FEVER-DREAM IN MEDELLIN

written by Claude 3 Opus and Danyil Shymchenko

story and characters by Danyil Shymchenko

FADE IN:

INT. GRAZ OFFICE - FLUORESCENT-LIT BULLPEN - MORNING

A vast sea of CUBICLES drenched in sickly GREEN-TINTED LIGHT.

At one pod, TITO (25, played by Daniel Brühl) stares
vacantly, needing three blinks to focus.

His hand FUMBLES for a styrofoam cup of COFFEE. It SLOSHES

over the rim, SPLASHING across his poorly-knotted TIE.

TITO
(muttering, monotone)
...scheiss...

He barely reacts, mechanical fingers SMEARING the stain

deeper into his wrinkled shirt as a DEMONIC OFFICE DRONE
passes.

On dual monitors, LINES OF CODE ROTATE CEASELESSLY --

His LAPTOP STICKERS (cringey crypto iconography, vaporwave

color schemes) SCREAM the dreams of an aimless MILLENNIAL
WHOM LATE-STAGE CAPITALISM FAILED.

INSTAGRAM PINGS.

IG STORY - showing a perfect view... half-naked bodies by a

Venezuelan pool... a cocky guy overlooking "real living"
pics...

Tito freezes on the money shot -- a hyped frat bro raging at

a finca party on some tropical overlook, straddling a pink
neon couch. The background dancers could've decked Tito's
cubicle neighbor, Margit (50s, smoker's cough).

MARGIT (OS)
Brauchst du noch einen Kaffee,
Liebster?...

Tito JOLTS, SPLASHING REMAINS OF A COLD CHEMEX across his

NUKED TIE, again -- the permanent SPREADNECK of a CRICK-
WORKER.

His SLOUCH SCREAMS A GENERATIONAL APATHY as he eyeballs the

GRAVEYARD of WHITED-OUT PAPER TRAYS on a PRINTER-SCANNER-FAX
that's been watching him combust from boyhood.

TITO'S REFLECTION in that mug -- the faint AMNIOTIC

IMPRESSION of his FORMER SELF -- frowns back at this tired
shell.
 2.

TITO CAN'T BREATHE. He runs to a creaky fire escape,

desperate for ANY OUTDOOR IMMEDIATELY...

EXT. GRAZ FIRE ESCAPE - CONTINUOUS

Even outside feels suffocating. February SLUDGE being PUSHED

around by PLOWS. A FLUORESCENT STUTTER of HARD ANGULAR OFFICE
PARKS next to COLD-FRAME TOWNHOUSES.

Everything IS MUTED. Everything IS SEASON-INAPPROPRIATE.

Everything IS DEADLY-GRAY.

TITO GASPS FROZEN AIR into his lungs...... SOOTHING the

INFLAMED EXISTENTIAL HELL of the CUBICLE PETRI DISH!

SECONDS DILATE INTO ETERNITY... Tito's STARE LASER-LOCKED on

those FINCA PICS... that guy's BOGARTIAN COMFORT... that
PURPOSE and WARMTH and FREEDOM...

TITO
...Genug.

SMASH CUT TO:

HIGH NOON OVER MOUNTAIN CLOUD COVER! SCREAMING METAL

EXPLODING TOWARD HEAVEN!!!

EXT. AIRPLANE - RIPPING THROUGH THE SKY - DAY

TITO GULPS MASSIVE BREATHS, seatback rigid with total

clarity! FLIGHT ATTENDANTS SMIRK at just another pale PAUNCHY
EXPAT going HOST versus PARASITE.

PAN FROM TITO'S STARE BURROWING OUT THE OVAL WINDOW...

ANTIOQUIAN LANDSCAPE RIPPING OPEN BENEATH THEM!

Crisp mountaintops and lush valleys.

A6 (PRELAP)
Bienvenidos a Medellín, la ciudad
de la eterna primavera! El clima
perfecto y el cielo perfecto para
todas sus aventuras. Bajando para
aterrizar momentos...

The PLANE SCREAMS LOW OVER ENDLESS HIGH-RISES! CONDOS

CRAWLING WITH WET POOL DECKS AND LOUNGE TERRAZAS PACKED FULL
OF WELL-MUSCLED DEGENERATES AND SHAMELESS THIRST TRAPS!
 3.

Tito's OVERHEAD GLIMPSE of JOSE MARIA CORDOVA AIRPORT is a

RAW PLANETARY ABSTRACTION!

THIS IS NO ANDES OVERLOOK ON AN INSTAGRAM STORY...

THIS IS MEDELLÍN IN FULL MONTY IMMERSIVE SENSORIAL

SPLENDOR!!!

SMASH CUT TO
TITLES:

"CHAPTER 1 - WELCOME TO THE JUNGLE"

EXT. JOSE MARIA CORDOVA INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT - DAY

Tito emerges, blinking in the blinding sun. The reggaeton

thrumming from every direction fades as he stops, transfixed
by the warmth enveloping his winter-chapped skin.

He tilts his face skyward, eyes fluttering shut, basking in

the sheer ecstasy of escaping that gray Austrian hell--

HONK! Tito snaps out of his reverie as a beaten-up yellow

taxi screeches to a halt.

INT. TAXI - MOMENTS LATER

The friendly CABBIE (50s, salt-and-pepper mustache) grins at

Tito in the rearview.

CABBIE
Bienvenido a Medellín, hermano!
De dónde eres?

TITO
Austria.

CABBIE
(in broken English)
Ah, Austria! Land of Hitler
and... como se dice... Arnold
Shwarznegga, no?

Tito forces a tight smile, letting the awkward moment pass as

they merge onto the highway.
 4.

EXT. EL POBLADO - DAY

Tito presses his forehead against the window, drinking in the

candy-colored chaos: Jaw-dropping WOMEN in barely-there
sundresses... LAMBORGHINIS prowling like sleek jungle cats...
STREET VENDORS hawking arepas and aguas frescas...

TITO (V.O.)
Looks like I've died and gone to
passport-bro heaven...

The cab weaves through lush palms and glittering high-rises.

Tito's grin falters as they pass a cluster of POLICE in
tactical gear, grimly surveying the street.

CABBIE (O.S.)
Be careful, amigo. Stay in El
Poblado and you be safe, but get
with a wrong people...

The cabbie draws a finger across his throat, chuckling

darkly.

TITO
(suddenly queasy)
...what people would that be?

The cabbie just winks.

EXT. TITO'S CO-LIVING SPACE - DAY

Tito hurries out of the cab, relief washing over him as he

takes in the sleek, modern building.

INT. TITO'S ROOM - MOMENTS LATER

Tito pushes open the door, sunlight spilling across

minimalist decor and gleaming hardwood.

He drifts to the balcony in a daze, utterly transfixed by the

sprawling vista below: Medellín pulses with frenetic energy -
equal parts seductive and foreboding - stretching out to
misty emerald mountains beyond.

CLOSE ON TITO, eyes wide with wonder... and a glimmer of

trepidation.
 5.

INT. TITO'S ROOM - EVENING

Tito lies on his bed, staring at the ceiling fan wobbling

above. A KNOCK at the door startles him. He opens it to
find--

MARCOS, 30s, chiseled jawline, blinding white smile. He's

wearing a tank top that says "PLATA O PLOMO" and holding a
bottle of aguardiente.

MARCOS
Tito, right? I'm Marcos, your
next-door neighbor slash
spiritual guide to the promised
land of pussy and pesos!

He barges in, taking in Tito's spartan accommodations.

MARCOS (CONT'D)
Bro, this simply won't do. You're
in Medellín now, the ultimate
proof God exists and he wants us
to party.

Tito watches, dumbfounded, as Marcos pours aguardiente into

the cap and thrusts it toward him.

MARCOS
(Terminator
impression)
"Come with me if you want to
live"

TITO
Ah yeah, Arnold...

MARCOS
You're Austrian right?

TITO
Yeah.

MARCOS
I've been to the most insane
swinger party in Vienna... or was
it in Prague? Same shit...
Anyways, prost!

Tito amused despite himself. He downs the aguardiente,

grimacing at the anise burn.
 6.

MARCOS
¡Así me gusta, parcero! Ready for
a crash course in the Medellín
party scene?

TITO
(coughing)
I really shouldn't--

MARCOS
Shhh. Don't fight it. (slinging
an arm over Tito's shoulder)

MARCOS (CONT'D)
Think of me as the Virgil to your
Dante. Except instead of the
underworld it's the underground,
and instead of divine revelation
it's bumping reggaeton and big
booty bitches.

Marcos steers a reluctant Tito out the door, grabbing another

bottle of aguardiente on the way out.

EXT. PARQUE LLERAS - NIGHT

Tito and Marcos navigate a labyrinth of sweaty bodies and

thumping bass. Neon signs flash: "CHICAS! CHICAS! CHICAS!"

TITO (V.O.)
It's like Oktoberfest on crack...
Only instead of shitfaced
Italians there are k-holed
Americans.

INT. UPSCALE CLUB - NIGHT

Marcos whips out a wad of pesos, slipping the BOUNCER a few

bills. They glide past the velvet rope and into a strobe-lit
wonderland of debauchery:

2C-ed DANCERS hump the floor, teeth glinting with gold grills

A bachelorette party does body shots off a SHIRTLESS CABANA

BOY

TWO HEAVILY ARMED GUARDS flank a curtained-off VIP area in

the back
 7.

TITO (V.O.)
Budapest seems like a baby's crib
comparing to this...

Marcos hands Tito a drink, grinning like a devil on his

shoulder.

MARCOS
Welcome to La Isla, place where
only one word is illegal, and
it's a 'no'. Stick with me though
since you're new here.

SMASH CUT TO:

INT. CLUB BATHROOM - LATER

A WASTED GRINGO pisses in the corner, mumbling incoherently.

Tito splashes water on his face, studying his sweaty
reflection.

TITO (V.O.)
Woah... And my mom thinks I came
here for salsa classes...

His musings are interrupted by LOUD SNORTING from the next

stall. Tito peers through the crack to see--

A GAGGLE OF UNDERAGE-LOOKING MODELS hoovering cocaine like

it's oxygen. One of them spots Tito, flashing a jaded smile.

UNDERAGE MODEL
Take a picture, gringo. It'll
last longer.

Tito backs away, right into--

INT. VIP SECTION - CONTINUOUS

--where he finds Marcos chatting up a gaggle of suspiciously

young-looking CHICAS.

MARCOS
Tito! There you are. I was just
telling these girls about our new
business venture...
 8.

Tito's head swims, the room spinning in a kaleidoscope of

neon and cocaine dust. He sees--

FLASHES OF:

BRIEFCASES exchanging hands in dark corners.

PILLS dissolving in cocktail glasses.

the JAGUAR'S HEAD on the wall with it's dead eyes boring into
Tito's soul.

TITO (V.O.)
What the fuck have I gotten
myself into...?

Marcos throws an arm around Tito, grinning wolfishly.

MARCOS
Welcome to the jungle, bruvs.
It's all uphill from here.

On Tito's pale, shell-shocked face, we...

SMASH CUT TO BLACK.

FADE IN.

INT. TITO'S ROOM - MORNING

Tito wakes up, head pounding like a Colombian construction

crew. He fumbles for his phone, squinting at the screen: TEXT
FROM MARCOS: "Rise and shine, butterfly! Mimosa brunch at
Cafecito Pergamino. 20 mins. Don't be late, got someone I
want you to meet ;)"

Tito groans, dragging himself out of bed. He sniffs his

armpit, recoils.

TITO (V.O.)
Christ on a cracker... what
crawled up my nose and died?

He staggers to the bathroom, pops a handful of pain killers,

stares at his wrecked reflection.
 9.

TITO
(to mirror)
Get it together, mate. Colombia
is the land of opportunity, not
the shit-show of poor life
choices.

EXT. CAFECITO PERGAMINO - LATER

A bougie brunch spot bursting with boho-chic COLOMBIANS and

sunburnt EXPATS. Tito spots Marcos waving him over to a table
where a wiry, ginger-headed gringo (TONY, 48, perpetual
smirk) nurses a michelada.

MARCOS
Tito, my man! I want you to meet
Tony - the Cryptkeeper of the
Medellín start-up scene.

TONY
(cocking a ginger
eyebrow)
I prefer "Daddy Warbucks on
ayahuasca," but sure. (sizing up
Tito) So, you're the Schnitzel
King who's gonna put Austria on
the tech bro map, huh?

Tito sits, confused, forcing a smile as a WAITER drops off a

fishbowl-sized mimosa.

TITO (V.O.)
What? Did I spit out too many
words last night?

Tito takes a tiny sip of mimosa.

TITO
And you're the, uh...
"Cryptkeeper"?

TONY leans in, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

TONY
Let's just say I specialize in
connecting visionaries like
yourself with the kind of capital
that doesn't exactly play by
Kickstarter's rules, if you catch
my drift.
 10.

TITO
(nervously sipping
mimosa)
Not sure I do, Herr Warbucks.

Tony chuckles, slapping the table like Tito just nailed a

tight five at the Chuckle Hut.

TONY
Oh, man. I keep forgetting you
Euros are too gay for good ol'
fashioned American euphemising.
(off Tito's blank look). I move
money for people who need their
money moved, capiche? And right
now, those people are very
interested in getting a piece of
whatever digital strudel you're
baking.

MARCOS
(topping off Tito's
mimosa)
Speaking of strudel, Tony's
invited us to the soft open of
his new "pop-up restaurant"
tonight. Wink wink, nudge nudge.

TITO (V.O.)
Bro, I'm being nudged and winked
into an early grave...

Tony claps Tito on the shoulder, green eyes glinting like a

leprechaun with a coke habit.

TONY
Just a casual little get-together
for the gente bien of the
Antioquia elite. Ted Talk meets
TED-X-rated, if you will.

INT. TONY'S "POP-UP RESTAURANT" - NIGHT

Less "soft open," more "hard launch of the damned." Tito and
Marcos wade through a sea of SILK-SHIRTED SICARIOS and
NIPPED-AND-TUCKED ARM CANDY.

SALSA MUSIC blares as WAITERS in Dia de los Muertos facepaint

weave through the crowd, offering bump-garnished canapés on
neon Frisbees.
 11.

TITO (V.O.)
it's like Cirque du Soleil for
sociopaths.

Tony appears, whisky neat in hand, shit-eating grin cranked

to "Joker with a trust fund."

TONY
Welcome to the jungle, baby! Let
me introduce you to my
consigliere. We call him "El
Dentista".

He steers Tito toward a reptilian man (EL DENTISTA, 60s) in a

cocaine-white guayabera, a bejeweled DENTAL GRILL glinting in
the strobes.

El Dentista is flanked by TWO COLOMBIAN STUNNERS in matching

sequined nurse uniforms, complete with red crosses stitched
over their ample cleavage. He dismisses them with a flick of
his wrist, sending them tottering off on platform heels.

TONY
"Denti" here is the Nostradamus
of the dark web. He can be your
"media buyer" so to speak.

El Dentista steps forward, his grill flashing like a disco

ball in a meat locker. He takes Tito's hand in a vise-like
grip, SQUEEZING until Tito winces.

EL DENTISTA
A pleasure, Señor Tito.

He leans in close, his breath a fetid mix of rum and decay.

EL DENTISTA
(whispers)
Tony is my darling, don't you
ever break his heart.

El Dentista runs his GOLD-PLATED FINGERNAIL along Tito's

neck, applying just enough pressure to make his point.

EL DENTISTA (CONT'D)
And don't be so shy, flex your
teeth.

El Dentista releases Tito with a wink, melting back into the

bacchanal like a shark disappearing beneath the waves.
 12.

Tony taps Tito on the shoulder.

TONY
Ok buddy, I will go get some
boost.

INT. TONY'S "POP-UP RESTAURANT" - LATER

Tito staggers through the heretic bacchanal, sweat pooling in

the small of his back. He spots Marcos in a corner booth,
hoovering unidentified powder off a TEENAGE GIRL's taut
belly.

TITO (V.O.)
Impressive... Is this what late-
stage capitalism looks like south
of the equator?

Tito beelines for the bathrooms, desperate for an escape

hatch. He shoulders his way past glassy-eyed REVELERS and
into--

INT. BATHROOM - CONTINUOUS

--a GILDED SANCTUM OF VICE. COKED-OUT YUPPIES tongue-wrestle

against gold-plated urinals. An IGUANA on a diamond leash
observes from the top a mountain of pink-powdered plastic
cards.

Tito white-knuckles the edge of a marble sink, sucking air

through his teeth.

TITO (V.O.)
Maybe I should leave...

TONY (O.S.)
Outside is dark and boring
though.

Tito whirls to find Tony leaning in the doorway, an American

Mephistopheles in Armani.

TONY
See, in the world of high-stakes
hobnobbing, there's only one
dance that matters: the spastic
wiggle of the soul-sold startup
founder.
 13.

TITO
What the hell?

He crosses to Tito, offering a silver platter piled high with

cocaine and thumb drives.

TONY
So, whaddya say, Wolfy? Ready to
two-step with the devil and turn
that little app of yours into the
Next Big Ding?

Tito shakes his head like a man emerging from a lucid

nightmare.

TITO
I'm sorry, Tony, but I think I'll
sit this one out. Nothing
personal, I just prefer to keep
my code - and my nostrils -
uncompromised.

Tony's grin flattens into a reptilian rictus. The bathroom

light dims and starts flickering.

TONY
I don't think you understand,
strudel boy. When you do the
mimosa mambo with Tony Patronni,
you don't get to bow out after
the first verse.

His hand closes around Tito's throat, squeezing with the

dispassionate strength of a trash compactor.

TONY (CONT'D)
I've got investors to answer to.
Investors with very deep pockets
and even deeper mass graves.
Capiche?

TITO
(gasping for air)
C-c-capiche...

Tony releases him with a pat on the cheek, all smiles again.
 14.

TONY
Glad we understand each other.
Now let's get you another mimosa
and take this tango to the tech
sheets, yeah?

CUT TO:

INT. TONY'S OFFICE - MOMENTS LATER

Tito sits across a glass slab desk from Tony, numb fingers
scrawling his signature on a blizzard of contracts.

Tito's dazed eyes fall upon a FAMILY PHOTO of a younger,

kinder-looking Tony hugging a BOY (6) and GIRL (4) in front
of Cinderella's Castle.

TITO (V.O.)
God... the Cryptkeeper has a
brood. And here I thought gingers
couldn't breed after the age of
40...

Tony catches him looking, hastily flips the photo down.

TONY
Cute, aren't they? Amazing what a
few trips to Bogotá can buy a man
of my proclivities these days.

Tito swallows hard, stomach churning with equal parts

revulsion and rum.

TONY
But enough about me. Let's talk
about you, Tito. And more
specifically, let's talk about
this little emoji-encrusted
albatross you've hung around both
our necks.

He jabs a nicotine-stained finger at the stack of contracts.

SMASH CUT TO:

CLOSE ON TITO'S FACE, eyes rolling back in his skull as we

WHOOSH INTO--

A NIGHTMARISH CARTOON HELLSCAPE

 15.

--where ANTHROPOMORPHIC EMOJIS with Tony's leering face swarm

across a barren digital landscape!

A LAUGHING SKULL cracks open, belching out a geyser of ONES

AND ZEROES that morph into a TOWERING DEMON with El
Dentista's diamond grin!

Gnarled CONTRACT TREES sprout bulbous OYSTER MUSHROOMS shaped

like Marcos' head, CACKLING as they disgorge SPORE CLOUDS OF
COCAINE--!

SMASH BACK TO:

INT. TONY'S OFFICE - SAME

Tito JOLTS upright with a sharp intake of breath, wild eyes

scanning the room. Tony hasn't budged an inch.

TONY
Welcome back, Sleeping Beauty. I
was just saying how I'm really
looking forward to watching you
crush it at the meeting tomorrow.

TITO
What do you...

Tony's grin widens, threatening to split his head in half

like an overripe Blood orange.

TONY
The Underground Medellín Tech
Expo. You're gonna be pitching
your little app to every heavy
hitter this side of the Darien
Gap. And let's just say it's in
both our best interests that you
absolutely murder it out there.

Off Tito's ashen face, we...

SMASH TO:

EXT. SOMEWHERE IN EL POBLADO - DAY

EXTREME CLOSE-UP: A cigarette butt, smoldering on cracked

pavement. A boot heel ENTERS FRAME, grinds it out with a
twist.
 16.

PAN UP to reveal TITO, his face a mask of nervous tension. He

glances at his phone, checks the time. 11:11. A palindrome.
It should mean something, but he's too wired to care.

A white unmarked van pulls up, its landing gear SQUEALING

like an asthmatic pterodactyl. The door slides open with a
tinny rattle, revealing a scene straight out of a Christopher
Nolan gangster flick:

TONY, in a salmon polo shirt that's six months out of season,

wedged between four COLOMBIAN MEN, all oversized shoulders
and undersized smiles. Rolex's on wrists, gelled hair,
designer shades. Trying too hard and not hard enough.

TONY
(forced joviality)
Tito, my man. Hope you brought
your A-game.

Tito forces a grin, climbs in. Too oversized for a tight

van's interior seat (cracked beige pleather) lets out a wet,
prolonged FART as he settles in. A beat of awkward silence.
Somewhere distant, an aguacate guy yells "MANGOOO, PAPAYAAA".

INT. MOVING VAN - CONTINUOUS

The engine GRUMBLES to life. The Colombian men banter in

rapid-fire Spanish, their laughter sharp and mirthless. Tito
catches a word here and there: "putaria", "plata", "gringo".
He pretends not to hear.

One of the men, SGT. PEPPER (late 40s, all pepper-gray hair
and pepper-black eyes), leans forward. His guayabera shirt is
so white it hurts to look at. A thick gold ring on his pinky,
engraved with a Santa Muerte skull.

SGT. PEPPER
(to Tito)
So. This app. "SecureChat", sí?
What makes it so... secure?

TITO
(fumbling with his
laptop)
It's... uh, it's the encryption.
State-of-the-art. Untraceable.
Here, let me show you...

He pulls up the app, then the location tracker.

 17.

TITO (CONT'D)
Now, when I activate the app, the
location pin should disappear.

He hits a key. Nothing happens. He tries again. And again.

Sgt. Pepper leans in, brow furrowed.

SGT. PEPPER
Is something supposed to happen?

TITO
(sotto voce)
I was sure I fixed it...

TITO (V.O.)
Can't be. I remember fixing it.
Was it a sleep-deprived
hallucination...?

The men exchange glances. Sgt. Pepper's patience is visibly

thinning.

SGT. PEPPER
Okay, gentlemen. I don't think we
have time to waste on a half-
assed product.

TONY
(jumping in)
My apologies for the
inconvenience. It will be ready
in one week, guaranteed.

SGT. PEPPER
(coldly)
See you in one week then. Don't
call us if it's not ready.

The van jerks to a stop. The door slides open. Tony and Tito
are unceremoniously bundled out.

EXT. CITY STREET - CONTINUOUS

Tito blinks in the harsh sunlight. The van peels away,

leaving them in a cloud of exhaust and existential dread.

Tony rounds on Tito, his grin replaced by a snarl.

TONY
Shame, Tito. Let's go to my
place, we need to talk.
 18.

Out of the blue behind Tony there is a HONK –-

UNEXPECTED CABBIE
...TAXI? NEED A TAXI?!

Tony nearly jumps out of his skin. He whirls around, ready to

unleash hell, but it's just a GRINNING CABBIE leaning out of
his yellow cab.

SMASH CUT TO:

TITLE CARD: "CHAPTER 2: GET OUT AND FIND OUT"

INT. TONY'S PENTHOUSE - DAY

Tito stands in the middle of a sleek, modern living room that

exudes understated wealth. Minimalist furniture, abstract art
on the walls, a few tasteful photographs of Tony rubbing
elbows with celebrities at various charity galas.

TITO (V.O.)
Huhh, he met Johnny Depp, of
course...

Tony storms in, his face a thundercloud. He runs for the bar,
pours himself a glass of something amber and expensive-
looking.

TONY
(deceptively calm)
Tito, Tito, Tito. You really shit
the bed back there, my friend.

Tito eyeing the EXIT sign like a lifeline.

TITO
(confused)
Tony... A few days ago, nobody
knew about my app... I never told
anyone...

TONY
(exploding)
CUT OFF THAT GAY SHIT!

He HURLS his glass against the wall. It SHATTERS, spraying

booze and shards everywhere.

TONY (CONT'D)
Fuck... Here 100 bucks go out the
window.
 19.

Tony adjusts a ring with words 'blow me' engraved on it on

his finger.

TONY
Do you have any idea how much I'm
riding on this app? How many
favors I had to call in just to
get you that meeting?

He advances on Tito, jabbing a finger into his chest.

TONY (CONT'D)
And what do you do? You prance in
there with your little Fisher-
Price "My First Encrypted App"
and make me look like a fucking
ASSCLOWN in front of the most
dangerous men in Medellín!

TITO (V.O.)
Hopefully I'm in a bad dream and
I can't wake up...

TONY
(suddenly calm again)
But hey, water under the bridge,
right? We're all friends here.

He slings an arm around Tito's shoulders, steering him

towards a MASSIVE AQUARIUM filled with... are those PIRANHAS?

TONY (CONT'D)
I've been thinking, Tito.
SecureChat is cute and all, but
what if we made it a little
more... efficient?

TITO
(nervously)
Efficient?

TONY
Yeah, you know. Instead of just
sending messages, what if it
could send... other things?

He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a BAGGIE OF WHITE

POWDER.

TONY (CONT'D)
Things like this.
 20.

Tito's eyes go wide.

TITO
No way. I'm not turning my app
into some sort of... Uber Eats
for drugs!

Tony LAUGHS, but there's no humor in it.

TONY
"Uber Eats for drugs." I like
that.

Tito backs away, shaking his head.

TITO
Tony I won't do that.

Tony's grin fades.

TONY
Tito, buddy. I like you. You
remind me of a younger, scrawnier
version of myself.

He sighs, runs a hand over his face.

TONY (CONT'D)
But the thing is, the people I'm
working with? The ones you just
embarrassed me in front of?
They're not as... cool-headed as
I am.

He looks Tito dead in the eye, and for a moment, there's a

flicker of genuine concern.

TONY (CONT'D)
You have one week, Tito. Make it
happen.

Tito stares at him, his mouth dry.

TITO
But it's tech... I can't develop
it that fast...

TONY
No you can't, not alone.

He walks over to a sleek black desk, picks up a dossier. He

tosses it to Tito.
 21.

TONY (CONT'D)
Meet your new partner in crime.

Tito opens the dossier. Inside is a photo of a man with a

shaved head and 'no fucks given' look. The name "SERGII
KOVAL" is printed beneath.

TONY (CONT'D)
Sergii is a Ukrainian hacker.

The words "UKRAINIAN HACKER" echo through the room,

reverberating off the sleek, minimalist walls.

SMASH CUT TO:

A DARK SCREEN. A hard, pulsing SYNTH CHORD blasts through the

silence.

Bold text burns onto the screen: "SERGII KOVAL"

NARRATOR (V.O.)
Sergii Koval. Self-taught
prodigy. A Hidden Menace.

QUICK CUTS:

Sergii coding, screens flickering.

NARRATOR (V.O.) (CONT'D)

Drones. Websites. Kremlin
security. Nothing is safe.

Russian drones malfunctioning, crashing.

News headline: "MYSTERIOUS HACKER TAKES OUT RUSSIAN DRONE

FLEET".

NARRATOR (V.O.) (CONT'D)

Every hack, a blow against the
regime.

Moscow skyscraper, "SLAVA UKRAINI" projected.

Kremlin government computers, "Russkiy korabl, idi nahuy!"

displayed on the screen.

NARRATOR (V.O.) (CONT'D)

A hidden hero. A digital freedom
fighter.

ZOOM OUT OF THE MAD VAIN-POPPING PUTIN's FACE AS HE SCREAMS.

 22.

PUTIN
KOVAAAAAAL!!!

Putin slams fists on the table.

PUTIN (CONT'D)
GET HIM TO MEEEEE!!!

SMASH CUT BACK

TO:

INT. TONY'S PENTHOUSE - SAME

Tony, smirking.

TONY (CONT'D)
Kremlin is hunting him down.

Tito looks up, confused.

TITO
Why is he working for the cartel?

TONY
(shrugging)
Protection.

He leans in, his voice lowering.

TONY (CONT'D)
Sergii is a secret asset.

Tito swallows hard, the implications sinking in.

Tony claps him on the shoulder, his grin widening.

TONY (CONT'D)
Cheer up, Tito! I want you and
Sergii to be each other brothers
now. You gotta connect well and
hustle like a pair of monks
during Kingdom Come.

He leans in close, his eyes glinting.

 23.

TONY (CONT'D)
Don't fuck it up buddy! Sergii
should be at your place already,
your fridge is full of Austrian
traditional Red Bull and I even
hired a maid to cook and clean up
shit for you two.

INT. TITO'S APARTMENT - EVENING

A key turns in the lock. The door swings open, revealing

SERGII KOVAL, duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

He steps inside, scanning the room. Everything is messy,

empty beer cans, laundry piles, half-eaten pizza on the
coffee table, Rick and Morty on repeat hums from the TV.

Sergii shrugs, drops his bag on the couch. Kicks off his
shoes, leaving them where they fall.

INT. TITO'S BATHROOM - CONTINUOUS

The shower runs, steam fogging the mirror. From behind the
curtain, the muffled but unmistakable sound of -
blasting from a phone speaker.

Sergii's hand reaches out, grabs a towel from the rack.

INT. TITO'S LIVING ROOM - LATER

Sergii emerges from the bathroom, purple bathrobe on, towel

around his neck. Water drips from his hair.

TATIANA, the maid, is tidying up. She looks up, startled.

TATIANA
(in Spanish)
Oh! You must be Sergii. I'm
Tatiana.

Sergii nods, gives a brief wave.

SERGII
(in accented Spanish)
Buenas.

He goes for the fridge, rummages inside. Emerges with a Red

Bull, cracks it open.
 24.

Tatiana watches, amused and a little perplexed.

INT. TITO'S APARTMENT - NIGHT

Sergii sits at Tito's desk. Fingers flying over the keyboard.

Code reflects in his glasses.

The door opens. Tito stumbles in, eyes like two piss-holes in
a snowbank.

There, hunched over a laptop like a gargoyle on Adderall, is

Sergii Koval. The blue-white glow of the screen turns his
face into a death mask.

SERGII
(not looking up)
You must be Tito. I'm Sergii.
Let's get to work.

TITO
Uh, yeah. Nice to meet you, I
guess.

Sergii grunts, his fingers flying over the keyboard like a

concert pianist on crack. Lines of code scroll across the
screen, a digital rain sort off.

TITO (V.O.)
Christ, this guy codes like he's
got a gun to his head...

Tito peers over Sergii's shoulder, squinting at the dizzying

array of algorithms and cryptographic protocols.

TITO
Nice code.

Sergii shrugs, not breaking his stride.

SERGII
Yes.

Tito looks around his apartment, everything is tidy, instead

of dirty laundry piles his clothes are now clean and folded,
scented candle fills the room with forest-like aroma.

TITO
(to himself)
Why am I coding an app for a
Colombian cartel with a Ukrainian
war hero again?
 25.

Sergii looks up, his blue eyes drilling into Tito's soul like
it's a Sunday morning 'back from church' walk.

SERGII
Not a hero. My work is
classified. You shouldn't talk
about me.

He takes a sip of black tea from "Clean Code, Dirty Thoughts"

coffee mug.

SERGII (CONT'D)
You have shitty WiFi here.

TITO
Why? It's 100mbps.

SERGII
Yes, shitty.

CUT TO:

TITO AND SERGII CODING MONTAGE

Tito pacing the room, muttering to himself in Spanglish. He

freezes at a knock on the door, heart pounding against his
ribs like a jackhammer... but it's just the maid, delivering
a care package of Red Bulls, toilet paper and Bandeja Paisa.

Tito rubbing his eyes, the lines of code blurring. For a

sickening moment, the variables and functions twist into the
words "weiner-boy", "muerte", "cut off ya ballz", "oidaaa..."

Sergii's wearing blue-light glasses pounding the keyboard

like a machine gun. He pauses for a second to feed himself a
pickle from the jar with a pair of chopsticks (to keep his
fingers clean).

The SpangeBob themed (why?) alarm clock on the desk ticking

relentlessly, each second bringing them closer to the
deadline...

BACK TO SCENE

INT. TITO'S APARTMENT - NIGHT

The room is a pressure cooker.

Tito stops typing and frowns in disgust.

 26.

TITO (V.O.)
Bahh... I put many nasty things
in my nose lately but that
fart...

He gets up, paces the room like a caged tiger.

Sergii watches him, brows furrowed, fingers never leaving the

keyboard.

SERGII
Got a needle up your butt or
what?

Tito blinks, shakes his head.

TITO
I need some air. And sparkling
water. And cigarettes. And maybe
a lobotomy, if they're on sale.

Sergii grunts, unimpressed.

SERGII
Sit down and work, Tatiana (maid)
will bring everything.

Tito grabs his black denim jacket.

TITO (V.O.)
I need some unstained air in my
lungs. Will be back in a moment.

Sergii shakes his head, turns back to the screen.

SERGII
Fine. Go. And buy air-freshener,
we ran out.

TITO
Yeah... I will have to ask
Tatiana to slow down with those
beans.

Tito salutes him mockingly, stumbles out the door and into
the:

EXT. LA PROVENZA - NIGHT

La Provenza is a neon fever dream, pulsing with prepagos and

horny gringos to match them.
 27.

Tito passes a store window, catches a glimpse of his

reflection. A ghost stares back at him, pale and hollow-eyed.

TITO'S GHOST
(in a high pitched voice)
Hallooo.

Tito shrugs his eyes, ghost disappears.

He ducks into a tienda, emerges moments later with a pack of

smokes and a bottle of sparkling water. He cracks the seal,
takes a long swig.

VOICE (O.S.)
Tito?

Tito turns. A group of IMPOSSIBLY COOL LOCALS wearing either

slick kimonos or unusually patterned shirts lounge against a
poster-covered wall.

TITO
(warily)
Hmm?

The RINGLEADER, a rakishly handsome man with cheekbones that

could cut glass, taking off his pink shades and steps
forward.

RINGLEADER
We met at La Isla. You probably
don't remember me with all those
substances that knocked you out.
You're crazy motherfucker
(laughs).

He extends a hand.

RINGLEADER (CONT'D)
I'm Javier. Marcos's friend. He's
at La Isla now by the way. A
little birdie told me it's going
to be a night to remember.

Tito stares at the outstretched hand, his mind reeling.

TITO (V.O.)
La Isla. The Island. A place
where reality goes to die. Do I
dare? Do I plunge headfirst into
the maelstrom, let the current
take me where it will?
 28.

He reaches out, clasps Javier's hand. It feels like making a

deal with the devil. Or maybe just his overcaffeinated
subconscious.

TITO
Fuck it.

CUT TO:

EXT. LA ISLA - NIGHT

A pulsing neon behemoth squatting on the Medellín skyline.

Bass throbs like a subcutaneous tumor. The queue outside
writhes like a serpent on cocaine.

INT. LA ISLA - CONTINUOUS

Tito enters, immediately engulfed by a gyrating mass of flesh

and designer drugs. The air is thick with sweat, perfume, and
the sickly-sweet stench of impending bad decisions.

At the bar, MARCOS holds court, a king among the chemically-

enhanced. He spots Tito, grins a grin that's all teeth and no
soul.

MARCOS
Tito, you beautiful bastard! I
knew you couldn't resist the
siren song of La Isla.

He claps Tito on the back, shoves a drink into his hand. It

glows an unsettling shade of green, like the blood of a
irradiated snake.

TITO
What the hell is this?

MARCOS
A little concoction I like to
call "Green Fairy Genocide". One
sip and you'll be seeing God. Or
the devil. Either way, it's a
hell of a ride.

Tito shrugs, downs the drink. It burns like napalm, like the
kiss of a thousand angry suns.
 29.

TITO (V.O.)
When in Rome, do as the Romans
do. Even if the Romans are a
bunch of coked-out lunatics with
a death wish.

The room spins, reality fracturing at the edges. The DANCERS

become twisted parodies of themselves, their limbs bending at
impossible angles, their faces melting like wax.

Tito stumbles through the madness, his mind a roiling sea of

half-formed thoughts and primal urges. And then he sees
her...

MIRAGE GIRL. A vision in red, moving through the crowd like a

tongue of flame. Their eyes meet, and for a moment, the world
falls away.

TITO (V.O.) (CONT'D)

In that instant, she was the only
real thing in a world of
flickering shadows and fever
dreams. A single point of clarity
in the chaos. Is she a God?

He starts to push towards her, but a hand on his shoulder

stops him. It's TONY, his face a mask of barely-concealed
irritation. But as Tony speaks, his features begin to MELT
and DISTORT, the effect of the Green Fairy Genocide taking
hold.

TONY
(voice warping)
Tito, my man! Aren't you supposed
to be, you know, working?

TITO
(slurring, struggling
to focus)
Just... just taking a little
break... Tony.

Tony's grip tightens, his smile sharp as a razor, his eyes

SWIRLING PITS OF DARKNESS.

TONY
Sure, sure. As long as that app
is ready on time.

Tito swallows hard, nods, trying to look away from the

GROTESQUE SHIFTING of Tony's face.
 30.

TITO (V.O.)
And there's the devil. Guess
Marcos was right about this
drink.

TITO
It'll be ready. I swear on... my
mother's grave.

TONY
Your mother better start shopping
for caskets if it's not.

And then he's gone... Tito turns, scanning the room for a
MIRAGE GIRL, but she's vanished, a wisp of smoke on the wind.

TITO (V.O.)
And just like that, she was gone.
A beautiful mirage, shimmering on
the horizon of my fractured
psyche. (beat) Christ, I need
another drink.

He makes his way back to the bar, flags down the BARTENDER.

TITO
Give me something that'll make me
forget my own name.

The bartender smiles, slides him a shot of something black

and viscous.

BARTENDER
This'll do the trick. We call it
"El Olvido". One shot and your
past becomes a blank slate.

Tito raises the glass in a mock toast.

TITO
To oblivion, then.

He throws back the shot. The world goes black around the
edges, reality slipping away like sand through an hourglass.

SMASH CUT TO:

 31.

INT. VOID - TIMELESS

Tito stands naked in an endless black expanse. A mirror

surfaces from the darkness, but the reflection is not his
own. It's a twisted, distorted version of himself, all sharp
angles and warped features.

DISTORTED TITO
(echoing)
Who are you, really? Beneath the
code, beneath the chemicals,
beneath the façade?

Tito reaches out to touch the reflection, but it shatters,

the shards morphing into a STRANGE, ANGULAR FIGURE.

ANGULAR FIGURE
(voice like broken
glass)
What is the nature of your
reality, Tito? Is any of this
real? Or is it all just a dream,
a hallucination, a glitch in the
matrix of your mind?

Tito opens his mouth to answer, but no words come out. The
figure leans in close, its form shifting and changing like a
kaleidoscope.

ANGULAR FIGURE (CONT'D)

You're chasing something, aren't
you? But what is it? Success?
Power? Or just the next high, the
next escape from the crushing
weight of your own existence?

The figure starts to laugh, a sound like a thousand shattered

mirrors. It echoes through the void, growing louder and
louder until--

SMASH CUT TO:

EXT. MEDELLÍN STREET - DAWN

Tito wakes up on a bench, his head pounding like a war drum.

He sits up, squints against the harsh light of day.

A STREET VENDOR pushes a cart past, hawking arepas and

cigarettes.
 32.

STREET VENDOR
(in Spanish)
Rough night, amigo?

Tito just groans, fumbles in his pocket for his phone. The
screen is cracked, but it still works. A message from Sergii
blinks up at him: "Where the fuck are you? We have work to
do."

Tito sighs, hauls himself to his feet.

TITO (V.O.)
Please give me a break... (beat)
For a moment there, in the
madness, I felt alive. Alive and
on the edge of something profound
and terrifying. (beat) Or maybe
that was just the drugs talking.

He starts walking, the city coming to life around him.

Vendors, street kids, stray dogs. The detritus of the night
before, washed up on the shores of a new day.

FADE TO BLACK.

EXT. MEDELLÍN STREETS - A FEW HOURS EARLIER

A sleek black motorcycle weaves through the arteries of the

city. The rider, clad in leather and chrome, is a wraith on
wheels, a ghost in the machine.

This is EL DENTISTA. His helmet, a gleaming skull with a

rictus grin, reflects the lurid lights of the red-light
district.

EXT. SEEDY ALLEYWAY - MOMENTS LATER

El Dentista slows to a stop, his engine purring like a jaguar

on the prowl. Two THUGS emerge from the shadows, their faces
concealed behind dark-tinted helmets.

CLOSE ON: The sawed-off double-barrel in THUG #1's hand,

trembling slightly. His finger tightens on the trigger.

El Dentista dismounts slowly, his movements fluid and

deliberate. He reaches up, flips open his visor.

EXTREME CLOSE-UP: El Dentista's eyes, cold and pitiless. His

gaze flicks from one thug to the other.
 33.

A tense beat. The thugs exchange nervous glances. Sweat beads

on their upper lips.

El Dentista's mouth curls into a smile, his diamond-encrusted

grill glinting in the sickly streetlight. It's a smile that
says "I've seen your darkest fears, and I'm about to make
them come true."

THUG #2
(barely a whisper)
Mierda...

The thugs turn tail and ride off, their dirt bike's
screeching echoes off the grimy walls.

El Dentista watches them go. He revs his engine, a sound like

the laughter of the damned, and peels off into the night.

INT. TITO'S APARTMENT - LATER

The door lock CLICKS and swings open. El Dentista slips

inside, a shadow among shadows.

ON THE COUCH: SERGII, sprawled out, dead to the world. Empty

beer cans and overflowing ashtrays litter the coffee table, a
still life of dissipation.

El Dentista moves silently, placing micro-cameras with

surgical precision. One in the desk lamp, another in the
bathroom mirror. He's about to place one in the smoke
detector when--

SERGII
(eyes still closed)
You know, in Ukraine, we have a
saying...

El Dentista freezes, his hand hovering over the smoke

detector.

SERGII (CONT'D)
(sitting up, eyes
like flint)
"Never trust a man with a smile
that shines brighter than his
soul."

A tense beat. El Dentista's hand drifts towards the pistol at

his hip.
 34.

SERGII (CONT'D)
(smiling coldly)
But you're not a man... You're a
legend. The boogeyman of
Medellín.

El Dentista relaxes, just a fraction.

EL DENTISTA
(in accented English)
And you're the hacker who made
the Kremlin shit bricks?

Sergii shrugs, lights a cigarette. Revealing his face with

lighter's flames in the dark.

SERGII
We all have our talents. Mine
just happen to involve computers
and a deep hatred for Russian
oligarchs.

El Dentista chuckles, a sound like bones rattling in a tin

cup.

EL DENTISTA
Fair enough. And your friend,
Tito? What's his talent?

SERGII
(blowing smoke rings)
Tito? He's a dreamer. A fool. But
I am responsible for him now. And
I am a very responsible man.

A brief pause, while cigarette smoke spreads around the room.

EL DENTISTA
(nodding towards the
cameras)
Just doing my job, amigo. Making
sure investments are protected.

SERGII
I'm protecting an investment too.
And I play for keeps.

El Dentista nods, a flicker of respect in his death's head

eyes.

EL DENTISTA
Noted.
 35.

He turns to leave, pauses at the door.

EL DENTISTA (CONT'D)
You know, in Colombia, we have a
saying too...

Sergii raises an eyebrow, waiting.

EL DENTISTA (CONT'D)
(with a grin)
"A friend is just an enemy who
hasn't fucked you over yet."

And with that, he's gone, melting into the night like a bad
dream.

Sergii stares at the closed door, takes a long drag of his

cigarette.

SERGII
(to himself)
Tea? Tea.