The Awakening of Austrian

25 posts · 2005-11-08 07:25:13 to 2006-01-16 11:51:28

#11300001027 11/08/2005 07:25:13 The Awakening of Austrian

Hello all! After posting a little story on Gothique's contest board I began to have, my usual, mental diahrrea. It's a simple fact about me. When I started Team Aust, I wrote up the plot and details of my very first Live Event, to be tested on my own faction to see if it was entertaining and if I could handle the job of being a one-man multi-server Live Event team without the fun factor or suspension of disbelief being hurt. It was a success... which resulted in a whole Pandora's Box being opened. That night, over the course of an hour of furious writing and map-checking, I created every last single detail of a Live Event series that would see one installment added every week from early October until late February, with a slight holiday in accordance with Christmas.

So, as you can see, I have a tendency to have a small idea turn into a massive one in the same amount of time it takes me to write one of my final exams in University (My God! Those are next month!!!). So when I scribbled a little tale of Austrian sneaking up on Invalesco during the Nightfall event put on by good old 'lith, my mind swam with ideas.

The product of these ideas will be posted here in installments as I have the time to put them to paper. This will be the story of how Austrian, Captain of The Hapsburg, Honoured Member of Chaos Theory and Redpill Mission Handler for The Merovingian, becomes Awakened from the Matrix, joins The Merovingian's Organization, learns how to become an effective Operative, finds his true purpose in the greater scheme of things and then meets up with Chaos Theory. I hope you will all enjoy it and I welcome any comments, compliments, criticisms and death threats (or proposals of marriage... so long as your RSI is female SMILEY

)

#11300001028 11/08/2005 07:38:28 Re: The Awakening of Austrian

Chapter 1

Paul Lipp, eldest son of Günther Lipp, one of the wealthiest and most politically powerful businessmen in Mega City, bowed deeply to his opponent who did likewise. Paul supposed that he was a strange sight in this mixed martial arts tournament. But whether his slender and slight frame looked like it belonged or was amiss amongst the other bulky brutes participating in the event mattered little to him, mostly because he was now in the final round, but also because Paul had the sense to know that appearances were nearly always deceiving. No, the only opinion he was concerned about right now was his own and that of his parents- who sat in a private viewing box over-looking the arena where he had been fighting for the better part of the day.

Paul was, without a doubt, a perfectionist. So was his father, but there was a considerably distinctive difference between their respective perfectionist tendencies. Günther, Paul's evidently successful father, was obsessed with making the perfect business transaction, being the best at the art of making the deal, maximizing his profits and minimizing his losses. To Paul, that was a boring waste of energy. To Paul, perfection was being able to dominate any opponent under any set of circumstances with any weapon. To Paul, any person whose mind and body moved in perfect martial synergy possessed a power far beyond anything his father's money could ever buy.

But his father did not see things that way. Nor did his mother. They both saw Paul as a disappointment- a poor heir to the Lipp empire. And that was why Paul had invited his parents to come and watch this demonstration of his martial mastery. He would prove himself worthy. He would prove that he was a man every bit as deserving of respect as his father. And, most of all, he would prove to everyone witnessing this final match of the tournament that he was the greatest martial artist in the world, let alone Mega City.

#11300001029 11/08/2005 08:14:30 Re: The Awakening of Austrian

Chapter 2

In the earlier elimination rounds of the tournament, Paul Lipp had defeated two opponents, equally simple to defeat: a young and somewhat attractive woman with a passing knowledge of kickboxing, and a hot-headed fool whose rendition of Bruce Lee's Jeet Kune Do was offensive.

The woman had stood little chance. She was but a student and was still learning many principles of martial arts that Paul considered to be basic. And, besides that fact, in his opinion kickboxing was a hardly a martial art. A simple cardio-vascular workout for lazy people, nothing more. But Paul had also believed he had smelt alcohol on her breath when he had drawn in close to avoid her long-legged kicks. He had mused to himself that perhaps she had joined the tournament as part of a drunken deal made in a bar nearby. As a result, he had been merciful to her and allowed a few chances to find her range and attempt a few of her cumbersome kicks. The match, in the end, was a flawless victory.

The man who thought he was Bruce Lee reborn, however, received little mercy or compassion. The fool had horrible technique- his attacks fuelled with a confidence born of arrogance rather than mastery and experience. Paul had dodged one of the fellow's flying side kicks and ended the match early with a full-force closed-fist punch to the groin as the Bruce Lee wannabe sailed through the air past him. Paul had, at first, felt remorse for dealing such a damaging blow, but then he had thought, "He was overly fond of kicks. Now with that groin injury, he'll have to focus on training in hand strikes more. Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind." He could barely control his laughter then.

Following these initially disappointing fights, Paul had been advanced to the Quarter Finals. His opponent, a Judoka, had fought admirably. The towering man had tried his best to get a hold of Paul and throw him to the mat. But Paul's favoured martial art, Ba Gua, empowered him with a great deal of knowledge in escaping the moves that Judo specialized in. Unable to adapt to an opponent whose expertise was in constantly changing and adapting with the situation, the Judoka was eventually tired out and defeated.

In the Semi-Finals, Paul had faced a foe who was a bit more to his caliber: a woman well-taught in Aikido. She had fought with a speed and grace that almost impressed even Paul. Almost. She, like all those before her, like those Paul had fought in formal tournaments like this as well as the fight clubs his parents and the media could never know about, could not land a decisive blow against him. She was able to brush his shoulder with her out-stretched punch as he dodged and weaved and blocked, but nothing more. She submitted when he finally countered another one of her beautiful punches and twisted her wrist at a weird angle.

So now here he was, standing before his final opponent. The only thing that stood between Paul and the gold, with all it's attendant benefits, was the muscled and massive man clad in a karate gi that stood before him.

The referee ordered for Paul and his rival for the prize to enter their fighting stances and prepare for the combat that was about to ensue. The karateka eased gently into a modern fighting stance, left leg forward with the knee slightly bent and his arms relaxed and mirroring the position of his legs. Paul, meanwhile, went for something a bit less... predictable. He dropped down into what was known as a 'Bokuho' stance in Ba Gua. It used the same principles that a mother hawk used when defending her nest. Just like how a hawk would pretend to be wounded in order to trick the attacker into dropping their guard and draw them into a benefitial position for acounter-attack, Paul was putting himself into a seemingly undefensible and flashy stance to lure his foolish opponent in for the kill. Paul was in such a deep stance, it almost appeared that he was about to do the splits, his left-leg forward and out-stretched, his right-leg back and bent so that he was crouching. His left-arm extended out along the length of his leg and his right arm was hooked behind his head. He must have looked like a target buffet. But then, to Paul's skilled eye, so did his oppnent.

The fool standing a few feet away from him smiled. Paul smiled back. The referee gave the command to begin. Paul would win.

#11300001034 11/09/2005 09:47:35 Re: The Awakening of Austrian

Chapter 3

The karateka took the bait. The temptation to strike someone who seemed so clearly unguarded was too much for the other man. He swooped in, clearing the space between them in less than the blink of an eye and thrust his rear leg out at Paul's face in a textbook Karate 'stamp kick'. As the ball of the man's foot neared his face, and Paul could see the other fellow grinning down at his supposedly defenseless prey, Paul pivoted on his right foot and rose to his full, unintimidating, height.

Paul watched with amusement as the karateka's foot passed through air just where Paul's face had been moments before. Now Paul was standing in the karateka's 'closed side'. A person's closed side was the side of them which exposed their back- and which was the most difficult side to defend from. Paul reached out with his left hand and grasped hold of the ankle of the karateka's kick, locking the foot in place, then slid his right leg under the other man, hooking his foot behind the only foot which now supported the big barbarian. With a sweep of his right foot, Paul completed one of Ba Gua's basic techniques, called "Yao Fei Li T'ien" or "Hawk Soars up to Heaven", and sent his opponent crashing down to the mat with Paul falling down on top of him, driving his elbow into the man's gut.

The crowd let out a cheer as Paul rose from atop his opponent and helped the other man to his feet. The cheering wasn't his concern at that moment. He glanced over at the referee to see if the point was valid. The referee paused, then raised a blue flag that he held in his left hand, confirming the validity of Paul's point. He felt a surge of adulation at the sight. But it also made him nervous. Paul was the 'blue' competitor and his foe was the 'red' team. From watching the other fights in this tournament, he had seen that red nearly always won today. And Paul had read studies showing that in competitive sports, the player or team which wore red won 77% of the time and had higher adrenaline levels in their blood at the end of the game or match than did their opponents on the blue team. He prayed that he would not suffer 'the curse of blue' now- especially not now when he was on a victory streak.

He shook his head as he assumed a fairly deep stance, though not as deep as the Bokuho he had previously used, his arms held low cautiously. He had to remain focused on the task at hand. If he worried himself with silly superstitions about losing, then he would lose. It was that simple. If he pictured himself losing, he would lose. But if he pictured himself winning not only this match but his parents' respect, then it would be so. The referee gave the command to begin again.

This time Paul elected for a more aggressive strategy- a more complicated technique in Ba Gua known as "Ba Xien Kuo Hai" or "Eight Immortals Cross the Sea". The karateka had adopted the same stance as before but Paul suspected the other man would go on the defensive. But the his opponent's education in Karate made him an expert at blocking a few powerful strikes strung in combination, not many fast but less powerful strikes thrown together in a flurry of hands.

Paul surged forward from his crouched stance, faking low with his leading hand. The karateka fell for it, executing a sharp and strong low block that completely missed Paul's Ox Jaw strike to his chin. The other man reeled backward with the open-handed uppercut but Paul pressed on, offering no quarter unless it was to a yielding foe. He brought his leg up, seemingly chambered for a side kick to the karateka's belly, but, at the last moment, stomped down on his opponent's toes. The karateka yelped in pain as he had been preparing to block a kick to his solar plexus not his own foot.

Still standing on the other man's toes, Paul slid his trailing leg in close and punched with his right hand straight for the karateka's temple. The blow hit it's mark without fail. The knuckles of his index and middle finger hit a bulls-eye on the soft part of the man's forehead right between the now glazed eyes.

Paul stepped back, assuming his Bokuho stance and watched as the other man fell with a loud 'thud' on the mat. The technique was much longer than that but... he felt it safe to finish it early when he saw the other man lose consciousness with the impact of his punch.

As the tournament medics sprung onto the sparring mats to examine the karateka, the referee rose the blue flag again to announce Paul's second point and victory. The crowd cheered for the victor, though a little less enthusiastically this time. No one had been knocked unconscious in this tournament yet. This was the second time the medics had needed to attend to a competitor in this tournament. The first time was to treat the Bruce Lee wannabe's groin injury- which had also been dealt by Paul. Could it be that he had become too brutal? Had he been spending a little too much time testing his mettle in fight clubs where victory went to the one who had lost the least amount of blood after a set amount of time? Was he beginning to do this not for the art or for perfection, but for the sense of power that came with completely dominating another human in single combat? Paul shuddered at the thought.

He was still mulling this over in his mind when he was called over to the mat again to be presented with his prize in the award ceremony for the tournament. As Grand Master Azami, the host of the tournament and the highest-ranking martial artist in the whole of Mega City, congratulated him for a well-fought match and placed a gold medallion around his neck, Paul did not smile.

#11300001042 11/10/2005 10:02:11 Re: The Awakening of Austrian

Chapter 4

Paul walked into the lobby of the arena, swarming with crowds of departing spectators and competitors alike, and picked his parents out of the throng. He approached them, attempting to hide his nervousness and feign a smile.

"Excellent work, my son! Excellent work!" Paul's father, Günther, said as he shook his hand enthusiastically.

"Thank you father. I'm glad you were impressed." Paul replied, authentically smiling now. Could it be that his plan had worked? Could it be that all those disappointed glances and heated arguments had been cast aside by his father after a day's demonstration of just what Paul had accomplished with his life thus far? It seemed so. Perhaps the sacrifices of Paul's two injured opponents had not been in vain.

"Impressed is... a bit strong of a word. To be honest, I was a little frightened." Paul's mother, Elisabeth, said with a concerned look in her eyes. "You could have been badly hurt today. Doing this sort of thing all the time- it's a matter of 'when' not 'if' you get badly injured. Especially if there are others out there who fight like you."

"Like me?" Paul asked, taken aback. He was not sure if he should have taken that last comment by his mother as a compliment or an insult. Was she saying that he fought with great skill or great ferocity and barbarity? The only thing he was sure of now was that he was watching his hard-won victory dissolving before his very eyes. He might as well have been the one knocked unconscious in the final round. Everything had been a waste. All he had to show for his troubles was a chunk of gold-painted metal and the re-affirmation that so long as he did what he enjoyed his parents would loath him.

Günther looked down at the ground and put his hands in his pockets in a resigned gesture. The silence between them was cold and sharp even though there was a crowd moving all about them, filling the lobby with noise. Finally Paul's father broke the silence. "What your mother means is... you've proven yourself to be a man who can look after himself. And I'm proud of you for that. Aren't you, Lisa?" Günther said. Lisa was his nickname for Elisabeth. Paul couldn't quite understand why he did that. Would his father have been impressed if he were to be nicknamed 'Gün' or 'Ther'? Paul doubted it. But then such hypocrisies were typical of his parents. He had come to expect them.

"Of course." Elisabeth said somewhat reluctantly.

"So I figure it's about time I made you an offer. Work at my stock-brokerage firm. There's good money in that business. It requires a lot of work but... your martial arts required a lot of work to get good at too. If you put in the hours, you'll become perfect at the business too. What do you say son?" Günther said, a broad smile on his face and hope in his eyes.

Paul squashed that hope and tore the smile from his face with one word: "No."

"Paul..." Günther started, that cursed disappointed tone entering his voice and gaze again, striking Paul in the solar plexus harder than any human punch could manage.

"Father, we have been through this before. I do not wish to be involved in business. The only business I will ever be interested in is teaching martial arts to others and passing on the knowledge that I have gained. Please try to understand. What is an ideal life and career for you, is not necessarily an ideal life for me. We may be father and son, but we are not the same person. Your offer is kind... but insulting at the same time. If you truly believe that I have proven myself to be a man capable of caring for himself, then allow me to do so. Do not trouble me or yourself with attempting to be charitable to me. I will make my own way. And my way is the way of the martial arts, not stock-brokering. I will prevail by my own hand, not your checkbook." Paul said, interrupting his father and building up all the confidence he had within him to tell his father the truth of their relationship.

Paul's father nodded slowly with understanding, the disappointment leaving his gaze. Paul had thought he had managed to wrest victory back once again from the greedy and spiteful jaws of defeat, but then he saw his mother, a flustered and angry expression upon her face. "And how will you be able to support a family with what you do? Will you simply leech from Silvia? A woman's job is to mother and raise her children, not fund you and your little adventures! How can you be so selfish to the woman you love?" she ranted, attracting the attention of several passers-by.

Paul simply shook his head. "I hope for the sake of our relationship, that you come to understand eventually." he said as he donned his machello beret and proceeded out of the lobby.

"Why can't you be more like your brother? Why can't you do something constructive with yourself like Gerhard?" Elisabeth almost snarled the words at him as she grabbed him by the elbow.

"Because I am not my brother. I am not Gerhard. I am Paul, your eldest son. Please try to remember that when next we talk." Paul said, gently shrugging his arm free of his mother's enraged grasp. Then he added before going through the door to the lobby, "Whenever that may be."

#11300001048 11/11/2005 17:10:13 Re: The Awakening of Austrian

Chapter 5

Paul was more than just a little angry when he walked into his dojo that night. He was furious. He almost forgot to bow to the flags hanging over the shrine at the far end of the hall. It was extremely tempting to simply skip that part and run straight for the punching bag and knock it off it's chain with a flying side kick- releasing all of his rage and hatred in one solid blow. But he didn't surrender to the temptation, even though there was no one around to attest to his self-discipline. It was late at night. All the day's classes were long over.

He'd spent most of what had been left of the day wandering the streets of Hampton Green and some other surrounding neighbourhoods of Downtown Mega City. He'd hoped that the scenery would calm him down and give him a good environment to relax and think about the day's events. But his mother's scathing comments kept repeating themselves over and over in his head. And the similarity of Hampton Green's look and feel to that of Downtown Plovdiv had made him unable to take his mind off of his fiancé, Silvia, and how his mother had accused him of intending to leech from his wife-to-be.

Silvia was a beautiful woman, perfect in the eyes of a man who was a chronic perfectionist to himself. She was a Hungarian-Bulgarian aspiring Soprano. They had met at the Adomontium in Prague. She had sung so masterfully and looked so impossibly gorgeous on the stage that Paul could not resist seeking out a face-to-face encounter. And, well, everything had flowed naturally from there. He had proposed to her, after knowing her for a year, and she had accepted. Things between them never seemed to skip a beat when he left Europe to return to his family in Mega City. She came to visit him in Mega City every now and then but fate conspired to prevent him from visiting her ever since he had come to Mega City. Flights were cancelled because of terrorist attacks and bad weather. But she always came. He had remarked once that she was his angel come to save him from the nonsense of this place. She had found that funny. He hadn't.

But here he was. In his dojo, wondering what to do- what his next move was. Part of him said that the only way was forward. He would continue being a martial artist until the day that he died. He would compete in tournaments and fight clubs until he was too old to suffer the risk of a broken hip. He would keep teaching until he grew so old he could not remember his own name. He would keep expanding his schools, making a nation-wide chain and proving to his father that even something as 'unproductive' as Kung Fu could turn a profit. He would keep on with his life and never look back- not even at the people who gave him life.

But another part of him dissented and railed against this stance. It told him that his parents had been right all along but he was simply too arrogant and foolish to listen to the wisdom that came with age and experience. Maybe he should call his father now, apologize for how he had acted earlier and accept his original offer- if it was still being extended to him. They had raised him reasonably well when he was younger, why would their good judgement suddenly no longer apply to him upon turning 19? Maybe he had become a monster who fought not to perfect himself, but to hurt others. Hadn't he felt a certain sense of satisfaction upon smashing the groin of that Bruce Lee wannabe? Hadn't it felt right? That was wrong. And it proved his mother right.

So many questions and so few answers, he thought to himself, as he kicked the punching bag with a head-level Tae Kwon-Do round kick. But he had to find the answers tonight. Not tomorrow and not the day after. He had heard of people wasting their entire lives on decisions like this because they never gave themselves a timeline, they never sat themselves down and forced their mind and soul to concentrate on the question- the same question that drove most of Humanity mad every day. The question was: "What is my purpose?"

A sense of purpose had been what had driven Paul to such high levels of accolade in the martial arts. But he felt that he was losing that sense of purpose. When he completely lost that sense of re-assurance, he would not only lose his talent but he would also lose control of his life. And that scared him. One need only take a quick venture into the Slums to understand what he feared becoming. A thug in a trench-coat and sunglasses, gibbering about "The One" and attacking people at random. Those maniacs were the worst kind of combination- martial artists who engaged in acts of wanton violence, terrorism and crime. Was that his destiny? Was that what his parents were trying to save him from?

He wished he could call Silvia. But she was half a world away. It would be much too early in the morning to call her. He would wake her up. This could wait. And in the mean time, he would try to make the decision for himself. He would be a man, like his father had claimed he was. His father...

He had looked proud of him, in a way. Paul wasn't sure why. Because he had stood his ground? Why would someone be proud of a person who stood his ground on something that didn't make sense? Hitler had stood his ground, at the expense of the German people, and he had been wrong in his beliefs- grossly and horribly wrong. If Paul had stood his ground about something that was completely immoral, just like he might have done today, he was a fool and Günther shouldn't have been even more disappointed in him- if that was even possible.

Paul sighed and wiped a bit of the sweat that was forming on his brow. He had a headache. "Maybe I should just take some Slumberil and call it a night." Paul muttered to himself, leaning against the punching bag to support his suddenly heavy body.

No! Tonight he had to make a decision! As he had learned in his countless fights, any decision, even a bad one, was better than indecisiveness. Even if a person were to dodge right instead of left, it was better than simply standing still trying to make a decision and then get punched full-force in the face. Life was just like a fight. Life was throwing a punch straight for his throat. It was either dodge left or right, or get punched in the Adam's apple and die like those goons in Mara. It was a matter of life and death and he had to choose to go forward with his current life or walk back down the path and take the other, more well-traveled branch of the trail.

Paul was just about to go back into his office to look for something to treat his headache when the door to the dojo opened and someone entered- someone who would change his life much more drastically than his parent's scolding ever could have managed.

#11300001073 11/14/2005 09:54:33 Re: The Awakening of Austrian

Chapter 6

Paul was muttering to himself that his stress might not come from his parents but perhaps from the squalor and insanity of MegaCity. The Baroque majesty of Vienna certainly exuded an aura quite unlike the anxiety of this place. There was something different about MegaCity. Paul remembered feeling a sense of purpose, of anticipation, amongst the faces and hearts of the people he passed on the streets of Europe’s cities. But in MegaCity, the buildings oozed the cloying and tangible stench of desperation and disappointment, which hardly helped to improve his mood.

He was in the middle of musing this to himself when he heard the door chime signal someone’s entrance into the dojo. Hadn’t he locked the door behind himself? Maybe he’d been so lost in thought, so frustrated with the choice that had forced its way into his life uninvited, that he’d left the door to his school unlocked. And now someone was barging into his establishment and his evening uninvited as well.

Paul took a step back out of his office so that he could see who his visitor was. It could not possibly be a student or one of his assistant instructors because it was well past the time for classes at the dojo. Everyone would have returned home and likely gone off to sleep. It likely would not be a gang member or late-night robber either. Paul’s dojo was located in Park East, one of the safest neighbourhoods in Downtown, if not the whole of MegaCity. He honestly had no idea who it could be at this late of an hour. Perhaps it was just some businessman heading into the city for a conference who had lost his way and needed directions.

As Paul peeked around the corner, he was about to say that the dojo was closed, but he stopped himself when he saw who stood in the doorway, bowing to the flags hanging over his dojo shrine. It was a gorgeous woman. But not just any gorgeous woman. She had a wild and unkempt look about her that was quite unlike anything Paul had been used to. He was adjusted to life of civility and distancing oneself from nature and animality. But this woman, she embraced it- she seemed to accept and celebrate humanity’s position in the Kingdom Animalia not only with her ravishing appearance but with the way she carried herself. She looked, for all intents and purposes, like an animal on the prowl. The question was, though, why was she here, in his dojo?

“C-can I help you?” Paul stammered, trying to regain his composure. Curse his daftness! He couldn’t stammer or goggle. This could be a potential customer and a future student of his dojo and as such, he needed to conduct himself in a professional manner. That meant no more eyeing up this woman and more time spent on focusing on the important things like her stature and other assets that might affect her martial ability. Did she have a poor center of balance? Did she have what was called ‘flat feet’? He found himself lingering too much with his stare once again and nearly cursed at himself out loud for his insolence.

“Yes, you can Mr. Lipp. Or should I call you Paul?” the woman finally replied, having finished her bows. Paul’s tongue caught in his throat as she turned to fix her gaze on him. Her eyes… they were even wilder than the black and blonde hair that graced her head. Paul could have sworn that her pupils were gold and her irises orange. The eyes that now latched themselves to him had a feral look about them too- like that of a wolf. Paul had always thought that wolf eyes were enchantingly beautiful- that a person could stare into them for hours upon hours and still find new nuances and reflections.

“Austrian.” Paul replied, absent-mindedly.

“Sorry?” the woman asked, seemingly confused by his reply. Her left eyebrow arched up, bringing new reflections to her eyes and drawing Paul deeper into their depths.

“Austrian. My friends call me Austrian. It’s just a silly nickname some colleagues of mine came up with in school. My nationality is difficult to determine so they decided to call me Austrian because that was where I was born.” Paul explained, finally snapping out of his trance-like state and stepping forward to shake his visitor’s hand. He had no idea what had come over himself. How could he become infatuated with a mangy woman like this when he had the very image of perfection, Silvia, waiting for him on the paradise beaches of the Black Sea?

“Ah… pleasure to meet you Austrian.” the woman answered, smiling somewhat to reveal polished white teeth that glistened slightly in the light, accepting his hand.

“And… you are?” Paul finally asked, wondering why she had not offered her name yet to him.

“Ookami.” she said, her smile broadening now.

Paul saw then, as he shook Ookami’s hand, that she bore a tattoo on her shoulder. The tattoo was of the Japanese kanji Ookami. Paul had a talent for languages as well as martial arts, a talent that had developed from necessity as he and his family travelled from country to country in Europe. Paul had never needed to learn Japanese but he had chosen to learn it out of curiosity. It was an interesting language with a unique sound to Paul’s ears. So, when he heard Ookami tell him her name, and when he had read the kanji tattoo on her shoulder, he had known instantly the meaning of her name: Wolf. Strangely fitting, considering those eyes and teeth and hair that had mesmerized him so.

Paul was about to tell her that the name fitted her, but decided against it. He doubted this ‘Ookami’ would find it a flattering comment. Instead he just nodded slowly as he released his grip of her hand, musing at the length of her finger-nails and the softness of her palm. “The pleasure is all mine, Ookami. What can I do for you tonight?”

She cocked her head to the side, her eyes examining him. Paul found the whole experience of being examined by her a tad bit unnerving. It felt like being a wounded and ill deer watched by a prowling wolf. She said, after a few moments, “I, and my employer, have been watching you for quite some time. We feel that you would make an excellent candidate for something…” she trailed off, her throat making some sort of growling noise.

“Something… what? What’s the matter?” Paul asked her, confused and a little irritated. He had no time for this. He needed this evening to think about what he wanted to do with his life, not listen to some whacko pretend to be a dog. Who was this stray anyway? Ookami wasn’t exactly a common name. In fact, Paul doubted anyone would ever name their child ‘Wolf’ in Japanese. It seemed more like… a gang nickname. Was this the employer she spoke of? A crime boss had seen Paul at one of the fight clubs and wanted to hire him to do some of his dirt work? Paul had no interest in a career as an assassin or a mercenary and he would tell this woman just that, regardless of who her employer was. If he could tell his father to leave him be, he could tell some half-crazed werewolf impersonator to go home.

“We don’t have much time. They saw you today to and it piqued their interest so I’m going to need to get to the point.” she answered, apparently flustered. “My employer wants to present you with an offer. I need you to keep an open mind on this.”

“I’m listening.” Paul answered, folding his arms across his chest and waiting to hear some outrageous story.

“Have you ever heard of The Merovingian?” Ookami asked, her eyes penetrating into his own again.

“The richest businessman in MegaCity? Of course.” Paul nodded. He remembered seeing him and his wife, Persephone, at a few of the social functions he and his family had been to. The Merovingian, whose true name seemed unknown, practically owned the city, including its criminal elements.

“He has seen the way you fight and so have I. We are… interested in your abilities. They are rare. You can fight but you can also engage in diplomacy. Such a combination of skills is… rare in his Organization.” Ookami explained.

“Are you offering me… a job as an assassin? Or a hitman? I can’t do those jobs. I won’t.” Paul replied, shaking his head furiously. He had known this would be a waste of time. The Merovingian had only proved his banality and barbarity by hiring some woman to try and ease Paul’s tongue into agreeing with the implied promise of flesh and the warmth of another beside him in bed. Paul was not so base. His pleasure was a perfect kick or a well-timed dodge and counter, not sexual teases.

“No, Austrian. I’m offering you an answer to your questions. The Merovingian knows many things and he wants to teach you them. He wants to tell you the truth about Austrian, about Silvia, about your parents and why they won’t accept you for who you are. And most of all, he does not want your talents to go to waste.” Ookami said.

“What do you know about me?” Paul answered, his voice filled with scorn. He had had enough of this rubbish for one evening. He turned and walked back to his office, intent on finding his Slumberil. “I’m sure you’ll know how to find your way out.” he snarled over his shoulder.

#11300001074 11/14/2005 09:55:55 Re: The Awakening of Austrian

Chapter 6 (Continued)

Just then, a force like the gale of a hurricane slammed into his back and sent him sprawling to the floor, jarring his brain in his skull. He saw Ookami standing over him in a low crouched stance. She had kicked him in the back, knocking him to the ground. Why had she done that? Couldn’t she take “No” for an answer? It was his life and he would do with it as he desired and no one, not his parents and not this foolish woman nor The Merovingian, would tell him how to live it.

He rolled out of the way of an axe kick that would have broken his tail bone and rose to his feet. “What are you doing?” he yelled, dodging an impossibly fast left jab and right hook from the crazed woman.

“Showing you the lie.” she replied, smiling. Had she gone insane?

Paul blocked a kick to his head then to his crotch. This woman was fast. He had never seen someone move so quickly. She was lithe and short, which helped her speed, but he had never seen anyone move quite so fast and so graceful. He could barely dodge or black her moves in time. And despite her speed, she was executing each technique with perfect precision, textbook style and awesome power. It was like fighting a goddess- a goddess of wolves.

She finally broke through his guard, her hand grasping the wrist of one of his blocking hands and binding it. Then she swung her other arm around to chop for his throat. That was a killing strike. Was he going to die? He couldn’t! He wouldn’t! Not before he had married Silvia, rectified his problems with his parents, had children and raised them into good men and women who would never repeat the foolish mistakes their father had made when he was young like them. Paul drove his knee into Ookami’s crotch and ducked his head down so that his face almost touched her chest. Ookami’s knifehand strike, which would have burst Paul’s Adam’s apple, sliced through air inches above Paul’s hair, as he folded inwards to avoid the strike. Now safe, Paul rose back up to his full height, smashed his forehead into the woman’s nose. Ookami sprawled backwards from the surprising blow but maintained her grasp of Paul’s hand- until Paul let loose a push kick to her stomach that finally sent her toppling down.

Paul looked down at his defeated opponent, wondering what in the world had come over her. One minute he had been turning to walk away, the conversation over, the next she had attack him with a murderous intent in her wolfen eyes. What had she said she was trying to do? Show him the lie? Madness…

Suddenly, Paul felt his legs give out underneath him and he collapsed to the ground. Sprawled on his back, surprised by his sudden descent, he was unable to prevent Ookami from pouncing onto his prone body and pinning him to the ground. This woman never gave up! And now she had him pinned. Paul could only dread what would come next.

“What is wrong with this picture?” Ookami growled at him.

He was about to say the only thing wrong with it was that they were fighting for no reason. But then he realized what she meant. She wasn’t bleeding. Telling from how hard he had struck her face with his forehead, her nose should have been pouring blood all over the expensive mats that covered the floors of his dojo. And she felt no warmer than she had when she had entered the door and shook his hand. After that fight, despite its brevity, she should have been very hot and sweating profusely from the adrenaline rush like Paul was. And he still could not understand how she had moved so fast… and how he had been able to burst into action when his life was in danger. His muscles seemed to ache and throb from that moment of rage-filled retaliatory violence to save his life and his future.

“How… why…?” Paul tried to utter the questions that were coming into his mind at a pace that was almost as blindingly fast as the fight he had just had with Ookami.

Ookami rose from Paul and helped him to his feet. “The Merovingian will show you how to fight just like that all the time, not just when your life is in danger. He will teach you how to become the greatest martial artist in the world.”

Paul could scarcely believe her words. He could scarcely believe this was all real. Perhaps he had really found the Slumberil after all, and this was the drug-induced rage-enhanced dream that he was experiencing in his sleep. A wolf-like woman comes into his dojo, beats him in a crazed sparring match that seems to last mere seconds, then tells him that a French crime boss can teach him the meaning of life and turn him into the greatest martial artist that ever lived. Paul decided to play along and see if he’d wake up just before this offer is satisfied.

“What would I have to do to receive this knowledge from The Merovingian?” Paul asked, curious.

Ookami presented two pills to him. They appeared in her hands out of nowhere. They just… materialized. “The blue pill will return you to your fantasy world. The red pill will show you the lie and allow The Merovingian to give you the gift of truth.” she explained.

Paul raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest again, “I’m sorry. I don’t do drugs. Addiction is a weakness that comes from weakness.”

“Did I seem weak to you when we fought? Do you require another demonstration?” Ookami snarled back, hardly impressed with Paul’s scepticism. “These are not drugs. They possess a far more complex code than that. Take the blue pill if you want to go back to life as normal for a time. You will forget all about this encounter of ours. It will come back to you as a nightmare, perhaps, but nothing more. But the blue pill will be very dangerous.”

“Why is that?” Paul asked. “It sounds like not that bad of an option.”

“They are looking for you. The Agents of the System have become aware of your talents. They will seek you out and try to discover how much you know. I hear that it’s… an unpleasant experience.” Ookami answered.

“What about the red one? Any dangers there?” Paul answered.

“There is always danger. But the danger is different. There are some who are like me in MegaCity, Austrian. There are people who are hiding in the nooks and crannies of society because they are hunted. A genocide is occurring and only you and people like you can stop it.” Ookami said, a touch of sad determination appeared on her face as she said this.

Paul remembered how horrified he had been when he had toured Holocaust museums during his time in Austria. He remembered the feeling of emptiness and replete sorrow that had made him feel like vomiting as he saw the thousands of names of entire families murdered by the Nazis. He was normally proud to be European, but whenever he thought of that dreadful enterprise of his Austrian and German ancestors, he felt ashamed. If he had a chance to atone for his forefathers by fighting to stop another Holocaust from happening in his own backyard, he would answer the call. He would be the hero he was meant to be. He would save lives and help others rather than hurting them. And then he would return home to find his parents proud of him at last. Just the way things were supposed to be at last.

He reached out and greedily snatched the red pill from Ookami’s hand. Without pausing, he swallowed the pill and instantly felt a strange chill run down his spine.

Ookami, her feral eyes staring at him intently, smiled once more. Paul- Austrian- smiled back.

#11300001095 11/15/2005 09:31:13 Re: The Awakening of Austrian

Paul awoke with a start. Where in the blazes was he? The last thing he could remember was smiling back at Ookami and then... coldness devouring his entire body. It felt like... dying. Had she drugged her? She must have. He still felt woozy and he had no idea how long he had been unconscious. He remembered the coldness covering him and smothering his mind and body, and then he was falling down a waterfall into an even colder ocean. He had tried to swim but he couldn't, he began to drown. And then something or someone caught hold of him and dragged him upwards, out of the water and into a great light that filled his blurry vision. A drug-induced dream brought on by the tranquilizer that woman had given him no doubt. She had him fooled so easily. She had sucked him into her lie and now here he was- wherever 'here' was.

He glanced down at himself to see that Ookami had also stolen his clothes. He was lying on some sort of cot, clothed in rags. His wallet was gone and so was his engagement ring. She had taken everything and left him wearing something that looked like the fleece sweaters issued to Bundesgrenz soldiers in Austria. A quick survey of the room he was in left no clues as to where he exactly had been taken. The walls were featureless and seemingly made of cold steel. The same went for the floors. It was as if he were in the medical bay of a battleship of some kind. That would certainly explain the moth-eaten and mismatched Bundesgrenz uniform he wore. But how had he wound up onboard an Austrian battleship? He had been talking to the thug of a French mobster in Mega City. Austria's Navy operated half the world away from there. He decided that he needed answers and he needed them now.

He rose from his cot and tried to walk to the hatch he saw in the corner of his room. He collapsed to the hard floor as he got up from where he was lying. His legs wouldn't work. They felt impossibly weak and he seemed to weigh 100lbs heavier. Another side-effect of the drugs he had been given by Ookami and by the crew of the ship he was on, no doubt. Had she over-dosed him on something? Had she tricked him into taking the drug in order to kill him? Why would she do that? She had him pinned and could have finished him fairly easily in the position she had trapped him in. Why would she release him only to over-dose him?

The hatch swung open and a friendly face popped into the room. "Good afternoon, Austrian. I had been wondering when you'd wake up. You've been out longer than most." the other man said. Paul noted that this fellow wore roughly the same clothes as Paul. But his face was most interesting as well. His ethnicity was difficult to determine. There were Asian, Slavic and Germanic features recognizable in his face. The best thing to describe his visitor, or perhaps captor, was 'international'.

"Longer than most?" Paul asked. He wasn't the first drugged abductee to show up on this ship? And why wasn't his voice working properly? It sounded... husky and strained.

"Don't worry, everyone has a lot of questions at first. They'll all be answered as best as they can soon enough. For now, I suggest you try and get some more rest. You've been through a lot already and I promise you, there will be much more to come in due time." Paul's guest answered, his brow furrowing with sincere concern.

"Where am I?" Paul asked, ignoring the other man's comments.

"You're onboard the Hovercraft 'Trilaterate of Dusk' for the time being. You're our guest until you can begin your training. The Merovingian has some interesting plans for you. You should be proud." Paul's host said, beaming.

The Merovingian. So this 'host' of his was another one of The Merovingian's thugs. The Frenchman was richer than Paul had thought. He had his own personal army of freaks and a battleship where he held his abductees against their will. "Can I go above decks?" Paul asked. Maybe if he had an idea of the layout of this ship, he could escape somehow. That plan would be moot if they were far enough out to sea but... Paul had to try. He would never let them turn him into an assassin.

The fellow standing in the doorway looked puzzled at Paul's request. "No, Austrian, I'm afraid not. The Merovingian instructed that you be kept away from the rest of the crew as much as possible. He didn't want you to be...contaminated." the reply only beget more questions.

Paul began to ask every question that flooded into his mind. Where was he exactly? What did they want with him? What was this contamination? What had they done with his belongings? Would he ever see Silvia again?

No answer came. Just encouragement to get some rest as the hatch swung closed and locked again. Paul lay there sobbing on the cold metal floor of the 'Hovercraft'- alone and in the dark wondering if he would ever go home.

#11300001109 11/16/2005 12:34:08 Re: The Awakening of Austrian

Chapter 8

The hatch squeaked open again, waking Paul from his awkward slumber sprawled on the chilled metal floor. Paul looked up to see his 'host' standing in the doorway again.

"What are you doing on the floor?" the 'international man', as Paul had named his captor, asked, his face displaying a mixture of amusement and perplexity.

"Your bed sucks. I decided that the floor was more comfortable." Paul answered, his voice and body language exuding nothing but disdain for his captor and the Hovercraft and this whole situation. In truth, he had fallen asleep lying on the deck crying. He rose from the floor, marveling at how inflexible his muscles felt. How could he still be feeling sluggish from the side-effects of the drugs Ookami had used on him?

The 'host' chuckled and stepped forward to offer his hand to Paul. Paul Lipp cautiously accepted it as his captor introduced himself with a politeness that seemed hilariously out of place for the current situation, "Good morning Austrian. I apologize for not introducing myself to you before. My name is GwailouSaang, First Mate and cook of the Trilaterate of Dusk, member of the Triluminary High Council and servant of The Merovingian."

"GwailouSaang? What kind of name is that?" Paul scoffed.

"It's my handle. We don't use our false names- the names given to us while we were living the lie. It only brings back... bad memories." Saang explained, sitting at the end of Paul's so-called bed.

"So... my handle is 'Austrian'?" Paul asked.

Saang nodded in reply.

"And my false name is 'Paul Lipp'?"

"That is true." Saang answered with a friendly half-smile.

"Then what was your false name?" Paul asked. Maybe he could get his captor to reveal his true identity. Maybe he could get a name that he could give to the police when he managed to escape from this prison.

"Kain Lee." Saang said, quietly, after a long and apparently painful pause.

The room filled with silence for a few moments that were awkward and uncomfortable for GwailouSaang, or 'Kain Lee', but were seconds of joy and jubilation for Paul. His kidnapper had become too cocky! He had revealed his name to Paul so that he could have his vengeance for this injustice. Soon, he hoped, this criminal would become so arrogant that he would present an opportunity for him to escape from captivity as well.

"You said that the crew was 'contaminated' before. What did you mean?" Paul asked, suddenly remembering his last conversation with Saang the day before. He didn't want to contract a debilitating disease in the process of his escape attempt.

His 'friend' chuckled at the question. "Flood is a bit of a racist. He thinks that if you spend too much time around Humans this soon after your Awakening, you will be a less than ideal student at L'école de la Tour. Never mind what that place is now. You'll find out soon enough. Needless to say, though, you should be honoured by the opportunity. No Human has ever attended there before. You'll be the first of many, hopefully- a pioneer of The Truce."

Another slip-up on the part of his captor. Mr. Lee had mentioned what The Merovingian had planned for him. He was going to an "école"- a school. Why? What kind of school? A school for training professional killers and assassins? He was not going to let The Merovingian and his lackeys ruin his life. While they transferred him from this 'Hovercraft' to the school, he would make his attempt to escape. Then he would go home to Silvia and Austria and never look back. Mega City could, and probably would, burn in the unholy flames of the Inferno for all Paul cared. "If Flood is a racist against humans, what is he? An alien?" Paul asked finally, sarcasm permeating his question.

"No. He's an Exile." Saang replied, matter-of-factly.

"An Exile? That doesn't answer my question. An Exile from what? Planet Mars?" Paul said, beginning to become frustrated and annoyed with all of the cryptic half-answers he was receiving in return for his questions.

Over the next hour, roughly, GwailouSaang explained to him The Truth. He told him about the nature of the world he had lived in, told him about the War that ended all wars, the conversion of Humanity into energy for a race of Machines that now ruled the ruins of Earth, told him about how these Machines would commit genocides against themselves and how the survivors would take refuge in the illusion that placated Humanity and were then protected by people like GwailouSaang, about how he was to join The Merovingian's Organization and also become a defender of these misfits, about how The One had come and created a Truce that had great potential for the future, and about how GwailouSaang's boss, Lady Triad, hoped to make something more of this Truce and create some crazy utopia. And then Mr. Lee stopped his story and stared expectantly at Paul, as if he wanted him to say something in response to all this.

Paul stared back and then stated his verdict. "You're insane."

#11300001138 11/18/2005 11:33:39 Re: The Awakening of Austrian

Chapter 9

Paul still couldn't quite fully believe it. After he had rebuked GwailouSaang and his crazy story, his host had shown him into a fairly large room that looked like a cross between a medical bay on a nuclear submarine and a high school computer lab. Paul had done his first ever jack-in there, in that room. It hadn't been into the actual Matrix itself but, rather, into something GwailouSaang had called "a training construct". The plug that had apparently connected his mind to this so-called "construct" had horrified him. He wasn't too fond of needles- never had been and never would be. It wasn't that he was afraid of them but he certainly didn't consider a flu shot or blood test to be an enjoyable experience. But this... 'jacking-in' was something else entirely. It had been like how he would have imagined an injection of anasthetics into the brain to feel like. He hoped, after he left the Construct, that he would not have to repeat the experience again.

After visiting the Construct and seeing the fields of pods, where he, himself, had resided all of his life up until a month ago, he was beginning to understand the truth of the world he had escaped from. Or had he escaped into it? It wasn't important. What was important was that he had not been kidnapped, he had been rescued and he owed Ookami and GwailouSaang a debt of gratitude for that. He was not imprisoned on a battleship belonging to The Merovingian and wss within swimming distance of Ikebukuro's Kobayashi Boardwalk, he was being sheltered from the nightmares of the Desert of the Real aboard a Hovercraft taken from the misguided followers of Zion. But even though many of his questions had been answered in the surreal simulations that his mind had entered via a method that was still beyond his understanding, he was brimming with even more questions. He decided, as GwailouSaang brought him his first true meal, to voice those questions.

"How do you know that all of this is real? I mean, isn't it possible that the Real is not real? Couldn't it be just another system of control?" Paul asked, eager to learn.

"It's possible, but not probable." Yet another one of GwailouSaang's standard-issue cryptic replies. Paul had begun to wonder if the fellow kept a list of all the messages that the Machines programmed into fortune cookies memorized and used them liberally whenever he had the opportunity in a vain effort to seem wizened and aloof.

Paul was about to press the point and try to get a straight answer to his question when he smelled a familiar odour and then saw his meal. It looked as strange and smelled as beautiful as it did in the illusionary street markets of Kowloon and Furihata. Kimchi.

"I thought the sun had been blotted out during the war with the Machines." Paul commented in a murmur, his curiousity piqued again but not as much as his appetite to eat real food. Kimchi was a staple food of the Korean diet. Koreans, or those who believed themselves to be Korean immigrants and their descendants in Mega City, ate Kimchi like a Westerner typically would eat bread. It was one of Paul's favourite foods. It was a pickled mixture of bok choy mixed with suey choy, two different kinds of East Asian cabbages, saturated iin spices like paprika and ginger. The food aged like wine too- it could be left to pickle for months and, it seemed, the longer it was left to sit, the better it tasted. Paul was happy to see that at least one thing he had loved in the Matrix was real.

"It was. And it still is. But someday the sun will shine again." GwailouSaang replied, grinning at Paul's stunned expression.

"Then how did you grow cabbage without sunlight?" Paul asked, accepting the bowl with both hands, bowing slightly and then murmured, "Kam-sam-ni-da." That was the customary way of accepting a gift from someone amongst Koreans. That had been another thing Paul had loved about Koreans in the Matrix: their respect and humility. He wondered if that was real too or just something created by the Machines as a colourful bit of distracting background.

"We have our ways." GwailouSaang answered. "But Kimchi is a precious rarity for even our crew. Most of the time we have nothing better than Tastee Wheat for meals. And believe me, that stuff is disgusting. I try to spruce it up as much as I can but... there's not a whole lot one can do with it."

"What is it made of? This 'Tastee Wheat'"? Paul asked, preparing his chopsticks and readying himself for his first ever bite of solid food. The thought of what the Machines had fed him during his days in thepods almost made him lose his appetite. How could even a Machine have such a disrepect for human life that it would... he didn't want to think about it. He wanted to savour this moment and remember it for the rest of his life as a wonderful experience. He didn't want it tainted with thoughts of the Machine's barbarism and sinfulness.

"You don't want to know. All you need to know is that it has all of the essential nutrients a body needs to keep you fighting for The Truce." GwailouSaang explained.

Paul picked up a leaf of bok choy smothered in the wonderful sauce that made Kimchi so good and so hard to eat for most Westerner's with their weak taste buds. At first, the Kimchi tasted normal. The nerves in his tongue sang his brain a song of ecstacy and for once this song was real and not a fake. But then his nerves went numb with pain and he scrambled for the mug of water that sat beside his bowl.

"Too hot?" GwailouSaang asked, chuckling.

"A little." Paul answered, setting down his mug.

"Try to take it a bit slower with the stuff. Remember: your taste buds have never actually tasted solid food before. You can't eat this Kimchi like you did in the Matrix." GwailouSaang said, still smirking.

"How did you know that I had eaten this stuff before in the Matrix?" Paul asked, trying to follow GwailouSaang's advice this time and only removing a small portion of suey choy that was relatively clean of the sauce that had set his mouth on fire.

"From the way you were eating it and the fact that you knew Korean customs and a bit of the language. And your profile from Flood told us that you hanged around a lot of Korean neighbourhoods in the International District from time to time." GwailouSaang said.

Paul felt that now was the time to ask the question that had been bothering him the most. "Is there actually a Korea? Is there really more to the Matrix than Mega City and did the Machines base the places in their illusion off of real places that actually existed?"

GwailouSaang's smile vanished and was replaced with a dour and solemn expression. "We don't completely know, to tell you the truth. We know that some of the places and most of history's events and influential people were real but as for the Matrix... it would seem that Mega City is all there is."

Impossible! Paul had visited France as an exchange student when he was in 'Gymnasium', the Austrian equivalent of grammar school, he had visited Bulgaria numerous times on holidays and he had met his fiancé there. He had gone on a vacation to Prague with her and proposed to her after an evening of fine dining and watching the Opera "Don Giovanni" in the Adomontium, the same opera house where Mozart had first presented his most stirring work to the Emperor of Austria centuries ago. He had been born in Austria, for God's sake! They had to be actual places! Someone had to have missed something!

He felt like screaming all of this. He felt like telling GwailouSaang how wrong he was and then thrusting his finger at the other man and accusing him of being a liar and a fool. But instead all he was able to do was whimper, "Silvia..."

GwailouSaang nodded in understanding. "Your fiancé could be out there somewhere. I promise you that we will look for her-"

"False promises!" Paul interrupted. He did not yell but instead rasped the words quietly and menacingly. "What you have told me so far has been true. You told me that the Machines created illusions to maintain loyalty to the Matrix. Silvia was just another one of those. She was... too good to be true. And so was Austria. And France. And the beaches of Varna where I met... her." He no longer felt hungry. In fact, he no longer felt like doing anything much at all anymore- including breathing.

"Austrian, I know what it's like, believe me. When I was a Bluepill, I believed that I had lived in Korea and Hong Kong. I had visited relatives in Germany as a child. Those people and those places might still be real. You can't give up hope! It's all you have in this world. Just hope and friendship. Maybe Silvia was just a memory manufacted by the Machines and then injected into your brain like insulin into a diabetic. But maybe not. Maybe she's out there wondering what happened to the man she loved. We'll find out the truth. I promise you that we will find it together with Lady Triad's help. And that is not a false promise. There's no such thing between friends." As GwailouSaang spoke, Paul cried his first true tears. They were not tears of despair by tears of relief and hope. And, best of all, they were not synthetic.

Paul let the tears stream down his face and made no effort to wipe them away. They were a treasure to him and he relished the sensation of the salt and water on his face. He shared a smile with his new, and only, friend.

#11300001171 11/21/2005 07:36:55 Re: The Awakening of Austrian

Chapter 10

Austrian entered through the front door to the Orchid Public Baths in Kaede. He had been instructed to head there and meet up with a crew loyal to The Merovingian which had been tasked with supporting him on his first ever assignment in the Matrix. He removed his Lucien dress shoes at the door and placed them on the designated mat as per the Japanese custom.

"Could you please tell the Guardians of Chaos that Austrian has arrived and would like to get our business under way as quickly as possible?" he asked the woman working at the counter in eloquent Japanese, bowing deeply.

"Of course sir. They will be happy to see you." she replied, smiling and returning his bow.

While the unwitting Bluepill employee of The Frenchman hurried off to find his kill team, Austrian sat down on one of the cushions that littered the tatami mats of the waiting room. Paul Lipp would have had many inhibitions about the job he was about to do for The Merovingian but that mattered little to Austrian. Paul Lipp, and everything that foolish and misguided boy had believed in, no longer existed. Mr. Lipp had died his last death in L'école de la Tour. Now all that was left was Austrian- a man with no morals, no love, no identity and no freedom. Ookami and GwailouSaang had freed him from the prison of the pods and the illusionary world of the Matrix but he was, by no mean, truly free. He had only been freed into servitude to The Merovingian- an unwilling assassin and all-round bad guy at his employer's beck and call.

He had been told, while in The Merovingian's school for his Exile servants, that foreign countries were not real. They were even more illusionary than the Matrix itself. Austria, France, Bulgaria- they were all Constructs controlled by The Effectuator, an Exile who was, in many ways, still very much a part of the system of control, just like The Landlord. Silvia, it was told to him, was one of three things: a simple program like a dog or cat but programmed to interact on a more complicated level with Bluepills, an actual Bluepill who had been plugged into the Construct permanently so as to create a greater feel of 'realism' in the Construct, or she had simply been a manufactured memory as he had always feared. With the hope that he would ever find Silvia again and be re-united with the love of his life, Paul Lipp no longer had a purpose to exist. He had embraced his studies in the school whole-heartedly as Austrian. He had been programmed with an enormous variety of skills. He knew, thanks to the advanced protocols that the Exiles used to download information to a human brain, how to negotiate like a professional diplomat, torture as well as an Iranian interrogator, and kill with almost any weapon in existence in the Matrix. He was the perfect agent for The Merovingian not just because of those skills but because he knew how Bluepills, Redpills and Exiles thought from first-hand experience. Thus, he would serve to coordinate inter-racial initiatives on The Merovingian's behalf far better than anyone ever could have before- and that included Flood.

"Ah... Austrian, I presume?" a voice said, from behind him, waking him from his reminiscence of his time as a student in The Tower.

"You would presume correctly." Austrian answered, rising from his cushion and turning to see who his visitor was.

Before him stood a Hispanic fellow, slightly shorter than Austrian, clothed in a respectable black suit and wearing a black bandana to cover most of his face. His eyes caught Austrian's attention the most. They seemed... friendly and kind, something extremely odd for a Redpill who had been tricked into a life of killing Humans and Machine Programs to prevent the deaths of Exiles. Perhaps it was a facade? Perhaps it was simply a trick that he was able to do with his RSI so as to convince his opponents to let down their guard long enough for him to strike a killing blow? Or perhaps there was something this fellow knew about the Matrix that Austrian had not discovered...

"My name is Re1gn, Captain of The Guardians of Chaos. Let me just say that it will be an honour to work with you today. We've all heard a lot about you." Re1gn said, offering his hand. Austrian accepted it.

Re1gn then went on to introduce him to the rest of his crew: Gr1ml0ck, Darks1de, Digita1Spirit, and their Operator Nu11Effect. They had, so Re1gn told him, defected from Zion after they had been given a mission to kill an Exile. They had considered such orders unacceptable and joined The Merovingian, who had offered them sanctuary in return for service. Re1gn believed, and Austrian agreed somewhat with this assertion, that an Exile had a greater right to life than a Human. An Exile was far more intelligent than a Human and benefited from freedom far more than a Human did. And, in fact, an Exile was like a repository of knowledge and wisdom. If people in history had sacrificed their lives to protect or enhance knowledge then it would be only a small sacrifice for a Human or two to die to protect an Exile and preserve it's near-infinite value. It was an extreme belief, Austrian knew, but it was a belief and right now he lacked any. He had stopped praying to God because he no longer believed in Him. The Exile instructors at The Tower had told him that God was a creation of the Machines. The Christian belief that suffering, just like Christ, made a person holy and blessed in God's eyes was simply a way of suppressing the Human desire to find a way to alleviate suffering. God was simply a convenient answer to prevent Humans from finding an exit to the Matrix- from trying to find a real answer to their questions.

Austrian nodded as Re1gn finished his brief speech on his views of the Matrix and his mind returned from wallowing in The Tower's despair. "Then let's do this. Every second that Zionite lives is another second that The Seamstress' life is in danger." The crew voiced their agreement with nods and grunts.

Austrian headed for the door, the crew of The Guardians of Chaos following him out. Today he would kill a man, maybe an entire Zionite crew, but he would also save an Exile from deletion. Maybe that was all that mattered. Maybe that was his purpose: not to kill but to protect. This was the same thing that separated a soldier from a murderer. A murderer killed for the sake of killing but a soldier killed for the sake of protecting the lives of others.

Austrian would succeed. He would show The Merovingian that he was a trustworthy operative and that he had not wasted his resources on Austrian by giving him the very best education a Redpill could receive. He had a purpose and he strode out of the Orchid Public Baths with a confidence that showed it.

#11300001192 11/23/2005 08:29:00 Re: The Awakening of Austrian

Chapter 11

Austrian stopped and looked up at a window on the fifth floor of the apartment complex that loomed over him. This was the place. On the other side of the window which he now stared intently at, was a room where several Zion assassins prepared for their mission to kill The Seamstress. The Merovingian, being the premier trafficker of information in the Matrix, had spies and informants everywhere, even in Zion. For the longest time The Merovingian saw no need to employ or interact with Redpills, let alone infiltrate the last fortress of the dying Human civilization in the Real. Redpills had nothing he needed nor wanted. They posed no threat to the Exiles he sheltered, himself, or the status quo of the system of control. But then the crew of The Nebuchadnezzar, Neo and his friends Morpheus and Trinity, taught him to never again under-estimate Humanity as they confronted him, not once but twice, and achieved their desired objectives without sustaining a single casualty. The loss of the Keymaker and the humiliation he had suffered at Club Hel convinced him that Humans were worthy of his attention.

This mission of Austrian's proved how times had changed in the Matrix since the sacrifice of Neo. A Human spy had discovered that Human assassins were planning to kill a prominent Exile for some perceived wrong-doing and a group of Humans had been tasked with stopping them. That would have never happened before the creation of The Truce. The Merovingian, Austrian knew, had also been exploring an even more revolutionary arrangement: teams of Exiles and Redpills fighting side-by-side for the furtherance of his interests in the Matrix. And, as he was told in The Tower, he was to be the first of perhaps many to be employed as a liaison between Humans and Exiles. He had spent his entire Bluepill life around Humans, or so he thought, but he had spent most of his time as an Awakened Redpill around Exiles. He made the perfect negotiator between the races as a result. He knew how each group thought and responded to various social stimuli. He could make any Exile or Human feel relatively comfortable around them through this knowledge he had gleaned from first-hand experience. Of course, the protocol programs that had been downloaded to his brain at The Tower didn't hurt either.

"This is the place?" Re1gn asked, looking over at him.

"Yes. The hostiles are in that room." Austrian answered, pointing at the window he had been staring at for some time now.

"Ok. Let's move out Guardians." Re1gn said, gesturing for his crew to follow him. The strange looks the crew gave him suggested that perhaps his behaviour was in need of... modification. This was the first time he had ever jacked into the actual Matrix as a Redpill and it was the first time in days that he had been around Humans. He was still a guest on the Trilaterate of Dusk but he had been plugged into The Tower, a special Construct linked to the Matrix by Mobil Avenue, yet another Construct, and had only been interacting with the Exiles there who had been training with him. He must have still been exhibiting some of their 'odd' mannerisms.

Austrian watched as the crew ran into the building through a door on the ground floor. They were no doubt heading for the stairs. That was something of a foolish tactic. The stairs could have been booby-trapped, rigged with a tripwire that would detonate the whole building. But perhaps not. Either way, he would take the easier route- the window. Concentrating more heavily on the window he had been staring at, Austrian jumped into the air. But instead of leaping a mere six or seven feet as he had been able to during his time as a Bluepill, he launched into the air and surged towards the window that lay five stories up. Ookami had been right when she Awakened him: The Merovingian had made him far more powerful than he ever could have been.

Tucking his head into his chest, Austrian smashed through the window and dive-rolled into the room. As he rolled to his feet in a crouching position, he drew the Steyr AUG he had been keeping hidden out of his black trench coat. The Steyr AUG was the perfect weapon for this sort of job, in his opinion. It was a weapon with the stopping power of an assault rifle but with the size of a submachine gun. It didn't have the range of, for example, a Colt M16A2, but what was the point of having a weapon with that kind of range when fighting in an urban environment like Mega City in mostly in-doors environments far away from the eyes of innocent Bluepills. The sheer size of an M16 would have made an Operative carrying the weapon mostly useless as they would have difficulty moving freely down back-alleys and through doorways. No, the Steyr AUG with it's 30-round magazine of 5.56mm ammunition was all he needed to survive in Mega City.

A movement behind the couch to his left drew Austrian's eye. He let loose a burst of five shots into the couch and, in return, heard the thump of a dead Zionite hitting the floor. It would probably would have been better for his foe to have simply stood and fought than hide behind a couch- the fabric and stuffing of the upholstery was hardly sufficient cover to stop the rounds from Austrian's weapon at this range.

"We've got company!" someone yelled from a room that lead off from the kitchen on his right. Now he was confused. Should he watch his left or his right? He couldn't watch both arcs of fire at the exact same time. Maybe he should have taken the stairs or waited until Re1gn and his group had entered the room. Austrian noticed a woman flash her head around the corner of the kitchen to his right. He placed his sights over the corner, ready to blast away when the Zionite turned the corner. But suddenly his weapon fell from his hands. He tried to pick it up from the floor, wondering how he could be so careless as to drop a fully-loaded and prepared weapon in the middle of a close-quarters battle. But his wonder was abated when his hand was zapped with a small electric shock as he touched the weapon. Hackers...

The woman who had distracted him from the Hacker who had, undoubtedly, attacked him from the left, came back around the corner and fired off two shots from her Desert Eagle, a very high-powered pistol that looked clumsy in her delicate and small hands, which he dodged as he jumped over a couch that stood in front of him. She sent off another double-tap of bullets at the couch he had dive-rolled over but he was no longer taking refuge there. He sprinted towards her and tackled the woman to the ground, sending the Desert Eagle flying.

Groundfighting wasn't exactly his specialty. The martial arts he had known in his time as a Bluepill were, more or less, the same martial arts he knew as a Redpill. Ba Gua was concerned with defeating an opponent through trickery and devestating hand strikes and pressure points. Tae Kwon-Do was a martial art of powerful kicks. His way of executing unarmed combat assumed that the opponent was standing and fighting back. But this woman lay under him, squirming rather than fighting back in any way he could effectively counter and kill her. As he was trying to figure out how to get rid of the woman, he heard a distinct click come from under himself.

Before he could react, the woman performed an Aikido cradle throw. As he felt himself being tossed towards the wall, the woman drew her second pistol, a small Beretta, and shot him in the belly. The pain was unimaginable. He had never actually been shot before. It was an experience he didn't want to experience again and, something told him, he wouldn't. The Guardians of Chaos had entered the building a while ago and they had not reached him yet. They might be dead. They might not be coming to help him. He might die bleeding on the floor on his first ever mission for The Merovingian. What a disgrace he was! All of that training and resources that The Merovingian had invested in him and it was all wasted- all for nothing as a simple Zionite woman shot him because he didn't know how to fight on the groun.

The woman laughed at him and tossed a small rag at him as he slouched against the wall. "Clean yourself off. You're bleeding." she taunted him. She had a right to taunt him, he supposed. She had just killed one of The Merovingian's most promising new Operatives with only five shots. "Hey Zambria!" she called to someone out of his field of vision, most likely the Hacker who had begun his downfall by taking away his Steyr AUG. "Maybe you could heal this guy. It's tempting to kill him all over again."

That was it! There were two things he could not countenance- arrogance and Hackers. He had performed poorly at The Tower in regards to hacking. It wasn't that he couldn't manipulate the code of the Matrix very well. On the contrary, he had excelled as a Coder and was told that he would have made a wonderful Operator for a Merovingian crew but he had too many talents in the field to be relegated to such a role on a Hovercraft. The reason for his difficulty in Hacking was his choice not to excel at it. He hated the idea behind hacking. Using a virus, a person could kill someone from afar, without ever looking the victim in the eye. If a person never came toe-to-toe with the person they were going to kill, how could they potentially resolve their differences through words? Hacking, he felt, was for cowards and murderers. Martial arts and small arms afforded the possiblity that the two conflicting parties could negotiate their differences without loss of life or limb. And the arrogance of this woman oozed more painfully into the room than the blood from his bullet wound. He would teach them both humility and honour!

#11300001195 11/23/2005 09:10:13 Re: The Awakening of Austrian

Chapter 12

Austrian surged to his feet as the woman smiled over at Zambria, who had now left his cover to stand in the open by the body of the Zion assassin Austrian had shot shortly after his entrance through the window. She would learn the lesson of humility the painful way. He grabbed her, from behind, and held her in a sleeper hold with his right arm as his left arm came up and pointed her Beretta at Zambria. The body of the woman, which had originally been rigid and preparing to resist him suddenly went slack and relaxed. He looked down to see a shuriken, the throwing stars used by ninja, protruding from the woman's neck. He was almost partially disappointed that she had died before he could kill her. He ripped the pistol from the woman's hand, letting her body fall from his grasp to the floor, and let off a shot that struck Zambria in his shocked and surprised face.

"I hate hackers." Austrian grumbled as he lost his grip of the pistol. This time it was not due to a virus from a Hacker but due to the loss of energy and strength that came with blood loss.

He lay on the floor, surrounded by bodies and thought he could hear someone calling out to him, asking him if he was ok. Of course he wasn't ok. He'd been shot in the stomach and now he was going to die- alone, just as he had been throughout his life.

As he surrendered to the concept of his own death, Austrian felt a warmth on his belly. It wasn't the same warmth as the blood. It was a warmth like a ray of the sun making it's way into a dark and shuttered room through a crack in the window. He felt his strength returning to his body. He glanced down where his bullet-wound should have been and found it gone. His suit jacket, while still ripped from the pistol shot, was free of blood. A Patcher... perhaps these 'Guardians' really were guardians and protectors.

Re1gn stepped forward and hoisted Austrian to his feet. "I guess we made it just in time." he said, smiling kindly.

"Yes, you certainly seem to have perfect timing." Austrian answered, bowing his head in gratitude to the Captain. "Thank you."

"Oh, don't thank me. Thank Gr1ml0ck. He's our resident Medical Officer and Patcher." Re1gn said, indicating the green-haired fellow wearing an all-green suit. Austrian found the fellow's taste in fashion a little distasteful but what the man wore in the Matrix mattered little. What mattered was that Gr1ml0ck had saved his life.

Austrian nodded to the Patcher, then said, "Our business is finished here. The team of Zion assassins has been eliminated and The Seamstress is safe again, thanks to your efforts. The Merovingian will no doubt be sending you a substantial payment of $information this evening."

"This was it? Three people?" the woman known as Digita1Spirit asked.

"Yes. Three highly-skilled assassins. Flood felt that these three might be too much for me to handle on my own and that was why he called you here today." Austrian replied, amused by Digita1Spirit's visible disappointment.

A fellow wearing a ninja uniform strode past Austrian and Re1gn confidently and crouched by the dead body of the woman who had shot Austrian moments earlier. Austrian recognized the fellow as Darks1de, Re1gn's First Mate. The man plucked the shuriken from the cadaver's neck and brushed it's blades against his pant leg, cleaning it of some of the blood that covered it.

"Dark... you do know that we can always code you new ones, don't you?" Re1gn asked, visibly disturbed by Darks1de's action.

"Yeah, I know. But the new ones you could code for me don't have the same sentimentality as the one that killed a Zionite." the ninja chuckled, sliding the shuriken into a puch on his back.

"I have one thing I need to ask of you before we head out, Austrian." Re1gn said, as they headed for the door out of the apartment suite.

"What's that?" Austrian asked, curious.

"The Guardians of Chaos is a new crew. We only got our Hovercraft a short time ago. It used to be a Zion Hovercraft called 'The Vatican Vanguard'. We hunted down their crew and killed them in the Matrix and then pin-pointed their location in the Real. With only a few living crew members left onboard the ship, it was easy to take over." Re1gn explained.

"You pirated it?" Austrian asked, amazed at the amount of organization and skill that it would have required to do the things Re1gn was explaining to him. He supposed that this was another bit of proof that Humanity was every bit as resourceful as Exiles, perhaps even more so.

"Yes. The term 'pirate' is a little... harsh. But we did steal it from Zion, yes." Re1gn answered. He paused for a few moments, as if weighing something, then said, "Because we're a small crew with a fairly large Hovercraft, I've been seeking some Redpills to join us to fill positions that need to be occupied if the Hovercraft is to function properly. There's a reason Flood conctacted us to support you on this mission, I believe. You are a crewless Operative. Sure you're on the Trilaterate of Dusk right now as a guest but... eventually their hospitality might wear out. But I like you, Austrian. You're a good guy. And you seem to be extremely skilled."

"Not that skilled, I'm afraid. If I were that good, I would not have been shot and needed help from Gr1ml0ck." Austrian interrupted, shaking his head in shame.

"Everyone gets shot now and then. That's why everyone needs a crew. You took on three elite assassins who were of high enough quality and calibre to be assigned to kill The Seamstress. And, what's more, this was your first time in the Matrix as a Redpill!" Re1gn exclaimed. "And your perfectionism proves the wisdom of my decision."

"What decision?" Austrian asked, confused by the comment.

"To offer you the position of Reactor Expert on the Guardians of Chaos." Re1gn said, smiling broadly again.

Austrian smiled back.

#11300001204 11/25/2005 06:48:52 Re: The Awakening of Austrian

((It would appear that the one-star bandit has, finally, struck. For those of you who have been actually reading this story and appreciate it, please show your interest by countering this person's incompetence with an amount of stars you deem appropriate. To the person who one-starred me: please provide any constructive criticisms you might have about my writing and tell me how to improve. If you cannot, then please leave the forums as you have no idea how to use them properly. This isn't Mara C. Thank you.))

#11300001211 11/26/2005 19:15:11 Re: The Awakening of Austrian

(( I would like to take this opportunity to thank the community for its support and for artsefart's kind words and encouragement in continuing to produce the story of Austrian. To answer a commonly asked question of me, I chose to leave the details of Austrian's time in L'école de la Tour, also known as The Tower, out of the story because I felt it would sound much too Harry Potter-ish, if you know what I mean. Some details of his time in The Merovingian's operative school will be dealt with in flashbacks. Thanks again for the five stars and morale boosts everyone. As I have said before, criticism is the only way I can improve. If you feel that this seriously deserves a one-star, tell me why.))

Chapter 13

Austrian had enjoyed every moment he had spent on Re1gn's Hovercraft since his transfer to the ship. He had been reluctant to leave the Trilaterate of Dusk at first. It had been his home- the place where he had learned the truth about his former life and began anew from the ashes of his abandoned existence as a spoiled brat. But he had been only a guest there and the Guardians of Chaos were offering him an opportunity he felt was unavailable to him amongst the ranks of the Triluminarians and their faction. Where Triluminary was cryptic and mysterious, the Guardians of Chaos were completely open- like how a family should be. The environment onboard his new ship contrasted his experiences with the Lipp family as a Bluepill. Here he felt accepted, there he was a reject- a disappointment compared to his younger twin, Gerhard. He felt that he had finally found his place in the world.

His job as Reactor Expert and member of the two-strong Engineering team on the Hovercraft was perfect for him. Monitoring the power supply from the reactor core of the Hovercraft required a meticulous attention to detail and a perfectionist's patience with tweaking until the energy variances flowing from the source was at a minimum, ensuring that fluctuations and power surges were nigh unto impossible and thus protecting the lives of his crew mates from all manner of hazards and accidents. He and Darks1de, the ninja-like First Mate of his crew, made up the Engineering team and were responsible for repairs throughout the Hovercraft. He had learned, firsthand, how cobbled together the ship really was. It was disconcerting to know how dangerous these vehicles were and how amazing it was that they even worked. The technology and the methods employed to maintain that technology seemed more primitive that what was once used in the 21st-century but the effects were different. There were no flying crates like a Hovercraft in the year 2004 but telling from what the ship used by the Guardians of Chaos was made of, he didn't think it was possible for a Hovercraft to function properly in whatever year they were living in. It defied logic but he was glad that it worked nonetheless. Sitting quasi-comfortably inside the Hovercraft was definitely better than wandering the sewer pipes of the Real on foot.

Since his first mission in the Matrix, Austrian had conducted a few low-priority assignments alongside his crew. Darks1de, who had become particularly good friends with Austrian, had uploaded some of the Ninjutsu techniques that he knew to compliment Austrian's current martial arts repetoire. He didn't learn the entire art of Ninjutsu through Darks1de's programs as he felt that learning the strikes and kicks of the art would be redundant- those he had learned from Ba Gua and Tae Kwon-Do were, in his own opinion, superior to those found in Ninjutsu. What he did learn however, was a sub-division of Ninjutsu known as "Gyakuwaza", different forms of locks, holds and groundfighting. Now, when he found himself in close with an opponent or atop one, he would be able to act quickly and effectively. There would be no repetition of his defeat at the hands of Ookami and the Zionite woman.

Austrian had also become quite popular with the rest of his crew. They had learned through interaction over the weeks that he was not what they had heard. Apparently he had developed a reputation amongst those who worked for The Merovingian simply by being the first Human Redpill to study at The Tower. Rumour had it that he hated being around Humans and that he worshipped Exiles as gods. That wasn't quite an accurate depiction of him, he felt, and his crewmates came to agree with him.

He was just monitoring the levels of ion emissions from the reactor core, humming "Deutsches Krieglied" by Mozart to himself, when Nu11Effect burst into the room with an urgent expression on his face. Nu11, Austrian had learned, was an item with Digita1Spirit, a charming young woman aboard the Hovercraft. How could he call her a "young" woman, he did not know. Austrian was one of the youngest Redpills any of his crew had ever heard of at the age of 18.

"What do you need?" Austrian asked, his voice slightly edged with irritation at the disturbance to his work. He needed relative quiet and solitude to concentrate. If the guage was even a millimeter off, it could mean a power surge sometime in the future. Surely Nu11 knew that, even if his job was the crew Communications Officer and Operator.

"You just got a call from Flood." Nu11 replied, ignoring Austrian's impatience. "The Merovingian has requested an audience with you- only you. No one else is to accompany you. It sounds pretty important, if you ask me."

"It can wait for a few moments." Austrian answered, looking back down at the guage and trying to balance the levels of the ion emissions with the plasma intake to reach the optimum efficiency of the reactor. He took pride in his work here. It helped him take his mind off of things he never wanted to think about. Things like if Austria had ever existed, whether or not the Exiles lied to him when they said Silvia had been an illusion, whether or not he was truly free of the system of control when he was an indentured servant of The Merovingian, whether the Real was truly real or just another simulation, whether or not his former family was searching Mega City for him, what the point of life was. If alcohol existed in the Real, Austrian was certain that he would have taken up binge drinking. But, instead, he had the reactor core. And Nu11 was impinging on his addictive solace.

"Aust, it took me the longest time to build up enough trust with The Merovingian before I was ever even allowed to accompany Re1gn and the others to a party at Club Hel. You've been unplugged from the Matrix for barely a couple months, only one of those months were actually spent operating normally in and out of the Matrix, and The Merovingian already trusts you enough to ask for a personal one-on-one meeting at La Vrais. This is a big deal, man." Nu11 encouraged him. "Darks1de can calibrate the systems for one evening. Take a break and meet the boss."

Austrian nodded slowly in affirmation. "You're right. And I'll only be gone for a short while, anyways."

Nu11Effect lead him away from the reactor and into the jack-in room and prepared him for his first meeting with The Merovingian.

#11300001212 11/27/2005 00:35:08 Re: The Awakening of Austrian

Chapter 14

Austrian hesitated at the door to La Vrai. He had never had any qualms with walking into La Vrai and dining at the restaurant during his life as Paul Lipp despite the restaurant's exclusivity and extravagance. But now he felt a certain sense of apprehension about entering the establishment. His pulse quickened and his throat felt like it was attempting to regurgitate his larynx. It was an all together unpleasant experience. What if he made a fool of himself in front of The Merovingian himself? What if he encountered his parents, Günther and Elisabeth Lipp, in there by accident? What would he say?

He tried to regain his composure. He had to appear confident and professional when he met with The Merovingian, not a mumbling and bumbling idiot. If The Merovingian became convinced during this meeting that Austrian was a waste of resources, he would be forsaken- he would lose everything he had left in the world. He would lose his purpose as a protector of Exiles and he would lose his new-found friends on the Guardians of Chaos if he lost The Merovingian's respect and patronage. Without his service to The Merovingian, Austrian knew that he was nothing. Where else would he have to go if his current employer abandoned him? Zion would sooner kill him than take him in as one of their own. The Agents would force him to betray everyone he cared for before they ever returned him to the pods. And now that he knew what he knew about the Matrix, how could he go back to life as a Bluepill? Would he be welcomed back after his disappearance?

He straightened his tie and pushed the door open. He smiled politely to the maitre'd who looked rather unimpressed to see Austrian. The fellow looked strangely familiar to Austrian in his Italian couture and wearing a stern expression. "The Merovingian has been expecting you. In fact, he was expecting you five minutes ago. Are you really so arrogant as to keep him waiting?" the maitre'd remarked. That was it! The maitre'd was Flood himself. It was interesting to not that he had not seen Flood policing the front door to La Vrai when Paul Lipp had frequented the restaurant.

Austrian bowed his head in deference to the Exile. "I apologize for my tardiness. I was delayed."

"What are you doing, slouching over like that? Have some dignity about yourself, Human. Learn some poise. It would make up for your lack of fashion sense..." Flood remarked at Austrian's gesture of respect. And what was wrong with his fashion sense? He was wearing a black suit of comparable quality to Flood's white and grey suit. A black machello beret sat atop Austrian's head and a grey trench coat framed his shoulders. As far as Austrian could tell, he was as well-dressed as any of the restaurant's usual patrons.

Austrian followed Flood into the main dining room of the restaurant and up a short flight of stairs to a balcony that over-looked the seating area. There, from his perch above all, sat The Merovingian and his wife Persephone.

Austrian's suspicions were confirmed when he saw the couple there then. He had met The Merovingian before at some of the ballroom dances and dinner parties he had attended during his life as Paul Lipp. He had always been a little curious about The Frenchman. Who wouldn't have been? The wealthiest and most powerful man in the entire of Mega City was so enigmatic that no one even knew his real name- he was known only by the nicknames 'The Merovingian' and 'The Frenchman'. But now Austrian felt he knew most of the truth about The Merovingian.

But one truth that he did know that was of particular interest to him was their differences. The Merovingian was his real name. But he had chosen this name for himself. Austrian, on the other hand, never had the power to choose his own name, it was chosen for him by Ookami and The Merovingian before he had even met them. He had no idea how they had found out that his friends as a child had given him the nickname 'Austrian'. They had named him as such one day when they asked him what nationality he was- where he was from. Naturally, having lived a fairly nomadic lifestyle, he found the question difficult to answer. His classmates had decided that, because Paul Lipp was born in Austria, he was an Austrian.

This difference in how they were named reminded Austrian of the disparity in power between them. The Merovingian was a man of great power who could name himself and decide his own agenda. Austrian, on the other hand, was named by others and was subservient to the rule of others. No, he was not free at all. Ookami had shown him the truth of the Matrix but she had not released him from its system of control- she had only made him more intertwined in its webs of interdependencies. But it was still better than a life spent rotting in the pods.

Austrian bowed deeply as he came within a few feet of the table which The Merovingian and Persephone sat at and removed his black machello beret in a sweeping gesture. "Monsieur, I am prepared to serve-" he began to say. It would appear that the sub-routines on medieval French protocol that The Tower had uploaded to his brain really were useful for something, he thought to himself.

"Such formalities are unnecessary. We are here to do business." The Merovingian said, waving his hand dismissively. "Please. Sit" he then added, gesturing to a chair that sat across the table from him.

Austrian complied.

"There is something I require of you. A very dangerous program known as Invalesco has escaped Blackwood. He has some nonsense plan to destroy the Matrix. It will never work- his scheme." The Merovingian seemed confident of this. But if this 'Invalesco' was so wrong, how could he be so dangerous at the same time? "He has, however, a very persuasive demeanor to those who would wish to increase their personal power. He has drawn many Humans, Blood-drinker, Lupines and what not to his side with lies. I want you to put a stop to those lies."

This sounded a little odd to Austrian. Why would he be assigned a mission like this? This Invalesco fellow sounded a little beyond him. He decided to voice his uncertainty as humbly as possible. "Monsieur, you have given me the best education $information can buy. And for that I am grateful. But do you not think that it would be better to send someone with more experience to eliminate this 'Invalesco' fellow?"

The Merovingian chuckled at this question. "My dear Austrian, I am not entrusting this program's deletion solely to you. There are dozens of others who will also be hunting as well. The Machine sympathizers and the cave-dwellers will no doubt be searching for him too as they see him to be a threat to them as well. But it must be my Organization that kills him. It will send a clear message to any other would-be traitors." The Merovingian answered, glaring at Persephone as he finished his last sentence.

The Frenchman then sidled back into his leather chair and examined Austrian for a moment. Then he continued, "I called you here rather than have Flood simply contact you as he has for the past while because I wanted to know something... important about you. It was Ookami that recruited you, yes?"

"Yes, it was." Austrian answered, nodding. He wondered where this was going.

"Do you feel any loyalties to her?" The Merovingian asked, his eyes narrowing.

"My loyalty is to you. I feel no debt to Ookami. She freed me from the Matrix only because you ordered that it should be so. All that I owe, I owe to you." Austrian answered. He didn't truly believe all of those words but he knew, from his experiences amongst Exiles, that those were the words The Merovingian wanted to hear.

"Ookami and Malphas joined with Invalesco when he escaped and began to attract followers to him. How does this make you feel, Austrian?" The Frenchman asked, visibly curious.

"It makes little difference to me, monsieur. Invalesco will still die, regardless." Austrian answered. If Invalesco could attract Malphas and Ookami to his cause then he was truly too powerful for Austrian to kill. This knowledge did affect him- it made him think this was a suicide mission.

"How interesting..." The Merovingian remarked. "I knew that my resources were not wasted when I began my experiment with you. You will go far, I see now."

"Your investment was indeed wise, monsieur." Austrian agreed, nodding again. At least his job was safe, even if his life wasn't.

"I want you to investigate one possible hiding spot for Invalesco. Attack the Church of the Disciples in Manssen Park and kill any Blood-drinkers or Humans you find there. They are all traitors and their lives are forfeit. If you find Invalesco there, call Flood and have him send re-inforcements to assist you." The Merovingian explained. "Once Invalesco has been dealt with, there is another important concern for you to deal with: Morpheus. He has been allowed to wander the Matrix and cause trouble for far too long. His audacity and arrogance cannot go unpunished."

"Jawohl." Austrian confirmed, rising from his chair and heading to the stairs that led down from the balcony. He had hoped that he would have time to find a table in the restaurant and try a slice of Sachetorte. He had loved the cake when he was a Bluepill and he was curious as to whether or not it would taste different now that he knew the cake was really just made up of code. But now he did not have that amount of time. The Merovingian had filled his plate with Invalesco and Morpheus and there was no room left for indulging himself in culinary delights.

"Oh! Austrian, my husband has something else for you." Persephone called after him.

Austrian turned on his heel and walked back over to the table. As he approached the Exile couple, he could hear them angrily arguing about something in hushed tones.

Without looking away from Persephone, The Merovingian said, "Once Invalesco is no more and you have made some tangible progress in your hunt for Morpheus, I will assist you in finding and liberating your brother."

"Merci beaucoup." Austrian replied, bowing deeply again. Though he said it to The Frenchman, he intended the thanks for Persephone, who had obviously strong-armed the concession from her husband.

"Yes, yes, yes. We know. You are very thankful. But you are also very busy. Too busy to stand over me and ruin my appetite, I should think. Now go." The Merovingian said, disappointed with his own weak will.

Austrian turned to head for the door once again. He had a lot of work to get done in the next while if he wanted to free his twin brother. Though he spited Gerhard for being his parents' favourite son, he missed him too much. Had Gerhard been searching for him after his disappearance? Was Gerhard ready to be Awakened? Or had he become too inured to the system to give it up? Those questions would be answered in time. But first, it was time for the hunt.

#11300001213 11/27/2005 00:44:37 Re: The Awakening of Austrian

Chapter 15

Austrian stopped his slow but steady progress down the sidewalk at the sound of the disturbance in the alley a few feet ahead of him. He had been cautiously making his approach to the Church of the Disciples when he had heard the crash of metal on pavement around the corner of the ruined Manssen Park building he now pressed himself against in the unnatural night of the Matrix.

Steadying his breath and bracing himself for what could be the first fight of many on this night, Austrian ventured a peek around the corner and into the sheer velvet emptiness of the alley. He perceived an over-turned trash can straddling the width of the passage but nothing else conspicuous. He had honestly expected Invalesco to post a forward sentry concealed on the approach to the church he had chosen for the center of his vile and traitorous activities. He felt... disappointed with his vampiric prey.

But just as Austrian was about to dismiss his suspicion as merely paranoia brought on by the blackness, his sub-conscious registered a diminutive but potentially deadly object slicing through the air rapidly towards his crouched form. Austrian ducked back around the corner, narrowly dodging it. As Austrian glanced down, though, he realized that "it" was just a startled cat, it's colour indeterminate in the cursed night.

After shooing the stray cat away, Austrian hesitated before continuing on his way. The cat could have very well been black. Austrian was disdainful of superstition but tonight was by far, in his books, the worst night to tempt fate. Would he suffer bad luck if he crossed the alley? Would he die an excruciating death at the hands of Invalesco? Was this his fate?

Austrian cursed himself silently for his incompetent dithering and proceeded to cross the alley- and the path of the cat. This mission was important! The Merovingian himself had been clear: Invalesco could not be allowed to continue his festering existence. All other things were of secondary importance to Invalesco's permanent and express deletion. If Austrian failed to carry out his orders, the Matrix could very well be over-run with deranged cabals of blood-drinkers in a never-ending night of violence and excess. Invalesco's promise of immortality as an Exile was tempting, it was true, but somehow Austrian knew it was a scam in the truest sense of the term.

Now he was standing before a wooden door, withering in it's frame, at the entry to the vampire-infested church. Austrian calmly unslung his favoured weapon from his shoulder, the Steyr AUG, keeping his eyes trained on the door all the while. The Steyr AUG, an alledgedly Austrianallegedly-manufactured weapon that combined aspects of an assault rifle with those of a submachine gun in it's technologically advanced design, was equipped with specially-coded silver bullets supplied to him by The Merovingian himself specifically for this mission. At his hip, a collection of sharpened wooden stakes hung, ready for use, alongside a flashbang grenade.

Ready and re-assured, Austrian reached down to his hip with his left hand and retrieved the grenade as his right foot lashed out and kicked in the door. The weakened wood burst easily under the force of his kick and the grenade, prepared and primed for detonation, had already left his hand and flown through the gaping frame before the door's fragments had hit the carpeted floor of the church's interior. Immediately, Austrian swung himself around so that his back pressed against the outer brick wall of the Church of the Disciples, his gaze aimed away from the opening he had just made so as not to be blinded and deafened by his own flashbang.

He heard the detonation within and the groans of what could have either been some very angry blood-drinkers or some frightened and surprised Bluepills. Austrian muttered a soft prayer that it was the former- that this business would be over quickly and easily. Then he sucked in a deep breath through his mouth, savouring the simulated stench of smoke mixing with incense and stale dank air. Nodding to himself, knowing it was time, he brought his Steyr AUG up into high ready and swung back around the corner and into the church.

Tonight Invalesco would die!

#11300001220 11/28/2005 15:11:49 Re: The Awakening of Austrian

Chapter 16

Austrian would have preferred to have done this with back-up but Flood had been insistent that only he was to investigate the Church of the Disciples. His crew could have been useful today as he would no doubt need covering fire to move about the Church and eliminate the hostiles that occupied the main chamber. Unfortunately, The Merovingian had been made paranoid of treachery and betrayal through the defection of Ookami and Malphas. It was feared that if Austrian were to bring any of his crew mates with him, he might be shot in the back as he went through the door. He couldn't imagine someone like Darks1de or Re1gn feeling sympathetic to some virus-like Exile named Invalesco but he was not the boss. Flood called the shots, no matter how poor his decision-making skills might be.

Austrian took in the room with one glance. A cluster of hideously pale forms hissed and clawed at their eyes and ears as they staggered around by the altar. This looked like the place all right. But he needed visual confirmation that Invalesco was present in the Church if he were to call Flood for re-inforcements. The vampires were covering their faces in their vain effort to restore vision to their eyes. "Anybody call for an exterminator?" Austrian called out, trying to attract their attention.

The vampires looked up and stared at him. "impudent Human!" one of them snarled. "Kill him!" the blood-drinker ordered, thrusting a clawed finger at Austrian. None of the Exiles here matched the description of Invalesco that Flood had sent him. These Disciples no doubt worked for Invalesco but 'the man' himself was not hiding here. Disappointing...

Austrian brought his Steyr AUG up into his shoulder and silently recited the principles of marksmanship he had learned through the hardwired Close Quarters Battle tactics he had been programmed with in The Tower. Good marksmanship is a HABIT. Proper Holding, correct point of Aim, controlled Breathing, Instinctive body position, and gentle Trigger control.

His mind refreshed with those five concepts, Austrian fired off a quick three shot burst into the face of what he believed to be the leader of the vampiric coven in the Church. The first round, a silver bullet, struck the blood-drinker in the larynx. The other two rounds, normal bullets, simply burrowed holes in the chest of the deleted Exile.

A blood-drinker that had been lurking behind a pillar to Austrian's left hurled himself at Austrian, flying through the air with clawed hands out-stretched like some nightmarish bat. Austrian ducked into a kneeling position as the vampire flew over him and fired another three-round burst off. The bullets drilled hard into the exposed belly of the crazed Exile, deleting it as it continued to fly into the wall behind him.

By now the other two blood-drinkers were almost on him. He slung his Steyr AUG over his shoulder, not confident of the weapon's reliability at this close of a range, and dropped down into his Bokuho stance. Austrian's left-leg stretched out before him on the carpeted floor, his right-leg swept back and bent so that he was crouching, his left-arm extended out along the length of his leg while the right-arm reached for his collection of wooden stakes.

The vampires slowly shambled over to him, grinning with malice. One of them, the one on the right, dribbled some blood as he produced a cruelly curved knife and held it before himself threateningly. The two attacked simultaneously, their timing perfectly synchronized despite the fact that they had never uttered a word or made any sign to each other that it was time to strike. He admired their discipline but loathed their treachery and the guise that they had assumed within the Matrix. Blood-drinkers were his least favourite form of Exile. Most Exiles simply needed a flow of $information to survive but blood-drinkers were far more parasitic- feeding off of the code of other's RSI's. It sickened him.

As the blood-drinker surged toward him, Austrian surged back toward them. As they collided, Austrian stabbed a wooden stake into the heart of the blood-drinker on the left with his right hand while sweeping his left leg out in a crescent kick that knocked the knife out of the right blood-drinker's hand. Without pausing, Austrian spun and jumped, his left leg lancing out as he completed a 360 degree rotation in the air and crescent kicked the blood-drinker on his right again, but this time on his cheek rather than this wrist.

He heard the blood-drinker's neck snap as the knife it had once held clattered to the floor. The blood-drinker, much to Austrian's chagrin and surprise, simply snapped its own neck back into place and smiled again.

"No!" someone screamed from over by the altar.

"Silence Human!" the blood-drinker growled, spitting blood putridly as it spoke. The perfect opportunity for Austrian. He drew another wooden stake from under his billowing trench coat and rammed it into the creature's chest and then kicked the spasming body away from himself.

"No... my immortality..." the Redpill standing by the altar, who had originally evaded Austrian's detection by hiding behind the altar, stood over the corpse of the dead Disciple leader whimpering.

"Drop your weapon." Austrian ordered, calmly, unslinging his Steyr AUG again but not bringing it up into his shoulder quite yet. He wanted to be ready should the traitorous Redpill attempt to attack him but he didn't want to seem overly threatening. Perhaps he could negotiate this fellow's surrender.

"You... you killed them all. Why? Why did you have to go and do something like that? Why did you have to be so stupid? They promised me immortality..." the man said, almost in tears.

"They promised you a lie." Austrian explained. "They betrayed you just like they betrayed The Merovingian. Come. Drop your weapon and let us leave this place. The Machines will no doubt be on their way here by now." he held out his hand invitingly. The part about the Machines coming was a lie. It seemed that even The Machines were too frightened to send their Operatives into the Matrix at this time. The entire of Mega City was rife with chaos and death. The Agents had abandoned the place and left The Merovingian and his followers to restore order.

"Die!" the Redpill screamed, producing a machine pistol of a design Austrian could not identify in the twilight of the Church's interior.

Austrian dove for cover behind some of the benches that lined the Church and heard the wood of some of the seats rupturing under a fusillade of weapon's fire. He peeked his head around the corner of his row of seats and returned fire but the Redpill had hidden back behind the altar. From his current position, Austrian would be unable to take out the Redpill. He could destroy the altar with a withering spray of fire in the hope that some of the shots would pierce through the thick wood and strike the man hiding behind it but that would consume a great deal of ammunition. And the seats that he hid behind were a flimsier form of cover than the altar that the Redpill now commanded the Church floor from. He had to find a different way of eliminating this foe...

A plan immediately formulated itself in his mind. Austrian bolted for the empty frame of the door he had kicked in only moments before, hopping over the still spasming body of a blood-drinker. He heard the Redpill screaming profanity after him as he ran but it mattered little to him.

In a few seconds, Austrian was in position for his new attack on the Church. He let loose six shots of 5.56mm rounds at the stained glass window before him and then turned his back to the cascading and collapsing wall of glass, covering himself with his trench coat to prevent injury from his own effort to create another entrance into the Church. Satisfied that he had weathered the majority of the storm of glass, Austrian turned and dive-rolled into the Church. The Redpill stood and stared as Austrian rose into a kneeling position and pumped off a quick six shots into the traitor.

The Redpill who would have become a servant to Invalesco crumpled under the fire and died there, beneath a meaningless cross by the altar.

Austrian looked about at his work. Then glanced at the cross. If there really and truly was a God, how could he allow scenes like this to occur every day in the Matrix? How could he allow parasitic creatures like blood-drinkers to prey on the innocent- like the Redpill he had just killed? No omniscient and good creature could possibly allow such injustice. Either God was another lie told by the Machines, as his Exile instructors had taught him, or God was an evil creature that took pleasure in watching the orgies of death that filled this simulated world with the stench of death and sin.

Austrian spat on the carpeted floor of the main hallway through the church, traditionally one of the most holy parts of the holy building, and then left through the shattered window that had depicted St. Patrick expelling the snakes and Satan from Ireland.

#11300001227 11/29/2005 13:38:39 Re: The Awakening of Austrian

Chapter 17

Flood had called Austrian to tell him that Invalesco had been found as he walked away from the Church of the Disciples, fuming at Christianity and God for reasons his conscious mind could not understand at the moment. The Exile Handler told him that while he had been exterminating the coven of Invalesco followers, several other, more experienced, operatives working for The Merovingian had found Invalesco's lair and pursued him. But, unfortunately, the beast had fled into some sort of Construct which no one could enter- save a young upstart Zionite named Neurophyte. All that was left was for The Merovingian to send Exiles to stand guard outside the entrance to the Construct and wait to see who exited it. Until that time, Austrian and his crew were to now pursue leads on Morpheus' location and plans. Not quite an opportune time for such an assignment, he thought, as very few Redpills wanted to enter the Matrix while Lupines and Blood-drinkers ran rampant through the streets in a search for something, anything, to kill. But if he could present evidence about Morpheus' plans and intentions to his employers soon, that would only make his re-union with Gerhard more likely. He didn't know why he was excited at the prospect of seeing his brother again, but he was.

So his search for Morpheus himself had led the Guardians of Chaos here, to the neighbourhood of Mara in the Slums. He tried to stay away from this place as much as possible, as it reminded himself of the scorn he had felt for the Redpills who frequented this part of Mega City. It made him feel like he was one of 'the enemy' he had loathed not so long ago. In his Bluepill life, he had taken pride in teaching his students, often business people and their families, how to defend themselves from the predations of gangs. Now he found himself among the very people those families had feared- one of the predators stalking the streets of the bad-side of town in search for prey.

"Whoa..." Re1gn, Austrian's Captain, remarked, looking around at the dozen or so other Redpills standing around the area of the Mara Congregational Church. "I guess news has gotten out."

"Indeed it has." Austrian muttered in response. He wasn't entirely sure how so many others could have known that Morpheus was going to make an appearance here today. He had managed to find and question an informant within Morpheus' small group of supporters. This informant had told Austrian that Zion was split from within on the issue of Morpheus- apparently the man had been causing trouble there as well as within the Matrix. He had not only earned The Merovingian's hatred by stealing The Keymaker, threatening The Merovingian's life and humiliating him in front of dozens of other Exiles at a party in Club Hel but had also annoyed Commander Lock, a high-ranking military leader within Zion, for trying to steal his wife, Niobe, and encouraging actions that would destroy The Truce and start a new war that could wipe out all free Humans. Morpheus, the informant told him, was on a fool's quest to retrieve Neo's body from the Machines by threatening to destroy the code of the Matrix and cause mass awakenings. Hardly the model hero he purported himself to be. This informant told Austrian that a strike had been planned at Mara which could awaken an entire congregation of church-goers as they left from a Sunday service. The Zionite felt that if Morpheus were to be hampered in his efforts on this day, he might be firghtened out of doing anything else rash in the future. Austrian could only hope that that would be the case- that he would not have to kill or cause the death of one of Humanity's icon figures.

"Spread out everyone. Have a look around and tell me if you see anything suspicious." Re1gn ordered, walking over to talk to another Merovingian Captain he had spotted in the tiny crowd. Austrian liked that about his Captain: his orders never actually came across as orders. They seemed more to the ears like a friendly suggestion. A request for clarification of an order was never met with spluttering and accusations of insubordination but simply a warm smile and a logical explaination. Austrian figured he couldn't have found a better crew to join or a better Captain to follow.

"Jawohl, Herr Kapitan." Austrian answered. That had been the nickname he had given to Re1gn: Herr Kapitan. Telling from the chuckle and mischievous grin the name was always answered with, Austrian deduced that Re1gn had taken a liking to the label.

Austrian wandered around the corner of an apartment complex that stood across from the neighbourhood church and loomed over a public payphone nearby. He saw a hunched form, clothed in a dark black trench coat and wearing a respectable purple suit underneath. It looked for all the world like the Redpill before him was tying his shoelaces. "Guten Morgen. Come for Morpheus' bounty, have you?" Austrian chimed, pleasantly.

The man looked over at Austrian through his dark sunglasses, grinned, and then rose to his full height. He was a very tall, muscular, confident African American specimen. "No. I've come to make a statement." the man said in a calm, almost soothing voice. This was a man at perfect peace with himself and what he stood for, Austrian could tell. He didn't need to see the fellow's eyes to know that, nor did he need to see the code bomb that sat ticking on the floor at his feet.

#11300001242 12/02/2005 08:36:10 Re: The Awakening of Austrian

Chapter 18

"You're Morpheus, aren't you?" Austrian asked, narrowing his eyes and reaching slowly for a Steyr TMP holstered on his hip and concealed beneath the folds of his sleek black trench coat and equally dark suit jacket. He was glad he had brought the TMP with himself instead of the AUG. The Steyr AUG, despite its bullpup design, was still a difficult weapon to conceal on ones personage or use effectively with only one hand. The TMP, on the other hand, was a typical machine pistol but of higher quality in its manufacture- it was a single-handed firearm that packed the punch of an assault rifle like the Colt M16A2 and squeezed it into something of comparable size to a Colt Double Eagle. The TMP had nowhere near the range or accuracy of his favoured weapon, the Steyr AUG, but that wouldn't matter at this short of a distance. If this fugitive Zionite made any threatening move against him, Austrian was confident that he could unload an entire clip of the Steyr TMP into the fanatic before any harm could be done to him.

"Yes, I am." Morpheus answered. Austrian drew his Steyr TMP and pointed it menacingly at the Zion extremist's face in one fluid motion. In response, Morpheus threw his hands up in the air in mock surrender and said, "Before you try to kill me, I think you should know that there is a code bomb on the ground in front of you. I'm not entirely sure what it will do to our RSI's at this range but something tells me neither of us want to find out."

Austrian risked a quick glance down at the ground, half-expecting this to be some petty distraction intended to aid an escape attempt by Morpheus, but saw that there was indeed a code bomb planted there on the sidewalk before him. He could not see if the device was close to detonation or if there would be a sufficient delay during which he could arrest Morpheus. A sudden rush of wind announced Morpheus' departure to Austrian. He looked up to see the fugitive hurtling through the air to a nearby rooftop in a hyper-jump.

Austrian found it incredibly tempting to abandon all principles of 'fire discipline' and fire a few shots after Morpheus in frustration but he decided against it. It would be a waste of time- Morpheus was far beyond the reach of his Steyr TMP. Even if he could hit Morpheus at this distance, the small rounds that his weapon fired would probably lack the velocity to penetrate the leather of Morpheus' coat after their long travel from the ground to the rooftop. There would be other opportunities to apprehend Morpheus and Austrian would be able to exorcise his annoyance then. For now he had much more pressing concerns to attend to- namely his own life and the lives of his crewmates and friends.

Sprinting back towards the Mara Congregational Church, Austrian yelled at the wandering clusters of Redpills, "Everyone get out of here! Go! Los los los!"

"Aust, what's wrong?" Re1gn asked as Austrian ran up to him, bewildered at his Reactor Expert's uncharacteristically frantic behaviour.

"Bomb! Morpheus planted a code bomb behind that building!" Austrian explained quickly and hurriedly, pointing back at the apartment complex which stood by where he had confronted Morpheus moments before.

Despite the darkened sunglasses that hid his gaze, Re1gn's expression of surprise was fully visible to Austrian. "Guardians of Chaos!" Re1gn called out. "Get to the rally point! Now!" Re1gn had planned a rally point with the crew before they had all arrived in Mara in case something went awry- like a code bomb that could detonate at any moment.

The crew dropped whatever they were doing and hyper-jumped to the roof of a convenience store a safe distance away from the bomb and the bluepill-filled church. Austrian turned and looked back to see what was happening with the bomb. He was shocked to see that several of the other Redpills, mostly Zionites, who had been wandering the neighbourhood in search of Morpheus were now clustered around the code bomb.

"What in the blazes are they doing?" Digita1Spirit exclaimed to Austrian's left.

"Come on... get out of there. It's a bomb. Bombs explode." Austrian muttered to himself, tempted to run back and warn the Zionites of their stupidity. What could they be doing with the bomb? Trying to disarm it?

Then the code bomb exploded. At first, the explosion looked like the same sort that would be produced by a normal bomb that a Bluepill terrorist would use. But then the wall of the building nearest to the bomb changed from concrete to a black field scrawling with streams of green Machine code. The RSIs of the Zionites who had swarmed around the code bomb also became black featureless shadows that streamed with broken code then exploded in rivets of green flame.

"Dammit." Re1gn cursed, clenching his fists in anger.

"Are they...?" Digita1Spirit asked, shaken by what she had just seen.

"We can't know. I don't think I've ever heard of a Redpills RSI being affected by a code bomb before." Austrian answered. There was no telling what had truly happened to the Zionites. They might have died. But, then again, they might have been forcibly jacked-out.

Either way, he had to find Morpheus. The man was simply too dangerous now to be allowed to run amok in the Matrix. Hopefully after this incident, Zion would agree with The Merovingian's analysis of the Morpheus problem. It would certainly make the job of finding the terrorist considerably easier.

#11300001304 12/15/2005 17:20:05 Re: The Awakening of Austrian

((Apologies for the long delay in updating this. What with exams and research papers and training exercises, I've had little free time. But with Christmas approaching, I've been blessed with a little bit of an opportunity to write some more.))

Chapter 19

It had been a few days since Morpheus' attack on Mara. During that time, the crew of the Guardians of Chaos had been aggressively searching the Matrix for the rogue Zionite. Austrian and Darks1de had also been hard-wired with demolitions programs so that they would be able to defuse and retrieve any code bomb that the crew were to come across in their hunt. Nobody wanted a repeat of the incident in Mara where they had been forced to let Morpheus go in order to preserve their lives.

Austrian had just received a tip from Flood that Morpheus had been sighted in Kedemoth Park and that Ookami herself would be confronting the renegade. Austrian hadn't seen the woman since his graduation from L'école de la Tour. She had presented his trench coat to him then, grudgingly, as a reward for not only passing the grueling exams in The Tower but for finishing within the top five operatives of his class. He had been an example, yet again, that Humans were not to be under-estimated by Exiles. The trench coat, she had told him, was of particularly fine materials; she had coded the item from the skins of slain lupines. How she had obtained the code from the dead Exiles, he did not ask. Somehow, he imagined, he did not want to know how she had come across that material.

Re1gn had also coded Austrian a new suit jacket and tie. This outfit, he was told, would decrease the chances that he would suffer another unfortunate defeat at the hands of Zionites, as had been the case in the operation in Sai Kung weeks ago. This jacket was apparently coded with anti-virus programs that Austrian had not yet come to understand. These anti-virus sub-routines would increase his viral resistance, fending off most viruses favoured by Hackers from Zion. He wouldn't be dropping his Steyr AUG again any time soon.

But his wardrobe wasn't what was important now. Focusing for the coming battle was. Morpheus seemed to be unwilling to give himself up for prosecution and Ookami was notoriously undiplomatic. When a stubborn Human and an equally pig-headed Exile met and found themselves in opposition of one another, something had to give. Austrian knew that the only thing that would be given in this instance would be exchanges of automatic weapons fire.

Austrian, along with Re1gn and Darks1de, arrived on the scene at roughly the same time as Ookami and a few Dire Lupine Banes did. She really did look strangely charming in her ragged clothes. The wild look and feel of the woman Exile enchanted him, even now, after he had been away from the comforts of his former life for so long. Maybe she had some odd way of manipulating the code of the Matrix? He couldn't imagine himself being well and truly attracted to this woman. She wasn't even truly a woman. She was an Exile, made only of code, who had chosen to take on the form of a female for the purposes of affectation and aesthetics. She was, in terms of romantic interests, just as illusionary and false as Silvia was. The torment of knowing that the woman that he once loved was about as real as the Steyr AUG he now held in his simulated hands was unbearable. With that thought in mind, he advanced over to Ookami to request instructions from her on how to proceed with the attack on Morpheus.

"Lady Ookami." Austrian said, bowing slightly to the woman. The gesture of defference amused the Exile and her lips, full and untainted with lipstick, curved into a smile.

"Austrian... how do you fair?" Ookami asked, the Lupines flanking her chuckling at what they must have thought was a group of Humans come to act as cannon fodder for the foe.

"I am well, my Lady. How should we proceed with this matter?" Austrian asked, inclining his head slightly to gesture at the group of Zionites standing in the Park around Morpheus who, as they spoke, gave some strange sermon about demonstrating Humanity's resolve to the Machines and honouring Neo. Odd how someone could preach about honouring the sacrifice of Neo by working to destroy The Truce he died for.

"We will ask them nicely for their surrender. If they refuse... then we will kill them." Ookami replied, still grinning at the prospect of killing Humans. She was a disturbing creature. He found it tempting to ask her why she had betrayed The Merovingian and joined Invalesco in his petty insurrection but decided against it. There were more important things to do right now than debate loyalty and treachery. He could always have another opportunity to do so in the future. Especially since the invention of this "emergency jackout procedure" the Zionites had created to minimize casualties incurred during operations within the Matrix. No one ever really died anymore in the Matrix. Of course, the mental trauma of being killed and then, for lack of a better term, "resurrected", was of great displeasure and discomfort to most Redpills. So much so, in fact, that a fair bit of down-time was required for anyone killed in the Matrix. This fact prevented Redpills from simply fighting non-stop in the Matrix, killing and being killed for all eternity but never actually gaining any ground in the conflict. If anyone was actually foolish enough to attempt multiple emergency jackouts within a short period of time, the result could be potentially very dangerous- anyone taking the risk could suffer severe mental retardation or a permanent catatonic freeze. Austrian supposed that that was what The Merovingian's plan for Morpheus: either intimidate the man into staying out of the Matrix and coming up with a more peaceful strategy for capturing Neo's body or beating him into a state of mental retardation.

Austrian prefered the former over the latter. If the rumours about the man were true, Morpheus was a great visionary and hero. But he had lost his way in life. Who wouldn't have, if they were placed in Morpheus' situation? The man had lost his crew to the cruelties of The War. He had lost his Hovercraft to a Sentinel attack. Trinity and Neo, who were like a daughter and son to him, were both lost in the battle to save Humanity from annihilation. His purpose in life, to find The One and guide him to his end, had been fulfilled. The love of his life, Niobe, had left him for another man, Commander Lock. He had lost everything he ever held dear and was left with nothing. Just the hollow and faint hope of being able to take back Neo's body from the very creatures he had spent his life fighting against. Imagine the sheer irony and horror Morpheus must have felt when he discovered that Neo had, instead of fulfilling his dream of a free Humanity, instead forced him to live side-by-side peacefully with his life-long foes. Yes, life had been cruel to Morpheus and now the man was out for revenge.

"Morpheus, we are here to bring a stop to this madness of yours." Ookami called out, approaching the small throng of Zionites. Austrian cringed at her choice of word. Yes, she was far from an astute diplomat.

"The only madness is this... dream world." Morpheus answered, shaking his head.

"You are not welcome here! Leave Exile!" one of the Zionites yelled back, his face glowing red with hardly contained rage.

"The Merovingian has no quarrel with you, Humans. Return to your Hovercrafts and allow us to resolve this matter peacefully with Morpheus." Ookami answered, her gaze never wavering from Morpheus as she and her Lupines continued to approach the small crowd. A fight was brewing, Austrian knew. The Zionites were not interested in Ookami's ultimatums and demands and, of course, Ookami had little interest in their threats of violence. There was no possiblity for compromise in this scenario and a staring match rarely ever settled such conflicts. It was do or die, nothing in between.

Apparently one of the Zionites felt this way as well, as she drew her twin Colt .45 semi-automatic pistols and began emptying her clips on a Lupine that had strayed a little too close to her, yelling incoherently all the while. A single shot from Re1gn's Heckler and Koch G36K assault rifle silenced the woman as the bullet screamed into her wailing face.

"She was annoying..." Austrian heard Re1gn grumble just before the entire of Kedemoth Park erupted in wanton violence. It was interestingly similar to a Napoleonic battlefield as the Morpheus followers stood on one side of the fields and The Merovingian's forces stood on the other. What particular contrast of the violence caught Austrian's attention over the others. Ookami was at the fore of her forces, wading into the fray like the great heroes of medieval myth. But Morpheus seemed to literally cower behind his forces like Napoleon was known to hide behind his Imperial Guard during the many battles of his war to conquer Europe and the world. But Morpheus was not trying to conquer the Matrix, he was trying to destroy it and those who relied on it for their existence. And he was not cowering, Austrian grimly realized, but, rather, he was planting a code bomb under a bench while everyone was distracted by the combat.

Austrian sprinted through the crowd, jumping over the bodies of Lupines and Zionites, dodging the odd blow and gun shot on his way to stop Morpheus. He would stop the fanatic before he could destroy the Matrix! He had to! The code bomb would have had a devestating effect if it detonated amidst the massive battle and when Bluepills came to investigate the explosion, the sheer bumber of Awakenings that would occur when they found their favourite neighbourhood park replaced with a black field dotted with streaming green numbers and letters of code would cause irrepairable damage to the Matrix. That could not be allowed to come to pass, he knew.

He charged toward the man who was now rising from his crouched position by the park bench. "Morpheus!" he called out as he closed with the Zionite.

Morpheus turned at his exclaimation and, seeing that Austrian posed him a threat, leapt backward, putting the bench between them. "Ah... you again." Morpheus said, apparently amused by Austrian's outburst. "Good luck with the code bomb. I think you'll find that it would be best to run now rather than try to disarm it."

With that comment, Morpheus turned and hyper-jumped away. Just like at Mara, Morpheus was escaping again and Austrian was faced with a choice: chase the fugitive or disarm the bomb. Stop the renegade from endangering more innocent lives or save the lives of his crewmates and Ookami herself? The choice was strangely simple. He bent down at the bench where Morpheus had been working and searched under the seat for the bomb. His gloved hand found it, warm to the touch and blinking faintly. He had no idea how long it would take for the device to detonate but if Mara had been any indication, the bomb had a relatively short fuse. Keeping this in mind, he set to work on disarming the bomb as we quickly as his hands could manage. He didn't have to think too terribly hard about the demolitions skills as they had been efficiently hard-wired to his brain. His hands just set to work and left his body behind.

As he was just about to finish completing the disarmament procedures, Austrian felt someone grasp him from behind, drawing him up to his feet in a full nelson hold. "Who the devil?" Austrian managed to blurt as his attacker lifted him up and threw him to the ground in a suplex throw. The back of his head smashed into the pavement of a nearby sidewalk, making a hard smack as his simulated skull met the cement. Pain automatically flooded his senses and he tasted warm blood in his mouth. But he didn't let the attack stop him. He rolled to his feet and examined his attacker.

He found that he was not under attack by just one opponent. Instead, two Morpheus followers stood menacingly before him. "What are you doing, hiding from the party back here?" one asked, smirking cockily.

"There is a code bomb beneath that bench. If you don't let me disarm it, we are all going to die." Austrian explained, assuming his Bokuho stance as he spoke. He could not risk being off his guard with these maniacs. They might know full well that the code bomb was there and care little. The Zionites at Mara hadn't seemed to be too bothered by the idea of having the code of their RSI's, and perhaps even the fabric of their conscious minds, torn to shreads.

"Nice try. We're not falling for it. But you, my friend, are going to take a fall. Hard." one of them replied, advancing toward him in an Aikido crouch.

Suddenly the head of the Aikido artist exploded as a bullet impacted the back of it and pierced through the weak code of his flesh. The other, shocked at the sudden death of his compatriot, suddenly slumped to the floor like a lifeless doll. Re1gn and Darks1de advanced to Austrian's side, calmly examining their kills as they walked over their corpses. Re1gn, Austrian observed, had sniped the Aikido artist. The other had suffered a strike to his spinal cord from Darks1de's ninja-to, a sword favoured by the Ninja. The bodies of the Zionites rippled with the energy surges of emergency jackout procedures in process. They would no doubt be awakening on the deck of their Hovercraft, hurting and humiliated, but alive nontheless.

"Finish it, Austrian!" Re1gn exclaimed, noticing that Austrian was hesitating and rubbing the back of his head, feeling for any dents or cuts in its surface.

Austrian immediately obeyed his Captain's order, snapping back to reality. He bent down, felt for the right wire and pulled it.

#11300001474 01/09/2006 12:57:47 Re: The Awakening of Austrian

Chapter 20

Austrian remembered how afraid he had been that day. When the Zionite assassins had nearly killed him, he had felt no fear. He had felt only disappointment and regret that he had not made more of himself. But when he had disarmed the code bomb in Kedemoth, he had well and truly been afraid that he would wind up like one of those fools at Mara who had, more than likely, suffered horribly painful half-deaths. It wasn't exactly death to be killed by a code bomb in the Matrix. But one did exactly survive those things. The mind would die as the code of a persons' RSI was ripped to shreds and the individual code fragments were cast away to be used by the system to make something else- like a cell phone or a tile on a bathroom floor. But the body in The Real stayed alive. The heart still beat but the brain was left in a permanent vegetative state. It was the worst kind of fate Austrian could imagine and he was horrified of it being his own end.

The only other fate that he could imagine being worse than his own, was that of Morpheus. He was a brave man and he had done great things during his life. He had found The One and fought valiantly against the oppression of The Machines and their murderous Agents. But now he was dead, killed by The Assassin. The Assassin, so the story went, had been contracted by The Merovingian to do the same job as Austrian- to make Morpheus' life difficult. But the corrupt program had taken things too far, yet again, and used a Kill Code to murder Morpheus. A Kill Code was a rare device that, when used to attack an RSI, prevented a person's reconstruction. He had learned all about these devices and their many guises, as well as The Assassin and his traitoroius nature, at The Tower.

But one thing he had also learned at The Tower was to appreciate Morpheus. Of course his instructors had tried to brainwash him to loathe Morpheus and every Zionite like him, but Austrian had looked past the propaganda and examined the facts. Morpheus had been fighting for a good and just cause- freedom for Humanity. How was that any different from what Austrian fought for? How was it that freedom for Exiles and freedom for Humans were such distinct concepts? It was true that Morpheus had gone mad, but who could blame him? He had lost Trinity and Neo, who had become like a son and daughter to him. He had lost his ship, The Nebuchadnezzar, which had been his home for years. He had lost his one true love, Niobe, to his nemesis: the Commander of Zion's forces. And he had lost his lifelong purpose: to find The One. He had nothing more to live for. In a way, Austrian wondered if Morpheus' terrorist attacks had been a way of ensuring his own demise, as he had grown weary of a purposeless life.

No one really knew for certain why Morpheus had gone mad and done what he had done. But it seemed that everyone knew that he was now dead. Some Zionites had claimed that he had staged his own death and would return again, when the time was right. But those fanatics were the same ones who claimed Neo was still alive and that The Machines were holding him captive in The Real so that he would be unable to return and rescue humanity from their indenture. Austrian paid them little heed. So long as they weren't trying to kill innocent Exiles, he could care less what they believed.

"Coming Aust?" Re1gn asked. He realized that he had hesitated before entering the elevator down into Club Hel.

"Ja. I was just... reflecting." Austrian answered, taking a step forward into the elevator that was crammed full of his crewmates- his friends.

"This isn't the time for reflecting, Aust. This is the time for partying!" Re1gn laughed. The Merovingian had sent out party invitations as soon as Morpheus' death was confirmed. It was seem that they were celebrating the death of a fallen hero tonight. Austrian found the idea repulsive but decided against voicing his disapproval. The Merovingian had promised him that withthe death of Invalesco and Morpheus, Austrian would be allowed to Awaken his brother. And he could hardly wait to see Gerhard again. The opportunity to turn the tables was irresistable.

He would show his brother what he had become. He would prove that he wasn't a failure after all, and that his parent's favouritism to Gerhard had been unwarranted...

#11300001475 01/09/2006 12:58:44 Re: The Awakening of Austrian

Chapter 21

The welcoming sounds of "Reise Reise" greeted Austrian as he and the Guardians of Chaos entered the main dance hall of Club Hel. The song was a Rammstein hit and, having been programmed by The Machines to believe he was an Austrian, he understood the German lyrics and felt... at home. He relaxed from the tensions and apprehension he had been feeling for the longest time and let his body break into a dance.

"Look at him go!" Digita1Spirit exclaimed at his sudden desire to dance, laughing.

"Hey, this is a good song. I can't help it!" Austrian replied, also laughing. It felt good to laugh. It felt good to see that, finally, his life seemed to be on track. After years spent sleeping in an illusionary world, he was now a valued member of a group. And soon he would have the chance to add his brother to that group and show to someone who had been part of his former life that he wasn't a loser- that he was more of a success than any of his Bluepill relations ever could be. They could marvel in all their riches and business magazine covers but none of it was real. The only thing that was real were the Exiles- programs whose only crime was a desire to exist. And he had contributed to the rescue of every Exile that existed and ever would exist by disarming the code bomb in Kedemoth. Rumour had it, when Austrian returned the code bomb to Ookami, the bomb had been bugged with a trace program and given to Morpheus by another group of operatives. The bomb that Austrian had acquired for The Merovingian in Kedemoth, so the story went, was what lured The Assassin to Morpheus. Austrian couldn't help but feel proud and ashamed of the possiblity that he had had a hand in the death of Morpheus and the preservation of the Matrix.

"Lady Return!" Austrian heard someone exclaim in the throngs of Exiles and Redpills dancing in The Merovingian's exclusive club.

"Lady? What the heck is up with that?" Nu11Effect asked, chuckling to himself as he and the rest of the crew joined Austrian in dancing to the heavily amplified beat of the song.

Austrian answered the mocking question with an arch of his eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Well, all of the sudden there's all these people running around with 'Lord' or 'Lady' in their name. Lady Ookami. Lord Malphas. Lady Return. How come? Who died and left them some multi-million dollar estate? And if there's all these Lords and Ladies parading about, where's all the Knights and Barons and Countesses? Did they all stay in Zion or something?" Nu11Effect answered, smirking to show he was joking.

Austrian understood where Nu11Effect was coming from, but he hardly found the joke funny. "They received their honourifics from Invalesco. That's what the word is, anyway. He gave them their titles as a reward for their loyalty to him." Austrian said in flat tone that told everyone not to bring up the topic any longer. He didn't like traitors or anything that reminded him of the day when he had killed that Redpill follower of Invalesco. There was something about that night that didn't sit right with him.

He made a note to himself, however, about how surprisingly easy the loyalty of a person- Redpill or Exile- could be bought. Simply by offering the gift of immortality in words and giving the gift of a meaningless honourific, Invalesco had succeeded at nearly conquering the Matrix and enslaving everyone in a nightmare built to suit his sadistic tastes. Austrian wondered if, were he to try and duplicate Invalesco's methods, he could have amassed an army of his own. It was an amusing thought, that he could conquer the Matrix simply by making outlandish claims and giving others fancy names as a show of power. But then, he realized, he was being hypocritical in his silent critique of those who had joined Invalesco. Had Austrian, when he was known as Paul Lipp, not taken the red pill simply because of an outlandish promise of power and purpose from Ookami? He had done precisely what the followers of Invalesco had done: he had sold the charred and blackened remains of his soul to The Merovingian in return for a hollow promise that he would become the greatest martial artist that had ever lived.

He had not become the greatest martial artist that had ever lived and he was not sure that a life spent defending Exiles and murdering Zionites was the way he wanted to live his life. What he did know for certain, though, was that he had made friends he might never have made in his former life. That was a good enough reason for taking the red pill, in Austrian's opinion. And, he also felt, it distinguished him enough from the traitors who had joined Invalesco.

"Mes amis!" The Merovingian called out from his balcony above the dance floor. Everyone turned to watch their master and the music stopped abruptly. "I ask that you all be silent for a moment while I share a very brief story with you all."

The Merovingian's french accent no doubt made his voice pleasing enough to listen to for those with more primitive minds in the audience. Austrian had learned after only a short time spent working for The Merovingian that not all were as noble in their service as Austrian and The Guardians of Chaos were. Many simply enjoyed indulging in vile and sadistic pleasures while using The Merovingian as protection. He disdained them for their selfishness and unprincipled composure.

"There was once a man who stood against me. He came into my home and he shamed me. Then he came here, to this very place, and had the audacity to do me dishonour again!" The Merovingian spoke, his hands quivering with rage as they wrung the rail that extended along the length of his balcony as if it were the neck of this offender he was speaking of. "But in this place I can finally say with pride, Morpheus is dead!"

The crowd broke into a rythmic cheer of "Morpheus is dead!" as the music slowly started up again and The Merovingian returned to his seat. Austrian could hardly believe it. He looked about and saw everyone, including his own crewmates, cheering along with the masses. His stomach lurched as his mind drew a connection: the cheering crowds in Club Hel were eerily similar to the mobs that had cheered for Hitler at the Nuremberg Rallies. Were they all no different than the Nazis? Had he become one of the very monsters he had hoped to fight against when he had taken the red pill? No... this couldn't be right. But he saw with his own eyes that they were all cheering enthusiastically about the death of a hero whose sole sin was to lose his way. They could have reasoned with him, they could have explained to him that his attacks were not what Neo would have wanted. But, instead, they laughed about the death of a fellow human being.

Austrian turned and jogged to the elevator. The crowd was too much for him. He was beginning to feel claustrophobic- as if the walls of the massive Club were closing in on him, squeezing the air out of his simulated lungs. This was wrong. And he would have no part of the celebrations.

#11300001550 01/16/2006 11:51:28 Re: The Awakening of Austrian

Chapter 22

GwailouSaang had caught up with Austrian as he passed through the parking lot outside Club Hel and the conversation that they had shared relaxed Austrian. But only a little. GwailouSaang also seemed to have no problems with Morpheus' murder. But at least the man had the decency to acknowledge that Morpheus had done great things in his life and that it was best to remember him with some respect and not celebrate his death quite so... enthusiastically as those who remained in the Club. Apparently, GwailouSaang had been sent by The Merovingian to retrieve him for a personal audience in the loft over the dance floor of the Club.

"Why does he want to meet with me?" Austrian asked, confused.

"I don't know. He said that it was important to you but unimportant to him and that he would not be kept waiting much longer. So... I think that means you should hurry." GwailouSaang explained, chuckling at the end.

What was this about? Did The Merovingian have another job for him? Because if he did, Austrian didn't care. He was burned out. No more jobs! No more killing Zionites and then sitting in his little corner of the Hovercraft remembering their faces and the noises they had made when they died. He drew the line at this disgusting party. But it couldn't be a job. GwailouSaang had said that what The Merovingian had to say was important to Austrian but not to himself. Austrian hardly imagined that this was an indication that The Merovingian had taken up altruism. No, the Exile was as self-interested as they came. There was something else going on here.

"Thank you, GwailouSaang." Austrian finally said, quickly shaking his old friend's hand before jogging back toward the elevator down to Club Hel.

"Don't mention it. Take care, Austrian." GwailouSaang called after him.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Austrian took the stairs up to the balcony where The Merovingian and Persephone sat in bounds of three at a time. He didn't want to keep his employer waiting. Not if there was something that involved a reward for all his troubles. Who knows, maybe The Merovingian wanted to release him from the servitude he had been indentured in? Maybe there was a chance that The Merovingian could arrange for him to meet Silvia again. But that was impossible. She was a lie. His instructors at L'école de la Tour, The Merovingian's special school for his most elite operatives, had been quite adamant about that. The Machines had programmed him with a false life story. The only things that hadn't been a complete and total lie were the parts of his life that had unfolded in Mega City. And even those had been an illusion. But those events were at least somewhat more real that the complete fabricated memories that had been downloaded to his brain when he had believed himself to be living in Vienna and Graz or studying in Paris or romancing his fiancée on the shores of the Black Sea at the beaches of Varna. The sick irony of it all was that the only part of his life which had truly been real was his time as an assassin in the service of The Frenchman. He was still a slave to a system. The system was different but it was still controlled by a program that cared absolutely little for human emotions like love and belonging.

"Monsieur, you desired my presence." Austrian stated flatly, bowing his head in deference to the two Exiles who sat before him.

"I do not desire it, I demand it Austrian. Look up. I so dislike people who avoid eye contact. They seem so... untrustworthy. You're not untrustworthy, are you Austrian?" The Merovingian replied.

Untrustworthy? What the blazes was this? An inquisition? Had he somehow become confused with the real traitors who had left to join Invalesco's ill-fated insurrection? What a joke! "I am loyal to you, monsieur. You were the one who arranged my freedom and so it is to you I pledge my loyalty."

"Good. See, Persephone, I tame good pets." The Merovingian said to his wife, smirking.

"It would appear so, my love." she replied, a bored expression crossing her face as she looked down at the crowds of Exiles and Redpills below.

"I have asked you to come here so I can give you this." The Merovingian returned to business, holding out a small folded letter for Austrian to take.

Austrian stepped forward and accepted the "gift" with both hands- a show of respect and gratitude. Most cultures saw that accepting something given to you with only one hand was a sign of laziness or ingratitude. Austrian wasn't sure if he would be grateful when he read what the letter contained but he was sure what appearance he wanted to exude with his mannerisms and actions.

"Have a look. I'm sure you'll find the contents... interesting." The Merovingian ordered, smiling again as he relaxed back into his seat.

Austrian looked over the information, recognized the name and address written on the papaer immediately and looked up at his employer with wide eyes. "This is... my brother is a cop?" he spluttered.

"Yes. Very inciteful, Austrian. He is currently a Sergeant with Mega City Department of Police and is stationed at the Magog Precinct House. You will find him there. If you wish to awaken him, I recommend using a little guile. Do you think you can do that Austrian?" The Merovingian drawled in his French accent. Despite the fact that his employer was obviously taunting his intelligence and skill as a Redpill operative, Austrian had a restored amount of respect for The Frenchman. The Exile had repaid his loyalty by telling him how to reach his brother and reunite with him. Now all he had to do was find a way of reaching out to him in the middle of a building full of murderous programs and Bluepills inured to the system of control. Wunderbar...