EXT. SCHUYLKILL EXPRESSWAY (I-76) — DAY
The expressway is a shimmering ribbon of heat, carbon monoxide, and existential despair. Traffic is at a dead, grinding halt. In the distance, the Philadelphia skyline looks less like a city and more like a collection of glass tombstones. The air vibrates with the cacophony of three hundred car horns being pressed by three hundred people who have lost their will to live.
Two vehicles are wedged into the middle lane: a silver Land Rover with a dented fender and a rusted-out subcompact that looks like it was fished out of a canal and spray-painted by a frantic toddler.
CUT TO: INT. DENNIS'S LAND ROVER — CONTINUOUS
The interior of the Land Rover is a pressurized chamber of narcissism. DENNIS is behind the wheel, his knuckles white, his face frozen in a mask of rigid, terrifying civility. LUPIN III is in the passenger seat, slumped so low his chin is touching his chest, his gaze fixed on a dangling pine-tree air freshener that stopped smelling like pine three years ago.
In the backseat, JIGEN is pressed against the door, trying to create as much physical distance as possible between himself and MAC. Mac is leaning over the center console, gesturing wildly with a pair of leather fingerless gloves.
DENNIS
...and that brings us to the 'S,' Lupin. Separate Entirely. It is the final movement in the symphony. You don't just leave; you vanish. You leave them wondering if you ever existed at all. You leave them in a state of psychic collapse.
LUPIN (without moving his head, his voice a dry rasp)
Monsieur Dennis... we have been 'Separated Entirely' from the flow of traffic for forty-five minutes. My psychic state is currently 'puddle.' Can we please, for the love of all that is holy, talk about the safe?
DENNIS (his eyes widening, a vein in his forehead beginning to pulse)
I am talking about the safe, you lanky French buffoon! The safe is the surrogate! If we can't psychologically dominate the McPoyles, the safe is just a box of cold milk and forgotten dreams! You have to understand the implication of the heist!
MAC (turning to Jigen, whispering aggressively)
Hey. Hey, Hat-Man. Look at me. I'm doing an ocular pat-down of that minivan in the next lane. See the driver? Soccer mom. High-risk. She's got a juice box. She could use it as a projectile.
JIGEN (slowly sliding his .357 Magnum out of its holster, checking the cylinder with a click that sounds like a death knell)
If you touch my hat again, I am going to shoot you in the kneecap. I'm not going to kill you. I'm just going to make sure you never walk toward me again.
MAC (scoffing, undeterred)
See, that's your problem. You rely on the steel. You're weak, dude. You ever try a "Spinning Crane" kick in a confined space? I could take your gun away before you even cleared your holster. It's all about the twitch-fiber response. You've got 'Old Man' fibers. I've got 'Elite Commando' fibers.
LUPIN (muttering to himself)
Fujiko... I hope you're having a better time than this. I really do.
CUT TO: INT. DEE'S SUBCOMPACT — CONTINUOUS
The air inside Dee's car is 40% oxygen and 60% the smell of wet dog and discarded fast-food wrappers. DEE is driving, or rather, she is sitting in the driver's seat holding her phone on a gimbal, filming herself.
FUJIKO is in the passenger seat, her expression one of amused, lethal boredom. In the back, GOEMON is sitting perfectly upright, his sword, Zantetsuken, resting across his knees. He is surrounded by half-empty jugs of "Charlie's Brown" and a pile of stained thermal underwear. CHARLIE is sitting next to him, staring at Fujiko's neck with the intensity of a moth staring at a blowtorch.
DEE (to the camera)
—and that's why my brand is 'Tactical Chic,' guys! I'm out here with international contractors, doing high-end maneuvers. Goemon, say something 'Samurai-ish' for the followers! Use the sword! Chop the headrest!
GOEMON (eyes closed, jaw set)
My blade is a soul-taker. It is not a toy for your "followers." It seeks the truth of the spirit, not the validation of the digital mob. Also... this vehicle... it smells of death.
DEE
Oh, shut up, you dramatic stick-in-the-mud! It's called 'patina'! Charlie, tell him about the brand!
CHARLIE (ignoring Dee, leaning forward toward Fujiko)
So... Fujiko. You like cheese? I got a guy. Well, I'm the guy. But I know where the good blocks are kept. The ones without the rinds. You and me... we could be like, the King and Queen of the sewer-heist. Goemon can be the knight. He's already got the big knife.
FUJIKO (leaning back, twirling a lock of hair, her eyes glinting)
Oh, Charlie... you have such a... primitive magnetism. But tell me, does the 'King of Sewers' have the combination to the safe? Or am I going to have to find it myself?
CHARLIE (blushing a deep, unhealthy purple)
I can find anything! I found a dead cat in a ceiling once! A safe is just a big, heavy cat made of metal! I'll get you that safe, Fujiko. I'll get you the moon if it's made of galvanized steel!
DEE
Stop hitting on the help, Charlie! We're professionals! Goemon, seriously, just one little 'shink' sound with the sword? For the algorithm?
Goemon's hand twitches on the hilt of his blade. The car's dashboard suddenly develops a clean, diagonal slit. Dee screams as her glovebox falls open, spilling out a collection of unpaid parking tickets.
CUT TO: EXT. EXPRESSWAY SHOULDER — CONTINUOUS
The two cars are still stuck. A blur of movement suddenly erupts in the breakdown lane.
RICKETY CRICKET is sprinting down the shoulder, his rags flapping behind him like the wings of a moth-eaten bat. He is clutching a half-eaten lemon and a bag of "McPoyle-brand" curds.
CRICKET (screaming, eyes bugging out)
I DON'T HAVE THE MONEY! I DON'T HAVE THE EVIDENCE! IT WAS A MISUNDERSTANDING!
Ten feet behind him, INSPECTOR ZENIGATA is in a full, Olympic-level sprint. His trench coat is billowing, his handcuffs are out, and his face is a mask of righteous, unhinged fury.
ZENIGATA
LUPIN! I KNOW YOU'RE IN ONE OF THESE CARS! AND I'LL RUN OVER EVERY HOMELESS MAN IN PHILADELPHIA TO FIND YOU! STAND STILL, YOU SCRAWNY MISCREANT!
CRICKET (veering into the grass)
I'M NOT LUPIN! I'M JUST A GUY WHO LIKES TRASH!
CUT TO: INT. DENNIS'S LAND ROVER — CONTINUOUS
Dennis, Lupin, Jigen, and Mac watch through the window as Zenigata and Cricket vanish into the heat haze down the road.
LUPIN (pausing, then slowly turning to Dennis)
Is... is that your 'System' at work? Because if so, it's remarkably effective.
DENNIS (staring blankly at the road)
That... was not part of the blueprint. Mac, did you schedule a distraction?
MAC (adjusting his horse mask, which he pulled out of his bag)
I didn't schedule it, but I'm definitely taking credit for it. It was a tactical diversion. Very high-level.
JIGEN (pulling his hat lower)
Shoot me. Please. Just shoot me now.
CUT TO BLACK.