Mimic
Unfamiliar Likeness
Brown and Jones have an interesting, albeit strange, proposal for the exiled Agent Smith. But what of the cost of entering the real world to assassinate Neo?
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Zion was remarkably unimpressive. He had no doubt the humans were proud of it. Humans were easy to please, wasting what little mental capacity they had on hundreds of equally meaningless actions. He had seen the great temple orgy, witnessed firsthand the diminished way of life they lead and marveled at the choice they made to maintain it all in the name of something so paltry as freedom. In the Matrix even the most unproductive member of their slovenly race had a purpose to their existence and that ultimately made each and every person equally valuable to the system, for all survived to share their collective power with the machines. They could live happily there, feeding their primitive need for established ideals, could thrive and not only support their own way of life, but the way of life for their superiors as well.
It was by now a few hours from morning and weariness began to close in upon Agent Smith just as it did every dreaded night. The labyrinthine hallways were dimmed down for the night, not more than a small handful of Zion's denizens strayed out so late except on business. He was careful to avoid the eyes of those that passed him for the chance that someone could recognize the likeness Pryce had to his former visage. So far he had had but one close encounter with someone he had chased when he had still been a part of the system, but his former colleagues had been right in that case. Taken out of context he was not recognizable to those without an intimate experience with him in particular. The one called Ghost had looked into his face point blank and saw only a fellow "red pill" as the moniker went. True, their encounters had been brief, but the moment had been enough to incite a certain addition of caution to his hunt.
He had managed to find the quarters of Morpheus by stealth, had wandered past the doorway with the temptation to knock, but did not for the sake of his ultimate goal. But he kept the location locked within his memory, ready to be used if the opportunity presented itself. The chances were slim, but existent, that he could very well end the life of his target and have leisure to return and seek revenge against the man who had brought Anderson into this cycle of madness. He did not like it when rebels managed to evade his cause and the escape of Morpheus still galled him when he considered what had been lost and created in its place-the perpetuation of a hated cycle.
Smith knit his brows, bringing his hands to rest on the soft fabric of his gray, faded sweater. It kept him warm in this place that was chilled. He frowned at it, but accepted its purpose. He had become exceptional at accepting the unacceptable these past few days. These transitions from superiority were becoming less taxing, which aided his cause, admittedly, but yet he found himself not wishing to be comfortable in Matthew Pryce's skin. Stopping to look over the railing as he crossed from one side of the circle of quarters to the next, he exhaled and looked down at the steel bar, tracing his fingers over an etching someone had made. The letters were crude, drawing out the single line: JNXI11. Apathy restricted his curiosity in this instance and without considering it further, he closed his eyes.
His solace did not last beyond the breadth of a handful of moments. "Didn't I see you walking here last night after the temple?"
Smith set his jaw and turned, but did not have the energy or the will to maintain an aloof presence. "That would be difficult for me to answer without having access to your visual senses." It did not come out as threatening as it may have had this man intruded just hours before now.
Councilor Hamann took no offense at the statement, coming to stand at his right without invitation. "You might have something there," he commented dryly as he peered out across the empty distance. This one seemed a little less cautious than the others, a perception colored by the fact, Smith surmised, he did not venture into the Matrix anymore if indeed he ever had. It seemed strange to Smith that anyone should stand so at ease in his presence. "This is a difficult transition for you, I understand."
Resting his now tightened fists visibly on the rail barring him back from the depths, Smith cut the councilor off before he could say more. "If this is going to be a speech on what I lost being meaningless and fictitious, please spare me."
"No," Hamann countered with an unchanged level of tone. "Not one of those. Some things are real in the Matrix. I loved my parents. That was real even if our reality wasn't. Maybe you loved someone, too. I thought perhaps I would instead ask you what you planned on doing now that your past doesn't matter anymore. Walk with me?"
Smith grunted coldly, irritated by Hamann's calm, but nevertheless finding himself following after him without having put will to action. He matched the idle stride and looked at the colorless path ahead of them. "I plan on going on, of course. Isn't that what you and your people do when you escape the terror of the Matrix? You accept and move on?"
"Mm, yes, but there are different ways of going on," the human said surreptitiously, stepping aside to allow him into a lift. Smith swept past him and waited as Hamann programmed his desired destination into the panel. He offered nothing and for all the world the councilor did not appear to be waiting for a reply. His blue eyes fixed on the Agent, studying him and Smith watched, wondering what his companion would think he saw mirrored back at him. "There have been a few others like you."
"Like me?" the exile repeated with a measure of incredulity. "Who?"
Hamann cocked his head and exhaled, preparing his words carefully as any good politician would. "There was a girl some years ago. When she awakened to reality she was angry at everyone, resented what we had done to her. She walked alone much like you do, in fact."
Openly annoyed, Smith turned his hard stare upon the metallic surface of the door before them. "Let me guess. She got over it and became a valued member of your little society."
The answer was not entirely unanticipated, if strange in relation to what Hamann was attempting to get across to him. The elder shook his head. "No. She worked hard, studied and we let her on board one of our ships. She got killed within a year. Stopped wanting to be here and I suppose saw to it that she didn't have to be anymore."
He did not feel compassion over so needless an event as that. She should have been left where she could be happy. Only fools would trade what could be for what was. "Now you believe I will follow the same course?" he surmised, raising an eyebrow. Hamann shook his head, but said nothing and for a few blessed minutes it remained that way. No, it did not always end in suicide, Smith recalled. Sometimes it ended in treachery as was the case with Reagan, Cypher as these people knew him. Was it that Hamann was driving at? As the lift door opened he allowed the elder through the door first this time, mocking his polite action above. "What is your point, Councilor?"
Hamann smiled, turning back to look at him as he exited the lift. "I'm not sure I have a point, really," he evaded cleanly as Smith met his pace again.
The Agent allowed a smile to cross his features as they moved to the side to allow a small group of people pass them on the right. They stopped by the side of the rail and Smith ran his eyes down the human and back up again. "You could have fooled me," he challenged and Hamann reflected his expression.
Talking ahead interrupted their little dialogue and both looked up, watching a tall dark man carrying a bag say to those trailing him, "We'll need to see Neo in the morning. Bane, Malachi, I think you need to tell him about that Agent. Councilor," he greeted as an afterthought.
Behind him the others generally kept to themselves, offering a polite nod to Hamann, until they passed the bystanders waiting for them. All but one. Eyes hit Agent Smith, measuring, bright and dangerous. They were blue, crystalline, belonging to a man with dark hair and a cold expression. There was little doubt. Smith had been recognized for who he was, and yet he did not have the same advantage. The face was unfamiliar, even when Smith applied various changes to his features. "Sure thing, Captain," he said in a strangely driven voice that suggested purpose as he stared Smith down.
The dark man rolled his eyes in irritation, but said nothing as he stalked on ahead. Smith was not sure what to make of the encounter, making calculations on all possibilities. That he had missed something or forgotten a face was unthinkable, but that this person would stare for another reason other than recognition seemed unlikely, even given the oddities of human behavior. Yet, inevitably, they had a way of beating the odds, of doing something unpredictable at the very height of when you believe they are most transparent.
He could not allow his musings to show for long without Hamann's interest delving too far into his thoughts. As it was the councilor had a puzzled look, which Smith copied immediately. They began walking again, neither speaking until they came to the end of the walk. It was there Hamann decided to make his well-cultivated point. "Mimic, we can't offer you what the Matrix offers. That world is dead. But that doesn't mean you can't find your place here. We need you and we need you healthy, strong and capable. I won't insist you consider any given option, but I urge you to reconsider your opinion. We're not your enemy."
Smith inhaled and nodded insincerely, stopping as the councilor took a step away towards wherever he had on his mind. "I may do that, Councilor. Regardless, however, I think you'll find my choices will not emulate your little parable. Goodnight."
Hamann inclined his head, adding his own parting words and then leaving him alone. In disgust of the past few moments Smith turned back towards the lift, his gray eyes traveling higher as if he could spot the one that had captured his interest. Perhaps he could not afford to wait any longer, Neo would have more than Trinity as backup in the morning if he waited. This other would have to be taken care of before then and if it came to killing him then his margin for error would grow very thin.
His footsteps echoed along the walk in a singular announcement he would quell once he reached the higher level. Reaching into the pocket of his pants, he felt along the hilt of a knife he had taken to carrying since his arrival. His hunt now resumed and his pace quickened. He would begin at the top level of crew quarters and work his way systematically downwards until he found his target. In all reality if this Bane had entered his quarters then the search would be fruitless without disturbing the whole of Zion's fleet, but Smith did not believe it would come to a loss. There had been a very real invitation in those piercing eyes. Somewhere on some level Bane waited for him, perhaps even aboard the lift itself.
As it was when he entered the lift he saw the panel display the number of a certain level as if it had been rigged. He studied it for a moment, recounting all the ways one could accomplish such a task, then decided the invitation was in fact real. He pressed the button and felt his pulse quicken as the lift jarred slightly, then began the ascent. The more he considered it, the less he thought this encounter would turn violent. Bane wanted something or else he would have simply reported him to Hamann or some other official. If he wanted something then this meant he was pliable, usable. He would likely make some sort of demand to be reinserted into the Matrix just like Reagan had in exchange for silence. Perhaps.
The lift halted and the door slid open, revealing the expected walk and a shade at the end of it. Smith curled his hand around the knife and made his exit, seeing no reason for stealth now. Bane was watching him, undoubtedly. If it did come to an open brawl there would be no element of surprise. The Agent rushed on towards this meeting with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance.
"If I didn't know you any better I would think it strange of you to consort with our enemy so freely," Bane said cynically as he approached. His bag was on the floor, his arms crossed and eyes intent. "As it is I understand that this shell has disadvantages like emotion."
Smith wasted no time. "Who are you?"
A slow smile crossed the human's features as he cocked his head to the side. "You don't recognize me? But then, how could you?" He lifted an eyebrow, breathing out slowly as he rubbed his thumb against his palm and watched it abstractly. "Strange how even the best of plans lead to chaos."
"But you claim to recognize me," Smith pressed, ignoring this other's riddles. "Do you have a purpose for this meeting other than meaningless prattle?"
Bane grinned, sliding his eyes up to the exile's. "I find it interesting, being on the other end of that condescending tone. My purpose here is the same as yours. Finding Anderson and ending his miserable existence. I've been wondering when and if you would appear."
The face was strange, but the voice a little too familiar. Agent Smith raised an eyebrow, examining the other's mannerisms, weighing the way he spoke, the inflections he made. They were tainted, probably with the host's personality bleeding in, but the general behavior belonged to him. "How did you get here?"
"I came much the same way you did. Now there is nowhere we cannot go. Nowhere we cannot be at any given time." The way he smiled confirmed much. Taking a breath, his brows raised in thought, he looked again at his hand. "Disgusting, isn't it? Pitiful. But soon it will cease to matter. Soon there will be more of us than they can handle and nothing Anderson can do to stop it."
The possibilities of that were attractive. Smith did not trouble himself with the details of it, however, concerned with the here and now. He considered several courses of action, watched as Bane did the same, then said, "Anderson need not be troubled to try. We can end it from this side together."
Bane inclined his head thoughtfully. "What do you propose?"
"I am the more obvious of the two of us. I will handle Anderson. You, however, have an opportunity to do more since you will not be discovered as easily." The other seemed to concur with a single nod. Smith continued. "Are you aware of the force heading towards Zion even as we speak?"
"I am."
"Good. Whatever they are planning in defense you can find out and take care of." He threw a glance upwards towards a higher bridge. "Do you know where Anderson's quarters are? I assume his messianic powers end here, leaving him vulnerable."
Bane nodded, following his glance. "Unfortunately that information I am not privy to, but if you are going to act, it will have to be sometime between now and when he leaves. Before I overtook him, my host was carrying a message from the Oracle."
"A summons?"
"Likely." Bane rubbed his hands together, a gesture Smith recognized. He was uncomfortable in his skin. He himself had done the same a few times. There were subtle differences between them, he noticed. Bane seemed more agitated, more restless. Matthew Pryce was a very calm, sedate individual, Smith recalled. Not that he allowed that to quell the need within for revenge. The other seemed only enflamed for it; it shone in his eyes.
Smith considered the situation. "If it is a summons they'll want to run to her for the answers their limited understanding fails to comprehend. They'll want to do it as soon as tomorrow."
An idea seemed to occur to Bane. The wheels were turning within, reflecting in his intense eyes. "Perhaps they can be prevented from leaving," he mused. "The goal is Anderson. All else will fall in its own time." Cocking his head, Smith waited for his counterpart to elaborate, but whatever was on his mind Bane was set to remain mysterious. "Tomorrow morning Anderson will get more than one surprise. You look tired. You should get some rest."
Reaching down for his bag, his counterpart shouldered it and stalked past him with intention and no more words. Smith did not question it, though he was curious. It would be revealed in due course and what he did not know now he would not have to pretend to be surprised by later. Folding his hands behind his back, Agent Smith abandoned his brooding walk for the night and headed towards the rooms his enemy had graciously provided for him.
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Author: Ruse – jedinineofninehotmail.com
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To Reviewers: Can anyone find the clue as to what's going to happen next? ;) It's broad, but so were some of the clues in Matrix. :O Sorry this took so long, but I have a fairly good idea of where to go now, so it prolly won't take so long. ;)
CanSpy – Hehehe..sorry to draw out the suspense even longer, but I promise an update before 2005. ;) One where they do meet. And as far as being a perv, forget Trin, I'd be picturing him stalking outside MY quarters with ideas in his mind about sampling humanity. ;D :O That wasn't out loud, was it? Thanks!
Saffronire – Thanks! Glad you liked…yeah, very close, but not close enough. ;)
MazkoGrlSizer – Lol..yeah, it was idiocy, wasn't the orgy scene? ;) I wonder if you ever started that LOTR fic…I'll have to check. Thanks for reviewing!
Selina – I emailed you, but you didn't respond. :-X Or didn't get it? Well, if you want to chat, my email is: jedinineofninehotmail.com or you can find me under the AIM name: Valawen Imoriel. Thanks for reviewing! Hope we can chat if you still want to. :)
Constructicons – Tator Nuts?? ;) Thanks! Lol. Tater Nuts. ;D Silly!
