Prime Objective

"Ms. Hex...", came that low, ominous tone.

Cat froze with her cell phone in hand. She had already turned the corner, and was down a few blocks from where she met up with Jonathan. Now she heard her name being spoken, and the recognizable voice caught her breath in her throat. Slowly, she turned around. He had been standing behind her, materialized out of God-knows-where, or through God-knows-whom.

That face of porcelain beauty - her face - reflected in his dark glasses, looked back at her with the same shock that she should now be familiar with. After all the times she had a run-in with him.

He stepped slowly towards her. She knew she should run. Training told her she should run. Yet, instinct, did not. She was frozen before him. All she could think about was the feel of his touch against her cheek. He gave no clue as to what he was thinking, however.

"You look surprised to see me." He stood, towering, before her, and her body suddenly felt warmer. "It’s interesting to see the varying styles you Resistants choose to wear when returning." From behind his shades, his ice-blues grazed down her body. Her hourglass figure was hugged in a ‘goth’ version of a sundress. Billowy, sheer black skirts rested against the curve of her hips. A woven-in, lace-up corset hugged her narrow waist, lace tied right at the swell of her breasts. Thin, black, spaghetti straps were hidden beneath a classy, waist-length, black leather jacket.

"Wh-what do you want?" Her cell was still in her hand. She was itching to dial Bios, but she stayed right where she was.

"I thought we might...talk. Over a cup of coffee?" A well-sculpted eyebrow of his, raised, inquiring. The look of shock upon her face changed into pure disbelief. She was no less disturbed over the slightest of smirks, that never seemed to leave Smith’s oh-so-kissable lips. And she could have smacked herself for even thinking that just now. His hand lifted, and she flinched – immediately feeling foolish afterwards. He was merely gesturing to the Italian cafe across the street.

"I...suppose so." What else was she going to say? Run and he’d be sure to run after her, only making a scene. Well, at least they would be in public. Without another look back, she began to cross the street, and heard him follow.

She took a seat at one of the tables outside. Her pretty calves glided past one another as she crossed her legs. Her thighs firmly pressed together, hating the way she felt around him. A constant, and throbbing, heat – which she tried hard to ignore.

Smith took a seat across the table from her, slightly straightening his tie, and moved in closer. He merely observed her as she ordered a caramel macchiato from the passing waiter, before he, himself, ordered an espresso.

Now it was Cat’s turn to arch a brow, and waited for the waiter to be out of earshot before asking, incredulously, "You actually drink?" Her fear of him temporarily dispelling for favor of being perplexed.

"This form can simulate human functions as required, Ms. Hex."

She remained silent for a while, going through the possible implications of such a statement. Trying to be inconspicuous, she shifted in her seat, trying to stave off her more hormonal thoughts – ah, the curse of the passionate Latina. This was certainly not the time for that, and she could have smacked herself doubly for thinking it, nonetheless. "Call me Cat, please...", she whispered, crossing her arms beneath her bust, visibly uncomfortable. Struggling with the impulses of her thoughts and her body, Smith did not fail not note the effects he had on her. However, he said nothing to this effect.

"As you wish", he replied, pausing when the waiter brought them their drinks. Cat sipped her macchiato. Her tongue gratefully slipped over her lush lips, at the taste of caramel. Smith seemed more interested in her reaction to the beverage, rather than focusing upon his own drink. Interesting how Cat had an appreciation for even the illusions the Matrix provided, yet she chose to be unplugged, nonetheless.

He sipped his espresso, keeping up with appearances, then began, "I invited you here to inquire about one. Neo. Cat...what can you tell me about him?"

She remained deadpan still, effectively avoiding choking on her drink. "Ne-who?", she glanced up from over her cup at him. And now she had to put all her best acting into play. "Who are you talking about?"

"He is among the Resistants, Cat. Did he not contact you before you became unplugged?" He noted how her heartbeats quickened, albeit, they had been that way the moment he made his presence known to her. He was sure she was hiding something, but could not be fully certain. Yet.

"I’m afraid I don’t know who you’re talking about. If there is a Neo, we haven’t met." Though she was growing increasingly anxious, she calmly, sipped her drink. Smith admired this woman even more. Calm under duress. Calm – in his presence. Most Resistants would have started running off at first sight of him. And yet, here she was, alone – and willing to face him. Could she have known that the Mainframe forbade him to kill her? It was true that despite the fact that he was now, technically, a rogue program – he somehow, could not ignore that one order the Mainframe had given him when he was still an Agent of the System. Any time he came into contact with Ms. Hex – she could be captured – but she was not to be harmed. A mind-wipe would have been in order for her before. Yet as things presently were, it would be better to use her to get to Zion. Unfortunately, even up until now, she had never been captured. She had always gotten out of one quandary or another. Always slipped through his fingers.

Now, however, though he went primarily by his own rules, he continued to question. He was…curious. Why was Cat Hex to go unharmed? He never questioned the order before, but knowing the Mainframe’s sense of order – there surely was a good reason behind it. A purpose. He intended on finding out this purpose – and he was indeed a patient one, when it came to such things.

Whatever it was, it didn’t look like Cat yet realized that he would not kill her. He would not tell her, either, not yet. And not unless the time came to tell her. Fear would be his ally in interrogating her, and even if he did not get the answers he needed from her this time - he would always, sooner or later, find her again. There was no reason to try to forcibly detain her. Best to persuade, as he knew that she would rather die than betray what she knew. But again, he was fully aware of his effects upon her – he knew just how persuasive he could be.

“It is well known within the Mainframe that you are among an elite group of hackers. Otherwise, you would not be where you are now, running with the Resistants from us. But how long do you think you can run, Cat? I have found you time and again – no matter how well-encrypted your re-entries into the Matrix. With your exceptional skills - why help humanity, so flawed as it is? Why return to a world of imperfection?

"It is rare that a Resistant spends more time within the Matrix than is necessary. Those who prefer this existence, choose to remain plugged in. Those who do not, flee to Zion, and set foot back here only when required – never spending a moment longer than they must.

"But you seem to have an appreciation for our creation. You take time to...revel...within it. Even as a hacker - long before you were ever unplugged - you admired the intricacies, the flawless logic of its grand design. And yet you insist upon returning to your wasteland of a world. Why? When someone of your skills could serve a greater purpose here, with us."

Cat had been so absorbed in the movement of his lips, in the barest outline of his eyes behind his dark glasses – that she did not notice until too late, how his hand now rested upon the back of hers. Her synapses were firing off frantically in her mind. Here was she, a human spirit within the Matrix. In conversation with an incredible pattern of zeros and ones, before her. This program before her – that even so, acted flawlessly human. It all indeed blew her away. She truly did admire it. All of it. She admired him.

"I have to go", her hand slipped back from his as she stood up. She felt on fire to her very core, more than just the rapid beats of her heart. This went – deeper. It was too much to deal with. But he was just a program, and she began to despise herself for thinking he could be anything other than that. But still she lingered, looking at him. The question in her head, often posed, ‘What is real?’

"Smith. I know what you’re trying to do. You cannot manipulate me with my emotions that way – I won’t allow it. You try to invoke what you know I crave. Yet it is the same thing you took from me – the moment you killed him."

A flurry of black skirts signaled her leaving, as she hurried away from the table. Meanwhile, Smith merely clenched his jaw, left to process these recent events. He was actually left mulling over the situation.

~*~