Title: Based On A True Dream
Author: unwinding fantasy (formerly Aqua Phoenix1)
Disclaimer: I don't own The Matrix, Star Wars, any of the Final Fantasy Series or anything else that may have slipped in.
Rating: K+
Author's Note: So one Matrix-aholic (read: me) drifts into the Land of Nod. You have been warned.
I clamber up the snow caked mountain, doing my utmost to keep up with my two travelling companions. Journeying at such an intense speed at this altitude is causing my breathing to turn shallow. My ears have already popped about twenty times, my hands are numb from the cold, my nose has a small icicle hanging off it and my brand new skirt is already stained. Completely ruined! Grumbling, I wonder how on earth I got myself into this mess and for a split second I consider returning to my sunny Californian bungalow. Then I mentally slap myself as I remember the reason why I'm here.
The reason? My "friend" would say I was here because I was not free, but I know the real reason and it is far less cryptic. I'm here for the premiere of the greatest sci-fi movie to ever grace the silver screen: The Matrix Revolutions. Merely thinking about it causes me to quiver in anticipation (or was that from the cold?). I'm only minutes away from…
Damn this snow! A sudden gust of wind blows icy particles everywhere, obscuring my vision and causing a whimpering cry to rise from the surrounding crowd of people. My aforementioned companions become dark silhouettes against a stark white background, and I naturally panic. The last thing I want is to be lost up here. What a stupid place to put a cinema. They could have at least built some cable cars!
Lime green light illuminates my path, and I gratefully make my way over to the Jedi knight. Lightsaber in hand, Qui-Gon glares down at me, clearly unimpressed with my athletic abilities. The other, Smith, pretends he never noticed and continues on his way, never faltering as he moves across the slippery mountainside with unnatural grace. Fine then, be that way. I make an angry face at his back; Qui-Gon harshly grasps my shoulders and steers me in the former Agent's direction, muttering something about children having no respect for their elders.
As we continue to scale the mountain, we pass by numerous other movie-goers. They must all dearly love the Matrix, for I can see no other reason why anyone in their right mind would climb a freezing mountain at nine o' clock at night. I overtake a struggling Persephone who is arguing with an irate Merovingian (something about the Eiffel Tower or frogs' legs) and halfway up I spot the Twins, who each throw me an identical creepy glare. Playfully, I imitate their expression. At this, the pair exchange a perplexed glance. I bet I'm the only person in the universe that dares to act so… "uncouth", Smith would call it. Qui-Gon's firm hands grasp me again and he gently but firmly guides me towards the (undoubtedly) ice-capped peak.
Thankfully, we arrive at the summit and to my utmost surprise, the peak is not ice-capped at all. On the contrary, its hollowed out top is filled to the brim with molten lava, bubbling merrily. The cinema is haphazardly positioned in the middle of the molten rock and there is no visible way to cross the sea of fire.
"You brought me right to the edge of a volcano!" I question, incredulous.
"Active volcano," Smith corrects, a smug grin playing on his face. For all his uber-coolness, Smith sure can be an asshole at times. I momentarily consider pushing him in, but I know that later I would end up a sobbing, guilt-plagued wreck. Just another reason to hate him, I think bitterly. My mixed expression must have amused him because he made no further move to torment me.
"There's no need for concern. Mount Mumbo-Jumbo has been quite placid lately and it is unlikely it will erupt," Jedi Master Qui-Gon tries his hand at reassuring me. Not an easy task. My anxiety isn't at all helped by the fact that Persephone has just "accidentally" thrown the Merovingian into the lake of boiling magma. Various French curses echo throughout the mountaintop; the Twins look on in shock; Persephone stealthily vacates the area, whistling in an oh-so-not suspicious way. I feel another involuntary shiver travel through my body. Mistaking my fear for a low body temperature, Qui-Gon considerately removes his customary Jedi robe and places it over my shoulders. Was that a wink I saw? God, I hope not!
Agents Brown and Jones uncomfortably clear their throats, an obvious attempt to draw attention away from the gruesome spectacle, "How exactly--" Brown begins, "do we get in?" his counterpart finishes. Behind his shades, Smith rolls his absolutely gorgeous, ice blue eyes, and a jumpsuit-clad Trinity gives the Agents a "why-the-hell-were-you-invited-if-you're-not-even-in-Revolutions" look (which they easily ignore). At least I'm not the only one who's been wondering how we get in.
"You guys crack me up!" The One finally speaks up. "We fly, of course!"
He proceeds to do so.
Half the crowd faints.
Neo lands on the mysterious floating platform that is supporting the cinema. I wonder out loud how exactly that platform is levitating and Princess Garnet informs me that the Wachowskis simply had some Final Fantasy characters cast Float magic on it. For some reason, I readily settle for this explanation.
Trinity pouts. "Neo, you know I can't fly!" she whines. Thoroughly embarrassed, the male runs a hand through his raven hair before zooming back over, recovering his girlfriend and returning to the cinema.
Smith gets that "anything-you-can-do-I-can-do-better" look and follows Neo's example with ease. The remainder of the crowd is floored (minus characters from the Matrix who are used to this and Qui-Gon). The man in the suit turns and smirks at the effect he has had on the Matrix fans; I reward his efforts with the most withering expression I can muster. Typically, Smith ignores me and casually strolls into the cinema, whistling something that sounds suspiciously like I Will Survive.
But none of this is helping me get to my destination so I strain my brain for a few minutes, contemplating a plausible entry way. The ever-helpful Qui-Gon saves me the trouble, and using the omnipresent Force he floats me over the boiling lava. I have great difficulty making sure I keep my skirt down all the way.
Once I have landed, I gaze curiously at the elaborate cinema. An expensive-looking red carpet has been rolled out, leading up to a bronze doorway. Engraved in the doorway, amongst many intricate patterns is an odd, somewhat morphed picture of Britney Spears. I'm beginning to have second thoughts again…
Clenching my fists, I gather what is left of my confidence and make my way over to the entrance. The singer's warped face grins back at me and I silently pray that I make it through this alive. Qui-Gon comes up beside me, deactivates his laser sword and pushes open the door. I am greeted by a most unexpected sight. The cinema isn't a cinema at all.
A cave.
The…cinema…is… a…cave.
I hear the entrance slam shut behind me, and the whole world becomes a black void, save for a few spots of light where old-fashioned lamps (like the ones from Aladdin) are illuminating the area, casting disturbing shadows on the stone walls. I turn around and try to pry open the door but to no avail. Britney's ugly face leers back at me in a mocking way. Oh great, I'm stuck here with a kooky Jedi.
Qui-Gon brings out his weapon once again and tells me to "stay put" while he goes and scouts the area. On the one hand, at least that gets rid of him; on the other, it also leaves me completely alone. I shudder at the thought of what may be lurking in the depths of this cave. The silence, broken only by intermittent sound of drops of water, isn't helping calm my nerves and I suddenly become all too conscious of my vulnerability. Qui-Gon has already disappeared down a twisting corridor.
It's then that out of nowhere, some horrible creature lunges at me, obviously trying to have me for dinner. I scream a loud, ear-piercing wail and one monstrous hand clamps down over my mouth to stifle me. I am instantly reminded of the time my dentist, Doctor Savage, accidentally-on-purpose drilled the wrong tooth… then put filling up my nose. With this in mind, I desperately try to break free of the monstrosity.
The beast speaks: "Quiet. Do you want to be discovered?" Funny, where have I heard that voice before? I quieten, and the fiend relinquishes its grip. Bravely, I turn to face the monster. Funny, the monster looks just like Smith… … Wait a minute…
"Smith! What the hell are you doing?" I yell in disbelief. Behind his sunglasses, fire is burning in those azure eyes as he wordlessly wills me into silence. I pout a little, than wonder why in the Mainframe's name he's wearing shades in a place like this. As an angry afterthought, I snatch his prized possession form his face and place them atop my own head, grinning brazenly. The former Agent's frown deepens as he nonchalantly regards me and I feel my confidence diminish, but I boldly refuse to return the geometrical shades.
"People from… other films are trying to infiltrate the top-secret base we have situated at the cinema that was to be hosting the premiere of The Matrix Revolutions," the program hurriedly explains. "The Wachowskis came up with an ingenious plan. We were to lead these spies to an out-of-the-way place where they could be successfully eliminated, thus thwarting the possibility of more bullet time copy-cats."
"You mean like director McG?" I question, a certain scene from Charlie's Angels playing through my head. The absolutely furious expression on Smith's face as I utter that name is enough to reduce even the great Morpheus to a pile of jelly.
"We like to use the term He Who Must Not Be Named."
I shrug coolly, "Whatever turns you on…"
Did I just say that out loud? Me and my overly erratic brain! Thank God he didn't understand what it meant (or if he did, he showed no signs of comprehension). Instead, he simply unholsters his Desert Eagle and sets off at a moderate pace, soundlessly trailing Qui-Gon. At the first turn, he spares me a glance and waves me over. Eyeing his gun nervously, I decide it's worth the risk.
After ten or so minutes of travelling in a seemingly endless silence (during which I keep myself preoccupied by doing all sorts of weird and wonderful things in an attempt to wrench a reaction out of my companion) we come upon a large chamber. To my absolute amazement, the area is chock full of Matrix merchandise!
"The hell?" I murmur, incredulous.
"We had to do something with it."
"So you brought it all the way up here?"
"No, not me personally."
"It's a figure of speech, Smith. I say 'you' as in a generalisation."
"Then that is incorrect usage of the word."
"Whatever, Dictionary Man." I roll my eyes as I quickly sift through the piles of lollipops, mugs and toothbrushes, each with some Matrix person's face plastered on it. Smith cringes as I uncover a pair of boxer shorts with his face on it. "Don't ask," he winces. If programs could blush, I'm sure Smith would be beetroot by now. Instead, he instantly becomes utterly absorbed in flattening out imaginary wrinkles in his crisp suit.
"I wasn't going to," I assure him soothingly. He cocks his head in thought, as if processing this new information. I open my mouth to say something more, but stop halfway. The ground is shaking… and many voices can be heard calling out in the distance. The sentient turns to me, no longer listening to the ominous noises.
"They are here."
The sheer calm anxiety of that phrase unnerves me. "Who are here?" I ask again and again, trying to pry an answer out of my inhumanely taciturn protégé. My voice begins escalating with urgency, my throat tightens, constricting my breathing as the pounding of two hundred feet comes closer and closer, gets louder and louder."Who!?" I all but scream at Smith, any fear I once had of him evaporating. A barely noticeable flick of the eyes and he has already analysed my state as chaotic. His lips barely move as he murmurs,
"The clones."
I breathe a sigh of relief. Clones. Copies. Smith's buddies. My momentary panic dissipates and I'm on the floor giggling like a loon. And to think, I got all riled up for nothing! What an idiot!
"Enough with your idiocy! Be still!" the former Agent commands, eyes burning cold fire. Oblivious to this fact, I continue my childish laughter, but I do manage to squeak out, "What are you afraid of anyways?"
He stares at me as if that was the worst thing I could have possibly said. So of course, I smugly add, "Well? Do ya got schizophrenia or something?"
His face twists with barely suppressed fury, and I manage to swallow my pride for the time being. I don't get scared all that easily, but a pissed off Smith is a little more than I can deal with. The Desert Eagle pressed between my eyes may have also influenced my decision to shut up. Anyway, if he's worried about whatever it was that was coming for us I should be running for the hills right about now.
The noise is deafening by this time, and I instinctively back up a few steps, bracing myself for whatever comes spewing from the mouth of the next cavern. Just before the first one rounds the bend, Smith fixes me with a determined stare, shoves me behind a large stalagmite, tells me to stay down and charges to meet our antagonists halfway. Scores of pings echo throughout the enclosed chamber, answered by some louder bangs. But the pings seem to be growing in number, and soon the thunderous boom of the Desert Eagle ceases entirely. Tempting fate, I poke my head out from my hiding place. I am greeted by a most unpleasant sight.
Hundreds of Jango Fett Clones are swarming around the rogue program that is Smith.
I squeal in shock as I realise who the infamous "clones" are. Big mistake. The shrill sound attracts their attention, and despite the protests of a stunned Smith, the Jangos fight their way towards me. My body freezes. Smith looks on as five Jangos race towards me. He moves to intercept them, but is immediately crushed by the other clones and is forced to the bottom of a Jango pile not unlike his own Smith pile. I can hear Smith's muffled shouts ("This suit is dryclean only!") from underneath. Derisively, I wonder where all Smith's copies are now.
The group is closer now, closer still, mere inches away. The first Jango arrives and grabs me crudely by the wrists; I writher under his grip and cry for someone, anyone, to rescue me from my plight.
Someone hears me.
(Cue Star Wars Theme) Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn comes sprinting to my aid, lightsaber but a lime green blur. With each thrust, turn and parry, the warrior comes closer to victory. I watch in amazed reverence as this man elegantly dances his macabre dance. It takes a while for the Jedi's presence to register, but when they finally discover him the Jangos turn as one, firing off a barrage of laser fire. But the graceful Jedi Knight easily deflects the shots back to their owners. I never thought I'd be so happy to see that kooky old guy.
"Run!" Smith implores, throwing off Jangos as if they were rag dolls. But the tenacious little devils simply fly back at him, burying him again and again underneath a pile of bodies.
"I won't leave you!" I scream, playing the dramatic part of heroine in love right down to a tee. Tears swamp my vision as I try desperately to run to him, but to no avail. Qui-Gon, bellowing my name, wraps his arms around my abdomen and drags me back to a relatively safe distance. Goddamn jealous horny old man! I pout angrily but a part of me realises the futility of my struggling. So I make no further attempts at a foolish rescue mission. As I'm dragged away from the battle, I can practically hear the sad, mournful notes of the violin wailing.
That's when I get all hero-headed. I'm not gonna lose this struggle to an old man! And I can't just dump my favourite Matrix character. I can't stand the thought of a Smithless Matrix, so I pull myself together and bravely (i.e. stupidly) charge headlong back into the fray.
"What do you think you're doing, young lady? Get back here right n--" Qui-Gon is cut off mid-sentence as a stray bullet catches him in the leg. Groaning, he slumps to the ground, unable to do anything about my sudden getaway. I can't stop the pleased grin from spreading on my face. That's one less annoyance to worry about.
"Kawaiiiiiii!!" I screech, my Japanese battle-cry, as I begin my assault. But I've barely pummelled one clone when the entire group vanishes into thin, musty, stale air. Surprised, I look around, blinking rapidly. They really are gone! All that's left is one very sore looking former Agent Smith picking himself up off the ground and muttering various obscenities.
What's more, now a new door has appeared in the side of the cave.
"What the hell just happened?" The first question that comes to mind, but probably quite irrelevant seeings I kinda already knew. The sentient ignores me, turning his attention to his cracked shades. A fresh string of curse words erupt from his mouth.
"Smith?" I try again. Still no answer. Silently fuming, I decide to use my ace:
"Armani suits went out of fashion twenty years ago!"
Visibly shaken, the blue-eyed menace turns to face me. Finally! I continue my line of questioning, "Well now that I've got your attention… what happened to the Jangos?"
"I'm not entirely certain." The fact that he was unsure seemed to both pain and anger him. I wordlessly will him on; surely he must have some idea of what just occurred. Amazingly, he gets the hint and tries his hand at… reassurance?
"But if I had to make a hypothesis, I would say the Mainframe deleted them. From some observations, I might also conclude that the Mainframe has deemed an egress necessary."
"So, what do we do now?"
"Firstly, we must exit this place."
Without another word, we both turn in an identically stiff manner, replace our sunglasses, brush off our clothes and straighten our cuff-links (I'm wearing cuff-links?). In perfect unison we saunter out of the cave. But for one exception:
I kick Qui-Gon on the way.