A third shooter flanks right. She doesn’t see him.
TITLE CARD: ASPHALT JUDGMENT
She spins — too slow. A bullet rips past her ear, chips concrete into her face.
Then screaming. Then more gunfire — but now chaotic, blind.
Rain slicks the asphalt. Neon bleeds across wet concrete. A lone traffic light swings — red, yellow, red.
No. We’re late.
AMBUSH! GO GO GO—