AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Yeah, yeah, I know that Chapter Two sunk waaaay below my standards of good short-story writing. There were far too many typos and misprints and stuff that was just stupid. (I mean really. McZombies!? What was I on? Answer: "Too much Pepsi, not enough sleep.") So I promise to make this one better. It's got grenades, snipers, and a rooftop battle! w00t!

Perhaps the next chapter will be all in l33t...

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"Damn mad cow disease," Smith muttered.

After picking up his Desert Eagle and reloading, he stepped over the unmoving forms of the McZombies and over to the nearest window. Inspecting the iron bars blocking it prompted from him a small laugh. "Iron bars," he muttered. "Pathetic." He pulled them off the wall in the same manner one would pull a piece of paper out of a notebook, kicked the window out, and crawled through.

He was dusting a few small glass shards off his suit when a megaphone-enhanced voice screamed at him from across the street. "Sir, this is police Sergeant Williams. Drop any weapon you have on your person, raise your hands in the air, and walk slowly towards the vehicle."

Apparently someone had called the police.

The McDonald's that Agent Smith had just come out of was surrounded on all sides by a long line of police and SWAT cars. Behind them, standard police forces crouched behind their vehicles with firearms drawn. Smith could sense the elite SWAT snipers on the roofs of several buildings around him, all ready to make a lethal shot should he attempt to resist. Naturally, none of this was enough to stop him. But there was no point in not having a little fun with this first.

"Why should I comply, officer?"

There was a brief pause. Even from across the street, Smith could make out the features of each policeman perfectly. Most were confused at his comment; a few seemed amused. None of them thought that Smith could do anything rebellious and get away with it with his life.

"Sir, I do not know if you are aware, but you have seventeen pistols, four combat sho..."

At which point Smith cut in. "Yes, yes. Four combat shotguns, five semi-automatic police-issue M16's, and six sniper rifles aimed at me at this very moment. I can sense them, Sergeant. And let me assure you, none of them are going to do you any good."

The Sergeant had had enough. "I am going to order all units to open fire on you, sir, if you do not..." Smith pulled out his Desert Eagle and proceeded to shoot the nearest eight officers.

"FIRE! OPEN FIRE!" Sergeant Williams screamed. It was a redundant order; already all the remaining police and SWAT forces had starting shooting at the agent. Just as Smith said, though, this did not help them in the least. He was across the street before any of the snipers had time to pull a trigger. Suddenly, he had Williams in front of him as a human shield.

"Cease fire!" Williams screamed frantically. "Snipers! Snipers! Take him ou..." Smith moved Williams to take the sniper's shot for him, and then dumped the dead body on the ground. Before any of the police could comprehend that their squad leader was down, Smith leapt to the top of the nearest building and started running. "Too busy to bother with mere humans," he muttered under his breath.

Walking among the rooftops, Smith traversed halfway across the city. "Where is that insipid clown?" he muttered under his breath. Smith looked east; the sun was starting to come up. Six hours and he still hadn't found him yet; this was taking longer than he expected.

Smith was about to jump down from the building and continue his search when he heard the crunch of feet landing on asphalt behind him. He turned around swiftly to find Hamburglar standing with a heavy rifle in his arms and a belt of grenades tied over his shoulder. "Smith," he called out. "Nice to finally meet you."

Smith again presented his semi-smile. "Mr. Hamburglar. I see that Mr. McDonald cannot fight without using others. This is a weakness."

Hamburglar aimed his rifle at Smith; he could see a grenade launcher hung under the barrel and a laser sight mounted near the sight. "Ronald is no weaker than you are." He worked the pump-action. "I don't see you running a multi-billion dollar, world-wide corporation working towards the goal of global domination."

"And I don't see Mr. McDonald killing off the much-vaunted Neo."

"Shut up and die."

Hamburglar let loose a sixty caliber bullet; Smith, of course, ducked out of the way and started running at Hamburglar's right flank. The gun-toting mascot turned his weapon at Smith, worked the pump-action again, and fired. Smith leapt into the air as the bullet sailed harmlessly underneath him.

Just as Smith was about to land in front of his enemy, Hamburglar jumped backwards and fired up his jetpack. He soared to the next building and took aim with his rifle again. But instead of firing another bullet, he pressed the fire button for the grenade launcher.

The high-explosive grenade sailed through the air between the two buildings and slammed into the side. The resulting explosion fragmented the side of the building, which started to collapse. Smith jumped from it to the rooftop that Hamburglar occupied.

Hamburglar attempted to bash Smith's skull in with the butt end of his rifle; Smith grabbed the weapon out of his hands and crushed it. "Where is Mr. McDonald?" he hissed. Hamburglar started backing up towards the edge of the building.

Smith leapt forward to try and grab him, but Hamburglar had already jumped. Right before he hit the ground, his jetpack started up, and he flew away.

"And he needs a jetpack for that," Smith said aloud as he started flying in the direction Hamburglar had gone.