Act III, Scene IX
Richard White is at the controls of the plane. He curses under his breath at the hideous weather conditions all around him. The satellite phone beside him rings for attention. He has it answered and to his ear in a heartbeat.
RICHARD: Clark! Talk to me! How'd it go? Is Jason okay?
CLARK: (V/O) You have our position?
RICHARD: Sure, you're…uh…you're about four hundred feet south…uh…three hundred feet…(whistles) travelling pretty fast. You airborne again? I hope so, because there's no way in this world I can land this bird with visibility like it is.
CLARK: (V/O) Get as low as you can! And open the door!
Richard locks the controls for long enough to open the side door of the plane. He dips the nose of the plane and the altimeter drops to 300 feet…200 feet…100 feet…
RICHARD: (under his breath) Whatever you're doing, Kent, do it fast…
The plane rocks suddenly to the side and Richard glances back, alarmed, only to see Clark Kent hanging onto the open door with one hand, a bundle in the other. He swings around and into the aircraft, depositing the bundle as gently as is possible with the other. It unwraps itself to reveal Jason, swaddled in the middle of as many wraps and blankets as possible.
Richard's eyes bulge in alarm. He wants to let go of the controls and run to his boy, but of course that would be suicide, so he must resist that urge and fight the sticks to regain them the altitude they lost.
RICHARD: What the hell happened down there!
CLARK: Our son grew up. (stroking Jason's sleeping face) He's fine. He's unconscious.
He makes Jason comfortable, secures him, and then moves up to sit beside Richard in the cockpit. Immediately he winces in pain. Richard glances at him.
RICHARD: Well that's gotta be a good sign…
CLARK: I'm not back to what I was. I can't fly.
RICHARD: I can. You better get to the back of the plane.
CLARK: Yeah, about the plane. I've got an idea-
The satellite phone rings again. Clark picks it up.
CLARK: Lois?
He listens in silence for a few moments.
CLARK: We'll be there in less than two hours. Jason is fine. He's sleeping. (pause) Not entirely. But it might be enough. I love you too. Goodbye.
RICHARD: Less than two hours??? Are you crazy?
CLARK: Lois is in trouble.
RICHARD: Stop the presses. Look, I wanna get there too, but we've got six thousand miles to cover!
CLARK: Yeah. About that-
He produces a crystal from his parka. Richard looks at it dubiously and then to Clark.
RICHARD: From the Fortress?
CLARK: We need all the help we can get. What's the worst that could happen?
RICHARD: (with some finality)Yup. We're all gonna die.
Clark places the crystal on the plane's dash. For a moment it just sits there. Richard and Clark look at it with some trepidation. Eventually Richard raises an eyebrow.
RICHARD: If you've got some water on you it could grow into an ass-ugly continent…
Without fuss, the crystal simply seems to dissolve into the plane. Richard cries out in alarm. Clark looks only slightly less concerned. The plane's engine noise changes. From the usual dull roar it seems to kick, to hesitate, to stall. Richard and Clark look at each other, the same thought going through both their minds-
That's when the engines roar back to life. And the plane is suddenly kicked forward as if from the steel toe-capped boots of God Himself. The instrumentation beneath Richard seems to flow and change fluidly. The plane even changes shape, going from a modest little clunker of a craft to a sleek, sexy, white-veined and otherworldly looking arrow, built for hypersonic flight. It climbs into the clouds and screams across the skies.
RICHARD: Look out, Metropolis…
Act III, Scene X
No dialogue, only music, as we see-
Metropolis residents running for their lives as masked men walk in a line down one of the city's avenues.
The WGBS news anchor speaking over a graphic of a circle contracting. The banner above reads SECOND WAVE OF INTERGANG METROPOLIS ATTACKS.
The centre of the circle fading to a shot of the exterior of the Daily Planet building. Its employees are fleeing the premises. Perry White urges them out, shouting, harrying, screaming at them to hurry up with their escape.
Police trying to call a halt to the relentless advance. National Guardsmen pull up in their armoured vehicles and there's a short standoff between them and the line of advancing gang members, until it becomes clear that the rooftops of nearby buildings are also filled with gang members holding the pocket launchers.
Missiles rip toward the Guardsmen and their transports.
Fireballs spiral.
We cut abruptly to two men entering a hidden elevator. As it descends, we see the men and their location. It's Lucius Fox and Alfred Pennyworth, and they're descending into the Batcave.
They emerge, and throw the switches to illuminate the cavernous interior.
LUCIUS: Never help build a Batcave without keeping yourself a spare access code.
ALFRED: I can't believe we're doing this.
Lucius accesses the nearest computer terminal, begins plugging in data entry modules. A huge graphic of Project Avatar appears on the screen. Lucius and Alfred look at each other.
LUCIUS: Time to call for the calvary.
In the Planet building, Perry watches as the foundations shake, and closes the door behind the last staff member to flee, leaving him by himself. He stares out at the city, and then turns on his heel and gets into the lobby elevator, emerging a few moments later into the newsroom.
He lifts a copy of the Daily Planet, a draft of the front page of tomorrow's paper. It reads DAILY PLANET DESTROYED!
LOIS: I got another one for ya.
PERRY: Lois? What are you doing here-! I told you to get out!
She hands him another front page. This one reads DAILY PLANET SAVED! Perry looks down at the headline and up at Lois.
LOIS: What are you doing here, Chief?
PERRY: I can't leave her, Lois. This paper has been my life. It's destroyed my marriage and it's swallowed my every free minute, but I love it. It's my heart. And I won't walk out that door and watch as they bring it down.
LOIS: Perry, this is just a building. The Planet isn't about concrete and steel, it's about convictions and truth. You may be her captain, but you don't have to go down with the ship, because the ship doesn't have to go down at all.
PERRY: Lois, I'm sixty-three years old and you're asking me to rebuild one of the world's biggest newspapers from nothing?
LOIS: Yeah. I am.
A smile slowly dawns over Perry White's face. Lois is relieved to see it. She grabs his arm.
LOIS: Now let's get the hell out of here.
They sprint for the elevators-
-and are knocked back by an explosion as the bombardment of the building begins. Windows shatter. Desks are knocked over and turned to kindling. Perry knocks Lois to the ground, sheltering her with his body as they scramble for the centre of the newsroom.
Outside, a ring of the masked men have now surrounded the entire building. Their leader steps forward, the barrel of his pocket launcher still smoking. He's looking up.
GANG LEADER: Is that a plane?
Our point of view climbs until we see that it is indeed a plane. Not just any plane though. Close up on Clark, as he stands at the open side door of the plane, hovering impossibly in place outside the newsroom floor of the Planet, by the hole in the wall the launcher just blew, as only a helicopter should be able to do. He looks down, then back at Richard in the cockpit, and at the still-unconscious Jason.
He takes off his glasses, and throws them to Richard.
CLARK: Time to get to work.
We pull back from the close-up and we see he's in full Superman regalia. He steps into empty air and plummets down toward the ground below.
RICHARD: Lois! Perry! Get in!
Lois and Perry stand up and look in disbelief at the white dart suspended in mid-air outside the hole in the Planet building. Richard, visible through the cockpit window, waves at them frantically to come on.
The gang leader's eyes open wide as the shape of Superman gets larger and larger, falling like a stone toward him and his men. His mouth forms the word FIRE and the pocket launchers of he and the men standing by him release their deadly payloads, multiple rockets shooting into the lower floors of the Planet building, some going higher-
Lois and Perry jump the six feet or so between the edge of the building and the safety of the Kryptonian-modified plane. The door seals shut on the side just as the rockets impact the newsroom they've only just left, consuming it in a fireball that engulfs the plane also.
Superman hits the ground feet-first, causing a shockwave and buckling the sidewalk where he impacts. He's knocked off his feet and sent sprawling, and by the time he's recovered only has time to turn his head upward to the scene of the explosion far overhead.
The fireball dissipates. And the plane is intact. It flies off.
Superman stands to face the twenty or so men assembled before him, a terrible expression of intent written all over his face.
GANG LEADER: Get him!!
Rockets fly. Superman dives to the left and right to avoid them and succeeds, but only succeeds in allowing the rockets meant for him to impact the ground floor of the Planet building, completely destroying the lobby and obliterating the foundations. The entire building begins to rumble.
Superman doesn't have time for that now. He moves at high speed, a blur, making a beeline for the gang members around him, stretching out an arm here, throwing an uppercut there. One member he picks up bodily and simply tosses the man into two of his companions. He impacts them so hard they are thrown thirty feet backward.
And a rocket impacts him dead centre in the back.
We see in slow-motion the effects of the explosion has at pointblank range. Despite his powers being increased beyond those of a normal human, Superman is still well below normal strength at which he would have been stunned but able to shrug off the rocket impact; at this power level, he's blown straight through the already distressed Planet building, clean out the other side, sliding across the pavement, battered bruised and bloodied.
We cut to the roof of the Planet building. The surface is buckling crazily with the floors below going through immense strain. The struts holding the huge Planet globe in place stretch and snap, and the globe rolls ponderously and inevitably off the roof, heading straight for the prone figure of Superman below. He just has time to look up and throw up an instinctively protective arm in a vain attempt to shield himself from the surely fatal impact-
And we cut, abruptly, to a young boy's bedroom.
He's playing an Xbox game and controlling his superhero - it's the same game as Jason was playing before. Something drops off the roof of the building his avatar is flying toward.
BOY: Ohhhhhh no you don't…
Pushing down on the joystick on his pad, he throws his avatar into a dive, tongue sticking out in concentration.
We cut to another bedroom, another boy. Playing the same game. Doing the same thing.
Another house. This time it's a middle-aged man. He's wearing the Live Communicator headset. His wife is standing behind him, dressed as if she's going out for the night. She taps her watch.
WIFE: Merril!
MERRILL: Larisa! This is a live multiplayer event! Special invitation for top players only! They didn't even announce it! How cool is that?!
WIFE: Goodbye Merril.
As his wife walks out the door, Merril's avatar catches the globe in tandem with other players. We see his controller shake with the feedback. Merril wipes sweat from his brow.
We go back to Superman. He's still alive. He lowers his arm in astonishment and looks up…
…to see the Planet globe, suspended in mid-air by three black-suited Batmen. Each is wearing a pair of jet-boots billowing fire and smoke, allowing them to fly. As Superman looks closer, we can see that each Batman is entirely mechanical.
To say Superman is confused would be an understatement. However, he doesn't have much time to process it. Now on the other side of the Planet building, he's facing the other half of the gang and they're not about to let his stay of execution last for long. He's forced to jump thirty feet into the air to vault over three rockets that come his way, attaching himself to the side of the now-rapidly-disintegrating Planet building.
We go back to Merril in his living room. He grins into his headset and then, all businesslike, taps his earpiece and adopts an extremely professional tone.
MERRIL: Wingmen, come in. Repeat, wingmen, come in.
The screen splits so the two boys we saw moments earlier playing the game in their bedrooms are now shown also.
BOY #1: I gotcha, Squad Leader.
BOY #2: Loud and clear, Kingpin. We going bowling?
MERRIL: You bet we are.
All three bash their joypads and we see, in the real world, the robots they're unwittingly controlling launch the Planet globe at the gang members. It crunches into the sidewalk and rolls toward the assembled gang, causing them to scatter in panic. Some aren't fast enough. Some are. Superman is able to deal with the rest.
MERRIL / BOY #1 / BOY #2: (in unison) Strrrrrrrrrike!
Merril's unbridled joy turns to confusion as he watches on his screen a red & blue suited figure appear and begin taking out some of the gang.
MERRIL: Who the hell is that noob?
BOY #2: Beats me. Must be an NPC.
We go back to the Batcave, and to Alfred and Lucius, who are watching three feeds from the players. Lucius is shaking his head in wonderment. Alfred can't help but grin.
ALFRED: Our turn...?
Lucius nods.
The game ends for the three players and a message flashes up - MISSION SUCCESS! Merril grins, but then the grin fades.
MERRIL: (disgusted) Huh?No Achievement Points?
Superman watches as the Daily Planet building tumbles, now in catastrophic collapse. His mouth is a thin line as the headquarters of the world's most respected broadsheet is reduced to rubble. He sees one of the gang members thought to be unconscious raise his head and takes a not inconsiderable amount of pleasure to laying the man back out again with one punch.
The dust settles. The Daily Planet building is no more. Superman stands amidst the wreckage of his civilian workplace.
Three pairs of black boots land at each of the points of a triangle around him. He looks from the face of one Batman automaton to the other, extremely wary.
SUPERMAN: Nice toys, Bruce.
AVATAR: They're not toys, mate.
Superman blinks. The voice coming from the robot standing in front of him doesn't speak with an American accent. It sounds Cockney.
AVATAR: Apparently they're Autonomous Version Airborne Tertiary Attack Robots. Or something like that. We call 'em AVATARs. Lucius can tell you more if you can follow 'alf of what he's banging on about. (pause) Yes, I'm asking him now. I'm getting to that, yes.
Superman absorbs this strangeness of a robot bickering with itself with a puzzled expression. The robot seems to be jerking its head back and forth as if receiving signals from two sources at once. But now it focuses its gaze back on Superman once more.
AVATAR: We need to talk. About Bruce.
SUPERMAN: Unless it's how you can help me stop him, not interested.
AVATAR: Well then. This is your lucky day, innit?
One of the robots standing behind Superman walks up behind him and puts its arms around him. Superman reacts.
AVATAR: Relax. It's just a lift. Time is of the essence here.
The three robots lift off, one carrying Superman. They rise into the Metropolis sky and level out, heading straight for Gotham.
SUPERMAN: How did you know I'd need a lift? Who are you?
AVATAR: Me?
We cut to Alfred, speaking into a microphone in the Batcave. He grins from ear to ear.
ALFRED: I'm just the help, sir. Just the help.