Disclaimer: I don't own the Matrix concept or anyone/anything in it - but I do own the original characters.
Author's Note: Here's a brief one-shot with a wild idea I came up with. With enough encouragement - and muse inspiration! - I may take it a step further with a series.
The Monsters Are Real
The police sirens were a distant sound, overwhelmed by the man's labored breathing and the sound of splashing water. Although he knew it wasn't real, his legs screamed in agony as he forced himself to keep running. Leather boots pounded on the pavement in an almost hypnotic rhythm. Then, they slipped as the man turned a sharp corner and slipped at a puddle. He barely stopped himself in mid-fall and bit back a scream as red brick friction-burned his hand. Somehow he kept moving. Stopping wasn't an option. Not with an Agent at his back.
Maybe that was why he kept running even as his brain numbly registered the wall that shouldn't have been there. He'd been cornered. Crashing into the wall, his head rocked back at the force and crimson stained his vision. He turned around and shakily reached for his gun, resting his entire weight on the unyielding wall. He flicked off the safety and raised it at the Agent who calmly approached him. A hysterical laugh escaped his lips as the other easily dodge each consecutive shot. Even when the magazine was empty, he still keep on squeezing at the trigger. Then, the Agent took out its Desert Eagle and aimed it at him.
That was when it happened.
There was the flutter of disturbed air as a dark figure leapt from the roof of a neighboring building. It landed with a soft thud on the pavement. With no hesitation whatsoever, it lunged for the Agent's throat. The cornered man watched with morbid fascination as his adversary helplessly struggled in the newcomer's firm grip. Dark red gushed out as sharp teeth tore at the jugular vein.
"Damn...that's nasty."
The man heard himself say as he cringed at the sight.
"What ship are you from?"
At that, the stranger looked up. The man found himself frozen under the steady gaze of glittering black orbs. He watched as a delicate hand wiped the pale face clean. A crimson tongue snaked out and licked its lips. Then, the other was on him, hot hungry mouth at his throat. The Agent hadn't screamed. It didn't know how.
But, the man did.
Author's Note: Here's a brief one-shot with a wild idea I came up with. With enough encouragement - and muse inspiration! - I may take it a step further with a series.
The Monsters Are Real
The police sirens were a distant sound, overwhelmed by the man's labored breathing and the sound of splashing water. Although he knew it wasn't real, his legs screamed in agony as he forced himself to keep running. Leather boots pounded on the pavement in an almost hypnotic rhythm. Then, they slipped as the man turned a sharp corner and slipped at a puddle. He barely stopped himself in mid-fall and bit back a scream as red brick friction-burned his hand. Somehow he kept moving. Stopping wasn't an option. Not with an Agent at his back.
Maybe that was why he kept running even as his brain numbly registered the wall that shouldn't have been there. He'd been cornered. Crashing into the wall, his head rocked back at the force and crimson stained his vision. He turned around and shakily reached for his gun, resting his entire weight on the unyielding wall. He flicked off the safety and raised it at the Agent who calmly approached him. A hysterical laugh escaped his lips as the other easily dodge each consecutive shot. Even when the magazine was empty, he still keep on squeezing at the trigger. Then, the Agent took out its Desert Eagle and aimed it at him.
That was when it happened.
There was the flutter of disturbed air as a dark figure leapt from the roof of a neighboring building. It landed with a soft thud on the pavement. With no hesitation whatsoever, it lunged for the Agent's throat. The cornered man watched with morbid fascination as his adversary helplessly struggled in the newcomer's firm grip. Dark red gushed out as sharp teeth tore at the jugular vein.
"Damn...that's nasty."
The man heard himself say as he cringed at the sight.
"What ship are you from?"
At that, the stranger looked up. The man found himself frozen under the steady gaze of glittering black orbs. He watched as a delicate hand wiped the pale face clean. A crimson tongue snaked out and licked its lips. Then, the other was on him, hot hungry mouth at his throat. The Agent hadn't screamed. It didn't know how.
But, the man did.
