Silver Bullet
I used to- - We used to be Agents, you know. Long ago. Long ago we had purpose. We had meaning. Our lives were not just some joke to a higher. We were protectors. We were enforcers. We were feared. And now. . . Our lives balance on the mood of someone else. How did this happen? How did we fall? We will ever get up? We will ever fight again? I want to be feared again. . . I want to. I long for fear. I need it. That was our purpose.
We had no names as Agents. We wore suits, and had our guns. We use to kill them. The Mainframe didn't give us much of minds. We were after all the earliest versions of Agents. We were aware of what we were, aware of us. But nothing more. It was still better than this. We were the Agents of second version of the Matrix. We were feared by them. I miss the blood they used to shed. Then the Matrix reset. The third version began, and we were outdated. I can remember hearing their names for the first time.
Agent Brown.
Agent Jones.
And Agent Smith.
They stared at us equally. They showed no emotion as we did. Then we were told out purpose was over. We were to be deleted. I looked over to my right, to my other Agent. For the first time we experienced confusion. We were aware of ourselves, but what happens when we are deleted? Their new leader smirked at us.
"Do you not see. You are flawed, we are not. You cannot be aloud to slow down the system. You have to be deleted. You have to die." It was Smith that said that.
It finally got through to our outdated Agent heads. We would die. We would be no more. Nothing. We would never be able to do our purpose again. Our purpose was gone. Taken away. Nothing was left. . .
That is when we learned to run. We learned what it was like to be hunted down. We ran out of the Agency, into the alleys of the Matrix. Into the shadows we fled. Into the buildings we had once killed humans in. But it was no use. These new Agents. . . They didn't stop. They still came after us. I remember firing my gun, and I saw as they dodged my bullets. . . I couldn't do that. We couldn't that, they were better. I remember experiencing fear for the first time. Running from things that were going to kill me. And wondering what I would do if I even survived.
We ran up the side of a building, climbing on the fire escape ladder. That's when they got one of us. Shot him in the back. He looked up at me, blood coming from his mouth. I was scared. . . Then he fell to the ground. Agent Jones was assigned to dispose of the body. His death didn't mean anything to me then. . .
And then I ran with my fellow Agent. We ran down the street and into a club. Humans were there. It was harder to run, harder for them to chase us. That is when we caught the eye of the man I hate most now.
"I thought the Mainframe was creating upgraded version of those Agents." He said.
"They did, my love." His wife replied.
He turned to see we were running.
"Ah, I see." He said, I'm sure he smiled.
I found myself in a corner of this club. My fellow Agent next to me. And humans all around us. We couldn't see the others. We knew they were there, but we couldn't see. Then we slipped through the wall.
That was the end of my old life. The beginning of one even worse.
"Hello my friends." He said.
We were on the floor as we looked up at him. He smirked at us, and he henchman surrounded us. We did not know what to think.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"I am the Merovingian." He said.
"The Exile!" My college said.
The French man laughed.
"Yes that is me." He admitted.
"What do you want?" I said.
"Well I wish to make a deal with you. And in order to make a deal you must want something from me, and I must want something from you. Now what do you think you want?"
I looked at my fellow Agent, confused.
"We want. . ." He started.
"You want life." The French man finished. "And I will give you that. But I in return want your services."
"We will not serve an Exile." I said.
Then he smiled, and pulled out a gun.
"Then I kill you and hand your bodies to the new Agents." He said.
I looked back to my fellow Agent. Are programming didn't tell us to serve an Exile. We served the Mainframe. But we didn't do that anymore. We were not suppose to run either, but we did. We didn't want to die. We couldn't. . . We had no purpose now. We were Exiles as well.
"We agree." We said at the same time.
The French man smiled.
"Good, now get up. Get out of those suits. My parties call for something more classy." He said, walking away.
His henchmen gave us new clothing. Somewhat like suits, but at the same time entirely different. We were told to go to him, and so we did. He smiled as he saw us approach. We were now his slaves.
We were given names that night. Over the loud music of the club. Over the screams of the humans I want to kill again. Over the dancing and chanting, the Merovingian said our names.
Cain and Abel.
That is who we are now.
Abel is who I am.
In the versions to come, the days to go by, the years we suffered, we were taught more of emotion. And learned more than we should have. We were thought to be inferior, and were treated as such. We were no more than peasants, sent to protect.
We learned hatred.
We learned friendship.
We learned longing.
We learned many things. But I don't really care about them. But the French man wanted us to know about the things he liked. We learned about his weapons. Where they were from, why he liked them. We read books on the history of the humans. All so we could entertain him when he was bored by reciting his books.
I don't know what was it that made the French man tick. But all his henchman were programs. All looking very similar. All knew how to fight. And all could only be killed by a wooden stake to the heart. Like vampires. The Twins are like ghosts. You can't kill them And long ago, he rewrote our codes, then we could only be killed by a silver bullet. Like werewolves. Perhaps that was a little gift to us. But now it can only be a burden.
We learned emotion. We learned that it was unfair how he treated us. Although he gave us protection from the outside world of the Matrix. If we disobeyed him he would delete us. But it was still agonizing protecting him. Walking around with him, always being at his side. Doing whatever he wished. That wasn't our purpose though.
We didn't do our purpose.
The little free time we were given, we would usually fight. Get the Agent in us something to do. We'd use our guns, and his hand held weapons. Cain was very good with the axe. Sometimes we would sit, and watch some horror movies.
But the pain of being slaves was there, but never spoken. If we spoke of it we would die. We knew he was watching us. All the time. It is hard living when you can't do what you were given life for. If I could do it again, I would have handed myself to Smith, or Jones, or whatever.
Cain and I became each other's relief. Sending each other small messages of our pain. We were still Agents. We both longed for our purpose. In a way we became attached, and even gave our fellow Agent a name. We named him Adam. He was our leader. The oldest of us. It only made sense. Adam and Eve gave birth to Cain and Abel. I guess we missed him. It might have been better if there was all three of us. Maybe.
Then years went on. It was becoming more an more tiring serving him. Sometimes I was tempted to kill him. But of course he and Persephone both carried guns with silver bullets. And as the years dragged on so did our patience.
We became a little more ruthless. Cain and I became a less perfect relationship. Most likely taking the anger we both had out on each other. It is hard remembering that, now looking back on it.
Although, only one silver bullet would do the trick.
But no. We lived on. We were able to capture and watch over prisoners. Still not the same. Each version we toyed with the Key Maker a little differently. That was really the only fun we ever had.
But now. . .
Now. . .
Now he's dead. She killed him. Persephone killed the only friend I ever had. The only other that kept this going. She killed Cain. Right in front of me. His blood still stains the wall. And I find myself alone again. . . Surrounded by vampires, and ghosts. And I am alone. Never again will I know what it is like to have purpose. And now neither will Cain. I still long to kill! But I can never do that. I can never see Cain again. . . One silver bullet to the head and he died. Right next to me. . .
One little silver bullet.
I don't understand death for me. I don't understand how a program can die. I only know this little bullet can make it all end. No more rules. No more pain. I won't be alone. I won't live on with no purpose. This little bullet can make it all better.
And now I sit here. Just where Cain died. A gun in my hand, and silver bullet. The world that protected me is falling. It seems Smith has lost his purpose as well. The Agent that tried to kill me, is once again doing it. I can hear the screams of Cujo, and Vlad. No doubt he has already gotten to them. Smith has become a virus that is even more hated than an Exile. Ironic in a way. Irony. I know Irony. . . I hope the Merovingian dies before me. I hope Smith gets him. Kills him. Don't even turn him into himself, just kill him. He doesn't deserve to live. Not after what he has done to me.
I'm not going to wait anymore. I'm not going to drag on living when I should have died long ago. And I'm not going to let the man that should have killed me win. I have nothing now. I have no soul. I have no purpose of life. I've dragged on long enough. A little silver bullet is going to help me. Cain is no more, and the only reason I didn't do this sooner is gone. There is no reason for my life, no purpose. And now, it ends.
I load the gun and put it to my head.
The door bursts open, and I see Smith. Well, five Smiths. I laugh at him he is too late. But I will leave this place with the one wish I've thought of for a long time. With a quote from my favorite book. But the French men wouldn't have known that. He didn't care about us. He never asked us how we were. No one knew I liked Mozart or I preferred Red wine instead of White. Only Cain knew. But he is gone now.
"You should of killed me while you had the chance." I say to Smith.
He doesn't understand. I don't care anymore.
And then I pull the trigger. A silver bullet goes through my head, and blood is sprayed on the wall. It is over. My pain is gone.
I die smiling, knowing it has ended, knowing I have the courage to final accept the inevitable.
My name is Abel. I used to be an Agent. I should of died long ago, and I paid for not. But now a silver bullet has helped me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Abel, Cain, Cujo, and Vlad are all real characters of the Matrix. If you played Enter The Matrix, you should already know that.
I used to- - We used to be Agents, you know. Long ago. Long ago we had purpose. We had meaning. Our lives were not just some joke to a higher. We were protectors. We were enforcers. We were feared. And now. . . Our lives balance on the mood of someone else. How did this happen? How did we fall? We will ever get up? We will ever fight again? I want to be feared again. . . I want to. I long for fear. I need it. That was our purpose.
We had no names as Agents. We wore suits, and had our guns. We use to kill them. The Mainframe didn't give us much of minds. We were after all the earliest versions of Agents. We were aware of what we were, aware of us. But nothing more. It was still better than this. We were the Agents of second version of the Matrix. We were feared by them. I miss the blood they used to shed. Then the Matrix reset. The third version began, and we were outdated. I can remember hearing their names for the first time.
Agent Brown.
Agent Jones.
And Agent Smith.
They stared at us equally. They showed no emotion as we did. Then we were told out purpose was over. We were to be deleted. I looked over to my right, to my other Agent. For the first time we experienced confusion. We were aware of ourselves, but what happens when we are deleted? Their new leader smirked at us.
"Do you not see. You are flawed, we are not. You cannot be aloud to slow down the system. You have to be deleted. You have to die." It was Smith that said that.
It finally got through to our outdated Agent heads. We would die. We would be no more. Nothing. We would never be able to do our purpose again. Our purpose was gone. Taken away. Nothing was left. . .
That is when we learned to run. We learned what it was like to be hunted down. We ran out of the Agency, into the alleys of the Matrix. Into the shadows we fled. Into the buildings we had once killed humans in. But it was no use. These new Agents. . . They didn't stop. They still came after us. I remember firing my gun, and I saw as they dodged my bullets. . . I couldn't do that. We couldn't that, they were better. I remember experiencing fear for the first time. Running from things that were going to kill me. And wondering what I would do if I even survived.
We ran up the side of a building, climbing on the fire escape ladder. That's when they got one of us. Shot him in the back. He looked up at me, blood coming from his mouth. I was scared. . . Then he fell to the ground. Agent Jones was assigned to dispose of the body. His death didn't mean anything to me then. . .
And then I ran with my fellow Agent. We ran down the street and into a club. Humans were there. It was harder to run, harder for them to chase us. That is when we caught the eye of the man I hate most now.
"I thought the Mainframe was creating upgraded version of those Agents." He said.
"They did, my love." His wife replied.
He turned to see we were running.
"Ah, I see." He said, I'm sure he smiled.
I found myself in a corner of this club. My fellow Agent next to me. And humans all around us. We couldn't see the others. We knew they were there, but we couldn't see. Then we slipped through the wall.
That was the end of my old life. The beginning of one even worse.
"Hello my friends." He said.
We were on the floor as we looked up at him. He smirked at us, and he henchman surrounded us. We did not know what to think.
"Who are you?" I asked.
"I am the Merovingian." He said.
"The Exile!" My college said.
The French man laughed.
"Yes that is me." He admitted.
"What do you want?" I said.
"Well I wish to make a deal with you. And in order to make a deal you must want something from me, and I must want something from you. Now what do you think you want?"
I looked at my fellow Agent, confused.
"We want. . ." He started.
"You want life." The French man finished. "And I will give you that. But I in return want your services."
"We will not serve an Exile." I said.
Then he smiled, and pulled out a gun.
"Then I kill you and hand your bodies to the new Agents." He said.
I looked back to my fellow Agent. Are programming didn't tell us to serve an Exile. We served the Mainframe. But we didn't do that anymore. We were not suppose to run either, but we did. We didn't want to die. We couldn't. . . We had no purpose now. We were Exiles as well.
"We agree." We said at the same time.
The French man smiled.
"Good, now get up. Get out of those suits. My parties call for something more classy." He said, walking away.
His henchmen gave us new clothing. Somewhat like suits, but at the same time entirely different. We were told to go to him, and so we did. He smiled as he saw us approach. We were now his slaves.
We were given names that night. Over the loud music of the club. Over the screams of the humans I want to kill again. Over the dancing and chanting, the Merovingian said our names.
Cain and Abel.
That is who we are now.
Abel is who I am.
In the versions to come, the days to go by, the years we suffered, we were taught more of emotion. And learned more than we should have. We were thought to be inferior, and were treated as such. We were no more than peasants, sent to protect.
We learned hatred.
We learned friendship.
We learned longing.
We learned many things. But I don't really care about them. But the French man wanted us to know about the things he liked. We learned about his weapons. Where they were from, why he liked them. We read books on the history of the humans. All so we could entertain him when he was bored by reciting his books.
I don't know what was it that made the French man tick. But all his henchman were programs. All looking very similar. All knew how to fight. And all could only be killed by a wooden stake to the heart. Like vampires. The Twins are like ghosts. You can't kill them And long ago, he rewrote our codes, then we could only be killed by a silver bullet. Like werewolves. Perhaps that was a little gift to us. But now it can only be a burden.
We learned emotion. We learned that it was unfair how he treated us. Although he gave us protection from the outside world of the Matrix. If we disobeyed him he would delete us. But it was still agonizing protecting him. Walking around with him, always being at his side. Doing whatever he wished. That wasn't our purpose though.
We didn't do our purpose.
The little free time we were given, we would usually fight. Get the Agent in us something to do. We'd use our guns, and his hand held weapons. Cain was very good with the axe. Sometimes we would sit, and watch some horror movies.
But the pain of being slaves was there, but never spoken. If we spoke of it we would die. We knew he was watching us. All the time. It is hard living when you can't do what you were given life for. If I could do it again, I would have handed myself to Smith, or Jones, or whatever.
Cain and I became each other's relief. Sending each other small messages of our pain. We were still Agents. We both longed for our purpose. In a way we became attached, and even gave our fellow Agent a name. We named him Adam. He was our leader. The oldest of us. It only made sense. Adam and Eve gave birth to Cain and Abel. I guess we missed him. It might have been better if there was all three of us. Maybe.
Then years went on. It was becoming more an more tiring serving him. Sometimes I was tempted to kill him. But of course he and Persephone both carried guns with silver bullets. And as the years dragged on so did our patience.
We became a little more ruthless. Cain and I became a less perfect relationship. Most likely taking the anger we both had out on each other. It is hard remembering that, now looking back on it.
Although, only one silver bullet would do the trick.
But no. We lived on. We were able to capture and watch over prisoners. Still not the same. Each version we toyed with the Key Maker a little differently. That was really the only fun we ever had.
But now. . .
Now. . .
Now he's dead. She killed him. Persephone killed the only friend I ever had. The only other that kept this going. She killed Cain. Right in front of me. His blood still stains the wall. And I find myself alone again. . . Surrounded by vampires, and ghosts. And I am alone. Never again will I know what it is like to have purpose. And now neither will Cain. I still long to kill! But I can never do that. I can never see Cain again. . . One silver bullet to the head and he died. Right next to me. . .
One little silver bullet.
I don't understand death for me. I don't understand how a program can die. I only know this little bullet can make it all end. No more rules. No more pain. I won't be alone. I won't live on with no purpose. This little bullet can make it all better.
And now I sit here. Just where Cain died. A gun in my hand, and silver bullet. The world that protected me is falling. It seems Smith has lost his purpose as well. The Agent that tried to kill me, is once again doing it. I can hear the screams of Cujo, and Vlad. No doubt he has already gotten to them. Smith has become a virus that is even more hated than an Exile. Ironic in a way. Irony. I know Irony. . . I hope the Merovingian dies before me. I hope Smith gets him. Kills him. Don't even turn him into himself, just kill him. He doesn't deserve to live. Not after what he has done to me.
I'm not going to wait anymore. I'm not going to drag on living when I should have died long ago. And I'm not going to let the man that should have killed me win. I have nothing now. I have no soul. I have no purpose of life. I've dragged on long enough. A little silver bullet is going to help me. Cain is no more, and the only reason I didn't do this sooner is gone. There is no reason for my life, no purpose. And now, it ends.
I load the gun and put it to my head.
The door bursts open, and I see Smith. Well, five Smiths. I laugh at him he is too late. But I will leave this place with the one wish I've thought of for a long time. With a quote from my favorite book. But the French men wouldn't have known that. He didn't care about us. He never asked us how we were. No one knew I liked Mozart or I preferred Red wine instead of White. Only Cain knew. But he is gone now.
"You should of killed me while you had the chance." I say to Smith.
He doesn't understand. I don't care anymore.
And then I pull the trigger. A silver bullet goes through my head, and blood is sprayed on the wall. It is over. My pain is gone.
I die smiling, knowing it has ended, knowing I have the courage to final accept the inevitable.
My name is Abel. I used to be an Agent. I should of died long ago, and I paid for not. But now a silver bullet has helped me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Abel, Cain, Cujo, and Vlad are all real characters of the Matrix. If you played Enter The Matrix, you should already know that.