EXT. LOS ANGELES SKYLINE - DUSK
The magic hour. PAN east from the gentle, pastel skies and turbulent Pacific, across lush canyons to the dimly twinkling lights of Century City, then toward the graceful majesty of downtown. A city of infinite possibility.
SWOOPING southeast from Mulholland across the Sunset Strip and the dazzling glitter of Hollywood, we begin to notice --
RIBBONS OF LIGHT
It's traffic -- headlights and taillights on the Hollywood Freeway, Beverly Blvd., Vermont and Bunker Hill, all clogged and crawling with frustrated commuters at rush hour.
EXT. URBAN DIRT FIELD - DUSK
RUSSELL NAPOLITANO, 48, rumpled sportcoat, scuffed satchel, but still dignified with a ramrod posture, strides toward a chain-link fence off 2nd Street. He slips unnoticed through a bent section of fence and moves down a slope alongside the graffiti-covered Toluca Substation toward an abandoned tunnel embedded in a hillside.
AT THE TUNNEL ENTRANCE
Taking a big flashlight from his bag, Napolitano steps inside.
INT. TUNNEL - NEAR THE ENTRANCE
He stops in the fading light streaming through the entrance and listens to the silence. He points his FLASHLIGHT BEAM along the floor ahead and follows the beam into the tunnel.
DEEPER INSIDE THE TUNNEL
The BEAM illuminates a corroded electrical panel fixed to a tunnel wall. Napolitano fishes behind the panel box and retrieves a small, stuffed, manila envelope. He tucks the flashlight under an arm and kneels to pass his hand slowly over a small fissure in the ground. As he stashes the envelope in his satchel, he hears shuffling FOOTSTEPS coming from the tunnel entrance. He quickly KILLS the LIGHT.
INT. TUNNEL - NEAR THE ENTRANCE - NIGHT
A scraggly JUNKIE, 32, crouches inside the entrance, opens a paper bag and pulls out a thin length of rubber hose, which he uses to tie off his arm. He pours some powder from a small plastic baggie into a spoon and grabs his lighter, as Napolitano puts him under his SPOTLIGHT and SHOUTS --