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"I think that went pretty well, all things considered," the agent said briskly, holstering his Desert Eagle and staring at the phone booth where their quarry had disappeared.
His companion rolled his eyes. "Rimmer, it was an absolute disaster."
"What do you mean?" he asked. "You have to get up pretty early in the AM to outsmart Agent AJ Rimmer."
"Rimmer," he said dourly. "Aside from all the rebels escaping, you tried to pick up Trinity by hypnosis."
The third agent laughed. "Face it, buddy, the only way you're gonna get inside a woman like that is by hijacking her body."
Rimmer gazed imperiously at his fellow agents. He was nominally the leader of this typical three-member team, whose mission was to hunt down rebels within the Matrix. Or maybe not so typical...all three of them seemed to have rather more individuality than most of the other operatives. All were in the usual shades and green suits of system agents, but none of their clothing exactly matched agency standards. Agent Rimmer's apparel was a great deal shinier than most, and Agent Cat's was much, much fancier. Agent Lister, on the other hand, looked like he'd been wearing this particular set of clothes since Matrix Version One.
"Hijacking a beautiful body would be perfectly acceptable," Rimmer insisted, as they made their way to an outdoor café to go over the events of their mission. "If only I could figure out a way to keep it looking the same." There was a dreamy, lustful look in his eyes, which Lister laughed at. "And what about you, Listy? Mooning after that rebel Kochanski? Talk about pathetic."
"That agent program they based on her just doesn't compare," Lister sighed as they all sat down around a table. "Wrong face, wrong height, wrong accent. That's not my Chrissy." Agent Cat nodded in agreement.
"Lister, she wouldn't go out with you even before she was unplugged," Rimmer pointed out. "Why would she want to do it now? Especially when she knows you're an agent of the Matrix. A heartless, soulless computer program with a fondness for Indian food."
"But I've got a plan," he declared. "I'm gonna go undercover, so I can infiltrate a notorious rebel hangout and tell her how much I love her." Suddenly the agent was in clothes even more slobby than the ones he'd just had on. He was holding a beat-up guitar in his hands.
Agents Rimmer and Cat took one look at the guitar and cringed.
"This is me plan." He began strumming the guitar tunelessly and singing. "Rebels are we, born to be free, just like the fish in the sea..."
"Well," said Rimmer, wincing at the cacophony. "At least it's better than the -Indling' song."
"Or -Ohm'," added Cat. Then a thoughtful expression crossed his features. "Wait a minute, buds, I just realized something...I think I got something on these rebels."
"You do?" Rimmer asked excitedly.
"Don't get your hopes up," muttered Lister, pushing his shades down his nose.
"That head rebel, Neo...his name is Neo, right?" said the dark-skinned agent with the rather large teeth.
"Right."
"And the One is called the One, right?"
"Right..."
"There's some kind of connection between those two names, -Neo' and -One'," said Agent Cat pensively, his brow furrowing in concentration. "But I just can't put my finger on it."
Lister looked amused; Rimmer looked disgusted. In fact, Rimmer looked like he was about to smack his fellow agent. Instead, he smacked himself, hard, right across the face.
"What was that? Luncheon entertainment?" asked Cat, as the other agent slapped himself again. He leaned back in his chair to enjoy the show
Rimmer gazed at his hand skeptically. "I think my code must've gotten a little scrambled in that fight with Neo," he said. "Does this look like my arm to you?" It smacked him again, then tried to do the Moe Howard eye poke on him, but Rimmer managed to hold it still enough to roll up its sleeve. He stared down at the tattoo of the -Wyld Stallyons' logo. "This is definitely not my arm."
"You should contact the Mainframe about it, buddy. No telling what might happen next."
With that, the hand formed a fist and hit him in the groin. Agent Rimmer sank to the ground.
"Maybe we'd better contact the Mainframe," said Lister.
Cat nodded, then touched his diamond-and-emerald-studded earpiece. The connection between the team and the Mainframe crackled to life.
"Hello dudes. What's goin' down in groovetown?" the voice said pleasantly.
Agent Rimmer, who had recovered by now, did his patented Rimmer salute. "We have been tracking rebels, your Mainframe-ness."
"Good, because all this rebel activity has been making my logic circuits a bit wonky...it's made some of my agents go peculiar."
"You mean Agent Smith?" Lister offered. "The man is totally barking."
"Lister, it is a Deletion Offense to refer to a superior agent as -totally barking'...even if he is."
"Yeah, every time he's around, he's always asking what that smell is," replied Cat, shaking his head.
Lister grinned. "I keep telling him it's the humans."
Rimmer sneered. "I think your overindulgence in virtual curry has caused a breakdown in your programming, as well as Agent Smith's."
"Rimmer, go defragment yourself."
"Boys," the Mainframe interrupted. "I believe you contacted me for a reason -- to fix Rimmer's arm."
Cat looked impressed. "The Mainframe does have an IQ of 6000."
"That's not so much -- it's only the same as 6000 carpark attendants," it said modestly. "Now let me see...Rimmer, hold out your arm."
He did so, grasping his one wrist with the other so it couldn't attack him again. A few seconds later it had returned to normal. "Thank you," he said in relief.
"Nice," added Lister. "It even looks like you got a little more muscle."
"Listen," Cat interrupted impatiently. "I don't wanna go all badass agent on you guys, but while we're standing here yapping, my suit's going out of style. I'd better download another one." He tapped something else on his earpiece, and his clothes reformed around him, this time even brighter and flashier than before
His fellow agents regarded him dubiously. "Cat, you look like a leprechaun pimp."
Cat just preened and ignored them. "So say Captain Emerald and the guy wearing Jed Clampett's hand-me-downs."
"Excuse me," interrupted the Mainframe. "I don't want to cause a panic, but I think there just may be a possibility of the chance that there could possibly be some rebel activity starting up in your vicinity."
"IQ of 6000," muttered Lister, under his virtual breath.
"We're on the case," Rimmer proclaimed. "If you could transmit us to the proper coordinates, we'll be on our way."
"All right. Good luck, boys," said the Mainframe brightly.
The three agents blinked as they were suddenly transported to another part of the Matrix, this time somewhere across the street from an Indian restaurant and a high-end men's clothing store. Both Agents Lister and Cat were transfixed at the sight, totally ignoring the humans in black leather running as fast as they could away from them.
Agent Rimmer grabbed his two teammembers and pulled them away, breaking the spell. "Listen, I know this job isn't easy, but if we don't want to be replaced by our upgrades, I suggest we start chasing after those rebels."
"Upgrades?" asked Cat, shocked. "How could you possibly improve on this?"
"Oh, I don't know...Duane," Rimmer said with a smirk.
"Duane Dibley?" repeated Cat. "Duane Dibley? How can they consider Duane Dibley an upgrade?"
"The same way they consider Sebastian Doyle an upgrade," grumbled Lister. "The wine-swilling, relationship-having ponce. Bet he wouldn't even stir his tea with a spanner."
"Yes...and while everyone inside the Matrix and out of it might love Ace Rimmer, Mr. I-Have-No-Fear with his spiffy blow-dry haircut, being replaced by him is not on my list of things to do today," Rimmer stated, pulling his gun and beginning the chase. "Now, if we all don't want to end up in silicon heaven, I suggest we get after those rebels."
Agents Lister and Cat looked at each other with identical expressions of determination, then pulled out their own guns and followed after him.