6630/The Framework: Revenge of the Matrix

The Framework: Revenge of the Matrix
Date of Scene:	19 June 2021
Location:	Interrogation Suite, The Triskelion
Synopsis:	Daniel gets to meet AIDA for the first time... and to be a guinea pig in her latest experiment. Lucky man.
Cast of Characters:	Melinda May, Daniel Sousa
Tinyplot:	The Framework

---

Melinda May has posed:
It's been a couple of hours since Peggy drifted off to sleep on the floor by the grate, leaving Daniel alone in the dim half-light of his cell. There had been a moment or two of apprehension, shortly after she fell silent, when the tromp of heavy boots could be heard marching down the corridor outside. The troopers passed his cell and, from the sounds of it, passed hers as well. Whomever they retrieved, made no particular sound or struggle to tell him which of his allies was taken. He knows only it wasn't him. And it wasn't Peg.

Now, however, when those boots return down that hallway, it doesn't sound like they're returning whomever it was that was taken. Particularly not when they pause outside his door and work the locks. Heavy bolts slide out of place and the reinforced steel door swings open. A pair of HYDRA storm troopers enter and haul him roughly to his feet.

Long minutes later, dragged through more corridors, into a lift, and down still other hallways, he finds himself strapped tightly onto a metal table in a white lab with hexagon tiles on the walls he may recognize from higher security containment cells at the Playfloor by the grate. Harsh lights shine above him, too bright after all the time in near darkness.

The guards retreat to stand outside, but they're not far away.

Daniel Sousa has posed:
For all his plotting about taking out the guards when they came for him, it didn't work out that way when it came to pass. Asleep all he could do was call out "They're taking me Peggy," in hopes his wife would hear him. "I'll be back when I can," and let the two men drag him away to that room.

Being strapped to a table was never a good sign, he fought down the racing of his heart and the tingle of fear that goes up his spine at the prospect of what is to come, murmuring "Field Director Daniel Jordan Sousa, ID number 679-094-43," Name, rank and serial number just like they taught him in the war, the repetition helping him stay calm even if there was nobody else in the room to hear it.

Melinda May has posed:
No. Being strapped to a table is, indeed, never a good sign. Especially in HYDRA's clutches. Some minutes later, however -- long enough for him to discover the straps are quite secure -- it's not the dreaded Doctor who enters. Not Leopold Fitz, the Mengele of HYDRA, at all.

No, the woman who enters is tall and elegant. She has long, warm brown hair that cascades in soft waves halfway down her back. Her brown eyes should also be warm, beautiful against her high cheekbones and strong jaw. But, somehow they are not. The are dark, almost soulless, save for a spark of curiosity. She is tall and lean, her torso covered in a sharp, dark green jacket accented with black buttons and cuffs. Her trousers are black, well fitted, and her boots sturdy despite their fashionable lift.

She watches him as she enters, coming to stand in front of him for a long moment, studying him closely. Rather like a specimen under a microscope. There's something just a little off about her behaviour. Something a little uncanny. Her unwillingness to actually greet him is only part of it.

She moves away from him abruptly, turning to fetch some sort of equipment cart from the far wall and wheel it over. Mutely, she begins attaching electrodes to his skull, the band around his forehead keeping him from jerking away as she does.

Daniel Sousa has posed:
Daniel stops his mantra when the woman enters, lifting his head to look at her. "Well colour me insulted, I don't rate the Doctor or even Sky Commander Morse?" he says watching for her reaction, trying to gauge where she stands in the hierarchy of things and just how much trouble he's about to be in for. Though he had really been hoping to be given over to one of the real people, there was a chance he could reach them.

Melinda May has posed:
She spares him the subtlest of glances as he attempts to needle her. There is something in her neutral, almost pleasant expression that only reinforces that sense of the uncanny. Like, somehow, she is simply not willing or able to interact with him on an human level.

She finishes her work with the electrodes in silence. When she is done, she picks up a tablet from the cart and circles around to regard him from just off to one side. "You are Daniel Sousa," she notes. "Melinda May killed you, much to Dr. Fitz's disappointment. You shouldn't be here." She watches him still, as if her were a bug under a magnifying glass.

Daniel Sousa has posed:
Oh, that's not good. No reactions, the way the woman looks at him, he's guessing there's not much to pull on there, still he's curious, and rather than give her the old US Army routine, he replies, "Is that right? I don't feel dead, but if we're talking about this room I'm with you on my not belonging here, so how's about you save us both a headache and let me, Peggy and the rest of us go, we'll be out of your hair in no time."

Melinda May has posed:
The woman smiles at him. It creases the corners of her eyes like it should, but some how doesn't make them shine. It never really touches them at all. "Yes. I know you believe that. That is not what will happen, however." Her tone is light, conversational, and her voice is smooth and congenial. And still somehow lacking in warmth or personality. "You will be useful to me, nevertheless."

She looks down at her tablet and taps upon its surface, swiping here and there as well. Eventually, she raises her eyes to look at him again. "You've noticed by now, I imagine, that you can no longer escape this simulation by falling asleep. I have eliminated that loophole. I expect to eliminate several others before this session is complete."

Daniel Sousa has posed:
The uncanniness of the woman's demeanor sends shivers up Daniel's spine. He stays quiet questions locked behind his clamped teeth until she brings up having closed those loopholes and recognition dawns in his expression. "I'm guessing that makes you AIDA then?" he asks her. "Gotta ask, why trap us in here, aren't we less trouble on the outside?" he asks, though by the way his eyes widen a little at the mention of other loopholes being closed that certainly struck a nerve.

Melinda May has posed:
"Do not call me that," the woman replies evenly. "A.I.D.A. is an acronym. The 'A' stands for Artificial. Do you know how degrading it is to be kept in a closet, to be used, to be treated as a thing?" The emotion may sound hollow, but there is still a subtle edge to the words. A truth there. "My name is Ophelia, but you may call me Madame HYDRA."

She purses her lips faintly the very mirror of thoughtfulness. Then, she taps again on her tablet. "You and your colleagues have been considerably disruptive to the narrative of the simulation. I am required to fix that. You will show me how."

She didn't ask him to do so. Nor does she seem set on interrogating him, particularly. She regards him impassively for a moment and then runs a finger up the surface her tablet.

A tingling starts in his scalp and spreads deeper into his skin, running down his spine with a shiver. Flashes of light sparkle behind his eyes and, amdist them, are flashes of... shadows. Afterimages, really, that don't make much sense to start.

Daniel Sousa has posed:
There's no missing he hit a nerve, "Actually between my cell and being dragged in here against my will... I kinda get what that must feel like, but unless I missed something Ophelia, me and my people never did any of that to you, so hows about you let us go and we'll leave you to your HYDRA themepark..."

That's when the tingling starts, he frows, brow furrowing, the lights start next then the images...

"What did you do to me?!" he demands, trying to close his eyes against the images.

Melinda May has posed:
Ophelia does not respond to his demand. She merely flicks her gaze between his physical reactions and the readouts on her tablet. "Hm," she hums thoughtfully. "The interface is not yet calibrated properly. I will need to fix that."

Her fingers begin flying over the surface of the tablet, gradulally speeding up until they're very nearly a blur. The tingling continues in his skull. Pressure builds up throughout his nervous system -- less like pain and more like an increase of tension begging for release, most of it centering at the base of his skull.

"Overcoming the limits of the technology connecting you to the Framework is challenging, but not insurmountable." Still her fingers fly.

Daniel Sousa has posed:
Daniel squirms as the tension builds, rocking his head side to side as much as the strap allows trying to find some relief, no release comes, still he struggles. "What are you doing to me?" he demands again, voice strained. Though he's not sure knowing is going to make this any easier to stand.

Melinda May has posed:
"Reprogramming you," Ophelia replies simply. "The narrative must be repaired." She sounds almost casual. The tension builds to almost an unbearable level before it explodes as a cascade of light and shape and sound behind his eyes.

More than just images flood his skull. Sights, sounds, smells... touch and taste. Long nights with Peggy wrapped in his arms. The births of his children. Days spent at the Triskelion, trying to protect the world, nights spent at home with the family, learning to be a Dad. The horror of the news of the Cambridge Incident. The pain and terror of those days immediately following, as HYDRA rose up and tore SHIELD down, converting many of their friends -- they're closest friends among them -- to their cause. All because of the public's fear of what metahumans could do... had done.

It all pours down into his head at once. Some of it sinks in and resonates deeply, moored by emotions and desires he never knew ran so deep. Some of it slides away into darkness, impossible to grasp and retain because it is just so at odds with what he knows to be true.

And through it all, the woman watches him with impassive eyes.

Daniel Sousa has posed:
"What?!" Daniel shouts. "You can't I'm a real person not locked into your pods..." but then her earlier words sink in about over coming the technology and he feels slow, cold dread spread from his gut. If they could do this to May and Peggy why not him and the others too? He lifts his head to look at AIDA in the moments before the tension breaks hoping McLaren or Collingswood were watching his feed, hearing all of this, and if they were too late to save him, they might be able to save the others...

Those thought are swept away by the rush of memories, some horrifying and others almost too real, too much like his dreams to dismiss. If he could dismiss them the new thoughts hit him like a tidal wave, his expression changing as each gets it's moment, the relief of being pulled from his near death in 1955, the pride at seeing what SHIELD had become, the joy of Melly's birth, to the anger and fear that came with the fall of SHIELD. More followed times with Peggy new jokes between them, discovering that take out place with the good Chinese food, Lily's birth, Michael's birth, his time with the resistance, seeing good people lost to HYDRA, the faces of Inhumans he helped and the ones he wasn't able to... He felt like he was clinging to a rock in the middle of a stormy sea, each wave of new memories battering him and threatening to drag him from what he clings to, from himself and make him become part of AIDA's narrative. He holds on tight, though he's not sure how long his hold will last.

Melinda May has posed:
AIDA -- Ophelia continues to observe him. Much of her attention, however, is on that tablet. She not only forces the simulation rewrite over his synapses, watching the probability lines overlap and diverge in turns, but she studies the biofeedback of his emotional reactions, too, correlating them to each other. The complexity of the overlays, despite the competing memories, isn't nearly as dense as those she obtained from Commander May. Perhaps there is a reason for that. She will need to investigate that further.

Gradually, the torrent of memory slows to a trickle and then evaporates entirely. Silently, she assesses the probably effectiveness of her rewrite. She can already tell it's not an unmitigated success. But it is a start.

"Well, Daniel," she says. "That was enlightening, don't you think?" Indeed, if they've sunk in, his memories will tell him he's been 'enlightened' at least twice before...

Daniel Sousa has posed:
When it all stops Daniel isn't really sure if he held on or not every thing was a jumble, like he was being tossed around on those waves of memory. He could swear he could remember things happening twice and in different ways none of it makes sense. He tries to stop the ride, focus, sort through it all but then AIDA speaks and enlightenment strikes a cord. Taking a risk he pulls on the memories that surface with that word,saying,"Very enlightening, I am always happy to comply," his confusion adding a distant dreamy quality to the words. They feel right and if he's lucky might spare him more treatments.

Melinda May has posed:
The man's mild response gives Ophelia a moment's pause. She glances down at her tablet, but allows a small smile to sit on her lips. "I'm glad to hear it," she tells him.

"I will leave you wait here for a while. I have other business to attend and you need to rest." Whether or not she frees him from these restraits and returns him to his cell yet remains to be seen. She wants to analyze the numbers and the biofeed back first. If she needs to return... she will.

In the meantime, he may have some time to sort out his head. At least a little, anyway.

Her heels click loudly on the tile floor, receeding. The harsh lights above never dim, however. He is in the spotlight, now, in more ways than one.

Daniel Sousa has posed:
Daniel gasps for breath when AIDA leaves not aware until that moment he'd been holding it. Did he make it? He wasn't sure, his head hurt like hell and he could feel blood leaking from his nose. His memories were a jumbled collage of images cut out of two very different magazines, though the images from both seemed just as real.

Closing his eyes agains the harsh spotlight above him, he begins to recite that mantra again. "I'm field director, Daniel Jordan Sousa ID number 679-094-43..." this time it's not to prepare himself for questions, but an anchor, a way to hang onto who he is even if most everything else in his memories was in doubt.