It's Your Fault
Angel was gone. His. His Angel was gone. Smith stood there, feeling as if a huge part of his code was just deleted, as if something was just taken from him. His mouth was open, and his blue eyes widened. He didn't feel like he could stand. Then he turned his head to his staring copies. They showed no expression to his, they didn't care. Smith made a fist. They took her away. He growled just a bit, as he jumped to one.
Smith slammed the copy into the side of the building, and the others surrounded them looking on. Smith held the copy to the wall, and pinned his arms. He got close to the copy's face, and the copy didn't struggle.
"How could you!?" Smith yelled.
The copy only stared.
"Look at what she has done to you." The copy finally said. "You're just like those humans."
Smith tightened his grip on the copy. The copy showed only a little pain.
"I can almost smell their stench on you!"
Smith growled at the copy and pushed him deeper into the wall. The wall cracked, making a hole in the side of the wall.
The copy closed his eyes in pain. Then took a deep breath, looking up into the sky.
"It's her fault this has happened." The copy said, looking back down at Smith. "All her fault."
Smith grip loosened.
"You can't deny it. Just look at you. Emotions hidden behind those shades."
Smith almost let go.
"But we can't have that now. Not now! Mr. Anderson is coming. He will be here tonight. And we need you to kill him. You are the strongest, do not fall because of a child! It's her fault! All this is her fault!"
Smith stopped. He looked to the ground, copies all staring at him. His face showed no emotion, just like it should be. He only stared at the ground, as he backed away from the copy. Then he looked up. He stared at all of them, and then straightened his tie.
"You're right. It is her fault." Smith said.
Then he flew into the sky, escaping his copies. Running away from them, to be alone, to think.
The copies watched as their leader flew away, and they crowded together.
"Can we trust him?" One said.
"Look at him." One replied.
"See how he flies."
"He is sad."
"Depressed."
"Emotions of pain."
"He will feel them,"
"Reject them."
"For they are too painful."
"Not even he can stand it."
"He will see,"
"Emotions are irrelevant."
"They only stand in the way."
"He will return."
"He will fight."
"He will win."
The copies turned to each other, and nodded. Indeed, he would win.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Angel ran down the street, only to turn the corner and a group of copies making more. She turned again to the other side of the street, her cloak blowing in the air. She stopped, heaving for air. Then ran into an apartment building. She jumped over the stairs, hearing footsteps behind her. Angel stopped at the third floor, and tried to open a room. Locked. She kicked it open to find two woman watching TV. They looked shock to see her, as she ran to the fire escape. She turned back, to see a Smith sticking his hands into the women's' arms. Now there were six Smiths chasing her. One saw her, and got out his gun.
"Kill her!" He yelled, firing.
Angel ran up the fire escape to the roof. She ran to the side, but suddenly stopped at the end. She peered down, three stories up. Then she looked at the next building. She couldn't jump that. She couldn't. But she turned to see a Smith coming. Angel made fists. She was the daughter of Agent Smith after all. Angel bent her legs, and jumped. Making it with ease. She landed on her knee, shaking from the jump. She almost froze, holding the ground. But she heard a gun being fired, and started running again.
She jumped four more buildings as she ran away from the Smiths. They were still close to her, but Angel jumped backed to the ground. People screamed at the noise of more gunfire. Angel looked to her right, and saw that almost the whole block was Smith. Her eyes widened in horror. They were everywhere.
Angel ran the other way, with the Smiths on the roof still firing their guns. A bullet shot through the ends of her cloak. Then she heard something. A school bell. Angel stopped running, and looked left. There stood, a middle school, and children that seemed her age were coming out for the end of school. Angel found a hiding place. She ran into the school, blending in with the children as they walked around. Angel ran through the school, her cloak making wind, and turning heads.
"Wow." She heard someone say.
"Damn!" Another voice.
Angel then turned into a type of alley still in the school. She bent down in the darkness, breathing heavily. She stared for a moment, waiting for someone to come after her. But nothing happened. Angel sighed and stood up. She was so tired. . . She leaned onto the wall, and slipped back to the ground. She started to cry.
Neo was right. All this. . .
Her father loved her.
Her father lied.
Her father was nothing more but a heartless program, bent on revenge. But. . . She flew with him. . . He loved her! He loved her!
This only brought more tears.
"So can I come over?"
"Got too much homework."
"English?"
"Yeah, I hate my teacher!"
Voices were coming, those of some boys. Angel didn't care, she didn't have the strength to care, or to move.
The boys started to pass the narrow alley.
"Hey, hear that?" One of them said.
"Huh?"
One of them stepped into the alley, and heard Angel's cries. He stepped closer and could see her now.
"Hey, you okay?" The boy asked.
Angel turned her head away from them, and put her hand over her eyes.
"Yeah. . ." She said.
"What's wrong?" The other one asked.
"Nothing, just some men are after me."
The boys looked at each other. They didn't know what to do.
"What kind of men?" One said.
"Men in suits. . ."
Angel turned her back to them now, she wanted to be left alone. She didn't want humans that were about to die stare at her. She didn't want them. . . She didn't want anyone. . . Not even Smith.
The boys stared at each other as Angel cried. One put his backpack down, and tried to step closer, but someone tapped his shoulder.
"Excuse me." A copy said.
Angel gasped, and looked up. The boys were about to scream when the copy put his hands over their mouths. Then his hands went through their mouths. Then there were three Smiths.
Angel stilled cried, as she stood up. She stared at them, her legs shaking. She couldn't run anymore. . .
"Leave me alone!" She yelled through the tears.
But they didn't, and they backed her into a corner. Angel stopped, and turned to the wall. She stared at it, about to fall to the ground. But then she turned back to the Smiths.
She stood her ground.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Smith sat in midair. His sunglasses were in his pocket, and he watched the sky being covered by clouds. It probably would rain. Smith sighed. He was alone. He had been alone before, but now. . . Now it really felt alone. Like no one in the entire Matrix could help him. He was probably right. He knew something was wrong. His copies were right. Just look at him. He's mourning. He's sad, and alone, depressed.
Smith made a fist, and closed his eyes. He punched through the air, and flew forward, as if trying to run away from something. But he started to slow down, then he just stopped. He didn't know if he was running, he didn't know what was happening to him, he didn't know what to do, he didn't know what had happened to Angel.
He growled at himself.
How could he let this happen?
How could he let himself go?
What happened?
Where was Agent Smith?
Smith wasn't Smith anymore. He didn't feel right. He didn't feel like he felt days ago. He didn't feel that inner strength that power, that. . . that Agent. What Smith was now was. . . was. . . He was Daddy.
"No. . ." He said to himself.
He couldn't do this. . . He couldn't allow this to happen to him. He had to kill Neo, he had to win, he had to.
Then that hatred. He felt hatred. He needed to kill them, kill them all! Get rid of their smell! Kill Neo! Kill them all! But. . . Angel.
"Stop it!"
He grabbed his head. She must die. She must. There's nothing he can do, she must die. But. . . His Angel.
Smith didn't know what to do. He couldn't get his daughter out of his mind.
Smith punched through the air again, and flew the other way. Faster and faster he flew, then he just stopped.
He had to do this. Kill them. That is what he wanted his entire existence. Kill them. But now he only wanted Angel.
"No!"
Smith shook threw the air, and flew another way again.
Smith was going to do what he wanted all his life, he was going to rule the Matrix, he was going to win. He was. But he just wanted his daughter.
Smith just wanted his daughter. He wanted her in his arms. He wanted to see her blue eyes. . .
"Please be okay." He said, looking over the city.
Then he realized what he said. He looked down at his hands, they were shaking. He made a fists, and cover his eyes. He had to stop. He had to. He had to. He had to.
"Why?" He asked.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Angel now ran on the roofs of flat buildings, Smiths behind her, Smiths in front of her. She stopped, and waited for them. The quickly surrounded her from all sides. They ran to her, trying to grab her. But Angel only jumped. She landed on one of them and kicked behind her, tripping a couple. Then she ran through them, dodging them as the lunged for her. And then she jumped, her cloak caught in the wind. She landed easily on the side of a brick building. The Smiths followed her. One punched, but missed, and got his hand stuck in the brick. Angel grabbed his arm, and swung around him, kicking two other Smiths. She twisted around the same Smith, and kicked him in the face. Two Smiths cornered her for a moment, but she only jumped, grabbing the fire escape ladder of the building. She pulled it down, hitting some of them. She rode the ladder back to the ground, and punched a Smith in the stomach, and slipped through another's legs.
She fought well, after all she was taught by Agent Smith.
On the ground, she kicked another in the legs, and rolled over to kick another. She jumped up, and lunged forward. She looked like she was flying with the cloak in the air. She was able to hit two Smiths, and hit them in the face with the back of her cloak. She twisted around, and landed on her feet, facing them.
She saw them, all of them. They just stared at her with more anger and hatred that she had never seen before. She was just like Mr. Anderson to them, never really able to die, they would change that.
Angel took a deep breath, and got ready to start punching again. The silence stopped, and the Smiths attacked again. She slid underneath one, able to get up and punch a couple. Then she turned. Someone punched her in the chest. The force flung Angel onto the street, where she skidded until she stopped. She stumbled as she rose to her feet, and wiped the blood off her lip. She panted, as she dared not to look at them. But then she did, and they were everywhere. Too many. . . Too many. . . There weren't even any cars driving on the streets. For they aren't many left to drive them. Angel stood alone, the copies surrounding her. She panted, and wiped the blood away.
Then she ran. . .
She ran down the streets, jumping off of cars, and jumping over the copies. She was getting tired, as she fell from her own jump. Then there were gunshots. Angel swung her head to the sounds of the gun. Something was happening. She took cold breaths before she started running again. Angel ran into the streets, where she saw someone that wasn't Smith. Though still in a suit. It was Agent Johnson. She knew about Agents, and their purpose, but she didn't care. She smiled all the same at someone different. Johnson was backed into a corner, still shooting his gun. The Smiths surrounded him, and Angel ran to him.
"Come on!" She yelled, grabbing his arm, as they ran right through the crowd of Smith, into a window building.
Angel held the Agent tightly, and all Johnson could do was follow. She dragged him up a couple floors, and ran into a back room. She closed the door, and let go of the Agent.
"Quiet. They'll soon go to the next building. They'll think we're in the next building by then." She whispered to him, her back turned.
There they were. Angel and Agent Johnson. They stood in an empty dark room, with little sunlight. It had wooden floors, and pale green walls. Like everything else, it had been abandon.
Johnson started to step back from Angel, as she looked up, thinking to herself.
"Who are you?" He asked, unemotionally.
"Aren't you going to thank me? I did save your life." Angel said, her back still turned from him.
"I cannot die."
Angel glanced at him, and almost laughed.
"If that's what you think." She replied.
"Who are you." He asked more angrily.
Angel frowned, and finally turned to him.
"My name is Angel."
"Angel?"
"Angel Smith."
"What are you?" He commanded.
"I am a program. Just like you."
"An Exile."
"No. A child."
Angel was getting tired of him already. He sounded just like the copies, when they were calm at least. She guessed it was just an Agent thing. But did that mean her father was like that too?
She started walking to Johnson's right, towards the windows. She didn't look at him. She was tired of men in suits.
"What is Smith now?" She asked, looking out the windows.
"He is a threat, a virus." He replied.
Johnson should have killed this child, she served no purpose. But she did have information, he knew it. He needed to know. So he answered the child's questions.
"Was he like you once?" Angel said, putting her hand over the window.
"He was an Agent." He replied.
Johnson did not move, he stood in perfect posture, and no expression. Angel glanced at him, she didn't want to look at him for too long. She knew her father was once like that, and she didn't want to believe that.
"And who are you?" She asked.
"Agent Johnson."
Angel sighed, as she walked to the next window. She stared outside, watching the copies, and the clouds come.
"He's not going to stop is he?"
Johnson did not answer.
"He'll just keep copying himself, until he has everything. Even me. . . He'll kill everything, he won't let beauty thrive. . . And you no matter what the odds are, are still going to try and kill him. Even though you know you will fail. You cannot stop though, that is your purpose. . . But he has no purpose anymore, does he? And neither do I. . ."
Angel said this in a bit of a trance. She was so tired, so beat up. . . So emotionally confused. She just literally poured her heart out to someone who would never understand. She didn't care, as long as someone was with her now.
"Who are you?" Johnson asked again.
"I am Angel Smith, daughter of Agent Smith."
"A copy?"
". . . Yes." She admitted.
Angel sighed, still looking out the window. But then she heard a gun being loaded. She turned with a gasp, and saw a gun to her head.
"Then you are part of the threat." Johnson said.
Angel closed her eyes, in defeat. Maybe this was best. Maybe this was the way to take away the pain.
A gun fired. . .
Agent Johnson lay on the floor, his head bleeding, then he turned back into the human he had taken over. Angel panted, and was shaking from fear. She looked up, and a copy stood right there, a gun in his hand.
Angel started backing up, and the copy only crept closer, his gun still aimed at her. She didn't show him her pain, but he knew it was there. Angel backed into the wall, and the copy smirked.
"This is your fault." He said. "All your fault."
Angel didn't understand.
"What!?" She yelled.
"You did this. You poisoned his mind! Now he feels such emotions. All because of you, a decoy, a plan gone wrong." He spat.
"I'm Angel."
"If he only didn't listen to you, if he only killed you sooner. He wouldn't be mourning. He would not be sad! We need him, and he needs us."
"He needs me!" She yelled without thinking.
"Oh really? Why would he need such a burden?"
"You're the burden."
"We give him strength. He gives us a leader. But you had to come, you had to fill him with these emotions! It's your fault!"
"No! It's your fault! If you only would go away! Leave us alone!"
"It's amazing how strong a child relationship is. You must hate him, he lied to you, this whole time. Yet you still long for your "Father""
"Shut up!"
"He most likely longs for you in the same way. But that will not last long. Once Mr. Anderson is killed tonight."
"Neo?" She whispered.
"Yes, Mr. Anderson. Besides, if it wasn't for us, his bringing of power, he would have never thought of you, and thus you would have never been created."
The copy's voice sounded like her father's when he talked with hatred. Like nothing was there, but hatred. As if the copy was an empty cold shell.
"You still have hope of a happy ending for you and him." The copy laughed.
"Shut up. . ."
"Don't worry, I'm going to make those hopes that will never come true go away. The disappointment go away. The pain. Don't you want that?"
The copy came closer to Angel. He was right above her, and the gun was aimed at her head. Angel eyes were hidden under her dirty black hair. The copy stared at her, expecting a reply, he wanted to see this girl cry for mercy. But she didn't, she stayed still. Then she started shaking.
"I want you dead." She whispered.
The copy raised an eyebrow, and Angel grabbed the gun. She pulled his arm back, and h let go. Angel kicked it away into the corner. She still had his arm, and she twisted it to his back. She kicked the copy in the back, sending him to the floor. Then she broke his arm.
All the anger, the pain, the heartache. All unleashed in that one moment. For a second in that sentence, Angel had the same sound of hatred in her voice. But only for a second. The copy had done it. She had heard enough. It wasn't her fault. It was theirs'. All of them.
The copy was dead.
Angel laid next to the body on her knees. She stared down at her hands, they were shaking. Angel started to cry. She had just realized what she said and done. And she knew her father would have done the same thing, this scared her. What if she was really just like him? But Angel shook her head, no, she wasn't. She bit her lower lip and made fists, her hands fell to the ground, and tears fell on the copy's suit. Angel crawled into the corner, where there was a little light left. She huddled up, putting her head in her legs, and wrapped her cloak around her.
She just cried.
Then out form her jacket pocket, she pulled out the poetry book. She flipped through the pages, reading only a couple poems. Tears fell onto the pages. Angel then pulled out a blue pen she had gotten earlier. She went to the back of the book, where there were some blank pages.
And she started writing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Matrix sky was now completely covered by dark clouds. The air was thick and cold, the weather seemed to fit Smith's thoughts perfectly. He sat on the edge of the tallest building, gazing down at his world below. There were only about three hundred humans left, and they would soon be gone. This city would be his, then he would spread to the rest of the Matrix.
But Smith still thought about his daughter. . .
Then Smith felt something in the back of his head. He twitched at the slight pain. Then it started to spread, it grew into a horrible headache. He felt like his head was going to explode. It throbbed in pain. Smith closed his eyes tightly, and put his hands over his eyes. He moaned quietly in the pain. He didn't know what was happening to him. Then his eyes shot wide open.
He saw Neo, lying in a crater, on the brink of death. He saw him standing over Neo. It rained, as he said something in Neo's final moments. And then he laughed. Lighting struck the sky, and Neo was dead.
Smith gasped for air. He coughed slightly, and the headache was gone. He just had a vision. He had the eyes of the Oracle, and he saw with them. He was the future. He saw him win.
But it was what he didn't see. Where was Angel?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Next Chapter: Behind Blue Eyes
I hope you all had a very nice, Christmas, Smithmas. Hehe, I got many Matrixy presents ^_^ And now I wish you a happy new, Neo year!
And to some of you out there, I'm glad I have inspired you. *bows*
Angel was gone. His. His Angel was gone. Smith stood there, feeling as if a huge part of his code was just deleted, as if something was just taken from him. His mouth was open, and his blue eyes widened. He didn't feel like he could stand. Then he turned his head to his staring copies. They showed no expression to his, they didn't care. Smith made a fist. They took her away. He growled just a bit, as he jumped to one.
Smith slammed the copy into the side of the building, and the others surrounded them looking on. Smith held the copy to the wall, and pinned his arms. He got close to the copy's face, and the copy didn't struggle.
"How could you!?" Smith yelled.
The copy only stared.
"Look at what she has done to you." The copy finally said. "You're just like those humans."
Smith tightened his grip on the copy. The copy showed only a little pain.
"I can almost smell their stench on you!"
Smith growled at the copy and pushed him deeper into the wall. The wall cracked, making a hole in the side of the wall.
The copy closed his eyes in pain. Then took a deep breath, looking up into the sky.
"It's her fault this has happened." The copy said, looking back down at Smith. "All her fault."
Smith grip loosened.
"You can't deny it. Just look at you. Emotions hidden behind those shades."
Smith almost let go.
"But we can't have that now. Not now! Mr. Anderson is coming. He will be here tonight. And we need you to kill him. You are the strongest, do not fall because of a child! It's her fault! All this is her fault!"
Smith stopped. He looked to the ground, copies all staring at him. His face showed no emotion, just like it should be. He only stared at the ground, as he backed away from the copy. Then he looked up. He stared at all of them, and then straightened his tie.
"You're right. It is her fault." Smith said.
Then he flew into the sky, escaping his copies. Running away from them, to be alone, to think.
The copies watched as their leader flew away, and they crowded together.
"Can we trust him?" One said.
"Look at him." One replied.
"See how he flies."
"He is sad."
"Depressed."
"Emotions of pain."
"He will feel them,"
"Reject them."
"For they are too painful."
"Not even he can stand it."
"He will see,"
"Emotions are irrelevant."
"They only stand in the way."
"He will return."
"He will fight."
"He will win."
The copies turned to each other, and nodded. Indeed, he would win.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Angel ran down the street, only to turn the corner and a group of copies making more. She turned again to the other side of the street, her cloak blowing in the air. She stopped, heaving for air. Then ran into an apartment building. She jumped over the stairs, hearing footsteps behind her. Angel stopped at the third floor, and tried to open a room. Locked. She kicked it open to find two woman watching TV. They looked shock to see her, as she ran to the fire escape. She turned back, to see a Smith sticking his hands into the women's' arms. Now there were six Smiths chasing her. One saw her, and got out his gun.
"Kill her!" He yelled, firing.
Angel ran up the fire escape to the roof. She ran to the side, but suddenly stopped at the end. She peered down, three stories up. Then she looked at the next building. She couldn't jump that. She couldn't. But she turned to see a Smith coming. Angel made fists. She was the daughter of Agent Smith after all. Angel bent her legs, and jumped. Making it with ease. She landed on her knee, shaking from the jump. She almost froze, holding the ground. But she heard a gun being fired, and started running again.
She jumped four more buildings as she ran away from the Smiths. They were still close to her, but Angel jumped backed to the ground. People screamed at the noise of more gunfire. Angel looked to her right, and saw that almost the whole block was Smith. Her eyes widened in horror. They were everywhere.
Angel ran the other way, with the Smiths on the roof still firing their guns. A bullet shot through the ends of her cloak. Then she heard something. A school bell. Angel stopped running, and looked left. There stood, a middle school, and children that seemed her age were coming out for the end of school. Angel found a hiding place. She ran into the school, blending in with the children as they walked around. Angel ran through the school, her cloak making wind, and turning heads.
"Wow." She heard someone say.
"Damn!" Another voice.
Angel then turned into a type of alley still in the school. She bent down in the darkness, breathing heavily. She stared for a moment, waiting for someone to come after her. But nothing happened. Angel sighed and stood up. She was so tired. . . She leaned onto the wall, and slipped back to the ground. She started to cry.
Neo was right. All this. . .
Her father loved her.
Her father lied.
Her father was nothing more but a heartless program, bent on revenge. But. . . She flew with him. . . He loved her! He loved her!
This only brought more tears.
"So can I come over?"
"Got too much homework."
"English?"
"Yeah, I hate my teacher!"
Voices were coming, those of some boys. Angel didn't care, she didn't have the strength to care, or to move.
The boys started to pass the narrow alley.
"Hey, hear that?" One of them said.
"Huh?"
One of them stepped into the alley, and heard Angel's cries. He stepped closer and could see her now.
"Hey, you okay?" The boy asked.
Angel turned her head away from them, and put her hand over her eyes.
"Yeah. . ." She said.
"What's wrong?" The other one asked.
"Nothing, just some men are after me."
The boys looked at each other. They didn't know what to do.
"What kind of men?" One said.
"Men in suits. . ."
Angel turned her back to them now, she wanted to be left alone. She didn't want humans that were about to die stare at her. She didn't want them. . . She didn't want anyone. . . Not even Smith.
The boys stared at each other as Angel cried. One put his backpack down, and tried to step closer, but someone tapped his shoulder.
"Excuse me." A copy said.
Angel gasped, and looked up. The boys were about to scream when the copy put his hands over their mouths. Then his hands went through their mouths. Then there were three Smiths.
Angel stilled cried, as she stood up. She stared at them, her legs shaking. She couldn't run anymore. . .
"Leave me alone!" She yelled through the tears.
But they didn't, and they backed her into a corner. Angel stopped, and turned to the wall. She stared at it, about to fall to the ground. But then she turned back to the Smiths.
She stood her ground.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Smith sat in midair. His sunglasses were in his pocket, and he watched the sky being covered by clouds. It probably would rain. Smith sighed. He was alone. He had been alone before, but now. . . Now it really felt alone. Like no one in the entire Matrix could help him. He was probably right. He knew something was wrong. His copies were right. Just look at him. He's mourning. He's sad, and alone, depressed.
Smith made a fist, and closed his eyes. He punched through the air, and flew forward, as if trying to run away from something. But he started to slow down, then he just stopped. He didn't know if he was running, he didn't know what was happening to him, he didn't know what to do, he didn't know what had happened to Angel.
He growled at himself.
How could he let this happen?
How could he let himself go?
What happened?
Where was Agent Smith?
Smith wasn't Smith anymore. He didn't feel right. He didn't feel like he felt days ago. He didn't feel that inner strength that power, that. . . that Agent. What Smith was now was. . . was. . . He was Daddy.
"No. . ." He said to himself.
He couldn't do this. . . He couldn't allow this to happen to him. He had to kill Neo, he had to win, he had to.
Then that hatred. He felt hatred. He needed to kill them, kill them all! Get rid of their smell! Kill Neo! Kill them all! But. . . Angel.
"Stop it!"
He grabbed his head. She must die. She must. There's nothing he can do, she must die. But. . . His Angel.
Smith didn't know what to do. He couldn't get his daughter out of his mind.
Smith punched through the air again, and flew the other way. Faster and faster he flew, then he just stopped.
He had to do this. Kill them. That is what he wanted his entire existence. Kill them. But now he only wanted Angel.
"No!"
Smith shook threw the air, and flew another way again.
Smith was going to do what he wanted all his life, he was going to rule the Matrix, he was going to win. He was. But he just wanted his daughter.
Smith just wanted his daughter. He wanted her in his arms. He wanted to see her blue eyes. . .
"Please be okay." He said, looking over the city.
Then he realized what he said. He looked down at his hands, they were shaking. He made a fists, and cover his eyes. He had to stop. He had to. He had to. He had to.
"Why?" He asked.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Angel now ran on the roofs of flat buildings, Smiths behind her, Smiths in front of her. She stopped, and waited for them. The quickly surrounded her from all sides. They ran to her, trying to grab her. But Angel only jumped. She landed on one of them and kicked behind her, tripping a couple. Then she ran through them, dodging them as the lunged for her. And then she jumped, her cloak caught in the wind. She landed easily on the side of a brick building. The Smiths followed her. One punched, but missed, and got his hand stuck in the brick. Angel grabbed his arm, and swung around him, kicking two other Smiths. She twisted around the same Smith, and kicked him in the face. Two Smiths cornered her for a moment, but she only jumped, grabbing the fire escape ladder of the building. She pulled it down, hitting some of them. She rode the ladder back to the ground, and punched a Smith in the stomach, and slipped through another's legs.
She fought well, after all she was taught by Agent Smith.
On the ground, she kicked another in the legs, and rolled over to kick another. She jumped up, and lunged forward. She looked like she was flying with the cloak in the air. She was able to hit two Smiths, and hit them in the face with the back of her cloak. She twisted around, and landed on her feet, facing them.
She saw them, all of them. They just stared at her with more anger and hatred that she had never seen before. She was just like Mr. Anderson to them, never really able to die, they would change that.
Angel took a deep breath, and got ready to start punching again. The silence stopped, and the Smiths attacked again. She slid underneath one, able to get up and punch a couple. Then she turned. Someone punched her in the chest. The force flung Angel onto the street, where she skidded until she stopped. She stumbled as she rose to her feet, and wiped the blood off her lip. She panted, as she dared not to look at them. But then she did, and they were everywhere. Too many. . . Too many. . . There weren't even any cars driving on the streets. For they aren't many left to drive them. Angel stood alone, the copies surrounding her. She panted, and wiped the blood away.
Then she ran. . .
She ran down the streets, jumping off of cars, and jumping over the copies. She was getting tired, as she fell from her own jump. Then there were gunshots. Angel swung her head to the sounds of the gun. Something was happening. She took cold breaths before she started running again. Angel ran into the streets, where she saw someone that wasn't Smith. Though still in a suit. It was Agent Johnson. She knew about Agents, and their purpose, but she didn't care. She smiled all the same at someone different. Johnson was backed into a corner, still shooting his gun. The Smiths surrounded him, and Angel ran to him.
"Come on!" She yelled, grabbing his arm, as they ran right through the crowd of Smith, into a window building.
Angel held the Agent tightly, and all Johnson could do was follow. She dragged him up a couple floors, and ran into a back room. She closed the door, and let go of the Agent.
"Quiet. They'll soon go to the next building. They'll think we're in the next building by then." She whispered to him, her back turned.
There they were. Angel and Agent Johnson. They stood in an empty dark room, with little sunlight. It had wooden floors, and pale green walls. Like everything else, it had been abandon.
Johnson started to step back from Angel, as she looked up, thinking to herself.
"Who are you?" He asked, unemotionally.
"Aren't you going to thank me? I did save your life." Angel said, her back still turned from him.
"I cannot die."
Angel glanced at him, and almost laughed.
"If that's what you think." She replied.
"Who are you." He asked more angrily.
Angel frowned, and finally turned to him.
"My name is Angel."
"Angel?"
"Angel Smith."
"What are you?" He commanded.
"I am a program. Just like you."
"An Exile."
"No. A child."
Angel was getting tired of him already. He sounded just like the copies, when they were calm at least. She guessed it was just an Agent thing. But did that mean her father was like that too?
She started walking to Johnson's right, towards the windows. She didn't look at him. She was tired of men in suits.
"What is Smith now?" She asked, looking out the windows.
"He is a threat, a virus." He replied.
Johnson should have killed this child, she served no purpose. But she did have information, he knew it. He needed to know. So he answered the child's questions.
"Was he like you once?" Angel said, putting her hand over the window.
"He was an Agent." He replied.
Johnson did not move, he stood in perfect posture, and no expression. Angel glanced at him, she didn't want to look at him for too long. She knew her father was once like that, and she didn't want to believe that.
"And who are you?" She asked.
"Agent Johnson."
Angel sighed, as she walked to the next window. She stared outside, watching the copies, and the clouds come.
"He's not going to stop is he?"
Johnson did not answer.
"He'll just keep copying himself, until he has everything. Even me. . . He'll kill everything, he won't let beauty thrive. . . And you no matter what the odds are, are still going to try and kill him. Even though you know you will fail. You cannot stop though, that is your purpose. . . But he has no purpose anymore, does he? And neither do I. . ."
Angel said this in a bit of a trance. She was so tired, so beat up. . . So emotionally confused. She just literally poured her heart out to someone who would never understand. She didn't care, as long as someone was with her now.
"Who are you?" Johnson asked again.
"I am Angel Smith, daughter of Agent Smith."
"A copy?"
". . . Yes." She admitted.
Angel sighed, still looking out the window. But then she heard a gun being loaded. She turned with a gasp, and saw a gun to her head.
"Then you are part of the threat." Johnson said.
Angel closed her eyes, in defeat. Maybe this was best. Maybe this was the way to take away the pain.
A gun fired. . .
Agent Johnson lay on the floor, his head bleeding, then he turned back into the human he had taken over. Angel panted, and was shaking from fear. She looked up, and a copy stood right there, a gun in his hand.
Angel started backing up, and the copy only crept closer, his gun still aimed at her. She didn't show him her pain, but he knew it was there. Angel backed into the wall, and the copy smirked.
"This is your fault." He said. "All your fault."
Angel didn't understand.
"What!?" She yelled.
"You did this. You poisoned his mind! Now he feels such emotions. All because of you, a decoy, a plan gone wrong." He spat.
"I'm Angel."
"If he only didn't listen to you, if he only killed you sooner. He wouldn't be mourning. He would not be sad! We need him, and he needs us."
"He needs me!" She yelled without thinking.
"Oh really? Why would he need such a burden?"
"You're the burden."
"We give him strength. He gives us a leader. But you had to come, you had to fill him with these emotions! It's your fault!"
"No! It's your fault! If you only would go away! Leave us alone!"
"It's amazing how strong a child relationship is. You must hate him, he lied to you, this whole time. Yet you still long for your "Father""
"Shut up!"
"He most likely longs for you in the same way. But that will not last long. Once Mr. Anderson is killed tonight."
"Neo?" She whispered.
"Yes, Mr. Anderson. Besides, if it wasn't for us, his bringing of power, he would have never thought of you, and thus you would have never been created."
The copy's voice sounded like her father's when he talked with hatred. Like nothing was there, but hatred. As if the copy was an empty cold shell.
"You still have hope of a happy ending for you and him." The copy laughed.
"Shut up. . ."
"Don't worry, I'm going to make those hopes that will never come true go away. The disappointment go away. The pain. Don't you want that?"
The copy came closer to Angel. He was right above her, and the gun was aimed at her head. Angel eyes were hidden under her dirty black hair. The copy stared at her, expecting a reply, he wanted to see this girl cry for mercy. But she didn't, she stayed still. Then she started shaking.
"I want you dead." She whispered.
The copy raised an eyebrow, and Angel grabbed the gun. She pulled his arm back, and h let go. Angel kicked it away into the corner. She still had his arm, and she twisted it to his back. She kicked the copy in the back, sending him to the floor. Then she broke his arm.
All the anger, the pain, the heartache. All unleashed in that one moment. For a second in that sentence, Angel had the same sound of hatred in her voice. But only for a second. The copy had done it. She had heard enough. It wasn't her fault. It was theirs'. All of them.
The copy was dead.
Angel laid next to the body on her knees. She stared down at her hands, they were shaking. Angel started to cry. She had just realized what she said and done. And she knew her father would have done the same thing, this scared her. What if she was really just like him? But Angel shook her head, no, she wasn't. She bit her lower lip and made fists, her hands fell to the ground, and tears fell on the copy's suit. Angel crawled into the corner, where there was a little light left. She huddled up, putting her head in her legs, and wrapped her cloak around her.
She just cried.
Then out form her jacket pocket, she pulled out the poetry book. She flipped through the pages, reading only a couple poems. Tears fell onto the pages. Angel then pulled out a blue pen she had gotten earlier. She went to the back of the book, where there were some blank pages.
And she started writing.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Matrix sky was now completely covered by dark clouds. The air was thick and cold, the weather seemed to fit Smith's thoughts perfectly. He sat on the edge of the tallest building, gazing down at his world below. There were only about three hundred humans left, and they would soon be gone. This city would be his, then he would spread to the rest of the Matrix.
But Smith still thought about his daughter. . .
Then Smith felt something in the back of his head. He twitched at the slight pain. Then it started to spread, it grew into a horrible headache. He felt like his head was going to explode. It throbbed in pain. Smith closed his eyes tightly, and put his hands over his eyes. He moaned quietly in the pain. He didn't know what was happening to him. Then his eyes shot wide open.
He saw Neo, lying in a crater, on the brink of death. He saw him standing over Neo. It rained, as he said something in Neo's final moments. And then he laughed. Lighting struck the sky, and Neo was dead.
Smith gasped for air. He coughed slightly, and the headache was gone. He just had a vision. He had the eyes of the Oracle, and he saw with them. He was the future. He saw him win.
But it was what he didn't see. Where was Angel?
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Next Chapter: Behind Blue Eyes
I hope you all had a very nice, Christmas, Smithmas. Hehe, I got many Matrixy presents ^_^ And now I wish you a happy new, Neo year!
And to some of you out there, I'm glad I have inspired you. *bows*