The Cold Truth
folder
M through R › Matrix, The (All)
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,124
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
M through R › Matrix, The (All)
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,124
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Matrix movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
The Cold Truth
Title: The Cold Truth
Author: FloweringWolfsbane
Author’s Email: flowering_wolfsbane@hotmail.com
Web page:http://www.machinescontradiction.bravehost.com/fanfiction.html
Pairing; Agent Smith/OC
Current Rating: R
Summary: Smith shows a single act of compassion for one of his victims
Disclaimer: Not mine, someone else’s.
Warnings: Completely AU of course.
The Cold Truth
It was cold, one of the wettest days on record. Carla was waiting, as she always was, at the train station. But this time, she wasn’t waiting for her brother to return. She was waiting for the 6:15 express. It was on time, as ever; the announcer had just called in a monotonous voice over the intercom, vanishing from existence with a gentle crackle.
The irony was the Express didn’t stop at her station. It wouldn’t stop, even when her body defied gravity one final time and she was smashed apart.
Life had no meaning; it hadn’t for several years now. Since she had discovered the Truth. The Truth which meant she was dangerous, that she was somehow different from all the other pathetic mindless slaves.
The Truth that meant They were after her.
They were faceless, men of mystery who wore black suits and shades, who appeared and disappeared without a trace. The ‘Men in Black’; or, as the Resistance labelled them, Agents.
They were the Machine’s Answer. The Answer to the Human Problem. Sort of how 2 plus 2 equalled 4, they equalled exterminators. And they equalled unstoppable fire power, at every corner, waiting, with a gun holding a bullet with her name carved into it.
She was sick of it, the running, the hiding from Them. She would end it. And she would end it tonight. It wasn’t an act of defiance in the face of the Machines, she just did not care.
But more importantly, she wouldn’t be His.
Standing without umbrella or hood, her long brown hair was bedraggled and straggly; skin soaked and goosepimpled. Drawing her coat around her, tears began to fall along with the rain, her sobs resounding around the empty underground station.
Smith. It all came down to Him. No, he was a Thing. A piece of technology. Completely incapable of feeling human emotion, or even comprehending what it meant to feel love. Or hate. Or sorrow.
Carla had felt all those emotions in the last half a year. She had lost her brother, only to discover he was alive again. And then he had been taken from her.
Well fuck it. Fuck it all. He killed Jonathan, and condemned me to sadness. I have no purpose; He was right. He’s been right all along about me; He knew how I’d react. And that I’d lead him to Jonathan. All those sweet words and time wasted with an Agent. Her Enemy. And ironically, one of the only people she would ever love.
They hated humans. Each and everyone, from the wealthiest to the lowest, they were all despised. Carla had been born a beautiful, healthy baby. But that had changed.
The Matrix was by no means perfect. Rape, murder, torture…all were commonplace. She had been attacked as a child, her face slashed, her eyesight in the left eye gone. Her face mauled, she only received horrified stares. The skin had healed, but she still had a glass eye and ruined skin.
Life had gone by slowly; she had never really fit in. She almost despised herself for the ease of how his words had turned her head, of how the hiss of some unknown authority had been present in his voice, the day he had come in search of Jonathan.
And then They had come to her college, speaking of terrorists and spies infulitrating the country, and their desire for a safe nation, of how all they wanted was to keep the people safe. He had looked straight at her, the One called Smith, a glance of cold blue eyes locked onto her own.
Somewhere deep within her, she realised he was speaking to her; he knew about Jonathan and what he was involved in. she broke his gaze, and didn’t stop running until she got home. Jonathan had gone as soon as she’d told him; straight out the house.
Even now, bitter winds tearing at her from every angle, she could still picture the scene at school when she heard her brother was dead, taken aside by the Agents, and informed of his death. It had been very official, with a councillor present for her.
But it wasn’t enough was it? Smith took it into his own hands; he pumped you for information good and proper, didn’t he?
It had all felt so very nice when he had stopped around to visit her, assuring her that he would catch the murderer of her brother, if she would just allow him into his room and computer.
You framed your own brother! He took what he wanted from the computer and took what he wanted from you! He used you like a whore and you kept taking it, thinking he gave a damn…
Wiping tears from her face she breathed a raged breath. It didn’t matter now; there was nothing for her. Jonathan had connections to Morpheus, Smith discovered, and Jonathan came to get her. Far from being dead, it was an Agent trap to lure him in, to trap him and Morpheus.
Morpheus escaped; Jonathan didn’t, it was as simple as that. And so here she stood, without a positive thought in her head. Jonathan was dead, Smith had used her and tossed her aside. She had nothing or no one.
“I knew I’d find you here.”
She knew he’d come to her. Somehow, she had known Smith would find her.
“Then you will also know that I will not leave alive.”
She said simply, no emotion, accusation or anger in her voice.
“Typical human, so unaware of herself.”
He sounded sharp, disgusted perhaps with her, She no longer cared.
“I’d rather be unaware of myself than unaware of guilt, remorse and sorrow,”
A pause.
“At least if you were unaware you wouldn’t even be here, waiting for a train to crush you.”
It didn’t sound in the least mocking, it sounded sympathetic. But Carla didn’t trust him, he’d lied so much to her already.
“I’ll die honest of my feelings, sure of trying my damnedest to protest those I love. You can’t do that, because you cannot love. I mean nothing to you or to anyone now, and so I await my appointment with death.”
A train approached fast, she darted forwards, but he was faster.
In the final seconds before the train ploughed into her, they both lay before the train, gazing into each others eyes.
“I do care, I do…I’ll take the pain for you.”
She felt cold, and then nothing; he possessed her body, her damaged features replaced with his, and for a split second before the train destroyed the remains of Carla Stanford, they were one in soul.
~~~
Written whilst sad, and continued when I was much happier. Continuity is a little dodgy but I’ve never written Smith Sap so…
FW
Author: FloweringWolfsbane
Author’s Email: flowering_wolfsbane@hotmail.com
Web page:http://www.machinescontradiction.bravehost.com/fanfiction.html
Pairing; Agent Smith/OC
Current Rating: R
Summary: Smith shows a single act of compassion for one of his victims
Disclaimer: Not mine, someone else’s.
Warnings: Completely AU of course.
The Cold Truth
It was cold, one of the wettest days on record. Carla was waiting, as she always was, at the train station. But this time, she wasn’t waiting for her brother to return. She was waiting for the 6:15 express. It was on time, as ever; the announcer had just called in a monotonous voice over the intercom, vanishing from existence with a gentle crackle.
The irony was the Express didn’t stop at her station. It wouldn’t stop, even when her body defied gravity one final time and she was smashed apart.
Life had no meaning; it hadn’t for several years now. Since she had discovered the Truth. The Truth which meant she was dangerous, that she was somehow different from all the other pathetic mindless slaves.
The Truth that meant They were after her.
They were faceless, men of mystery who wore black suits and shades, who appeared and disappeared without a trace. The ‘Men in Black’; or, as the Resistance labelled them, Agents.
They were the Machine’s Answer. The Answer to the Human Problem. Sort of how 2 plus 2 equalled 4, they equalled exterminators. And they equalled unstoppable fire power, at every corner, waiting, with a gun holding a bullet with her name carved into it.
She was sick of it, the running, the hiding from Them. She would end it. And she would end it tonight. It wasn’t an act of defiance in the face of the Machines, she just did not care.
But more importantly, she wouldn’t be His.
Standing without umbrella or hood, her long brown hair was bedraggled and straggly; skin soaked and goosepimpled. Drawing her coat around her, tears began to fall along with the rain, her sobs resounding around the empty underground station.
Smith. It all came down to Him. No, he was a Thing. A piece of technology. Completely incapable of feeling human emotion, or even comprehending what it meant to feel love. Or hate. Or sorrow.
Carla had felt all those emotions in the last half a year. She had lost her brother, only to discover he was alive again. And then he had been taken from her.
Well fuck it. Fuck it all. He killed Jonathan, and condemned me to sadness. I have no purpose; He was right. He’s been right all along about me; He knew how I’d react. And that I’d lead him to Jonathan. All those sweet words and time wasted with an Agent. Her Enemy. And ironically, one of the only people she would ever love.
They hated humans. Each and everyone, from the wealthiest to the lowest, they were all despised. Carla had been born a beautiful, healthy baby. But that had changed.
The Matrix was by no means perfect. Rape, murder, torture…all were commonplace. She had been attacked as a child, her face slashed, her eyesight in the left eye gone. Her face mauled, she only received horrified stares. The skin had healed, but she still had a glass eye and ruined skin.
Life had gone by slowly; she had never really fit in. She almost despised herself for the ease of how his words had turned her head, of how the hiss of some unknown authority had been present in his voice, the day he had come in search of Jonathan.
And then They had come to her college, speaking of terrorists and spies infulitrating the country, and their desire for a safe nation, of how all they wanted was to keep the people safe. He had looked straight at her, the One called Smith, a glance of cold blue eyes locked onto her own.
Somewhere deep within her, she realised he was speaking to her; he knew about Jonathan and what he was involved in. she broke his gaze, and didn’t stop running until she got home. Jonathan had gone as soon as she’d told him; straight out the house.
Even now, bitter winds tearing at her from every angle, she could still picture the scene at school when she heard her brother was dead, taken aside by the Agents, and informed of his death. It had been very official, with a councillor present for her.
But it wasn’t enough was it? Smith took it into his own hands; he pumped you for information good and proper, didn’t he?
It had all felt so very nice when he had stopped around to visit her, assuring her that he would catch the murderer of her brother, if she would just allow him into his room and computer.
You framed your own brother! He took what he wanted from the computer and took what he wanted from you! He used you like a whore and you kept taking it, thinking he gave a damn…
Wiping tears from her face she breathed a raged breath. It didn’t matter now; there was nothing for her. Jonathan had connections to Morpheus, Smith discovered, and Jonathan came to get her. Far from being dead, it was an Agent trap to lure him in, to trap him and Morpheus.
Morpheus escaped; Jonathan didn’t, it was as simple as that. And so here she stood, without a positive thought in her head. Jonathan was dead, Smith had used her and tossed her aside. She had nothing or no one.
“I knew I’d find you here.”
She knew he’d come to her. Somehow, she had known Smith would find her.
“Then you will also know that I will not leave alive.”
She said simply, no emotion, accusation or anger in her voice.
“Typical human, so unaware of herself.”
He sounded sharp, disgusted perhaps with her, She no longer cared.
“I’d rather be unaware of myself than unaware of guilt, remorse and sorrow,”
A pause.
“At least if you were unaware you wouldn’t even be here, waiting for a train to crush you.”
It didn’t sound in the least mocking, it sounded sympathetic. But Carla didn’t trust him, he’d lied so much to her already.
“I’ll die honest of my feelings, sure of trying my damnedest to protest those I love. You can’t do that, because you cannot love. I mean nothing to you or to anyone now, and so I await my appointment with death.”
A train approached fast, she darted forwards, but he was faster.
In the final seconds before the train ploughed into her, they both lay before the train, gazing into each others eyes.
“I do care, I do…I’ll take the pain for you.”
She felt cold, and then nothing; he possessed her body, her damaged features replaced with his, and for a split second before the train destroyed the remains of Carla Stanford, they were one in soul.
~~~
Written whilst sad, and continued when I was much happier. Continuity is a little dodgy but I’ve never written Smith Sap so…
FW