"I know you're out there. I can feel you now. I know that you're afraid... you're afraid of us. You're afraid of change. I don't know the future. I didn't come here to tell you how this is going to end. I came here to tell you how it's going to begin. I'm going to hang up this phone, and then I'm going to show these people what you don't want them to see. I'm going to show them a world without you. A world without rules and controls, without borders or boundaries. A world where anything is possible. Where we go from there is a choice I leave to you. "

He could fly. He looked up to the sky and effortlessly he launched off from the pavement, his feet dangling from the lack of support. Anything is possible, he was the first person to truly understand that, and was taking those first steps into a world without rules and controls, without border or boundaries.

"Mommy, mommy! That man is flying!" He thought he heard a boy say right before he really gained speed.

God, he could fly. A sudden joy came over him as he cleared the last of the buildings and there was finally nothing between him and the sky. He wondered for a moment how high the machines had made the sky. He wondered how far he'd have to go up to reach the boundaries of the Matrix. He wondered if the lunar landing was a memory, or if those men were just taken to another part of the Matrix. He wanted to find out, he wanted so much to find out, to reach up his hand and finally feel where the sky ended, and see where the world ceased to be.

His mind was free, an energy flowed through out him. A nirvana knowing that finally after so long his life was good. He loved a woman with all his heart and she loved him, he didn't have that damn job, he didn't live in that dumpy apartment. Though he was now a warrior in a war started generations ago, it didn't matter. There was so much inside him he felt there was no way he was going to lose. No, not when he was around, not when he could touch the sky like this.

He gained speed, he was a bullet going across the clouds, a black blur. He screamed in joy and he couldn't even hear his screams as he flew right by them. He only felt his mouth open and lungs exit him. This was what it was like to be alive.

His name was Neo, he could fly.

He went to a high point and then stopped. For a moment he stood on nothing, floated there. Then he reached his head back, flipped and began to fall. He heard his coat whip around his legs and his hair go into his eyes behind his sunglasses. And he was smiling, he was smiling.

When he got near to the ground he flew some more, going across buildings watching his reflection in the windows. He slowed so the world could see him. He slowed to show them even then, when they wouldn't believe what they were seeing, what he was going to do for them. He could feel people take out their cell phones and film this black streak in the sky, and he couldn't help but laugh. They were gonna go and put it on Youtube, the Agents would take the videos down, but that's okay cause dumb stupid lonely people that were once like him would have seen it and already asked themselves what was that?

It's me, he thought, it's me, my name is Neo, I have so much to show you.

It's time we all start living.

Neo probably could have felt him if not caught up in his own little world of joy, of opportunity, of celebration. In fact, Neo completely could have felt him, and probably did but ignored the feeling, soon forgetting about it. It was typical, he was never worth Neo's efforts.

Neo passed by a building of great significance to his history, though he had yet to give it a second thought. The building where he died, where he was murdered. He passed by that building and the open window of room 303, where a man of great significance to his history, though he had yet to give him a second thought, laid.

Agent Smith had not moved in all those weeks since Neo's death. He laid there on the wall that was covered in Neo's blood, his head right beneath its dried surface. His head was raised, his mouth slightly open, and his eyes fixated on the dust that you could see from the sunlight from the window. Agent Smith too had been killed in that building. Murdered, shattered, his code slowly formed back into his original shell, if not for some mental scarring. As shown by his desire to not move.

Lacking a leader in their unit his colleagues, Jones and Brown, were set for deletion. Years had Smith been, as they would have told you, different. Though you would notice in their tone of voice they don't mean it as a bad thing. They seem to revere Smith for it, praise him for it, worship him for it. Jones and Brown are in fact truly amazed by their leader who had somehow managed to grow a sort of personality almost despite what he was. They envied him, and when he was gone, his memory inspired them. Be different they told themselves. So many Agents have come and gone through deletion, but not them they decided, be different.

They set out to search for him, the Agent who had grown so strong could not have simply died. Even though he had not return to the Mainframe even though the others could not track him, that meant nothing ultimately. They knew, better than anyone, he could not have died.

Yes, they knew him better than anyone else, but the thing is, they hardly knew him at all.

Brown was putting on his tie, having emerged from the shower they had fixed but twenty minutes earlier. He sat in front of Smith hopeful his gaze would move from nothing to him. Brown plopped himself down with a smile, finishing up his tie.

"Is it straight?" Brown asked. "I was thinking of buying some new clothes besides these suits. I mean, I just, I'm curious if it'd feel as…right."

And Smith said nothing. This made Brown sigh. He was smaller than the other Agents, though his voice was just as opposing, he spoke softly to stop this. By looking at him one would assume he was an intellectual, a fit man who would not hurt a fly, and how wrong you would be. Brown, though he had found he was more artistic and sensitive to Jones, was the better killer of the three of them. Brown took his time, he fired his gun rarely because he so often aimed, and whenever he fired you were dead.

Brown leaned over, his blue eyes hopeful at Smith. He wiped Smith shoulders of dust.

"Come now, Smith." Brown tried. "You can't keep going on like this. Soon they'll find us and we'll have to run, you don't expect us to carry you do you?" Brown slightly laughed. "Look at me, talking about 'them,' isn't that funny? I wonder how many Rebels referred to us as 'them.'"

Smith only stared.

"I can't even imagined what happened to you, but maybe you could look at me and tell me what it was like." He leaned in closer to him. "There was fear on your face, Smith, it scared me."

Smith continued to stare. Brown sighed and leaned back on the opposite side of the wall. He took out a box of pockey to eat, and just then Jones came home with groceries. Jones began setting them up in the next room where they had a refridgerator, but the dining table was in the room in front of Smith so they all could be together at dinners.

"Do you want some Pockey?" Brown asked handing them over to Smith who did not move.

"Don't tease him." Jones said leaning into the Hallway.

"I'm not teasing him." Brown said.

"Yes you are, you're being cruel."

"Maybe he wants some." Brown yelled at Jones.

"He does not."

"Well we'll never know unless I keep asking him!"

They bickered so very often when it came to Smith. Each felt they knew the proper way to take care of him, to tend to him so that he'd come out of this coma of sorts. Brown often talked to Smith, and Smith remembered every word ever said to him by Brown. Smith was aware of the human like progression Brown had undergone. Each day Brown would come to him with a story of what they did that day, what aspect of humanity he had felt. What fear was like to him, what joy was like, what anger was like. Brown would also read Smith the newspaper if he happened to have it that day, or a book he'd picked up. Jones just oppositely never spoke to Smith. Perhaps Jones simply didn't like to talk, but Jones would stare. He'd watch Smith, he'd stand by him as if he were always meant to be there.

But Smith never moved. Nothing provoked him in the slight to move. He was not an Agent any more. He had failed the one thing he had felt so honored to be. The one pleasure in his life, the one thing that made him feel the world was not cruel. He was an Agent, a thing that was meant only to kill, and all he wanted to do was kill. But now his purpose was gone, there was nothing left for him to accomplish or do. What was the use in moving? He was supposed to be dead. Let them come he would have said to Brown, if he wanted to speak, let them come and kill all of us.

I am disgusted by the both of you, he would have said to them if he wanted to speak.

That was about the time Smith saw something amazing fly across the window. A slender figure dressed in black, a white face that smiled so brightly, whose hair flew into his face. Dear God, it was a man flying, and Smith knew that man, Thomas A Anderson. As soon as Anderson flew across his window something sparked within Smith.

For weeks ago when he had killed Anderson, the human came back. Smith had emptied his gun and still the man stood with all those rounds in his chest. Smith had killed a man and something else stood again. There stood the Chosen One of Men, Neo. The One in his first moments of new life had been reckless, new powers came to him and he did not fully understand them yet. But like a cruel child he wanted to use them. The One had used Smith. The One had gone inside him and The One unknowingly had taken something and left something.

Smith had been completely unaware of it until that moment when he saw Neo. Neo had left a part of himself inside Smith, something human, and at the sight of Neo it grew warm and filled him with the unmistakable feeling of joy that at that very moment Neo was feeling as he flew across the window. Smith slightly smiled unsure of what was happening and no one even noticed.

Then hate came, and he was suddenly aware of this terrible piece of human inside him. If he were more desperate he would have gone and tried to cut it out of him like crazy people do. A terrible sickness came upon him to think, there was something alien inside him, something terrible and nothing like him at all.

"Being so human around him isn't going to help him!" Jones was yelling. "He hates humans!"

"Well I'm sorry, I quite like them, and I'm not going to stop liking them just because you're assuming what he thinks!" Brown was yelling back, rising and following Jones to the kitchen.

"If you want to help him at least stop telling him how great your day was! Reminding him how terrible his was!"

"It's his own fault if he wont get up!"

"Maybe he can't!"

Smith had by then risen and moved across the room. He squinted his eyes desperately needing his sunglasses that he realized he missed so terribly. He moved into the room and to the window and pressed his face against it feeling that terrible human joy leaving him as he knew the distance between he and Anderson grew.

How could he? Smith wondered, how could he do this to him.

"What do you want me to do!?" Brown screamed. "Look at him!"

And that's when they realized he was no longer there.

"Smith!?" Brown was first to scream and run to see him standing there.

A sudden fear came upon the two of them. They feared what he was about to do, what he was about to say, and they both sank within themselves and merely awaited his acknowledgement like before when they were all Agents.

"Where is it?" Smith asked.

The two rose their heads in panic.

"Where's what?" Jones first said.

"My earpiece." Smith turned to them with a terrible slowness. "What did you do with it!?"

"Your earpiece?" Brown backed away.

Smith walked up to both of them with a stride only he had, with a strength they feared.

"We're leaving." He told them.

A mere forty-eight hours later Smith had made his first clone from a homeless man they passed by, took its sunglasses, and shot it in the head.

-----------------

Six Months Later

A rivalry returned that had not been touched upon since his childhood. A horrible surge of dread came over him, remembering what it was like in his earlier years. Space Invaders, my old foe, we meet again, Neo thought. He had been those kids that left school to leave a day of teasing and went to the Arcade to spend stolen money that he got from his dad while he was lying on the couch drunk. What a glorious childhood it was of the clicking of coins and the flashing of terrible old video game lights. He felt it funny knowing that now he was stuck in a real video game, a real war.

He had spent at least two hours there, waking up early with Tank and bribing him to let him in using his "I'm the god damn One," logic against his friend. By then the tall skinny pale man who was so obviously passionate about Space Invaders and wearing what looked to be a dress (Trinity called it a cassock), was getting attention. With every grunt and scream at the game and every fast as sound move of his hand two teenagers began to watch him. They had run out of money themselves which they had probably stolen from one of their drunken fathers who had slept on the couch. They were now sitting by the counter with cokes in hand watching the man.

Neo's phone began to ring and with a heavy sighed he fumbled to answer it. He finally gave it levitating the dame thing to his ear while he was sure no one was paying that close enough attention.

"Hello?" Neo asked.

"Neo where the hell are you!?" It was Tank's voice.

"Neo, look out!" Mouse yelled in the background, warning him of a coming attack on the game that would have taken Neo's last life.

"What?" Neo asked defensively.

"You're late, man, the meeting!"

"Yeah I know, but I still got like twenty minutes don't I?"

"No!"

"Shit man, do you know how close I am to getting the high score on Space Invaders?"

"Yes." Tank said, able to see him on the screen.

"Oh right…"

"Look I'll hack you into the number one space. What do you want 'Neo' or 'One?'"

"You can't hack me in, that's not the same!"

"Your girlfriend's pissed!" Mouse again.

Neo looked back to see the two teenagers staring at his levitating cell phone to which he quickly put his shoulder up to the phone to hold it in place like it was there all along.

"Neo, get your ass over here!" Trinity yelled in the background.

"Oh shit, Trin!" Like a good boyfriend Neo dropped his cell phone and turned away from the game.

He went to put it back in his pocket but found a bullet go through it. He looked up and the Arcade owner behind the teenagers had become an Agent who was shooting at him. Neo paid little attention to him, rubbing his hand which hurt from the bullet force, and the rest of the bullets stopped inches before they hit Neo.

"HOLY CRAP!" one of the teenagers was yelling.

The teenagers went to the floor and Neo jumped up to the counter, kicking the Agent in the face. The Agent who was Johnson, grabbed his foot and swung him to the floor, where Neo bounced up and punched. Johnson caught his punch.

"Hm, upgrades." Neo nodded.

The Agent grinded his teeth and punched at Neo who jumped to the counter again.

"No! Now you say 'Oh yes, how kind of you to notice.'" Neo loved to taunt Agents.

Neo lifted his hand and the Agent went flying into the ceiling.

"Where's Smith by the way, I keep waiting to see him so I can kick his ass, but you guys keep coming." Neo stood beneath the Agent who said nothing.

Neo flew his hand and the Agent was rammed into the side of the wall without and died from ribs crushing his lungs. Neo killed him without breaking a sweat. He passed by the two teenagers and Neo smiled leaning down to them.

"You guys out of quarters?" Neo asked.

The boys nodded. Neo motioned for one moment and took some bullets in his hands. He clamped down on them and a light shined through his fingers, and when he opened his hand the bullets had turned into at least ten dollars in quarters. The boys with shaking hands took it. Then they looked up at Neo.

"…How…?" One asked.

"The Matrix has you." Neo smiled and then flew up through a hole in the ceiling.

At least he had an excuse for being late now.

-----------------

Okay you guys, I know, I know, that you were probably tired of these "Alternate Universes" or "How I would've done the sequels," back in 2003. Hell I was too, and that's why I vowed never to write a "How I would've done it."

And yet…Oh God it's so tempting. How I picture Neo and Smith how I picture the whole thing! It's all so different! And this happier go lucky Neo keeps telling me "Do it, Mae. Do it, it'll be fun!" And this cruel Smith stands in the background and is like "Whatever I'm awesome and sexy." AND HE IS!!!

Hahaha, so let me first just say. I know exactly what's going on here. I know exactly what will happen for both Reloaded and Revolutions, so in that way I hope to write quicker than usual. Now some things from the existing movies will be taken (such as plot and dialogue and scenes), so sorry if it starts to sound familiar at times.

That being said, I don't know if I should even continue because it is a "What I would've done" story. So if you want me to continue say so and I will, if not say so and I won't.

Let me just say as a side note for you all, I REALLY want to do the Freeway scene! XD And I won't pull an Architect! The Merovingian will have a bigger part! Brown and Jones are here to stay! Trinity aint gonna die more than she has to. Bane will be back and he'll be nasty! The Twins will kick ass! Neo and Trinity will act like they really love each other! Mouse and Tank are still ALIVE!!! BROWN LIKES POCKEY!!! I DON'T EVEN LIKE POCKEY!!! (Mae foams at mouth)

Love Mae Catt

PS I now have Managers and am in the process of writing a script to be sold (For REAL money! Not just Monopoly Money!), so thanks for all your support guys! I'll never forget you!