Author's Notes: Excuse the pun but pardon my french.
Disclaimer: The Matrix and its characters are the property of Brothers Warner and Wachowski. Any new ones are mine. Hurray for me.
Smith stood for a moment after coming through the door from the street, the overly decorative lobby holding his attention for a moment as he recalled the last time he had been here. In many ways that visit had been the start of everything.
The trio descended in silence, each one content to listen to the hum of the mainframe through the wires they all wore. Smith himself concentrated on the numerous police reports, filtering them, searching for anything in them that would bring him closer to Morpheus, closer to Zion.
"The configuration of this construct has been altered," Agent Brown noted aloud, his hand brushing lightly against one of the walls as if testing it somehow.
Smith frowned slightly at this vocal intrusion but still elected to give the structure around them his full attention, seeing now what Brown had already noticed. Hidden in the seemingly benign code that defined the very walls were more malicious alterations that could only have come from a program that had existed in the matrix for some time.
"The alterations are of no consequence," Smith stated definitively, "Ignore them."
Brown's hand returned to his side and he faced forward once again as the elevator came to a halt and the doors slid open, allowing them into a large open area where a number of individuals, both programs and humans sat eating. Smith's attention however went straight to the large and long wooden table that sat at the back of the room, where their quarry waited for them.
Stepping forward in perfect concert, the three agents made their way to the table, their passing noted by more then a few of the patrons, some already making preparations to leave. Smith ignored them all, his entire being focused on the program in front of him, the elusive and fabled Merovingian. The program appeared as a middle-aged male, finely dressed and surrounded by a large number of armed guards, the majority of which registered as exiles also.
He rose as the trio arrived, his arms spread wide in greeting, "Ah bonjour mes amis. I wasn't sure if the system would accept my invitation," he said gesturing to a single seat on the opposite side of the table to his own large seat.
Smith considered the chair for a moment before finally sitting down, Jones and Brown seemingly content to stand attentively behind him.
The Merovingian took his own seat and observed his guests for a moment before he continued, his rich voice dominating all others in the room.
"Regardez cherie," he stated to a young woman dressed entirely in white who sat at his side, "the system deemed us important enough to send not one, but three agents." He considered this for a moment before offering a broad smile, "It would almost appear that it does not trust us."
This elicited a laugh from his assembled court while Smith simply sat in stony silence, unimpressed by the Merovingian's display of apparent wit. Seeing that he was not going to get an easy rise from the Agents, he took up a glass from the table and swallowed a mouthful of its contents. Returning the glass to its place, he gestured towards Smith in a casual manner, like they were old friends.
"If I am not mistaken, you are Smith."
Despite himself, Smith frowned slightly, not expecting to be picked out from others of his kind.
"Surprised Agent? Don't be. As the foremost trafficker of information within this…world, I am aware of every bit and byte that I can be. Certainly I am aware of the exploits of Agent Smith, a singularly efficient and particularly ruthless Agent. Oh yes, I've heard of you. It pleases me that the system sent you. It means that though it does not trust me, it takes me seriously."
Smith determined that this program would talk all day if it were allowed to, so he elected to intercede, not content to not have control of the conversation. His own voice was calm and level in contrast to that of the Merovingian's theatrical rise and fall.
"If you know who I am, then you know that my time is valuable. In your communication you stated you had something of value concerning the rebel Morpheus."
"Straight and to the point, I would expect no more from an Agent of the system. What do you think dear?" he asked his partner, who had watched the interchange silently.
"They all act so predictably," she responded in a manner that suggested nothing but boredom.
Smith regarded the woman briefly, just long enough for her to register as an exile, a fact he passed on silently to his partners. Behind him, Brown was already compiling threat assessments for the entire room while Jones continually scanned for trouble.
"You will have to forgive Persephone. She does not share my love of spectacle."
"The information." Smith interjected.
The Merovingian practically pouted for a moment. It seemed that no one wanted to play with him today.
"I have a name. A Mister Reagan, a rebel who serves aboard the same ship as your precious Morpheus. He goes by the hacker alias Cipher."
"This…Cipher is already known to us," Smith informed him.
"Naturally, but I also have a particular number which he will contact at a particular hour in order to discuss a deal that he believes will be mutually beneficial to both him and the system."
Smith sat back in his chair. This certainly was a new development. Still, there had to be a catch, there always was. He asked the only question that mattered.
"And what is in this for you?"
The Merovingian smiled at him. "Mr Reagan has already paid in full. From you I expect nothing but…a future courtesy perhaps."
Smith's eyes narrowed behind his dark glasses.
The Merovingian's smile disappeared quickly, the expectant excitement of swapping barbs with an Agent not turning out to at all as thrilling as he hoped. He reached into an inner pocket and retrieved a card which he proffered forth to Smith who took it greedily before scaning it eerily for a few seconds.
"Now if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have other important business to attend to."
He gestured towards the door, any pretence of friendship vanishing instantly. As Smith rose to leave, the Merovingian couldn't help himself and he added loudly.
"If you ever need anything else, just call the Maitre d' and I'll make sure he gets you a nice table, maybe something by a window."
His guards laughed again, more loudly this time, as they were now comfortable in the knowledge that the Agents weren't going to give them any trouble.
Smith turned and regarded the Merovingian in the same manner he had to done to the card a few moments before. With one hand behind his back he addressed the table in a tone that sounded not unlike an elder passing on a wise observation.
"In this…spirit of communication let me give you something in return."
The Merovingian arched an eyebrow in interest, his attention held by the Agent, who continued, gesturing with his free hand.
"Deep within the system there exists a file that contains the complete list of directives that will be issued once this Zion problem is dealt with. Not too far from the top of this list is the operation to begin the systematic elimination of all outstanding exile programs of which you are the most prominent. So rest assured, I will be calling on you again."
Smith smiled benignly at him before turning and leaving with his fellow agents.
The Merovingian scowled, unimpressed by the Agent's threat. He had been living with the threat of deletion for almost as long as the Matrix was in existence. Agents were like the seasons in this place, they came and went but meant nothing in the long run.
The Maitre d' looked up as the former Agent approached his desk.
"Puis-je vous aider?"
"Yes…I'm here to see the Merovingian," Smith informed him with the slightest of smiles, not bothering to share the private joke with this excuse for a program.