BATMAN 2
Screenplay By Sam Hamm
FIRST DRAFT
NOTE: THE HARD COPY OF THIS SCRIPT CONTAINED SCENE NUMBERS.
THEY HAVE BEEN REMOVED FOR THIS SOFT COPY.
NOTE ALSO: THE HARD COPY OF THIS SCRIPT WAS IN THE NON-
PREFORMAT FONT "BOOKMAN OLD". THIS HAS BEEN CHANGED TO
PREFORMATTED TEXT FOR THIS SOFT COPY.
EXT. GOTHAM SQUARE - DUSK
It's finally happened. Hell's frozen over.
Christmas is two weeks off, arid SNOW is falling in Gotham.
Beneath its pristine white blanket, the city looks
uncharacteristically serene -- almost inviting. Peace has
been miraculously restored: strangers wave hello. Salvation
Army Santas ring their bells on streetcorners. And now, as
night falls, an ILLUMINATED SIGN winks on above Broad Avenue:
"JOYEUX NOEL GOTHAM -- Only 16 Shopping Days Left Till
Christmas."
The streets are bustling with jolly shoppers. At a souvenir
store, we find an exasperated MOM squabbling with her seven-
year old. Like many other storefronts in Gotham, this one is
overflowing with bootleg BATMAN MERCHANDISE: t-shirts, key
chains, ceramic figurines. The kid is already wearing a
Batman baseball cap and a little black cape, but he obviously
wants more.
Mom drags him off past another store window, this one full of
SCRAP METAL, with a sign reading "AUTHENTIC FRAGMENTS OF THE
BATWING -- $19.95 and up." A PANHANDLER is perched at the
entrance. Beneath his array jacket is a grubby sweatshirt
with the familiar yellow-and-black logo. In Gotham this
winter, Batmania is everywhere...
EXT. GOTHAM SQUARE - LATER THAT NIGHT
Two hours later, the SNOWSTORM's grown into a full-fledged
blizzard. The drifts are two feet deep and the streets are
all but empty of cars. A massive SNOW PLOW the size of a
Panzer tank rumbles past, FILLING THE FRAME...
...and revealing, as it passes, a group of CAROLERS, all
bundled up in mufflers and parkas. Unbothered by the weather,
they walk the street singing, spreading cheer and goodwill to
the few passersby.
They've just gone into a lovely a capella rendition of "Silent
Night" when an oversized DELIVERY TRUCK, outfitted with snow
chains, clanks slowly past in the wake of the plow. Its sides
are decorated with cartoon igloos advertising a popular ice
cream snack -- POLAR BARS -- oddly inappropriate for this time
of year.
A streetcorner SANTA, with bell and bucket, WAVES at the truck
as it rounds a corner. The CAROLERS carol. Then --
-- a VIOLENT EXPLOSION rocks the street -- followed by the
sound of AUTOMATIC GUNFIRE and a high, wailing SECURITY ALARM.
EXT. SCHRACH AND CO. - THAT MOMENT - NIGHT
Around the corner there's CARNAGE on the streets. The windows
have blown out of Gotham's leading jewelry store. Gut-shot
SECURITY GUARDS stagger and go face down in the snow as
ROBBERS, dressed in white camouflage gear, clamber out through
the shattered glass with SACKFULS OF LOOT.
CAROLERS spill around the corner to see what's going on, but a
spray of GUNFIRE sends them scattering in panic. The POLAR
BAR truck pulls even with the jewelry store, and as it does...
The REAR DOORS open. A RAMP slides down from the back of the
truck. The ROBBERS scramble aboard, and mere seconds later
SLIDE out AGAIN -- riding atop five SKIDOO SNOWMOBILES.
SIRENS HOWL. A POLICE CAR appears, taking the corner just a
trifle too fast -- FISHTAILING on the icy street and plowing
into a drift.
INT. SQUAD CAR - THAT MOMENT - NIGHT
The COPS gun the engine, but their wheels are spinning in the
snow -- no traction. They're about to climb out and give
chase on foot when, through the windshield, they see the
Salvation Army SANTA...
...HOISTING AN AK-47 AND FIRING DIRECTLY AT THEM. The
windshield disintegrates and the COPS sink from view as SANTA
races off to the last of the snowmobiles, which is already
burdened with LOOT.
EXT. STREET - THAT MOMENT - NIGHT
MORE SQUAD CARS converge on the jewelry store -- but it's
difficult to carry on a high-speed pursuit when the snow's a
foot deep and the best you can do is 6 MPH. The COP CARS skid
to a halt, blocked by the rumbling SNOWPLOW. By now, of
course, the LOOTERS are gone -- scooting off on either side of
the plow, sticking to the snowy sidewalks.
EXT. STREETS - A MOMENT LATER - NIGHT
SNOWMOBILES glide across the sidewalks, sending the few hardy
souls who are out on the streets DIVING FOR COVER. A couple
of DERELICTS are cowering behind a fire hydrant, trying to
avoid getting run over. Every time they poke their heads out,
another SKIDOO whizzes past, missing them by inches.
The ROBBERS fan out in various directions. These guys are
obviously going to get away clean -- unless...
The DERELICT points up at the night sky, where a BEACON is
blazing in the darkness -- THE BLACK SILHOUETTE OF A BAT...
INT. POLICE CAR - THAT MOMENT - NIGHT
MORE SIRENS. A COP takes a radio call as he streaks down the
long wide avenue which borders Gotham Park -- one of the few
streets which is relatively clear. The COP at the wheel goes
wide-eyed and nudges his partner in disbelief.
Before their eyes, FIVE SNOWMOBILES appear from the cross
streets up ahead and CONVERGE at the entrance to Gotham Park.
Bringing up the rear is SANTA CLAUS.
COP
What the hell -- ?
EXT. ENTRANCE TO PARK - THAT MOMENT - NIGHT
BRAKES SQUEAL. Several squad cars are now massed at the
entrance to the park -- but there's one problem. The city's
snow plows don't operate on the park roads -- and the entrance
is blocked off with SAWHORSES reading "CLOSED TO TRAFFIC." A
huge steep drift prevents them from entering -- and so all
they can do is stand by helplessly, WATCHING as the
snowmobiles vanish into the trees.
The COPS race about like headless chickens, trying to concoct
a plan. A couple of them are trying to scale the stone walls
of the park. Another is at his car, barking into a radio
mike:
COP WITH MIKE
Yeah, you heard me. Snowmobiles!
(pause)
So what do we do? Chase 'em on foot??
ALL EYES TURN at the blare of a horn. The COPS peer down the
long corridor of the cross street -- and see a STRANGE BLACK
VEHICLE barreling toward them at 90 MPH, with no intention of
stopping...
THE BATMOBILE!! COPS dive left and right. A split-second
later...
...a FORTY-FOOT JET of NOVA-INTENSITY FLAME erupts from the
front of the jet-black supercar -- instantaneously DISSOLVING
the drift that blocks the entrance to the park -- turning the
ice and snow on the paths before it into water!
The BATMOBILE screams past in the wink of an eye. The COPS
get to their feet; cold as it is, they're sweating. One of
them mops his brow and announces, dumfounded:
COP I
...That was Batman.
COP II
NO SHIT!!
COP II yanks COP I into the nearest squad car, and the others
follow suit. ENGINES REV. As long as the BATMOBILE's cleared
a path, they might as well join in the chase...
EXT. BRIDLE PATH - THAT MOMENT
TWO BURLY TEENAGERS -- both dressed in RED BERETS and PARKAS
with BLACK BATMAN SWEATSHIRTS visible underneath -- are
trudging along the path when they're STARTLED by a pair of
speeding SKIDOOS. Moments later, they spot a RED GLOW on the
horizon...
...and their JAWS DROP as the BATMOBILE roars into view,
BURNING OFF THE SNOW IN ITS PATH. Thrilled beyond words, they
WHOOP WITH GLEE, slapping high-fives as the car streaks past.
INT. BATMOBILE - ON BATMAN - THAT MOMENT
His face is weirdly illuminated by the flame still spitting
from the front of the car. Cool as ever -- approaching the
chase as a simple problem in logic -- he checks a radar
display on his dashboard and sees FIVE BLIPS.
EXT. PARK - ON SQUAD CARS - THAT MOMENT - NIGHT
The cops follow along in BATMAN's path. The lead car LOSES
CONTROL and plows headlong into a drift. The DRIVER jams the
pedal, but his rear wheels end up digging a deep rut in the
ice. He sits there cursing, pumping the accelerator as other
COPS race past him on foot.
INT. BATMOBILE - ON BATMAN
The various ROBBERS have spread out, their vehicles BOUNDING
over the hilly terrain of the park. He spots two of them up
ahead; as he draws closer, they PART WAYS, veering off to the
left and right...
ANGLE ON BATMOBILE - MOVING
PODS OPEN on the front fenders, and MISSILE LAUNCHERS rotate
into place. The Batmobile fires a pair of HEAT-SEEKING
TORPEDOS, which BURROW into the snow on either side and
disappear.
ANGLE ON LEFT SNOWMOBILE - MOVING
The DRIVER looks back over his shoulder and sees what appears
to be a BLACK SHARK FIN plowing through the snow behind him,
GAINING FAST. He takes evasive action, but the SHARK FIN
always seems to follow. Just as he approaches the crest of a
hill...
...the TORPEDO slams into the rear of the SNOWMOBILE. The
force of impact knocks the ROBBER cleanly off. His LOOT lands
in the snow beside him, but the SNOWMOBILE keeps going --
sailing over the crest of the hill and striking the rocks
beyond with a deafening EXPLOSION.
ANGLE ON RIGHT SNOWMOBILE - MOVING
This ROBBER's a little smarter than his buddy. When he sees
the shark fin on his tail, he noses his snowmobile off into a
GROVE OF TREES. The trees are too closely spaced for the
torpedo to maneuver; it strikes the nearest tree trunk and
explodes harmlessly.
The ROBBER is feeling good about himself, because the
Batmobile can't follow either. But BATMAN has a Plan B. As
he drives alongside the grove, he HITS THE ACCELERATOR,
passing the snowmobile on its left. A STEEL SPIKE attached to
a cable launches from the side of the Batmobile and WEDGES
ITSELF into a distant TREE.
The cable goes taut, and the tree TOPPLES -- directly into the
path of the second SNOWMOBILE. The vehicle crashes into the
trunk, and the hapless ROBBER goes cartwheeling head-over-
heels into a drift.
In the distance, COPS appear -- racing to the scene on foot,
ready for mop-up duty. BATMAN kills the flamethrower, hits
the brakes, and FISHTAILS, doing a quick 180 on the snow.
He's just spotted fresh quarry: snowmobiles three and four,
whizzing over a rolling white pasture in the distance.
EXT. PARK - THAT MOMENT
We're at a makeshift CAMPSITE -- where a cluster of HOMELESS
PEOPLE are burning refuse in a garbage can to keep warm. They
look on in puzzlement as the two SNOWMOBILES whiz past and
disappear over a crest of a hill...
EXT. LAKEFRONT - ON SNOWMOBILES #3 AND #4
They bounce down the hillside and SKID -- arriving at the edge
of a frozen-over LAKE. With the roar of the Batmobile behind
them, the two DRIVERS get the same idea simultaneously.
Smiling, they rev their engines and set out over the surface
of the lake.
Now the Batmobile crests the ridge. The car's weight tips
suddenly and it begins to skid down the hill toward the lake.
BATMAN sees what's happening and kills the flamethrower just
in time -- but he can't brake the car on the snowy slope. The
prow of the Batmobile slides out onto the edge of the lake --
-- and under its weight, the ICE begins to crack. The left
front tire takes a sudden dip -- and worse yet, the car is
sliding forward.
INT. BATMOBILE - ON BATMAN
He shifts frantically from drive to reverse, trying to rock
the car out of its predicament, but his rear wheels find no
purchase. He can hear the ice cracking beneath him.
Grimacing, he throws a switch on the dashboard --
EXT. LAKE - ON BATMOBILE
-- and the trunk pops open. An industrial-strength GRAPPLING
HOOK shoots upward and digs in at a point beyond the crest of
the hill; and a concealed WINCH ASSEMBLY begins to grind away,
hauling the Batmobile uphill, out of danger.
INT. BATMOBILE - ON BATMAN
Suspended just above the icy lake, he sees the SNOWMOBILE
vanishing into the distance. He opens (yet another) panel on
the dashboard...
EXT. LAKE - ON SNOWMOBILES #3 AND #4
The ROBBERS give each other a big thumbs-up. They're almost
halfway across the lake now and the Batmobile is disabled.
All at once they hear a strange WHISTLING overhead...
Fireworks? No, it's a THERMITE BOMB -- rocketing past them,
hitting the ice some forty feet ahead and EXPLODING GAUDILY.
JAGGED CHUNKS OF ICE break free and SHIFT in the frigid water
-- and the ROBBERS are skidding into the drink before they
know what's hit them.
ANGLE ON SNOWMOBILE #5 - MOVING
The last of the robbers is SANTA CLAUS -- his big sack filled
not with toys, but precious stones. He approaches the edge of
the park, negotiating his way through a maze of rocky
outcroppings. He squirts out from behind a boulder into a
clearing...
...and GASPS in PANIC as a SEARING BURST OF FLAME erupts
behind him. The BATMOBILE speeds out from the other side of
the boulder; SANTA twists his accelerator, desperately trying
to build up speed.
As it is, he's barely managing to stay ahead of the
flamethrower. But the jet of flame suddenly DIES; the HOOD of
the Batmobile rises half a foot --
-- and TWIN PROJECTILES launch into the air. A heavy NET is
strung between them -- and it lands SMACK ON TOP OF SANTA
CLAUS, entangling the snowmobile and stopping him in his
tracks.
Immobilized, he watches through the net in horror as the
Batmobile barrels down. When the great black machine is
almost atop him --
-- it stops on a dime six inches from his heavily-padded
frame.
EXT. ENTRANCE TO PARK - A MINUTE LATER - NIGHT
The COPS are spread out near the entrance. They've rounded up
the other ROBBERS and returned most of the loot. They hear a
dull ROAR in the distance...
...and a few seconds later the BATMOBILE streaks into view,
dragging the NET behind it -- SANTA, his loot, and his
snowmobile, all tied up in one tidy parcel.
At the entrance to the park, the NET detaches itself from the
Batmobile, dumping SANTA into the hands of the waiting COPS.
Without stopping, the BATMOBILE roars out of the park and
vanishes whence it came. A mildly-humiliated COP turns to his
colleague and SHRUGS:
COP I
...Merry Christmas.
The second COP points to SANTA, still struggling in the net.
COP II
Gift-wrapped and everything.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. CITY HALL - DAY
TV MINICAM CREWS are camped out on the steps of City Hall,
with a sizable crowd watching from the street. COMMISSIONER
GORDON is reading from a prepared statement.
GORDON
After a high-speed chase -- over $750,000
in precious jewels were recovered intact
by the police force -- working in concert
with Batman.
At the sound of Batman's name, a CHANTING goes up in the
crowd:
VOICES IN CROWD
TAKE BACK THE STREETS! TAKE BACK THE
STREETS! TAKE BACK THE --
GORDON winces and lets out a sigh. The CHANTERS are a group
of pugnacious, well-muscled KIDS, late teens and early
twenties, all dressed in identical garb: black Batman
SWEATSHIRTS and little red Guardian-angel BERETS. They're
obviously members of the same club -- just like the guys we
saw in the park.
GORDON waits for them to shut up, but they don't; so he grabs
the mike and speaks slowly and distinctly, trying to be heard
over the din.
GORDON
I would like to stress -- that while this
city enjoys a special relationship with
Batman --
(louder)
-- we do not condone vigilantism --
(practically screaming)
-- IN ANY FORM.
It's no use. He's totally drowned out by the RED BERETS, who
continue to shout and shake their fists. Giving up, he
returns the mike to a REPORTER and marches up the steps in a
huff. The RED BERETS CHEER.
CUT TO:
INSERT - TELEVISION SCREEN
The evening news: a live, on-the-spot interview from Gotham
Square. A superimposed GRAPHIC identifies a surly kid in a
RED BERET as "MIKE SEKOWSKY -- SPOKESPERSON -- ORDER OF THE
BAT."
SEKOWSKY
And hey! Where does this --
(BLEEP; expletive deleted)
-- Gordon get off calling us ?
We're not breakin' any laws. We're a
group of concerned citizens, that's all --
just like Batman.
WOMAN IN CROWD
You people are nothing but hoodlums!
SEKOWSKY
Hey, lady -- we're out here on patrol
riskin' our necks to protect old biddies
like you.
(into mike)
If this lame-o Gordon could do his job --
MORE CATCALLS from the crowd. The picture jumps suddenly as a
minicam is jostled; some sort of SCUFFLE appears to be
breaking out. Before it does, CAMERA PULLS BACK from the TV
screen, placing us in:
INT. WAYNE MANOR - KITCHEN - NIGHT
where ALFRED THE BUTLER is watching the Sekowsky interview
with extreme dismay. As he trims the crusts from a pair of
hearty watercress sandwiches, he SLICES HIS FINGER OPEN.
ALFRED makes a pained face -- it's all Sekowsky's fault.
Onscreen, the fracas continues; SEKOWSKY has recommandeered
the mike...
SEKOWSKY (on TV)
We're provin' that the spirit of Batman is
alive in this city. We're gonna take back
the streets!
SEKOWSKY raises a fist. Behind him, his CRONIES begin to
chant: "TAKE BACK THE STREETS! TAKE BACK THE STREETS!"
Incensed, sucking on his finger, ALFRED moves to the TV and
flicks it off.
He turns on the radio in search of something more soothing.
"Good King Wenceslas" pipes through the manor; smiling, ALFRED
sets the sandwich plate alongside a steaming kettle on a
Sterling silver tea service.
INT. BRUCE'S LIBRARY - THAT MOMENT - NIGHT
The CAROL CONTINUES UNDERNEATH as ALFRED, white linen draped
over one forearm, sets the tea tray down on his master's big
mahogany desk. He digs in his pocket for a key and unlocks a
side drawer.
The drawer contains a stack of yellowed, aging NEWPAPER
CLIPPINGS -- among them one which reads "THOMAS WAYNE
MURDERED: Prominent Doctor, Wife Slain in Robbery.
Unidentified Gunman Leaves Child Unharmed." ALFRED digs
around beneath the clippings and finds a concealed SWITCH at
the rear of the drawer.
Gears grind, and a sectional bookcase detaches itself from the
wall -- sliding out a couple of feet to reveal a STONE
STAIRWAY which descends into darkness...
INT. BATCAVE - A MOMENT LATER - NIGHT
Descending the stone stairs, ALFRED arrives in the Batcave.
"Good King Wenceslas" is on the speakers down here as well.
Across a catwalk the BATMOBILE rests on its little plateau,
wrapped in a tarp.
ALFRED clears some space on a lab table and sets the tea
service down. He glances up at the bank of video monitors and
sees SEKOWSKY, still babbling, on several channels
simultaneously. He scans the cave, but there's no trace of
BRUCE.
ALFRED
Sir? -- MASTER BRUCE??
As if in response, BATS screech and flutter in the distant
recesses of the cavern. ALFRED turns suddenly and sees BRUCE
behind him, suspended from a thin filament wire, RISING OUT OF
A BOTTOMLESS ABYSS.
BRUCE
I'm not deaf, Alfred. I hear you.
He's wearing his civvie -- tweed pants and cashmere sweater --
but he's got the utility belt, with its spring-action reel,
buckled about his waist. Clutching a bundle, he hangs in
midair for a moment, dangling over the void. ALFRED slowly
regains his composure:
ALFRED
I took the liberty of preparing tea.
(indicating tbe monitors)
I take it you've been watching the news?
BRUCE, still dangling, glances up at the SEKOWSKY interview
and nods.
BRUCE
Yeah...lot of crazy people in this world.
BRUCE rocks back and forth to build up momentum. He kicks off
on the nearest stone outcropping, lands gracefully on the
Batcave floor, and unbuckles his belt. Preoccupied, he drops
his mysterious bundle on the lab table: a roll of black
fabric, and a cluster of lightweight, hollow ALUMINUM RODS,
connected by what appears to be SURGICAL TUBING.
ALFRED
I should inform you...Christmas is
approaching, and we've received our annual
solicitation from the Fireman's Toy Fund.
(eyeing the equipment)
If I may inquire...?
BRUCE
Oh, yeah. Watch this.
BRUCE hits a trigger on a tiny gas canister attached to the
tubing. The tubing inflates and the rods spring erect --
stiffening, wing-like, into something which looks remarkably
like the skeleton of an umbrella.
ALFRED
Most ingenious, sir. What exactly it?
BRUCE
What does it look like?
ALFRED
To the untrained eye, sir, it looks
remarkably like...the skeleton of an
umbrella.
Sounds good. BRUCE eyes his new invention, thinks it over,
smiles slyly.
BRUCE
Good guess, Alfred. That's exactly right.
BRUCE hits the trigger, and the rods WILT with a hiss. He
sits at his lab table; ALFRED unfolds a napkin on his lap,
pours a cup of tea.
ALFRED
Splendid, sir, and if I may say, I'm glad
you're putting your time to such
productive use.
(beat)
Now -- the Toy Fund. Our contribution
last year was a half-million dollars...
BRUCE
We can do better than that.
ALFRED
Then there's the foster-parents program...
the Gotham homeless crusade...
BRUCE nods abstractedly and tucks into his sandwich. He seems
oddly preoccupied -- not exactly melancholy, but his thoughts
are obviously a million miles away. ALFRED looks on,
concerned:
ALFRED (cont.)
Is something troubling you, sir?
BRUCE
Yeah...the holidays, I guess. Always gets
me thinking about...
(he changes the subject)
And to tell you the truth, I'm a little --
concerned about Vicki.
ALFRED
(anxiously)
Miss Vale, sir...?
BRUCE
Yeah. I've been thinking about it lately.
Thinking about it a lot...
(gravely; shaking his head)
...and I still can't figure out what to
get her for Christmas.
BRUCE shoots ALFRED a solemn, perplexed look -- and ALFRED
heaves an audible sigh of relief as we
CUT TO:
INT. PRISON CELL - DAY
TIGHT ON a stack of COOPS and CAGES, piled high against a bare
concrete wall. Each cage -- and there are at least two dozen
of them -- contains a twittering BIRD: starlings, pigeons,
cardinals, titwillows...
CAMERA PULLS BACK from the bars of the cages to reveal a VERY
ODD FIGURE in prison greys. A CANARY, perched on his
shoulder, SINGS HAPPILY as he stands in front of a grimy,
cracked mirror, plastering back his hair, BUFFING HIS NAILS
with quick, birdlike strokes.
MR. BONIFACE is beak-nosed, epicene, and so fat that it seems
his skin should burst; the adjective that comes to mind is
"obscene." Despite his eccentric appearance, he comports
himself with overblown, theatrical dignity. Fastidious and
preening, he does not suffer insults lightly.
CAMERA PULLS BACK FURTHER -- through another set of bars --
and we realize that MR. BONIFACE is himself caged. A PRISON
GUARD arrives to slide back his cell door...
GUARD
Up and at 'em, Pengy. -- Pengy?
MR. BONIFACE pointedly ignores the GUARD, refusing to
acknowledge the odious (if wholly appropriate) nickname.
GUARD (cont.)
Boniface...
MR. BONIFACE finally turns. With an expression of extreme
distaste, he affixes a MONOCLE over one eye, returns the
canary to its cage and allows himself to be ushered out.
INT. WARDEN'S OFFICE - DAY
MR. BONIFACE and his ATTORNEY sit at a long table across from
the WARDEN and the members of the PAROLE BOARD.
PAROLE OFFICER
You want to return the money you stole.
BONIFACE
Intact. The map will show you where it's
buried.
The PAROLE OFFICER stares skeptically at a hand-scrawled MAP.
PAROLE OFFICER
All of it. Forty-two million dollars.
MR. BONIFACE stares down humbly at the table -- as if he finds
the mere mention of his transgression too embarrassing to
bear.
PAROLE OFFICER II
Why this sudden change of heart?
MR. BONIFACE
Gentlemen, I want my debt to be repaid in
full. I want to be a part of civilized
society!
(oozing sincerity)
Prison life is not for me. The guilt, the
fear, the constant shame...one meets a
disturbingly low class of people.
PAROLE OFFICER II
Sure, but -- forty-two million dollars??
MR. BONIFACE nods plaintively. It's quite a perfomlance. He
dabs at his face with a handkerchief; it's hot in here, and
he's the delicate type...
WARDEN
His record's clean. Thirteen years
without an incident.
ATTORNEY
I'd like to point out, my client's put his
time to good use. A student of
ornithology...articles published in
several respected journals...
The PAROLE OFFICER thumbs through a stack of magazines: Bird
World, Ornithological Review, Beaks And Feathers, Nest Egg.
MR. BONIFACE
Birds, yes. My only source of solace.
PAROLE OFFICER
In light of this rather extraordinary
gesture, I see no reason not to endorse
your application for parole.
BONIFACE
Thank you, sir. You won't regret it.
MR. BONIFACE shakes hands with the members of the PAROLE
BOARD. As the GUARDS escort him out, a BLACK MYNAH BIRD
SQUAWKS LOUDLY from its cage in the corner of the office:
MYNAH
CRIME DOES NOT PAY. AAWWK!! CRIME DOES
NOT PAY.
CHUCKLES all around. On his way out the ATTORNEY gestures
toward the mynah -- and BEAMS at the parole board:
ATTORNEY
Personally trained by my client.
INT. PRISON CELL - DAY
Free time -- the cell doors are open and the convicts are
milling around in the common area. T-BONE, 220 lbs. of dumb,
hulking beef, saunters up to his cell and finds his bunkmate,
MR. BONIFACE, staring at a stack of EMPTY CAGES. BONIFACE
whirls on him suddenly, his face beet-red, APOPLECTIC WITH
RAGE:
MR. BONIFACE
-- Where are my birds?!?
T-BONE
Shit, Pengy. I let 'em go.
MR. BONIFACE
Hermione. My canary. It's the dead of
winter!
T-BONE flops casually on his bunk, obviously enjoying MR.
BONIFACE's profound distress.
T-BONE
They were all cooped up. With you leaving
and all -- seemed like the humane thing to
do.
BONIFACE'S GAZE FALLS on a corner of the cell. He spots a
scattering of YELLOW FEATHERS -- a patch of FRESH BLOOD. With
a supreme effort of restraint, he turns and forces a smile...
MR. BONIFACE
I see. -- You might as well have this. I
won't be needing it...
He tosses a SONY WALKMAN to T-BONE, who flicks it on. The dim
strains of CLASSICAL MUSIC are audible through the
earphones...
T-BONE
Well, thanks, Pengy. No hard feelings.
(chuckling to himself)
Y'know, I'm gonna miss that pudgy little
ass of yours.
T-BONE tunes the Walkman to a rock station, slips the headset
on, grins from his bunk. TWO GUARDS arrive. As they escort
him out, MR. BONIFACE mutters:
MR. BONIFACE
You won't miss it long.
EXT. PRISON - MAIN ENTRANCE - DAY
It's fifteen degrees outside as MR. BONIFACE -- aka THE
PENGUIN -- waddles forth from the prison gates, regally
attired in cutaway and pin-stripes. He pauses to inhale a
deep lungful of the icy air; then, with a smile of
exhilaration, he removes his coat and STRETCHES -- spreading
his wings, REVELING in the cold.
A STRETCH LIMO pulls up. Two identically gaunt and vulture-
like DANDIES, formally dressed, with bowler hats and
umbrellas, step out to meet him. These two gentlemen -- FRICK
and FRACK -- serve as the Penguin's general factoti and
"business managers."
FRICK
Welcome back, Mr. Boniface.
PENGUIN
Mr. Frick. Mr. Frack. Our years of
planning are about to pay off.
INT. LIMO - MOVING - DAY
Now that he's loose, the PENGUIN's rapacious side is beginning
to show. His eyes twinkle with greed as he contemplates his
own ingenuity.
PENGUIN
I take it they found the money all right?
FRACK
We buried it exactly as you specified.
$42,271,009...
PENGUIN
How much have we got left?
FRICK reaches into his coat for a BALANCE SHEET.
FRICK
Let's see -- an initial capitalization of
42 million and change, compounded over
thirteen years, at an annual return of
just under sixteen percent --
PENGUIN
Fine, fine. How much?
FRICK
Seventy-nine million. -- Excluding the
sum we buried.
THE PENGUIN lets out a dry, heaving CHORTLE, midway between a
normal laugh and a DUCK'S QUACK. He checks his watch and
reaches into his pocket for a small ELECTRONIC DEVICE.
PENGUIN
Speaking of burials...
EXT. PRISON YARD - DAY
T-BONE on work detail. He's got the Walkman on and he's
shoveling snow to the beat. He winces, and removes the
headphones...
The MUSIC he was listening to has been replaced by an eerie,
high-pitched WHINE. He's twisting the knob, trying to find
the station he was tuned to, when a PIGEON dives down STRAIGHT
AT HIS HEAD.
T-BONE
HEY -- !
He drops the shovel as the bird STRIKES, glancing off his
head. Before he can react, THREE MORE PIGEONS have swooped
down at him, PECKING at his head and shoulders in a frenzy.
He lets out a HOWL and staggers through the prison yard in a
frenzy. DOZENS of PIGEONS are pouring over the prison walls,
SHRIEKING HIDEOUSLY, descending on him. He falls to the
ground screaming for help, but the other prisoners run like
rabbits, terrified...
By the time the GUARDS come racing across the courtyard,
T-BONE's no longer even visible. There's just a swarming,
man-shaped mass of PIGEONS, pecking away, flapping their wings
insanely. Covering their faces as they move in, the GUARDS
blow their whistles -- BEAT AT the pigeons with billy clubs.
All at once, the PIGEONS take off en masse -- leaving T-BONE's
mutilated corpse sprawled in the yard. A GUARD notices the
Walkman, picks up the earphones to listen, and hears nothing
but ROCK MUSIC -- "Surfin' Bird" by the Trashmen. Bird bird
bird, bird is the word...
EXT. ROAD - ON PENGUIN'S LIMO - MOVING
An AERIAL VIEW of the LIMO as it cruises down the deserted
road leading away from the prison. It disappears from view --
and all at once the frame is filled with PIGEONS, great
squalling FLOCKS of them, dutifully following their master as
he makes his way back to Gotham City.
DISSOLVE TO:
INT. WAYNE MANOR - ENTRYWAY - NIGHT
ALFRED opens the front door and finds a bundled-up VICKI out
on the portico, red-cheeked, flushed, and happy. She pulls
him forward, gives him a quick peck on the cheek.
VICKI
Guess what, Alfred. I think I found a
present for Bruce.
She's got a long, skinny GIFT BOX propped up against the
exterior wall. At first it doesn't want to fit through the
door -- it must be eight feet long -- but with ALFRED's help
she gets it inside. The faithful butler stares curiously at
this odd-shaped gift...
VICKI (cont.)
Skis. -- Don't let on, okay?
ALFRED
He won't hear a word of it from me.
VICKI
He's such a nightmare to shop for. --
What do you get him year after year,
Alfred?
ALFRED
(conspiratorially)
I find you can't go wrong with
surveillance equipment. Let me put this
under the tree...
VICKI
Not so fast.
She reaches into the pocket of her coat and pulls out another
small gift. ALFRED stares at the tag -- "TO ALFRED, LOVE
VICKI" -- and tries to suppress a HUGE GRIN.
ALFRED
Why, Miss Vale -- !
VOICE FROM BEHIND
What's all this?
ALFRED and VICKI turn. It's BRUCE, dressed for dinner,
marching down the long stairway in the entry hall. VICKI
waves frantically.
VICKI
Don't look. It's your present.
VICKI rushes over to embrace him. He gapes at the long skinny
box --
BRUCE
What'd you get me? Kareem Abdul-Jabbar?
VICKI frowns and gives him a kiss. She nestles up against
him. WHISPERS in his ear:
VICKI
I'm going to give you the happiest
Christmas you've ever had.
Still in the clinch, BRUCE shoots a look at ALFRED. Taking
the hint, ALFRED clears his throat and bends to pick up one
end of the ski box. He backs out of the entry hall, dragging
the box before him...
CUT TO:
EXT. GOTHAM PARK - NIGHT
FIRES burn in garbage cans. TENTS and LEAN-TOS dot the snowy
landscape. Men, women, and children wander aimlessly,
huddling against the cold.
An army of the HOMELESS has set up camp in Gotham Park. On
the nearby periphery, PICKETERS -- half concerned citizens,
half down-and-outers -- are marching the sidewalks, keeping a
candlelight VIGIL. Hand-lettered placards read: "SAVE THE
PARK." "PARKS ARE FOR PEOPLE." "THIS PARK IS OUR HOME."
The source of the protest? A towering SIGN posted in a corner
of the park, announcing the imminent consuuction of a new
luxury highrise -- the GOTHAM PARK TOWERS -- a project of Shaw
Construction, Inc.
A LAMBORGHINI sits at a traffic light nearby...
INT. LAMBORGHINI - THAT MOMENT - NIGHT
BRUCE and VICKI, dressed for dinner, stare out at the
demonstration.
VICKI
Homeless.
(beat)
I was just down here Tuesday. Seems like
there's more every day.
BRUCE starts to say something, but can't think of anything to
say.
VICKI (cont.)
Christmas time. And they say there's over
a thousand people living in the park
already.
BRUCE
-- Yeah.
The light changes. BRUCE throws the car into gear and -- at
the next intersection -- turns the car right, into the park.
EXT. PUB-IN-THE-PARK - NIGHT
Despite the name, it's a tony little bistro catering to
Gotham's elite. A PANHANDLER, underdressed for the cold, has
been hustling the customers as they come out; a couple of
PARKING ATTENDANTS are trying to drag him discreetly away as
BRUCE'S CAR pulls up.
A VALET opens the car for BRUCE and VICKI, who look on in
concern as the PANHANDLER gets the bum's rush. The liveried
DOORMAN shrugs apolagetically -- sorry for the inconvenience
-- as they enter.
INT. PUB-IN-THE-PARK - NIGHT
Post-dinner. VICKI's got a sheaf of PHOTOS spread out on the
table in front of BRUCE -- shots of Gotham's HOMELESS, being
forcibly evicted from slum dwellings, erecting their
SHANTYTOWNS in Gotham Park.
VICKI
They're already razing the tenements and
SRO's downtown. These people don't have
anyplace else to go.
(beat)
If the city starts selling off the park...
BRUCE takes a good long look at his opulent surroundings.
HUGE WINDOWS open on a serene and picturesque view of the
park; CAMPFIRES flicker in the distance...
BRUCE
-- Yeah. I guess I'll pass on dessert.
VICKI
(taking his hand)
Bruce, you do a lot more than most people
even dream of.
BRUCE
Sure. Comes off the top of my taxes --
VICKI
That's not what I meant.
They exchange a long silent look. Of course she's referring
to Batman. Still, the argument doesn't hold much water with
BRUCE.
BRUCE
-- What I "do" doesn't come close to the
root of the problem, Vicki.
(long pause)
I'm just a Band-Aid.
VOICE FROM BEHIND
Bruce! It's been ages!
VICKI turns -- and rapidly closes her photo folder.
Millionaire construction magnate RANDALL SHAW is in the
restaurant table-hopping, and he's just glommed onto BRUCE.
BRUCE
Randall. You remember Vicki. -- How's
the construction business?
SHAW
The park tower? All systems go. If we
can get the junkies and winos cleared
out...
(a big grin)
Not too late to get in on the deal.
BRUCE
I'll think about it.
SHAW
Say, Walter Barrett's due back from
Europe. We should all get together at the
club.
(clapping him on the shoulder)
Nice to see you again, Miss Veal.
"Miss Veal" maintains a big phony smile as SHAW moves off to
the next table. She murmurs to BRUCE through clenched teeth:
VICKI
What a pig.
BRUCE
I've known him since he was seven years
old. He was a pig then too.
VICKI
Now he wants to gobble up the park...
(shivering)
Bruce -- isn't there something you can do
about people like that?
BRUCE
What, tie him up with a bat-rope?
VICKI
No, you idiot. I meant you. Bruce.
BRUCE nods -- oh, yeah. Subtle distinction.
INT. PUB-IN-THE-PARK - NIGHT
BRUCE and VICKI emerge from the restaurant. He hands his
parking stub to a VALET. A crowd's beginning to form in the
lot outside...
The red-and-blue bubble of a POLICE CAR is flashing a short
distance off, near the entrance to the park. TWO RED BERETS,
in full Order-of-the-Bat regalia, look on as a recently-mugged
WOMAN JOGGER gives her statement to the investigating COPS.
BRUCE and VICKI, intrigued by the Batman-wannabes, move a
little closer -- within eavesdropping range:
RED BERET I
We were on patrol. Saw the whole thing.
JOGGER
I was attacked. Three men in ski masks --
COP I
(indicating the RED BERETS)
And these two broke it up?
JOGGER
These two?? They ran like rabbits. I
never saw anybody take off so --
RED BERET II
Hey! Somebody had to go for the cops.
COP II
You. SHUT UP, all right??
(to the JOGGER)
Lady, who was it that bailed you out??
JOGGER
A kid. Thirteen or fourteen tops. He
just came out of nowhere and -- tore into
'em.
(shaking her head)
It was so quick I didn't even see his
face.
Nearby, VICKI shoots a highly quizzical look at BRUCE, who
responds with a mystified shrug. Her professional curiosity
piqued, she wanders over to introduce herself to the JOGGER.
An exasperated COP leads the RED BERETS away from the crime
site:
RED BERET I
Dumb shit. Shouldn'ta been jogging in the
park at night anyway.
(sullenly)
Look around you. It's fulla bums.
BRUCE gestures at the RED BERET's Batman sweatshirt as he
passes.
BRUCE
Nice outfit.
RED BERET I
Piss off, geek.
DISSOLVE TO:
EXT. WATERFRONT DISTRICT - NIGHT
Snow blankets the abandoned warehouses rimming Gotham Harbor.
FOGHORNS blare in the distance as a pair of STILETTO HEELS --
totally inappropriate for the weather -- click across the
sidewalk and pause at mid-block, where a wide wooden plank
leads down from street level to a seedy hole-in-the-wall bar:
the WHARF RAT.
INT. WHARF RAT - NIGHT
A roughneck joint, about as trendy as the average bait shack.
The clientele consists primarily of surly types who are saving
up for their next tattoo. A TV over the bar is tuned to the
late news:
ANCHORWOMAN
...and tomorrow, the city's power elite
will be turning out in force to greet
millionaire industrialist Walter Barrett,
who returns to Gotham after a five-year
stay in Europe...
The BARTENDER switches to a hockey game, because none of the
rowdies at the bar give a shit about Walter Barrett. None,
that is, except for a strapping young bruiser named RICKY, who
gets up and makes his way to a pay phone in the corner.
Moments later, the owner of the high heels enters; she opens
her black fur coat and unwraps her muffler, revealing exotic,
vaguely Eurasian features. She's dark and elegant, fine-
boned, regal of bearing -- and her name, though we don't know
it yet, is SELINA KYLE.
She's not the kind of girl who typically frequents the Wharf
Rat, and so her entrance creates quite a stir. A LONGSHOREMAN
at the nearby pool table misses his shot and digs a rut in the
felt. Two blowsy WHORES size her up territorially as she
finds an open stool at the bar and settles in with serene
indifference.
The regulars, of course, are all but licking their chops. The
only guy in the joint who hasn't noticed her yet is RICKY,
who's still on the phone:
RICKY
Yo. Ricky here. What's the haps?
In mid-conversation he notices SELINA. She smiles invitingly
-- right at him. Mildly startled, he smiles back.
RICKY (cont.)
Midnight. No sweat. See you then.
He hangs up eagerly. Then, with a deep breath, he hitches up
his pants and swaggers over to SELINA's end of the bar.
SELINA
Well. "Ricky," is it?
RICKY
How'd you know that?
SELINA
I heard you on the phone. Talking to your
girlfriend.
RICKY
Girlfriend? No, no. That was business.
SELINA makes a big show of peeling off her gloves.
SELINA
If you've got time for a little pleasure
...maybe you'd like to buy me a drink.
She clasps his hand. His EYES BUG OUT. Three enormous rings,
a diamond bracelet -- there must be several thousand in rocks
on her left hand alone. RICKY gapes at the sparklers,
bedazzled.
RICKY
Jeez -- they look almost real.
SELINA
Why wouldn't they be?
RICKY is not the smoothest guy around, and his line of thought
is all too evident. He swallows hard and tries not to stare.
RICKY
You'd have to be crazy. Nobody'd wear the
real thing to a dive like this.
SELINA
Oh, they're real, all right. So are
these.
She waves her FINGERNAILS -- long, polished, and talon-sharp
-- in front of his eyes. With lightning speed, before he can
react, she pins his wrist to the bar -- and with one quick
stroke carves a THIN BLOODY STRIPE in the back of his hand.
SELINA's eyes flash as he gasps in shock. He tries to jerk
his hand away, but he can't break her grip. Then -- her
dominance firmly established -- she releases his hand with a
coy, Cheshire-cat smile.
SELINA (cont.)
Weren't we going to have a drink?
He blinks, forces a chuckle, smiles unsteadily. She takes his
wounded hand, lifts it slowly to her mouth, and LAPS GENTLY at
the blood. RICKY is hypnotized.
She's got an odd way of flirting, but RICKY finds it somehow
-- intriguing. He dabs at his hand with a napkin and signals
to the BARTENDER.
CUT TO:
EXT. WATERFRONT - PIER 31 - NIGHT
Just after midnight; the snow's still failing, the waters are
icy, and the wharfs are deserted -- almost. A small STEAMBOAT
is docked at Pier 31, and the deck is lined with THUGS --
mean, ugly, and heavily armed.
A similar contingent of gun-toting GOONS is waiting to greet
them on the dock below. The boys on the dock hoist ASSAULT
RIFLES as the BOAT THUGS extend a gangplank. Something major
is about to happen...
The CHIEF DOCK GOON gestures to his LIEUTENANT, who grabs a
black MEDICAL BAG. Hands raised, the two of them start up the
gangplank.
Throughout all this, the DOCK GOONS keep their guns trained on
the BOAT THUGS, covering their buddies. One of them turns to
a colleague:
DOCK GOON I
Where's that goddam Ricky?
DOCK GOON II
Probably out gettin' laid. And here we
are freezin' our balls off...
EXT. STEAMBOAT - ON DECK - THAT MOMENT - NIGHT
The LIEUTENANT unloads chemical testing gear from his doctor's
bag. The lead BOAT THUG gestures to a stack of SHIPPING
CRATES which rest atop a large NET spread out across the deck.
BOAT THUG I
You pick.
The CHIEF GOON selects a crate at random. Two BOAT THUGS tip
it on its side and, using a crowbar, pry off a FALSE BOTTOM --
revealing a dozen packets of WHITE POWDER.
POV SHOT - HIGH ANGLE - THAT MOMENT
We're now watching the scene from a vantage point atop a
ramshackle boathouse at water's edge. Down on the deck of the
steamboat, the LIEUTENANT goes to work testing the
merchandise.
LIEUTENANT
It's pure.
REVERSE ANGLE - THAT MOMENT
A BLACK SILHOUETTE is peering down from the boathouse roof.
The mysterious watcher ducks quickly out of sight; the only
details that register are a pair of ominously familiar POINTY
EARS...
CHIEF GOON (O.S.)
Let's do it.
He gestures to his boys on the dock. A CRANE-AND-WINCH
assembly rotates into place over the deck -- and the BOAT
THUGS gather up the corners of the netting and attach them to
the big hook.
BOAT THUG I
Hold it. Let's see the money.
Down on the wharf, a DOCK GOON kneels beside a metal suitcase
and opens it. Lots of long green inside. The BOAT THUG
signals thumbs up, and the CRATES rise into the air as the
goon with the suitcase starts up the gangplank.
LOW ANGLE - ON GANGPLANK - THAT MOMENT
The goon with the suitcase marches up. Beyond him, in the
distance, a LITHE BLACK SHADOW vaults off the boathouse roof
and makes a silent, graceful landing on the long shaft of the
CRANE.
ANOTHER ANGLE - THAT MOMENT
The moment of maximum tension: grim faces all around, everyone
holding a gun on someone else as the suitcase arrives on deck
and crane swings over the pier.
ANGLE ON CRANE - THAT MOMENT
Razor-sharp, CHROME-STEEL TALONS slash suddenly through the
air.
ON DOCK - LOW ANGLE - THAT MOMENT
The netting GIVES WAY, and TWO DOZEN SHIPPING CRATES rain down
onto the pier, CRUSHING two DOCK GOONS underneath. The crates
explode into splinters, littering the dock with drugs and
random ART OBJECTS as the other DOCK GOONS scatter in panic.
ON STEAMBOAT - THAT MOMENT
Nobody knows quite what's going on. Panicking, the GOON with
the suitcase full of money turns tail and dives for the
gangplank. BOAT THUG I sees him and squeezes off a quick
shot. Winged, the GOON topples off the gangplank and hits the
drink, suitcase and all.
Pandemonium. All at once, everyone's OPENING FIRE. Thinking
he's been double-crossed, BOAT THUG I turns on the CHIEF GOON
and SHOOTS HIM TWICE at point-blank range.
BOAT THUG I
YOU SON OF A BITCH!
(to another BOAT THUG)
Go after it. Get the money. GO!!
He raises his gun, and the second BOAT THUG dutifully obeys --
diving off the deck into a hail of gunfire. Everyone's
ducking for cover. BOAT THUG I barks orders at the
pilothouse:
BOAT THUG I
Soltar las amarras! -- CAST OFF!!
ANOTHER BOAT THUG
LOOK!
BOAT THUG I whirls, just in time to see a SHADOWY FIGURE
landing cat-like on the deck mere yards away. Clad in inky
black leather from head to toe, the intruder's face is
concealed by what appears to be a BONDAGE MASK. Studded, with
openings for the eyes and mouth, it spans one incongruous
touch: a pair of POINTED CAT EARS.
She bares her teeth and HISSES.
It's a woman.
BOAT THUG I is momentarily mesmerized. In the time it takes
him to lift his gun, she's produced a CAT-O'-NINE-TAILS. She
SNAPS it at him: REELS HIM IN; and with one lethal stroke,
RAKES her steel talons across his face and throat. He slumps
to the deck, lifeless.
The other BOAT THUG rushes her; she catches him under the jaw
with a sudden upthrust, LIFTS HIM INTO THE AIR, and sends him
toppling into the water.
The gangplank falls aside as the steamboat pulls away from the
pier. She hoists an abandoned ASSAULT RIFLE, SCATTERS the
DOCK GOONS with a round of automatic fire, and VAULTS off the
boat -- landing in a graceful crouch on the edge of the pier.
Most of the DOCK GOONS have taken flight, but a few unlucky
specimens remain behind. She somersaults forward; takes one
goon off his feet with a crack of the whip; knocks another off
the dock with a twirling high-kick to the jaw; sends two more
reeling with swift talon-slashes. The whole frenzied mop-up
action takes just under ten seconds. Alone at last, she
stands back to survey the scene.
Counting the stiff's on the boat -- which is now receding in
the harbor -- there must be well over a dozen dead. The snow
is speckled with red. A half-dozen bodies lie sprawled in
their own blood; one of them, the lone survivor, is face-down
and softly MOANING.
Retracting her steel claws, the MASKED WOMAN crouches amid the
wreckage of the smashed shipping crates. BINDLES OF WHITE
POWDER -- millions of dollars' worth -- are scattered all
about the pier, but she couldn't seem less interested.
Instead, she's checking the MANIFEST NUMBERS stamped on the
sides of the crates.
She finds crate #18396-BB and rummages among its contents
until she comes up with a carefully-wrapped parcel. She opens
it carefully and holds it up for inspection. The statuette of
a RAVEN -- carved from solid onyx -- glistens in the
moonlight.
The WOMAN pauses long enough to slip a small CARD in the
MOANING PUNK's back pocket. Then, cradling the raven under
one arm, she dashes off on silent cat feet.
A LANTERN approaches. It's an OLD SALT -- some kind of
hapless night watchman -- and his face goes bone-white at the
sight of the carnage on the docks. He kneels beside the
moaning punk, turns the body over, and GASPS -- because the
PUNK'S FACE has been CLAWED TO SHREDS.
PUNK
Murcielago. MURCIELAGO!!
CUT TO:
INT. PENGUIN'S LAIR - NIGHT
The unique chamber in which we find ourselves is alive with
the flutter and song of COLD-WEATHER BIRDS -- dozens of them,
all chirping, flitting about in the rafters, alighting on
special perches mounted in the walls.
At the center of this penthouse room is a vast sunken POOL.
ARCTIC TERNS loll on the surrounding rocks as a LACKEY with a
wheelbarrow empties cracked ice into the already-frigid water.
Carefully landscaped, it looks like the penguin exhibit at the
Gotham Zoological Gardens.
A MASSIVE, INDISTINCT SHAPE glides beneath the surface. It's
not a whale; it's too pink. It is, instead, the PENGUIN --
and as he breaks the surface, sputtering, he sees FRICK
standing in the open doorway.
FRICK
Mr. Boniface? Your...visitor has arrived.
PENGUIN
Thank you, Mr. Frick. Show her in.
The PENGUIN moves to the edge of the sunken pool. Two of his
LACKEYS swivel a CROSSBAR, which hangs from the ceiling by a
long chain, into place over his head. He grasps it with both
hands -- and the crossbar RISES, hoisting his formidable bulk
out of the water.
INT. HIGH-RISE - CORRIDOR - THAT MOMENT
FRICK leads the VISITOR down a long corridor lined on either
side with BIRD CAGES -- exotic songbirds with brilliantly-hued
plumage. CAMERA TRACKS ALONG behind her, and although we
can't see her face, there must be something distinctively
feline about her -- because the BIRDS are shrieking and
fluttering in their cages, RECOILING INSTINCTIVELY as she
strolls past.
FRICK opens a door and ushers her into...
INT. PENGUIN'S LAIR - A MOMENT LATER - NIGHT
Our visitor -- SELINA KYLE -- enters the penguin-pool room.
Her teeth begin to chatter. The big bay windows have been
thrown open, and SNOW is blowing in from outside. It's
freezing in here.
She sees the PENGUIN -- wearing a thin dressing gown and an
APRON outfitted with SEED POUCHES -- scattering birdseed on
the window ledge for the pigeons, totally oblivious to the
cold. He turns, throws his arms wide in greeting, kisses the
back of SELINA's hand.
PENGUIN
Ah, Miss Kyle! At last we meet.
SELINA
At last we meet. -- Pigeons?
PENGUIN
Yes, they're common birds -- dirty,
stupid, unattractive -- but they're very
obedient, and they do crap on people's
heads. May I?
She extends a SHOPPING BAG. The PENGUIN removes a parcel and
unwraps it, revealing the RAVEN STATUETTE. He sets it on a
nearby desk, fondles it reverently...and BEAMS at SELINA.
PENGUIN (cont.)
I see your reputation was not exaggerated.
SELINA
I've located the others. All but one.
(shivering)
I'm surprised you don't catch
pneumonia -- !
With an apologetic smile, the PENGUIN pulls the windows shut.
PENGUIN
My normal body temperature is ninety-two
degrees. Germs find me inhospitable.
SELINA
I see why they call you the Penguin.
PENGUIN
They may call me that...but rarely more
than once. Champagne?
She nods. He pours two glasses, hands one to SELINA, raises a
toast.
PENGUIN (cont.)
My dear. Here's to the second biggest
crime in the history of Gotham City.
CUT TO:
INT. POLICE OBSERVATION ROOM - NIGHT
COMMISSIONER GORDON and another cop, LT. EDDIE BULLOCK, are in
darkened antechamber adjacent to an interrogation room.
BULLOCK
It wasn't about the drugs. Whoever it was
left thirty kilos sitting on the docks.
They're watching, through a two-way glass panel, as a
terrified man with a heavily-bandaged face tells his story.
It's the lone survivor of the dock massacre, JULIO, and his
voice is audible over a concealed intercom:
JULIO (filter)
Un silueta negra -- con colmillos, y
garras -- el demonio. El murcielago.
MURCIELAGO!
GORDON
What's that he keeps saying?
BULLOCK
"Murcielago." -- Bat.
GORDON
Nonsense. That dock looked like a
slaughter-house. Batman's never committed
murder.
BULLOCK
We did find this in his back pocket.
BULLOCK hands GORDON a CARD. It reads: "THOSE WHO FEED ON THE
SOUL OF GOTHAM WILL SUFFER MY WRATH" -- and in lieu of a
signature, there's a little black BAT-EMBLEM in the bottom
corner.
While GORDON's staring at it, a POLICEMAN pokes his head in:
POLICEMAN
Commissioner? We've got Barrett.
INT. POLICE INTERROGATION ROOM - THAT MOMENT
A cubicle down the hall. The splenetic WALTER BARRETT,
millionaire industrialist, is fidgeting in his chair as GORDON
enters.
BARRETT
Fine welcome. These storm troopers of
yours dragged me away from my coming-home
party!
(beat)
I'd like to know the meaning of this --
GORDON
I'd like to know how thirty kilos of pure
cocaine wound up concealed in your
personal effects.
BARRETT
Gordon -- I come from one of the oldest
and most influential familles in Gotham.
If you plan to accuse me of smuggling
drugs, be my guest.
(long, menacing pause)
I'll have your badge before you leave this
room.
GORDON weighs the threat. He nods to the COPS in
attendance...
GORDON
Book the son of a bitch.
GORDON storms out. BARRETT jumps out of his chair, but the
COPS restrain him. Outraged, he bats their hands away...
BARRETT
I believe I'm still entitled to a phone
call.
CUT TO:
EXT. DOWNTOWN GOTHAM - DAY
VICKI with her camera, squeezing off snaps. She's standing
behind a SAWHORSE, part of a crowd of onlookers at a downtown
DEMOLITION SITE. SURVEYORS and HARDHATS bustle about in a
VACANT LOT, a full city block in size, fenced off and strewn
with rubble. The only structure still standing is a lone,
decrepit TENEMENT BUILDING; a WRECKING BALL is poised above
it, ready to strike.
A SIGN at one corner of the lot announces a forty-story OFFICE
COMPLEX soon to be erected on this site by SHAW CONSTRUCTION,
INC. Down below is RANDALL SHAW HIMSELF, in necktie and
hardhat, speaking into a WALKIE-TALKIE:
SHAW
Come on! Let's move it! We're an hour
behind as it is!!
A few moments later, a CLUSTER OF PEOPLE emerge from the
tenement building -- a mixed team of COPS and CONSTRUCTION
GOONS who are forcibly removing a DESTITUTE FAMILY from the
condenmed building. VICKI watches angrily...
HER POV - TELEPHOTO LENS
A quick series of shots: the SQUATTERS wailing and struggling,
clinging to the doorways, unwilling to leave. Their few
belongings are packed in a couple of CARDBOARD BOXES, which
the cops heave rudely out onto the street. Finally, the
handcuffs and nightsticks come out...
ANGLE ON SHAW - THAT MOMENT - DAY
A SURVEYOR grabs SHAW by the arm and points out the woman
taking photos in the crowd. SHAW recognizes her instantly.
His face turns into a mask of outrage -- as if he's been
personally betrayed.
SHAW
Jesus Christ, that's Bruce Wayne's bimbo!
He makes eye contact with her. VICKI stares back defiantly.
He's about to stroll over and tell her off when a HARDHAT
signals to him:
HARDHAT
Phone call, Mr. Shaw. Guy said it's
urgent.
SHAW
(to tbe SURVEYOR)
Hold the ball. I wanna hear it crash.
He climbs into the cab of a nearby TRUCK, where he picks up a
CELLULAR PHONE.
INTERCUT - BARRETT AND SHAW
BARRETT's still in custody at the police station -- using his
one phone call to contact the construction magnate.
BARRETT
It's me, Randall -- Walter Barrett. I
want you to call my attorney. That was my
shipment they busted up last night.
SHAW
Jesus, Walter, I --
(suddenly puzzled)
Why are you calling me??
BARRETT
It's worse than that. Somebody took my
raven.
SHAW stares at the phone in horrified disbelief.
ANGLE ON VICKI - THAT MOMENT
SHE WATCHES as SHAW climbs out of the truck -- numb, in a
daze. He signals to the WRECKING BALL OPERATOR; a WHISTLE
blows, and the great iron ball knocks a MAMMOTH HOLE in the
facade of the tenement.
SHAW doesn't even stick around to watch it. He scurries off
to his car at the end of the block. VICKI, highly intrigued,
gets it all on film...
INT. GOTHAM GLOBE - CITY ROOM - DAY
VICKI's in a huddle with the Managing Editor, SCHULTZ, showing
him her PHOTOS -- SHAW orchestrating the eviction of the
SQUATTER FAMILY.
SCHULTZ
Great stuff, but we're looking at a
shitfight with our beloved publisher. He
and Shaw...
(crossing his fingers)
Old money sticks together.
VICKI points to a photo of SHAW racing from the truck to his
car.
VICKI
I'd sure like to know what shook him up
so. He was out of there like a scared
rabbit...
Just then, a reporter -- WILK -- rushes up excitedly to
SCHULTZ's desk.
WILK
Got a blind tip from downtown. You know
that massacre on the docks? Batman.
VICKI reacts in astonishment. SCHULTZ's jaw drops -- this is
hot.
EDITOR
Whoa! Is this on the level?
WILK
Cops even got a note. "Those who feed on
the soul of Gotham will suffer my wrath!"
(grinning; to VICKI)
Sounds like your pal's cranked it up a
notch.
VICKI starts to protest, but thinks better of it.
INT. WAYNE MANOR - ENTRY HALL - EVENING
ALFRED opens the door. A BANNER HEADLINE stares him in the
face:
BATMAN IMPLICATED IN DOCK MASSACRE
Industrialist Linked to Drug Smuggling Ring
VICKI, who's holding up the afternoon paper for ALFRED's
inspection, peeks out glumly from behind the masthead.
VICKI
Seen the late edition?
ALFRED
I'm afraid so, Miss Vale. Master Bruce is
sequestered in the cave.
INT. BRUCE'S LIBRARY - A MOMENT LATER - EVENING
On their way to the Batcave, ALFRED and VICKI pass through the
library. They pause in front of the television -- which is
tuned to a PANEL SHOW, with various experts discussing the hot
issue of the day.
ENVIRONMENTALIST (on TV)
Walter Barrett's no saint. His factories
have been dumping poison into the air and
water for years. If he is mixed up with
drugs...
PUNDIT (on TV)
That's not the issue. The issue is, do we
entrust our public safety to some...masked
vigilante. Does Batman have a license to
kill?
ALFRED
(shaking his head)
Ah, the public. Dishearteningly fickle.
VICKI follows ALFRED out. We HOLD on the TV as the CAMERA
PANS OVER to the third guest on the panel, loudly demanding
air time. He's wearing a RED BERET and a BATMAN SWEATSHIRT:
MIKE SEKOWSKY (on TV)
Yo, here's the tip, man. Drug dealers are
scum. If Batman did wax these punks...SO
WHAT? They deserved it! End of
discussion.
INT. BATCAVE - A MOMENT LATER - EVENING
ALFRED and VICKI arrive; BRUCE gestures for them to keep
quiet. He's hunched over a TAPE RECORDER -- and COMMISSIONER
GORDON'S VOICE is blaring from a nearby speaker...
GORDON (O.S.; filter)
Anyone could've written that note.
INT. GORDON'S OFFICE - THAT MOMENT
GORDON's in conference with a number of CITY OFFICIALS --
blissfully unaware that anyone might be eavesdropping.
CITY OFFICIAL I
And I suppose anyone could've taken out a
boatload of armed thugs. A dozen men, Jim
-- murdered in cold blood --
GORDON
Before we forget, Batman's saved hundreds
of lives!
CITY OFFICIAL II
He's still a vigilante. We don't know who
he is, where he comes from, why he does
it...
CITY OFFICIAL I
Street punks are one thing, Jim. This is
Walter Barrett -- a personal friend of
mine!
As the conversation continues, CAMERA SLOWLY MOVES IN ON a
COMPUTER TERMINAL in the corner. We see the tiny TRADEMARK
embossed on the CPU -- "WAYNE TECHNOLOGIES."
INT. BATCAVE - THAT MOMENT - ON BRUCE
as he LISTENS through his concealed bug.
CITY OFFCIAL II
You've gotta bring him in, Jim -- at least
for questioning. It would sure help if we
could get that mask off...
BRUCE shuts the recorder off. He turns to face ALFRED and
VICKI --
BRUCE
Ladies and gentlemen...I've been framed.
CUT TO:
EXT. GOTHAM CITY - NIGHT
The BAT-SIGNAL blazing in the night sky. After a beat, the
CAMERA TILTS DOWN to a cluster of EXCITED CITIZENS, who point
and holler as the BATMOBILE streaks past.
INT. SQUAD CAR - THAT MOMENT
TWO COPS are parked in an alleyway, watching as the BATMOBILE
whizzes past on the street. The DRIVER pulls out behind it as
the second COP grabs his radio mike...
COP
One-delta-niner -- 10-80 on Riverview
north-bound at 33rd -- 10-78, repeat
10-78.
VOICE ON RADIO (filter)
10-4, one-delta-niner -- that's a 10-37,
repeat 10-37. Backup on the way.
EXT. STREET - ON BATMOBILE
BARRELING TOWARD US on the street. The SQUAD CAR gains behind
it. A SIREN HOWLS; a red-and-blue bubble begins to flash...
The BATMOBILE makes a HAIRPIN TURN -- and ACCELERATES.
OVERHEAD ANGLE - THE STREETS
As the BATMOBILE rounds the corner and picks up speed, TWO
MORE SQUAD CARS scream down the cross street, joining in the
pursuit. All at once THICK BLACK SMOKE billows from the back
of the Batmobile -- ENVELOPING the police cars, BLINDING THE
DRIVERS...
EXT. STREET - THAT MOMENT - NIGHT
TWO SQUAD CARS parked in a V-formation -- a makeshift
roadblock. ANXIOUS POLICEMEN mill about in front of them.
They move into position as the BATMOBILE, still trailing
smoke, rounds a corner and careens directly toward them...
ANGLE ON BATMOBILE - THAT MOMENT
The FRONT FENDER of the Batmobile detaches and EXTENDS itself
from the body of the car. It BENDS in the middle; WING-PANELS
flip into place, forming an arrowhead-shaped COW-CATCHER.
EXT. STREET - ON ROADBLOCK
A SHRIEKING HORN BLARES. The COPS see the Batmobile SPEEDING
UP and dive for the sidewalk. The COW-CATCHER slams into the
SOUAD CARS, pushes them effortlessly aside, and cruises
through the gap.
As the PURSUING CARS emerge from the smoke cloud and follow
the Batmobile through, we TILT UP to the roof of a nearby
building --
EXT. ROOFTOP - THAT MOMENT
-- and realize that the Batmobile's on automatic pilot,
because BATMAN's been on the roof all along -- watching the
action with some dismay.
His relationship with the Gotham PD appears to be on shaky
ground. He speaks into his voice-activated REMOTE CONTROL
UNIT:
BATMAN
Evasive.
SIRENS HOWL below as he strolls across the rooftop, lost in
thought.
CUT TO:
INT. PENTHOUSE APARTMENT - NIGHT
At this height, the SIRENS are a distant insect drone. We're
in the palatial digs of RANDALL SHAW, the construction
magnate. There's obviously money to be made in real-estate
development -- because the walls are lined with art, and the
floor-to-ceiling windows open on the most spectacular view in
Gotham.
At the moment, SHAW's posing casually in front of his new
Brancusi -- which rests on a pedestal near the windows. An
UNIDENTIFIED WOMAN in a slinky black dress LOOKS ON, her back
to the camera...
WOMAN
It's a fake.
SHAW
Hmm. It cost me a half a million dollars.
You're sure?
WOMAN
Absolutely. You see, I...happen to know
where the real one is stashed.
The WOMAN wanders out of frame as SHAW smiles, impressed. He
seems peculiarly nonchalant about the whole deal; at the
moment, art is not the first thing on his mind. CAMERA STAYS
ON HIM as he pours two glasses of red wine and circles in on
his mysterious guest.
SHAW
I guess you'd know. I have some "friends"
in the art world. They say that -- for
certain hard-to-get items -- you're the
one to call.
WOMAN (O.S.)
How flattering.
SHAW
They say for the right price...you could
steal Michelangelo off the Sistine Chapel
Wall.
WOMAN (O.S.)
Mr. Shaw. Do you believe everything you
hear?
SHAW
Oh, I'm not one to judge. I admire people
who take what they want. I'm just curious
how you do it.
SHAW hands her the wine, and for the first time we see her
face. It's SELINA KYLE, perching seductively on the arm of
the sofa...
SELINA
I find that the old methods work best.
Setting her wine down, flashing her patented Cheshire-cat
smile, SELINA moves in on him -- and they go into a deep,
passionate kiss. Her long red nails dig into his back; SHAW
drops his wine glass, which SHATTERS -- splashing red wine
across the polished parquet floor.
INT. PENTHOUSE - SHAW'S BEDROOM - NIGHT
The action's gone horizontal. SELINA, peeled down to a sheer
lace teddy, is on the bed atop SHAW -- tickling his throat
with quick, lapping kisses. She rolls off suddenly; when he
tries to sit up, she pushes him back down with a single
finger.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she peels off her STOCKINGS,
twisting them around into tight cords. With a coy smile she
runs her finger in a circle around SHAW's hairy chest -- and
then, abruptly, knots one stocking tightly about his wrist and
ties it off on the bedpost.
SHAW
Hey, what are you doing -- ?
He tries to break her grip. She BACKHANDS him sharply across
the face.
SELINA
You're very inquisitive. You'll just have
to be disciplined.
An EDGY SMILE spreads across his face as she binds his other
hand to the bedpost. None too quick, he's just caught on that
all this is part of SELINA's kinky scene. She crosses quickly
to the bathroom --
SHAW
You know, I've...I've never really done
this kind of thing before.
-- and reemerges wearing her CATWOMAN mask...which seems
perfectly appropriate in this context.
SELINA
I think people should indulge their
fantasies. Don't you?
Now that he's all trussed up, she crosses the room and reaches
into an oversized bag. She withdraws an odd-looking chromium
BRACE, slips it on over her wrist, and hits a trigger. SIX-
INCH STEEL TALONS snick into place. SHAW's dopey smile
fades...
SHAW
Hey, what are those -- what are you --
He lets out an awful, shrill SHRIEK as the camera WHIP PANS
away from the bed to a Jackson Pollack on the wall nearby. A
SPRAY OF BLOOD spatters across it -- in an aesthetically
pleasing way -- and the SHRIEK ends in a LOW GURGLE as we
CUT TO:
INT. BUILDING LOBBY - A FEW MINUTES LATER - NIGHT
A SECURITY GUARD is working a crossword at his booth near the
entrance of the building. Behind him, a bank of MONITORS show
various empty hallways throughout the building. He reaches
for his coffee and sees a RED LIGHT flashing on a wall panel
nearby.
INT. SHAW'S PENTHOUSE - THAT MOMENT
The penthouse is THROBBING with the clangorous sound of a
BURGLAR ALARM. SELINA is standing by an OPEN WALL SAFE --
concealed behind a painting, which has been swung away on
hinges -- and she's HOLDING HER EARS, wearing a look of
complete exasperation: oh, shit. The GUARD'S VOICE crackles
over a nearby intercom:
GUARD (O.S.; filter)
Mr. Shaw? What's going on up there? --
Mr. Shaw?
Furious with herself, she reaches inside the safe and extracts
a BLACK RAVEN statuette -- identical to the one she took on
the docks. She slams the door shut and swings the picture
back into place.
EXT. STREETS - THAT MOMENT - NIGHT
SIRENS echo in the streets. SQUAD CARS make sudden turns and
streak off toward SHAW's building.
EXT. ROOFTOP - HIGH ANGLE - NIGHT
Watching the cars from his rooftop vantage, BATMAN raises an
ANTENNA mounted on his utility belt and cups one hand to his
head. An EARPIECE concealed inside his cowl gives him the
police frequency:
DISPATCHER (O.S.; filter)
-- possible 15 in progress, 188 E. 69th at
Gotham Park West. Move out. It's Randall
Shaw. Repeat, all units --
BATMAN's eyes widen. He steps to the ledge and pulls a TINY
METAL CYLINDER from his belt -- immediately recognizable as
part of BRUCE's hydraulic umbrella-gizmo.
But it's no umbrella. When BATMAN thumbs the switch, his
BLACK CAPE begins to SPREAD and RISE -- stiffening, expanding
-- INFLATING itself into a pair of RIGID BLACK BATWINGS.
He steps OFF THE LEDGE, INTO MIDAIR -- SOARING SILENTLY ACROSS
THE STREET LIKE A HUMAN HANG-GLIDER as the cop cars cruise
past far below.
INT. SHAW'S BEDROOM - NIGHT
There's an awful BANGING at the front door. SHAW lies under
the bloody sheets, hands folded, staring lifelessly up at the
ceiling. SELINA, now dressed in full Catwoman regalia, slings
a lightweight KNAPSACK over her shoulders. She picks up the
nearest chair, RAMS IT through SHAW's plate-glass window, and
clambers out onto the ledge outside.
Ten seconds later the COPS burst in. They rush to the bedroom
-- spot the shattered window, the inert gory mass on the
bed --
-- but the real shock comes when they glance over at the wall.
Painted there, in blood...is a big, red, dripping BAT.
COP
JESUS!
EXT. ROOFTOP - SHAW'S BUILDING - NIGHT
Forty stories up. The CATWOMAN, in a surefooted crouch, she
scurries along the ledge -- SPRINGS at a cornice -- and in one
lithe motion VAULTS UP onto the ROOF. She scampers across the
rooftops, dropping from one to the next with rope and tackle,
like a mountain climber --
-- until she reaches the building at the end of the block.
Here she pauses to dig in her knapsack. She pulls out a
retractable HOOK at the end of a rope, swings it around,
HEAVES IT at the rooftop across the street...
EXT. STREET BELOW - LOW ANGLE - THAT MOMENT
POLICE pile out of cars and race for the entrance, totally
oblivious to the odd scene taking place overhead -- where the
small, barely-visible figure of a WOMAN, clad entirely in
black leather, is doing a TIGHTROPE WALK across the
intersection.
EXT. ROOFTOP - A MINUTE LATER - NIGHT
The CATWOMAN bounds across snowy rooftops until she decides
she's out of danger. Then, weary and exhilarated, she drops
to her knees; bathed in moonlight, she preens, stretches,
emits eerie little purrs and hisses of pleasure. She's just
made a kill and her blood is running high, so she's stopped
for a moment of Quality Time.
She hears an odd crunching noise two roofs over. Her whole
body tenses and -- though her head doesn't move -- her eyes
dart left.
A CAPED SHADOW has just touched down at the end of a line.
The gold BAT-EMBLEM on his chest is visible for the briefest
of seconds before he steps back into the shadows. She acts
like she hasn't noticed...
...but a little smile flickers across her lips just the same.
TIGHT ON BATMAN - THAT MOMENT
His eyes widen -- his LIPS PART as he watches her. If it's
possible to see absolute consternation behind that mask, we're
seeing it now.
HIS POV - ON CATWOMAN - THAT MOMENT
She still doesn't let on that she's seen him. Instead, she
goes to the ledge of the roof and begins to STRUT, like a
gymnast on the balance beam -- POSING for him in a little
private show -- a strange, self-infatuated, AUTOEROTIC DANCE
ROUTINE for BATMAN's benefit.
EXT. ROOFTOP - THAT MOMENT
His jaw is down around his knees. Whoa. He edges forward
slightly, as if hypnotically drawn to her...
She hears a noise. Stops. Makes a big show of looking left
and right. Somehow afraid she'll see him watching, BATMAN
jumps back into the shadows. She gathers her things; a small
WHITE CARD flutters from her knapsack to the snowy roof, and
she VANISHES over the edge.
Snapping back to reality, he bolts across the roof just in
time to see --
EXT. SIDE OF BUILDING - ON CATWOMAN - THAT MOMENT - NIGHT
She's rapidly working her way down the side of the building,
flipping down from one fire escape to tile next -- a master
gymnast. Three stories up, she lands on a railing, then STOPS
-- LAUNCHING HERSELF out over the street, making a perfect
landing on the roof of a passing BUS.
EXT. ROOFTOP - ON BATMAN - THAT MOMENT - NIGHT
BATMAN turns -- and his eyes fall on the WHITE CARD. He
kneels to pick it up; a brief three-word MESSAGE is scrawled
upon it...
LOOKING FOR LOVE?
He goes goggle-eyed with astonishment. He rushes back to the
edge of the roof and sees the BUS just turning toward the
entrance to Gotham Park. He's reaching for his grappling-gun,
figuring to follow, when a FLOODLIGHT catches him full in the
face.
EXT. STREETS BELOW - THAT MOMENT - NIGHT
Down below, the cops are sweeping their beams across the
rooftops. Two of them catch a quick glimpse of BATMAN just as
he ducks back behind the cornice, out of view.
COP
Hey. You see what I saw...?
This sends the astounded COPS rushing to their radios. Right
on cue, COMMISSIONER GORDON's car pulls up. LT. BULLOCK,
who's already on the scene, fills him in as he climbs out.
BULLOCK
It's Randall Shaw. Torn to ribbons. --
We just made Batman up on the roof.
GORDON
Oh God.
EXT. GOTHAM PARK - THAT MOMENT - NIGHT
The BUS rumbles deeper into the snowy park. A BLACK
SILHOUETTE springs off the roof into the trees, disappearing
among the branches...
We TRACK WITH the bus as it moves through the park, arriving
finally at:
EXT. CLEARING IN PARK - SHANTYTOWN - NIGHT
The little colony of HOMELESS PEOPLE in their cardboard shacks
and lean-tos, still occupying the future site of the Park
Towers. MARCHERS and PICKETERS are continuing their protest
nearby, and some charitable organization's set up a makeshift
soup kitchen on folding tables -- hot coffee and sandwiches.
VICKI's on the periphery of the camp, camera in hand. She's
trying to persuade a HOMELESS MAN to let his picture be taken.
VICKI
Please, just one. It's important for
people to see what's happening.
HOMELESS MAN
They don't want to see us, lady. They
just want us gone -- out of sight, and out
of mind.
(mumbling as he wanders off)
Get worse before it gets better. It
always does.
VICKI TURNS. In the distance, the PICKETERS are shrieking and
wailing. A VAN's just pulled up to the edge of the park, and
a dozen HARDHATS are elbowing their way through the crowd.
All at once they're swarming through shantytown with TIRE
IRONS and BASEBALL BATS, overturning the sandwich tables,
RIPPING DOWN the shabby tents and lean-tos.
Some of the HOMELESS PEOPLE run. Those who resist meet with
swift and sudden violence. A MARCHER jumps a hardhat, and
gets a baseball bat in the gut for his trouble.
VICKI waits for the police sirens, but they don't come. She
backs off toward the trees, she begins SNAPPING PHOTOS
FRANTICALLY, capturing the carnage on film.
A HARDHAT is dismantling a lean-to with his tire iron --
sending the terrified family inside scurrying off into the
snow -- when he glances up and sees VICKI taking his picture.
He points her out to a colleague...
...and suddenly the two of them are RUSHING TOWARD HER with
pure cold malice in their eyes. VICKI turns to run, but it's
slow going in the snow. She SLIPS and FALLS; her attackers
are almost upon her...
...when a SHADOWY FIGURE DIVES OUT OF THE TREES and TACKLES
one of the HARDHATS. The FIGURE lands a powerhouse blow to
the fallen HARDHATs jaw, knocking him out cold.
The second HARDHAT turns and lifts his TIRE IRON. But the
FIGURE, with surprising agility, is already rolling out of the
way. As he rolls, he grabs the first guy's HARDHAT off his
head and brings it up in front of him -- blocking the blow
from the second guy's tire iron.
In the same motion, he plants a FOOT in the second HARDHAT's
belly and sends him REELING BACKWARD, HARDHAT II drops the
tire iron, and the FIGURE snatches it out of midair as he gets
to his feet. He moves in on the second HARDHAT, BRANDISHING
the iron --
-- and while HARDHAT II is staring at it, the FIGURE HIGH-
KICKS HIM in the face. HOP; KICK. HOP; KICK. The FIGURE has
nailed him three times squarely on the jaw before he can hit
the ground.
The FIGURE turns toward VICKI. Her eyes go wide with
astonishment.
It's a KID, thirteen or fourteen at the outside, sunken-eyed,
grimy-looking, in a torn-and-tattered RAINCOAT. She stares at
him for the briefest of instants before he rushes off to the
aid of his fellow homeless...
She can't believe what she's seeing. The KID wades smack into
the midst of the remaining HARDHATS, and kicks ass --
spinning, pirouetting, kicking, clawing in a furious display
of pure athleticism. It seems like he's everywhere at once.
There's only one other guy in Gotham City who can handle
himself like this...
Rallying behind him, the MARCHERS and HOMELESS PEOPLE snatch
bats and tire irons from the fallen HARDHATS -- and the tide
turns. The invasion is being repelled. Faced with renewed
resistance, the few HARDHATS still left standing TURN TAIL and
race off to their VAN.
Triumph in shantytown. The MARCHERS and HOMELESS cluster
together to lick their wounds -- and the KID, satisfied that
everything is under control, turns and sprints off toward the
trees.
But one prostrate HARDHAT is only playing dead. As the KID
runs past, the HARDHAT extends a TIRE IRON into his path --
TRIPPING HIM, sending him sprawling in the snow. The KID
throws up his hands as the HARDHAT prepares to smash down at
him...
CLANG. The HARDHAT drops his tire iron and topples over,
BOARDLIKE. The KID looks up and sees VICKI standing there
with a baseball bat.
He gives her a quick nod of acknowledgement as he gets to his
feet -- thanks for returning the favor. He's about to light
out again when --
VICKI
WAIT! Don't be afraid. I wanted to thank
you. I --
KID
(cautiously)
Twenty.
VICKI
What?
KID
Twenty bucks.
VICKI's mildly taken aback, but she reaches for her purse just
the same. She's barely gotten her wallet open when the KID
snatches the bill out of her hands. They stare at each other
for a long moment --
VICKI
...Who are you?
KID
Dick.
-- and then he's bounding off like a shot. VAULTING up into a
tree and vanishing amid the snowy branches. VICKI starts to
follow, but there's no way she can keep up. Instead she digs
into her CAMERA BAG...
HER POV - THROUGH TELEPHOTO LENS
Using the long lens, she tracks the KID's progress through the
treetops. She can't actually see him, but occasional chunks
of SNOW and ICE are falling to the ground as he jumps from
limb to limb...
For a moment it seems like she's lost him. As she sweeps the
lens back and forth, scanning the trees, she catches sight of
an EQUESTRIAN STATUE in the distance. She ups the
magnification so she can see the plaque on the pedestal. The
stone figure on the horse is Union war hero GEN. OLIVER WAYNE
-- BRUCE's great-grandfather.
As luck would have it, the KID drops to earth not ten feet
from the statue -- VICKI's got him in her sights again. He
looks around cautiously to make sure no one's following, then
races toward a STONE BRIDGE which arches between two small
hillocks, over a frozen creek.
There's a DRAINAGE TUNNEL, four or five feet in diameter,
mounted in the bridge abutment, the KID pries off a wire grate
and clambers inside, then pulls the grate back into place
behind him. Home sweet home.
EXT. PARK - ON VICKI - NIGHT
as she lowers the lens. Her face is full of conflicting
emotions. She'd love to corner this boy vigilante and find
out what his story is. But on the other hand -- even the
homeless are entitled to their privacy...
CUT TO:
INT. PENGUIN'S AVIARY - NIGHT
A CANARY sings in its cage as a BLACK CAT watches transfixed
from a nearby chair. The cat arches its back -- waits -- and
SPRINGS AT THE CAGE, BATTING at it in midair. The canary
SHRIEKS; the cat YOWLS; a WOMAN snatches it up off the floor,
cradles it in her arms...
WOMAN'S VOICE
Now Hecate. You don't want that scrawny
little bird --
It's SELINA, looking ripe and slinky in a sheer black
ensemble. At the desk behind her is the PENGUIN, in his
customary cutaway and waist-coat, polishing his new RAVEN. He
bares his teeth:
PENGUIN
Do you want me to wring that creature's
neck?
SELINA
You try it, I'll do the same to you.
(as he grumbles; bemused)
I saw him, you know.
PENGUIN
Saw who?
SELINA
Batman. He was dreamy.
She strokes the cat, in a reverie. The PENGUIN drops his
polishing cloth, startled.
PENGUIN
Dreamy?!? Are you insane!? My God --
(sputtering wildly)
Are you sure it was him? What did he do?
SELINA
He stood on a roof and watched me. He
didn't realize I'd seen him. I don't
think he knew quite what to make of me.
(smiling)
But he was definitely interested.
This sends the PENGUIN into a frantic round of pacing. (Or
waddling.)
PENGUIN
This scheme of yours is backfiring. We
don't need him on our tails. Do you know
how much money is at stake here?
SELINA
Money isn't everything.
(casually)
What's the point if we can't enjoy
ourselves?
She chuckles to herself. He stares at her in disbelief -- and
SQUAWKS.
CUT TO:
EXT. GOTHAM SQUARE - MORNING
The big SIGN over Gotham Square tells us there are only 9
shopping days left until Christmas. Down below, BRUCE is
walking VICKI to work.
VICKI
Six-on-one, and he took 'em all out...then
vanished into a drainage pipe -- right
next to the statue of General Wayne.
BRUCE
My illustrious great-grandfather. Think
it's the same kid we heard about?
VICKI
Must be. He reminded me of you.
BRUCE chuckles. They pass a NEWSSTAND just outside the Globe
building, pausing to stare at the headlines -- which SCREAM:
NEW BAT-MURDER?
Batman Suspect in Slaying of Millionaire Developer
Commissioner Gordon Refuses Comment
The accompanying photo is a full-color spread of the BLOODY
RED BAT painted on SHAW's wall. BRUCE scowls at VICKI:
BRUCE
-- You work for this rag?
(snatching up a paper)
Your boss is calling for Gordon's
resignation -- unless he brings Batman in
for questioning...
VICKI nudges BRUCE and points at a STOREFRONT across the
street.
THEIR POV - SOUVENIR SHOP
The owner is in the store window, hastily removing all of his
Batman merchandise and setting up new displays devoted to
TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES and THE SIMPSONS. A MOTHER drags
her squirming TODDLER past the entrance -- the kid smells
heavy markdowns on Bat-shit, but Mom clearly doesn't
approve...
BACK TO SCENE - ON BRUCE AND VICKI
looking on in dismay. BRUCE crumples the paper in outrage:
BRUCE
I need a good PR man.
NEWS VENDOR
Hey, pal -- you buyin' or borrowin'?
With a sullen look, BRUCE tosses the paper back on the rack.
VICKI pulls him off toward the entrance of the Globe.
VICKI
That's what happens when you go after the
rich and powerful.
BRUCE
Hey, it wasn't me, remember? I am rich
and powerful --
As he's talking, BRUCE glances back at the newsstand. He sees
an AD FLYER tacked up on one side -- "LOOKING FOR LOVE? Find
it in the GOTHAM GLOBE PERSONALS."
Looking for Love. Eyes widening, he digs in his pocket for a
quarter and races back to the newsstand. VICKI keeps
walking...
VICKI
Maybe it's almost...good. In a weird way.
I mean, Shaw, and Barrett -- if people
like that were really scared, maybe
they'd --
She suddenly realizes she's talking to herself. She turns
around and sees BRUCE back at the newsstand, hurriedly
unfolding a copy of the Globe. She marches back and tugs at
his sleeve.
VICKI (cont.)
Hey, I'm late for work. You can read that
later.
BRUCE
Quiet. I'm looking for a personal ad.
Her face screws up in confusion as BRUCE frantically scans the
page.
BRUCE (cont.)
"Tall, Dark And Handsome -- You saw me on
the roof 12/16. I was in black; you were
too."
VICKI
Is this some kind of bad joke?
BRUCE
It's her. That cat woman, or whatever she
is.
(reading aloud)
"I jumped a bus into Gotham Park hoping
you'd follow, but you were too shy..."
VICKI
What does she want -- a date?
BRUCE
She's trying to contact me. Says she's
gonna leave me another ad...
The two of them exchange a look of utter perplexity. BRUCE's
mind is racing; he seems bizarrely aroused -- in a way that
makes VICKI just a trifle nervous...
INT. GOTHAM GLOBE - CITY ROOM - DAY
VICKI arrives at her desk and sets her portfolio down. She
spots a message in the "in" file. She takes one look at it,
and her eyes go wide with RAGE. She storms out in a fury...
INT. PUBLISHER'S OFFICE - A MINUTE LATER - DAY
Barging past a phalanx of SECRETARIES, VICKI bursts into the
inner office of HARRISON J. PROVOST, publisher of the Globe.
He's just opening his mail. He heaves a weary sigh as VICKI
BARKS at him:
VICKI
WHY DID YOU KILL MY STORY?
PROVOST
Close the door.
(waiting for her to calm down)
Your story isn't news. With Shaw dead --
VICKI
But the project's still going ahead! If
attacking homeless people in the park
isn't news, I'd like to know what is --
PROVOST
There's a psycho out there in a mask and
cape -- killing off Gotham's most
prominent citizens! That's news.
(beat)
I've known Randall Shaw all my life. His
family is in mourning. And it just so
happens I don't believe in slandering the
dead.
VICKI FUMES. She turns and stares PROVOST straight in the
eye.
VICKI
Mr. Provost -- how much money do you have
tied up in the Park Tower project?
PROVOST
Vicki...I'm going to forget you made that
remark. For the sake of your job, I
suggest you do the same.
VICKI stalks of -- and PROVOST goes back to his mail. He
finds an envelope addressed in a shaky, psychotic scrawl, with
the word "CONFIDENTIAL" underlined three times in ink. He
tears it open --
-- and HIS FACE TURNS PALE as he stares down at the contents:
a small business-sized card, signed with a BAT-EMBLEM...
THOSE WHO FEED ON THE SOUL OF GOTHAM
WILL SUFFER MY WRATH
CUT TO:
EXT. GOTHAM HALL OF JUSTICE - DAY
WALTER BARRETT and his ATTORNEY emerge onto the front steps of
the courthouse. BARRETT is instantly mobbed by REPORTERS.
REPORTER I
Mr. Barrett! Any comment on the
arraignment?
REPORTER II
Is it true bail was set at two million
dollars?
ATTORNEY
Stand back! My client has nothing to say
at this time!
The ATTORNEY clears a path for BARRETT, who climbs into a
waiting CAR, shielding his face. REPORTERS cluster around
it...
As the car pulls out into traffic, we see a flock of PIGEONS
taking wing from their perches on the statues outside the Hall
of Justice.
OVERHEAD SHOT - ON BARRETT'S CAR
PIGEONS fill the frame, swooping down toward the CAR, which is
idling at a traffic light far below.
INT. BARRETT'S CAR - THAT MOMENT
The liveried DRIVER drums his fingers as he waits for the
light to change. BARRETT's in the back, speaking into his
cellular phone.
BARRETT
It's time we called an emergency meeting
of the Raven Society. Get back to me...
Looking troubled, he hangs up. A fat white glob of PIGEON
SHIT splatters across the windshield. Seconds later --
another SPLAT.
BARRETT (cont.)
Damn pigeons.
DRIVER
Just washed it, too.
The DRIVER reaches for the wiper switch. They hear a tiny
DINK as a SOLID PELLET bounces off the windshield.
BARRETT and the DRIVER exchange a mystified look. A small,
blinking CAPSULE has just lodged in the wiper-blade
assembly...
OVERHEAD SHOT - ON BARRETT'S CAR
Just as the light changes, the CAR EXPLODES into a million
fragments -- leaving a BLACKENED CRATER in the middle of the
intersection.
CUT TO:
INT. BATCAVE - DAY
TIGHT ON A VIDEO MONITOR -- showing FIRE TRUCKS in the
intersection we've just left, hosing down the wreckage of
BARRETT's car. BRUCE is watching intently when ALFRED appears
behind him.
ALFRED
The Fluegelheim called again, sir. They
want to know if you'll be attending the
opening of the new Egyptian exhibit.
BRUCE, still engrossed in his news broadcast, waves ALFRED
off.
BRUCE
Cancel.
ANCHORWOMAN (on TV)
-- and, citing new evidence in the so-
called string of "millionaire murders,"
Police Commissioner J.T. Gordon today
swore out a warrant for the arrest of
Batman.
(beat)
We go now live to Mike Sekowsky,
spokesperson, Order of the Bat.
SEKOWSKY
Jeez! Talk about gratitude -- !!
At the sight of SEKOWSKY's face, BRUCE kills the sound in
disgust. ALFRED looks on helplessly as he paces the floor of
the Batcave.
BRUCE
Well, Alfred, it's official. I'm a wanted
man.
(beat)
"New evidence"...I've gotta find that
woman. Did you check the personals?
As ALFRED shakes his head no, a BUZZER sounds. They've got a
visitor. BRUCE hits a switch on a monitor, and sees
COMMISSIONER GORDON'S CAR sitting outside the wrought-iron
gates of Wayne Manor.
He throws a nervous look at ALFRED. ALFRED speaks into a
microphone:
ALFRED
Who's there?
GORDON
Jim Gordon, Alfred. I've got to see
Bruce.
A spooky development. Does GORDON suspect? After a moment's
hesitation, BRUCE nods to ALFRED -- let him in.
ALFRED
Mr. Wayne will see you, sir.
INT. BRUCE'S LIBRARY - A MOMENT LATER
A curious BRUCE ushers GORDON into the library, gestures
toward the liquor cabinet. The Commissioner nods his head no.
He's fidgety, ill at ease -- he obviously doesn't want to be
here.
GORDON
Sorry to bother you. Bruce -- I'll get
right down to it. You knew Shaw and
Barrett --
BRUCE
I saw them occasionally. We all sat on
the board of the Fluegelheim...
GORDON
Did you have any...dealings with them,
or --
BRUCE
No. I never liked the way they did
business.
GORDON
The thing is, Bruce, you're all lumped
together in the public mind -- the Five
Families of Gotham, that sort of thing --
and, uh...
(taking a card from his pocket)
Harrison Provost got this in the mail.
BRUCE examines the card, -- "THOSE WHO FEED," etc. He stares
at GORDON in mock-concern, playing it close to the vest...
BRUCE
Then Batman is behind all this.
GORDON
Batman or a damned good imitation.
BRUCE
Well. He's changed tactics, hasn't he.
GORDON
(shrugging; at a loss)
Shaw, with his high-rises -- Barrett, a
druglord, major polluter -- they weren't
exactly model citizens. Who knows, it
could be some crazy social-conscience kind
of thing.
BRUCE
You mean he's going after...the root of
the problem.
GORDON shakes his head and gets up to go. BRUCE hands him the
card.
GORDON
Let me know if you get one of these.
We'll put all our resources at your
disposal.
BRUCE nods thoughtfully as ALFRED appears to see the
Commissioner out. A moment later, the butler reappears.
BRUCE
Changed my mind, Alfred. I'll be dropping
in on the Fluegelheim after all.
CUT TO:
INT. FLUEGELHEIM MUSEUM - NIGHT
It's a party to celebrate the opening of the new Egyptian
exhibit, and the Fluegelheim is hopping. BOARD MEMBERS,
MUSEUM PATRONS, and SOCIALITES mill about in dinner jackets
and evening gowns, making small talk. AN OPEN SARCOPHAGUS has
been set up as a wet bar.
On a raised concrete platform in the center of the hall,
rimmed by a decorative moat, sits an ancient Egyptian SHRINE.
The TEMPLE OF BASTET has been moved to Gotham and
reconstructed in the Fluegelheim --sandstone walls, fountains,
statuary and all.
Guarding the entrance is a stately bronze statue of the
goddess BASTET -- who has the body of a woman and the head of
a pointy-eared CAT. She holds an aegis and a sistrum; four
tiny KITTENS romp at her feet. BRUCE, who's just arrived, is
taking an intense interest in the cat-goddess...
VICKI
What is it?
BRUCE
I just had a weird sense of deja vu.
He glances over by the sarcophagus and sees PROVOST, the
publisher, huddle with ELIOT TIPTREE III, transit magnate --
the remaining member of Gotham's "Five Families." The two of
them are engaged in some urgent conversation which he can't
quite make out...
TIPTREE
Harrison -- we really ought to warn Bruce.
We owe him that much.
BRUCE detaches himself from VICKI and strolls toward them.
PROVOST and TIPTREE force smiles and wave, affecting an air of
nonchalance.
PROVOST (cont.)
The man's a space cadet. Let him look out
for himself.
(as BRUCE arrives; cheerfully)
Why, Bruce! What a delightful surprise.
BRUCE
Good to see you two. Looks like the Five
Families are suddenly down to three.
(looking around)
In fact, if somebody dropped a bomb on
this room right now --
TIPTREE chuckles nervously. PROVOST is even less amused.
PROVOST
Is that your idea of a joke, Bruce?
BRUCE
Not at all. Commissioner Gordon seems to
think we should all be hiring bodyguards.
TIPTREE PROVOST
Oh, that's absurd. I already have.
The two of them glower at each other. It's like an outtake
from The Newlywed Game. BRUCE shrugs it off and makes a
vacuous face:
BRUCE
Thing is, I can't imagine why Batman would
be after us. Can you?
PROVOST and TIPTREE are about to go into another round of
hemming-and-hawing when a NEW FACE joins the party. It's
SELINA KYLE -- stunning as ever in an extravagantly revealing
dress slit up to the armpits. She's holding two glasses of
CHAMPAGNE...
SELINA
You two look like you need a drink. --
And is this who I think it is?
She flashes BRUCE her most winning, seductive, heavy-artillery
SMILE. He BLINKS, temporarily speechless.
PROVOST
Selina Kyle -- Bruce Wayne.
SELINA
Our absentee board member! I've been
wanting to meet you forever.
TIPTREE
Selina's the new Curator of Antiquities.
She brought the Temple over block by
block --
SELINA
You two won't be terribly upset if I
borrow Bruce for a moment, will you?
Before he can protest, she's linked an arm around his and
dragged him off. A nearby FAT MAN spots SELINA, wiggles his
eyebrows and WAVES BRIGHTLY. His tongue is practically
hanging out -- he's just dying to write her a check. SELINA
SIGHS WEARILY to BRUCE:
SELINA (cont.)
Major contributor. -- I always seem to
wind up in charge of fund-raising...
BRUCE
I can't imagine why.
SELINA
Tax year's almost over, you know. I hope
we can count on your usual generous
donation.
(indicating PROVOST and TIPTREE)
Someone's got to set an example for those
two tightwads.
BRUCE
They're proccupied. This string of
murders --
SELINA
I asked them if they'd consider including
us in their wills.
(chuckling to herself)
They didn't seem a bit amused...
ANGLE ON VICKI - THAT MOMENT
She's making small talk with a bunch of STUFFED SHIRTS and
their overdressed WIVES. She glances across the room at the
statue of Bastet, sees SELINA draped all over BRUCE. A frown
crosses her face...
ANGLE ON BRUCE AND SELINA - THAT MOMENT
She's still clinging to his arm as they stare up at the
statue.
SELINA
-- and this is my good friend Bastet, the
Egyptian Cat Goddess.
BRUCE
I think we've already met. -- This is
quite an expedition you've put together.
SELINA
I'm glad you think so. I have to say,
Bruce -- you're not at all what I
expected.
BRUCE
Sorry to disappoint you.
SELINA
Oh, it's not that. Not at all. It's just
that I'd always heard you were...
BRUCE
What?
SELINA
(coyly)
Oh...sort of a...
BRUCE
(smiling; fascinated)
No. Come on. What?
BRUCE's state of mounting infatuation is abruptly shattered
when VICKI sidles up alongside him and -- territorially --
takes his other arm. The women exchange big, toothy, plastic
smiles; stranded in the middle, BRUCE realizes they're waiting
for him to introduce them.
BRUCE
Oh. Selina Kyle -- my friend Vicki Vale.
SELINA
The photographer. I've seen your pictures
in the Gazette.
VICKI
The Globe.
SELINA
Oh, that's right. The tabloid one. --
What an original dress!
VICKI, still smiling, cocks an eyebrow at BRUCE. He senses
trouble coming and tries to head it off at the pass.
BRUCE
Selina supervised the reconstruction of
the temple. Brought it back from Egypt...
stone by stone.
VICKI
Really. She must be awfully tired.
(to SELINA)
How'd you get to be in charge of a huge
project like this?
SELINA
It was easy. I slept with the Pharoah.
She laughs at her own joke. VICKI responds with a dry little
chuckle of her own. SELINA gives BRUCE a SHARP YANK on the
sleeve.
SELINA (cont.)
Excuse us, won't you, sweetheart? We have
some boring museum business to talk about.
VICKI fumes. BRUCE shrugs apologetically as SELINA drags him
off out of earshot.
SELINA (cont.)
I. Short leash.
BRUCE
Pull in the claws, okay? She's really
terrific.
SELINA
I'm sorry, Bruce. Sometimes I get a
little...aggressive, you know?
(handing him a card)
Look, I need to talk to you. Come by
sometime. I'll give you the private tour.
BRUCE
Wait. Let me explain about Vicki --
SELINA
(shushing him)
I understand. Anyone who's that
protective must have a pretty good reason
for it.
She shoots him one last smile -- sly, conspiratorial,
unmistakably juicy. Then she's off in pursuit of another
major funder. BRUCE is thoughtfully turning the card over in
his hands when VICKI rejoins him.
VICKI
How's "business"?
BRUCE
Relax, okay? I like you better.
He scans the room, trying to find PROVOST and TIPTREE. No
luck.
VICKI
If you're looking for your fellow
millionaires, they left some time back.
CUT TO:
INT. ROOFTOP - NIGHT
The roof of the Gotham Globe. A STARLING circles overhead for
a moment -- then DIVES down an exposed VENTILATION SHAFT.
INT. GOTHAM GLOBE - THAT MOMENT
TWO ARMED BODYGUARDS are standing watch outside an office.
Brass letters on the door read "J. HARRISON PROVOST,
PUBLISHER."
INT. PROVOST'S OFFICE - THAT MOMENT
PROVOST, agitated, working late. He speaks, sotto voce, into
the phone:
PROVOST
Don't worry about that. I've had the
office swept for bugs. No one's
listening...
INT. TIPTREE'S LIBRARY - THAT MOMENT - NIGHT
TIPTREE in his paneled study at home. There's an open bottle
on the table and he's been hitting the sauce -- hard. His
VOICE QUAVERS:
TIPTREE
It's just so -- unfair. I mean...it was
over a century ago. It's not like we're
responsible.
(hollow-eyed)
How could he know? How could Batman know
about the Raven Society??
INT. OFFICE - ON PROVOST - THAT MOMENT
PROVOST
Who knows and who cares. The point is,
it's happened...
He hears a CHIRP and looks up. It seems to be coming from a
HEATING VENT on the wall. But then it stops, so he resumes
his conversation --
PROVOST (cont.)
I'm clearing out of the country, and I'm
taking the raven with me. I suggest you
do the same.
INT. HEATING VENT - THAT MOMENT
In the metal shaft on the other side of the grate is a tiny
BIRD -- the same one we saw flying down the air shaft. Now
that we've got a close-up view, we can see the thin BATTERY
PACK wired to its underbelly...and the MINIATURE MICROPHONE
taped to its leg.
PROVOST (O.S.)
I'll tell you how to reach me. And don't
repeat this to anyone.
CUT TO:
INT. PENGUIN'S LAIR - DAY
The PENGUIN stands over his indoor penguin pool. He's wearing
rubber gloves, feeding LIVE FISH from an ice chest to his
arctic birds. The vents in the windows are open, and the
climate in the room is downright icy as SELINA's wrapped in
fur, stroking her pet cat:
SELINA
He's just another rich idiot.
(chuckling to herself)
The odd thing is, he didn't seem a bit
concerned.
PENGUIN
Then he is an idiot.
SELINA
He lives in some big sprawling manor.
I'll have to get inside, scope it out...
see where he's got the raven stashed.
PENGUIN
How do you plan to do that?
SELINA
How do you think!
A feline smile from SELINA. The PENGUIN chuckles to himself,
lobs a FISH out over the pool. A swooping GULL snatches it
out of the air before it hits the water. FRICK arrives in the
doorway.
FRICK
It's Mr. Provost, sir. He's planning to
embark on an unscheduled Christmas
vacation.
PENGUIN
Good! That should save us a trip to the
bank.
CUT TO:
INT. FLUEGELHEIM - BACK ROOM - DAY
A huge open room cluttered with all kinds of junk:
archaeologist's tools, restoration equipment, etc., plus a
healthy assortment of curios and oddities from all over. This
is SELINA's private domain. CAMERA TRACKS past a glass case
full of ugly, withered, turdlike specimens...
BRUCE
What have we got here?
SELINA
Mummified cats. Bastet's sacred animal.
They were buried by the thousands at
Bubastis. -- Oh, careful!
BRUCE FREEZES with his hand poised over a set of four earthen
JARS. Each has a lid carved in the shape of a HEAD: ape,
jackal, man, falcon.
SELINA (cont.)
Canopic jars. In the process of
mummification, the internal organs were
buried separately.
(pointing to each jar in turn)
Lungs -- stomach -- liver -- intestine --
BRUCE withdraws his hand with a bemused shudder.
BRUCE
You're in a gruesome line of work.
SELINA
Keeps me interested. And that's not easy
to do...
BRUCE's attention turns to a crumbling statuette of an odd
beast: a WINGED LION with the head of a FALCON.
BRUCE
This one I know. It's a gryphon, right?
SELINA
Very good. A mythical demon, half-bird,
half-lion...sweeping down from the sky to
deliver retribution and justice.
BRUCE nods. He can dig it. He regards the gryphon for a long
moment and CHUCKLES.