Hey all,
This is a first Matrix fiction. I've written a few other stuffs, but nothing here or like this. Feel free to flame or feedback or whatnot. Thinking about adding more after this. Have some cool ideas (I think...). Here goes...
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Rapid, splashing footsteps echoed along the alleyway. Dank, tepid puddles rippled as the girl's feet repeatedly pounded the pavement. Night was falling, and the failing light cast eerie shadows along the expanses of the glass-walled buildings. She didnt notice, of course. Her breath came in ragged, gasping pulls. Each one felt like swallowing nails. It felt like she had been running for days. Another one of those...things..in the suits. They always chased her. She had thus far managed to get away, but only barely. Odd things had saved her before. Car accidents, storms, and a power outage once. Now, though, she was running out of options, fast.

She rounded a corner into another backalley and slid to an abrupt halt. The alley ended fifteen yards in front of her. She took two staggered steps forward and collapsed to her knees, trying to sob, but unable, she could barely breathe. She managed to glance over her shoulder, looking to the corner and the pounding footsteps that grew ever louder.

Wordlessly, the agent rounded the corner and stopped. He was everything she feared. Clad in that simple suit and obnoxiously thin glasses that just covered his eyes. He moved with a type of grace that didnt belong on normal people. She couldnt place it, of course, but she knew something with him was just wrong. He reached up slowly and pressed a finger to his ear, and painstakingly slowly into his jacket and drew his standard-machine-issue fifty caliber pistol. He thumbed the hammer back and leveled it unwaveringly at her.

"Deletion." He grinned. It was wolfish at the least.

She knew it. She was about to die. In a back alley, to a nameless killer for reasons she couldnt grasp. She tried to cry, tried to get up and run, tried to be brave. All she could manage was a scream. It tore from her like an angry banshee. It started as a loud, piercing howl of desperation that quick transcended into painful. He eminated from her and out into the alley. The force grew to magnanimous proportions, rippling the glass in the alley like ocean waves. That didnt last. Steel and glass exploded like so many bombs, sending a storm of deadly hail out into the two inhabitants.

The agent was shredded. He was lacerated so many times that even his suit was barely recognizable afterwards. The girl, though, was slightly more fortunate. Slightly. She looked somewhat as though she had gotten in a fight with a pack of lions, and lost. Bleeding scars ran across her face, hands, arms, and torso. Now she really couldnt breathe. The deafening roar of shattered glass along the first three floors off to her sides, the searing pain lancing through her body, and the turn of events that had saved her life, for the moment. It was too much. She held a bloody hand up just in front of her face, and promptly fainted.

"Well, that will never do." The man was leaning against what was left of a support beam on the second floor of a gutted building. He looked down on the spectacle and adjusted his glasses. He took a step and fell the ten yards to the ground. Slow, deliberate, almost agent-like steps brought him to the fallen girl. He shook his head, but a grin played on his features.

"They always look so innocent," he chuckled. Chuckled, really, after what had just happened. He crossed his arms over his chest, listening absently to the leather of his sleeveless longcoat creak. "Ah well, there's time for everything. There's always time." He turned on a heel and began stalking, if that was the word, away. "Bring her along, we havent got much time." His voice was deep, almost monotone, and decidedly commanding. Several forms dropped out of the two buildings to gather up the girl and shake their heads at the body the agent inhabited. It was going to be a long night.
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Thanks all!

Welcome aboard, Rebo...Hope you enjoy the Fan Fic section.

Interesting...I hope there's more coming...seems like a good start!

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hmm...very intriguing...very cool and smooth. I like ur style rebo, keep it up!

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Welcome Rebo! With a start like this, you'll fit right in! Lovely prose, very fluid and well written. And so much description! Reading it, you can almost be there. Very much looking forward to the next bit

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Whoa, fantastic start Rebo. I wonder where this is going...

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Well, this and the first was originally one chapter, but if it sucked I didnt want everyone reading the WHOLE thing, lol. Here's the rest of the first part. I love the reviews, thanks you guys. Tell me what you think...

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The room was cool, but not uncomfortably so. The girl was sitting, slumped, in a rigid-backed steel chair, the kind she always saw in FBI movies. In front of her was a table of the same material; cold and featureless. She didnt remember much, she never did after her "episodes", just the crying and the pain. She had emerged from her fatigue induced unconciousness sitting in this very chair. Since then, the minutes had passed like hours. She wanted to get up and run, like she was so good at doing. She smirked at herself mirthlessly. Run where? The walls, what she could see of them, were dull grey and no door was apparent, but she hadnt even bothered to turn around. Maybe they finally had her. Maybe she'd die, right here in the chair. It was a cynical way of thinking, sure, but at least she wouldnt have to run anymore.

She couldnt have been more wrong.

The wall panel door groaned quietly as it opened. A figure, a man by stature, emerged from within or without, it was hard to say given the relative dimensions of the building, and strode purposefully, yet slowly towards the girl's back. He paused for a moment, pressing his fingertips together and letting them rest at his belt. He stepped around her slowly, his boots making a slight thump on the floor. After what seemed an eternity, he came to a casual stop in front of her, leaning his back against the table.

"I would imagine you are a bit confused." The bluntness of the statement brough the girl's head up. For a moment, they locked eyes and an eternity passed between them. The reclining gentleman was dressed in a black duster that cut off above his knees and partially hid his maroon shirt underneath. Both ended in unusually high collars that shrouded a tanned complexioned face sporting a goatee and a pair of sunglasses with half the lenses shaded. He wore an air of formidability like his black duster. The girl, though, was entirely different. She was clad in a pair of slightly tight fitting jeans and a very loose fitting top that was once a sweatshirt. Both were in tatters after her incident, but she wore them with a defiant dignity that poured out of her very being. Mostly in her eyes. Piercing emerald eyes framed by dark black hair that was about the length of her shoulders, and in the same shape as her clothing. They said nothing for many moments.

"You know what it was, I imagine. You know it was coming for you, to kill you." Again with the bluntness. "I would even go so far as to say that you know exactly what the Matrix is." His voice was like flowing water in D major.

She wanted to find her voice, to say something, maybe even to cry, but she couldnt. She couldnt even tear her gaze away from this man. He had told her things that struck chords of realization so deep that she only managed a two-motioned nod.

He grinned, "Good, I thought so." His tone changed, "Unfortunately, there are things you dont know. Like who you are, or more importantly, what it is you are." His arms folded across his chest. "Can you even tell me your name?"

"Are you the One?" The girl's voice was weak, but unwavering. She ignored his question entirely, and he was immediately startled. He recovered quickly and managed to hide the reaction.

"No, I'm not. I am just a man. In search of something, yes. Slightly extraordinary, maybe. Not the One." He looked for a fleeting moment like he would say something else, but thought the better of it. He wanted to see her reaction.

She looked down at the floor between her feet. "Only the One can help me."

"My dear, let me ask you something." He dropped his arms to grip the table at his sides and leaned forward a bit. "When there is the One, the," he thought about his words, "pattern is incomplete. With the abscence of another, there is only the One, and Zero." He leaned back, smiling triumphantly. "Think of yourself, if you must, as the Two."

The girl wept softly.

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Thanks!

Very cool....I like the flow and the description. I'd love to see where this is going...

Absolutely beautiful. Well done.

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Oh, indeed. I like the total originality of this piece-your experience is showing!

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Very smooth and fluent, I think your style will go many places, and I cant wait for more. Keep the good job up.

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Cool starting. You are a talented writer
More please
Laters
G. Angel