SCENE CONTEXT: A dashboard camera looks back into a car tearing through a city at 300 km/h. Bob, a human-sized grey cat, weaves between cars, overtakes everything and power-slides sideways through two right-angle turns; the belted young man beside him is whipped side to side, frightened, then yells at him; on the unbelted rear bench his girlfriend Bianca, a human-sized white cat, loses her pink-cased phone, HISSES, then MEOWS FURIOUSLY; a tiny live chick skids around like a puck. At the end Bob slams the brakes for the first time with a long screech: everyone pitches forward, the last chips fly toward the camera, and Bianca lands on Bob's head.
ACTIVE REFERENCES: [tag your character sheet here] — the young man, front passenger: 20s, medium-length slightly wavy dark-brown hair with a relaxed side parting, thick natural eyebrows, clean-shaven face, vintage oversized varsity jacket with a cream body and forest-green sleeves, burgundy and cream stripes across the chest, plain white relaxed-fit crew-neck T-shirt, loose-fit faded blue jeans, white and green retro sneakers, silver chain necklace and wrist accessories. All three views define ONE person; only one of him appears. Not the grey background. Voice: young man, frightened-then-angry. 100% matches the reference. <<<image_2>>> — Bob, the driver: adult grey Scottish Fold, black backwards cap, gold-rimmed round sunglasses, black hoodie, chunky gold chain, scaled up to adult-human size, filling the driver's seat. Not the white background. 100% matches the reference. <<<audio_1>>> — Bob's voice: use it only as the timbre, pitch and manner of Bob's spoken line; never as ambience, music or background sound. <<<image_3>>> — Bianca, rear bench screen-right, directly behind Bob: adult long-haired pure white cat, bright blue eyes, pink nose, pink knitted sweater, pink bow on her head, a pearl necklace with a pink heart pendant; scaled up to adult-human size like Bob, sitting upright like a person, holding a smartphone in a PINK case in both front paws. Appearance only — here she sits, not lying as in the reference. Not the white background. Cat sounds only, no words. 100% matches the reference. Bianca and Bob are two different cats — she stays pure white, he stays grey. No reference — the chick: one real newborn chick, natural size about 10 cm, pale-yellow down, black bead eyes, tiny orange beak and feet, no clothes or accessories; a living bird of constant size and shape, never a toy or plush. Starts in the middle of the rear bench, screen-left of Bianca.
LOCATION AND FIRST FRAME: Normal-size left-hand-drive hatchback. Grey velour seats, light-grey headliner, automatic gear lever on the centre console, wooden-rim steering wheel. Camera rigidly mounted on the dashboard dead centre, aimed straight back: wheel rim lower-right in the foreground, driver's seat screen-right, passenger seat screen-left, rear bench midground, rear window background; the headliner fills the top of the frame edge to edge — the frame ends inside the roof, never above the car. Outside: a wide multi-lane city boulevard with cross streets, overcast midday, mid-rise buildings, blank signs, wet asphalt, dense traffic. Everything Bob does is read through the windows: every car he overtakes appears in the rear window right behind the bumper, swerving and honking, then shrinks away; every lane change whips the lane lines sideways across the rear window; oncoming cars flash past Bob's window (screen-right) as blurred streaks; buildings streak past his window (screen-left). Frame one holds all four: Bob belted, torso to camera, eyes on the road ahead (toward and slightly above the lens, never into it), left paw on the wheel, right paw on the gear lever; the young man belted, torso to camera, relaxed, one ordinary 150 g foil chip bag open on his lap, right hand inside it, a chip halfway to his mouth; rear bench, unbelted: Bianca screen-right, facing camera, head tilted down to the pink phone at chest height in both paws, screen glow on her face; the chick standing in the middle of the bench, a small bright yellow dot, head bobbing.
OPTICS AND CAMERA: Single continuous take, real time, vertical frame. Wide rectilinear lens, about 84° FOV: straight lines stay straight — no barrel curve, no fisheye; both front seats, the whole rear bench and the rear window fit in frame; the wheel rim is large in the lower-right foreground but not warped; deep focus inside the cabin, everything outside the windows in speed blur; no drift to a wider or narrower lens. Lens level at seat-back-top height, fixed to the car body: zero pan, tilt or zoom, only the car's vibration.
DIALOGUE AND VOCALS: American English. Two spoken lines only, nothing else is spoken; lips still when not speaking; no subtitles, no ad-libs; at least 1 second of silence before and after each spoken line; ambience ducks under the lines, voices close and clean. Bob's line uses the timbre of <<<audio_1>>>. Bianca never speaks: her three vocal beats are real domestic-cat sounds, LOUD and clearly heard — a sharp explosive HISS; a burst of three or four FURIOUS rising MEOWS; a final HISS as she leaps. Each Bianca beat sits on top of the mix: engine, wind, tyres and horns duck under it exactly as they duck under a spoken line. All beats are placed clear of the spoken lines. The young man's gasp on the first swerve is a wordless breath, not a line.
ACTING TASK — the young man: hold on and make Bob stop. His arc is visible: pure fright on the first swerve, fear hardening into anger by his line, then bracing with both hands and watching Bob's profile for any flicker of reaction — finds none. ACTING TASK — Bob: prove this is perfectly normal driving. Eyes never leave the road, paws relaxed, the reply flat and unhurried as if stating the weather; a cat landing on his head changes nothing. ACTING TASK — Bianca: keep her dignity and her phone. Eyes on the screen until it is gone, then her whole task becomes the back of Bob's head — she glares at it, ears flat; the cracked screen decides it. (Gazes stay engaged, natural blink cadence, no frozen glassy stare.)
CHIP BUDGET (strict): one ordinary bag, so the total number of chips in the cabin never exceeds what one bag holds. Chips leave the bag at exactly three moments: about a dozen at 0:04, about a dozen at 0:11, and the rest of the bag at 0:13.5. Between these moments the bag is clamped shut in his fist and not one chip moves; chips already down stay where they landed and do not multiply; no chips appear from anywhere else.
ACTION TIMING (300 km/h throughout; weaving, two drift turns, one hard brake): 0:00–0:02 — straight boulevard, Bob weaving through traffic: two cars he has just passed appear in the rear window one after the other, swerve and shrink; lane lines whip left, right, left. The young man eats, relaxed. Bianca scrolls with one thumb. The chick bobs its head. 0:02–0:04 — swerve 1: Bob cuts hard between two cars; both appear in the rear window honking, one dropping to the far right. Everyone is thrown screen-left. The young man's torso whips sideways a full 40 cm, his shoulder slams into his door panel, his head lags and his hair whips across his face — his eyes go wide, he gasps, his left hand slaps onto the door handle and his right crushes the bag shut against his chest. Bianca slides screen-left across the bench; the pink phone jumps out of her paws, skids across the seat and drops into the footwell behind the young man's seat, out of sight. The chick skids ahead of her like a puck, cheeping, and bumps softly against the far door, upright. 0:04–0:06 — swerve 2 the other way: Bob dives into the oncoming lane to pass a truck — the truck fills the rear window for a moment, horn blaring, an oncoming car flashes past Bob's window with a long dopplering horn. The young man is thrown toward the centre console, the belt biting into his chest, hair flying screen-right; the crushed bag pops open in his fist and about a dozen chips fly screen-right in a fan, hit Bob's cap and glasses, and drop onto the console — then he clamps the bag shut again. Bianca is flung back against her door, eyes wide, ears flat, and at 0:04–0:05 HISSES sharply and loudly at the back of Bob's head, teeth bared. The chick skids back across the bench and stops against her hip. 0:06–0:08 — DRIFT TURN 1: without slowing, Bob throws the car sideways into a right-angle turn onto a cross street. The rear end steps out; for a full second the whole street outside rotates across the rear window as the car slides broadside, white tyre smoke pouring off the rear wheels and filling the rear window; then the car snaps straight and a new, narrower street appears behind. The slide is one sustained push: everyone is pinned screen-left for the whole slide — the young man's shoulder ground into his door, hair plastered sideways — then whips back as the car straightens. At 0:06.2 he turns his head to Bob and shouts, scared and furious: {"Bob! Slow down! Watch the road!"} Bob keeps his eyes on the road. Bianca, pinned, uses the push to lean down across the bench toward the footwell, one paw stretched for the phone. The chick rolls once and lands on its feet, fluffing up. 0:08–0:10 — swerve 3: Bob threads between two cars on the new street; both appear in the rear window swerving apart, horns. The young man braces, both hands locked — door handle and bag. Bianca is flung back against her door mid-reach, paw still out, claws in the velour, and at 0:08.4–0:09.2 MEOWS FURIOUSLY — three or four loud, rising, angry meows straight at Bob's cap, mouth wide, fur bristling. The chick slides into her flank and peeps. 0:10–0:11 — short straight, small weaving jerks, another passed car shrinking in the rear window. At 0:10.2 Bob, eyes on the road, says flatly: {"I know a shortcut."} The young man stares at his profile; Bianca stares at his cap, tail lashing. 0:11–0:12.5 — DRIFT TURN 2, the biggest: Bob slides the car broadside through a turn onto a wide avenue — the street rotates the other way across the rear window, tyre smoke, an oncoming car flashing past Bob's window inches away, horns. Everyone pinned screen-left through the slide: the young man's shoulder hits the door hard, his head snaps sideways, hair over his face; the bag pops open and a second dozen chips fly out over his lap and the console — then clamped shut. Bianca slides the full width of the bench and thumps into the far door, pearls swinging. The chick shoots across the bench, flutters its stub wings and lands against the door. The car snaps straight; everyone whips back. 0:12.5–0:13.5 — brief straight, passed cars shrinking behind. The pink phone skids back out of the footwell across the floor; Bianca snatches it up, turns it over — the screen is cracked. Her eyes go wide, ears flat, she looks up at the back of Bob's head and gathers into a crouch. The chick shakes its down and stands. 0:13.5–0:15 — Bob SLAMS THE BRAKES, the only brake of the take: a long hard ABS-pulsing screech of tyres, the nose dives, the whole cabin pitches forward toward the camera, the traffic behind rushes up in the rear window and swerves around, horns blaring. The young man is thrown forward against the belt, both hands flying toward the dashboard, hair pouring forward over his face; the bag leaves his hands, flies toward the lens and bursts, and the rest of the chips shower forward across the dashboard and past the camera. The chick is thrown forward off the bench, flutters through the gap between the front seats and lands on the centre console right in front of the camera, a fluffed-up yellow ball, blinking. Bianca, already crouched, rides the braking forward — HISSES — and springs over Bob's seat back onto his head, four paws clamped on the cap, tail across his glasses, fur on end. Bob keeps both paws where they are and his eyes on the road under the cat. The take ends as the car stops.
PHYSICS: 300 km/h with no braking until 0:13.5; direction changes come from steering and throttle only; outside streams away in extreme motion blur while the cabin stays sharp. A swerve is one sharp lateral push; a drift is a sustained push toward the outside of the turn for the whole slide, followed by a whip back as the car straightens; the street visibly rotates across the rear window during each slide and tyre smoke trails the car. THE YOUNG MAN: the belt holds his hips and one shoulder, nothing else — on every push his torso whips 30–40 cm sideways, his head lags a beat behind, his hair whips across his face and settles late; screen-left pushes slam his shoulder into his door panel, screen-right pushes throw him toward the console with the belt cutting across his chest; he never leaves the seat. BIANCA: unbelted, slides on the velour with her full weight and thumps into the doors; long fur, tail and pearls trail each push; her leap is a real cat's spring — crouch, launch, front paws first, the cap crushing under her weight. THE CHICK: about 30 grams — it skids across the seat like a puck the instant a push hits, bumps softly, tumbles once, lands on its feet and fluffs up; stub wings flutter for balance; it stays one small yellow body of constant size, never stretching or smearing, alive throughout — blinking, cheeping, head bobbing. THE PHONE has weight: flat arc, skid, drop, never floats; its pink case stays on. CHIPS follow the chip budget only; each spill is one short fan that falls within a second and lies still. THE BRAKE: everything unbelted pitches forward at once, belted bodies hit their belts, loose chips slide forward off the seats.
LIGHTING: Soft overcast city daylight through rear and side windows, brightest behind the passengers; headliner darker than the windows; faces and fur lit by window bounce with gentle shading on the window-facing side; the phone screen adds a small cool glow under Bianca's chin while he holds it; shadows of passing buildings pulse through the cabin; during each drift the tyre smoke outside briefly whitens the rear window. The street behind stays readable. No direct sun, no flat frontal fill.
AUDIO: Diegetic only: engine screaming at redline, wind roar, tyres howling through each drift, sharp squeals on each swerve; horns from every car he passes fading behind, oncoming horns dopplering down as they flash past, one long truck horn at 0:04; foil bag crinkle, chips pattering, the phone clattering into the footwell, thumps against door panels, tiny chick cheeps, his sharp gasp at 0:02. Bianca: one loud HISS at 0:04, a burst of FURIOUS MEOWS at 0:08.4, one HISS at 0:13.7 — each the loudest thing in the mix while it lasts. At 0:13.5 one long hard braking screech with ABS chatter, then horns rushing up behind. Only the two scripted lines are spoken. No music.
POSITIVE LOCKS: Exactly four occupants, no extras, no duplicates; one grey cat driving, one white cat in the back, one tiny real chick. Driver screen-right, passenger screen-left, wheel lower-right — never mirrored. Bob's eyes stay on the road, never on the lens, even with Bianca on his head. Bob and the young man stay belted; Bianca and the chick never belted. The chick is a plain newborn chick, no clothes, constant size, alive, never a toy. The phone keeps its pink case. One bag of chips total, spilled only at the three set moments. Headliner reaches the top frame edge; straight lines straight. No readable text anywhere: phone screen, signs and plates blank, no logos. Clean sharp phone-dashcam image, natural colour, no film grain, no CG gloss, no subtitles.