Batman Page #9

A BLINDING FLASH OF LIGHT. COLORS BURST in a wild

pyrotechnic display. COPS stumble backwards, momentarily

dazzled, as a THICK WALL OF BLACK SMOKE conceals BATMAN

from view.

A TINY GRAPPLING HOOK rockets out of the dense curling

cloud and CATCHES on a catwalk overhead.

COP:

LOOK!

The COPS are firing wildly into the smoke. But it's too

late. At the end of a cord, THE BLACK MAJESTIC FIGURE OF

THE BATMAN whips upward, rising out of the smoke like an

avenging angel -- and DISAPPEARING into the shadowy

heights, safely out of range.

GORDON:

HOLD YOUR FIRE!

COP:

... Who is this guy?

GORDON:

I don't know, but he's one hell of a

showman.

CUT TO:

EXT. ACE CHEMICAL CO. - THAT MOMENT - NIGHT

A BLACK SHADOW scurries across the roof. From the

illuminated sign with its neon ace, WE PAN DOWN past the

chemical sluice to a SECOND ACE... a card from JACK's lucky

deck, pierced by a neat, round bullet hole, bobbing on the

oily surface of the foul, polluted river.

As deadly toxins gush forth, OTHER CARDS from the deck

swirl past:
a nine. A deuce. A queen. And finally, a JOKER

-- SHOT CLEANLY THROUGH THE FACE.

A BONE-WHITE HAND BREAKS THE SURFACE as we

SHOCK CUT TO:

INT. GOTHAM GLOBE - CITY ROOM - DAY

A BANNER HEADLINE on the late edition of the Globe: "BAT

MAN FOILS ROBBERY. WHO IS MASKED VIGILANTE?"

Behind the newspaper, feet propped up on his desk, is a

jubilant KNOX. He's on the horn to COMMISSIONER GORDON.

KNOX:

Commissioner. Do us both a favor.

Don't tell me some lie you'll have

to retract later.

CLICK. KNOX grins, lowers the paper, finds himself looking

up at the smiling face of VICKI VALE.

KNOX (cont.)

Vick! Looks like our friend the bat

is getting ambitious. -- Why the

dopey grin?

VICKI:

Guess who's got a date with Bruce

Wayne.

KNOX:

Bruce Wayne? Date? He called you up

and asked you for a date?... Sh*t.

(shouting)

HEY MIRANDA! C'MERE!

(to VICKI)

I want you to pay close attention to

this. Miranda -- tell my friend here

what you told me about Bruce Wayne.

A SUPERANNUATED SOUTHERN BELLE toddles over. MIRANDA REITZ,

60, is the society editor of the Globe.

MIRANDA:

You mean Mister One-Nighter?

KNOX:

Yeah. "Mister One-Nighter."

(to VICKI)

Because that's the average length of

his relationships with women.

MIRANDA:

The current record is almost two

weeks. That cover girl -- what's her

name? You must've shot her, Vicki --

KNOX:

Tell her about the peanuts.

VICKI:

Peanuts?

KNOX:

Yeah. Peanuts. Which is how he goes

through women.

MIRANDA:

Like Planter's Peanuts.

VICKI is about to break out into helpless giggles.

VICKI:

Plain or roasted?

(standing up)

Alex, I'm very flattered that you've

gone out and done all this research.

KNOX:

Why?

(blushing suddenly)

Aw, come on, Vicki, I'm a reporter.

I'm curious. I do this for a living.

-- What'd you tell him?

VICKI:

I told him yes.

KNOX fumes. VICKI shakes her head and laughs. She takes

KNOX's face in her hands, plants a kiss on his forehead.

VICKI (cont.)

You're awfully sweet to be

concerned, but it's really not

necessary. I'll call you, okay?

She exits. KNOX stands there looking poleaxed.

KNOX:

... What was that?

MIRANDA:

That was one of the most gracious

f***-yous it's ever been my pleasure

to watch. -- What a nice girl.

KNOX, totally flustered, sighs and sinks into his chair.

KNOX:

Miranda, I'm busy. Go be productive.

CUT TO:

EXT. COASTLINE - DAY

A CABIN CRUISER slices through the waves. In the distance,

closer to the shore, we see a throng of SAILBOATS.

EXT. DECK - YACHT - DAY

BRUCE's forty-foot cabin cruiser, aptly christened "DIE

FLEIDERMAUS." BRUCE and VICKI are on the deck, in chairs,

soaking up sun, gazing off at the sailboats.

VICKI:

Do you sail?

BRUCE:

Too much work. I'm not really the

physical type. -- Thank you, Alfred.

ALFRED has just appeared from belowdecks with a tray of

drinks for BRUCE and VICKI. VICKI watches as BRUCE reaches

for his glass. His forearm looks like a thin layer of skin

over braided telephone cables.

VICKI:

You do a very convincing imitation.

(sipping her drink)

Mm, this is tasty. What's yours?

He smiles, slides the drink over toward her, gestures for

her to try a sip.

VICKI (cont.)

... Ginger ale?

BRUCE:

Two drinks and I start swinging from

the rooftops.

(beat)

Tell me, Vicki. There's something

I'm very curious about. What took

you down to Corto Maltese?

VICKI:

... I guess I needed a change.

BRUCE:

You were one of the most successful

magazine photographers in the city.

Everyone wanted you.

VICKI:

Have you ever been to Corto Maltese?

BRUCE:

Not since the shooting started.

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