Christopher Priest

This was, perhaps the most poorly thought-out launch of a new hero ever. I think most everyone associated with Triumph (who was created by DC Comics Group Editor Brian Augustyn, Mark Waid and Howard Porter) was taken a bit by surprise by the near-instant backlash the character received from the fans. Triumph's basic premise— that he was one of the charter members of the Justice League from way back in The Brave & The Bold #52— was deemed an apocryphal revision of beloved DC history, especially considering Triumph himself looked so bland and Silver Agey. Which, for those of us who worked on the premise, seemed to be the point: Triumph was specifically designed to look bland and Silver Agey because he was a guy who was there at the formation (actually the pre-formation) of the Justice League, but got swallowed up by some Big Thing and spent the next decade or so in stasis. This was DC's version of the Captain America bit, only with some real consequences to the character, Will MacIntire, who hardly had Steve Rogers' strength of character.

Fans took an instant dislike to the character, and vented a great deal of that dislike at me. Despite numerous attempts on my part to explain that Triumph's origins was a creative decision made by the company long before I had anything to do with him, Triumph was savaged in the fan boards and I was burned in effigy. Playing to that energy, I talked to editor Augustyn and suggested we play to that resentment and suspicion by having the characters— the JLA and others— regard Triumph with resentment and suspicion.

In 1994, DC published Triumph, a four-issue miniseries intended to flesh out the character's origins and status quo. My vision for the Triumph book was a kind of ersatz Mission: Impossible (Tom cruise version), where Triumph is the pushy, headstrong leader of a freelance covert ops team. As usual, I went for layers of complexity— too many, in hindsight. We assembled a great creative team for the book that simply did not work well together. I mean, individually, everybody on the book was quite good at what they do. But, collectively, I dunno, something just didn't work. I didn't like the overall look of the book, and I didn't think the script's ambitions were well-served. In the summer of 1998, Acclaim Comics sent me on a cross-country signing tour for Quantum & Woody, and, in every city I went to, I bought back copies of Triumph from fans who'd bring them to signings, "Sorry, kid, here's your buck back."

Page 1

(SPLASH) NIGHT. DRAMATIC ANGLE: THE FINMOBILE^[1] RACES TOWARDS US. THIS THING SHOULD LOOK OMINOUS AND A BIT CAMPY. THE CAR BELONGS TO DR. COBALT, SO IT COULD HAVE THE UNIVERSAL SYMBOL FOR NUCLEAR ENERGY PAINTED BROADLY ON WHAT HAS TO BE A HUGE FRONT END. LIKEWISE, THE FINMOBILE SHOULD HAVE A LIGHT BRIDGE MOUNTED ATOP ITS CANOPY, THE GLARE FROM THEM AND THE HEAD LIGHTS AND THE FOG LAMPS BELOW THE HEADLIGHTS CREATING MORAYS IN OUR CAMERA LENS.

THE CAR IS RACING DOWN A NARROW, WINDING COUNTRY ROAD THROUGH DARK WOODS. ALTHOUGH THERE IS CLEARLY A DRIVER IN THE VEHICLE, WE DON'T GET A GOOD LOOK AT HIM.

NO TITLE OR CREDITS ON THIS PAGE.

CAPTION 1: It was the end and the beginning, wasn't it?

CAPTION 2: All those years ago.

CREDITS 3: Triumph created by Mark Waid, Howard Porter, and Christopher Priest

Page 2

1 (WIDE) INT/CAR: JIMMY MAC IS DRIVING. HE'S WEARING A FORM-FITTING COSTUME WITH A COWL THAT HE'S PULLED BACK OFF HIS FACE. JIMMY'S WIDE-EYED, VERY NERVOUS. THE INTERIOR IS DARK, THE MEN INSIDE LIT BY A RIDICULOUSLY COMPLEX ARRAY OF GAUGES— ALL OF 'EM ANALOG. THIS IS 1966 OR SO, AND THIS CAR SHOULD REMIND US OF THE BATMAN TV SHOW CAR. A LITTLE SILLY, BUT, DAMN, I'D LOVE TO OWN ONE.

IN THE SEAT NEXT TO HIM, TWISTED SO HE'S LEANING AGAINST THE PASSENGER DOOR AND LOOKING AT JIMMY, IS DR. COBALT. HE WEARS A DR. DOOM-STYLE IRON MASK WITH THE SHADOW's FEDORA ON HIS HEAD. HE'S WEARING AN OVERSIZED 1940's-STYLE HUMPHREY BOGART TRENCH COAT, AND A SMALL, WEIRD-LOOKING TANK (ACTUALLY A MINIATURE FUSION CHAMBER) IS STRAPPED TO HIS BACK. BENEATH THE COAT HE WEARS SOME KIND OF RADIATION SUIT WITH CABLES WINDING AROUND HIS LEFT ARM AND WINDING TO THE TANK.

COBALT IS REALLY FUCKED UP. HE'S BEEN SHOT AND HIS HELMET'S GOT A BIG CRACK IN IT, SOME OF THE GLASS KNOCKED OUT SO WE CAN SEE A SCARRED, ANGRY FACE. HE NURSES A GUN SHOT WOUND IN HIS SHOULDER WHILE GLARING AT JIMMY MAC.

CAPTION 1: After a long and torturous battle, it all came down to two men--

CAPTION 2: --your dad and mine.

JIMMY MAC 3: Not gonna make it, Doc.

DR. COBALT 4: Damn your pessimism, Jimmy-- just drive.

DR. COBALT 5: And for the last time-- stop calling me "Doc."

DR. COBALT 6: I am Doctor Cobalt-- Lord of the Atom!

DR. COBALT 7: I abhor presumptive informality.

2 MED C/U JIMMY. DRIVING, EYES DARTING, LOOKING FOR THE COPS.

JIMMY 8: Yeah. Me too.

JIMMY 9: Thing is, at the moment, your name is "Bird On The Lam," Doc.

JIMMY 10: And, in stir, they call you "sweetheart."

3 MED C/U: COBALT, SNARLING AND MUTTERING.

COBALT 11: This is not the path, Jimmy. Why are you changing the plan?

JIMMY 12: (Off) Well, in case you missed it, "the plan" is screwed.

JIMMY 13: (Same) I laid out the original route--

4 ANGLE ON THE BACK SEAT, WHERE A METAL CASE ABOUT FOUR FEET SQUARE RESTS. THIS CASE HAS A THICK IRON CHAIN AROUND IT AND AT LEAST TWO OVERSIZED PADLOCKS.

JIMMY 14: (Off) --been over these back roads dozens of times! If we're gonna stash our box back there before we get pinched--

5 WIDE: LONG SHOT: THE CAR RACING, SLIDING AS IT WINDS A TURN IN THE ROAD, THE TREES, ETC. ILLUMINATED BY THE CAR'S LIGHTS.

JIMMY 15: (From FinMobile) --I thought we'd better go with "Plan B."

JIMMY 16: (Same) Hope you don't mind.

Page 3

1 INT/CAR: 2-SHOT: JIMMY AND COBALT. ANGLE ON JIMMY AS HE JERKS THE WHEEL WHILE POINTING OUT THE WINDSHIELD.

JIMMY 1: There!

2 EXT/THE HOUSE: A MODEST FARM HOUSE, ONE THAT APPEARS LONG ABANDONED. THE FINMOBILE SCREAMS AROUND THE HOUSE TO THE BACK.

SFX: SKREEEEEEECHH!!!

JIMMY 2: (From car) Saw this place when I was scouting our escape routes.

3 INT/HOUSE: JIMMY MAC AND COBALT LUG THE LOCK BOX (COBALT USES HIS ONE GOOD ARM). JACK KIRBY RADIATION LEAKS OUT OF THE TANK ON COBALT'S BACK. BOTH MEN BENT AND STRUGGLING A BIT; THIS THING'S HEAVY.

DR. COBALT 3: You are certain no one will discover my treasure?

JIMMY 4: Doc, this house is slated for destruction in a few months to make way for some new construction.

JIMMY 5: A little luck, and nobody'll even remember this old rat shack had--

4 DOWN: COBALT AND JIMMY'S FEET ( SUPER-VILLAIN BOOTS): WE'RE LOOKING AT AN OPEN HATCH AND A LADDER LEADING STRAIGHT DOWN INTO INKY DARKNESS.

JIMMY 6: --a bomb shelter.

5 THE MEN SHOVE THE BOX DOWN THE HOLE.

JIMMY 7: We dump the goods here, wait it out in stir--

COBALT 8: --and recover my treasure after we escape!

JIMMY 9: Escape--?

6 WIDE: THE FINMOBILE ZOOMING THROUGH THE WOODS.

COBALT 10: (From car) Certainly!

COBALT 11: (Same) Surely you do not expect Dr. Cobalt to languish in some foul prison--?!

JIMMY 12: (From car) 'Course not. What was I thinking?

Page 4

1 AERIAL VIEW: A SHERIFF's ROADBLOCK. THESE PATROL CARS SHOULD LOOK LIKE THEY WERE DRIVEN OFF THE SET OF THE ANDY GRIFFITH SHOW. 1962-ISH CHEVYS, EACH WITH A SINGLE STROBE LIGHT ON THE ROOF, THE CROSSHAIRS OF THOSE LIGHTS CAUSING MORE MICHAEL KALUTA MORAYS. SHERIFF's STARS ON THE DOORS AND SOME PAINT SCHEME OF YOUR CHOOSING.

THE DEPUTIES ALL WEAR "SMOKEY BEAR" HATS AND AIM SHOTGUNS DOWN THE ROAD. AMONG THESE DEPUTIES: HOURMAN. HIS BRIGHT YELLOW CAPE BILLOWS IN THE EVENING BREEZE.^[2]

CAPTION 1: Your father was maybe the best wheel man in the business.

CAPTION 2: The man was a professional, y'know? Very thorough.

CAPTION 3: They might've avoided all the roadblocks if they hadn't stopped to stash my dad's locker...

SHERIFF 4: Well... you look like hell.

2 SLIGHT UP-ANGLE: MED C/U: THE SHERIFF IS A SQUARE-JAWED FORTY-ISH NO-NONSENSE GUY. HE STANDS NEXT TO HOURMAN. WE NOW SEE HOURMAN's COSTUME IS RIPPED IN A FEW PLACES. HE'S BEEN IN ONE HELL OF A FIGHT. HOURMAN KEEPING THE STIFF UPPER LIP.

HOURMAN 5: Dr. Cobalt is a real handful, Sheriff. Always has been.

HOURMAN 6: At my age, I'm lucky to still be alive.

SHERIFF 7: Don't take it personal, Hourman. I'm just concerned.

SHERIFF 8: Today's my kid's birthday, and here I am mixing it with this Cobalt nut again. For the millionth time.

SHERIFF 9: Guess I'm just a little testy.

3 DETAIL: HOURMAN's PALM: A MIRACULO PILL IN HIS HAND.

HOURMAN 10: (Off) No offense taken, Lyle. And, don't worry--

HOURMAN 9: (Off) --I'll be just fine.

SHERIFF 10: (Off) Bennies, Hourman--?

HOURMAN 11: (Off) My Miraculo Pill, Sheriff. My own design.

4 WIDE: THE DEPUTIES POINTING AT THE DARK WOODS, REACTING. HOURMAN's SWALLOWING HIS PILL.

HOURMAN 12: Provides me with the strength of ten men for a one-hour period--

DEPUTY 13: Sheriff-- someone's comin'--!!

5 WIDE: MED C/U: COBALT LEANING OUT OF THE WINDOW OF THE SPEEDING FINMOBILE, FIRING A BLAST OF ENERGY. PAY THIS OFF BIG.

JIMMY 14: (Off or from other side of car) Roadblock!!

DR. COBALT 15: Just hold the FinMobile steady, Jimmy--

DR. COBALT 16: (Burst) --WHILE DR. COBALT DEALS DEATH TO HIS ENEMIES!!

SFX: SSSVVVVVTTTT!!

Page 5

1 THE ROADBLOCK: THE ENERGY SMASHES RIGHT THROUGH A PAIR OF PATROL CARS. HOURMAN's ON THE MOVE. DEPUTIES SCATTER, ALTHOUGH A FEW RETURN FIRE.

SFX: FRZZZZAAAAAMMMM!!

SHERIFF 1: (Burst) Fire!!

SFX: BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAM!!!

2 INT/FINMOBILE: JIMMY'S NAILED IN THE SHOULDER AND CHEST, THE INTERIOR OF THE CAR GETTING REALLY CHOPPED UP BY HAIL OF GUNFIRE. COBALT IS HIT AS WELL.

JIMMY 2: (Burst) JEEZ--!!

COBALT 3: (Burst) ARRRGGGHH--!!

3 EXT: THE FINMOBILE SWERVES VIOLENTLY, GOING UP ON TWO WHEELS NOW—

SFX: SSSKRREEEEEECCCHHHHH!!!

4 —AND SMASHES THROUGH A GUARD RAIL, ABOUT TO GO DOWN A STEEP GRADE.

SFX: KKRAAAAAMMMM!!!

5 INT/FINMOBILE: JIMMY AND COBALT WINCING, EXPECTING THE WORSE.

JIMMY 4: --nuts--

6 SAME: THEY TURN TO LOOK BEHIND THEM.

JIMMY 5: --what th--?

Page 6

1 WIDE: HOURMAN'S GOT THE FINMOBILE BY ITS REAR BUMPER OR WHAT HAVE YOU, THE CAR'S MAG WHEELS SPINNING. HOURMAN'S DRAGGING THE FINMOBILE BACK FROM CERTAIN DESTRUCTION.

COBALT 1: (Off, Burst) HOURMAN?!?

COBALT 2: (Same) CURSES!

2 ANGLE ON THE PASSENGER SIDE DOOR: COBALT LEANS OUT HIS WINDOW, AIMING HIS FIST AT US, ENERGY CRACKLING FROM HIS FIST AND TANK (IF TANK'S IN SHOT).

COBALT 3: I will not be humiliated thus!

COBALT 4: I have you now, Hourman!

3 SAME: JIMMY LUNGES OUT WINDOW, PUNCHING COBALT AND SPOILING HIS AIM.

JIMMY 5: Eyy- you nuts?!

SFX: KRAAAKKK!!

SFX: SSSVVVVVTTTT!!

4 HOURMAN RIPS THE PASSENGER DOOR OFF THE FINMOBILE.

HOURMAN 6: Thanks for the save, Jimmy.

HOURMAN 7: Cobalt's radioactive blasts have done enough damage for one day.

5 HOURMAN'S POV: THROUGH THE RUINED DOOR. JIMMY, BARELY CONSCIOUS, LEANS ON THE KO'ed COBALT.

JIMMY 8: Don't get all warm about it, hero.

JIMMY 9: I just figured I owed you one, s'all.

6 MED C/U: JIMMY, FADING.

JIMMY 10: Doesn't make me a Saint.

CAPTION 11: And, where were you while Hourman was arresting your dad, Billy?

CAPTION 12: Yeah, that's right. You were home.

Page 7

1 FULL FIGURE: A LITTLE BOY, AGE EIGHT, HIS BACK TO US, STANDS IN THE MIDDLE OF A DIRT ROAD. THIS ROAD WINDS THROUGH THE CLIFFSIDE TRAILER PARK, A DISMAL PLACE OF POOR WHITE TRASH. THE BOY WEARS COVERALLS, ONE STRAP OF WHICH IS UNDONE AND A CORNER OF THE CHEST PIECE FLAPS BACKWARD. A GENTLE BREEZE BLOWS THE BOY'S CURLY BLOND HAIR. IT'S DUSK.

CAPTION 1: It was your birthday.

CAPTION 2: Jimmy Mac promised to take you to the circus.

2 SAME: ONLY NOW IT'S MUCH DARKER. THE BOY IS LIT BY LIGHTS FROM THE PARK.

CAPTION 3: You didn't really expect him to show up. He never did any of the other times.

3 SAME: ONLY NOW IT'S RAINING. THE BOY IS SOAKED, HIS HAIR A STRAIGHT, TANGLED MESS.

CAPTION 4: You were used to it.

MOM 5: (Off) Billy Mac!

MOM 6: (Off) Get your tail out of the rain before some fool runs you over!

KID 7: Yes, mama.

4 EST SHOT: A RATTY TRAILER, CIRCA 1966. A NAKED LIGHT BULB NEAR THE FRONT DOOR. THE KID SADLY ENTERS.

CAPTION 8: You were squirreled away in the Cliffside Trailer Park-- the latest in an endless string of "homes."

CAPTION 9: Your dad moved your family-- if that's what you want to call it-- every few weeks.

5 INT/TRAILER: MED C/U: THE KID: GRIM. NO TRACE OF SADNESS. JUST A HEARTBREAKING ACCEPTANCE OF THE WAY THINGS ARE. A TOWEL ON HIS HEAD NOW, HIS MOTHER'S HAND PLAYFULLY WHISKING THE TOWEL AROUND IN HIS HAIR (WE NEVER SEE MOM IN THIS SEQUENCE).

CAPTION 10: It'd gotten so bad, you stopped even trying to make friends. After all, what was the point--

CAPTION 11: --you'd only lose them a few weeks later.

Page 8

1 EXT/TRAILER: A COP CAR (NOT ONE OF THE SHERIFF CARS FROM ABOVE) ZOOMS PAST, ITS LIGHTS AND SIREN GOING.

CAPTION 1: And then there was that ever-present fear--

2 INT/TRAILER: MOM (CROPPED OUT OF SHOT) SHOVES KID TO THE FLOOR.

MOM 2: (Off) Billy-- get down!

CAPTION 3: --that they'd find out what your dad did for a living.

3 FLOOR LEVEL: MED: THE KID, STOIC, ACCEPTING, PINNED TO THE FLOOR.

CAPTION 4: By keeping to yourself, you were actually protecting Jimmy Mac. Helping out your family--

4 SAME: CAMERA MOVES IN FOR A C/U.

CAPTION 5: --doing your share.

5 SAME: MOVE IN EVEN CLOSER: ECU.

CAPTION 6: Of course, in the end, none of your sacrifice mattered.

CAPTION 7: But, at the time, you had no way of knowing that.

CAPTION 8: No way to know you'd never see your father again...

6 STAT AND WHITE ZIP OVER (TO "GHOST OUT" THE IMAGE). THE CAPTIONS ARE PLACED OVER THE IMAGE, AS THOUGH THE IMAGE WERE A DECORATIVE BACKDROP FOR THE TYPE (ASK ME IF I'VE LOST YOU).

CAPTION 9: Wilma, where's my mark?

^[3]WILMA CAPTION 10: Another 3,000 yards. Coast Guard and the locals are tracking you, coordinating on my signal.

CAPTION 11: Patch me through.

WILMA CAP 12: You're a go.

CAPTION 13: Attention all units! This is--

CAPTION 14: -- <insert logo>

TRIUMPH 15: Everybody hold onto your hats.

Page 9

(SPLASH) OVERHEAD: TRIUMPH IN FORCED PERSPECTIVE F/G TOWS AN OLD BARGE BEHIND HIM. IT'S NIGHT. WE SEE HINTS OF A SHORELINE TUCKED AROUND THE CORNERS (WE'RE NEAR ROCKAWAY BEACH).

BUZZING AROUND THE SHIP ARE SEVERAL COAST GUARD CHOPPERS, A HELICOPTER MARKED "QUEENS COUNTY SHERIFF DEPT." FIRING A SWEEPING SPOTLIGHT, AND A HIGH-TECH JET HELICOPTER.^[4] THE JET COPTER IS CLEARLY NOT A COAST GUARD CHOPPER.

THIS REQUIRES GREAT EFFORT ON TRIUMPH's PART, A GREAT FEAT OF STRENGTH, ALL HIS MUSCLES ARE TENSED, AND MAYBE HE'S GRIMACING SOMEWHAT.

TITLE 1: THE MACHINE

TRIUMPH 2: Please place an all-points alert to area hospitals, and scramble all available EMS* and Rescue Squad units in a ten mile radius.

TRIUMPH 3: State Police should coordinate with the County Sheriff's department at target area checkpoints. QCS**, get your lights going.

TRIUMPH 4: Boarding parties ready on my mark.

^[5]BURST 5: Roger, Triumph, all units rolling.

BURST 6: QCS in the air, Triumph, we got it all covered.

BURST 7: FBI task force to rendezvous at Beach Channel Drive.

BURST 8: Negatory, this is a Coast Guard mission, sir.

BURST 9: No cluster grope, CG, we're here as observers. This is your baby, over.

BURST 10: That's mighty white of you guys. This thing's over, coffee's on us.

BURST 11: Visibility ten miles. Range 2230 yards.

BURST 12: That's just amazing. That Justice League guy...

BURST 13: Charlie Seven, what's your twenty?

BURST 14: Thirteen-six angel left.

BURST 15: Keep a lane open for Triumph's RotoJet.

BURST 16: You'd better. Thing's got a lady driver.

^[6]FANG 17: And a hard-target calibrated laser cannon whose trigger I keep confusing with the radio dial.

BURST 18: Uh--

FANG 19: It's an open channel boys. Clean it up.

TRIUMPH 20: That's enough, Fang. Stay with me.

TRIUMPH 21: Don't get rattled by the meatballs.

FANG BURST 22: Sorry Triumph.

TRIUMPH 23: Wilma-- where's my mark?

WILMA CAP 24: Turn left seven in four... three... two... mark!

FOOTNOTE 25: *Emergency Medical Service **Queens County Sheriff department

CREDITS 26: <Insert credits>

Page 10

1 WIDE: GET IT ALL IN: TINY TRIUMPH TOWS THE BARGE TOWARDS ROCKAWAY BEACH, TRIUMPH TURNING TO HIS LEFT, THE ANCHOR CHAIN DRAGGING THE SHIP INTO A LUMBERING, BEACHED-WALE-ISH TURN. WE SEE SUBURBAN LANDMARKS, MAYBE A SEA WALL, SOME HOUSES BEHIND THE SEA WALL. THE SHIP IS QUITE SOME DISTANCE FROM THE SHORE, BUT THE WATER IS TOO SHALLOW FOR IT. THE SHIP IS LISTING HARD TO ONE SIDE. THE CHOPPERS BUZZ AROUND IT.

TRIUMPH 1: Where is everybody?

WILMA CAP 2: I'm still at the hotel. Father Rocko thinks he'll have Rivera's bank within the hour--

TRIUMPH 3: Good. We don't need it, but it's good to have.

WILMA 4: --Fang is in the RotoJet, Eddie X is on the train.

2 C/U TRIUMPH, HIS HAND ON PART OF THE HUGE LINK CHAIN IN FORCED PERSPECTIVE F/G, INTENSE AS HE CONTINUES TOWING.

TRIUMPH 5: Wilma, go private.

^[7]WILMA PRIVATE CAPTION 6: Go ahead, Will.

TRIUMPH 7: What am I missing?

WILMA PR 8: A therapist, and maybe a little fiber in your diet.

WILMA PR 9: Will, you're the most over-prepared guy I've ever met. Everything's covered.

3 DOWN SHOT: THE JET COPTER BANKING INTO A TURN, THE SHIP LOOMING HUGE BELOW IT, WE SHOULD BE CLOSE ENOUGH TO SEE NON-UNIFORMED MERCHANT MARINERS SCRAMBLING ACROSS THE DECK, SOME OF THEM POINTING SKYWARD.

TRIUMPH 10: (Off) But... it's so... easy.

WILMA PR 11: For a bullet-proof, flying man who can create fields of electromagnetic force, yeah, I suppose this is a little cakey.

WILMA PR 12: Don't worry. Somebody'll screw up. Maybe Fang.

4 INT/JET COPTER: MED C/U: FANG. SHE STOICALLY LOOKS OUT OF HER WINDOW AS SHE PILOTS THE CHOPPER. SHE'S NOT WEARING A HEADSET OR HELMET.

TRIUMPH 13: (Off) Fang's too boring to screw up. Don't forget, the woman's a dentist --

WILMA PR 14: And one hell of a combat pilot.

FANG 15: I hate radio silence. That means you guys are on private again.

FANG 16: Hate to break this up, guys, but Triumph needs to get down there--

5 NEW ANGLE: TRIUMPH LANDS ON THE DECK. TWO OR THREE THUGGISH MARINERS RUSH HIM—

BURST 17: --the Coast Guard can't come aboard unless somebody rolls out the welcome mat.

TRIUMPH 18: I got it, Fang.

Page 11

1 —AND SLAM INTO AN INVISIBLE FORCE FIELD. TRIUMPH IN SHOT, IGNORING THEM AS HE PUSHES AN OVERSIZED BUTTON ON A WALL PANEL.

TRIUMPH 1: Anybody know the Slavic for "goofball"?

WILMA CAP 2: I think the switch for the hold is--

TRIUMPH 3: Got it, Wilma.

SFX: KUH-CHACKKK!!

TRIUMPH 4: Get me a line.

WILMA CAP 5: You're on.

2 DETAIL: A PAIR OF HUGE DOORS ON THE DECK OF THE SHIP OPEN, SWINGING UP (I'M NOT POSITIVE, BUT I THINK THERE MIGHT BE PULLEYS AND ROPES OR WHAT HAVE YOU PULLING THE DOORS OPEN).

TRIUMPH 6: (Off) You guys with me--?

BURST 7: USCG is on the money, Triumph.

BURST 8: QCS, it's a Kodak moment, buddy.

3 UP: MED C/U: GRIM TRIUMPH. ANNOYED.

TRIUMPH 9: Kill the channel, Wilma.

WILMA CAP 10: You're clear.

TRIUMPH 11: Y'know, twenty minutes ago, we were pirates.

TRIUMPH 12: Now we're heroes. Just like that.

4 REVERSE TO TRIUMPH'S POV: WE SEE INTO THE HOLD. IT'S CRAMMED WITH RUSSIAN IMMIGRANTS. PAY THIS OFF BIG.

TRIUMPH 13: (Off) The net difference between the two being probable cause. God, I love America.

TRIUMPH 14: (Off) Danny Rivera co-financed this illegal immigration scheme with the Russian mob. At 15 grand a head--

TRIUMPH 15: (Off) --I think we cost him about eleven million.

Page 12

1 MASTER SHOT: DOWN: THE SHIP. LEANING TO ONE SIDE, THE BOW DEEPER IN THE WATER THAN THE STERN. TILTED HORIZON SOMEWHAT. THE COAST GUARD CHOPPERS CIRCLE, MAYBE ONE OF THEM LANDING ON THE DECK. A FEW COAST GUARD PATROL BOATS MOVING IN NOW, MAYBE THEY'VE CAST MOORS. THE GENERAL THOUGHT HERE IS TRIUMPH'S WORK IS DONE, AND THE COPS ARE MOVING IN.

TRIUMPH AND THE JET COPTER ZOOM OFF TOGETHER.

TRIUMPH 1: And that's before breakfast.

TRIUMPH 2: Wilma, follow up. Fang and I are late for a train.

WILMA CAP 3: No problem, Triumph.

TRIUMPH 4: Oh-- anything from Father Rocko about Rivera's bank--?

WILMA CAP 5: Not yet. Give him a couple three minutes...

2 EST. SHOT: BROTHER MARK'S BARBER SHOP. DAWN. THIS PLACE IS IN BROOKLYN, MAYBE THE BEDFORD STUYVESANT SECTION. BROTHER MARK IS A SLIM BLACK MAN, AGE 35 OR SO. HE'S REMOVING A PADLOCK FROM THE SECURITY GATE THAT FANS ACROSS THE FRONT OF THE BUILDING.

FATHER ROCKO STANDS NEARBY, READING A FOLDED PAPER AND SIPPING FROM A PAPER CUP OF COFFEE. HE WEARS A TRENCH COAT OVER HIS BODY SUIT, THE COAT CLOSED, BELT TIED AT THE WAIST.

BROTHER MARK 6: 'Sup.

FATHER ROCKO 7: Howdy.

BROTHER MARK 8: In for that early cut, hey brother?

3 INT/SHOP: OVERHEAD: BROTHER MARK ENTERS, FATHER ROCKO FOLLOWS. IT'S A MODEST SHOP, TWO CHAIRS, MAYBE A SINK OR TWO IN THE BACK. THE WALLS ARE MIRRORED FOR THE MOST PART.

FATHER ROCKO 9: Not exactly.

FATHER ROCKO 10: You're Brother Mark, right?

BROTHER MARK 11: Depends on who's askin'.

4 NEW ANGLE: FATHER ROCKO IN A BARBER CHAIR, BARBARICALLY CHUGGING HIS COFFEE, BROTHER MARK ORBITS BEHIND HIM.

FATHER ROCKO 12: I'm Father Rocko. I work for somebody.

FATHER ROCKO 13: I'm looking for Danny Rivera's bank. You help me out, you're walkin' all the way home.

ACROSS THE BOTTOM TIER: 3-PANEL SEQUENCE:

5 2-SHOT: MEDIUM: BROTHER MARK SHOVES A REVOLVER (SOMETHING BIG, LIKE A .387) AGAINST FATHER ROCKO's CHEST.

BROTHER MARK 14: Now, suppose I just wax your dumb ass.

FATHER ROCKO 15: See, this is not a good thing. This is a complication.

FATHER ROCKO 16: Rivera runs a network from Norfolk to Yonkers. He spends most of his time on trains--

6 SAME: MARK PULLS THE TRIGGER, THE GUN DISCHARGES.

BROTHER MARK 17: You're ass-out, G.

SFX: BLAM!

7 SAME: FATHER ROCKO TAKES ANOTHER SIP, SMOKE WAFTS FROM THE GUN BARREL AND THE IMPACT AREA ON FATHER ROCKO's CHEST. THERE IS NO BLOOD AND NO APPARENT DAMAGE TO FATHER ROCKO's BODY SUIT. BROTHER MARK IS BEWILDERED.

FATHER ROCKO 18: --but Rivera moves his cola between three locations, like a shell game. You're Rivera's mule, Brother Mark.

FATHER ROCKO 19: Means you know where it's snowing.

FATHER ROCKO 20: So, check this out, "G"--

Page 13

1 EXT/BARBER SHOP: DRAMATIC ANGLE AS BROTHER MARK EXPLODES BACKWARDS THROUGH THE GLASS.

SFX: KERRAAAASSH!!

2 EXT/SHOP: BROTHER MARK LIES SPRAWLED ON THE SIDEWALK, ONE LEG RESTING ON THE LIP OF THE SHATTERED GLASS WINDOW. FATHER ROCKO LEANS OUT OF THE BROKEN WINDOW, STOICALLY LOOKING AT THE KO'ed BROTHER MARK.

FATHER ROCKO 1: Wow.

FATHER ROCKO 2: Bet that hurt.

FATHER ROCKO 3: It sure looked painful.

3 NEW ANGLE: FATHER ROCKO STEPS ON BROTHER MARK'S NECK. FATHER ROCKO NEVER SHOWS MUCH EMOTION.

FATHER ROCKO 4: Bet you're wondering if I'm a cop. If I'm gangsta, or one them crazy Indians give mugs Colombian neckties and such.

FATHER ROCKO 5: Well, I'm none of the above. I'm Father Rocko. I work for a guy.

4 DOWN: MED C/U: BROTHER MARK'S GRIMACING FACE, FATHER ROCKO's BOOT ON HIS THROAT.

FATHER ROCKO 6: (Off) Rivera's bank, Brother Mark. Now.

5 WIDE: THE JETCOPTER ZOOMS ALONG A SHORE LINE.

BURST 7: This is me. I spoke to somebody's somebody.

TRIUMPH 8: (From Copter) You get the bank?

BURST 9: I will know in a while. Then I'll let our friends know so they can get the warrant.

TRIUMPH 10: Stay on top of "our friends," Father. We're in too deep now to have some yo-yo clerk sink our sub.

BURST 11: Amen.

6 INT/CHOPPER: FANG AND TRIUMPH. ANGLE: TRIUMPH. TRIUMPH IS CHUGGING A BOTTLE OF COCO-WHIZ, MY TAKEOFF ON YOO-HOO. NEITHER TRIUMPH NOR FANG WEAR HEADSETS.

TRIUMPH 12: Make sure they get no-knock, Joe Doe warrants. Encourage them to bring fire extinguishers; Lonnie Ray is a choker and he's likely to torch the place.

TRIUMPH 13: Bring a reporter-- see who we know on the Times. With Rivera's kinda loot, it's CMA time.

BURST 14: I am gone.

TRIUMPH 15: Wilma, where's my mark--?

WILMA CAP 16: Six minutes. Fang's driving like my granmama.

FANG 17: Bite me.

Page 14

1 OVERHEAD: THE CHOPPER ZOOMS OVER A SPEEDING TRAIN. THIS TRAIN HAS A DIESEL ENGINE AT EACH END. IT'S A TYPICAL PASSENGER TRAIN, ABOUT EIGHT CARS. TOWARDS THE REAR, A PRIVATE CAR, THE PAINT SCHEME DOES NOT MATCH THE REST OF THE TRAIN.

WILMA CAP 1: And the hits just keep on coming.

TRIUMPH 2: (From Chopper) What is it, Wilma?

WILMA CAP 3: Eddie X is in the car.

TRIUMPH 4: (Connect to #2) Get out of there, Eddie X. Now.

2 WIDE: MED C/U: A THUG IS PUNCHED IN THE FACE, HIS HEAD SNAPPING BACK AND SHATTERING THE WINDOW IN A METAL DOOR. THIS IS AN END DOOR TO A RAILROAD CAR, THIS SCENE TAKING PLACE BETWEEN THE CARS.

HE THROWN FIST (AND FOREARM ITS ATTACHED TO) BELONGS TO EDDIE X, ALTHOUGH WE DO NOT SEE HIM IN THE SHOT.

SFX: KERAAAAACCKKK!!

ELECTRIC BURST 5: Eddie X-- get out of there now. This is my show.

3 WIDE: INT/RAILROAD CAR. FULL FIGURES: EDDIE X AT ONE END, FIRING. A PAIR OF GOONS AT THE OTHER END NAILED BEFORE THEY CAN GET THEIR GUNS OUT. RIVERA AND TEMPLEMAN DUCKING.

RIVERA IS TWENTYSOMETHING, WEARING AN EXPENSIVE ATHLETIC SUIT AND STEEL-TOED HIKING BOOTS. RIVERA IS FEARSOME LOOKING, A TANGLE OF BLACK HAIR AND HUNGRY, DEEP-SET EYES BURIED IN SHADOW. THIS IS NOT A GUY YOU'D WANT TO TANGLE WITH. TEMPLEMAN LOOKS LIKE TEMPLEMAN, A BALDING WHITE MAN IN A BUSINESS SUIT.

THIS CAR IS LAVISHLY APPOINTED. RIVERA AND TEMPLEMAN SIT IN A SEMI-CIRCULAR CONVERSATION PIT, VARIOUS NOTES AND BRIEFS SPREAD ACROSS A KIDNEY-SHAPED COCKTAIL TABLE. STOCK THIS ROOM WITH WHATEVER YOU LIKE: I FIGURE THERE ARE SEVERAL "CAPTAIN'S" CHAIRS (SWIVEL-RECLINING OVERSIZED ARM CHAIRS WITH HEAD AND FOOTRESTS, LIKE YOU'D SEE IN A WELL-EQUIPPED VAN), ALONG WITH A WELL-STOCKED BAR. A BANK OF TV MONITORS AND A WALL OF ELECTRONIC STEREO EQUIPMENT. YOU GET THE IDEA.

THE GOONS GETTING NAILED SHOULD BE CAROMING OFF OF/INTO SOME OF THIS STUFF, CALLING ATTENTION TO IT.

EDDIE X 6: 'Sup, Holmes.

SFX: VIP! VIP! VIP!

4 MED C/U: EDDIE X GRIMACES A BIT AS HE LIGHTS A CIGARETTE WITH HIS CLASSIC METAL ZIPPO LIGHTER. A CLINT EASTWOOD VEIN SPIDERS UP HIS FOREHEAD. EDDIE X IS THE COOLEST GUY IN THE WORLD (SEE DESCRIPTION). KEEP HIS BODY LANGUAGE SUBTLE, HIS MOVEMENTS ECONOMICAL.

EDDIE X 7: I'm Eddie X.

EDDIE X 8: Mira, Holmes, life as you know it--

EDDIE X 9: --just blew the freak up.

5 WIDE: EXT/THE TRAIN: TRIUMPH ZOOMS ALONGSIDE, KEEPING PACE WITH RIVERA'S CAR. THE TRAIN MOVING VERY FAST THROUGH SCENIC COUNTRYSIDE. IF POSSIBLE, IN B/G, THE JETCOPTER ZOOMS AWAY.

WILMA CAP 10: Boy is so hardheaded.

TRIUMPH 11: Yeah, well, I've got a cure for that.

TRIUMPH 12: Fang, go on up ahead and reset that railroad switch.

BURST FROM CHOPPER 13: You got it, boss.

Page 15

1 INT/CAR: EDDIE'S SEATED IN THE CONVERSATION PIT. HUNCHED OVER, RESTING HIS FOREARMS ON HIS THIGHS WHILE STARING AT RIVERA. EDDIE HOLDS HIS PISTOL ON RIVERA. RIVERA TOUGHS IT OUT, RECLINING LIKE HE'S WATCHING THE FLINTSTONES. TEMPLEMAN COWERS NEARBY. A CIGARETTE DANGLES FROM EDDIE'S MOUTH AS THE TWO LATINOS TRY AND OUT-COOL EACH OTHER.

RIVERA 1: Yo, man. You dead. Know that, right?

EDDIE X 2: Man, I been dead for years. Don't even have no name no more. Mira, just an "X" now, Holmes.

EDDIE X 3: Your kind did that, Holmes.

2 MED C/U: RIVERA, LOOKING BORED. THIS IS THE SCARIEST MOTHERFUCKER WE'VE EVER SEEN.

RIVERA 4: My kind? Puerto Ricans?

EDDIE X 5: (Off) Yo, criminals, Holmes. Crooks.

RIVERA 6: And, yo, that make you Batman, right? The Long Ranger, man?

3 SLIVER: MED C/U: EDDIE X FIRES HIS PISTOL.^[8]

SFX: BLAAAMM!!

4 THE CONVERSATION PIT: RIVERA SPRAWLED BACK, CLUTCHING HIS CHEST. TEMPLEMAN FREAKS OUT. EDDIE X HUNCHED WAY OVER NOW, ALMOST LIKE HE'S LOOKING AT HIS CROTCH. HE TAKES A LONG DRAG OFF THE CIGARETTE, WHICH HE HOLDS AT THE FILTER WITH HIS THUMB AND FOREFINGER. THE SMOKING PISTOL HELD CASUALLY IN HIS FREE HAND. HE'S LOOKING DOWN AT THE FLOOR.

EDDIE X 7: Mira, Holmes, I ain't no Batman. I'm Eddie X.

EDDIE X 8: That's for disrespect.

RIVERA 9: --you-- you crazy, man--

EDDIE X 10: Stop crying, Holmes, you ain't gonna die.

5 MED C/U: EDDIE X HOLDS ONE OF TRIUMPH'S BULLETS BETWEEN HIS THUMB AND FOREFINGER.

EDDIE X 11: Special ammo, Holmes. Not lead, but a gel.

EDDIE X 12: Plays havoc with your central nervous system, Holmes.

EDDIE X 13: Yo, check it out, Holmes, you been got. The man's gonna do you some tall time Holmes.

RIVERA 14: (Off) Wha-- what's this about, man--?

TRIUMPH 9: It's about Bonita Phillips.

Page 16

1 TRIUMPH SHOVES THE KO'ed GUARD ASIDE AS HE STRIDES INTO THE CAR. EDDIE X AND RIVERA IN SHOT.

RIVERA 1: Who--?!

TRIUMPH 2: The nine year-old one of your goons ran over while fleeing police.

TRIUMPH 3: I'm every kid you ever strung out, turned out, or shot.

TRIUMPH 4: The piper come to get paid.

EDDIE X 5: You late, man Holmes.

EDDIE X 6: Had to improvise.

2 NEW ANGLE: A GUNMAN AIMS AT TRIUMPH FROM THE SHADOWS. TRIUMPH NOW GLARING AT EDDIE X, NEITHER OF THEM NOTICING THE GUNMAN.

TRIUMPH 7: Later, Eddie X.

RIVERA 8: Oh, it's like that, huh? The white man pulls your strings, huh?

EDDIE X 9: Yo, Triumph, man Holmes, don't play me out like Rodney--

3 TRIUMPH IS NAILED BY A BARRAGE OF MACHINEGUN FIRE, EDDIE X DUCKS, THE WIND FROM THE FLURRY OF ROUNDS WHIPS HIS HAIR.

SFX: RATTATTATTATTATTATTATT--!!

4 NEW ANGLE: EDDIE X FIRING IN MID-LEAP. IN B/G RIVERA CATCHES AN UZI THROWN IN FROM OFF-PANEL.

EDDIE X 10: Wilma, we lost the old man.

WILMA CAP 11: How bad is it?

5 RIVERA RACES TOWARDS US, FIRING FULL AUTO, EERILY LIT BY MUZZLE FLASH, SHELLS EJECTING, HIS FACE CONTORTED INTO A SNARL.

RIVERA 12: Hey Eddie X--

RIVERA 13: (Burst) --I KISSED YO MAMA FIVE TIMES!!

SFX: RATTATTATTATTATTATTATT--!!

EDDIE X 14: (Off) How bad can it get?

WILMA CAP 15: Fang--!

Page 17

1 DRAMATIC ANGLE: THE ROTOJET SWOOPS INTO A SHARP, 180º TURN. IT'S LIKE THREE OR FOUR MILES IN FRONT OF THE TRAIN, WHICH IS WAY IN THE B/G.

FANG 1: (From chopper) I'm on it, Wilma.

FANG 2: (Same) I'm setting up the autotrack now, I'll be down in eighteen seconds.

WILMA CAP 3: Make it seven, Fang. Triumph's down.

FANG 4: (From chopper) I don't understand-- how could--

WILMA CAP 5: The old man's only invulnerable when he's thinking about it.

2 INT/RAILROAD CAR: EDDIE X RACES ACROSS, SCAMPERING IN A LOW RUN WHILE FIRING HIS PISTOL IN ONE HAND, A FOUND UZI IN THE OTHER. MACHINEGUN FIRE TEARS UP THE WALL BEHIND HIM, THE WINDOWS EXPLODING. ANY FURNITURE OR FIXTURES EDDIE X MAY BE PASSING EXPLODE FROM GUNFIRE AS WELL.

TEMPLEMAN GETS NAILED, VIRTUALLY CUT IN HALF BY THE GUNFIRE, HIS PAPERS NOW FLOATING IN MID AIR. THIS SHOULD BE PLAYED FOR BACKGROUND COMIC EFFECT.

EDDIE X IS GETTING HIT. SHOW IMPACT FLASHES IN SEVERAL PLACES ON HIS BODY. BUT THE BULLETS HAVE NO APPARENT EFFECT ON EDDIE X.

EDDIE X 6: Yeah, yeah YEAH!!

EDDIE X 7: Show me what you got, Holmes!!

SFX: BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!!

SFX: RATTATTATTATTATTATTATT--!!

3 PROFILE VIEW: RIVERA IN A COMICALLY OVER-THE-TOP TANGLE OF LATINO GOONS FIRE A WIDE VARIETY OF GUNS AND RIFLES, SHELLS EJECTING ALL OVER, RIVERA SNARLING.

RIVERA 8: Okay.

SFX: RATTATTATTATTATTATTATT--!!

4 SAME: THESE GUYS NOW GETTING THE SHIT KNOCKED OUT OF THEM BY A FORCE BEAM FIRED FROM OFF-PANEL.

TRIUMPH 9: (Off) Eddie, you idiot.

SFX: ZZZZMMMMMMM!!!

5 WIDE: TRIUMPH'S ON HIS FEET, A BIT WOBBLY. EDDIE X SOME FEET AWAY, GLARING, WINDED, GUNS SMOKING.

EDDIE X 10: Yo, "X", man.

EDDIE X 11: My name's Eddie X.

TRIUMPH 12: Well, Eddie X, you're an idiot.

EDDIE X 13: Yo, man Holmes, you welcome for saving your life.

WILMA CAP 14: Glad you're not dead, boss. You'd really hate yourself if you missed this.

6 2-SHOT: MED C/U: TRIUMPH AND EDDIE, EDDIE STILL GLARING.

TRIUMPH 15: Missed what, Wilma?

WILMA CAP 16: The derailment.

Page 18

1 DRAMATIC ANGLE: EXT/TRAIN: TRIUMPH SMASHES OUT OF THE ALREADY-WRECKED WINDOWS.

TRIUMPH 1: Damn.

Damn.

TRIUMPH 2: Wilma-- what's my mark?

WILMA CAP 3: 700 feet and closing. About eight seconds, boss.

2 LONG SHOT: TRIUMPH WHIPS AROUND THE ROTOJET, VANISHING IN THE DISTANCE, HEADING FOR THE FRONT OF THE TRAIN.

BURST 4: Triumph, should I--

TRIUMPH 5: --have re-set the railroad switch like I told you to? Yes, Fang, that would've been a good idea.

BURST 6: Excuse me--

3 WIDE: DRAMATIC SHOT: TRIUMPH FLIES FULL TILT, TRYING TO OUT-RUN THE SPEEDING TRAIN. THE TRAIN'S PRETTY MUCH A BLUR, AND TRIUMPH'S BACKWASH INDICATES HIS GREAT SPEED.

BURST 7: --but I was a little busy trying to save you.

TRIUMPH 8: Fang, my uniform's got the same energy dampening technology as all of yours. I just had the wind knocked out of me.

WILMA CAP 9: Triumph... somebody's got to be the grown-up.

4 MED C/U: TRIUMPH FLYING, THE TRAIN A BLUR BEHIND HIM, HIS FACE BLENDING TO A BLURRY BACKWASH.

TRIUMPH 10: All right, Wilma, I'll thank her.

TRIUMPH 11: That is, assuming I'm more powerful than a locomotive...

5 GROUND LEVEL: WE'RE LOOKING AT AN OPEN SWITCH IN THE TRACKS, A SEVERE CURVE THAT THE TRAIN IS MOVING TOO FAST FOR. IN THE DISTANCE, THE TRAIN WITH TINY TRIUMPH FIGURE RACING ALONGSIDE IT.

TRIUMPH 12: Y'know, if we'd stuck to the plan, the train would be moving a lot slower.

TRIUMPH 13: The state police and FBI waiting at the end of that spur are expecting Rivera in cuffs--

Page 19

FIVE HORIZONTAL PANELS:

1 OVERHEAD ANGLE: TRIUMPH GRABS HOLD OF SOME PART OF THE ENGINE NOSE, PROBABLY THE RAILING. HIS LEGS BEHIND HIM, THIS LOOKS LIKE HE'S BEING DRAGGED BY THE TRAIN.

TRIUMPH 1: --not a tangle of twisted metal.

WILMA CAP 2: Five seconds, Triumph.

2 SAME: TRIUMPH USES HIS UPPER BODY STRENGTH TO FLIP HIS LEGS AROUND, HIS LEGS NOW EXTEND OUT IN FRONT OF THE ENGINE.

TRIUMPH 3: Of course, we could have told the motorman what we were up to, but how were we to know he wasn't one of Rivera's men?

WILMA CAP 4: Three seconds, boss.

3 SAME: NOW TRIUMPH IS CLEARLY PUSHING AGAINST THE ENGINE NOSE.

TRIUMPH 5: Don't sweat it, Wilma. I won't lose her.

4 IN CLOSER: MOSTLY TRIUMPH'S UPPER BODY NOW, HIS FACE FLAT AGAINST THE HOT METAL, GRIMACING AS HE STRAINS.

TRIUMPH 6: A train wreck wouldn't look good on our résumé.

5 IN VERY CLOSE NOW, MAINLY HIS FACE, HIS HAND AND WHATEVER PART OF HIS ARM THAT MAKES SENSE IN FORCED PERSPECTIVE. TRIUMPH'S HAIR A TANGLED MESS.

TRIUMPH 7: (Small letters) ...c'mon...

Page 20

(SPLASH) THE TRAIN: SOME OF THE CARS HAVE LEFT THE TRACKS. THOSE CARS ARE LEANING TO ONE SIDE AND ANOTHER, PERHAPS AT SLIGHT ANGLES WHERE THEIR COUPLERS BUCKLED FROM THE STRAIN. RIVERA'S SHOT-UP PRIVATE CAR IN HERE, IT'S ONE OF THE CARS THAT'S SLID OFF THE RAILS.

THE RAIL SWITCH IS CLEARLY IN SHOT: TRIUMPH'S HALTED THE ENGINE IN JUST THE NICK OF TIME.

TRIUMPH, IN BAD MOTHERFUCKER POSE, STANDS ATOP THE STALLED TRAIN, FISTS BALLED, HEAD BOWED LIKE A BEVERLY HILLS 90210 POSTER BOY. EXTREME LIGHTING CASTS DARK SHADOWS ACROSS HIM, MAYBE BLACKING OUT MOST OF THE TEAL BODYSUIT, THE GLOSSY, GOLD METAL APPARENTLY GLOWING NOW, THE WIND CATCHING HIS HAIR.

THE ROTOJET SCREAMS BY OVERHEAD.

— NO COPY—

Page 21

1 DOWNSHOT: A TOMBSTONE. DAYLIGHT. FRESH FLOWERS BY THE TOMBSTONE.

TOMBSTONE 1: BONITA THERESE PHILLIPS

1986-1995

mommy loves you.

2 NEW ANGLE: THE TEAM (TRIUMPH, FATHER ROCKO, EDDIE X, FANG) STANDS AROUND BONITA's MOM WHO KNEELS AT THE GRAVE. THE TEAM ALL WEAR SIMPLE BLACK SUITS, WHITE SHIRTS, BLACK TIES. FANG WEARS A BLACK DRESS. FATHER ROCKO WEARS HIS PRIEST'S ECUMENICAL COLLAR AND HAS A BIBLE IN HIS HAND.

3 IN CLOSER: THE TEAM HUGS MOM. EDDIE X REALLY BROKEN UP HERE.

MOM 2: (Small letters) ...thank you... I love you all...

4 STILL IN GROUP HUG: C/U TRIUMPH, GLARING OVER THE SHOULDER(S) OF THOSE HUGGING HIM; HE'S SPOTTED SOMETHING.

5 REVERSE TO: LONG SHOT: TRIUMPH POV: AMONG THE MOURNERS IS DR. COBALT.

6 SAME AS (4) ONLY ZOOM IN FOR AN ECU: TRIUMPH'S GLARING EYES.

7 SAME AS (5), ONLY NOW COBALT IS GONE.

Page 22

1 SLIVER PANEL: EXT/SWANK MANHATTAN HOTEL.

WILMA CAP 1: Dr. Cobalt? Who's that?

2 INT/HOTEL SUITE: MEDIUM: AT A TABLE, WILMA WORKS HIS COMPUTER. A DESK-MOUNTED CONDENSER MIKE (THESE ARE PENCIL-THIN, ULTRA-COOL LOOKING MICROPHONES) IS AIMED AT HIM. THE COMPUTER SHOULD BE AS ACCURATELY AN APPLE QUADRA 840av CD WITH A 20-INCH SCREEN (WE'LL SUPPLY REF IF YOU NEED IT) AS WE CAN LEGALLY GET AWAY WITH. THERE ARE ALSO STACKS OF HARD DRIVES BEHIND OR NEAR THE MONITOR. TRIUMPH, STILL IN THE FUNERAL SUIT, YANKS HIS TIE OFF.

TRIUMPH 2: Dr. Cobalt is an old guy who should be in jail, Wilma-- or dead.

WILMA 3: And you saw this guy at the cemetery--?

TRIUMPH 4: Punch into Statesville Penitentiary, near Evanston.

WILMA 5: Cobalt-- that's C-O-B--

TRIUMPH 6: Try Sklar. Onassis Sklar. That's his real name.

3 WIDEN: THE GANG (ROCKO, EDDIE, FANG) ENTER. THEY'RE ALL STILL DRESSED IN THE FUNERAL CLOTHES.

WILMA 7: (Off) No dice, Triumph. Cobalt's dead.

WILMA 8: (Off) He wasn't there six months before cancer took him out.

TRIUMPH 9: (Off) Try MacIntire. James.

FANG 10: So how'd we do--?

4 MEDIUM: TRIUMPH HOLDS A NEWTON PDA (PERSONAL DIGITAL ASSISTANT), A HAND-HELD ELECTRONIC NOTEPAD. YOU WRITE ON THE SCREEN WITH A SPECIAL PEN. HE'S LOOKING AT THE PAD WHILE TAPPING HIS PEN ON THE SCREEN (PRESUMABLY SCROLLING THROUGH VARIOUS WINDOWS).

TRIUMPH 11: I've made some notes.

TRIUMPH 12: Check your PDA's*-- I've transmitted specific performance ratings and comments there--

FANG 13: (Off) Triumph--

FOOTNOTE 14: *Personal Digital Assistant-- the thing in Triumph's hand —Techno-Brian

5 SMILING FANG MUSHES TRIUMPH ON THE SIDE OF THE HEAD (GIVES HIM A GENTLE PUSH WITH THE FLAT OF HER HAND), TRIUMPH'S HEAD BENDING WITH THE MUSH, HIS FACE STOIC, EYES FOCUSED ON HIS PDA.

FANG 15: --a simple "nice going, guys" would do nicely.

TRIUMPH 16: Yes, it would, wouldn't it.

WILMA 17: (Off) You're 0 for 2, boss--

6 WILMA LEANING AWAY FROM THE MONITOR, GIVING US THE NEWS. WE SEE THE SCREEN..

WILMA 18: --your boy MacIntyre-- he's escaped.

MONITOR 19: Statesville Correctional Institution

James MacIntire — AT LARGE

Page 23

1 FLASHBACK: INT/COURTROOM: JIMMY MACINTYRE, IN HANDCUFFS, WEARING PRISON JUMPSUIT, GLARES AT KID WILL WHO STANDS BEFORE HIM, EMOTIONLESS. A BAILIFF'S GOT JIMMY'S ARM. LEADING HIM AWAY.

JIMMY 1: Don't ever be like me, Billy Mac.

WILMA CAP 2: Looks like MacIntyre busted out about a month ago--

2 FLASHBACK: MED C/U: KID WILL. STOIC. STARING OUT INTO SPACE.

JIMMY 3: (Off) Ever.

WILMA CAP 4: --and vanished. Not a trace.

3 MATCH SHOTS: EXACTLY AS (2), ONLY NOW IT'S TRIUMPH TODAY.

WILMA 5: (Off) --Triumph--?

TRIUMPH 6: Yeah, Wilma. I heard you.

TRIUMPH 7: Okay, gang-- new case. Insert as File #AC 903-- MacIntyre. Simple warrant return on escaped prisoner--

4 ANGLE: WILMA SPLAYED CASUALLY IN HIS CHAIR, HEAD BACK— RUN OVER BY THE NEWS OF YET ANOTHER CASE. TRIUMPH'S HEAD DOWN, HIS FACE IN HIS HAND.

WILMA 8: --Ricky.

TRIUMPH 9: Crap. That's now, isn't it--?

WILMA 10: Ricky is seven weeks of butt-kissing to get all the law enforcement agencies to play with the other children.

TRIUMPH 11: Fine. We close Ricky, but we start MacIntyre now.

TRIUMPH 12: Something hinky's going down and I want it contained.

5 ANGLE: EDDIE X, FANG NEXT TO HIM. EDDIE'S EYES BUGGING WIDE. TRIUMPH'S GLOVED HAND IN IMMEDIATE F/G, POINTING AT EDDIE.

TRIUMPH 13: (Off) And, speaking of containment--

TRIUMPH 14: (Burst) YOU'RE FIRED!

NEXT ISH BLURB 15: NEXT: GODZILLA VS. BAMBI

—30 —

^[2]Please ass a color note that Hourman's yellow should be 100Y, as though his costume were not subject to the area lighting. Hourman should be the brightest blip on the scene.

^[3]Letterer: Wilma's voice will (hopefully) be the only captions used in the narrative. I suggest rounded edges on rectangular shapes.

^[4]This is Triumph's RotoJet which is discussed in greater detail in the character descriptions.

^[5]the on-line chatter probably should be arranged as a vertical column of bursts going down the left or right side of the page. The sequence isn't really important, and balloons may actually overlap if needed. The idea is this is a huge operation,.. with lots of different law enforcement agencies coordinating with Triumph's people.

^[6]It may be impossible to get Fang's balloons anywhere near the RotoJet, so they could simply be more bursts, with a note to the colorist to distinguish them from the others somehow.

^[7]Letterer: Wilma's private balloons should have a significantly different shape and look from his normal balloons. If his normal balloons are rectangular (and, they probably should be), his private balloons might be diamond shaped, like highway caution signs.

^[8]Eddie should be holding the pistol horizontally, the barrel facing away from him, the hammer horizontal across his line of vision. Gangstas shoot like that, real cool and casual. Call me if I've lost you.