INT. MUSEUM OF ANTIQUITIES – DAY

The Staff of Return: Glorious. Gold. Thousands of years old.

From the domed skylight above, a HAND -- balling up into a fist -- SMASHES through the glass.

BELOW

TOURISTS SCREAM and scramble. Swelling the exits.

THE HAND

plumbs the floor filled with ancient artifacts. Searching. The Staff of Return is plucked from its display and lifted through the broken skylight.

EXT. MUSEUM OF ANTIQUITIES – DAY

The Museum doors burst open and the throng of Tourists spill down the steps.

From behind the building, BRICKHOUSE, a giant sunovabitch that looks not unlike Mike Myers’ Fat Bastard, looms -- the Staff of Return between his fat fingers.

A Woman shrieks:

WOMAN

He’s got the Staff of Return.

A MAN beside her escapes down the street...

MAN

We’re doomed.

A Helicopter buzzes the rooftops.

INT. HELICOPTER – SAME

LT. AUGUST takes a bead on Brickhouse’s face. He SEES the Staff of Return.

LT. AUGUST

Shit.

Lt. August lowers his insanely wicked looking (and powerful) rifle.

LT. AUGUST

If he breaks that Staff we’re screwed.

INTERCUT

Brickhouse sucks at his teeth. He SPITS a nasty, wet gob that -- when it lands -- engulfs a Mercedes Clk 350.

The Crowd reels back in disgust. A CHORUS of EWWW’S results.

Brickhouse uses the Staff to pick at his teeth.

LT. AUGUST

What the fuh--

Lt. August flips down an X-RAY VIEWER from his helmet: the scene is in Negative.

LT. AUGUST

Let’s see where we can nail this bastard.

Lt. August scans Brickhouse’s frame: normal human anatomy. His brain pea-sized -- was he human sized before?

LT. AUGUST (V.O)

Imagine. This guy used to be human sized before.

BACK TO SCENE

Brickhouse swats at the Helicopter. The Helicopter arcs against the breeze of a near-hit. Lt. August GRABS hold of the Helicopter door, almost loosing himself to the street below.

HELICOPTER PILOT

Sorry.

LT. AUGUST

Get us parallel.

Brickhouse has found what he was looking for: a dog (still alive!) between his teeth.

The Staff of Return scrapes a layer of tarter from Brick’s tooth with its diamond head.

The Dog ARFF-ARFF’S as the Staff presses against his belly.

Lt. August takes aim at Brick’s ear.

The Dog is jettisoned by the flick of the Staff... he flies through the air, his little legs giver.

Lt. August takes the shot: WHAH-BANG!

The Dog lands safely in the arms of BEN AFFLECK.

The bullet travels through Brickhouse’s head like a termite through a two-story duplex.

Brickhouse flicks the Staff from his fingers.

The bullet jerks. Makes a hard left turn.

The Staff sticks safely in the sandy beach.

The bullet STRIKES Brick’s spinal cord. Stops dead.

Lt. August steps from the helicopter. Watches as Brickhouse’s face sours. He goes limp. Wilts to the ground.

HELICOPTER PILOT

Is he dead?

LT. AUGUST

I dunno.

EXT. BEACH – DAY

Summer. CHILDREN frolic. TEENAGE BOYS splash their TEENAGE GIRLFRIENDS. OLD PEOPLE read. And seated in an enormous wheelchair, Brickhouse. His fat lips sucking on a telephone poll-sized straw.

Lt. August wake boards behind a speed boat driven by the Helicopter Pilot. Lt. August looks up at the dumb giant...

LT. AUGUST

Silly fat bastard.

From above, a GIANT SEAGULL blots out the sun. And a White Blob from its... SPLATS, melted marshmallow-like, against Brickhouse’s back.

BRICKHOUSE

Can someone get that?

EXT. ROOFTOP – NIGHT

Insects buzz under the light of a street lamp. Nearby, a large bug flies past a billboard along the rooftop. Abruptly, it begins franticly flying straight up and down, as if against a window pane.

A CLICK and then a soft HUM are heard, and the “window pane” becomes visible: NIGHT SHADOW, a man covered head to toe in dark nylon, with silver goggles covering his eyes. He brushes the bug away.

Night Shadow scans the streets below – deserted.

NIGHT SHADOW

Still nothing.

(sighs)

That’s the last time I take an anonymous tip.

Night Shadow clicks a device attached to his hip and is invisible once more.

A loud CRASH is heard from the streets below. A LARGE MAN carrying something runs down the street and ducks into a narrow alley.

Night Shadow de-cloaks and races along the rooftop.

NIGHT SHADOW

Spoke too soon.

He grabs a pipe along the side of the roof for balance and drops to the alley below.

EXT. MAIN ALLEYWAY – NIGHT

Night Shadow somersaults forward as he hits the pavement. He looks both directions – nothing. Cloaks again.

NIGHT SHADOW’S POV

A rusted dumpster at one end of the alley. An overturned shopping cart at the other end. But no people and no sound.

Night Shadow slowly heads towards the shopping cart. A metal CLANG is heard from the other end. Night Shadow turns and approaches the dumpster.

EXT. NARROW ALLEYWAY – NIGHT

Night Shadow de-cloaks with his back against the wall, opposite the dumpster. He pulls a STUN GUN out of a pouch and rapidly spins around the corner, gun raised.

Nobody there.

Gun still drawn, Night Shadow takes a few steps forward, then a large man CRASHES through an adjacent boarded-up window, tackling him.

The gun falls out of his hand and slides under the dumpster.

Night Shadow scrambles to his feet to see BRICKHOUSE – an enormous dump truck of a man, holding an ancient jeweled SCEPTER.

NIGHT SHADOW

Brickhouse!

BRICKHOUSE

Nice night, huh Shadow?

Brickhouse lunges at him, but Night Shadow manages to duck underneath his outstretched arms in the narrow alley. He rushes towards the dumpster and sticks his arm underneath it. But Brickhouse turns towards him, and Night Shadow stands up to face him, empty handed.

Brickhouse rushes him again, and Night Shadow greets his opponent with a jump kick right on the chest, but Brickhouse just takes a step backwards, unfazed.

BRICKHOUSE

Huh.

Still clutching the scepter, with his free hand Brickhouse hurls a crate of newspapers at Night Shadow, narrowly missing. Brickhouse tries to grab his foe, but Night Shadow side steps and gets behind him. Brickhouse blindly swings the scepter like a club behind himself but only hits air.

NIGHT SHADOW

The staff of Mazaeus – what use is it to you?

Night Shadow tries to cloak, but is knocked aside by the backfist of Brickhouse.

BRICKHOUSE

Here’s one!

Night Shadow dodges another swing of the scepter. He scrambles back to the dumpster and again feels underneath it for his weapon, but in vain.

Brickhouse checks his wristwatch, and rushes his foe again. This time Night Shadow doesn’t escape, and is slammed against the wall, his cloaking device making a CRUNCH sound. Brickhouse reaches up to rip a plank of metal from the fire escape above his head, and, now armed with two clubs, swings down at Night Shadow, but he manages to roll away. Brickhouse kicks the dumpster end over end, spilling trash everywhere, but Night Shadow avoids this too.

Night Shadow sees his gun at the feet of his enemy and dives for it. Brickhouse swings his club but misses. Night Shadow draws his gun but Brickhouse has already disappeared behind the corner. Night Shadow stumbles to his feet.

NIGHT SHADOW

Oh no you don’t.

EXT. MAIN ALLEYWAY – NIGHT

Night Shadow rounds the corner of the main alleyway to see Brickhouse running for the main street. Police SIRENS are heard in the distance. Gun drawn, Night Shadow gives chase.

EXT. MAIN STREET – NIGHT

Night Shadow spots Brickhouse dashing down the sidewalk. He takes aim with his gun, but Brickhouse knocks a stop sign back towards him, and he has to dodge.

Brickhouse runs another block, past the Museum of Ubiquities, then cuts down another alley. Night Shadow pursues – he is gaining on him.

The police sirens are getting louder.

EXT. DEAD END ALLEY – NIGHT

Night Shadow turns the corner. Brickhouse, still clutching the scepter, gasps for breath, his back to a bridge. Stun gun fixed on him, Night Shadow slowly approaches.

NIGHT SHADOW

You’re getting careless, House. Risk getting caught over a relic?

BRICKHOUSE

(still panting)

Could say the same for you.

NIGHT SHADOW

You’ve lost. Just give it up now, huh?

The police sirens are getting closer. Brickhouse checks his watch again. He smiles and backs up towards the edge of the bridge.

A loud train WHISTLES its approach from under the bridge.

NIGHT SHADOW

No, wait, don’t...

Night Shadow rushes towards Brickhouse.

BRICKHOUSE

Here, catch!

Brickhouse tosses the scepter at Night Shadow. As he fumbles to catch it, Brickhouse falls backwards over the railing of the bridge. Night Shadow rushes to the edge, only to see Brickhouse on top of a train car rapidly racing away. Night Shadow looks back at the relic in his hands.

POLICEMAN (O.S.)

Police! Don’t move!

Startled, Night Shadow clicks the device on his belt. Nothing happens.

POLICEMAN (O.S.)

Hands in the air! Now!

Click, click. No invisibility.

Night Shadow sighs, lowers his head and raises his hands. He turns to see four POLICE OFFICERS with guns drawn.

The scepter, still in his hands, shines brightly under the flashing police sirens.

ext. City Museum of Ubiquities – night

Late and quiet. A couple of cars swish by. A man walks his dog. As he passes the museum entrance, the loud smash and crash of glass sounds from inside. The man hurries on, dragging his dog.

int. City Museum of Ubiquities – night

Stars visible through a ruined skylight, above a shattered and crushed set of display cases. The grunt of a large mammal is followed by more glass shattering.

An ancient staff lies amongst shards of glass. It is picked up by a hand that makes it look like a sapling.

BRICKHOUSE, down on one knee, examines the staff in his hand, turning it this way and that. He’s very big but you couldn’t call him fat – and you wouldn’t dare.

janus

(O.S.)

Why do you have to make such a mess every time I see you?

Brickhouse sneers, but it turns to a wicked smile as he looks at the staff. He slides it into a harness on his back, straightens and turns.

JANUS, relaxed and cocky, leans against a pillar. He wears a mask and dark leather outfit with an insignia of two heads facing opposite directions.

JANUS

Honestly, the city is gonna review my grant after this one.

brickhouse

So smart. Always so smart.

JANUS

You know I might just let the cops take care of you. The silent alarm’s been going since you fell oh-so-gracefully through the skylight.

BRICKHOUSE

And allow them the glory? I don’t think so.

Brickhouse grabs a statue in each hand.

BRICKHOUSE

But let’s give them what they expect.

He hurls a statue. Janus skips to the side.

The other statue sails in. Janus ducks this one – like he knows where they will land.

JANUS

I wasn’t joking about that grant!

More antiquities whip through the air towards him, each missing by inches.

JANUS

You know you can’t hit me, I can see everything coming --

Not this – behind an incoming sarcophagus is Brickhouse, locomoting straight into Janus. Brickhouse lifts him off the ground, roaring.

They barrell towards and crash through a wooden railing --

dropping through the air to the level below, onto --

an early man display with an almighty crash.

Brickhouse stands and moves back. He takes the staff from his back. Janus, prone amongst the busted early men, groans theatrically.

JANUS

Was that necessary?

BRICKHOUSE

Do you know what this staff does, Janus?

JANUS

Nets you a fortune?

BRICKHOUSE

Not quite. It grants unfettered adoration.

Janus rises from the rubble.

JANUS

Big words for a big man.

They move around each other cautiously.

BRICKHOUSE

So cocky. So sure. But do you know what it is to be despised? To have to steal like a common thief? Of course you don’t. You are the beloved saviour of the city. Well no more. We’re switching.

For the first time, Janus looks worried.

BRICKHOUSE

I’m going to make you hated, Janus. I’m going to make you a villain.

Janus sprints forward, but Brickhouse grabs him by the neck with his free hand, hoisting and choking him.

As Janus struggles, Brickhouse holds the staff to his forehead and whispers strange syllables.

The staff hums, then flashes.

Janus relaxes. Brickhouse lowers him. Janus stares up at him lovingly.

BRICKHOUSE

So Janus. What is your real name?

JANUS

My name is Jeffrey Jackson, Brickhouse.

BRICKHOUSE

Of course. Welcome to the other side... hero.

With Janus still gazing at him, Brickhouse turns and charges at the wall, crashing through it into the night outside.

INT. EXHIBITION ROOM 606 – DAY

Three SECURITY GUARDS rush in and position themselves so as to cut off any escape routes. Shocked and momentarily rooted to the spot, Brickhouse gently strokes the staff. The youngest of the security guards readies his gun and approaches Brickhouse carefully.

YOUNG SECURITY GUARD

Freeze! Put down the staff slowly and raise you hands high, where we can see them well!

BRICKHOUSE

loosens his grip on the staff and does as told, only the staff stays suspended in midair.

YOUNG SECURITY GUARD (CONT’D)

What the...

In a flash, Brickhouse POUNCES on the young guard, whose gun goes off with a loud BANG! Drawing their weapons, the two remaining guards scramble for cover. Brickhouse wraps his giant arm around the young guard and makes for the door.

One of the older guards pokes out his head from behind his hiding place and assessing the situation steps out with his gun pointed at Brickhouse’s large head.

OLDER SECURITY GUARD

Don’t do anything silly, sir. Let my colleague go immediately.

Brickhouse’s free hand SHOOTS upward and then forward in a forceful manner. Unrare items fly off shelves and shower the older guard, making him flinch and scuttle back into hiding. At the door, Brickhouse beckons at the staff and it floats into his grasp.

BRICKHOUSE

So long. Nice weekend to all of you.

Pushing the young guard to his knees Brickhouse disappears through the door.

EXT. CITY MUSEUM OF UBIQUITIES – DAY

Taking the steps three at a time, Brickhouse RACES to the getaway car and jumps in the back.

INT. GETAWAY CAR – DAY

Brickhouse shoves his FACE through front.

BRICKHOUSE

Let’s ride it like the Indy 500!

Arthur steps on the gas and off they go.

BRICKHOUSE (CONT’D)

(beat)

Take us to the hideout.

SIRENS in the background, getting closer. Arthur drives wild. Right. Left. Red light. Left. Left. Right...

BRICKHOUSE (CONT’D)

Hey! We were supposed to take a left just there.

Arthur

SLAMS

the gas all the way down, knocking back Brickhouse by force of acceleration.

ARTHUR

No we were not. Not today, friend.

Pressing one of the host of buttons on the control panel, Arthur encloses the back compartment in a shell of emblazoned steel.

ARTHUR (CONT’D)

That should make you safe for the time being.

INT. LIVING ROOM – NIGHT

TIMMY, 10, a runt of a kid with a black eye, sits in front the big screen TV.

ON SCREEN:

An overturned police car in flames. Deadly sparks emanate from a live power line as it flits about like an angry cobra.

REPORTER (O.S.)

The Governor has called in the National Guard,

but God help me, I don’t think ---

The camera follows a trail of massive, foot-shaped depressions in the asphalt that lead --

A COP gets in front the camera.

COP

Get back! Everybody get back!

THUD! THUD!

A SWAT TEAM train their guns on...

INT. LIVING ROOM

Timmy’s eyes widen. Gulps in anticipation.

EXT. MUSEUM – SAME

THUD! THUD!

BRICKHOUSE, an eight-foot living statue, strolls out the museum with a peculiar staff in hand. He grins at the police.

BRICKHOUSE

All this, for me?

BRAT-TAT-TAT!

Brickhouse chuckles as the bullets bounce off his invulnerable hide.

BRICKHOUSE

Some people never learn.

CAPTAIN AVENGER (O.S.)

No. They don’t.

Brickhouse whips around to see CAPTAIN AVENGER, dressed in white from head to toe -- except for a black belt with an enormous ruby belt buckle.

BRICKHOUSE

Captain Avenger?!

BOOM! Captain Avenger replies with an uppercut to Brickhouse’s jaw.

INT. LIVING ROOM

Timmy bounces with exuberance as the two behemoths trade blows.

TIMMY

Get him!

Brickhouse backhands Captain Avenger to the ground.

TIMMY

Get him, Brick!

Captain Avenger touches his belt buckle. His eyes turn a fiery crimson. A blast of energy shoots from his eyes, obliterates Brickhouse into dust. Silence. Then...

A crowd of onlookers erupt into CHEERS!

CAPTAIN AVENGER

All in a day’s work, folks.

Timmy frowns. Turns off the TV.

INT. TIMMY’S BEDROOM – LATER

Timmy sleeps in bed. CLICK! The light switches on. Timmy sits up. Captain Avenger stands in the doorway.

TIMMY

Dad!

CAPTAIN AVENGER

I said, no television.

Captain Avenger unbuckles his belt.

Timmy whimpers...

EXT. COLLAPSED FARMHOUSE – NIGHT

WEAVER crouches behind the wreck of a tractor, the grass beneath it dead from ancient oil. He takes a puff from a cigarette, hides the flame, then peers over the tractor grill.

In the distance a farmhouse squats ugly, one wall caved in.

INT. FARMHOUSE – NIGHT

A large room panelled in oak. An enormous fireplace sputters in a corner, a solitary armchair in front of it. Seated on the armchair is a mishapen man. Everything seems... stretched. Joints connected to joints, an elongated skeletal frame. His name is HORNET.

The man holds a book between bony fingers, turning the pages slowly. Justting from the sides of his head are two enormous ears. They swivel up and we hear an irregular booming sound.

On the ceiling we see a moth mindlessly bumping against the ceiling.

The enormous ears flit down and we hear the pounding of a drum kit. We zoom in on the floorboards to reveal a tiny termite, it’s transparent heart booming.

The enormous ears swivel forward, then backwards. They pause – they flutter gently and then Hornet shoots forward, a large pickaxe THUDDING into his armchair.

At the other end of the pickaxe – Weaver, still in mid leap, his sumersault carrying him over the armchair. He lands on two feet, catlike.

Hornet takes two steps, moving faster than the eye can see and kicks off from the wall, soaring across the room, bony claws extended. He’s beyond fast, motion beyond muscles. Insectile speed.

But Weaver’s not there anymore. It’s a bitter battle as they thrash around the room. Wood explodes as their fury drives them to superhuman speed and strength. Hornet’s fast, faster than any creature has a right to be, but Weaver knows how to pick his movements. Pick his spaces. He’s somehow always a step ahead of the nightmare flashing around him.

The pickaxe explodes through the top of Hornet’s skull, driving down through his mouth and bursting out below his jaw. He drops to his feet, gurgling, nails crackling against the floor. Hornet looks up at Weaver and grins, choking on his own blood. He scrapes his jaw down the spike, forces his mouth open.

HORNET

Heezz komin. Brickshoush...

His words sputter out as Weaver jams his foot into the base of his neck and kicks him off the pickaxe with a heavy THUNK.

WEAVER

Shut up.

INT. HALLWAY – NIGHT

Weaver moves down a ramshackle hallway with no lights. His cheek scrapes the wall as he peers around a corner. Clean.

He pulls back from the wall, frowns, looks closer. There’s two slits in the wall. He tugs at them and a thin layer peels off the wall. It’s a human face, the nostril holes cut out. Weaver looks at the walls around him and sees the pattern continues all around.

INT. ROOM – NIGHT

Weaver stands near century old furniture and broken bric brac. A phonograph is on the floor, its cracks filled with dust.

He SLAMS his pickaxe into the floor and rears up, tearing a hidden trapdoor off its latches and throwing it across the room. He drops into the hole.

INT. HOTHOUSE WALKWAY – NIGHT

Weaver’s on a metal walkway suspended from iron posts nailed into a cavern’s ceiling. Far below him is a hothouse, enormous dirt pits intersected by cobblestone paths. From within each dirt pit rises a rainforest of vegetation, clawing up and braiding together into impenetrable masses.

There’s no pattern to the metal walkways high above – they intersect in chaotic patterns, echoing the randomness of the cobblesetone paths far below.

It’s almost too dark. The only light are faint firefly glows from the dirt pits.

Weaver silently leaps over the edge of the walkway.

INT. HOTHOUSE FLOOR – NIGHT

Weaver lands on a cobblesteone path without any noise. On either side are the dirt pits filled with chaotically intertwined vegetation. A blue light emnates from within the plants, and Weaver’s eyes narrow. An enormous red flower on the edge of the pit slowly opens its petals. Nestled within is a human fetus, half formed, skin fused to the fibrous petals beneath it.

An idle vine is attached to the fetuses mouth, pulsating as globes of neon blue pump nectar into the tiny malformed bodies. The flower swivels and the baby opens its eyes. And we see that the glowing blue nectar it feeds on flows freely through its body, glows from behind its pupils.

Weaver runs lightly along the winding path, listening for something. Flowers open as he approaches, revealing fetuses that open their eyes to watch his passage. Blue light flashes and dissapears as the babies slowly blink.

He rounds a corner. And sees her.

A tall woman in a torn dress, black hair flowing into a black dress.

She carries a long jar with a metal spray nozzle on the top. Bent over an open brick-red flower, she sprays misty water into the exposed face of a flower fetus. She uses a soft cloth to wipe the baby’s face afterwards, crooning softly as it nuzzle her hand.

WEAVER

Mary.

Her name is Mary. She doesn’t stop but the fetus and the flower turn to him, eyes blazing with blue fury. He walks closer. She turns and he freezes.

Her eyes are gone, plucked clean. Where they stood stand two large mishapen rocks. Dried blood-tears streak her face and down her neck, dissapear into her dress.

She says nothing. He lifts his hand then lets it fall back.

WEAVER

Mary...

As though he wants her to say something.

WEAVER

I came.

(uncertain smile)

Just like I promised.

MARY

Promised.

WEAVER

Yes!

He moves closer and she blinks at him. But her eyelids can’t fit over the rocks and they bunch like plastic against crusted blood. He raises his hand and the rocks in her eyes grate as they rotate in her sockets.

WEAVER

Jesus. What did he do to you?

She smiles and lifts her hands above her head, an hourglass figure. She tries to flutter her eyelashes but they’ve long since crusted over. She points to her eyes.

MARY

Look what he did to me. Aren’t they pretty?

He moves closer then ducks away as a flower fetus hisses at him, eyes narrowed to blue slits.

WEAVER

They’re beautiful Mary. Now give me your hand. (Beat) Please.

MARY

Please...

He takes her hand and leads her along the path to a circle of cobblestone but stops as enormous flowers open around him, revealing hissing fetuses. As more and more babies open their eyes the couple is drenched in brighter and brighter light.

WEAVER

God, what is this?

Mary looks around, and smiles but this smile’s different. Horrible. Larger than any smile could ever be, a black slit stretches up to her ears, as though someone cut her cheeks open.

MARY

These are his children.

WEAVER

Let’s go. We don’t have any time.

MARY

He’s coming...

WEAVER

Yes!

He’s squinting now, the flower fetuses congregating, their eyes blue floodlights.

WEAVER

Brickshaw...

She flinches slightly at the name, and he takes her hand, pulls it so the glass jar falls to the ground with a clatter. Serpentine hisses surround them. The light’s too bright now and Weaver jerks Mary forward.

He takes a step but stumbles. He looks down. A flower is bunched around his knee and through the waving petals he sees the fetus clutching tightly at his clothing.

He kicks but the flowers petals close tightly. A savage swing with the pickaxe severs the stalk – the fetus releases, spasms among the dying petals.

MARY

(screaming)

No!

She jerks her hand free and slowly backs away.

WEAVER

Mary!

She turns and runs into one of the dirt pits. The plants open up a path for her. Weaver is after her in a flash, too fast. He’ll catch her in a second but just before he does the plants close around him.

He’s suddenly caught, thrashing, green limbs circling him and clutching tight. Flowers open and hissing fetuses with flaring blue eyes grab hold, hook malformed fingers in his eye sockets and mouth, pull until webs of blood appear.

He’s fast. And so powerful. But for every sweep of his sharpened pix axe, for every writhing plant he sends falling and screaming, three more rise in its place.

Fury and struggle. The screams of dying fetuses in a world of agony that Weaver builds around him. But he can’t win. He stepped off the path, and he can’t win.

The roots crush his body tight, roll him to the edge, fetuses with tiny fists tangled in his hair. A space suddenly clears, and Mary stands over him, face inches from his. She smiles and the smile never ends.

She looks up suddenly and we hear, distantly, the metal walkways high above begin to vibrate. An enormous weight runs across them. Distant grunting sounds, animal, from lungs like bellows.

Mary looks down at him and smiles. He surges! Such strength! Again and again!

He stops, his breath heavy.

WEAVER

Mary...

MARY

(crooning)

Shh...

WEAVER

Please...

She strokes his face.

MARY

He’s going to like you so much.

EXT – WASHINGTON D.C. – DUSK

A SIKORSKY HELICOPTER is roaring across the burnt-orange sky above a blurring-at-this-speed suburban sprawl. The U.S. PRESIDENTIAL SEAL is imprinted on the chopper’s doors.

INT – HELICOPTER – DUSK

The PRESIDENT looks determined, but confused, wearing a HEADSET and being briefed while personally flying the helicopter. There are no passengers.

PRESIDENT

(into headset)

What do you mean, “ubiquities”?

AIDE (O/C)

(THROUGH HEADSET)

Things that are everywhere, sir.

PRESIDENT

In other words – “commonplace” – the opposite of... “rarities”?

AIDE (O/C)

That’s right, sir.

PRESIDENT

The “Museum of commonplace things that are everywhere”?

AIDE (O/C)

Yessir.

PRESIDENT

In Atlantic City. So what does it matter?

AIDE (O/C)

I... don’t follow, sir.

PRESIDENT

This so-called supervillain, “Brickhouse” or whatever he calls himself. Who cares if he steals a commonplace thing thats everywhere?

AIDE (O/C)

(sighs, frustrated)

Maybe it was delivered to the wrong museum... by mistake.

PRESIDENT

Instead of the “Museum of Rarities”, you mean.

AIDE (O/C)

It’s a very rare... uhm, sceptre, I think she said. An ancient staff...?

PRESIDENT

What’s it do? This ancient staff?

AIDE (O/C)

It... uh... reverses the Earth’s polarity, I think she said.

PRESIDENT

Not if I have anything to say about it.

He banks the chopper sharply, picks up speed toward ATLANTIC CITY.

PRESIDENT (CONT’D)

And I do. The voters expect it of me. Activate... a superhero of some description! Set him loose on the mean streets of Atlantic City. Take Brickhouse down, and send him to the deep dark stygian depths of Guantanamo Bay... in Cuba.

AIDE (O/C)

A superhero, sir?

CUT TO:

EXT – ATLANTIC CITY – MAIN STREET – NIGHT

...and this is where I ran out of time to write the action scene. Just as well, because I don’t really know what someone called “Brickhouse” would look like – very big? – and the only superhero I can think of including would be ASTROBOY – because he’s one of the sillier looking ones, and it amuses me. I wish I had started this earlier.

EXT. CITY STREET -- DAY

PAUL, 20s, everyman, beams from ear to ear as he rounds a corner arm in arm with a cute YOUNG LADY, same age, also smiley. Across the busy street is the Museum of Ubiquities; its many stairs lead to a large porch held up by six massive columns. A SMALL CROWD stands around a taco truck parked on the curb in front of the museum.

PAUL

(rambling)

There it is! You’re really gonna dig this. This is my favorite taco truck in the whole city. See, it’s Thai Mexican fusion, so it’s pretty much the best of everything. I think I’m gonna have a peanut mole chicken taco.

YOUNG LADY

Exotic.

PAUL

It’s like a savory peanut butter cup -- in taco form! Or maybe I’ll have the --

Before Paul can finish, a BOLT OF BLUE ENERGY erupts from inside the museum and strikes the taco truck.

The explosion sends shrapnel flying everywhere. Paul turns his back to the explosion, shielding the young lady. A glowing orange, semi-translucent armor plate momentarily covers Paul’s back in time to deflect a piece of the taco truck.

Paul turns back to look at the scene. The taco truck has been vaporized, traffic has stopped, PEDESTRIANS are running everywhere.

PAUL

Godammit.

YOUNG LADY

Oh, my God.

Paul turns back to his date, but keeps glancing toward the museum.

PAUL

Look, I was totally gonna tell you this after we made out, but a while back I was abducted by aliens. They implanted me with all this advanced technology and told me to help people in need. So, I need you to get out of here while I go... you know, do my thing.

YOUNG LADY

What?!

Paul takes off toward the museum.

PAUL

I’ll call, I promise! Now get outta here!

The young lady starts to follow him, then turns and joins the others fleeing the scene.

EXT. MUSEUM ENTRANCE AREA -- CONTINUOUS

Paul swims on his feet against the torrent of people rushing down the museum’s front steps in a panicked, disorderly fashion. His eyes fix on something.

A man, 40s. BRICKHOUSE. Big and burly, built like a retired defensive lineman. He’s holding a short wooden staff that crackles with BLUE ENERGY.

He points the staff at one of the columns and fires a BLAST. The column crumbles, but the museum roof remains intact.

Paul runs up the remaining steps toward Brickhouse.

PAUL

What’s wrong, did they cancel the senior discount?

Brickhouse sees Paul and fires a blast. The energy bolt hits one of the support columns behind Paul. He crouches down, but gets buried beneath the rubble.

Brickhouse turns away to continue the mayhem.

BRICKHOUSE

Anyone else wanna be an asshole?

A LOW PITCHED SOUND (“BWOAM”) brings his attention back to the newest rubble pile. The bits of concrete move slowly at first, then all at once they clear away as Paul rises again. He’s covered head-to-toe by glowing orange, semi-translucent plates of energy armor. His street clothes are visible beneath the armor.

PAUL

Hey, it’s still my turn.

Paul charges at Brickhouse, zigging, zagging, rocking and rolling to avoid another blast. That doesn’t stop Brickhouse from trying, but none of his shots connect.

Paul gets in close and goes for a right cross. Brickhouse sees the punch coming and ducks under Paul’s arm, tossing him up and over.

Paul lands on his feet and kicks Brickhouse in the small of his back.

Brickhouse falls to his knees.

Paul grabs the back of Brickhouse’s head and slams it into the pavement.

Brickhouse loses his grip on the staff and it slides away.

Paul has a knee on Brickhouse’s back. He keeps a hand pressed on Brickhouse’s head.

PAUL

You finished?

Brickhouse spits a little blood.

BRICKHOUSE

You don’t know who I am, do you?

Brickhouse’s skin absorbs the appearance and properties of the pavement.

BRICKHOUSE (CONT’D)

Name’s Brickhouse, shitbird.

Confused, Paul eases up for just a second. Brickhouse rolls over, throwing Paul into another column. It cracks but doesn’t fall.

Brickhouse goes for the staff, but Paul is on his feet quickly.

PAUL

Brickhouse Shitbird?

(beat)

I bet middle school was rough.

It’s a race for the staff. Brickhouse is ahead, but Paul moves much faster. He vaults over Brickhouse’s back and picks up the staff as he somersaults into a crouched position. Brickhouse picks up his pace.

Paul points the staff at Brickhouse.

Nothing happens.

Brickhouse laughs.

BRICKHOUSE

Doc said you gotta want it.

Paul keeps trying, but nothing happens.

Brickhouse reaches out to grab the staff, but Paul winds up and smacks him upside the head with it.

The staff splinters on contact. A WAVE OF ENERGY bursts from the staff, hurling both men in opposite directions.

The force of the blast is all the remaining columns can take, and the front of the museum falls on top of them both.

Beat.

Some rubble moves and Brickhouse emerges from the debris.

BRICKHOUSE

(calling out)

You just cost me a lot of money, asshat! This isn’t over.

Brickhouse’s skin turns back to normal and he runs away from the scene.

Paul pops up from beneath a large piece of concrete. He spots Brickhouse stomping down the street and starts to follow. A VOICE stops him.

MAN’S VOICE (O.S.)

Help! We need help!

Paul locates the direction of the voice, then looks back at the escaping Brickhouse.

Paul heads toward the voice.

BLACK.

EXT. MUSEUM VAN – DAY [MOVING]

A van trundles along on a deserted road. The body of the van has a sign painted on it: MUSEUM OF UBIQUITIES. It’s a traveling museum. There’s a loudspeaker attached to its side, blaring real hard.

LOUDSPEAKER

Come young, come old / See history unfold / Sate all your curiosities / At the Museum of Ubiquities...

INT. MUSEUM VAN – CONTINUOUS

A really ancient man inside the van. He’s wearing the shabbiest of uniforms, and a dirty badge that reads ‘STAFF’ is stuck to his dirty shirt.

This ANCIENT STAFF is sleeping. At the wheels.

EXT. DESERTED ROAD – MOMENTS LATER

From here, the van is just a blip on the horizon, the loudspeaker noise a faint murmur.

Hearing it intently, eyes closed, feet swaying, a drunk TRAMP on the roadside announces to himself...

TRAMP

It’s coming, I can feel it coming!

Silence.

A brick whips across the frame and hits the tramp on the face, knocking him out flat.

INT. MUSEUM VAN – MOMENTS LATER

Ancient Staff wakes up, leans forward, scrunches up his eyes to better see the road. There’s something there.

ANCIENT STAFF’S POV -- A huge hulk made totally of bricks is out on the road walking straight towards the van.

Ancient Staff’s mouth falls open--

CRASH!

FADE TO BLACK:

EXT. FIELD – MOMENTS LATER

Shocked and bruised, Ancient Staff sits beneath a tree, the road some distance behind him.

On the roadside, the van lies upturned, its wheels turning in the air, the loudspeaker croaking in repeat mode...

LOUDSPEAKER

See the history unfold.. See the history unfold.. See the history unfold...

Ancient Staff scrunches up his eyes to better see what’s in front of him. What’s in front of him is BRICKHOUSE, and he’s rumbling.

BRICKHOUSE

Are you taking me seriously?

ANCIENT STAFF

(feebly)

...What?

BRICKHOUSE

I said are you taking me seriously?

ANCIENT STAFF

Of course, I--

BRICKHOUSE

I don’t like people who don’t.

ANCIENT STAFF

...I am seriously... taking you..

Brickhouse looks up at the sky.

BRICKHOUSE

People have a habit of ignoring Brickhouse, as if he doesn’t exist.

(looks down at the old man)

You can actually see that in the chat rooms, all of them pretending I’m not there, even when--

ANCIENT STAFF

...Chat room?

BRICKHOUSE

Even when I use my real name.

ANCIENT STAFF

...Name..

BRICKHOUSE

Nobody reads my blog, nobody follows me on Twitter.

ANCIENT STAFF

...Why have you done this to me?

Brickhouse stops speaking. Breaks off a branch from the tree, sticks it in the dark hollow that is his mouth, slaps his brickhands for a spark and lights up the branch end.

Begins to smoke.

BRICKHOUSE

Have you ever heard of a brand parasite?

ANCIENT STAFF

...A what?

BRICKHOUSE

Suppose there is an established brand out there with a lot of visibility. Now some unknown, untested non-entity attaches itself to this brand and feeds off its glory, that’s a brand parasite.

ANCIENT STAFF

...I don’t understand..

BRICKHOUSE

Mr Rottinger, I believe there’s a superhero in your family?

Ancient Staff’s face is suddenly alert, hard.

ANCIENT STAFF

(sharply)

What do you want?

Brickhouse takes out the lighted branch from his mouth, brings his humongous brickface close to the old man’s face, and blows out smoke.

BRICKHOUSE

Call him and tell him that I’ve got you. Tell him to come and get me. Say Brickhouse is waiting by the tree.

INT. MUSEUM DAY

The museum of Ubiquities is a cavernous over funded under visited depository of man’s triumphs to date. A man covered head to toe in a cloak enters the main exhibit hall. As he walks his body grows thicker and more muscular until his footprints are visible in the marble floor. He Reaches the glass case containing Ancient staffs made of every substance known to man and one unknown.

He raises his fists ripping his cloak to shreds revealing a a long backpack. And shatter the case to dust. He grabs all the staffs and tosses them in his backpack. The curator runs toward him. She is the boned bombshell type.

CURATOR

You can’t come in here and start trashing the place.

BRICKHOUSE

Hence the word “villain” dear.

CURATOR

What villain?

Brickhouse grabs the curator by her throat holding her to his chest, stroking her hair.

BRICKHOUSE

Your a very beautiful woman.

SALVATION

Put her down!

Enter out hero: Salvation. A blonde Adonis dressed in flaming red levitating three feet above the floor.

BRICKHOUSE

I have no use for beautiful women.

He tosses the woman aside. Salvation flies quickly catching her an inch before she is impaled on a collection of spears. The woman runs away. Brickhouse races toward Salvation grabbing him dragging him down to the ground.

BRICKHOUSE

With you there is a fine line between fighting and fucking.

SALVATION

And that line we will never cross again.

Brickhouse kisses Salvation passionately. Salvation pushes him away with such strength to fling him across the hall

SALVATION

What happened to the man I loved?

BRICKHOUSE

He grew up!

Brickhouse stares at him for a brief moment then jumps upward through the skylight sending a million shards of glass raining down.

We fade out leaving our two former lovers enemies for life.