Cat fought the urge to struggle against the chokehold, forcing herself to relax against her captor as she identified the familiar suit sleeve. "Isn't this interesting?" His voice was just as she had imagined it. A little choppy, a little mechanistic, snideness oozing over liquid calm. "One might think you meant to be here."

"Of course. I'm not that bad a hack." The words sounded a trace bitter even through the breathlessness of his chokehold.

If he had been human, Smith would have cursed. At times like these he almost missed his connection to the mainframe; its omniscience would have helped him identify the girl immediately. But no matter. His free arm reached for his holster.

"Wait." It was the calm that did it. No human, unplugged or not, should sound so self-assured when held so powerless. His arm stilled.

After a few moments, the girl had not moved or spoken. "I begin to question the utility of my inaction."

"Aren't you going to ask me why I'm so confident that you won't kill me?"

"No. I am simply going to wait."

"You don't strike me as a patient man."

"I am not." His arm tightened around her throat until Cat saw spots.

"Let me go." A gasp, barely formulated words. Smith was curious enough now to loosen his arm again. "Let me go. I'd prefer to speak without your wrist in my voice box. You can catch me easily if I run."

His arm loosened a little more, still firm but no longer painful. His hands skimmed her sides, arms, belly then released her. She remained still as he continued his weapons check, his uninterested hands sliding up the leather boots that were her fanciful indulgence and then under her skirt.

Cat bit her lip, regretting her unconventional clothing. She had chosen it carefully, black on black to match the garb of almost every freed human. Instead of the uber-trendy getups they favored, though, her sensible business suit resembled what an Agent might wear if she were female. The jacket that hit mid-thigh, nearly as long as the dress underneath, was very forgiving. Right now she'd trade for one of Trinity's ridiculous pantsuits, though. Then the Agent's hands couldn't access her unprotected flesh.

She had to admire the detailed programming that produced a hand that felt so human. She told herself that it belonged to a program, a collection of zeros and ones that was currently assessing her as a threat, nothing more. Her body, taken in by the program that created everything from a slightly antiseptic scent to rough patches on the pads of the fingers, betrayed her mind.

She tried to force focus. He could probably smell the pheromones. It wouldn't do to jeopardize this joke of a mission before it got off the ground.

It couldn't have been more than two seconds before her shoved her away roughly, a little breathless. Perhaps he would attribute it to the chokehold. "Thanks," she said, rubbing her neck a little. He only folded his arms, her reflection staring back at her from the glasses that replaced eye contact. She fought the urge to swallow nervously.

"Agent Smith?" Nod. "Good. I am glad to see that my skills haven't slipped that far. I'm Cat." The ridiculous urge to offer her hand passed quickly. "I work on Neo's new ship."

He bent toward her slightly when she said Neo's name. He was surely an obsession. Cat's confidence surged back. If Smith wanted this information that badly, the situation had been neatly defused. "He sent me here. He told me to work out the nature of the connection between you two, to probe for your weaknesses." He tensed. "He sent me, in other words, to get killed." A curl of the lip. She wished she could see his eyes, wondered if it would do any good to look into the eyes of a program. "After the sentinels blew up his old ship, he needed new transportation. My ship, everybody died except me on the last jaunt into the Matrix. I wanted to come back out, to get away from that place." Her lip curled, an unconscious imitation of the Agent in front of her. "I told them they could have the ship if I came along with it. They've been trying to get rid of me ever since."

"As much as I hate to oblige Mr. Anderson," the gun crept out of its holster, "I can see no reason to extend my mercy."

"That's because you didn't let me finish," she snapped. "I can help you fulfill your purpose."

"I hardly think you can be trusted to exterminate your own movement."

She stepped toward him, eyes locked on her own reflection in his sunglasses. "Oh, Agent Smith. I thought you would have realized by now that the minute he infiltrated you, that was your purpose no longer." It was a gamble, a big one. She wiped the moisture from her brow and dangled her hand in front of him. "You used to worry that you had been infiltrated by this. But he deposited something much more permanent inside you." His jaw clenched; Cat straightened out of pure fight-or-flight reflex. "You are no longer part of the collective, Agent. Its purpose is no longer yours."

"Enlighten me."

"You need to exterminate Neo. You can only hope that will remove whatever filth he left behind in you." His lips compressed, a small muscle in his jaw twitching. "What have you got to lose, Agent? Without me, you can continue to search for him, maybe get lucky from time to time. At worst, that stays the same with my help. At best, I lead you to him. I point out his weaknesses to you." His face had settled again, expressionless. Cat felt the fear creep back into her at that.

"Ms."

"Cat."

"Isn't that an animal? Agile. Sleek?" She couldn't stop herself from flinching.

He is a program, Cat told herself. There's no use crying because of a conglomeration of digits.

"Surely your real name is not quite so inaccurate."

"It's Catherine. Catherine Thompson."

"Very well, Ms. Thompson. Come here."

"Why?"

"I am going to interrogate you."