Fade to an interior abandoned subway station. It's the headquarters of the T's. There are dancers, video games and pool tables, but we are focused on the leather couches. With Charlie Bigalow nearby, Terry is standing in front of a coffee table and dumping out a bag of stolen loot. He also has a backpack slung over one shoulder.

The rest of the gang – full-fledged members with shaved heads and red T's painted over their faces – rifle through the goods. There are watches, awards, antique daggers, all sorts of knick-knacks you might find in an old billionaire's mansion, but most importantly, a lot of cred cards.

Fat T comes up behind them, throwing one burly arm around Terry, another around Charlie. "Nice work, boys. You two survive the raid on the Jokerz tomorrow, you'll be full-fledged members."

Fat T moves on, but Charlie leans toward Terry with a meaningful nod toward the female gang members. "With full benefits."

"I have a girlfriend, Charlie." Terry moves toward the exit.

"What Dana doesn't know … Hey!" Charlie jogs after him. Lowering his voice, he indicates to Terry's backpack with a worried expression. "You aren't dumb enough to hold out on Fat T, are you?"

"What, this?" Terry opens the backpack and swiftly shows him a flash of the Batman mask, then tucks it away again. "Just something I bought for my baby brother this morning."

"Right…" Charlie nods, but as Terry walks past him, he gets a confused and suspicious look. "Okay…"

Time jump.

Terry is in his bedroom, filming himself in a ski mask. "That's a very interesting basement you have, Mr. Wayne. And I almost didn't find it, but I'm so glad I did." He turns the camera to film the Batsuit laid out on his bed. "Bet a lot of people would be interested in buying this. Buying information about its owner." He turns the camera back on himself. "I want two million a month for the rest of my life."

Time jump.

Terry is pulling off the ski mask. He grabs a drink out of the fridge. The black pit bull at his side suddenly starts barking. The front door opens, and his father walks in without saying hello, throws down his keys and wallet, then walks straight into the office and shuts the door. Terry finishes his drink. The dog trailing after him, he removes a cred card from his father's wallet and takes the keys.

Time jump.

Terry is in a car with his younger girlfriend, Dana Tan. The dog is leashed in the back. As they pull into the driveway of a beautiful, upscale condo, Terry grins and leans toward Dana. She kisses him, giddy. The driver's door is yanked open. Mr. Tan jerks Terry out by his collar. "Get your hands off my teenaged daughter, pervert!"

Dana is shouting at her father as she jumps out of the car. The dog is barking viciously, trapped in the back seat. Terry breaks loose. The two men are circling each other. Terry is trying to side-step back toward the car. "She's seventeen. We're in the same class—"

"And exactly how many times are they gonna let you repeat the twelfth grade? What's it take to get expelled these days?"

"Dad, he's not in the gang anymore!" Dana yells.

Mr. Tan ignores her. "You touch her again, I'll have you arrested for statutory rape!"

Terry is midway through repeating, "She's seventeen," when Mr. Tan pushes him hard against the car. Terry loses his temper, bends the man's hand back to free himself, and delivers a brutal blow to his face. Mr. Tan falls to the pavement.

"Terry, stop!" Dana screams. She stands apart from both men, horrified.

Terry doesn't look at her. He knows he's screwed up. He's also still furious. He climbs back into the driver's seat of his father's car. "I'm sorry," he mutters.

Mr. Tan shouts, "Going to meet up with the T's?"

Terry is starting the car. With a rebellious tone, he says, "Yeah, actually."

"You said you were done with them!" Dana shouts. The car is backing up. She lunges forward and kicks the front bumper. "You bastard!"

Terry's point of view. As Terry pulls away from the condo, we see Dana starting to cry, her father suddenly tender as he comforts her. Terry curses under his breath and drives away.

Time jump. He's in the inner city now. Neon lights all around. Color washing over the dark interior of the car. We hear a recorded message: "Hey, it's Charlie. Rumble with the Jokerz goes down in an hour, man. Where are you? Call me back, man." Terry keeps driving.

Time jump. Terry is parked on the corner of a rundown street. He's just staring straight ahead. In the back seat, the dog looks nervous, growls softly.

Down the block, he can see smoke pouring from a boarded-up building. Kids in gaudy, creepy clown outfits are pouring into the street, armed with crude weapons. A few T's are chasing after them. The fight is brutal. We notice Charlie, a red T painted over his face. He's being beaten on the head and back with a two-by-four. Nails jut out of the board's end.

In the car, a look of anguished guilt is etched on Terry's face. He moves to get out. The phone in his hand rings. He hesitates. Dana's picture is on the screen.

Terry takes another look at the fight. Then he tosses the phone aside and runs toward Charlie.

He takes out the Jokerz member easily enough. Most of the action has moved away from Charlie. Terry drags him to a nearby alley and examines his face. Charlie is unconscious and already swelling. We hear sirens – police and ambulances rushing toward the scene – and Terry turns, perhaps considering again whether he should stay or run.

He flags down the ambulance. Trying to act innocent, he says, "That guy over there really needs some help!"

As the EMT's rush toward Charlie, Terry retreats back to his car and roars away.

On the road, he's still clearly conflicted. He hits the steering wheel and curses manically under his breath.

Arriving at a residential street, he is forced to slow. A crowd of neighbors is blocking his path. Beyond them are squad cars. Terry parks in the middle of the street, climbing out, pressing forward, his dazed expression growing more panicky. A neighbor can be overheard saying, "I didn't hear anything!"

Terry approaches the yellow tape. From this distance, we can see a beaten-in door and some graffiti on the interior walls. "I live there," he says softly. A beat cop moves to hold him back, and he raises his voice. "I live there! My dad's in there!"

The look on the cop's face says it all. Warren McGinnis is dead.

Cut to black.