Disclaimer: I do not own nor do I claim to own any characters or concepts related to ReBoot. This is a nonprofit work of fanfiction.
This story is set at some point prior to season three's "Icons."
Ties her own shoes
The spotlights circled the stadium once, twice, then drew together at last. Standing there wreathed in light, she alone chosen from the challengers to face the User, AndrAIa smiled.
"Looks like it's my turn now, boys."
Matrix settled back into his chosen corner, one leg stretched before him, the other tucked up, his boot flat against the wall. He folded his arms. "Have fun," he said. Frisket whined enviously.
AndrAIa slanted a smile at Matrix and the three male (naturally) Cascadians who stood with him. The Cascadians did not bother to disguise their disapproval, but that was to be expected. AndrAIa wriggled her fingers at them; her nails glimmered.
"TTYL, Sparky," she sang. She looked to the Cascadians and her smile sharpened. "Just as soon as I win this Game."
One of the Cascadians turned his face away. "Disgraceful," murmured another.
"Stop teasing them," Matrix said to her. He tipped his head toward the arena. "I think your dance partner's getting anxious."
She set out down the steps, taking them two by two in long, even strides as she descended into the arena.
"I hope you're not jealous," she called back to him.
"Are you kidding me?" he shouted after her. "I'd love to kick this User's ascii."
AndrAIa's exaggerated "sor-ry" rang out across the stadium, then she was down, down in the arena proper where the User, huge and grotesque, awaited her, twin scimitars raised high to greet her.
The gong sounded. AndrAIa slipped low, ducking beneath the User's first clean strike, her blade flashing as she drove at him in turn.
The eldest of the Cascadians made a noise high in his throat.
"Disgraceful," he said again. "That you should allow your woman to face the User alone..." He shook his head. "Truly, you hail from the most barbaric of systems." It was not the first time he had voiced this particular sentiment.
Matrix unfolded from the wall, his boot thumping to earth like a weight dropped from a great height. His shadow fell upon the Cascadians; it swallowed them.
As one, they stepped back.
He smiled. They took another step.
"Let's get something straight," said Matrix. "I don't 'allow' her to do anything. AndrAIa can take care of herself."
"She is a woman," the elder Cascadian scoffed, his indignation overcoming his fear.
"Yeah?" said Matrix. "So?"
"She is your woman," the Cascadian explained, as if to a child.
Matrix cocked his eyebrow. His cybernetic eye gleamed.
"Yeah?" he said. "So?"
The Cascadian's mouth twisted at the corner. Whatever else he might have said was lost: a gong sounded out over the arena, marking the conclusion of the first round. He turned as his brothers turned, to look to the arena and there to look upon the victor.
Standing tall above the downed User, AndrAIa bowed elaborately in the direction of the Cascadians. Her hair cascaded over her shoulders as she stood, shoulders thrown back, her head tilted just so. Her nails flashed: she blew a kiss first to Matrix, then to the Cascadians standing apart from him.
The elder Cascadian recoiled.
The gong rang once more: the second round, then. Like a wild thing, AndrAIa threw herself at the User, cutting impossibly through leather armor, through skin, through muscle. The User howled; he fell back; he clutched at his side, blood welling between his meaty fingers. At his feet a scimitar lay, forgotten in the dirt.
Relentless, AndrAIa fell upon him.
The Cascadians did not speak.
"Trust me," said Matrix. "She doesn't need any protection."
This story was originally posted at livejournal on 10/16/2009. I wrote it because if I read one more story in which Matrix is so protective of AndrAIa as to verge on the oppressive - a reading of the characters and their relationship that is not by any stretch of the imagination supported by the show itself - I will have no recourse left to me but to claw my own face off in a fit of unstoppable and unspeakable rage.