Shot in the Dark
Disclaimer: I own nothing belonging to the Wachowski brothers or Warner Bros., and am making no money whatsoever from this fan fic.
Love is the other side of hate, and hate him she did. After all, what greater betrayal is there than to love your sister's killer?
Hands running through her hair, massaging the shampoo into her scalp, the smell of iris blossom saturating the air as moisture saturated her entire body. She ran her soapy fingers across her body, washing away the grime from her daily torture the government called "junior management" at Digitax. Breathing in the heated mist rising from the floor of the shower, she tilted her head back, allowing the water to sear her skin. Sighing contentedly, she pressed her hand to the glass door of the shower to remain standing, her warm palm steaming up the cold glass.
Mrrrmph
Snapping open her eyes at the sound of furniture moving on wood flooring, she removed her hand from the glass, and called out:
"Hello? Tyson?"
The only sound was that of water shooting from the shower nozzle, its spray hot and searing. Just how she liked it.
"Ty? Is that you?" she called again, washing the shampoo from her tangled hair.
The door to the bathroom opened, creaking slightly, as it always did. Footsteps crossed the tiled floor, the shoes dark and heavy; Tyson always did have big feet. She smiled indulgently as she thought to herself, eyes closed, /You know what they say about men with big feet./
"I'm not quite finished yet, lover boy. If you hurry you can still wash my back," she murmured seductively over her shoulder, eyes still shut as she began to lather the conditioner into her hair.
Click
Freezing in confusion, she began to turn around as the gun was fired. Glass breaking the instant before contact, her tangled head was slammed into the shower wall with the force of impact. Slowly, as if time itself had stopped, her body lowered itself to the shower floor, a hole in the tiled wall from the bullet hole, and a trail of blood staining the white surface.
A slight rustle was heard as the Desert Eagle .50 was holstered back inside the expensive Armani suit its owner had worn for an eternity. A grim smile lit the lips of the Agent as he removed the black shades from his unnaturally blue eyes and looked upon his kill. A faint whisper was all that warned him of the Mainframe's presence.
...PROGRAM 00154-8B42...AGENT SMITH...
...program present...
...SUBJECT KATHRYN MATTHEWS...REPORT...
A slight annoyance sat on the edge of his neural systems, irritated that the Mainframe would question his competence.
...subject terminated...awaiting assessment of execution...
He could almost hear the whirring of the Mainframe's intelligence, the detail with which it scrutinized his work. Finally, it replied:
...PERFORMANCE ABOVE AVERAGE....PROGRAM 00154-8B42 AWAIT AGENTS BROWN AND JONES FOR NEXT ASSIGNMENT...
Replacing the trademark sunglasses to their traditional place, he strode from the steaming room, from blood he couldn't smell, and the woman he had killed.
Click
As the lock fell into place, the only sound was that of water shooting from the shower nozzle, its spray hot and searing. Just how she liked it.