The CROW


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.







                TOP DOLLAR



        Bad news.  Alot of action on the



        streets tonight, and nobody



        bothered to clear it with me.  Tin-



        Tin got himself whacked.







                LAO



        Who got himself what?







                TOP DOLLAR



        One of mine.  And it wasn't a 



        standard hit.







                LAO



        I had heard something like this.



             (beat)



        Describe it for me.  The "hit".







                TOP DOLLAR



        I was wondering if you could tell



        me anything... about a wildcat



        operative.







                LAO



        I know of no one.



             (beat)



        But even if there is, I am sure it



        is nothing outside your capacity 



        to deal with?







                TOP DOLLAR



        Anybody violates my turf -- our 



        turf -- I'll rip out there heart 



        and show it to 'em.







                LAO



        To be sure.  Now tell how your 



        friend died.











INT. PRECINCT HOUSE - NIGHT







ANNABELLA, a comfortable large, spider-in-the-web deskworker,



sits typing at a terminal.  Miked headphone in one ear, police



scanner chatter o.s.  She blows and pops a pink bubble of gum.







                ALBRECHT (O.S.)



        Annie?







ANGLE - ANNABELLA AND ALBRECHT







Albrecht enters frame from across her countertop.







                ANNABELLA



        Whatever it is, the answer's no,



        Eddie.  I'm too busy tonight.







                ALBRECHT



        Annie, I need a file.







There is a desperate edge to Albrecht's voice.







                ANNABELLA



        Speak up.



             (beat; her guard up)



        Clear it with the Captain if you



        need a file.







                ALBRECHT



        This is special, darlin'.  Please?







Annabella eyes Albrecht doubtfully.  Fatalistic sigh.







                ANNABELLA



        Just don't tell me you "owe me



        one."  What file?







                ALBRECHT



        Double homicide.  A year ago.



        Las Halloween.











EXT. STREET NEAR THE PIT - ERIC AND ELLY - NIGHT







Still hanging by the car, a bit more familiar with each other



now.  A low-slung mirror-windowed LIMOUSINE hisses past them and



curbs across the street from the Pit.







                ELLY



        My mom works over there.  I'm



        waiting for her, but she's



        probably with him, right now.







                ERIC



        Who?



                



                ELLY



        Mister Funboy.







                ERIC



        Mister Funboy lives there?















TWO SHOT - ELLY AND ERIC - (PIT B.G.)







                ELLY



        He has a room, upstairs.  I don't



        like him very much.







Elly is not happy about this.  B.G. we see Grange get out of the 



car, heading to the Pit, and notice in passing a guy with the



white face talking to the little girl down on the block.







                ELLY (CONT'D)



        Can you play that thing or do you



        just carry it around everywhere?







Elly indicates the guitar strapped to Eric' back.







                ERIC



        I can pick out a tune now 



        and again.







                ELLY



        Can you play "Teddy Bears' Picnic?"



             (re: doll)



        It used to be her favorite.







                ERIC



        Does she have a name?







                ELLY



        No name.  You sure ask a lot of



        questions.







Elly HANDS the doll to Eric and he experiences a wholly 



unexpected flash.







FLASH:  Elly and SHelly sitting as SHelly's vanity, goofing with



makeup, test-driving lipstick, the doll visible on the vanity.







                        FLASH ENDS.







RESUME ERIC - AS THE DOLL DROPS FROM HIS HAND







Pain is trying to fight it's way out of Eric in surges. 







                ELLY (OS)



             (smart alec)



        Hel-lo?  Earth to anybody...?







Eric snaps out of it.  Elly retrieves the doll.







                ELLY (CONT'D)



        Do you feel okay.







                ERIC



        No.







                ELLY



        You gotta go now, I bet.







                ERIC



        I have to go.







Half-zomboid, half-determined, he exits.











INT. PIT - NIGHT - WITH GRANGE







As he circulates to the bar, unimpressed.  To the bouncer:







                GRANGE



        Top Dollar?







                BOUNCE



        Never heard of him.







                GRANGE



        Funboy?







                BOUNCER



        Oh, prob'ly upstairs bangin'



        Darla.  Pay for your own beer and



        they'll prob'ly be down before you 



        can drink it.











INT. PRECINCT HOUSE - OFFICE - NIGHT







CLOSE-UP of an 8x10 of the loft slaughter in Albrecht's hands.



Subject: a document pinned to the wall with a knife.







ANGLE - ALBRECHT AT DESK.







flipping through the file. Smoking.







ANGLE - THE 8X10 IN ALBRECHT'S HAND







Subject: Eric, dead in the street in front of the loft 



building.  The blood on his face reminiscent of his crow face.







As Albrecht's hand moves the photo we can see in the file



several band shots of Eric as a member of Diabolique... 



including the shot on Lao's wall gallery of past performers at



Club Trash.







A DOUGHUT on a paper plate suddenly touches down in the middle



of all this research, startling Albrecht.







ANGLE - ANNABELLA BEHIND HIM







                ANNABELLA



        Don't thank me.  Your ass is



        already in enough trouble for this shit.







                ALBRECHT



        I knew that.







Albrecht holds a typewritten page closer to the the light.







CLOSE-UP DOCUMENT, torn by the knife hole made by Tin-Tin.







It reads:  We, the Undersigned tenants of 1929 Calderone Court



Apartments...







                ALBRECHT



        Another nice white girl with a



        cause.  Like a big KICK ME sign.







Albrecht takes up and 8x10 of Eric's face.







                ALBRECHT (CONT'D)



        Shelly Webster.  And her nice 



        white boyfriend, Eric Draven.







With a felt-tip pen he superimposes the crow smile, like the make-



up, like the blood.







                ANNABELLA



        Your last little wild goose chase



        got you busted back to the Beat 



        Patrol, just like in a bad



        detective story, Eddie. Are we



        doing the wildgoose thing again?







UNDER THIS Albrecht sketches in Eric's spiky Crow hairdo.







                ALBRECHT



        Could be.







                ANNABELLA



        You gonna wind up working at a school



        crosswalk.   that doughnut's 



        chocolate you, know.











PUSH IN on the doctored photo.  It's Eric.  It's the Crow.







PUSH IN on ALbrecht.







                ALBRECHT



        Well, hello there...chocolate,







                ANNABELLA



        Don't thank me.







                ALBRECHT



        Thanks, babe.











INT. THE PIT (REAR) - ERIC ON FIRE ESCAPE - NIGHT







Climbing.  The crow perched on his shoulder.  Not in a hurry.







                ERIC



        It's a Raymond Chandler evening



        And the pavements are all wet, And



        I'm lurking in the shadows, for it 



        hasn't happened ...







TIGHT CLOSE-UP - ERIC







Impish.  Clown killer.







                ERIC (CONT'D)



        ... yet.











INT. THE PIT - NIGHT







Grange at a table.  SMoking and waiting.  No beer.  His back



protected, he is stationed near the fire stair door and has a



good overview of the room.







INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT







CLOSE-UP of a base pipe being lit and hit hard.











EXT. THE PIT (REAR) - FIRE ESCAPE - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT







Eric's gloved hand slides sinuously up rusted railing.











INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT







A hypodermic needle rises into frame.  A nicotined fingernail



flicks bubbles in the syringe.  FOLLOW needle down and BROADEN



ANGLE: Funboy taps up a vein in Darla's arm and shoots her up.



Both are naked in a shabby bed.  Bare lightbulb above.







                DARLA



        Ooh, baby -- gimme all of it.







CLOSE-UP - THE NEEDLE







As the plunger depresses.







ANGLE - ON THE WINDOW







As the crow quite unexpectedly arrives and perches on the sill,



scaring the shit out of our two dopey friends.  Funboy pulls a



giant auto pistol; mock aims, calms down, doesn't fire.







                DARLA



        It's a big fucking bird...







She falls back against her pillow, eyes dreamily defocusing.



Funboy giggles.  Relaxes the gun, which half-disappears into the 



sheets at his side.







                FUNBOY



        It's a squab.  Here bird, Here,



        birdie...







NEW ANGLE - DARLA AND FUNBOY







Except that Eric now stands near their bed, across from the 



bird's position, the guitar bowslung.







                ERIC



        Here Funboy.







Contained panic as Funboy and Darla both startle.  The needle 



flies and lands at Eric's feet.  Empty.  Funboy struggles to



maintain against his high.







                FUNBOY



        Oh wow, oh wow, don't fucking do



        that, man.  I nearly had a fucking



        heart attack.







                DARLA



        Fun -- look at that guy...







                FUNBOY



        It's just the dope, don't worry







                DARLA



        Fun, he's not going away; he's 



        scaring the piss outta me!







                FUNBOY



        Not me.







Funboy draws the gun from underneath the sheers.  Suddenly he seems



totally focused.







                FUNBOY (CONT'D)



        Time for you to take your bird and 



        leave, freako.







Eric rips open his shirtfront to reveal a circlet of bullet



punctures.  This gives Funboy pause.



                ERIC



        Take your shot funboy.  You got 



        me, dead bang.







Funboy tilts the gun off target.  Grins as Eric flat handedly



past his chest, indicating where to shoot.







                FUNBOY



        You are seriously fucked up, man.



        Just look at yourself.







In a blur, he sighs, and shoots Eric through the heart.







                FUNBOY (CONT'D)



        BANG!  He shoots, he scores!







Then his expression drags a little bit.







ANGLE - ERIC







Looking down and daubing his hand in the bullet wound on his chest.







                ERIC



        Bull's eye.  Good shot.







ANGLE - DARLA







who starts scrambling to get out.  Grabbing clothes on the floor



around herself. she runs right into Eric's outstretched hands.







                ERIC



        Stay.







Eric twists her arm.







CLOSE-UP - DARLA'S FOREARM.







where we may clearly see the needle tracks.  







UP ANGLE - ERIC 







                ERIC



        Morphine is bad for you.







He holds her arm captive.  Tight, and we PUSH IN CLOSER to see



the dope evacuating from the punctures, a reverse of Eric's,



Blood trail.  The dope drips from Darla's arm to the floor.



Darla's eyes roll up into the unconscious.  She slumps.







ANGLE - ON FUNBOY - GAWPING







                FUNBOY



        How the hell did you do that?



        



                ERIC



        Magic.







Funboy regards Eric's battlescars and guitar.







                FUNBOY



        Either die or do a solo.







Eric looks briefly to his chest wound, wincing.  He can't seem



to make it tie off fast enough.  He turns his attention back to



Funboy.  But his strength is mysteriously ebbing.







                ERIC



        Neither.







                FUNBOY



        Yeah, I got a more fun idea myself.







Funboy lashes out and broadsides Eric across the temple with the



gun.  Eric falls, rolls back to a stance, but Funboy is right on



top of him, howling like a lunatic and pistol-whipping Eric



relentlessly.







                FUNBOY



        I hate trespassers!



             (whack!)



        I hate prowlers!



             (whack!)



        I hate peeping toms!



             (whack!)



        And right now I hate you!







ANGLE - WALL NEAR BATHROOM







as Eric, caught off-guard by Funboy's hyper high and weakened by



his wound, comes slamming into the wall, losing his footing.



Here comes Funboy, and we TILT UP from Eric's position as he 



looms, cocking the pistol, which now has Eric's blood on it.







                FUNBOY



        Ahh, the hell with it, I still got



        five shots left.







In a blur, Eric grabs Funboy`s gun hand.  Twists to the 



crunching of bones.  Funboy's skewed-around gun hand blows a



hole in his own thigh.  Funboy fall back across the bed.







                FUNBOY



        Owwwaaaa -- fuck me!  Look what



        you did to my sheets, you lame



        piece'a shit!  AAAAaa!  Goddd!







                ERIC



        Does it hurt?







                FUNBOY



        Does it hurt?!  You dead-ass,



        clown-faced fuck, of course it



        fucking hurts!  What the shit are



        you gonna do about this?!







Eric sits on the bed next to Funboy; inspects the ampule of



morphine on the nightstand, the needle of the syringe already 



inserted.







                ERIC



        I have some pain killer right here.







And he fills the syringe all the way.







ANGLE ON FUNBOY







as he begins to see the light.  He can't get away.  Growing



terror.







                FUNBOY



        No, wait, no WAIT, that's too



        much, man, that's like overkill,



        nobody can take that much, you're



        wasting it -- !







                ERIC



        Your pain ends now.







And Eric rams the needle into Funboy's heart, driving home



the full dose.  Funboy begins to convulse.







Eric falls back on the bed, his force spent.  Darla COMES TO in



the corner, shock-traumatized.  On O.S. COUGH, and Eric opens



his eyes.







The Skull Cowboy, standing in the room, tips his hat.







                SKULL COWBOY



        Howdy



             (beat)



        You look a mess.  Like an ole



        cooter dog.







TIGHT SHOT - ERIC'S FACE







streaked with -- mostly -- his own blood.







ANOTHER ANGLE - THE SKULL COWBOY AND ERIC







                SKULL COWBOY



        Getting a little ambitious and



        extracurricular, aren't we?







                ERIC



        Go away.







                SKULL COWBOY



        You need to learn to mind your own



        business or you'll never get where



        you think you're going.







                ERIC



        Shut up.







                SKULL COWBOY



        Maybe I was wrong about you.







The Skull Cowboy seems saddened or disappointed.  All we get is



a little shake of his skull-head.







Darla makes a SOUND and Eric turns toward her.  She's really



confused.  She's looking to Eric for some kind of answer.







                ERIC



        Your daughter is out there, on the



        street, waiting for you.







She's stunned, utterly speechless.  All she can do is look in



Eric's eyes, try to ponder the phantoms there.







                ERIC



        Go.  Now.







Darla shoves helter-skelter past Eric and out the door without 



a glance back at Funboy.







Eric, recovering, follows slowly, staring at the open door,



stooping to lift the guitar dropped during the fight with 



Funboy.  The Skull Cowboy has vanished.  PUSH IN.  Grimly, Eric



takes a syringe and begins to draw blood from the late Funboy.











INT. THE PIT - NIGHT







As a hastily dressed Darla BANGS out through the fire stair door



behind Grange and FLEES the Pit.







                BOUNCER



        Hey, g'night, Darla.



             (to Grange)



        That there is Darla.







                GRANGE



        Funboy?







Bartender indicates UP with his thumb.  Grange moves to the fire



stairs door.















INT. FUNBOY'S ROOM - NIGHT







Grange has seen the door ajar and now ENTERS gun-first.  Freezes



when he sees:







GRANGE POV - FUNBOY







Half-sheeted, bloody, a hypo hanging out of his heart.







RESUME GRANGE







Eyes darting, drawn to --







GRANGE'S POV - THE WALL NEAR FUNBOY







A crow silhouette spray-painted with a syringe of Funboy's



blood.  A thin outline, drippy.







RESUME GRANGE







whirling with his gun to bring it to bear on --







ANGLE - GRANGE SEES THE WINDOW







The crow is no longer in the room.  Eric is perched on the sill,



guitar and all, looking right at Grange as if waiting from him.



He winks, holds a finger to his lips -- sshh --and jumps out



into the night.







ANOTHER ANGLE - GRANGE







He almost fires, but doesn't.  We see instead the priceless



expression on his face as we --







                        CUT TO:











INT. PRECINCT FOYER - NIGHT







Albrecht lights another smoke, quitting for the night.  Waves to



the late-working Annabella en route.











EXT. PRECINCT HOUSE - NIGHT







Albrecht hasn't gone three steps before Eric appears behind him,



cat silent, matching pace.







NB:  Eric has got a new black rock-n-roll shirt on... and a



shell casing from Funboy's gun tied in his hair.







                ERIC



        Freeze.







Albrecht startles; drops his file.  Nearly draws his gun.







                ALBRECHT



        Jeezus!  Don't ever do that, man!







Albrecht pants, hysterical but calming down.  Eric waits.







                ALBRECHT (CONT'D)



        I told you cops don't say



        "freeze".







He retrieves Eric's doctored photo from the spill of papers.







                ALBRECHT (CONT'D)



        You, my friend, are dead.  I saw



        your body.  You got buried.







                ERIC



        I saw it, too.







Albrecht gathers up the file.  Eric stands there.  We realize he



is hesitant about touching the file.







                ERIC (CONT'D)



        Walk with me.







As Albrecht comes up with the file as they walk.







ANOTHER ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT ON THE STREET







                ALBRECHT



        You died, man.  I can't believe it



        but here you are.  Last year,



        you and your girlfriend --







                ERIC



        I need you to tell me what you



        remember.  What happened to us?







                ALBRECHT



        You went out the window.  She was



        beaten and raped.  She died in the 



        hospital.







They stop.  Eric didn't know this.  Fixes Albrecht with a look.







                ALBRECHT (CONT'D)



        Hey, you asked, man.



             (beat)



        She held on for thirty hours in 



        intensive care.  Hemorrhage,



        trauma.  He body just finally



        gave it up.



             (beat; regret)



        I saw it and couldn't do jack for 



        her.







Eric has grown increasingly distraught over Albrecht's lines.



Now he turns to Albrecht and, holding Albrecht's temples with



his fingers, puts his thumbs over Albrecht's eyes.







TIGHT ON ERIC - ALBRECHT AGAINST WALL







We see Eric react to a brutal Flash... but we don't see the 



Flash.











NEW ANGLE - ERIC AND ALBRECHT







And Eric tears from Albrecht; staggers back, now holding his own



head.  His crow face slacked in realized horror.







                ALBRECHT



        You okay, man?  I mean, what just



        happened.







                ERIC



        The venom of bad memories.  You



        were there; you saw her.  I saw



        you seeing her.







Understandable nervous, Albrecht lights up a cigarette.







                ALBRECHT



        You gotta understand -- I was 



        hoping she'd talk, give me a lead,



        a clue, something to work with.



        But she only said one thing to me 



        before she died.







Eric lowers his head, penitent.







                ERIC



        My name.







                ALBRECHT



             (fizzles)



        I'm sorry as hell, man.







                ERIC



        Thirty hours.  A day of life, plus



        change...







TIGHT TWO-SHOT - ALBRECHT AND ERIC







Eric plucks the cigarette from Albrecht's lips, taking a single



contemplative puff from it.







                ERIC



        Halloween is coming, soon.  You



        will have Top Dollar if you watch



        for me at the Showtime, tomorrow night.







                ALBRECHT



        I should be trying to stop you.







Eric nods, keeping his eyes on the cigarette.







                ERIC



        Thank you.  For giving a damn.







                ALBRECHT



        My pleasure.



                ERIC



        Don't smoke these.







As a bus grumbles past on the street, Eric pitches the butt and 



simultaneously ducks out of frame.







ANGLE - ALBRECHT TURNS







to see a blank building wall.  Fire escape.  Darkness.  No Eric.



He does a full 360 degree turn.  Eric is gone again.







                ALBRECHT



        Damn, I wish he wouldn't do that.







MOVING ANGLE - FROM BUS ROOF







Coat flapping, Eric is standing on the bus roof as the bus moves



away from Albrecht's position.











INT. LAO NIGHTCLUB OFFICE - NIGHT







Lao has the partially disassembled rat skeleton in front of him, 



as well as a mortar and pestle with some bits of crushed bone, and



is smoking powdered rat bone in a pipe and Grange reports to



him.







                GRANGE



        The son of a bitch winked at me.



        The he jumped.  Three stories.







Lao seems strangely unaffected by the bizarre nature of Grange's



tale.







                LAO



        Did you see an animal of any kind?



        Did you see a bird?







                GRANGE



             (puzzled)



        No.  I saw a guitar.



             (beat; irritated)



        This isn't some rock-n-roller



        you forgot to pay, is it?



             (beat)



        There was a drawing on the wall 



        that looked like a bird.  In 



        blood.







Lao's expression is one of sublime content.







                LAO



        Good.







                Grange



        It could've been a chicken...







EXT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT - ("CROWVISION")







A LONG SHOT of the T-Bird parked across the street from the



store as two figures -- T-Bird and Skank -- approach on the



store side.







                SKANK



        I wish to hell I had torched



        Gideon's, that fat fuck.







                T-BIRD



        I wish to hell I knew who it was



        that made Tin-Tin into a voodoo



        doll last night.







ANGLE - CLOSER ON T-BIRD AND SKANK - STREET LEVEL







They stop walking.  Look at each other and sanctimoniously cross 



themselves.  Tin-Tin's big R.I.P. moment.  T-Bird indicates the



liquor store.







                T-BIRD



        We need some smokes and some road



        beers.







                SKANK



        Got it.







Skank hustles toward the store.  T-Bird crosses to the car.







ANGLE - T-BIRD - THROUGH CAR WINDOWS







WIDEN ANGLE to include the car as he nears it.  Behind him, two



12-year-old KIDS, AXEL and CHOPPER, enter the store after Skank,



one wearing a long duster.











INT. LIQUOR STORE - NIGHT







as the KIDS enter and split between the counter and magazine



rack.  East Indian CLERK.  Two boys fight video game wars in the



corner.  Skank browses, grabbing odds and ends.











EXT. STREET / INT. CAR - LOWER ANGLE - NIGHT







as T-Bird climbs in, digs the last cigarette from his pack, 



snaps his Zippo and in the sudden orange light, sees:











INSERT - REARVIEW MIRROR







Eric's purloined Strat in the back sear reflecting the light.











ANGLE - T-BIRD







He tries to spin and draw his gun but Eric is upon him, nestling



one of Tin-Tin's throwing knives right inside T-Bird's ear.



        



                T-BIRD



        What the fuck are you supposed to



        be, man?!







INSERTS:  Eric liberates T-Bird's automatic from the shoulder 



holster; Eric's hand closes T-Bird's door for him.







                ERIC



        I'm your passenger.  You drive.



        And stop talking.







TIGHT ANGLE - T-BIRD'S HANDS







on ignition key and gearshift, making ready.  As ordered.











INT. LIQUOR STORE - ON SKANK AT COUNTER - NIGHT







He looks outside and sees Eric as the car fires up, pipes and



glasspacks grumbling.  Skank moves, BRISTLING.







                SKANK



        What's all this happy horseshit?







And the car peels out maniacally!  Skank tries to pursue -- but



the two KIDS draw weapons and freeze everyone in the store.







                AXEL



        Alright, alright, alright --



        everybody be cool and stay exactly



        where you are.







Chopper hustles up to the counter and relieves Skank of a 



gigantic Auto Mag.







                CHOPPER



        Whooooa, cowboy!  Cool gun.







Off Skank's look of total outfoxed disgust.--











INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT







Vertiginous windshield POV of onrushing street, highspeed.







                ERIC (O.S.)



        Faster, T-Bird.  Faster.  You're



        a hell of a wheelman; you know you



        can drive faster.











ANGLE - ERIC AND T-BIRD







Eric now holds T-Bird's own gun on him.  Eyes locked on T-Bird.



T-Bird's jump between Eric's nightmare visage and the roadway.







                T-BIRD



        You call it, blood -- you got the



        gun. You just tell me where you want



        to go.







Clearly T-Bird would relish bisecting Eric with a meat cleaver 



as he says this.  He's nervous and needs to hold the road.







                ERIC



        That's good.  We're going 



        someplace you've never been



        before.











EXT. STREET - HIGH ANGLE ON T-BIRD - NIGHT







as the car burns up the obstacle course of pavement, kicking  



wake of litter.  PEDESTRIANS scurry to clear the way.











INT. POLICE CRUISER - NIGHT







Parked in an alley, facing the street.  Two cops work on large



styro cups of steaming coffee.  MJ (driver) and SPEEG.







                MJ



        Smells like rain.







                SPEEG



        Smells like a septic tank.  You



        got that cream stuff?







                MJ



        In the bag.







Speeg rummages inside the takeout bag.







                SPEEG   



        I hate this cream stuff.  They



        can't even call it cream, legally.







They snap to as the T-Bird blazes past, doing ninety.







                MJ



        What in the crap?







MJ floors the pedal, drenching Speeg in coffee on takeoff.







                SPEEG



        Ow! Owowoowowoowo, goddammit!







EXT. STREET - ON ALLEY - NIGHT







as the cruiser roars out to give chase.











INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELLING FAST - NIGHT







Eric lends the chase car a backward look.







                ERIC



        You caught one.  Drive faster.







                T-BIRD



        Man, you gonna get us killed dead



        and I don't even know what you



        want!







Eric cocks T_Bird's pistol and levels it at his face.







                ERIC



        I want you to stop talking.  And 



        drive.  Drive faster.







Eric rifles the glove box, tossing items out the window: clips



for the gun.  Sunglasses.  A giant dildo (brief eyebrows-up to



T-Bird).  Then: a roll of (previously established) gaffer's



tape.  What Eric needs.







ANGLE - T-BIRD AND REARVIEW MIRROR







as he sees a second cop car join the high speed pursuit, 







                ERIC (CONT'D)



        You're very popular.  Thought



        you could handle this thing.







T-Bird macho calcifies.  He's going to win.







                T-BIRD



        To hell with you.







                ERIC



             (wry)



        Naturally.







INSERT - SPEEDOMETER







Climbing swiftly toward the 100 mark.











EXT. CITY STREETS - VARIOUS ANGLES - THE CHASE - NIGHT







A 3-way pursuit until the T-Bird reaches the outskirts of the



city.











EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT







All quiet... until the T-Bird ZOOMS past frame.  The lead cop



tries to duplicate the T-Bird's corner-cut and starts spinning.



It clips a light pole.  Rebounds into the path of MJ's unit.











INT. POLICE CRUISER - ON SPEEG AND MJ - TRAVELING - NIGHT







as MJ stands on the brakes.  Collision imminent.  They howl.











EXT. DOCKSIDE STREET - NIGHT







as MJ's unit broadsides the first cop car.











EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT







The T-bird careens through dockside silence, alone, then



fishtails, SCREECHING, to a lung-compressing halt.











INT. T-BIRD - ON ERIC AND T-BIRD - NIGHT







T-bird respirating like a jackhammer.  Eric holds stoic.







                T-BIRD



        So what -- you gonna rape me now?







                ERIC



        Time for your reward, T.  Payback



        with interest earned.







Eric rips a long strip of tape from the roll.











EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - NIGHT







A HIGH ANGLE of the car as Eric opens the trunk.







ERIC'S POV - The Trunk.







loaded with plastique, canisters, timers, arson paraphernalia.











INT. T-BIRD - FAVOR T-BIRD - NIGHT







SLOW TILT starting with T-Bird's foot, firmly taped to the



pedal.  Mummified into his seat.  Hands taped to the wheel.



Throat taped hard against the headrest.











The car is now in gear, idling.







ANGLE - ON ERIC FROM WINDOW







He drops an incendiary right into T-Bird's lap.  T-Bird squirms.



No go.  Eric reaches in with a bungie cord.







                ERIC



        A little restrictive?  Good.



             (chilling)



        You held her down and raped her.



        You were the first.  She burned



        while you were inside of her.



             (re: bomb)



        What's the lag on this?  About



        twenty seconds, would you say?







T-bird thrashes, but he's immobilized.  Can't even budge the



wheel.







                ERIC (CONT'D)



        I've comrades in hell, T-bird.



        Give them my best.







Eric activates the timer.  Yanks up hard on the bungie cord.







INSERT: T-BIRD FOOTWELL







The bungie cord pulls T-Bird's foot all the way down on the



pedal.







ANGLE - ON CAR, FROM DOCKSIDE







Eric steps back, plucks the guitar out as the car starts to move.  The



car roars for the edge of the dock, about a distance of a



football field.  Eric examines T-bird's auto pistol and pops the



clip.







INTERCUTS:  as the car speeds for the water's edge, Eric thumbs



bullets from the clip, one by one.











INT. T-BIRD - TRAVELING FAST - NIGHT







T-bird's eyes bug in horror and he goes MMMMMMMMHHH!







CLOSE-UP - THE CLIP IN ERIC'S HAND







thumbing out the final bullet.











EXT. DETROIT RIVER SHIPYARD - RESUMING ERIC - NIGHT







                ERIC



        All gone.







ANGLE - T-BIRD REACHES DOCKSIDE







Lifting off and blowing all to hell, a billion smithereens of



phosphorescent firs pattering into the dark water.  It hits.



Sinks.  Weird flare glow as the car quickly submerges.







ANGLE - ERIC







heaving the gun into the distant water.  Plosh.  He produces T-



Bird's accelerator.  Squirts it into the ground.  He



prestidigitates and T-Bird's Zippo appears in his hand.  He 



flicks it and drops it into the flammable puddle.







HIGH LONG SHOT - ERIC







walking slowly out of the scene as the firepool coalesces into



a burning crow shape. 











INT. DARLA'S APARTMENT - DAWN







CLOSE-UP of a frying pan busy burning some pretty firebombed



looking eggs.  Kind gross.







ANGLE - DARLA AT THE STOVE.







NOT THRILLED WITH HER OWN PROGRESS.







                DARLA



        I never was too good at this 



        domestic shit.







ANGLE - ELLY AT LIVING ROOM WINDOW







staring outside at nothing in particular.  Yet.







                ELLY



        Don't say "shit".



             (beat)



        That's okay.  Corn Flakes are



        okay.  Anything.







She pauses as she hears a lilting, faraway GUITAR STRAIN.



Across the street she can make out the figure of Eric on his 



roof playing the guitar.











EXT. ROOF OF LOFT BUILDING DAWN







EXTREME CLOSE of a Pignose Amp.  More soft GUITAR strokes as



CAMERA FOLLOWS a patchwork a taped-together, jerry-rigged



cables to:







ANGLE - ERIC ON ROOF -- shirtless, crosslegged, his Crow make-up



streaked by the night's work.  His fingering is unsure and he 



tries the tune again.







INSERT - We she Shelly's engagement ring on a leather thong



around Eric's neck.  Like an amulet.







ANGLE - ERIC PLAYING







He's got it right this time.  Strong, sure CHORDS.  Passionate.



We can almost imagine him conjuring Shelly via musical sorcery.



He holds a stroke, letting it ring.  Sun rises behind him.







                IRATE VOICE (O.S.)



        Hey, shut the fuck up!







Eric's eyes, closed with the moment, dart left.  Funny.











EXT. MAXI-DOGS - DAY







Later.  Elly is seated on a stool..  Mickey gives her a chili



dog.







                MICKEY



        Chili dog for breakfast... it's



        original.







                ELLY



        Mom tried to cook.







                MICKEY



        Oh.







                CUSTOMER (O.S.)



        Hey, Mickey, I need a special



        with everything.  No sawdust.







                MICKEY



             (to Elly)



        Everyone's a comedian.  Enjoy.







Mickey EXITS FRAME.







                GRANGE (O.S.)



        You're Elly, right?  I know your



        mom.







Elly turns.  Grange sits next to her.  Lao's mirrored-windowed car



is parked across the street, b.g.







                ELLY



        A lot of people "know" my mom.







Grange points o.s., indicating he wants coffee from Mickey.







                GRANGE



        I know your friend, too -- the one



        that looks like a rock star.







                ELLY



        I don't know you.







                GRANGE



             (easily)



        I'd like to get in touch with him.







Elly sizes Grange up.







                ELLY



        You're not a cop, either.  What do



        you want him for?







                GRANGE



        I'm looking for a good guitar man.







                ELLY



        Right.







Grange withdraws a $10 bill from his wallet and slides it across



the countertop to Mickey.







                ELLY (CONT'D)



        You buying?



             (cuts him some slack)



        He kinda wanders around.  You'll



        see him if you pay attention.







                GRANGE



        I need to find him kind of soon,



        Elly.











INT. LOFT - ON ERIC - DAY







No shirt, the ring on the thong around his neck -- workout mode.







He twirls and performs odd Crow moves of increasing complexity



in the big open living room.  On purpose, he stretches hard



against the bedroom doorframe.







FLASH:  Shelly stands in the blue moonlight near the picture window



wearing a rococo Victorian gown.  PUSH IN TIGHT as she is



embraced by a nude Eric.  He undoes the last few remaining ties



that hold the gown in place.  FOLLOW THE GOWN as it crumples



down the length of Shelly's (also otherwise nude) body to the



floor...







                        FLASH ENDS.







LOW ANGEL - FROM INSIDE THE BEDROOM - ON ERIC







hanging there, inviting the pain the FLASHES bring.  Breathing



as though he is pumping iron, pumping up.







ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN BEDROOM







embracing a ragged full-length dress that used to be Shelly's.







FLASH: Eric and Shelly (wearing the same dress), exchange an



extremely passionate and intimate KISS in the moonlight.







                        FLASH ENDS.







ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC







as he drops the dress.  Absorbing the pain and memories.







ANGLE - LATER - ERIC IN LIVING ROOM







executing a complex roll that winds him up at the windowsill.



He grasps it with both hands.







FLASH:  A series of CLOSE SHOTS of Eric and Shelly's HANDS, each



moving along the other's body.  Curves and dips and contours.



But Eric's gaze never leaves SHelly's eyes.







                        FLASH ENDS.







ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC AT WINDOW







His GAZE similarly FIXED.  Bringing his hands away and clapping



them together, deep breath, fingertips pressed to his face, like



Kung Fu prep.  When he opens his eyes, the crow is there before



him on the sill.







                ERIC



        That's better.







He wipes his torso down with a towel.







                ERIC (CONT'D)



        It's almost time.







He holds his hand in front of his face and he flexes it.  We can



HEAR tendons CRACKLE like a harness.  Closes it into a powerful



fist.







INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT







TIGHT on Skank as he slams his fist down on the table.  He has



a black eye and facial scuffs from his liquor store encounter.







                SKANK



        Top, I made the sumbitch!  Face



        all painted white like some kinda



        fuckin' kabuki homo!







WIDE ANGLE to include all present:  Lao, Grange, Lao Guards #1 



and #2, Top Dollar, and a Sentry.  Top dusts up a line and



rinses his nostrils with brandy.







                LAO



        Sounds like our "Crow" is



        out-maneuvering you.







                TOP DOLLAR



        "Our" Crow...?







                LAO



        Come now.  You've seen the 



        graffiti -- all over the city in



        the few hors it has taken your



        men to drop like plague victims.



        What about your turf, Top?



             (mockingly)



        You don't seem to have ripped out



        anyone's heart yet.







                TOP DOLLAR



             (pissed off)



        The night is young.







                SKANK



             (hot)



        The found T-bird flash-fried to



        what was left of his fucking car!







Top is angry too, but won't show it to Lao.  He rises and goes



to the window.  Neon glow.  Top sees something outside, below,



that really torques him off.











EXT. STREET OUTSIDE SHOWTIME - NIGHT (TOP'S POV)







A phantom GRAFFITI ARTIST is spray-painting a crow shape on the



condemned building right across the street.











INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT







Top whip-drawing an auto pistol and shooting below.







                TOP DOLLAR



        Hey, you little fuckweed!  That's



        against the law!







His gun smoking.  Momentary empowerment.







                TOP DOLLAR (CONT'D)



        I don't give a shit what kinda



        bird this guy is.











EXT. WINDOW - NIGHT







As Top turns from the window,  PULL BACK to incorporate the



chunky shadows where the lights don't fall.  Eric is there,



perched on the narrow exterior ledge...but we don't know it



until he opens his eyes, two dots of white in the blackness.











INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - NIGHT







LAO AT TABLE -- angered by this macho horseshit, annoyed at his



time being frittered.







                LAO



        I am sitting over here.







He SLAMS a palm on the table and the room goes silent.  Top



looks sheepish.







                LAO (CONT'D)



        Do you think this childish



        machismo impresses me?



             (regains composure)



        When I was a boy in Saigon I



        watched my country change one 



        block at a time,  one building at



        a time.  Whole lives erased.  A



        way of life, polluted.  Today, no 



        one forces me to move.  I use my



        powers to change your country, one



        block at a time,  one building at



        a time.







                TOP DOLLAR



        Nice speech.  What's it supposed



        to mean?







                LAO



        Your comprehension is not



        required.  Your cooperation and,



        indeed, your ability are the



        issues on the table.







Top rallies to this.







                TOP DOLLAR



        Whatever you say, I can do.







Skank looks around, nervous and jumpy, a contradiction to Top's



guarantee.











                LAO



        That's reassuring.







CLOSE-UP - TOP'S SHELL CASING IN ERIC'S HAND







from the ledge.  Endstamp is for a .45 caliber.







ANGLE - ERIC ON LEDGE







He sniffs the cartridge.  We can see Funboy's cartridge in his



hair.  He fists the shell casing tightly.







ANGLE - DOWN-TABLE, AT SKANK







Jittery, grabbing a clip for his own automatic.







                SKANK



        What was that -- !?







It wasn't anything.  Skank loads, stands and jacks the action on



his gun.  Lao looks questioningly to Top Dollar.







                TOP DOLLAR



        Too many poppers, Skank.  Relax.  Heel.







ANGLE - WINDOW BEHIND TOP DOLLAR







A black blur as Eric arches through, spilling Top.







ANGLE - MEN SEATED AT TABLE







Eric back flips the length of the table and kicks the gun from



Skank's hand.  All react.  Weapons out.







CLOSE-UP - SKANK'S GUN







spinning mid-air to land in Eric's open hand!







GENERAL ANGLE - BIG MOBY SHOOTOUT - (VARIOUS)







Death cleans house.  Standing on the table, Eric fires rearward



under his own arm to clip Lao Guard #1.  He pivots, shooting,



and takes out Lao Guard #2 -- who slams backward into the steel



door as it being opened by the Sentry outside.  Crash!  The



door is shut again.







ANGLE - GRANGE AND LAO







Grange sprays the room with a Calico 950 Auto, shoving Lao



beneath the table for cover.







ANGLE - ERIC







Bullets hit him and demolish everything behind him.  Skank hits



the deck again.  Eric fires and Lao Guard #1 sucks three hits 



across the chest, firing convulsively against the ceiling, blowing



the lights.







ANGLE - TOP DOLLAR







springing up from behind table.  But Eric is gone from the field



of fire and one shot strikes Skank, rising at the far end.







ANGLE - LAO AND GRANGE







making for the door, Grange as shield.  Lao draws a pistol.  The door



opens and Lao shoots a Sentry to clear him out of the way.







ANGLE - TIGHTER ON LAO







A last look back toward Eric and Grange hustle Lao out.







Door SLAM o.s.  Top is out of ammo as Eric lands from above



frame right in front of him and slaps the gun from his hand.







                TOP DOLLAR



             (awed but maintained)



        You want my attention, man you



        got it.







ANGLE - SKANK UNDER TABLE







Wounded but clawing toward Eric just the same.







                SKANK



        It's him, Top!  He dusted T-Bird!







ANGLE - ERIC AND TOP DOLLAR, FACE-TO-FACE







                ERIC



        You have to be SKank.



             (to Top Dollar)



        One moment.







As he speaks, WIDEN FRAME as he turns and grabs the incoming



Skank by the hair.







                ERIC



        Thank of a snappy comeback for me



        on your way down.







Without a beat he pitches Skank right out the window!  Skank howls



all the way down.











EXT. STREET - ON POLICE CAR - NIGHT







Damaged from the wreck, limping home, piloted by our pals Speeg



and MJ.  Skank smashes down into the roof, imploding the



flashbar and windshield.  MJ drenches his lap in fresh coffee.







                MJ



        OwwwAAHHH son of a BITCH!







ANGLE - SIDEWALK ACROSS THE STREET - ON ALBRECHT







who watches with slow marvel from the shadows







                ALBRECHT



        Jesus Christ...







He runs to assist the demolished cruiser.











INT. TOP DOLLAR'S LAIR - RESUMING - NIGHT







Just Top, Eric, corpses, and lazily drifting gunsmoke.







                ERIC



        Top Dollar, you're the only one



        here still wasting good air...







                TOP DOLLAR



        Five large, in the drawer right 



        over there.  I never saw you.







                ERIC



        Do you know what you destroyed?







                TOP DOLLAR



        Take the dope, too.







Eric backhands Top into the wall.  Gets in his face, seething.







                ERIC



        A year ago.  A very nice lady



        circulated a petition.  She died.



        Last Halloween.  Answer yes or no.







                TOP DOLLAR



        That's ancient history.







                ERIC



        It's yesterday!  Do you know what



        you destroyed?







Top Dollar yells right back at Eric's anger.







                TOP DOLLAR



        Who gives a fuck!  I'm a



        businessman.  You gonna do me,



        then do me and shut you're face!







                ERIC



        You don't even remember...







                TOP DOLLAR



        I never forget anything, dickhead.



        That building was a sweep-and-



        clear; the bitch was a nuisance



        with her goddamned petition.  It



        got a little rowdy... end of



        story.







                ERIC



        Rowdy.  Let me fill in some gaps 



        for you.







And he grabs Top's head the way he grabbed ALbrecht's earlier,



slams Top into the wall.  Nose-to-nose.







FLASH:  Shelly backing away from oncoming Funboy in the loft,



trying to retreat, nowhere to run, her home invaded, scared.







                        FLASH ENDS.







ANGLE - TOP DOLLAR AND ERIC







Top is quivering, almost helpless in Eric's hypnotic grasp.



Eric winces, hard, and --







FLASH:  Shelly cut, bleeding, struggling against T-Bird.  Wild.







                        FLASH ENDS.







ANGLE - RESUMING TOP DOLLAR AND ERIC







Viciously close, more intimate and lethal than anything.







                ERIC



        You're a detail man, Top -- you



        need to see more.







This time Top tries to twist from Eric's grasp but it's no good.







FLASH: Shelly, comatose in ICU, eyes fixed and staring, 



hoses darting in and out, cold blue refrigerator light.







Bloody, bruised and broken (from Albrecht;s memory)







                        FLASH ENDS.







CLOSE-UP - TOP DOLLAR







arching, stiffening in pain.







CLOSE-UP - TOP DOLLAR AND ERIC







                ERIC



        All of her pain, Top.  Thirty



        hours.  All at once...







Eric bears down on Top Dollar again.  Top screams.  Blood begins



to leak from his eyes, nose, ears.







                ERIC (CONT'D)



        ...all for you.







FLASH:  Rapidfire CLOSE-UPS.  A jagged compound fracture,



jutting, Shelly's eye, blood-red sclera, purpled and sunken.







Her scraped-raw hand clawing at air.  Icebox lighting.  A TIGHT



SHOT of her monitor going flatline: eeeeeeeeeeeeee...







TWO-SHOT - RESUMING ERIC AND TOP DOLLAR.







as Top sags in Eric's grasp, terror fixing his wide-staring dead



eyes.  Eric lets him drop like a laundry sack.







                ERIC



        I didn't think you could handle it



        either.







O.S. BANG of impact, heavy against the steel door.  Eric turns.







ANGLE - STEEL DOOR







as it is battered down by a squad of police using a power-ram.



All weapons snap up to bear on Eric.







                LEAD SWAT



        That's all she wrote, Bozo!  You



        stand down now, and that's an



        order!







ANGLE - ERIC AS HE MOVES







using his foot to shove the massive conference table at the 



incoming SWATS while launching himself into the air, flipping



toward the window and arching through cleanly as the cops open



fire on command.  Bullets tear the room to pieces.







                LEAD SWAT



        The fire escape's covered.











EXT. SHOWTIME - FRONT FIRE ESCAPE - NIGHT







Picking up Eric on his dive through the window, bullets chasing



him.  Immediate police fire from below sparks off the ironwork.



Eric ducks slugs balletically and scampers to the roof.







ANGLE - SHOWTIME ROOFTOP EDGE







Eric somersaults over.  Bullets chip brick in his wake.







STREET LEVEL - UP ANGLE TOWARD ROOF.







Showtime girded police cars and MARKSMEN, Eric a distant



shadow figure above.  Here comes a TEAM LEADER with a bullhorn.







                TEAM LEADER (FILTERED)



        On the roof!  Keep firing!  Keep



        firing!







A fury of law enforcement ordnance cuts loose all around him.







RESUMING ERIC ON SHOWTIME ROOF EDGE







A forearm up against the fusillade.  Below him --







ANGLE - PIT FRONT FIRE ESCAPE 







Here come Lead SWAT and his Merry MEN.







MOVING ANGLE - WITH ERIC - ADJACENT ROOFTOP







Eric runs for it.  Half a story higher.  He hits the wall and



skitters up, gripping tiny cracks in the brickwork.







ANGLE - RESUMING MEN ON FRONT SHOWTIME FIRE ESCAPE.







Lead SWAT hesitates -- because of what he sees.







                LEAD SWAT



        Holy shit, it's spiderman.







He tries to pull a bead and fires too late.







                LEAD SWAT (CONT'D)



        What're you boy scouts staring at!



        Let's Go!  Let's go!  Let's go!







MOVING ANGLE - PICKING UP ERIC ON NEXT ROOF







He sprints to the far edge and dives to the next lower rooftop.



As he lands he is nailed by a helicopter spotlight, boring in 



from behind and above the row of buildings.







MOVING ANGLE - THE STREET BELOW







COPS below, COPS in the chopper, everyone rushing parallel to 



Eric, trying to keep up.







ERIC'S POV - THE STREET, THE HELICOPTER







PAN QUICK to the next ledge.  COPS right behind him on the roof



as well.







WITH ERIC - AS HE RUNS TO THE EDGE.







and finds a void waiting there.  No connecting building.







ANOTHER MOVING ANGLE - ERIC







staying ahead of the search light.  A fantastic series of artful



moves that wind him up at the rear edge of the roof.







ANGLE - SWAT MEN ON NEXT ROOF







sighting Eric as the light picks him out.  Eric glances at 



them... then jumps.







                CHOPPER PILOT (O.S./FILTERED)



        He's off the roof.  We can't see



        him.







CLOSE-UP - LEAD SWAT







pulling his weapon off target, because there is not target.  







                LEAD SWAT



        Dammit to hell!



             (beat; to men)



        Come on.







ANGLE - ALLEY - STREET LEVEL







Eric lands like a falling safe, scattering garbage.  But he's 



okay, up and running.







ANGLE - ERIC'S RUNNING POV - END OF ALLEY







as his escape is cut off by a police car that screeches to a 



stop, blocking the exit.







ANOTHER ANGLE - ERIC







as he backpedals, scanning for an alternate escape.







                ALBRECHT



             (from car)



        Come on!







CLOSER ANGLE  - POLICE CAR







We can see Albrecht.  Eric dives inside and the car burns rubber.











INT. ALBRECHT'S CAR - TRAVELLING - NIGHT







Albrecht harried and frantic, but in control.







                ALBRECHT



        Keep your head down!







He twists and turns the car, glancing rearward for pursuit.  







Gradually he calms down.







                ALBRECHT (CONT'D)



        I figured you might need a ride 



        home.







Eric looks up at him from his half-concealed crouch.







                ERIC



        It's done.



                ALBRECHT



        I figured as much.  Did you cap



        off Funboy.







                ERIC



        Funboy had to leave this mortal 



        coil.







                ALBRECHT



        Yeah, among others.



             (sees Eric's condition)



        Hey, man -- you're hit.







                ERIC



        It's only a flesh wound.







                ALBRECHT



        It's only fourteen or fifteen 



        flesh wounds.







Eric sits up as the car gains distance.  Grabs the cigarette out 



of ALbrecht's mouth.  Takes his single puff.







                ERIC



        You shouldn't smoke these.







He pitches the smoke out the open car window.







                ALBRECHT



        Great.  Litterbug of the Living



        Dead.







Eric turns back to Albrecht.







                ERIC



        I'm finished.







Eric shoots him a doubtful look.







                ERIC (CONT'D)



        I mean, I've done what I came to



        do.  It shouldn't hurt this much.



        But it will pass...







                ALBRECHT



             (not buying it)



        Right.



             (beat)



        You sure I can't just take you to 



        the emergency ward?











EXT. STREET - NIGHT - ON ALBRECHT'S CAR







It hangs a turn and their escape is made.







                ERIC (O.S.)



        They couldn't do anything for me.







                ALBRECHT (O.S.)



        How 'bout the morgue?







                ERIC (O.S.)



        No.  I have one more thing to do.











EXT. STREET - ANOTHER PART OF THE CITY - NIGHT







Lonelier, less traffic, more deserted.







ANGLE - ON ALBRECHT AND ERIC THROUGH WINDSHIELD - TRAVELLING







                ALBRECHT



        You're gonna kill somebody else.



             (beat; no response)



        We're gonna stop and get a shit-load



        of Band-Aids?







Eric is obviously fighting to stay centered, stay conscious.



His last fight has caused him a great deal of damage, taken a



lot out of him.  He needs to recharge.







                ERIC



        I have to prepare for an 



        anniversary.  This coming night.







HOLD on their two kinds of determination. as we







                        DISSOLVE TO:











EXT. CITYSCAPE - DAY







High blue sky.  It might even be pretty if it wasn't Detroit.











INT. LAO'S CLUB OFFICE - DAY







The TV flybank pulses with videotaped images of Club Trash's of



various performers -- including Diabolique.  On several screens,



one-by-one, various images of a guitar-playing Eric Draven



FREEZE-FRAME as we PULL BACK to the desk.  Lao has the 8x10 from



the corridor gallery.  He places it within eyeshot and resumes



work on the desk BELOW FRAME;  we can't see it yet, among other



scattered research and inconcubula.







ANGLE - GRANGE







Entering and crossing to the desk.  As he comes up to the desk,



he DRAWS BACK.











                GRANGE



        What... the hell is that?







                LAO



             (calmly)



        This is a cobra, Mr. Grange.  Yes,



        it is real.







NEW ANGLE - LAO AND GRANGE







Revealing Lao with a sealed cage, holding a large, live cobra in



his hands.  The killing blade is nearby.







                GRANGE



        That thing is poisonous.







                LAO



        Extremely so.



             (beat)



        You and I are the recipients of



        unwanted good fortune, in the form 



        of a man everyone is calling The Crow.







Grange makes a face.  Can't keep his eyes off the cobra.







                GRANGE



        Give me a break.  That guy's a wacko...







                LAO



        I intend no slight to you, but I



        cannot find the English to



        adequately express just what he



        is.  I suppose Western mythology



        would describe him as a Fury.



        



                GRANGE



        Not a Plymouth Fury, I bet.







Lao chuckles indulgently.







                LAO



        Do you know of spirit assassins?



        You do know the dead can rise?



        Properly motivated, of course.







                GRANGE



        Like some sort of zombie on a 



        revenge trip.







                LAO



        Mmm.  But tonight I can take what



        is his.







                GRANGE



        Only thing you'll get from that



        clown is a faster way to die.



                LAO



        To the contrary...







ZZLIP!  Lao smoothly BEHEADS the snake with the Blade against



the stone surface of the desk and discards the writhing body.



He squeezes behind one of the eyes and a VENOM SAC protrudes



like a dark pimento.







LAO pulls it free of the milky, clinging tissue and EATS IT.



Off Grange's stunned expression.







                LAO (CONT'D)



        ...all the dying tonight will be 



        done by the former Eric Draven.







Lao exhibits the blade to Grange as though it explains all.







                LAO (CONT'D)



        Who is only invulnerable so long



        as he cares about the dead.  When



        he begins to care about the living,



        you'll find his heart can bleed...



        and I want it to bleed for me.







                GRANGE



        Kill a dead guy?







Lao POPS the second venom sac; swallows it.  Pleased.







                LAO



        Truly kill him.  So I may crush



        his skull and smoke it.







Lao SHRUGS.  Grange can handle it.







                LAO (CONT'D)



        Let it suffice that I need him...



        and to get to him, we'll need his 



        little friend.







Finally, an assignment Grange can comfortable understand. 











INT. LOFT - DAY







Eric, barechested, emotionally tapped, clean of makeup and blood



but exhausted, his movements retarded and slack.  Staring



fixedly into the fireplace,  where he burns everything he could



find of his past:  the junk from the makeup table, the masques,



photos of himself and Shelly.











INT. LOFT - STAIRWELL - DAY







Moving with Elly as she nears the open loft door.  She PEEKS



cautiously inside.







RESUME ERIC







Without looking toward the door, he speaks.







                ELLY



        What's going on...?







                ERIC



        A remembrance.



             (beat)



        A closure.







And Eric consigns to the fire the DRESS we saw earlier.







Holds a photograph in a broken frame.  Cracked glass.  Subject:



Eric and Shelly, goofing for the camera.







He chucks it into the fire.  Draws a deep breath.







                ERIC



        Better now.  I feel good.  How are



        you, Elly, my friend?







Elly is clearly uncomfortable, groping for an excuse just to see 



Eric.  Eric is staring at her, intently.







                ERIC



        What is it?



                ELLY



        I knew.  I knew I knew you.  Even



        with the makeup and stuff you



        wore.



             (beat)



        You really loved her, didn't you?







CLOSE-UP - FIREPLACE







The photo burns and blackens in the grate.







                ERIC



        You brought flowers.  As long as 



        you don't forget her, Elly, she 



        lives.







                ELLY



             (upset)



        She's dead.  She's gone.  And now



        you're just gonna go away and



        never come back, too.  I hate this



        place; it isn't fair.







                ERIC



        Elly...







He draws her close.  Wipes away an errant tear with his thumb.







                ERIC (CONT'D)



        Sometimes the people we care about



        are gone, for no reason.  Sometimes



        that's really tough.  I cry.  But if 



        the people we love are gone, we keep them --







He taps Elly's temple, then his won.







                ERIC (CONT'D)



        -- right here.  It's a big



        responsibility.  And that makes it 



        okay to mourn.



             (beat)



        I know that if you weren't here,



        I'd be very sad.







Elly gives Eric a hug.







                ELLY



        You look funny without your white



        face on.  Like it's your day off



        or something.







He quizzical expression amuses him.







                ERIC



        Somebody here wants to meet you. Gabriel?







Gabriel the cat has wandered near the fireplace to join them.  



Elly is immediately smitten.  Happy.



        



                ELLY



        I remember him!  Here, Gabriel...



        here kitty... Gabriel... Is he



        still yours?







                ERIC



        I think he's yours, now.







The cat seems to like that idea.  Elly wraps him hugely up in



her arms, talking to him: "How're you, Gabriel, whatcha doin'"







ANOTHER ANGLE - TIGHTER ON ERIC







While Elly is preoccupied with the cat, Eric gives up his last



bit of Shelly to the fire - a portrait photo of her, small and 



creased.  He puts it in the fire, watches it burn for a beat,



then turns to Elly.







                ERIC (CONT'D)



        I have something else for you.







BACK FOCUS as Eric lifts off his neck Shelly's ring for Elly's



inspection.  The ring twirls large in f.g.







                ELLY



        Nobody ever gave me something like



        that before.  Ever.







Eric places it around her neck.  Elly BEAMS.







                ERIC



        Shelly would've wanted you to have



        it.  This way, you'll think of her 



        every time you see it...







                ELLY



        And she'll be alive.  Up here.







Elly TAPS her own temple with a smile, keeping one hand on the



ring.







                        CUT TO:























EXT. STREET - DAY







Blowing wind.  TRICK-OR-TREATERS wisp past.  Ghosts, witches,



demons out for Halloween.







ANGLE - CEMETERY FENCE







walking home with Gabriel zipped up inside her coat is Elly.  A



fire engine wails past in the opposite direction.







ANGLE - ELLY ON BROWNSTONE STEPS







Strictly downscale building.  Elly to Gabriel"







                ELLY



        You're gonna like it here.







A car curbs across the street as she enters the building.







ANGLE - PUSH IN ON CAR







as the window cranks down to reveal Grange at the wheel.











INT. DARLA'S APARTMENT - DAY







Darla nervously smoking, doing her best to stay clean, but



jittery.  Elly enters the shabby living room with Gabriel in her



arms.











                DARLA



        I was wonderin' where you'd



        gotten to --



             (she sees Gabriel)



        Oh, Elly, honey, a cat.  Here?







                ELLY



        He was a present.  Besides, we're



        moving anyway.  You said.







                DARLA



        We'll discuss this later.



        Obviously.  You left the door open.







DARLA points.  As Elly goes to close the door it opens.







NEW ANGLE - FAVOR THE DOOR







Grange enters accompanied by two Asian martial arts STRONGARMS



(Lao Guards #3 & #4).  Grange looks around, bemused, his manner



avuncular.







                GRANGE



        Hi, Elly.  Remember me?







Elly's surprise is evident.  Darla is just plain pissed off.







                DARLA



        I don't remember you.  And I don't



        remember inviting...







                GRANGE



             (to his MEN)



        If she opens her face again, shoot



        her in the head.







ANGLE - DARLA







Mouth stalling in the ON position as Lao Guard #3 pulls a 



gigantic gun, draws and cocks.







                ELLY



             (panicked)



        Mom -- !







ANGLE - GUARD #4 AND ELLY







as he scoops her up, captive.







ANGLE - GRANGE AND GABRIEL







He strolls the circuit of the room, stopping near the window.







                GRANGE



        You should listen to your mother.



        She said no cats.







Grange pitches Gabriel right out the window.







                ELLY



        Gabriel!







Grange pulls out a compact Polaroid camera.







                GRANGE



        Now that's the expression I want.







ANGLE - ELLY AND GUARD #4







As she struggle mightily, to no avail, as Grange moves in to



snap his shot.







                GRANGE (CONT'D)



        Say cheese.







He snaps.  On the SX-70 WHIRR and flash white-out, we --











EXT. LOFT BUILDING ROOFTOP - SUNSET







Dark clouds have gathered to highlight the sunset.  Eric plays



the guitar - LOUD, the SHelly theme in a major key.  Where



before it was wandering, uncertain, now it's bold and



heartbreaking.  Definitive.  Pain replaced by strength and a



sense of homecoming.







As Eric gets to the end of it, the notes are flying out... At



the climax, rips the guitar up over his head and brings it 



down -- SMASH -- on the Pignose.  He's finished here.







ROOF EDGE - FROM STREET







as the broken guitar SAILS OUT over the building edge.







INT. LOFT BUILDING STAIRWELL - DUSK







As Eric comes down the stairs.  Notices the open door.











INT. LOFT - DUSK







He enters, cautiously, to find an envelope laying in the middle



of the floor.  He opens it.







INSERT - THE POLAROID OF ELLY







with a note.







UP ANGLE AT ERIC READING THE NOTE - FROM FLOOR







The crow flies past behind him as his expression hardens.







NEW ANGLE -  A MOMENT LATER - FAST AND HARD







Eric brutally crisscrosses his arms with black vinyl tape.







ANGLE - ERIC DRESSING







Pulling on black night-fighting clothes, skintight.







ANGLE - THE VANITY







as Eric (seen in mirror) jabs his fingers into the white



makeup and smears it on.







                        SMASH CUT TO:











EXT. STREET NEAR CEMETERY - NIGHT







Eric marches along in plain view since everyone around him seems



to be in costume.  The wind whips his coat.  KIDS bustle around



him with trick-or-treat bags.  The crow perched on his shoulder.







ERIC'S POV - CITY SKYLINE







Somewhere, a few blocks over, a building is burning.







ANGLE - ERIC WALKING







A fire engine races past on the street.  He steps out in its



wake and crosses over to --







MEDIUM MOVING SHOT - THE CEMETERY







waiting for him as he crosses to the fence.  Beyond the fence,



in the distance, the church looms.







ANGLE - ERIC







He pauses.  A KID in a Creature from the Black Lagoon mask



comes, passes Eric, then comes back for a touch.







                CREATURE KID



        Trick or treat!







Eric smiles.  Not tonight.











EXT. CEMETERY - NIGHT







Eric is standing over the grave of Shelly Webster, looking down.



He holds for a moment then moves on.











EXT. CHURCH - NIGHT







Eric ascends toward giant oak doors, tres Gothique.  The crow



flaps past, leading him.







NEW ANGLE - TOP OF STEPS -- where waits the Skull Cowboy.  As



Eric approaches, the Skull Cowboy interposes himself between



Eric and the huge double doors.







Eric glares up, defiant.  Moves up the steps.  The Skull Cowboy



extends a skeletal hand.  STOP.







                SKULL COWBOY



        Stop screwing around.











TIGHT ON ERIC







Angry, ready to battle:  You talking to me?







                SKULL COWBOY (CONT'D)



        Your job is done.  You interfere



        with the living again.







                ERIC



        Tell me I'll get hurt.  That I 



        might die.



             (beat)



        I've already done that.  I don't 



        need anyone's help.  Yours 



        included.







STAIR ANGLE - ERIC AND SKULL COWBOY







Eric lower, Skull Cowboy superior, the storm wild around them.







                SKULL COWBOY



        Do this thing and you will be



        vulnerable.  The blood will not



        return.



             (beat)



        No powers.  No reunion.  Nothing.







                ERIC



        Fine with me.







He ADVANCES a step up; the Skull Cowboy Hold fast.







                SKULL COWBOY



        You'll be alone.







                ERIC



        I'm already alone.











INT. BELL TOWER - NIGHT







Through a castle keep-like slit, Grange monitors Eric's



arrival.  He speaks into a headset.







                GRANGE



        We've got company.







                LAO (O.S./FILTERED)



        Is he inside?







GRANGE'S POV - ERIC







Eric Talking to dead air.  Almost arguing with it.  Eerie.







RESUME GRANGE







As he talks into his mike he hefts a nightscoped, laser-sighted



sniper's rifle.







                GRANGE



        He's just out front talking to



        himself.  You tell me. 











EXT. CHURCH - RESUMING ERIC ON STEPS - NIGHT







Eric, eyes steely, stares down the Skull Cowboy.







                ERIC



        Don't waste my time.







                SKULL COWBOY



        Very well, it's your ass.







And the wind kicks up around them both, powerfully.







ANGLE - SKULL COWBOY (EFFECT)







As the force of the storm dust-devils around him and begins to



disassemble him.  The fire in his eye sockets goes out.  His hat



flies off an is pulverized by the wind.  The garments begin to



disintegrate and blow around, rotten cerements falling apart in



mid-air.







ANGLE - ERIC ON STEPS -- transfixed by this unexpected



development.  A shard of the Skull Cowboy blows past Eric's face 



and transmutes to dust!







RESUME SKULL COWBOY AT TOP OF STEPS (EFFECT)







Transparent, ancient bones, crumbling and blowing away.







ANOTHER ANGLE - ERIC ON STEPS







As Eric lunges for what's left of his mysterious, smart-ass



mentor



CLOSE-UP - ERIC'S LUNGING HAND











Meeting only a swirl of vaporous dust where the Skull Cowboy's



heart would have been.







TIGHT ANGLE - ERIC ON STEPS







He has time to register the dust in his palm before it, too,



renders down to nothingness,  leaving a vague green glow that



dies.  And as he looks to the sky --







UP ANGLE - THE CROW







flapping down to land on Eric's shoulder.  Eric is astonished.







                ERIC



        But why are you still here?







CLOSE-UP - THE CROW







No answer in the crow's eyes.







RESUME AND FOLLOW ERIC







That's good enough for Eric.  He marches to the double doors and



shoves them back.











INT. CHURCH - AS ERIC COMES THROUGH THE DOORS - NIGHT







The high breeze blows in with him, disturbing dust in the



disused Gothic dark.  Hollow cathedral ECHOES to sounds.  A



giant 27" TV positioned on the alter, broadcasting static.







LONG SHOT - ERIC AS HE APPROACHES THE ALTER - ("CROWVISION")







Leery of potential danger from a thousand dark places.







ANGLE - THE TV - AS ERIC ENTERS FRAME







Onscreen:  Elly, gagged with duct tape and handcuffed to an iron



ring bolted to a flagstone wall.  Could be anywhere inside the



church.







                LAO (O.S./FILTERED)



        I believe our friend Elly call



        you Mister Crow.



             (beat)



        Please acknowledge; the mike



        will pick you up.



        



                ERIC



        I can see her.







                LAO



        Of course you can.



ANGLE - GRANGE IN THE GALLERY --  in darkness.  The running



lights on his night-scoped, laser-sighted sniper's rifle which



THROWS vague sprays of eerie red and green light.







                LAO (CONT'D; O.S./FILTERED)



        Don't permit your rage to cloud



        the issue.  I believe in barter.



        I propose a simple trade.







Grange sights his weapon.







CROSSHAIR POV - ERIC AT THE ALTER







Bluring as Grange resights.  Eric is not the target.  Blur



FINDS the crow at the far end of the nave, perched in front of



a giant stained glass window.







NEW ANGLE - GRANGE -- squeezing off two quick, SILENCED shots.







ANGLE - STAINED GLASS WINDOW -- the first shot blows a hole in



some pastoral religious presentation.  TINKLE of glass.







ANGLE - ERIC -- Spinning at the quiet !pfut! sound, to witness.







ANGLE - INCOMING DART - ("CROWVISION")







SPinning and hissing venomously.







ANGLE - ERIC DUCKS







As before, but the crow is not as fast.







TIGHT ANGLE - THE CROW







As it catches the dart and goes down in a flurry of feathers.







LOW ANGLE - ERIC AT ALTER - INCLUDE TV







His knees buckle.  Sympathetic PAIN from the hit.







                LAO (O.S./FILTERED)



        You intended to finish this



        evening in the cemetery.  I am 



        here to help you on your way.







ANGLE - RESUMING GRANGE IN GALLERY







Swapping his tranquilizer gun for a more lethal rifle, similarly 



scoped.  He sights the fallen Eric in a spray of green light.







HIGH ANGLE - HAND HELD - ERIC AT ALTER







Groping for support to drag himself back to standing.







                GRANGE (O.S.)



        I've got him if you want him.







                LAO (O.S./FILTERED)



        No shooting.







                GRANGE



             (into headset)



        Move in, guys.







HIGH ANGLE - THE SANCTUARY -- as Lao Guards #3 and #4 move



into light, closing on Eric's position in the center of isle.



Both wield calico's and one bears a sword.







CLOSE ANGLE - ALTER -- Lao makes his entrance from shadow



wearing a brisk pugilist get-up, a practical fighting outfit.



Makes a show of drawing the killing blade.







                LAO



        I wish to possess what you have now.







                ERIC



        I want the girl.  Unharmed.  Now.







                LAO



        I know.  That is why I will



        prevail.  Mr. Grange... ?







Eric CRAMPS UP, CLUTCHING his throat in obvious pain.







ANGLE - GRANGE AT STAINED GLASS WINDOW







Holding the crow by the neck, TIGHTLY.  He plucks the tranq dart



from the its body.







ANGLE - RESUMING ERIC AS LAO MOVES IN CLOSER







Crashing to one knee, invisibly bludgeoned, struggling to



breathe.  Lao has no fear, walking around the stricken Eric.







                LAO



        Sooner or later, my action were



        destined to bring me a genuine



        Fury.  And it turned out to be you.



        At last.  I appreciate your



        abilities as few mortals can.



        That's why I desire them.







                ERIC



        You're too late.  There was a guy



        outside - on the stairs - you



        really need to talk to.  But he 



        turned to dust and blew away.



             (beat, gasping)



        I don't have any power for you to take.







                LAO



        I don't believe that.



Lao motions to Grange with the killing blade.  Grange RELAXES



his deathgrip on the crow.  MOVE IN CLOSE on Eric so we may



perceive a palpable degree of relief.







                LAO (CONT'D)



        Time for you to die for me.



              (beat)



        Funny, how the dead can still



        bleed.  How they need air.







Eric IMMOBILIZED as Lao DRAWS BACK the Blade.  To Grange:







                LAO (CONT'D)



        Break its neck.







ANGLE - RESUMING GRANGE AT WINDOW as he prepares to do dirty on



the bird.







Over his shoulder, we PUSH in to the BULLETHOLE from the first



dart until we're in TIGHT CLOSE-UP of an eye watching through 



the hole.







EXT. CHURCH - OBVERSE OF WINDOW - NIGHT







Albrecht digs through a sling bag of weaponry, trying to



simultaneously monitor the peephole, muttering sotto to



himself.







                ALBRECHT



        Had to go get yourself hip-deep in



        shit, didn't you, my friend.







It begins to rain.  Albrecht glances resentfully toward the 



sky.







                ALBRECHT (CONT'D)



        Give it a rest, huh?







A hefts a machinegun, clipped over and under.  CUTS LOOSE on



full auto into the Madonna on the window.











INT.  CHURCH NAVE - NIGHT







As the window EXPLODES toward Grange and he sucks big hits from



behind, DROPPING the crow.  The bird hits the ground, flapping



weakly.







LAO GUARDS #3 & #4 exchange a look and whip up their Calicos,



RETURNING FIRE.











EXT. CHURCH - NIGHT







Albrecht takes cover as a lot of religious stuff is noisily



destroyed all around his position.  Chunks of the window



continue to disintegrate. 











INT. CHURCH ALTER (NIGHT)







Eric tuck-and-rolls out of the way as we go CLOSE on Lao, 



screaming.







                LAO



        I said no shooting!







Then he's ducking bullets himself as Albrecht STEPS IN through



the blown out window, the machine gun stuttering on slugs.







The sanctuary comes apart around Lao.  He RETREATS to the alter



and EXITS whence he came.







TIGHT ON PEW -- ERIC DIVES just as Guard #4 comes after him with



the sword, which chomps into the wood and gets stuck there.



Guard #4 releases it and cross draws his Calico as ERIC springs



back into the frame -- STRAIGHT UP.







TIGHT ON GUARD #4 as Eric's lancing foot propels him backward



before he can fire.







INTERCUTS -- ALBRECHT AND GUARD #3 scrambling to reload.  Guard



changes magazine; Albrecht swaps clips.







ANGLE - DOWN LENGTH OF PEW -- Guard #4 slides.  Sits up with his 



gun as Eric, down-pew, grabs the sword.







ANGLE - ALBRECHT AT WINDOW  firing now with a gun in each hand.







RESUME ERIC AND GUARD #4, who eats it from Albrecht's gunfire,



but not before he puts a round through Eric.







Eric staggers back from the impact but keeps his feet.  







RESUME ALBRECHT as he tosses away the dry pistol.  His machine



gun jams, he fights to get the clip.







ANGLE - GUARD #3 -- reloaded and rising, having caught Albrecht



dead-bang in the open by the window.







MOVING ANGLE - WITH ERIC --  A complex leap with the sword



flashing.  He lands near Guard #3 and SLASHES UPWARDS, blade up.







CLOSE-UP - GUARD #3 -- screaming in pain, gaping DOWN O.S.







TIGHT ON ALBRECHT - looking UP, following the trajectory of



something AIRBORNE toward him.







CLOSE-UP - GUARD #3'S Calico spinning mid-air with Guard #3s



HANDS still attached, severed mid-forearm by Eric's devastating



strike.







ANGLE - ALBRECHT drops Guard #3 -- to REVEAL Eric in the



background.  Eric salutes Albrecht with the tip of the sword.







WITH ALBRECHT as he moves into the nave, which has been torn



apart by gunfire.  Hazy smoke.  Two dead guys.  And Eric.







                ALBRECHT



        You sorta looked like you might



        need my help.







                ERIC



        This isn't your place.  This isn't



        your fight.  And I don't need



        your help.







                ALBRECHT



        You're welcome.







                ERIC



        Leave here.  Don't do this.  I



        don't want you here.







                ALBRECHT



        The hell you say.  This isn't just 



        about you any more.







Eric stares dead-on at Albrecht, acidly, then BREAKS the Guard's 



sword, dropping the pieces and turning his back on Albrecht, who



pursues Eric to: 











INT. SPIRAL STAIRCASE - TO BELL TOWER - NIGHT







The crow FLAPS UPWARD through the void.  Eric grabs the thick



bellrope, testing it.  A final look to Albrecht.







                ERIC



        Don't interfere.







                ALBRECHT



        You're bleeding, man.  You can't



        make it.







Eric shinnies up the bellrope, ignoring Albrecht.







ON ALBRECHT







Watching as Eric dissappears from view, fast..  Grumbles.







                ALBRECHT



        You won't mind if I just take the



        stairs, then, smartass...







He hefts his arsenal bag of hardware and begins to plod up the



steps.







ANGLE - MOVING WITH ERIC ON THE ROPE -- A weird perspective of



speed climb.  Zip!  All the way to the top.







EXT - CHURCH ROOF - NIGHT







Slanted, shingled, slippery, dark.  Lightning deep in the turbid



clouds.  The crow circles as Eric RISES INTO FRAME.







                ERIC



        Here I am.







DOWNFRAME lightning STRIKES the ornate LIGHTNING ROD (large,



Victorian, lance-like) at the far end of the roof from the bell



tower.







SILHOUETTING Lao and Elly standing in front of it.  Elly



flinches at the strike.







                LAO



        Can you fly, Crow man?























INT. BELLTOWER SPIRAL STAIRS - RESUMING ALBRECHT







He stops his ascent to light a cigarette.







                ALBRECHT



        I ain't cut out for this superhero



        shit.











EXT. CHURCH ROOF - RESUMING LAO - NIGHT







Lao SNAPS Elly's free handcuff to the dimly glowing  lightning



rod and advances, one foot on either side of the peak of the



roof, his blade brandished.







CLOSE MOVING SHOT - ERIC -- Hands up to grapple, but



weaponless.  He spiders to meet Lao, suddenly PICKING UP SPEED



and RUNNING along the precarious peak.







Lao sees him coming, braces to strike, but Eric executes a BROAD



FLYING LEAP right over Lao's head.







ERIC LANDS, SLIPS, sprawls sideways, clinging to the peak of the



roof.  Lao hurries in to slash with the blade, as Eric averts.



The steel RINGS.  Eric converts his dodge into a low spin kick



that DUMPS Lao.







Eric SPREAD-EAGLES to keep from falling.  Distantly, Lao



similarly saves himself.







NEW ANGLE -- THE FIGHT -- Here comes Lao, crabbing back toward



the peak.  Eric ROLLS to Elly's position, GRABS the lightning



rod and tries to wrest it loose.







SIZZLE OF FLESH as Eric's hands are scorched: the metal is still



blue-hot.







MOVING WITH LAO as Eric battles to free the lightning rod.  Lao



closes up distance, gives a warcry and prepares to swing as - 







Eric WRENCHES the rod loose and turns to deflect Lao's blow.



The weapons spark as they meet... and there goes Elly, her



handcuff freed, SLIDING DOWN THE ROOF SLOPE.







ANGLE  -- ROOF SLOPE -- WITH ERIC  as he dodges Lao by using the



lightning rod to vault down to where Elly is about to slip off



the roof.







With the rod embedded in the roof, Eric hangs on, and elly hangs 



on to Eric.







UP ANGLE -- LAO, a dark figure against the night sky, raising



the sword.







                LAO



        Face me!







Eric guides Elly to the top of one of the flying buttresses.



When he looks up, Lao is gone.







ANGLE - BELL TOWER -- Albrecht's head pokes up at last.  Looks



around, finally spots Eric below and to the left.  YELLS, serio-comic.







                ALBRECHT



        Is he dead yet?







INSERT - ALBRECHT'S HOLSTER as Lao's hand draws Albrecht's



gun quickly.







ANGLE - ALBRECHT AND LAO --Lao has blindsided Albrecht.







                LAO



        No.  You are.







He jams the gun into the base of ALbrecht's neck and fires three times.







CLOSE ANGLE - ERIC - He's too far away to matter.  Shock.







INSERT - ALBRECHT'S CIGARETTE as it rolls down the slope,



trailing sparks, snuffing out.







ANGLE - ERIC holding onto the lightning rod as lightning CUTS the



night above him.







ANGLE -- LAO AT BELL TOWER, triumphant and a bit wild, SHOUTING.



                LAO



        You've caused another death,



        Mister Draven!  The girl will die



        as well -- because of you!







ANGLE - ELLY ON FLYING BUTTRESS







The base of a triangle - Lao, Eric, Elly.







                ELLY



        You go to hell, you pervert!







RESUME ERIC







Rage over the loss of Albrecht.  He RISES, hurting but mad as



hell.  GLARES UP toward Lao.







                ERIC



        And how many lives have you destroyed?







                LAO



        I took yours from you.  Your



        little girlfriend?  I took hers,



        too.  Your meaningless, petty



        life?  I took it so that tonight



        your existence might gain a



        purpose.  You're no avenger.



        You're mine.







PUSH IN TIGHT ON ERIC.







Eyes alight with hatred for Lao.







                ERIC



              (to himself)



        You're right, I'm not an avenger. 



        Not any more.







As lightning strikes, Eric Fires his gaze TOWARD THE SKY.







HIGH ANGLE - LAO ON ROOFTOP - ("CROWVISION")







SEEING the crash dive toward Lao through the row's eyes.







ANGLE  - LAO ON ROOFTOP







As the crow wings down INTO FRAME and lights on Lao's head, CLAWING!







CLOSE-UP -- THE CROW ON LAO'S HEAD slashing with its claws.



Pecking out Lao's eyes.







WITH ERIC -- on the roofslope as he totters but maintains his



climb, the crow/Lao UPFRAME B.G.







RESUME LAO -- as the crow abandons him.  Lao STAGGERS AND FALLS



down the roof - toward Eric.



SLANTED ANGLE -- ERIC AND LAO -- Eric ARRESTS Lao's fall,



fisting lapels and bringing him nose to nose.  Fury.







                ERIC



        Time for a sacrifice.







Lao's face is a hideous bloody mask with black holes where the



eyes used to be.  He smiles gruesomely.







                LAO



        I don't need eyes to take what I



        want from you.







He EMBRACES Eric and RAMS the killing blade deep into Eric's



back!







ON ERIC as he looks down to see the blade protruding from his



sternum.  Tight grimace.  A lot of pain.







                ERIC



        Can you fly?







He pulls Lao into a BACKWARD ROLL down the roof, HOLDING HIM



TIGHT.







MOVING ANGLE -- INTERCUTS -- ERIC AND LAO FALL







Eric lands on his back, forcing the blade THROUGH himself and



INTO Lao.  Eric completes the roll and KICKS Lao off INTO SPACE,



the killing blade still embedded in him!







WITH LAO as crashes, sliding, sprawling down PAST Elly's



position.  Gets to his knees atop the flying buttress.  Sees the



blade in his own chest.







CLOSE-UP - ELLY - she sees it all happen.







RESUME LAO - a regretful look toward Eric.  He PLUMMETS off the 



roof edge.







ANGLE - ERIC SLIDES DOWN ROOF --  He slows, stopping when Elly



is in frame.  He clutches his own chest.  Regards his own



shaking hand, drenched in his won blood.  Glazed.







ON ELLY, as she finally gets the duct tape off her mouth, trying



to get to Eric.  She flails and cries out.







                ELLY



        Don't let me fall!







CLOSE-UP -- their hands finally meet and GRASP TIGHT.











EXT. CEMETERY - NIGHT (LATER) (RAIN)







A low angle TRACKING SHOT (as when we first met Elly).







Eric's and Elly's feet pass graves.  Eric's pace is slow, crippled, 



limping.  They STOP at a grave where elly BENDS INTO FRAME to steal 



the flowers there.







Eric is bloody and out of it.  She helps him walk.







                ELLY



        Now do you get to see her? Shelly, I mean.







                ERIC



        In a better place.  I hope.







                ELLY



        You're not gonna come back, are you?







Eric's response is halting and uncertain.  But he tries to give



her hope.  He reaches for Shelly's ring around her neck, holds



it up to her.







                ERIC



        I don't know if I can.  But you



        have this... and you know where to come.







                ELLY



        You mean you'll, like' dig your way



        out of the grave?  Euww.







Eric is amused by this in spite of his grievous injuries.







He grasps Elly's face in his hands and bends, painfully,to kiss



her on the forehead.







                ERIC



        For you, I'll try.  Promise.







MOVE WITH ERIC







Spent, empty, he holds the rose determinedly, but he's never



going to make it the few yards back to his own grave.  So close.







His legs finally go and he collapses onto the humus.  One



groping hand tries to drag him further.







                ERIC



        Leave me now.







ANGLE - ELLY







Tears on her face.  She can't watch this.  She TURNS and drops



the flowers on Shelly's grave.







ERIC'S POV - HIS OWN GRAVE







Still too far away to matter.







RESUME ERIC ON GROUND







He gives it up, his face sinking into the wet grass for a beat



before SHELLY'S HAND intrudes INTO FRAME to GRASP his hand.







No ethereal glow, no heavenly choir... just a near-dead Eric's



blank-faced astonishment, and he moves forward.







ANGLE - ELLY - SHELLY'S GRAVE BG







She struggles to get her hood up against the rain and roughly



wipes the moisture from her face with her sleeve.  She turns



toward Eric's grave.  Then, surprised, she looks close.







ANGLE - ERIC'S GRAVE







Eric is gone.  The white rose lies neatly on the top of the



undisturbed  earth there.







HIGH ANGLE - CEMETERY







Emphasizing that Elly is now ALONE in the graveyard.







LOW ANGLE on Elly, ROSE in the foreground --







She walks OFF.  HOLD the rose.







                        CUT TO:











INT. DARLA'S APARTMENT - DAY (OVERCAST)







A grey day but no rain.  Elly stands wistfully by the window,



her doll on standby.  The apartment is in order and perhaps we



notice a few new items.  Gabriel the cat, miraculously ALIVE, is



sprawled on a chair, licking himself.  Darla BUSTLES INTO FRAME



B.G.  Her wardrobe more upscale, her hair done.  Her manner is



hectic but natural.







                DARLA



        Worktime, kiddo.  First day, new



        job, gotta go.







This does not get the expected smile from Elly.







                DARLA (CONT'D)



        You sure you're gonna be okay?







Elly turns from the window and NODS silently.







ELLY'S POV - OUTSIDE







The aforementioned grey day in the city.







ANGLE - DARLA AND ELLY AT THE WINDOW.







Darla comes up.  Arm around Elly.  Cheer up; he attitude much



more connected and loving.  PUSH IN ON ELLY so we know she is



clutching SHelly's ring tightly in her hand.  Darla looks past



Elly, out the window.







                DARLA



        At least it finally stopped



        raining.







                ELLY



        It can't rain all the time.







Darla kisses Elly on the temple and it out the door.  Elly OPENS



her hand to consider the ring.  She looks back out the window --







ANGLE - THE CROW ON THE LEDGE







Elly is looking right at it.  Same crow.  We're positive.  So is



Elly.  It TAKES WING and flies away.











EXT. CEMETERY - DAY







An UP ANGLE from Eric's grave toward the tree as the crow FLIES



INTO FRAME and perches there, shucking water.  PUSH IN on the



crow.  Watching.  Waiting.







                        SLOW FADE TO DEAD BLACK.  FA



        



                        THE END