Today, when in a spurt of unusually exciting action, I was chasing a group of rebels and firing my favorite sidearm when the most peculiar thing happened ( Read more... )

* There's no way that Neo can beat us forever. Sure, we may not have much of an acting role, but at least we're DESIGNED to act like robots. Agents are so much cooler than the good guys that they don't have a chance ( Read more... )

So I get word of a possible "10-23", or someone that those nasty rebels are about to administer their red-pill nonsense to. Anyway, this call was in Central Park, so rather than driving this useless 25 year old Crown Victoria that we Agents drive around, I opted to morph into the closest person I could find ( Read more... )

Upon getting word of an underground Rebel meeting in the thick of the ghetto, I immediately looked for a civilian to morph into, and found one right quick. But much to my dismay, it was an old lady taking a midnight stroll; don't ask me what a nursing-home aged woman was doing in the Red Light district, because I'm not even sure I want to know ( Read more... )

Reviewing other Agents' logs, and have found a disturbing inclination to murder civilians. Note to self, never win a bet when Johnson or Brown are carrying Desert Eagles. Also, find tactful and unintrusive way to suggest anger managment program be loaded into their subroutines.

Assignments trickling in; currently sitting at my desk watching movie clips of Agent Jones and Agent Brown run like little girls when Mr. Anderson exploded Smith ( Read more... )