. She would go into the dragon’s mouth if necessary, which was a much better fate than running away from it.

As she crossed the threshold into the foyer, Iviera’s figure seemed to meld into the background, becoming hidden to the naked eye. A receptionist looked up, seeing the rotating door spinning lazily, and then resumed her work, oblivious of the operative’s entry. By then she was already standing at the elevator door, well out of eyesight. It opened and several people walked out, talking quietly to each other. She slinked inside, pressing the button for 20.

Ascending slowly, she pulled out her phone and waited for Davis to speak as the elevator rose.

“I’m still not getting a clear scan,” he said. “It’s mostly empty, except for what looks like a pair of Machine programs. There’s a lot of distortion in that area, which seems to be coming from a locked janitor’s closet. That’s where the transmission is coming from.”

Iviera was weary. “What kind of programs?” she asked, clicking Victory’s safety off.

The Operator replied, “The distortion is making it hard to read… they sure look like Machines, but I can’t get any more detailed information. The offices are closed, so they’re probably just cleaners.”

She moved out quickly, rifle in hand as the door opened, and began scanning the area for clues. There was no trace of any bluepill activity here – every cubicle was bare, and a thin layer of dust coated most surfaces. She paused to examine a notice board that was hanging precariously from its last remaining hook on the wall, feeling her heart beat faster. Four long gashes had been torn into the plaster beside the board, unmistakably made by something or someone with sharp claws.

There was similar damage all around the area, and as she moved towards the main hallway she came across bullet holes scattered around the area. The damage, like everything else, seemed old, and she decided that the battle responsible for it must have happened some time ago. She turned the handle, opening the door to the main corridor, where the janitor’s closet was located, and was speechless when she looked inside.

Two System Agents were poised in the hallway, standing between her and the closet door at the other end. Seeing her, they fingered their ear buds in unison, and then looked at each other in a very peculiar way, almost as if they were confused. One took a step forward, gesturing with an open hand and speaking.

“Miss… Ah… Ma’am,” he said, voice level, but visibly disturbed, “this is clearly not an appropriate place for you at this time. This location is… ah…” he paused, looking at the other Agent.

“Under investigation,” his twin replied, working his ear piece as if something was wrong with it.

The Captain had never seen Agents so perplexed. She knew that the ear pieces were connected to the Machines’ main communications network, so could it be that something was interfering with that? But no, that couldn’t be… or else the whole building would be swarming with them. It wasn’t like the Machines to leave units stranded, and in situations like this the typical response was for them to shoot first and make witty conversation later. Her phone rang.

“Davis?” She asked, watching the two suits as they fiddled with their hardware.

The reply was full of static.“…tain, the signa… …otally ramped up! …ssive energy flooding… …tire building! Get… …ow!”

She could feel it. A thousand prickling fingers were groping at the back of her skull, trying to worm their way into her head. She involuntarily clamped a hand down where her jack would be in the Real, though it seemed to do no good.

”That belongs to him.” The Agent’s voice was dark and grating as he reached inside his suit jacket.

”He will want her alive. Disable, do not destroy.” the second echoed.

Iviera reacted. With the rifle in one hand she dashed down the corridor towards them, sending round after round lancing through the air. She stepped on the wall, then the ceiling, then the opposite wall in a clean arc, all the time following the trail of rifle shells. Paint and plaster exploded in a cloud of destruction.

The Agents returned fire with limited success. Bullets tore through the air; some passing through her trench coat, while a few others nicked flesh.

Now within a few feet, she feigned a strike with the butt of the weapon. The pair hunkered down, preparing to strong-arm her, but with a twist and push of her ankle, she used her forward momentum to lift into the air, rolling gracefully over their heads. As they turned around they were met with the sound of a closing door. Iviera had already slipped into the closet.

She was in a different hallway now, with thick concrete walls. The door remained closed behind her, and more importantly, the invasive feeling in the back of her head was gone. She had escaped, but to where she had no clue. She pulled out her phone and spoke.

“Davis, I need intel on my current location. And what the hell happened back there in Bishop Imports?”

Silence.

“Davis! What the hell…” she took the phone away from her head and examined the display. ’No Signal’ was flashing over and over. “Damn,” she cursed sharply.

Slipping Victory over her shoulder, she walked down the hallway to the echoing sound of her own footsteps. The only other door was corroded metal, and the feeling of the abyss leaped and snarled at her as she took the handle.

With a sharp intake of breath, she opened it.

[Lovable]

((Oooooh, this looks fun... /thumbsup Ivy, I've always liked your writing.))

[Covenant]

((/mood edgeofseat))

[Emned]

((I agree with the two above me))

[Iviera]

((Thankyas! I'll try to have the last two sections posted over the next two days. ;D))

[Iviera]

Part 3

Iviera did not step through the door. A blinding red flash rippled outward, and without any conscious effort from her, she was drawn inside.

The chamber was stifling. A square no more than fifteen feet in each dimension, it was lit by a single Japanese lantern hanging from the middle of the ceiling, and every surface of the room was made of what appeared to be old riveted iron. A familiar cherry desk with a gold office lamp was situated opposite her – an unnatural contrast to the rest of the surroundings – and seated behind it was a well-muscled man of indeterminate age with a fiery red cross tattooed on his face.

He sat very proper behind the desk, draped in a blood-red suit and coat, the color matching his short hair and tattoo. The only exception to this monochromatic theme was his eyes, glowing yellow with vertical pupils like a cat’s.

She knew him instantly. This was John Doe, the man who employed her as a secretary when she was a bluepill, though she had more recently come to know the handle by which he was called: “Deign”. He smiled at her, though it was a cold gesture that conveyed no friendship.

“Miss Enders,” he professed, “up until this point our relationship has existed merely on a professional level. It is… pleasant… to see that you have taken something more of a personal interest in my work. Of late it has been tiresome, but seeing your face assures me that my unrelenting efforts have been more than worth the dedication.”

He still loves to make speeches, she thought, just like when he was my boss. She reached inside her trench coat, pulling out the .50 caliber pistols and pointing both directly at him.

“Now, now… while your spirit is admirable, there is truly no need for that. Besides, if you were to kill me, I cannot guarantee that this construct would remain stable. At the moment it is relying on me and my intrinsic bond with it to exist. Should it cease…” he paused to snap his fingers, “your neural links would most likely sever, causing grave damage to your mind. That is not acceptable.”

“What do you suggest then?” she asked, her tone making it clear that no answer would matter.

A flicker of shadow in the corner of the room brought her attention. She aimed one of the pistols in that direction, and just that fast a liquid-black masculine figure was standing before her. “I have an idea…” its voice sounded like nails on stone. “Why don’t we all just ‘warm up’ to each other?”

Iviera’s hands stung sharply and she dropped the guns, grunting in pain. The pistols were glowing red-hot on the ground, and the palms of her gloves had been completely destroyed, burning through to the virtual skin underneath. Whatever it was, this person had manipulated code much faster than she could predict or react to.

“Yes, that is a considerable improvement,” Deign said, standing up. “Now that we are behaving more civilly, Miss Enders, you should know that escape from this room is fundamentally impossible. We are on an island between worlds, and only I hold the key that can return us to reality.”

She looked around the room again, taking in the imprisoning feel of the surroundings, the dank dry air, and the lonely sensation of helplessness. “This is a crucible. A ‘Box’.”

“Precisely,” he replied. “I assume you know what that means, and so I can arrive promptly at the purpose for this meeting. What do you know about your extraction and awakening?”

“Two years ago you met with Agent Brown in your office,” she replied. “Then, when I left work, I gathered with my friends and your pal Brown showed up and started attacking us. A Zion Captain tried to save us, but he was gunned down, though not before his crewmates rescued me and gave me the red pill.” She tried not to think about the pain in her hands. She believed the wounds would heal, that her skin would knit.

“I am afraid that you are leaving out a critical part of the account. Did you not, before being awakened, ingest a gold-colored capsule?” he raised his eyebrow curiously, but he obviously knew the answer to his question.

“Yeah, what of it?”

“By consuming it you seriously altered the structure of your mind as well as the composition of your Residual Self-Image. It was not meant to be taken by a human – red or blue – and it has certainly been causing you considerable harm. The code corruption that has affected your RSI, as well as the flashes of foresight you have alluded to have all been caused by the errant subroutines that are still running in your mind.” He lowered his head slightly, so that his eyes were glaring upward at her, threatening and predatory. “That code belongs to me. I will have it back.”

“You really know a lot about me, Mister Doe.” she boasted, “You must have spent a long time watching me.”

“Technically you never left my employ. I consider it to be a protection of my investments – both in you, and in the code you have been carrying around inside you.”

“I’m not your property!” she shouted, incredulous, “And I know some things about you too.”

He smiled, “What, specifically?”

“You’re part Exile.”

Her movement was fast, and the strain sent a painful shock through her body. The revolver was out in the blink of an eye, and then she fired.

Deign winced as it struck him in the chest. For a second he looked surprised, blinking at the weapon in her outstretched hand as if wondering what had happened. He regained is normal posture quickly, however, raising a finger and waving it back and forth slowly.

“Miss Enders, what did I just tell you about the dangerous effects of the use of violen…” he stopped suddenly, his attention caught by the highly-glossed surface of the desk beneath him. Gazing at his reflection, he touched his features slowly, and then ran his fingers through his hair as if seeing it for the first time.

Iviera was in awe too. Moments after the shot connected, his color completely changed. His hair was black, his skin pale but healthy, and his eyes had become a very natural shade of tan. Every last trace of the Exile code seemed to have been wiped away, leaving Deign a traditional-looking Japanese man in a red suit.

The moment was shattered by an unnatural hiss from the shadowy figure. The chamber began to tremble, lightly at first, but growing in intensity, while the liquid-black man sunk down into the riveted floor, vanishing from sight. Deign shuddered, catching himself as he nearly collapsed on the desk. When he looked up at her, his face was a contorted mix of anger and confusion.

“Very well,” he said, voice strained in pain, “but at what price, Miss Enders?” He reached inside his coat, his hand shaking nearly as much as the room, and pulled out a cell phone.

A red glow filled her vision, and then everything went black.

[Iviera]

Part 4

Davis paced slowly through the decks of the Neptune. He wished – not for the first time – that he hadn’t promised to keep this mission secret. He’d said that, no matter what, he would maintain radio silence and wouldn’t make dock until she gave the order. However, they were nearly out of supplies, Trust ships kept trying to contact them, and the Captain was still in a coma after two months.

He was thinking about breaking his promise.

Iviera lay dormant in the ecto-chair with the plug still in her head. Her vitals were low but stable, just like when she disappeared from the scope. The old operator sat down next to her with a petulant expression.

“You know you’re asking for trouble when you leave port without a full crew,” he said, somewhat to himself and somewhat to her. “Oh, you can automate just about anything on a bird like this, and it’ll keep you running for months, but there’s no substitute for good old human contact. Besides, who the hell am I supposed to talk to now? I’ll go crazy – be known as ‘Stir-crazy D’! Is that what you want, Ives?”

He sighed, glancing at the monitors over his shoulder. “I guess it’s story time now.” He looked up at the ceiling, his mind drifting. “Did I ever tell you about Morpheus’s last speech in the caves? Oh… that takes me back. The raves weren’t nearly as lively back then, you know. Not as many operatives and freeborns as we have now.”

”Tell the one about the kids in Tabor Park.”

Davis looked down in shock to see Iviera smiling at him with half-closed eyes. He was speechless.

“Come on… the story?” she asked lazily.

Grinning, he said, “Alright. You got it, kiddo.”

The End, Insidious Chapter 1

[Emned]

I like Davis more and more everyday

Great writing again.

[Farplane]

((Wow Ivy, great writing as usual. Sorry I took so long to read this but I am glad I did. I hope you keep it up, I am really looking forward to seeing how this story will unfold))

[Iviera]

((You might say Insidious is my "Sleeping Awake". Everything I've done with Ivy has been leading up to this set of events, and if I pull it off right it should involve all of the Trust and maybe even people from other Factions and other Orgs.

If it's even half as good as Sleeping Awake then I'll be very satisfied. ;D))

[Farplane]

((I'm quite sure that it will but you know I'm always here to lend a hand, you know, with the little spare time that I have each weekend. Good luck with it Ivy, I'm certain it will be mindblowing, I only hope I can be a part of it ;D))