Act II, Scene XVI
WayneCorp Tower. A conference room within. Lucius Fox sits at the head of the table, leaning forward, his normally placid expression contorted with scepticism.
LUCIUS: That's your explanation?
We cut to the other end of the conference table, and to its current occupant.
LUTHOR: Yes.
A wide shot, revealing Alfred Pennyworth is also there, sitting close to Lucius. He's dressed in casuals and on him it looks slightly odd, as we've come to expect him dressed somewhat formally whenever we see him. Alfred coughs delicately, looks at Lucius, and shrugs.
LUCIUS: For this you pulled us from Surrey? I was just beginning to improve my bowling.
ALFRED: Regardless of whether what he's saying is true, Lucius, we have to face facts. One (he nods to Luthor, who smiles broadly) he knows. Two, something is going on. Since the...transfer...he's been...
A silence falls over the table. Neither Lucius nor Alfred can bring themselves to vocalise further.
LUTHOR: He's going to kill. You both know it.
ALFRED: If he didn't kill the clown...(he shakes his head) he's not going to kill anyone.
Although his words sound definitive, he and Lucius again avoid each other's eyes. Neither man is confident in the proclamation.
LUTHOR: That was then.
LUCIUS: And why are you so concerned with helping? Forgive me, Mr. Luthor, but your reputation precedes you somewhat. Mother Teresa you ain't.
LUTHOR: I was never a big fan of Superman. Perhaps you've heard. But at least he was stultifyingly noble. Batman with Superman's powers alone is a rather daunting prospect. Batman under the influence of a maniacal alien warlord with a thirst for world domination with Superman's powers...well...
ALFRED: Which brings us to the question of what the bloody hell can we do about it?
LUTHOR: (rolls eyes)I thought you'd never ask. Now. Judging from incident reports of vigorous crime-fighting activity, your boss is so engrossed with Gotham's underbelly that he seems to be somewhat of an absentee landlord these days, both at home and in work-
LUCIUS: How do you know all this?
LUTHOR: (snaps) Because I'm a genius! Why do I have to keep reminding everyone of that? He'll be occupied tonight with dismantling a certain criminal empire (he coughs) so I think this may be the perfect opportunity for you gentlemen to return to work. Because you're right. We three together can't hope to make a dent in him. But-
And he smiles. It's not a reassuring smile, even given the circumstances.
LUTHOR: There might be someone out there with a score to settle...
Act II, Scene XVII
The following scene plays out silently, and alternates between the following.
Clark Kent leaves work. He goes through the motions of turning off the desk lights, squeezing into the elevator. When he emerges from the Planet building, he sees a taxicab disgorge its passenger and begin to pull away. He sticks his arm in the air and waves and whistles. The cab continues to pull away. Clark gives chase, but to no avail - the cab pulls away by the time he gets to the kerbside.
Batman suits up. He rises high into the Gotham night, scanning the city below, occasionally swooping down. We see very quick flashes of crimes being foiled, villains being summarily dispatched.
Clark is making boil-in-the-bag pasta in the microwave. He's watching the television in the kitchen, and when the microwave 'dings' he absent-mindedly reaches in and grabs the bag inside-
Battling a gang of hoods at the riverfront, Batman hovers over the river's surface and puffs out a huge breath, sending a jet of water barrelling into the group, scattering them like ninepins.
Clark runs his hand, red and swollen, under the cold tap.
A stolen car zigzags crazily along the Gotham intersections, its occupants firing at a pursuing Gotham city police cruiser. Bullets pepper the chasing cruiser and it's forced to give up the chase, to much whooping of delight from its occupants. And then the car jerks from below, and the carjackers are terrified to see its bumper rise into the air. Batman is underneath, propelling the car skywards, towards Gotham City Cathedral and its massive silver spire rising majestically from its ramparts.
Clark is trying to open a jar. He huffs and puffs for a moment and then hands it silently to Jason, who gives it a twist and hands it back. Clark nods in thanks.
Batman drops the stolen car onto the spike. The goons inside scatter just in time as the spike goes straight through the car, impaling it like a butterfly pinned to a wall.
Clark is working through some receipts, presumably doing taxes or some such. Those he's examined he places on a small spike. He puts one on without really looking. We cut to him placing a small plaster over a cut on his hand. Jason is sitting behind him looking on. Clark grins sheepishly. And Jason smiles back.
He motions with his Xbox controller, and Clark shrugs, a 'what the hell' kinda shrug. We see both frantically mashing buttons on a driving simulator game as Lois walks in. She absorbs this and though she frowns, there's a bemused expression behind the frown.
Jason climbs into bed. Clark is there. He holds several books in his hand. One is about a superhero, the other about dinosaurs. Jason points at the dinosaur book. Clark raises his eyebrows, shrugs, and sits down beside the boy. They both begin to read.
Batman smashes through the wall of the warehouse, right into the middle of a huge collection of Lex's army of mobsters and villains. It's chaos from the get-go. Guns are produced and emptied with wild abandon in a vain attempt to nail him. Several rockets are fired upward. Batman deflects them or simply flies through the hail of destruction, moving from one opponent to another, taking each one out with an incredible economy of movement, cutting an absolute swathe through their numbers.
But there's something different. Whereas Batman fought once to disable and incapacitate, now he seems to revel in the destruction. He throws men left and right with abandon, and seems finally to have mastered the art of heat vision, dispensing it liberally into the crowd of goons, sending a blast to seal the doors to the warehouse shut and blasting one man fleeing square in the back, sending him sprawling, screaming in agony.
Clark and Jason finish the bedtime story. Clark bids the young boy goodnight and walks out of the room. Lois walks in and sits beside her son and they exchange unheard words.
A veritable sea of securely bound goons lie groaning or unconscious on the floor of the warehouse. We watch Batman round them up. Red and blue lights begin to flash outside.
Lois walks out of her son's bedroom and is surprised when Clark emerges from around a corner and wraps his arms around her. They kiss, and sneak a look back into the room. Jason is asleep.
Clark gathers Lois up into his arms. Lois tries not to laugh as Clark tries to make it look as effortless as it once would have been. He brings her into the master bedroom. Discreetly, we stay outside.
LOIS: (V/O) I remember this. Isn't this where there's a fire…?
CLARK: (V/O) Not tonight...
There's the sound of giggling, and then a gasp, and then…the bedroom door swings shut.
We cut to Wayne Manor, bathed almost in complete darkness, save for the moonlight coming through the large windows. And Batman, taking off his suit as he walks to become Bruce Wayne once more, walking alone through the vast emptiness of his own home.
Lex Luthor passes through customs at Metropolis airport, in disguise, flashing the girl at the desk a false passport. He smiles dazzlingly at her and goes out into the Metropolis night.
And in Gotham, in WayneCorp Tower, Lucius Fox and Alfred are poring over schematics for something called the AVATAR Project.
Act II, Scene XVI
Mayor Garcia is in his Gotham office. He's watching Gotham Tonight with Mike Engel on the television there. We cut to the Gotham Tonight studios.
ENGEL: …Gotham City still reeling from the arrest of over one hundred and seventy gang members last night, courtesy of the Batman. Gotham Tonight asks the question: how can an alleged cop-killer be responsible for single-handedly turning the tide in the war on crime and corruption in this city? Well, here in the studio to discuss this with me is Commissioner James Gordon, Gotham's Chief of Police. Commissioner, welcome.
GORDON: (seeming distinctly uncomfortable) Mike.
ENGEL: Commissioner, there seems to be a growing public demand to reopen the so called 'Joker killings' case files and see whether the police officers who lost their lives during that period really were victims of Batman. Do you support this?
GORDON: It's too early to, uh, to give an official position on this, Mike. We're obviously delighted that one of Gotham's biggest criminal gangs seems to have been put out of action. But there's some concern over Batman's actions.
ENGEL: Meaning?
GORDON: Twenty-two fatalities.
ENGEL: According to the Mayor's official statement, those have been attributed to crossfire between the gang members themselves…?
GORDON: (irritated) Twenty seven of those severely injured during Batman's raid suffered burns over fifty percent of their bodies that can't be accounted for by crossfire-
ENGEL: (interrupting)Commissioner, is it true that Lieutenant Anna Ramirez has been arrested on suspicion of corruption?
Back in Mayor Garcia's office, the Mayor allows himself a smile as he watches Gordon's expression.
GORDON: That's…I can't possibly comment-
ENGEL: We have it from a source, Commissioner (we get a quick flash of Garcia again, just so we know who the 'source' is) that Ramirez has been implicated in the abduction of former District Attorney Harvey Dent and his fiancé Rachel Dawes the night of the Joker's short-lived capture to police custody.
GORDON: I can't confirm-
ENGEL: Can you shed any light on rumours surfacing that Dent's experience during his abduction by the Joker resulted in a psychotic break?
Pale, Gordon has had enough. He stands up and takes off his microphone.
GORDON: This interview is over.
Garcia chuckles merrily to himself. The door to his office is knocked. He mutes the television volume.
GARCIA: Come-
The door bursts open and, red-faced and perspiring heavily, Mayor Bradford "Buck" Sackett strides into Garcia's office, not stopping until he's reached the desk of his peer and leant over it, skewering Garcia with an accusatory glare.
SACKETT: We need to talk.
GARCIA: Something wrong, Buck?
Garcia's secretary appears at the door, a security man in tow. They look into the room questioningly, the secretary spreading her hands apologetically and the security man beckoning to his radio and to Sackett. Garcia waves them away subtly and indicates the chair at the opposite side of his desk.
GARCIA: Sit down. Take a load off.
SACKETT: You think this is funny, Tony?
GARCIA: I'm not sure I know what you're getting at.
SACKETT: I offered you my help. I offered you a way out of your problem.
GARCIA: That you did. And I was very grateful for it.
SACKETT: Grateful! You're telling me (he points to the television, still showing Mike Engel and Gotham Tonight) this little spin doctoring exercise isn't some sort of slate-wiping whitewash to make your Caped Crusader into your very own Superman? Exonerating him of all that pesky cop-killing and freeing you up to start singing his praises and turn his sudden rehabilitation in the public eye into another term of office for you?
GARCIA: Not at all, Buck. The irony is, Batman really wasn't responsible for the deaths we tagged him with. He just made a convenient scapegoat.
SACKETT: You expect me to believe that Harvey Dent - Gotham's White Knight - murdered cops?
GARCIA: Let me show you something.
He takes a key from underneath his desk, goes to a hidden safe in the wall, and retrieves a DVD from inside. He places it in the player underneath the office television. It plays, showing CCTV footage from a seedy bar somewhere in Gotham. A heavyset man with white hair sits drinking. And then, a second shape enters, in the shadows at first, but as he passes below the lights-
SACKETT: My God.
Garcia presses freeze-frame so we can get a better look. The horrific visage of Harvey Dent - one half of his face normal, handsome, the other horribly scarred, eaten away, is frozen in a sneer on the screen.
GARCIA: Gotham's White Knight. Or at least, what the Joker left of him.
He presses play. We see Dent flip a coin and shoot the white-haired man in the head. Garcia stops the playback and has the DVD ejected.
SACKETT: You knew? You knew Batman was innocent this whole time?
GARCIA: I didn't get into this office on my stunning good looks alone, Buck. It suited Gotham to blame Batman. The public had turned against him for not giving in to the Joker's demands to reveal his identity - that led to the assassinations, to Gotham General, to the ferry bombs, to an entire city on its knees. Batman was dead in the water.
He points to the television, which is now showing pictures of the almost two hundred detainees being led into prison. The huge amount of gang weapons recovered.
GARCIA: But now…different story. That (he indicates the TV again) is just the appetiser. And this (he waves the DVD) this is going to hit the airwaves tomorrow and complete his return from the cold.
SACKETT: And what about me, Tony, huh? What about Metropolis? What about Superman?
GARCIA: (shrugs) I don't know what to tell you, Buck. He's an alien. Maybe his…his Power Ring ran out of charge. Maybe he quit. Who knows.
SACKETT: That's it? That's all you got? You don't seem to understand, Tony…all of this, offering Superman to Gotham, it wasn't even my idea in the first place.
GARCIA: Meaning?
SACKETT: Hey. Like you said. We didn't get into office on good looks alone. We all got our paymasters, and not all of 'em pay taxes and play nice. I did what I was told.
GARCIA: And now you're worried your boss is, what? Gonna run amok in that perfect little city of yours with no Superman to protect you if he goes too far?
SACKETT: You don't know this guy, Tony. He's dangerous like you wouldn't believe. If he even knew I was talking to you…
He sits down heavily in the chair, taking out a handkerchief and mopping his brow. He looks up at his opposite number, pleading now, somewhat pathetic.
SACKETT: You've gotta help me. I helped you.
GARCIA: You helped me? Huh. And here I thought Superman coming to Gotham wasn't even your idea…
SACKETT: We need him back, Tony. Or maybe - you think Batman could - ?
GARCIA: (shrugs) You want to get a message to the Batman, Jim Gordon's your man. I wouldn't tell him you spoke to me, though. I was the one who ordered him to appear on that on-air ambush tonight. I doubt he's too pleased with me.
SACKETT: I'll speak to him. Thank you, Tony. I won't forget this.
GARCIA: Hey. We Mayors are a rare breed. We need to stick together, right?
The two men shake hands. Buck leaves Garcia's office. Garcia picks up his phone and dials a number.
GARCIA: You were right.
He replaces the phone in his cradle, goes and pours himself a drink from a nearby brandy tumbler, then walks to the window and watches as Sackett exits the building, flanked by two minders, heading for his official car parked outside.
A car parked at the other side of the street disgorges several men. They reveal automatic weapons and open fire on Sackett and his minders, cutting them down savagely in seconds. The gunmen pile back into their car and screech off. Garcia watches the car as it goes with casual interest. He glances down at his watch, seeming to count from one to five as he does so.
By the time he gets to 'three', a black shape flits past the window in hot pursuit of the fleeing car. Garcia lifts the glass of brandy in tribute and knocks it back.
His phone rings. Garcia picks it up.
We cut to Metropolis, and Lex Luthor, sitting in an unidentified location watching a live video feed of the scene of the brutal execution of Buck Sackett. He holds a phone to his ear. We cut between him and Garcia as each of them speak.
LUTHOR: I'm in your debt, Mr. Mayor.
GARCIA: Consider it even for (he picks up the DVD of CCTV footage from his desk and turns it over in his hands) services rendered. Metropolis is yours, Lex.
LUTHOR: Enjoy Gotham.
GARCIA: I intend to.
He replaces the phone and we cut to Luthor, who takes his own receiver away from his ear.
LUTHOR: While it lasts…
We widen out to take in the entire room Luthor sits in. He's sitting at the head of a large conference table filled with others. Most of these people look like fairly standard-issue gangster types, hard-faced, unsmiling. But Luthor doesn't seem overly bothered by them. Instead, he's looking at the man sitting at the opposite end of the conference table.
Definitely not your typical criminal type, the man grabbing Lex's attention is immaculately dressed, middle-aged, white-haired, distinguished and respectable looking, with a presence that dominates the room and rivals that of Luthor himself. When he speaks, he does so slowly and surely, brimming with easy confidence.
LUTHOR: Mr Edge. Or can I call you Morgan?
If Luthor is being sarcastic, Morgan Edge ignores it. He does not smile.
EDGE: Feel free.
LUTHOR: Such a common touch for one of Metropolis' foremost entrepreneurs. I'm humbled. Unworthy.
EDGE: Surrounded.
LUTHOR: (glancing around the room) Yes, I had noticed. I really should have brought my massive criminal empire with me.
EDGE: The one you donated to the Batman rehabilitation fund?
LUTHOR: A necessary bargain for Superman's removal. You wanted your 'Intergang' to rule Metropolis, Mr Edge. But you knew with Big Blue around it was never going to happen. Voila. I've cleared the way for you.
EDGE: Very generous of you, Lex. But forgive me if I'm wondering why this sudden wave of charity has washed over you.
LUTHOR: You offered me a billion dollars, Morgan. I'd hardly call it charity.
EDGE: That's your motivation? Money? I'm a little disappointed in you, Lex.
LUTHOR: (smiling dangerously) Don't be, Morgan. Now, since we're in the habit of asking questions, mind telling me where you're getting those toys of yours from?
EDGE: You mean these?
He produces what looks like an assault rifle, but assault rifles don't usually hum with power when you press a switch on the side. He ratchets up a power meter on the top of the weapon and points it at one of the henchmen sitting around the table.
HENCHMAN: B-boss…?
Those sitting next to him scatter. Luthor watches with interest.
EDGE: You wouldn't believe me if I told you, Lex. But you'll know soon enough. Everyone will.
He turns his attention to the henchman, who stares down the barrel of his own oblivion, pale as a ghost. The gun hums with barely contained power. Edge's finger curls around the trigger.
EDGE: No more skimming off the top, Frankie?
HENCHMAN: N-n-n-no, boss. I s-s-s-swear…
EDGE: (soothingly)I know.
He pulls the trigger.
We cut to an outside of the building. It's emblazoned with a huge WGBS logo. An arcing blue pulse of energy breaks free of one of the top floors, dissipating into the Metropolis skyline. We go in through the hole created by the energy until we arrive back at the conference room and at the smoking, headless torso of the luckless Frankie. Morgan Edge places the weapon on the conference table. His eyes turn to Lex.
EDGE: The money will be in your account in one hour.
LUTHOR: (standing up) Thank you, Morgan. Have fun.
EDGE: And what about you, Lex? Batman has Gotham. Intergang has Metropolis. What's left for the (he sneers the words) 'Greatest Criminal Mind of Our Times'?
In response, Lex Luthor simply shrugs and smiles, the sort of smile you could shave with.
LUTHOR: Don't worry about me. I'll find something to do. I always do.