Update Log:
24-03-05: Revised version uploaded.
03-03-05: Small things changed, fanfic revised.
16-10-04: Name of new character revised.
29-08-04: 1 spelling revised.
28-08-04: Pre-chapter 'quotes' revised.
27-08-04: Entire fanfic taken down for re-vamping; will be re-posted as each chapter is updated due to much-appreciated con-crit.
25-07-04: Entire fanfic updated - spellings and inconsistencies revised.
1: REINCARNATION
He falls from the sky on wings of dark glass.
The bird soared high on the warm spiral of air that ascended from the road below. Its outstretched wings rippled in the wind that blew constantly up this high, and the bird twisted its head, scanning the lower sky with a razor eye for slower birds in the air just above the superheated tarmac. The sun sliced out of the clouds, glancing off the bird's unremarkable plumage. The deep blue on its wings and back provided perfect camouflage against the heavy skies. Thunder whispered in the south.
Somewhere in the web of codes, invisible to the humans, a timer ran out of figures to count. By coincidence, the falcon spotted a pigeon at this exact same moment. The bird dropped out of the sky, wings cutting back and folding into a streamlined torpedo shape. The pigeon flapped clumsily. Three codes: a deactivation code and two death codes raced the simulation of the falcon, and all four struck in the same moment.
As the talons of the peregrine falcon sank into the warm flesh of the pigeon at a speed of approximately two-hundred-and-sixty-three miles per hour, the deactivation code pierced the falcon's back. It shrieked; high and wild, and both birds tumbled out of the sky, locked together. The death code for the pigeon pieced the unconscious bird's left wing, and its eyes went dull in simulated death. The falcon went limp as well, its eyes falling shut as its own death code hit. The birds dropped and dropped, landing with a small thump in the meadow beside the road...
Falcon opened his eyes. He and the pigeon program, a slim human-like girl with long silvery hair, were lying in the long grass. He disentangled himself from the pigeon and stood up: a petit, human-like young Englishman with a mop of dark hair that shone a shadowy blue in the sunlight, and intense golden eyes. 'Bugger,' he declared, glaring accusingly at the empty sky.
'Is death so hard? I have another sixty-seven incarnations to go through,' said the pigeon, scornfully. She stood up and ran her fingers through her hair. She was wearing a long, shapeless, silvery-grey dress, with a flickering dark green section at her breast.
'Birds of prey only get three, because they tend to last longer,' he informed her. 'That was my last one.'
'What did you die of?' she asked.
'Your backbone,' answered Falcon, bitterly. 'I misjudged the placement of my talons, jarred my spine, and my neck snapped.'
The pigeon tossed her head. 'Lovely. Well, I suppose I won't see you again. The codes for my next body will arrive in about twenty-four hours. Enjoy the Source.'
'I'm not going to the Source.'
The girl raised her eyebrows, 'Oh?'
'I'm going to see the Merovingian.' Falcon allowed himself a smile.
'The who?' The pigeon came closer, her head jolting forwards with each step out of habit. Falcon tilted his head to see her wings: they were average size and a fine grey colour. His falcon eyes could see flecks of light brown and darker colours in the feathers.
'He rescues outdated programs. You have to work for him, but you get to carry on in the Matrix. Plus the reloading doesn't affect you, so you get to live forever.'
She frowned at him, 'Good luck dodging Agents then, hawk-boy.'
'Thanks,' he said flatly. That would be the hardest part. Thank Architect he kept his falcon eyes and ears. Nothing could sneak up on him with his unnaturally acute senses. 'Good luck with the other sixty-seven,' he added, as the pigeon turned and strode away towards the woods that bordered the meadow, her head jerking repeatedly. Her wings uncurled in farewell.
Falcon spun suddenly as he heard a shout of 'What the hell is that?'. He frowned in the bright sunlight and saw two human males standing beside the road about thirty-three metres away, staring at him. The smaller had a spot on his chin. He swore and began sprinting after the other program, towards the woods. She had already vanished into its depths. The humans spoke to each other rapidly, and Falcon heard every word.
'An Angel!'
'Idiot, they don't exist. He's probably going to some fancy dress party...'
'Maybe you're right...'
The program breathed a silent sigh of relief. Humans never wanted to see what they knew was impossible. Or at least, what they thought they knew was impossible. Such one track minds...
Safe in the cover provided by the woods, Falcon considered his next move. Flying now would be way too obvious, and would only alert Agents to his disobedience... but he simply couldn't resist. The small cobalt wings at his shoulder blades flexed and beat once or twice experimentally. Falcon listened for any nearby humans, before exploding out of the tree canopy in a pounding of feathers and broken branches.
Sure enough, humans in the meadow on the other side of the woods stared and pointed at his robe-clad figure as he soared up towards the clouds. He considered creating a halo for himself using his limited programming skills, but dismissed the idea. Instead, he streaked towards the heavy clouds, arms strictly to his sides as his wings beat rhythmically. He wondered idly why outdated bird programs always became humans with wings, dressed in varying coloured robes, and reasoned that it was because of the existential existence of Angels. The rumours needed some truth to keep them alive. He grinned to himself in the knowledge that he'd just made the headlines for the next week.
Safe in the upper sky, and an environment in which he was comfortable, he floated and mentally plotted a course for himself. He also altered his own codes and garbed himself in a long navy trench coat, pale yellow trousers and shirt, and a pair of sturdy boots; clothes as close to his plumage as he could think of. He opened the top two buttons of his shirt and streaked off towards the mountains.
Falcon landed gracefully outside the mansion, folding his wings flat against his spine. From the back, he looked as though he were wearing a feathery waistcoat. The front garden was about fifty metres long; composed of grass lawns with trees lining the borders. There was a set of stocks to one side, with rotted vegetables exploded against the wood. A couple of ears were still pinned to the head board by two kitchen knives. Falcon winced. The Frenchman had a strange sense of humour.
The gravel scrunched and displaced itself as he strode up the curving path and knocked boldly at the double side doors. There was the clinking of keys, and the left hand door opened slowly. He had to look up slightly to see into the eyes of the young man. He was Oriental, dressed in pale yellow with a lighter t-shirt beneath the long jacket. Sunglasses hid his eyes, and his black hair was cut long, falling about his shoulders and feminine features.
Falcon stepped inside. His short stature made him doubly assertive.
'Normally people like you go around via the restaurant,' chided the young man quietly. His accent was American, softened by Chinese.
'I intend to bypass any bullshit,' stated Falcon. His ears heard sounds of an industrial size kitchen somewhere close, but he couldn't pinpoint exactly where. This worried him a little.
'You are a bird, correct?' asked the program.
'Yeah, my name is Falcon. And you are..?'
'My name is Tiger.' Falcon trained his eyes on the program and saw the slender fangs in his open mouth as he formed the "Ti" syllable. 'Come with me. You must speak with the Merovingian. He has been expecting you since you expressed your desire to work for him.'
Falcon followed Tiger through a plain green room and two corridors. They came to a grand entrance hall; thousands of weapons from several hundred cultures were mounted on the walls. Tiger led him down a flight of elegant steps and to a door at the foot of the hall. He withdrew a heavy key ring, selected a key and unlocked the door, revealing the kitchen Falcon had heard earlier. His ears had heard the key in the lock, and he knew there was something more at work than in your average lock. He had heard molecules shifting as Tiger turned the key.
He followed the vampire through the restaurant, to a long table at the back of the room. He glanced around, and saw a pair of dreadlocked albino twins lounging in leather armchairs within calling distance. They frowned identical frowns at the feathers plastered to his back. He looked forwards again. Tiger moved from his vision, and he saw the Frenchman himself seated at the table, a glass of red wine in his hand.
'Bonjour, mon faucon peregrine. Please, be seated.'
Falcon remained where he was, replying in kind. 'Non merci, monsieur.'
'Ah, anozzer who 'as realised z' beauty of z' language.' He smiled slyly, and Falcon crushed a shiver. 'I 'ave been awaiting your return to me, Falcon,' continued the Merovingian. 'You see, I 'ave a rather interesting experiment I would like you to test for me.'
Falcon raised his eyebrows. The Merovingian put down his glass and leaned forwards, lacing his fingers with his elbows on the table. Intrigued, Falcon took a seat.
'I 'ave absolutely no doubt that you would be a valuable addition to my little... shall we say, gang. 'Owever, I 'ave been informed that it would be possible for me to alter your programming somewhat, in order to create much more efficient assassins. You see zem?' He motioned with his head towards the Twins, not breaking eye contact with the bird program for a second. Falcon nodded. 'In effect, I would be able to merge your talents. Zey would gain heightened eyesight and hearing; you would gain invisibility and z' ability to split yourself and leave a temporary copy behind for your enemies to stumble over.'
The Merovingian straightened, taking up his glass again. His startlingly blue eyes bored into Falcon, who shifted in his seat. He could feel the Twins' eyes drilling into the side of his head, and Tiger's gaze at his back. He felt trapped. 'I wouldn't lose anything..?' he hazarded.
'Nothing.' The program took a sip of wine. Falcon looked back at the Twins, who met his gaze almost equally. Falcon's stare could make a stuffed fox blink.
'All right,' said Falcon eventually.
'Excellent.' The Merovingian gestured to Tiger, who came forwards. 'Remember zo, Falcon. You are in my services now. Any double crossing or second thoughts...' He left his sentence hanging, and his eyes locked with Falcon's once more. The Look hinted of painful things too grotesque to picture safely.
Falcon nodded and allowed himself to be led away by the vampire. The Twins stood up simultaneously. The Merovingian held up a hand to stem their protests, 'Please you two, it will be a relatively painless experience, and zen you will literally 'ave z' eyes and ears of a falcon. Between you, you will be unstoppable.'
They leered at each other. The Merovingian added, 'You will be sent for when z' codes are extracted. Do not worry yourselves, mes spectres.'
The Twins sat down again and resumed their constant watching of the customers. The Merovingian smirked and ordered more wine.
Notes:
Quietly Making Noise lays claim to the programs Falcon, Pigeon and Tinnun; the rebels of the Alethea and Elfthe idea of Merging and Twinning; and the idea of template human shells for animal programs (as far as I'm aware). All canon characters will be dry cleaned and replaced afterwards.
Many thanks to Dark Puck, whose fanfiction with SoldierZero : 'Fourth Cycle: Runaways' was the inspiration for this tale.
Thanks also to SapphireNight and AbsolutelyNoSoliciting for their reviews, which persuaded me to keep up with this even through my GCSEs. :Twitch:
Obviously I don't own the Matrix, and neither do I intend to make money from this work of fiction.