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This story is about someone who is taken out of the matrix to join a group similar to morpheus's but in league with the AI. Unfortunately I didn't have much direction for this story, so it's left unfinished.
Hooked up to his systems he could do anything. He had found out several enticing details about senators, generals and people within high level government organizations that officially didn't even exist. He played this game well, and he knew it. He would blackmail a NSA hotshot into threatening a senator, who would then put pressure on a general, he once reasoned he could probably start a war if he really wanted to. Money hadn't been a problem to get a hold of, it was channeling it around that was hard, he would take unlaundered money from a swiss bankaccount and slowly siphon it into an NSA black-op research fund. They then found themselves with too much money. He would get one of his NSA puppets to say it was a side effect of an earlier mission and had to be deposited in a bank in Indonesia, where he would then steal it untraceably. And all from the comfort of his CIA guarded house.
There was one thing however that kept eluding him. He knew there had to be more people like him, quick on the keyboard, playing the high stakes, getting the results. He had been in contact with someone called Lexer, a Russian who more or less did the same thing he did, but using the Whiterussian mafia funds and what was left of the KGB, not to mention the corruptest police system on the planet. Lexer told him of something exceeding his wildest imagination. The Matrix.
After that communication he never heard from Lexer again. He searched the wired world for information on this Matrix but could find none. He pulled in "favours" and coaxed a few people left and right but noone seemed to know what this thing was. He was not deterred. He started posting messages in places where he knew only high class hackers like himself would look, hiding his question and his search within the very fabric of cyberspace. Weeks went by, then months. He began to think it was simnply nothing, a poor Russians fancy, a non-existent dream when one night, as he was moving around some cash from French-guyana, South America, to a highly dubious bank in Nigeria, when as opposed to "transfer complete" the message read "Look outside". Startled, he got up and walked to his window. Where there was noramlly a CIA van, there was now a shiny red fifties chevrolet. A girl in a black outfit was standing next to it. She waved at him to come down and outside.
He stood back and looked at his screen, the message had changed to "Go!!".
He grabbed his coat and ran down the stairs. As soon as he stepped outside his house, he noticed the guy leaning over the hood of the car holding a gun. He jumped to one side but it was too late, he felt a sting in his hip, and before he could see what it was he passed out.
He woke up in what could only be described as a hospital. Clean, mono-colour walls. White sheets, equally clean. Weird machinery next to his bed and attached in certain places to his body. He felt like he had been through a meat grinder. He noticed that the light pouring in through the window was artificial, close to sunlight but not quite real. He tried to remember what had happened but it just made his head hurt. He fell back alseep, when he woke again, he was in a different place. more akin to a hotel he thought, still hospitalish, but kinder, in some way - his head felt better and the machinery had gone. The door opened and a middle aged lasy walked in. Her uniform, if it could be called that, was in between a nurses and what a teacher would wear. She walked up to his bed. "How are you feeling?" She asked. "Better than I did" he attempted to say, but "eggrenayabid" is what came out. "It's ok" she said "new arrivals usually don't sound so good". She told him to get some more rest, and that he would be told what was going on soon enough.
When he woke up again, he was still in the same place. He wondered why his body ached so, and he had trouble adjusting his eyes to the amount of light. Sometimes when he woke up he would have trouble getting used to light coming in through his window, but this was pretty bad, he had trouble keeping his eyes open cause it hurt so much and even keeping focus when he managed it was difficult. He imagined it was probably some sort of drug he was given. All of a sudden he realised how he had got here and he panicked. He tried to get out of the bed but he noticed his muscles we're not at all cooperative. He fell to the floor and crawled along when the door opened and two men stepped in.
They were both similar to him, he thought he knew them, even. 'Welcome, to the 'real' world, my friend. one of them said. He felt himself being lifted up onto the bed. A piece of machinery was lowered and a ripple seemed to go through the room, like a flicker on a tv screen. The other man asked him to get up out of bed. He said he couldn't, that his legs were failing him. The man, hardly seeming to exert himself gave him a little push and he flew out of bed. he found that he could stand.
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