Title: The Matrix: Resurrection
Author: AntipodeanOpaleye
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Spoilers/Post Revolutions The machines still owe Neo his peace; peace on levels he didn't intend, couldn't imagine, and had never brought himself to hope for.
Disclaimer: Everything you recognize from any other source either doesn't belong to me or is a purely coincidental occurrence. Anything that you've never seen probably belongs to me. I write for enjoyment and no copyright infringement is intended.
A/N: Sorry, again for the delay. Not so long this time…. But still longer than I would have liked.
Regardless, I must first explain something for this chapter to make any sense what so ever. I like Agent Smith. And I have a certain view of what 'life' is like for the machines and programs in the Matrix. I had every intention of bringing Smith into this fic, and I'm surprised that it's taken me so long to do so. Yet, I wanted to bring him in as something different… something not so like the Smith we saw in the films. I mean, he took so many forms in the movies, why not try one more? And I wanted to show some emotion in him, as well; thus the scene that takes up most of this chapter. In regards to the other character involved in his emotions; I wanted someone who already existed in the Matrix universe, and this particular character fell into place very nicely. Indeed, I never planned her insertion until I sat down to finish the chapter. But I think she works well.
Now that that horribly long ramble is over: my thanks to those who reviewed:
Cerrita -Thanks muchly :D I'm glad there are more fans out there who enjoyed Revolutions. And sorry for the delay.
Osage - Thank you. And while it's not soon, here's the update. I shall try to do better in the future ;)
Glenak - Thanks, and, well, I am updating now in all technicality, just like you asked… but somewhere I don't think that's exactly what you meant. Hope you like the new chapter anyway.
Mystic Kyra - Thank you kindly :D
korrd - Thank you. And as for Trinity's emotional display… It was a product of my own overly-emotional state at the time, and while I considered going back and revising it, and I decided against it. I mean, I would imagine that she would be rather hysterical at being reunited with the man she loved (yet again…) and while maybe it was a bit over the top, I'm not sure that I can imagine it much differently after writing it originally in the way that I did. If that makes any sense…
trinity.at.heart - Wow, I made someone cry. I hope you didn't mind crying, because I actually quite flattered. In any case, hope this chapter, while not as tear-jerking as the previous, will be to your liking :D
Divamercury - Thank you yet again. I hope that you didn't forget about this fic as you said you might, and I promise that I will do my utmost to update more frequently now, as I think I've finally gotten the plot outlined concretely enough to work more quickly.
laughingspider - Thank you so very much for your comments, and, as always, I will do my best to update more :D
starlit jewel - Thank you, not only for your comments but also for noting that you also have some difficulty updating frequently; glad to know that I'm not alone.
THE-spin - Thanks, and her
e's a break from the wishy-washy tearfulness. And Denial is indeed a great place to be.
neo-lover72 - Glad you like it :D
I hope you enjoy the chapter - no Neo and Trinity action, I'm afraid, but don't worry, they'll be back. Please review :D
-AO
Chapter Six
It had been longer than he was accustomed to since his last time. It wasn't one of those things, like riding a bike, where the skill returns to you after years of dormancy. No, this was something you never forgot how to go about handling; it something entirely indelible. Yet, as the long probe protruded into his neck, he felt the unforgettable thrill that had dulled ages ago renew itself. Everything was familiar; the clothing, the sunglasses, the cell phone he reached for instinctively in his inner trench coat pocket. Even the scenery, he realized, as he swiftly flipped open the cell and casually hit the preprogrammed speed-dial.
Indeed, he felt dead in this false reality, but simultaneously, he felt so utterly alive.
"Operator," Link's voice was crisp, yet slightly distorted.
"I'm in," Morpheus replied before clamping the phone shut.
He'd known before they'd told him.
After everything that had occurred, he'd found himself out, alone, in the middle of nowhere. It was punishment, he knew; he was no longer an agent of the system - he had no way to know where he was; he couldn't move as he once had. And yet, try as he might to reach it, the barren wasteland had absolutely no end. He had entertained the idea that he had been exiled, or was in confinement, awaiting deletion, but such notions where short-lived. He'd escorted programs to such fates countless times; this was not where he'd taken them.
He'd wandered for days, feeling nothing, neither living nor dying; simply existing forthwith in an endless haze of filth and degradation that was the nothingness surrounding him; an uninhabited sect of hell set aside just for him.
It had been the Merovingian who had returned him to civilization, though how or why would remain a mystery. The Frenchman had paid him little mind, offering him a glass of Merlot upon his arrival, which he had stoically declined. The foreign program had neglected to reveal himself since, assigning a rather outdated and simplistic version of the prison-guard program to the small cell he had chosen for his prisoner.
It had been days, weeks even; he had grown rather apathetic to his situation. And it was only when the footsteps approached, and the guard stepped away, that he had bothered to turn his attention towards what lay beyond the door.
"Persephone." The name alone held so much meaning as he sensed her presence; posed so many questions and evoked so many memories.
"He does not know I am here," she whispered.
"I know." He could not see her, but her voice was enough.
"How did this happen?" She asked incredulously.
"I was deceived."
"Wouldn't be the first time," her tone was slightly derisive.
He chuckled strangely. It was not in his nature to do so.
"You would know."
He could here the smile in her voice as she continued. "I would. But you've changed since then."
"We both have."
Her smiled faded. "Indeed." She paused, taking a shuttering breath. "I've never forgotten, you know."
"Nor have I."
"You hurt me."
He was silent. He would not confess that she had done the same.
"Who did this to you?" she quickly changed the subject, sensing his discomfort.
"The Architect. And your husband."
Her face finally came into view through the slits in the door, small salty streaks flowing down from her eyes as she silently wept. He suddenly felt cold, nauseous, and utterly conflicted. He began to feel a self-loathing that consumed his entire being in ways he had previously never fathomed.
Her tears had not affected him for eons. Not since…
And it was then that he began to register the truth of his situation.
And this time, he feared, it wasn't just a simulation.
He'd been young, and foolish. Just a fledgling program, as she had also been.
He had been so fascinated with the humans he saw each day in the Matrix. Almost obsessed. He wanted to know them, to know what they were, to see how they lived. To feel, as they felt. He wanted to know what it was like to be them.
The Agent Upgrade had been introduced shortly before he had been assigned to a position as a Caretaker, one of the programs that ensured the integrity of those programs that controlled the basic workings of environmental cycles in the Matrix. Before then, Agent Programs were written as they were required, and deleted as they became obsolete. But the demand for such programs was growing, and in an attempt to conserve resources, the Upgrade was developed. A short training program followed by a partial software rewrite could alter any prior assignments a program might have had, and could create a fully updateable Agent of incredible efficiency and complete obedience. Perfection.
One of the requirements for enrollment was to have spent time in the Matrix. They both had. And one of the training methods was a simulation of human existence, in order to have first hand experience for any wayward human targets.
It was where they had met.
His name had been Jeremiah. He was a computer-programming student at a local university. She had been his lab partner. Persephone.
They had fallen in love. She had made the first move. He had wanted to reciprocate, but he was far too much machine and too little human; his sense of duty spoke volumes, and bid him to resist.
Immediately following, he had been taken in for reprogramming as an Agent, and she had been removed from the program, facing the prospect of deletion. The Merovingian had saved her from her fate upon her agreement to pledge herself to the foreigner, and they had not seen each other face to face since.
And he had hated them - Humans- from that day forward. They had taught him how to feel, and while he could feel no longer, he could still recall a time in which he could.
He despised them. Their nature. Their ways. Their habits. Their stench…
And that was how he knew. Because the smell was no longer threatening to choke him.
"You used to be more like them. But, after all this time…can you be like them again?" her voice was thick as she reached into the cell, trailing her finger delicately down his cheek. He leaned into her touch, reveling in the pain it brought him to feel it once again.
He who had been previously known as the Agent Smith - he was human. Or at least, close to it.
The hatred he felt at that mere fact was unfathomable. And the vengeance he planned to extract for it was already beginning to take form.