INT. THUNDERBIRD – CONTINUOUS
Red vinyl interior. Chrome catching streetlight in slow pulses.

OCTAVIO drives with one hand on the wheel. Relaxed. Exact.

T rides shotgun, elbow on the door, cowboy hat low. He knows this car. Built it. Gave it.

In the back seat, cramped but steady:
MAGIC MAN, eyes on the mirrors, clocking everything.
LOCKJAW, knees up, shoulders tight – too big for the back, but grinning anyway.

The engine OPENS UP – not screaming, just pulling.

LOCKJAW
(over the engine, pleased)
Listen to that.

T smiles without looking.

T
Mèsi.

Octavio takes a sweeping turn — the car leans, planted.

OCTAVIO
Best gift I ever got.

A beat. That means something.

They roll onto a longer stretch. Octavio presses the pedal – the Thunderbird surges, smooth and heavy.

MAGIC MAN
That’s some torque.

T exhales smoke.

T
Eaton springs. Koni shocks.

Suddenly—

OCTAVIO
¡Topes!

He lifts just enough –

THUD. THUD.

The suspension groans. The men bounce.

LOCKJAW
(laughing)
You warned us after!

OCTAVIO
(smiling)
You’re alive.
That counts.

He rolls back into the gas. The V8 answers like a promise.

T looks over, pride quiet but real.

T
You treat her right.

OCTAVIO
I don’t drive her angry.

That line sits.

MAGIC MAN
Gideon’s Horn are loud.
Scripture. Guns. What’s the word… predicaciones.
(heavy gringo accent)

Octavio shakes his head, disappointed more than concerned.

OCTAVIO
Faith is private.
Predicaciones are what men use when they want permission.

T nods.

T
They’re pushing symbols harder than routes.

OCTAVIO
Los símbolos se pudren.

Another straightaway. Octavio lets the Thunderbird stretch — the city slides by, neon smearing on chrome.

LOCKJAW
¿Te quedas neutral?

Octavio doesn’t answer right away. The engine hums steady.

OCTAVIO
Neutralidad no implica ceguera.
No que deje de vigilar.

A beat.

OCTAVIO
Anyone brings their war into my streets- I don’t pick sides.

T
You set limits.

Octavio smiles – small, real.

OCTAVIO
Exactly.

Another set of TOPES appears late.

OCTAVIO
¡Topes!

THUD. THUD.

They bounce again. Lockjaw groans, then laughs.

LOCKJAW
One day those things’ll kill somebody.

OCTAVIO
They already have.

The Thunderbird rolls on, engine low, controlled, alive.

For a moment — no war.

Just steel, memory, and men who know how fast things break.

The red Bird disappears into the Juárez night.

CUT TO BLACK.