BLIND JUSTICE: pages 26-50
Original screenplay by Terrence J. Brady
WGAe # 127672-00
All characters © Marvel Entertainment Group
EXT. DOWNTOWN - NIGHT
Christmas SHOPPERS are out in force.
Gray streets candycoated with seasonal flora.
Packages. Boxes. Everyone has their hands full.
Oblivious to their surroundings.
PUNK on motorcycle. Snags a shopper's bag.
Motorcycle zig-zags through the crowd.
Mad scramble to get out of biker's path.
Biker looks back--a little "fuck you grin."
Then -- a cable wire comes out of nowhere.
Like a lasso--wraps around biker's throat.
Bike continues forward--he doesn't.
Lands on his back--hard.
Stunned--slow to sit up.
Feels a presence looming over him. Glances up.
Pair of RED EYES stare back at him.
EXT. CITY ROOFTOPS - NIGHT
Even high above the city, the snowfall appears gray.
Black SILHOUETTE moves gracefully from roof to roof.
Movements are fluid--a skilled acrobat.
EXT. NINTH FLOOR OFFICE - LATER
Peering in through the window shows --
DEPUTY MAYOR on phone.
D.M. turns; spies movement outside the window.
At window. D.M. looks out--nothing but city.
ABOVE ON ROOFTOP
Shadowed EAVESDROPPER observes D.M. at window.
SOUND of footsteps, in the snow, coming from behind.
The figure whips around.
Pair of RED EYES stare back at the "peeping-tom."
Figure leaps forward--tucks and rolls--firing off
set of SHURIKEN at the eyes.
Counter-response is a baton; catches fast the stars.
Leans into the light. A "face" to go with the eyes.
Crimson horned facemask attached to a --
bodysuit of compact muscles.
His name...is DAREDEVIL (now known as DD).
That wasn't very nice now--was it?
DD springs after the shady figure.
Response--a boot kick to his jaw.
DD falls back.
Figure flees for the rooftop edge.
DD races after his foe.
They bound from one rooftop to the next.
DD fires off his baton.
Flies like a smart-bomb.
Bounces off the rooftop--
then a chimney--
hones in on the fleeing. BAM!
Figure drops to the ground.
Like a boomerang--baton bounces back to DD's hand.
Figure shakes off the blow.
Playtime's over. You're coming
Figure's response: Not in words but --
pair of highly sharpened pitchfork weapons; sai.
DD ducks as left cross comes across his path.
Counter punch. His fist meets nothing but steel.
Blunt end of sai collides with DD's jaw--
Fury of strikes dazes DD.
DD reacts with sweeping kick. Figure loses one sai.
DD scoops it up.
Sais clash together; lock. Figure headbutts DD.
Blow knocks him back. Figure fires off sai.
Just misses DD; grazes his face.
Blood? Human, after all.
Figure rushes DD while he's still dazed. DD ducks.
Figure slips on ice--crashes into a brick chimney.
DD grabs hold of downed figure--now bleeding as well.
As are you.
Pushes foe into streetlight. Face revealed.
Supple. Smooth. Deep mesmerizing eyes. Beautiful.
You have no idea of the consequences
for such action.
Save it for the judge, lady. I
don't get personally involved.
You are but another helpless
victim in the king's plot.
Plot? You--you--hold on. That--
Runs his fingertips over the woman's face.
She is young (30) yet beneath her outer beauty lies
something very dark.
--no, No. It, it can't be....?
Woman shows first sign of emotion.
Stupefied--unsure of himself.
Runs his hands over her face again. Pulls back.
...Not possible. Elektra...she--
Who are you?
DD pauses. Relaxes grip.
She grabs his facemask--yanks it off.
His face continues to bleed but now --
it's that of Matthew Murdock--blind attorney.
Woman's (now known as Elektra) touch goes soft.
Then--just as quickly--jerks violently.
Knocks DD backwards.
Force of blow pushes him over the roof's edge.
Contact -- street -- seconds -- away.
DD fires off a cable from his baton.
Descent comes to abrupt--painful--stop.
Almost rips his arm out.
Dangling from the pole. Looks back up.
Can only watch Elektra run off--fading into blackness
EXT. WATERFRONT/FIREWORKS WAREHOUSE - NIGHT
Several MEN move crates from dock to ARMORED VAN.
Heavily armed. Definitely not a shopping spree.
EXT. COURTHOUSE - NEXT DAY
Native American PROTESTERS occupy courthouse steps.
Pedestrians enter and exit the courthouse.
Some sneer. Others laugh. Most ignore.
CAMERA CREW interview protest leader --
RAINBOW DAWN (face shows age, his heart denies it).
...continue our protest until we're heard.
They say this is the land of freedom?
Of liberty? I see nothing of the kind.
Mr. Dawn, you must realize
your accusations are quite
farfetched in the sense...
--accusations not. Manhatta was
once a beautiful land--fertile land.
Full of game--streams--crop. The
white man has decimated this land.
My people--we are victims of the
greatest land swindle of all time.
Shouting into the sky.
The day will come when my people will
retake this land--retake Manhatta.
Reporter turns to camera.
And there you have it. Reporting
from the steps of City Hall...
INT. HIGH-RISE APT. - EARLY EVENING
TV News report concludes.
...this is Rick Johnson for--
TV clicks off.
HEATHER GLENN (32, Manhattan socialite living on
daddy's allowance) puts remote down.
Gulping down her martini, she moves to balcony --
Storm brews over the city.
No rain but much wind, thunder, lightning.
HEATHER pours herself a new drink.
You going to stay out there forever?
Stone gargoyle protrudes out from the building.
MATT perches on sculpture in a daze--ten stories up.
Can you at least come off of that
thing? You're making me very nervous.
Partially dressed in DD garb.
Stares into the blackness of the city.
Just want to be alone right now
How long do you expect me to continue
with these mood swings of yours Matt?
Why don't you ever talk to me?
What good is talk.
It is what you do for a living.
What good is talk?
Moves to the balcony edge. Looks down.
Lightning flare illuminates the streets below.
Gonna jump? End it all?
Wouldn't solve anything.
Now we agree on something.
I ran into an old friend last night.
Friend? A psychiatrist?
Back from the grave.
Oh hell--screw the psychiatrist.
Let's just call Bellevue. Boys
better grab the net!
I still don't understand. What
she was doing. Why she--
Got her attention.
Turns. Black eyes stare through Heather.
Throws her hands up.
wh-what am I--how do you want me
to respond to that?
This Elektra--the one who disappeared
from your life--what seven years ago?
Just pops into your life and I'm not
supposed to be the least bit concerned?
She tried to kill me.
This gets better by the moment. Dead
woman from past comes back to kill
superhero--film at 11.
It's no joke Heather. It was her.
I know it. Would never forget
that voice. Those lips.
Uh, lips--excuse me?
It was her. It was Elektra. I
may be blind--but I can see.
Right--I may be drunk--but I can
operate heavy machinery.
You'll never understand.
Got that right. Nor will I ever
understand this urge in risking your
life as --
Thunder strike blocks out her words.
Matt dons his mask; now is DD.
I have to find her.
Matt. You leave now, I swear I'll--
Another strike--words lost.
Do you hear me? Matt!
Matt freefalls off the gargoyle.
For any other man it would be suicide.
Heather drops her drink--races to the edge.
DD hits a flagpole four flights down.
Springs off it like a diver on a highboard.
Series of somersaults.
Bounces off streetside canopy--heads into the night.
He's gone. Tear wells in her eye.
EXT. RESTAURANT - NIGHT
GOODFELLAS in expensive suit wait with their cars.
DOWN THE ROAD
An occupied ARMORED VAN sits in vigil.
Sparsely crowded. Table in rear filled to capacity.
FISK, new bride VANESSA, and several ASSOCIATES.
...all goes well, as you have
foreseen--except for one.
Deputy mayor Woolbrite.
Seeking his fifteen minutes of fame.
Vanessa pours some wine into Fisk's glass.
Thank you my pet.
He continues to undermine your
efforts, Mr. Fisk. How would
wish to rectify the situation?
We do nothing, Mr. Santiago.
But now he has an ally, a member
of the press.
Holds up newspaper article: MTA WORKERS FOUND DEAD.
And the pen is mightier than the sword.
We should not waste time. See to
it that whoever opposes the Kingpin
to meet the same fate as his predecessor.
The word "kingpin" is not to Fisk's pleasure.
Others stir in their seats. Fisk rises.
Positions himself behind Mr. Santiago.
That is not how we do business.
Not how we do business at all.
Nervous. Can't see Fisk who breathes down hard.
It--it is just that there are waves
growing in the streets. They say
inaction is a form of weakness.
I have made my intentions clear.
Old enemies die hard...Kingpin.
Do they now?
Massive hand clamps down on Santiago's head.
Weak, I am not.
Vice grip hold--squeezing tighter.
Kingpin, I am not.
Santiago's eyes bulge.
His fingers grasp edge of table.
Knuckles turn white.
Forgiving, I am not.
Fisk shows no remorse.
He could be squeezing an orange; not a skull.
Vanessa becomes scared--nervous.
Fisk sees this. He lets go.
Hands the bleeding Santiago a napkin.
Whispers in his ear.
Next time you forget this, I will
not be so gentle.
Motions to Vanessa who quickly joins him.
Enjoy the rest of your meal gentlemen.
Pair of BODYGUARDS flank the exiting couple.
PAIR OF LEGS block the couple's path.
Leaving before dessert? Hear they
make a great soufflé.
Turns to the voice. BULLSEYE sits in a booth alone.
Bullseye picks his teeth with a toothpick.
Told you I'd be seeing you around.
And who might this be? A lovely
dish I must say.
Wilson, who is this man?
An old acquaintance.
You'll excuse us now.
Bullseye lowers his legs.
As they exit, Bullseye flings his toothpick.
Sticks fast in the back of last bodyguard's neck.
Bodyguard yanks it out. Leers at Bullseye.
Bullseye cocks his hand like a gun. Grins.
CHAUFFEUR opens limo door for VANESSA and FISK.
Drive off. Bodyguards--in second car--not far behind.
ARMORED TRUCK waits, then starts its tail.
INSIDE LIMO - MOVING
I trust your meal was satisfactory.
He admires her wedding band. Inscription reads:
"To my beloved Vanessa. Love Wilson."
Fine, thank you, Wilson.
What did Mr. Santiago mean...
same fate as his predecessor?
Trivial business my dear. I do not
wish to bore you.
With you, I am never bored.
Warm snuggle between two people in love.
Fisk turns on a small TV. A news report.
...another sighting of the so called
Hell's Kitchen vigilante, the Devil,
put two more....
Fisk's eyebrow raises; intrigued.
CRASH! Fireball explodes across windshield.
Limo swerves--side swipes taxi.
Taxi--out of control--crashes into storefront.
Tailing ARMORED TRUCK speeds up--opens fire on limo.
FISK shelters his wife. Barks into cell phone.
What am I paying you people for?
Bodyguard's MERCEDES speeds up.
Slams into TRUCK.
Truck opens fire. BRAKA-BRAKA-BRAKA!!
Hail of bullets pelt Mercedes; tires burst.
It's DRIVER loses control.
Swerves into oncoming CITY BUS.
FISK spies head-on collision in rear-view mirror.
Left on 77th! Two blocks. Right
onto the West Side Highway.
A hard left. Truck gains on them.
More GUNFIRE. Luckily limo is bullet-proof.
LIMO swerves down narrow alley--tight.
Metal grinds against brick.
TRUCK can't follow--proceeds to circumvent block.
ONRAMP TO FREEWAY
Damaged LIMO plows into traffic. Heads for onramp.
Just as it reaches the ramp -- out of nowhere --
BAMMM! TRUCK sends limo into a spiral.
VANESSA's head smacks up against window. Out cold.
LIMO's tires peel out. TRUCK opens fire on her.
Several other CARS collide with bullets.
CRASH! Multiple car pileup; twisted metal and glass.
More trouble: Freeway entrance blocked; construction.
Limo heads for near-by docks.
DOCKS ALONG HUDSON
TRUCK races against water's edge; closing in.
FISK tries to comfort unconscious WIFE.
Facial expression changes. No longer calm--incensed.
Flips open concealed compartment. Several switches.
Small radar unit springs to life.
Hidden panel opens.
Rocket launcher rises into position.
Trailing TRUCK moves in and out of crosshairs until--
radar locks on.
FISK depresses firing mechanism.
Rocket FIRES. Three...Two...One....
CONTACT! TRUCK erupts into flames.
OCCUPANT ejects before truck upends into the river.
He crawls along the ground; wounded, bleeding until--
Fisk's two massive hands come down on him.
Lifts him up by his neck.
Man's feet dangle several inches from the ground.
Who called it in?
Man grins--he knows he's dead either way.
Fisk repeats the question--no answer.
Cannot control his anger. Grasp around neck tightens.
Fisk drops the dead man at his feet.
Eyes the city as if "it" was responsible.
INT. DAILY BUGLE OFFICE - MORNING
Newspaper headline reads: Explosion at Waterfront.
In smaller letters: Wilson Fisk missing.
The page turns--someone is "reading" this paper.
Enter BEN juggling various folders.
Oh sorry--thought this was--wait a....
Looks at door. Sign does say: Ben Urich.
Excuse me? Can I help y--
The paper lowers. Pair of RED EYES stare back at him.
--ou....Oh geez--oh geez.
DD motions index finger to his mouth---shhhhh.
Runs hand under desk. Rips out a hidden mic wire.
Really should get a better pest
control provider. These bugs can
be dangerous to your health.
Confused. Frightened. Slumps into couch.
Need some information.
DD runs fingertips over photo shoot;
Statue of Liberty murder.
Uh, yeah. Mafia is--a hobby of
mine, you could say.
DD moves to chair opposite couch.
Small table with chess board sits between them.
Moves a chess piece. Waits for Ben's countermove.
Ben leans forward and moves his knight.
What is I can do for you, Mr. Devil?
Daredevil is fine. I need to find
out about this woman who was at
the Liberty Island murder.
Moves a piece. Ben moves his.
Woman? Can't help you there.
DD takes his knight.
You know nothing about her?
What about the subway attack?
Tries to ignore the question.
Look--I'd love to help you out...
Puncture wound. Three across.
Center one the deepest. Know what
might cause that?
Moves his piece--bad move.
Nope, never seen nothing like that.
DD senses Ben is lying.
It's very complicated. If you
could see the whole picture.
DD pauses. Attacks his king.
I--see--just fine. Check.
Ben ponders over the last move.
You're playing a game with extremely
It's the game I choose to play.
And Deputy Mayor Woolbrite?
So, you're the one--
--No. Just a good listener.
And you've obviously attracted
someone else's attention as well.
Tosses the "bug" into the garbage.
Have to finish this game another time.
DD moves to the window, opens it, and exits.
Whoa! What are you...
EXT. DAILY BUGLE
Snow driving down hard.
BEN shoves his head out the window. Looks down.
DD bounces off a flagpole three stories down.
BATON releases a cable, catching onto a lightpost.
Swings off into the blizzard.
INT. BEN'S OFFICE - LATER
FINGERS feverishly work a keyboard.
BEN scans news articles on the Internet:
"Subway homicide," "Fisk presumed dead," finally --
Finds what he's looking for. Headline reads:
"Devil that plagues or saves New York?"
CANAL ST. SUBWAY PLATFORM - NIGHT
BEN hops off the platform onto the tracks.
Flashlight in hand. Heads into the darkened tunnel.
Quarter of a mile in. Several SHADOWS come to life.
Starts to walk at quickened pace.
Dark tunnel fills with LIGHT.
Someone is closing in on him. Turns to look.
No, not someone--something!
Oncoming train horn BLAST fills the void.
Light swells. Vibrations shake tunnel.
Frantic. Spies a breach in the wall.
Tries to squeeze in. It's too tight.
Train almost on top of him.
Deep breath. Ribs contract.
Forces himself into the opening just as the --
subway cars BLOW by.
Train races by where Ben just stood.
Five--ten--fifteen cars whiz by in only 30 seconds--
For Ben, it's an eternity.
Ben emerges from the opening--sweaty, filthy.
Rapid breathing still hasn't slowed.
Pats his pockets. Finds his smokes; crushed.
One good in pack. Tries to light it.
Too nervous to strike the match.
Finally--match ignites. Illuminates a --
who stands in front of him.
Drops his smoke.
Mole person (male-early 50's) stretches out arm.
Jes...no, no I'm sorry.
Food. Give me food.
I don't have--wait.
Digs into his pocket--pulls out a candy bar.
Yes, food. Food...for information?
Staring at the candy.
What do you know about the Kingpin?
Kin-king? Know no king. Give food!
No. Information first.
Reluctant. But hungry.
He--he killing us. Killing us all.
Snatches candy--runs off into the black.
EXT. JOSIE'S BAR - NIGHT
Dead calm. Moonless night. Suddenly --
BAR WINDOW explodes as a --
MAN flies into the street.
He gets up. Runs off like he just saw the devil.
Several PATRONS scatter--run for cover.
Trio of heavily built THUGS. Backs to the wall.
Perhaps you gents can help me?
Look we--we don't want no...
One of the thugs isn't so intimidated.
--Fuck him Hank. Don't need to
answer' no pajama wearin' mutha
fucker. You'se can dial fuckin' 411.
What you'se deaf and--
No chance to finish sentence.
Number seven billiard ball flies out of nowhere.
Cracks Thug #2 in the skull--out cold.
Pair of RED EYES stare down remaining thugs.
DD holds pool cue--almost looks like he enjoyed that.
Guess I scratched.
Thug #1 picks up a bottle. Both of them rush DD.
DD spins. Cue stick takes out bottle.
Proceeds to violate several parts of thug's anatomy:
back of knee.
Thug #1 collapses like a ton of bricks.
DD picks up on something from behind.
DD bats away each cue ball as they hurl towards him.
Turns to the "pitcher."
Ball don't count if they're off the table.
Picks up eight ball. Flips it in the air.
Swings his cue stick like a bat.
CRACK! Eight ball makes a beeline right at --
THUD! Thug keels over. DD is 3 for 3.
DD looks around. Place is vacant except for --
a man cowering under a booth. It's GROTTO.
DD leans down. Doesn't need to say a word.
Those lifeless RED EYES make Grotto sing.
Sing like a canary.
No swe--no sweat, devil. I talk.
I talk. I don't like no violence.
It--it was some crazy broad. Me
and Turk. We was--ya know--we just
mindin' our own business. Outta the
black comes this freaky chick with
long stingin' spikes.
Crawls from under the booth.
Yeah--big--BIG. Pitchforks. She
wanted to hire some men for a
job--big job--real QT like. The man
himself she was gunnin' for.
Mention of pitchforks has DD's thoughts elsewhere.
Where can I find her?
S'all I know--devil. S'all I know.
Appears to be ready to knock Grotto's lights out.
(cowering on floor)
Oh Gawd--not in the face. Not in
the face. Pl-please Mr. devil.
Second or two later.
Grotto peers out of one eye. Then, opens the other.
Gazes around. DD is long gone.
EXT. WATERFRONT WAREHOUSE - NIGHT
Car pulls up. Two MEN exit. Head inside.
A blur of an IMAGE swings by from above.
INT. OFFICE WAREHOUSE
Dark. Dank. Musty.
Muffled VOICES filtrate through the building.
TURK and GROTTO talk to shadowed FIGURE.
Ain't never seen nothin' like
it. Devil on a rampage.
Pair of BEN-WAI balls rotate in shadow's hand.
Thought I was a goner for sure.
If I was there, I would have taken
him out. Taken him out for good.
Grotto is a nervous wreck.
I--I did what you told me to say.
Told him just like you told me.
Lighting up a smoke--cocky.
I would have lit him up for sure.
He wanted to know where to find
the sai lady. But I ain't stupid.
No--I did just as you told me to.
Bunch of panzies--scared of their
own freaking shadow.
Those eyes. Like--like from that
movie "Jaws," ya know. Lifeless eyes.
Like a doll's eyes. Until he bites
--Will ya shaddup already. You're
chewing my ear off here.
Ben-wai balls stop rotating. Slam down.
That got their attention.
It's time to go--they get the idea.
I don't go into these games. Me?
I would have just taken him out--
clean, no problems. Why we got
to fuck around with these head
games is beyond me.
Grotto still jammering.
When it comes at you, it doesn't seem
to be livin'...until he bites ya.
Then those black eyes roll over white.
Pair of EYES --
watch through the broken glass from outside.
...then the ocean turns red--blood
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