Dodge This
"Are you afraid?" Jackson observed.
Brown stayed silent.
"Agents should not feel fear. Agents should not feel." Jackson continued.
Brown looked down, almost ashamed.
"Why do you feel?"
Then Brown closed his eyes, and waited.
"Dodge this."
A gun fired, and Jackson lay on the floor, already reverted back to the human he took over.
Brown looked up.
"Jones!" He yelled in delight.
Jones backed up, and widened his eyes as he saw Brown's reaction. He backed away, still holding his Desert Eagle, and he showed no emotion to Brown's smile. Brown stopped as he saw Jones back away. He looked down, and straightened his tie, regaining his Agent composure. He turned around, and picked up his book off the ground, and tucked it away in his Jacket pocket.
"Dodge this?" Brown asked.
Jones turned his back on Brown, and started walking. And before Brown could notice he smiled.
"Yes." Jones replied.
"Dodge this?" Brown repeated.
The phrase that rebel said to him!? That simple sentence that he heard before his death!?
"It seemed...appropriate." Jones explained.
Brown stood in disbelief for a moment.
"Come. They will come back for us." Jones started walking away.
"Jones..." Brown started, catching up to him. "Thank you."
Jones looked over at Brown.
"For what?" Jones asked.
Brown was surprised.
"For saving me."
"That is what we must do. There is no purpose for thanks."
Yes. That is what they did. They would protect each other, because all they had were each other. Brown almost smiled at the comment. Jones would be his protector. He was safe.
Then there was walking again. Slipping into the streets, trying not to be noticed. Trying not to be attracted. The endless roads, and endless crowds. Nowhere to go, nowhere to run. So, they just kept walking. Just keep walking, and maybe they'll find somewhere to go.
Brown could not help but look up at Jones every so often.
"Do you know where we are going?" Brown would ask.
"No."
"Do you wish to go anywhere?"
"No."
Brown sighed, and Jones was annoyed.
"We should find somewhere to stay, it is getting dark." Jones observed.
"Dark?" Brown looked up.
"They're still looking for us. Have you already forgotten what it is like to be an Agent? At night we...they are more efficient, because many rebels do their business at night." Jones explained, looking to the side as they walked.
The constant scanning of the entire Matrix. The constant scans searching for glitches, anomalies, and exiles. Everything seemed to be busier as the sun went down. Agents, they would go all night killing. Just killing. Just allowing Smith to kill them...
Of course Brown remembered. Of course he had the memories, he just didn't wish to recall them.
"We need shelter." Jones said.
Jones stopped, and started looking around, as if he knew someone was watching him.
"Let's go in there." Brown pointed slightly.
"There? It's a club!" Jones sounded disgusted.
Brown started walking down the street towards the club.
"It is the last place they'll look. You and I both know that." Brown mocked.
"It is a club." Jones persisted.
"We'll only stay for as long as it will provide protection."
Jones growled in defeat, and started following Brown.
Too much noise, too much darkness, too much drinking, too much dancing. Jones turned his head, trying to look away. While Brown was in amazement at such a place. Jones followed Brown as he found a place to sit in the corner.
"It is not that bad. We have been in clubs before. We have become people in clubs before." Brown said.
"That is different. We were doing our jobs before." Jones growled.
"Just a little while, then the Agents will be assigned another job, for the night."
"Can I get you two anything?"
A waitress.
Brown looked over at Jones, and smiled.
"I would like any red wine if you have any." Brown said.
The waitress smiled and walked away.
"Red wine?" Jones asked.
"I recall Smith commenting about it, after his dinner with Mr. Reagan." Brown smiled.
And before Jones knew it, Brown was taking his third sip of red wine.
"I believe alcohol is much better than noodles." Brown said happily.
Behind his sunglasses Jones rolled his eyes.
This was not where they should be. This was not where they should ever be, what they should ever be doing. This was not purpose, this was not ethical. It was disgusting, it was repulsive. What happened to the Agency? The Mainframe? Where did they go? Why did they leave them? What did they do wrong?
"Jones?"
He did his purpose, there was no need for deletion. They wouldn't become like Smith. They wouldn't, they feared being like Smith. Why would they turn their backs on them? He didn't want to be here. He never wanted to be here. Why was here? Why did Brown take him here?
"Jones?"
Jones turned his head.
"Yes?" He asked.
"You seemed in deep thought." Brown observed, like Brown always does.
"Yes." Jones nodded.
Brown took another sip of drink in worry.
"What were you thinking about?" He asked quietly, asking like Brown always does.
"Nothing." Jones said.
"That's impossible to think of nothing."
"If we still were connected, we would know what each other were thinking, isn't that right?"
Brown took another sip.
"They would never take us back." Brown whispered.
"I know."
It doesn't hurt to imagine.
Brown didn't want Jones to second-guess this. Not now. Not ever. This was how it had to be. Exiles. Things they used to kill. That's the way it must be.
"Hello sir, do want to dance?"
"Huh?" Brown looked up.
Jones allowed himself to smile.
"I asked if you want to dance."
A female, a woman. A beautiful woman, asking Brown.
"Uh...I'm, I'm tired from my work day, Miss. I finally am able to rest." Brown tried.
"Oh, yes, your suits, you must have important jobs!" The woman yelled, smiling.
"Nonsense, Mr. Brown! You love to dance! You're the one that dragged me in here!"
"Jones?" Brown looked over.
Jones smiled, and raised his hand to Brown. He yelled with the sound of happiness, and glee.
"You love to dance?" The woman asked.
"Of course he does!" Jones continued.
"Jones!?" Brown looked at him.
"Well, let's go!"
The woman grabbed Brown's hand, and dragged him to the dance floor, and Jones just smiled as Brown looked horrified. Jones then grabbed Brown's drink, and took a sip of it.
Jones had also been observing, observing quite well, too.
"Now that you're alone..."
"Excuse me?"
Jones looked up, to see a woman sit down into Brown's seat. She smiled at him. Jones took another sip of Brown's drink.
"Come on, take those sunglasses off." The woman told Brown.
"Um... My eyes are very sensitive! The lights!" Brown made excuses.
"Then at least take this tie off."
Brown grabbed his tie.
"This is an expensive suit!"
Jones was scared.
"Looks like your friend ditched you." The woman told Jones.
"Well..." He looked over at Brown.
"What is your name?"
"Mr. Jones."
Brown's girl started dancing, and looking over at him, wondering why he wasn't. She started grabbing his hand, trying to get him to dance. But Brown lowered his head, afraid. Of all his observing, he could not mimic the talent of dance.
"Well, what's your first name?" The woman asked Jones.
"Uh...I cannot reveal that to you." Jones lowered in his seat.
"Aw, why not?" The woman leaned closer to him.
"I..."
She started grabbing for his tie.
"Please don't touch!" Jones grabbed her hand.
The woman smiled at him. She smiled like Smith once did. Predatory, knowing she was going to get what she wanted.
"My, my Mr. Jones." She said.
Brown attempted to dance. He tried, he really did. Some things he was just never programmed to do or be able to do.
"Ow!"
"Brown!?" Jones looked over.
Brown came running, two hands over the right side of his face.
"What happened?" Jones asked.
"She slapped me!" Brown said.
"Why?"
"I don't know!"
Women. An erratic part of the species. Also a most flexible rebel. They still could not capture the human female, Trinity. Unpredictable, emotion filled, dangerous part of the species.
Then there were gunfires.
Jones grabbed Brown and pushed him behind him. On the other side of the club, stood three men in suits.
"Run." He whispered to Brown.
Brown felt Jones pushed him into a crowd of people. Jones kept a close eye on the Agents, as he saw them turn their heads towards them. He felt for his gun.
Then Agent Johnson pointed at them, as they ran.
Three people around them became Agents. Jones kicked on in the side, and Brown punched one.
"Go!" Jones yelled.
People began screaming, and running. Jones and Brown just ran and ran. Jones pushed Brown out the exit, and started running.
Jones protected Brown. Protected small Brown. That's how it is. That is how it has always been.
"Up the ladder." Jones commanded, pushing him towards the side of a building with a fire escape.
Running, always got to run. That's how it is now. That's how it is always going to be. That how it is being, an Exile. That what Exiles do, run.
They ran down a hallway, turning right then left, up some stairs, and right again. They were once Agent's though, and they knew Agents would find them.
At the end of a hallway, there was a dead end. Jones growled, as he put Brown behind him, and got out his gun.
"I will protect you." Jones said.
"Jones..."
This was how it always was. This was how it went. Brown, little Brown, only good for questions and observing. Firing a gun when needed. Protected behind Smith and Jones. Smith always left them, and Jones always protected him.
The human is alive. Impossible, Smith killed him. No, the human is alive. The human is getting up. The human is different.
Running their heads, their thoughts shared together. This was before. This was when Smith was killed. This was back in room 303.
The human is an Anomaly.
They watch as Smith is struck down. They watch as there is no hope for Mr. Anderson to be killed. There is no hope for death.
And as Smith falls to the ground, Jones puts his arm in front of Brown, because that is what they do. Because that is how it is. Jones protects Brown.
Smith? Something is wrong. Abort. Smith! Abort. Smith!
Then Smith is killed.
Run.
This is how it is. This is how it is, and the three Agents come to them. Not even guns drawn, they are so sure they will kill them. Jones hand begins to shake, and Brown closes his eyes.
"Dodge this, right?" Brown whispers.
"Dodge this." Jones nods.
And Jones pushes Brown into the corner, and slides down the wall, killing Agent Johnson in the front. Then he punched into the wall by the other two.
"Jones..." Brown whispers. "Jones."
"What?"
"They look like us!"
Jones looked up. Agents Jackson and Thompson. Their upgrades.
And on the floor, Jones still held his gun, and Jackson pushed Thompson behind him, and they both got their guns out.
This was it. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. To close to dodge the bullets the Agents will fire. They gave it a shot, they tried. This is how it is though. This is what happens when you are and Exile. How many Exiles had they killed?
They tried. They really did. But they were obsolete. They were incomplete.
Jones looked at Brown.
This is how it goes. This is death. And they felt fear.
Then a blade cut Agent Thompson's throat, and gunfire killed Agent Jackson. Jones and Brown looked up. Two albino twins stood there, and looked down at them.
Then the Twins smiled.
Next Chapter: Proposal
It's true! In the first Matrix, when Smith is kicked down by Neo at the end, Jones puts his arm in front of Brown!
Here's a pic of it, just put it in your address bar:
http:us.f2.yahoofs.com/bc/3fb6f7f0fe27/bc/MyDocuments/moreproof!.jpg?bfY G10AB.YxfNlF
"Are you afraid?" Jackson observed.
Brown stayed silent.
"Agents should not feel fear. Agents should not feel." Jackson continued.
Brown looked down, almost ashamed.
"Why do you feel?"
Then Brown closed his eyes, and waited.
"Dodge this."
A gun fired, and Jackson lay on the floor, already reverted back to the human he took over.
Brown looked up.
"Jones!" He yelled in delight.
Jones backed up, and widened his eyes as he saw Brown's reaction. He backed away, still holding his Desert Eagle, and he showed no emotion to Brown's smile. Brown stopped as he saw Jones back away. He looked down, and straightened his tie, regaining his Agent composure. He turned around, and picked up his book off the ground, and tucked it away in his Jacket pocket.
"Dodge this?" Brown asked.
Jones turned his back on Brown, and started walking. And before Brown could notice he smiled.
"Yes." Jones replied.
"Dodge this?" Brown repeated.
The phrase that rebel said to him!? That simple sentence that he heard before his death!?
"It seemed...appropriate." Jones explained.
Brown stood in disbelief for a moment.
"Come. They will come back for us." Jones started walking away.
"Jones..." Brown started, catching up to him. "Thank you."
Jones looked over at Brown.
"For what?" Jones asked.
Brown was surprised.
"For saving me."
"That is what we must do. There is no purpose for thanks."
Yes. That is what they did. They would protect each other, because all they had were each other. Brown almost smiled at the comment. Jones would be his protector. He was safe.
Then there was walking again. Slipping into the streets, trying not to be noticed. Trying not to be attracted. The endless roads, and endless crowds. Nowhere to go, nowhere to run. So, they just kept walking. Just keep walking, and maybe they'll find somewhere to go.
Brown could not help but look up at Jones every so often.
"Do you know where we are going?" Brown would ask.
"No."
"Do you wish to go anywhere?"
"No."
Brown sighed, and Jones was annoyed.
"We should find somewhere to stay, it is getting dark." Jones observed.
"Dark?" Brown looked up.
"They're still looking for us. Have you already forgotten what it is like to be an Agent? At night we...they are more efficient, because many rebels do their business at night." Jones explained, looking to the side as they walked.
The constant scanning of the entire Matrix. The constant scans searching for glitches, anomalies, and exiles. Everything seemed to be busier as the sun went down. Agents, they would go all night killing. Just killing. Just allowing Smith to kill them...
Of course Brown remembered. Of course he had the memories, he just didn't wish to recall them.
"We need shelter." Jones said.
Jones stopped, and started looking around, as if he knew someone was watching him.
"Let's go in there." Brown pointed slightly.
"There? It's a club!" Jones sounded disgusted.
Brown started walking down the street towards the club.
"It is the last place they'll look. You and I both know that." Brown mocked.
"It is a club." Jones persisted.
"We'll only stay for as long as it will provide protection."
Jones growled in defeat, and started following Brown.
Too much noise, too much darkness, too much drinking, too much dancing. Jones turned his head, trying to look away. While Brown was in amazement at such a place. Jones followed Brown as he found a place to sit in the corner.
"It is not that bad. We have been in clubs before. We have become people in clubs before." Brown said.
"That is different. We were doing our jobs before." Jones growled.
"Just a little while, then the Agents will be assigned another job, for the night."
"Can I get you two anything?"
A waitress.
Brown looked over at Jones, and smiled.
"I would like any red wine if you have any." Brown said.
The waitress smiled and walked away.
"Red wine?" Jones asked.
"I recall Smith commenting about it, after his dinner with Mr. Reagan." Brown smiled.
And before Jones knew it, Brown was taking his third sip of red wine.
"I believe alcohol is much better than noodles." Brown said happily.
Behind his sunglasses Jones rolled his eyes.
This was not where they should be. This was not where they should ever be, what they should ever be doing. This was not purpose, this was not ethical. It was disgusting, it was repulsive. What happened to the Agency? The Mainframe? Where did they go? Why did they leave them? What did they do wrong?
"Jones?"
He did his purpose, there was no need for deletion. They wouldn't become like Smith. They wouldn't, they feared being like Smith. Why would they turn their backs on them? He didn't want to be here. He never wanted to be here. Why was here? Why did Brown take him here?
"Jones?"
Jones turned his head.
"Yes?" He asked.
"You seemed in deep thought." Brown observed, like Brown always does.
"Yes." Jones nodded.
Brown took another sip of drink in worry.
"What were you thinking about?" He asked quietly, asking like Brown always does.
"Nothing." Jones said.
"That's impossible to think of nothing."
"If we still were connected, we would know what each other were thinking, isn't that right?"
Brown took another sip.
"They would never take us back." Brown whispered.
"I know."
It doesn't hurt to imagine.
Brown didn't want Jones to second-guess this. Not now. Not ever. This was how it had to be. Exiles. Things they used to kill. That's the way it must be.
"Hello sir, do want to dance?"
"Huh?" Brown looked up.
Jones allowed himself to smile.
"I asked if you want to dance."
A female, a woman. A beautiful woman, asking Brown.
"Uh...I'm, I'm tired from my work day, Miss. I finally am able to rest." Brown tried.
"Oh, yes, your suits, you must have important jobs!" The woman yelled, smiling.
"Nonsense, Mr. Brown! You love to dance! You're the one that dragged me in here!"
"Jones?" Brown looked over.
Jones smiled, and raised his hand to Brown. He yelled with the sound of happiness, and glee.
"You love to dance?" The woman asked.
"Of course he does!" Jones continued.
"Jones!?" Brown looked at him.
"Well, let's go!"
The woman grabbed Brown's hand, and dragged him to the dance floor, and Jones just smiled as Brown looked horrified. Jones then grabbed Brown's drink, and took a sip of it.
Jones had also been observing, observing quite well, too.
"Now that you're alone..."
"Excuse me?"
Jones looked up, to see a woman sit down into Brown's seat. She smiled at him. Jones took another sip of Brown's drink.
"Come on, take those sunglasses off." The woman told Brown.
"Um... My eyes are very sensitive! The lights!" Brown made excuses.
"Then at least take this tie off."
Brown grabbed his tie.
"This is an expensive suit!"
Jones was scared.
"Looks like your friend ditched you." The woman told Jones.
"Well..." He looked over at Brown.
"What is your name?"
"Mr. Jones."
Brown's girl started dancing, and looking over at him, wondering why he wasn't. She started grabbing his hand, trying to get him to dance. But Brown lowered his head, afraid. Of all his observing, he could not mimic the talent of dance.
"Well, what's your first name?" The woman asked Jones.
"Uh...I cannot reveal that to you." Jones lowered in his seat.
"Aw, why not?" The woman leaned closer to him.
"I..."
She started grabbing for his tie.
"Please don't touch!" Jones grabbed her hand.
The woman smiled at him. She smiled like Smith once did. Predatory, knowing she was going to get what she wanted.
"My, my Mr. Jones." She said.
Brown attempted to dance. He tried, he really did. Some things he was just never programmed to do or be able to do.
"Ow!"
"Brown!?" Jones looked over.
Brown came running, two hands over the right side of his face.
"What happened?" Jones asked.
"She slapped me!" Brown said.
"Why?"
"I don't know!"
Women. An erratic part of the species. Also a most flexible rebel. They still could not capture the human female, Trinity. Unpredictable, emotion filled, dangerous part of the species.
Then there were gunfires.
Jones grabbed Brown and pushed him behind him. On the other side of the club, stood three men in suits.
"Run." He whispered to Brown.
Brown felt Jones pushed him into a crowd of people. Jones kept a close eye on the Agents, as he saw them turn their heads towards them. He felt for his gun.
Then Agent Johnson pointed at them, as they ran.
Three people around them became Agents. Jones kicked on in the side, and Brown punched one.
"Go!" Jones yelled.
People began screaming, and running. Jones and Brown just ran and ran. Jones pushed Brown out the exit, and started running.
Jones protected Brown. Protected small Brown. That's how it is. That is how it has always been.
"Up the ladder." Jones commanded, pushing him towards the side of a building with a fire escape.
Running, always got to run. That's how it is now. That's how it is always going to be. That how it is being, an Exile. That what Exiles do, run.
They ran down a hallway, turning right then left, up some stairs, and right again. They were once Agent's though, and they knew Agents would find them.
At the end of a hallway, there was a dead end. Jones growled, as he put Brown behind him, and got out his gun.
"I will protect you." Jones said.
"Jones..."
This was how it always was. This was how it went. Brown, little Brown, only good for questions and observing. Firing a gun when needed. Protected behind Smith and Jones. Smith always left them, and Jones always protected him.
The human is alive. Impossible, Smith killed him. No, the human is alive. The human is getting up. The human is different.
Running their heads, their thoughts shared together. This was before. This was when Smith was killed. This was back in room 303.
The human is an Anomaly.
They watch as Smith is struck down. They watch as there is no hope for Mr. Anderson to be killed. There is no hope for death.
And as Smith falls to the ground, Jones puts his arm in front of Brown, because that is what they do. Because that is how it is. Jones protects Brown.
Smith? Something is wrong. Abort. Smith! Abort. Smith!
Then Smith is killed.
Run.
This is how it is. This is how it is, and the three Agents come to them. Not even guns drawn, they are so sure they will kill them. Jones hand begins to shake, and Brown closes his eyes.
"Dodge this, right?" Brown whispers.
"Dodge this." Jones nods.
And Jones pushes Brown into the corner, and slides down the wall, killing Agent Johnson in the front. Then he punched into the wall by the other two.
"Jones..." Brown whispers. "Jones."
"What?"
"They look like us!"
Jones looked up. Agents Jackson and Thompson. Their upgrades.
And on the floor, Jones still held his gun, and Jackson pushed Thompson behind him, and they both got their guns out.
This was it. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. To close to dodge the bullets the Agents will fire. They gave it a shot, they tried. This is how it is though. This is what happens when you are and Exile. How many Exiles had they killed?
They tried. They really did. But they were obsolete. They were incomplete.
Jones looked at Brown.
This is how it goes. This is death. And they felt fear.
Then a blade cut Agent Thompson's throat, and gunfire killed Agent Jackson. Jones and Brown looked up. Two albino twins stood there, and looked down at them.
Then the Twins smiled.
Next Chapter: Proposal
It's true! In the first Matrix, when Smith is kicked down by Neo at the end, Jones puts his arm in front of Brown!
Here's a pic of it, just put it in your address bar:
http:us.f2.yahoofs.com/bc/3fb6f7f0fe27/bc/MyDocuments/moreproof!.jpg?bfY G10AB.YxfNlF