Disclaimer: I don't own any recognisable characters. They are the sole property of Warner Brothers, the Wachowski brothers, and such like. Rumours have it though, that they belong to the "original" script writer; Sophia Stewart. She, (Stewart) claimed that she was the one who originally wrote the script for the Matrix trilogy and it was stolen from her. She even filed a report against them, trying to bring them to court to sue them. Articles I've found on the internet indicates that the FBI have managed to find evidence to prove her wild claim.

True or not, I nonetheless disclaim all rights to the characters I now use. They are solely for entertainment purposes, for both you and me.

(I am not taking any chances of being sued by Stewart!)

Author's Note: The idea for this fic came to me when I was pondering what happened to the poster of the Woman in the Red Dress when Mouse was killed.

Warning: slight sexual content!

*~*~*~*~*

He settled comfortable into the squashy armchair, sighing contentedly as he studied his perfect creation; The Woman in the Red Dress (affectionately called Wird, the acronym for The Woman in the Red Dress).

His eyes trailed over the glossy surface of the poster, taking in the breathtaking sight of his opus magnum, his Greatest Work. The magnificent creature smiled beguilingly from the other side, her curvaceous figure accentuated by the striking red material that clung to her like a second skin, blonde tresses piled high on her head, with soft romantic ringlets framing her delicate and petit face.

Beautiful…

Luscious blood lips curved into a pretty pout, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

To deny our own impulses, is to deny the very thing that makes us human…

He smirked, remembering their new crewmember's incredulous stare when he had said that.

His cell phone rang shrilly, and he jumped slightly; startled. Biting back a tired sighed, and answered the call.

'They cut the hardline!' Tank said, a note of panic in his voice, 'it's a trap, get out!!'

'Shit!'

Dropping the phone and the poster, he scrambled to the windows. He yanked the thick velvet curtains aside and went numb; the windows were gone. Instead, a solid brick wall stood before him.

No!

Mouse tapped desperately at the bricks, hoping that it may just be a hallucination, but the sound and the pain from pounding his fist against the barrier proved him wrong.

'Oh no…oh no…' he was surprised at his own voice; shaky and shrill.

He wrenched the chest open, groping and grabbing two machine guns randomly; one in each hand, before the wooded door burst open, without a second thought, Mouse squeezed both triggers.

Time seem to slow for him as the bullets were exchanged madly…

And then… there was silence…

*~*~*~*~*

'Take him.'

He left the rebel captain to the humans.

Pausing at the stairs, Agent Smith spared a glance upstairs. He cocked his head, listening intently. Slowly, he ascended the stairs.

The old oak door was ajar and gently, he prodded it open. He stepped into the room, skirting around an ominous dark puddle which he suspected to be blood. Avoiding the low coffee table, he heard something rustle beneath his foot.

Glancing down, he removed his foot from the object and picked it up.

A smirk tugged his lips upwards before it turned into a full-fledged grin. Carefully rolling the poster, he tucked it under his arm.

*~*~*~*~*

'What is that?'

Smith paused, unsure how to reply, 'Evidence…'

Agent Jones raised an eyebrow, 'Evidence?' he echoed, his tone of voice tinged with obvious disbelief.

His superior tugged uncomfortably on his sleeve, 'Yes, evidence.'

Jones studied him, and took into account the odd way the usually stoic Agent was behaving.

'Let me see it.'

Brown inched closer interestedly.

Reluctantly, Smith handed the poster to the two, careful not to make eye contact with them as they unravelled the scroll.

A slight paused, then hesitatingly, a whispered "I see" escaped Agent Brown's lips. Looking up sharply, Smith thought he caught the maddeningly knowing smirk that possessed Brown's face before a mask of total indifference took over.

Frowning suspiciously at Brown, Smith snatched the poster from Jones, who was scrutinizing the poster at an alarmingly close proximity.

Rolling the poster, he held it possessively to his side.

There was an awkward pause before Jones, his sentence coated with admiration, said, 'She is perfect…'

'Yes,' Smith replied stiffly, opening the door to the black sedan, 'she is…'

*~*~*~*~*~

'Hello, Smith,' she grinned, tugging coyly at his black tie. She settled herself comfortably in his lap, purring as he stroked her back.

He leant forward and caught her pout lips in a fiery kiss, shuddering as her cold fingers and long perfectly manicured nails traced abstract patterns against his inner thigh.

Sliding his hand slowly up her thigh, he was rewarded as she moaned lustily in his mouth. Smirking inwardly, his digits slowly continued on their journey upwards and…

The sudden knock on his door startled Smith from his reverie. Tearing his eyes away from Sonia (as he christened the Woman in the Red Dress), he adjusted his tie, wondering if the temperature in the room was suddenly fourteen-point-six-three-one degrees above normal.

Taking a deep breath, 'Come in,' he pronounced blandly.

Jones entered, carrying a file.

'The preparations have been made; the Rebel captain is ready for questioning,' Jones paused, studying the other Agent. 'Is there something wrong?'

The other wondered if Jones had noticed his slightly accelerated breathing, the film of sweat on his brow and the dilated pupils. 'No…'

Jones nodded slowly, apparently satisfied, 'Let us proceed.'

Swallowing a sigh, Smith nodded curtly and spared a longing glance at poster pinned on the wall behind his desk before closing the door with a snap.

*~*~*~*~*

The two stood side by side, silent and still; it was over.

Jones inclined his head to his partner, 'Deletion; that is our fate.'

Brown nodded, face impassive but Jones thought he saw a flicker of remorse in those chilling blue eyes. He stepped to the side and grasped the doorknob and turned, stepping into the office of their former leader.

He entered cautiously, as if afraid to be reprimanded for entering without permission. Gliding around the desk, Brown paused to study Smith's "Sonia".

Silently, Jones took his place by his side and the two of them stood there, staring at the glossy paper.

Finally, Jones could no longer stand the silence, 'Some humans believe in life after death. Think of me as weak for submitting to the ideas of humans if you wish, but I am inclined to believe that Sonia would be waiting at the other side for us.'

Brown cast a cursory look at Jones, 'Life after death…'

His friend nodded slowly, 'Yes…'

The idea of Sonia, waiting for them at the other side, arm wide open, a salacious smile on her ruby lips made the prospect of being deleted somehow more bearable to the two doomed programs.

'Then there is nothing to fear…'

Their earpieces crackled as they received a message from the Mainframe: Report to Room 101 for deletion immediately.

*~*~*~*~*

Agent Thompson sneered at Sonia, deciding that the former Agents of the System were unforgivably flawed.

Reaching out with a pale hand, he ripped the poster from the white wall, discarding it into the wastepaper bin. A fearsome scowl on his face, he strode from the room.

Cocking his head thoughtfully to the side, Johnson reached for the crumpled discarded poster. Smoothing the paper out, Johnson traced the outlines of her lips, sighing sadly.

A waste…

Sneaking a glance around to ensure he wasn't being watched, Johnson tucked it into the folds of his suit.

Fighting the urge to grin nervously, he kept his face neutral as he made his exited, nodding to Jackson before fleeing to the safety of his office.

Locking the door behind him, he stepped to his desk and carefully deposited his new found treasure into one of his drawers.

She wriggled her hips invitingly at him, a finger hooked at his collar. Her nail scratched a red line along his strongly pronounced jaw line as he pressed her against the wall, feeling the delicious heat of her body close to him, her breaths coming roughly in quick shallow gasps…

An uncharacteristic chuckle escaped his lips and he shook his head slightly…

Ah, Sonia…

The Bane of Men and Programs alike…

*~*~*~*~*

THE END

Author's Note: This is my idea of what happened to the poster. Hope you liked it! :)