Title: This One Refused
Author: Perfect Ruin
Rating: Will not go higher than PG-13
Disclaimer: The Matrix and all their characters belong to the Wachowski Brothers and Warner Brothers. I own Kiree and any other original characters that you don't recognize.
Summary: Steps have to be taken to destroy the exiled Agent Smith.
Author Notes: I'm not exactly sure where I am going with Thirteen's plot, but he's an interesting character so allow me to present a chapter for a clone. I wonder if clones are people too?
Words to live by: 'Programs are people too.' – Hummer, ATS
Word Count: 708
_ _ _ ~ *~ _ _ _
Clone Thirteen sat in a bar, just a pub whose name no one remembered and the patronage usually preferred not to be talked to, as they didn't want their names to be heard.
If he had been in his usual attire he would have been completely out of place, suits didn't come into this fine establishment. Suits who did usually ended up missing, found months later decomposing at the bottom of the river.
Fortunately for him, he wasn't wearing a suit. He was in jeans and a heavy coat. His sunglasses however, were still tucked in his inside pocket. He liked those.
He was different to the other clones, he knew this for a fact, and he was definitely different to the original. Either something had gone wrong with the process, or it hadn't been completed allowing traces of the host to shine through, whatever it was he liked it.
It meant he was an individual, not just another Smith. He was even considering changing his name. He wasn't going to be a pawn in the original's plan, well, maybe until it suited him.
He tried to think of words that were associated with Smith. Brown and Jones automatically came to mind, simple last names, common last names, he need something different.
Blacksmith was one thing, a common enough word, though out of use in this modern world.
Black, his name would be Black.
Thirteen chuckled into his beer. He was clone thirteen, had been cloned on a Friday and had now chosen the name 'Black' that was an epicenter of human superstition. Evil connotations, he smirked at the thought.
Clones could clone, so maybe it was time to make his own army for his own purposes. Smith had warned his clones against cloning others, stating that it would make them more of a virus than he already and that it may attract the wrong type of attention.
He stood, paid for his beer and left the bar.
Black knew the original stayed in some rotten and dilapidated hotel, for whatever reason. He didn't understand the original, odd since he was over ninety percent the same, but that percentage was getting less and less with every passing moment.
He pulled a wallet full of cash from the code of the Matrix and headed for the nearest hotel. One with room service.
It would be a nice contrast to the drab bar he had been in. That place had reeked, full of the smells of alcohol and humans. Smell is a thing programs should avoid developing at all costs, it made one realize just how pathetic – and smelly – humans really were.
"Do you have a reservation?" the peppy desk clerk asked him as he requested a room. She smiled the smile they were taught to give customers.
"No," he said as he reached into his pocket and pulled the cash from his wallet. "But I'm sure you could find me something."
Now accepting that the man who smelt like a dirty pub actually had money her false smile disappeared and a more natural one appeared.
However natural one who has had plastic surgery can look.
She took all of the money and deposited it into a cash drawer. Clicking her fingers a bellhop appeared and accepted the key off her.
"Follow me," the bellhop said while looking around. "Don't you have any luggage?"
"No," Black said, "just show me to my room."
The large wad of cash had done him good, he was in one of the most extravagant suites in the hotel. The young man showed him around. "Anything else sir?"
"Yes," Black said as he took the key from him. "Where are the room service menus?"
"Next to the phone, you will get a bill when you leave."
"I wouldn't worry about that just yet," he said with a smile. "I plan on being here for a while."
"We are here to service your needs Mr. Black, dialing seven will transfer you to the front desk, dial one to get an outside line. Black nodded and locked the door after he left.
He looked around his new surroundings, his original was a fool. What was the point of a life if you didn't stop to enjoy it?
_ _ _ ~ *~ _ _ _
Sorry if this was a little strange, but you have to admit that there must be some small element of Smith that wants to order room service in a fancy hotel.