Author's Note: Hello, all. I just wanted to inform you that ship known as the Hammer and the crew that works aboard it are all property of the Wachowski Brothers. I had to do some serious research to figure out that stuff. Orion is mine, though. I wasn't sure which character was the Hammer's operator, so I just made one up. Ah, the glee of artistic license.
I've also discovered a nice little trick. It's called "Screw the details on everyone else and detail the hell out of Smith." It makes him the star of the show, see? Mwa ha ha…enjoy and please review! Thanks to everyone for the wonderful critiques!
Chapter 6: Trinity Offers Smith a Slice of Humble Pie
Link slapped his hands together in glee. "Ha ha, look at that! We got him!"
Trinity peered at the monitors in interest from over his shoulder.
"Analyze his program code," she ordered. "Figure out a way to re-program him…if it's possible. It would be a lot easier getting him to cooperate. I want to talk to him. Now."
Link acknowledged by nodding his head eagerly. His fingers were immediately typing ferociously. Trinity stared at the green glowing screens.
"What is he doing?" she asked curiously. Smith was pacing back and forth across his confines.
Link smirked. "He's pretty fired up, I don't think you should go in just yet."
"I'll be fine, you can alter him or pull me out if he tries anything."
"Yes, ma'am," Link obeyed.
Minutes later, Trinity appeared in the blank construct. Smith's back was to her.
"Smith," she said neutrally. He slowly turned towards her.
"You," he said in malignant recognition.
Trinity pursed her lips, expecting the worst.
"Let me out of here," he demanded quietly. "I will give you one and only one opportunity to do so. Do it now."
"No," she replied simply. She could see his anger building up. He closed and opened his fists, waiting for an explanation.
"Make sure you keep a sharp eye on him, Link," Trinity muttered.
"What was that?" Smith spat. He had become positively infuriated. He felt like a caged animal. He was angry for somehow allowing himself to be deceived by these filthy creatures. How could it possibly have happened? He wracked his every subroutine trying to discover what had gone wrong.
"We need your help," Trinity told him, trying to show the least amount of emotion possible. She didn't like telling him that she needed his help any more than he liked hearing it.
Smith glowered at her, his eyes still hidden by his dark glasses. Trinity felt suddenly irritated by them.
She instinctively looked upwards, as though she was talking to God. "Link, get rid of his glasses."
They promptly vanished. Smith twisted his face into a snarl…and then, with his arm extended with intent to grab her by the throat and crush it, he viciously strode towards her.
She took a step back. "Link…"
Smith stopped in his tracks; his feet apparently were adhered to the floor. With a great amount of anger and frustration, he tried to pull himself free.
Trinity watched with a subtle hint of mirth on her face. Link was equally amused and chuckled to himself as he watched from his operating station. This was going to be fun.
Smith ceased his efforts and once again coldly glared at the woman before him
"As you can see," she said wryly, "Your program belongs to us now. We control you."
Smith spat on her leather boots.
That was the last straw. Without warning and at a blinding speed, she drew her handgun from within her leather coat and brutally pistol-whipped him across the face. He fell to his knees. Her heart cringed when he looked back up at her.
His cheek was bleeding where she had struck him. But that wasn't what made her inwardly shudder. His eyes bore straight into her. They were burning with an intense hate. He was beginning to tremble with rage. Trinity didn't think anyone had ever hated her as much as Smith did at that moment.
Link's jaw had dropped at the moment she hit him. He had never seen her that ruthless in such a mild situation. But he could see her side of it. Neo was possibly dying, and she didn't have time for games. He was almost positive that she had probably gained some sort of satisfaction of beating down what had once been an agent, in the same way that she had been beaten down.
Trinity pushed aside her pity for Smith.
"What was I saying?" she asked, not really expecting an answer out of him. She stooped down so that she was eye to eye with him, something that could have been extraordinarily dangerous. "Oh yes, I remember. We own you."
*****
"How is he?" Trinity asked Link a few hours later, a slight hint of concern in her voice.
"He asked for some…painting supplies," Link answered, bemused.
"Painting supplies?"
"Yeah…he's been at it for awhile now."
Trinity scrunched up her face in confusion. "I'm going back in again."
*****
He knew she was there again without having to turn around. He was sitting in a stark white chair at a stark white table, in the middle of the stark white construct. It all appeared so…antiseptic.
She watched him for a few seconds, with his back hunched as his hand clutching a brush moved furiously across his paper. He startled her when he spoke.
"What do you want?" He drawled. He continued to paint, apparently not distracted at all by her presence. She was surprised at how calm he had become.
"What are you doing?" she responded, ignoring his question for the moment.
"I am calibrating my tactile functions, what does it look like?"
Trinity snorted. "If I had to guess, I'd say it looks like you're painting."
"This is the preferred method," Smith snapped. "What is it that you want?" He laid his brush down on the drawing table, stood up, and turned to face her. There was still a mark on his face from where she had hit him. Haughtily, he adjusted his suit jacket cuffs.
"Neo—we—need your help."
This solicited a raised eyebrow from Smith. He pouted his lips as he spoke. "And what in creation would make you believe or even hope that I would ever do such a thing to help Neo?" He said the name as though he had the taste of rotten garbage in his mouth. He adjusted his tie clip.
Why is he so calm now? She wondered. Why the drastic change?
"Because if you don't, we're going to decompile your ass." She wasn't sure if they could actually do that or not, but it was nice leverage to use.
Smith's throat lowly resonated in a growl. He didn't know either if that was possible for them to accomplish, but then again he had underestimated them before and wound up in this damned prison. He subconsciously noted that it didn't smell nearly as bad as the Matrix. As a matter of fact, there was no scent to it whatsoever.
"Your threats are pointless," he began. "You forget my copies," He leered at her.
"Yes," she mused. "Your copies..."
She stepped closer to him. He tightened his hands into fists and glared at her as if the look could kill.
She went on. "Of course there are your copies. But I know you, Smith."
He narrowed his eyes at her.
"I know that you, personally, don't want to be wiped out of existence. As you've mentioned to Neo so many times before, you're here because you supposedly have a purpose. You have a goal to achieve. So I know," she looked him dead in the eyes, "that you do not want to be decompiled."
The silence was deafening. The two stood and stared each other down, each trying to will the other into submission.
"I'll let you think about it for awhile," Trinity said. He lifted his chin and jutted his jaw at her in a superior manner.
She suddenly became curious and abruptly changed the topic. "What is it that you were painting?"
Without waiting for an answer, she walked around him, ignoring the fact that he was there. He made to move as well, but found that once again, his feet were planted to the floor.
She approached the worktable half expecting to see a picture of her own head on a stick, but what she saw was a shock to her system.
It was a mountain landscape. Almost perfect in every detail, but she was sure he probably wasn't finished with it yet.
"Tactile calibration, hm?"
She turned to face him and was met with a scowl.
"I'll come back later when you're in a better mood." Trinity vanished. Once she was out, she wished that there had been a door to his prison that she could have walked out of and slammed behind her, just for dramatic effect.