# data[].attributes.body
ita ye boi.

# data[].attributes.headline
[Chorus]I play Pokemon Go every dayI play pokemon GoI play Pokemon Go every dayI play pokemon Go[Verse 1: Misha]When I wake upI'm grabbing my phoneI wanna catch 'em allI wanna play PokemonAll day long, all day long[Chorus]I play Pokemon Go every dayI play pokemon GoI play Pokemon Go every dayI play pokemon Go[Guitar Solo by Metadon][Chorus]I play Pokemon Go every dayI play pokemon Go

# data[].attributes.subject
[Chorus]I play Pokemon Go every dayI play pokemon GoI play Pokemon Go every dayI play pokemon Go[Verse 1: Misha]When I wake upI'm grabbing my phoneI wanna catch 'em allI wanna play PokemonAll day long, all day long[Chorus]I play Pokemon Go every dayI play pokemon GoI play Pokemon Go every dayI play pokemon Go[Guitar Solo by Metadon][Chorus]I play Pokemon Go every dayI play pokemon Go

# data[].attributes.body
Dreamworks
____ANIMATION_SKG_____

# data[].attributes.body
bhuvdbjfvjdf ndvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666

# data[].attributes.body
Who's the leader of the club

That's made for you and me

M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E

Hey! there, Hi! there, Ho! there

You're as welcome as can be

M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E

Mickey Mouse!

Mickey Mouse!

Forever let us hold our banner

High! High! High! High!

Come along and sing a song

And join the jamboree!

M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E

Mickey Mouse club

We'll have fun

We'll be new faces

High! High! High! High!

We'll do things and

We'll go places

All around the world

We'll go marching

Who's the leader of the club

That's made for you and me

M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E

Hey! there, Hi! there, Ho! there

You're as welcome as can be

M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E

Mickey Mouse!

Mickey Mouse!

Forever let us hold our banner

High! High! High! High!

Come along and sing a song

And join the jamboree!

M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E

# data[].attributes.headline
The FitnessGram Pacer Test is a multistage aerobic capacity test that progressively gets more difficult as it continues. The 20 meter pacer test will begin in 30 seconds. Line up at the start. The running speed starts slowly but gets faster each minute after you hear this signal bodeboop. A sing lap should be completed every time you hear this sound. ding Remember to run in a straight line and run as long as possible. The second time you fail to complete a lap before the sound, your test is over. The test will begin on the word start. On your mark. Get ready!… Start. ding﻿

# data[].attributes.subject
The FitnessGram Pacer Test is a multistage aerobic capacity test that progressively gets more difficult as it continues. The 20 meter pacer test will begin in 30 seconds. Line up at the start. The running speed starts slowly but gets faster each minute after you hear this signal bodeboop. A sing lap should be completed every time you hear this sound. ding Remember to run in a straight line and run as long as possible. The second time you fail to complete a lap before the sound, your test is over. The test will begin on the word start. On your mark. Get ready!… Start. ding﻿

# data[].attributes.body
"Sweatshirt"

Chillin' with a hair tie,
No makeup, with some sweatpants on
You know I can always be that guy
You can think about me all night long

But I think you need something to think of me
Something that will keep you warm
And show you we can be more than just this
So, baby, if you are not ready for my kiss

Then you can wear my sweatshirt
And you can tell your friends
We'll be together 'til the end
Girl, you can wear my sweatshirt
'Cause you're the only one I hold
And I don't want you to be cold
So, baby, wear my...

When you go to sleep at night,
When you wake up in the morning
And when you walk the halls
See, girl, you know you wanna flaunt it

Said this may be the start of something new
Girl, I'm gonna tell you exactly what I wanna do...
...is more than just this
So, baby, if you are not ready for my kiss

Then you can wear my sweatshirt
And you can tell your friends
We'll be together 'til the end
Girl, you can wear my sweatshirt
'Cause you're the only one I hold
And I don't want you to be cold
So, baby, wear my

And you can wear my sweatshirt
And I don't want you to be cold
So you can wear my...

So you can wear my sweatshirt
And you can tell your friends
We'll be together 'til the end
Girl, you can wear my sweatshirt
'Cause you're the only one I hold
And I don't want you to be cold
So, baby, wear my

...sweatshirt
'Cause you're the only one I hold
And I don't want you to be cold
So, baby, wear my...

# data[].attributes.headline
I like substitution because it is a good method and works well for me.

# data[].attributes.subject
I like substitution because it is a good method and works well for me.

# data[].attributes.body
I like Naruto ^-^ -Vickie

# data[].attributes.body
same

# data[].attributes.body
jgefgj,wegfrgwyerdtiytwuyeu

# data[].attributes.body
            BATMAN



                        Screenplay by

                          Sam Hamm



              Based on the Character Created by

                          Bob Kane






                                               FIRST DRAFT

                                               October 20, 1986








     FADE IN:

     EXT. CITYSCAPE - NIGHT

     The place is Gotham City. The time, 1987 -- once removed.

     The city of Tomorrow: stark angles, creeping shadows,
     dense, crowded, airless, a random tangle of steel and
     concrete, self-generating, almost subterranean in its
     aspect... as if hell had erupted through the sidewalks and
     kept on growing. A dangling fat moon shines overhead, ready
     to burst.

     EXT. CATHEDRAL - NIGHT

     Amid the chrome and glass sits a dark and ornate Gothic
     anomaly: old City Cathedral, once grand, now abandoned --
     long since boarded up and scheduled for demolition.

     On the rooftop far above us, STONE GARGOYLES gaze down from
     their shadowy, windswept perches, keeping monstrous watch
     over the distant streets below, sightless guardians of the
     Gotham night.

     One of them is moving.

     EXT. GOTHAM SQUARE - NIGHT

     The pulsing heart of downtown Gotham, a neon nightmare of
     big-city corruption, almost surreal in its oppressiveness.
     Hookers wave to drug dealers. Street hustlers slap high-
     fives with three-card monte dealers. They all seem to know
     each other... with one conspicuous exception:

     A TOURIST FAMILY, Mom, Dad, and little Jimmy, staring
     straight  ahead as they march in perfect lockstep down the
     main drag. They've just come out of a bit show two blocks
     over; the respectable theatre crowd has thinned out, and
     now -- Playbills in hand -- they find themselves adrift in
     the predatory traffic of Gotham's meanest street.

                              MOM
               For God's sake, Harold, can we
               please just get a taxi??

                              DAD
               I'm trying to get a --
                     (shouting)
               TAXI!!

     Three cabs streak pass and disappear. MOM grimaces in
     frustration as LITTLE JIMMY consults a subway map.

                              JIMMY
               We're going the wrong way.

     Nearby, STREET TYPES are beginning to snicker. DAD surveys
     them nervously, gestures toward the subway map.

                              DAD
               Put that away. We'll look like
               tourists.

     TWO COPS lean on their patrol car outside an all-night
     souvlaki stand, sipping coffee and chatting with a HOOKER.
     The HOOKER smiles at JIMMY.  JIMMY smiles back. MOM yanks
     him off down the street and glowers at DAD.

                              DAD (cont.)
               We'll never get a cab here. Let's
               cut over to Seventh.

                              JIMMY
               Seventh is that way.

                              DAD
               I know where we are!

     EXT. SIDE STREET - THAT MOMENT - NIGHT

     A deserted access street, sidewalks lined with the husks of
     stripped-down cars. MOM, DAD, and JIMMY take a deep breath
     and march down the darkened street. A VOICE startles them.

                              VOICE
               Hey, mister. Gimme a dollar?

     The VOICE belongs to a DERELICT -- nineteen or twenty,
     acne-scarred -- who sits between two garbage cans, his palm
     uplifted. His ratty t-shirt reads: 'I LOVE GOTHAM CITY.'

     MOM, DAD, and JIMMY pause for the merest of seconds, then
     move on -- pretending not to hear.

                              DERELICT
               Mister. How about it. One dollar?
                     (standing up)
               One dollar, man. Are you deaf?
               Are you deaf? -- Do you speak
               English??

     By now the TOURISTS are halfway across the street.
     Mercifully, the DERELICT doesn't seem to be following.

     They pick up their pace. They don't see the SHADOWY FIGURE
     in the alleyway. They don't see the GUN until a gloved hand
     brings it down, butt-first, across the back of DAD's neck.

     DAD crumples. MOM grabs JIMMY and backs up against a brick
     wall, too terrified to scream. The DERELICT races across
     the street to join his confederate, the STREET PUNK, who's
     already searching for DAD's wallet.

     MOM's mouth opens in panic. They can see she's about to
     snap -- so  the STREET PUNK, still in a crouch, trains his
     gun on JIMMY.

                              STREET PUNK
               Do the kid a favor, lady. Don't
               scream.

     The poor woman is utterly horrified. TEARS stream down her
     face. But she keeps her wits about her, stifles the urge to
     shriek, and hustles JIMMY off down the street.

     The two PUNKS watch them break into a run -- then chuckle,
     slap hands, race off in the opposite direction.

     EXT. ROOFTOP - NIGHT

     Six stories up. The PUNKS -- NICK and EDDIE -- hunker down
     on the tar-and-gravel roof, sizing up their take.

                              NICK
                     (emptying the wallet)
               All right. The Gold Card.
                     (tossing the credit card
                     in EDDIE's face)
               Don't leave home without it.

     A chill wind whips across the roof as NICK extracts the
     cash and begins to count it. There's a distant, indistinct
     CLANG: metal on metal. EDDIE hears it and tenses up.

                              EDDIE
               Let's beat it, man. I don't like
               being up here.

                              NICK
               What, scared of heights?

                              EDDIE
               I dunno, man. After what happened to
               Johnny Gobs --

                              NICK
               Look, Johnny Gobs got ripped and
               walked off a roof, all right? No big
               loss.

                              EDDIE
               That ain't what I heard. That ain't
               what I heard at all.
                     (beat)
               I heard the bat got him.

                              NICK
               Gimme a break, will you? Shut up...

                              EDDIE
               Five stories, straight down. There
               was no blood in the body.

                              NICK
               No shit. It was all over the
               pavement.

     NICK has no patience with campfire tales -- but here on the
     roof, in the pale moonlight, he can't ignore the slight
     tingle at the base of his spine...

                              EDDIE
               There was no blood, man.
                     (beat)
               My brother says... all the bad things
               you done... they come back and
               haunt you...

                              NICK
               Listen to this. How old are you?
               There ain't no bat.

                              EDDIE
               My brother's a priest, man.

                              NICK
               No wonder you're such a chickenshit.
               Now shut up.
                     (conclusively)
               There ain't no bat.

     As they speak our attention shifts to a point at the
     opposite corner of the roof, some fifteen yards away...
     where, at the end of a line, a STRANGE BLACK SILHOUETTE is
     dropping slowly, implacably, into frame...

                              EDDIE
               You shouldn'ta turned the gun on
               that kid, man. You shouldn'ta --

                              NICK
               Do you want this money or don't
               you? Now shut up! Shut up --

     BOTH PUNKS FREEZE at the sudden, inexplicable sound of
     BOOTS CRUNCHING ON GRAVEL. They turn slowly. Their JAWS
     DROP.

     Standing at the edge of the roof, bathed in moonlight, is a
     BLACK APPARITION. IT DOES NOT MOVE.

     EDDIE stands rooted to the spot, a choked gurgle in his
     throat, as if he's just seen his own death. The BLACK
     FIGURE advances, spreading  its arms. Or rather, its WINGS:
     GREAT BLACK BATWINGS, flapping in the wind.

     NICK drops to the gravel, gropes for the gun, brings it up.

     And still the BLACK FIGURE draws closer, deliberate,
     menacing. On its chest: THE EMBLEM OF A BAT, in an oval
     yellow field, glowing like a target in the darkness...

     NICK FIRES TWICE. TWO CLEAN HITS. The strange black figure
     is knocked bodily to the roof.

     Trembling, sweating buckets, NICK gets to his feet. He
     whacks a motionless EDDIE on the arm --

                              NICK (cont.)
               I'm gettin' outta here.

     -- and bends to retrieve his loot. EDDIE lets out a
     strange, pre-verbal squeal...

     ... and NICK sees THE HUMAN BAT, BACK ON ITS FEET,
     NIGHTMARISH, UNDEAD, MOVING SLOWLY AND INEVITABLY CLOSER.

     Panic. Sheer, raw, unrelenting panic. Stolen money flutters
     out of NICK's hands. He scuttles around the periphery of
     the roof, his feet skidding on the gravel as he searches
     for a way down. The BLACK SPECTRE is blocking his path to
     the fire escape. Trapped like a rat, NICK FIRES WILDLY.

     EDDIE is frozen in place, his eyes glazed over, his face
     drained of blood. The BAT treads calmly past. A LEG snakes
     out. A BLACK BOOT catches EDDIE high on the chest --

     -- LIFTS HIM CLEANLY OFF HIS FEET --

     -- AND SENDS HIM FLYING THROUGH THE AIR. EDDIE slams into a
     brick chimney and slumps to the roof unconscious, a broken,
     weightless puppet.

     THIS ACTION IS SO SMOOTH, SO AUTOMATIC, THAT THE BAT DOES
     NOT EVEN BREAK HIS STRIDE. NICK sees his chance and CHARGES
     past the black wraith, scrambling toward the fire escape...

     A GLOVED HAND slices through the air, and NICK pitches
     forward, his legs ensnared in a tangle of WIRES. Screaming
     now, he drags himself across the gravel roof, the looming
     figure of the BAT at his heels...

     ... until there's no place left to go. NICK cowers against
     the ledge, his pants torn, his hands and knees bloody. He
     has dissolved into total mindless hysteria.

     Almost by reflex, NICK keeps shooting. He'd do better if he
     could manage to open his eyes. By now the hammer is falling
     on an empty chamber, but NICK continues, obsessively, to
     pull the trigger. He weeps; he moans; he wails...

     THE BAT grabs a fistful of NICK's shirt, and with
     supernatural ease HOISTS HIM into the air.

                              NICK (cont.)
               Don't kill me... don't kill me...

     When NICK finally opens his eyes, he realizes THE BAT is
     standing on the ledge of the roof -- HOLDING HIM OUT, at
     arm's length, over six stories of nothingness.

     The gruesome black apparition speaks, in a rasping whisper:

                              BATMAN
               I won't kill you. I want you to do
               me a favor.

     NICK looks down. Far, far below, CARS wink silently past.

     He looks up. And sees, in the mirrored lenses where
     BATMAN's eyes should be, the twin reflections of his own
     stricken face.

                              BATMAN (cont.)
               Tell your friends. Tell all your
               friends.

     NICK HOWLS. Almost as an afterthought, THE BATMAN heaves
     him roughly back onto the roof. And then -- casually,
     without a moment's hesitation -- STEPS OFF THE LEDGE OF THE
     ROOF, INTO MIDAIR.

     Trembling, NICK crawls to the ledge and looks over...
     finding ABSOLUTELY NO TRACE of the Batman.

     NICK is still screaming as we PAN UP to the bilious yellow
     globe of Gotham's moon. MAIN CREDITS ROLL:

                              BATMAN

                                                 CUT TO:

     INT. GOTHAM CITY DEMOCRATS' CLUB - NIGHT

     An oversized CAMPAIGN POSTER fills one wall: "A NEW GOTHAM.
     HARVEY DENT FOR DISTRICT ATTORNEY". We TILT DOWN to find
     the man himself, determined, dynamic HARVEY DENT,
     addressing a crowd from behind his podium.

                              DENT
               ... it is no longer enough to go
               after the small-time punks and petty
               criminals who infest the streets of
               Gotham City. Crime and corruption
               must be attacked at the root!

     ANOTHER ANGLE - THE AUDIENCE

     Civic-minded politicos decked out in fund-raiser finery.
     They applaud DENT's tough talk wildly. They've just shelled
     out $500 a plate for a chicken dinner, and by God they're
     going to enjoy this.

     Tuxedoed WAITERS move among the tables, deftly refilling
     water glasses. As they do, we SEE an EMPTY PLACE SETTING --
     the only one in the hall. Some well-meaning moneybags has
     laid out half a grand and then neglected to show up.

     The engraved placecard reads: BRUCE WAYNE.

     ANGLE ON DENT

                              DENT
               If elected, my first act as district
               attorney will be to return an
               indictment against Boss Carl
               Grissom!

                                                 CUT TO:

     INT. APARTMENT - NIGHT

     A woman's apartment, decorated in pastel pinks and mauves.
     Original paintings and sculptures everywhere. The place
     reeks of money.

     In the foreground: a MAN'S HAND, long, elegant, manicured.
     Manipulating a DECK OF CARDS, doing a one-handed shuffle
     with extraordinary finesse.

     In the background: a TV set tuned to the 11 o'clock news,
     with highlights of HARVEY DENT's campaign speech.

                              DENT
                     (on the TV screen)
               Together we can make Gotham city a
               safe place for decent people to live
               and work and play.

     THE HAND sets the deck on an end table, raps it twice,
     turns up four aces off the top. This most unusual deck
     sports a .22 calibre BULLET HOLE straight through the
     middle.

                              JACK NAPIER
               Decent people shouldn't live here.
               They'd be much happier someplace
               else.

     JACK NAPIER, 32, is right-hand man and chief enforcer to
     Boss Carl Grissom. His features are delicate, almost
     feminine, and he takes a vain, gangsterish pride in his
     appearance. He is also absolutely merciless.

     He trains a cold eye on DENT's televised image as ALICIA
     HUNT -- 26, beautiful, Carl Grissom's kept woman -- glides
     over in her negligee and snuggles up.

                              ALICIA
               Anything new?

                              JACK
               The usual gas. If this clown could
               lay a hand on Grissom... I would've
               had to kill him by now.

     ALICIA finds JACK's necktie draped over a nearby chair. She
     begins knotting it playfully about his neck.

                              ALICIA
               If Grissom knew about us... he
               might kill you.

     JACK seems uninterested in her affections. His eye darts
     back and forth between the TV and his own reflection in a
     nearby vanity.

                              JACK
               Don't think so, angel. I'm too
               valuable. That's the way I've
               planned it.
                     (pause)
               And besides, he doesn't know.

     JACK checks his watch, reaches for his topcoat, and stands
     in front of the vanity. He runs a hand through sculpted
     hair, checks out his Albert Nipon ensemble.

                              ALICIA
               You look just fine, Jack.

     He smiles at himself before turning to the door.

                              JACK
               ... I didn't ask.

                                                 CUT TO:

     EXT. ALLEYWAY - NIGHT

     The scene of the earlier mugging, a half-block off Gotham
     Square. Only now, the deserted alleyway is a beehive of
     activity: police cars, an ambulance, a forensics van.

     EDDIE THE PUNK goes past on a stretcher, catatonic.
     Watching him are a porcine cop, LT. ECKHARDT, and a POLICE
     MEDIC.

                              MEDIC
               That one there won't say a word. The
               other one's raving his head off.

                              ECKHARDT
               Variety, huh? The spice of life.

     At the mouth of the alley, we find ALEXANDER KNOX --
     thirty, hyperactive, a crime reporter for the Gotham
     Gazette. At the moment, he's chatting with a uniformed
     PATROLMAN.

                              PATROLMAN
               They found him hugging a drainpipe.
               He was scared to come off the roof.

                              KNOX
               Great, but tell me: is this another
               you-know-what? 'Cause if so, it's
               the third one this week.

                              PATROLMAN
                     (testily)
               I dunno. What's "what"?

                              KNOX
               Good answer. I'm gonna put you in
               for a commendation.

     KNOX spots ECKHARDT and the MEDIC, waves cheerily, and
     saunters down the alley. ECKHARDT curses under his breath.

                              ECKHARDT
               Oh Christ, it's Knox.

                              KNOX
               Hiya, gents. This anything I should
               know about?

                              ECKHARDT
               Nothing out of the routine.

     At this exact moment two uniformed PATROLMEN drag a brain-
     fried NICK past the mouth of the alley.

                              NICK
               A bat, I tell you, a giant bat!
               He wanted me to do him a favor...!

     KNOX tilts one eyebrow. ECKHARDT and the MEDIC trade
     disgusted looks.

                              KNOX
               No offense, boys, but these guys are
               seeing something up there.

                              ECKHARDT
               No comment. Print what you like.

                              KNOX
               Come on. One question. Is there a
               six-foot bat in Gotham City?

     KNOX's tone is jokey, but only half-jokey. ECKHARDT snorts
     in disgust and turns away. KNOX shouts after him:

                              KNOX (cont.)
               If so, is he on the police payroll?
               If so, what's he pulling down after
               taxes?

     EXT. STREET - THAT MOMENT - NIGHT

     We pick up LT. ECKHARDT as he emerges onto the side street.
     He's headed for his car when he spies a STRETCH LIMO idling
     across the street. Leaning on the hood, waving hi, is the
     dandyish JACK NAPIER -- flanked by two impressive GOONS.

     ECKHARDT throws a nervous glance back in KNOX's direction.
     He turns left, gestures to JACK to meet him farther up the
     block. By the time he reaches the corner JACK has swaggered
     up alongside him.

     ECKHARDT takes a fat brown envelope from JACK and stuffs it
     quickly in his coat.

                              JACK
               You didn't show up.

                              ECKHARDT
               We had another bat sighting.

                              JACK
               I'm sure that was vitally important.
               Listen: things are heating up.
               Someone is leaking information to
               Harvey Dent.

     ECKHARDT bristles. There's no love lost between these two.

                              ECKHARDT
               I'm doing the best I can. If it's a
               problem --

                              JACK
               Eckhardt... our problems are your
               problems.

                              ECKHARDT
               I'll work on it.

     JACK reaches out and grabs ECKHARDT by the lapels of his
     topcoat -- an Italian job, obviously expensive. He rubs the
     material between his fingers.

                              JACK
               Very nice, Lieutenant. But a little
               ostentatious on a cop's salary,
               don't you think?

                              ECKHARDT
                     (knocking his hands away)
               I answer to Grissom, punk. Not to
               you.

                              JACK
               You're a smart boy, Eckhardt. You
               should be thinking about the future.

     ECKHARDT laughs in his face.

                              ECKHARDT
               Ambition.
                     (nodding his head)
               Forget it, Jack. You'll never run
               that organization.

                              JACK
               And why's that?

                              ECKHARDT
               You're a psycho, friend. You're an
               A-one crazy boy and Grissom knows
               it.

     JACK lashes out and BACKHANDS ECKHARDT across the face. The
     fat cop, stunned, turns bright red and CHARGES JACK.

     JACK claps a hand on ECKHARDT's face and shoves him back
     full-force. The cop sprawls on his ass in the doorway of an
     all-night Cuban-Chinese restaurant.

     By now PATRONS are staring out of the restaurant windows.
     ECKHARDT is livid. His hand goes instinctively to his gun.

                              JACK
               Here. Use mine.

     JACK pulls an automatic from his pocket and tosses it in
     ECKHARDT's lap. He looks down and laughs, daring ECKHARDT
     to pick it up -- just as the two enormous GOONS from the
     stretch limo appear behind him for reinforcement.

     ECKHARDT wipes blood from his mouth as JACK -- an A-one
     crazy-boy grin on his face -- reaches down for the gun.

                              JACK (cont.)
               It's all right, boys. Lt. Eckhardt
               here is a good cop. A real good cop.
                     (pause; smiling)
               Inexpensive.

                                                 DISSOLVE TO:

     INT. GOTHAM GLOBE - CITY ROOM - DAY

     Gotham city's leading tabloid daily. COPY BOYS rush to and
     fro; REPORTERS pound out articles on computer terminals.
     ALEXANDER KNOX saunters in, a sheath of typed pages in his
     hand, and pauses at a CARTOONIST's drawing table.

                              KNOX
               What have you got for me, Jerry?

     JERRY holds up a cartoon: a HUMAN BAT, with an awful,
     fanged rodent's face, wearing a business suit. The caption
     at the top reads: "HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?"  KNOX nods in
     approval.

                              KNOX (cont.)
               Nice, but... maybe a little more gore
               on the fangs, huh?

     He pats JERRY on the shoulder, moves on. A BESPECTACLED
     COLLEAGUE spots him and calls out:

                              COLLEAGUE
               Hey Knox, you got a visitor.

                              KNOX
               I'm real busy, Clark. Be a pal and
               dust him, okay?

                              COLLEAGUE
               This one you might want to dust
               yourself.

     Curiosity piqued, KNOX moves toward his desk... and stops
     in his tracks. Propped up on the desk are a PAIR OF LEGS.
     The legs -- exceptionally nice ones -- are attached to a
     WOMAN leaning back in KNOX's swivel chair, taking a nap,
     her face obscured by a big outrageous hat.

                              KNOX
               ... Vicki Vale.

     The hat tips back. VICKI VALE, her face framed by a shock
     of bright red hair, flashes a dazzling smile. She pulls
     KNOX over for a quick smooch and laughs.

                              VICKI
               How'd you know it was me?

                              KNOX
               Honey -- I would know any randomly
               selected square inch of Vicki
               Vale.
                     (grinning)
               If I had a good enough hint.

     He points at the oversized CAMERA BAG on his desk. It bears
     the monogram "V.V."  VICKI catches on, makes a face at him.

                              KNOX (cont.)
               Where the hell have you been?

                              VICKI
               A nice, restful vacation.

     She reaches into the camera bag and pulls out a stack of
     glossy 8x10's: COMBAT PHOTOS from some unspecified war-torn
     corner of the world. KNOX leafs though them, impressed.

                              KNOX
               God, a girl could get hurt doing
               this.

                              VICKI
               I do get hurt.

     She unbuttons her sleeve, rolls it back to show KNOX a long
     fresh scar on the inside of her arm. He winces -- then
     points to the scar and adds, slyly:

                              KNOX
               Got any more of those?

                              VICKI
               Nothing I'm at liberty to reveal
               here. What's new and hot in Gotham
               City?

                              KNOX
               It's too good, Vick. We got a six-
               foot bat that swoops out of the
               night and preys on evildoers.

                              VICKI
                     (laughing)
               Evildoers, huh? Big or small?

                              KNOX
               Small so far. I mean -- they don't
               allow bats in boardrooms, do they.

                              VICKI
               Speaking of which... I hear the
               notorious Bruce Wayne is throwing a
               big do for the Harvey Dent campaign.

                              KNOX
               Yeah. Hottest ticket in town. Every
               law'n'order freak in the city's
               gonna be there.

     KNOX suddenly freezes. It's just occurred to him that VICKI
     may have a purpose in all this.

                              KNOX (cont.)
               Wa-a-it. Vicki. You're not saying --

     She reaches back into her camera bag and hands over an
     INVITATION. KNOX is all but panting with excitement.

                              KNOX (cont.)
               Aw, Vicki. Vicki!
                     (apprehensively)
               Got a date?

     She flutters her great big eyelashes, shakes her head no.
     KNOX grabs her face and plants a kiss on her forehead,
     nearly knocking her out of the swivel chair.

                              KNOX (cont.)
               Vicki, baby, I love you, I've always
               loved you. Will you marry me?

                              VICKI
                     (straightening her clothes)
               No.

                              KNOX
               Well, I'm starving. Will you at
               least buy me a hamburger?

                              VICKI
               Yes, but please -- be gentle.

     Overwhelmed with glee, he offers her his arm.

                                                 CUT TO:

     INT. PENTHOUSE - DAY

     A HUGE PLATE GLASS WINDOW opens on the best view in Gotham.
     This spectacular penthouse suite is just one of the power
     perks available to CARL GRISSOM, kingpin of the Gotham City
     rackets, fat, fifty, and utterly without charm.

     GRISSOM, behind a big broad desk, addresses his LIEUTENANTS
     -- a fearsome assemblage of bloodless white-collar types
     and few outright goons, sprawled in chairs throughout this
     makeshift 'boardroom.'  The big boss waves a copy of the
     Gotham Globe -- with HARVEY DENT's face on the cover.

                              GRISSOM
               Nine points ahead in the new poll. I
               don't like the way this is shaping
               up.

     JACK NAPIER slouches in an easy chair off to GRISSOM's
     right, doing his trademark one-handed shuffle.

                              JACK
               We can always pop him. -- Or pop
               someone close to him.

                              LIEUTENANT
               Let's feed him to the bat.

     This suggestion draws CHUCKLES from several members of the
     crowd. GRISSOM is unamused.



                              JACK
               ... Me?

     At this exact moment, METAL DOORS slide back -- and ALICIA
     HUNT steps out of GRISSOM's private penthouse elevator.
     She's carrying a handful of SHOPPING BAGS.

                              GRISSOM
               Hello, sweetheart. I wonder if you'd
               mind waiting in the other room.

     ALICIA's gaze meets JACK's as she vanishes through a side
     door. The eye contact is not lost on GRISSOM.

                              JACK
               Why do you need me to handle a
               simple break-in?

                              GRISSOM
                     (emphatically)
               Because I want someone I can
               trust.

     JACK bridles, but doesn't protest. Nervously, he turns the
     fourth card off the top of the deck. It's not an ace.

     It's a JOKER -- a Joker with a neat, round, .22 calibre
     HOLE through its face.

                              GRISSOM (cont.)
               We'll work out the details later.
               But it's got to be soon. -- All
               right, that's all for now.

     GRISSOM'S CRONIES get up to go. JACK, troubled, lingers
     behind a moment.

                              GRISSOM (cont.)
               You don't mind, do you Jack? It's an
               important job. I can't trust it to
               somebody who'll screw up.

                              JACK
               I understand.

                              GRISSOM
                     (smiling)
               Jack. Don't forget your lucky deck.

     JACK pockets the deck and leaves. GRISSOM sits behind the
     big desk and GRINS WOLFISHLY.

                              GRISSOM (cont.)
               My friend, your luck is just about
               to change.

     He reaches for the phone. ALICIA appears in the doorway
     nearby, modeling her new purchases for him. He smiles
     coolly at her as he speaks into the receiver.

                              GRISSOM (cont.)
               Get me Lieutenant Eckhardt.

                                                 CUT TO:

     EXT. WAYNE MANOR - ESTABLISHING - NIGHT

     A vast, rambling mansion on sixty wooded acres a half-
     hour's drive from Gotham: old money, and how. Out front, a
     team of red-jacketed VALETS are parking expensive cars.

     INT. BALLROOM - NIGHT

     A DEALER'S HAND pushes cards out of a shoe (the card kind,
     not the Florsheim kind). It's casino night at Wayne Manor;
     the ballroom has been outfitted with roulette wheels,
     blackjack tables, etc., and the various members of Gotham's
     power elite are happily -- and legally -- throwing money
     into Harvey Dent's campaign kitty.

     DENT himself is surrounded by a gang of political cronies,
     telling jokes, calling in favors. VICKI's off in another
     group, looking luscious, drawing compliments from big shots
     and envious, furtive glances from their wives. And, in a
     corner of the room, all alone in his cheap suit, stands
     ALEXANDER KNOX -- staring inquisitively up at the ceiling.

     A butler, ALFRED, appears alongside KNOX with a trayful of
     champagne glasses. He too looks up at the ceiling.

                              KNOX
               How high up would you say that is?

                              ALFRED
               I'd say about thirty feet, sir.

                              KNOX
               You know, if you cut your bathroom
               in half, you'd have my apartment.

                              ALFRED
               Which bathroom is that, air?

                              KNOX
               The small one.

     KNOX takes a drink and ALFRED moves on. A moment later,
     VICKI detaches herself from her little circle of admirers
     and hooks up with KNOX.

                              KNOX (cont.)
               Man, I feel like Robin Leach. You
               actually know all these people?

                              VICKI
               Some. I am a rich bitch, remember.
                     (pause)
               I'm quoting.

     KNOX winces at the reminder. She smiles and takes his arm.

                              KNOX
               Yeah, I guess we move in different
               circles. -- Though I did meet a
               one-eyed pimp last week.

     ANGLE ON JAMES W. GORDON

     Gotham's Police Commissioner, a distinguished-looking gent
     in his late fifties. He's at a craps table, blowing into
     his fist. ONLOOKERS root him on as he lets the dice fly.

     Snake eyes. Crapped out. GORDON passes the dice as KNOX and
     VICKI wander up alongside him.

                              KNOX
               Commissioner Gordon! What do you
               hear from our pointy-eared friend?

     KNOX puts his hands up behind his head and wiggles his
     fingers -- like little bat ears. GORDON groans.

                              GORDON
               Knox, for the ninth time, and you
               can quote me -- there is no bat.

                              KNOX
               Aww, Commissioner. There's gotta be
               one honest cop in Gotham city.

     HARVEY DENT is working the room. He ambles up, claps a
     friendly hand on GORDON's shoulder.

                              DENT
               How's your luck, Jim?

                              KNOX
               Mr. Dent. What's your stand on
               winged vigilantes?

     DENT exchanges a meaningful look with GORDON.

                              DENT
               Mr. Knox, I think we have enough
               real problems in this city without
               worrying about ghosts and goblins
               and Halloween characters.

                                                 CUT TO:

     EXT. ACE CHEMICAL CO. ESTABLISHING - NIGHT

     A NEON SIGN reads: "ACE CHEMICAL. FOR A MODERN TOMORROW."
     From the SIGN we pan over to a METAL SLUICE GATE -- dumping
     TONS of CHURNING TOXIC SLUDGE into Gotham's East River.

     INT. VAN - THAT MOMENT - NIGHT

     TIGHT ON the rear-view mirror. JACK NAPIER is meticulously
     applying BLACK CAMOUFLAGE PAINT to his face. He could be
     getting ready for a date.

     The van is parked outside a chain-link fence which
     surrounds the Ace Chemical complex.

     JACK'S POV - THROUGH WINDSHIELD

     The SECURITY GUARD in a glass booth at the entrance to the
     parking lot. ONE OF JACK'S BOYS creeps up behind the booth
     and takes the GUARD out.

     INT. VAN - ON JACK

     He turns the key in the ignition, shifts into first.

                                                 CUT TO:

     INT. WAYNE MANOR - NIGHT

     KNOX and VICKI are taking an unauthorized tour of BRUCE's
     house, wandering through rooms decorated in wildly
     divergent motifs, eyeing an astounding collection of
     artworks and antiques from every corner of the world.

                              KNOX
               My question is, where does one man
               get all this junk.

                              VICKI
               All over the world. They say he
               spends most of the year overseas --
               until recently, anyway.

                              KNOX
               Holy shit...

     KNOX goes goggle-eyed as they enter the LIBRARY.

     INT. BRUCE WAYNE'S LIBRARY - NIGHT

                              KNOX (cont.)
               ... We found the arsenal.

     One wall is lined to the ceiling with leather-bound
     volumes. On the other walls hang EXOTIC WEAPONS. Halberds.
     Maces. Blowguns. Bolas. Thugee ropes and samurai swords...
     every arcane implement of death the human mind has ever
     devised. KNOX lets out a low whistle.

                              KNOX (cont.)
               This guy has just gotten
               interesting. What else do you know?

                              VICKI
               Just what I've heard. Rich.
               Reclusive. Old money and lots of it.

                              KNOX
               Likes to kill?

                              VICKI
                     (smiling)
               Women find him magnetic.

                              KNOX
               I bet they like him for his big
               charity balls.

                              VICKI
               That, and the sweet smell of two
               hundred million bucks.

                              KNOX
               Well, you know me. The more they've
               got, the less they're worth.
                     (scanning the room)
               This guy must be the most worthless
               man in America.

     Just then, A VOICE FROM BEHIND intrudes.

                              BRUCE WAYNE
               You disappoint me. Why not the
               world?

     KNOX turns. We get our first good look at the smiling face
     of BRUCE WAYNE: 32, tall, athletic, impeccably mannered...
     and intensely handsome.

                              KNOX
               I assume in my usual charming manner
               I've just insulted the host.
                     (extending a hand)
               Alexander Knox.

                              BRUCE
               Bruce Wayne. -- I've read your work.
               I quite like it.

                              KNOX
               Great. Give me a grant.

                              BRUCE
               I might consider it if you introduce
               me to Miss Vale.

     KNOX blinks at VICKI. BRUCE already seems to know who she
     is. KNOX shrugs and forges bravely ahead:

                              KNOX
               "This is Miss Vale." -- That felt
               redundant.

                              BRUCE
                     (to VICKI)
               You're just back from Corto Maltese.
               I saw your combat photos. Quite a
               departure for you.

                              VICKI
               That's intriguing. They haven't been
               published yet.

     BRUCE smiles and ignores the implied question.

                              BRUCE
               ... You have an extraordinary eye.

     He's laying on the charm now. KNOX, his territorial
     instincts aroused, pipes up:

                              KNOX
               Some people think she has two.

     VICKI shoots KNOX a sidelong glance:

                              VICKI
               Don't mind my friend. He's a little
               nervous tonight.

     KNOX, chastened, calls off the dogs and sizes up his
     competition. BRUCE is charming, all right, but there's
     something formal, maybe even calculating about it -- he
     could be reading his clever remarks off cue cards. It's
     almost as though he's an actor doing a brilliant imitation
     of charm.

     This is a man who thinks three moves ahead. KNOX doesn't
     like him. But VICKI -- who's used to seeing male charm
     turned on and off, at will -- doesn't seem to mind at all:

                              VICKI (cont.)
               This is an amazing house. I'd love
               to shoot it sometime.

                              BRUCE
               I don't... seek publicity. -- Will
               you be staying in Gotham for a
               while?

                              VICKI
               As far as I know.

                              BRUCE
               Good. Then with any luck we'll run
               into each other.

     Suddenly ALFRED, the butler, appears in the doorway behind
     them. He clears his throat. BRUCE turns.

                              ALFRED
               Excuse me, sir. Commissioner Gordon
               was compelled to leave -- very
               unexpectedly. He asked me to convey
               his regrets.

                              BRUCE
               Thank you, Alfred.
                     (to VICKI)
               I hope you'll excuse me. It was a
               great pleasure meeting you.
                     (to KNOX)
               And you.

     Without bothering to shake hands BRUCE does a sharp 180 and
     strides hurriedly out of the room.

                              KNOX
               I know the rich are different, but
               that guy is real different.

     VICKI, staring off after BRUCE, doesn't seem to hear him.

                              KNOX (cont.)
               Hello? Vicki?

                              VICKI
               Oh. Sorry. I was thinking.

                              KNOX
               What were you thinking?

                              VICKI
               Yum, yum.

                              KNOX
               Well, he must like the way he
               looks. He's got a mirror in every
               room.

     And indeed, the two of them are standing before an enormous
     WALL MIRROR, eight feet wide, running from floor to
     ceiling.

                              VICKI
               I get it. Bruce Vain.

     She pokes KNOX. He groans at the dumb pun. And suddenly we

                                                 CUT TO:

     REVERSE ANGLE - THROUGH THE MIRROR

     looking DOWN ON KNOX and VICKI -- THROUGH ONE-WAY GLASS --
     as they continue to chat. Behind the mirror... recording
     everything that happens in the room... is a small, silent,
     state-of-the-art SURVEILLANCE CAMERA.

     CLOSEUP - VIDEO MONITOR

     showing KNOX and VICKI in the library. CAMERA PULLS BACK to
     reveal that the screen we're watching is only one in a
     whole vast bank of video monitors. From this control
     center, we can see everything that's happening in the
     house.

     Now we ZERO IN on a single screen: GUESTS moving backward,
     with exaggerated speed, as a videotape REWINDS.

     At the panel, BRUCE WAYNE hits a button. And now we see
     COMMISSIONER GORDON talking to a uniformed POLICEMAN.

                              PATROLMAN
               ... anonymous tip. Tonight. The Ace
               Chemical Company.

                              GORDON
                     (obviously agitated)
               Good Lord, it we could put our hands
               on Jack Napier... Why wasn't I told
               about this? Who's in charge of
               the --

                              PATROLMAN
               Lt. Eckhardt, sir.

                              GORDON
               Eckhardt. Oh my God...

     And suddenly COMMISSIONER GORDON is grabbing for his coat.
     The monitor goes black. BRUCE reaches up, loosens his tie.

                                                 CUT TO:

     EXT. ACE CHEMICAL CO. - PARKING LOT - NIGHT

     UNMARKED POLICE CARS are pulling into the lot, headlights
     off. ECKHARDT circulates among his ARMED SWAT TEAM, handing
     out xeroxed copies of a PHOTOGRAPH.

     The PHOTOGRAPH is a full-face shot of JACK NAPIER.

                              ECKHARDT
               Shoot to kill.

     INT. ACE CHEMICAL - FILE ROOM - NIGHT

     SPARKS FLY. A SAFECRACKER, in welder's mask, trains a
     blowtorch on the office safe. Behind him, JACK'S HOODS are
     at work on the filing cabinets.

     The SAFECRACKER kills his blowtorch and opens the metal
     door of the safe, giving JACK a good look at its contents:

                              SAFECRACKER
               ... Empty.

                              HOOD I
               Just like the file cabinets.

                              HOOD II
               I don't get it. If this place is
               cleaned out already, what do we need
               five men?

     JACK shakes his head. His boys are antsy, ready to mutiny.
     By now it's depressingly obvious: they've been set up.

     Then, as if they needed any proof -- a SIREN blares
     outside.

     EXT. ACE CHEMICAL - NIGHT

     ECKHARDT'S SWAT TEAM goes wide-eyed as a CONVOY OF POLICE
     BLACK-AND-WHITES roars into the Ace parking lot. UNIFORMED
     COPS pile out of their squad cars, relieving the SWAT TEAM.
     ECKHARDT goes livid as COMMISSIONER GORDON approaches.

                              ECKHARDT
               What are you trying to do, blow the
               collar?

                              GORDON
                     (to SWAT TEAM)
               You men are dismissed. We'll take
               over from here.
                     (to UNIFORMED COPS)
               Any man who opens fire on Jack
               Napier... will answer to me.

     ECKHARDT tries to slink off. GORDON grabs him roughly.

                              GORDON (cont.)
               You. Stick around.

     INT. ACE CHEMICAL - THAT MOMENT

     JACK and his HOODS ducking out of the office. It's two
     stories above the refinery floor, accessible by a network
     of steel ladders and CATWALKS running between the walls.

     Down below, a CORRUGATED METAL DOOR begins to rise.

                              COP
               Freeze!

     One hood goes into a crouch and OPENS FIRE. Half of his
     colleagues dive back into the office, looking for a rear
     exit. The others take off across the CATWALKS.

     ANGLE ON GORDON

     standing in the doorway as his MEN rush into the building
     and take their places behind heavy machinery. SHOTS RING
     OUT as the HOODS scatter.

                              ECKHARDT
                     (snidely)
               Nice work, Commissioner.

                              GORDON
               I'm in charge here. Not Carl
               Grissom.

     INT. HALLWAY - THAT MOMENT

     TWO HOODS run down a tiled corridor in the office section
     of the complex. They're almost at the end of the hall when
     a CAPED BLACK SHADOW steps into their path.

     It stands there, motionless. EXTENDS ITS ARMS -- like giant
     WINGS -- revealing the yellow-and-black insigne on its
     massive chest. BATMAN.

     One millisecond later, the shocked HOODS are racing back in
     the opposite direction.

     THE BATMAN flings a handful of STEEL BALL-BEARINGS across
     the tiled floor. HOOD I tumbles to the floor and lands
     hard, losing his breath. HOOD II rolls and pulls a GUN.

     BATMAN hurls a BOOMERANG -- its edges scalloped, like a
     bat's wing. HOOD II finds his gun hand PINNED TO THE WALL
     by the twin prongs of the BATARANG.

     THE BATMAN strides briskly toward them, businesslike,
     taking his time. He grabs a handful of HOOD I's hair, lifts
     his head off the floor, KNEES HIM IN THE FACE.

     He turns to the petrified HOOD II. CHROME-STEEL TALONS
     spring out of his fingertips. He strolls past HOOD II,
     reaching out casually to give him a QUICK NICK on the chin.

     HOOD II slumps against the wall, unconscious.

     ANGLE ON JACK

     down on the floor, racing along a wall, THROWING SWITCHES
     -- anything to create a diversion. With every switch he
     throws, ANOTHER GIGANTIC MACHINE roars to life. CENTRIFUGES
     SPIN. HUGE POLYMER EXTRUDERS spit out thick strands of
     plastic gunk. OVERHEAD CHEMICAL TANKS rotate into place
     over giant basins.

     JACK SEES a squad of COPS on his tail, moving from machine
     to machine, keeping covered. He SHOOTS AND RUNS.

     ANGLE ON CATWALKS

     BLASTING AWAY, HOODS III and IV scuttle across the elevated
     walkways, keeping down, avoiding police fire. One of them
     starts up a vertical ladder leading to the next catwalk up.

     BATMAN plunges past on the end of a rope. A BLACK-GLOVED
     HAND snatches at HOOD III's collar as he climbs and YANKS
     HIM CLEANLY OFF THE LADDER. They drop to the lower catwalk.

     HOOD IV gapes. He LEVELS HIS GUN at BATMAN, who stands his
     ground, holding onto the rails of the catwalk for support.
     A bullet hits him squarely in the chest. He does not fall.

     HOOD IV turns and scrambles. BATMAN goes to his belt for a
     miniature SPEAR GUN. He points it at HOOD IV and FIRES...
     planting a BARBED HOOK in the HOOD'S LEG.

     ANGLE ON COPS

     staring up in utter disbelief at the action on the catwalk.

                              COP
               LOOK!

                              GORDON
               My God... it's him.

     ANGLE ON CATWALK

     HOOD III, on his feet now, charges BATMAN from behind.
     BATMAN -- not even turning to face him -- DROPS HOOD III
     with an ELBOW. Now he has a HOOD on either side.

     He takes a STEEL BILLY CLUB from his belt, whips it once
     through the air. It telescopes out into a FOUR-FOOT STAFF.

     Like a drum majorette from hell, he WHIRLS THE STAFF as the
     HOODS CONVERGE on him. HOOD III takes a debilitating JAB
     UNDER THE JAW. BATMAN SPINS on his heels and SLAMS THE
     STAFF into HOOD IV's BACK -- knocking him OFF THE CATWALK
     to the factory floor forty feet below!

     INT. ACE LOADING BAY - THAT MOMENT

     JACK spots a possible out. He hits a button on the wall;
     STEEL DOORS RISE to reveal ACE CARGO TRUCKS in the parking
     lot outside. Beyond the trucks... AN ARMY OF COPS waiting
     for JACK to make his move.

     No go. He turns. Behind him, other cops -- the inside team
     -- are rushing at him in full riot gear. JACK ducks behind
     a forklift and darts into the adjacent room.

     INT. CHEMICAL SUPPLY ROOM - A MOMENT LATER

     JACK sprints through the room, firing FOUR SHOTS at the
     metal CHEMICAL TANKS on the wall. TOXIC CHEMICALS gush out
     onto the floor in streams. The streams run together...
     begin to SMOKE and SIZZLE.

     COPS RIGHT BEHIND HIM. JACK can't resist taking one last
     pot-shot at a FIFTH CHEMICAL TANK.

     AN EXPLOSION knocks him off his feet.

     INT. FACTORY FLOOR - A MOMENT LATER

     COPS LOOK ON IN PUZZLEMENT as a RIVER OF CHEMICALS courses
     out into the main refinery. A second later, they go UP IN
     FLAMES. A WALL OF FIRE bisects the factory floor.

     JACK RACES ALONG behind the spreading wall of flame. The
     cops can't see him now. He ducks behind a huge machine,
     hits a switch -- and SLUICE GATES OPEN. CHEMICAL SLUDGE
     begins to churn. A big HOLE IN THE WALL appears as a gate
     opens on the East River. It's the waste dump!

     Up on the catwalk, BATMAN has a perfect view of JACK. If
     JACK can just sprint through the flames without getting
     shot, he'll make it to the river. BATMAN hooks a rope to
     his Batarang, FLINGS IT at a catwalk across the floor.

     JACK bolts. BURSTS THROUGH the wall of fire. And just as he
     does --

     BATMAN leaps off the catwalk and swings down toward him!
     His foot catches a THIRTY-FOOT ROLL of plastic, six feet in
     diameter, one of several standing upright on the floor. The
     plastic roll DROPS into JACK's path, BLOCKING HIS EXIT.

     An instant later, BATMAN lands on top of JACK. Wraps an arm
     around his throat and RAISES his free hand. DRUG-TIPPED
     STEEL TALONS appear. But before he can paralyze JACK...

                              VOICE
               HOLD IT!

     In all the ruckus, HOOD V has managed to circle back behind
     the heavy machinery. Now he's got a GUN pointed DIRECTLY AT
     COMMISSIONER GORDON'S HEAD.

                              HOOD V
               Let him go or I'll do it.

     BATMAN releases JACK and stands back. JACK chuckles to
     himself: what loyalty. Then, with plenty of time, he
     strolls across the floor to a Jacob's ladder mounted on the
     back wall... and BEGINS TO CLIMB toward the catwalks.

     All action stops. BATMAN doesn't move. The COPS don't move.
     HOOD V stands there sweating, his gun hand shaking as he
     waits for JACK to climb safely out of shooting range.

     ECKHARDT's pig-like eyes glisten. His hand drops to his
     side. He's half-tempted to pull a gun and get the
     Commissioner plugged.

     ANGLE ON JACK

     at a crouch, groping his way along the rail of the catwalk.
     He reaches a paneled glass window propped open by a
     supporting rod. It's a forty-foot drop to the swirling
     black currents of the East River... and freedom.

     He's about to climb out when his eye falls on a .38
     AUTOMATIC -- which lies, abandoned, on the gridwork floor
     of the catwalk mere yards away.

     ANGLE ON FACTORY FLOOR

     The HOOD, one arm around GORDON. With his gun at the
     Commissioner's temple, he backs slowly toward the door.

                              HOOD V
               Nobody makes a move. We go out
               clean.

                              JACK'S VOICE
               ECKHARDT!!

     ALL EYES TURN to the catwalk overhead, where JACK stands
     poised with the .38 in his fist. A SINGLE SHOT drops
     ECKHARDT cleanly.

     The moment's distraction is all BATMAN needs. He hurls a
     NINJA WHEEL -- a small, ratcheted, razor-sharp disc -- at
     the FOREARM of HOOD V. One jerk of a thin filament WIRE --
     a sudden SHRIEK -- and GORDON IS FREE.

     The THUG lurches forward. His GUN DROPS to the floor,
     DISCHARGING ACCIDENTALLY.

     AN UNGODLY HOWL OF PAIN echoes out from the catwalk above.
     JACK REELS and STAGGERS, his hands CLUTCHING AT HIS CHEEKS.
     BLOOD GUSHES from between his fingers.

     JACK NAPIER HAS BEEN SHOT THROUGH THE FACE.

     A YOUNG COP, unnerved by the sight of JACK's agonized
     pirouette, draws his gun and OPENS FIRE.

                              GORDON
               NO!!

     But the bullet has caught JACK in the arm. He spins,
     totters to the edge of the catwalk... and TOPPLES OVER. The
     COPS look on helplessly as JACK plunges TWO STORIES DOWN
     into a CATCH BASIN full of BUBBLING TOXIC WASTE, SCREAMING
     ALL THE WAY.

                              GORDON (cont.)
               Goddammit, we had him. We --

     And suddenly, with JACK out of the picture, all attention
     focusses on THE BATMAN. COPS reach for their guns, circle
     warily around him. Cornered now, he backs off slowly, HANDS
     ON HIS BELT.

                              GORDON (cont.)
               Hold it right there, Mister.

     THE BATMAN raises his hands in a gesture of surrender. Then
     -- as the COPS advance -- he flicks TWO TINY CAPSULES onto
     the factory floor.

     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?... Shit.
                     (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
               fuck-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.

                              VICKI
               We went there once when I was
               little. I played on the beach. And
               at nights -- they had a band -- I
               danced with my father on the hotel
               patio.
                     (shrugging)
               That was Corto Maltese. When the war
               broke out I had to go back. And I
               promised myself that this time... I
               wouldn't look away.

                              BRUCE
               What did you see?

                              VICKI
               ... Terror.

     The conversation is getting rather intense -- at both ends.
     VICKI seems to have hit some weird chord within BRUCE.

                              BRUCE
               There's terror everywhere. Some
               types are just more -- familiar
               than others.

     For a moment BRUCE seems to be drifting back into his
     familiar 'preoccupied' mode. VICKI laughs apologetically.

                              VICKI
               I'm sorry. I didn't mean to -- I
               know it all seems a million miles
               away, out here on the water, with
               all this --

                              BRUCE
               Insulation?

     VICKI is momentarily stuck for a reply. In some way she
     can't quite grasp, he seems to be challenging her.

                              VICKI
               Bruce, really, when I say these
               things I don't mean to criticize
               you.

                              BRUCE
               I think you see things very clearly.

                              VICKI
               I'm happy to talk about something
               else. I don't want to be depressing.

                              BRUCE
                     (smiling)
               Do you assume that if I know you
               better I won't like you as much?

     VICKI starts laughing. BRUCE is a notorious womanizer, but
     if this is a come-on, it's like no come-on she's ever seen.

                              VICKI
               I'm sorry, Bruce, I have to ask. Are
               you like this with the other women
               you know? -- Because I just can't
               seem to get a handle on this
               conversation.

                              BRUCE
                     (taking her hand)
               Vicki, if I say anything cryptic, or...
               ambiguous, I think you should put
               the most flattering possible
               interpretation on it. Because even
               if it doesn't sound that way...
               that's how I'll mean it.

     Bingo. The guy's a chessplayer, but on the other hand he's
     also rather touchingly, almost childishly, sincere. Before
     she knows it, VICKI finds herself melting.

                                                 CUT TO:

     INT. GOTHAM CITY OPERA HOUSE - NIGHT

     Rigoletto. THE DUKE onstage, launching into his big
     crowd-pleaser, "La Donna e Mobile."

     WE PAN THE AUDIENCE, finding several mobile young DONNAS in
     the crowd -- drop-dead beauties in slinky gowns. Although
     most eyes are fixed, reasonably enough, on the stage, DONNA
     #1 is staring with undisguised envy at a PRIVATE BOX above
     the orchestra seats. Her mouth twists in disgust.

     She scans the crowd, finds her counterpart (DONNA #2) some
     rows back, on the arm of a bald bigwig. DONNA #2 is wearing
     a similar sour expression, staring up at the same box.

     DONNA #3 is even less discreet than her comrades. She has
     her opera glasses trained on the couple in the box.

     HER POV - THROUGH OPERA GLASSES - THE BOX

     BRUCE and VICKI. He whispers in her ear. She smiles and
     whispers back.

     A beat. He whispers again. This time she doesn't laugh. But
     her lips part slightly. SCREEN GOES BLACK as the opera
     glasses SNAP SHUT.

     ANGLE ON CROWD - DONNA #3

     staring icily at the DUKE as he finishes up to a round of
     TUMULTUOUS APPLAUSE.

                                                 CUT TO:

     INT. WAYNE MANOR - NIGHT

     BRUCE and VICKI enter. He takes her coat, drops it on a
     chair by the door. VICKI is giddy, all champagned up.

                              VICKI
               -- but it's not fair. I'm half
               drunk and you're not even --

                              BRUCE
               Would you like me to take you home?

                              VICKI
               God. You would.
                     (sidling up to him)
               Come on, Bruce. I just want to get
               two drinks in you. As an
               experiment.

                              BRUCE
               Maybe we should just kiss.

                              VICKI
               ... We could try that.

     WIDER ANGLE

     BRUCE embracing VICKI in the vastness of the darkened entry
     hall, framed by long semicircular STAIRWAYS on opposite
     walls. A SUDDEN FLASH OF LIGHTNING transports us to:

     EXT. OFFICE BUILDING - ESTABLISHING - NIGHT

     Broken windows, graffiti on the walls: a decrepit rathole
     near the Gotham docks.

     INT. DOCTOR'S OFFICE - NIGHT

     TIGHT ON a face swathed in bandages. The patient sits erect
     in a wooden chair, surrounded by the grimy paraphernalia of
     an unlicensed gangland doctor.

     The DOCTOR, a nervous little ferret with the bedside manner
     of a back-alley abortionist, steps up with a scissors.

                              DOCTOR
               Well, Mr. Napier, let's see how we
               did.

     He begins to snip away. As the bandages come off, we get:

     JACK NAPIER'S POV

     The last strands of gauze peel away. The DOCTOR stands
     there, looking at his handiwork. His mouth falls open. His
     eyes bug out. He GAGS.

                              JACK (V.O.)
               Mirror.

     The DOCTOR just stands there staring AT CAMERA, stock-
     still, apparently transfixed by the sight of JACK's face.

                              JACK (V.O.)
               Mirror.

     ANGLE ON DOCTOR

     He clears his throat, reaches apprehensively for a hand
     mirror, and passes it out of frame to JACK. Two beats.
     Then, the sound of GLASS SHATTERING as the mirror drops to
     the floor.

     JACK begins to laugh. THE DOCTOR gets a little edgy.

                              DOCTOR
               You understand the facial muscles
               were completely severed --

     JACK keeps on laughing.

     The DOCTOR turns uneasily away, gestures apologetically at
     his seedy equipment.

                              DOCTOR (cont.)
               -- you can see what I have to work
               with here --

     MORE LAUGHTER. The trembling DOCTOR covers his face with
     one hand, whining now, not daring to look at JACK.

                              DOCTOR (cont.)
               I'm sure that with proper recon--
               recon-- reconstructive surgery --

     A DOOR SLAMS. JACK is gone. The grateful DOCTOR breathes a
     sigh of relief and steadies himself on an operating table.

     EXT. OFFICE BUILDING - OVERHEAD ANGLE - NIGHT

     From a point high above we see JACK emerging into the
     alley, pulling on a hat, wrapping a muffler about his head.
     We can't see his face. But we can't forget his LAUGH.

                                                 CUT TO:

     INT. BRUCE WAYNE'S BEDROOM - NIGHT

     VICKI nestled peacefully under the covers. Beside her is
     BRUCE: hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling.

     It's almost as though BRUCE is not used to sleeping at
     night. He doesn't know what to do with himself.

     He looks at VICKI. She's terribly lovely. But despite all
     that, we can't shake the feeling that BRUCE... would really
     rather be somewhere else.

                                                 CUT TO:

     EXT. STREET - NIGHT

     LOUD MUSIC. KIDS in punk regalia stand outside a rock club
     as JACK stalks past. The wind knocks his hat off.

                              KID
                    Nice hair, dude!

     JACK ignores them as he bends to retrieve his hat. Then he
     gazes up at the steel-and-glass facade of a SKYSCRAPER --
     and strides deliberately across the street.

     INT. GRISSOM'S PENTHOUSE - NIGHT

     The spectacular Gotham skyline, seen through the plate-
     glass window of GRISSOM's conference room. The doors to the
     private elevator hiss open and JACK wanders in. He plops in
     the big plush swivel chair behind GRISSOM's desk.

                              GRISSOM (O.S.)
               That you, sugar bumps?

     GRISSOM waddles in unsuspectingly from the adjoining room.
     He's fresh out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his
     impressive girth. He's using a smaller towel to dry his
     hair, and so it's a moment before he sees the bundled-up
     figure at his desk.

                              GRISSOM (cont.)
               Who the hell are you?

                              JACK
               It's me. "Sugar Bumps."

                              GRISSOM
                     (recognizing his voice)
               Jack?
                     (advancing cautiously)
               Thank God. I can't believe it's you.
               I heard you'd been --

                              JACK
                     (standing up)
               Is that what you "heard"?

     JACK gestures him over to the empty chair. GRISSOM doesn't
     move until he sees the GUN pointed at his belly.

                              JACK (cont.)
               YOU SET ME UP!
                     (beat)
               Over a girl. You must be insane!

     GRISSOM surreptitiously reaches for a desk drawer.

                              JACK (cont.)
               Keep your hands on the desk.

                              GRISSOM
               Sooner or later you would've tried
               to take me, Jack. You may get me
               now, but your life won't be worth a
               dime.

                              JACK
               I've died once already. It wasn't so
               bad. -- In fact I recommend it.

     GRISSOM is beginning to panic now. It's obvious that JACK
     is utterly, hopelessly deranged.

                              GRISSOM
               Jack, listen -- we'll cut a deal --

                              JACK
               JACK? JACK? DO I LOOK LIKE A JACK??

     And now, for the first time, he flings away the hat. RIPS
     THE MUFFLER from his face. And -- as GRISSOM gasps in shock
     -- STANDS REVEALED in his full horrendous glory.

     His flesh is bleached bone-white. His hair is a luminous
     seaweed-green. And his cheeks are torn and puckered from
     the bullet wound, TWISTING HIS MOUTH INTO A HIDEOUS,
     PERPETUAL HARLEQUIN'S GRIN.

                              JACK (cont.)
               I'm not a Jack any more.
                     (pause; cackling)
               You made me a Joker!

     THE CACKLE BUILDS INTO FURIOUS, HYSTERICAL LAUGHTER.
     GRISSOM, revulsed, terrified, pushes himself away from the
     desk, back toward the window which overlooks the city.

                              GRISSOM
               Jack -- I'm warning you. WIPE THAT
               LUNATIC GRIN OFF YOUR FACE.

                              JACK
               HA! That's the best part. I CAN'T!!

     And with that JACK pulls the trigger. And fires. And fires
     again until the CLIP IS EMPTY.

     EXT. GRISSOM'S BUILDING - NIGHT

     We TILT UP the chrome-and-glass facade of the skyscraper,
     arriving finally at the TOP FLOOR: a PLATE GLASS WINDOW
     spiderwebbed with cracks where Jack's bullets hit.

     INT. GRISSOM'S PENTHOUSE - THAT MOMENT - NIGHT

     The room is still dark. JACK -- or, as we'll know him from
     this moment on, THE JOKER -- sits in GRISSOM's swivel
     chair, staring out at the moon-drenched skyline.

                              JOKER
               What a view. Our little city. It
               always brings a smile to my face.

     He reaches for a nearby glass of liquor and glances down at
     GRISSOM -- who lies dead on the floor, the towel still
     wrapped around him. THE JOKER laughs softly to himself.

                              JOKER (cont.)
               Guess it's my little city now.
               Wonder what it'll look like when I
               get done with it.
                     (pause)
               I bet it'll be something real fine.
               Real fine and pretty.

                                                 DISSOLVE T0:

     INT. BRUCE WAYNE'S BEDROOM - MORNING

     The sun is just up, and VICKI finds herself alone in bed. A
     SOFT, OFF-KEY BARITONE VOICE drifts out of the adjacent
     bathroom: BRUCE in the shower, singing "Honeysuckle Rose."

     She breaks into a huge smile and climbs out of bed. Somehow
     she's wound up wearing BRUCE's ribbed formal shirt.

     INT. BATHROOM - A MOMENT LATER - MORNING

     BRUCE in his opulent deco shower stall, still SINGING to
     himself. VICKI sneaks up behind him, opens the door. He
     instantly STOPS SINGING -- as if he's been hit by a brick.

                              VICKI
               I didn't mean to scare you. I just
               had to come in here and see it that
               was really you singing.

     She smiles, teasing him. He doesn't respond. He acts as if
     she's caught him doing something shameful -- exposed him.

                              VICKI (cont.)
                     (singing)
               "Don't buy sugar -- you just have to
               touch my cup." Come on. "You're my
               sugar --"
                     (no response from BRUCE)
               Bruce, you are such a case.

     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.

                                                 CUT TO:

     INT. SMALL BACK ROOM - NIGHT

     A poker game. A CRIMELORD from the JOKER's board meeting
     picks up his hand and fans out the cards. FIVE JOKERS.

     He looks up, puzzled. The last thing he sees is a HIRED
     KILLER bursting in through the door, GUN IN HAND.

     EXT. GOTHAM PARK - DAY

     A COSTUMED CLOWN with a wheeled cart, filling balloons from
     a helium tank, passing them out to the kids. CRIMELORD #2
     strolls past. The CLOWN offers him a balloon, which be
     politely refuses.

     THE CLOWN reaches into his cart for a RED METAL TANK. But,
     as we quickly find out, it's not a helium tank -- it's a
     FLAMETHROWER.

     EXT. HALLIDAY PLAZA - DAY

     A sunny, landscaped quad surrounded by corporate
     skyscrapers: trees, grass, marble fountains, flags of many
     nations. Amid the pedestrians we catch BRUCE and VICKI, all
     smiles, cutting through the plaza on the way to lunch.

                              VICKI
               ... To tell you the truth, I'd just
               about given up waiting.

                              BRUCE
               I said I'd call you the minute I got
               free. And I did. -- And here we are.

                              VICKI
                     (teasing him)
               Hm hmm. Lunch. Not even dinner.

     He stops in his tracks, takes her by the shoulders.

                              BRUCE
               Vicki. Do you want the whole truth?
               All coyness aside?
                     (long pause)
               I wish I had more time to give you.
               Every day I don't see you, I miss
               you.
                     (beat)
               Now. Are you going to waste this
               lovely afternoon being all mad at
               me?

     All this, of course, is delivered with devastating
     sincerity. VICKI finds herself totally disarmed.

                              VICKI
               Okay, I'm a sucker. You sound so
               much like someone I used to...
                     (stopping suddenly)
               Bruce? I know this is silly, but --
               you're not married, are you?

     He stops and laughs. She smiles crookedly, takes his arm.

     ANOTHER ANGLE - ACROSS PLAZA - THAT MOMENT

     PHILLY RICORSO -- another CRIMELORD from the boardroom --
     enters the plaza flanked by a cadre of PAID BODYGUARDS.

     ON BRUCE AND VICKI

     A PAINTED STREET MIME walks alongside them, feeling his way
     along an imaginary wall. VICKI groans.

                              VICKI
               All street mimes should be executed.

                              BRUCE
               ... Looks like a convention.

     And indeed, there are HALF A DOZEN STREET MIMES converging
     on the center of the plaza.

     RICORSO and co. approach the mirrored-glass entrance of a
     skyscraper. In the lobby, A MIME -- who's been annoying the
     passersby -- THROWS A BOLT, LOCKING THE DOORS from inside.

     A BODYGUARD bangs on the glass. Nearby, ANOTHER MIME
     reaches into a trash bin -- and pulls out a MACHINE GUN.

     SUDDEN SCREAMS OF TERROR from the onlookers.

     VICKI turns to BRUCE. Before she can get his name out, he's
     HOISTED HER BODILY and THROWN HER behind a marble fountain.

     SERIES OF SHOTS

     BRUCE'S EYES darting birdlike around the plaza -- INTERCUT
     with the following POV SHOTS, ALL IN SLOW MOTION:

     -    TWO MIMES with machine guns. One of them lining PHILLY
          and co. up against the glass doors, the other holding
          the CROWD at bay;

     -    A WOMAN in the crowd fainting. A THIRD MIME gleefully
          imitating her swoon, to no one's amusement;

     -    PHILLY and his goons, COWERING, hands in the air, as
          OTHER MIMES cruelly mimic their terrified poses...

     ... and suddenly BRUCE is RUNNING FRANTICALLY, looking for
     a secluded spot, an alleyway, anything. No go. He's out in
     the open, with onlookers everywhere. In his civvies, he's
     just another citizen... TOTALLY IMPOTENT.

     He darts around a corner, backs against a wall. WOMEN,
     CHILDREN, GROWN MEN race past. No privacy. He's
     practically quaking now, in the throes of some terrible
     anxiety. He looks up at the sky overhead, terrified.

     A BRILLIANT SUN bears down on him as MACHINE GUNS CHATTER.

     ANGLE ON PHILLY AND BODYGUARDS

     BODIES JERKING as GLASS rains down in shards.

     ANGLE ON BRUCE

     his back arched, his mouth agape, his face drained of blood
     as the sounds of carnage echo through the plaza. It's
     almost as if the bullets are striking him.

     A moment later, it's all over but the screaming. VICKI
     emerges from the crowd and finds BRUCE slumped against the
     wall, nearly catatonic. She moves to touch him.

     As if by reflex he reaches out and GRABS HER BY THE ARMS --
     with a grip so strong it could crush bone. She GASPS, looks
     up -- and sees, in his traumatized EYES, a look so raw, so
     desperate, that it virtually defies comprehension.

                              VICKI
               BRUCE!!

     He blinks rapidly. He relaxes his grip. Before VICKI's
     eyes, he's changing... becoming the BRUCE she knows.

                              BRUCE
               Oh my God... are you all right?

     He reaches for her. Involuntarily, she steps back.

     He sees her reaction and his face goes slack -- frightened,
     pleading. This time she lets him embrace her... but her
     face is full of bewilderment and doubt.

     INSERT - TELEVISION SCREEN

                              ANCHORWOMAN
               ... live from Halliday Plaza, where a
               gangland-style execution claimed the
               life of racketeer Philly Ricorso.
               Ricorso's death is the third in a
               rash of underworld killings...

     CUT TO TWO-SHOT: the ANCHORWOMAN and COMMISSIONER GORDON.

                              ANCHORWOMAN (cont.)
               Commissioner, you've heard the
               rumors. Are these murders the work
               of the mysterious 'Batman'?

     A PIERCING CACKLE fills the air. CAMERA PULLS BACK from the
     TV, placing us in the JOKER's boardroom. Behind the big
     desk he SWIVELS INTO VIEW, phone in hand.

                              JOKER
               All reet! I think it's about time
               we called another meeting, huh?

                                                 CUT TO:

     INT. WAYNE MANOR - DAY

     ALFRED on the phone, a feather duster in his hand.

                              ALFRED
               I'm sorry, Miss Vale. I've given him
               your messages. That's all I can do.

     ANGLE WIDENS. BRUCE is sitting mere feet away, obviously
     distraught, locked in some sort of internal struggle.

     INT. VICKI'S APARTMENT - THAT MOMENT - DAY

                              VICKI
               Please tell him... I'm not trying to
               make his life difficult. I'd just --
               I'd just like to know what's going
               on.

     A KNOCK at the door as VICKI hangs up. She goes to open it,
     finds KNOX -- wearing a big, cheshire-cat smile.

                              KNOX
               Hiya, peanut. I got something I'd
               like you to see.

     INT. LIBRARY - DAY

     A MICROFILM MACHINE. As VICKI looks on curiously, KNOX --
     all eagerness now -- threads up a roll of film and begins
     cranking through back-issue newspapers.

                              KNOX
               Okay, here we go. Check it out.

     He steps back. VICKI stares down at the display screen. A
     FRONT-PAGE BANNER HEADLINE reads:

                      THOMAS WAYNE MURDERED
            Prominent Doctor, Wife Slain in Robbery
            Unidentified Gunman Leaves Child Unharmed

     Beneath it, a PHOTO: cops kneeling over corpses. Medics
     with stretchers. And off to one side, a YOUNG BOY -- BRUCE
     WAYNE -- his arms wrapped around the waist of a BEAT COP.

     The BOY stares straight at the camera. His face is a mask
     of UNFORGETTABLE AGONY. You can't take your eyes off it.

                              VICKI
               Oh my God... I've seen this picture.

                              KNOX
               I guess so. Pulitzer Prize, 1963.

                              VICKI
               His face. Allie, look at his face.

     TIGHT ON THE BOY'S contorted face, staring out in shock and
     disbelief, his features recognizable across all the years
     -- permanently, indelibly traumatized. The same face VICKI
     saw in Halliday Plaza.

                              KNOX
               Yep. He watched the whole thing
               happen. -- Recognize the beat cop?
               Jim Gordon.

                              VICKI
               Oh, Bruce...

                              KNOX
               Something like this -- what do you
               suppose this could drive a guy to?

     INT. RESTAURANT - DAY

     A greasy spoon off the lobby of the Globe building. KNOX
     and VICKI in a booth.

                              VICKI
               Alexander, you are on drugs.

                              KNOX
               He walks out on his own party. Half
               an hour later, the Caped Crusader
               turns up in full bat-drag.
                     (beat)
               Sees an execution, freaks out in an
               alleyway. No place to change.
                     (smiling)
               Yeah, Vicki, he's "married" all
               right.

                              VICKI
               You're pissing me off, Allie. I know
               exactly why you're doing this.

                              KNOX
                     (leaning forward)
               Oh? Why is that, Vicki?

     VICKI wilts under the challenge. She holds her silence for
     a second, then changes the subject.

                              VICKI
               He's best friends with Jim Gordon
               and Harvey Dent. They would know.

                              KNOX
               ... Okay, Vicki, I have a confession
               to make. I'm the Batman.

     VICKI snorts, rolls her eyes impatiently.

                              KNOX (cont.)
               Don't believe me? Why not?

                              VICKI
               Alexander... I know you.

                              KNOX
               Right. And they know him. And
               that's why it would never occur to
               them for a minute that their old
               buddy Bruce puts on a cape at night
               and goes out looking for --

                              VICKI
               This is pointless. I'm leaving.

                              KNOX
                     (grabbing her arm)
               Your little chum is out of his mind.
                     (relaxing his grip)
               Next time you call him up and he
               can't go out Friday night -- think
               it over.

                                                 CUT TO:

     INT. ACE CHEMICAL CO. - DAY

     LOW ANGLE on the JOKER. He stands on a catwalk high above
     the refinery floor, lord of all he surveys, overseeing
     production like a demented middle manager.

     INT. STOREROOM - DAY

     A dank, windowless room in the bowels of Ace Chemical,
     which the JOKER has converted into a makeshift lair. SAP-
     LIKE GOO drips in puddles from exposed pipes overhead.

     CAMERA DRIFTS across the JOKER's cluttered desk. Shipping
     manifests. Ledgers. PSYCHOTIC DOODLES scrawled in crayon.

     More significantly: an old CONTRACT dating back to the mid-
     seventies. It's half-obscured by other papers, but the
     initials 'CIA' are plainly visible.

     Then: a BOUND REPORT with the title 'DDID NERVE GAS:
     RESULTS OF PRELIMINARY EXPERIMENTATION.' Across its title
     page, a diagonal rubber stamp: 'DISCONTINUED January 1977.'

     And finally: a sheaf of PHOTOS. Laboratory apes, chimps and
     orangutans, all DEAD. Their LIPS are drawn back, exposing
     HIDEOUS, CHEMICAL-INDUCED GRIMACES.

     ON ONE WALL: POSTER-SIZED BLOWUPS of the grinning apes.

     ON THE OPPOSITE WALL: a large-scale photographic
     reproduction of the Gotham City skyline, its bottom half
     HIDDEN FROM VIEW by the JOKER's desk.

     The PHONE RINGS. The JOKER -- who has been sitting on the
     floor by the cityscape -- POPS INTO FRAME and picks it up.

                              JOKER
               How's that first shipment coming?

                              VOICE ON PHONE
               Right on schedule. Oh, we got that
               address for you -- 79 East End,
               #12-C.

                              JOKER
               Mmm. How'd you find it?

                              VOICE ON PHONE
               Called her agent.

     The JOKER nods in satisfaction and resumes his place on the
     floor. Like a happy kindergartener, with paste pot and
     scissors, he's CLIPPING PHOTOS from a magazine -- horrible
     scenes of death, destruction, panic, mutilation.

     One by one, he's PASTING these shots on the blowup of
     Gotham city -- all along sidewalk level -- creating a
     massive photomontage of ANARCHY IN THE STREETS.

     We've seen these photos before. VICKI VALE took them... in
     Corto Maltese.

     INT. PHOTOGRAPHER'S STUDIO - DAY

     In foreground, ROWS OF MAKEUP in startling profusion:
     mascara, blusher, eyeliner, lipstick. HALF A DOZEN
     BEAUTIFUL MODELS giggle into their makeup mirrors.

     In the background VICKI wanders past with a stylish friend,
     CLAIRE, who owns and operates the studio.

                              CLAIRE
               ... of course, after Corto Maltese,
               this must all seem pretty tame.

                              VICKI
               Not to me. I need a job.

                              CLAIRE
               Now Vicki. Everyone knows you've
               got your hooks in Bruce Wayne.

                              VICKI
               Then "everyone" must know something
               I don't.

                              CLAIRE
                     (cattily)
               Oh. Really. Well. -- Come on,
               dear, Tony's dying to see you.

     In a corner of the studio, TONY, a gaunt, tubercular Brit,
     is shooting a swimsuit layout with two SUPERMODELS. They
     all ad lib greetings to VICKI as TONY darts around
     hyperkinetically, snapping the girls in a series of poses.

                              TONY
               Yes, ladies, smiles, show me
               those smiles, fabulous, tropical
               smiles, think Tahiti, I want to
               see teeth, yes, those glorious
               teeth --

     As VICKI looks on, the SUPERMODELS freeze in place
     simultaneously, a strange, STRICKEN LOOK on their faces.

                              TONY (cont.)
               My God no, don't stop now, those
               smiles, I need those smiles --

     Suddenly the girls are LAUGHING -- but the laughter is
     unnatural, involuntary. VICKI, sensing that something is
     terribly wrong, lays a hand on CLAIRE's arm.

     The MODELS, now wearing HUGE SMILES, begin to TWITCH
     SPASMODICALLY. TONY snaps away.

                              TONY (cont.)
               Yes! Oh baby, YES! That's --
                     (beat)
               No! Too far, too far! Pull back,
               pull back!
                     (dropping the camera)
               OH MY GOD!

     The SUPERMODELS PITCH TO THE FLOOR, shuddering
     convulsively, their LIPS drawn back in FRIGHTFUL, FROZEN,
     LAB-APE GRINS. VICKI GASPS. CLAIRE SCREAMS. TONY SCREAMS.

                                                 CUT TO:

     INT. TELEVISION STUDIO - EVENING

     The Eyewitness News set, with anchors PATSY NARITA and
     DAVE McELROY. Behind them, BLOWUPS of the two dead
     SUPERMODELS.

                              PATSY
               The fashion world was stunned today
               by the sudden deaths of top models
               Kelly Brinkley and Christie Emberg.
               Cause of death has been attributed
               to a violent allergic reaction,
               although authorities have not yet
               ruled out the possibility of drug
               use. Dave?

     Behind DAVE, on the bluescreen: a HUGE STATUE, covered in
     canvas -- not unlike New York's Statue of Liberty.

                              DAVE
               In Gotham, plans continue for the
               city's 300th birthday celebration.
               The four-day event will conclude
               with the unveiling, in Gotham
               Harbor, of the newly restored 'Lady
               Gotham'...

     A TECHNICIAN'S HAND passes a slip of paper into frame.

                              DAVE (cont.)
               This bulletin just in. Nine more
               mysterious deaths at a beauty parlor
               in --

     Off to the left, PATSY begins to LAUGH. DAVE FROWNS.

                              DAVE (cont.)
               Patsy! This is hardly the --
                     (his eyes widen)
               PATSY!!

     An offscreen CRASH. Suddenly DAVE is up out of his seat,
     mouth agape in horror.

     PATSY HAS GONE INTO CONVULSIONS. CAMERA WHIPS VIOLENTLY
     RIGHT AND LEFT as she jerks out of her seat and TOTTERS
     UNCONTROLLABLY across the set, LAUGHING INSANELY.

     TECHNICIANS rush the soundstage in an unrehearsed frenzy.
     PATSY spins like a dervish and LURCHES BACKWARD over the
     newsdesk in a death spasm, giving us a quick look at the
     grisly Joker's grin etched on her now-lifeless face.

     DAVE gestures frantically to the cameraman:

                              DAVE (cont.)
               KILL THE CAMERA!! KILL THE --

     Suddenly, CRACKLING VIDEO STATIC wipes out the screen. A
     moment later, we're looking at:

     SPLITSCREEN CLOSEUP - THE SUPERMODELS

     Their gorgeous faces sprout BIG, ANIMATED-CARTOON GRINS as
     a BOUNCY TUNE -- "Put on a Happy Face" -- comes up
     underneath.

                              MODELS (CARTOON VOICE)
               ... Love that Joker!

     INT. SUPERMARKET - DAY

     THEME MUSIC CONTINUES as a grinning, deranged pitchman --
     THE JOKER -- pushes his shopping cart down the aisle. The
     shelves are filled with products bearing his TRADEMARK
     HARLEQUIN'S FACE. He waves merrily in time to the music.

     INT. STUDIO - VIDEO CONTROL BOOTH - THAT MOMENT

     PANICKED TECHNICIANS swarm the booth. The studio feed has
     been JAMMED. Every monitor shows THE JOKER'S COMMERCIAL.

                              DIRECTOR
               WHERE'S IT COMING FROM??

                              TECHNICIAN
               I DON'T KNOW!

     CLOSEUP - THE JOKER

                              JOKER
               ... new improved Joker brand. With
               the secret ingredient... SMYLENOL!
                     (a sweep of the hand)
               Let's go to our blind taste test.

     TIGHT ON an anonymous MAN -- GAGGED AND BLINDFOLDED, tied
     to his chair, squirming, struggling. On the table before
     him is a package labelled "BRAND X." A SUPERIMPOSED TITLE
     reads: "NOT AN ACTOR."

                              JOKER (cont.)
               Ooh. He's tense. Irritable. Out of
               sorts.
                     (wagging a finger)
               He's been using Brand X! But with
               new improved Joker brand...

     ANGLE WIDENS to include a BLINDFOLDED CORPSE, limp in his
     chair, GRINNING HORRIFICALLY.

                              JOKER (cont.)
               ... it's a SMILE EVERY TIME!!

     EXT. IDYLLIC PASTORAL SETTING - DAY

     THE JOKER in a field of wheat. On a picnic blanket before
     him are TWO CLEAN-CUT MODELS -- one male, one female, BOTH
     DEAD... and GRIMACING HORRIBLY.

                              JOKER (cont.)
               -- and the world smiles with you!
               Irresistable -- oh-so-kissable --

     He grabs the dead MODELS by the hair. THEIR TEETH CLINK as
     he forces their heads together for a post-mortem kiss.

     SERIES OF SHOTS

     Television sets all over Gotham, as startled citizens react
     to the JOKER's maniacal promo.

                              JOKER
               I know what you're saying. Where can
               I buy these fine, fine products?
               Well, that's the gag, folks, you
               never know. Chances are... you've
               bought 'em already!!!

     As his RANT CONTINUES, we SEE:

     -    A YOUNG MAN watching the bedroom TV as he dresses for
          a date. He's got an aerosol deodorant can poised under
          one arm, ready to spray. He looks down at the can,
          suddenly uncertain. Could it be...?

     -    A FAMILY in their kitchen, eyeing a 12-inch portable
          as MOM serves dinner. They dig in automatically, then
          FREEZE with their forks in midair.

     -    A MIDDLE-AGED MATRON at the living-room TV. Shocked,
          she calls to her husband -- and gets no reply. We
          FOLLOW HER to the bathroom door.

          On the floor she sees AN OVERTURNED SHAMPOO BOTTLE.
          Then: her HUSBAND, slumped down in the tub, a lethal
          GRIN on his face. She lets out a SHRIEK.

     INT. WAYNE MANOR - STUDY - NIGHT

     ALFRED THE BUTLER in a crouch, glued to the tube.

                              ALFRED
               ... Sir!

     HIS POV: THE JOKER in tight closeup. Offscreen, an INFANT
     begins to squall. THE JOKER cocks an eyebrow.

                              JOKER
               Baby's got a tummyache? Here's
               something that'll fix him quick!

     He tosses a JOKER PRODUCT out of frame. Then -- leering --
     he gives the camera a BIG JUICY WINK.

                              JOKER (cont.)
               Now on your grocer's shelf. So
               remember -- use Joker brand -- and
               put on a happy face!!

     MUSIC UP. VIDEO SNOW fills the screen as the jammed
     transmission end. ALFRED looks over his shoulder.

     TRACK IN ON THE GRIM, DETERMINED FACE OF BRUCE WAYNE.

     SERIES OF SHOTS

     -    The Gotham Globe cartwheeling into frame:

                         PANIC GRIPS GOTHAM
                Contaminated Products Claim 72 Lives
                WHO IS THE MYSTERIOUS "JOKER"?

     -    An ANCHORWOMAN on the evening news. Her complexion is
          curiously sallow. BLACK BAGS show under her eyes.

                              ANCHORWOMAN
                  ... sixteen new deaths, with no clues
                  as to the Joker's identity or
                  demands. The list at potentially
                  lethal products now includes:
                  perfume -- mascara -- cold cream --

     -    The makeover counter at Bloomingdale's. SECURITY
          GUARDS rush to the scene as THREE MATRONLY CUSTOMERS
          go into simultaneous smiling fits.

     -    An ANCHORMAN with a BIG UGLY ZIT on his nose:

                              ANCHORMAN
                  Men's cologne toothpaste mouthwash
                  -- underarm deodorant --

     -    A SUBWAY CAR jammed with STRAPHANGERS. HUGE PATCHES OF
          SWEAT under every arm. The doors slide open; ONCOMING
          PASSENGERS RECOIL VISIBLY at the unendurable stench.

     -    The original ANCHORWOMAN, whose look is now 100%
          natural. Her hair is frizzy. Her eyebrows are missing
          altogether. Every wrinkle on her face is plainly
          visible.

                              ANCHORWOMAN
                  Hair spray -- eyebrow pencil --
                  moisturizing cream --

     -    A LARGE DRUGSTORE. CASHIERS sit idly by the registers.
          The store is utterly devoid of customers.

                                                 CUT TO:

     EXT. STREET - DUSK

     From across the street we see VICKI headed down the
     sidewalk toward a museum. A GLOVED HAND reaches for a pay
     phone.

                              VOICE
               She's outside the Fluegelheim.

     INT. ALICIA HUNT'S PENTHOUSE - THAT MOMENT

     A BONE-WHITE HAND slams a phone receiver down. THE JOKER is
     at his vanity. He's rinsed his hair black. He's applying
     pounds of pancake makeup to his bleached face, his puckered
     cheeks. In the right light he could almost pass for human.

     In all the city, he's the only person still using
     cosmetics.

     A DREAMY, DRUGGED VOICE intrudes:

                              ALICIA
               Jack? Who was that?

     As he looks up at the mirror, we get a quick glimpse of
     ALICIA behind him. The voice, the long blonde hair, are
     unmistakable. But for some reason, ALICIA'S FACE is
     COVERED... by a SHINY WHITE PORCELAIN DOLL'S MASK.

                              JOKER
               Get dressed. We're going out.

     INT. FLUEGELHEIM MUSEUM - EVENING

     A Gotham landmark, the Fluegelheim looks like something
     Frank Lloyd Wright would've dreamed up -- a large open
     atrium encircled by a stucco RAMP, which spirals up along
     the interior walls to the CEILING four stories above. You
     walk up this gently-inclined ramp to view the paintings.

     INT. FLUEGELHEIM - ROOFTOP TEA ROOM - EVENING

     The upper terminus of the ramp opens on an airy, fern-
     filled dining room popular with tourists and elderly
     matrons who work up an appetite looking at art. VICKI
     enters, camera bag slung over one shoulder, portfolio in
     hand.

                              VICKI
               I'm meeting Mr. Wayne. Is he here?

                              MAITRE D'
               No, but your table is ready.

     INT. TEA ROOM - TWENTY MINUTES LATER - EVENING

     VICKI, sipping on a gin and tonic, checks her watch. A
     WAITER brings her a small parcel, wrapped in brown paper,
     bearing a single word: URGENT.

                              WAITER
               Miss Vale, this just arrived for
               you.

     As the WAITER leaves, she tears off the wrapper. Inside is
     a small white box and a NOTE -- SCRIBBLED IN CRAYON.

               DEAR V. VALE,
                    PUT THIS ON RIGHT NOW.

     Unsigned, of course. VICKI, puzzled, opens the box to find
     a MINIATURE GAS MASK.

     She hears a strange HISSING NOISE. A few feet away, GREEN
     SMOKE is billowing out of an air-conditioning vent.

     TRAYS OF FOOD CRASH TO THE FLOOR as WAITERS pass out. ART
     LOVERS drop forks, go face down in their pasta salad.

     VICKI hurriedly fits the gas mask over her nose and mouth.
     Within seconds, she's the only one conscious in the room.

     INT. MUSEUM - THAT MOMENT

     GREEN SMOKE plumes up toward the ceiling as we TILT DOWN
     toward the floor of the atrium. PATRONS and SECURITY GUARDS
     lie sprawled on the floor, twisted at odd angles, out cold.

     The mist is beginning to clear now. The doors swing open
     and in strolls THE JOKER, looking quite dapper in his
     street makeup and BIG PURPLE PIMP'S HAT.

     A SQUAD OF GOONS enters behind him. Some of them are
     carrying large cartons. They lock the entry doors, place a
     "CLOSED" sign in front of them, and begin uncrating LARGE
     CANS OF BLACK PAINT.

     The JOKER steps up onto the ramp, examines the artwork with
     an appreciative eye.

                              JOKER
               Okay, boys, let's broaden our minds.

     He stops in front of an Ingres odalisque. Stands back a
     pace or two to get a better look. Then pulls out a STRAIGHT
     RAZOR and cuts a LONG DIAGONAL GASH in the canvas.

     He ambles up the ramp, stepping over collapsed patrons,
     pausing at every fourth or fifth painting. Monet water
     lilies, a Degas ballerina -- all get the razor treatment.
     Behind him his CRONIES work their way up the ramp, HEAVING
     BLACK PAINT on every canvas the JOKER has missed.

     He cocks an eyebrow at Edvard Munch's "THE SCREAM."

                              JOKER (cont.)
               I kinda like this one. Leave it.

     INT. TEA ROOM - A MOMENT LATER - EVENING

     VICKI at her table, still wearing the gas mask, scared as
     hell. The overhead lights wink out and the room goes dark.
     The JOKER saunters over and pulls up a chair.

                              JOKER
               I think it's safe to take that off.

     VICKI recognizes the deranged smile instantly. She removes
     the gas mask, tries to gather her wits.

                              JOKER (cont.)
               You're quite beautiful.

                              VICKI
               ... Thank you.

                              JOKER
               Unfortunate, but I think we can work
               around it.

     He sets a couple of CANDLESTICKS on the table and reaches
     for his lighter. A LONG JET OF FLAME shoots out, Jerry
     Lewis-style, as he lights the candles.

                              JOKER (cont.)
               You're Vicki Vale. I guess you know
               who I am. -- Is this your
               portfolio?

     She nods. He opens it, begins leafing through the record of
     VICKI's career. Newspaper photos from the Globe, at first.
     Then fashion layouts, magazine covers of celebrities.
     Artier B&W shots from VICKI's first couple of exhibitions.

                              JOKER (cont.)
               Crap. Crap. Crap, crap, crap...
               Ahhh. Now here's what caught my eye.

     He's come to the COMBAT PHOTOS from Corto Maltese.

                              JOKER (cont.)
               The panic. The bloody skulls. The
               armless screaming fellows... you
               know, the atrocities.
                     (smirking)
               Somehow, when you shoot it, it all
               comes out so clean, so lovely.

     VICKI is squirming, but she doesn't think it wise to debate
     the point. Not with this lunatic, anyway.

                              JOKER (cont.)
               I guess I'm just an old cornball,
               but... I live for beauty. I look
               around at my little city, it gets me
               down.
                     (indicating the photos)
               We don't have anything like this.
               Well, it came to me that what this
               city needs... is beautification. Kind
               of a big makeover.
                     (enraptured)
               Miss Vale, I finally realized that
               one man can make a difference. You
               know the saying. "In his image...
               created he them"?

     VICKI gazes at the awful face of this deranged visionary,
     getting more frightened by the minute.

                              VICKI
               And you want a --

                              JOKER
               A visual record, yes. A before-and-
               after kind of thing.
                     (leaning closer)
               This could make your reputation.

     Her first impulse is to get up and run. But she fights the
     impulse. She won't run... not until she gets this maniac
     on film. She reaches for her camera bag.

                              VICKI
               Maybe we should start with a
               portrait of the artist. People might
               like to see the face behind the
               makeup.

                              JOKER
                     (momentarily puzzled)
               ... Behind the makeup?

     Then it sinks in. By candlelight, in the darkened
     restaurant, with his pancake makeup and his black rinse
     job, he looks practically normal. VICKI must think she's
     looking at his real face!

                              JOKER (cont.)
               Oh. Yes. I see what you mean.

     He finds a pitcher, pours a glass of water, and very
     carefully SETS IT ON THE TABLE in front of VICKI. Then --
     suddenly, inexplicably -- HE BARKS AT HER:

                              JOKER (cont.)
               Silly little TWIT -- I can't take
               you ANYWHERE!

     He sits back and grins expectantly. VICKI is thoroughly
     nonplussed by this bizarre outburst. A moment passes.

     He obviously wants her to do something, but she hasn't
     got a clue as to what it is. Growing impatient now, he
     POINTS at the WATER GLASS:

                              JOKER (cont.)
               Well? What are you waiting for??

     Now VICKI gets the point. She picks up the glass and HURLS
     ITS CONTENTS in THE JOKER'S FACE.

     His hands go up. He writhes. He shrieks -- like the Wicked
     Witch of the West dissolving. He reaches for a napkin to
     wipe his face clean... and begins to CACKLE.

     His awful white-and-green clown's face revealed behind the
     running makeup, he LEERS at her.

                              JOKER (cont.)
               You see, Miss Vale -- that was my
               makeup.
                     (leaning forward)
               What do you think?

     VICKI is repulsed, but she's determined to tough it out.

                              VICKI
               I've seen worse. Much worse.

                              JOKER
               Strong stomach, huh? I like that in
               a woman. -- Maybe we can do business
               after all.

     He seems to have calmed down a bit. It's almost as if he's
     coming on to her. But just then, a tiny BELL sounds behind
     them... and a VOICE intrudes:

                              VOICE
               Jack?

     The JOKER turns. ALICIA steps out of a ROOFTOP ELEVATOR and
     moves toward them, drugged, wraithlike. She's still wearing
     the porcelain DOLL'S MASK we saw earlier.

                              JOKER
                     (to VICKI)
               Christ, it's my girlfriend.
                     (to ALICIA)
               WHAT?

                              ALICIA
               You said I could look at the
               pictures before you -- before you --

                              JOKER
               Shucks, honey, I forgot.
                     (rolling his eyes at
                      VICKI)
               I'm in trouble now.
                     (to ALICIA)
               This is business, sweetie. Why don't
               you go outside and see how the boys
               are coming?

     VICKI can't take her eyes off this strange figure drifting
     eerily through the abandoned tea room.

                              VICKI
                     (hesitantly)
               ... Why the mask?

                              JOKER
               Alicia! Come here, have a seat. Show
               Miss Vale why you wear the mask.

     ALICIA sits down numbly and begins to undo the mask.

                              JOKER (cont.)
               You see, Miss Vale, Alicia's beautiful.
               One in a million. A work of art. In
               fact...

     We're looking at ALICIA's profile as the mask comes off.
     The side that's turned to us is indeed beautiful. But the
     side we can't see... SENDS VICKI RIGHT OVER THE EDGE.

                              JOKER (cont.)
               She makes you look sick.

     VICKI lurches out of her seat, knocking it over, HER FACE
     FROZEN IN HORROR. She finds her CAMERA, holds it out like a
     weapon as THE JOKER advances on her.

                              VICKI
               You SCUM! You SICK FILTH!... You DID
               THAT to her!

                              JOKER
               What? I improved her a little...

     VICKI backs away, snapping the shutter on her camera. HE
     BLINKS as the flash gun goes off repeatedly.

                              VICKI
               I'll see you burn. I'll see you dead.
               -- GET AWAY FROM ME!!

                              JOKER
               Miss Vale, was it something I said?
                     (brightly)
               Do you want to sniff my flower?

     There's a BRIGHT PURPLE BOUTONNIERE in his lapel. He holds
     it up for VICKI's inspection as he moves menacingly closer.

                              VICKI
               NO!

     The JOKER squeezes a concealed BULB. A JET OF CLEAR LIQUID
     spurts out of the FLOWER, NARROWLY MISSING VICKI.

     She GASPS. BUMPS INTO A TABLE. ACRID BLACK SMOKE rises from
     the floor where the clear liquid hit. Acid.

                              JOKER
               Come on, Miss Vale... STOP AND SMELL
               THE ROSES!!

     He backs VICKI into a corner. And then -- abruptly --

     A SKYLIGHT SHATTERS IN A HAIL OF GLASS! A CAPED SHADOW
     DROPS TO THE FLOOR OF THE RESTAURANT! And THE JOKER is face
     to face with...

     THE BATMAN!

     On his wrist is a STEEL GAUNTLET. Ha AIMS IT at the JOKER
     like a weapon. Then PIVOTS SUDDENLY -- POINTS HIS ARM
     THROUGH THE DOOR OF THE RESTAURANT --

     -- AND FIRES A METAL SPIKE into the adobe wall of the RAMP
     OUTSIDE!!

                              JOKER (cont.)
               ... YOU!!

     On the end of the spike is a CORD leading to BATMAN's belt.
     In the wink of an eye he's GRABBED VICKI -- DRAGGED HER OUT
     OF the tea room -- and PLUNGED OVER THE RAMP WALL, FOUR
     STORIES STRAIGHT DOWN TO THE ATRIUM FLOOR BELOW!!!

     The JOKER races to the edge of the ramp.

                              JOKER (cont.)
               GET 'EM!! GET 'EM!!

     His GOONS are stationed at various points along the ramp,
     still defacing masterpieces. They pull their guns and OPEN
     FIRE as BATMAN and VICKI plummet past.

     ANGLE ON BATMAN AND VICKI - AS THEY FALL

     He holds the gauntlet overhead, ROPE whistling through it.
     As we watch, the gauntlet sprouts STEEL WINGS -- forming a
     BULLETPROOF SHIELD over their heads!

     TWO FEET ABOVE the marble floor, THE ROPE jerks them up
     short -- like a bunjee cord. GUNS BLAZE as BATMAN and VICKI
     drop safely to earth and MAKE FOR THE EXIT.

     The doors are LOCKED. BATMAN spots the black "CLOSED" sign
     on a metal stand. He HEAVES IT through the glass doors.

     VICKI hustles through. He points her to a side alley.

     EXT. SIDE ALLEY - THAT MOMENT - DUSK

     VICKI rounds the corner just as BATMAN lobs a SMOKE PELLET
     into the doorway of the Fluegelheim.

                              BATMAN
               GET IN THE CAR!

                              VICKI
               WHICH CAR?

     VICKI suddenly feels quite stupid. Because -- while there
     are many cars parked along the side alley -- there is only
     one BATMOBILE.

                              VICKI (cont.)
               ... Oh.

     The BATMOBILE is sleek, futuristic, and... well,
     indescribable. Imagine your own. VICKI climbs into the
     passenger seat and is immediately dazzled by a stunning
     array of electronic gadgetry.

                              BATMAN
               Ignition!

     As BATMAN sprints down the alley, a COMPUTER DISPLAY on the
     dashboard registers his unique voiceprint. A tinny,
     synthesized VOICE repeats the command:

                              COMPUTER
               Ignition.

     The engines are revving up even as BATMAN vaults into the
     cockpit alongside VICKI.

     Guns in hand, the JOKER'S GOONS Are stumbling out of the
     Fluegelheim, hacking, coughing, blinded by smoke. They DIVE
     FOR THEIR LIVES as the BATMOBILE comes barrelling out of
     the alley at ninety miles an hour.

     THE JOKER emerges just as the BATMOBILE careens off.

                              JOKER
               I WANT HIM!! I WANT HIM!!

     The JOKER climbs into the back of a van labelled "MONARCH
     PLAYING CARDS."  Half his GOONS pile into the van behind
     him, the other half into a second car nearby.

     EXT. STREETS - THAT MOMENT

     SIRENS HOWL as POLICE CARS converge on the Flugelheim.

     INT. BATMOBILE - THAT MOMENT

     roaring out into CITY TRAFFIC.

                              VICKI
               Look! Police!

                              BATMAN
               I called them.

                              VICKI
               Shouldn't we --

     A POLICE CAR whizzes past the BATMOBILE. TIRES SKID. The
     COP CAR does a quick 180 and sets out in hot pursuit of the
     BATMOBILE. BATMAN FLOORS THE ACCELERATOR in response.

     INT. VAN - THAT MOMENT

     TIGHT ON the demented face of THE JOKER. A GOON calls out
     from the front of the van.

                              GOON
               There they are! Dead ahead!

     THE JOKER screams into a RADIO DISPATCHER'S MIKE.

                              JOKER
               ALL UNITS! SOUTHBOUND ON RIVERVIEW!

     SERIES OF SHOTS

     The JOKER'S ARMY. THUGS in cars. CREEPS in Italian
     restaurants. CROOKED COPS at a coffee shop. LIGHTS FLASH,
     BEEPERS SOUND, and within seconds they're racing to the
     streets, eager to join the chase.

     SERIES OF SHOTS - THE STREETS

     COP CARS. GOON CARS. THE BATMOBILE streaks through an
     intersection, nearly causing a pileup. THE JOKER'S VAN
     makes short work of a SABRETT'S HOT DOG STAND in its path.

     INT. BATMOBILE - THAT MOMENT

     PEDESTRIANS GAWK as the sleek supercar RIPS UP THE
     PAVEMENT.

                              VICKI
               What about her? What about the girl?

                              BATMAN
               He won't kill her.
                     (gritting his teeth)
               GODDAMMIT!

     They're moving up on an EMPTY BLOCK -- a NIGHT CONSTRUCTION
     TEAM. A HUGE PIECE OF HEAVY MACHINERY backs up slowly and
     inexorably, BLOCKING THE INTERSECTION.

     BATMAN GUNS THE ENGINE. SWERVES LEFT. TRIES TO SLIDE PAST.
     And HITS THE BRAKES -- stopping inches short of a head-on
     collision with a lamppost.

     He jumps out of the car. No chance to get through. THE
     JOKER'S VAN is two blocks back and coming up fast.

     ONLOOKERS and CONSTRUCTION WORKERS are beginning to form a
     crowd around them.

                              VICKI
               Can't we --

                              BATMAN
               Too many people. Come on!
                     (as she scrambles out)
               SHIELDS!!

     The BATMOBILE's computerized VOICE replies:

                              COMPUTER
               Shields.

     With a series or CLANGS, CHROME-STEEL PLATES slide into
     place -- across the cockpit, over the tires -- leaving the
     BATMOBILE an inert, impenetrable BLOCK OF BLACK METAL.

     BATMAN and VICKI sprint through the CONSTRUCTION SITE,
     vaulting over mounds of loose dirt and concrete rubble.

     INT. VAN - MOVING - NIGHT

     THREE POLICE CARS, red lights blazing, OVERTAKE THE JOKER'S
     VAN and bear down on the abandoned BATMOBILE.

                              GOON AT WHEEL
               Are they ours?

                              JOKER
               ... I don't know. We'd better get out
               of here.
                     (into RADIO MIKE)
               Westbound on 36th. DO YOU COPY??

     The VAN does a discreet U-turn and rumbles off sedately
     down the street.

     EXT. SIDE STREET - THAT MOMENT - NIGHT

     BATMAN and VICKI zigzag past storefronts and candy stands,
     dodging astonished PEDESTRIANS.

     INT. CAR - MOVING - THAT MOMENT

     FOUR GOONS with GUNS. They spot BATMAN and VICKI coming off
     the side street. GOON I, the driver, speaks into a radio:

                              GOON I
               We got 'em!

                              JOKER (V.O.)
                     (over radio)
               Take 'em! I want his head!

     EXT. STREET - THAT MOMENT - NIGHT

     BATMAN and VICKI race down the sidewalk. The car is gaining
     on them; and then, from behind --

     BATMAN and VICKI are caught in a SPRAY OF BULLETS. They
     dive. Drop behind a parked car. And don't come up.

     They've ducked into a BLIND ALLEY.

     INT. ALLEYWAY - NIGHT

     Hunkered on the pavement, they watch the car glide past the
     mouth of the alley. VICKI sighs in relief. BATMAN -- still
     alert, his muscles tensed -- puts a restraining hand on her
     arm. He looks overhead, sees a catwalk spanning the width
     of the alleyway five stories up.

                              BATMAN
               How much do you weigh?

                              VICKI
               ... A hundred and eight?

     He does some quick mental calculations. A beat. Then the
     CAR reappears -- backing up -- blocking their only avenue
     of escape. BATMAN unfurls a rope, HEAVES A BATARANG UPWARD,
     and grabs VICKI roughly about the waist.

                              BATMAN
               HANG ON!

     The JOKER'S THUGS pile out of the car. The BATARANG catches
     on the catwalk, and BATMAN triggers the spring-action REEL
     on his utility belt -- jerking him and VICKI INTO THE AIR.

     BULLETS zing past as they whip upward like fish on a line.
     One story; two stories; and then...

     They slow. They STOP. They DANGLE IN MIDAIR as the Joker's
     goons advance. BATMAN wriggles, twists. They lurch upward
     another few feet -- and stop again. VICKI SCREAMS.

     Her additional weight is too much for the reel mechanism. They're
     stranded two stories up -- SITTING DUCKS.

                              BATMAN (cont.)
               Whatever happens -- DON'T LET GO!!

     In the wink of an eye he's detached the reel from his own
     waist and hitched it around VICKI's belt. Before she has a
     chance to protest, he LETS GO.

     VICKI rockets upward at blinding speed, shrieking all the
     way. BATMAN, his cape billowing, PLUMMETS DOWNWARD.

     VICKI slams up into the catwalk and BOBS on the end of the
     line as BATMAN lands with a loud crash, overturning a row
     of garbage cans. The GOONS are on him in a flash -- one per
     limb. Random kicking and flailing. BATMAN manages to slam
     two GOONS into a wall, but before he can get to his feet --

     -- GOON #3 slams a lead pipe into the back of his skull.

     BATMAN is down for the count. The THUGS dust themselves off
     and circle around his prostrate form, still wary.

     The LEAD THUG holds his colleagues back, draws his gun, and
     fires TWO SHOTS, point-blank, at the yellow-and-black
     INSIGNE on BATMAN's chest. The body jerks.

     They move closer. And stop.

                              GOON I
               ... No blood.

                              GOON II
               Jesus.

                              GOON III
               Wait a minute.

     GOON III screws up his courage and crouches beside the
     body. He examines THE BATMAN'S TUNIC... and RIPS IT OPEN.

                              GOON IV
               ... What is that?

                              GOON III
               Some kind of body armor.

                              GOON I
               He's human after all. -- Take that
               mask off.

     EXT. ROOFTOP - ON VICKI

     Five stories overhead, VICKI has pulled herself up onto the
     roof of the adjacent building. She watches transfixed as
     the THUGS bend over to remove BATMAN's cowl. But at this
     height -- and this angle -- she can't see his face. On a
     sudden impulse she reaches for her CAMERA BAG.

     ANGLE ON GOONS

     peering-down open-mouthed at the unconscious face of BRUCE
     WAYNE. Blood seeps from BRUCE's left nostril.

                              GOON I
               Well?... Who is this guy?

                              GOON II
               I dunno. You seen him before?

                              GOON III
               Maybe he's got some kind of I.D.

                              GOON IV
               Good idea. Let's check his wallet.

                              GOON I
               We'll worry about it later. Plug
               him.
                        (beat)
               In the head.

     GOON II draws his automatic. And at that very instant... A
     FLASH GUN EXPLODES OVERHEAD.

     Startled, the THUGS look up. ANOTHER CAMERA FLASH.

                              GOON III
               Goddam, it's the redhead!

     ON VICKI

     A chunk of ledge chips off mere inches from her head as the
     GOONS OPEN FIRE. She ducks back behind the overhang, holds
     the camera out over the ledge, and KEEPS ON FLASHING.

     ON BRUCE

     HIS EYES WINK OPEN.

     ON VICKI

     momentarily idle. She's used up her roll. The GOONS KEEP
     SHOOTING as she reaches in her bag for new film. She finds
     it, loads the camera with astonishing dexterity -- and
     then, on instinct, reaches back inside the bag for a
     TELEPHOTO LENS. All the better to see you with, Batman...

     ON THE THUGS

     No response from VICKI. They begin to relax a little.

                              GOON II
               Did you hit her?

                              GOON I
               Who cares? Wax that freak.

     They turn their attention to BRUCE. A GLOVED HAND snakes
     out with lightning speed -- GRABBING GOON I BY THE COATTAIL
     and pulling him DIRECTLY INTO THE LINE OF FIRE. GOON II bas
     pulled the trigger twice before he knows what's happened.

     In one fluid motion BRUCE HEAVES GOON I's lifeless body
     THROUGH THE AIR, knocking GOON II backward over a garbage
     can. GOON II falls and CRACKS HIS HEAD on the nearest wall.

     GOON III takes a rabbit punch to the throat. He's on the
     way down when he catches a STEEL-TOED BOOT in the gut.

     Four seconds after all this began, BRUCE is alone in the
     alleyway with GOON IV. GOON IV has his gun pointed right at
     BRUCE, but he's shaking too much to pull the trigger.

     BRUCE smiles. GOON IV SCREAMS and RUNS FOR HIS LIFE.

     Through all this, VICKI's telephoto camera has been poised
     on the ledge, snapping away. BRUCE looks up at the FLASH
     GUN and shakes his head. He bends to retrieve his cowl.

     ON VICKI

     She finally dares to peek down at the alley. Limp goons
     everywhere. And, in addition, THE BATMAN -- leaping up,
     grabbing the edge of a fire escape, climbing up to meet
     her.

     VICKI thinks fast. She may have a clean shot of BATMAN'S
     FACE. She advances the film in the camera and removes the
     roll, then drops it down her blouse.

     But BATMAN is likely to want that roll. So she straightens
     her skirt and scurries across the roof, away from the
     alley. She should have a minute or so before be gets there.

     It's a three-foot drop to the next roof over. VICKI
     clambers down and quickens her pace, tossing a nervous
     glance over her shoulder every couple of steps.

     Then, somehow -- and she'll be damned if she can figure out
     how -- she walks smack into THE BATMAN. And GASPS.

                              BATMAN
               ... Not even a 'thank you'?

                              VICKI
               Well -- I think you might consider
               thanking me. You were good as
               dead.

                              BATMAN
               That's because you lied about your
               weight.
                     (a long pause)
               Thank you.

     VICKI NODS and tries to walk past him. He grabs her arm.

                              BATMAN (cont.)
               I'll have to ask you for that film.

                              VICKI
               I just wanted to distract them. I
               wasn't trying to get a picture of
               you.

     BATMAN looks down at the camera hanging from her neck. The
     telephoto lens must jut out six inches. VICKI gulps.

                              BATMAN
               Please.

                              VICKI
               I won't let you have it.

     THE BATMAN is amused. He smiles menacingly.

                              VICKI (cont.)
               I know you can break my neck and
               take it. But the Joker's on that
               same roll. I --

                              BATMAN
               The Joker is a murderer. And you
               were as good as dead. So --

                              VICKI
               Look, I appreciate what you did for
               me. But this is my job. And I'm
               keeping those pictures.

                              BATMAN
               All right, here's a compromise. I'll
               develop the photos. You keep the
               Jokers and I'll keep the rest.

                              VICKI
               How do I know you won't keep them
               all?

                              BATMAN
               Because I'll take you with me.

     He reaches out, holds her gently by the shoulders. His
     voice is deep and soothing. True, VICKI is a little dizzy
     from all that's happened, but she's undeniably drawn to
     him.

     Still cautious, though. She reaches into her bag and hands
     over a roll of film. The original roll -- not the telephoto
     shots, which are still stashed in her blouse.

                              BATMAN (cont.)
               Thank you, Vicki.

                              VICKI
               ... Where are you going to take me?

     No reply. She looks up into his mirrored eyes. He pulls her
     closer to him. Brushes back her hair, runs one hand
     delicately along the line of her cheek...

     ... AND BREAKS A TINY CAPSULE under her nose. VICKI SLUMPS
     into BATMAN's arms.

                                                 CUT TO:

     EXT. ALLEYWAY - NIGHT

     Street level. BATMAN emerges carrying VICKI's inert form in
     his arms. He pauses and peers around the edge of a wall at
     the BATMOBILE two blocks down.

     The car is still there, the chrome-steel shields intact.
     But DOZENS OF COPS and CURIOSITY-SEEKERS are SWARMING ALL
     OVER the fearsome machine.

     BATMAN snorts in frustration. AN ENORMOUS THREE-TON
     CATERPILLAR WINCH rumbles up the street toward the
     Batmobile.

     He's about to get towed. BATMAN takes a RADIO TRANSMITTER
     from his utility belt and SPEAKS INTO IT.

                              BATMAN
               Shields open.

     EXT. STREET - ON BATMOBILE

     TWO COPS are crawling along the hood of the car. From
     within they hear the tinny computerized voice:

                              COMPUTER
               Shields open.

     The steel plates begin to retract.

                              BATMAN (V.O.)
                     (over radio)
               Ignition.

                              COMPUTER
               Ignition.

     The stunned COPS gaze into the Batmobile's cockpit.

                              COP
               There's somebody in there!

     They TUMBLE OFF THE HOOD as the turbine engines ROAR TO
     LIFE and THE BATMOBILE BEGINS TO MOVE.

     COPS AND ONLOOKERS quickly clear a path. They stand there
     stunned as the futuristic auto PICKS UP SPEED and advances
     toward the end of the block. The LEFT TURN SIGNAL flashes
     dutifully. And the BATMOBILE VANISHES AROUND THE CORNER.

     PANDEMONIUM BREAKS LOOSE as the COPS bolt for their cars.

     EXT. STREET - NIGHT

     SIRENS WAIL. PASSERSBY STARE SLACKJAWED at the driverless
     BATMOBILE as it tears down the street, passing, darting,
     dodging buses and CUTTING OFF TAXIS -- all with a squad of
     COP CARS in hot pursuit.

     EXT. ALLEYWAY - NIGHT

     BATMAN sees the BATMOBILE rounding the corner and
     approaching on the straightaway. He takes VICKI in his arms
     and STEPS DIRECTLY INTO THE PATH OF THE ONRUSHING
     HEADLIGHTS.

                              BATMAN
               STOP!

     BRAKES SQUEAL. The BATMOBILE stops one yard short of BATMAN
     and VICKI. A moment later BATMAN is AT THE WHEEL.

     SIRENS BUILD. LIGHTS FLASH. The COP CARS are now visible
     behind them. BATMAN floors the pedal; the Batmobile's
     powerful AFTERBURNERS kick in; and the hapless cops KILL
     THEIR SIRENS as BATMAN zooms off into the night at 140 mph.

                                                 DISSOLVE TO:

     EXT. BACK ROAD - NIGHT

     A deserted stretch of road, lined by ancient tall pines on
     either side. The BATMOBILE roars past.

     INT. BATMOBILE - NIGHT

     VICKI is gradually coming to on the passenger's side.

                              VICKI
               ... How long have I been out?

                              BATMAN
               Quite a while. I took the scenic
               route.

                              VICKI
                     (gazing around her)
               Well, I've certainly enjoyed it.
               What's that?

     He's just hit a BUTTON on the dashboard.

                              BATMAN
               Garage door.

     EXT. ROAD - THAT MOMENT - NIGHT

     At the side of the road, a FALLEN TREE, surrounded by
     underbrush, RISES HYDRAULICALLY INTO THE AIR -- revealing a
     SECRET ROAD invisible from the main thoroughfare.

     Doing sixty, the BATMOBILE makes a hairpin turn. Seconds
     later, the FALLEN TREE drops back magically into place.

     INT. BATMOBILE - A MOMENT LATER - NIGHT

     As they cruise down the hidden road, VICKI STUDIES BATMAN'S
     FACE. KNOX's words are very much on her mind.

                              VICKI
               I meant to ask you. Up on the roof
               -- how did you know my name?

     BATMAN SMILES in response. VICKI smiles with him.

                              VICKI (cont.)
               I'm serious. How did you know?

     No reply. VICKI frowns, looks through the windshield, and
     SEES -- much to her horror -- an enormous SHEER CLIFF WALL
     LOOMING DEAD AHEAD.

     Wide-eyed, she looks at BATMAN. Still smiling, he HITS THE
     GAS -- SPEEDING UP. She lets out a SCREAM.

     ANGLE ON CLIFF WALL

     One second to impact. Suddenly the cliff wall VANISHES
     ALTOGETHER -- revealing, in its place, the GAPING MOUTH OF
     AN UNDERGROUND CAVERN.

     The Batmobile zooms through. A moment later, the CLIFF WALL
     -- which is nothing more than a HOLOGRAPHIC PROJECTION --
     winks back into existence, showing no trace of the cavern.

     INT. BATCAVE - NIGHT

     We all know this place. Although we haven't had time to
     acquire the familiar mementos -- the dinosaur, the giant
     penny -- the BATCAVE is unmistakable. Vast banks of
     blinking computers. A state-of-the-art crime lab. A fully-
     equipped workshop for hammering out new toys. It's the
     biggest and best secret clubhouse a boy could wish for.

     BATMAN climbs out of the car. He removes his cape, strips
     off his bullet-riddled jersey and his body armor. There are
     TWO BIG BRUISES on the center of his chest.

     VICKI looks on as he goes to a rack along one wall and
     picks out a fresh tunic -- one of four. She wanders over to
     examine the row of bat-suits -- and the BODY ARMOR.

                              VICKI
               What is this stuff? Kevlar?

                              BATMAN
               Better. It's not on the market yet.

                              VICKI
               It doesn't protect your head,
               though.

                              BATMAN
               That's why I wear a target on my
               chest.

     THE BATMAN takes obvious pleasure in showing her his
     futuristic bachelor's pad. His tone is jokey, almost
     flirtatious. Behind the mask, he's a lot looser, more
     carefree, than some guys we could name...

     ... like Bruce Wayne.

     VICKI is, to put it mildly, awed. She wanders around gaping
     at millions of dollars' worth of equipment.

                              VICKI
               How'd you find this place?

                              BATMAN
               Stumbled across it when I was a boy.

     VICKI'S HEAD jerks up abruptly. In the dim recesses
     overhead, BATS ARE SCREAMING. She shivers.

                              BATMAN (cont.)
               They don't come down here. They're
               afraid of the lights.

                              VICKI
               I don't like bats. Not that kind.

                              BATMAN
               They used to terrify me. But I
               forced myself to keep coming back,
               and --
                     (smiling)
               -- I guess I became the thing I
               feared the most. I'll do your photos
               now.

     He goes to a HIGH-SPEED PHOTO PROCESSING MACHINE -- the
     kind they have at Fotomat, only better -- and loads the
     roll.

     VICKI wanders over to the edge of a DEEP BLACK PIT. She
     kicks a pebble over. Long seconds pass; no sound.

     She looks up. Suspended over the bottomless pit are a pair
     of GYMNAST'S RINGS. This guy is dedicated.

                              VICKI
               Who pays for all this?

                              BATMAN
               I have sponsors.

                              VICKI
               The computers?

                              BATMAN
               I'm running a check on the tainted
               products. There is a pattern.
               Beauty products. Personal hygiene.

                              VICKI
               No more makeup. -- Looks like we'll
               all be showing our true faces now.

     She looks straight at him. It's almost a direct request.
     But BATMAN is preoccupied with the matter at hand.

                              BATMAN
               I've tracked all the records. Every
               shipment, every warehouse, every
               loading dock. Nothing. No
               opportunities for tampering. Somehow
               the Joker is supplying tainted
               ingredients... at the source.

                              VICKI
               Wait. You can just tap into any
               corporate database you want?
               Anywhere?

                              BATMAN
               Oh, no. I let the FBI do that. Then
               I tap into the FBI. -- Your photos
               are ready.

     He holds up a hand to VICKI: stand back. Then he checks out
     the pictures -- SMILING as he shuffles through the prints.

                              VICKI
               You could've killed him, you know.
               You could have killed the Joker.

                              BATMAN
               I had to save you, Vicki.
                     (turning to face her)
               Here you go. I think I'll let you
               keep the whole set.

     She looks at the photos. Joker. Joker. Joker. And four
     shots of the BATMAN in action. He's without his mask, but
     there's no clean angle on his face.

     VICKI doesn't quite know why, but her head is reeling.

                              BATMAN (cont.)
               Care for an autograph?

     He takes one of the prints, scrawls on it, hands it to her
     with the inscription: "TO VICKI. LOVE, B."

     Now he turns to shut down the photo machine. VICKI is
     trembling. Her hand goes to her belt, finds the telephoto
     roll concealed in her blouse. She steps up silently behind
     him, reaches for his cowl. At the last second... she STOPS.

                              VICKI
               ... Bruce?

     HE FREEZES IN PLACE for an indecisive moment. Then:

                              BATMAN
               Are you talking to me?

     He turns in seeming incomprehension. And shows her a
     SMILE... the same crooked, curious, childlike smile she saw
     on BRUCE's face that morning when she caught him singing.

                              BATMAN (cont.)
               Maybe we've had enough for one
               night. I'll take you home.

     Almost in a trance now, she lets him lead her to the
     BATMOBILE. As she takes her seat he reaches into his
     utility belt for another KNOCKOUT CAPSULE.

                              BATMAN (cont.)
               Do you want to do it this time?

     VICKI doesn't move. She looks at the capsule in her hand as
     he walks over to the driver's side and gets in.

                              BATMAN (cont.)
               Don't be afraid. I'm here.

     She takes one last look at the familiar SMILE beneath the
     mask... then breaks the capsule and BREATHES DEEP.

     FLAME ERUPTS from the rear of the Batmobile as the after-
     burners kick in and BATMAN screeches off. A FIERY RED GLOW
     fills the screen, BURNING OUT THE IMAGE as we

                                                 DISSOLVE TO:

     EXT. GOTHAM STREET - 1963 - NIGHT (DREAM SEQUENCE)

     The red glow resolves itself into a DREAMLIKE STREET SCENE:
     liquid, weightless figures moving in a tinted, soundless
     cityscape as DISTANT, TINKLY CARNIVAL MUSIC plays
     underneath. We're outside a theatre watching first-nighters
     emerge from the opening of a hit musical.

     In the crowd we pick out THREE FIGURES: DR. THOMAS WAYNE,
     his wife MARTHA, and -- in THOMAS's arms -- their young son
     BRUCE. BRUCE hasn't made it through the show. He's asleep,
     head nestled peacefully against his father's shoulder.

     THOMAS rouses the boy gently, sets him down on the
     sidewalk. BRUCE rubs the sleep from his eyes as THOMAS puts
     an arm around his wife. Together they begin walking.

     IN A SINGLE CUT the crowd has DISAPPEARED, and the WAYNES
     are walking toward us up a deserted street. THOMAS and
     MARTHA are laughing, making jokes, reaching down to tousle
     BRUCE's hair. Their FACES, as they draw closer, are FULL OF
     JOY. And then, without warning --

     A HANDGUN enters frame.

     The WAYNES freeze in their tracks. THOMAS steps
     protectively in front of his wife, reaches for his wallet,
     begins unbuckling his watch. He won't put up a fight.

     MARTHA's hand goes involuntarily to the PEARL NECKLACE at
     her throat.

     The GUNMAN sees it, gestures for her to hand it over. But
     MARTHA is paralyzed, afraid to move.

     The GUNMAN steps past THOMAS, SNATCHES AT THE NECKLACE.

     The instant his wife is threatened, THOMAS ATTACKS. The
     pearl strand BREAKS in the GUNMAN'S HAND as he drops toward
     the sidewalk.

     A SILENT BURST OF FLAME erupts from the muzzle of the gun.

     THOMAS CRUMPLES. MARTHA emits a PIERCING SHRIEK -- a shriek
     we cannot hear --

     -- a shriek cut short by a second burst of flame.

     BRUCE stands paralyzed in shock. THE GUNMAN scoops a
     handful of pearls off the sidewalk, reaches for MARTHA's
     purse, and rises slowly -- his gun levelled directly at the
     boy.

     Almost catatonic, BRUCE stares down at the corpses of his
     parents. At their hands, somehow intertwined. At the tiny
     glinting pearls and the spreading pool of blood around
     them.

     He looks up with a gaze so bleak, so petrifying... that the
     GUNMAN turns and runs.

     AND WE CUT. To an exact reproduction of the Pulitzer Prize-
     winning photo... the cops bent over the bodies, the medics
     with their stretchers, the boy BRUCE, his arms wrapped
     tightly around the waist of OFFICER GORDON.

     There's only one difference. BRUCE's head is turned away
     from us. We can't see his face.

     And now a HAND enters the frame. Much like the GUNMAN's
     hand, but feminine, beckoning. BRUCE, hearing his name,
     LOOKS UP; then, agonized, ashamed, he BURIES HIS FACE in
     GORDON's side. GORDON gestures angrily at the intruder.

     But the hand keeps beckoning. And ultimately BRUCE turns.
     Showing us the tear-stained face from the famous photo. A
     face slack with horror. The horror of his parents' death...
     and more importantly, the horror that someone would dare to
     violate this most private and terrible of moments.

     At last we see what BRUCE sees: a WOMAN crouched on the
     sidewalk nearby. The WOMAN is holding a camera. The WOMAN
     is smiling prettily at BRUCE.

     The WOMAN is VICKI VALE.

     A FLASHBULB EXPLODES. FILLING. THE SCREEN with its blinding
     white light, SCORCHING OUT THE IMAGE as a HARSH RINGING
     SOUND cuts through the silence.

                                                 CUT TO:

     INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT

     VICKI AWAKENS. She sits up in bed, tremulous, distraught.
     The bedside phone is ringing. She reaches for it, but her
     hand freezes in midair. She knows who's calling.

     Three rings later, she manages to lift the receiver. To her
     amazement, she finds she cannot speak. Finally, she hears a
     VOICE at the other end of the line.

                              BRUCE (V.O.)
               Vicki... ?

     INT. BRUCE WAYNE'S STUDY - NIGHT

     BRUCE at a big mahogany desk in his somber, book-lined
     study. The room is dark but for a small table lamp.

                              BRUCE
               Vicki, I've been thinking about you.
                     (long pause)
               I know it's late. I'm sorry. I --
               Are you there?

     INTERCUT BRUCE AND VICKI

                              VICKI
               Yes, Bruce -- I'm here --

                              BRUCE
               I'm sorry about the way things went
               between us. I'd very much like to
               see you again.

                              VICKI
               Well, Bruce... I don't think... that
               would be possible.

                              BRUCE
               I wish you'd reconsider.
                     (groping)
               I didn't stand you up today. The
               museum was closed when I got there.

                              VICKI
               I, uh...

     ON VICKI

     Her voice trails off. She's profoundly shaken. She knows.

                              BRUCE (V.O.)
               Vicki? Vi --
               He's going after our front
               companies. Specifically Ace
               Chemical. Which would tie us
               in with Councilman Kane, Senator
               Miller... on up the line.
                     (pause)
               We have to clean out our files
               before the subpoena comes down.

                              LIEUTENANT
               How do we go? The usual fire?

                              GRISSOM
               I'm thinking break-in. Trash the
               office, remove the relevant
               documents...

                              JACK
               "Industrial espionage."

                              GRISSOM
               That's right. And Jack --
                     (pause)
               I'd like you to handle this
               operation personally.

     JACK has just turned up the third ace off the top of the
     deck. His hand freezes in midair.

# data[].attributes.headline
I like substitution because it's a good method that works well for me.

# data[].attributes.subject
I like substitution because it's a good method that works well for me.

# data[].attributes.body
I like Naruto :D

# data[].attributes.body
just wht??????

# data[].attributes.body
wnriugfknhjig

# data[].attributes.body
dieijfwekljwejfiwerjhgjiohwreig

# data[].attributes.body
k

# data[].attributes.body
* * * * * * * *
*    Paramount    *
*                                 *
*                                     *
*                                     *
*                                  *
*                            *
______________________
A Viacom Company

# data[].attributes.body
(cause I'm a weeb) >~<"

# data[].attributes.body
( ͡°( ͡° ͜ʖ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ʖ ͡°) ͡°)

( ͡°( ͡° ͜ʖ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ʖ ͡°) ͡°)

# data[].attributes.body
i agree with justin

# data[].attributes.headline
I like the elimination method and the substitution method because it simple. It help me understand the problem better

# data[].attributes.subject
I like the elimination method and the substitution method because it simple. It help me understand the problem better

# data[].attributes.body
We ended up eating it b

# data[].attributes.body
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

# data[].attributes.body
jklj

# data[].attributes.body
is cool

# data[].attributes.body
Have Fun

# data[].attributes.body
I like substitution because it's easier than the rest of the methods and I learn things more better using it.

BTW Pokemon is awesome (>///<")

# data[].attributes.body
I liked the graphing method because I could see my thinking infront of me

# data[].attributes.body
i like the graphing method because it is all laid out, so it was easy to find the coordinates.

# data[].attributes.body
i liked the substitution method because it is the most efficient
method for me :3

# data[].attributes.body
I thought its was a good idea but you should let a group work on one each day

# data[].attributes.body
I like graphing systems for finding a solution because it gives me a visual of the intersection and I can determine the coordinates just by looking.