Author's Notes: This is now venturing very dangerously into the land of A/U and will probably apply for a work permit there any day now. Any questions or comments are welcome.
Disclaimer: The Matrix and its characters are the property of Brothers Warner and Wachowski. Any new ones are mine. Hurray for me.
As the elevator idled to its destination, Smith once again examined the wall closest to him, nonplussed to see that nothing had changed since his previous visit. However this time elected to stare at the code more intently this time, noting not just the intention but the style behind it. To most intents and purposes, a wall was a wall within the Matrix. A wall would have predefined parameters that would define how it should appear in terms of touch, sight and even smell but this wall was different.
For one, it contained a nested subroutine that broadcast a message that would only work on the subconscious of the viewer. In broad terms, this signal was designed to create a sense of euphoria in the viewer, to make them think that they were among the privileged to be allowed into such an exclusive establishment.
It was a simple programming trick, similar in many respects to one that the Agents used, except the message they continually broadcast was used to promote their sense of importance within the Matrix. Someone seeing an Agent knew instinctively that they were figures of authority and individuals to be obeyed.
His meditation on the subject came to a halt as the elevator finally came to a halt and the doors opened, once again revealing the lavish dining room that was practically empty this time of the morning. There were however a few cleaning staff milling around, all of whom stopped what they were doing to look at the unexpected visitor.
Smith didn't give them a second thought and instead settled his gaze on the long bar to his right that ran along the opposite side to the window and perpendicular to the table where the Merovingian held court. It too was empty, he and his retinue elsewhere within the confines of the establishment. However there was still someone who could help him find his quarry more quickly.
She unlike the others had not turned to see him enter but instead watched him on the mirrored wall of the bar, her head bent slightly to one side in an attempt to read a face that revealed nothing.
"Another," she sighed, tapping the empty glass in front of her at the attending bartender, who disappeared beneath the counter to get her drink.
Finally she slowly turned on the barstool, her every movement the definition of feline grace. "I thought your kind travelled in packs," she stated without a hint of humour.
Smith regarded her for a moment before glancing at the few others still left in the room.
"Leave us," he commanded, standing in place until they all had scurried off out through various doors, leaving him alone with the Merovingian's companion and a rather terrified looking bartender who was standing with the woman's drink in his hand wondering which of the two would be worse to disobey.
"Get lost," Persephone instructed him curtly which he promptly did. She then alighted from the stool and lazily made her way round the counter and grabbed a bottle of wine before she looked at him again.
"Would you like a drink…Agent?" she asked, her question hanging in the air between them.
"Smith will suffice," he answered dourly.
"Oh yes…I remember you. Well, I suppose you did promise you would return." She said with a hint of smile, her attitude a little too similar to the Merovingian's for his liking.
"Then you should know that we have no interest in you, just the Merovingian."
"Well as you can see, he is not here and will not be back for a little while."
Smith felt his ire with the woman growing…all these little delays that were just stalling the inevitable.
"There is a private office I can take you to if you want to wait. After all, the cleaners really do need to finish up for the lunch appointments."
Not waiting for an answer, she made her way from behind the counter and walked to the center of room before looking over her shoulder at Smith, who watched her impassively.
"Well…coming?" she asked playfully, her normally chilly attitude apparently thawing.
Smith considered his options while he absently fixed the cuff of his sleeve before he slowly stepped after her, watching intently as she swayed forward towards the Merovingian's table and a large ornate double door behind it. She pushed it open and strode forward into a large hall with antique armour standing guard along the walls.
"It must be a male thing but he has always been interested in conflict…of all kinds," she informed Smith who paid little heed to the oversized armour or to her continual prattle, content instead to merely follow her lead. She walked to one of the many doors in the hall and held it open for Smith, who stepped passed her and into the room beyond.
This room resembled some kind of personal library rather then a working office. There was a large fire burning off to the side, casting shadows over all the furniture.
"This is more comfortable, non?" she asked in a nondescript voice, apparently not caring whether he found it more comfortable or not.
Smith turned and regarded her impatiently as she closed the door behind them.
"Where is the Merovingian?" he asked, not wanting to waste time with an exile that amounted to little more then a buxom hostess program.
She ignored his question and made her way to a drinks cabinet that sat behind a large oak desk opposite the fire. "He let me have this room for myself, to be constructed in whatever manner I saw fit," she told him as she poured some colourless liquid into a long necked glass.
Smith sighed audibly, a strange noise to those familiar with Agent programs. With almost laboured practice, he carefully removed his thin dark glasses, folded them and placed them on the table between himself and Persephone. He found that during interrogations, it sometimes helped to delay things for a moment before really pressing his point home and with her, it was high time that she got the point. Consuming what could have not amounted to little more then a thimble full of the liquid, she watched the display with bored expression.
"When will he be back?" he asked with almost palpable sense of fatigue as he rounded the table.
"As I already said Agent Smith, my husband is away on busi-"
With a snarl, Smith closed the distance between them in an impossibly fast stride, his left hand knocking the glass from her hand and into the wall as his right snaked around her back to grab a fist full of her long black hair. He wrenched her next to him, pulling her head painfully down so he could look down on her, his flint blue eyes staring almost right through her own.
"Your husband?" he demanded his voice brimming over in anger and scorn, "What a ridiculously human notion."
For the first moment in as long as she could remember, Persephone felt fear. It was a sensation she did not miss.
Stroking the side of her face softly with his free hand in stark contrast to the rough grip he kept on her hair, he continued to rant, "I wonder how he consummated it…did he carry you over the threshold or perhaps he had you right there in front of some priest. That would be bourgeois enough for you too?"
With inhumane speed he spun her around and sent her crashing into the liquor cabinet, which smashed easily as she went headfirst through it.
"This is more comfortable, non?" he parroted mockingly as he stood over her fallen form. She struggled to turn as he bent down next to her.
"Your husband…you're more of a fool then the humans. He made you the same way as he made the building. The same code that permeates this building shines in your eyes. You're no more then an elaborate sex toy. That's how others see you and that's how you seem to him."
He reached into the confines of his jacket and removed his firearm, which seemed impossibly large to Persephone as he held it in front of her bloodied face in an almost casual manner.
"Now tell me, where is your…husband?" he asked in the manner of a patient parent.
She was about to say something when the door opened loudly behind them.
"Well it seems that everyone thinks they -"
"-can take the boss's property these days."
Smith spun to face two dreadlocked individuals dressed entirely in white.
"Guess we'll have to show-" one began.
"- him that isn't the case." The other finished with an ominous grin.
Next part…Fight, fight, fight.
