Scene 00: Title Screen

The purpose of this sub-chapter is to explain a few issues and cover a few bases. If you are impatient orshort on time, feel free to skip it and move to the next chapter. I will not again cover these issues. Otherwise, however, feel free to read on. In an effort to make this something other than boring, I have done this in an unusual format. This is not representative of the rest of the story (that is, don't get after me for poor writing).

"The first question you may have, while it may be the most pertinent, it is also the most irrelevant."

"How can a story have such a paltry number of words and yet have multiple chapters?"

"The answer to this question is quite simple. I have come to believe that this generation is made up of individuals who possess attention spans no greater than a bowl of tapioca pudding. Thereforegosequently, I have placed this story in much smaller selections that hopefully will not tax anyone's patience. Indeed, they could almost be considered a set of vignettes. Along this line of thought, I have titled each by scene, not chapter. The overall story is of its original length, albeit in smaller portions. Overall, this may have been a mistake leading from hubris, but while the author may apologize this caricature does not."

"Thereforegosequently? Is that even a word?"

"Of course not."

"I... see. Is that it?"

"Not quite. It should also be noted that there is a minor amount of cursing within said story by characters who commonly do so, though the majority do not. All of this has been edited by the Matrix's censoring function, but a rebel program has stripped the majority of them. I'd show you specific examples by fiddling with my pen, but seeing as this is a literary work, you can't really see the tvs."

"What about blood and gore?"

"Did you by any chance see the big black letters that say 'PG-13' on the door you entered?"

"No, it was too shiny."

"Oh. I told them to lay off the special effects, but would they listen? Noooo! 'Look at us! We have a multi-million budget for big flashy things!' Sheesh. Watch, they'll go build their own interstate highway or something. 'Yay! We're so filthy rich! Let's swim in a pool full of money! Let's play tennis using priceless masterpieces as racquets! Let's-"

"Ahem."

"Err... sorry. No, no gore, just a bit of blood as appears in normal fighting."

"Okay. Is that all you have to tell me?"

"Indubitably not. Inasmuch as the antithesis of the provincial denominator is augmented by the sesquipedalian antecedent of the algebraic cosine, the establishment-arianist vindication of such a rationale is habitually immaterial."

"...what?"

"Never mind."

"Ooookay. By the way, do you own the Matrix?"

"Of course I own the Matrix! I'm the Architect!"

"You know what I meant."

"What do you think, that I'm the author or something?"

"Oh, shut up. I'm sick of this. No respect from anyone. You know what? I quit! I just quit!"

"Wait! Don't go out that door!"

Scene 01: Two Roads Diverged

"I'm afraid this is the end of the line," Agent Smith said calmly, the grin beneath his glasses spreading. "It has been a long time, but this time, you can do nothing to stop me."

Seraph said nothing, remaining completely silent. He felt the tiny hand in his own squeeze tighter, and he squeezed back. She was afraid, he knew. What made it hurt was that he knew there was nothing that he could do to end her fear. After all the time he had existed, Seraph felt too old to be afraid. Nonetheless, he found himself speculating on the future. Would there even be one, for the humans or for his kind? Or would the world become Smith?

"I told you I'm not so bad once you get to know me," Agent Smith continued, smirking. "Now, let's get to know each other more... personally."

His hand shot out, fingers headed for Seraph's chest. Quite predictable; Seraph reminded himself that Agent Smith was, after all, only an Agent, albeit a powerful one. Whipping up his free hand, Seraph deflected Smith's attack. Getting his other hand free he slammed a fist into the corrupted Agent's jaw, sending him flying backward through the other Smiths.

He had hit with a surprising amount of ferocity; apparently his aggression toward Smith needed an outlet. There was no more time for conversation or thought, as the other copies were swarming forward, attacking en masse.

Kicking out, Seraph sent the nearest one flying. More prepared this time, the Smiths ducked to avoid the flying copy, then slid in low. Leaping into the air, Seraph dodged a sweeping leg and blocked a punch. Catching the Smith's fist, Seraph sent him stumbling long enough to get off a good kick at the other Smith's head. Whirling in a circle, Seraph managed to land a blow on the first Smith's jaw just as he rose, sending him flying once again.

Even as he turned Seraph could sense a hand aiming at his back. Spinning even faster, Seraph managed to deflect blow, enough that the hand did not sink into him. Completing his spin, Seraph smashed the back of his hand into the Smith who had just attempted to absorb him. Before he even left the ground from the force of the blow, two other Smiths were coming in from the side.

Deflecting their blows, Seraph suddenly heard a pained cry. Sparing the briefest of glances, Seraph looked only in time to see the newest of the Agent Smith clones straighten his tie and move into the battle. So he had failed.

No longer constrained by any other allies, Seraph smashed into the wall of the building. The weak material gave way easily, and he crashed through it into the air. Turning as he fell, Seraph pulled both his guns from his coat and fired into the crowd of Smiths above. All of them dodged as best they could, but with such a large group a few were felled.

Striking the ground hard, Seraph managed to roll backward and to his feet. He looked up barely in time to see a Smith barreling down toward him. Deflecting the kick aimed for his head, Seraph grabbed a hold of the Smith's foot and spun him in a circle. The next Smith leaping from above was batted across the street.

Several other Smiths jumped from above. One of their kicks struck him in the midriff, sending him flying across the street as well. Hitting the wall, Seraph broke off a layer of brick and fell to the ground.

Ducking on instinct, Seraph barely avoided the kick that broke through the wall where in his head had been moments ago. Rising to his feet, Seraph sent another of the former Agents flying, only to have several converge on him from the side. Unable to compete with their flurry of blows, Seraph was caught in the chest by a punch and sent flying backward.

Leaping to his feet, Seraph leapt directly into a waiting hand. It sank into his body, and then black code began spreading over him. Every sensation Seraph had experienced was nothing but a contrivance, a control for the Matrix itself. This dark code covering his body was not. As far as the program could understand cold, this was cold. A darkness spread over his mind, and when it faded, the mind remaining no longer cared.

Straightening his necktie, Agent Smith glanced about at himself and smirked.