108
Script created with Final Draft by Final Draft, Inc.
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TEASER
FADE IN:
EXT. STREET - NIGHT
It's a cloudy night, although it looks like the rain has
passed already. Puddles of water dot an empty two-lane street
near an elementary school and a convenience store.
A CAR pulls up, dark metallic blue, very expensive-looking.
Four teenage THUGS are inside, tense yet relieved.
INT. CAR - NEXT
The four teens breathe a sigh of relief, the three passengers
simultaneously light up cigarettes.
THUG #1
Nice kill, man.
THUG #2
Yeah, man, way to go. You're in for
sure!
The driver doesn't look as thrilled.
DRIVER
Yeah, thanks.
THUG #2
You see the look in that bitch's
eyes? Like she saw the Goddamn
Angel of Death, man.
THUG #3
What the hell do you know 'bout the
Angel of Death? You even know what
the thing looks like?
THUG #2
Shut up, man. Least I finished the
tenth grade.
THUG #3
Just cause I had to move...
THUG #1
Shut up, both of you!
The second thug lets out a little "Pfft" sound.
DRIVER
What next?
The first thug leans over, looking straight ahead.
THUG #1
You ain't playing with the street
punks anymore. Here, we do real
business. Give yourself a minute,
then we'll head down to third
Street.
DRIVER
What's on third Street?
THUG #1
Chop shop. We drop off the car,
then we take the money right then
and there. Otherwise, Cavella's
boys screw us over, and we don't
see jack. Got it?
DRIVER
Yeah. Yeah, I got it.
He nervously taps his fingers on the wheel while the first
thug sits back again.
DRIVER
What about the cops?
THUG #1
What about 'em?
DRIVER
Well, do they ever, y'know, pull us
over, or anything?
THUG #1
Not if you get to the shop quick
enough. Who's gonna report the
crime?
DRIVER
Yeah, yeah.
THUG #1
Trust me, man, you ain't got
nothing to worry about. Nobody
gives a rat's ass about stuff like
this.
DRIVER
Yeah, you're right. Nobody cares
about this kinda stuff.
CASTLE (O.S.)
Yeah?
The Driver and his three companions look out passenger side
window, and see a grizzled older man holding a shotgun on
them.
The new arrival is tall, faintly Italian, and hardened by
years of combat. He wears all black, from his jeans to his
long leather coat. The only splash of color is a brilliant
white SKULL across his chest.
This is FRANK CASTLE.
THUG #1
Jesus Christ!
EXT. STREET - NEXT
Castle FIRES! The other three pile out of the car, as Castle
cocks the gun, trying to escape before their assailant has a
chance to shoot again.
BLAM! KA-CHICK. BLAM!
The two thugs go down hard and don't move.
The Driver stumbles, and falls to the ground after only a few
steps. He's landed on his wrist, and is clearly in a lot of
pain.
Castle slowly walks up to him, and as he does so, the driver
finally realizes what's coming next.
CASTLE
Get up.
The Driver stands, looking straight down the barrel of the
shotgun the whole time.
DRIVER
Hey, hey listen, I don't... I...
CASTLE
Shut up.
He reaches into the Driver's coat pocket, pulling out a small
9mm handgun, and tucking it into his back pocket.
DRIVER
That's not mine! I swear!
CASTLE
You killed someone tonight.
The driver is practically crying now, desperate to avoid his
punishment.
DRIVER
I swear, I'll go straight... I'll
get a job, man, please...
Castle takes a step forward, and the man falls right back on
his ass.
CASTLE
These punks. Who did they say they
worked for?
DRIVER
Jesus, man, I don't know! All they
said was this guy's big! Like, top
dog in the city!
The drivers face is completely soaked now, from both sweat
and tears. He wipes his eyes, and looks back up with a last
glimmer of hope.
DRIVER
(excited)
I can find him for you! Yeah, I can
help you track him down! There's
this place, down on... damn, uh,
Third Street! Yeah, a chop shop.
Guy called, uh, Cavella runs the
place. He's met the guy. The boss
guy.
(pause, hopeful)
C'mon, man, me and you can take
this guy down!
Castle's face hasn't changed.
CASTLE
Cavella, you say? On Third Street?
DRIVER
Yeah, yeah. Real hardcore dude, he
works for the mob.
CASTLE
Thanks.
DRIVER
No problem, man, you ever need
anything, you come see me! Name's
Nathan.
NATHAN looks up at Castle, smiling. Castle COCKS the shotgun,
and his face falls. The GUN SHOT echoes as we:
FADE TO BLACK.
END OF TEASER
ACT ONE
FADE IN:
EXT. MIDTOWN HIGH - MORNING
Students are beginning to filter into the school.
MARY JANE (PRE-LAP)
Wait, let me get this straight...
INT. MIDTOWN HIGH - HALLWAYS
Beside a janitor's closet we find MARY JANE, surrounded by
INDY and her POSSE of other students.
MARY JANE
You're taking bets?
INDY
First come, first serve on the
dates. I'm guessing next Tuesday...
or maybe Thursday. Wednesday just
isn't a very good hook-up day.
Mary Jane shakes her head.
MARY JANE
You know how crazy this is, right?
INDY
To quote a famous guy, crazy is as
crazy does. Or something like that.
MARY JANE
Indy...
Indy puts her hand up.
INDY
Look, the Geddie ship is about to
sail, honey. It's just a matter of
when. Now, I dunno about you, but I
sure could use the extra cash.
MARY JANE
Yeah, my extra cash. I'm not
betting on my friends, Indy.
Indy rolls her eyes.
INDY
Hopeless! What am I going to do
with you, Watson?
MARY JANE
Leave me alone?
Indy crosses her arms, pouts.
INDY
Fine. You don't wanna cash in,
that's your problem. See ya!
She walks away, her posse in tow. Mary Jane waits for them to
round a nearby corner, then opens the janitor closet's door.
Inside, GWEN and EDDIE are in the midst of serious make-out
session. Mary Jane rolls her eyes, then clears her throat.
They look back at her.
GWEN
Coast clear?
MARY JANE
For now, but if you keep this up
the whole state's gonna know!
EDDIE
Hey, private time isn't exactly on
the schedule these days.
MARY JANE
Not my fault you decided it'd be
fun to hang out at a race riot.
GWEN
Look, just help us keep the make
out messiah off our trail a little
longer. Until we figure this out.
MARY JANE
You realize you can't keep this up.
Somebody's gonna find out. I don't
get it, why all the secrecy anyway?
EDDIE
Seriously. I don't see what the big
deal is. I say we go out there and
put on a show the whole school...
GWEN
They're taking bets on us, Eddie!
Bets! I dunno about you, but I
don't like the idea of Indy and her
gossip hounds following us around
like the paparazzi.
EDDIE
I happen to be very photogenic.
GWEN
Oh, would you...
MARY JANE
Okay, okay! I get it! Just... keep
your pants on, will you? I've got
enough problems of my own without
covering for you guys.
Gwen seems taken back by her tone.
GWEN
Hey, sorry. No need to get snippy.
Mary Jane rolls her eyes.
MARY JANE
I gotta go.
She heads off down the hall, leaving a baffled Gwen.
EDDIE
Ouch. What's with her?
Off Gwen's uncertain face:
FADE TO:
INT. DAILY BUGLE - MAIN FLOOR - AFTERNOON
Looking as it always has. We find PETER and ROBBIE sitting in
front of a computer, and beside several stacks of folders.
On screen is a news article, its headline reading: THE
PUNISHER STRIKES AGAIN.
PETER
That's the third time this week!
Who is this guy?
ROBBIE
You're a little young to remember,
but my dad does. Ever hear of the
Eighth Street Massacre?
(Peter nods)
It was him. Had some kinda beef
with the mob or something. News
media called him the Punisher.
PETER
What happened to him?
ROBBIE
They caught him, eventually. Sent
him to some high-security psych
ward up state. They went to
transfer him a few years back and
he took down three guards and set
the prison bus on fire... With the
prisoners locked inside. That's the
last anyone's heard of him.
PETER
Until now. I still don't know what
to make of this guy. I mean, he's
running around killing people,
but... they are criminals. Should I
even care?
ROBBIE
Look man, this guy, he's a cold
blooded killer, doesn't care about
the law or anything. He shot a guy
on his way to the electric chair.
PETER
Really?
Robbie nods, dead serious.
ROBBIE
Trust me: Do not mess with this
guy. Don't go after him, don't help
him, just let the police handle it.
PETER
Yeah...
Robbie glances over at Peter.
ROBBIE
You're not gonna listen to me, are
you?
PETER
I gotta go.
He gets up and is headed toward the exit.
ROBBIE
Pete, just wait a minute!
Peter turns back to face Robbie, hands up, reassuringly.
PETER
Relax. I just want to see what he's
up to. I mean, either he's crazy or
he's got a reason for doing what
he's doing. Either way, I need to
figure it out.
ROBBIE
This thing is a whole other world
than what you're used to dealing
with. You know that, right?
PETER
Maybe, but I can't sit here and do
nothing while people are dying.
(then)
Even if they are criminals.
He turns and leaves.
Robbie sighs, worried and concerned.
EXT. MANHATTAN - NIGHT
SPIDER-MAN is swinging throughout downtown, just past dusk,
half patrolling, half musing.
He lands on:
EXT. ROOFTOP - CONTINUOUS
The roof of a large, classical-looking LIBRARY. He turns,
crouching on the edge of the building, and faces a large
stone GARGOYLE.
SPIDER-MAN
Nice view, huh?
(beat)
Man of few words, I see.
He looks back out at the cityscape.
SPIDER-MAN
Well then, since you're such a good
listener, I don't suppose you'd
mind hearing about my problems?
(beat)
Thought not. Alright, here goes:
Some nut job is running around
killing criminals in cold blood.
On the one hand, he's taking these
guys off the streets, and some of
these guys aren't going to be taken
down by the police. On the other
hand, he's killing them. And I have
no idea what I should do about it.
He sighs, exasperated.
SPIDER-MAN
I really don't remember signing up
for this kind of thing. My contract
specifically said I just had to
beat up bad guys.
(beat)
Right. Good point. Contracts are
always full of loopholes. Guess I
don't have a choice then.
He stands, looking around for the best possible place to
throw a web.
SPIDER-MAN
We should do this again sometime.
I'll bring coffee, we'll talk about
the usual: Girls, sports,
relentless psychos trying to kill
half the city. Y'know.
He launches a web, taking off.
SPIDER-MAN
Later!
We watch as he rounds a corner, leaving the gargoyle behind.
EXT. CITY STREETS - LATER
The sun is gone now, and night has fallen. A lone WOMAN
scurries past two shady-looking characters, clutching her
purse tight.
We stay on the two KIDS, neither one of them more than
nineteen years old. One is smoking, wearing a red hoodie and
jeans, the other is wearing a blue jersey and track pants.
Hoodie finishes his cigarette, and throws is away, pulling
out a CROWBAR as he does so.
PULL BACK to see that the building they are in front of is
labeled RED DIAMOND JEWELRY.
Hoodie sticks the straight end of the crowbar into the door,
and tests it, lightly pulling back on the crowbar a few
times. Jersey notices this, and sighs in frustration.
JERSEY
Would you hurry up!?
Hoodie CRACKS the door a bit, but stops before opening it.
HOODIE
Jesus, relax, would ya? I don't
want to set off the alarm if I can
help it!
JERSEY
I'm not worried about the freakin'
alarm!
HOODIE
What, you think the Punisher is
gonna come around here? Shoot us in
the head or something?
JERSEY
You heard what happened to Nate.
Head blown clean off!
HOODIE
Nate started working for the
friggin' mafia! That's why the
Punisher killed him. None of those
costume types care about us.
SPIDER-MAN (O.S.)
Oh, really?
The two turn to see Spider-Man, hanging upside down from a
street light, staring right at them.
Both reach into their pockets, but Spidey WEBS their hands to
their pants, leaving them struggling, and defenseless.
SPIDER-MAN
Uh-uh. We need to have a chat.
Hoodie stops struggling, and smacks Jersey with his free
hand, who also stands still.
SPIDER-MAN
Talk to me about The Punisher.
They both look at him, stone-faced.
SPIDER-MAN
That's all I want, really.
JERSEY
He killed our boy!
HOODIE
(snaps)
Shut up!
JERSEY
(snaps back)
You shut up!
SPIDER-MAN
Like dealing with five-year olds...
He hops down, GRABBING the kids, one in each hand, and
shoving them back into the wall.
SPIDER-MAN
Punisher. Everything you know,
right now.
HOODIE
He's not after us, bug-boy. He's
got enough problems with the mafia.
SPIDER-MAN
Mafia?
HOODIE
Yeah, you know, the mafia. Italian,
heavy into drugs and killing...
SPIDER-MAN
I know what the mafia is. I didn't
know they still existed.
JERSEY
They went underground when he was
running around the first time.
SPIDER-MAN
Okay. The mafia. What about the
mafia?
HOODIE
There's this guy. Nicky Cavella.
Everyone knows he's the guy to go
to if you wanna get in touch with
the mafia.
Punisher'll be after him, if
anyone. He runs a garage on Third
Street.
SPIDER-MAN
Good doggie. Thanks.
He steps back and lets fly with the webbing, pasting the kids
to the front of the store.
HOODIE
Hey!
Spider-Man reaches into the front pocket of the first kid's
hoodie, pulling out a cell phone. He dials three quick
numbers and holds the phone to his ear.
SPIDER-MAN
Hi there. This is Spider-Man.
(beat)
Yes, the Spider-Man. Does whatever
a spider can.
(beat)
Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Well, that's great,
but I have two kids stuck to a
wall. They were trying to break
into a jewelry shop on Forty-third.
(beat)
Yeah, thanks. I'll just leave 'em
then.
He flips the phone shut and tosses it back to the hoodie kid.
It sticks to the webbing.
SPIDER-MAN
Alright boys, I'll see you around,
probably. Unless, y'know, you want
to try turning over a new leaf,
maybe. Get a job, perhaps. I should
get a job, come to think of it.
He shrugs, throwing a web-line out.
SPIDER-MAN
Well, I could chat all day, I
honestly could, but I really should
be going. See ya!
And he's off, leaving the kids to stare at each other.
EXT. ALLEY - MEANWHILE
If the last scene looked bad, this place is ten times worse.
Graffiti, knocked over garbage cans, broken beer bottles,
etcetera, all paint a grim picture of a dark place not
frequented by many people.
As we PAN ACROSS a surprisingly spray-paint-less wall, we see
at least one person is here tonight, although whatever
brought him here is the least of his concerns.
Castle has a .45 Calibre gun pointed right at the young,
thuggish looking man, whose name is LARRY. They're just
staring at each other, waiting.
Finally, after a few moments, Larry breaks.
LARRY
Jesus, what do you want with me?
Castle doesn't even blink.
CASTLE
You recognize the skull? You know
what it stands for?
LARRY
(whimpering)
Jesus...
CASTLE
Shut up. I need information.
LARRY
What do you want to know, I'll tell
you anything, man, anything you
want!
CASTLE
This Kingpin of yours. Everything
you know, right now.
LARRY
You think someone like me gets to
deal with The Kingpin? I don't even
know who he is!
Castle's only reply is to shove his gun forward, putting a
barrel-shaped mark on Larry's forehead.
LARRY
I don't know anything! He's just
too hard to get to!
CASTLE
Cavella. How deep is he in with The
Kingpin?
LARRY
I barely know Cavella! If he's in
deep with the boss he keeps it
under wraps!
Castle thinks to himself, then backs away from his captive.
Larry takes a second to realize that he's free, but quickly
regains his sense and takes off running down the alley.
We stay on Castle as he raises his gun, pointing right after
the now off-screen Larry. BLAM!
We hear a thud as Larry hits the ground.
Castle lowers his arm, tucks the gun away, and calmly walks
in the other direction as we:
FADE TO BLACK.
END OF ACT ONE
ACT TWO
FADE IN:
INT. MIDTOWN HIGH - ART ROOM
The room is a mess, with art supplies scattered about
wherever there's room to scatter them. A few students sit at
tables working on paintings of some sort. Also there is Mary
Jane, but she's not painting.
She's fast sleep.
VOICE (O.S.)
Miss Watson?
Nothing. She's out of it.
VOICE (O.S.)
Mary Jane? Are you with us?
The teacher, MISTER BAGLEY walks into frame. He bends down to
eye level with her, then finally nudges her.
MARY JANE
Wha...?
She slowly comes to, sitting up with a yawn.
BAGLEY
Welcome back.
MARY JANE
Sorry. I've just been wiped out
lately. It's this new job.
BAGLEY
You know, your portfolio project is
due in two weeks. Have you been
working on it?
MARY JANE
Some, yeah... when I have time.
BAGLEY
You haven't started, have you?
She sighs.
MARY JANE
Nothing.
He takes a seat next to her.
BAGLEY
You know, not to pry, but if this
job is getting in the way...
MARY JANE
(quickly)
It's not. It's... everything else.
BAGLEY
Correct me if I'm wrong, but wasn't
everything else around before the
job? Something tells me you're not
doing so great in your other
classes either.
She nods somberly.
MARY JANE
Not the best, no.
BAGLEY
Look, I can't tell you what to do.
Only you know what your priorities
are, but not everyone is cut out
for the work/school thing.
MARY JANE
You think I am?
BAGLEY
You're the only one who knows that.
(beat)
Look, I'll give you an extra week
on the portfolio, but that's the
best I can do. I know it can be
rough, but your priority should be
your art. You're too talented to
let it go to waste.
MARY JANE
Thanks.
He pats her on the shoulder encouragingly, then walks off.
Off Mary Jane:
FADE TO:
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Script created with Final Draft by Final Draft, Inc.