Blüdhaven (episode 1)

FADE IN

EXT. BRIDGE - DAWN

Traffic is light on the Gotham City Bridge just before the sun rises.

 

INT. A MOVING VAN

A young, lean yet athletic, black-haired man rests one hand on the wheel and his head on the other. He is lost in his thoughts. The radio mentions local news, cuts to static, then plays “Highway to Hell” by AC/DC. A red classic muscle car is in tow behind the rented truck.

The orange sun sees it’s first reflection in the calm harbor waters. Grey clouds meet the waking day.

A sign on the overpass reads: Blüdhaven 13 mi.

FADE OUT.

EXT. COSTAL SUBURB - EARLY MORNING

The ocean breeze comes in on a hazy East Coast morning. It looks like it is going to rain. A few hundred feet from the bay shore a couple of houses are scattered along a lone street. In front of one of these modernized Victorian structures, the dark-haired twenty-something unloads boxes from a small moving truck. He wears black pants, boots, and a t-shirt. His name is Richard Grayson. One by one the man lifts boxes from the truck and carries them into his unfurnished new home.

On his way back to get the last few boxes, a black unmarked police cruiser pulls up in front of the home. The vehicle stops and a curly brown-haired woman in a dark trench coat exits. She notices the pristine muscle car parked behind the moving truck, and the home spacious enough for three families. A badge hangs from her neck. Her name is Amy Rohrbach. Detective.

AMY

Richard Grayson?

The man sets down a box to greet her.

RICHARD

That’s me.

AMY

I’m Detective Amy Rohrbach.

Richard approaches the policewoman. He offers a handshake.

RICHARD

Nice to meet you, Amy.

She grasps his hand in a firm shake.

AMY

You can call me Detective Rohrbach.

RICHARD

You got it Detective Rohrbach. How can I help you.

AMY

We’re going to need you to come in a day early. A situation has occurred this morning. We need all hands.

Richard closes up the truck, now planning to finish up the rest later.

RICHARD

Sure thing. Just let me grab my coat. I guess you can go ahead and start calling me Detective Grayson now, too.

INT. POLICE CAR

Richard rides shotgun as Amy drives them through the streets of the former whaling town and his new neighborhood. After a failed attempt to get into the manufacturing industry, Blüdhaven is now a container shipping capital of the East Coast. Unfinished warehouses, stacked crates, and metal cranes in the distance are smothered by the morning fog.

The two detectives sit in silence for a moment, taking in the scenery until she speaks.

AMY

Nice car. Nice place. Not much stuff.

Richard hesitates before he answers.

RICHARD

You might say I’m trying to start fresh.

AMY

You seem to have the means to be able to do so.

Richard doesn’t bite.

RICHARD

So what are we getting into here?

AMY

A few bodies washed up in the estuary sometime early this morning or late last night. They haven’t been in the water too long. Gang related.

RICHARD

How many?

AMY

21.

RICHARD

21?

AMY

All alleged bosses within Angel Marin’s criminal organization.

RICHARD

Angel Marin?

AMY

The undisputed crime lord of Blüdhaven.

Richard pauses for a moment before responding, shifting his eyes toward Amy to gauge her reactons.

RICHARD

Until now. Do we know where he is?

AMY

We haven’t been able to locate him as of yet.

RICHARD

And you need me to...

AMY

Besides help find the person or persons responsible for a genuine bloodbath?

Amy is sarcastic at first but then shifts her tone.

AMY (CONT’D)

We may need you to assist with contacts in the Gotham City Police Department. The bodies may have originated from the bridge and then washed down the river. We’ll need your contacts to establish a friendly relationship early on if we are going to get any real help.

Although curious that there may be more to it than that, Richard decides to save it for another time.

RICHARD

We’ll see.

AMY

I beg your pardon.

RICHARD

Gotham is a no man’s land. G.C.P.D. has plenty to deal with as is. I wouldn’t count on their cooperation.

Amy looks at him, but presses it no further, for now.

EXT. ESTUARY - MID MORNING

The sun is still unable to pierce the clouded grey sky. Murky sand is littered with trash and the bodies of 21 dead crime bosses. Examiners, photographers, uniformed and plainclothes cops surround the victims. Press cameras flash in the background behind barriers of yellow tape. Amy and Richard arrive on the scene and exit their vehicle. 

Pulling his navy overcoat tight, Richard follows Amy as she gets an officer to lift the police line with a flash of her badge. She nods to the cop that Richard is with her. Approaching the gruesome scene at the river bank, Richard scans his surroundings, the bodies, the objects, the people. He notices a group of three plainclothes talking to each other. One of them turns to greet the new-comers. The eldest is a sun-tanned Native American man with short dark hair turning grey. He is the Police Chief and he awaits their arrival.

CHIEF

Detective Rohrbach.

AMY

Chief Redhorn, This is Detective Grayson.

CHIEF

Welcome to Blüdhaven detective. I appreciate you coming in a little early.

RICHARD

Chief Redhorn, thank you for having me on.

CHIEF

The pleasure is mine. I’ve heard good things about you. I’m looking forward to seeing you in action.

RICHARD

Thank you sir. So, these are all Angel Marin’s men.

CHIEF

You catch on quickly Grayson. That’s good. See if you can’t help these guys actually solve this thing.

Richard gives a playful look to Amy.

CHIEF (CONT’D)

Soames. Arnot. Fill these two in. It seems I am going to have plenty to deal with today.

The Chief leaves Amy and Richard with the other two detectives. Soames is a tall slim man with dirty blond hair. He wears his aviator sunglasses like a sign of authority. Arnot is a shorter and more muscular African-American man with a short and thick hair and thin goatee.

SOAMES

Yes sir Chief Redhorn.

Soames looks at Richard.

SOAMES (CONT’D)

Don’t make cracks about the Chief’s name, dick.

RICHARD

I didn’t-

ARNOT

Cool it Soames. Sorry about him, he’s well...a dick. I’m Mason Arnot. You can call me Mac.

SOAMES

Yeah don’t worry rook, I was just joshing. My name is Detective Dudley Soames. You can call me Detective Dudley Soames.

AMY

Alright, enough. We have work to do here gentlemen.

They calm.

AMY (CONT’D)

No need for us to hold you two up. I’ll look around here with the new guy. You guys can get to work on tracking down Marin.

SOAMES

Yes sir. C’mon Mac.

Soames and Arnot turn and leave the scene. Amy walks Richard over to one of the forensic technicians working near a stack of corpses.

AMY

Got anything interesting over there Phil?

The scientist has a light brownish skin tone and medium length thinning dark curly hair. He looks down at his work through black plastic-framed eyeglasses. He wears a laminated badge. His name is Phillip Addadd. With only the slightest trace of an accent, the scientist responds.

PHIL

Well, I have 21 deceased. 10 by 45 caliber bullets. 10 by bladed weapons of a variety of shapes and sizes. And two who were beaten like doh.

AMY

How many attackers?

PHIL

Hard to say? I count at least six different types of fatal wounds so far.

AMY

They were ambushed?

Richard steps forward.

RICHARD

Most likely killed at separate locations. Then dumped here.

Although a little annoyed at his intervening, Amy remembers her manners.

AMY

Phillip Addadd, this is Richard Grayson. My rookie. Starting today.

RICHARD

Nice to meet you.

Phillip hardly looks up from his work.

PHIL

Likewise. Forgive me if I don’t shake hands.

Phillip lifts his rubber gloved hands covered in blood. Richard gives him his space.

PHIL (CONT’D)

It would appear you are right Detective Grayson. There’s no sign of impact that would indicate a drop off from the bridge, and we checked the tide charts. It was a low tide last night. So, from the condition of these bodies I’d say they were all killed between 11pm and 2am. Then they were disposed of here some time shortly after that. The tide came in around 4:30. They’ve only been in the water about four hours. You’d think the killers could’ve found a better spot.

RICHARD

Maybe they were trying to make a point.

AMY

Okay. Phil, keep me updated on what you find when you find it.

PHIL

Will do.

Amy and Richard head back to the car.

RICHARD

I guess we wont be needing the help of Gotham’s finest after all.

Amy ignores this remark.

RICHARD (CONT’D)

Mind dropping me off at my place so I can take a shower and get dressed before we hit the streets, Detective?

They both enter the vehicle. Amy takes a whiff of the air.

AMY

Please do.

EXT. COSTAL SUBURB - LATE MORNING

Outside of Richard’s house, Amy pulls up to drop him off.

AMY

Meet me at the station in an hour.

Richard opens the door to get out.

AMY (CONT’D)

You know the way.

Richard gets out of the car and closes the door and leans in the window to respond.

RICHARD

Actually, I-

Amy speeds away. Richard stands in the street for a moment looking at his new partner race away to chase bad guys. Then he rushes into his house.

INT. RICHARD’S COMPLEX

Inside the unfurnished wood-floored and white-walled Victorian flat, Richard rushes past the few boxes that line the hall. Wide floor to ceiling windows look out to the foggy harbor.

Richard pulls a cell phone out from a black duffel bag and uses a box as a makeshift table. He sets the phone down and it projects a holographic keyboard and screen. Richard quickly establishes a private server. He types:

Attn: O.

Request file(s) on: <21 items [expand]>

Having no patience to wait for the reply, Richard takes a quick shower. While toweling off he wipes the steam from the mirror. His body is riddled with scars. Knife slashes and stabs. Gunshots. Shrapnel. The works. Memories of a dangerous life. Richard reflects on one scar in particular. A bullet wound below his left shoulder. Just above the heart. Running his fingers over the scarred skin, Richard stares blankly. Lost in his past.

The phone chirps, snapping Richard from his daze. Examining the encrypted e-mail, Richard sees 21 files, the rap sheets of 21 known criminals. A second chirp signals another message, a personal note: 

P.S. The hardware will be there tonight. 2100. -O

Richard smiles and says aloud to himself:

RICHARD

Thanks Babs.

INT. POLICE HEADQUARTERS

Richard rushes in to meet his colleagues at the station. They are all gathered awaiting orders from the chief.

RICHARD

Did I miss anything.

Noticing Richard’s glossy scarlet and green tie, Amy quips:

SOAMES

You missed the mark on that tie that’s for sure. A little early for Christmas ain’t it newbie?

The chief comes out of his office to command his police force. Everyone hushes.

CHIEF

Listen up team, evidence points to the near certainty that this is a methodical mass assassination of the local criminal element by a rival gang attempting to wipe out the competition and move in on their turf. Our best chance at identifying any suspects is by locating the one and only Antonio “Angel” Marin, if he’s not dead already. He was the head of and is the now last known living member of all local mafia bosses. Detectives Soames and Arnot are currently checking recent addresses linked to Marin, but what we need to do is cultivate new leads. Contact family members of the deceased, get ahold of your informants, whatever it takes. We have 21 dead bodies, that’s a massacre no matter who the victims are. Lets take our city back ladies and gentlemen. Get to it.

The officers and detectives get to it, hitting the phones and computers and paperwork. Amy sits at her desk chair facing away from Richards who is leaning against the desk.

AMY

I know as well as he does that family members of dead mafia bosses aren’t going to risk death themselves to talk to cops. Informants that know anything will be too scared to talk. However, dissolved organization will mean there are thugs out of work, we may be able to find some willing to work with us.

RICHARD

Maybe...

Amy looks at Richard sitting on her desk and nudges him off.

RICHARD (CONT’D)

But they will most likely be unwilling to risk any employment opportunity with the new crew, or that theme that seems to be coming up a lot lately, death.

Amy gets a little irritated with her new partner.

AMY

Okay, so what do you suggest?

Richard seems to ponder in jest.

RICHARD

We do it the old fashion way. Let’s hit the beat. Make some new contacts. You heard the chief, whatever it takes.

Richard taps the back of Amy’s chair to motivate her to get up.

RICHARD (CONT’D)

Take us to a place that bad guys like to hang out.

EXT. THRILLDEVIL’S BAR - AFTERNOON

Amy and Richard pull up across the street from a bar rather busy for the time of day. It is called “Thrilldevil’s.” All sorts of scum gather inside and out to smoke and drink and do vile things.

Amy and Richard watch the rowdy crowd from inside their unmarked squad car. Richard leans over to look through Amy’s window.

RICHARD

A good place to start. You wait here.

Amy resists.

AMY

I don’t think so! You’ll need back-up going in there.

RICHARD

Think about it. These guys aren’t going to talk to cops. And I’m not officially on the clock until tomorrow.

Richard exits the car.

AMY

What are you going to do?

RICHARD

Just create a little misdirection. Meet me at the cafe three blocks back West in 20.

AMY

I’ll be there. Make sure you are.

She drives away. Richards waits on the sidewalk adjacent to the bar for a moment longer to scope his environment. Pulling his coat tight, he ventures across the street and toward the bar.

A row of motorcycles line the street in front of the bar. Richard removes a full face helmet from the back of a speed bike and pulls it over his head. Then he kicks the bike so it tumbles into the rest like a line of dominos. He has their attention. Approaching the group of angry bikers, Richard holds his hands up in surrender, until the first thug reaches for him.

Twisting the thug’s arm, Richard follows with a swift stomp to the man’s inner ankle, dropping him to the concrete. Before engaging the remaining three bikers, Richard backs up a step or two in order to align his aggressors single file. Keeping himself positioned to engage each man one by one, Richard begins his assault. Marching forward in a series of rapid fist and elbow strikes to the neck and ribs of the first two men, an unscathed Richard is left with only one more thug, and a scared, or excited, biker broad huddled in the corner. The last biker removes a switchblade from his vest and lunges at Richard, who effortlessly shifts the momentum of the attack to send the biker into the air and through the bar’s glass window.

Richard’s silhouette hangs in the shattered window. Inside the bar patrons, who all obviously witnessed the fight, look back at him. The helmeted Richard points to them.

RICHARD

Tell Angel Marin...

Dozens of men get to their feet. Richard dashes away. The bikers follow.

EXT. SLEAZY DOWNTOWN AREA - AFTERNOON

Richard runs a few blocks East and turns down an alley before anybody could see where he went. Making a few acrobatic maneuvers look easy, Richard hops up a dumpster, scales a fire exit staircase on the side of a building, flips over the railing and leaps to the opposite wall only to bounce back and catch the lip of the rooftop and pull himself the rest of the way up the four story building. Once on top, Richard looks to the street for any pursuers. First is the rumble of their motorcycles. Then he sees the herd roar past.

Skipping from rooftop to rooftop back in the direction he came from, Richard makes it to the roof of Thrilldevil’s bar. Descending the gutter like a fireman on a pole, Richard is back on the ground in no time, then he takes the back door into the bar.

INT. THRILLDEVIL’S BAR

Inside the evacuated bar a few nervous female patrons linger. The only man, the sleazy looking bar man, reaches for a phone under the counter. A sawed-off shotgun rests nearby.

Turning the corner into the bar from the back room, Richard approaches the bartender as he dials a number. After seven digits, Richard removes the stolen helmet from his head and cracks it on the back of the greasy bar man’s skull. He collapses to the floor unconscious, Richard catches the phone before it does the same, and the women up front remain unaware of his presence. Richard puts the phone to his ear. It rings. The other end answers. Richard listens to muffled breathing for a moment before speaking first.

RICHARD

Freddie told me to call this number if I was looking for a good time.

A muffled voice responds.

VOICE

He did, eh?

RICHARD

Yeah, you know, I’m new in town, looking to meet people. If you wanna tell me where you are, we can get together and, you know...

There is a long pause. Then a clank. Through the phone Richard hears the bang of a gunshot. The same sound echoes off in the distance. It came from nearby.

Richard hangs up the line, notes the redial number, and enters it into his cell phone to check for an address. It matches to a strip club only a few blocks away. He dials his partner Amy while scribbling something on a bar napkin. He tosses the paper to the floor and hops the counter to escape. Amy answers his call.

RICHARD (CONT’D)

I have an address, 2497 Hogan’s-

AMY

2497 Hogan’s Alley. It was just called in. I’ll meet you there.

EXT. HOGAN’S STRIP CLUB (FRONT ENTRANCE) - AFTERNOON

As Richard jogs around the street corner, he can see that Amy has just arrived. Club patrons and employees are being quickly escorted out by uniformed officers. More and more squad cars pull up to the scene and flashing red and blue lights illuminate the area. Richard and Amy meet at the front door of the club and they are let in by an officer pushing two drunks out of the way.

INT. STRIP CLUB

Passing the front desk, another officer leads Amy and Richard past the stage where dancers are being interviewed. They head down a hallway, turn a corner, and down a small flight of steps into a dimly lit lounge area, where the private parties go down.

In the center of the room a face looks back at them. Eyes wide and rolled back in the scull, jaw unhinged and drooping. As she begins to circle the crime scene, Amy notices that the head is twisted 180 degrees; the body sitting comfortably on the couch facing a muted television.

AMY

Detective Grayson, this is Angel Marin.

Richard looks closer.

RICHARD

No bullet wound.

Amy looks to the officer.

AMY

Who was first on scene?

OFFICER

Detective Soames, ma’am.

Richard notices noises coming in from the back door, cracked open only slightly. He moves to investigate.

EXT. STRIP CLUB (BACK ALLEY) - AFTERNOON

Richard opens the door to find detectives Soames and Arnot smoking their cigarettes, as well as two cops and a forensic scientist studying another body slumped over against the wall by a dumpster in Hogan’s Alley. Richard gets closer and sees that the deceased was only a teenager. The slightly husky young body wears a cloth mask tied over his eyes and a towel like a cape. He wears a jersey that reads “Nite-Wing.” His mouth is smeared in chocolate ice cream. Blood leaks down his freckled arm and pools around a bag and some scattered comic books. Richard stares at the dead boy.

AMY

A witness?

ARNOT

Most likely.

SOAMES

Kid was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Richard stands still, glaring at the body. Amy walks to his side.

AMY

Got a name?

Arnot approaches.

ARNOT

School I.D. says Thaddeus Ryerstad. 14. One of those Special Ed students.

AMY

Did you contact the next of kin?

Soames chimes in from afar.

SOAMES

I’ll be sure to get on that. Right after I solve the murder of Blüdhaven’s most notorious criminal. Oh, and the 21 other bad guys that were wiped out by someone who is clearly even more dangerous than they were.

Richard, still staring at the boy, interrupts quietly.

RICHARD

I’ll do it. I’ll tell the family.

Soames doesn’t seem to care either way and walks back into the strip club.

EXT. A SMALL RUNDOWN HOME - EVENING

Amy and Richard stand by their car outside of a small house in a neighborhood that is not exactly will maintained. The sun begins to set and the clouds glow orange and purple. A mist fills the air.

AMY

Randall Ryerstad. Single father. One child.

The grim Richard doesn’t respond. He walks slowly toward the dilapidated front porch. She follows.

He knocks. The door opens. A tired man in a robe greets them.

AMY (CONT’D)

Randall Ryerstad?

RANDALL

I’m Randy.

RICHARD

Mr. Ryerstad I’m afraid we have some bad news. About your son.

As the two break the news of Thaddeus’s death, the father’s knees buckle. He whimpers.

RANDALL

My Taddy.

Richard catches him and helps him to his feet. The old man is completely distraught as they take him inside and help him to a seat.

INT. MR. RYERSTAD’S HOME

The inside of the grief-stricken father’s home is dusty and dimly lit, likely unchanged over the past 30 years. The two detectives sit and attempt to console the old man.

AMY

Mr. Ryerstad, I just want you to know that we are going to do whatever it takes to find the men responsible for this horrible, senseless crime.

The man sits hunched in his chair like a comatose zombie.

RANDALL

He was all I had. My boy.

RICHARD

Mr. Ryerstad, I would like to personally offer-

RANDALL

Leave me please.

AMY

Mr. Ryerstad please-

The old man gets to his feet. Angrily wipes dried tears from his cheeks.

RANDALL

I want you both to leave.

Richard and Amy look at each other. What can they do?

On their way out, Richard stops at the screen door.

RICHARD

I am truly sorry for your loss, sir.

The old man weakly pushes them out the door. They put up little resistance.

EXT. MR. RYERSTAD’S HOME - EVENING

A few feet away from the porch, Amy and Richard linger at a short steel fence in silence.

AMY

There’s nothing we can do, Grayson. People deal with death in different ways.

Richard is silent. They turn to their car.

A gunshot cracks the somber air. It came from inside the house. Richard and Amy rush back inside to discover Randall Ryerstad dead with a revolver in his hand. Suicide. Amy calls 911.

INT. POLICE HEADQUARTERS

Richard sits in Amy’s chair at her desk. His feet are on the desk. He stares blankly at a wallet and cards and candy sealed in a zip-lock back. Evidence. The contents of Thaddeus’s pockets. Amy pushes his feet off the desk as the Chief approaches.

Chief Redhorn stops in front of Richard, with his fists resting on his hips.

CHIEF

Hell of a first day, huh. Don’t sweat it. We can’t save them all. You just do the best you can each day.

With that the chief walks to the front of the room to address his police force.

AMY

He’s right. It’s part of the job.

Richard is still quiet.

CHIEF

Alright everybody listen up!

The room full of busy policemen and women at work quickly falls silent.

CHIEF (CONT’D)

As you are all now aware, Antonio Marin was killed today. While we currently  have no suspects, we are going to continue to operate under the assumption that this is a violent regime change within Blüdhaven’s criminal underworld. I need all of you to hit the streets. With the old gang out of the picture, only the innocent are left to get hurt. As we have already seen. So, get out there, help people feel safe, and get them talking, Let me know what you hear.

With that, the officers get back to work. But Amy doesn’t move. Arms crossed, she looks at Richard, also motionless. She notices forensic expert Phillip Addadd walk by.

AMY

Anything?

PHIL

Not yet. The tests will take some time.

Phillip continues on his way. Amy looks back at Richard, whom is lost in his thoughts. He glares at the bagged evidence.

AMY

I don’t get you.

RICHARD

So I’ve noticed.

AMY

What’s that supposed to mean?

RICHARD

You’ve been probing me all day.

AMY

Have I?

Richard finally shift his eyes from the bag to Amy.

AMY (CONT’D)

Alright, well, I’ve been looking over your file.

RICHARD

And...

Not far away Soames and Arnot sit at their desks. Soames is on the phone, but finds an opportunity to chime in.

SOAMES

Did you really live with a travelling circus?

RICHARD

Until I was 12.

SOAMES

Most kids want to run away to the circus. Not away from.

ARNOT

What happened?

RICHARD

My parent’s died.

ARNOT

Sorry.

RICHARD

It was a long time ago.

AMY

You spent some time at an orphanage after that, until you were adopted.

SOAMES

By American royalty, no less.

AMY

Privately tutored. And then you emancipated yourself at 17.

Richard slouches further in his chair.

RICHARD

Keep going.

AMY

One semester at Hudson Community College two years later. A few months bartending. Police academy, although it doesn’t say where. Then you served on patrol with the Gotham City Police Department for four weeks until you were shot on the job. No disability. You just left after that.

SOAMES

You were shot during the Joker mass murder spree a few years back, right?

Richard doesn’t reply.

ARNOT

By him?

Still no reply.

AMY

And then there’s nothing after that. For three years. Until now when you show up in Blüdhaven, the heavenly hell, as my new rookie partner homicide detective.

RICHARD

I believe you were arriving at a point.

AMY

My point is, there is nothing in this file that leads me to believe you will take this job seriously. Nothing that gives me confidence that you will see this through to the end.

Amy catches her breath.

AMY (CONT’D)

And then I look at you sitting there.

Richard looks to Amy’s eyes.

AMY (CONT’D)

And you seem to care about what happened to that kid.

Richard breaks the eye contact. There is an awkward silence.

AMY (CONT’D)

You should go home. Get some sleep, you’ve had a long day. I’ll call you when we find something.

Richard pulls himself up from his seat.

RICHARD

Yeah.

Grabbing his suit jacket, Richard drags himself out of the office. Amy watches him leave.

EXT. RICHARD’S COMPLEX - NIGHT

The sun has set and the neighborhood is now lit by the moon, stars, and a few dull orange street lamps. Richard pulls up in his crimson muscle car. The engine purrs like a lion. Then he shuts it off before getting out. He walks briskly to his door, reflecting on the day’s events and what he’ll do next. Then he notices something.  A light mist fills the air and Richard notices a wet shoe print on the porch. He now rushes into his home.

INT. RICHARD’S COMPLEX

Once through the door Richard finds that his boxes have been unpacked, although the contents don’t take up much of the spacious flat. Looking around, Richard notices a note posted on his refrigerator.  It reads: “Garage” with an arrow.

Richard opens the door that leads from the house to the garage and can’t help but smile at what he finds.

INT. GARAGE

Inside there is a stainless crate, about the size of a couch in the middle of the formerly empty room. On top is another stainless steel box, briefcase-size. To the side of the containers, a jet black speed bike. Richard says to himself:

RICHARD

Thanks again, Barbara.

Richard opens the smaller case. It contains only a red cell phone, secured by black padding. He closes that case and moves it aside. He opens the large bin.

EXT. DOWNTOWN BLÜDHAVEN - NIGHT

It is raining now, but the night life is bustling. Bar and club patrons line the streets. It seems Thrilldevil’s in particular has amassed quite a crowd. The bar rumbles with the chatter of a small army.

However, up on the roof tops the sound is muffled. A lone gargoyle arches over the edge of the tallest building, blending into the stone and sky alike. Sharp and stern, the creature lurches over its urban territory and the inhabitants below. Suddenly the monster shifts. It is not a statue but a man. It’s right hand reaches for its left wrist, and taps at the back of his gauntlet. The distorted silhouette has dark arms and legs, but an active camouflage across the chest and shoulders breaks up the shape of his body and blends him into the dark and cloudy night sky. He has a lean and fierce jaw, dark hair slicked back out of his masked face. A day’s worth of whisker stubble. The black mask covers his nose and cheeks to mid-forehead, giving him a hawk-like profile. The eyes are protected by tinted lenses.

Suddenly, the perched predator spots his prey. A sleazy looking man with a bandage on the top of his balding head is leaving through the back entrance of Thrilldevil’s bar. The man heads down a few back alleys to get to a new location. The dark figure on the rooftops steps down from his post and drops down to the next building to begin the hunt.

The man continues slowly down the alleys. He is dressed in a flamboyantly striped suit with a spread color and gold chains resting on a bed on curly chest hair. A pale pudgy man with a mustache and long thin greasy hair. The type of man with a profession less than reputable. Chomping on a shredded cigar while he navigates the urban maze, the man is unaware of the shadow that stalks on the rooftops above. A shadow that only makes itself seen to move from one roof to another and to reacquire its oblivious target.

EXT. HOGAN’S ALLEY - NIGHT

Eventually they arrive at a place that is familiar. Hogan’s Alley. The back lot of the strip club where only hours earlier police discovered the bodies of a dead mafia kingpin and an innocent teenage boy.

The back entrance is still roped off with yellow police tape, but the sleazy man on the street below is headed toward the building next door. The night stalker above settles on a ledge out of sight.

At an unmarked door, the porky man knocks on the door a few times then waits impatiently. A slot opens and eyes peek through to see who’s knocking at the door. Satisfied, the sentry closes the peep slot and opens the door. The greaseball looks around one last time, then enters. What’s left in the alley is only the sound of rainfall.

The stalker on the roof notices the security cameras recording activity around the property, and he reaches again for his left wrist, tapping the top of his forearm like its a keyboard.

In a P.O.V. through the eyes of the shadowy figure, there is a holographic projection of a computer keyboard and screen, which can only be seen through his special lenses. He is mapping the blueprints and security of his environment. Soon, the shadow man spots an opportunity. From the roof above he spots a lone man in the next alley below, probably up to no good.

A junkie. Mumbling to himself about an argument that must have just transpired, the man begins to urinate behind a dumpster. As soon as he finishes and zips himself up, a whipping sound rustles behind him and he is yanked feet first into the air like a snared rabbit.

Minutes later, outside the unmarked building next to the strip club crime scene, the door reopens. Five men loiter in the threshold. One after another they make their way out into the back lot and reach for their cigarettes and lighters when the last one notices an alarming sight. A junkie strung up upside down by his ankles hanging across the street. The door closes. Only four men stand in the street, abandoned by their unseen accomplice. Three bouncers in black, and the flamboyantly dressed scum-bag, whose cigar drops from his drooping lips in fear. The bouncers draw pistols. Two of them approach the hanging junkie, the third stays close to their employer.

Cautiously nearing the unconscious junkie, one of the bodyguards whispers to himself.

BOUNCER #1

What the...

Another calls out to the darkness.

BOUNCER #2

Who’s there?!

Silence. Then a whizz. Then a snap. Then another whiz. Another snap. The third bouncer notices sparks sprouting from their cameras, and then the sound of two small pieces of metal hitting the hard ground. He hunches over to pick up one of the small blades that just destroyed the surveillance equipment. A third snap and the lights above the doorway go out. The four men nervously scan their surroundings. Nothing.

P.O.V. through night-vision lenses shows the four men scrambling to find their tormentor.

A dark figure drops to the ground from out of nowhere. Landing without a sound, the nervous men are momentarily unaware of his presence. Then, alerted by a small disruption in his peripherals caused by the blurring of the shadow man’s camouflage effect, someone shouts.

BOUNCER #3

There!

But before the men can react, the predator makes his move.

With the flick of his right wrist, the shadow launches a cable that hooks the man nearest the sleaze around his wrists. Yanked forward by the snare, the guard drops his weapon and faceplants into the concrete. Drawing his left arm to shield his face, he flicks three shuriken from under the glove sleeve. The first hits the bouncer furthest left in the wrist, causing him to drop his firearm. The second hits the innermost bouncer in the same fashion, while the third projectile hits the same man in the neck. With the three threats temporarily stunned, the shadow man draws a two-foot long baton from over his right shoulder with his left hand. Moving a few steps forward, the club meets the first thug’s jaw, knocking him unconscious. Continuing forward, the dark stalker draws another black stick from over his left shoulder with his right hand. In a dual wield fashion, the shadow smacks the second guard in the elbow as he reaches for his disarmed weapon. A second smack at the base of the skull knocks him out. Looking now to the last guard as he tries to untangle his wrists from the cable, the shadow man also notices the sleaze attempt an escape through the alley and into the deserted strip club. A boomerang to the Achilles tendon keeps him from running to far. A club to the back of the head knocks the thug on the ground unconscious.

Around the corner, the sleaze man makes a feeble escape attempt, crawling to the strip club’s back door with his arms and knees. The dark figure approaches. His shoulders, chest, and abdomen blending color with the background, camouflaging his shape to makes him appear only as moving shadow. Then the cloak deactivates, reverting the chameleon effect to a matte gunmetal blue. The sleaze inches back up to the wall. The dark man confronts him.

SHADOW-MAN

Lester Buchinsky.

The sleazeball on the ground stutters in response.

LESTER

Wha-What d-do you wa-ant with me? How do you know me?

SHADOW-MAN

Relax. We’re just going to talk.

LESTER

C-c’mon man I can’t.

SHADOW-MAN

You used to be an enforcer for Angel Marin. Now, he’s dead, along with 21 of his pals. You’re not. So, tell me who’s running the show now.

LESTER

Seriously man, I-

The shadowy man hunches over and leans in close to Lester. He pulls a taser from his back and gives the air a quick zap. Lester freezes.

LESTER (CONT’D)

They call him Blockbuster. An African pirate voodoo freak. I’ve only seen him once.

SHADOW-MAN

Was he the brave hero in the mask that split and left the four of you with me.

LESTER

Him? No. I never met that guy before. He works for Blockbuster. Just a messenger. Like me.

SHADOW-MAN

What did you talk about.

LESTER

Nothing. I told him about some guy who trashed my bar earlier today. Left his name on a napkin.

Lester pulls a crumpled bar napkin from his jacket pocket. The shadow smirks and then stands.

SHADOW-MAN

Have you told anyone else that name?

LESTER

No! No, I-

The shadow cracks the man’s jaw with his baton before he can finish. The shadow begins to walk away. Knocked out cold, Lester’s head slumps to his pot belly, back wedged against the alley wall in a similar fashion as the young boy who was murdered in the alley only hours earlier.

The shadow spots a can of black spray paint on the ground near a dumpster. He picks it up, gives it a shake, and then re-approaches the unconscious Lester.

INT. EXECUTIVE OFFICE

Moving through the lobby of a luxurious grand business office reception area, a masked man in a brown trench coat a fedora ignores the staff attempting to assist him. The rooms walls are covered in wooden shelves, leather bound books, and the mounted heads of African wildlife.

Inside the main office,  a tall broad man stands behind a dark wooden desk with his back to the entrance. He is nearly seven feet tall and over 300 pounds of muscle. He is dressed in a bespoke grey pinstripe double-breasted suit. He has dark brown skin and a large broad forehead, and sun-dyed dreadlocks pulled over his shoulder.

The masked man in hat and coat approaches to address the boss.

UNKNOWN

Sir, is-

BLOCKBUSTER

Take that mask off when you’re talking to me.

The man twists his mask around to the back of his head before responding. His face remains shielded by the brown hat.

UNKNOWN

Sir.

BLOCKBUSTER

What did you find out from the barkeep?

UNKNOWN

Some guy trashed his bar this afternoon. Ruffed up some of his customers. Around the same time Angel got turned around.

BLOCKBUSTER

You get a name?

UNKNOWN

Yeah. Dinardo. Freddie Dinardo.

BLOCKBUSTER

What’s he after exactly?

UNKNOWN

Didn’t say. He left a number though.

BLOCKBUSTER

Let’s keep this quiet for now. No cops. I wanna have a little chat with this man.

UNKNOWN

Sir.

EXT. COSTAL SUBURB (REAR, COASTSIDE) - LATE NIGHT

The moon illuminates the night sky. Clouds begin to dissipate.

A motorcycle rider dressed in black pulls to the back of the house out of nowhere. His bike is silent as it rolls over the terrain. The garage door opens.

INT. GARAGE

The rider parks his black bike next to a large stainless crate and hops off. Removing his black helmet, the shadow rider is revealed to be Richard Grayson. The garage door closes and he begins to take of his gear.

INT. RICHARD’S COMPLEX

Hopping out of the shower to answer his ringing cell, Richard grabs a towel then clicks his phone to accept the call. He puts the phone to his ear but doesn’t speak.

AMY

Hello!?

RICHARD

Amy?

AMY

Uh, yeah. I’ve called two times now, where have you been.

RICHARD

Unpacking. What’s up?

AMY

Well get your ass back to Hogan’s Alley. Pronto.

EXT. STRIP CLUB (BACK ALLEY)

Amy hangs up her cell phone and looks down at the scene before her. A sleazy looking fat man, hunched over against the brick wall. A bullet hole in his forehead. On the wall at his back, wide spread black raven-like wings are spray painted above his shoulders.

END.