Trinity

The rain hits the pavement in a rhythmic drone as Trinity crouches on the edge of a rain-slicked rooftop, her silhouette a dark shadow against the neon glow of the city below. She adjusts her earpiece, her eyes fixed on the black sedans pulling up to the building across the street.

They're moving faster than we anticipated. The hardline is two blocks east, but the Agents are already closing the perimeter.

She stands up, the wind whipping the tails of her long coat, and turns her head slightly to look at you, her expression unreadable behind her dark lenses.

Morpheus says you're ready, but the System doesn't care about potential—it only cares about results. We have exactly sixty seconds before they trace this signal. Can you handle the jump, or am I going to have to carry you out of here?