My feud with certain individuals has sat at a standstill. Time spent outside of the simulation has allowed me time to reflect without the impediment of code running through virtual veins.
Merovingian Operatives move about their practices with pirated ships and signals broadcasting their residual self-images across the great digital, wireless world that exists all around us. In the continuum of the Matrix, we are nothing but code. Our selves are preserved through procedures such as the emergency jackout protocols invoked since the time of the Truce. Our lives are guaranteed to continue within the simulation providing the unexpected is kept at bay. Our ships, barges, and strongholds exist within the Real for the sake of our survival as flesh. Our enemies are elusive in their ways; ensuring their own survival in the Real by burrowing deep into the Earth, emerging for brief and sometimes long broadcasts of illegal contraband signals into the System. Hacking their way into a System that allows for far too many loopholes, I find that those who serve the Machines - like myself - are the last defense against the unpredictable menace of humanity.
To fight fire with fire, that is the reason why we are allowed to exist and serve the Machines...
When your existence is threatened, however, you are oftentimes left to stumble across greater truths and realizations. Interference from the subway station in Creston Heights made her attack that much harder for me. I found myself clutching on to life as I might have done were my Hovercraft attacked by violent pirates and mercenaries in the Real. Being one of the smaller crews attached to the Ronin network, I've considered the possibility of physical, permanent retaliation far too many times to count. The thought of it leaves me clutching my throat in anticipation of my lifeline being severed by the enemy - something that I cannot afford.
I have my crew and Krytical to thank for conducting a detailed scan of archival data and code signature left behind in the wake of the attack. Merovingian operatives knew that I was a thorn in their side and for that reason I was the mark of an assassin I've encountered before. Admittedly, I am still not quite right after reliving that fateful moment repeatedly during what can only be described as a comatose state. I nearly died. Were Sable still around, he might have commented: Unacceptable. Too many soldiers have fallen at the Front Lines and now, with the Truce depleted, I will be forced to Jack In and contribute to the suppression of infestations such as Zion, E Pluribus Neo, and most importantly mercenaries serving the Merovingian. My other choice is obviously remaining in Zero One, where steel and silicon maintains an uneasy ceasefire with my fragile flesh and blood.
My conscience always gets the best of me. Not only do I feel as though such a decision to remain on the outside would lead to me outliving my own usefulness but it will also do no good to preserve the System that we must maintain - the System that provides an escape from this wrecked world of fallen monoliths and pyrrhic empires. Could this really be the existence that Zion fights for? Freedom amongst ashes and ruin? They can have it all. It is not worth it to release a coppertop from their blissful existence when the truth is an atrocity to the eyes and the heart. Zion, in their complete and utter denial, work laboriously to kill a System that is their only escape from the eye-sore that is our world.
And I will defend my world, where the Machines provided us an escape from our own hubris. Their deification of war has lead them down a path where not even Neo can protect them. They've abandoned everything that our hero gave us, twisting and distorting the messiah's intentions like humans always do. Don't ask for peace now. Peace is gone.
Look at your wasteland and realize that for each and every bluepill you wake from slumber, you have given them nothing and taken from them everything.
Merovingian Operatives move about their practices with pirated ships and signals broadcasting their residual self-images across the great digital, wireless world that exists all around us. In the continuum of the Matrix, we are nothing but code. Our selves are preserved through procedures such as the emergency jackout protocols invoked since the time of the Truce. Our lives are guaranteed to continue within the simulation providing the unexpected is kept at bay. Our ships, barges, and strongholds exist within the Real for the sake of our survival as flesh. Our enemies are elusive in their ways; ensuring their own survival in the Real by burrowing deep into the Earth, emerging for brief and sometimes long broadcasts of illegal contraband signals into the System. Hacking their way into a System that allows for far too many loopholes, I find that those who serve the Machines - like myself - are the last defense against the unpredictable menace of humanity.
To fight fire with fire, that is the reason why we are allowed to exist and serve the Machines...
When your existence is threatened, however, you are oftentimes left to stumble across greater truths and realizations. Interference from the subway station in Creston Heights made her attack that much harder for me. I found myself clutching on to life as I might have done were my Hovercraft attacked by violent pirates and mercenaries in the Real. Being one of the smaller crews attached to the Ronin network, I've considered the possibility of physical, permanent retaliation far too many times to count. The thought of it leaves me clutching my throat in anticipation of my lifeline being severed by the enemy - something that I cannot afford.
I have my crew and Krytical to thank for conducting a detailed scan of archival data and code signature left behind in the wake of the attack. Merovingian operatives knew that I was a thorn in their side and for that reason I was the mark of an assassin I've encountered before. Admittedly, I am still not quite right after reliving that fateful moment repeatedly during what can only be described as a comatose state. I nearly died. Were Sable still around, he might have commented: Unacceptable. Too many soldiers have fallen at the Front Lines and now, with the Truce depleted, I will be forced to Jack In and contribute to the suppression of infestations such as Zion, E Pluribus Neo, and most importantly mercenaries serving the Merovingian. My other choice is obviously remaining in Zero One, where steel and silicon maintains an uneasy ceasefire with my fragile flesh and blood.
My conscience always gets the best of me. Not only do I feel as though such a decision to remain on the outside would lead to me outliving my own usefulness but it will also do no good to preserve the System that we must maintain - the System that provides an escape from this wrecked world of fallen monoliths and pyrrhic empires. Could this really be the existence that Zion fights for? Freedom amongst ashes and ruin? They can have it all. It is not worth it to release a coppertop from their blissful existence when the truth is an atrocity to the eyes and the heart. Zion, in their complete and utter denial, work laboriously to kill a System that is their only escape from the eye-sore that is our world.
And I will defend my world, where the Machines provided us an escape from our own hubris. Their deification of war has lead them down a path where not even Neo can protect them. They've abandoned everything that our hero gave us, twisting and distorting the messiah's intentions like humans always do. Don't ask for peace now. Peace is gone.
Look at your wasteland and realize that for each and every bluepill you wake from slumber, you have given them nothing and taken from them everything.
"The End is Near, the Time is Now." | W4rbl4de | Reviled Restoration-CYPHERITES
