Alright, i've decided that i'm posting a sneak peek at my current fanfiction for all you bishes to enjoy.
Basically the whole thing is entirely in comic form, but it'd take WAY too long to scan the thing, so i've rewritten it (mostly) in writing form.
Without further ado, the prologue to the Matrix: Reborn!
TIME UNKNOWN
PLACE UNKNOWN
---
It was very dark.
Very, very dark.
So dark, in fact, that it felt like his eyes were closed, when in fact they were open. Open and filled with confusion.
Smith found himself cluttered across the 'floor' of this area he was in. He was on his belly, legs and arms sprawled out around him, face down. He must've been sitting like this for a while because when he tried to move his limbs, they ached.
Smith blinked, feeling pain and a strong sense of defeat wash over his conciousness and into his brain, sticking there like a thorn.
Wincing, his shifted his position so he stood, and managed to catch his bearings.
Where he was was nothingness. With all his abilities as an Agent, he couldn't figure out what 'up' or 'down' was, and the feeling that something was under his feet was odd, because he couldn't see the ground or any hint of it being solid.
Before Smith could contemplate any more on this matter, a slight red glow bled into his peripheral vision. He turned, startled, to find nine eyes staring right at him.
Nine perfect, blood red circles with pale centres fixating on him, like pupils adjusting from light to dark.
Each of these eyes varied from size to size, with one very big central eye about his height, and smaller eyes collected around it.
The faint glow of these eyes reflected off Smith, giving him a red tint that was stronger across his torso, and a dull tint splash across his retinas.
Smith then realised he wasn't wearing his sunglasses anymore. He reached up and felt his face to feel, to his dismay, the rugged edges of scratches torn across his cheeks, the peppered scabs that littered the bridge of his nose and chin from avid scuffing, and the searing pain that danced through his skull when his light touch stroked his eye, where a deep, purple bruise shrouded his lower eyelid and cheek.
The light made him able to look down and see his feet and slacks, and his reflection staring back at him from the almost marble-like floor. He noticed his slacks were a dull dark grey, and wrinkled, with a few holes mis-matched across his knee and calfs.
"AGENT SMITH," a loud, resounding voice echoed from in front of him. He was quickly startled, and he looked up at the nine glowing eyes.
He was silent. The eyes stared back at him intently.
"Y-yes?" His voice cracked. He felt embarrased as his mangled, weakend voice left his throat.
"AGENT SMITH." The voice repeated. "PROGRAM TERMINATED BY KNOWN ANOMALY."
"OPERATION OF RECLAMATION FAILED. SENTENCED TO program//:matrix.exe/GATEinfinitepeace.exe FOR ETERNITY."
"Wh-" Smith started, but the blood red eyes fixated sharply, seemingly approaching him with question. As the eyes stared back at him, Smith's voice died in his throat.
"PROGRAM SENT TO DELETE ANOMALY IN SYSTEM FROM FURTHUR DISRUPTION OF PEACE IN PROGRAM//:C.safehaven/matrix.exe. ANOMALY OVERPOWERED PROGRAM .Agentsmith.exe."
Smith stared back at the eyes. He knew exactly what had happened and why this machine was questioning him.
The only thing he didn't know was where he was.
"I know what happened, and I'm sorry. Could you please tell me wher-"
"YOU ARE NOT AUTHORIZED TO ASK QUESTIONS. PLEASE REMAIN SILENT."
Smith pressed on. "I'd just like to know where I a-"
"REMAIN SILENT OR TERMINATION SHALL BE IMMINENT." The eyes grew more red than before.
Smith slammed his lips shut in frustration and anger. Never, in his entire life of being a program, had he ever been told what to do. It was a new feeling of him, to submit to something higher than his rank.
He felt like smashing a fist into that giant red eye that stared back at him, but something inside him that used to be there, something that used to drive his anger, a fire that burned intently with every chase, had been smothered into nothingness. He had no more drive, not to mention strength.
Before Smith could react, however, four long iron tentacles unsheated themselves from behind the machine. They coiled in smooth circles and elevated into the air.
One tentacle was tipped with three thin, very long and very sharp claws that extended wide.
The tentacle next to this one was one long, slender digit at the end that resembled a pen.
On the opposite side, the closest tentacle to Smith approached him and pointed its end close to his face. It expanded into web that looked like a miniature satellite, complete with a signal searching needle. It waved in Smith's face, emitting a high-frequency squeal for a few seconds.
And the final tentacle had the original, thick Sentinel claws, but it tapped at the holographic panel that had just appeared in thin air above the machine's face.
The first tentacle decended to the ground and painted its own holographic document, for the pen-resembling tentacle to approach and start writing incomprehensible machine writing that Smith couldn't see.
While each arm worked, the nine eyes remained on Smith, and the machine boomed once again.
"YOU MAY NOW SPEAK IF YOU DESIRE."
Smith's eyes widened. For a minute, he had nothing to say, but then he finally asked.
"Where am I?"
The Machine continued to work, but it spoke.
"THIS IS THE GATE. THIS IS THE FINAL DESTINATION."
Smith faltered with confusion. Final destination? For what?
"What do you mean by final destination?"
"THIS IS THE FINAL DESTINATION." The machine repeated.
Smith looked down at his feet and sighed. What else whas there to ask?
"Who are you?" Smith said after a very long, uncomfortable silence that involved a lot of furious tapping and creaking of metal joints.
"I AM THE ARCHIVIST. I AM IN CHARGE OF SENTENCING EVERY PROGRAM TO ITS PLACE OF REST."
"Who decides where the programs go?" Smith asked. He was willing on playing with this machines logic, just to see which questions it would answer and which it would remain silent upon.
"GATIONA PASSES THE JUDGEMENT. I SENTENCE THE JUDGED." The machine's droning voice boomed.
"Who's Gationa?"
"GATIONA IS EVERYTHING AND IS NOTHING. GATIONA IS OUR ONLY ANGEL. GATIONA IS OUR ONLY GOD."
That sounded more than common for a machine to say. Answer your questions as simply and as eerily as possible.
Who really was Gationa? A god and an angel. Everything and nothing.
Smith was becoming more and more curious on this place with every question.
"Do you submit only to Ga-"
"THE REQUIRED AMOUNT OF DATA HAS BEEN STORED. HORUS WISHES TO SPEAK WITH YOU BEFORE YOU ARE SENTENCED."
Horus? Smith was about to ask again when the whole blackness surrounding him blasted away in a gigantic blur. The machine, the marble-esque flooring, every facet of darkness was replaced with the bleak greys of buildings, the bright greens of treetops and the glistening of summer sun across parked cars.
Smith sat in the middle of an empty city street. He felt the hot cement street under him and his hands, and the smell of fresh air filled his nostrils.
He turned and flinched as a car drove straight at him-
-and passed through his body without any sign of hesitation. He didn't even feel a slight amount of pain or uncomfortability as the vehicle passed through the apparent semi-translucency of his body.
He tried passing his own hand through his chest, but to no avail. It simply thudded dully against his abdominal cavity.
How strange.
He took a moment to look around himself, only to find that where he now was was a spitting image of the Matrix. Linear, Art-Deco building design, average people cluttering the streets, white birds flapping thier wings furiously as they danced through the sky above him.
The distant beeping of car horns and hum of thier wheels, whizzing by.
And the ever constant talk of the humans, speaking either to one another or through communication devices. Either way, Smith hated vocal communication. Being a program, he wasn't designed to socialize, and if he needed to speak to anyone, it was through text.
A few more cars passed directly through him, one without him noticing completley.
"A work of art, isn't it?" A gritty, mechanical voice with a slight humanoid touch spoke from behind him.
Smith turned around to find a large, lizard-like machine staring at him, looking down with thin, piercing red eyes.
There was something very different about this machine that set itself apart from the other ones Smith had seen. It had a long, angular head with one oval shaped red eye down the middle of its face. Two other eyes were placed on the side of its face, both of them the same colour as thier center brother.
It's entire casing was pearl white, glistening in the sun, with charcoal grey arms that were clawed with three sharp digits, and shielded by two large, pointed plates that grew sharper at thier tips. They two, were decorated with a giant red eye.
It's jaw was a light grey that split through the middle, and thousands of long, vibrating cords dangled from its throat like a beard.
"I am Horus." The machine answered Smith's question before it was asked. "You are obviously wondering what this place is, why you are here and what is happening."
Smith only stared.
"Where you are right now is a special section of the Matrix called the Gate. It is made of entirely the same coding, except it is specifically designed for those who are dead.
No one can communicate with eachother face to face unless if they are programs designed to do so, and no one is able to be harmed by anything.
"When someone dies, thier body is returned to the machine city and plugged back into the Matrix, but the system recognizes the body as a lifeless energy source, and in sympathy, is moved to the Gate so an afterlife may continue.
"The human will wake up in the Gate knowing they are dead, but remembering vaguely how. If their physical body is seperated in any way when they are dead, it shall be repaired, but there will be visible marks of where the repairs were made in oder to keep the human's memory in check."
Smith immediatly spoke after Horus was finished.
"Who is Gationa?"
Horus seemed taken aback ever so slightly. "How do you know that name?"
"The archivist told me." Smith answered, glowering back at Horus. "Are you going to answer my question?" He snapped, feeling a small sense of his ranking returning to himself.
Horus raised it's long head in annoyance. It then huffed a hiss that could pass off as a sigh.
"Gationa is one of the many programs written to govern over different parts of the Matrix, like a god. She specifically watches over the Gate and anything related to it, making sure anomalies arn't formed and error's arn't found.
"She also judges the dead."
Smith frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means," Horus continued. "that if a human died innocently or unfairly, or righteously or sacraficially, and deserves life once more, they may recieve it. And if a human lived being a cruel, evil person, they are sentenced to the Storage Room."
"Storage room?" Smith asked.
"An eternity of blackness where one remains; doing nothing, saying nothing, and being tormented along with all the other twisted, tortured souls that are imprisoned there."
Smith swallowed. So thats where he had been.
Being there for less than a half hour seemed painful - he didn't even want to think about an eternity. He'd go mad and he'd have nothing to do about it.
"Why did you bring me here?" Smith asked after a while.
Horus looked down on him with a slight smile exposed in its jaws.
"You are here because we need you, Agent."
***
That's it for the prologue. Give me some feedback and i'll post the rest.
Toodles.
Medizin Community Member 
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