Disclaimer: I don't own the matrix or any of it's characters.
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Pain tore through him, excruitiating pain, his code being torn apart, his very essence dissolving. In a burst of white light he was being destroyed, him and all his copies. Gone. Deleted. Nothing but a memory, a tale to be told, how the great Agent Smith had fallen, how he had been driven by his own hatred for Mr.Anderson, which had ultimately lead to his deletion. Again, Mr.Anderson was the cause for his deletion, the cause for the light tearing through him, and dismembering his code.
Suddenly the pain ceased, just like that. He expected to see his own code floating around him, as he returned to the source. But he did not, he saw a blur, he could still feel the rain patting gently on his face, he could still feel his soaking wet suit clinging to him.
The blur that was his vision began to sharpen, he could see the thick dark clouds in the sky slightly, the storm was letting up, the matrix had been reloaded. Yet, there he lay, on the drenched stretch of road that he and Mr.Anderson fought so majestically on.
He could hear a muffled voice, calling him. Why was he still alive?. Why hadn't he been deleted?.
Though the pain had gone, he still felt sore and bruised, he tried to sit up and assess his current situation, but to no avail.
The voice calling him sharpened, it was no longer distorted or muffled, neither was his sight.
"Sir...sir...are you okay?." A soft female voice asked.
He looked up to see a young blonde girl looking down at him, her locks curly and hanging down by the sides of her voice, rain dripping from the tips.
He tried to speak, but his tongue felt heavy and clumsy, as if he hadn't used it before.
"Yes..." he barely spluttered his reply, he felt her grabbing him by the arm and sitting him up.
"Are you sure?." She asked again.
'Go away, leave me in peace, virus. Iam not your concern, I shouldn't be here, why am I here?...why wasn't I deleted?...'
"Yes..." he said, as he climbed to his feet. He felt a sudden rush of blood to the head, and he felt awfully cold.
'Strange...I've never felt the cold before...nor that rush to the head...what is going on?...why are my legs feeling so weak?...why does my head pound?...why is my mouth and throat so dry...why do I feel hunger?....no...this can't be...I feel...human...'
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Pain tore through him, excruitiating pain, his code being torn apart, his very essence dissolving. In a burst of white light he was being destroyed, him and all his copies. Gone. Deleted. Nothing but a memory, a tale to be told, how the great Agent Smith had fallen, how he had been driven by his own hatred for Mr.Anderson, which had ultimately lead to his deletion. Again, Mr.Anderson was the cause for his deletion, the cause for the light tearing through him, and dismembering his code.
Suddenly the pain ceased, just like that. He expected to see his own code floating around him, as he returned to the source. But he did not, he saw a blur, he could still feel the rain patting gently on his face, he could still feel his soaking wet suit clinging to him.
The blur that was his vision began to sharpen, he could see the thick dark clouds in the sky slightly, the storm was letting up, the matrix had been reloaded. Yet, there he lay, on the drenched stretch of road that he and Mr.Anderson fought so majestically on.
He could hear a muffled voice, calling him. Why was he still alive?. Why hadn't he been deleted?.
Though the pain had gone, he still felt sore and bruised, he tried to sit up and assess his current situation, but to no avail.
The voice calling him sharpened, it was no longer distorted or muffled, neither was his sight.
"Sir...sir...are you okay?." A soft female voice asked.
He looked up to see a young blonde girl looking down at him, her locks curly and hanging down by the sides of her voice, rain dripping from the tips.
He tried to speak, but his tongue felt heavy and clumsy, as if he hadn't used it before.
"Yes..." he barely spluttered his reply, he felt her grabbing him by the arm and sitting him up.
"Are you sure?." She asked again.
'Go away, leave me in peace, virus. Iam not your concern, I shouldn't be here, why am I here?...why wasn't I deleted?...'
"Yes..." he said, as he climbed to his feet. He felt a sudden rush of blood to the head, and he felt awfully cold.
'Strange...I've never felt the cold before...nor that rush to the head...what is going on?...why are my legs feeling so weak?...why does my head pound?...why is my mouth and throat so dry...why do I feel hunger?....no...this can't be...I feel...human...'