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.

Continued on the Whats new page