Rao, Krypton’s red sun, bathes the elegant world’s ozone with prisms of illuminating light.

Jor-El V.O. “Krypton, cornerstone of universal advancement. A network of science and technology searching for a self sustaining peace to all kind. Like all great crusades, resistance is never far.”


Riots, demonstrations, and panic race through the streets. Destruction imminent. Excelsior transport ships loom in the back ground.

Jor-El V.O. “Kryptonian civilization falls to tyranny and madness. But in the fall hope lives on.”


Zor-El: “You are willing to put such a request on your son?”

Jor-El places a steel cylinder tube, with various Kryptonian symbols on its outside, into a pod launcher.

Jor-El: “I have few options. Kal-El is the only one I trust for the task.”

Zor-El: “But he is so young.”

Jor-El: “For now but his time will come. He has our blood my brother just as your daughter does. They are our future.”

Zor-El takes a deep breath fighting back emotion.

Zor-El: “What do you need me to do?”

Jor-El hands his brother a small control. Jor-El: “If we come under attack they will come for me. Launch the device. Coordinates are already in place.”

Zor-El: “Where will it go?”

Jor-El’s eyes meet his brothers.

Jor-El: “Earth”

Zor-El (surprised): “I thought we had decided that was no longer an option. Their primitive culture would not be appropriate for…”

Jor-El quickly cuts him off: “The decision has been made. We can just hope fate is on our side.”


Black Zero Agents breach the ship killing everyone in sight.


Chaos ensues as the hope of freedom falls to the fear of destruction. Sparks and alarms scream as the ship’s Captain attempts to establish order.

At an operating console, Zor-El activates the small control given to him. He takes in a deep breath and presses the button.


The launch console comes to life and ejects a pod from the ship just as Jor-El enters with Lara and baby Kal-El.


The pod flies through the air out of Krypton’s atmosphere into space.



Small team of technicians spot an incoming object on radar.

Technician 1 (surprised): “That came out of nowhere.” Technician 2 manipulates several controls.

Technician 2 (confused): “Radar didn’t pick it up until it breached the atmosphere.”

Technician 1: “How’s that possible? These things have a hundred thousand mile radius.”

Technician 2: “For rock but this is no rock.”


The two technicians enter a full office handing the command leader a print out.

Technician 2 (nervously): “Sir we’re sorry to bother you but you need to take a look at this.”

As the Command Leader reads his face becomes more and more like stone.

Command Leader: “Impact?”

The two technicians swallow hard.

Technician 2: “96 miles off the coast of Japan.”

Technician 1: “It’s directly over the Mariana Trench. Deepest point in the ocean.”

Command Leader: “How long?”

Technician 2 nervously looks at his watch.

Technician 2: “Four and a half minutes ago. It’s likely not to have made it to the bottom.”

Command Leader: “How far is that?”

Technician 2: “The bottom of Mariana Trench is nearly 7 miles from the surface. If we don’t act now there is a good chance we may never find it.”

Command Leader looks toward his secretary: “Get the coast guard and navy on the phone.”

Secretary: “Yes sir. Is there anyone else?”

The command leader pauses for a moment.

Command Leader: “See if Lionel Luther is available.”


Air craft carrier, USS DWIGHT D. EISENHOWER, and half submerged submarine scout the vast sea of blue.


LIONEL LUTHOR, medium build man, thin beard with thick scalp of brown hair peers over the ships edge surrounded by onlookers.

One of the onlookers Admiral Johnson receives a signal from his radio.

Johnson: “Copy that.”

The Admiral turns toward Lionel.

Admiral Johnson:”Mr. Luthor they’ve found it.”

Luthor’s face twists into a calm grin.


Chains from a crane, posted on the Eisenhower’s deck, lowers down to several divers with Orion’s Star stabilized on a raft.

The chains are secured onto the raft and hoisted onto the massive ship.

Luthor looks on with great interest turning toward the Admiral.

Luthor: “This could be a very exciting day Admiral.”


Supported upright Orion’s Star is attached to a network of monitoring electrodes feeding data onto a computer screen. Three men in hazmat suits carefully probe the object attempting to identify the markings tattooed on the outside.

Luthor stands to the side carefully studying the electrode’s read outs.

Admiral Johnson: “Any idea what it is?”

Lionel keys in several algorithms changing readouts. Then removes his glasses.

Luthor: “I’m not sure.”

Admiral Johnson: “Not sure?”

Luthor: “It contains no known elements. Energy reading continues to evolve. Algorithms can’t calculate anything other than its’ matter.”

Admiral Johnson: “What are you saying?”

Luthor: “What you’re already thinking.”

The Admiral takes a deep breath while Lionel’s spine tingles as he realizes what he is saying.

Luthor: “This could lead mankind into a new frontier of science and medicine. Or be the blood token of our extinction through an unknown enemy. Either way it will change the world.”

Admiral Johnson swallows hard to the response

Admiral Johnson: “What do you suggest we do?”

Lionel tightens his jaw with uncertainty.

Luthor: “How far did you say the Marinana Trench was?”

Admiral Johnson: “Deepest point is 36,000 feet.”

Luthor (calmly): “Sink it and hope no one comes looking for it.”

Admiral Johnson: “How can you say that? We don’t know yet what it even is.”

Luthor: “Admiral my life as a scientist has brought me to many doors of uncertainty. What I came to understand is that some doors are meant to stay closed. This will be documented as a training exercise. Details of this meeting will never surface.”

Admiral Johnson (irritated): “Mr. Luthor I suggest you remember your place on my ship. Your authority holds no rain outside of LexCorp.”

Luthor: “It’s not my authority that should concern you.”

Door swings open, several armed men in army uniform sporting a LexCorp shoulder patch enter seizing control of the room.

Admiral Johnson (surprised): “What’s going on here?”

Luthor (sarcastically): “Spreading my authority Admiral. Playing within the rules.”

Admiral Johnson’s face becomes like stone from the undermining.

Luthor (menacing): “This planet’s safety will not be in the hands of militant ignorance Admiral. You have been relieved.”



Small poverty village, women and children gather water enjoying the cool night while men tend to camel stalls.

INT: ABANDONED SHACK (CONTINUOUS) Inside the small room a half dozen armed guards line the walls. A dim light creates the silhouette of a chained hostage suspended in air. His face hidden.

Door swings open entering a well dressed man of power and arrogance COVAL.

Coval: “Took you a long time to find me all the way out here.”

The hostage does not respond.

Coval: “But I guess you’ll do almost anything you can to get what you can’t have.”

Hostage (calmly): “We gave you the opportunity for a peaceful exchange.”

Coval laughs: “Exchange? Your proposal was robbery. Holding an item of this rarity cannot be bought with your worthless American money.”

Coval removes a metal cylinder from his coat pocket. He runs it under his noise mimicking a cigar.

Coval: “I wish you could feel what it’s like to have the world’s most precious resource in your hand.”


Adolescent boy pushes a tool wagon down the busy street. Pausing for a moment, he pulls a tracking device from his tunic.


Hostage: “You should have considered yourself fortunate we were open to negotiation.”

Coval: “Is that what you came for? Extended negotiations?”

Hostage: “I came for a simple reason. I will kill everyone in this room and take what you have in your hand.”

Coval stares at the hostage for a moment before placing the object back into his jacket: “Let’s consider what you have to negotiate with.”

Coval picks up a sword from a table that was lying next to identical pistols and a crunched up orange/black mask. He admires the sword for a moment inspecting the blade.

Coval: “You come into my camp with the intention of taking what’s mine yet you find yourself as my hostage as I prepare to take what is yours.”

EXT: VILLIAGE STREET (CONTINUOUS) The adolescent boy continues to push the tool wagon down the street as the tracking device becomes more sensitive. With a target marked signal the tool wagon is parked beside a rundown building and the boy casually walks away.


Coval lifts the sword toward the hostages chest.

Coval(angered): “I told Luthor to leave well enough alone but typical American can never seem to do so.”

The light catches hostages face to be SLADE WILSON wearing a black combat militant suit lined with empty holsters.

Coval regains his sarcastic tone: “Ironic the one they call the Deathstroke will become the example of such ignorance.”

Wilson: “Ignorance is a matter of perspective. Your arrogance betrays you. Allowing myself to be captured granted me uncontested access to your primary location. I know what I seek lies in your coat pocket ripe for the taking. You have given me everything I wanted.”

Coval’s face has gained a fearful tone to Wilson’s words. Pausing for a moment he returns to the moment.

Coval: “That may be true but you’re still chained to my ceiling.”


The tool wagon explodes.


Debris and flames rain down from a burn hole in the shack’s wall. Coval and his men stagger to their feet. Only to be met by the ruthless range of Wilson. Using the sword once held to his chest Wilson lives up to his name Deathstroke quickly slicing through the overwhelmed men granting them death.

Wilson replaces his sword into its holster across his back. He retrieves his mask and pistols from the floor holstering

them. Dawning the mask, he leans down Coval’s body reaching into his coat pocket removing the metal cylinder. The cowl vertically split orange on the left, black on right covers entire face. He unscrews the cylinder’s top revealing a green glow from a Kryptonite fragment.

Coval grabs Wilson’s wrist barely alive.

Coval (breathing heavy): “What will you do with it?”

Deathstroke (calmly): “Kill him.”



COMMISSIONER HENDERSON hands over a photograph to LIEUTENANT DAN TURPIN sitting next to him. Is Henderson: “You’re sure about this? Moxie Mannheim heading up Intergang.”

From across the table Lois: “We’re sure. We’ve monitored every phone conversation, bank transaction, email, cell phones. I can tell you what he orders every morning for breakfast if you’d like.”

Turpin: “Isn’t that our job Miss. Lane?”

Sitting next to Lois, Clark speaks up: “What she’s trying to say is we’ve been very thorough with this investigation. Mannheim is our guy.”

Turpin looks over the picture of the 50 something well kept man sporting a distinct mustache Mannheim.

Turpin: “He’s got good facial hair.”

Henderson: “If Mannheim is the brains. What are the other parts?”

Lois tosses out a second picture of a younger man, cleaner cut with a tight jaw line KYLE ABBOT. Henderson picks up the photo.

Lois: “Abbot, Kyle born February 6th 1978 in Brooklyn, New York. He’s the string between the cans. Mannheim picks a target and sends it to Abbot. He coordinates the plan, transportation, paying off the right people, or killing off the right people. Once the play is set he passes it along to the playmakers.”

Turpin: “Playmakers?”

Clark: “John Corben”

Henderson perks up: “Corben? John Corben? I’ve heard that name.”

Clark pulls out the front page of the Daily Planet with a headline that reads “ARMY RANGERS EXILED FOR COSTA RICA MURDERS”.

Clark: “Corben was one of the Army Rangers involved in the Costa Rica murder case. He received a life sentence but as you can see that never happened. He pulled three tours in Iraq and two others in Korea as a member of the anti terrorism division. He was a real Rambo one stop away from unit leader before his fall from grace. Definitely more than enough training to handle civilian policemen.”

Turpin (offensive) “Let’s put you on the streets and see how you fair.”

Henderson: “Drop it Lieutenant. What kind of man power are we looking at?”

Lois: “We’ve tracked as many as thirty two personnel, but Mannheim, Abbot, and Corben are rarely there at the same time.”

Henderson: “Are they operating out of a central location?”

Clark: “Blooming Bird Meat House on 6th and Pine.”

Henderson: “Perfect cover with the heavy traffic.”

Lois: “Makes it hard to launch any kind of real assault.”

Turpin: “You expect me to believe they’re running their entire operation out of a slaughter house? They’ve pulled sixty eight jobs in four months and that’s the best they can do?”

Lois (annoyed): “It seems to be working. If it weren’t for Superman there would be nothing left of Metropolis.”

Turpin: “What do you know about the trenches sweetheart?”

Henderson: “She’s right Dan. This gang showed up overnight and we’ve been chasing out tails ever since. Back to Mannheim. Who is this guy?”

Lois: “Mannheim worked twenty plus years on Wall Street managing cooperation deals and international trade numbers. He was trading high dollar deals with top notch enterprises. When the economy went bad the fat got trimmed and he was cut loose. After that he fell off the grid until now.”

Clark: “Easy to see why he’s bitter.”

Henderson: “You think he started this organization or was he brought on board?”

Clark: “Everything stops with him. Our best guess is he’s at the top.”

Turpin: “So how do we bring them down when they’re never together? If we hit just one, word gets out, and the others scatter.”

Lois: “We wait until they’re under one roof.”

Turpin barks out a frustrated sigh: “That helps.”

Henderson: “And when will that be?”

Lois looks Henderson straight in eyes with a smirk.

Lois: “Tonight”


Dozens of SWAT members gear up and as a line is formed in front of an open gun locker handing out MP5A2 automatics.

SWAT SERGEANT LEITER paces among the men as they prepare for war.

Sergeant Leiter: “Let’s hurry it up gentlemen. You’re about to enter the Lion’s den and these Lions are ready to eat.”

A continues line of SWAT members file down a set of stairs leading to a garage where three SWAT trucks await.


Turpin and Henderson stand on the tops steps watching the men fill the trucks.

Turpin: “Sure is a lot of man power.”

Henderson: “This will be the largest assault since I took office.”

Turpin: “Just hope it’s not your last.”

Henderson turns toward Turpin with a confused expression.

Henderson: “Do you know something I don’t Lieutenant?”

Turpin: “No sir, but if I was going to knock down the door on the most active gang this side of Queens my only intel wouldn’t be from a bunch of newspaper reporters.”

Henderson: “Lane and Kent have assisted in several operations before. I’ve never questioned their approach.”

Turpin: “Maybe so but we requested their assistance. This time they came to us with a reconnaissance detail that would rival Sawyer’s. Doesn’t that make you wonder why it’s so different? Almost as if it’s personal.”

Henderson turns back toward the loaded SWAT trucks that are pulling off, his brain pondering the question.

Sergeant Leiter: “Units are ready Commissioner.”

Henderson snaps back into the moment snapping his attention toward the Sergeant.

Henderson (calmly): “Proceed as planned.”


Camouflaged amongst its’ neighboring structures, Blooming Bird Meat House appears as innocent as a young child. Light traffic and pedestrians guide along the worn street and sidewalk taking in the chilled night air. One of the male bystanders enters the house.


The door opens up to an empty customer service lounge with a tired man sporting a 5 o’clock shadow and blood stained shirt. Unphased by the entering man he gives an easy nod as the man passes through a back door into a freezer area.


Cattle sized meat cuts hang from the ceiling. The man pulls his jacket tighter and weaves through the beef toward reinforced double doors with a key pad. A code in entered and the doors open revealing a former butcher room.


Two dozen men stack artillery supplies into two armored hummer tanks retrofitted with heavy weaponry.

The man makes his way toward Moxie Mannheim who his studying a schematic stretched across a table. Mannheim maintains his attention on the table.

Mannheim: “Were you able to bring the warm weather back with you—Mr. Corben?”

Corben: “Unfortunately its’ relief was short lived but the wildlife tend to be less aggressive in the cold.”

Mannheim looks up from the table to Corben: “They both have their demons I suppose.”

Corben pulls a flash drive from his jacket handing it to Mannheim.

Corben: “They can make quite a mess of things.”

Mannheim places the chip into his phone. Damaged village photographs appear on the screen.

Mannheim: “Wilson?”

Corben: “You don’t recognize his work? Coval got what was coming. He knew better than to flaunt that green rock on the market and not think someone would come for it.”

Mannheim scans through the pictures showing Cove\al and his dead men.

Mannheim: “Some people have to learn the hard way. Lex Luthor is not a man to test. He’s the only person I know who would try and monopolize an alien energy source.”


SWAT members, with sniper rifles, set up positions on surrounding rooftops. Patrol cars block the streets surrounding the meat house while a dozen man SWAT unit makes its’ way by foot toward the entrance.


Patrolman spots a wondering pedestrian.

Patrolman: “Sir I’m gonna need you to clear the area.”

The pedestrian nods his head in acknowledgement: “Yes sir”

The pedestrian adjusts his hood revealing to be Clark.


The SWAT unit kicks in the door. The grungy counter worker draws a shotgun to bear but his gun down by SWAT before firing a shot. The unit clears the room and proceeds with caution.


Corben: “So what’s the next job? I’m getting antsy for something that doesn’t involve a camera.”

Mannheim: “What do you know about Central City?”

Corben: “I know it’s not Metropolis. Expanding our territories?”

Mannheim sinisterly smiles: “Just testing out the waters. Abbot’s got the details.”

Abbot walks up: “You’re gonna need to stretch those legs and find a good pair of running shoes for this one.”

Corben: “Is that considered a company expense?”

Abbot: “Pull off the job and it will be.”

Corben: “Am I to arrange a funeral?”

Abbot chuckles: “You’ll be lucky to even see the guy. I just need you to provoke.”


The SWAT team clears through the hanging meat to closed door leading into the basement. The team plants C4 charges on the door setting a five second timer. In anticipation the unit steps away from the door. As the time hits zero nothing happens. The team looks at each other confused “Bad primer?” BAM!

The door blows from the outside as gunfire enters into the freezer with them. The Intergang had the drop.


Abbot releases his grip on an EMP device.

Abbot: “Works every time.”


Chunks of raw meat and blood flood the floor as bullets rip through the room. SWAT tosses several flash bangs at the attacking shooters disorienting them. Taking the moment SWAT makes their push mowing down the enemy entering the garage.


A direct commentary from the communicating SWAT members plays over the rooms speakers with a video feed. Commissioner Henderson, Lt. Turpin, and Sergeant Leiter listen intently.

Leiter: “Lookin good boys, keep it up.”

Henderson: “Let’s hope they don’t have anything up their leave.”

Turpin (pessimistic): “They always do.”


The SWAT team enters the garage to the sound of roaring diesel engines from the hummers barreling toward them.


Henderson: “What are those things?”

Leiter franticly speaks into the com: “Get out of the there Jackson! Abort!”


The mounted artillery opens fire on the team as it plows through them.


Video audio feeds go to static. Leiter throws his com to the ground in anger. Turpin looks toward Henderson who has a disguised expression.


The hummers explode onto the street turning in opposite directions.


Corben in the driver’s seat uses his handgun shooting off several SWAT members hanging on the doors. A SWAT member hanging onto the back seat door pulls it open ripping two gang members onto the street.


Three men roll to a stop on the hard asphalt. SWAT member disoriented, receives a kick to the ribs and jerked to his feet by the gang members.

Gang 1: “You’re gonna pay for that cop!”

He lands a jaw cracking punch. Gang 2 picks a crow bar from the ground.

Gang 2: “No one to save you now.”

As he raises the crow bar Superman grabs his arm. He screams with intense pain dropping the crow bar to the ground. Superman lands a punch to his face laying him unconscious.

Gang 1: “What are you doing here?!”

He pulls out his handgun firing several shots that ricochet off Superman’s chest. Superman tears the gun from the man’s hand breaking it.

Superman helps the SWAT member to his feet.

Superman: “Rough town.”

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