Disclaimers: I own none of the characters that you recognize from the Matrix or the Matrix: Reloaded. They belong to the Wachowskis. Had I owned the Twins or the Matrix I would probably be in bed *ACHEM*

Also, in this fic they don't use 'I' 'me' 'my' 'mine' etc. Even when referring to only one of them. I think it adds a certain dramatic effect.

I reserved my copy of The Matrix Reloaded and I'm getting a cool CD case with it. ^_^

Please do not nag me to update. Telling me once or twice is good. However, constant yelling and being extremely obnoxious about it really makes me just want to NOT update, which is why this chapter is going up a day later then I meant it to. I update just about every week. So IM me next Monday and tell me to update, and that's it please. Thanks a ton. ^^

-Karina

Dual Biography

Chapter XII: Steel Makes Cars and Shacks

One's leading. So far, he's been extremely secretive about the location of Smith's hideout for Neo. He's even hiding it from me.

We had a argument. It doesn't happen to much, and they're light, stupid things about insignificant ideas. The argument we had then was slightly deeper. I reviewed it in my head.

I"Where are we headed?" /i I had asked him as he drove. We picked up another white Sport Utility Vehicle, which Niobe dubbed an SUV.

i"We'll tell you when we get there."

"Where are we heading, One?"

"To Neo and Smith."

"A location?"

"We'll tell you when we get there, my brother. Be patient."

"We  would very much to know where we are heading."

"You don't need to know."

"Is there something going on, One? You've been acting a bit strange.  Has your jawbone enlarged since?"

"Need a bit of space, Two. Please be quiet."/i

I remember that he hadn't used the pronoun. On purpose, I think. In company of humans we often used slang like that, to hide our connection.

I had sat in shotgun as normal, and I looked at him from there. He was driving with one hand out the window and the other on the steering wheel, staring straight ahead. Trinity, Niobe, Morpheus and Ghost were sitting in the back seats, silently. My brother occasionally glanced at the resistant. He was acting odd, indeed. Normally he'd show off, press hard on the accelerator ("flooring it") and weave through as many cars as possible Since that had been a two-lane main street, he'd obviously be swerving back and forth, like a drunken human on the outside, but a very controlled program on the inside.

Besides that, he also never would look back at any passengers we had (which, normally we didn't, but the Merovingian did occasionally call for a hostage). He --- both of us – were too cocky for that, and people were often terrified of us. Being really tall, albino and having dreadlocks, we were kind of aiming for that impression.

My intuition (which, I might add, I wasn't supposed to have) nagged at me then. I knew then that something was wrong. It's still bothering me now. I turned off the video camera of my memory, noticed the incredibly human comparison I had made, and discovered we were here. Wherever here was, that is. I still didn't know.

He opened the door to a dingy shack as I came to my senses entirely. It was tiny, no bigger then 6'8. Being 6'5, we had to stoop to enter the doorframe. The ceiling couldn't be any farther then an inch from the top of my dreads. Niobe and Ghost, who are a bit shorter, were fine, and Trinity and Mopheus were a bit uncomfortable. I thought of making a snide comment but decided against it.

The shack had been repaired recently, there had been a band new sparkling combination lock on the door before Niobe had shot it, and the door had been reset into new hinges. For that matter, it appeared that the front portion of the shack had been completely redone. There was an inch-thick plate of steel in between the outside and the inside (Both appear to be thin sheets…half-inch of wood), which was obviously what was holding this place up.

I switched my vision to the green glow to get a better look. Indeed, the outside appearance was only a disguise. Contrary to my first idea, there was no wood, only steel looking like wood in the front and back. The ceiling was made of criss-crossing steel beams as well. I looked for a second and noticed that the shack was actually much taller then it appeared--- columns were hidden, unseen by real sight. It was rather ingenious, I had to commend, to make it appear as small thatched shack surrounding by unpenetrateble forest rather then a medium sized steel fortress. I didn't know wether The One could fly through such metal at such a thickness, but at this point it didn't matter. Phase in, grab him, and phase out.

But that was just the point. I didn't see him, not in real sight at least. I guessed there was another room adjacent to this in the 'deep forest', with no door, of course. If Smith was there, our plan was blown. Only we would be able to enter that other room.

I was about to comment when I saw Trinity pull a gun from her holster and aim at the door opposite the entrance.

"No!" I whispered furiously to her, "You can't see it decoded, but in the characters this place is heavy steel!"

She turned to me, "What?"

"This may sound remarkably stupid," One growled at her, "But you must believe. This shack you see is an illusion. There is no wood or forest. All the wood is steel, inch-thick plates of steel. The lock you busted was the only thing that you can really see. The forests outside are really more of the shack. What we see here is all the empty space that the columns that support the steel-plated ceiling don't take up. The One is not here. There is probably another room. With, no doubt, no door. In that case, our plan is destroyed. Only we will be able to enter."

Ghost is immediately in front of One. I swear at him again for being a Zen Buddhist, but I immediately think he knows something suspicious.

"Ghost. What is it?" I ask him instantly. His hidden eyes meet my hidden eyes---and without words, he tells me something is wrong. Here, and now, within the six of us.

Something's wrong with One. Something is wrong with my brother, my other half, my twin, my friend, my everything.

That's all I can think of. He looks at me with confusion; he's wondering why I'm so concerned. And I don't know why myself, don't know why I suddenly trust this rebel about someone I've know for all my existence. Don't know what to say to him.

I don't know, and that is perhaps the worst of all.