Batman Page #12

BRUCE seems somehow unable to sing along. But be quickly

recovers his composure -- and forces a crooked, almost

childish smile.

BRUCE:

I don't sing very well.

VICKI:

Then there's one thing in the world

you don't do very well. And I know

what it is. -- Now you'll have to

kill me.

He kisses her good morning, steps out and reaches for a

towel. His body is one big mass of BRUISES AND ABRASIONS.

VICKI (cont.)

Poor thing. You should stay off that

horse.

CUT TO:

INT. GLOBE - CITY ROOM - DAY

KNOX, in a surly mood, examines the morning edition of the

Globe. He's turned to page six -- the gossip page -- and

there, under Miranda Reitz's byline, is a picture of VICKI.

It seems she and BRUCE are the talk of the town.

KNOX:

(disgusted)

...Peanut.

A COPY BOY approaches his desk with a MANILA FOLDER:

COPY BOY:

Here's that morgue file you wanted.

KNOX leans back in his chair. The file is labelled "BRUCE

WAYNE:
1982-1987." KNOX opens it and begins to leaf

through old clippings from back issues of the Globe.

WAYNE FOUNDATION TO FUND LOW-COST HOUSING. MILLIONAIRE

HEADS CHARITY DRIVE FOR GOTHAM HANDICAPPED. HURRICANE

VICTIMS SAY 'THANK YOU' TO BRUCE WAYNE. KNOX's face sags in

dismay. Every article seems to be telling us just how swell

a rich philanthropist can be.

KNOX:

Come on. Gimme some dirt!

Then he notices something odd. In the whole fat file of

clippings, there are no pictures of Bruce Wayne -- with two

partial exceptions.

One is a group shot, Bruce in the middle, waving at the

camera and blocking our view of his face. The other is an

ancient picture of a collegiate Bruce, stern-faced, hair

down to his collar. The caption reads "BRUCE WAYNE IN

1973" -- years out of date even when it ran in the paper.

KNOX (cont.)

... Why don't you like your picture

taken?

CUT TO:

INT. APARTMENT LOBBY - NIGHT

A DOORMAN DOZES in the plush lobby of ALICIA HUNT's

apartment building on the East Side of Gotham. Through the

glass doors we see ALICIA outside in the chill wind,

peering inside, hesitant to enter.

As silently as possible she uses her key and steps in,

tiptoeing past the doorman, trying not to wake him. She's

almost made it when he SITS BOLT UPRIGHT, startling her.

DOORMAN:

Miss Hunt!

(smiling)

No need to sneak in. The rent's been

taken care of.

ALICIA:

... The rent? Paid?

INT. ALICIA'S APARTMENT - NIGHT

ALICIA, mystified, lets herself in and turns to lock the

door. She's startled once more by a VOICE FROM BEHIND.

VOICE:

Honey -- I'm home!

She pivots. Her eyes widen. She SHRIEKS.

Sitting cross-legged in an easy chair, a twisted grin on

his loathesome face, is THE JOKER. He's in a smoking jacket

and slippers, reading the paper, a dry martini at his side.

This grim parody of domesticity sends poor ALICIA into a

dead faint.

INT. PENTHOUSE SUITE - DAY

It looks for all the world like a corporate boardroom. At a

long table sit Gotham's most distinguished criminals:

GANGLORDS and RACKETS BOSSES from every corner of the city.

They stare suspiciously at the head of the table.

JOKER (O.S.)

So that's how it is, gents. Until

Grissom decides it's safe to come up

for air... I'm running the show.

Now we see what they see: THE JOKER, dressed rather

flamboyantly in a big slouch hat. His FACE is layered with

flesh-toned makeup, and his HAIR's been rinsed black.

Unfortunately, he can't conceal his ghoulish SMILE.

GANG BOSS:

So why don't we hear this from

Grissom?

RACKETEER:

I got something I'd like to know.

How come you're wearing that stupid

smirk?

JOKER:

'Cause I got an army, chum. And I

got Grissom's army. And this city

is mine.

CARMINE ROTELLI, an especially oily mobster, speaks up:

ROTELLI:

I don't like taking orders, from

Grissom. And I especially don't like

taking orders from Grissom's goon.

JOKER:

I've considered that possibility.

ROTELLI:

And what happens if we say no?

JOKER:

(chuckling)

Nobody wants a war, Carmine. If we

can't do business, we shake hands

and part friends.

ROTELLI:

That's it?

JOKER:

That's it.

THE JOKER extends a hand. ROTELLI reaches out to shake it.

He doesn't see the JOY BUZZER concealed in the JOKER's

palm.

40,000 VOLTS course through ROTELLI's body. He drops back

into his seat a blackened husk, SMOKE pouring out from his

sleeves and shirt collar.

The CRIMELORDS recoil in horror. Before they can make a

move, a squad of ARMED THUGS burst into the room.

JOKER (cont.)

Looks like Carmine got a little hot

under the collar.

CRIMELORD:

... You're insane!

The JOKER is a wee bit agitated. He removes the hat and

mops sweat from his brow, exposing a patch of CHALK-WHITE

FLESH -- to the great bewilderment of the ONLOOKERS.

JOKER:

That's what they said about Lee

Iacocca. Now GET OUT OF HERE. -- And

THINK IT OVER!

The sickened CRIMINALS file out cautiously. That leaves THE

JOKER alone in the room with the charred corpse of ROTELLI.

THE JOKER sinks into a chair and -- as is his wont --

ADDRESSES THE STIFF:

JOKER (cont.)

Heck, they're not such bad guys. I

say we give 'em a couple of days to

come around.

(thoughtful pause)

We-e-ll... maybe one day.

(then, casually)

Aaah, screw it. Let's grease 'em.

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