"The Sky is Crying"
As the last human was copied, a dark smile spread across his face. No one was left that could stop Smith. No one could. Because he knows. He knows that he wins. He had seen it himself, through her eyes. The end to the war, the Matrix... of Mr. Anderson. Yes... he had seen his victory. Everything is his and no one can take that from him.
One by one, he and his copies left the building and one by one they lined up on the streets. They lined up in the buildings, on the buildings, anywhere they could. All facing the center of one street. Waiting.
A tear fell, fresh and pure, from the sky. A single tear of water. It fell onto one copies' shoe and slid of, forming a minuscule puddle on the dry road. Soon more tears followed, creating a waterfall of tears from the sky. Each one hit with it's own sad note, pit pat pit pat pit pat pit pat; a relentless mantra that pounded in his ears.
The sky cries for him. He doesn't know it, but it is crying. It cried the day he was created, for it knew the destiny that awaited him. It cries now because it knows what will happen. It understands and reflects the turmoil that is inside him, that he unknowingly refuses to acknowledge. It knows it isn't fair, it knows that it is inevitable. It knows what will happen and Smith doesn't see it. Blind with stolen eyes; he can't.
So he waits. Waits for the inevitable. Standing in the rain, burning with anticipation.
Pit pat pit pat...