Looking
"Hello there, Mr. Cain."
"We're looking for someone."
"We think you know where he is."
Cain grinned inside his cage.
"How would I know?" Cain replied.
Deep under the Chatue Cain sat inside his cage, his prison cell, like the wolf he was. Within the twists and turns of the dungeons he was left in. This dungeon where there was no light, and no sure way of getting out. This place where the Merovingian puts his troubles.
"So how did you find yourself here again, Cain?"
Cain looked out into the shadows, where the voices came.
"I've been a very bad Werewolf. Got in a dog fight with Cujo." Cain said, smiling.
Then they come from the shadows of the dungeon, smiling in their perfect suits.
"So what's new, Jonesy, and Brownie?" Cain mocks.
"Shut it, Wolf boy." Jones says.
"Do you know where he is?" Brown asks.
The two of them stand above Cain, who sits on his little bench licking his wounds.
"I haven't see him, Brown." Cain says.
"Really? The Mero didn't lock him up did he? Or put him in the Train Station?" Brown asks.
Cain says nothing.
"Look we're all you have now, Cain." Jones says, referring to the death of Abel.
"Shut up, you Bastard!" Cain yells.
"It's the truth, Cain. You know it is." Brown said.
Cain and Abel, together as werewolves under the Merovingian. They were all they had together in the hundreds of years and versions of the Matrix. They were together as Agents, the first version of Agents, they were together in Exile, and they were together in the Chatue. But not anymore. Persephone killed Abel, shot him with a silver bullet.
"That bitch killed him..." Cain made a fist.
"We're trying to help you, Cain." Jones said.
"Just tell us if you've seen him." Brown said.
Cain took a moment.
"He's not here. Not anywhere. But the Merovingian is keeping his eye out for him. I'll tell you if we find him." Cain said.
"Thank you." Brown said.
"We're trying to put the family back together...As much of it as we can." Jones said.
"What if he's really dead?" Cain asked.
"He's not." Brown snapped.
"Yeah, just like Abel isn't dead." Cain spat at them.
"He's not dead!" Brown yelled.
And Cain looked away.
"We should go." Jones said.
"Fine." Brown said.
Brown turned his back on Cain, while Jones looked at him.
"We'll be back for you soon, Cain." Jones said.
Then Cain was left alone in his cage, with no light, no Abel, no suit.
lllllllllllllllll
"Smith! Smith!" Brown moved to the other side of the rooftop. "Smith! Smith!"
Jones stared at Brown, calling for Smith to finally return to them. Calling at the top of his lungs, into the city. This is after the war. After peace has been settled. After Smith is gone.
"Do you really think that will work?" Jones asked.
"It's worth a try." Brown said. "Smith!"
"Is it?" But Brown didn't her him.
Jones looked up into the sky at the fake stars, and into the fake city. The lights of the city far greater than the light of the stars. Jones really wondered if Smith was out there.
"We should go inside." Jones said.
Brown looked back at him and nodded. Jones opened the door for him, as they went down the stairs and into the abandon building that was the Heart O' The City Hotel. And Jones follows Brown as they walk to room 303, where even now blood stains its walls.
"I thought he would be here." Brown said.
Brown then leaned against the wall, across from the blood.
"We just have to keep looking." Jones said.
And Brown took off his sunglasses, and stared at the blood. Pleading to the walls, they'd tell him something.
And Jones stared at Brown, worried.
It wasn't easy after Smith left, after Mr. Anderson killed him. It wasn't easy as they waited and waited for him to return, and he never did. It was hard, being without the one person that always knew what to do. Smith, their leader.
It was hard running away without him.
Figuring out that they had a choice, they could run like him. Then learning how to run, how to run away from Agents just like they had always done to others.
It was hard learning to live without a purpose.
It was hard looking for Smith when they left. And when they finally found him, he killed them. And turn them into himself.
It's hard still looking for him, even after all he's done to them.
But they need him, they don't know a life without him, and they won't accept a life without him.
Or at least Brown wouldn't...
Brown after all, was the one that felt the need for protection. The smaller, weaker one of the Agents. He learned early on he was not as strong as Jones or Smith. And as time went by, he learned Smith was very different from him or Jones.
They both learned that. They both saw it, they both realized how...different Smith was. How much stronger he was. And that is why they allowed him to become their leader. They couldn't object anyway, they didn't know how to yet.
And they didn't know how to ask him to stay, how to tell him they needed him, as he began to run away from them into Exile.
They didn't have anyone to teach them when he left, so they had to learn by themselves.
It was hard to wander aimlessly, thinking individual thoughts that held no purpose behind them, it scared them really.
And this new world that has come. This peace between man and machine, still scares them. But now, as they have come to see Smith has fallen, they are sure he is scared as well.
They just want their leader back. They just want to be together again, like they've always been.
So they search. Every alley, every building, every short cut they look for him. Smith who has always been different from them, who has always walked away, or pushed them away. They still need him.
"What if he's really dead?" Jones asks.
And Jones, the stronger of the Agents, was always the one that never said anything, and left his mind to think. To think and never say. He finally sees maybe he should begin to speak. For the one person he has ever bothered to protect, for Brown.
Brown looks at him, shocked.
"Don't say that..." Brown begins.
"I'm merely saying, maybe this is a lost caused." Jones tries to put it lightly.
"Don't say that!" Brown yells.
"But he may not be here..."
"Has he ever died!? Jones!? Every time we've watched him die, he comes back!"
"Brown..."
"He's alive! You and I both know that!"
Jones stares at Brown.
"All right, Brown. He's alive." Jones was then quiet again.
llllllllllllll
"Hello there, Mr. Johnson."
"We're looking for someone."
"We think you know where he is."
Johnson loads his Desert Eagle Gun.
"You will address me as Agent Johnson, Exiles." Johnson demanded.
The Exiles had lead the three Agents into a long abandon construction zone. Buildings that should have become buildings reside there. And it is there that somehow Johnson had lost the others, Thompson and Jackson. Well actually, he started running after the Exiles, leaving Thompson and Jackson behind.
Johnson walks down a hallway, there is little light, and moon of the night sky doesn't help. He saw the two Exiles run this direction, and hear the echoes of their voices and footsteps. This will be simple.
It's always simple, for the greatest Agent since Smith.
He turns a corner, ready to fire his gun. But he feels one pressed against his forehead.
Jones smiles.
"Drop it." Jones commands him.
Johnson takes a moment, and motions towards his gun.
"Come now Johnson, you're fast, but you aren't that fast." Brown points his gun at him.
"Drop it." Jones repeats.
And Johnson drops his precious Desert Eagle.
"Good." Jones tells him.
"Where's Tommy and Jacky?" Brown asks.
Johnson turns his head, and looks at Brown in a way that reminded him of Smith.
"Excuse me, Thompson and Jackson." Brown mocks.
"I think he ran away from them." Jones smiles.
"Really? Remind you of someone, Mr. Jones?" Brown asks.
"Very so, Mr. Brown."
Johnson ignores them, they're just Exiles. That's all, they have no idea what they're talking about. They're lost without a purpose. Lost without their connection to the Mainframe, they don't know what to do or what they're saying. They're Exiles, that's all. Merely last year's model. He's above such inferior things.
"Just like Smith." Brown says.
"What?" Johnson snaps.
They're comparing Johnson to him? Him? The Virus? The disgrace upon the Mainframe, upon all Agents? How dare they, how could they?
"Don't you dare compare me to him." Johnson said, perhaps too emotional.
"Where is he, Johnson?" Brown asked him.
"Do you have him?" Jones asked.
"Where's Smith, Johnson?"
Johnson doesn't say a thing, and Jones presses the gun harder on his head.
"Where is he?" Brown repeats.
And something makes Johnson feel as if he doesn't want to experience death.
"I don't know." Johnson admits.
"Lies!" Brown yells.
"I. Don't. Know." Johnson turns to him.
"You don't have him locked up in the interrogation room, or already in the Source?" Jones asks.
"No. Smith is acclaimed dead." Johnson said.
"Don't you mean, deleted?" Brown interrupts.
Johnson glares at him.
"The Mainframe is scanning for his last known signature code constantly. So far nothing has been found. He is gone." Johnson says.
"You remind me so much of him." Brown says.
Then little Former Agent Brown, the one that never fought, never stood up by himself, grabbed Johnson by the face, and turned it to look at his profile, just as he had observed Smith do in interrogations.
"It's true isn't it? Thompson has a bit of me in him. Jackson as a bit of Jones. And you. You have Smith inside you." Brown said, taunting the Agent.
"Let go of me." Johnson said.
"Is that anger I sense in those words?" Brown asked.
"Let go of me!"
"Why are you shouting? What's wrong?"
"Let go of me!"
Jones grabbed Brown.
"That's enough." Jones said.
"You're going to be just like him Johnson. Then you'll see! You'll understand!" Brown pointed.
Johnson stood there, holding his face where Brown had grabbed him. He stared at Brown, and felt what Smith once felt. Hatred.
"We should go." Jones said.
Brown stared at Johnson for a moment, then nodded at Jones. Then they ran into the rest of Exile.
llllllllllllll
"They won't find him that way." Brown said.
"Why not?"
"Because they're scanning for his last signature code. He's most likely reverted back to his original self like we reverted back after he copied us. So he doesn't have the signature of a Virus anymore, but an Agent." Brown explained.
Jones stared at him, not believing those words.
"He's alive." Brown said, and started walking ahead.
And Jones stared at the only person he had cared for, and had ever cared for him. And inside Jones felt worried and sad for his fellow former Agent. But of course, Jones won't say anything, Jones never does.
He killed them, he copied them, but they still need him. They'll still look for him.
Who knows, maybe Smith is really out there. Lying on the floor to weak to move. Just waiting for them to find him.