by

Davis Schow

based on a screenplay by
John Shirley

Based on the comic book
created, drawn, and written by
James O'Barr

September 14, 1992

FADE IN:

EXT. CEMETERY - LATE AFTERNOON

BOOM! A crack of lightning illuminates the silhouette of a
perched crow large in the f.g.

TIGHT ANGLE - FRESH GRAVE

As a spade smooths the walls of a new double-decker plot.

DIMITRI (O.S.)
We're losing the light; let's pack
it in.

ANGLE - DIMITRI AND ALEXI

TWO GRAVEDIGGERS. Scoop digger parked f.g. towering gothic-
style church b.g. Rolls of astro turf. They look up toward
the sky.

ALEXI
Snow, maybe?

DIMITRI
What, you gonna ski on this?

He indicates the mound of fresh dirt. Spits into the grave.

DIMITRI (CONT'D)
Come on, let's bag this. It's
beer time.

Alexi nods and unfurls the tarp over the dirt.

LOW ANGLE TRACKING SHOT - FLOWERS ON GRAVES

As we MOVE alongside a pair of canvas-sided combat boots, as the
wearer collects the most lively flowers from each grave in
sequence.

TIGHT ANGLE - THE CROW

Cemetery DEFOCUSED b.g. Large, glossy-black, the bird follows
the arc of movement in the previous shot. Ruffles its feathers
as it begins to sprinkle rain.

ANGLE - ELLY - RESUMING HER MOTION

A dirty-blondish tenement KID of eleven, clad in a blend of cast-
offs and hand-me-downs; her version of street punk chic. She
totes a skateboard under one arm (itself a berserk Jackson
Pollock chaos of band stickers, silver marker and graffiti, with
day-glo wheels), and transfers her impromptu bouquet so she may
unzip a flap and hike up a ragged hood against the rain. She
stops to watch the grave diggers pack up and EXIT b.g.

ELLY
Guess the picnic got rained out.

She looks down o.s. at --

ANGLE - SHELLY WEBSTER'S GRAVE

as Elly places the gathered flowers down. Almost reverent.

RESUME CROW ANGLE - ELLY B.G.

as Elly takes a single white rose and places it atop the grave
near Shelly Webster's.

ANGLE ON GRAVE - AS ELLY LEAVES

TILT UP from rose to the name: ERIC DRAVEN. Rain spatters the
granite, darkening it.

EXTREME CLOSE-UP - CROW's EYE

It blinks in its alien way.

WITH THE CROW

as it takes wing from it's unseen perch. Lands stop Eric's
headstone. It pecks tentatively at the top of the monument.

ANGLE - ELLY NEAR ERIC'S GRAVE

She hasn't gotten too far before she notices the bird.

ELLY
Oh, scary.

The bird blinks at her from the headstone.
ELLY
What are you, like, the night
watchman?

Another blink from El Birdo.

CAMERA WITH ELLY - BOOMING BACK HIGH

as she exits the iron gates of the cemetery without looking
back. Brutal building facades, like dead eyes, and bad
alleyways, like hungry mouths, are gradually revealed as we
continue PULLING BACK to unveil that the cemetery is smack in
the middle of the city.

EXT. MAXI-DOGS - TWILIGHT - RAIN CONTINUES

CLOSE-UP of a foot-long hot dog being drowned in mustard.

MICKEY (O.S.)
What this place needs is a good
natural catastrophe. Earthquake,
tornado...

ANGLE - ALBRECHT AND MICKEY

ALBRECHT is a black beat cop, 35, in a rain slicker.

MICKEY is the grease-aproned entrepreneur of MAXI DOGS, a steamy
open-front fast foodery.

ALBRECHT
You gotta put the mustard
underneath first.

MICKEY
Maybe a flood, like in the Bible.

ALBRECHT
Here, let me do it.

He grabs the dog from Mickey. Mickey puffs his cigar while he
cooks. Albrecht methodically spreads a napkin and performs
surgery on the hot dog, coating the bun with mustard, rolling
the dog in the bun. Flashes Mickey a "gimme" look.

ALBRECHT
Come on... onion. Don't cheap
out on me. Lotta onions.

MOVING ANGLE - AS ELLY SKATEBOARDS TOWARDS MAXI DOGS

MICKEY
Heyyy -- it's the Elly monster.

ALBRECHT
How do you ride that thing on a
wet street?

ELLY
Talent. Hi.

ALBRECHT
Care for a hot dog?

ELLY
You buying?

ALBRECHT
I'm buying.

Elly grabs the stool next to Albrecht. They`ve done this routine before.

ELLY
No onions though, okay?

ALBRECHT
(horror)
No onions?

ELLY
They make you fart.

Mickey laughs. Spots Elly a Coke.

MICKEY
What's goin' on, Elly?

ELLY
I went to see a friend of mine.

MICKEY
Well, how's your friend?

ELLY
She's still dead.

Albrecht and Mickey exchange a look re: Elly's matter-of-
factness.

EXT. CEMETERY - NIGHT (RAIN)

Thunder KABOOMS o.s. The crow pecks the top of the stone again
and a chip of granite flies off, bang!

EXTREME CLOSE - THE HEADSTONE

as the crow pecks again and draws blood from the rock.

CLOSE-UP - THE CROW

A dot of blood on its ebony beak.

LOW ANGLE - HEADSTONE

A thin, watery trickle of blood wanders from the top of the
stone towards the earth. Rain does not interfere. Lightning
plays in the rolling cloud cover, b.g.

RESUME THE CROW

as it takes off from the gravestone, into the rain.

CLOSE-UP - THE BLOOD

It slowly fills the name Eric Draven into the rock.

CLOSE-UP - FOOT TAPPER

A LOW ANGLE like the SHOT introducing Elly's boot. This time
we see cowboy boots, leather chaps. The foot taps. Waiting.

MEDIUM ANGLE - THE FOOT TAPPER

as lightning strikes. Just enough for us to see a figure in a
long duster and a cowboy hat.

RESUME ERIC'S HEADSTONE

DRAVEN fills with blood. Blood continues groundward.

NEW ANGLE - THE FOOT TAPPER

Turning to meet FRAME as the crow alights on his outstretched
arm. This is the SKULL COWBOY. We glimpse the deathshead,
beneath the brim of the cowboy hat.

RESUME ERIC'S GRAVE

as blood trickles into the turf at the base of the grave.

TIGHT ANGLE - THE CROW

shaking off rain. Watching intently.

CLOSE-UP - THE SKULL COWBOY'S FREE HAND

Black gloved. It walks a flat silver throwing knife across it's
knuckles, like a quarter somersaulting.

RESUME ERIC'S GRAVE

The turf stirs beneath the white rose. Magically, a slim white
parts the earth to grasp the rose.

SKULL COWBOY POV - ERIC's GRAVE

as the figure of Eric Draven stands up from behind his own
headstone.

LOW ANGLE (FROM GRAVE) - ERIC

Pale. Clad in cerements: cheap black burial suit, slit open in
back. WHite shirt. A nothing tie. No shoes. Rain sluices mud
from his upturned face. He looks to the sky. Lightning.

ANOTHER ANGLE - FOLLOW ERIC

as he weaves to lean against a nearby tree. Looks o.s.

ERIC's POV - THE SKULL COWBOY

water-blurred, through the rain, standing with the crow perched
on his arm like a hunting falcon. He releases it and it flies
to the tree.

ANGLE - ERIC

Watching this. Wipes mud from his eyes, tries to clear vision.
The crow lights in the tree and they meet eye-to-eye. Eric
looks back o.s. and we RACK to include the Skull Cowboy.

ERIC
What the hell are you?

SKULL COWBOY
Interested? Follow the crow.

NB. The Skull Cowboy speaks in nicely distorted, buzzlike
charnal house whisper. Unsettling and hackle-raising.

Eric turns back to the bird, which takes wing in the rain, His
eyes follow it. He looks back, disoriented, doubtful, but the
Skull Cowboy is gone.

LOW DEEP ANGLE - THE CROW

Taking wing in the rain, showing the way.

ANOTHER ANGLE - ERIC

alone in the cemetery. After a moments hesitation, he lurches
off, following the crow.

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. ARCADE GAMES SUPPLY OFFICE - NIGHT - TO ESTABLISH:

A candy-flaked muscle T-bird is parked at the curb.

INT. ARCADE GAMES SUPPLY OFFICE - NIGHT

A MOVING SHOT during o.s. lines. Past dead video and pinball
devices. Pasta desk with an open briefcase, coffee cup,
ashtray -- someone was just there. Then past a WOMAN, trussed
with duct tape to her office chair, gagged, hot fear in her
darting eyes.

COMPLETE CAMERA MOVE to include SKANK, a blade-thin speed freak
with pattern baldness, always loud, jittery, a manic dust puppy.
And T-BIRD, an arrogant Arayan, brush-cut iron pumper, who is
prepping an incendiary. He exhibits a small squeeze bottle of
arson cocktail to Skank.

T-BIRD
Uncle T-Bird's 100-proof
accelerator. I squirt you with
this, you could jump in the
Detroit river and burn all the way
to the bottom.

INSERT A CLOSE-UP of the bomb in his hands as he works. Silver
canisters, an LED timer, wires.

T-BIRD (CONT'D)
You know, Lake Erie actually
caught on fire once, from all the
crap in it. Wish I coulda seen
that.

He CLICKS a switch. PEEP. LED countdown blurs.

T-BIRD (CONT'D)
We're ready to rock.

Skank notices the captive woman's handbag on the floor. Picks
it up. Looks through it for valuables.

SKANK
What about working girl?

INTERCUT the woman's increasingly horrified reactions.

T-BIRD
What about her?

SKANK
I say we leave her here to fry,
man.

T-Bird looks casually at the woman. Smiles hideously.

T-BIRD
No. Let's take her with us.

ANGLE - THE WOMAN

Her eyes bug in a terrified NO!

EXT. STREET - MOVING - NIGHT

As the T-Bird fishtails wildly around the corner and eats street.

INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELLING - NIGHT

TB drives. One eye on his digital watch (doing an equally
fast countdown). Skank wrestles their captive, the woman, in
the back seat.

TB
(pissed off)
Skank, shut her the fuck up!

SKank punches her and she sags. Then he looks forward.

SKANK
Whoaaa -- T-Bird, red light, red
light!

EXT. STREET CORNER NEAR MAXI-DOGS - NIGHT

As the T-Bird slews wide, cutting sidewalk, scattering
nightwalkers, immediately attracting everybody's attention.

ANGLE - ALBRECHT - AT MAXI-DOGS

Reacting, with a mouthful.

ALBRECHT
Goddammit.

Mickey grabs the counter phone instantly.

MICKEY
Call it in?

Albrecht is off and running for the corner already.

ALBRECHT
Yeah, do it!
(to Elly)
Stay right there!

HOLD ON MICKEY. He points at Albrecht's hot dog. Yecch.

MICKEY
(yelling after)
You want I should save this for
you?

EXT. MOUTH OF ALLEY ACROSS FROM CEMETERY - NIGHT

The car slides to a nose-down panic stop.

SKANK (O.S.)
Dump her, man, dump her!

The woman comes tumbling from the car, which blasts off with a
war hoop from the guys inside.

ANGLE - CORNER - ON ALBRECHT

Gun out, hauling ass on wet pavement. Aims at the departing
car. Gives it up. Still too far away. Pedestrians in the way.

ANGLE - THE WOMAN

hurting, cut, bleeding, tottering toward the dumpster. Duct tape
stuck to her face but cut away around her mouth. With her as
she falls into the alley darkness... straight into the arms of

CLOSE TWO-SHOT - ERIC AND THE WOMAN

Their eyes lock. Eric stiffens with his first FLASH.

NB: Eric's flashes of past memory are conditioned by the nature
of things with which he makes physical contact. Hints and
fragments in fierce, super-saturated COLOR. Puzzle pieces he
must assemble. Each flash keynoted by a BLOWBACK NOISE and
accompanied by a degree of pain. It hurts to remember.

FLASH: INT. T-BIRD - WOMAN'S STRUGGLE

The faces of Skank and T-Bird are murky, ephemeral, their voices
hideous, distorted echoes. A knife snaps open. We see the
blade. Blood. Skank hits her, pow! and --

FLASH ENDS.

ANOTHER ANGLE - ERIC AND WOMAN

An airborne crow POV spiralling up and away from them.

MATCH WITH:

ANGLE - THE CROW

perched on a fire escape, high above, watching and waiting.

ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC AND WOMAN

She fades. He lets her drop away, horrified. And staggers back
into the cover of the alley. Her blood is on his hands.

ANGLE - ALBRECHT RUNNING

Skidding in, spotting the woman. Kneeling to her.

ALBRECHT
Here now! You're gonna be okay!
Can you understand me? I'm a
police officer...

The woman is no longer in pain. Deathly calm now.

WOMAN
He touched me and it stopped. The
pain.

ALBRECHT
What did you say?

WOMAN
I saw a ghost...

Her eyes roll back and she dies in Albrecht's arms.

ALBRECHT
Oh no... don't go, darlin', you
stay with me, now... shit!

HIGH ANGLE CROW POV - THE ALLEY

BOOMING BACK from Albrecht, the woman, onlookers, as police
units screech up to assist.

EXT. ALLEY BEHIND ARCADES GAMES SUPPLY HOUSE - ON ERIC - NIGHT

Eric in lurching flight, panting. Stops and steadies against
the wall across from the backside of Arcade Games.

ANGLE - THE CROW (FLYING)

Circling, then lighting on the fire escape above Eric.

BACK WINDOWS OF ARCADE GAMES - ("CROWVISION")

"CROWVISION" is what the crow "gives" Eric to see. Visually
distinct and immediately identifiable.

ERIC'S POV - BACK WINDOWS OF ARCADE GAMES

Which he's already seen through the crow's eyes.

ANGLE - ERIC

looking up at the crow. Disoriented. Doesn't understand.
Suddenly he cottons, and covers his eyes just in time to shield
from:

ANGLE - BACK OF ARCADE GAMES

The rear windows EXPLODING outward in a spray of fire and
debris.

ANGLE - WITH ERIC

he reels back, crashes into a dumpster. Falls.

ANGLE - THE CROW

landing on the dumpsters edge near a pair of discarded combat
boots in the trash. Flames.

LOW ANGLE - ERIC

The blood from his hands mars his burial shirt. He tears the
shirt away, leaving his tie absurdly intact. Wipes his face
with his shirt. Discards it. Stops, held by his discovery --

PUSH IN ON ERIC

as his fingers explore the five puckered bullet punctures in his
chest. Almost a circle. Comically, he feels his back foe exit
wounds. Then hauls himself upright, coming level with the crow.
His glance at the bird is almost accusatory.

ANGLE - THe CROW

Inscrutable. We should get the idea that some silent
communication is taking place.

ANGLE - ERIC'S FEET

bare, muddied, frozen. TILT to Eric. His gaze moves from the
crow to the boots in the trash. He grabs them, pushes them onto
his bare feet. His eyes catch the firelight. Distant o.s.
SIRENS

ERIC
Fire. In the rain.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. CLUB TRASH - NIGHT

We are now within the neon techno-depths of Club Trash. The BG
music is hard, savage, primal: a doom-laden Radio Werewolf band
rules. Cabaret Blitzkrieg, packed with Death-to-Yup
trendazoids. We'll see more of this circus later. Right now
the BG SOUND is our biggest clue to the flavor of this
establishment since we are --

TIGHT CLOSE-UP A FRAMED 8X10

Thinly filmed in dust, mounted among dozens of other band shots.
Visible among the posed members of a group called Diabolique is
Eric, wielding guitar on the club stage. ND BLUR as people
CROSS FRAME.

GRANGE, 45-50, powerful, a seasoned assassin, cruel but loyal.
His facade remains stony as he leads three other men briskly
down the corridor.: NGO NWA, 50ish, clad Chinese gangster style
- white topcoat, white scarf, tinted shades - and two body guards
supplying a power perimeter around him,lean, dark-haired Asian
killers who would gladly die for Ngo Nwa, which they will in
just a minute.

They have just passed the Diabolique 8X10. Ngo Nwa's gloved
fingers, in passing, leave little skid tracks in the dust that
clear the eyes of Eric in the photo.

As the foursome reaches the DOOR, Grange turns doubtfully --
suspiciously -- to Nwa.

NGO NWA
He will see me... unannounced.

ANOTHER ANGLE - THE DOOR

As Grange keys in the enter code the door hisses open. Without
a word, Nwa passes inside and the door is pulled shut in
Grange's face by the Bodyguards, who post themselves to either
side.

INT. LAO'S NIGHTCLUB OFFICE - NIGHT

The door CLOSES and the BG NOISE is GONE. Through a large window
(mirrored on the club side) all sorts of activity is visible
through automatic mini-blinds. A fly-vision bank of 12 TV
monitors is hot with surveillance.

LAO, a painfully clean-cut, Armani-clad Asian, impeccable,
almost dashing, but the dynamic here is crystal clear: Nwa is
the King: Lao, the dark prince in this hierarchy.

At the desk, Lao is startled from his contemplation of a tiny,
perfect rat skeleton by Ngo Nwa's unheralded entry. The desktop
is bare except for and Arcane Vietnamese fighting knife, half a
meter long with an ideogrammed blade, dramatically positioned
beneath an Artemide lamp. Lao rises and feigns servility.

NB: The following exchange will play FAST, and entirely in
VIETNAMESE.

LAO
(formal greeting)

NWA
(dismissiveness, contempt, then
chastizing anger as:)

Nwa INDICATES the blade with some ridicule.

LAO
(phony assuagement)

NWA
(knows it's bullshit)

Lao turns, staring out the blinds, fighting for control. Deep
breath. He turns back to his "master." Nwa gestures broadly at
the oppulent office, indicating that Lao should be grateful, but
is somehow errant

NWA
(respect is required)

LAO
(begrudging agreement)

Lao sees the blade. An idea. He lifts it reverently, bears it
the Nwa hilt-first in both hands, as if bestowing a thing of
immeasurable worth.

NGO NWA
(why give me this?)

Nonetheless, Nwa accepts the blade. It gleams. Hypnotic. Even
Nwa has to admire it. Turns it so the blade is pointed at his
sternum. His attitude indicates Lao is too far away to do
anything untoward.

LAO
(sinister punchline)

Lao spins through the air and HEEL-KICKS the blade THROUGH Nwa's
chest, pinning him to the door. It's over so fast the gasp of
astonishment never escapes Nwa. Lao is much more than merely
treacherous, he is extremely capable.

LAO
(in perfect English)
When I spoke of an offering, I
didn't mean an offering to you.

INT. CORRIDOR - NIGHT (CONTINUOUS)

Grange, standing out of arm's reach in the corridor, kills both
Bodyguards with a double headshot as they turn in greeting as the
door OPENS.

ANOTHER ANGLE - CORRIDOR - LAO, GRANGE, AND CORPSES

Lao exchanges a look with his right arm; Grange nods
affirmatively.

GRANGE
You gonna smoke his bones now, or
however it is you do it?

Lao smiles indulgently. He wipes the blood from the blade on
the jacket of his ex-lord. Lao now bows to no one.

EXT. FIRE ESCAPE - ANOTHER ALLEY - NIGHT

Eric, wearing the combat boots, climbs as the crow leads him.
Up. He jams his hand on a rusty wedge of metal. Ouch.

CLOSE-UP - ERIC'S PALM

Blood flows from the gash. He vises his fist shut.

ANGLE - ERIC ON FIRE ESCAPE

Eye-to-eye with the crow. Opens his hand.

CLOSE-UP - ERIC'S PALM

The blood flows back into the wound, which closes itself,
leaving another scar.

ANGLE - ERIC

Vising the rail. Speaks to the night. Almost a mantra.

ERIC
"My kitten walks on velvet feet,
and makes no sound at all. And in
the doorway nightly sits to watch
the darkness fall. I think
he loves the lady night..."
(to crow)
Am I alive? Am I dead? Something
else? Something in between?

CLOSE-UP - THE CROW

Inscrutable. No answer here.

RESUME ERIC

Almost bemused. Steadier. A hint of friendliness.

ERIC
Thanks for sharing that.

ETC. GIDEON`S PAWN SHOP - NIGHT

As the T-Bird grumbles tp park curbside. Menacing.

INT. GIDEON'S PAWN SHOP - NIGHT

A junkyard of loot and dusty discards. Junkie thievings and
other people's stereos. Behind a wire-meshed security counter
GIDEON reads a racing form, chain-smoking throughout the scene. He
is pear-shaped, stubbled, unkempt. Food on his shirt. JINGLE
of doorbells. Gideon lowers his paper to reveal Skank and
T-Bird on approach.

GIDEON
Ahhh, jesus, the creatures of the
night, here they come. Tweedledum
and Tweedledummer.

Skank riles

SKANK
Hey, blow me, fat boy!

Just as quick, Gideon cocks and levels a Magnum at Skank.

GIDEON
Blow yourself, bigmouth.

T-BIRD
(interposing)
Whoa, hey, whoa.
(hands up)
Business.

He lifts a small carton onto the counter.

GIDEON
Whatcha got?

NEW ANGLE - COUNTER

Transaction time. T-Bird passes items through the screen slot
and Gideon gives each one cursory, doubtful inspection.

T-BIRD
Coupla more rings... 24k.

GIDEON
18k. Crap.

T-BIRD
...necklace... pearls...

GIDEON
Nineteen bucks at Sears. Fake,

T-BIRD
Leather purse...

He hands though the bag rested from the woman.

GIDEON
What's this -- a little, ah,
bloodstain, right?
(doesn't matter)
Fifty bucks for the box, and I'm
doin' you a --

T-BIRD
Yeah, I know, fatso. Do us all a
favor. Make Top Dollar smile.

SKANK
You wouldn't want Top Dollar not
to smile.

Mention of Top Dollar clams Gideon efficiently up. He hands
over the cash to T-Bird with a grimace.

EXT. ROOFTOP - ON ERIC - NIGHT

Eric stares upward at the crow as it drops like a bomber from
the night sky, flying past him, skimming the roof, leading him
on. Eric exhales, shrugs, feeling mocked by the bird.

ERIC
All right.

And he takes off on a run. Only to stumble and fall. But the
falls turns into a TUMBLING ROLL that lands Eric back on his feet
still moving. He looks back as if to ask: "Did I do that?" and
runs out of the frame.

ANOTHER ANGLE - PICKING UP ERIC ON THE RUN.

as he squints towards the crow and does his best to keep up.
TRACK WITH HIM to the edge of the roof, heavily misted in rain.

He jumps a negligible gap to the next lower roof. The next
roof-top is a one-story jump down. Eric clears the jump with a
WOOF of air. Keeping his eyes on the flying crow; gaining
strength. His next leap is more like a broad-jump. Athletic.

FAST MOVING ANGLE - THE CROW

keeping airborne, keeping ahead.

MOVING ANGLE - ERIC

Eyes confidently on the sky as he arches out into space...

UP ANGLE FROM STREET - BUILDINGS

As Eric is seen to jump across the gap at least three stories up
where there is no connecting building.

CLOSE ANGLE - TARGET BUILDING LEDGE

as Eric smashes into it, just missing, hinging at the waist,
grabbing for purchase, suddenly panicked, gravity pulling him
downward.

ANGLE - AT ERIC FROM PHONE CABLE BRACKET

Eric falls but manages to grab the bracket one-handed. He hangs
for another deadly moment, then slowly, to his own astonishment,
executes a one-handed pull-up that will save his ass.
ERIC
Gotcha.

He completes the pull-up, bringing his chin level with the
ledge. As he reaches for it with his other hand the bracket
rips from the wall and Eric plummets, with a howl of defeat.

UP ANGLE FROM STREET - ERIC'S DOWNFALL

It's a looooooong way down.

ANGLE - ALLEYWAY

as Eric lands and splits a trash can in two. A beat as we wonder
if any bones are left unpulped. PUSH IN as Eric rolls from
facedown to his back.

TIGHT SHOT - ERIC'S FACE

as he completes the roll, gasping, amazed he's still in one
piece.

ANGLE - TRASHCAN - ON THE CROW

It flies easily down to inspect Eric as he slowly sits up,
examining his hands. Frustrated and pissed off.

ERIC
Thanks.

CLOSE-UP - THE CROW

Not "your welcome", but other-worldly patience. It waits.

RESUME ERIC

ERIC (CONT'D)
Where're we going next -- the
sewer?

EXT. ROOFTOP - NIGHT

Still, dark silence until Eric lands from ABOVE FRAME, feline.
The crow lands simultaneously b.g., perched near a roof access
door with a shaded, dim-yellow bulb.

CLOSE-UP - THE CROW

It just blinks at him.

INT. ABANDONED STAIRWELL - NIGHT

as Eric yanks open the rusty rooftop door from the outside and
sweeps down the steps in a swirl of night mist

ANGLE - FOOT OF STAIRS

Trash and detritus all around, clogging the arteries of the
building, which is old, unoccupied, forsaken. The crow lights
on a scarred banister knob. Eric's footsteps come down into frame.

ANGLE ON LOFT DOOR - INCLUDE ERIC

A year ago this door was sealed with police barricade tape...
which now sags, faded.

A sticker across the jam notifies potential trespassers that
this is -- was -- a crime scene. Eric slows, stops, his hand
on the banister.

ANGLE - THE CROW

as is wafts ahead of Eric, arriving at the door first.

ANGLE ON ERIC, THE DOOR, THE CROW

Eric has had enough.

ERIC
Are we finished yet?

CLOSE-UP - ERIC'S HAND ON BANISTER

sliding along, as he speaks, until it hits a cigarette burn.

PUSH IN ON ERIC - TIGHT

stiffening as he suffers his second --

FLASH: IMAGES and DIALOG are not linked. A rapidfire MONTAGE set
in the loft, a year earlier (it is decorated for Halloween).
The broken door. The stairwell is filled with cops and cop
noise; lab guys bustle. Albrecht is there, making notes as a
DETECTIVE steps over to him.

ALBRECHT
Victim's name is Shelly Webster.
The guy who got tossed is, uh ...--
(checks his notebook)

Albrecht grinds out his smoke on the banister.

FLASH ENDS.

RESUME ERIC ON THE STAIRS.

He sits down hard, hurting from the flash. His eyes seek the
crow. He completes Albrecht's line:

ERIC
"Draven, Eric."

EXT. THE PIT - NIGHT

LOW DOLLY of Elly's little combat boots moving toward the
entryway of the pit. MUSIC gradually UP LOUDER O.s. as she
nears.

ANGLE - ELLY IN DOORWAY

Luridly-lit. A grown-up's place. A burly BOUNCER appraises
her, his tone jokey. He knows Elly.

BOUNCER
Hey! You got any ID?

ELLY
Very funny. Ha. Ha. Oh my,
sides.

The Bouncer jerks a thumb. Go on in.

INT. THE PIT - NIGHT

A grungy sawdust-floored shot-and-beer joint packed tight
with urban BURNOUTS rushing to drink their lives away. Hammering
MUSIC and rude whorehouse lighting. Each predator straining to
be badder than the next.

TRACK THROUGH this maze at Elly's eye level until we reach
DARLA, waitressing her heart out, the drug mileage on her
obvious.

ELLY
Mom --?

DARLA
I told you you're not supposed
to come in here.

ELLY
(a quick lie)
I lost my key.

Disgustedly -- goddamn kids -- Darla fishes up a key and slaps
it into Elly's hand.

FUNBOY (O.S.)
Hey, Darla -- before we die of old
age, how about it --?

DARLA
(to Elly)
Out. Now. I gotta work.

RACK PAST Darla and MOVE IN CLOSE on a corner table -- where sit
Funboy, Skank, T-Bird and a black, vested muscle gypsy, TIN-TIN.

INT. LOFT - NIGHT

As Eric shoves the door open from the outside. The lock, popped
from the frame, spins on the wooden floor. The barrier tape
whisps and dust roils. Dark, chilly, damp. A rat's nest of
disuse.

PULL BACK THROUGH THE BROKEN PICTURE WINDOW

as Eric enters. Glass blown out. Shards poking. Jagged.

NEW ANGLE - AS ERIC WALKS IN

He scans the loft. Sees reflecting golden eyes near the floor.

ERIC'S POV - FLOOR NEAR WINDOW

A white, long-haired cat walks into a pool of night light.

ANGLE - ERIC AND THE CAT

He kneels. Extends his hand. The cat nears; likes Eric.

CLOSE-UP - ERIC'S HAND.

as the cat makes contact. Sudden white jolt - a FLASH.

FLASH: we HEAR Eric strumming his Strat o.s. We see what he
saw: Shelly, holding the cat.

FLASH ENDS.

UP ANGLE - ERIC

Wincing. Recovering from the flash. He purposefully gathers
the cat into his arms and braces for more, harder, stronger...

FLASH: A MAN and a WOMAN make love on a big bed amidst a hundred
points of candlelight. Shelly and Eric, once upon a time.

FLASH ENDS.

REVERSE ANGLE FROM BEDROOM DOOR - ON ERIC

as the cat, dropped, hits the floor and scrambles out of the way.

CLOSE-UP - ERIC

vising his head, teary-eyed, his nose bleeding.

ERIC
No! Don't look! No! No!

He whirls unexpectedly and punches his fist completely through
the masonry wall.
FLASH: Eric and Shelly in a mock waltz. He spins her and they
collapse on the bed.

FLASH ENDS.

ANGLE - ERIC

slowly pulling his arm out of the wall.

ERIC
(whispering)
Stop it.

His eyes roll up and he slumps the length of the door frame like
a drowning man.

ANGLE - GABRIEL

watching Eric. He hits with an o.s. THUD.

INT. THE PIT - ON FUNBOY'S TABLE - NIGHT

As a gloved hand sets up four bullets next to four shots.

FUNBOY (O.S.)
Let's have some fun.

Funboy pops the bullet, like a contact capsule and washes it down.
T-Bird turns to Tin-Tin, the new guy.

T-BIRD
You first.

TIN-TIN
You're outta your fuckin' mind.

Into it, almost jazzed, Tin-Tin downs his bullet and shot, and
T-Bird does likewise. Points to Skank.

T-BIRD
No. I'm not the lunatic. He is.

Skank riles, pulls a huge Auto Mag and sticks it in T-Bird's
face, cocking.

SKANK
Fuck you, T-Bird.

Just as lightning fast, T-Bird has his own gun out and jammed
right under Skank's jawbone. He makes a kissy face.

T-BIRD
I love you too, you madman.

They all crack up laughing like ax murderers. Skank drinks,
Tin-Tin spot checks the satchell from Top Dollar's. Darla
delivers more shots and funboy feels her ass.

FUNBOY
Hey, pussycat.

INT. LOFT - DOWN ANGLE (CROW POV) - ERIC ON FLOOR

He's awake. Pushes himself up.

REVERSE ANGLE - THE CROW

Is perched in a dead light fixture, monitoring Eric.

ANGLE - ERIC ON FLOOR

He's awake. Pushes himself up. Realizes he is in the center of a
faint chalk outline on the hardwood floor. He reaches to touch
the dark stain of old blood.

FLASH: Shelly spills into frame, mouth bloodied. T-Bird
instantly on top of her, rough.

FLASH ENDS.

ANGLE - WITH ERIC

as he abandons the outline and staggers to the window... where
he cuts open his hand on jags of glass.

FLASH: Eric held firm in the grasp of T-Bird and Funboy, one
arm each. Five bloody bullet holes in Eric's chest.

The thugs 1-2-3 and hurl Eric backwards through the window,
which shatters.

FLASH ENDS.

ANGLE - ERIC AT THE WINDOW

Reeling backward, same trajectory as in the Flash, but toward
the floor, in SLO-MO. Overloaded. Blacking out.

AS ERIC FALLS - INTERCUT MONTAGE

A jumble of good/bad images from the loft: Tin-Tin embedding a
page of paper in the loft wall with a throwing knife...
Shelly's face as she lights a candle... a POPPING champagne
cork... the echoing CANNONADE of the shots that killed Eric...
Skank backhanding Shelly... Shelly blowing bubbles from a
clawfoot tub full of suds... Eric catching Funboy's first slug
high in the chest... NEW ANGLE of the glass in the window
blowing out as T-Bird and Funboy through Eric through...

ANGLE - ERIC'S REAL TIME FALL

He plummets to BLACK OUT FRAME. THUMP. Out cold.

INT. PIT - RESUMING FUNBOY'S TABLE - NIGHT

Funboy contemplates his drink as the previous scene reverbs.

FUNBOY
More fun than a torture chamber.

Tin-Tin's pocket pager goes BEEP and startles them all. Skank
nearly shoots it, jumpy. Tin-Tin pulls back on a black leather
trenchcoat after clicking off the pager.

TIN-TIN
I hate this goddamn thing...

ANGLE - DARLA watching them from a distance as Tin exits.

INT. LOFT - FLOOR LEVEL - NIGHT

An enormous cockroach trundles past, large in FRAME. RACK to
show Eric lying on floor b.g. as his eyes pop open. A flurry of
dark motion as the crow flies past frame.

ANGLE -- THE CROW -- Having snatched the bug in it's beak. Eats
it.

ANGLE - ERIC

rising from the floor. Careful. Stealthy. Watches his fireplace.

ERIC
We have company.

ANGLE ON FIREPLACE

Huge. Marble. COld. Eric's paper mache masks of Comedy and
Tragedy still hang there. The Skull Cowboy steps out of the
dark and into the vague blue light. Shadowy as ever.

SKULL COWBOY
Having fun yet? No?
(beat)
I'll give you a hint. Remember
whatshername?

ERIC
Shelly?

SKULL COWBOY
Miss her?

ERIC
Yes.

SKULL COWBOY
Kill the men who killed you both,
and the Day of the Dead will be
your reunion.

The Skull Cowboy prestidigitates a flat throwing knife(like Tin-
Tin's). Eric's gaze follow it closely.

SKULL COWBOY (CONT'D)
You must use your eyes.

He points to the crow.

ANGLE - THE COMING KNIFE - ("CROWVISION")

Weirdly distorted, a shared vision between Eric and the crow.

TIGHT ON ERIC

As he DUCKS out of the path of the knife he sees through the
bird's eyes. He rolls.

ON THE CROW

It hops out of the way as the knife embeds in the wall. Eric's
ROLL finishes him up nearby.

ERIC
Goddammit.

He grabs for the knife as if to use it on the Skull Cowboy, but
the knife causes an unexpected painful FLASH.

FLASH: Eric bouncing off the bedroom doorframe, Tin-Tin's knife
stuck in his shoulder.

FLASH ENDS.

RESUME ERIC

vising his head with his hands, in pain. Too much pain.

SKULL COWBOY
Get it?

ERIC
Leave me alone -- !

He looks up, the Skull Cowboy is still there.

SKULL COWBOY
(contempt)
Do something about it.
ANOTHER ANGLE - ERIC AND THE SKULL COWBOY.

A horrible beat between them. The Eric runs full tilt across
the room, bounding to the open window and then leaping.

ANGLE - SKULL COWBOY

as close to surprise as he gets. Steps out to watch as --

ANGLE ON WINDOW - ERIC

FLIES feet first out into space.

CLOSE-UP - BRICKWORK ABOVE WINDOWFRAME

Eric's fingers smash into grip the tiny mortared gaps!

EXT. LOFT BUILDING - UP ANGLE FROM STREET - NIGHT

High above, Eric's feet shoot out the window, knocking loose
stray shards that fall toward frame. He swings into an upside-
down pose, impossibly holding himself rigid against the
building's side, face down. by his quarter-inch finger grip.

CLOSE-UP - ERIC

Every muscle rigid, quivering with tension. Hold. Then he
relaxes, and swings back inside.

INT. LOFT - AT WINDOW, PICKING UP ERIC - NIGHT

He arches, flips, to land on his feet. The Skull Cowboy is
gone. No knife either. The crow watches. O.S. "meow".

ANGLE - WITH ERIC AS HE TURNS TO SEE THE CAT

ERIC
I guess I'm not ready to leave...
just yet.

He picks up the cat -- wary of flashes, which don't come this
time -- and returns to the window. Feeling safer.

ERIC (CONT'D)
The last time we saw each other,
I didn't do so well.
(holds cat up)
Huh, Gabriel?

He moves to the fireplace. With his free hand, lifts the
Tragedy mask off its hook. Puzzles it, fact-to-mask.

ERIC (CONT'D)
I bet you need some cat food...
right?

EXT. STREET - NIGHT -ESTABLISHING:

Eric walking, the Tragedy mask hanging from his hip. An
occasional PEDESTRIAN passes without comment, brutalized
by the city. Eric, more confident, smells the night's bouquet.

EXT. ALLEY - NIGHT ("CROWVISION")

Two men around a trashcan fire. We should recognize Tin-Tin by
his black leather trench coat. A wonderfully rude Rap tune, "Got
a White WOman Tied Up In My Closet, Gonna Jab Her With A Stick,"
RAZZLES b.g.

EXT. STREET - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT

As Eric reacts to what the crow has just seen. Slows. Stops.
And directs his attention toward the mouth of the alley.

EXT. ALLEY - TIGHT ON TIN-TIN - NIGHT

He pulls the nickel plated revolver from the satchel. FOLLOW as
he hands it across to RATSO, who removes the suitcase-sized boom
box (the source of the music) from his shoulder to accept.
Ratso is a feral skull-head; street trash.

TIN-TIN
Three hundred and your a
gunslinger.

HIGH ANGLE - TIN-TIN and RATSO

As the crow is still watching, yet perched. A brief
shove-and-standoff. The gun deal has gone bad.

RATSO
Please, TIn-Tin, you know I'm good
for the money, man, I promise,
Leslie put me up to it, please,
man, don't --
(choking scream)

Tin-Tin has just up-rammed a throwing knife into Ratso.

TIN-TIN
Ratty -- shut the fuck up.

Tin-Tin lifts Ratso on the knife, gutting him. Ratso goes
slack, deader'n hell. Tin-Tin reaches around to click OFF
the boom box... then let's Ratso`s corpse fall.

ERIC (O.S.)
Another satisfied customer?

TIGHT ANGLE - TIN-TIN

galvanized by the surprise voice. He automatically draw a
fresh knife from the bandolero of knives across his chest inside
the coat. Can't yet track the source of the voice.

TIN-TIN
Who the hell is that?
(beat, venomous)
Come on out man, I won't hurt
you.

ANGLE - ERIC IN ALLEY

He steps out from behind another flaming trashcan. Wearing a
long black scarf and the Tragedy mask.

ERIC
Hello, Tin-Tin.

ANGLE ON TIN-TIN - AS HE RISES (FROM RATSO)

trying to process what he sees. And cover. And buy time.

TIN-TIN
Little early from trick-or-treat,
homie.
(re: Ratso)
This dick trying to bushwack me.

ERIC
Murderer.

Tin-Tin blows out a breath. No bluff. Time to kill again.

TIN-TIN
Guess you got that goddamn right.

He shrugs. The shrug becomes the launch of a knife.

TIGHT SHOT - MOVING - ERIC

His black-gloved hand slaps away the incoming knife and inch from
his nose. It CLATTERS. Eric continues striding toward Tin-TIn.

ERIC
Try harder. Try again.

SHIFTING ANGLE - ERIC NEARS TIN-TIN

as Tin-TIn throws another knife. Eric closing in. He claps
hand together, immobilizing the next knife. Opens his hands,
almost an "oops" gesture. Keeps on coming.

ANGLE - ERIC AND TIN-TIN

As they meet. Tin-Tin attempts a roundhouse. Eric blocks it
and smashes Tin-Tin into the alley wall.

ERIC
A year ago. Halloween. A man
and a woman. In a loft. You
helped to murder them.

TIN-TIN
Last Halloween, eh? Yeah...
(beat)
Yeah, I remember. I fucked her
too, I think.

ERIC
You cut her. You raped her.
(rage)
You watched!

TIN-TIN
Hey, I got my rocks off, so
fuck you in the ass, man.

They're face-to-face now, sweaty and tense. Eric peels off
the Tragedy mask.

ERIC
I want you to tell me a story, Tin-Tin.

TIN-TIN
I don't know you...

But, as Eric bears down on Tin-TIn, Tin begins to recognize him.
Fear. Sweat.

For the first time, Tin-Tin starts to loose control.

TIN-TIN (CONT'D)
Holy shit... you're dead, man...

EXTREME CLOSE-UP - ERIC

ERIC
Victims. Aren't we all.

INT. LOFT - NIGHT

TIGHT ANGLE - TABLETOP

as Eric's hands place Ratso's boom box on the table and click on
suitable weird b.g. MUSIC.

ANGLE - FLOOR LEVEL

Eric's boots pass frame. An open can of cat food CLANKS down
big in f.g. as Eric walks b.g. obviously wearing Tin-Tin's
trenchcoat. Gabriel noses into to frame to eat from the can.

INT. LOFT, BEDROOM - NIGHT (LATER)

Shelly's vanity. Dusty, disused. The mirror spiderwebbed with
cracks but still hanging precariously in its frame. Eric is
seated, his image crazily split into many. He pulls on a long-
sleeved, tight-knit, black shirt.

WIDEN ANGLE to reveal the loft now lit with dozens of candle
stubs. Placed all around. Ceremonial and weird.

CLOSE-UP - ERIC

ERIC
Halloween is coming. The Day of the Dead...

In the mirror, multi Eric's. He touches the glass, tightening up
as he realizes he's in for another --

FLASH: Shelly, sleeping on her divan, a year ago, wakes as Eric
(O.S.) says "Boo". She cracks an eye open.

SHELLY
Your scary quotient needs work.

FLASH ENDS.

ANOTHER ANGLE - ERIC AT VANITY

Considering old cosmetics. Everything he touches will hurt him.
But he's ready to eat this pain. He grabs a lipstick.

FLASH: Shelly at the vanity in happier times

SHELLY
I think red's my color, don't you?

FLASH ENDS.

RESUME ERIC

wincing. He drops the lipstick on the floor. Grabs a
hairbrush.

FLASH: Eric smashes into the street after his death-fall,
trailing broken glass.

FLASH ENDS.

NEW ANGLE - ERIC AT VANITY

Later. He's wearing white pancake makeup on his cheeks. Shaky.

FLASH: Eric sucks up Funboy's gunshots in the chest. 1-2-3-4.

FLASH ENDS.

RESUMING ERIC AT VANITY

his face a crazy warpaint maze of white streaks, not blended
yet. He looks at his own reflection. In one cracked,
triangular facet of the mirror is not a multiple of his face,
but the Skull Cowboy. Just one.

SKULL COWBOY
Glad to see you're finally with
the program.

ERIC
Bugger off to the graveyard, skull-
face, I'm busy.

SKULL COWBOY
You work for the dead. Forget
that, and you can forget it all.

The Cowboy tips his hat and isn't there. Eric sees the crow
perched on the edge of the mirror now.

ERIC
Forget this.

He smears the streaks until his face is uniformly grave-wave
white.

ANGLE - GABRIEL THE CAT

coming in to sniff around the clutter at the foot of the vanity.
Eric looks down towards him... and toward the lipstick he dropped.

CLOSE-UP - ERIC'S HAND

as it glides down to pick up the lipstick. CONTACT, and --

FLASH: Eric, smashed on the street, T-Bird's car b.g., upside down
in Eric's POV as he rolls over and blood courses from both
corners of his mouth, a definite foreshadow of the "Crow" face.

FLASH ENDS.
RESUMING ERIC AT VANITY - TIGHT

ERIC
She always red red was her color.

EXTREME CLOSE - THE MIRROR

We see only a reflected corner of Eric's mouth as he duplicates
the blood trail in red lipstick, making one one half of a crow
harlequin smile.

EXT. LOFT BUILDING - LATER - NIGHT

A MEDIUM SHOT as lightning strikes; a storm brews.

EXT. LOFT - LATER - NIGHT

CLOSE-UP - ERIC'S BOOTS

crossing the floor. Tin-Tin's knife slotted to the bucklework.

CLOSE-UP - VANITY

Eric's hands discard a hairbrush there. He moves off.

CLOSE-UP - GABRIEL

looking up o.s., watching his master stalk around with purpose.
Thunder rumbles long o.s.

ANGLE - AT ERIC IN WINDOW FROM OUTSIDE

The storm boils. Eric framed in broken window.

CLOSER ANGLE - ERIC IN WINDOW

Eric all in black, Firm-wrapped. Tight-wired. The trenchcoat
flutters, cloak-like. His shadowy face framed by the upturned
collar, his hair punkish and spiky.

SIDE ANGLE - ERIC

as he moves forward in the light. The crow lights on his shoulder.

ERIC
All right, bad guys...

FRONT VIEW - ERIC

Full crow regalia. Face makeup streamlined. Eric's eyes flash.

ERIC
(in drawn out yell)
Here I commme -- !

PULL BACK swiftly, vertiginously, as Eric swan dives from the
window, his voice a howl.

UP ANGLE FROM STREET - ERIC'S FALL

Coat, wing-like. MATCH his dive yell with o.s. crow SCREECH.
SLOW MOTION as Eric fills the frame and we --

DISSOLVE TO:

EXT. ALLEY - WHERE TIN-TIN GOT IT - NIGHT

Cop lights bounce, competing with the trash fires. Albrecht and
several other UNIFORMS assess the double-death scene. A
detective, TORRES tries to appear in charge.

TORRES
Couldn't have happened to a nicer
couple.

ANGLE - ALBRECHT AND TORRES OVER DEAD TIN-TIN

Tin-Tin frozen in deathshock, all of his knives sticking out of
him. Dead Ratso, b.g., where he fell.

ALBRECHT
Sure it coulda. Funboy's not
here, neither is T-Bird -- none
of Top Dollar's number ones.

TORRES
You know, you sure got a hard-on for
a guy that's guilty of zip on
paper. Top Dollar runs Showtime;
what's the matter, don't you like
adult entertainment?

ALBRECHT
This sack of shit is called Tin-
Tin.

TORRES
Don't any of your little pals have
real, grown up names?

ALBRECHT
He was a runner for Top Dollar.
Just muscle.

TORRES
Was.
ALBRECHT
(sigh)
This isn't Top Dollar's style
anyway. This was somebody else.
Somebody new.

Albrecht lights a fresh smoke. Torres waves the smoke away.

TORRES
And you're gonna tell me who.

ALBRECHT
Who ever made that.

Albrecht points. CAMERA FOLLOWS to wall behind Tin-Tin. A crow
silhouette has been daubed in blood there, now dry.

TORRES
What in the hell... do you
call that?

ALBRECHT
I call it blood, Detective. If
you want, you can call it graffiti.

INT. GIDEON'S PAWN SHOP - NIGHT

CLOSE-UP of Gideon's thick fingers shuffling grimy currency.
Some scratchy 1920's TUNE plays throughout b.g., like a broadcast
from another time and place.

TIGHTER ANGLE - GIDEON

looking up at a metallic SOUND, o.s. Irritated.

GIDEON
Piss off, we're closed.

As the outside security gate rattles, Gideon draws his magnum
and approaches the front door.

GIDEON
Fucking creatures of the night;
they never goddamn learn.

Sudden surprise as he sees the silhouette of the gate SCREE back
against the frosted glass of the front door.

GIDEON (CONT'D)
HEY!!

And he hustles to close up the distance between himself and the
door, gun up. Before he can touch the door, the crowbar comes
rocketing through the glass, pegging Gideon in the forehead and
knocking him flat on his ass. He loses the pistol.
Eric walks through the door, causing the fractured glass to
disintegrate around him. He disclaims, thespian.

ERIC
"Suddenly I heard a tapping, as of
someone gently rapping, rapping at
my chamber door."
(pause)
You heard me rapping, right?

LOW ANGLE - GIDEON ON THE FLOOR

reacting to Eric's weird appearance and looking for his gun.

GIDEON
Oh, bullshit! You're trespassing
asshole, you're breakin'
and enterin' and you just bought me a
fucking door!

During Gideon's rant, Eric brushes glass cubes from his
shoulders, nonplussed. Now he flings Gideon across the room.

Gideon crashes into the counter cage. As Eric advances on him:

ERIC
I'm looking for something in an
engagement ring. Gold.

As Eric comes up behind him, Gideon reaches through the open
cage door and pulls a big combat knife from beneath the counter.

GIDEON
You're looking for a coroner,shit-
for-brains!

And he tries to nail Eric with the knife.

NEW ANGLE - BEHIND GIDEON - AS GIDEON SWINGS

No Eric behind him. TILT to reveal Eric hanging off the cage
above Gideon. Eric slams the cage door against Gideon's head.
Drops down like a spider and collects the knife.

ERIC
I repeat: a gold engagement ring.
It was pawned here, a year ago, by
another gentleman whose name, I
believe was... "T-Bird"?

IN TIGHT ON ERIC AND GIDEON

Eric twists Gideon's sail-like shirt and Gideon turns bright red.

ERIC (CONT'D)
Cute nickname, don't you think?

GIDEON
(gasping)
I ain't got no fuckin' ring.

ERIC
Wrong answer.

Eric nails Gideon's hand to the counter top. Gideon howls!

GIDEON
All's I got is in a box! Behind
the counter!

Eric jumps through the cage door. Gideon's eyes bug as he sees
his own pierced hand, immobilized.

ANGLE - ON ERIC BEHIND THE COUNTER

scans the shelves. Rows of boxed ammo. Kerosene tins. A shotgun.
Knives and assorted knuckle duster curios. And the ring box.

CLOSE-UP - THE RING BOX IN ERIC'S HAND.

Dozens of gold rings. Eric's fingers sift through them.

TIGHTER ON ERIC

He brings each ring to his face. INTERCUT with Gideon's feeble
struggles and invective, o.s.

ERIC
No... no... no... no...

He tosses each rejected ring over his shoulder. Until:

CLOSE-UP - THE RING IN ERIC'S HAND

Obliterated by a stab of brilliant white light --

FLASH: Shelly's face. A perfect vision...

FLASH ENDS.

RESUMING ERIC

He closes his fist tightly around the ring. A moment of
decision. Then he draws the shotgun from beneath the counter.
Uses the butt to knock the knife free of Gideon's hand. It goes
spinning across the countertop. Eric shucks the shotgun and
rams it into Gideon's nose as the big man slumps to the floor.

ERIC
Tin-Tin confided in me, before he
ran out of breath. You have one
chance to live.
GIDEON
No fucking way. He'll kill me.

ERIC
Who would waste time killing you...
besides me?

Gideon sweats, pants, contemplates the hole in his hand.

GIDEON
(cowed)
Top Dollar.

ERIC
Another jolly nickname?

GIDEON
You want those assholes, you want
Top Dollar.

ERIC
T-Bird?

GIDEON
Like the car. He hangs out with
Skank. that little ass-hair, and
they hang at the Pit -- hell,
Funboy lives there. Ask Top
Dollar.

ERIC
A whole club of pirates, with
pirate names...

Eric seems to go berserk, SMASHING and PUNCTURING cans of
flammables and powder while Gideon flinches, nursing his holed
hand. Blows just miss Gideon's head. Soon he's cowering.

LOW ANGLE - ERIC

Looking down at Gideon in revulsion.

ERIC
You feed off the living.

SMASH! as another tin ceases to exist next to Gideon. Then
Eric is gone, past him without further word, ignoring him
entirely. As he exits, shotgun shouldered, he pauses to admire
a white Fender Strat hanging among the pawnables. He reaches
for it.

ON GIDEON

As he summons some last minute budget bravery.

GIDEON
You walk outta here Top Dollar
will erase your ass! Top Dollar
owns the fucking street here and
you can't dick with me, you son of
a bitch!

RESUME ERIC - FRAMED IN DOORWAY

The guitar now bowslung across his back, the shotgun levelled at
Gideon's position.

ERIC
One chance to live. Take it.

MOVE IN TIGHT ON GIDEON

as he realizes what Eric means. Hauls ass and bangs through the
rear door with a bleat of terror.

ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC IN DOOR

as he cuts loose with the shotgun.

EXT. GIDEON'S PAWN SHOP - NIGHT

as seen from across the street. Eric silhouetted, unmoving as
the whole store front blows hellaciously out around him, raining
glass and debris. Stirring his hair. Eric is the black eye of
the fireball.

LOW ANGLE - FRONT OF PAWN SHOP - EMPHASIZE ERIC

lit by flames and residual explosions. He hurls the shotgun
into the inferno. Casually brushes flaming/smoking detritus
from his own clothes.

ALBRECHT (O.S.)
Don't move! I said don't move.

NEW ANGLE - ERIC

as he turns slowly, to see Albrecht, out of reach, gun drawn.
Eric's attitude lightens; Albrecht is not the threat here.

ERIC
I thought the police always said
"freeze:.

Albrecht divides his attention, jumpy, between the odd sight of
Eric (guitar on his back), and the raging instant inferno of
Gideon's.

ALBRECHT
I'm the police and I say don't
move, Snow White. You're under
arrest; I don't care what else is
wrong with you! You move and
you're dead.

Eric has begun to pace towards Albrecht. Palms up. A gesture of
submission. Albrecht's battle calm begins to waiver.

ERIC
And I say I'm dead... and I move.

ALBRECHT
No further. I'm serious.

Eric bows, bringing his forehead in line with the gun's muzzle.

ERIC
Then shoot, if you will.

TIGHT ANGLE - ALBRECHT

He gives it up. Can't shoot. This is too weird for him.

ALBRECHT
Are you nuts, walking into a gun?

NEW ANGLE - LESS THREATENING - ERIC AND ALBRECHT

ERIC
You must listen carefully: the
Fire Department will be here soon.
There is an injured man in the
alley who needs assistance.
(meaningfully)
As Shelly Webster once needed your
assistance, and as you are shortly
going to need my assistance.

Albrecht gestures casually, almost comically, with his pointed
gun. B.g., the crow lands on a fire escape to monitor them.

ALBRECHT
You wanna run that back for me one
time?

SIRENS near, o.s. Eric listens to them, to the night.

ERIC
Listen: Top Dollar. He "owns the
street here." He will "erase
my ass."

ALBRECHT
You don't say.

ERIC
I know Top Dollar has turned your
streets into his hell.

ALBRECHT
Fucking A, my friend.

ERIC
The others are called Skank, T-
Bird. Street names. Funboy.
(beat)
Watch me, office Albrecht.

Eric lifts a chunk of glass from the sidewalk. Slow and easy.
Albrecht doesn't completely trust him. Up comes the gun.

ALBRECHT
Watch it...

Eric slices open his palm. Blood flows. To his fingertips.

NEW ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT

as Eric quickly daubs a crow silhouette in blood on the wall...
then exhibits the gashed hand to Albrecht.

CLOSE-UP - ERIC'S HAND

as the blood retreats and the wound seals itself up.

TIGHT ON ALBRECHT

and the silhouette. Mouth hangs.

ALBRECHT
You're the one who did Tin-Tin...

PULL BACK FAST to reveal Eric is gone from the frame. Albrecht does
a quick 180. No Eric. Flashbars from incoming units begin
to bounce red and blue off his face.

ALBRECHT (CONT'D)
Great. Good night. Guy shows up
looking like a mime from hell.
(beat)
Least he didn't do that "walking
against the wind" shit; I hate
that.

EXT. SHOWTIME - NIGHT - TO ESTABLISH.

A night-owl pornucopia. T-Bird enters beneath a garish theater
marquee. The 2-bill: RUMP ROMP with BUTTBUSTERS II.

INT. SHOWTIME LOBBY - NIGHT

T-Bird approaches the snack bar. Wet, breathy mating NOISES
from the auditorium throughout, o.s. Looking supremely bored,
the counterman, DICKEY BIRD, thumbs a porn tabloid. So what.

DICKEY BIRD
T-Bird. Thrill me.

T-BIRD
Business.

T-bird heads left through s steal door that Dickie buzzes
open for him.

INT. SHOWTIME AUDITORIUM (BACKSTAGE) - NIGHT

T-Bird walks past dust-covered boxy black speakers as we glimpse
Lance and Angelique making history in reverse, on the back of the
movie screen: oratoria as good as porn films can make it.

PORN QUEEN (O.S.)
I don't know how to describe how
I feel, Lance -- so restless --

PORN KING (O.S.)
You're my Moon Queen, Angelique.

PORN QUEEN (o.S.)
Oooh -- I want you're rocket right
now in my Sea of Tranquility --
Lance --

ANGLE - CATWALK STAIRS

As T-Bird approaches, the movie sounds dwindle o.s. He ascends
the skinny metal stairway two steps at a time.

ANGLE - STEEL FACED DOOR AT TOP OF STAIRS.

As T-Bird nears it, a viewplate SNAPS open to asses him. By
the time he reaches the top, the door unbolts to admit him.

INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT

As T-Bird enters. The room is organized around a long meeting
table and flavored with a taste of everything illegal: drug
paraphernalia, weapons.

Across the table are a couple of Sentries like the one that
admits T-Bird to the room. TRACK PAST them to a lank-haired
silhouette as he turns away from a windowshade, backlit by
Showtime's exterior neon.

This is TOP DOLLAR. Who looks like a Johnny Winter acid
casualty but is deadly cold, definitely the man in charge.

TOP DOLLAR
Wild fucking night. I hear our
pal Tin-Tin got himself very dead.

T-BIRD
And Gideon's just burned all the
down to the foundation.

Top's eyebrows go up. Oh really?

T-BIRD (CONT'D)
I didn't have nothin to do with
that.

TOP DOLLAR
Bet that pisses you off, right?

T-BIRD
Top, what the fuck is going on
tonight?

TOP DOLLAR
Stay normal, T. Cops'll be all
hotwired and aggressive. No
combat moves until I check this
out.

EXT. STREET - NIGHT - (~CROWVISION") HIGH ANGLE

Taking in the street, the Pit, and a little girl seated on an
abandoned car.

ANGLE - STREET LEVEL - ON ELLY.

Seated on the looted wheelless car, playing with a small doll.

CLOSER ANGLE - ON ELLY

She doesn't notice someone is watching her yet.

TIGHT ON DOLL, THEN ELLY

She looks up o.s. at Eric, who is still out of the frame.

ELLY
What are you supposed to be? A clown?

CLOSE-UP - ERIC

He smiles for what seems to be the first time. Warm, even past
his crow makeup.

ERIC
Sometimes.

He glances back and logs the location of the Pit for later, not
in a big hurry just now. Turns back to Elly.

WIDE ANGLE - ERIC AND ELLY

ELLY
You look like a rock star without a
job.

ERIC
I dabble. May I?

He indicates the car hood, a "seat" next to Elly from which he
may observe the Pit.

ELLY
If you're not some kinda child
molester.

Eric looks behind himself. Who, me? Genuinely amused. He
shakes his head no and sits down next to Elly.

INT. CLUB TRASH - NIGHT

The music POUNDS and smoke is everywhere, like incense.
INTERCUTS of the clientele, retro, robotic, clove cigarettes and
rubber clothing; fetish casual wear.

ANGLE - TOP DOLLAR

right in the center of the noise, looking downscale and dirty
in this milieu.

ANGLE - ANOTHER CUSTOMER

Passing Top, appraising him, finding him as boring as life
itself. Undertaker chic, she stares at Top.

TOP DOLLAR
I thought Halloween was tomorrow
night.

An Oriental bodyguard passes him in f.g., motioning to follow.

INT. LAO'S NIGHTCLUB OFFICE - NIGHT

Lao watches club activity on his flybank of TVs. When Top
Dollar shows up at the office door two Sentries try to bar his
passage. He shoves through.

TOP DOLLAR
Get outta my way, you mooks.

Lao's demeanor indicates that they should not kill Top.

LAO
An unexpected pleasure.