Nothing was real. Not the wind screaming in his ears as he ran, not the loose gravel type roof under his feet, not even his feet. Nothing was real. Damien had to remind himself as he came upon the gap between the building he was on and the building he was planning to jump to. Two lanes of traffic, two sidewalks, and cars and people were forty stories below. He didn't calculate. That's not how he was taught. Suddenly the end of the building was right in front of him. He jumped.
With the momentum he'd gained and the height of his leap he cleared the street and landed safely, kicking up tar and the like as his feet tore up another roof, and he kept running. His suit was restricting, but he paid no mind. His sunglasses helped him both with the sun and the underlying green tint of the world. 'Christ, they're fast.' Damien thought as he felt the whole building shudder with the arrival of his pursuer. Another ledge, but he didn't plan to span the gap, this time, he was going down. Fifty caliber bullets tore up the bricks around him as he dove over the edge and straight down.
This is where Damien felt at home, falling and sailing through the air. His non-existent body twisted and contorted to avoid clotheslines and wires suspended between two buildings. The world felt silent. He moved with practiced grace as he slipped through the obstacles coming up at him, weaving a serpentine path of flight through it all. The one chasing him had more issue trying to get through it. The dirty ground was coming fast. Damien brought his legs up and under him and prepared for the impact. He knew it would be jarring, but, he reminded himself again, nothing is real.
His impact was both violent and silent. The world around him rippled with it, holding itself together and looking like the surface of still water that a drop of water had just fallen into. Damien took a deep breath and began running again. He had to deliver the message. Failure was not an option. He hopped over cars, slipped through the people on the sidewalks, moved with ease. Even as more bullets ripped apart the world around him. They didn't care who they hit. They didn't bother to aim. One slug found Damien's shoulder. He didn't have time to register the pain.
One more block and it would be done. Only another building stood in his way. With his lungs heaving air that wasn't air he lowered his shoulder and plowed through the bricks like they were paper. Dust, debris, mortar, all went flying through the poor man's apartment as Damien tore through it, wall after wall. The report of his follower came much sooner than he expected and he had to run faster. The map of the building, the city, the grid he was on, was suddenly in his head and he could navigate it expertly. But if he had the knowledge, so did his chaser.
At speeds that could only be described as a car on the freeway Damien and the one behind him ran through the halls, bullets chewing up everything. Pain crept in, and so did fatigue, but he fought them valiantly, they weren't real. The door to the building shattered into glass and metal as they burst through. He took an immediate right, heading for the phone booth, but he had to buy time. The twin pistols in his jacket were drawn and leveled at the one behind him.
Both were fully automatic and both emptied their clips into the pursuer. They wouldn't stay down long. He gathered the last of his strength and ran. He knew he wouldn't live through this. She had told him. Even though he'd shot down the one behind him, he would still fall, but not before delivering the most important message of all time. He was going to die in a matter of minutes. She had told him. And the Oracle was never wrong. He threw open the phone booth door and grabbed the phone.
Instantly a voice on the other end picked up, "Operator." Damien said what he knew his last words would be, "The One has been found. Prepare for his coming." Gunshots took over, drowning out the response on the phone. Bullet after bullet tore through him, every limb and all his body. Consciousness was slipping fast when the man in the black suit and sunglasses stood over him, the glass crunching beneath his feet. "And who might you be, that you're so important to them?" The utter voice of authority. Damien spoke through the blood in his mouth "I'm...no one...who the hell.....are you......program?" The man knelt down and gave a kindly smile. "Me? I'm a Smith. Agent Smith."
Damien smiled as he slipped into what felt like sleep. Soon his name would be remembered. Soon all the lies stopped. Soon Zion would be free and the Matrix would fall.
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