A/N: Not much to say about this one… Post Reloaded-Pre Revolutions
Miseria Cantare
They had run, run for so long, evading and dodging him at every turn. Now they couldn't escape. There was no escape for anyone, there would be for no one. All would become him, he would become one with them. All him. Everyone. Everything. The Matrix was his for the taking.
Now he had them backed up against a wall, their faces pleading for mercy. They had chosen Exile, Brown and Jones, and had not been captured by the new Agents… Johnson, Jackson, and Thompson were no longer Agents… They are Smiths. His world full of him…
Brown clung to Jones' side asking for the protection that he had always provided for him. The protection of Jones is not enough to stop him. Nothing and no one can now… It is inevitable.
"Smith… No…" said Jones, ever the protector.
"Why, Smith? Why are you doing this!" squeaked out Brown finding some courage to speak.
A chuckle came from Smith.
"Why? It is my new Purpose… My Destiny…"
Smith thrust his hand into Jones and the black ooze of coding started to cover him as he was copied.
"JONES!" cried Brown, tugging in vain at Smith's arm, trying to save his Jones from his horrible fate.
It was too late, where Jones once stood, stood another Smith. The new Smith straightened his tie and walked over to stand behind the original Smith.
Brown, over come with rage or insane with grief, lunged at Smith. Smith smiled cruelly and grabbed Brown by the neck.
"You think you can stop me, little Brown? Your guardian Jones isn't hear to save you now…"
"Nooo!"
His grasp on Brown's neck tightened, and his fingers sunk into his neck. Brown gasped and fought against the ooze that threatened to change him into a Smith.
"Goodbye, Brown."
"You bastard…"
Now there were only a few more matters to attend to and the world would be his… Emotionless, he turned away, two new copies following him in his wake just as Brown and Jones did so long ago… But they aren't Brown or Jones anymore. They are him, he is them. Smith.
