So let me begin by sayin I’m taking a break in this post from designer discussions to wax nostalgic on an old friend. In case you missed it, yesterday Sony announced that they are soon closing the doors on The Matrix Online. And I have to say, it’s left me with a bit of meloncholy. So this post is my fairwell to the MMO, and to the character I created there. It wasn’t a great MMO, we know that. But it had some great bits to it. And for me, it will always hold a dear spot in my heart because of the people I met there. MxO was one of the few times where I came into the world and played it without knowing anyone else beforehand that was playing. And though I usually am one to solo, everything about this game screamed community, and hanging around a club one night, I picked up on some of the roleplaying there, and decided to join in. I’m no stranger to roleplaying — hell I ran a vampire roleplaying community for five years that existed solely within the pervue of IRC chat rooms. When I created my character though, I had no intention of roleplaying, so natch, I created a female. But back in those days, MxO was going the way of the original SWG, so you could only have one character per server. So I found myself in the rather interesting position of roleplaying a female character. I am one to rarely shirk from a challenge, so I ran with it. In the end, because of the stories I wrote for her, the personality I created for her, and the people I played around with her, she became one of my absolutely most beloved avatars.
So even though Hyacynth hasn’t seen the light of day in many years, like learning of the passing of a friend you haven’t spoken to in years, there is still a sense of loss. All of my avatars have personalities. It’s just the way I am. But Hyacynth had more character than most. So by way of paying tribute to the passing of a brave attempt at a contemporary MMO, and one of my most cherished avatars, I thought I’d share her backstory with you. That’s right.. it’s fan fiction. But it’s my blog, and if I occasionally want to indulge the fiction writer in me, I’m allowed. So without further ado, I present the story of Hyacynth, and how she became a red pill, as originally written in 2005. I hope you enjoy.
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“Michael are you sure this is okay?”
“It’s fine sweety. I told you. This is my sister’s place. And she’s gone all weekend. We’ll have the entire place to ourselves!”
Crystal smiled back at him. She knew she was grinning like a school girl and she hated it. But she couldn’t help it. She was excited. They had been planning this for a week. As soon as Michael’s sister had told him she was not going to be in her apartment. She knew Michael would bring his girlfriend over and she was cool with that. That was the kind of sister she was. Crystal still couldn’t believe they were actually here though. It was going to be perfect.
She sat in the front seat of the car and watched him as he got out and went up to the front of the apartment building. He buzzed an intercom at the door, and spent a few minutes talking to someone. While he talked he turned and looked at her, catching her eyes. He gave her the look. Her heart skipped a beat, and she had to think to catch her breath. Damn him! It still caught her by surprise how utterly crazy about him she was. Despite what her parents thought, he wasn’t one of the bad ones. Yeah he had a tattoo. And an earring. Big whoop. And he would swear, and wear baggy clothes, and say all the right things when he was with his posse. Things like “’Sup”, and “Dog”. But Crystal knew it was all a pretense. When his posse wasn’t around, when it was just the two of them – he took care of her. And he got her. He didn’t do stupid things like ask her where she wanted to eat, or how she was feeling. He knew how she was feeling and he decided where to eat. And the first time he backed her up against the wall and trapped her between his arms.. Crystal shivered at the memory. She ached with need for him when he wasn’t around.
Finally, he smiled, and motioned for her to come up. He’d convinced the doorman he wasn’t a psycho, and was in fact Marilyn’s kid brother. She reached into the back and grabbed her backpack. God he’d given her shit. But guys could stay overnight and just get up the next morning, shower, and put the same clothes back on. Fuck that. She wanted her toothbrush. And some clean panties. She got out of the car and raced up the stairs. The door buzzed, and the two of them slipped inside.
It was an older apartment building. One of the high-rises they built back in the 60’s. The stairs and the apartments all ringed the outside, leaving the center open from the floor to the top floor. Balconies lined the center, so each floor could see down to the balcony on every floor below it. Marilyn’s apartment was on the seventh floor. Mike fiddled with the keys a bit, then opened the door. Crystal followed him in. The place was clean. Not new, but well kept. Some candles had been set out, and on the counter between the kitchen and the livingroom was an incense burner. Crystal grinned. She wondered if that had been Michael’s doing or his sisters. She dropped her backpack on the couch and made her way to the counter, fishing her lighter out of her breast pocket. That was when he caught her from behind. Strong hands at her waist, under her arm. She laughed as he turned her around – pulled her against him. “Jesus Michael I was just going to –“ and broke off in a squeal as he hoisted her up onto the counter, stepping up between her legs, his hands sliding around her back.
“We can light candles later. I’ve got something else in mind for right now.”
“Well I suppose I could be convinced..”
“Crys.. wake up.. something’s going on.” Whispered voice. She opened her eyes and slowly focused. Michael’s naked form padding across the bedroom to where his clothes lay in a pile. He slipped on boxers and his pants. Crystal sat up a bit, drawing the sheet up over her chest.
“What is it baby?”
“I don’t know. I heard something. From downstairs. Some kind of fight. And a scream, I think. I’m going to check it out.”
“Oh baby just leave it alone. Who cares what’s happening down there.”
“I’m just going to take a quick look.” Already he was at the door, opening it very slowly and quietly. Crystal swore. Then her own curiosity got the best of her and she got out of bed. Screw that. If there was a fight or a shooting or something she’d be damned if he was going to see it and she wasn’t. She pulled on her jeans and slipped a shirt on. Then she was peering over his shoulder, looking over the balcony to see if she could see anything downstairs. “It looks like the FBI’s here. What in the hell would they be doing here?” he whispered.
Two men were standing in front of one of the doors about three floors below them. They wore black suits, black sunglasses, and each had some kind of ear piece. They had to be Feds. Crystal had seen these guys around once or twice before, but had never paid them any mind. The strange thing was, the men appeared to be identical. It had to be a trick of the eye. The fact that they were both dressed so similarly. One of the men knocked on the door of an apartment. A woman answered, holding a ten year old girl against her side.
“Yes? Can I help you?” Some trick of the acoustics made the woman’s voice clear all the way up here.
“Actually, it is I, that can help you, Ms. Carmichael.” The FBI agent replied. And in a movement too quick to follow, he lashed out and grabbed the woman by the throat. Only, he didn’t just grab her. His hand fell into her chest. Just disappeared inside of her. The woman screamed and tried to leap back, but the man’s hand inside of her held her fast. The child screamed but the other man grabbed her by the shoulder and then his hand fell inside of her. She began screaming even louder. By now several people had stuck their heads out, and were watching, but no one could move. They were all transfixed by the horror taking place below. And then it just got worse. Where the man’s hand disappeared in the woman’s chest a black ichor began to spread, covering her chest. Like some thick, sentient oil it spread over her breasts, her shoulders, up her neck. She thrashed harder, beating her fists ineffectually against the man’s chest, caught like a bass on a line. The same ichor was spreading from the man’s hand that held the child, but she didn’t scream. Her mind had already fled to a place far away, and she just watched with vacant eyes as the ichor spread over her small form. The woman held by the first agent screamed until the ichor filled her mouth, and then her eyes. The two black shapes that had been the woman and the child seemed to shift then. To somehow fold onto themselves. And then the ichor simply faded away, and in the door of the apartment three floors below stood four identical FBI agents.
That was when Crystal snapped. She didn’t even know she was screaming until Michael grabbed her, pulling her back. The men down below looked up, ebony sunglasses raised to regard them.
“Ah, Ms. Storm,” one of them said. “And Mr. Trevens. I’ll be with you in a moment.”
That was when all hell broke loose. The four agents spread out. Two of them hit the stairs, and two of them began beating on separate doors on the same floor. Up and down balconies, people began running. Those that had seen what had just transpired were trying to get away. And beating doors and waking loved ones in an attempt to warn them. The agents didn’t shoot. No gun was ever drawn. But one kid in his twenties tried to rush past him, and the agent grabbed him, stopping cold in his tracks. The kids screams didn’t last long, and another agent joined the hunt. Everywhere they went, anyone they touched, and within seconds they were transformed. They became another one of them. Each of them identical.
Crystal watched it all in horror. She couldn’t move. She was going to die. She knew it. And there wasn’t anything she could do. Then Michael was there, in her face, shaking her.
“Crystal we have to go!” Michael yelled at her. That snapped her out of it.
“Where?”
“Hell if I know. Up!” He took off at a run for the stairwell, and she took off after him. They reached the stairwell and looked down. Three agents were on a floor below them, coming up the stairs. They wore rictus smiles and trotted in grim determination. Grabbing Crystal’s hand, Michael half drug her as the two of them fled up the stairs. Below them, they could hear the chaos continuing. They reached the door that lead out on the ceiling and burst out on the roof. They ran to the edge of the building, to the fire escape. Agents were on it, coming up.
“Fuck!” Michael swore. They started to run back towards the stairs, to see the three agents they’d been running in front of emerge from the door. They smiled at the couple as the other agents from the fire escape reached the roof. They were trapped.
“Michael! There! Over there!” Across the roof, away from the agents, they could see another stairway opening. If they could just make that! They sat off at a dead run, and the agents quickened their pace to match. A dozen feet the door to the stairs before them burst open. But it wasn’t an agent. It was someone else. Someone that didn’t look like he’d slept in about a week.
“Come!” He yelled. “This way.. I have an exit!” Crystal ran hard, but she knew she wasn’t going to be fast enough. Michael was ten feet in front of her, and the door ten feet beyond them. She could hear the footsteps behind her, but she didn’t dare look. Then he stopped. He stopped. He came back and grabbed her, literally flinging her past him and at the man standing in the stairway. It only slowed him a second. And it bought her her life. But a second was all it took. Crystal screamed in horror as the agent’s hand clenched down on Michaels’ shoulder. She tried to run back to him, but the man in the stairway had her now, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her, kicking and screaming.
“Crystal just GO! Get the hell out of –“ and then broke off in a scream as the agent’s hand slipped into his shoulder and the black ichor began creeping over his neck. Crystal was draped over the man’s shoulder and hauled down the stairs. The last she saw of Michael was him on his knees, the agents crowded around him, half of his torso already covered by the living ooze. She flailed wildly, sobbing hysterically as the man that held her dragged her down a single flight of stairs and into a side room. He threw her into the room and slammed the door behind them. She landed hard on the floor, but was up in an instant, running back to the door. He stood before her and as she closed on him he slapped her. Hard. Hard enough to rock her back against the wall.
“Do you want to live!” He was in her face, screaming at her. She didn’t do anything. Couldn’t say anything. “He is gone. You are not. Do you want to live!” She could only nod.
“Take this!” and he jammed something into her mouth, and crunched her jaw, forcing her to swallow it. The world exploded in a flurry of bright light, and she found herself falling into a chair. Dentist’s chair, she thought hazily.. but.. not. She heard sounds, hammering at the door, but they were distant now. It was all distant.
And then she knew nothing.
Voices. Edge of reason. Distant. So.. cold.
“Is she going to make it?” Woman’s voice.
“Yeah. I think so. She’s got fire.” Man’s voice. Familiar. He had been talking to her in her dreams. Talking to her for so long.
“She didn’t choose, Marcus. You forced the awakening. You know this could have consequences.”
“Yeah, I know. But she was going to die. The Smith’s took that whole building. As they’re taking every building in the matrix right now. I only barely got her out in time.”
“She’s your charge now. You got her out. I’m giving her to you to take care of.”
“I know. That’s cool. She’s going to need taking care of. I don’t mind.”
A long pause.
The woman’s voice again. “You need to name her. Get her on file.”
“I already have.
“Oh?”
Soft feeling against her face. A hand’s gentle caress.
“Hyacynth.”
“The flower born from the blood of her lover. I didn’t know you were a poet Marcus.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me Tyndall.”
Farewell Matrix Online. Farewell Hyacynth.
