Screenplay: Internet Batman
Oct 29, 2010 23:59:14 GMT -8
Post by Maldeus on Oct 29, 2010 23:59:14 GMT -8
Never got a response to this on the original site, reposting it in the hopes that it being the F1RST P0ST will draw it some attention.
A bit of preface: I initially wrote these for the ForumWarz Flamebate forums, mostly to see how receptive they would be to the concept. I got a few replies, but most of them were just asking me to join their Klan, which is the excessively politically incorrect version of a guild over there, if you were wondering. No one posted their vitriolic hatred for it, so I guess it was received pretty well, but the thread was pretty empty. I liked most of what I'd written so far, though, so I eventually (i.e. earlier today) decided I wanted to put it up here for critique instead. Because of its dodgy origins, several characters were lifted straight from the ForumWarz plot, and a few of the jokes only make sense in light of certain game mechanics. It's also written with the Flamebate audience in mind, so it's a bit more vulgar than my usual fare. If I decide to continue this, I'm going to divorce myself from the exclusive jokes, and probably start using a style that's closer to my other works.
Also, some of the formatting is wrong because I'm not as familiar with BBCode as I am with Open Office.
FADE IN:
EXT. NOOB STREET -NIGHT
In the distance, massive skyscrapers rise into the night sky, a full moon rising behind the cityscape and sending beams of pale light between the buildings. As we pan from one end of the street to the other, the light of the moon is slowly swallowed up by stark neon lights, the streets growing more crowded, and those walking them growing more unsavory.
INT. LOBBY -NIGHT
JIMMY and NICK, two street toughs, walk through a rundown lobby, drawing nothing more than a quick glance from the bored receptionist as they pass right by her and into the building.
JIMMY:
I dunno, man, I mean, this seems like crossin’ a line.
NICK:
This is Internet City! There are no lines to cross.
JIMMY:
I dunno, man, I just don’t-
NICK:
STFU! There ain’t no backin’ out now.
Nick pulls out two guns from his jacket.
NICK:
Are you in?
Nick flips one of the guns so the handle is facing Jimmy and offers it to him.
NICK:
Or out?
Nick flips the gun so the barrel faces Jimmy and levels it with his head.
JIMMY (nervously):
I’m in, man, I’m in.
Nick flips the gun so the handle is facing Jimmy again, and Jimmy takes it. The two of them walk into a door labeled “Denture Gentleman’s Club” and open the door, flipping off the light switch and slamming the door behind them as they enter, leaving the room in total darkness.
NICK:
Nobody move!
Nick fires his gun in the air a few times, the flashes of light briefly illuminating the room, showing the two thugs standing in a room filled with OLD FARTS sitting in a circle around a table playing a game of cards. There is fearful murmuring amongst the farts.
NICK:
Everyone quiet!
Nick fires his gun in the air again. The farts fall silent.
NICK:
Here’s how this is gonna go. Everyone’s gonna stay real calm, and me and my friend here will collect all your wallets and valuables. Just stay calm and cooperate and no one gets hurt. Got it?
OLD FART:
We don’t seem to have-
Nick shoots the fart in mid-sentence.
NICK:
I said quiet!
Nick and Jimmy pull out sacks marked “swag” and begin gathering wallets and watches from the farts. Nick sees one fart with a gold tooth, sparkling in the dim light from the street outside, and immediately smack the fart across the face. The fart falls to the ground, and the gold tooth (along with several real ones, almost indistinguishably yellowed) go flying across the ground. Nick bends down to pick up the gold tooth and hears the sound of a man being beaten coming from the other side of the room.
NICK:
Whoa, Jimmy, easy, don’t want to leave a body for the moderators, right?
Nick looks to the other end of the room and sees absolutely no movement, just a few farts gathered around an inert body lying on the ground.
NICK:
Jimmy?
Nick looks around the farts gathered around the body, looking for Jimmy’s face.
NICK:
Jimmy, where are you?
Nick walks over and peers through the darkness, seeing Jimmy’s face, bleeding from the nose and a head injury, lying on the ground. Nick gets nervous and pulls his gun, aiming it at the old farts, who react with surprise, putting their hands in the air. He turns in a slow circle, and his eyes widen suddenly as he sees INTERNET BATMAN, who swats the gun aside as Nick pulls the trigger, hitting an old fart to his right. Internet Batman does not notice, and instead begins beating Nick senseless. Finally, he drags Nick to the side of the room and smashes him through the window, holding him above the streets, which are now twelve stories below in spite of the fact that Nick and Jimmy went up no stairs in between the lobby and the club.
BATMAN:
*incomprehensible growly noises*
NICK:
Wha-What?
BATMAN:
*more incomprehensible growly noises*
NICK:
I d-don’t understand!
BATMAN:
*even more incomprehensible growly noises*
NICK:
Look man, I’m sorry! Please don’t kill me!
BATMAN (in an almost incomprehensibly growly voice):
I don’t forgive. I don’t forget.
Internet Batman drops Nick, who falls screaming through the air until his body hits the ground in a crumpled heap a moment later, leaving a mangled corpse with bits of bone sticking out from beneath the ripped and torn clothes.
CUT TO:
INT. NIGHTCLUB OFFICE – NIGHT
Black tinted windows look out over a nightclub thronging with dancers, the pounding beat reaching into the otherwise silent office. ANONYMOUS, a man wearing a Guy Fawkes mask, is staring out at the dancers down below, while FUTANARI-MOE is slowly spinning around in one of the roller chairs in front of the empty desk of the office.
FUTANARI:
So why did you come?
(beat)
I’ll tell you why I’m here if you’ll tell me why you’re here.
(beat)
Should I go first?
ANONYMOUS:
GTFO
FUTANARI:
Okay, I’ll go first. There is a girl I know, named Yurika-Chan. I have certain needs concerning her, you see, a very specific need…
Anonymous turns around and walks over to Futanari, wordlessly.
FUTANARI:
Oh, would you like to hear more about her?
Anonymous ignores the question and grabs Futanari by the collar before punching him in the face. Futanari is knocked to the ground, and Anonymous pulls him up and punches him to the ground again. Futanari stumbles towards the window, and Anonymous follows, grabbing him by his shirt and throwing him into the window, his face pressed against the glass for a moment before Anonymous turns him around. He pulls his fist back to punch again, but halfway to Futanari’s face it’s caught by a gloved hand.
VOICE:
Try not to attack my clients. It’s bad for business.
Anonymous and Futanari turn to see SHALLOW ESOPHAGUS, a man wearing a black trenchcoat with matching fedora, his face obscured by a white, featureless mask.
SHALLOW:
I’m told each of you have certain needs. Needs which you are not able to satisfy under your own power.
FUTANARI:
Yes, there is a girl, her name is Yurika-Chan and she-
SHALLOW:
I’m already aware of what these needs are.
ANONYMOUS:
You can have someone pwned for me?
SHALLOW:
I can.
ANONYMOUS:
Several people?
SHALLOW:
As many as you like.
ANONYMOUS:
For cheap?
SHALLOW:
Cheaper than anyone else, certainly.
ANONYMOUS:
What’s the catch?
SHALLOW:
No catch, really. I help new trolls break into the industry, you get whoever you like pwned at low cost, and I take a small finder’s fee. Everyone’s happy.
ANONYMOUS:
Except the fags who get pwned.
SHALLOW:
They’re dead. They quite literally can’t complain. You have the payment?
Anonymous and Futanari pull a few bills marked “Flezz” out of their pockets and hand them over to Shallow, who quickly counts through them and puts them in his trenchcoat.
SHALLOW:
Everything will be taken care of by this time tomorrow night.
FUTANARI:
Do you need my address? How will you get the picture to me?
SHALLOW:
Oh, don’t worry, I’ll get them to you.
ANONYMOUS:
You’d better get the job done. You’d better get someone good. Don’t fuck with Anonymous.
FUTANARI:
Who exactly is going to be doing the job?
SHALLOW:
A new client of mine. Someone I’ve been trying to make contact with for several days, now.
ANONYMOUS:
What’s his name?
SHALLOW:
Internet Batman.
Anonymous and Futanari glance at each other, then back to Shallow. Shallow has vanished completely.
EXT. NOOB STREET -NIGHT
OFFICER FREEMAN and OFFICER MICHAELS stand around a chalk line where Nick’s body used to be. Other MODERATORS are putting up the yellow tape.
MICHAELS:
Yup, this was definitely a mob hit.
FREEMAN:
A mob hit? We’ve got a dozen eyewitnesses saying that a man dressed like a bat threw this guy out a window!
MICHAELS:
No, it was a mob hit. I can tell by the pixels.
FREEMAN:
I don’t see it.
MICHAELS:
Trust me. It’s a shoop. I’ve seen many shoops in-
FREEMAN:
Yeah, yeah, I know the meme.
Freeman looks up towards the moon, which is mostly obscured behind thick clouds. The cloud cover partially uncovers the moon, leaving a bat shaped symbol. Suddenly, Freeman’s thoughts are interrupted by an INCOMING BROADCAST from the police scanner.
BROADCAST:
We’ve got a 459S at Wayne Enterprises, all nearby units, please respond.
FREEMAN:
A burglary? At Wayne Enterprises?
MICHAELS (non-chalantly):
With a silent alarm.
FREEMAN:
Come on!
The two rush into their patrol car, turning the siren on and driving down the street.
EXT. CITY STREET -NIGHT
Police cars speed through the street, a half-dozen or more, the sirens blaring. The camera pans around to show their destination, the massive tower in the center of the city that houses Wayne Enterprises.
INT. WAYNE LABS -NIGHT
The lights are off in a room filled with computers from the manufacturer that pays us to advertise their products, whose faint blue glow provides the only illumination in the room. ANONYMOUS ONE and ANONYMOUS TWO, each carrying a tommy gun, are pointing their guns threateningly at DOCTOR SHAWN. Anonymous One presses the tommy gun against Doctor Shawn’s head.
ONE:
Where is it? You know what we’re after! Where is it?
SHAWN:
I don’t know, my work is all theoretical, they never let me near the actual-
One cuts him off by smashing the butt of the gun into his head, which knocks Shawn to the floor.
ONE:
Don’t lie to me! You tell me where it is or I’ll blow your head off right now and find someone else who will!
SHAWN:
Okay, okay, it’s…It’s behind the giant steel hydraulic doors marked “Project Dolphin.”
One glances at the giant steel doors, then back to Doctor Shawn.
ONE:
How did I miss that…
(beat)
What’s the code? What’s the code to the door?
SHAWN:
6-9-1-0-5
One walks over and punches the code into the door, the hydraulic doors slide open and fog billows out of them as though they’ve been packed with dry ice for some reason. Inside the doors is a pristine white laboratory, with robotic assembly arms and various science-y looking tools laid out on tables. In the center table there is a futuristic looking assault rifle mounted on a pedestal.
ONE:
This ain’t what we-Hey!
One turns around to face Shawn and is cut off when he sees Shawn running for the exit. Two steps in front of One and trips Shawn, then beats him across the head with the butt of his tommy gun.
ONE:
That’s it, no more games!
One fires his tommy gun at Shawn, killing him.
ONE:
Come on, we’ve got to find someone smart enough to give up the goods.
Two ignores him and walks into the lab. He looks around and sees two bright, white lights attached to slim handles, like the Kinect Controller and Wiimote had twins. He grabs one light and places it on the side of the assault rifle’s pedestal, then grabs the second light and places it into the opposite side. The Zelda “door unlocked” jingle plays and a small circle of floor surrounding the pedestal sinks into the ground, taking One and Two into another laboratory below. This new laboratory is completely empty except for a large tank of water built into one wall, which is completely bare except for the GAME DOLPHIN swimming around inside of it.
(beat)
ONE:
So, how are we gonna steal this thing?
Two shrugs.
VOICE:
Freeze, moderators!
Several moderators run into the room and crouch down at the edge of the hole in the ceiling left by the elevator, pointing their Banhammer™ .45 sidearms at Anonymous One and Two, who point their tommy guns from one mod to the next, completely outnumbered. Finally, One breaks the Mexican Stand-off.
One:
Listen, how about we just leave the stuff we were gonna steal, and you let us go, and we call it a draw? Huh? Sounds good, ri-
Two interrupts him by turning around and shooting the glass on the tank of water, causing it to spill out into the room. One and Two sprint for the opposite end of the room, while the mods just stare in confusion. The Game Dolphin, seeing the mods closer than the Anonymii, leaps out of the torrent of water and smacks one of the mods in the face with its tail, sending the screaming mod flying out of the lab and crashing into a computer in the next room. The moderators open fire, but the Dolphin is immune as it begins to tear the mods apart, limbs flying and blood spraying everywhere. Finally, only one mod is left. He backs into the wall, his hands shaking in fear until he drops his Banhammer™.
MODERATOR:
No, please, I’m just doing my job! We were supposed to protect you from the other guys! Please don’t kill me! Please! Please don’t!
GAME DOLPHIN: *dolphin noises*
CUT TO BLACK
CUT TO:
INT. WAYNE MANOR -DAY
A lavish entrance room with two staircases snaking around to a balcony, two sets of massive double doors, one at the top of the balcony and the other in between the staircases. Down below the balcony are several couches arranged in circles for chatting with guests. On one of these couches lies BRUCE WAYNE. ALFRED enters from a side door, looking around.
ALFRED:
Bruce! Master Bruce!
Alfred sees Bruce lying on one of the couches and hurries over to him, shaking him awake. Bruce turns over sleepily and tries to go back to sleep.
ALFRED:
Master Bruce! What are you doing on the couch instead of in bed?
BRUCE (tired):
Sleeping.
ALFRED:
Well, your breakfast is ready and you’ve got a meeting with Mister Doors in an hour. Do try to be awake for it.
INT. BOARD ROOM -DAY
Light streams in from the windows, outside of which the city of Internet seems a much friendlier place than it has for the past eight minutes of nighttime footage, bright and prosperous as opposed to grim and crime-infested. The board room itself is standard massive corporation fare: Lots of luxurious roller chairs around a very impressive table with a large television at one end. Several BOARD MEMBERS are surrounding the table, and at the head of the table is MISTER DOORS, the CEO of Wayne Industries.
BOARD MEMBER 1:
Can't the moderators do anything about it?
BOARD MEMBER 2:
Like what? There's a thousand places to hide in this city. A million!
BOARD MEMBER 3:
A million places for a dolphin to hide?
BOARD MEMBER 2:
You'd be surprised.
As they continue to argue, Bruce Wayne opens the doors and enters the room, doing his best not to look like he woke up twenty minutes ago.
MISTER DOORS:
Members of the Board, how much the moderators can or can't do to recover the Game Dolphin doesn't matter. It's out of our hands. What's important is that we be prepared for the possibility that they cannot...Given recent events, I think it's time we agree to the merger with Sentrillion.
BRUCE:
Wait, we're going through with the merger? Something happened to the Game Dolphin? What's going on?
MEMBER 2:
Anonymous broke into the building and tried to steal the Dolphin.
BRUCE:
Tried?
MEMBER 2:
It got away.
MISTER DOORS:
The success of the Dolphin was our only chance of remaining independent. Now our only choices are the merger or a quick slide into bankruptcy.
BRUCE:
Huh...How long until the merger?
MISTER DOORS:
We're meeting with the Sentrillion execs next Tuesday.
BRUCE:
Hm...One week of freedom.
MISTER DOORS:
I know your father wanted to keep Wayne Enterprises independent, Bruce, and we tried our best. But the fact of the matter is, we can't.
BURCE:
I understand. You do what you have to to keep the company alive, Mister Doors. That's what we're paying you for, after all.
CUT TO:
INT. HALLWAY -DAY
The board members, Mister Doors, and Bruce are walking through the hallway. Everyone but Bruce is walking with a businessman's stride, and Bruce is lagging behind because of it.
BOARD MEMBER 1:
Seriously, you tell the guy you've hooked him up with a Brazillian girl for the night, and he's say "great! How many's a brazillian?"
BOARD MEMBER 2:
*laughs*
Bruce continues meandering down the hall until he finds Alfred, who's waiting for him at the far end and holding an empty platter for some reason.
ALFRED:
Master Wayne.
BRUCE:
Hey. Have I got anything else planned for the day?
ALFRED:
No, Master Wayne, but you have a date with Miss Mariana Torres, you said you'd pick her up at nine.
BRUCE:
Nine...That should be enough time.
ALFRED:
Enough time for what, Master Wayne?
BRUCE:
Hm? Oh, nothing.
Bruce walks off down a separate hallway, leaving Alfred behind. Alfred sighs in frustration with Bruce's irresponsibility and walks off in the opposite direction.
A bit of preface: I initially wrote these for the ForumWarz Flamebate forums, mostly to see how receptive they would be to the concept. I got a few replies, but most of them were just asking me to join their Klan, which is the excessively politically incorrect version of a guild over there, if you were wondering. No one posted their vitriolic hatred for it, so I guess it was received pretty well, but the thread was pretty empty. I liked most of what I'd written so far, though, so I eventually (i.e. earlier today) decided I wanted to put it up here for critique instead. Because of its dodgy origins, several characters were lifted straight from the ForumWarz plot, and a few of the jokes only make sense in light of certain game mechanics. It's also written with the Flamebate audience in mind, so it's a bit more vulgar than my usual fare. If I decide to continue this, I'm going to divorce myself from the exclusive jokes, and probably start using a style that's closer to my other works.
Also, some of the formatting is wrong because I'm not as familiar with BBCode as I am with Open Office.
FADE IN:
EXT. NOOB STREET -NIGHT
In the distance, massive skyscrapers rise into the night sky, a full moon rising behind the cityscape and sending beams of pale light between the buildings. As we pan from one end of the street to the other, the light of the moon is slowly swallowed up by stark neon lights, the streets growing more crowded, and those walking them growing more unsavory.
INT. LOBBY -NIGHT
JIMMY and NICK, two street toughs, walk through a rundown lobby, drawing nothing more than a quick glance from the bored receptionist as they pass right by her and into the building.
JIMMY:
I dunno, man, I mean, this seems like crossin’ a line.
NICK:
This is Internet City! There are no lines to cross.
JIMMY:
I dunno, man, I just don’t-
NICK:
STFU! There ain’t no backin’ out now.
Nick pulls out two guns from his jacket.
NICK:
Are you in?
Nick flips one of the guns so the handle is facing Jimmy and offers it to him.
NICK:
Or out?
Nick flips the gun so the barrel faces Jimmy and levels it with his head.
JIMMY (nervously):
I’m in, man, I’m in.
Nick flips the gun so the handle is facing Jimmy again, and Jimmy takes it. The two of them walk into a door labeled “Denture Gentleman’s Club” and open the door, flipping off the light switch and slamming the door behind them as they enter, leaving the room in total darkness.
NICK:
Nobody move!
Nick fires his gun in the air a few times, the flashes of light briefly illuminating the room, showing the two thugs standing in a room filled with OLD FARTS sitting in a circle around a table playing a game of cards. There is fearful murmuring amongst the farts.
NICK:
Everyone quiet!
Nick fires his gun in the air again. The farts fall silent.
NICK:
Here’s how this is gonna go. Everyone’s gonna stay real calm, and me and my friend here will collect all your wallets and valuables. Just stay calm and cooperate and no one gets hurt. Got it?
OLD FART:
We don’t seem to have-
Nick shoots the fart in mid-sentence.
NICK:
I said quiet!
Nick and Jimmy pull out sacks marked “swag” and begin gathering wallets and watches from the farts. Nick sees one fart with a gold tooth, sparkling in the dim light from the street outside, and immediately smack the fart across the face. The fart falls to the ground, and the gold tooth (along with several real ones, almost indistinguishably yellowed) go flying across the ground. Nick bends down to pick up the gold tooth and hears the sound of a man being beaten coming from the other side of the room.
NICK:
Whoa, Jimmy, easy, don’t want to leave a body for the moderators, right?
Nick looks to the other end of the room and sees absolutely no movement, just a few farts gathered around an inert body lying on the ground.
NICK:
Jimmy?
Nick looks around the farts gathered around the body, looking for Jimmy’s face.
NICK:
Jimmy, where are you?
Nick walks over and peers through the darkness, seeing Jimmy’s face, bleeding from the nose and a head injury, lying on the ground. Nick gets nervous and pulls his gun, aiming it at the old farts, who react with surprise, putting their hands in the air. He turns in a slow circle, and his eyes widen suddenly as he sees INTERNET BATMAN, who swats the gun aside as Nick pulls the trigger, hitting an old fart to his right. Internet Batman does not notice, and instead begins beating Nick senseless. Finally, he drags Nick to the side of the room and smashes him through the window, holding him above the streets, which are now twelve stories below in spite of the fact that Nick and Jimmy went up no stairs in between the lobby and the club.
BATMAN:
*incomprehensible growly noises*
NICK:
Wha-What?
BATMAN:
*more incomprehensible growly noises*
NICK:
I d-don’t understand!
BATMAN:
*even more incomprehensible growly noises*
NICK:
Look man, I’m sorry! Please don’t kill me!
BATMAN (in an almost incomprehensibly growly voice):
I don’t forgive. I don’t forget.
Internet Batman drops Nick, who falls screaming through the air until his body hits the ground in a crumpled heap a moment later, leaving a mangled corpse with bits of bone sticking out from beneath the ripped and torn clothes.
CUT TO:
INT. NIGHTCLUB OFFICE – NIGHT
Black tinted windows look out over a nightclub thronging with dancers, the pounding beat reaching into the otherwise silent office. ANONYMOUS, a man wearing a Guy Fawkes mask, is staring out at the dancers down below, while FUTANARI-MOE is slowly spinning around in one of the roller chairs in front of the empty desk of the office.
FUTANARI:
So why did you come?
(beat)
I’ll tell you why I’m here if you’ll tell me why you’re here.
(beat)
Should I go first?
ANONYMOUS:
GTFO
FUTANARI:
Okay, I’ll go first. There is a girl I know, named Yurika-Chan. I have certain needs concerning her, you see, a very specific need…
Anonymous turns around and walks over to Futanari, wordlessly.
FUTANARI:
Oh, would you like to hear more about her?
Anonymous ignores the question and grabs Futanari by the collar before punching him in the face. Futanari is knocked to the ground, and Anonymous pulls him up and punches him to the ground again. Futanari stumbles towards the window, and Anonymous follows, grabbing him by his shirt and throwing him into the window, his face pressed against the glass for a moment before Anonymous turns him around. He pulls his fist back to punch again, but halfway to Futanari’s face it’s caught by a gloved hand.
VOICE:
Try not to attack my clients. It’s bad for business.
Anonymous and Futanari turn to see SHALLOW ESOPHAGUS, a man wearing a black trenchcoat with matching fedora, his face obscured by a white, featureless mask.
SHALLOW:
I’m told each of you have certain needs. Needs which you are not able to satisfy under your own power.
FUTANARI:
Yes, there is a girl, her name is Yurika-Chan and she-
SHALLOW:
I’m already aware of what these needs are.
ANONYMOUS:
You can have someone pwned for me?
SHALLOW:
I can.
ANONYMOUS:
Several people?
SHALLOW:
As many as you like.
ANONYMOUS:
For cheap?
SHALLOW:
Cheaper than anyone else, certainly.
ANONYMOUS:
What’s the catch?
SHALLOW:
No catch, really. I help new trolls break into the industry, you get whoever you like pwned at low cost, and I take a small finder’s fee. Everyone’s happy.
ANONYMOUS:
Except the fags who get pwned.
SHALLOW:
They’re dead. They quite literally can’t complain. You have the payment?
Anonymous and Futanari pull a few bills marked “Flezz” out of their pockets and hand them over to Shallow, who quickly counts through them and puts them in his trenchcoat.
SHALLOW:
Everything will be taken care of by this time tomorrow night.
FUTANARI:
Do you need my address? How will you get the picture to me?
SHALLOW:
Oh, don’t worry, I’ll get them to you.
ANONYMOUS:
You’d better get the job done. You’d better get someone good. Don’t fuck with Anonymous.
FUTANARI:
Who exactly is going to be doing the job?
SHALLOW:
A new client of mine. Someone I’ve been trying to make contact with for several days, now.
ANONYMOUS:
What’s his name?
SHALLOW:
Internet Batman.
Anonymous and Futanari glance at each other, then back to Shallow. Shallow has vanished completely.
EXT. NOOB STREET -NIGHT
OFFICER FREEMAN and OFFICER MICHAELS stand around a chalk line where Nick’s body used to be. Other MODERATORS are putting up the yellow tape.
MICHAELS:
Yup, this was definitely a mob hit.
FREEMAN:
A mob hit? We’ve got a dozen eyewitnesses saying that a man dressed like a bat threw this guy out a window!
MICHAELS:
No, it was a mob hit. I can tell by the pixels.
FREEMAN:
I don’t see it.
MICHAELS:
Trust me. It’s a shoop. I’ve seen many shoops in-
FREEMAN:
Yeah, yeah, I know the meme.
Freeman looks up towards the moon, which is mostly obscured behind thick clouds. The cloud cover partially uncovers the moon, leaving a bat shaped symbol. Suddenly, Freeman’s thoughts are interrupted by an INCOMING BROADCAST from the police scanner.
BROADCAST:
We’ve got a 459S at Wayne Enterprises, all nearby units, please respond.
FREEMAN:
A burglary? At Wayne Enterprises?
MICHAELS (non-chalantly):
With a silent alarm.
FREEMAN:
Come on!
The two rush into their patrol car, turning the siren on and driving down the street.
EXT. CITY STREET -NIGHT
Police cars speed through the street, a half-dozen or more, the sirens blaring. The camera pans around to show their destination, the massive tower in the center of the city that houses Wayne Enterprises.
INT. WAYNE LABS -NIGHT
The lights are off in a room filled with computers from the manufacturer that pays us to advertise their products, whose faint blue glow provides the only illumination in the room. ANONYMOUS ONE and ANONYMOUS TWO, each carrying a tommy gun, are pointing their guns threateningly at DOCTOR SHAWN. Anonymous One presses the tommy gun against Doctor Shawn’s head.
ONE:
Where is it? You know what we’re after! Where is it?
SHAWN:
I don’t know, my work is all theoretical, they never let me near the actual-
One cuts him off by smashing the butt of the gun into his head, which knocks Shawn to the floor.
ONE:
Don’t lie to me! You tell me where it is or I’ll blow your head off right now and find someone else who will!
SHAWN:
Okay, okay, it’s…It’s behind the giant steel hydraulic doors marked “Project Dolphin.”
One glances at the giant steel doors, then back to Doctor Shawn.
ONE:
How did I miss that…
(beat)
What’s the code? What’s the code to the door?
SHAWN:
6-9-1-0-5
One walks over and punches the code into the door, the hydraulic doors slide open and fog billows out of them as though they’ve been packed with dry ice for some reason. Inside the doors is a pristine white laboratory, with robotic assembly arms and various science-y looking tools laid out on tables. In the center table there is a futuristic looking assault rifle mounted on a pedestal.
ONE:
This ain’t what we-Hey!
One turns around to face Shawn and is cut off when he sees Shawn running for the exit. Two steps in front of One and trips Shawn, then beats him across the head with the butt of his tommy gun.
ONE:
That’s it, no more games!
One fires his tommy gun at Shawn, killing him.
ONE:
Come on, we’ve got to find someone smart enough to give up the goods.
Two ignores him and walks into the lab. He looks around and sees two bright, white lights attached to slim handles, like the Kinect Controller and Wiimote had twins. He grabs one light and places it on the side of the assault rifle’s pedestal, then grabs the second light and places it into the opposite side. The Zelda “door unlocked” jingle plays and a small circle of floor surrounding the pedestal sinks into the ground, taking One and Two into another laboratory below. This new laboratory is completely empty except for a large tank of water built into one wall, which is completely bare except for the GAME DOLPHIN swimming around inside of it.
(beat)
ONE:
So, how are we gonna steal this thing?
Two shrugs.
VOICE:
Freeze, moderators!
Several moderators run into the room and crouch down at the edge of the hole in the ceiling left by the elevator, pointing their Banhammer™ .45 sidearms at Anonymous One and Two, who point their tommy guns from one mod to the next, completely outnumbered. Finally, One breaks the Mexican Stand-off.
One:
Listen, how about we just leave the stuff we were gonna steal, and you let us go, and we call it a draw? Huh? Sounds good, ri-
Two interrupts him by turning around and shooting the glass on the tank of water, causing it to spill out into the room. One and Two sprint for the opposite end of the room, while the mods just stare in confusion. The Game Dolphin, seeing the mods closer than the Anonymii, leaps out of the torrent of water and smacks one of the mods in the face with its tail, sending the screaming mod flying out of the lab and crashing into a computer in the next room. The moderators open fire, but the Dolphin is immune as it begins to tear the mods apart, limbs flying and blood spraying everywhere. Finally, only one mod is left. He backs into the wall, his hands shaking in fear until he drops his Banhammer™.
MODERATOR:
No, please, I’m just doing my job! We were supposed to protect you from the other guys! Please don’t kill me! Please! Please don’t!
GAME DOLPHIN: *dolphin noises*
CUT TO BLACK
CUT TO:
INT. WAYNE MANOR -DAY
A lavish entrance room with two staircases snaking around to a balcony, two sets of massive double doors, one at the top of the balcony and the other in between the staircases. Down below the balcony are several couches arranged in circles for chatting with guests. On one of these couches lies BRUCE WAYNE. ALFRED enters from a side door, looking around.
ALFRED:
Bruce! Master Bruce!
Alfred sees Bruce lying on one of the couches and hurries over to him, shaking him awake. Bruce turns over sleepily and tries to go back to sleep.
ALFRED:
Master Bruce! What are you doing on the couch instead of in bed?
BRUCE (tired):
Sleeping.
ALFRED:
Well, your breakfast is ready and you’ve got a meeting with Mister Doors in an hour. Do try to be awake for it.
INT. BOARD ROOM -DAY
Light streams in from the windows, outside of which the city of Internet seems a much friendlier place than it has for the past eight minutes of nighttime footage, bright and prosperous as opposed to grim and crime-infested. The board room itself is standard massive corporation fare: Lots of luxurious roller chairs around a very impressive table with a large television at one end. Several BOARD MEMBERS are surrounding the table, and at the head of the table is MISTER DOORS, the CEO of Wayne Industries.
BOARD MEMBER 1:
Can't the moderators do anything about it?
BOARD MEMBER 2:
Like what? There's a thousand places to hide in this city. A million!
BOARD MEMBER 3:
A million places for a dolphin to hide?
BOARD MEMBER 2:
You'd be surprised.
As they continue to argue, Bruce Wayne opens the doors and enters the room, doing his best not to look like he woke up twenty minutes ago.
MISTER DOORS:
Members of the Board, how much the moderators can or can't do to recover the Game Dolphin doesn't matter. It's out of our hands. What's important is that we be prepared for the possibility that they cannot...Given recent events, I think it's time we agree to the merger with Sentrillion.
BRUCE:
Wait, we're going through with the merger? Something happened to the Game Dolphin? What's going on?
MEMBER 2:
Anonymous broke into the building and tried to steal the Dolphin.
BRUCE:
Tried?
MEMBER 2:
It got away.
MISTER DOORS:
The success of the Dolphin was our only chance of remaining independent. Now our only choices are the merger or a quick slide into bankruptcy.
BRUCE:
Huh...How long until the merger?
MISTER DOORS:
We're meeting with the Sentrillion execs next Tuesday.
BRUCE:
Hm...One week of freedom.
MISTER DOORS:
I know your father wanted to keep Wayne Enterprises independent, Bruce, and we tried our best. But the fact of the matter is, we can't.
BURCE:
I understand. You do what you have to to keep the company alive, Mister Doors. That's what we're paying you for, after all.
CUT TO:
INT. HALLWAY -DAY
The board members, Mister Doors, and Bruce are walking through the hallway. Everyone but Bruce is walking with a businessman's stride, and Bruce is lagging behind because of it.
BOARD MEMBER 1:
Seriously, you tell the guy you've hooked him up with a Brazillian girl for the night, and he's say "great! How many's a brazillian?"
BOARD MEMBER 2:
*laughs*
Bruce continues meandering down the hall until he finds Alfred, who's waiting for him at the far end and holding an empty platter for some reason.
ALFRED:
Master Wayne.
BRUCE:
Hey. Have I got anything else planned for the day?
ALFRED:
No, Master Wayne, but you have a date with Miss Mariana Torres, you said you'd pick her up at nine.
BRUCE:
Nine...That should be enough time.
ALFRED:
Enough time for what, Master Wayne?
BRUCE:
Hm? Oh, nothing.
Bruce walks off down a separate hallway, leaving Alfred behind. Alfred sighs in frustration with Bruce's irresponsibility and walks off in the opposite direction.
