Superman Returns III
The Long Dark Knight Of The Soul
Over the entirety of the opening credits, a series of clips play from the movies making up the background universe to this tale. There is no dialogue to these scenes save whichever lines are specified below, only a score that begins slowly and increases in tempo.
We see the fiery destruction of Krypton, and the spaceship streaking away from its absolute annihilation.
JOR-EL: …I send them you, my only son…
In a hospital, a doctor is performing what looks to be a complicated operation on a patient. A nurse barrels into the room and gasps out news (we don't hear what she says). The doctor looks at her, looks down at the patient beneath him, and then turns away and gets back to work.
Above a Kansas cornfield, a spaceship surrounded by meteors streaks from the sky and impacts the surface below, sending a massive shockwave out across the surrounding countryside that almost topples a battered old pickup truck. A man and woman, with the look of a farmer and his wife, emerge, blinking in disbelief at the scene of interstellar carnage that awaits them.
Back in the hospital, the doctor finishes his work on the patient, and immediately tears off out of the operating theatre. He jogs through the corridors, dodging patients and nurses alike. A nurse leaning out of a doorway with the air of someone keeping sentry spots him and waves frantically.
NURSE: Dr. Wayne! She's in here!
He bursts into the room and skids to a halt beside a dishevelled, but still beautiful woman, who looks up at him with immense relief. We cut to father and mother cradling their newborn son, a picture of familial togetherness.
In the cornfield, the farmer and his wife reach the smoking crater and see the spaceship within. They gasp in shock and horror and turn tail, frightened out of their wits.
And then a sound reaches them. The sound of a small child, crying. Frightened and alone.
They stop. They turn. And we cut to a shot of the woman cradling an infant in her arms, wrapped in an old blanket the man produces from the back of the pickup. The baby looks up at her, not crying, and it's love at first sight.
The scenes go faster now. The music speeds up.
Clark is five. His father is driving the farm's tractor and is distracted by something, and fails to notice his infant son walking blithely into his path. His mother sees. She screams. There's an impact. The father, stricken, ashen, tumbles from the cab and races to the front of the tractor-
-to find little Clark, sitting on his ass, rubbing a bump on his head. The boy is crying. His mother scoops him up and hugs him fiercely while his father examines the huge dent in the front of his tractor, an expression of amazement on his face.
In a huge mansion, a little boy and a little girl barrel through rooms, each brandishing a water pistol that they're taking turns soaking each other with. The girl tries to soak the boy and misses, leaving a puddle of water pooled at the top of a staircase on a polished wooden floor. Seconds later, the boy skids into the water, and unable to stop, cries out in terror as he heads for the fall down the huge staircase-
-a hand snags him and pulls him back. The boy looks up into the face of a man dressed in the black and white of a butler, who looks down at him with severe disapproval. He pulls the boy to his feet and kneels in front of him, giving him a lecture he won't forget in a hurry, but one that finishes with a wink and a ruffle of his hair before the boy is sent on his way.
The pace increases. The music tempo does the same.
Clark, now taller, is bounding across a cornfield. He crashes through the barn roof and stops in mid-air before impacting the floor.
Bruce, no more than ten years old, cradles his father and mother's dead bodies in an alleyway, tears streaming down his young face.
Clark, now a teenager, stands with his hand on his mother's shoulder as a coffin is laid into the ground. We cut to him still standing there, his mother gone, standing over a grave that reads JONATHAN KENT. BELOVED HUSBAND AND FATHER.
Bruce, a concealed gun in his coat, walks to meet Joe Chill, his parents' killer recently released on parole. Before he can kill the man Joe is assassinated by one of Falcone's men, leaving Bruce shaken. We cut to him being slapped by Rachel Dawes, and being thrown out of Falcone's club, alone in the Gotham night.
Clark steps off a bus in Metropolis, smiles in starstruck awe at his illustrious surroundings, and almost immediately is soaked by a passing car driving through a huge puddle. He witnesses a mugging and stands paralysed with indecision before finally doing nothing. That night, in an extremely small Metropolis apartment, he sits with his knees tucked up to his chin on a tiny bed, and slowly brings his hands up to cover his ears, as we cut to one shot after another of misery, of crime, of evil being perpetrated all around him in the city he now calls home.
The music stops.
A copy of the Daily Planet fades into view. SUPERMAN SAVES THE PRESIDENT! proclaims the headline.
It fades out to be replaced by a copy of the Gotham Tribune. MASKED AVENGER - HERO OR VIGILANTE MENACE?
The music resumes.
Superman flies above the streets of Metropolis. Batman stalks the alleys of Gotham. We see an extremely quick montage of Superman and Batman both in action, including clips from Superman Returns and Batman Begins:
Superman's rescue of the space shuttle, his dealings with Lois, encountering Jason and Richard White, the defeat of Lex and his exhausted comatose state after lifting the false Kryptonite-infused continent of New Krypton to orbit. Batman's training with Ra's Al Ghul, his return to Gotham, his encounters with the Scarecrow, and the climactic battle with Ra's in the speeding elevated train.
In Metropolis General, Lois Lane leans close to where Superman lies comatose.
LOIS: Jason. He's your son. You have to wake up, for his sake. He's going to need you to guide him.
We cut to Jason sleeping and Superman watching him from outside the window of Lois' home.
We move into brief flashes of the events of Superman Returns II and The Dark Knight. Superman's battle with the first Metallo. Richard White's kidnapping and subsequent remaking into the second Metallo at the gleeful hands of Lex Luthor. Richard/Metallo's battle with Superman, including breaking Superman's arm. Superman being unmasked as Clark Kent (including the SUPERMAN UNMASKED! Daily Planet headline). Superman meeting The Eradicator.
Jason White demonstrating his lineage by stopping a Humvee from going over a cliff and allowing Lex Luthor to escape death in the process. Richard/Metallo's defeat and eventual restoration to human form. Clark Kent shaking Superman's hand during a very public press conference (including the SUPERMAN IDENTITY HOAX EXPOSED! Daily Planet headline), 'Superman' is revealed to be the shape shifting form of The Eradicator. Richard White, restored to human form, giving Jason one final hug before walking away, bag slung over his shoulder, from Jason and Lois. Jason silently mouthing 'Daddy' as Richard goes, crying. And Lois and Clark kissing in Clark's apartment.
Batman meeting Harvey Dent. His first encounter with The Joker amidst Harvey's fundraiser. Saving Rachel from falling to her death. Watching Harvey be taken away after announcing he is the Batman. Saving Harvey and capturing the Joker. Interrogating him and racing away to save Rachel, only to discover the deception of being sent to the wrong location. Rachel's death.
Harvey's accident and rebirth as the deranged Two-Face, and Two-Face's execution of the corrupt cops who set him up. Capturing the Joker and dangling him from a wire on a high-rise. Getting shot by Harvey at point blank range before charging him to save Gordon's son from Harvey's revenge. Harvey's dead face. Staggering away from the police. Gordon smashing the Bat Signal. A headline from the Gotham Tribune emblazoned with Dent's face - DARK KNIGHT MURDERS HERO D.A., FIVE OTHERS.
Bruce Wayne standing on the balcony of his mansion, looking into the night skies of Gotham. Searching for something, though we don't know what. Eventually his eyes flit downwards, his shoulders slump.
Clark Kent watching Jason, his son, asleep. We cut to him shedding his civvies until he stands clad as Superman, kissing Lois, and stepping off his apartment's balcony to soar out over Metropolis. Lois watches him go, love and pride evident on her face.
And in a warehouse somewhere, a gang of men examine shiny, new, and very large weapons approvingly, while a man watches their delight, fingers steepled, face emotionless. He is Lex Luthor.
The music swells to a crescendo before fading out.
Act I, Scene I
We swoop through the streets of Gotham by twilight. We veer off the brightly lit main throughfares where crowds bustle even at this late hour and into the back alleys, under the distant rumble of an elevated train line until we come to a stop at the entrance to an alley into which a girl has just ran as fast as she can. We don't follow her into that narrow forbidding place until her pursuers flit past us; one, two, three men.
Inevitably, the girl comes to a dead end; a grillway across the alley perhaps fifteen to twenty feet tall. She tries to scale it but cannot and so sinks to her knees, sobbing, even as we peer over the shoulders of the men slowly advancing on her.
MAN #1: Don't you watch movies? You never run into the alley. When does that ever end well?
MAN #2: (growls)Or quickly...
The girl, perhaps twenty-five years old, finds the strength to stand despite her obvious terror and face them. She scrabbles in the dark and comes up with a sharp piece of wood, which her fingers wrap themselves around. She backs up until she can back up no further and then braces herself, the wood held ready.
It's now that we see that all three men are wearing clown masks.
CLOWN #3: Do we look like vampires?
He produces a gun.
CLOWN #3: Drop it.
Shaking, the girl complies. The wood drops to the alley floor slowly - we watch it from below, watch it impact and bounce once, twice before coming to a rest.
CLOWN #1: What'd we tell you? It never ends well.
He lunges - and is thrown backward by a fist that comes from the shadows. Caught unawares, his body is propelled like a ragdoll into the alley wall where it hits, hard, until he drops.
Batman emerges from the shadows, to stand between the girl and the clowns.
BATMAN: You're right. It doesn't.
The two remaining clowns back off a little but, perhaps surprisingly, don't run for their lives. The third clown brings his gun to bear on Batman.
CLOWN #3: Look who it is. The cop-killer.
CLOWN #2: How much is the reward money now?
CLOWN #3: Ten million. So I hear.
BATMAN: Want to try your luck?
CLOWN #2: Don't need luck.
We see the girl cowering behind Batman raise her head. There is no trace of fear in her eyes, only malicious intent.
CLOWN #3: Got a plan.
The girl lunges forward, moonlight glinting off the tip of a hypodermic needle which she plunges through the thinner neck material of Batman's armour into his skin. No sooner has it penetrated than Batman has spun on his heel and, all thoughts of protecting the girl who has just betrayed him gone, knocked her flat against the wire mesh.
But it's too late. Whatever she injected him with is now coursing through his nervous system.
CLOWN #3: Boss was right. Can't resist the damsel in distress. Whassamatter, freak? Little dizzy?
CLOWN #2: Shoot him!
Batman reels, his hands pressed to his head. We switch to his vision of the world; the drug pulsing through him is a hallucinogenic tranquiliser, throwing his co-ordination completely off. He manages to lift his rope-shooter and fire it, but his aim is hopelessly off and it clatters harmlessly to the alley floor.
One of the clowns kicks the gadget from his hand. Batman swings wildly but doesn't come close to connecting with his assailant.
CLOWN #3: Shoot him? Hell with that. I'm gonna have some fun first. Boss won't mind.
The two clowns advance and strike, landing blows to Batman's upper body. The armour absorbs some of the venom of their blows and Batman does his best to respond with his training, but can only swing randomly. We flit in and out of his vision which consists of nothing more than smears of colour and movement dancing across his eyes, even the voices of the attacking clowns distorted and faraway.
The first clown, the one kicked by Batman before the ambush, is coming to. He staggers to his feet and sees the ongoing carnage. We hear him grunt in amused amazement behind the permanent leer of the mask. He walks over to where his two partners are delivering a savage beating to the prone hero.
CLOWN #1: Room for one more?
There is the distinct click of a gun being cocked. The barrel pokes into the back of the first clown's head. The gun belongs to Police Chief Jim Gordon, and he looks extremely pissed off.
GORDON: I was just about to ask the same thing.
We cut to the alley, some time later, now filled with police, and the three clowns handcuffed securely to the wire mesh, with their female accomplice alongside them. Gordon is standing with Ramirez a little way away from the prisoners.
GORDON: Another four disciples. Even locked in Arkham, he's still a menace.
RAMIREZ: There are a lot of people who think the Joker was only trying to wake the city up to what Batman was, sir.
GORDON: There are a lot of people who are wrong.
CLOWN #3: (shouts)Where'd you hide him, Gordon?
Gordon doesn't react. Ramirez tries not to, but her eyes flick over to the clown just as one of the cops near him yanks off his mask - to reveal a face painted and scarred, just like that of his own icon.
CLOWN #3: He's hiding him! Helping him! We saw it all! He has the Batman!
GORDON: It's late. I'm done here.
The accusing shouts of the clowns follow him down the alley as he walks off, nodding to his officers on the way. We cut to him approaching his car, a beat-up old saloon classic parked in a darkly lit Gotham street. He gets inside, takes off his glasses, sighs and rubs his eyes like a man who's seen far too many late nights recently.
He takes out his phone and we read on the screen - 4 missed calls. He pulls up the menu and we see they're all listed as from 'Barbara'. His finger pauses over the green DIAL button and he seems to hesitate, before putting the phone back in his pocket and turning on the radio with an almost angry gesture.
RADIO: -scenes in Metropolis earlier today as the city came under bombardment from a shower of micro-meteorites. Scientists still baffled as to the cause-
GORDON: (still looking straight ahead) So what do I do with you?
We switch to looking from the front of the car, over Gordon's shoulder. A shape lies over his back seats, prone. We see a chest rising and falling slowly.
GORDON: I can't take you to a hospital. I don't trust my own cops. And I'm pretty sure I'm being watched. They know, you see. I've gone on TV and I've called for your head, just like you wanted. But I'm not a good liar. That's how you and I got into this mess in the first place, because I think you knew that.
GORDON: (starting the car)Drive to where?
BATMAN: The river.
Gordon's saloon drives through the dark streets of Gotham. We flit between brief glimpses of the world outside – dark, cold, people huddling together – and Batman's still drug-addled perception of reality, until finally the saloon pulls up underneath one of the bridges spanning the river.
GORDON: Now what?
He is forced to put his hands up to shield his eyes as a pair of bright headlights illuminate into life ahead of him. The Tumbler is revealed in its new incarnation; still big, bulky, strong as an ox. An indomitable mirror of its master's will.
Gordon's back door opens and the Batman tries to get out of the car, but slumps to his knees, still weak from the effects of the drug. Gordon gets out of the driver's side and helps him to a standing position.
GORDON: Tell me you're not going to drive like this.
BATMAN: No. A friend will.
GORDON: (surprised)You have another friend besides me?
They're at the Tumbler now. Its side door opens and a man emerges, wearing a Batman mask. He speaks in a strange accent, almost as if he were a broad Cockney by birth but trying to sound like an American…
ALFRED: I'll take him from here, Commissioner. Thank you.
They get Batman inside the Tumbler and almost immediately the superhero passes into unconsciousness, as if his mind has finally allowed his body to succumb to the drug's effects. Alfred turns to go and close the side doors but finds Gordon's hand on his arm.
GORDON: If you are his friend…give him a message, from me. Tell him…tell him thank you, but tell him that he can't go on. Tell him to go back to the night before he gets himself killed. This entire city is baying for his blood and I can't hold them off much longer.
ALFRED: I'll tell him. Can I ask you something?
ALFRED: Why didn't you look? (off Gordon's look)Under the mask.
GORDON: Because it doesn't matter.
We cut to Gordon, back in his car, watching the Tumbler speed off into the Gotham night. He waits until it's gone and then lifts his phone once again and calls his wife.
GORDON: I'm coming home, Barbara.
BARBARA: Don't expect a welcome. It happened again.
The phone goes dead. Jim Gordon looks at it for a moment and sighs, and then drives off.
We go back to the Tumbler. Alfred is driving - well, attempting to drive at any rate. He's not doing too well, as evidenced when the Tumbler sideswipes a parked - and thankfully empty - 4x4, sending it spinning.
ALFRED: Bloody thing handles like an aircraft carrier on wheels! Computer!
COMPUTER: (maddeningly calm female voice) Yes, Alfred?
ALFRED: Engage the sodding auto-drive!
COMPUTER: I'm afraid you don't have sufficient access permissions to request that, Alfred.
ALFRED: Oh you are joking...
He squawks in alarm as they roar toward a traffic snarl-up, throws the control stick to one side, and winces as the Tumbler sweeps across three lanes of road, almost taking out several other motorists in the process.
COMPUTER: Police presence detected.
Alfred glances at a monitor screen which indeed displays five police pursuit cars speeding into view, lights flashing, sirens blaring.
ALFRED: Get rid of them!
COMPUTER: I cannot use lethal force on law enforcement vehicles without the proper authorisation.
ALFRED: Use something!
COMPUTER: Engaging anti-pursuit measures.
We cut to behind as the Tumbler releases an oil slick from its rear, spraying it liberally across the road. The pursuing police vehicles veer crazily across the road, two of them colliding with each other, one with a mini-van, taking them out of the game.
He's just seen what's up ahead; a busy junction with cars zipping past at high speeds.
ALFRED: Aw, bollocks to it-
Two more police cars join the pursuit from side streets, avoiding the oil slicks. They begin to fire on the Tumbler. We hear bullets ricocheting off the armour from the inside as we stay with Alfred and his world-weary expression.
ALFRED: Computer, engage the sodding auto-drive!
COMPUTER: Insufficient access clearance. Voiceprint required.
ALFRED: Voiceprint? Voiceprint?! If you don't engage auto-drive we're gonna be spread across the street like bloody paste! I can't exactly just go -
As they hurtle toward the junction and what will surely be a high-speed collision or several, two police cars still in hot pursuit, Alfred grunts in a ridiculously deep husky growl:
ALFRED: (in a very passable 'Batman' voice) Activate auto-drive!
COMPUTER: Autodrive activated.
ALFRED: (astonished) Bugger me…
As lights dance across suddenly lit consoles before him, Alfred is thrown aside as the Tumbler's incredibly sophisticated onboard computer system calculates the trajectories of the cars in the junction ahead and plots a route through them.
We cut to outside and see this for real; the supposedly cumbersome vehicle, now free of the limitations of human reflexes, banks across the junction, spinning on its axis at just the right moment to avoid one - two - three collisions with Gotham's night drivers.
Seconds later, the pursuing police cars are forced to screech to a halt as the drivers of the cars using the junction, despite not colliding with the Tumbler, hit the brakes, the sight of a huge tank-like shape flitting at incredible speed across their path sinking in.
Now clear, the Tumbler continues on its merry way, the urban sprawl of Gotham soon beginning to give way to the leafier suburbs and in the distance, Wayne Manor itself.
Alfred wipes a bead of sweat from his brow. He spares a second to cast a rueful glance at the unconscious Batman.
ALFRED: You don't pay me enough for this.
We cut to outside again, and as the Tumbler's turbo engine fires to enable it to clear the jump to enter the Batcave through the underground entrance, we pull back to take in the sight of Gotham city in all of its vast brooding glory.
Act I, Scene II
Another metropolis, as brightly lit as Gotham was dark. In fact it could almost be taken to be the same city, were it not for the helpful 'Metropolis' banner that appears across the bottom of our screens.
A crowd a few thousand strong has gathered around a makeshift stage in the centre of Centennial Park. A man is speaking, but we can't make out what he's saying. We sweep in instead to two men, sharply dressed, sitting beside one another.
SACKETT: Watch and learn, Garcia. This is why I don't fear re-election.
The handsome, clean-cut Latino man sitting beside him seems unimpressed, but we see his eyes flick around. He's clearly interested in what's going on.
MAN: Ladies and gentlemen, your Mayor, Bradford "Buck" Sackett!
Polite applause follows, if not exactly over enthusiastic, as the red-faced middle-aged man who we heard speak earlier gets up and walks to the podium. He drinks in the adulation in a slightly exaggerated fashion, something which doesn't escape the man he was sitting beside. We see him raise a sardonic eyebrow.
SACKETT: People of Metropolis, welcome, and thank you for coming. Well, time was I might have composed a speech for something like this, but hell if it doesn't feel like this has happened so often now I practically know the routine off pat.
Some amusement across the crowd, a few shouts.
SACKETT: At 4.32pm yesterday-
We cut abruptly away from Sackett talking to an aerial shot of Metropolis on a beautifully clear sunny afternoon. The waters around the city sparkle. Again, there is a remarkable distinction between what we see here and what we saw from Gotham.
Suddenly, one, two, three large objects hurtle past us. Rocks trailing fire and smoke; micro-meteorites, but each one larger than a semi truck and capable of levelling an entire block upon impact.
We follow the lead object as it drops, heading directly for one of the city's largest buildings. On the ground below, stunned citizens freeze in their daily routines, mouths agape, looking up at the certain death falling from the skies above. Cars slam into one another. Children's ice-cream drops uneaten from neglected cones. Mothers shield babies.
And then -
- a blue streak, climbing from the streets above, slams at incredible speed into the lead object, shattering it into a billion particles which rain down as nothing more harmful than larger-than-normal hailstones.
We zoom in as time slows, focussing in on Superman as he unfolds himself from a foetal position adopted to maximise impact with the first object. The next two - each larger than the first - are both dropping still. The third object is still some thousands of feet up, but the second is already at the same altitude as was the first, and dropping.
Superman's eyes narrow. He points his body into an arrowhead shape and takes off across the skies, upward not downward, seemingly ignoring the second object in favour of the third.
But no. Although his trajectory remains due up, he's staring directly down and a red line of fire spouts from each of his eyes, striking the meteorite dead-centre, heating it at a fantastically accelerated rate until -
It explodes, much as its predecessor did. The citizens below throw an arm over their eyes as debris fountains outwards, but as before none of it is sufficiently large to pose much of a problem.
Superman's eyes stop glowing. His jaw sets with the determination of a job done, and then his head tilts upwards, even as he continues to arrow upward into the path of the third object, biggest of the lot, already casting a sizeable shadow over the heart of downtown Metropolis...
Cut to ground-level and the face of every person we can see is turned upward, their mouths open, their breaths held. It is a perfect moment of anticipation.
There is a single second's pause.
We don't see what happened in the skies above. All we see is the reaction of the assembled men, women and children watching from below - wild cheering, whoops and embraces. Fathers hold their sons aloft, pointing excitedly. Clenched fists of triumph are offered from every opened car and office window.
Back to Sackett on the podium, still talking. We pull back a little so we can read the banner he's standing below for the first time. It reads 'THANK YOU SUPERMAN' in blue and red lettering twenty feet high.
We linger on Garcia's face for a moment.
SACKETT: ...with his usual unflinching, unselfish devotion to the safety of this city and its inhabitants. And so we're gathered here today to say to him - thank you, Superman.
There is a pause. Everyone is looking upward much as we saw them do during the meteorite scare the previous day.
SACKETT: Uh. Well folks (he adjusts his tie) I know we were all hoping for an appearance from the man of the hour but it seems, ah, that perhaps more pressing matters are being attended to at this moment in time. And after all, isn't that unswerving dedication to his calling the reason why we're so thankful to have him in the first place. I mean...
He casts a meaningful, almost smug glance at Garcia.
SACKETT: ...when you look at some of our sister cities, you can see we've been very lucky in the brand of hero who has chosen to call Metropolis his home.
We cut to Wayne Manor. Bruce Wayne lies unconscious on his bed. Alfred and Lucius Fox are in the room. Alfred is administering some form of medication to the unconscious Bruce while Fox looks on, both men wearing concerned frowns.
ALFRED: They used a girl as bait, Lucius. This can't go on.
Fox says nothing, but nods.
We cut to afterward in Metropolis. The crowd is dispersing. Sackett's driver opens the back of his limo for Sackett and Garcia to enter, which they do. As soon as the door is shut Garcia leans across to the older man.
GARCIA: What the hell was that? You trying to embarrass me, Buck?
SACKETT: Not at all, Tony. We Mayors have to stick together, we're a rare breed.
GARCIA: (mutters darkly) You got that right. So what happened to the big guy anyway? Landslide in Peru? Orphanage in Sydney?
SACKETT: (shrugs)He doesn't always show. But he does show. And I get a nice handshake with him, shower him with praise, get lots of pictures taken. Me and my buddy Superman, protecting Metropolis together. (he chuckles)Any idea what that's worth in terms of votes, Tony? Being associated with the man who's just punched a couple of asteroids to so many popcorn kernels and saved nine-tenths of the registered voters within your city limits?
GARCIA: I'm thrilled for you. Besides rubbing my nose in it any further, I still don't see what any of this has to do with me.
SACKETT: Tony. My friend. Mi héroe estupendo es su héroe estupendo.
GARCIA: Are you suggesting Gotham takes Superman?
SACKETT: Not for a minute. He seems attached to this city, and who can blame him? (off Garcia's glowering look) Look, Tony...we know your re-election numbers are bad. And we know why. It's not your high unemployment, not your corruption. Not even your crime rate...
He leans forward, conspiratorially.
SACKETT: It's him. The Batman. You don't want to go down as the Mayor who couldn't catch the world's most infamous cop-killing vigilante, do you?
GARCIA: And Superman can-?
SACKETT: Use your head, Tony. They say the man flies halfway around the world to rescue kittens from trees. An appeal to him for help in bringing a criminal like Batman to justice...
Mayor Garcia mulls this over. His earlier irritation has subsided as the plus points of this proposal sink in.
SACKETT: Metropolis is extending the hand of brotherhood to its brother across the bay.
He holds out his hand.
SACKETT: What do you say, Tony?
GARCIA: And what does Metropolis expect in return?
SACKETT: (chuckles) Tony. You didn't get to where you are without playing the game, knowing how to pick your allies. I do this for you, I expect to be counted within that list. Along with anyone else I may send in your direction.
GARCIA: Anyone else?
SACKETT: (soothingly) Don't worry about it. Now. Do we have a deal?
Garcia nods and grasps the other man's hand.
GARCIA: How do we do this?
SACKETT: Simple. Driver...take us to the Daily Planet.