It was an unseasonably sunny day in downtown Sydney, Australia, the Matrix. Two agents stood on a rooftop surveying the city below. A third approached.
“The code has been scanned. All traces of the warheads have been isolated and deleted. Every one of these Grigori seems to have died instantly,” the approaching agent reported.
“The matrix is safe,” another responded.
“This is the second time in recent memory someone from Zion has contacted an agent. This was a credible threat. Should we consider what this other informant has to say?” the first agent said
“Perhaps,” came the monotone third agent as he continued to look out over the city. The midday sun shimmered off the black rims of his sunglasses. “These humans are weak. We cannot understand their motivation for alerting us to this most recent threat, but the blatant self-preservation of the informant is exploitable.”
He turned and faced his partners. “Return contact. Offer re-entry. The sooner Zion falls, the sooner this prison becomes unnecessary.”