In the city of Los Angeles, two renegades rocket into a sun soaked
odyssey of blood and gasoline. She's a fast talkin’ wheelwoman
who’s faster behind the wheel, and he’s ex-Yakuza turned sushi
chef, who's handy with the Japanese steel.
Their quarry? A duffle bag of cocaine, the white powder keg that’s
blown their lives into chaos. Their ride? A murdered-out BMW M3,
roaring through the city’s arteries, leaving chaos from Inglewood
to Burbank in its wake.
Blazing through burning hot days & neon nights, they forge a bond
in the heat of the chase, fueled by adrenaline and nitrous,
they're ready to kick some ass, bust some heads and unleash their
inner demons on the City of Angels.
???? See This Press Play ????
INT. MAKESHIFT LOFT - NIGHT
Around midnight.
Neon bleeds through a dusty window, casting color over a
makeshift loft. A worn couch, stacks of auto mags, and a bare
mattress populate the space.
At the foot of the bed: clothes half-tossed, booze bottles
drained.
A phone alarm PIERCES the silence.
DUTCH DUPREE (27, brown skin, blonde fade) JOLTS upright,
last night's whiskey throwing hands. She winces, rubbing her
temples then kills the alarm.
A NAKED BODY stirs beside her, tangled in sheets. Dutch
peeks, smirks-not bad. Then slips out of bed without a word.
She dresses quickly: Tank top. Jeans. Jordan 1’s. A red
racing jacket hangs by the door- she shrugs into it like
armor.
Then she's out. Time to work.
INT. MECHANICS SHOP - CONTINUOUS
Dutch descends metal stairs, entering a dimly lit auto shop
below. Footsteps echo as she weaves through half gutted
muscle cars and busted imports.
She stops at a vehicle draped in black vinyl.
A beat. Her fingertips trace the covered curves- silent
moment between woman and machine.
Then she pulls away, heading toward a ‘96 IMPALA SS bathed in
shop light.
INT. CAR - IMPALA - CONTINUOUS
The drivers door closes-THUNK. Dutch inhales deep, flexing
into her fingerless driving gloves.
A key turns. The V8 THUNDERS to life. Her fingers curl around
the wheel.
DUTCH
Shhhh. I know, baby.
Seatbelt clicks. She cranks the radio. “Tomboy” by Princess
Nokia ???? kicks in, raw and loud.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Alright, let’s cook.
She drops it into gear—SLAMS the gas.
EXT. LA FREEWAY - NIGHT (CONTINUOUS)
The IMPALA tears out of the garage, tires screaming against
asphalt.
INT. CAR - IMPALA - NIGHT (CONTINUOUS)
Dutch nods to the beat, adrenaline sync’d to the bass- her
face illuminated by dash lights.
EXT. LA FREEWAY - NIGHT
The IMPALA merges onto the freeway, threading through red
taillights. Engine howling.
AERIAL TRANSITION: LOS ANGELES GLEAMS BENEATH, A CARPET OF
TWINKLING LIGHTS.
TITLE: GASOLINE ROUNDHOUSE
HARD CUT:
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Crime"]
Ratings
Scene
2 -
Flavors of Flirtation
INT. SUSHI BLISS RESTAURANT - NIGHT
Raw tuna gleams under soft light.
A blade glides, one clean slice, then another. Each cut, a
silent prayer in steel.
Behind the knife, LOU (40s, Japanese, handsome in a seen-some-
shit way) moves with fluid grace, time slows to blade and
breath.
Beyond his cutting board: A modest sushi joint pulses with
Friday night energy.
At the L-shaped counter, Lou works- rhythmic cuts time with a
symphony of sake cups and conversation.
KENJIRO ITO (60s, Japanese, kind eyes) aka KEN, moves between
tables, sake bottle tucked in his apron. The door chimes as a
group enters.
KEN
Irasshaimase! Bar seats open, best
spot to watch the master at work.
He gestures to Lou, who offers a small nod, his hands still
moving.
The door chimes again- JADE (40s, sharp, put together)
enters. The room notices her, but she’s locked onto Lou. Ken
smiles knowingly as she approaches the bar.
Jade slides onto a stool, all feline grace.
JADE
Evening, chef.
Lou's meets her gaze, never breaking his blade's dance.
LOU
Back again?
JADE
What can I say, I'm addicted.
What's good tonight?
LOU
Toro’s fresh. Damn near swam
through the door.
JADE
Mmm, sounds perfect. Work your
magic.
As Lou reaches, a portion of an irezumi tattoo peeks from
beneath his apron sleeve. She clocks the flash of color.
JADE (CONT’D)
Nice ink. Must have a hell of a
story.
Lou tugs his sleeve down, movements a hair too quick.
LOU
Nothing worth telling.
She leans in.
JADE
Well, if you ever feel like
sharing... I’m great at keeping
secrets.
Lou gives her a half-smile as he finishes plating. He
presents with a flourish-the toro gleams under warm light.
LOU
Please, enjoy.
Her eyes meet Lou's.
JADE
Always do.
As she savors her first bite, Lou moves down the counter to
attend other guests. Ken appears beside him, wiping down the
counter with a dishcloth.
KEN
Someone's fishing for more than the
toro.
Lou doesn’t look up, focused on his work.
LOU
She's just being friendly.
KEN
Four times a week is beyond
friendly. No one likes sushi that
much.
Lou absorbs the words, saying nothing.
Steam curls off fresh rice. Lou just keeps slicing. The night
hums around them.
Genres:
["Drama","Romance"]
Ratings
Scene
3 -
The Heist Preparation
EXT. DOWNTOWN LA STREET CORNER - NIGHT
A streetlight frames TWO MEN standing on an LA street corner:
We’ll call them, TANK (40s, burly) and SLIM (30s, wiry).
The Impala growls onto the block, headlights carving shadows.
It glides to a stop. The window whirs down revealing Dutch,
face half in shadow.
Slim leans into the car window.
SLIM
O-Dog?
DUTCH
Ricky.
The men share a nod, then slide in the back. The car dips
under their weight.
EXT. LA STREET CORNER - NIGHT
The IMPALA’s brake lights flare briefly before the car pulls
away, merging smoothly into the LA streets.
INT. SUSHI BLISS RESTAURANT - NIGHT
Late night lull. A few customers linger, Jade among them. Ken
waves off a departing group.
KEN
Arigato gozaimasu! Come again soon.
The door closes. Ken wipes down counters, Lou begins cleaning
the kitchen.
EXT. LITTLE TOKYO ALLEYWAY - NIGHT - LATER
The IMPALA turns into a narrow alley, the engine's growl
echoing off brick. It rolls to a stop, brakes squealing.
SUPER: LITTLE TOKYO
INT. IMPALA- NIGHT
Dutch kills the engine, the sudden heavy.
The two men pull on masks, faces disappearing behind dark
fabric. Slim fidgets, tugging at his.
SLIM
This shit itches. Like burlap made
of pubes.
TANK
You want comfort? Try a coffin.
They line those with silk.
SLIM
I’m just sayin—
TANK
Say one more thing, I’ll staple it
to your face. Now get your head in
the game.
Dutch turns to face the back seat.
DUTCH
You divas need a minute or we doing
this?
Chrome catches streetlight as they draw their Glocks.
TANK
Oh, we’re doing this.
Genres:
["Crime","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
4 -
Night of Terror at the Sushi Bar
EXT. LITTLE TOKYO ALLEYWAY - NIGHT
The back doors of the IMPALA CRACK open in unison, the two
men exit. Tank leans into the window, eyes on Dutch.
TANK
Five minutes. Keep her hot.
DUTCH
Just bring me back something nice.
His gaze lingers—something unreadable behind it. Then he's
gone, swallowed by the dark.
Dutch watches as they approach a red door tucked against the
back of a building, disappearing inside.
INT. SUSHI BLISS RESTAURANT - KITCHEN AREA - NIGHT
Dishes clatter. Water runs. Lou cleans the night’s cutlery.
His gaze settles on the gleaming Kiritsuke knife in his hand.
As he tilts the blade, steel CATCHES the light.
Lou stares. Still. Breath held.
Sound fades. His grip tightens. Whatever he’s seeing, we’re
not invited in.
KEN (O.S.)
Like a samurai with a sword.
He SNAPS back spotting Ken in the doorway. His dishcloth is
slung over his shoulder.
Lou exhales slowly, recomposing himself.
LOU
Old habits. Not all of them die
easy.
KEN
Maybe some shouldn't.
Ken leans against the counter, studying his face.
KEN (CONT’D)
You've built something solid here.
Might it’s time you stopped hiding
in those shadows, let some light
in.
Lou’s gaze shifts to Jade as she finishes her drink.
LOU
Light draws moths. And hunters.
She casts a glance toward the kitchen, then stands.
KEN
Not everything in the light hunts.
(sly smirk) Might nibble a little
though.
Lou shoots him a look, a ghost of amusement in his eyes.
As Jade turns to leave, he considers- but doesn’t move. The
door chimes. She's gone.
Beat. Lou returns to his work. Then-
BAM! The back door FLIES open. Ken WHIRLS around, Lou's head
SNAPS up.
INT. SUSHI BLISS RESTAURANT - DINING ROOM - NIGHT
The restaurants tranquility SHATTERS as Slim and Tank BURST
in, guns raised! The larger man sweeps his across the room.
TANK
(bellowing, voice gravel)
Evenin’, ladies and gents! Hate to
ruin your dinner plans, but this
here’s a robbery. Stay calm, stay
seated, let’s not make the night
any messier than it needs to be.
Slim sweeps through tables, gun trained on terrified patrons.
SLIM
Your heard him. Be cool or you'll
be swallowing lead instead of
unagi.
INT. SUSHI BLISS RESTAURANT - KITCHEN - NIGHT
As violence erupts outside the kitchen, Lou grips the knife,
something dark rising. He steps forward—
KEN blocks him.
KEN
(barely a whisper)
The blade can wait.
A heavy beat. Lou clenches his jaw. Breath short, then—a nod.
Ken squeezes his shoulder, then steps into the chaos.
INT. SUSHI BLISS RESTAURANT - DINING ROOM - NIGHT
The robbers turn as Ken emerges from the kitchen, hands
raised but spine straight.
KEN
Take what you want and go. Just
leave my customers in peace.
Tank advances, gun steady.
TANK
Good attitude. So where is it?
KEN
I don't know what your talking
about.
TANK
Bullshit!
Tank PISTOL-WHIPS him. Blood trickles. Ken steadies—hand
slipping under the counter, pressing a hidden alarm beneath.
The larger robber yanks his head back—gun to temple.
TANK (CONT’D)
Memory starting to clear up?
Genres:
["Crime","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
5 -
Turning the Tables
INT. SUSHI BLISS RESTAURANT - KITCHEN - NIGHT
In the dark kitchen, Lou waits. Fingers dance on the knife’s
handle—coiled, ready.
INT. SUSHI BLISS RESTAURANT - DINING ROOM - NIGHT
Slim grabs a woman, yanks her up, gun pressed to her jaw.
With his free hand, he steals a piece of sashimi.
SLIM
(chewing)
Goddamn, that’s good. Real fresh.
(to woman)
Open up.
The barrel touches her lips. Ken breaks.
KEN
Fine. Fine! I’ll show you. It’s in
the back. Now leave her alone!
INT. SUSHI BLISS RESTAURANT - BACK ROOM - NIGHT
Tank shoves Ken through the doorway, gun in his back. He
breaks stride, spotting Lou in the kitchen.
TANK
Yo!
Slim looks up from harassing the patrons.
TANK (CONT’D)
We got a live one back here!
INT. SUSHI BLISS RESTAURANT - KITCHEN - NIGHT
The leaner robber bursts into the kitchen, pistol raised.
SLIM
You! Drop the knife.
He sets the blade down, slow. Calm. Deliberate.
SLIM (CONT’D)
Jesus, you’re jacked for a cook. We
gonna have a problem?
Lou just glares. Glacial on the surface, fire in his eyes.
LOU
No problem.
Slim shifts—uncomfortable. He catches something lethal in
Lou's composure.
Meanwhile--
INT. IMPALA - NIGHT
Dutch drums a nervous beat on the wheel. Eyes flick to the
clock. Back to the door-waiting.
INT. SUSHI BLISS RESTAURANT - BACK OFFICE - NIGHT
Ken kneels, blood trailing from his temple. He opens the safe
beneath his desk.
Inside, a black duffel waits like a coiled snake, Ken turns.
KEN
Don’t do this--
Tank shoves him aside, unzipping the bag. A grin spreads
behind his mask.
TANK
Shit. Now that’s impressive.
Behind his back, Ken's hand inches towards a small blade
hidden beneath the desk.
INT. SUSHI BLISS RESTAURANT - KITCHEN - NIGHT
Back in the kitchen, Slim presses the gun to Lou’s temple.
Cold steel, hot breath.
SLIM
How's that feel, tough guy?
His eyes harden.
LOU
Familiar.
Suddenly-Lou SNAPS!
He WRENCHES Slim’s wrist—CRACK. The gun CLATTERS away. Then
GRABS the his neck, SLAMMING his face into the counter.
The blade FLASHES— then PLUNGES.
Again! And again! And again!
Blood SPRAYS across Lous face. Slim GURGLES, eyes wide.
Then-
SLIM (V.O.)
(distant, echoing)
...the fuck is wrong with you?
BACK TO REALITY:
Lou stands frozen. Chest heaving, knife untouched. The gun
still pressed to his head.
LOU
(deadly whisper)
Your next breath depends entirely
on your next move.
Slim flinches. Gun wavering.
BANG! A gunshot echoes from the back office. Both heads whip
toward the sound.
Tank staggers into the kitchen, panting—cut the fuck up, a
knife buried in his thigh. He yanks it free with a grunt.
TANK
(urgent, pained)
We’re out!
Slim falls in step.
SLIM
What the fuck did you do?
The two robbers scramble for the exit. Lou bolts for the back
room.
Genres:
["Crime","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
6 -
A Night of Grief and Urgency
EXT. BACK ALLEY - NIGHT (CONTINUOUS)
BAM—the back door flies open. Slim and Tank burst into the
night.
Dutch snaps upright. Hand on the shifter. Engine growling.
INT. SUSHI BLISS RESTAURANT - BACK OFFICE - NIGHT
Lou drops beside Ken, blood spreading across his white apron.
LOU
Stay with me!
Ken's eyes flutter- he weakly grips Lou's hand. Two friends
share a final moment before his fingers falls slack. A slow
exhale.
LOU (CONT’D)
(Quiet)
No.
As Lou kneels beside Kens body, his shock hardens. What
settles in him is something colder, dangerous.
A car engine RUMBLES outside. Lou goes still.
INT. IMPALA- NIGHT
The robbers tumble into back of the Impala, a tangle of limbs
and curses. Tank clutches the black duffel like a lifeline.
TANK
Go, go! Fucking drive!
Dutch's eyes flick to the rearview. The headlights of another
car bloom in the darkness. An engine ROARS, growing louder.
Closer.
Her passengers squirm.
SLIM
What are you waiting for?!? Go,
goddammit!
Dutch's holds.
DUTCH
Relax. Just adding a little drama.
INT. SUSHI BLISS - BACK OFFICE - NIGHT (CONTINUOUS)
With a shaky breath Lou rises. He snatches the Kiritsuke
knife from the counter.
Then he's gone, racing for the back door.
INT. IMPALA - NIGHT
Tank jams his pistol against Dutch's headrest.
TANK
Move. The fucking. Car.
The approaching cars headlights flood the IMPALA's interior,
nearly blinding.
DUTCH
Aaand...
Dutch DROPS the hammer. The Impala launches, pinning her
passengers against their seats.
EXT. ALLEYWAY - NIGHT
The IMPALA ROARS to life, tires painting rubber on concrete.
EXT. LITTLE TOKYO - ALLEY - NIGHT
Lou BURSTS into the alley as the IMPALA’s taillights vanish,
a pursuit vehicle BLURS past, screaming after it.
He clenches his fists, frustration and grief boiling over.
LOU
Fuck!
As he stands there, chest heaving, he spots it - a security
camera mounted on the corner, aimed at the alley.
EXT. HOLLYWOOD STREETS – NIGHT
The IMPALA skids onto Sunset, V8 HOWLING. Neon streaks across
chrome as Dutch wrangles the wheel.
She eyes the stop lights at an intersection—yellow, yellow,
red—then cranks the wheel.
EXT. SUNSET BOULEVARD – NIGHT
The IMPALA SLIDES through the intersection. Their pursuer
drifts perfectly behind.
Horns BLARE—traffic EXPLODES between them. Still, the chase
car clears it.
DUTCH
(grinning)
Okay. You got moves.
Both engines SCREAM. They weave through traffic, bumper to
bumper.
Up ahead—traffic gridlock. Dutch SPOTS an alley.
The IMPALA DRIFTS into the turn. The hunter follows, tight.
EXT. ALLEY – NIGHT
V8s BOUNCE off brick walls as they zoom past dumpsters.
Ahead—a reversing delivery truck creeps into view.
Dutch downshifts. Tank white-knuckles. Slim mutters a prayer.
They SQUEEZE past the bumper—an inch to spare. The chase car
follows.
EXT. HOLLYWOOD BOULEVARD – NIGHT
They BURST onto the boulevard. Crowds scatter. Phones up.
Dutch eyes a construction yard. Wide. Empty. Perfect.
DUTCH
Let’s play.
The IMPALA BLASTS through a fence into the shadows. Lights
OFF.
TANK
What are you—
DUTCH
Shhh. Saw this in a movie.
Their pursuer’s beams sweep past. Once. Twice. Then—
Dutch FLICKS the headlights. The IMPALA IDLES, face to face
with its hunter.
Engines RUMBLE. Like duelists waiting for the bell.
Dutch grins like she's found religion in the redline. She
drops the clutch.
The IMPALA LUNGES forward.
Both cars CHARGE. Headlights GROW. Wind howls.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
(through gritted teeth)
Come on.
SLIM & TANK
Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh—
The chase car FLINCHES, swerves too late—CLIPS a barrier.
It SPINS. Metal SHRIEKS. Steel beams CRUSH the hood.
INT. IMPALA - NIGHT
Dutch checks the rearview, a satisfied smirk.
DUTCH
Ole’ motherfucker.
She BURIES the gas pedal, adrenaline coursing.
EXT. HOLLYWOOD BOULEVARD - NIGHT
The IMPALA ROCKETS away, engine receding into the night.
INT. IMPALA- NIGHT
Both robbers slump in their seats, adrenaline-drunk.
DUTCH
You can unclench, boys.
Tank’s face thrusts into the front seat, breath hot on
Dutch’s neck.
TANK
What the hell was that? You almost
got us killed!
DUTCH
You got a real issue with personal
space, huh?
Before he can respond, she taps the brakes. His face SLAMS
against the passenger headrest.
Slim smirks behind his mask as Tank rubs his face, jaw tight.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Now sit the fuck back.
Tense beat. Tank slowly sinks into the shadows of the
backseat, eyes burning into the back of Dutch’s head.
EXT. THE 10 FREEWAY - NIGHT - LATER
The IMPALA merges onto the I-10 Freeway, arrowing west
towards Santa Monica.
EXT. PARKING GARAGE - SANTA MONICA - NIGHT
It then turns into the multi-level garage on 4th Street.
INT. PARKING GARAGE - NIGHT
Dutch guides it to a secluded corner, tucking between
concrete pillars. She kills the engine-it ticks as it cools.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
8 -
Betrayal in the Shadows
INT. IMPALA- NIGHT
Tank's already got the duffel open-
TANK
(low whistle)
Goddamn. Would you look at that--
Dutch watches as he pulls a white brick wrapped in
cellophane, examining it in the dim light.
TANK (CONT’D)
Guess it does snow in southern
California.
Slim fidgets.
SLIM
We weren't supposed to kill nobody.
TANK
What?
SLIM
The old man. You shot him!
Tank lifts his shirt, revealing a bloody gash across his
abdomen.
TANK
If it makes you feel better. He
pulled a knife. Came at me- I had
to end him.
Dutch, clocks the exchange, eyes darting between them.
SLIM
A body changes things man. We need
to call Cisco, regroup-
Tank energy shifts, Dutch catches it in the rearview-
TANK
You know what makes things even
more complicated?
Slim looks up.
SLIM
What?
TANK
Two bodies.
BLAM! A gunshot CRACKS through the garage. Dutch flinches as
warmth splatters her neck.
DUTCH
The fuck??
REARVIEW: Slim's body slumps sideways, a blooming red hole in
his mask.
Tank swings his gun around, leveling at Dutch's head. She
doesn't hesitate.
EXT. PARKING GARAGE - NIGHT
The IMPALA ROARS backwards, SLAMMING into a parked SUV.
Glass EXPLODES, as a bullet SHATTERS the driver's side
window, showering Dutch. She KICKS the door open, DIVING out.
Beat. A car alarm WAILS.
Tank kicks his way out of the wreckage, face bloody. He
sweeps his pistol through shadows.
TANK
Where’d you go?! What, no more cute
fucking quips?!
Silence answers. Dutch has vanished.
Tank stands in the garage's center, gun hanging limp - just
him, the duffel, and the echo of his own voice off the walls.
CUT TO BLACK.
A phone RINGS in darkness.
Genres:
["Crime","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
9 -
Urgency and Shadows
INT. BRENTWOOD MANSION - NIGHT
R&B music drifts through a sprawling mansion, playing at just
the right volume for an late night glass of Pinot.
The ringing continues as a hand s the music, reaching for the
phone.
Collagen-enhanced lips move to the mic, manicured nails tap
an impatient rhythm.
FEMALE VOICE
I just got comfortable. So this
better be worth the goddamn
wrinkle.
Silent beat. Her Botox cracks into a frown.
FEMALE VOICE (CONT’D)
Are you fucking kidding me?!
She takes a measured breath, then raises the phone back to
her mouth.
FEMALE VOICE (CONT’D)
Listen to me, I need you to make
this city very fucking small, very
fucking fast. Because if it’s
gone... so are you.
She ends the call, tossing the phone across the room.
CUT TO:
INT. SUSHI BLISS RESTAURANT - NIGHT
Sushi Bliss is dead quiet, police lights strobe through the
windows.
The stretcher’s wheels SQUEAK as Ken is rolled past. Lou
doesn’t watch, not directly. A weary eyed POLICE OFFICER, mid-
40s, flips his notepad closed.
POLICE OFFICER
Hell of a way to close up shop. You
hear of anything, even a
whisper—give us call.
Lou nods, his speaking volumes. The officer walks away,
leaving him alone.
He spots Ken's rag, crumpled on the floor. Retrieving it, he
folds precisely then lays it to rest on the counter.
LOU
Rest well, old friend.
Then turns, walking away.
CUT TO:
INT. SECURITY OFFICE - NIGHT
Lou sits in front of a monitor. Behind him, a broken door. He
scrubs through security footage. Frame by frame. Searching.
He spots it— blonde fade. Brown skin. Red jacket. A
holographic impound decal flashes in the streetlight.
LOU
(Japanese, low)
Got you.
He snaps a photo on his phone and stands, moving toward the
door. Slow. Certain. A promise.
EXT. LA STREETS - DAWN
Sunlight creeps over the buildings, DUTCH emerges from an
alley, scanning the quiet street.
She zeros in on a 2010 black Altima. Basic. Inconspicuous.
Perfect. She picks the lock. Climbing inside.
INT. ALTIMA - CONTINUOUS
Brown hands work the wires under the dash.
DUTCH
Come, on.
SPARKS. The engine PURRS awake.
Genres:
["Crime","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
10 -
Seeking Help in the Shadows
EXT. LA STREETS - CONTINUOUS
The Altima pulls smoothly away from the curb, merging with
early morning traffic.
EXT. AUTO REPAIR SHOP / INGLEWOOD - CONTINUOUS
The morning sun crests over the "Daring Dan's Automotive
Repairs" sign. The stolen Altima glides to a stop in the lot.
SUPER: INGLEWOOD
INT. ALTIMA - MORNING
Dutch catches her reflection- fear and fatigue stare back.
She takes a breath, rebuilding her cool.
The car door thuds shut as she exits.
INT. DARING DANS AUTO REPAIR SHOP - MORNING
A large auto garage with high ceilings and hydraulic lifts.
Wrenches clang, engines growl, acetylene torches hiss. A
bassy West Coast classic echoes off the walls as mechanics
work their trade.
Dutch moves through like she owns the place, trading nods and
daps with the grease-stained mechanics.
She spots SEAN, (early 20s, lean, oil-stained) as he plucks
grease from under his fingernail.
DUTCH
Yo, Sean!
He looks up.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Black Altima out front needs to
ghost.
SEAN
Bruh. What happened to the Impala I
tuned for you?
DUTCH
Had to break it off. Less you know
the better.
Sean exhales dramatically, they’ve done this dance before.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
That a yes?
SEAN
Yeah—alright, say less.
Dutch salutes and continues her path through the shop.
INT. AUTO SHOP - REPAIR BAY - MORNING
She approaches a doorless Chevelle, parts-strewn on a table.
Lola (mid-30s, Spanish, curvy), is torso deep in it’s engine
block.
DUTCH
Yo, Lola. Damon around?
She motions towards the back without looking up.
LOLA
Back office.
(beat)
Saw your company sneaking out this
morning.
DUTCH
What can I say-they come for the
thrill, not the pillow talk.
Dutch taps the hood and cuts toward the back of the shop.
INT. AUTO SHOP - BACK OFFICE - CONTINUOUS
The back office is a graveyard of auto parts and unpaid
invoices.
Damon (40s, Black, burly and bearded) hunches over a
workbench, coaxing life out of a busted alternator.
Dutch breezes in, red jacket slung over her shoulder.
DUTCH
What's good, D?
Damon doesn't look up, focused on the stubborn piece of metal
in his hands.
DAMON
Same shit. Wrestling with this damn
alternator all morning. Ms. Johnson
gon’ have to Uber to church again
on Sunday.
He glances up, catches Dutch fidgeting.
DAMON (CONT’D)
Uh oh.
DUTCH
What?
He sets down his tools, fixing her with a look.
DAMON
Every time you come in here looking
like that my blood pressure spikes.
DUTCH
Might wanna get that checked, Unc.
Got to watch your diet, hydration,
stress levels…
DAMON
Girl you ARE my stress levels. Now
what's the damage?
Dutch exhales. The facade crumbles.
DUTCH
Fuck, alright. My gig last night
got... messy.
DAMON
How messy? Like dented fender messy-
DUTCH
Like bodies. Duffel bag of powder
in the streets. That kind of messy.
He pinches the bridge of his nose, processing.
DAMON
Jesus. Any heat coming down?
DUTCH
Don't know yet. I need eyes. A
pulse check.
DAMON
You askin’ me to hit some ole’
heads, see what's stirring?
DUTCH
Could you? I’m running on fumes
here.
Damon stands, exhaling. He limps toward the office window,
weight on his good knee-stares out onto the shop floor.
DAMON
You know your pops- he coulda
chopped stolen Benzes all day, made
ten times the money— But he didn’t.
He built something with roots. Gave
folks around here a shot. Gave YOU
a shot.
DUTCH
A shot don’t pay rent. I’m just
doing what I gotta to keep us above
water.
DAMON
By running coke and dodging
bullets?
DUTCH
By keeping the lights on. And
stopping this place from getting
swallowed. I’m not just out there
for kicks, D.
DAMON
You really believe that. (Beat)
Look, you can say it’s about
keeping the lights on. But I know
what it looks like when somebody’s
trying to outrun pain. Shit I miss
him too.
DUTCH
Well I don’t get to grieve, I get
to survive.
DAMON
Surviving ain’t living kiddo. It
just buys you time till something
catches up.
DUTCH
I’ll take my chances. Now you gonna
help me? If not I got to keep it
moving.
A long pause. He stares at her, sees the edge she’s dancing
on.
DAMON
Fine, I’ll make the calls.
But next time you come in here with
this shit? I’m selling the shop to
Erewhon and moving somewhere
tropical.
Dutch nods, knowing it's an empty threat.
DUTCH
Preciate you, unc.
Damon waves it off.
DAMON
Yea, whatever. When's the last time
you ate something?
DUTCH
Whiskey count?
He shakes his head.
DAMON
Damn it Dutch. Come on, let's get
you some food.
He drapes a protective arm around her shoulders, guiding her
out. The busted alternator stays on the table.
They exit the office.
Genres:
["Crime","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
11 -
Chase in the Impound Lot
INT. IMPOUND LOT OFFICE - MORNING
An entry bell clangs. Fluorescent lights flicker as Lou steps
into a grimy impound office.
FRANK (50s) slouches at the counter, playing on his phone. In
small office behind him, JIMMY (30s) works at a computer.
He approaches the counter, clearing his throat. Frank doesn’t
look up.
FRANK
Name and plate number.
LOU
Not here to pick up a car.
FRANK
Complaint? Number's on the wall.
Lou leans in, his presence suddenly filling the room.
LOU
I'm looking for someone linked to a
killer.
Frank finally looks up.
FRANK
We just impound cars here, pal. We
ain't CSI.
Lou slides his phone across the counter, security footage
frozen on the display.
LOU
This car. Was it here?
Frank studies the photo, shifting under Lou's gaze.
FRANK
Shit, I don't know man. We take in
a lot of cars. It's a big city.
(calling back)
Hey Jim! Come check this out-
JIMMY appears from the back office.
FRANK (CONT’D)
You remember this Imapala at all?
He freezes when he sees the photo, terrible poker player.
JIMMY
(too quick)
Nah. Never seen it.
Lou meets his eyes.
LOU
Your lying.
Jimmy's gaze darts between Lou and the back door. Then he
BREAKS, making his move.
Lou CLEARS the counter in pursuit- Frank watches. He blinks
twice, before returning to his phone.
Genres:
["Crime","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
12 -
Intimidation and Revelation
INT. IMPOUND LOT - STORAGE YARD - DAY
Jimmy BURSTS into the impound yard, Lou on his tail. They
weave through a maze of impounded cars
A mounted fire extinguisher catches Lou's eye. He RIPS it
free, HURLING it-
THUD! The red canister finds Jimmy's back.
He CRUMPLES, skidding across concrete. Lou COLLECTS him,
driving his back into a rusted ice cream truck.
LOU
Talk. Now.
JIMMY
(voice cracking)
Jesus, man! I told you, I don't
know anythi--
Lou HAULS him to the nearby auto lift, THROWING him beneath.
He presses a button, Metal groans as it descends inch by
inch. Jimmy's eyes bulge as he flattens himself on the
concrete.
JIMMY (CONT’D)
Fuck- what are you doing?!
Another inch down. Jimmy's gaze ping-pongs between Lou and
the approaching steel.
LOU
Talk.
The gap shrinks. Jimmy breaks.
JIMMY
(words tumbling out)
Okay, okay! This chatty black chick
comes through sometimes. Pays cash
to make cars disappear. I wipe the
paperwork, she takes ‘em. That's
all I got!
Lou stops the lift a breath from Jimmy's face.
LOU
Where?
JIMMY
(desperate)
I swear to Christ, I don't-
Lou's finger hovers over the button.
JIMMY (CONT’D)
Wait, shit! She left a card, first
time we met. It's in my desk.
INT. IMPOUND LOT - OFFICE
Jimmy scrambles back into the office, digging in a drawer.
He produces a grease smudged business card. Lou snatches it:
"Daring Dan's Automotive" - address and phone number
included.
Lou slips the card into his pocket, already mapping his next
move. He's gone before Jimmy catches his breath.
INT. AUTO REPAIR SHOP - DUTCH’S LOFT
Morning light fills the sparse loft.
Dutch lays on the couch, scrolling on her phone. Damon's
footsteps echo up the metal stairs. He fills the doorway,
face grim.
DUTCH
Man, you got that "Done fucked up"
look on your face.
Damon exhales, shaking his head.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Shit.
EXT. DARING DAN'S AUTOMOTIVE - DAY (CONTINUOUS)
Lou approaches the auto garage, his figure a silhouette
against the blazing sunlight. Stepping inside, his shadow
stretches long across the garage.
INT. GARAGE - DAY
The clatter of the shop fades as mechanics gradually take
notice, conversations die. Lou scans the room.
LOU
I need to talk to the boss.
Genres:
["Crime","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
13 -
Dangerous Encounters
INT. DUTCH'S LOFT - MORNING
Damon drops into the chair across from her.
DAMON
That bag you lost? Belongs to
Vivian Calitri.
Dutch stops scrolling.
DUTCH
That name supposed to mean
something?
DAMON
She’s some Brentwood socialite
turned queen-pin. Few years back
she had an epiphany. Took her
brunch circles blow habits, built a
damn empire. Traded red carpets for
white powder.
DUTCH
Damn. This bitch gentrified drug
dealing and monetized white
privilege. Only in America.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
DAMON
Right and while the cops watch
South Central, she's moving weight
through PTA mixers. Every housewife
with a Herme’s and a habit feeds
her pipeline. All smiles out front-
meanwhile she's fertilizing her
rose garden out back with anyone
who steps to her wrong.
Dutch shifts, suddenly uneasy.
DUTCH
So. How fucked am I?
DAMON
Nobody's saying your name far as I
can tell. But you need to lay low
for a bit-
Her pulse races. A voice carries up from below.
SEAN (O.S.)
Yo, D? We got a situation down
here.
DAMON
Alright, coming!
Damon pushes up fast.
DAMON (CONT’D)
Stay put. I mean it.
Dutch nods numbly as his footsteps fade down the stairs.
INT. DARING DAN'S REPAIR SHOP - SHOP FLOOR - DAY
Damon enters the shop floor, wiping grease from his hands, he
sizes up Lou.
DAMON
Something we can help you with?
Lou steps deeper into the space.
LOU
I'm tracking a driver. Heard she
operates out of here.
The mechanics trade glances. Damon’s jaw tightens Lou catches
it.
DAMON
Sorry man, we just fix cars.
Whatever else you're looking for,
we ain’t got it.
LOU
Bullshit. You're protecting her.
DAMON
No clue what your talking about.
But I suggest-walk away.
A tatted ex-con of a mechanic steps forward.
TATTED MECHANIC
You heard him. Man said go.
Lou stands firm.
LOU
I’ll leave when I get answers.
Damon gives a slight nod to one of the mechanics. The garage
door SLAMS shut behind Lou. Trapping him inside.
DAMON
Then I guess we got a problem.
Sean steps into view, white-knuckling a wrench. Lou eyes him,
calm.
LOU
That’s 9/16th. You’ll want
something lighter.
The others exchange looks as the vibe shifts feral. Knuckles
crack. Shoulders square. One grabs a chain—METAL RATTLING
like a warning shot.
Lou stays still. Calculating. Watching the whole room at
once.
LOU (CONT’D)
Just remember, I tried to keep this
civil.
Beat. Then tension BREAKS.
The garage ERUPTS as the crew converges. Lou moves fast.
Damon CHARGES. Lou drops, rolls under a lifted Civic—He GRABS
the door-
SLAMS it into Damon’s face with a brutal CRACK. He stumbles,
doesn’t drop.
No time to breathe. A chain WHIPS toward him—he pivots—
It SNARES around his forearm. He’s yanked across the slick
concrete, boots skidding on oil.
A third mechanic TACKLES from behind—they slam hard onto a
car hood. Lou elbows back—again. Again. No give.
He rears back, HEADBUTTS him. The man lets go.
Damon RUSHES. Lou pivots, slings him into a shelf-filters and
brake pads RAIN like junkyard confetti.
The chain SINGS again—Lou DIVES, sliding across the bench
seat of the doorless Chevelle.
He BURSTS out the other side KICKING a rolling cart into his
attacker. Dude folds like a lawn chair.
Lou STAGGERS against a fender, chest heaving.
The garage GROANS around him. Mechanics rise— Limping.
Bloodied. But not done.
Lou exhales.
Genres:
["Crime","Action","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
14 -
Tensions in the Garage
INT. DUTCH’S LOFT - CONTINUOUS
Upstairs, muffled violence echoes through the floor, Dutch
reacts.
DUTCH
(under her breath)
The hell?
She rises from the couch-
INT. GARAGE MAIN FLOOR - CONTINUOUS
Metal stairs RATTLE as Dutch descends into the brawl below.
DUTCH’S POV: Lou BRAWLS with the mechanics. Bodies hit cars.
Wrenches hit faces. It’s a war zone.
DUTCH
Yo! What the fuck is happening
right now?!
She barrels through the melee. The room freezes as she steps
between Lou and her crew.
Lou straightens, wiping blood from his lip. Breathing hard.
LOU
They struck first.
Dutch clocks Damon, rubbing his jaw.
DAMON
Sure as hell did. He came in
hot—asking about you.
She turns back to Lou. Arms crossed.
DUTCH
Okay. Well, you got me. What the
hell you want?
Lou’s eyes bore into Dutch.
LOU
Last night. That was you- behind
the wheel.
Not a question.
DUTCH
I do a lot of driving.
LOU
And now my friend’s in the ground.
DUTCH
Well I didn’t kill him— same psycho
that smoked your boy tried to
ventilate my ass too.
Lou steps in. Closer.
LOU
You might not have pulled the
trigger— but you led the wolves to
his doorstep.
Beat. That lands.
DUTCH
Fine. You want me to feel shitty?
Done. But I got my own body bag to
dodge right now. So unless your-
She’s cut off as a deep GROWL rolls through the garage—low,
throaty, vibrating through concrete. Everyone turns.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Damn. Now what’s this?
A Bugatti Chiron, arctic white- glides in. The V16 engine
cuts, leaving a ghostly reverb.
APOLLO (30s, black, chiseled) emerges in a crisp Brioni suit.
Military-precise, he rounds the car and opens the passenger
door.
. Anticipation.
Louboutin heels emerge. Blood-red soles kiss the oil-stained
concrete as VIVIAN CALITRI (late 40s, Caucasian, posh) exits.
She surveys the garage through Prada sunglasses.
VIVIAN
Hope I’m not interrupting anything-
Apollo takes position as Vivian saunters in, stilettos
clicking out staccato warning.
MECHANIC
Um. You need something?
She moves past them like furniture, zeroed in on Dutch.
VIVIAN
You the driver?
Dutch squares her shoulders.
DUTCH
Vivian Calitri, I presume.
VIVIAN
Let’s skip the pleasantries. Now
where is my fucking coke?
DUTCH
Coke? Not really my vibe. I like my
vices grown, not manufactured.
Better carbon footprint.
Vivian tilts her head, the smile fades.
VIVIAN
Ok, we’re playing games. Fine.
A pearl-handled pistol appears in her grip. She trains it
between Dutch's eyes. The room erupts.
DAMON
Whoa, Whoa--
Damon and the mechanics step forward, Apollo's jacket parts,
revealing a piece. Dutch's hand raises, commanding the room
as her pulse trips.
DUTCH
Everybody be cool!
Damon holds but Apollos hand stays, gunslinger waiting to
draw. Dutch meets Vivian's ice-blue stare.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Look—bag’s gone. Some asshole took
off with it last night. Wish I was
telling you something different.
Vivian takes a step closer. The gun never wavers.
VIVIAN
Then tell me something better.
DUTCH
Fine, how about-you kill me now,
trail dies here. But you want that
bag back? I’m your best shot.
CLICK. Hammer thumbs back.
VIVIAN
Bold pitch for a dead woman. Keep
talking.
DUTCH
I move fast. I think fast. I know
what rocks to turn over. Give me
forty-eight hours.
Beat as Vivian mulls this over.
VIVIAN
Twelve.
DUTCH
You want me dead or you want your
shit back? Thirty-six.
VIVIAN
Twenty-four. That’s the floor.
DUTCH
Deal.
VIVIAN
But run, fail, or try fuck me- and
I'll turn this grease pit into a
goddamn kiln, with all your
homeboys locked inside. And that’s
just to start. Clear?
Dutch manages a nod, clinging to her last ounce of cool.
DUTCH
Yeah. Crystal.
Vivian lowers the gun. Dutch's shoulders drop, her hands
betraying the tiniest tremor.
VIVIAN
Splendid. Same page then.
The air shifts. She turns, eyes catching Lou posted near the
shop wall. Still. Coiled.
VIVIAN (CONT’D)
(sultry)
And who might you be, tall, dark,
and dangerous?
Lou steps forward, voice low, sharp.
LOU
A friend... of the man who died
holding your poison.
Vivian plucks a speck of lint from her sleeve, unbothered.
VIVIAN
Ah, the sushi chef- such a shame,
exceptional omakase.
Mayu flashes in Lou's eyes, Vivian studies him.
VIVIAN (CONT’D)
Oh handsome, if it's blood your
after- (gestures to Dutch) Find
what's mine, find your killer.
Simple math.
Lou's jaw tightens, eyes flicking to Dutch. The posh queen-
pin holsters her pistol.
VIVIAN (CONT’D)
(to Dutch)
Tick tock, driver.
They all watch as Vivian pivots with catwalk precision,
gliding toward the Bugatti. Apollo opens the door, she slips
in without a word.
The Chiron backs out, engine purring as it vanishes into the
LA sun.
For a moment, the garage hangs in suspended - Dutch feels
every eye shift to her. The mask finally slips.
DUTCH
Fuck!
Her mind races, eyes locking onto a familiar shape beneath a
black tarp.
DAMON
Dutch? Don’t even think about it.
She moves past him, slipping on her jacket and gloves.
Reaching the car, she yanks the cover off in one clean
motion.
Underneath- a jet-black ‘89 BMW M3 E30.
Low and lean, silhouette carved like a blade. Wide stance.
BBS rims. Smoked glass. Murdered out from grille to tail.
Meet SADE (Pronounced Shah-DAY).
Dutch’s fingers trace the cars curves as she guides them to
the door handle. She wrenches it open and slips-
Genres:
["Action","Crime","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
15 -
Cruising for Justice
INT. SADE BMW M3 E30 - DAY
-into Sade's embrace. The door closes, world going quiet as
her hands find the wheel. She reaches up and pulls on the sun
visor, a key drops into her palm
DUTCH
Time to go hunting, mama.
The key turns. Sade's M50 Turbo AWAKENS, hungry for asphalt.
Dutch exhales, game on.
A knock JOLTS her as Damon's face looms in the window. She
cranks it down wearing half a cocky grin.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Relax, just taking her out for some
air.
DAMON
Bullshit. You bouta do something
stupid.
She answers with a rev- Sade's engine ECHOES through the
garage like a war cry.
DUTCH
Don’t sound like me at all.
A beat passes between them, years of trust and trouble.
DAMON
Goddammit Dutch. Fine, but be
careful. I'm too damn old to come
scrape your ass off the pavement.
She offers a small nod as he limps back, shaking his head.
Before she can shift gears, the passenger door swings open.
Lou slips in, silent and swift. Dutch's head whips around.
DUTCH
Oh, HELL no. OUT. I don't need a
fucking tagalong.
Lou doesn't budge, his gaze fixed straight ahead as if he
doesn’t hear her.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Yo! I said beat it, I got shit to
do.
He turns to face her, something dangerous in his whisper.
LOU
That woman is right. You find the
bag, I find Ken’s killer. I'm
coming with you.
Dutch rakes her fingers through her fade, biting back
frustration.
DUTCH
Fine, fuck it. Buckle up.
Lou calmly clicks his seatbelt. Dutch shakes her head,
jamming the gearshift into reverse.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Terrible fuckin’ day.
Sade lurches back, tires screaming as Dutch aims her towards
the exit. She throws it into drive and buries the pedal.
EXT. DARING DAN'S AUTOMATIC - CONTINUOUS
The BMW surges forward, a beast unleashed. Damon and the
mechanics watch from the bay door as Sade disappears.
INT. BMW M3 E30 (SADE) - MOVING - DAY
The city blurs past as Dutch weaves through traffic, Lou her
stoic passenger.
LOU
You have a plan?
She slams a cassette tape into the deck. The opening chords
of "Regulators" by Warren G & Nate Dogg ???? fill the car.
DUTCH
Nope.
Dutch GUNS it-the world blurs outside the windows.
EXT. LA STREETS - DAY
We cut wide as Sade glides through LA's sun-soaked streets, a
black bullet cutting through color.
Warren G: Regulatooooors!!! MOUNT UP.
CUT TO:
EXT. VENICE BEACH - DAY
Venice Beach hums as Sade glides down Pacific Ave, Warren G
providing the score.
BYSTANDERS clock the car. A skater slows, nods in
appreciation. A woman in oversized shades mouths along with
the track.
Sade rolls to a stop outside a row of sun-bleached apartments
near the boardwalk. The music fades.
SUPER: VENICE BEACH
Genres:
["Action","Crime","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
16 -
Chase at Venice Beach
INT. BMW (SADE) - MORNING
Dutch sits behind the wheel, one arm slung out the window.
The engine cuts out. She turns to Lou, head tilted.
DUTCH
This whole killer-zen vibe— you
practice that shit, or does it come
natural?
He throws her a look.
LOU
I’m here for one thing, once that’s
done so are we.
DUTCH
Cool, just don’t get me killed.
She cracks her door-
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Names Dutch.
Lou pops his.
LOU
Lou.
DUTCH
Alright then, Lou. Lets go make
some noise.
They exit.
EXT. VENICE BEACH - MORNING
And slip into Venice’s chaos—tourists, buskers, and beachside
weirdos moving like a living mural around them.
Lou dodges as a nude rollerblader ZIPS past them.
LOU
This place is... different.
Dutch grins, gesturing wide.
DUTCH
Venice, baby. Paradise with teeth.
They approach a weathered apartment complex, its walls a
canvas of graffiti art.
EXT. VENICE APARTMENT - DAY
Dutch leads the way to a worn wooden door, peeling paint and
rusted number plate mark their destination.
DUTCH
Alright. This is Cisco’s spot.
LOU
Who is Cisco?
DUTCH
SoCal fixer. Tosses me gigs from
time to time. Last night was his
shitshow.
Dutch raises her hand to knock.
LOU
And you trust him?
DUTCH
(snorts)
Fuck no.
She pounds on the door, her knock echoing through thin walls.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Yo Cisco! Open up.
No answer.
Dutch pounds harder, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway.
She leans in close to the door, her ear touching weathered
wood.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Yo! I know your here, I saw that
bitch ass Tesla parked out front.
Finally a muffled, annoyed voice:
CISCO (O.S.)
The hell you want Dutch?
DUTCH
Just want to chat, man. Got some
questions about last night.
CISCO (O.S.)
I don't know shit, and I don’t want
to know shit. And who's that
motherfucker with you?
Dutch takes a deep breath, visibly reining in her temper.
DUTCH
Don’t worry about him. Look just
open the door bro, your neighbors
don’t need to hear all this shit.
Another beat of silence. Then-
CISCO
Nah. I’m good.
There's a brief pause, then shuffling inside. Dutch’s palm
SMACKS against the door.
DUTCH
Son of a bitch!
Lou steps forward, calm demeanor belying tension in his
muscles.
LOU
(quietly)
Step back.
Dutch reads his stance then slides aside, gesturing towards
the door. Lou inhales, then SLAMS his black Converse into the
wood.
The lock SHATTERS, door swinging inward with a loud CRACK.
Dutch’s eyebrow raises.
DUTCH
Well, you’ve definitely done that
before.
She STORMS into the apartment, Lou steps in after her.
INT. CISCO'S APARTMENT - DAY
Through the hazy living room, they catch CISCO ALVREZ (20’s,
Hispanic, hype-beast) DIVING out the window onto his fire
escape.
DUTCH
Yo! Where fuck you goin?
Lou’s on it. He moves through the cluttered space, then
LAUNCHES himself out the window in pursuit.
EXT. FIRE ESCAPE - CONTINUOUS
Catching sight of Lou, Cisco yelps in panic.
CISCO
Shit!
His pace quickens.
The metal stairs rattle and clang under the pounding of feet
as Lou RACES after him.
He LEAPS from the last step, HITTING the ground running!
Lou is hot on his heels as they TEAR into the heart of the
Venice boardwalk.
Genres:
["Action","Crime","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
17 -
Relentless Pursuit
INT. APARTMENT BUILDING - MORNING
Dutch watches Lou’s pursuit from the window, eyebrows
raising.
DUTCH
(impressed)
Okay then, Lou.
As she turns to leave, her eyes catch a gaudy gold watch
among scattered grinders and rolling papers.
She pockets it, then plucks a still-burning blunt from an
ashtray. Exhaling smoke, she heads for the door.
Meanwhile-
EXT. VENICE BOARDWALK - MORNING - CONTINUOUS
Cisco BARRELS down the boardwalk, dodging vendors and
tourists. His sneakers slides slap pavement as he zigzags
through color and chaos.
Behind him — Lou. Not running. Hunting, a goddamn heat-
seeking missile.
Lou's elbow digs deeper. Cisco's eyes bulge, face purpling.
LOU
The men you hired. Who were they?
CISCO
Man, I don't know!
DUTCH
Bullshit.
Lou's applies pressure to his windpipe.
CISCO
(choking)
Aak! Client was anonymous- dark
web. Needed a crew. Paid double my
rate.
(eyes finding Dutch)
You know how this shit works— I
light the fuse and I’m ghost.
Dutch leans in, her face inches from his.
DUTCH
Well your fuse got his friend dead
and nearly got me buried. Better
give us something-
Cisco's eyes dart between them. He licks his lips,
calculating.
CISCO
Okay, okay, there’s this ex-NFL
meathead turned party plug. Big
bastard with a little dog.
LOU
Was he involved?
CISCO
Nah, but dude's got his ear to the
ground like a pillow, feel me?
Weight like that moves, he’d hear
about it.
DUTCH
So where the fuck do we find him?
CISCO
Come on Dutch. I can’t just be
droppin’ addys like that, got a rep
to maintain.
Lou shifts his weight, driving his forearm harder into
Cisco’s throat—pinning him. Cisco gags, leg twitching.
CISCO (CONT’D)
AHHH—fuck! Marina Del Rey! Slip 18!
But I'm warning you, dude's loco.
Too many helmet-to-helmets.
Dutch steps back as Lou releases Cisco, letting him slump
into a heap.
DUTCH
Thank you for your cooperation.
She turns, heading for Sade. Lou in step, silent.
Cisco looks up, squinting as they stride away, turning to
silhouettes against the LA sun.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Crime"]
Ratings
Scene
18 -
Tension in the Opulence
INT. BMW (SADE) - DAY
They climb into the BMW, Dutch drums her fingers on the
steering wheel.
DUTCH
Shit lead, but I guess it’s what we
got for now.
She eyes Lou.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Sooo... sushi chef, huh?
LOU
Correct.
DUTCH
They teach takedowns like that in
sushi school?
LOU
I had a unique curriculum.
Dutch studies him, trying to decide if he’s fucking with her.
She slots the car key.
DUTCH
Your Yelp reviews must be wild
bruh.'Came for the uni, stayed for
the ass-whoopin.'
A ghost of a smile creases Lou's face.
LOU
We should be cautious. This man
sounds dangerous.
Dutch starts the engine, Sade’s purr filling the air.
DUTCH
Welp, apparently so are we. Next
stop- Marina Del Rey.
She shifts gears.
INT. VIVIAN'S BRENTWOOD MANSION - LIVING ROOM - DAY
Vivian CALITRI lounges on a chaise. Green Gucci track suit,
blood-red nails. LAURA, a young manicurist tends to her
hands.
The room is pure controlled opulence. Modern Versailles meets
Elle Decor.
VIVIAN
Sweet of you to come on such short
notice, Laura. My regular girl had
a... scheduling issue.
LAURA
Of course, Ms. Calitri. Whatever
you need.
Vivian studies her nails with predatory focus.
VIVIAN
Don’t be so formal. Call me Vivian.
We’re just two girlfriends gabbing.
A muffled SCREAM echoes from somewhere deep in the house.
Laura FLINCHES. Her hand trembles. Vivian doesn’t blink.
VIVIAN (CONT’D)
I caught an episode of "Real
Housewives" the other day. Do you
watch?
Laura shakes her head nervously, trying to focus on the task
at hand.
LAURA
No, not really my type of show.
The screaming continues, growing louder and more insistent.
Vivian's eye twitches, a slight crack in her composed veneer.
VIVIAN
Pity. You really should. Beneath
the botox and wine flinging—
there’s a masterclass in power
dynamics.
Laura nods, not quite sure how to respond. Vivian continues-
VIVIAN (CONT’D)
See, these women think they're the
stars, but the real power?
(MORE)
VIVIAN (CONT’D)
That’s the shows producers,
invisible hands pulling the strings
from the shadows. They create the
scenarios, manipulate the
variables, then watch their puppets
dance.
The muffled screaming reaches a crescendo. Vivian's smile
tightens, she stands abruptly.
VIVIAN (CONT’D)
Excuse me for just a moment.
Laura nods quickly, her hands trembling slightly.
LAURA
Of course, Mrs. Calit- Vivian.
Vivian glides out of the room.
Genres:
["Crime","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
19 -
The Duality of Control
INT. VIVIAN'S BRENTWOOD MANSION - BASEMENT - DAY
She descends into the dimly lit basement, stark contrast to
the opulence upstairs.
Dim and surgical. Plastic sheeting everywhere. The concrete
slick with blood.
In the center of the room, MARCUS (30s, street connect gone
wrong) is tied to a chair, barely conscious, face a puffy
ruin of bruises and cuts.
APOLLO looms over him sporting a tank top, knuckles bloody.
He looks up as Vivian enters.
VIVIAN
The fuck is happening down here? Do
you know how hard it is to find
someone who does a proper Russian
manicure?
Apollo wipes blood from his knuckles.
APOLLO
My man's got a thick skull. Claims
he don't know where the product
ended up.
VIVIAN
Well I’m not paying for spa day
sloppiness. That damn girl can
barely hold a nail file.
APOLLO
Want me to get creative? I got—
VIVIAN
Your “creativity” stained my Berber
last time. I’ll handle it.
Vivian strolls casually over to Marcus, crouching down. Voice
drips honey-coated poison.
VIVIAN (CONT’D)
One more time, sweetie. My product -
where is it?
VICTIM
(desperate, pleading)
Swear to God, Ms. Calitri... I
don't know shit about no duffel—
She stands, smoothing her Gucci tracksuit.
VIVIAN
Shame.
From her purse: a Laguiole knife. The blade SNICKS
open—elegant, deadly.
She traces his cheek. A thin red line.
MARCUS
(breaking)
Wait... Wait!
Twenty seconds of SCREAMING that we don't see. Apollo winces.
Then .
APOLLO
Goddamn, boss.
Vivian wipes the blade with a monogrammed handkerchief.
Slides it away.
VIVIAN
(To Apollo)
There’s three million dollars of my
product floating around LA. Find it
before that driver does.
She strolls gracefully up the stairs. Then pauses.
VIVIAN (CONT’D)
And Apollo?
APOLLO
Yes ma'am.
VIVIAN
Don’t come back without it.
APOLLO
Can I at least take the Bentley?
She ascends into the light, leaving Apollo to clean up her
mess. He turns to what’s left of Marcus.
APOLLO (CONT’D)
Yeah. I’m taking the Bentley.
INT. VIVIAN'S BRENTWOOD MANSION - LIVING ROOM - DAY
Vivian glides back in. Not a hair out of place. She settles
onto the chaise, smiling like she just returned from yoga.
VIVIAN
Now, where were we?
Laura swallows, forcing her hand to stay steady. She picks up
a bottle of red polish.
LAURA
(hesitant)
I think… the Real Housewives?
Vivian nods, holding out her hand.
VIVIAN
Ah, right. That’s the lesson.
As Laura resumes painting, she notices a tiny speck of blood
on Vivian’s cuticle. Her hand hovers, unsure.
Vivian follows her gaze.
A tense pause. Air thickens.
Laura says nothing. She swaps for a deeper red and carefully
paints over it.
Vivian continues talking, the tension slowly dissipating.
VIVIAN (CONT’D)
It's all about control. Knowing
when to pull the strings, and when
to step back and let the puppets
dance.
CUT TO:
Genres:
["Crime","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
20 -
A Deal on the Houseboat
INT. HOUSEBOAT - MARINA DEL REY - DAY
Lou and Dutch sit awkwardly on a tattered sofa, placed dead
center in the clutter of a rundown houseboat.
SUPER: MARINA DEL REY
Seagulls shriek outside, punctuated by distant bell buoys and
the faint croon of "Good Vibrations" by The Beach Boys ????
bleating from a small speaker.
A Pomeranian sits in a chair across from them, fixing them
with an unnerving dead eyed stare.
VOICE (O.S.)
Can I get you two anything?
JASON BANZINACK (Late 30’s, Caucasian, blonde crew cut)
lumbers in. He’s a mountain of a man at 6'6" and 300 lbs. The
boathouse seems to shrink around him.
JASON
Coffee? Tea?
A leather chair protests as Jason's bulk descends. He
arranges the tiny dog on his lap, then deliberately places a
small box on the table.
JASON (CONT’D)
Maybe something with a little more--
kick?
He pops the box open, revealing white powder.
LOU
Tea would be lovely.
Jason barks out a laugh, fishing out a minuscule spoon.
JASON
Fuck me. I don’t even think I have
any tea. Most of my guests go
straight for the blow.
Dutch and Lou watch with quiet distaste as the large man dips
the spoon, inhaling sharply. His massive frame shudders.
DUTCH
Little early for that shit, ain’t
it?
Jason wipes nose.
JASON
Times just a concept, sweetheart.
Especially at this altitude.
He settles back, powder circulating his bloodstream. Dutch's
eyes narrow, recognition dawning.
DUTCH
Hold up. Your Jason Banzinack. The
fucking Freight Train! 123 sacks,
54 forced fumbles- you were a damn
monster on the field bro!
Pride flickers in Jason's bloodshot eyes.
JASON
Once upon a time.
He jerks his head towards a cluttered corner of the houseboat-
a makeshift shrine of memorabilia.
DUTCH
Man, that playoff game though....
Brutal way to go out.
Jason's face darkens, a storm cloud passing over the sun. He
shifts-
JASON
(sniffling)
Ancient history. Anyway, Cisco says
you needed some info or something.
DUTCH
Right, got a lil problem. Some gear
went missing last night, wasn’t
mine to lose. Heard you might have
an idea of what's moving where.
Jason shifts, the houseboat swaying slightly under his
weight.
JASON
Maybe. But knowledge ain't free,
sweetheart.
DUTCH
Well how about you cough up
something that says your useful
first? Then we'll see what’s what.
Jason's grin widens, revealing a chipped front tooth.
JASON
(sniffing)
Fair enough. Word on the street is
some high-grade nose candy went
AWOL. Vivian Calitri greased some
dirty pig to boost it from
evidence, but the bag vanished last
night in some fucked-up gig. Two
people dead. (leans in, grinning)
Guessin’ that’s the white powder
keg you two are sitting on.
Dutch's processes, wheels turning. Lou chimes in.
LOU
Do you know where it is now?
Jason shakes his head, eyes glassy.
JASON
Nope. But I could hit my sewing
circle, dig up a juicy lead.
Dutch and Lou exchange a loaded glance. Not much, but it's
another thread to pull. Jason's smirk turns predatory.
JASON (CONT’D)
Now, about that favor...
SMASH CUT TO:
A STACCATO SYMPHONY: Car door SLAMS - key CLICKS home -
engine AWAKENS. Tach needle ROCKETS into red. Shifter BITES
into gear. Pedal BOTTOMS out.
Rubber SCREAMS against asphalt.
HARD CUT:
Genres:
["Crime","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
21 -
Mission Tension
EXT. MARRIOTT PARKING LOT - LATER
Sade idles under a sun-bleached oak. The Marriott looms
ahead—a hive of activity.
SUPER: PALM SPRINGS
INT. SADE (BMW) - DAY
Dutch DRUMS anxious fingers against the wheel, other hand
scrolling through her phone. Lou sits statue-still beside
her, eyes locked on the hotel entrance.
A parade of tourists and business types flows in and out.
Dutch fidgets, frustrated.
DUTCH
This is bullshit, man. We’re
jumping through hoops for what—some
coked-out has-been’s trading cards?
Lou stays silent, eyes on the hotel entrance. She holds up
her phone, screen showing Jason’s prison intake photo—eyes
dead, smile wide.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
And check this- our boy Jason?
Convicted rapist. Did time for
assaulting a stripper. We're out
here on a B-plot for a grade A
fuckin’ scumbag.
Lou exhales slowly, his calm a contrast to Dutch's agitation.
LOU
Focus. This lead gets us closer to
the bag. The bag gets us closer to
the killer.
Dutch slumps back, grudgingly accepting his logic.
DUTCH
Fine, whatever. So what’s the play,
we just gonna stroll in there and
politely ask for his shit back?
Lou considers for a moment, his mind visibly mapping out
scenarios.
LOU
I'll go alone. Less conspicuous.
DUTCH
What you trying to say?
Lou raises an eyebrow.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Yea, alright.
LOU
What was the room number again?
She snags a crumpled scrap of paper from her pocket:
DUTCH
412.
LOU
412?
VOICE (O.S.)
That’s right. Room 412.
FLASHBACK TO:
INT. HOUSEBOAT - DAY
JASON
If my contact is right, that’s the
room where you’ll find my shit. A
card, a jersey and a signed
football. Dickheads ganked ‘em from
me.
Dutch scrawls ‘412’ on a scrap of paper, her writing jagged
with annoyance.
LOU
How many in the room?
Jason shrugs.
JASON
Fuck if I know.
DUTCH
Armed?
JASON
What part of 'fuck if I know' ain't
clear?
DUTCH
The part where you're actually
useful.
Jason's eyes narrow dangerously.
JASON
Listen, chocolate. I'm giving you
what I got. You want intel? Get my
shit. Simple as that. You two seem
like professionals. Pros adapt.
Dutch's jaw clenches, her hand tightening around the pen.
LOU
(confident)
We'll manage.
Jason grins viciously.
JASON
Good. And when you find these
punks? You got my blessing to fuck
them the fuck up.
DUTCH
We’ll handle the smash and grab.
You just hold up your end.
Jason's smile widens, that chipped tooth gleaming. It sends a
chill down Dutch's spine.
JASON
Oh, don't worry. You'll get what's
coming to you.
END FLASHBACK.
Genres:
["Crime","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
22 -
Stealthy Confrontation
INT. BMW (SADE) - DAY
Lou reaches for the door handle, pausing.
LOU
I’m going.
DUTCH
Hold up. You packing?
She pops the glove box, revealing a sleek .9 mm Glock. Lou
shakes his head, flicker of distaste.
LOU
No guns. Too random, too loud.
DUTCH
Your funeral. (hand out) Give me
your phone.
He hands it over. She punches in her number.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Shit gets spicy, speed dial’s me.
Lou nods, pockets his phone. He takes a deep breath then
exits Sade. Dutch leans out of the window.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Break a leg.
He strides toward the hotel.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Fuck it, break two!
Lou doesn’t look back. Just raises a middle finger in salute.
She smirks as he disappears past the marquee:
WELCOME - SPORTS MEMORABILIA CONVENTION TODAY
INT. MARRIOTT HOTEL LOBBY - DAY
The Marriott lobby pulses with convention energy.
Dealers haggling, collectors hovering, former athletes
signing photos- security guards patrol like sharks.
Lou glides through a crowd of snapbacks and jerseys, slipping
into the lobby elevator as its doors close.
INT. MARRIOTT 4TH FLOOR - DAY
DING.
The elevator doors part. Lou steps out, calm as a scalpel.
He moves down the corridor—cool lighting, beige carpet,
numbered doors ticking by. He spots a room service tray
abandoned outside 412.
Lou straightens the tray, holds it up. Taps the door.
A beat.
Shuffling. Muffled voices. The door cracks. A man in a
BASEBALL CAP (30s, thin, suspicious) eyes him.
LOU
Room service.
BASEBALL CAP
We didn't order room service.
LOU
Room service?
BASEBALL CAP
Hold on. Did either of you--
Lou LAUNCHES forward like a battering ram. The door SLAMS
open, catching Baseball Cap in his face.
BASEBALL CAP (CONT’D)
Fuck!
Lou slips inside, closing the door behind him.
Genres:
["Crime","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
23 -
Reclaiming What's Mine
INT. HOTEL ROOM - DAY
The room is a sports memorabilia bomb site. Trading cards,
signed jerseys and miscellaneous items, covering surfaces.
It’s occupants turn to greet him:
FIT MAN (30s, gym muscles and knockoff Rolex) arranges items
on one of the beds. Behind him, A FAT MAN (40’s), overwhelms
a chair, and BASEBALL CAP clutches his freshly bleeding nose.
Fit man looks up
FIT MAN
Who the hell are you?
Lou's hands rise, open-palmed, stark contrast to the havoc he
just wreaked.
LOU
Gentlemen. I'm here to reclaim
some... misplaced items.
FAT MAN wheezes out a laugh.
FAT MAN
Tough shit. Paid good money for
this stuff.
BASEBALL CAP
(nasally)
Yea. Wrong room, asshole.
Lou's eyes sweep the room, cataloging items. His voice
remains level, with an undercurrent of steel.
LOU
Simple deal. I take three things.
Everyone walks away.
Fit Man stands abruptly snatching an autographed baseball
bat, he brandishes it like a broadsword.
FIT MAN
How about you just walk away now,
before we fuck you up?
Lou takes one step forward. Fit Man snaps, swinging the bat
in a wild arc. Lou's hand catches it mid-swing.
Their eyes lock as Fit Man sees his mistake written on Lou's
face.
LOU
(quiet as a knife)
Fine.
INT. HOTEL HALLWAY - DAY
From outside, muffled thuds and grunts. A hotel maid pauses,
cocking her head, then shrugs and continues on her way.
INT. ROOM 412 - DAY
Inside Lou sidesteps a wild swing, movements fluid— Fit Man
lunges again, bat slashing air.
Lou grabs a framed jersey off the bed—DEFLECTS. CRASH! Glass
erupts. The frame splits apart.
He twists the torn jersey, binding Fit Mans wrists mid-swing.
Baseball Cap barrels into Lou. They crash into a folding
table stacked with trading cards-scrapping as they rain down.
Lou’s hand closes around a signed baseball, sealed in a clear
acrylic cube — he DRIVES IT into Baseball Cap’s temple.
TWACK! The cube shatters. He drops. Out cold.
Fit Man tears free, roaring as he swings his bat— Lou spots
something. He lunges. Grabs it, spins-CRACK!
Bats collide, the sound echoes like gunfire. They square off,
circling, bats raised.
Fit Man charges. Lou meets him. Swing. Parry. Strike. Wood on
wood-a brutal ballet.
A hit to Lou's ribs, he stumbles. Fit Man takes another
swing—wide and wild.
Lou DUCKS, steps inside — DRILLS his bat into the gut. He
DOUBLES over, wheezing. Lou sweeps his legs. Fit Man hits the
carpet, groaning.
He stands over him, bat RAISED. His eyes widen as Lou HAMMERS
down. Once, twice - He’s OUT. Fight over.
Lou breathes heavy, tosses the bat to the floor.
Fat Man sits frozen, eyes wide with disbelief.
FAT MAN
(wheezing)
Holy shit, dude.
Lou doesn’t linger. He sweeps a jersey, rookie card, and
signed football into a tote bag. The turns to leave.
On way out he snags the Dodgers cap of the unconscious man,
tugging it low over his eyes.
Fat Man watches, still frozen in fear. Lou just strides past
him, exiting the room
Genres:
["Action","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
24 -
Desperate Escape
INT. MARRIOTT HOTEL HALLWAY
He glides down the hallway, a ghost with a tote bag. A
SECURITY GUARD, rounds the corner, walkie crackling.
SECURITY GUARD
(into walkie)
Checking the noise complaint on the
fourth floor. Probably just some
more drunk assholes--
He and the man pass, Lou tips his newly acquired Dodgers cap.
The guard nods in response.
SECURITY GUARD (CONT’D)
Afternoon.
Lou moves past a mirror catching his reflection, a large
smear of blood on the cap.
His stomach tightens. Then the guard’s voice cuts through:
GUARD
Hold up, there.
Lou's stride hitches for a microsecond, then smooths out.
SECURITY GUARD
I said stop!
LOU
(under his breath)
Fuck.
The guard's hand flies to his taser, voice edged.
SECURITY GUARD
Hands where I can see 'em. Now!
Lou freezes, back to the guard, mind racing. He raises his
hands slowly, inching backwards. The guard points the taser.
SECURITY GUARD (CONT’D)
That's it. Nice and easy. You're
coming with me.
Lou exhales, time slowing. In a liquid-smooth motion, he
spins, closing the gap. The guard blinks, finding his own
taser pressed against his ribs.
LOU
Sorry.
BZZIT! The guard DROPS like a sack of twitching potatoes.
Lou's already SPRINTING for the elevator, slipping inside as
the doors whisper shut. The fallen guard claws for his
walkie.
SECURITY GUARD
(gasping)
S-suspect... elevator... Asian
male, Dodgers cap...
A voice crackles through.
VOICE
Copy that.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Crime"]
Ratings
Scene
25 -
High-Stakes Escape
INT. ELEVATOR - DAY
Lou leans against the elevator, breath steadying. He pulls
out his phone.
INT. SADE - DAY
Dutch grooves to a pulsing beat, lost in the music. Her phone
buzzes. She s the radio.
DUTCH
Ahoy hoy.
LOU
Front entrance. 3 minutes.
DUTCH
(locked in)
Got it.
INTERCUT - HOTEL / BMW
The elevator DINGS. Lou emerges, measuring each step.
Two GUARDS sweep the lobby. Lou glides behind a column as
their eyes pass. He spots his exit path - a gap between two
groups.
Twenty feet to the door. Fifteen. A guard spots the ballcap.
GUARD
(into radio)
I think I got him. Hey you!
He freezes, the taser hum warms in his grip.
INTERCUT SEQUENCE:
- Lou LUNGES forward, dropping the guard, barely breaking
stride through the lobby.
- Sade's engine roars to life. Dutch CRANKS the stereo, ????
Vince Staples “BagBak” pulsing through the speakers,
providing a score.
- Back inside, two more guards RUSH Lou. ZAP! ZAP! They
convulse and drop, taser humming with deadly efficiency.
- Sade's bass thrums, matching Dutch's racing heartbeat. She
revs the engine as guests start fleeing the entrance.
- Exit in sight. Lou SPRINTS, tote bag clutched. He hits the
revolving door, BURSTING into the sunlight.
A lone, determined guard still gives chase.
LONE SECURITY GUARD
Stop!
INT. SADE (BMW) - DAY
Dutch SLAMS the gas. Sade lurches forward, tires SHRIEKING on
asphalt.
EXT. HOTEL LOBBY - DAY
Lou spots her screeching into view, passenger door FLYING
open. Dutch leans across.
DUTCH
(urgently)
Come on!
INT. BMW (SADE) - DAY
Lou DIVES into the door.
LOU
GO!
Dutch's grin is FERAL as she SLAMS the shifter.
DUTCH
Best goddamn word in the English
language.
She’s about to launch when a black security Escalade SWERVES
in, cutting them off. Dutch STOMPS, breaks squealing.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Shit.
The last guard sprints up, latches onto Lou through the
window.
GUARD
(triumphant)
Got you!
The Escalade revs, edging forward. The guard digs in, white-
knuckled. Dutch locks eyes with him. Her smirk widens.
DUTCH
Bad day to play hero, homie.
She stomps the gas.
EXT. PARKING LOT – DAY – CONTINUOUS
Sade BLASTS backward as the Escalade BARRELS forward. The
guard’s boots drag across the asphalt.
Dutch weaves through a tight aisle of parked cars. Dangerous.
No room to breathe.
The black truck BEARS down, snarling as it fights to keep
pace.
INT. SADE (BMW) – DAY – CONTINUOUS
The guards grip slips. His eyes go wide
GUARD
You crazy bitch!
Dutch checks the rearview-a car PULLS OUT behind them,
blocking the row.
DUTCH
Shit.
She yanks the e-brake. Wheel spins. Lou BRACES, one hand on
the dash.
EXT. PARKING LOT – DAY – CONTINUOUS
Sade SLIDES, barely clearing— her tires SCREAM as she WHIPS
into a messy 180.
The guard can’t hold on — He FLIES off, SLAMS against a
parked car.
The Escalade SKIDS to a halt, stuck.
Sade now faces forward, engine idling.
INT. SADE (BMW) - DAY
BEAT. Heavy breathing fills the car.
DUTCH
(panting)
You straight?
Lou nods, rattled.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Good. Don't puke in my daddy's car.
She reaches for the gearshift—a SECOND ESCALADE ROARS into
view. It swerves wide, coming in hot.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Hold tight. Bouta get real
accelerated in this bitch.
She PUNCHES the gas, JUMPING the curb out of the lot, gunning
it west.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Crime"]
Ratings
Scene
26 -
Chase and Camaraderie
EXT. CALIFORNIA STATE HIGHWAY 111 - CONTINUOUS
They MERGE onto the highway, Dutch’s foot WELDED to the
floor. Sade HOWLS like a pissed-off banshee.
Lou’s eyes flick to the side—
LOU
They’re gaining.
The black Escalade holds steady, filling the mirror.
Dutch GRIPS the wheel, jaw set. Sade climbs—90… 100… 120. She
SLALOMS through traffic, tires skirting the shoulder.
The Escalade CHARGES. INCHING closer. Its bumper kisses
Sade’s ass—CRUNCH.
The BMW stutters forward. Dutch fights the wheel. Lou braces.
The Escalade driver makes a move, accelerating to OVERTAKE-
lining up for a side ram.
DUTCH
I see you, asshole.
The truck SWERVES in violently-
Dutch's STABS the brakes- timing PERFECT.
Sade LURCHES back as the SUV overcommits- the SUV’s momentum
carries it, GRINDING along the guardrail.
It CAREENS past them, SLAMMING into the offramp water
barrels, EXPLODING in an display of aquatic FIREWORKS.
Lou blinks. Dutch checks the mirror, she eases off the gas.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Deadass, soaking wet right now.
Lou studies her behind the wheel-all instinct and venom.
Respect silently upgraded.
EXT. 111 FREEWAY - DUSK
Sade purrs as they cruise toward the setting sun.
INT. BMW (SADE) – DAY (CONTINUOUS)
The adrenaline fades. Lou shifts in his seat, wincing as the
bruises from the hotel brawl start to speak.
Dutch eyes him sideways, then back to the road.
DUTCH
Bet you wish you’d taken the blicky
now, huh?
Lou shoots her a look.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Damn. Be cool, ice cold. I’m just
fuckin’ with you.
(beat)
You good?
A pause. Lou processes. His edge softens.
LOU
(less rigid)
I’ll live.
DUTCH
That mean we got what we came for?
Lou pats the tote.
LOU
Yes.
DUTCH
Damn. Clutch play, chef. Didn’t
think you had it in you.
She finds the tape deck with one hand, easing back into her
seat. She pops in a cassette.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Here. Some healing music.
Kool & The Gang’s “Summer Madness” ???? rolls in—warm, airy,
timeless. The synth line spills across the leather.
Lou leans back, his jaw unclenching slightly.
LOU
Good song.
DUTCH
One of my daddy’s favs.
She cranks the volume.
They cruise, the sunset bleeding over the dash.
EXT. 111 HIGHWAY – DUSK
Sade hums westward down the open highway, swallowed by the
orange wash of the horizon. Kool & The Gang scores their
quiet breath before the next fire.
FADE TO:
Genres:
["Action","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
27 -
Confrontation at the Boathouse
INT. BOATHOUSE - MARINA DEL REY - NIGHT
The setting is familiar; DUTCH and LOU face to face with a
twitchy JASON BANZINACK in his houseboat.
On the cluttered coffee table, an autographed jersey and
football sit like offerings to a volatile god.
A rail of white dust disappears up his nose.
JASON
(amped)
So you're telling me there was no
rookie card?
DUTCH
Look, big man. Lou turned that room
inside out. If it had your
scribble, he snagged it. No card.
Jason sniffles, eyes narrowing.
JASON
Bullshit. My source was clear– the
card was there.
DUTCH
Well, your source needs their
fuckin’ eyes checked.
His attention snaps to Lou.
JASON
What about you quiet storm? You got
anything to add to this?
LOU
I was thorough. No card.
JASON
Scouts honor?
LOU
Scouts honor.
Jason leans back, gears grinding behind bloodshot eyes.
JASON
You ever think about what happens
when you scramble eggs too much?
DUTCH
(annoyed)
The HELL are you on about now,
bruh?
JASON
Six concussions. That’s how many I
had in three seasons. Six times my
brain bounced around inside my
fuckin’ skull like a pinball.
(beat)
(MORE)
JASON (CONT’D)
And that’s not counting the ones
that “didn’t count.” The ones that
just make you see stars.
He gestures to the white powder on the table.
JASON (CONT’D)
Then you stack fifteen years of
this shit on top of that.
(sniffs)
Bump here, line there—then one day
you wake up, swear you smell the
grass, hear the crowd. Then it’s
gone. And you’re left wondering
what the hell was ever real.
Dutch fidgets.
DUTCH
You getting to a point, or is this
your ESPN doc pitch?
JASON
Point is—these things?
(gesturing to memorabilia)
These memories? They’re all I’ve
got left. So if I find out you two
are fucking with me—
In one fluid motion, he sets a massive revolver on the table.
THUD. Heavy. Real.
JASON (CONT’D)
—damaged minds make dangerous
decisions.
Lou shifts. Dutch leans forward.
DUTCH
That’s a whole lotta words just to
say you’ll shoot us. Lead with that
next time.
She shifts, gaze flat.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Look, I get it. Glory days are
over, crowd stopped cheering, now
you’re filling the with coke and
concussion poetry. (beat) But let
me paint you a picture—
She pulls her Glock, lets it rest on her knee. Casual. Like a
TV remote.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
You’re a washed-up linebacker
sitting across from someone who
truly doesn’t give a fuck. Someone
desperate, with less than twenty-
four hours to clean up a job that’s
already got bodies on the
board—including hers, if she slips.
She locks onto him. Nothing cute.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
So- how about you talk, we dip and
leave you to whatever the fuck this
is. Or we can start squeezing
triggers and see if all that tough
talk holds up under live fire.
(beat) Your move.
A heavy .
Jason doesn’t move, tongue dragging across that chipped
tooth. His eyes flick between Dutch’s pistol and Lou’s
stare—cold, unreadable.
Then—he laughs. Dry. Crooked.
JASON
Ha! You got some balls on you,
chocolate. I’ll give you that.
(beat, forcing the grin) But hell…
guess I like a little crazy in my
business partners.
He leans back. Slow. Measured. Slides his hand off the
revolver.
JASON (CONT’D)
Alright. You want info? Fine. Here
goes.
The tension deflates as Jason launches into his explanation,
Dutch and Lou exchange a look.
HARD-CUT TO:
Genres:
["Crime","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
28 -
Risk and Reward in the City of Angels
EXT. MARINA PARKING LOT - NIGHT
Sade gleams under the harsh parking lot lights. Dutch and Lou
slide in, tension from their encounter with Jason in the air.
INT. BMW (SADE) - NIGHT
Dutch ignites the engine, V5 purring to life. Lou stares out
the window, his reflection a mask of conflicted emotions.
LOU
That card... it's a complication we
don't need.
Dutch snorts, reaching up to the sun visor with theatrical
flair.
DUTCH
Maaaan. Fuck that limpdick creep
and his precious cardboard.
She flicks the visor down. Jason's rookie card flutters into
her palm like a golden ticket.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Did some digging. This bad boy?
Easy 10 grand to the right
collector.
Lou traces a scar along his knuckle, eyes narrowing on the
card.
LOU
Cards like that have a tendency to
play against you at the wrong time.
DUTCH
Relax. It’s like my pop always said
“Risk is just opportunity in
disguise”.
With a magician's flourish, she tucks the card into her
jacket. Lou shakes his head.
LOU
Somehow I don’t think is what he
meant.
DUTCH
Chill, it’ll be fine. Now buckle
up. We've got us a city to shake
down.
Dutch JAMS a cassette into the deck. Nipsey Hustles "Hustle &
Motivate"???? crawls on. She CRANKS it, then THROWS Sade into
gear.
START MONTAGE:
The music pulses, driving Dutch and Lou's desperate search
through LA's underbelly.
INT. PAWN SHOP - DOWNTOWN LA - DAY
SUPER: DTLA
A hoarder's paradise of a pawn shop.
MIGUEL (50s, Mexican, more ink than skin) examines a diamond
ring through his loupe.
The door chimes. Miguel glances up – Dutch and Lou approach
the counter.
His eyes light up like a slot machine as Dutch slides him the
gaudy gold watch she lifted from Cisco.
He pockets it, then leans in close to disclose.
JUMP CUT TO:
EXT. LA STREET - NIGHT
SUPER: COMPTON
Muscle cars circle an empty intersection. Exhausts POP,
nitrous flames lighting the night. Bass knocks so heavy it
distorts the air.
DARIUS (30s, black, fresh cut) holds court against his candy
purple GT-R. His crew parts as Dutch approaches. Darius waves
her off.
She steps back smirking as Lou's shadow falls across him.
HARD CUT:
Darius slams against his cars hood, arm twisted behind his
back. His crew freezes as Lou applies pressure. Information
spills like oil.
WHIP PAN TO:
INT. RUSTIC KITCHEN - CHINATOWN - DAY
SUPER: CHINATOWN
Steam billows. Woks sizzle. MS. CHU (60s, Chinese, tough as
nails) methodically cleaves a plucked duck. A cigarette
dangles, ash defying gravity.
Dutch's cash offer earns a dismissive glance.
But when Lou slides over a small pouch of herbs, Ms. Chu's
eyes light up.
She inhales deeply then nods, impressed. Her cleaver CHOPS
down hard--
SMASH CUT TO:
INT. STRIP CLUB - SHERMAN OAKS - NIGHT
SUPER: THE VALLEY
Bass throbs. Through gyrating dancers and patrons, Dutch and
Lou approach NAIRI (40s, Armenian mob royalty).
She reclines on a makeshift throne, drink dangling. Two dead-
eyed strippers flank her, stances more bodyguard than dancer.
Nairi gestures for them to sit. Dutch leans in, all business
despite the g-string in her peripheral.
Nairi's blue nails tap a rhythm as she listens. A smile
crosses her lips.
The bass SWELLS as--
MONTAGE ENDS.
Genres:
["Action","Crime","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
29 -
Confrontation at the Dock
EXT. BOAT (MARINA DOCK) - NIGHT
The moon reflects of the water in the marina. JASON, stands
on the dock, back to us. He’s spraying down an empty cooler
with a hose.
Behind him, MICKEY shifts his weight, fresh bandages
stretched across his bruised face- souvenirs from room 412.
His good eye studies Jason's back.
JASON
Run it by me again. What exactly
were you doing in that hotel room?
MICKEY
I told you, Jay. I was there to buy
back your stuff. That's it.
Jason's grip tightens on the hose, water pressure
intensifying.
JASON
Thing about stories, Mickey. They
gotta make sense.
MICKEY
You think I'd screw you? Deal was
done till some psycho oriental
kicked in the door. Look at what he
did to my face!
A humorless laugh escapes Jason.
MICKEY (CONT’D)
Then he snatched your jersey,
football, and the rookie card, and
dipped.
The water cuts. Jason turns, eyes locking onto Mickey.
JASON
(quietly)
What was that last part?
MICKEY
My face, man! You know what
reconstructive surgery costs-
JASON
I don't give a fuck about your
face, Mickey! What did he take?
MICKEY
Jersey, football... and the rookie
card. Why?
Jason's pupils shrink to pinpoints. With a guttural roar, he
kicks the cooler off the dock. It hits the water with a loud
SPLASH.
JASON
(seething)
I fucking knew it! Those bastards
played me.
He storms into his houseboat. Mickey freezes, confused.
Moments later, Jason emerges, Pomeranian tucked under one arm
revolver in the other, muttering through clenched teeth.
JASON (CONT’D)
(muttering)
Told them what would happen if they
fucked with me.
He THUNDERS down the dock, tiny dog bouncing with each step.
JASON (CONT’D)
(barking)
Move it! We got shit to do.
Mickey scrambles after, nearly tripping. The night air
crackles with promised violence.
Genres:
["Crime","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
30 -
Tension in the Night
EXT. IN N OUT BURGER PARKING LOT - NIGHT
Sade sits under a flickering streetlight, engine ticking as
she cools. Dutch approaches, balancing two to go brown boxes
of food and drinks.
INT. SADE (BMW) - CONTINUOUS
She carefully slides in, passing one to Lou.
DUTCH
One Double Double, animal style.
Try not to redecorate my seats.
Lou examines the burger.
LOU
What's this?
Dutch stares at him, incredulous.
DUTCH
You're telling me you've been in LA
all this time and never had In N
Out? What are you doing with your
life?
Lou shrugs, sheepish. Dutch rolls her eyes.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Shit, man. Don't just stare at it.
Take a damn bite.
Lou takes a bite, his eyes widen slightly. Dutch grins.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Good as hell, right?
They eat in a stretch of easy . Dutch fiddles with the radio.
"Be Thankful" - William DeVaughn ???? slides on low.
Dutch vibes. Lou glances over, nodding his head to the beat.
LOU
Good track.
DUTCH
Boy, what you know about this?
LOU
Classic. Smooth.
Dutch chuckles.
DUTCH
(teasing)
Well, look at you. Full of
surprises.
Lou shrugs. Dutch turns up the volume.
???? Diamond in the back, sunroof top, diggin’ the scene with a
gangsta lean...
For a moment its just them, the track and the hum of LA.
Dutch stares out front window, face lit by streetlight.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
(quietly)
Used to think I could steer through
anything—no matter how hot it got.
But this shit-I don’t know man,
might have really fucked up.
Beat as Lou studies her.
LOU
Fucking up won’t end you. Standing
still will. You keep moving, even
when the roads unclear.
DUTCH
Man, that sounds like knowledge my
pops would drop.
LOU
You and your father are close?
DUTCH
We were. It’s crazy. Pop survived
wrecks, brawls, near deaths on the
track. But cancer shows up... 3
months. Gone.
She thumbs a worn leather keychain dangling from the
ignition. Brass initials barely visible.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Taught me everything—how to wrench,
hit corners, squeeze a trigger
without blinking.
Her expression soften slightly, emotion slipping through.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Still miss his ass. Every damn day.
LOU
I’m sorry. Loss is- never easy.
Dutch glances over, grip tightening on the wheel.
DUTCH
About your boy-what happened. That
was fucked. I’m sorry it went down
like that.
Lou’s eyes shift downward, processing.
LOU
He was a good man, better friend.
Offered me a second chance when I
didn't deserve it. (beat) I should
have done more.
DUTCH
That shit ain't on you, Lou. Don’t
do that, don’t carry it.
A quiet beat. Dutch punctuates, crumpling her wrapper. Chucks
it out the window.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Alright, we said words. Lets get
back at it before this turns into a
slow jam.
Her hand freezes on the ignition, headlights flood Sade's
interior. Dutch's eyes flick to the rearview as a midnight
blue Bentley slides to a stop behind them.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
What’s this, now?
They share a tense glance as the car door CREAKS open. A
silhouetted figure steps out. FOOTSTEPS approach, slow and
deliberate.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
I got this.
Dutch POPS the glovebox, hand resting on her Glock. The dark
figure grows larger in the side mirror.
A tense beat. Then.
TAP. TAP. TAP.
The barrel of a Desert Eagle RAPS against Dutch's window, she
slowly rolls down the glass revealing:
Apollo Mercer, Diane’s muscle. His lips curl into a humorless
smile as he points his pistol into the car. Dutch removes her
hand from the glovebox.
APOLLO
Evening. Why don’t ya’ll step out,
have a chat.
They exit slowly, hands visible. The Eagle doesn’t flinch.
APOLLO (CONT’D)
IDs.
They comply. Apollo flicks through them. Lou’s gets a
skeptical squint.
APOLLO (CONT’D)
(re: Lou)
Hm. Pretty good fake. What you
hiding?
Dutch's license makes him chuckle.
APOLLO (CONT’D)
Delilah? Damn girl. Somebody really
hated you.
DUTCH
Yeah, well, coming from Vivian’s
house nigga. Hope your at least
hitting that.
APOLLO
Trust, she's not my type.
His eyes linger on Lou as he pockets their IDs, then steps
back regarding them.
APOLLO (CONT’D)
You know what's funny? I've got
half of LA tearing itself apart
looking for that damn bag. And here
you two are, just... chillin.
Eating burgers and shit.
DUTCH
Maybe we just like the view.
APOLLO
Sure. But hear me now—when I find
that bag? Diana’s not gonna bury
you. She’s gonna display you.
Lou watches Apollo, tension building.
APOLLO (CONT’D)
But hey, you might get lucky. Die
quick and clean like that old ass
sushi chef.
Lou EXPLODES. His forehead CRACKS into Apollo's face. Blood
sprays.
Apollo reels back, touching his nose. Red drips as he levels
the pistol, thumb finding the hammer.
APOLLO (CONT’D)
(Pissed off)
Motherfucker are you serious right
now.
Dutch throws herself between them, hands raised.
DUTCH
Whoa! I can't just let you smoke my
boy like that.
His aim doesn’t waver.
APOLLO
Give me one goddamn reason.
DUTCH
You really want to explain to massa
why you shot her best leads? I’m
not doing this shit without him.
Apollo’s breath heaves, blood dribbling from his nose. His
grip twitches, but the aim wavers—then drops.
APOLLO
Fine. But clocks ticking, Delilah.
Might even ask Diana if I can do
you myself...
Dutch and Lou watch as he backs toward the Bentley. The door
slams and the car purrs away.
DUTCH
Man, that's the third gun pointed
at me today. Starting to take this
shit personal.
She turns to Lou, whose hands are still trembling.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
You good?
LOU
He talked about Ken like—
DUTCH
I know, I get it. Come on let’s get
the hell out of here. Not looking
forward to our next stop.
As they climb back into Sade.
LOU
Delilah?
DUTCH
Not another damn word.
Genres:
["Crime","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
31 -
Neon Encounters
EXT. HOLLYWOOD STREETS - NIGHT
Sade glides through the neon-lit streets of Hollywood, a
sleek shadow amongst grime and glamour.
INT. BMW (SADE) - NIGHT
Dutch drums her fingers on the steering wheel, eyes scanning
the storefronts. Lou in the passengers seat.
DUTCH
So, this next stop? Lil history
lesson. Used to run jobs for this
dude...
Lou raises an eyebrow
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Last time we spoke, I was behind
the wheel of his very expensive,
very rare Ferrari. Red and blues on
my ass.
LOU
You crashed it.
Dutch shrugs.
DUTCH
Semantics.
She takes a turn, deeper into a neighborhood where street
light fights shadow.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Bro is old-school Russian. Cold
War, KGB shit.
(beat)
Talks big, but secretly gets hard
for anyone who flexes back.
Lou gives her a look.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Not literally. Least I don’t think.
Point is—he’s got a thing for
drama. Power plays. All that big
dick, old-world machismo bullshit.
She taps the wheel, thoughtful but keyed up.
LOU
So we give him a show.
Dutch nods. Grin surfacing under passing streetlight.
EXT. HOLLYWOOD STREETS - NIGHT
Sade pulls into a nondescript lot, killing the engine. She
and Lou exit the car, stepping into the night.
EXT. NONDESCRIPT BUILDING - HOLLYWOOD - NIGHT
They approach a squat, grimy door on a forgotten street in
Hollywood.
Dutch steps up, raps out a rhythm on the metal.
DUTCH
Yo, Alexi! Open up.
Beat.
A narrow slat GRINDS open. Eyes peer out. Bass pulses through
the gap.
ALEXI
(Russian accent)
Dutch? You got some nerve- after
last time.
DUTCH
Ancient history. I need a pass.
ALEXI
No can do. Boss was clear- you're
persona non grata.
DUTCH
Come on man, don’t be like that.
You owe me one.
(beat)
How is Katya by the way?
ALEXI
(softer)
Good. Six months pregnant. First
kid.
DUTCH
Oh shit, congrats bro! From
bootycall to baby mama- all thanks
to me.
A tense beat. Alexi glances at Lou.
ALEXI
Who’s that?
DUTCH
Uncle. In town from Osaka. Just
showing him the sights.
Quiet beat as Alexi weighs.
ALEXI
Fine, but this comes back on me
Dutch? Swear to God—
DUTCH:
Relax. Just a convo. No drama.
The slat SNAPS shut. Locks CLUNK. Door CREAKS open.
Genres:
["Crime","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
32 -
Denied Access at The Pit
INT. DIM HALLWAYS – CONTINUOUS
Alexi(30s,thick neck,ex-Spetsnaz)—steps aside. Lou gives him
a nod as they pass. Alexi sizes him up, unimpressed.
They walk the hall—bass intensifying, neon bleeding under the
door ahead.
INT. UNDERGROUND NIGHT CLUB - CONTINUOUS
A warehouse door creaks open to a neon-drenched fever dream.
The club THROBS with raw energy- grime meets glamour as
Playboi Carti's "Stop Breathing" ???? SHAKES the walls.
Gucci gangsters bump shoulders with LA influencers, faces
painted with strobing light. Just glitter, guns, and chaos.
DUTCH
(shouting over the music)
Welcome to The Pit. Where LA’s
worst come to get their freak on
Lou scans the room, noting telltale bulges of concealed
weapons under security’s tailored suits.
LOU
Dress code looks familiar.
DUTCH
Just don’t headbutt anybody, these
Russians don’t fuck around. Come on-
They push deeper into the club, music and chatter swelling.
INT. UNDERGROUND NIGHT CLUB - CONTINUOUS
They make their way to the VIP section, where a stunning
BLONDE RUSSIAN HOSTESS (20’s, gorgeous) greets them with a
practiced smile.
HOSTESS
(polite, Russian accent)
How can I help you?
Dutch turns on the charm, talking over the music.
DUTCH
Hey beautiful. We need a word with
Greg the Russian. He’s an old
friend.
HOSTESS
I see. Is Mr. Ivanov expecting you?
DUTCH
Nah, we like things spontaneous.
Keeps the friendship spicy.
The hostess hesitates, her smile faltering slightly.
HOSTESS
Sorry, but he’s very busy tonight.
If you don't have an arrangement--
Dutch slides 2 crisp 100 dollar bills across the podium,
smile never wavering.
DUTCH
Maybe check his calendar. Might
find an opening.
The hostess hesitates, discretely palms the bills then
disappears. Dutch glances at Lou.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
See, you just have to know how to
talk to people.
A beat later, the hostess returns. Smile thinner now.
HOSTESS
Mr. Gregor is not available
tonight. He says to tell you to
“Fuck. Off.”
Dutch's grin tightens, but she nods.
DUTCH
Cool. Fuck it then. Plan B.
She strides past the hostess, Lou following close behind.
Genres:
["Crime","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
33 -
Underground Confrontation
INT. PRIVATE BOOTH - UNDERGROUND NIGHT CLUB (CONTINUOUS)
In a secluded VIP booth, two striking women command attention
without seeking it.
The first (Japanese, late 20's, deep scar across her neck)
dressed all in black, swirls her drink and watches the club
below.
The second, (Japanese, late 20's, Irezumi tatts) clad in all
white, flirts with two suited crypto bro types.
Black clocks Lou as he trails Dutch through the club, she
taps her sister.
WHITE
(in Japanese, impatient)
What?!
Black nods towards Lou. White's flirty demeanor turns cold.
WHITE (CONT’D)
(Japanese)
Holy shit.
BLACK
(signing)
Contract still open?
White pulls her phone.
WHITE
(Japanese)
Let's see.
White types out a quick message, hits send. They exchange a
look, then settle back, tracking Lou’s every move.
INT. UNDERGROUND NIGHT CLUB - NIGHT (CONTINUOUS)
Dutch navigates the crowd, cutting a path through LA's
notorious elite. She approaches a VIP booth where a large man
sits like king on a throne.
GREGOR IVANOV (50s, Russian, bald & bearded). Tattooed arms
strain his white button-down, as he nurses a large smoldering
cigar.
He watches Dutch approach, Lou lagging slightly.
DUTCH
Greeeeg! Long time.
The flustered HOSTESS interjects.
HOSTESS
I’m sorry, Mr. Ivanov. She-
Gregor lifts a gold ringed hand. The Hostess falls silent.
GREGOR
(thick Russian accent)
Dutch. Myshka, what did I tell you?
He taps ash into a crystal tray, voice like gravel and ice.
GREGOR (CONT’D)
You're not welcome in my house
anymore.
DUTCH
Look man, about that night--
GREGOR
You mean the night I gave you a
simple task— and you turned Sunset
into a fucking war zone?
DUTCH
Technically, not my fault—
GREGOR
Oh, really? Full speed, no brakes,
straight through a barricade?
DUTCH
Wasn’t exactly gonna talk ‘em down,
was I?
GREGOR
And what was it you said to me,
right before you disappeared? Ah,
yes-
Gregor leans forward. Shadow and neon play across his face.
GREGOR (CONT’D)
(mocking)
"Better wrecked than impounded,
right? You're welcome."
Lou's eyes scan the room as SECURITY GUARDS converge. Six
men. All armed. Gregor draws deep on his cigar, smoke curling
between gold teeth.
GREGOR (CONT’D)
It’s like I say, trust is like good
vodka, once spilled-
DUTCH
—it can’t be poured again. Yeah,
yeah, I remember. Don’t even make
sense.
GREGOR
(firm)
You should leave.
Lou steps in.
LOU
I think you'll want to hear what
she has to say.
Gregor studies Lou. His aggression shifts to curiosity.
GREGOR
Ono, this one has stones! But I’m
thinking you don’t understand your
position here moy drug.
SECURITY GUARD approaches from behind. Gun barrel presses
into Lou's spine.
SECURITY
You deaf? Boss said go.
Gregor waves them off.
GREGOR
Get them out of my sight.
Lou’s eyes flick to Dutch. They share a silent beat. He
winks. She smirks.
DUTCH
Aw shit.
Lou PIVOTS, SNATCHING the gun. CRACK— steel meets skull. The
guard drops. He flips the pistol. Drops the mag. Tosses it
cold.
Boom! CHAOS ERUPTS.
Security SWARMS from all sides as Rasputin by Boney M ????
KICKS in. Lou moves-
A guard swings—he ducks, grabs a cocktail tray—CLANG! Upside
his head.
Another RUSHES. Lou sidesteps, TOSSING him over the railing
onto the dance floor. The crowd parts.
Gregor watches. Smoke curling around him. His interest
growing.
A final brute lunges—Lou grabs a champagne bottle SHATTERING
it across his face. Glass, blood, and bubbles paint the air.
The big Russian crushes his cigar, Amber sparks scatter
across crystal.
The music SWELLS. Lights STROBE.
Lou stands straight, security decorating VIP like fallen
chess pieces.
Gregor rises to his full height. Six-foot-four. Two hundred
and eighty pounds of muscle and violence. His knuckles pop as
he steps forward- locked on Lou.
GREGOR
(Spoken in Russian)
Come boy, show me what you can do.
The crowd peels back, as the bass DROPS—war drums.
Lou STRIKES first—fist ROCKETING forward. Gregor CRANES his
head—CRACK! Lou’s knuckles catch his forehead.
He RECOILS, hand throbbing.
GREGOR (CONT’D)
(grinning)
First lessons free.
Gregor's counters. His fist IMPACTS Lou's jaw.
Lou’s world is ROCKED, blood spatters. He resets his stance.
Gregor closes in, throwing bombs. Right hand to abdomen. Left
hook to ribs. Each blow like artillery fire.
Lou grits through it, Gregor POUNCES- snatching him like a
ragdoll
He ROARS- Lou's body HURLS through space. CRASHING through a
table. Lou coughs—wet, rattling. Glass CRUNCHES under his
palms.
He squares his shoulders. Then EXPLODES forward. Elbow to
temple. Knee to solar plexus.
Gregor stumbles back. Lou's follow-up kick LAUNCHES him. His
back SMASHES through glass shelving. Bottles SHATTER.
Gregor rises. Blood paints his beard crimson. His eyes burn
with joy, tongue collecting blood from his lip.
GREGOR
(laughing)
Finally! Someone who can dance!
He BULLDOZES forward, hoisting Lou off the ground. Lou
COUNTERS. Forehead SMASHES into Gregor's face.
Lou UNLEASHES. Hands. Knees. Elbows. Like pistons. Dutch
raises her drink, shouting over chaos.
DUTCH
Let’s GO!
They separate, circling. Two predators. Breath heavy. Muscles
tensing. Security flanks them. Drawing iron.
Gregor's hand raises. Palm open.
GREGOR
(breathing labored)
Stop!
Guards freeze in position. Gregor steps forward. Towering.
Bloody. Grinning.
GREGOR (CONT’D)
Beautiful violence!
He extends a massive paw. After a beat- Lou clasps it. Gregor
pulls him in, clapping him HARD on the shoulder.
GREGOR (CONT’D)
Come. Let's talk in my office.
Security guards relax, patrons return to their clubbing.
Gregor glances back at Dutch.
GREGOR (CONT’D)
You too, malen'kiy khaos.
LOU wipes blood from his lip, then turns, smirking at DUTCH.
LOU
(breathless)
See, you just have to know how to
talk to people.
Dutch rolls her eyes, fighting a smile as they follow Gregor.
Genres:
["Action","Crime","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
34 -
A Dangerous Exchange
INT. POSH SOCIAL CLUB - PRIVATE BOOTH - MOMENTS LATER
A lavish office overlooks the club floor, bass still
throbbing through the glass.
The burly Russian eases into leather, wincing. Lou takes the
seat opposite, Dutch next to him.
Gregor spits a tooth into his palm.
GREGOR
Haven't had sport like that since
my underground days in Kiev.
He reaches for a crystal decanter of Russo-Baltique vodka,
pouring three shots. Slides two across the table.
GREGOR (CONT’D)
Za zdorovie. To worthy opponents!
They clink and drink. Gregor's gold lighter FLICKS to life on
a fresh cigar.
GREGOR (CONT’D)
So. What brings you two to darken
my doorstep?
Dutch leans in.
DUTCH
Fat-ass duffel stuffed with drugs,
trail of bodies and bullshit.
Gregor leans back, cigar smoke curling around him like a
shroud.
GREGOR
I might know something. But you
know how this works, Dutch.
Information costs.
Dutch feigns deep thought.
DUTCH
Still into football?
Gregor's eyebrow arches.
GREGOR
You know I am.
With a magician's flair, she produces the Jason B rookie
card, holding it up for him to admire.
DUTCH
Boom. Signed Jason Banzinack
rookie. Valued at twenty large.
Yours, for a single crumb of intel.
He takes the card, turns it over. Smiles.
GREGOR
You still know how to play, Dutch.
Dutch flashes a triumphant grin as he tucks it away. She and
Lou lean forward.
DUTCH
Alright. What you got?
Gregor exhales smoke.
GREGOR
Many things pass through my doors,
but what you're chasing? Too hot.
Told them the same.
LOU
And who is 'they'?
The moment hangs a beat.
GREGOR
Cisco, and his partner. They came
to me, desperate to unload it. Good
price too.
Dutch stiffens.
DUTCH
Hold up. Cisco? As in Venice Beach
Cisco?
GREGOR
Da. I could smell the desperation.
Something wasn't right. Then I
heard about the robbery.
Dutch's fists clench and unclench. She turns to Lou, their
gazes locking.
DUTCH
Well, ain't that fuckin’ dandy.
LOU
Any idea where they went after?
GREGOR
No. They scattered like roaches.
Word is they're holding dead weight
- nobody's stupid enough to cross
Vivian.
Dutch stands abruptly. Then Lou.
DUTCH
Thanks for the chat, Greg.
Gregor is already engrossed in his new cardboard acquisition,
barely acknowledging their departure.
GREGOR
Word of advice, Dutch. Next time
you see me, don't let me see you.
(to Lou) YOU- come back anytime for
round two. Just leave trouble (re:
Dutch)at home.
Lou offers a slight nod. Dutch rolls her eyes.
DUTCH
Jesus, get a fuckin’ room.
Genres:
["Crime","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
35 -
Fractured Legacies
INT. MAIN CLUB - NIGHT
Dutch and Lou cut through the club, pushing past gyrating
bodies and spilled drinks.
INT. Vip BOOTH - DAY
From their VIP vantage, Black and White track Dutch and Lou's
exit. White's phone buzzes. She checks it, a wicked smile
blooming.
She shows Black the screen: a glowing dollar sign. Black's
fingers dance the money gesture as White's grin spreads.
WHITE
(Japanese)
This is going to be fun, sis!
In a blink, the booth empties- sisters are gone. Only the
lingering scent of jasmine and gunpowder remains.
EXT. PARKING LOT - NIGHT
Dutch and Lou burst into the night, club's bass fading to a
distant heartbeat. Dutch's jaw clenches as she beelines for
Sade.
DUTCH
Cisco set us up, sent us on a
fucking goose chase.
Lou matches her pace, his expression grim.
LOU
Lets just hope he hasn’t skipped
town.
Their footsteps echo through the streets as they approach the
car.
INT. HOTEL BAR - NIGHT
The Marina Del Rey hotel bar glows amber, all crystal and
mahogany- venture capitalists, yacht owners, and high-
functioning alcoholics draped in designer labels.
Jason Banzinack's beach bum aesthetic- tank top, board
shorts, flip-flops - cuts through the room as he flags down
the bartender.
JASON
Patron silver on the rocks, squeeze
of lime.
As his drink arrives, Jason clocks an LA cougar across the
bar -over tanned, mostly plastic. She eyes him hungrily.
He lifts his glass. She returns the gesture, collagen
enhanced smile spreading.
Mickey materializes, killing the moment.
MICKEY
Looks like you found a playmate.
JASON
(annoyed)
The fuck you been?
MICKEY
The fuck have I been? How ‘bout
running all over town, bribing
hotel staff, pulling security
footage-
JASON
Watch the tone. This whole mess
started with you.
MICKEY
Me! Bullshit, Jason I-
Jason's stare stops him cold.
JASON
Hurry up and show me what you got.
Might have a lunch date.
He flashes his chipped-tooth grin at the cougar as Mickey
pulls his cellphone.
MICKEY
Fine. Check this out.
He pulls up video of the hotel security footage on his phone,
Lou bolts out of the Palm Springs Marriot.
MICKEY (CONT’D)
Wait for it.
Dutch’s BMW zooms into frame Mickey hits pause. Zooms in.
MICKEY (CONT’D)
There--
Jason rubs his chin.
JASON
You run the plates?
MICKEY
Yeah. Dead end. Ghost plates from
some junker in Compton.
JASON
So we got jack shit?
MICKEY
Not quite. My PI buddy said he can
put some feelers out. It's a pretty
distinct ride - BMW M3 E30.
Beautiful fuckin’ car.
Jason massages his temples, weighing his options.
JASON
Fine.
He reaches into his wallet and produces a wad of cash.
JASON (CONT’D)
Do it.
Mickey snatches it, counting.
MICKEY
You sure about this? Maybe we
should cut our loses hit a strip
club, it’s just a fuckin card-
He fails to catch his words, Jason’s pupils shrink.
JASON
Just a card?! It's my fucking
legacy! My whole career boiled down
to one piece of cardboard, and you
want me to let it go?!
Awkward beat.
Jason voice and his height have increased as he now stands
full mast, towering over Mickey. The bar falls silent. All
eyes on them.
MICKEY
Jesus, man. You're losing it.
Mickey bolts. Jason, still seething, slumps back onto his
stool. He flags down the bartender.
JASON
Another. And whatever the lady's
having.
He gestures to where the cougar was sitting. The seat's
empty.
Jason deflates, a mountain crumbling. He swiftly downs his
Patron, signaling for another.
We leave him alone at the bar, a broken man clinging to past
glories.
Genres:
["Crime","Thriller","Drama"]
Ratings
Scene
36 -
A Grim Discovery
EXT. VENICE BEACH - NIGHT
Sade screeches around a corner, tires squealing she narrowly
misses a parked car. The engine roars, and the car jumps the
curb, skidding to a halt in front of Cisco's apartment.
EXT. CISCO'S VENICE BEACH APARTMENT - DAY
Dutch takes the stairs two at a time. Lou follows close, his
usual calm tinged with a sense of unease.
As they reach Cisco's floor, she pulls her pistol.
DUTCH
I got something for his ass.
She racks the slide, the sound echoes in the quiet hallway.
EXT. VENICE BEACH STREET - DAY - POV FROM A DISTANCE
A familiar Bently is parked a short distance away. Inside,
Apollo sits observing Dutch and Lou with a mix of curiosity
and irritation.
GLENN
(to himself)
The fuck are ya’ll doing here?
His eyes narrow as he watches them, his fingers tapping an
impatient rhythm on the dashboard.
CUT BACK TO:
EXT. CISCO'S VENICE BEACH APARTMENT - DAY
Dutch raises her fist to pound on Cisco's door, it swings
open on her first touch. She freezes, Glock rising.
DUTCH
Yo Cisco? You better not be fucking
around--
Lou steps up beside her, his senses on high alert.
LOU
(voice low)
Something's off.
Dutch nods, using her gun to push the door wider. She steps
into the void, the barrel of the Glock leading the way.
INT. CISCO'S APARTMENT - CONTINUOUS
The apartment is eerily quiet, familiar clutter now ominous
in the . Dutch enters first, her pistol sweeping from corner
to corner. Lou follows close.
DUTCH
Come on out you lying shit!
Only eerie stillness answers as they move deeper, Dutch's
frustration mounting as she finds no traces of Cisco.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
(voice rising)
We know you tried to sell to the
Russians.
Lou's unease grows palpable.
LOU
(low and urgent)
This isn’t right.
A flicker catches Dutch’s eye- a TV, visible through the
partially open bedroom door. She motions to Lou with her free
hand, then approaches.
INT. CISCO'S APARTMENT, BEDROOM - CONTINUOUS
Dutch goes in hard, but her quip dies in her throat as she
takes in the scene before her.
Cisco lies on the bed, still and silent, a single gunshot
wound marring his forehead.
The room surrounding is in disarray, half-packed bags
suggesting a hurried attempt to flee. Dutch tucks her pistol.
DUTCH
Damn--
Lou moves past her, quickly checking the room.
LOU
He was trying to leave.
Dutch kneels next to the body.
DUTCH
No shit. But who got to him first?
The TV drones on, contrasting starkly with the stillness of
death. Lou turns to Dutch, urgency in his eyes.
LOU
We should go.
Dutch, deep in thought, pulls out her phone as a plan forms.
DUTCH
One sec...
She dials a number. Lou watches, puzzled.
LOU
What are you doing?
Dutch holds a finger up, signaling him to wait.
A faint vibration buzzes from the other side of the bed.
Dutch moves towards it, maneuvering past Cisco’s corpse.
She reaches down, retrieving a phone from the floor. Its
screen lights up with an incoming call.
DUTCH
Cisco’s phone. Might be something
in here we can use.
Lou nods.
LOU
Good thinking. Grab it and let's
go, now.
INT.CISCOS APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - NIGHT
They head towards the door. As they do, Dutch tries to unlock
the phone, she's met with a lock screen.
DUTCH
Shit, locked. Be right back...
LOU
(whispers, aggressive)
Dutch!
She dashes back into the bedroom.
INT. CISCO'S APARTMENT - BEDROOM - MOMENTS LATER
Dutch steadies her hand, bringing the phone level with the
dead fixers empty stare.
A tense moment, then...
The phone unlocks with a soft click.
Genres:
["Crime","Thriller","Mystery"]
Ratings
Scene
37 -
Confrontation at Cisco's
INT. CISCO'S APARTMENT - LIVING ROOM - DAY
DUTCH exits Cisco's room.
DUTCH
Alright, I think we got—
Her words trail off as she spots Lou rooted in place, gazing
at the doorway.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
What’s wrong?
She rounds the corner to see an ominous silhouetted figure,
backlit by the Venice street lights.
They stand silent. Unmoving. It’s Tank.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Mother. Fucker.
Tank's silhouette looms in the doorway.
TANK
The hell are you doing here?
Where's Cisco?
Dutch points to the bedroom.
DUTCH
In there. Getting real comfortable
with rigor mortis.
Tank's posture shifts.
TANK
Shit. You do it?
DUTCH
Not me. But somebodies cleaning
house.
Lou takes a step forward, murder in his eyes.
LOU
You killed my friend.
TANK
Look man, shit wasn't personal. Old
man just got in the way-
Lous fists clench, his breathing quickens. Tanks hand falls
to the piece on his waist-
DUTCH
Let’s not forget, you tried to kill
my ass too.
So does Dutch’s.
TANK
Just business sweetie. Always about
the money. Nothing else.
Dutch draws her Glock.
DUTCH
Oh, yeah? Let’s talk business.
Tank bolts, hall light throwing shadows as he disappears.
LOU
Shit!
They take off after him.
Genres:
["Action","Crime","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
38 -
Chase and Confrontation
INT. APARTMENT HALLWAY - NIGHT
Lou TEARS down the hallway, Tank just a few paces ahead.
Dutch lags a bit.
Tank TOSSES a glance over his shoulder. He WHIPS out his
pistol, starting the conversation.
LOU
Gun!
They duck instinctively. BLAM! BLAM! Bullets WHINE past,
PINGING off the walls.
Dutch's Glock retorts, CRACKING twice.
Tank ZIPS around a corner as Dutch’s SHOTS puncture the
doorframe, impacts KICKING UP plaster dust.
Lou and Dutch SCRAMBLE up.
DUTCH
Go, go!
They SPRINT after him, feet POUNDING on worn floor.
INT. APARTMENT STAIRWELL - NIGHT
Lou, hot on his heels, descends two stairs at a time, his
footfalls echoing in the tight space. Dutch right behind.
BLAM! BLAM! Tank FIRES into the stairwell—wild but deadly.
DUTCH
Shit!
Lou and Dutch HIT the wall as bullets RIP past, sparking off
the railings.
Tank SHOULDER-SLAMS the exit door, disappearing into the
night.
EXT. ALLEYWAY - NIGHT (CONTINUOUS)
Lou and Dutch BURST out after him, eyes slicing through the
dark.
DUTCH
(breathless)
Where’d he go?
They turn as a V8 engine GROWLS hungrily from the shadows.
Headlights flick on. A red Challenger lurches straight at
them, tires screeching.
LOU
Look out!
With a swift move, Lou kicks Dutch aside, then rolls clear as
the car zooms by, JUST missing them!
Dutch scrambles up steadying her Glock for a shot as the
Challengers rear lights zoom into the night.
She lowers it as Lou appears at her side.
DUTCH
Preciate the save. You good?
Lou nods, dismissing the close call.
LOU
Yeah.
They stand in the street, frustration etched on their faces.
LOU (CONT’D)
Do we still have the phone?
Dutch reaches into her pocket, revealing Cisco’s phone.
DUTCH
Yep. Only lead we got now.
They exit the alley, walking back towards the street, a
familiar voice chimes in behind them.
VOICE (O.S.)
Y'all move real sloppy for
professionals.
They turn, Dutch slipping Cisco’s phone into her back pocket.
Apollo leans against the Bentley. Fresh tape across a swollen
broken nose. Designer suit still flawless.
DUTCH
Jesus. You again?
APOLLO
I’m a fan of closure.
He strolls forward. Lou shifts slightly — just enough. Apollo
clocks it.
APOLLO (CONT’D)
Relax, sushi man. You already won
your fight today.
DUTCH
That’s two times now you’ve popped
up. You keeping tabs or just
lonely?
APOLLO
Vivian’s a fan of cloure too,
doesn’t like loose ends.
(beat)
And your boy? He was one.
A heavy beat. Apollo smirks, unreadable.
APOLLO (CONT’D)
So. Ya’ll find anything useful on
that phone you're hiding?
Dutch's hand moves instinctively to her back pocket.
APOLLO (CONT’D)
Keep it. Probably has some
interesting contacts.
(slight smile)
Might even help you find what we're
all looking for.
LOU
You're helping us now. Why?
Apollo straightens his cuff links, considering.
APOLLO
Ms. Calitris not the only one with
skin in this game.
DUTCH
Playing both sides, huh?
APOLLO
I'm playing the only side that
matters, honey. Mine.
He slides back toward his car.
APOLLO (CONT’D)
Nine hours left. Better make ‘em
count.
And slips inside the Bentley. The car pulls off. Dutch
watches it vanish, tension riding her spine.
DUTCH
Let’s grab a drink somewhere, see
what we can find on this damn
phone.
LOU
Where?
DUTCH
You sing?
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Crime"]
Ratings
Scene
39 -
Toasts and Reflections
INT. PRIVATE BOOTH - KARAOKE BAR - NIGHT
A dingy karaoke booth, all tacky neon and faded 90s
memorabilia.
The final notes of "Everybody" by Backstreet Boys fade out.
LOU, drunk and grinning, stumbles off the tiny stage and
collapses next to DUTCH on a grimy couch.
The rickety table in front of them is a small graveyard of
empty Sapporo cans and drained bottles of sake.
Lou reaches for one of the few remaining upright beers.
Dutch, hunched over Cisco's phone, barely glances up. Her
fingers move sluggishly across the screen, she’s drunk.
DUTCH
(tipsy)
Shit man. It's like scrolling
through a damn Onlyfans page.
Lou leans in.
LOU
(slurring slightly)
Keep digging. Gotta be somethin'
there.
DUTCH
Yeah. Ass.
She turns the phone showing Lou a photo of a caked woman
posing for a pic. They share a drunken chuckle
Dutch's eyes narrow, focusing on Lou with boozy intensity.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
A'ight, spill. How does a man go
from breaking bones to rolling
rice?
Lou takes a long pull from his beer, studying the bottle.
LOU
In my old life... everything was
chaos. Violence. Sushi demands
stillness. Focus. Patience.
DUTCH
Maaan, miss me with that zen shit.
I've seen you move.
She leans in.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
That ain't learned behavior. That's
blood in the water type shit.
Lou considers, taking another swig.
LOU
Yes. Old habits. But a knife can
cut two ways. Create or destroy. Up
to the hand that holds it.
I think that's what Ken saw. Handed
me a knife when I could only see
the killer holding it.
Dutch absorbs this, then snorts.
DUTCH
Whatever. Still think you're wasted
on California rolls.
LOU
(genine, disgusted)
California rolls aren't real sushi.
He studies her for a beat.
LOU (CONT’D)
What about you? How'd you end up in
this life?
DUTCH
Me? Same ole shit man. Pops died,
left me Sade, shop full of ex-cons
and a mountain of debt.
She trails off, takes a long pull of sake.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Tried it straight. Stunt work, shop
life. But truth is--
Leans in.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Nothing beats that feeling. The
rush when I’m pushing 150. Whole
world just goes... quiet.
LOU
Sounds like your running from
something.
DUTCH
Nah see. Figured that part out-
can't outrun your ghosts. Those
fuckers got permanent shotgun.
LOU
Ghosts can be good company- once
you’ve made peace with them.
A heavy beat. Lou picks up another beer.
LOU (CONT’D)
You think your father would approve
of your chosen path?
DUTCH
No fuckin’ way. Pop was no saint,
but he’d kill me if he saw me
running amok all over LA.
Her swagger cracks, just for a moment.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Honestly-I’m just trying to keep my
people safe right now. Damon, the
crew, only real family I got left.
Less said about my moms the better.
LOU
Sometimes. Doing what’s right means
taking the wrong road-
DUTCH
Ha! Some fucking road. Probably
ends in a ditch with our names on
it.
A heavy beat. Dutch raises her glass, a bittersweet smile
playing on her lips.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Fuck it. To Pops and Ken. Let ‘em
rest well while we raise hell.
They clink glasses. As they drink, Dutch shifts, squirming in
her seat.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Oof. Goota pee. Be right back.
She stands, swaying on her feet.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Don't do anything stupid like dying
while I'm gone.
Lou's lips shift into a drunken, subtle smile. He offers two
thumbs up.
LOU
No promises.
Dutch stumbles out of the room. Lou drunkenly leans his head
back, closing his eyes.
Genres:
["Crime","Drama","Action"]
Ratings
Scene
40 -
Confrontation in the Karaoke Bar
INT. KARAOKE BAR HALLWAY - NIGHT (CONTINUOUS)
As Dutch shambles down the dim hallway, two figures
materialize ahead– Japanese women in stylish tailored suits.
One in black moves like liquid shadow, a healed scar across
her throat.
The other, inked up and dressed in white, flashes a sinister
grin beneath smeared Kabuki makeup as they pass.
DUTCH
O-K.
She blinks, and they're gone. The hallway stretches, suddenly
ominous. Dutch shakes her head, vision swimming slightly.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Too much damn sake.
She pushes into the bathroom, the door swinging shut behind
her.
INT. KARAOKE BAR BOOTH - NIGHT (CONTINUOUS)
Lou, slumped on the couch in a sake induced haze, jolts awake
to the tap-tap of a microphone.
Two sleek silhouettes flank him, backlit by the karaoke
screen. Lyrics ripple across them like neon warpaint.
LOU
(tipsy, blinking)
What—
The one in white steps forward, mic to her lips, grinning
like a pop idol on ecstasy. She waves—cutesy, calculated.
MAYU
(playfully)
Hiii! I'm Mayu—
She gestures to the silent one flipping through a songbook.
MAYU (CONT’D)
—and this is my sister, Miyako.
Miyako glances up, gives a nod, goes back to scanning tracks.
MAYU (CONT’D)
And we are—
LOU
(deadly serious)
The Suzuki Sisters.
Mayu lights up like he handed her a rose.
MAYU
Bingo! He's heard of us, sis! So
cool! You're kind of a legend
yourself-Riyuu-San. The ghost that
got away-
Lou's face ices over at hearing his real name.
LOU
How'd you find me?
MAYU
Thought you could crawl into a
hole, play sushi chef. Just wash
the blood off with salmon roe? Not
that easy.
Lou's hand SLIDES toward a nearby bottle. Mayu NOTICES, smile
widening.
MAYU (CONT’D)
(Japanese)
I heard you were controlled.
Calculated.
(leaning in)
(MORE)
MAYU (CONT’D)
But that's boring, We want to see
the animal. The one that used to
paint floors red in Shibuya.
Lou's jaw TIGHTENS. Miyako stops flipping through songs,
studying him.
MAYU (CONT’D)
(in Japanese)
Tell me, Riyuu-san... is the beast
still in there?
She TILTS her head, studying him like a curious predator.
LOU
That man is dead.
MAYU
Ugh! You Yakuza boys, always so
fucking stoic. So honorable.
The mic DROPS. Twin tanto blades FLICK out like magic tricks
as kawaii dissolves into killer.
MAYU (CONT’D)
But when your guts are on the floor
and you're pissing yourself, you
all beg the same.
(mocking)
"Mama... Kami-sama... Please
don’t..."
Miyako pulls a remote. Hits play. “Tokyo Calling” by
Atarashii Gakko! detonates the room.
Mayu BOPS to the beat—blades catching neon. Miyako joins her.
No smile. All edge.
Lou RISES slowly, flexing his shoulders.
MAYU (CONT’D)
Ready to dance?
His stance widens, sake turning to steel in his veins.
LOU
You should know—I'm a mean drunk.
The sisters flash a feral look and MOVE.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Crime"]
Ratings
Scene
41 -
Karaoke Chaos
INT. KARAOKE BAR BATHROOM - NIGHT
Dutch, on the toilet scrolling Cisco’s phone, yawns.
DUTCH
Boring, boring... dick pic...
Her finger pauses. Something catches her eye.
INT. KARAOKE BOOTH - NIGHT (CONTINUOUS)
The room ERUPTS as "Tokyo Calling" thumps. Lights strobe. The
room narrows to blood, neon, and rhythm.
Mayu LUNGES—slash! Lou pivots, barely dodging. Miyako is
already circling, clinical, clean.
Lou stumbles, weaves, but they flow around him like water
through rock—each strike hungrier than the last.
A flash—CRACK! Miyako NAILS him with a spinning heel kick to
the jaw. He reels, Mayu draws a red smile across his forearm.
Their rhythm syncs. Two killers, one beat. Lou’s defense
bleeds more than it blocks.
He parries a blade—only to eat a palm strike from Miyako that
sends him CRASHING through the table. Glass and neon confetti
shower the floor.
INT. KARAOKE BAR BATHROOM - NIGHT
Dutch’s eyes dart across a text thread. Her jaw sets.
DUTCH
Holy shit.
She stands and bolts, knocking her shoulder on the stall
door.
Behind him, a neon “SING YOUR HEART OUT” sign flickers like a
broken omen.
The sisters close in.
MAYU
(in Japanese, taunting)
He’ll never stop hunting you. Not
‘til you're dead.
Something shifts in Lou’s eyes. The haze clears.
Mayu LUNGES. Mistake.
Lou snatches her wrist, SPINS, launches her—she SLAMS into
her sister.
Before she can recover—KICK! Miyako crashes into the speaker
stack. Feedback screeches. The music dies.
Lou reels Mayu in like a hooked fish, her own blade at her
throat. Mayu struggles, snarling in his iron grip.
MAYU (CONT’D)
(in Japanese)
Let go, you prick!
Miyako rises, face cracked at her sisters peril. She prowls
the edges like a lioness, looking for a gap.
Lou presses the knife deeper into Mayus neck.
LOU
(to Miyako)
Walk away. No one dies tonight.
Miyako weighs it.
Then—
BOOM! The door bursts open.
Dutch freezes in the frame. Eyes wide.
DUTCH
Lou! I-
She clocks the scene: blood, neon, two sisters of death. Then
pulls her pistol.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
What in the actual fuck?
Mayu LASHES out in the chaos—her blade PLUNGES into Lou’s
ribs.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
(gritted)
Shit!
Lou launches her backward. Blade ripping free. He stumbles,
collapsing on the couch, clutching red.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Lou!
Mayu charges, blade flashing.
MAYU
Too slow!
Dutch doesn’t blink. BANG-BANG!
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Crime"]
Ratings
Scene
42 -
Karaoke Chaos
INT. KARAOKE BAR HALLWAY - NIGHT
The shots are barely audible under the bass outside. The
world goes on.
INT. KARAOKE BOOTH - NIGHT
Mayu hits the floor in a crumpled heap. Miyako screams. Her
voice raspy.
She turns on Dutch, murder in her eyes.
Dutch swings the barrel to meet her, hands steady.
DUTCH
(adrenaline-fueled)
Try me, bitch.
Miyako locks eyes with her... then looks to Lou, bleeding
out. Then to her sister.
She exhales slow. Steps back.
Dutch doesn’t lower the gun.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Yeah. Thought not.
Then-
A groan from Mayu distracts them both. She stirs, hand
pressed to her shoulder.
MAYU
(gritted teeth)
Ouch! That... really fucking hurt.
Miyako moves to her, never taking her eyes off Dutch or her
gun. She helps Mayu to her feet, supporting her weight.
As the sisters move toward the door, Mayu giggles, producing
a bloody smile.
MAYU (CONT’D)
This was fun! Let’s do it again
sometime. Fuck… that stings.
Her finger stays on the trigger until the last second-the
sisters vanish into the hallway. She exhales.
Dutch drops beside Lou, rips off her jacket, presses it to
the wound.
DUTCH
The fuck Lou? I was joking about
you not dying while I was gone.
Lou manages a smirk through the pain, he coughs blood.
LOU
Karaoke was a bad idea.
He tries to stand—collapses halfway up. Dutch barely catches
him.
DUTCH
(coughing, grimacing)
Fuck, we gotta go.
She helps him up, his weight heavy against her. Together,
they stagger towards the back exit.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Crime"]
Ratings
Scene
43 -
Race Against Time
INT. KARAOKE BAR PARKING LOT - NIGHT
Dutch, urgency etched in every movement, helps the injured
Lou into Sade’s backseat. Lou, grimaces with every jostle.
HARD CUT TO:
INT. BMW (SADE) - MOVING - NIGHT
Dutch white-knuckles the wheel, her eyes ping-ponging between
the road and Lou's slumped form. The streetlights streak
past.
DUTCH
Hang in there, Lou. Just hang the
fuck on.
She fumbles for her phone, nearly clipping a parked car. Her
thumb dances across the screen, muscle memory taking over.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
(under her breath)
Pick up, you bastard--
The line clicks. A garbled voice crackles through.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Harry! Thank fuck. I need you. Now.
A brief Miyakoas Harry responds, inaudible to us. Dutch’s
relief turns to frustration.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Yes, I'll have the goddamn money.
Another beat. Dutch's knuckles grip tight on the wheel.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Fine, whatever—double your rate.
Just be ready. I’m coming in hot.
She kills the call, tossing the phone aside. Lou's head
lolls, a soft groan escaping his lips. Dutch's eyes flash
with worry.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Hang on, samurai. We're almost
there.
Her foot slams the gas. Sade's engine roars, as they tear
through an intersection, horns blaring in their wake.
CUT TO:
INT. GRIMY VETERINARIAN'S OFFICE - NIGHT
The door flies open. DUTCH stumbles in, nearly buckling under
LOU's dead weight. Blood seeps through his shirt, leaving a
trail on the grimy linoleum.
DUTCH
Harry! Where the fuck are you?!
HARRY (O.S.)
(muffled)
Back here! And watch your language!
Dutch half-drags, half-carries Lou through a maze of rusty
cages and outdated equipment.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Crime"]
Ratings
Scene
44 -
Desperate Measures
INT. VET'S BACK ROOM - NIGHT (CONTINUOUS)
She heaves Lou onto a cold metal table. He grunts, the pain
piercing his stoic facade.
HARINDER "HARRY" PATEL, (late 30’s Indian, scruffy),
materializes from the shadows. His lab coat is stained, his
hair wild, but his eyes are sharp as scalpels.
HARRY
Christ, Dutch. What stray did you
drag in this time?
Dutch's glare could melt steel. Harry raises his hands in
surrender.
HARRY (CONT’D)
Alright, alright. Let's see the
damage.
He pulls back Lou’s shirt, peeling away blood-soaked fabric—
Revealing a vivid tapestry of irezumi tattoos across his
torso: dragons, koi, and cherry blossoms winding through
muscle. A story written in pain and precision.
Dutch freezes, panic giving way to awe as her eyes take in
the details.
DUTCH
(under her breath)
Goddamn.
Harry probes the wounds with practiced efficiency. His
expression darkens.
HARRY
Ok, this IS bad. I need to work
fast. Keep him with us.
Dutch nods, turning to Lou. Her voice is steady, belying the
fear in her eyes.
DUTCH
Yo, Lou. No checking out on me.
We've got unfinished business.
Harry preps his tools. The glint of needle and thread looks
menacing in the dim light.
Dutch snaps her fingers in front of Lou's face, her tone a
tightrope between urgency and forced calm.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Lou! Talk to me. Tell me about... I
don't know, your favorite sushi
roll or some shit. Anything!
Lou's eyes flutter, consciousness slipping away.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Shit, man. Not like this.--
His eyes close. Dutch's face crumples.
CUT TO BLACK:
DREAM SEQUENCE - FLASHES OF VIOLENCE
A knife SLICES through air, blood droplets suspended. Bruised
knuckles CONNECT with a jaw. A dragon tattoo WRITHES on
sweaty skin. A woman's SCREAM, cut short by a gunshot.
END DREAM
SEQUENCE
Genres:
["Crime","Thriller","Action"]
Ratings
Scene
45 -
Whispers of Danger
INT. GRIMY VETERINARIAN'S OFFICE - MORNING - LATER
Lou's eyes SNAP open, body jerking upright with a sharp
intake of breath.
He finds himself sitting on the edge of a cold exam table as
Harry puts the finishing touches on a nasty set of stitches.
HARRY
Whoa, big guy. Take it easy.
Lou's wild gaze slowly focuses.
LOU
(voice hoarse)
Where--?
HARRY
Safe. You're in my clinic. Dutch
brought you in.
Harry snips the last stitch on Lou's wound. Lou doesn't
flinch.
HARRY (CONT’D)
Tough bastard, aren't you?
Dutch, walks in leaning against a filing cabinet. She
stretches and yawns.
DUTCH
Yeah, real tough. That's why I had
to drag his ass here.
Harry packs up his tools.
HARRY
I’ll be in the next room. Try not
to bleed on the floor—it’s a bitch
to clean.
He exits. Dutch approaches Lou, genuine concern in her tone.
DUTCH
How you feeling?
LOU
Sore. But alive. Thank you, for-.
Dutch waves off the gratitude.
DUTCH
Yea. Yea. Now tell me who the fuck
those Gogo Yubari bitches were?
Lou meets her gaze, weighing his words.
LOU
The Suzuki Sisters. Assassins that
operate in the Japan's underworld.
Killers that make other killers
disappear.
DUTCH
And they want you dead because?
Lou studies her for a long moment, weighing something heavy.
LOU
(quiet)
Once you know, there's no
un-knowing.
DUTCH
I'm out here shooting bitches for
you, and you're still pulling this
mysterious stranger bullshit?
Lou takes a breath, old wounds opening.
LOU
Fine. I'll start at the
beginning...
The grimy vet's office begins to blur, neon bleeding into
memory as we transition to vibrant anime-style animation.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Crime"]
Ratings
Scene
46 -
Echoes of the Past
EXT. TOKYO STREETS - DAY (ANIME SEQUENCE, FLASHBACK)
LOU (V.O.)
My real name is Riyuu Morimoto and
I was born in Tokyo with Yakuza
blood in my veins. It wasn't my
choice, it was destiny.
QUICK CUTS: Younger Lou in a crisp black suit, his hands
stained red. Flashes of violence - a knife plunging, money
changing hands, a body hitting the floor.
LOU (V.O.)
My father was a powerful Oyaban
(Yakuza boss). And my half-brother
Kenji and I, we were more than
siblings. Allies. Rivals.
Enforcers. Two sides of our
father's coin.
INT. YAKUZA DOJO - DAY (ANIME SEQUENCE, FLASHBACK)
Lou and Kenji spar, a brutal dance. Kenji attacks with raw
fury, Lou counters with precise strikes. Their father
watches, stone-faced.
LOU (V.O.)
Kenji was all fire, desperate to
prove himself. Me? I was ice.
Control was my weapon.
Lou takes Kenji down. Their father nods, subtle approval
glinting in his eyes. Kenji's face twists with jealousy.
Lou attempts to help his brother up, but he smacks his hand
away.
EXT. TOKYO ALLEYWAY - NIGHT (ANIME SEQUENCE, FLASHBACK)
Lou slips away from the neon-drenched streets, ducking into a
shadowed alley.
LOU (V.O.)
But sushi... that was my real
passion. A secret rebellion.
INTERCUT: Lou executing a flawless knife technique - slicing
fish, then slashing a rival's throat.
LOU (V.O.)
I balanced two worlds. Creation and
destruction.
INT. SUSHI RESTAURANT - NIGHT (ANIME SEQUENCE, FLASHBACK)
Lou's hands move with surgical precision, crafting perfect
nigiri. A master looks on, nods approvingly.
LOU
I trained under a master chef for
years. He taught me everything
about precision, patience.
INT. LOFT APARTMENT - NIGHT (ANIME SEQUENCE, FLASHBACK)
Lou and a beautiful Japanese woman, KUMIKO share a tender
moment, laughing softly.
LOU (V.O.)
Kumiko was my anchor. My hope for a
different life. But soon everything
changed--
INT. YAKUZA HEADQUARTERS - DAY (ANIME SEQUENCE, FLASHBACK)
Lou and Kenji stand before their father in his office. The
tension is palpable.
He points to Lou. Kenji's fists clench in Mayu.
LOU (V.O.)
Our father chose me as his heir.
Deeming Kenji too reckless, angry.
And my half-brother... he snapped.
FLASH CUT: Kenji standing over their father's body, bloody
knife in hand, eyes wild.
LOU (V.O.)
He took everything-- Our father. My
mentor.
EXT. SUSHI RESTAURANT - NIGHT (ANIME SEQUENCE, FLASHBACK)
Lou finds his sushi master dead, blood mixing with soy sauce
on the floor. A realization dawns. He hurries away
LOU (V.O.)
And Kumiko...
INT. LOU'S APARTMENT - NIGHT (ANIME SEQUENCE, FLASHBACK)
Lou BURSTS in to find Kumiko bound and beaten. Kenji looms
over her an army of suited Yakuza surrounding him. He grins
sadistically.
LOU (V.O.)
Kenji seized control over my
fathers men. Blaming me for his
death.
Enforcers GRAB Kumiko, pulling her to her feet. Lou is
overpowered and restrained face to face with her.
Her eyes meet Lou’s—not afraid, but sorrowful.
A GUNSHOT rings out, blood splatters his face. Kumiko
crumples. The world turns red.
LOU (V.O.)
I lost control.
HYPER-VIOLENT SEQUENCE: Lou GRABS 2 blades and starts tearing
through Yakuza enforcers, his movements a blur of lethal
precision. Red SPRAYS in stylized arcs.
Then. Lou and Kenji CLASH, blades singing. Lou's knife CARVES
a deep gash across Kenji's face. The blade carves from brow
to jaw.
More Yakuza enter, they surround him weapons trained.
LOU (V.O.)
In that moment, I saw no victory.
Escape was my only option.
Lou sprints. Kenji, half-blinded, bloodied and furious, fires
a pistol at his retreating figure.
EXT. LOU'S APARTMENT - NIGHT (ANIME SEQUENCE, FLASHBACK)
Lou dives through a window, a hail of bullets and glass
shards trailing.
LOU (V.O.)
As I plunged into the darkness, I
left behind more than just the
Yakuza; I left a part of myself.
Lou falls through shattered glass, his reflection fracturing
in the shards.
The skyline WARPS as he plunges—into dark water below,
ripples spreading.
EXT. JAPANESE WATERFRONT - NIGHT (ANIME SEQUENCE, FLASHBACK)
A battered Lou looks back at the glittering Tokyo, then turns
away as it goes out of focus.
LOU (V.O.)
Los Angeles promised a fresh start.
A new identity. And a chance to
create, not destroy.
EXT. LITTLE TOKYO, LA - DAY (ANIME SEQUENCE, FLASHBACK)
Lou enters a small sushi restaurant. Ken greets him with a
cautious smile.
LOU (V.O.)
I thought I'd escaped the shadows
of my past.
Negative space. Kenji's scarred face materializes, eyes
burning. Flanking Kenji, two feminine shapes appear - one
white, one black.
The anime sequence fades. Dutch stares at Lou, stunned. She
leans back, processing.
DUTCH
So you just... walked away from it
all? Just like that?
LOU
There was nothing left to walk away
from. My brother took everything
from me.
Dutch shakes her head, a new understanding in her eyes.
DUTCH
Goddamn, dude. And I thought I had
issues.
Lou's eyes darken slightly, memories lingering.
LOU
The past has a way of catching up.
No matter how far you run.
Dutch leans in, her tone shifting to urgent excitement.
DUTCH
Shit, speaking of catching up-
while you were getting stabbed, I
found something in Cisco's phone.
Lou winces as he sits up.
LOU
What did you find?
DUTCH
An address. East LA. Looks like it
was a meeting spot between Cisco
and that asshole who tried to run
us down.
She whips out the phone, shoving it in Lou's face.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Check it. 116 Overland Blvd.
LOU
Your sure it's legitimate?
DUTCH
What else we got?
LOU
Then we move. Now.
He tries to stand, stumbling. Dutch catches him.
DUTCH
Whoa, easy. You're in no shape for
another round.
From the next room, HARRY calls out.
HARRY (O.S.)
She's right. You should be resting.
He enters.
HARRY (CONT’D)
But something tells me your not the
type to sit still.
He tosses a bottle of pills to Lou, who catches it
reflexively.
HARRY (CONT’D)
For the pain. Two before any
action. You'll bleed, stitches
might pop. But you'll function.
Lou examines the bottle skeptically.
LOU
And after?
HARRY
It’ll hurt like hell. But you'll
live. Maybe.
Lou nods, pocketing the pills.
LOU
Thanks.
Dutch helps Lou to his feet, slinging his arm over her
shoulder.
DUTCH
Don't worry. I'll keep an eye on
him. Thanks for the patch job, doc.
HARRY
I’m always here for you Dutch. Long
as the money stays green. Speaking
of--
DUTCH
Yea, yea.
She tosses Harry a wad of cash as she and Lou exit the vet.
EXT. VETERINARY CLINIC - MORNING
Dutch eases Lou into the passenger seat of Sade, then rounds
the car and dives behind the wheel. The engine roars to life,
and they speed off into the rising sun.
INT. VETERINARY CLINIC - MORNING
Harry watches from the window as they leave. After a beat, he
picks up his phone, dialing.
HARRY
(into phone)
Yeah, it's me. I've got information
on that ride you're looking for--
but it’ll cost you.
He listens to the response, a calculating look in his eye.
HARRY (CONT’D)
Trust me. It's worth every penny.
Genres:
["Action","Crime","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
48 -
Awakening Chaos
INT. JASON'S HOUSEBOAT - DAY
The interior of the houseboat is a mess, littered with empty
beer cans and food containers. A post bender bomb-site.
JASON BANZINACK, lies passed out on the floor, his massive
frame sprawled like a sweaty starfish.
MICKEY, enters, wrinkling his nose at the stench of stale
alcohol and body odor.
MICKEY
Smells like a fucking frat house in
here.
He nudges Jason with his foot. No response. He tries again,
harder.
MICKEY (CONT’D)
Yo, J! Wake up, man. I got news.
Still nothing. Mickey sighs, then leans down, shouting in
Jason's ear.
MICKEY (CONT’D)
Jason! Get your ass up!
Jason startles awake, his hand instinctively grabbing his
revolver. He points it at Mickey's face, his eyes wild and
unfocused.
JASON
(slurring)
Who the fuck, man?
Mickey freezes, his hands raised in surrender.
MICKEY
It's me, J. It's Mickey. Put the
fucking gun down.
A tense beat. Then, recognition dawns on Jason's face. He
lowers the gun, rubbing his eyes with his other hand.
JASON
(groggy)
Mickey? The fuck are you doing
here?
MICKEY
Just got word from my PI, been
trying to call your cell. Some vet
that moonlights as patch doc just
called him.
Jason nods, struggling to his feet. He sways, unsteady.
JASON
Yeah, well don’t leave me in
fucking suspense.
MICKEY
He just stitched up a tatted up
Japanese guy, he had some funky
black chick was with him. They sped
off in the exact model car we’re
looking for.
Jason's eyes widen, the fog of alcohol and drugs lifting.
JASON
No shit? He found those bastards?
MICKEY
Yeah, he got an address and
everything. Somewhere in East LA.
Jason leaps to his feet, a manic grin spreading across his
face.
JASON
(energized)
Alright, let's go get these
fuckers!
He stumbles into his bedroom, leaving Mickey standing
awkwardly in the living room. There's a clatter of items
being thrown around.
Jason emerges, a menacing-looking assault rifle in his hands.
Mickey's eyes widen.
MICKEY
What the fuck, man? What are you
doing with that?
Jason's grin takes on a deranged edge as he admires the
weapon. He cocks it back loudly.
JASON
(coldly)
Sending a message.
Mickey shifts uneasily, Jason tucks the rifle under his arm
and strides towards the door.
JASON (CONT’D)
Alright, let's go get these
fuckers. Bring your ass Mickey.
Mickey hesitates for a moment, clearly torn.
JASON (CONT’D)
Move it! And Grab Fifi.
With a heavy sigh, Mickeys turns to see Jason’s Pomeranian
staring him in the face, beady eyes judging.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Crime"]
Ratings
Scene
49 -
Unexpected Encounters
EXT. ABANDONED HOUSE - EAST LA - DAY
SUPER: EAST LA
Sade rolls into the alley behind a dilapidated house, gravel
crunching.
INT. SADE (BMW) - MORNING
DUTCH kills the engine, eyes scanning the house. LOU sits
beside her, hand pressed against the bandage covering his
wound.
Dutch glances over, concern etched on her features.
DUTCH
You sure you're up for this? I mean
you were stabbed like 6 hours ago.
Lou pops two of the pills the doc gave him then rotates his
shoulder experimentally, wincing slightly.
LOU
I'll manage.
Dutch smirks, but the worry doesn't leave her eyes.
DUTCH
Alright, Lou. But if you start
bleeding out on me, I'm leaving
your ass.
Lou chuckles, the sound strained but genuine.
LOU
Fair enough. What's the plan?
Dutch nods towards the glove compartment.
DUTCH
First--
Dutch pops it open, rummaging around until her hand emerges
with the .9 mm. She checks the magazine.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Shit. Empty. Must have used my last
bullets at the karaoke bar.
LOU
You want to go in unarmed?
Dutch shrugs, tucking the gun into the waistband of her
jeans.
DUTCH
Always been better with words than
bullets anyway. Plus I got what’s
left of you. Ready to do this?
Lou exhales, expression steeling.
LOU
Ready.
They exit the car in unison, the doors closing with a muted
thud. Moving towards the back of the house, steps measured
and cautious.
As they approach the back door, Dutch pauses, her hand on the
knob. She glances back at Lou, a flicker of uncertainty in
her eyes.
DUTCH
You know, if this all goes to shit--
LOU
It will.
Dutch smirks.
DUTCH
Yea, your probably right.
Lou meets her eyes, his expression unwavering, then nods.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Alright fuck it. Let's do this.
Dutch takes a deep breath, centering herself. Then she turns
the knob, they step into the unknown.
EXT. STREETS OF EAST LA - DAY
A grungy, weathered van pulls to a stop in front of a house
under the harsh sun of East LA. Inside are Jason and Mickey.
INT. VAN - DAY
Jason pulls his revolver.
JASON
This the place?
Mickey nods.
INT. ABANDONED HOUSE - DAY
Dutch and Lou enter the house cautiously, eyes scanning the
dimly lit interior. Suddenly, they both freeze.
There, in the center of the cluttered kitchen, sits the
duffel bag. Lit by a skylight in the ceiling.
DUTCH
No fucking way.
LOU
(tensing)
Something.
They exchange a look, then slowly approach the bag.
As Dutch reaches for it, the sound of a toilet flushing
breaks the . After a beat, TANK emerges, drying his hands on
his pants.
DUTCH
You've got to be shittin’ me.
Tank freezes, eyes widening as he spots Dutch and Lou.
TANK
What the f-
His hand darts to his waistband but Lou's already in motion,
closing the distance with startling speed.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
50 -
Beneath the Surface
INT. VAN - DAY
Jason's Pomeranian yaps from the back seat as his fingers
dance over his revolver, bullets clinking as they slide home.
Sweat beads on his brow.
Mickey grips the steering wheel, his eyes ping-ponging
between Jason, the loaded gun, and the barking dog.
MICKEY
Hey, uh, Jase... Maybe we pump the
brakes here? Talk it out?
Jason doesn't even glance up, lost in his manic focus. The
Pomeranian's yaps are a constant, grating presence.
JASON
Talk? You don't talk to thieves,
Mickey. You teach em lessons.
The cylinder clicks shut with finality. Mickey flinches.
MICKEY
(fumbling)
Right, right, but... I mean, is
this really worth--
Jason's head snaps up, eyes wild.
JASON
Worth it? They stole from ME! Jason
fucking Banzinack!
He slams his fist on the dash. Mickey jumps.
JASON (CONT’D)
All those years of busting my ass,
and for what? To be a goddamn
punchline?
The Pomeranian goes berserk, shrill barks filling the van.
Mickey's hand creeps towards the door handle. Jason clocks
it.
JASON (CONT’D)
(snarling)
What, you gonna bail on me too?
Like everyone else?
Mickey freezes, lowering his hand.
MICKEY
(backpedaling)
No, no! It’s just... I helped track
'em down. That's enough, right?
I’ll call an Uber, let you handle
the rest--
Jason points the revolver at Mickey.
JASON
You think I'm washed up, don't you?
Just another coked-out has-been who
can't get his dick hard.
Mickey's hands shoot up, eyes wide with terror.
MICKEY
Jesus, no! That's not-- I don't
know shit about your... situation
down there man. I'm just saying,
this ain't you! Your coming apart.
Jason's finger twitches on the trigger, the dog's barking
reaching an unbearable crescendo.
YAP! YAP! YAP!
JASON
Not me? I was a fucking god on that
field! Until they sabotaged me!
MICKEY
Exactly man. You WERE! But that was
the past, you gotta move on. Just
let it--
BANG!
The gunshot shatters the , deafening in the van's close
confines. The Pomeranian falls abruptly silent.
Mickey crumples, disbelief and betrayal etched on his face as
red blooms across his chest.
Jason stares, chest heaving, a flicker in his bloodshot eyes,
as if he’s unclear if the trigger was pulled by accident or
on purpose.
But the regret is fleeting, replaced by a cold, hard resolve.
The Pomeranian whimpers softly.
EXT. ABANDONED HOUSE - EAST LA - DAY
Jason hoists out of the van. Eyes wild, pupils dilated, a
smear of white powder visible under his nose.
The assault rifle is clutched tightly in his hands. The
handle of his revolver pokes out from the waistband.
He lumbers toward the house, his breathing labored, sweat
beading on his forehead.
SMASH CUT TO:
Genres:
["Action","Crime","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
51 -
Confrontation in the Kitchen
INT. ABANDONED HOUSE - KITCHEN - EAST LA - DAY
LOU’S FIST SLAMS into Tank’s jaw. CRACK. Blood and spit arc
midair as the man CRASHES into the counter, denting metal.
He scrambles, dazed, knocking dishes to the floor. Lou’s
breathing ragged.
LOU
You killed a good man.
Tank tries to rise, wobbling like a drunk on stilts. His face
already a mess — swelling, cut, one eye nearly shut.
TANK
(gurgling)
L-look man, it was just business,
nothi—
Lou buries a brutal punch into Tank’s side — ribs snap like
dry twigs.
LOU
It’s personal to me.
Tank collapses, coughing, blood bubbling on his lips. Lou
SPOTS a long kitchen knife on the counter-
DUTCH
Lou?
He GRABS it without hesitation.
Lou stalks toward Tank, blade glinting. He hauls him up by
the collar, jamming him against the kitchen window.
TANK
(shrinking)
F-fuck! Wait! Come on, man—
Lou presses the knifes edge to Tank’s throat, slicing. A deep
nick opens. Blood flows.
DUTCH
(stepping in, sharp)
Lou!
He doesn’t blink. The knife trembles in his hand, but his
grip’s tight. Intention clear.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Look, I get it. This asshole?
Earned every bit of this ass-
whoopin.
She steps closer, calm but firm.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
But you — you’ve been clawing your
way outta this life. And now you’re
gonna throw it all away for this
piece of shit?
Softer, dead serious.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
You ain’t that man anymore. Hell,
you’re the one who told
me—control’s louder than chaos.
Lou’s hand shakes. The blade digs in deeper. Blood runs. A
tense beat.
Then—
JASON (O.S.)
Time’s up, assholes!
The tension snaps. Tank’s head swivels to the window.
TANK
(spitting teeth)
What the fuck?
DUTCH
Aww shit.
Dutch cautiously yanks Lou back a half step—
TANK
Wait. Is that Jason Ban-
CRASH. The window behind him ERUPTS in GUNFIRE.
Bullets RIP through Tank’s chest — spinning him like a top.
He crumples to the linoleum- dead.
DUTCH
(rocked, stunned)
Jesus…
Lon GRABS her.
LOU
Down!
More bullets RIP through the kitchen as the two dive for
cover. Cabinets shatter. Glass rains. Jason’s voice booms
again like a god of vengeance outside.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Crime"]
Ratings
Scene
52 -
Confrontation at the Abandoned House
EXT. ABANDONED HOUSE - KITCHEN - EAST LA - DAY
JASON stumbles towards the house like a man possessed. He
fires off his assault rifle with each lurching step.
JASON
Thought you could screw me over,
huh? Not so smart now!
His voice is slurred, his aim less precise than his words,
but the threat is very real.
INT. ABANDONED HOUSE - KITCHEN - EAST LA - DAY
Pinned down by the onslaught, Dutch and Lou exchange a loaded
glance.
DUTCH
Got any bright ideas?
Lou shakes his head, no. Their eyes dart around the kitchen,
desperately searching for anything to turn the tables.
The barrage of gunfire suddenly stops.
EXT. ABANDONED HOUSE - KITCHEN - EAST LA - DAY
Outside as Jason approaches the front door, his assault rifle
clicks empty.
JASON
Ah shit.
He tosses it on the lawn drawing his revolver from his
shorts.
INT. ABANDONED HOUSE - KITCHEN - EAST LA - DAY
Dutch and Lou are behind the kitchen island.
DUTCH
Get the bag, keep him busy.
With that, she vanishes. Lou hesitates for a beat then
stands, snatching the duffle bag from the counter.
The door bursts open, doorway barely containing Jason's boxy
frame. He sweeps the room, noticing Tanks corpse on the
floor.
JASON
(dryly)
The hell happened to him?
The his gaze shifts to Lou, zeroing in on the duffle bag
under his arm. A sadistic grin splits his face.
JASON (CONT’D)
Oh shit! Is that what I think it
is?
He trains the revolver, the threat clear despite his drug-
fueled amusement.
JASON (CONT’D)
Hand it over. No tricky shit.
Lou stares him down, unflinching. JASON, wavers on his feet,
revolver in his hand. A dangerous glint in his eye.
LOU
No.
His grin turns manic. He raises the revolver, finger
tightening on the trigger.
JASON
No worries. I'll just take it off
your corpse.
Miyakostretches. Jason fires, the shots deafening.
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
Lou dives for cover, the bullets missing him by inches. He
rolls into the living room, taking shelter behind a worn
couch.
The gun clicks empty. In the sudden quiet, the metallic snick
of Jason reloading echoes like a death knell.
He stalks into the living room, his shadow looming large
against the wall.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
53 -
Desperate Escape
INT. ABANDONED HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - EAST LA - DAY
JASON
(rambling, enraged)
This is your own fault you know.
He rounds the couch, gun first, ready to finish the job. But
Lou is nowhere to be seen.
JASON (CONT’D)
Ah shit.
Lou EXPLODES from the shadows, slamming into Jason in a
desperate tackle. The gun CLATTERS across the floor.
Jason staggers but doesn't fall. He towers over Lou, a
mountain of muscle and drugged out Mayu.
He SURGES forward with sledgehammer fists.
Lou WEAVES and DODGES, darting in with a FLURRY of quick
strikes. Jason absorbs the BLOWS, grinning maniacally.
JASON (CONT’D)
That all you got!
A fist WHOOSHES past Lou's head. Lou DUCKS, but Jason's other
fist CATCHES him in the side — right in the stab wound. Lou
GASPS, stumbling.
Jason sees the weakness. His fist DRIVES harder into Lou's
side. A sickening POP as his stitches tear open. Lou CRIES
OUT, blood seeping through his shirt.
Seizing the advantage, Jason GRABS Lou, hoisting him off his
feet. Lou struggles, but Jason's grip is IRON.
JASON (CONT’D)
Ain't so tough now, are ya?
He FOOTBALL TACKLES Lou into the wall. Picture frames RATTLE.
Lou's vision swims as Jason's hands find his throat,
squeezing.
Jason leans in, voice low.
JASON (CONT’D (CONT’D)
Once I'm done with you, I’m gonna
find your cute little brown friend
and show her a good ti-
His words cut off as Dutch leaps onto his back with a WILD
yell.
DUTCH
Surprise bitch!
She DRIVES a pair metal scissors into Jason's back. Once.
Twice. Jason ROARS, releasing Lou. He SPINS, trying to
dislodge Dutch.
JASON
(roaring)
Get off me you cun-
Before he can finish she plunges the scissors again- deep,
embedding them.
With a heave, he flings Dutch onto a coffee table, shattering
it. His hands scrabble at his back, trying to rip out the
scissors.
Lou, gasping for air, sees his chance. He DRIVES his heel
into Jason's gut sending him stumbling back. The impact
DRIVES the scissors deeper.
Dutch scrambles to her feet, pulling the dazed Lou up with
her.
DUTCH
We gotta go!
Lou snatches the duffle bag, they race for the back door as
Jason screams in pain.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
54 -
Desperate Escape
EXT. ABANDONED HOUSE - BACKYARD - DAY
They tear across the weed-choked yard, Sade gleaming under
the sunlight like a beacon of salvation.
INT. ABANDONED HOUSE - LIVING ROOM - DAY
Jason rips the scissors from his back, tossing them aside. He
pushes off the wall, eyes fevered as he recovers his
revolver.
JASON
No! You won't get away that easy!
He rails a line of powder from his pocket and lumbers after
them, each step heavy, sweaty, deadly.
EXT. BMW (SADE) - ALLEYWAY - DAY
Dutch and Lou reach the car, the wail of approaching sirens
in the distance adding urgency.
DUTCH
For once, I'm glad the cops are
slow as shit around here.
Lou ducks into the passenger seat as Dutch fumbles with the
keys, her hands shaking with adrenaline.
Suddenly, a shot rings out, blowing out the BMW's passenger
window in a spray of glass.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Shit!
She jams the key into the ignition. The engine roars to life.
Another bullet slams into the front fender, the car stutters,
dies.
Jason's silhouette resolves in the backyard, revolver
extended, his other hand pressed to the bloody wound on his
back.
JASON
Your fucking dead!
Dutch cranks the key again as bullets pelt Sade, each shot
threatening to end their escape.
DUTCH
Come on baby! Come on!
Jason closes in- But his hand is shaking. His vision blurs.
He fires... but misses wildly.
THEN he clutches his chest, as his steps falter.
Dutch pauses- watching in disbelief as he stumbles, pitching
forward onto the pavement. The revolver tumbles from his
hand.
LOU
What’s happening to him?
DUTCH
No way. I think the big bastards
OD’ing.
Dutch tries the key one more time. The engine catches,
settles into a sputtering purr.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
That’s my girl!
She throws the car into gear, ready to peel out. But Jason's
voice, furious but strained sined, stops her cold.
JASON
(straining)
This isn't over. I'll find you.
I'll fucking find you!
INT. SADE (BMW) - NIGHT
Inside the BMW Dutch and Lou lock eyes, an unspoken agreement
passing between them. Dutch slams the shifter into reverse.
They feel the car bump over Jason’s head. We don't see it,
but the sound is unmistakable.
DUTCH
Fentanyl is a bitch, ain’t it?
That done Dutch shifts into drive, eyes glued to the road
ahead. LOU sits with the duffle bag securely in his lap.
EXT. ALLEYWAY - DAY
Sade speeds down the alleyway, into the LA sunshine.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
55 -
Tension in the Garage
INT. DARING DANS AUTO GARAGE - DAY
The garage is dimly lit, flickering overhead light casting
long shadows.
In a repair bay, SADE sits battered and bullet-riddled, a
testament to their recent chaos.
INT. DARING DANS AUTO GARAGE OFFICE - NIGHT
Dutch and Lou hover over the duffle bag. The shop lights buzz
overhead, the only sound in the stillness of the office.
Dutch's fingers crest over the bag's surface, her touch
almost reverent.
DUTCH
(quietly)
We finally got it. Guess it’s time
to give Vivian a ring.
Lou leans against the table, doubt clouding his features.
LOU
You sure that's smart? Vivian
clearly has her own game.
Dutch paces the small space, her mind whirring.
LOU (CONT’D)
Way I see it, moment she gets her
hands on that bag, we become a
loose ends.
Dutch stops mid-stride, spinning to face Lou. Confusion and
something harder to read flicker across her face.
DUTCH
Why are you even still here, Lou?
Ken's killer is in the ground. You
don't owe me a damn thing.
Lou shrugs it off casually, but there's a heir of care in his
delivery.
LOU
Figure someone ought to watch your
back. Might as well be me.
A ghost of a smile tugs at Dutch's lips, a rare moment of
genuine emotion cracking her tough exterior.
The office door swings open before she can respond. Damon
strolls in, a grease-stained rag in his hands, bandage on his
head.
DAMON
Color me impressed. You actually
brought her back in one piece. More
or less.
Dutch and Lou share a loaded glance, an entire conversation
passing between them.
DUTCH
Gotta say, D, that headwrap is a
good look on you. Very got-my-ass-
whipped chic.
Damon chuckles, then winces as the motion jostles his wound.
DAMON
Yeah, well, let's just call it a
life lesson. Never pick a fight
with a man on a mission.
Lou grins, the tension in the room easing a notch.
DAMON (CONT’D)
(mock seriously)
Just don’t try that tricky shit on
me again. Might just shoot you next
time.
LOU
Better be fast then.
Dutch holds up her hands, cutting off the impending dick
measuring contest.
DUTCH
Alright, fellas, let's put the
rulers away and focus.
She turns to Damon, all business.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Think you can get Sade patched up?
If this thing goes sideways, we're
gonna need to dip real quick.
Damon scratches his chin, eyeing the BMW through the office
window.
DAMON
She's pretty banged up. Front
axle's literally shot,
transmission's hanging on by a
prayer, and don't even get me
started on--
DUTCH
(interrupting)
D. Yes or no?
Damon sighs, but there's a glimmer of determination in his
eye.
DAMON
It won't be pretty, but yeah, I can
get her road-ready.
DUTCH
(grinning)
I knew I could count on you.
DAMON
You sure you don't want me to set
you up with another ride?
Dutch regards Sade through the glass.
DUTCH
Nah. She’s been with us through all
this shit. Wouldn't feel right
leaving her out of the grand
finale.
Damon shakes his head, sighing.
DAMON
Alright I better get to work then.
I'll swap the plates while I'm at
it, just to be safe.
DUTCH
(sincerely)
Thanks, Damon. For everything.
Damon waves off the gratitude, already heading for the door.
As he exits, Dutch picks up her phone, the weight of what's
to come settling in. Lou watches, his presence a steady
reassurance.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
Alright. Here we fucking go.
She dials, the tension thick in the small office. The phone
rings, each tone echoing in the charged .
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Crime"]
Ratings
Scene
56 -
Betrayal at the Shipyard
EXT. SHIPYARD - LONG BEACH - DAY
The steady hum of a car's engine blends with the distant
cries of seagulls and the low rumble of ship horns.
We focus in on a tire rolling across gritty asphalt.
SUPER: LONG BEACH
Pull back to reveal SADE, gliding through the sun-drenched
expanse of a shipyard, winding between towering stacks of
colorful metal containers.
INT. SADE - DAY
Dutch's hands grip the wheel, knuckles white, jaw set. Beside
her, Lou is a coiled, his eyes moving, scanning.
LOU
You sure about this?
DUTCH
Not even a little bit.
They approach a warehouse, its massive metal door cracked
open just enough to be inviting. Or threatening.
Dutch guides the car inside, killing the engine. The sudden
is deafening.
INT. WAREHOUSE - DAY
The pearl white Bugatti Chiron squats in the center of the
warehouse, its sleek lines catching the harsh glare of the
overhead lights.
Next to it stands APOLLO, still as a statue, his eyes hidden
behind mirrored shades.
Best as Sade’s engine dies.
Dutch and Lou emerge, footfalls echoing in the cavernous
space. Dutch's hand is clenched around the strap of the
duffle bag.
LOU
(under his breath)
Stick to the plan. No cowboy shit.
DUTCH
Yep.
As they approach, Apollo moves to open the Bugatti's door.
Out steps Vivian, looking like a fashion week runway.
VIVIAN
(smiling coolly)
Punctual. I like that.
Dutch and Lou exchange a look, a silent moment of "here we
fucking go".
Dutch steps forward, holding out the duffle bag like an
offering.
DUTCH
(calling out)
One duffle bag of nose candy, as
requested.
Vivian's grin widens, but there's no warmth in it.
VIVIAN
Well, look at you go. Girls getting
IT done.
DUTCH
Yeah, well, crazy what the threat
of murder and arson will motivate
you to do.
Apollo meets Dutch halfway, taking the bag and rifling
through its contents. Dutch never takes her eyes off Vivian,
watching her like a mouse watches a snake.
Vivian looks past Dutch to Lou, who leans on Sade. Arms
folded.
VIVIAN
(flirty)
Hello again handsome. Did you get
that revenge you were so hot for?
Lou says nothing, just meets her gaze steadily. Apollo
finishes his inspection, giving Vivian a nod.
APOLLO
It's all here.
VIVIAN
(smiling)
Wonderful.
DUTCH
So, we square? Or should I expect a
bullet in the back as a tip?
VIVIAN
I haven't decided yet. You're
resourceful—I could use that. But
you stole from me. Not sure if I
can let that slide.
Dutch squares up, eyes flashing.
DUTCH
Then make a fucking decision. I'm
not begging. We crawled through
hell for your shit, and I haven't
slept in two goddamn days. So
what's it gonna be?
Lou and Apollo's eyes widen. Vivian's smirk holds, but
something dangerous flickers behind it.
VIVIAN
(silkily)
I'll chalk that up to sleep
deprivation. Not many—
CLICK. Apollo swings his Desert Eagle toward Vivian's chest.
Dutch pulls her Glock from her waistband. Aiming it.
DUTCH
(genuinely surprised)
Oh shit. Plot twist.
Apollo steps back, gun darting between them all.
VIVIAN
(ice cold)
You ungrateful piece of shit. Put
the gun down. NOW.
APOLLO
Not happening. Place is surrounded
by LAPD's right now. They've been
watching you for months.
VIVIAN
They flipped you.
APOLLO
You taught me well. Always have an
exit strategy.
Lou edges closer to Dutch, protective instincts kicking in.
DUTCH
I knew your ole sellout as wasn’t
shit.
APOLLO
(to Dutch and Lou)
Nothing personal. Y'all two were
just the wild cards nobody counted
on. Really didn’t think you’d pull
this shit off.
Vivian's eyes narrow.
VIVIAN
They'll bury you right next to me.
APOLLO
(smirks)
Not according to my testimony. I
kept receipts. Names, dates,
accounts, whole-
BANG! Her pistol cuts him off mid-smirk. Apollo staggers onto
the Bugatti , crimson blooming across his chest.
APOLLO (CONT’D)
(through blood)
You'll never make it out.
VIVIAN
Neither will you.
She fires again, Apollo drops.
DUTCH
Clearly you didn’t teach his ass
not to monologue, huh?
Vivian swings her pistol toward Dutch, who already has her
Glock trained.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
(calm, firm)
Whoa, ok, let’s chill. We start
shooting, shit gets real Reservoir
Dogs real quick.
Then- SIRENS WAIL. Red and blue strobe the walls.
POLICE (O.S.)
LAPD! Come out with your hands up!
The three react, weight of their situation bearing down.
Dutch exhales, lowering her gun slightly.
DUTCH
Look, you let us walk, I'll make
sure you do too.
VIVIAN
And why the fuck should I trust
you?
DUTCH
Because my ride's the only thing
keeping you from trading Gucci for
prison orange. But we need to move.
Now.
POLICE (O.S.)
Ten seconds! Come out or we're
coming in!
VIVIAN
Fine. But if you fuck me on this—
DUTCH
Save the threats. We either all fry
or none of us do.
POLICE (O.S.)
Five seconds!
They MOVE toward Sade, all piling in, Vivian in back. Dutch
glances over at Lou as she fires up the engine.
DUTCH
Buckle up.(to Vivian) You too.
They do. Dutch SLAMS a cassette in.
Tupac's "Untouchable" ???? EXPLODES through the speakers. Dutch
bobs her head.
Pac: (2x)Am I wrong cause I want to get in on til I die!
She FLOORS it. Sade ROARS out of the warehouse, bee-lining
for the scattered police blockade outside.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller","Crime"]
Ratings
Scene
57 -
High-Speed Escape at the Shipyard
EXT. SHIPYARD - DAY
Sade BLASTS past a flurry of cops, leaving them eating dust.
Officers SCRAMBLE, diving into their cruisers.
INT. SADE - CONTINUOUS
Dutch's hands dance across the wheel, eyes flicking between
road and mirror. A tsunami of flashing lights swells behind
them.
Lou and Vivian turn to look, taking in the armada of cop cars
in hot pursuit.
DUTCH
(giddy)
Six-star wanted level, baby!
NOTE: FROM HERE ON OUT, DUTCH GOES FULL GYMKHANA ON THE
STREETS OF LONG BEACH
The shipyard blurs past as Dutch cat and mouse’s through the
labyrinth.
Sade RIPS through the shipyard, weaving between stacked
containers, cops struggling to match her angles.
DUTCH (MUTTERING TO HERSELF) (CONT’D)
"Come on, baby, let’s dance."
A POLICE CRUISER cuts ahead, boxing them in.
VIVIAN
They’re cutting us off!
Dutch’s CRANKS the wheel—DRIFTS a tight corner, Sade’s tail
brushing a wall of steel crates.
The cop tries to follow— but CLIPS the container hard—his
hood crumples like foil.
INT. SADE - DAY
Sade DRIFTS another corner, tires SCREAMING. Dutch YANKS the
e-brake, sending the car into a perfect 180-spin. It slides
backwards, facing the pursuing cops.
INT. SADE - DAY
Lou and Vivian grip their seats, eyes wide.
VIVIAN
What are you doing?!
Dutch just grins, slamming the shifter into reverse.
EXT. SHIPYARD - DAY
Sade ROCKETS backwards, shipping containers become a blur.
The cops struggle to keep up.
Dutch cranks the wheel hard, WHIPPING the car back around,
DRIFTING through a tight gap.
INT. SADE (BMW) - DAY
Lou braces himself against the door, eyes wide.
VIVIAN
(tense)
They're up our asses!
Dutch's is all manic energy, focus laser-sharp.
DUTCH
Just how I like it.
She WHIPS around a corner, tires SCREAMING. Vivian SLAMS into
the door.
VIVIAN
Fuck! Are you trying to kill us?
DUTCH
Pipe down, princess. Mama's
working.
INT. SADE - DAY
Lou scans the road ahead, spotting an opening.
LOU
(pointing)
There! There! There!
Dutch WHIPS the wheel, sending Sade into a turn. Smoke
BILLOWS from the tires as she DRIFTS another corner.
EXT. PORT OF LONG BEACH - DAY
The BMW SQUEEZES between two containers exiting the shipyard,
paint SCRAPING, sparks FLYING. One cop car makes it. Another
CRUMPLES like a beer can.
INT. COP CAR - DAY
The OFFICER slams a fist against the steering wheel in
frustration.
OFFICER
(into the radio)
Suspects heading north towards the
710 freeway! In pursuit!
EXT. 710 FREEWAY - DAY
Sade BURSTS onto the freeway, Dutch THREADING between cars.
She TAPS the brakes, DOWNSHIFTING. The engine ROARS as she
PUNCHES the gas, ROCKETING forward.
Six police cruisers WEAVE through traffic, battling to keep
up.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
58 -
High-Stakes Escape
INT. SADE - DAY
The WAIL of sirens grows louder. Dutch checks the mirrors,
calculating.
She YANKS the wheel.
EXT. 710 FREEWAY - DAY
Sade CUTS across three lanes, hitting an off-ramp at the last
second. Cops scramble to follow.
EXT. SURFACE STREETS - DAY
Sade races through the streets of Long Beach. She whips
around corners, blasts through alleyways. 4 remaining cop
cars cling to them.
INT. SADE - DAY
Lou, grips the door handle, spotting a police roadblock
ahead.
LOU
Dutch.
DUTCH
(determined)
I see it.
She GUNS it. Vivian SHRINKS into her seat.
VIVIAN
(panicked)
I’m going to die. This is how I
fucking die.
Dutch spots something ahead, a mischievous glint in her eye.
DUTCH
Nah, not yet.
EXT. 710 FREEWAY - CONSTRUCTION ZONE - DAY
Sade SWERVES onto a construction zone, BLASTING through a
pile of dirt.
Dutch CRANKS the wheel, DRIFTING around a bulldozer.
The cops try to follow. One SPINS out, CRASHING into a cement
barrier. Another CLIPS a stack of wood, FLIPPING
spectacularly.
EXT. ALLEYWAY - DAY
Sade bullets out of the construction site, tires spinning,
throwing up a cloud of smoke and debris.
INT. SADE - DAY
Vivian peeks out from the backseat.
VIVIAN
Did we lose them?
Lou checks.
LOU
Not yet.
EXT. 710 FREEWAY - DAY
Two cop cars BURST from the construction zone, still in hot
pursuit.
EXT. LONG BEACH STREETS - DAY
Dutch weaves through the midday traffic, narrowly avoiding
collisions as she pushes Sade to her limits.
The police cars match her move for move, refusing to yield.
INT. SADE - DAY
Vivian grips the seat.
LOU
Can't you shake them?
DUTCH
(through gritted teeth)
We’ll see!
Dutch sends Sade careening around a corner. The police cars
continue closing the distance despite her best efforts.
INT. SADE - DAY
Two more cruisers come screaming around the corner behind
them. Total of 4.
LOU
We can’t keep this up forever.
Dutch's gaze lands on an unfinished overpass to the left, the
ramp leading up to a dizzying drop.
EXT. ON RAMP - DAY
The police are right on them, sirens blaring.
Sade SCREECHES onto the on-ramp, accelerating towards the
unfinished overpass. Dutch DOWNSHIFTS, REDLINING the engine.
INT. SADE - DAY
Lou looks over at Dutch, realization dawning.
LOU
You're not...
Dutch smirks, feral.
VIVIAN
(confused, then terrified)
What? What is she doing?!
Lou braces himself, terror and exhilaration on his face.
LOU
Fuck it.
Genres:
["Action","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
59 -
High Stakes Escape
EXT. UNFINISHED OVERPASS - DAY
Sade RACES up the overpass ramp, police hot on their heels.
At the last second, Dutch YANKS the e-brake, sending the car
into a SLIDING 180. Sade LAUNCHES.
For a moment, they're AIRBORNE, sailing over the edge of the
overpass. Time seems to SLOW...
INT. SADE - DAY
Vivian SCREAMS. Lou WHOOPS. Dutch SMIRKS.
DUTCH
(whispers)
Come on, baby...
Lou and Vivian hold their breath, bracing for impact.
Then-
EXT. FREEWAY OVERPASS - DAY
A BONE-JARRING CRUNCH. Sade LANDS on the freeway below,
FISHTAILING wildly. Dutch WRESTLES with the wheel, finally
REGAINING control.
Above, the police LEAP from their cars, staring in disbelief
as Sade ROARS off into the distance.
EXT. 710 FREEWAY - DAY
The BMW weaves through traffic, putting distance between them
and the overpass. The sirens fade into the background.
INT. SADE - DAY
Dutch's grip on the wheel relaxes slightly. Lou and Vivian
slump in their seats. A heavy fills the car, broken only by
their labored breathing.
Dutch glances in the rearview mirror, a small smile tugging
at her lips. She catches Lou's eye. He shakes his head,
amazed.
Vivian looks between them, incredulous.
VIVIAN
You're out of your fucking minds.
Dutch glances into the rearview.
DUTCH
Your alive ain’t you? Now, where
we headed?
EXT. PRIVATE HANGAR - DAY
Super: UNDISCLOSED
A sleek Gulfstream G650 private jet idles on the tarmac, its
engines humming with anticipation.
Suddenly, Sade SCREECHES into frame, coming to an abrupt halt
near the hangar.
INT. SADE - DAY
Dutch kills the engine. Lou exits, holding the door open for
Vivian, who climbs out of the backseat, disheveled.
EXT. PRIVATE HANGAR - DAY
The queen-pin steadies, trying to regain her composure. She
runs her fingers through her hair and smooths out the
wrinkles in her outfit.
Dutch leans across the center console, looking out the
passenger door.
DUTCH
So, we singing kumbaya now or what?
Vivian pauses dramatically. After a beat-
VIVIAN
Let's not push it. But... we're
square.
She starts to walk away, then turns back.
VIVIAN (CONT’D)
Oh, and don’t change your number. I
might have some work for you two.
Dutch raises an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk on her face.
DUTCH
Alright. Just remember, we’re not a
cheap date.
VIVIAN
Noted.
Vivian's gaze turns to Lou, lingering, a flicker of lust in
her eyes. Then, she turns on her heel and strides towards the
waiting jet.
INT. SADE (BMW) - DAY
Lou climbs back into the car, settling into the passenger
seat. He and Dutch share a long, meaningful look out of the
windshield.
The jet's engines ROAR to life, breaking the . Dutch glances
over--
DUTCH
(casually)
You hungry?
Lou nods.
LOU
I could eat.
Dutch grins, turning the key. Sade's engine purrs to life.
DUTCH
Cool, I got a spot.
As the jet taxis down the runway, Sade pulls away from the
hangar, leaving the chaos of the last few days in the dust.
INT. SADE - DAY
Dutch and Lou share a comfortable as they drive, the weight
of their recent adventures hanging in the air.
EPILOGUE
EXT. GAS STATION - DAY
SUPER: SOME TIME LATER...
Sade glides into a gas station, engine purring like a
contented cat.
DUTCH hops out, slotting the nozzle into her car. Lou lounges
in the passenger seat, sunglasses perched on his face.
Gas flowing, Dutch leans into the car.
DUTCH
Coffee?
Lou gives a simple nod, holding up two fingers.
LOU
Black. Two sugars.
DUTCH
Bet.
As Dutch saunters towards the convenience store, a bright
orange Mustang roars into the station, bass thumping from
open windows, shattering the peace.
Its occupants, TWO OBNOXIOUS GUYS in their late 20s, a study
in douchebag.
Lou cracks an eye open, annoyance flickering across his face.
Dutch pauses at the entrance, eying the Mustang and its
occupants. She shakes her head, disappearing inside.
BACK TO:
The driver, a red-pill crypto bro in a tank top, hops out to
refuel. As he slots his nozzle, he spots Sade, Lou resting
inside.
With a low whistle of appreciation, he swaggers over.
OBNOXIOUS GUY
Damn, bro! Sweet ride!
He leans down, peering into the BMW's window, making a show
of inspecting the car.
OBNOXIOUS GUY (CONT’D)
Bet she's a real pussy magnet, huh?
Lou doesn't acknowledge, just leans back in the seat, eyes
closed. Undeterred, the Obnoxious Guy continues his one-sided
conversation.
OBNOXIOUS GUY (CONT’D)
Yo, you a mute or something bro?
I'm talking to you!
Finally, Lou turns slightly, his voice cool as ice.
LOU
Fuck off.
Obnoxious Guy's bravado turns to aggression. He circles to
Lou's side of the car.
OBNOXIOUS GUY
What the fuck did you just say to
me?
He grabs Sade's door handle, spoiling for a fight. Lou
exhales, his patience gone.
OBNOXIOUS GUY (CONT’D)
Get out of the car, bitch! Let's
go!
In a single, fluid motion, Lou pops the door open, slamming
it into the guy's face. He stumbles back, clutching his nose.
Lou steps out, a coiled spring ready to unload.
CUT TO:
Dutch emerges from the store, Lou's coffee in one hand, a
soda in the other. She pauses, taking in the scene.
DUTCH
Shit.
Lou grabs the dazed Obnoxious Guy by the hair, pulling him
close. He whispers something we can't hear, then slams his
head against Sade's roof. The bro crumples, writhing.
The SECOND OBNOXIOUS GUY begins to exit the Mustang. Dutch
passes by, voice cool and steady.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
I wouldn't.
The second guy hesitates. Slowly, he retreats back into the
car. Dutch reaches the driver's side. She eyes Lou, brow
raised.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
You done?
In response, Lou delivers a final kick to the mans ribs,
eliciting a pained groan. He straightens, runs a hand through
his hair, and climbs back into the car without a word.
Genres:
["Action","Crime","Thriller"]
Ratings
Scene
60 -
Chasing Shadows
INT. BMW (SADE) - DAY
Dutch slides into the driver's seat, handing Lou his coffee.
LOU
Thanks.
He takes a sip, gaze lingering on the bustling city outside.
LOU (CONT’D)
This city, man. Full of assholes.
Dutch chuckles, turning the key. Sade's engine comes to life.
DUTCH
And here we are, fitting right in.
As the engine purrs, the opening chords of West Coast” by
Lana Del Rey ???? fill the car. Dutch cranks up the volume. Lou
nods in approval.
LOU
(with an appreciative nod)
Great song.
DUTCH
Nothing like the classics.
(beat)
So, I was thinking. We should
probably lay low for a bit, let the
heat die down. Buuut--
She shoots Lou a mischievous grin.
DUTCH (CONT’D)
I got a line on a gig. Vegas. High
stakes, big payout. Any interest?
Lou considers for a moment, then shrugs, a small smile
playing on his lips.
LOU
Never been to Vegas.
Dutch's grin widens as she shifts gears.
DUTCH
Never? Oh, Lou. You are in for a
fucking treat.
EXT. GAS STATION - DAY
Sade pulls out of the station, the setting sun painting the
world in shades of gold and orange.
As the car merges into traffic, the track swells, its
ethereal tones fitting their departure into the LA sunset.
EXT. GAS STATION - DAY
As Sade pulls out, the camera lingers on a sleek, red ‘25
Audi RS7 parked in the corner of the lot, engine growling.
INT. AUDI RS7 - DAY
Inside, MIYAKOsits motionless, her eyes trained on the BMW as
it merges into traffic. Beside her, sits MAYU, fresh bandages
visible beneath her jacket.
A phone BUZZES. Miyakochecks the message:
KENJI
"見失うな。"
(Do not lose him.)
The sisters share a look. Mayu's smile spreads slow, pulling
at her stitches.
MAYU
(in Japanese)
Round. Ow! Two.
Miyakoslips on dark sunglasses. Her hand finds the gear
shift.
EXT. HIGHWAY - DAY
The Audi prowls after Sade, a shadow maintaining its
distance.