"We've got to get him out," Duncan said. He, Morpheus, Trinity, Amanda, Neo, and Richie were standing in the room on the Nebecanezer with the dentist chairs. Tank was sitting in front of the computers with the Matrix code. "He has to know the truth."
"What if he can't remember?" Neo asked. "What if memories of the machines taking over have been erased completely?"
"It won't be any different than when you got out," Richie said. "If he wants to know what the Matrix is because he can't remember, we'll tell him."
"What if he won't come with us?" Trinity asked. "None of you have plugs. We'll have to get him out. He may not listen."
The three Immortals began to shift uncomfortably. "That's not entirely true," Richie said. He pushed back his hair, which he'd grown again for this very purpose, and turned around. A head plug could be seen sewn into the bottom of his skull. He turned back around and replaced his hair to cover the plug. "I was under their control for a while. It was at the beginning, when the machines had just created the Matrix. I was reliving the past twenty years before I entered the Matrix. I don't know how I did it, but one morning I woke up in this plastic container filled with this warm red liquid, with plugs all along my body. Then the memories came back. I could remember everything that had happened. I managed to escape, and after a long time, I found Zion. Amanda and Duncan were there. They helped me adjust to living in the city, and helped pick a new name." He pushed up his left sleeve. Morpheus, Trinity, and Neo looked at him with confused expressions after they realized his arm was bare of any plugs. "I had them removed," Richie explaned. "Because no surgical doctor could do it, I…well, I had to do it myself."
Neo grimaced. "That had to hurt."
Richie nodded and grimaced too. "It had. I don't suggest trying it at home." He couldn't do anything with his arm for a week after that, and when it had healed, he had to take the plugs out of his other arm, then his legs.
"I have his position," Tank called. Everyone came over and stood behind him. "He's in Seacouver, Washington, in his apartment. He's going under the name Adam Peirson, a Watcher Researcher for the Methos Chronicles."
"Watchers?" Morpheus asked.
"They're a group of mortals who watch and record everything Immortals do," MacLeod supplied.
"What for?" Neo asked.
"To preserve history," Richie said. "At least, that's what Joe always said."
"Joe…" Trinity wondered. "Is he the same guy you mentioned earlier, the one who got the camera for his birthday?"
Amanda nodded and smiled. "Yep, that's him."
Morpheus turned to the group. "Trinity, Neo, and I will go with Richie," he said. "Amanda and MacLeod, land the Nebecanezer. If any sentinels come in range of radar, shut down all main power. Let's go."
While Morpheus, Trinity and Neo went to three of the dentist chairs, MacLeod took Richie aside. "You don't have to do this," he said. "I know how much you don't want to go in there again."
MacLeod was definitely right about that. Richie never wanted to go near the Matrix again. But he would now if he could get Methos out. "I'll go," he said.
He walked over to Morpheus, Trinity and Neo, who were waiting. "One question," Richie said.
"Yes?" Morpheus asked.
"If I get beheaded in the Matrix, will I be dead, permanently?"
Morpheus, Trinity and Neo looked at each other. "We don't know." Morpheus answered. "Let's hope we don't find out."
Amanda, MacLeod, and Tank helped secure them in the chairs. Amanda helped Richie. "Be sure to come back, Richard," she said. "MacLeod may kill Methos if you don't."
Richie smiled. "The only tombstone I want has pepperoni and cheese toppings."
Amanda smiled. "Okay, here goes," she pushed the needle through Richie's head plug. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. After a moment, he relaxed. He looked as peaceful as if he were asleep.
MacLeod stood next to Richie's chair. He looked worried. "Don't loose you head." He whispered.
"Relax, Duncan. He'll be fine." Amanda said. "We'd better get up to the bridge."
Duncan nodded. After a last look at Richie's form, he followed Amanda up the ladder on the far wall.
Seacouver, The Matrix
Agent Stevenson walked into the large room followed by Agent Williams. Agents Broussard and Johnson were already there. They were at a government controlled building in Seacouver similar to the one in Los Angeles. "It's confirmed," Agent Stevenson announced. "Their next target is Adam Peirson."
"They may have Mr. Ryan's help," Agent William said. "But that hasn't been confirmed yet."
All four agents reached up and touched their earpieces, listening to what was being said on the other end of the small radio. "It's been confirmed." Agent Johnson announced. "Richard Ryan is back in the Matrix."
"Perhaps we should create a diversion for Mr. Ryan and Mr. Anderson," said Agent Broussard. After Agent Broussard finished giving instructions, the four agents left via the door.
Richie opened his eyes. He and Neo were standing behind a gas station next to a busy street in Seacouver. Hooked to the back wall of the station was a pay phone and it was ringing. Neo walked over to it and picked it up. "We’re in," he said, then hung back up.
Richie recognized the street after a few minutes. It was weird being here again after all these years. The only sky he'd seen for the last two centuries were storm clouds and Zion was as colorless as a graveyard. Here in the Matrix, however, the sky was clear and the sun made the entire city seem full of life.
He realized only he and Neo were there. "Where are Morpheus and Trinity?"
"They're setting up the equipment we'll need to help Methos leave the Matrix." Neo answered. "How far away from the apartment are we?"
"A few blocks. I guess we’ll have to walk. I hope we don’t run into any agents on the way."
Neo looked at the brick wall of the gas station. He looked like he was studying it intently. Richie asked, "What are you doing?"
"Checking to see if any agents are nearby," Neo shook his head. "They aren’t. It's safe."
"How do you know?"
"I can see the code," Neo said. "It’s everywhere. When I’m in the Matrix, all I see is green numbers and letters everywhere."
"Nothing else?"
"Nope."
Richie thought about that for a minute. He shrugged. "I guess we’d better get going. Is it okay if we make a short detour first?" Richie asked.
"What for?"
"I want to get my sword. I think it may be at my old apartment. Is my alternate self there right now?"
Neo turned back to the wall. "Nope. No agents are there, either."
"Let’s go, then."
They walked the two blocks to Richie's apartment. He had, or used to have, a one-room apartment like Methos's. A couch was against the wall to the left and another couch and the table was in the middle of the room. The bed was towards the back of the room on the left wall.
When they got there, Richie walked over to the bed and felt underneath it. He hadn't expected to find a sword there. The other Richie probably had it with him. But then his fingers brushed against metal. He pulled the sword out. It was Graham Ashe's bastard sword.
"What is this doing here?" he wondered.
"What's wrong with it?" Neo asked. He walked across the room to the bed.
Richie pointed to the calendar against the wall. "It's January of 1996. Mac doesn't give me this until later this year. Right now, I'm not supposed to know about it, let alone have it in my apartment." He looked up at Neo. "Do you think it's a trap?"
Neo turned to the wall and studied the code. A minute later, he cursed. "We've got to get out of here. Now."
"Too late, Mr. Anderson," said Agent Broussard as he walked through the door with his gun raised. Richie looked behind him at the back door, only to see Agent Johnson there.
What happened next went by like a flash. Neo ran toward Agent Broussard, and the agent fired. "No!" Richie screamed. Then Agent Johnson fired. Richie ducked, but a bullet hit his leg, forcing him down. Agent Johnson approached him, but before he could get close enough, Richie severed his gun arm with his sword. While the agent was recovering from that, Richie buried his blade in the agent's chest. The agent fell over in pain, then after flashes of green sparks the agent was no longer there. Instead, there was a civilian. He looked down at the sword in his chest. He opened his mouth to speak, but blood came out instead. He fell to the ground, dead.
At the same time, Agent Broussard was firing upon Neo. Neo put his hand palm out in front of him like he was going to use it for protection. But the bullets never made it into his body. They stopped in mid-air, only inches away from Neo's still moving form. Then they all fell to the ground and Neo leaped off the ground before he could step on them and trip.
Agent Broussard, stunned that the bullets had stopped in mid-air, wasn't ready for Neo's tackle. They both went down and Neo knocked him out. Neo stood up, took out his gun, and fired two shots into Agent Broussard's chest.
The same green sparks that had appeared after Agent Johnson had been stabbed appeared again. Neo looked away to prevent being blinded by them. When he looked back, the agent was gone, replaced by a man in a Seacouver police uniform. He lay there in the doorway, quite dead.
Neo took his cell out of his coat pocket and opened it. "Tank, are Morpheus and Trinity okay?" he paused, listening to whomever was talking on the other end. "Don't worry, Mac, Richie's still alive. We ran into two agents. Tell Trinity and Morpheus to look out for them," he said while looking over at Richie, who had stood up and turned around. His leg had already healed. The only evidence of the wound was the hole in his jeans and the blood staining the area around it. Belatedly, Neo noticed it. Covering the mouthpiece of the phone, Neo asked, "Are you okay?"
Richie nodded. "He got me in the leg. It's already healed." He noticed the blood on his sword, and cleaned the blade on his jeans.
Neo returned to the telephone conversation. "Tank? The agents may know what we're planing. We'd better get to Methos now before the agents arrive. Bye." He hung up and put the cell away. "Hold up your sword." Richie did. Neo glanced at it. "I don't see any sign of a bug in the sword's code. It's safe to keep. Let's go before it's too late."
While Richie and Neo were walking to Methos' apartment, Agents Williams and Stevenson were already heading up the elevator. They knocked on the door. A few minutes later, the door opened. A man who looked to be in his twenties with a long nose, brown hair, brown eyes and high cheekbones answered the door. He was wearing old worn out blue jeans and a white sweater. "Mr. Peirson?" Agent Williams asked.
"Yes?"
Both men pulled out their wallets, which had FBI badges in them, which they had made before they came to the apartment. Agent Stevenson took out a warrant. "Agents Williams and Stevenson. You are under arrest."
Methos tried to look very innocent at that moment. "For what, agents?"
"Murder by decapitation," Williams said. "Your fingerprints were found at the crime scene last night."
"You must be joking," Methos said. "I was at a birthday party for a friend of mine all night. There were witnesses there that will tell you the same thing."
Richie and Neo walked into Methos' apartment building and got in the elevator. They were out of breath from the run over there and their adrenaline was pumping. "What floor?" Neo asked Richie. He was the closest one to the controls.
Richie turned a deep red. "I haven't actually been to his apartment before."
Neo looked at the wall of the elevator, and cursed. "They're already there," he said. He pressed the button with '3' written on it, and the elevator rose.
When it stopped and opened, they ran down the corridor. As they approached the apartment, Richie could feel an Immortal's presence, and he let out a breath of relief. But he had to be careful, because whoever was there may not be Methos. "An Immortal's here," he told Neo. Richie reached behind him for his sword, which was hidden under his jacket.
"How did you know?"
"Immortals can feel other Immortals if they get close enough. I don't know if it's him, though."
They turned at the end of the corridor. The door was in sight now. Two agents stood in the doorway, and Richie could make out Methos on the others side. Methos looked over the agents' shoulders and saw him. "Richie?"
"Methos! Get out of there!"
Agent Williams took out his gun and fired. Neo stopped the bullets in mid-air again. He and Richie reached into their jackets and got out their guns. Neo had given Richie two earlier. Both of them fired at the agents. The agents dodged the bullets in blinding speed. Behind them, Methos ducked, so he wouldn't be harmed during the onslaught. He disappeared behind the door, and when he reappeared, he held his Broadsword. When he appeared again, Johnson had his gun aimed at him, while Williams was still fighting and dodging Richie's and Neo's bullets. Before Johnson fired, Methos cut off the hand he held the gun in. The limb fell to the floor. Before Johnson had a chance to react, Methos had stuck his broadsword into the agent's chest. The agent went down, and the green sparks appeared, leaving a dead policeman on the corridor's floor when they disappeared.
Meanwhile, Neo had dropped his gun and ran toward Williams, while Richie covered him. Every shot Williams aimed at Neo, Neo dodged just as fast as any agent could, but he didn't have to stop running to do so. When Neo was only a few feet away from Williams, the agent's gun was empty. He could do nothing while Neo soared through the air, disappearing in Williams's chest.
The agent wobbled. His blood began to travel in lumps in his veins. He screamed, then blew apart. Methos and Richie had to duck to avoid colliding with the bits and pieces that were Agent Williams.
When they looked back up, Neo was standing where the agent had been. He breathed deeply. Then he opened his eyes and looked around him.
Neo took out his cell phone. "Tank, we just intercepted the agents before they kidnapped-" he looked over at Methos, "or killed-Methos. We have one less agent to worry about, though. Yeah, I got him. Tell Morpheus and Trinity we're coming over." He hung up.
"What just happened?" Methos asked. He was staring at Neo in shock. He was rarely surprised by anything anymore. Now was one of those rare times. "Richie? Why is there a dead policeman lying in my doorway instead of a suit?"
Sirens blazed on the street below. "We may have to postpone this little talk until later, old man. Right now, we need to leave before they find us with a dead man. And I do not want to see anymore agents today, of any kind."
Methos nodded, then led the way through his apartment to the windows next to the bed. He opened them and climbed out. Neo and Richie followed. Outside was a fire escape, which they climbed down. Minutes later, armed police officers came down the hall. When they saw the dead police officer, one took out his walky-talky and made a call to headquarters.
***PART FOUR***
Richie sat down on the couch. Methos had led them to an apartment complex across town. Methos said he had registered it under the pseudonym "Jacob Paul". They had called a cab instead of walking to the apartment, but Richie still felt tired from the fighting, and the run he and Neo had trying to get to Methos' place before the Agents did. Methos got them some beers, and the three of them sat down in the small living room/ bedroom.
Methos opened his bottle and gulped down some of the brown liquid. "So," he began, "What just happened across town, and how did the two of you know my real name?"
For a moment, Richie was surprised. Why did Methos ask how Richie find out about his real name? He was about to say 'you did, you dolt' when he remembered something. That's right, Richie thought, he told me who he really was a few weeks after Mac had given me Graham Ashe's sword. That had been in September of 1996. To Methos, it was still January. Richie studied Methos for a minute. "You really want to find out?"
Methos nodded.
Richie sat up on the couch and took a deep breath. Was this really a good idea? he thought. He was beginning to have doubts. But Methos needed to know the truth for his own protection. Richie took a deep breath and began. "You told me, Methos."
Methos' brow furrowed. "I told you what?"
"You told me your name, old man. This fraud who was using your name had come to Seacouver, and Mac wanted you to tell me who you were so I wouldn't listen to the other guy."
"And when was this?"
"A few months from now."
Methos studied Richie, then looked at Neo. Neo didn't seem very surprised about this bit of news. But then again, he had just killed a man in the most peculiar way Methos had ever seen. But no matter what Methos saw, he still had a few doubts as to these men's sanity. "What?"
"Methos," Neo said, "Have you ever asked yourself a certain question?"
"What would this question be?"
Neo leaned forward and whispered. "What is the Matrix?"
Methos stared at Neo. For the second time that day, he was at a loss for words. How did Neo know about that question? Methos had been asking himself that very question for two hundred years, and now a mortal came and said it out loud. All he could do was nod.
Richie took another deep breath and leaned forward. "Tell me, old man. Do you ever have a dream where you woke up in perhaps the most terrifying place you've ever seen? Where bodies, live bodies, in large containers stretched out for thousands of miles in all directions? Where you were sitting in a similar container, but you were awake, while the others were asleep? Where you were naked except for plugs and metal wires connected to various places on your body? You sit there, terrified of everything you see because you can't explain it, could never have imagined it in your conscious mind?" He leaned closer, and his voice dropped to a whisper. "Then you realize you aren't dreaming, but have in fact just died, although temporarily. And you wonder if this is hell, if an Immortal took your head while you were 'dead'. But then a flying machine comes and makes you lie down again, and then you come back to life in the very place you 'died' in. Because you can't explain it, and you're afraid no one will believe you, you try to convince yourself that weird place wasn't real, but it's hard, because it hunts you in your dreams for days. Has that ever happened to you, Methos?"
Methos gulped. Neo felt the same. Richie had described exactly what had happened to Neo, and he hadn't told anyone. He could remember waking up in that container, just like Richie described, only he got away. "How did you know?" Methos asked. He sounded as troubled as Neo felt.
Richie leaned back on the sofa. He was also shaken. He hadn't told anyone of his experience before. It was the first time he had ever spoken those words aloud, and he wished he hadn't. It brought back memories that were best left in the past. But he couldn't leave them burried. He couldn't the minute he had stepped into the Nebecanezer, and hadn't since then.
Richie took a few breaths to calm down. Finally, he found his voice again. "I know because it happened to me. But it wasn't a dream, it wasn't hell, it was real."
Methos also calmed himself down, or tried to. "But… how?"
Richie took another deep breath. "If you come with us, you'll find out."
Methos snapped his mouth shut. Were Richie and Neo telling the truth, or were they just to crazy nutcases who just happened to have the same dreams as he had? Methos had met Richie before, but only once. Other than what his Watcher had written in his Chronicle, Methos didn't know much about the kid. Methos tried to tell himself this kid was insane, and that he shouldn't trust him. But Methos had the same dreams Richie had, and they hadn't felt like dreams. They were rich with detail, just as Richie had described.
But did he really want to find out if they were more than just dreams? Methos had been searching for an answer to that very question Neo had asked, but now that he had a chance to find out the answer, did he really want to use it? Somehow, he knew the answer would change his life forever. He wasn't sure how he knew it, he just had a feeling.
It didn't take too long for Methos to make up his mind. He grabbed his coat and they left the apartment. This time, Richie and Neo led the way to a large, old Victorian-style house. On the way, Methos thought of times long gone.
Switzerland, 1816, The Matrix
Methos gulped down half of the bottle in his hand then gave it to the man walking next to him. The other man walked with a can all of the time, but right now it was the only thing keeping him from falling on the dirt driveway of his mansion. Methos, however, looked very sober, even though he'd had just as much to drink as his friend. He was drunk, but not as much as the other man was.
The man with the cane glanced down at the bottle curiously. "How'd that get there?" he asked in the splurged talk only drunks could manage. He didn't give Methos a chance to answer before he gulped down the rest of the liquid.
"Byron!" Methos said, reaching for the bottle. "Don't drink all of it. You're had enough already. You do remember what happened last time, don't you?"
Byron nodded and smiled at the memory. "Yeah. Those were some good times, doc."
"Yes, and times I'd rather not repeat." Methos said. He grabbed the bottle and yanked it out of Byron's hands.
"Hey!" Byron protested, reaching for the bottle. He dropped his cane and nearly lost his balance before Methos caught him. "Be careful, my friend." Methos reached down, and with the hand holding the bottle, picked up the cane, handing it to Byron.
Both of them forgot about the bottle when the tiny hairs on the back of their necks and on their arms stood straight up as if a wind brushed over their skin, even though it was a very warm and windless night. They could hear a strange noise that could never have been explained very easily. This was the buzz, the warning all Immortals had when approaching another of their kind.
A few yards away, was a tall, cast iron gate. A carriage was parked in front of it, and its brown horse was grazing in the grass next to the fence. A few feet in front of the carriage was a man. His sword was at his side.
"Which one of you is Lord Byron, the owner of this estate?" the mysterious Immortal asked.
Byron stepped forward as straight as he could manage. "I am," he said. He reached into his cloak for his own sword. "And you are?"
"Steve Martins."
Methos looked from Martins to Byron. It was obvious Byron wasn't in any condition to fight, and Methos didn’t want Byron to die. He put his hand on Byron's sword arm, and Byron stopped pulled his sword from its scabbard. "He is in no condition to fight. Allow me to take his place," he told Martins.
Martins studied him for a moment, then smiled. "Very well. I won't mind having another Quickening."
Methos took out his Broadsword and stepped forward. He discarded his top hat and cloak on the ground. "Who said you'd win?"
"Will you tell my your name before I kill you?"
"Dr. Benjamin Adams," Methos told him.
They got into battle positions, and the battle began.
Methos didn't know how long the sword fight went on, but it wasn't very long. Martins wasn't very good, and Methos never left the offensive. He very easily disarmed Martins and made him kneel down. He put his sword to Martins neck, then raised it, ready to make the downward stroke.
Two shouts came from the forest. Methos and a still very drunk Byron looked for the source. They saw a man being pursued by two over men. The two men who were chasing the other man wore black clothes, while the other wore brown. Methos gasped when he realized he knew the two men in black. They were the very soldiers who had shot him four years ago in American territory. But what were they doing in Switzerland?
Methos never got a chance to ask them. The two men in black had pistols, and continued to load them and fire at their prey. The man in brown dodged every bullet and kept running. Methos and Byron weren't as fortunate. Both were shot and fell to the ground.
Methos was surprised he was still alive, although barely. He glanced up at Martins, who had retrieved his sword and was standing over him with his sword raised. A smile appeared on his face. But he never made the downward stroke. Instead, he screamed. Lumps formed in his blood veins, and his face became distorted. A second later, another man in black stood above Methos instead of Martins. The man in black dropped the sword and ran after the man in brown. Then Methos closed his eyes and allowed Death to take him.
Methos gasped. His body arched at the same time his eyes flew open. He looked around. He was lying on the dirt driveway of Lord Byron's home with all of his body parts attached. He breathed a sigh of relief, then got up. He searched for Byron and found him lying a few feet away. His chest, like Methos', was covered in blood. Methos remembered that he healed much faster than other Immortals, and it may be a long time before Byron came back from 'death'.
He'd had that dream again. The same dream he had four years ago on a British ship in American territory. Both times, it had seemed very, very real. Too real for a dream. Methos pushed it aside. He didn't want to think about that place too much. It made his skin crawl in a way that was nothing like an Immortal Buzz.
He picked up his sword and put it away. He walked over to Byron, bent over and slung him over his shoulder. "Byron, my friend, you need to loose some weight," he said. He carried his friend back to the mansion.
Later that night, Methos was getting ready for bed in his guestroom at Byron's home. Byron had fallen asleep in a drunken haze earlier that night.
Methos sat on the bed. Resisting the urge to just fall asleep still fully clothed, he forced his tired limbs to move. First came his boots, then his socks. His vest was half-way off when he heard something.
It came from behind the window curtains.
As quietly as possible, Methos reached under the bed for the sword he always kept there. He found it, and gently brought it out. Without making a sound, he walked over to the curtains, muscles tense, waiting for an attack. He pulled the curtain back.
And came face to face with a young man. The same man those men, the ex-Brittish soldiers, had been chasing earlier that evening when they'd stumbled onto Methos's and Martins's fight.
Methos put his sword against the young man's neck. "Walk forward slowly," he commanded.
The stranger did as he was told. He hid his fear well. "I am not your enemy, Benjamin Adams," he said. "My name is Daniel Reynolds. I've come to warn you."
"Warn me about what?"
"You're in danger, Adams," he said. The he smirked. "Methos."
Methos was a little surprised. He hadn't even spoken his real name for several centuries. "How do you know that name? Hold up your wrists."
Reynolds complied. His wrists were bare of any kind of tattoo. He lowered them again and spoke. "They're here, Methos. They're watching your every move."
"Who is?"
The stranger ignored the question. "You're trapped here, immortal, in this prison. A prison you can not see, or hear, or touch," he paused. "It is called the Matrix."
"The Matrix?"
Somewhere on the property, shouts made them look toward the window. Reynolds took that opportunity to back away from the sword to the window. "They're here. I must go before they discover I've been talking to you." He began to climb out the window onto a tree branch. "If I don't return, don't forget about what I said. Stay on alert. This is far more dangerous than other Immortals or the Watchers will ever be." He dropped down out of sight.
Methos ran over to the window and looked down. But Reynolds was already gone.
Not that far away, Methos heard more shouts. Then he heard two gunshots and a man's scream.
