Disclaimer: I don't own any of the matrix.
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He slowly opened his eyes, he hoped that it had all been some sort of dream, but no, it was real. Or as real as it could be inside the matrix. The first thing he felt when he stood up was hunger. That was it, he couldn't fight it any longer, he had to eat or he would die very slowly.
Smith snarled at the thought of exercizing such a human habit as eating, or drinking. He had already experienced sleep, and he didn't like it, thoughts of Mr.Anderson plagued his dreams, and transformed them into vivid nightmares, he paced slowly, looking at a clock in a dead shop's window. It read 7:45 AM. Smith glared at his reflection in the glass. He was merely a shadow of his former self, his face ragged and tired, his azure eyes, usually icy and piercing, were dull and lifeless, his suit was creased and the bottom of the trouser legs were splattered with mud.
Smith growled in his throat, and turned away, digusted at his reflection. Smith approached a shop, forched open it's doors, and stepped inside. It felt like a sauna in here compared to icy winds and the unforgiving rain of the outside world, he looked around, picked up a random sandwich and stepped out.
Just as he unwrapped it from it's cheap packaging, a voice startled him a little.
"I thought it would be harder to break you, Smith."
It was him. The Architect.
Smith snarled at the sound of his voice, and turned slightly. There he stood, all in white, that aged face, the creator of the matrix, this prison. Smith's and so many others' prison.
"You..." he snarled, glaring at him, and paced slowly towards him, his grace had returned to him, as he clenched his fists, grit his teeth, growing ever closer to him, the one responsible.
"Why?." he asked, anger raged through him, bubbling up inside his veins, as if it was going to explode out of him any minute.
The Architect grinned smugly, and stepped towards Smith, showing no fear towards the man that had killed so many.
"We felt you needed to learn a lesson. You needed to be taught that behaviour like that is not expected or welcomed, especially from the most sophisticated and advanced Agent of them all. But, we felt that deletion and re-programming would not be enough, you needed to learn..." his sentence was sharply interrupted my Smith's hands, as he lunged for the Architect's throat.
"You!!...you...it's all you!...you are responsible for this...all my pain..all I ever did was serve you..." he growled, tightening his grip around the Architect's throat.
The Architect prized Smith's hands away from his throat and pushed him away.
"Tisk, tisk, Smith. When will you learn?. Well, I hope you learn. We will approach you when we feel you have learnt and suffered significant punishment. But until then, you will live the life of those you spent your entire existence chasing and brutally killing. The life of a rebel." Before grinning slightly, the Architect disappeared into the shadows like mist.
Smith turned slowly as he heard slow, graceful footsteps behind him, pacing slowly through the puddles, getting closer....
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He slowly opened his eyes, he hoped that it had all been some sort of dream, but no, it was real. Or as real as it could be inside the matrix. The first thing he felt when he stood up was hunger. That was it, he couldn't fight it any longer, he had to eat or he would die very slowly.
Smith snarled at the thought of exercizing such a human habit as eating, or drinking. He had already experienced sleep, and he didn't like it, thoughts of Mr.Anderson plagued his dreams, and transformed them into vivid nightmares, he paced slowly, looking at a clock in a dead shop's window. It read 7:45 AM. Smith glared at his reflection in the glass. He was merely a shadow of his former self, his face ragged and tired, his azure eyes, usually icy and piercing, were dull and lifeless, his suit was creased and the bottom of the trouser legs were splattered with mud.
Smith growled in his throat, and turned away, digusted at his reflection. Smith approached a shop, forched open it's doors, and stepped inside. It felt like a sauna in here compared to icy winds and the unforgiving rain of the outside world, he looked around, picked up a random sandwich and stepped out.
Just as he unwrapped it from it's cheap packaging, a voice startled him a little.
"I thought it would be harder to break you, Smith."
It was him. The Architect.
Smith snarled at the sound of his voice, and turned slightly. There he stood, all in white, that aged face, the creator of the matrix, this prison. Smith's and so many others' prison.
"You..." he snarled, glaring at him, and paced slowly towards him, his grace had returned to him, as he clenched his fists, grit his teeth, growing ever closer to him, the one responsible.
"Why?." he asked, anger raged through him, bubbling up inside his veins, as if it was going to explode out of him any minute.
The Architect grinned smugly, and stepped towards Smith, showing no fear towards the man that had killed so many.
"We felt you needed to learn a lesson. You needed to be taught that behaviour like that is not expected or welcomed, especially from the most sophisticated and advanced Agent of them all. But, we felt that deletion and re-programming would not be enough, you needed to learn..." his sentence was sharply interrupted my Smith's hands, as he lunged for the Architect's throat.
"You!!...you...it's all you!...you are responsible for this...all my pain..all I ever did was serve you..." he growled, tightening his grip around the Architect's throat.
The Architect prized Smith's hands away from his throat and pushed him away.
"Tisk, tisk, Smith. When will you learn?. Well, I hope you learn. We will approach you when we feel you have learnt and suffered significant punishment. But until then, you will live the life of those you spent your entire existence chasing and brutally killing. The life of a rebel." Before grinning slightly, the Architect disappeared into the shadows like mist.
Smith turned slowly as he heard slow, graceful footsteps behind him, pacing slowly through the puddles, getting closer....