TURBO Screenplay Episode 7 "Neon Nights and City Lights" by Robert Nerbovig Distribution, sale, duplication, or any other unauthorized use of this material in whole or in part is strictly prohibited. © 2025. All rights reserved. FADE IN: 1 EXT. KOREATOWN STREET – DAY                                                             1 The midday sun beats down, baking the asphalt. MOE walks with a determined stride, sweat beading on his forehead. The air is thick with the smells of Koreatown – kimchi, bulgogi, and something vaguely oily. MOE (V.O.) Koreatown. Not my usual playground. Marco, bless his heart, thinks he's Cupid now. GANG MEMBER (V.O.) Marco, ever the matchmaker, had insisted Moe needed help with his fledgling PI business. The letter introduction was cryptic – "Turbo, a good kid, ex-military, wants to learn the ropes." Skepticism gnawed at Moe, but a part of him, the part yearning for a partner, a confidante in this clandestine world, couldn't ignore the possibility. A beat-up Toyota Supra, its cherry red paint dulled by years of California sun, sat haphazardly parked in a narrow alley. Smoke curled from its hood, and a figure leaned against the fender, a cigarette dangling from their lips. As Moe approached, the figure straightened, revealing a young man, maybe in his mid-twenties, with a shaved head and a tattoo of a roaring tiger peeking out from beneath a worn t-shirt and a USMC tattoo on his shoulder. This must be Turbo. TURBO "Moe?" the man asked. He extinguished the cigarette with a flick of his wrist, the embers showering the asphalt. MOE "Yeah," Moe replied, extending a hand. "Marco's cousin." Turbo's handshake was firm, his grip calloused. His eyes, a steely blue, held a guarded look, remnants of a past etched in their depths. MOE "Turbo," he said simply. "Nice ride," Moe commented, gesturing towards the Supra. TURBO Turbo snorted. "More rust than ride these days. But Marco said you might have some work that needs muscle, not horsepower." GANG MEMBER (V.O.) Moe studied him for a moment. Turbo's rawness, barely concealed intensity, resonated with him. He saw a reflection of his past, the restlessness that drove him towards this unconventional life after the Marines. MOE "Let's grab some coffee," Marco gestures towards a nearby cafe. Marco sings your praises, but everyone needs a good story." 2 INT. SMALL CAFE – DAY                                                                         2 Over steaming cups of strong coffee, Turbo unfolded his tale. He'd served in Afghanistan, seen his share of combat, and emerged with a Purple Heart and a restless spirit. Marco's mail, a lifeline thrown across the vast distance, had sparked a flicker of hope. As Turbo spoke, a sense of kinship bloomed within Moe. He saw the echoes of his own struggles mirrored in this young man's eyes. The yearning for purpose, the need to channel the honed instincts and skills into something more than flipping burgers or guarding a mall entrance. MOE "Being a PI isn't all tailing cheating spouses and digging up dirt," Moe warned. "It can be dangerous, frustrating, and the paychecks ain't exactly fat." Turbo leaned back in his chair, a wry smile playing on his lips. TURBO "Danger doesn't scare me, Mr. Juarez. And trust me, I can handle frustration. As for the pay, any job that beats staring at a cubicle wall is good enough for me." A slow smile spread across Moe's face. He saw the glint of determination in Turbo's eyes, a spark that mirrored his own. MOE "Alright, Turbo," Moe said, his voice firm. "Let's see what you're made of. But first, a word of warning – this life ain't for the faint of heart. You in or out?" Turbo stared back his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, a slow grin spread across his face, a glint of excitement replacing the guarded look. TURBO "LET'S DO THIS," HE SAID, HIS VOICE FILLED WITH A NEWFOUND RESOLVE. As they stepped out of the cafe, the California sun beat down on them, casting long shadows on the bustling street. A new chapter unfolded before them, a partnership forged in shared experiences and a thirst for justice. 3 EXT. KOREATOWN STREET – DAY                                                             3 Moe and Turbo walk side by side, the California sun casting long shadows. GANG MEMBER (V.O.) A partner. Maybe Marco wasn't so wrong after all. But this kid... he's a wild card. We'll see if he plays his hand right. 3 INT. MOE’S OFFICE – DAY 3 Moe's office, a small, cluttered space filled with files and cigarette smoke, is buzzing with an unexpected energy. TURBO (Excitedly) So, Mr. Juarez, what's the plan? We got any cases? Any bad guys to chase? MOE (Sipping his coffee, unimpressed) Slow down, kid. You're gonna wear out the floor. TURBO But I'm ready! I've been studying detective manuals, watching cop shows… I know all the moves! MOE (Raises an eyebrow) Cop shows? That's your training? TURBO (Nods enthusiastically) And I'm a fast learner! I can pick up anything! MOE (Sighs) Alright, kid. But you're gonna learn my way. TURBO (Grinning) Yes, sir! GANG MEMBER - V.O. Turbo had a fire in his belly. Couldn't deny him that. But he was gonna learn that detective work ain't all car chases and shootouts. 4 EXT. EAST LOS ANGELES STREETS – DAY                                                    4 Moe and Turbo walk through the bustling streets of East L.A. Moe points out the various characters they encounter: hustlers, shopkeepers, gang members, and ordinary citizens. MOE See that guy over there? That's Chucho. He runs a numbers racket. And that lady selling flowers? She's got eyes and ears everywhere. TURBO (Taking notes) Got it. Numbers racket, flower lady… MOE This is how you learn, Turbo. You observe, you listen, you understand the rhythm of the street. TURBO (Looking around, overwhelmed) There's so much to remember! MOE That's why you take notes. And you ask questions. 5 INT. EL GALLO ROJO BAR – NIGHT                                                            5 Moe and Turbo sit at a booth in the bar, interviewing a nervous-looking man. MOE So, you say you saw something? NERVOUS MAN (Stammering) Yeah, I saw… I saw a car. A black car. Speeding. TURBO (Writing furiously) Black car, speeding… What kind of car? What color? Any license plate numbers? MOE (Interrupting) Easy, Turbo. Let him talk. NERVOUS MAN (Looking relieved) It was… it was a big car. Shiny. MOE (To Turbo) Sometimes, you gotta let them tell the story their own way. TURBO (Nods, chastened) Right. GANG MEMBER - V.O. Turbo was eager. Too eager. But he was learning. Slowly. 6 EXT. ALLEYWAY – NIGHT                                                                         6 Moe and Turbo investigate a crime scene: a body lying in an alleyway, a single gunshot wound. TURBO (Looking at the body, his face pale) Whoa… MOE (Examining the scene) Don't get squeamish, kid. This is part of the job. TURBO (Swallowing hard) Right. MOE Look for clues. Anything out of place. Turbo, despite his initial shock, starts to search the alleyway, his eyes scanning the ground. TURBO (Pointing) What's this? He picks up a small, intricately carved wooden charm. MOE (Examining the charm) Interesting. GANG MEMBER - V.O. Kid had a knack for finding things. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all. 7 INT. MOE'S OFFICE – NIGHT                                                                  7 Moe and Turbo sit at Moe's desk, examining the wooden charm. TURBO What is it? MOE It's a charm. From La Curandera. TURBO (Confused) Who's that? MOE An old healer. She knows the old ways. TURBO (Eyes widening) The old ways? Like magic? MOE (Scoffs) Don't get any ideas, kid. It's just superstition. TURBO (Looking at the charm, intrigued) But maybe… maybe it's more than that. GANG MEMBER - V.O. Turbo was always looking for something more. Something bigger. But sometimes, the truth is right in front of you. FADE IN: 8 INT. LA CURANDERA'S HOUSE – NIGHT                                                   8 (Dimly lit, incense burning. MOE and TURBO stand before LA CURANDERA, an old woman with knowing eyes.) GANG MEMBER - V.O. (Streetwise, with a hint of awe) La Curandera's pad. The place always smelled like some kinda magic. Moe, he knew his way around the barrio, even the spooky parts. (La Curandera holds a small wooden charm.) LA CURANDERA This charm… it whispers of "El Gato." Troubled soul. TURBO (Scribbling in his notebook) El Gato… trouble… got it. MOE El Gato, huh? Sounds like a punk with more claws than brains. LA CURANDERA He trades in secrets. Dangerous ones. GANG MEMBER - V.O. Secrets. In this neighborhood, secrets were currency, man. More valuable than cash sometimes. MOE We'll find this Gato. Thanks, Señora. (Moe and Turbo leave.) 9 EXT. EAST LOS ANGELES STREETS – NIGHT                                                 9 (Dark alleys, flickering streetlights. Moe and Turbo question people, their faces hidden in the shadows.) This site is designed and maintained by: Robert Nerbovig