BLIND JUSTICE: pages 76-100
Original screenplay by Terrence J. Brady
WGAe # 127672-00
All characters © Marvel Entertainment Group
Intruder pops off two rounds. Man falls -- dead.
A SCREAM rings out. Intruder races into next room.
Sees a YOUNG WOMAN -- fires. Guns her down.
Inspects adjoining balcony. Looks down and around.
No one there. His job done -- he flees.
Assassinated in cold blood. As
was our bodyguard, Raoul, and...
No. Katrina. My friend from Greece.
Had just flown in that night. No
one knew she was there. Many said,
she could be my twin.
Woman's corpse lies bloody. Same features as Elektra.
All those years finally amounted to
something. Never made the Olympic team...
ELEKTRA (age 20) somersaults over balcony edge.
...though I managed to save my own skin.
Cowers in dark corner of balcony below hers;
I sat in that corner--damp, dark
corner for an eternity. So dark. So
cold. Didn't know what to do.
Who to trust.
MONTAGE OF ELEKTRA IN VARIOUS CITIES
I ran like a scared child. Ran for
years. Europe. Asia. Living off daddy's
accounts. Trying to find myself--my
purpose. Then it all came back to me.
The source of my pain--my hatred.
INT. TOKYO HOTEL
ELEKTRA catches news report on Wilson Fisk.
Your employer according to my sources.
Sorry. This story has more holes...
BACK TO BROWNSTONE
Spare me the courtroom lecture Matt.
Then why? Why dammit?
Bullseye pulled the trigger. Fisk
spotted the target.
So you planted yourself in his
organization. Gain his confidence.
Then pay back old debts? It's too much.
Where'd you learn to fight the way you
do? Think they way you now do?
Gymnastics weren't the only thing
Daddy made me train in. He loved the
arts of the Orient. Wushu, Aikijujtsu,
T'ai Chi Ch'uan, Ninjutsu.
He always said he may need a bodyguard
He...he was part of the syndicate?
Lead the Greek Mafia for some time.
He wanted out. He decided to bring
us to America. Start a new life.
But Fisk wouldn't let him.
He was told to join him or die.
Why not just kill Fisk then?
Elektra picks up the picture of her and Matt.
Admires it for a moment then --
HURLS it at the opposite wall. Shatters on impact.
Kill a man like Fisk? You then produce
a hundred smaller prototypes of him.
Then you wish to ruin him.
Crush where he is most dearest.
He has everyone fooled. The media.
The organization. The police. Even
you. Turk is a two bit hood. But he's
not on Bullseye's payroll.
No. I would sensed if he was lying.
His heartbeat. It didn't...
--Are you kidding? Dangle a man two
hundred feet above the ground and you
expect his heartrate not to fluctuate?
And Binder? Did his heart race?
Hit a nerve. Words whisper to the surface.
Jack...I--I loved Jack. I told him
about me; my past. I was such a fool.
He joked he was going to turn me
in to Fisk.
Joked? And you killed him?
Love hurts Matt. You know that.
I had to make it look like a hit but
I dare not use any of my specialties.
Quite the lady, Elektra. So now what?
Fisk is a business man, first and
foremost. What drives a business?
Money. What drives a man like Fisk?
Greed--power. You've seen the under-
belly of Wall Street? A historical
place long before "Wall Street" ever
existed. He who holds the deed holds
all things to come.
I must go. I've stayed far too long.
Grabs her arm.
No. You still need to answer for
those you have wronged. We are not
above the law.
She turns, producing a capsule. Cracks it.
A mist fills the air--rendering Matt unconscious.
I admire your sense of duty, Matthew.
You always were the better person.
Forgive me. But this never happened.
INT. BEN'S OFFICE - DAWN
BEN, still half asleep, scratches and yawns.
Don't you costumed types ever sleep?
DD, though, is wide awake--ready for the day.
Ben slurps down some coffee. Moves his mouse.
Okay, okay. Deeds, Lenape Nation,
okay....here we go. Take a look.
Reading a computer screen in the
dark is bad for the eyes.
I'll turn on the light.
Doesn't want anyone aware of his presence.
No--just read it.
But if it's bad for the--never mind.
Reading from the screen.
Early seventeenth century. Dutch
East Indie Company backed various
trading Posts in the northeast.
One of the most prominent was New
Amsterdam. Located at the south
tip of Manhattan in--
Skip the intro. Cut to the chase.
Ben slides mouse around. Taps at keyboard.
ON SCREEN: Website on New Amsterdam.
1626. Peter Minuitt purchased the
isle of Manhatta from the Lenape
Tribe for sixty guilders--twenty
four dollars. No evidence of any
formal deed was recorded. Historians
claim the sale was never legal.
Natives had no concept of possession
and were under the assumption they
were trading for hunting privileges.
East Indie Company? A business--
primitive, yes--but a business
none the less. Any transaction
required written documentation.
Hence the myth--the Lenape Papers.
The deed to the island of Manhattan.
Finishing up his java.
Hell, what good them papers be anyhow?
Case like that--be in court until the
next millennium. No sort of precedence
for something like that.
Rainbow Dawn might have set one.
Bearer of the deed could at least
still demand whole of the payment.
Twenty four bucks?
That was four centuries ago.
Punching a calculator.
Twenty four--at a modest three
percent interest--you'd get....
$62 billion. Nice chunk of change.
Tell me about this Peter Minuitt.
INT. ABANDONED SUBWAY TUNNEL
Kingpin's TEAM digs through tunnels.
According to this, the first minister
of New Amsterdam said he was quite
the slippery man...
WORKER uncovers something--a plaque.
Hands it over to KINGPIN; not interested.
Barks at his men to continuing digging.
...who "under the treacherous mask
of honesty is a compound of all
iniquity and wickedness."
Discarded plaque slowly gets covered with new dirt.
Plaque reads: Alfred Ely Beach Pneumatic Transit.
Workers keep digging.
...far too many seek out the past
as a way to the future.
BACK AT BUGLE OFFICE
What's that saying? "Does as I say, not as I do."
DD exits via window. Ben motions to door but stops
himself short--no point he figures.
EXT. MID-TOWN - DAY
VANESSA, dressed marvelous as always, shops the town.
BULLSEYE keeps an eye on her--doing his job.
Not to enthused about it though.
OUTSIDE ART GALLERY
BEGGAR pans for spare change.
Vanessa happy to hand over a donation.
Takes one of his pencils. Beggar tips his hat.
She moves on. Bullseye walks up to beggar.
He smiles at Bullseye--no smile in return.
Bullseye looks at the pencil cup.
Removes one to his liking.
Taps the sharpened point.
Looks at the beggar.
Looks at the pencil.
Beggar is confused. Bullseye isn't--he's only bored.
JAMS the pencil into the beggar's jugular.
Beggar shrieks--grabbing his neck.
Blood sprays over Bullseye's grin.
CROWD is shocked--paralyzed to do anything.
Red blood sends Bullseye into a frenzy.
You-you let my mama go. Let my
my mama go. You hurt my mama.
Flashes of the color RED are everywhere.
Bullseye lashes out at the crowd. Grabs a MAN.
I want my mama. I don't want you.
Let me go. Ma-ma? Ma-ma!
Man panicked. Bullseye is the one who won't let go.
Two MEN come to choking man's aid.
Picks up spilt pencils. Fires them off like arrows.
Takes out two charging men--as well as a few others.
Blood coats the snow. Crowd scatters.
Car BACKFIRES. Bullseye rubs face; shakes it off.
Turns to the crowd; normal. Another delusion.
Car backfires again.
Realizes Vanessa is no longer in sight.
Bullseye pushes through crowd.
Sees limo speeding off.
Vanessa's bags litter the curb.
Two people lie in the street bleeding; gunshot wound.
Bullseye's face drips with perspiration.
Breathing erratic. Pulls out his inhaler. Deep hit.
INT. CITY HALL STATION/OFFICE - LATER
KINGPIN hears of the grievous news.
Subdued anger wrinkles his brow.
Backslaps an AIDE into the wall.
Turns to his MEN--temples throbbing. Very serious.
Find Vanessa. Whatever it takes.
And Bullseye. Bring him here--his
head for that matter.
INT. DAILY BUGLE BUILDING - DAWN
Deserted. Sole light emits from Ben's office.
Ben clicks on his email icon. Scans messages.
One grabs his eye: "scoop."
Ben reads aloud.
Hello, Mr. Reporter. Looking for
the next great story? Delusions of
Woodward and Bernstein trip across
your brain? Well--sit back and
let me tell you a tale.
INT. UNDISCLOSED LOCATION
Dark. Hands type at keyboard.
Hell hath no fury a wise man once
said. But Hell hasn't meet Wilson
Fisk, yet. Hear the latest? His
dear missus was apprehended in
broad daylight. You, the starry eyed
scoopster probably already know this.
Word is the crazed convict Bullseye
took her. But he's dead now isn't he?
EXT. CITY - DAY
BEN makes his way across town--yaps on a cell phone.
Besides, kidnapping was never his
style. Even cold hearted merciless
assassins have got a code to adhere
to, right? Hostages are such bores.
INT. POLICE STATION
BEN pleads with a reluctant DETECTIVE for answers.
All that screaming, crying, kicking--
where's the fun in that?---but I digress.
INT. CLUB FOR MEN/BACKROOM
DD roughs up a pair of criminal elements.
Half naked WOMEN scurry for clothes and cover.
Maybe it was that wacko in the red
jammies---the devil. Freak crusader
of good who has to hide in the shadows
of the night. Some do-gooder.
INT. MATT'S BROWNSTONE
MATT on phone--listens intently.
Or maybe it was that slick mouthpiece
Murdock--or his fat lil buddy--nah,
scratch that. Blind man and dumpling.
Manhattans' newest terrorist? I
can't buy that.
EXT. ROOFTOP - DUSK
Elsewhere in the city.
ELEKTRA -- distraught.
Watches sinking sun melt into the west.
...since we're reaching--how about
that crazy dame? Lurks in the shadows
too. Come at ya like a bat out of hell?
You know who I'm talking about, don't
ya? Sure. You're the scoopster.
INSIDE TRAIN CAR
BEN reads over printed email message to himself.
Got them big ass sticks of hers.
Probably got poor ol' Mrs. Fisk
wrapped up on a barbie somewhere.
Ready to dine on that sweet innocent
flesh. Me? I ain't a betting man--
but if you find that bitch...
INT. UNDER CITY HALL - NIGHT
KINGPIN sits at his desk--stares at photo of Vanessa.
...you just might crack this puppy
wide open. You know what I'm saying.
Pulitzer baby. Ooh-la-la. You find
her, and the Kingpin will be yours.
He'll make you a deal--any deal for
that whitebread. He'll make you rich
if ya want. Maybe he'll just make
you dead. But we're getting ahead of
ourselves here--got to find the bitch
first. Find her--then call out the
devil. Take care of her real good.
INT. UNDISCLOSED LOCATION
Hands type at keyboard.
So partner--I leave the ball in your
hand. Remember now, I get my ten
percent finder's fee for the tip.
Cut me out and I'll have to take my
own cut--my way.
We're underground--inside an abandoned TRAIN CAR.
BULLSEYE clicks the send icon on his email message.
Fiddles with one of Elektra's sais. Big, goofy grin.
INT. MATT'S BROWNSTONE/VESTIBULE
FOGGY picks up phone intercom. Dials Matt's number.
INSIDE MATT'S PLACE
Phone rings...and rings...and -- MATT buzzes him in.
Thirty seconds later....
Enter FOGGY. Looks around for his partner.
Finally finds him; looks like hell.
Geez, you look like...
--Thanks. I'll take your word on it.
Court has been like a circus. Fisk's
disappearance, the reporters, then
Dawn...hadn't heard from you; no one has.
Thought you were the latest statistic.
You know what I mean. Heather's gone
crazy. She thinks you may have...
--Foggy...I found her.
Found? Found who?
Barely a whisper.
Elek...? You still chasing a ghost?
Crying out loud. Wake up already!
Wake up? Wake up? Foggy, I live in
a world of eternal night. Black, all
the time--black. I'm not living a
dream. I'm living a nightmare.
Words grow in intensity.
A nightmare with no end. No escape.
No salvation. I'll never wake up; never.
I'm in the dark, Foggy. The dark.
The DARK! God man--can't you SEE that?!
Words taper off.
...can't you see that...?
INT. SUBWAY TUNNEL - EARLY EVENING
42nd Street. Lower Level. Abandoned in 1981.
Forgotten train car riddled with old school graffiti.
BULLSEYE -- feverish.
No-no. I don't want to mama--no.
Don't make me move. It's too cold.
Hits his inhaler.
Attempts to get few ZZZ's under some old newspapers.
Empty aluminum can CLINKS in the distance.
Creeps to rear window. Peers down darkened tunnel.
Whispers to himself.
...Ya talkin' to me?
Sees nothing. Moves back to his "bed" as the--
Rear window IMPLODES.
Impact knocks Bullseye hard to the floor.
Shattered glass and smoke infest the car.
HAND from outside reaches in. Turns latch.
Door slides open to reveal a --
Bullseye peers through the smoke; realizes who it is.
Yo toots. Little busy right now.
How 'bout coming back in an hour?
ELEKTRA has no verbal response.
Hurls set of throwing knives at him.
Bullseye leaps out of harm's path--barely.
One catches him in the hand.
Yanks the emergency door cord--bails out of the car.
Elektra follows but -- he's already gone.
Elektra looks up.
Bullseye comes crashing down from the train's roof.
Lands on her back--driving her into the ground.
Having a really bad day sweets.
You certainly ain't helping matters.
Pounds the back of her head into the filth.
Struggling--she pulls out a fist blade.
He jerks back. Fresh blood seeps from the wound.
Withdraws the shank from his thigh.
You don't talk much toots--but
you sure got lots to say.
Flings blade back at her but misses --
as she dives into adjoining tunnel.
Bullseye jumps over the track into next tunnel.
Stops. Looks. Listens. Nothing until --
Iron pellets cut through the darkness. He ducks.
Bitch gots a bag of tricks as
big as mine.
Pulls out a firearm.
Hate to do things the old fashioned
Lights up the tunnel with spray of bullets.
Dust settles. No sounds. No movement.
Guess she wasn't all that good
Returns to his train car.
Steps up and turns to close the backdoor as a --
Bloody FIST slams into his face.
Blow sends him spiraling down the train car floor.
Elektra steps up into the car.
Right hand bleeding from bullet wound.
Left hand holding a sai.
Bullseye gets a hotflash.
Images of RED blood flash before him.
Damn--not now--NOT NOW!
He grabs concealed firearm tucked into his leg --
FIRES the flare gun.
Explosive discharge knocks her back out of the car.
He bolts to the front of car.
You--you talkin' to me??
Arrghh-- Get out of my head!!
Jumps into motorman's seat.
Eyes running wild with delusion.
Wheels grind as its thrown into reverse.
Screeches to a stop.
Train propels forward.
Stops. Slight demented giggle to himself.
Starts train forward again--heads down the tunnel.
Downtown bound "D" train speeds through the tunnel.
INSIDE MOTORMAN BOX
MOTORMAN sees light up ahead--red. Slows to a halt.
He looks closer. Light isn't red; covered up with --
BLOOD to appear red.
Motorman grows nervous--gets on the mic.
Command Center, this is Pelham 4:26
south of 42nd....
Bloody HAND--razor sharp SAI enter side window.
Prick up against motorman's throat.
Anxious. He turns--very slowly.
Sees a most displeased Elektra.
INSIDE TRAIN - MINUTE LATER
ELEKTRA moves through the cars.
Bloody sai held to motorman's throat.
Terrified PASSENGERS race from their seats to --
Door is locked. They're trapped!
Elektra enters the car. Gazes over the passengers --
women, children, old men.
She reaches into motorman's jacket.
Tosses a passenger the key.
INT. MTA COMMAND CENTER
Electronic map of the subway tracks.
Each dot of light represents a train.
MTA WORKERS watch dot representing Pelham 4-26 --
it's not moving.
What's Pelham 4-26 doing?
Pelham 4-26--what's your status?
Command center--this is Pelham 4-26.
We have a situation here. Repeat, 12-8.
Workers talk amongst themselves.
12-8? What the fuck is a 12-8?
Heavyset OFFICIAL joins the duo. Speaks to them.
Just got a call from Times Square
station. Passengers are in the tunnel.
Say the train had been hijacked
by a crazed woman.
Pelham 4-26. This is command.
Confirm that 12-8.
Command. Pelham 4-26. I need the
homeball all green to the bridge.
Say again, clear all signals.
Incoming phone call. Official answers.
Braggart here. Yes--who? Yes. Yes.
Yes, SIR. Right away, sir.
Hangs up. Very tense. Looks at the board, then to --
hidden camera behind him. Turns back to the workers.
You heard the man...
INT. CITY HALL STATION/OFFICE
VIDEO MONITOR shows live feed from Command Center.
KINGPIN leans back in his chair--enjoying the show.
...clear the damn board.
INT. SUBWAY TUNNEL
Bullseye's train speeds along.
BULLSEYE tries to keep composure; coughing, wheezing.
Fucking bitch. Got to find a place
to hole up. Got to...Shut up--
you talking to me?
Starts having a conversation with himself.
--Shut up I said.
Your fucking mess you got us--
--shut up...I'm handling it!
Y-you ain't handling nothing--
--shut up. I'm...what the??
Train horn BLARES.
Looks back. Gaining train barrels right at him.
ELEKTRA stands in front doorjam of gaining train.
Oh baby--you're really pissing me off.
Racing trains play chase through the tunnels.
14th ST. TRAIN STATION
COMMUTERS scatter as cars hurl pass; mounting speed.
EXT. CITY STREET
Business as usual: Taxis. Buses. People.
Low vibration rises up from below--
High pitched screech as --
Trains rip through the tunnels--all green lights.
Tunnel starts inclining up towards the surface.
EXT. QUEENS DOCK - NIGHT
Waters are still. Light snow falls. Tranquil.
Not a creature was stirring until --
TWO TRAIN CARS explode out of tunnel cavity onto --
INSIDE TRAIN #2
I can't push it no faster.
Those rails are slick with ice.
Sai pushes hard against his neck.
Alongside the bridge--roadway with few vehicles.
MINI-VAN drives southbound--lost.
COUPLE from out-of-town fight over map.
I'm not lost.
Is it so heard to ask for
You don't ask for directions in
TRAIN #1 appears to be slowing.
Might have been easier if we had
just taken the train instead.
I'm telling you--I'm not lost.
TRAIN #2 inches closer.
INSIDE TRAIN #1
BULLSEYE is intentionally slowing down --
he wants her to catch him.
Come on toots--that's it'--that's it.
TRAIN #2 speed maxes out. Starts to shimmy.
ELEKTRA steps out onto front of train. Railing icy.
Quit chewing my ear off.
Will you please slow down.
Just give me the map. Stop playing
backseat--damn. Look at that.
Wife turns just in time as --
ELEKTRA leaps from TRAIN #2 on to rear of TRAIN #1.
Did you see....
Wife turns back to road.
Stanley! LOOK OUT!!
Distracted by Elektra's stunt --
Stanley loses control of his vehicle.
Wheels hydroplane across the icy metal grates.
Van spins across traffic and --
SLAMS into the guardrail.
BREAKS through and --
HURLS onto -- the train tracks.
INSIDE TRAIN #1
BULLSEYE guns accelerator. Van directly in his path.
Train #1 rams the mini-van.
Van flips over backwards -- EXPLODES.
Train #2 SLAMS into the rear of Train #1.
Coupled trains jump track. Plunge over edge.
Both cars ERUPT into a horrific ball of fire.
SPLASHDOWN! Black water ignites into flame.
EXT. CITY STREET - NIGHT
FEET struggle to move forward.
Each step leaves behind puddle mix of water and blood.
PEOPLE stare in awe as this INDIVIDUAL trudges by.
The look on their faces shows it.
This individual is fucked--no one has nerve to help.
EXT. MATT'S BROWNSTONE STEPS
FEET take one step at a time. Each a struggle.
Each step leaves less water and more blood.
Top step. Feet enter building.
HAND picks up phone. Dials.
INT. MATT'S BROWNSTONE
...Matt, Matthew Murdock, speaking.
VOICE on other line is weak, raspy.
Yes? Can I help you?
HAND on payphone--sopping wet.
Hand -- Arm -- Body -- Face. It's BULLSEYE.
Hits his inhaler. Deep breathe.
Sorry bub; a little winded. Better
now. Can't say the same about your gal.
...who is this.
We're on the BROOKLYN DOCKS.
Sea of blue and red lights.
Fire and Rescue flood area near bridge.
Police choppers hover above--boats search the waters.
Well, I ain't an errand boy sent
by grocery clerks to collect on
a bill. Sorry to bring bad Yule
tidings but that crazy dame--one
with them sais?
CLOSE on Bullseye.
Let's just say you can cross her off
your shopping list.
CLICK. Phone goes dead.
MATT stares at phone receiver paralyzed until --
A WOMAN's scream.
Again--this time even louder.
MATT bolts for the door. Rushes downstairs to --
At their feet, ELEKTRA.
Burnt--bloody--soaked. Barely alive.
Phone receiver is in her hand.
Matt's number is lit up but blinks, "line busy."
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