Gangs of New York Page #2

VALLON:

Bill Poole! on whose challenge are we assembled?

A MAN in a leather duster (BILL THE BUTCHER) steps forward. He is young,

lean and fierce. And then there are his eyes. They do not match. One is

real. The other is a huge, bulging PEARL upon which has been engraved,

instead of a pupil, a full-color portrait of the AMERICAN EAGLE.

On the side of the square, arranged to get a good view of the impending

combat, is a group of STREET KIDS, girls and boys, none older than eight.

They talk and laugh excitedly among themselves, picking their own

favorites among the gangs as if the warriors were players on a team.

BILL THE BUTCHER

On the challenge of the Native Americans, to settle for good and all who

holds sway.

VALLON:

Bene.

BILL THE BUTCHER

By the ancient laws of combat, we offer our bodies to the ghosts of those

warriors who have gone before us. Valor is avid for glory, and glory is in

our wounds.

VALLON:

But this time can you bear to look on the glory when it comes, Bill? Can

you see it clear with your single eye?

BILL THE BUTCHER

Whoever fights untouched in battle has skill, but the warrior who returns

wounded has been touched by God.

VALLON:

It wasn't God who touched your eye.

BILL THE BUTCHER

It was God gave me guidance. Will you be able to look on the death blow

like a gladiator, and not look away? No honorable man turns an eye from

his death.

VALLON:

I don't expect a death blow from your hand, Butcher. Let's have at it.

BILL THE BUTCHER

There is another matter.

VALLON:

Say it out and quick, before spring gets here.

BILL THE BUTCHER

No Native American Warrior will dishonor himself with the blood of the

halt and maimed.

VALLON:

So?

BILL THE BUTCHER

So we would like to know whether Squire Jack Mulraney of the Dead Rabbits

can smile out of both sides of his face.

A pause of a single second. Then HAPPY JACK takes the dead rabbit off the

tip of his pike and hurls it across the square. It lands right at BILL THE

BUTCHER's feet.

In a flash, BILL THE BUTCHER opens his coat. Inside, on a special belt he

carries a CLEAVER, a CARVING KNIFE and other instruments of the butcherls

trade, all stained with blood and gristle. Now the MAN standing next to

him removes the broad BELT from around his coat. The brass buckle is

sharpened to a point, the leather studded with glass.

The gallery of Street Kids tenses for action: they are thrilled.

VALLON reaches up to the CROSS, pulls off the top piece, to disclose,

underneath, a gleaming sword point. He folds the arms of the cross down,

like the blades of a jackknife.

VALLON:

Prepare to receive the Lord.

And the air is full of screams and battle cries as the two gangs hurl

across Paradise Square into BATTLE.

VALLON draws first blood. He impales a Native American on the sword end of

his cross and turns to fight again.

Amsterdam and Shang exchange a glance of frightened, worried wonder.

Then a Native American rushes at them, shouting for blood. The boys act

together. Amsterdam dives down in front of the man, sending him sprawling.

Shang BLUDGEONS the fallen warrior, using his lead-filled rat like a

blackjack as Amsterdam kicks him savagely; the Native collapses

unconscicus at their feet. Before the boys can thank one another, however,

they are separaten by the SURGING GANGS all around them.

BILL THE BUTCHER leaves his meat CLEAVER imbedded in the middle of a man's

skull, then WADES through the combat as if shielded by a charm.

The gallery of Street Kids is thrilled by this display and reacts with

CHEERS.

VALLON BATTLES three Natives who come at him at once.

Monk Eastman grabs a Native in his arms like a groom hugging a bride. He

raises his knee and brings the man crashing down across it, BREAKING his

spine like a Thanksgiving wishbone.

The gallery of Street Kids is awed by this display of power from a new

star in the making.

The Rabbit Warrior in the home-made armor grins at an intrepid Native and

lowers his battle-axe. The Native rushes as the

Rabbit Warrior swings and SEPARATES the man from his legs.

A NATIVE WOMAN lowers her head and charges her Dead Rabbit adversary,

delivering a shattering BUTT to his stomach.

A NATIVE BOY holds a rusty old pistol, which he uses at pointblank range

against several Rabbits.

A RABBIT WOMAN flies into a Native, using her IRON FINGER EXTENSIONS to

GOUGE his face.

The NATIVE with the deadly belt uses it to TEAR a piece out of a Rabbit's

face.

Amsterdam, beginning now to be overwhelmed by the hellish fight, looks

around in growing PANIC for his father.

SHANG uses his lead-rat blackjack to clear an escape back toward the

Brewery. The Street Kids can tell he's trying to escape, and start BOOING

him...

... as Shang's GRABBED from behind and pulled off his feet by a PEG-LEGGED

NATIVE. He THROWS the boy to the ground and pins him by holding the

sword-sharp point of his wooden leg against Shang's throat.

SHANG:

(desperate)

I run with you! I'm one of you! Born a Native American from the blood of

five generations!

PEG-LEG

Yeah? Then you oughta be a red Indian.

He pushes down. Shang starts to bleed. But now PEG LEG is distracted by

the sudden SOUND of bells and whistles. He watches the BOY trembling on

the ground, then moves off him, making for the sound of the bell, leaving

the BOY quaking.

The SOUND grows louder as TWO HORSE-DRAWN CARTS full of battle ready

POLICE tear around the curve of a narrow thoroughfare and stop in Paradise

Square.

The BELLS on the carts toll loudly and work magic. The fighting stops.

The POLICE, all carrying clubs and wearing leather helmets, LEAP OFF the

wagons.

There are several moments of ABSOLUTE SILENCE, broken only by the SOUND of

the wind and the GROANS of the wounded.

Then, as one, the Dead Rabbits and the Native Americans RUSH the police

together, hurtling stones and brandishing weapons. Even the Street Kids

get into the act, kicking and biting and generally having a fine time.

The gangs SWARM all over the police, driving them back. Some lucky cops

climb back on the wagons and try to get away. The unlucky police remain

behind, dead on the ground.

The GANGS cheer, jeer and continue to throw things at the retreating

POLICE. When the second wagon disappears from view, the GANGS confront

each other once again.

Another brief moment of QUIET. The Street Kids settle back into their

spectator role. Then the GANGS go at each other with fresh intensity.

Amsterdam finally SEES his father and starts to PUSH his way toward him.

VALLON and BILL THE BUTCHER stand facing each other in the midst of battle

like two titans:
then they rush at each other, joining with a terrible

fury.

Shang, still blindly SWINGING his blackjack, makes his way closer to the

relative safety of the Brewery, his face stained with tears of fear. He

hits someone. The MAN turns, swats him down. Shang sprawls on the street,

which is a SWAMP of mud and blood and dirty snow, and finds himself face

to face with a departed PEG LEG. Someone has removed his artificial limb

and driven it through his heart.

Across the square, Amsterdam has reached his father in time to see a

NATIVE AMERICAN sneaking up behind him. Amsterdam grabs a long TRUNCHEON

from a fallen warrior and uses it to hit the man a strong blow behind the

knees.

The MAN falls, howling. AMSTERDAM HITS him again. And again. He is

hysterical.

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