THE CLOAK

A Television Comedy Series

by Tad Williams

 

EPISODE TWO

 

FADE IN:

A COMIC BOOK PAGE: We see a drawing of a PAIR OF HANDS on a OUIJA BOARD. Printed over them, in huge thrilling lettering, it reads: "THE CLOAK — Episode Two: NO ONE MUST SUSPECT!" The drawing dissolves into a real-life version of the same thing...

 

INT. — ERIC'S HOUSE, LIVING ROOM — NIGHT

ERIC'S MUM and her friend HELEN are pushing the glass back and forth over a Ouija board and arguing.

 

                        MUM

I'm sure that can't be right.

 

                        HELEN

When Betty had her seances, she used to be contacted by people's late animals all the time. Glenda's toy poodle was very persistent.

 

                        MUM

But a pet turtle?

 

ERIC walks in from the other room, headed out the door. He is very PADDED (he's wearing his superhero suit under his clothes).

 

                        MUM (Cont.)

Eric, dear, do you think there could be turtles in the afterlife?

 

                        HELEN

Well, I don't know anyone else that's passed over named "Stripey".

 

                        ERIC

I'm going out to meet Colin. You're going to get some sleep, aren't you? You're leaving early.

 

                        MUM

I'm ever so excited. I haven't been to Great Yarmouth in years. I wonder if they still have that beach there?

 

                        HELEN

I don't know how you can afford this, Eric.

            (roguishly)

What'd you do — rob a bank?

 

                        ERIC

            (very serious)

No banks have been robbed in Sidcup, Helen — nor will there be any. Robberies, I mean. Robbing of banks.

 

He realizes he has spoken too heatedly and tries a smile.

 

                        ERIC (Cont.)

It's just a little something I had tucked away for a good cause, and you two deserve a holiday.

 

                        MUM

Oh, Eric, I forgot to tell you! We talked to your father.

 

                        ERIC

He's dead, mum. That's why we get his insurance money.

 

                        MUM

On the Ouija board, silly. At first we weren't sure — sometimes the spirits play tricks — but when it spelled out "WORBY COMMA GEORGE", I knew it was really him. He was always so keen on alphabetizing things properly.

 

                        ERIC

            (putting on coat)

And how was he?

 

                        MUM

Oh, he was too busy to talk.

            (a beat: sadly)

It was just like having him back again.

CUT TO:

EXT. — FLEXIBLE ARMS — NIGHT

A medium-sized pub — the kind that isn't quite sure whether it's a "local entertainment spot" or a place to get pissed.

 

COLIN is sitting on a bench outside, nursing a pint. A podgy middle-aged white man (SCREEL) approaches him and sits down.

 

                        SCREEL

Lovely night, eh?  My name's Screel. What're you drinking?

 

                        COLIN

This.

            (he eyes him)

You're a reporter.

 

                        SCREEL

What makes you say that?

 

                        COLIN

Maybe the fact that you've been interviewing people, then their pictures show up on the front page of The Daily Sphere under headlines like "SIDCUP BUTCHER SAYS LOCAL MYSTERY MILLIONAIRE PROBABLY EATS LAMB CHOPS".

 

                        SCREEL

You're sharp, son. You ought to be in the journalism business.

 

                        COLIN

So should you.

            (a beat)

How come you're still hanging around? All the other papers have given up on this so-called story. Why don't you leave us alone?

 

                        SCREEL

Look, Sonny Jim, the Sphere's readers have a right to know who's won that jackpot. They buy a lot of lottery tickets — they helped pay for it. And they'll pay quite a bit more — indirectly — to get to know the winner.

 

                        COLIN

No, you look, man. People in this town are loyal. They're not going to violate the privacy of a friend and neighbour just for money. You can't buy everybody, you know.

 

                        SCREEL

Well, I suppose you'd know best. But it's sad to think of that...five thousand pounds ...going begging.

 

                        COLIN

            (taken aback)

Five thousand pounds? Just for the name of the lottery winner?

 

                        SCREEL

A limited-time offer, of course. By next week there'll be another winner, and no one will care. But, as you said, no one in this town would want my paper's filthy money.

 

COLIN stares at him, troubled. SERENA walks by, dressed for a night out. She recognizes COLIN, smiles, and comes over.

 

                        SERENA

Hi, Colin. Am I interrupting?

 

                        COLIN

No. Mister...Screel was just pissing off. Weren't you?

 

                        SCREEL

I'll be around. I've got a job to do, and six million Sphere readers can't be wrong.

 

                        COLIN

Now that's a horrifying thought.

CUT TO:

 

EXT. — ERIC'S HOUSE, FRONT PORCH — NIGHT, SAME TIME

ERIC is trying to close the front door behind him.

 

                        ERIC

Yes, I'm dressed warmly, no, I don't want to eat a little something and I will definitely check the windows before bed. Colin's waiting, Mum, I really have to go.

 

He closes the door and walks swiftly down the path; when onto the sidewalk he leaps behind a tree in the next door garden, then begins UNDRESSING, exposing his Cloak costume.

 

                        ERIC

            (muttering)

That's half my patrolling-time wasted. I must have a secret exit.

 

Donning his costume is not easy: when he has it all wrestled into place, he has to put his street clothes in his BUM BAG, which gets tangled with his cape so he almost strangles himself. At last, he is finished — dissheveled, breathing heavily.

 

                        ERIC

            (semi-triumphantly)

Now — tremble, Evil!

 

He darts off into the night as we CUT TO:

 

EXT. — PARKING LOT — NIGHT

A man is bending over a car window, fiddling it with a coat-hanger. ERIC appears behind him, out of the darkness, and strikes a heroic stance.

 

                        ERIC

            (hero voice)

Is that your car, sir?

 

                        MAN

Yeah. But make me any offer over ten quid and it's yours. I'll even throw in the coathanger. Keys are on the seat...

 

He turns around and sees ERIC's bizarre outfit.

 

                        MAN (Cont.)

            (eyebrow raised)

A few months early for Carnival, mate.

 

                        ERIC

I am The Cloak, sworn to protect Sidcup from crime. But if there's no crime here...

 

                        MAN

            (turning back to window)

Are you in one of those religious cults? Couldn't stick it, myself. I don't like tambourine music much, for one thing. Well, if you really want to be useful, just pull down on this window for me...

 

After a moment, he turns. The Cloak has GONE. We CUT TO:

 

EXT. — HIGH STREET — NIGHT

ERIC is leaping down the high street, dodging behind poles when people pass (but he protrudes a bit), moving from pool of shadow to pool of shadow. He hovers in a dark alley near a JEWELRY STORE, but no arch-villains are looting it. A foursome of teenagers go past as ERIC LEAPS to a new hiding place. They are very amused.

 

                        TEENAGER

            (calling after him)

Nice legs — shame about the cape!

 

ANGLE ON: ERIC

His HOOD has slipped down over his eyes, and he thumps his knee against a rubbish bin, stops to do a dance of pain, then struggles to re-order his costume.

 

ANGLE ON: OLD LADY

We see a frail LITTLE OLD LADY walking slowly, passing under a street light, clutching her PURSE.

 

CLOSE-UP: EYES

SOMEONE is watching her. The EYES are narrow, feral.

 

ANGLE ON: ERIC

He has managed to get his CLOAK snagged on the rubbish bin handle, but hasn't noticed yet, since his hood is still sliding.

 

ANGLE ON: OLD LADY

She is nearing an ALLEYWAY. We see SOMETHING in the shadows.

 

ANGLE ON: WATCHING EYES

The crouching THIEF, waiting for his prey.

 

ANGLE ON: OLD LADY

As she comes abreast of the alley, a dark shape LEAPS out and grabs her purse away. She SCREAMS.

 

ANGLE ON: ERIC

ERIC looks up, startled and yet excited by the scream, a hunting hound to the horn. He BOUNDS forward, dragging the RUBBISH BIN. He stops, disconcerted, and tries to shake it loose.

 

                        OLD LADY

Help! Stop, thief!

 

ERIC grows increasingly frantic. His big chance is slipping away. Finally, he pulls his cape free and leaps out onto the sidewalk.

 

ERIC'S POV:

The thief, a dark shadow between streetlamps, is pelting away up the high street. ERIC gives chase, flapping his arms like a huge bird. He runs past the OLD LADY, who draws back in alarm.

 

                        ERIC

You cannot escape the Cluck's cloatches!

 

ERIC is already a little winded and can't be bothered to try it again. The THIEF bolts down another sidestreet. ERIC turns the corner. It's a dark dead-end: he can't see anything. His voice is a tiny bit shaky as he proclaims:

 

                        ERIC (Cont.)

Ha! E-Evil retreats to its foul burrow! Now I have you!

 

Suddenly the THIEF LEAPS at him out of the darkness. They struggle, rolling out onto the high street, grunting, ERIC saying "ouch" a lot. They wind up at the OLD LADY's feet, ERIC holding her purse and sitting on top of a skinny NINE YEAR OLD WHITE BOY (BENNY).

 

ERIC is taken aback. He stares at the kid for a moment, then looks up to the OLD LADY and hands her purse to her.

 

                        ERIC

Here it is, Ma'am. You can walk the streets without fear from now on.

 

The OLD LADY looks at ERIC and clucks her tongue. She reaches into her purse and produces a 20 PENCE piece.

 

                        OLD LADY

Poor thing. Nothing to wear but a blanket — no wonder your little lad has turned to crime and suchlike. You really must try to set him a better example. Here's twenty pence.

            (hands him coin)

Now, don't spend it on drink.

            (she starts off, then turns)

I don't blame you, dear — I blame Society!

                       

                        BENNY

You wanna get off me, y'fat bastard?

 

ERIC stands, but keeps a grip on the kid's arm.

 

                        ERIC

I have saved you from a life of crime, young man. After all, it's a short step from petty theft to donning a red mask and jumpsuit, arming yourself with deadly laser-bombs and calling yourself The Scarlet Skeleton.

 

                        BENNY

            (a beat)

Are you some kind of child molester or something?

 

                       

                        ERIC

            (shocked)

I am The Cloak! Sworn to fight for good! What is your name, lad?

 

                        BENNY

Benny. Benny Milton.

 

                        BEN

That's a good name — a peppy, manly name. Benjamin Milton.

 

                        BENNY

Not "Benjamin", "Benny". It's short for "Benidorm Package Weekend". Don't ask me why — my mum won't talk about it.

            (he shrugs, then peers at ERIC)

I know what you are. I've seen guys like you on TV.

 

                        ERIC

That's right.

 

                        BENNY

You're a professional wrestler.

            (he tries to pull free)

C'mon, let me go, mate. I won't do it again, honest. I was, like, driven to it 'cause my family's starving. Or my mom is dying. No, both. Yeah, they're starving, she's dying.

 

                        ERIC

That's terrible! You poor little chap!

            (considers)

Well...if you promise to mend your ways.

                        BENNY

Def'nitely. I'll go right home and read the Bible to my little sisters. No, to my dying mother. Out loud and everything.

 

                        ERIC

Very well. Remember, stealing is wrong, no matter the reason. And there will be no mercy for criminals while The Cloak strides the streets of Sidcup!

 

ERIC lets him go. BENNY starts away down the street.

 

                        BENNY

            (calling back)

Hey, dude! Thanks! Hope you win your match! Don't let 'em get you against the turnbuckle — that's when they use the Sleeper Hold on you.

 

                        ERIC

            (waving)

Hew to the straight and narrow, young Benny!

            (he watches him go, then realizes:)

Oh, no! Colin! I'm going to be late!

            (he looks at wrist; a beat)

Where's my watch?

 

We CUT TO:

EXT. — FLEXIBLE ARMS — NIGHT

COLIN and SERENA are talking at a bench outside the pub. SCREEL is in the background, conversing with locals at another bench. As COLIN and SERENA speak, ERIC appears in full costume on the wall nearby, clearly being "inconspicuous". He LEAPS to the pub roof (somewhat heavily). A number of patrons look up, shake their heads, and return to what they're doing. COLIN and SERENA wince. SCREEL alone does not see.

 

                        SERENA

...I don't know. It seems a little...creepy.

 

                        COLIN

Not really. He's just...just a guy trying to find his way. But a nice guy. Admittedly a little...innocent.

 

                        SERENA

Well, I suppose there are worse things to be than innocent. But...a super-hero?

 

During this next exchange, ERIC falls heavily off the roof into a hedge at the shadowy edge of the pub-garden. People deliberately look away to spare him embarrassment. When he has freed himself from the shrubs, he bolts into the gent's room.

 

                        COLIN

Ssshhh. Remember, he doesn't think anyone knows. He's very concerned with his...

            (makes "quote" sign)

...secret identity. He's afraid that if it's discovered, masked super-villains will take his mum prisoner.

 

                        SERENA

Oh. But that's sweet.

 

                        COLIN

Yeah, I guess so. Anyway, try not to let on you know. I think he's at kind of a delicate phase right now...

 

ERIC appears from the loo in wrinkled "civilian" clothes, bits of his costume peeping through. He strolls to COLIN's table.

 

                        ERIC

Colin! Sorry I'm late, just had some things...

            (suddenly noticing SERENA)

Oh! S-Serena.

 

                        SERENA

Hi, Eric. Listen, I won't barge in — I'm with Marla and some others, anyway. Nice to see you.

 

                        ERIC

Yes. Yes, it is very nice. Umm. I mean, you are. No, I mean...nice to see you.

                       

                        COLIN

            (hiding a smile)

Cheers, Serena.

 

She leaves. ERIC watches her go a great soulful sigh.

 

                        ERIC

She left as soon as I showed up. Well, who wouldn't? Mister Boring, that's me.

            (dramatically, to himself)

If she only knew...

 

                        COLIN

            (amused)

I think you sell yourself short, man. We were talking about you. She thinks your sweet.

 

                        ERIC

She does?

 

                        COLIN

Oh, yeah. But I suppose a superhero can't afford to think about romance like a normal person.

 

                        ERIC

            (suddenly sad)

No. That's right.

 

                        COLIN

Hey, I was just kidding!

 

                        ERIC

It's no laughing matter, Colin. With great power comes great responsibility.

                        (brightens)

Guess what? I caught a criminal tonight! My first!

 

                        COLIN

Really? You're joking.

 

                        ERIC

A purse snatcher. Caught him red-handed, then wrestled him...

            (reconsiders word choice)

...struggled him to the ground...

 

                        COLIN

"Struggled him"?

 

                        ERIC

...And recovered a nice old lady's purse. And it was only my third night on patrol.

 

                        COLIN

Hey, man, I'm impressed. Let me buy you...what? Is champagne in order?

 

                        ERIC

Just a lemonade, thanks. I have lots of work tonight — sketches, estimates. My mum's leaving tomorrow morning, and then it's right down to work.

 

                        COLIN

I don't follow. Sketches?

 

                        ERIC

It was your idea. I'm going to build — the Cloak Cave!

            (stops; thinks)

Actually, that seems a bit derivative. I'll have to think of something more original. The Fortress of Cloakitude?  Maybe not. But it will still be your idea, Colin. And someday, when my story can finally be told, you will receive the credit you are due...

                        COLIN

Whoa, hold on. I was...it was kind of a joke.

 

                        ERIC

Not at all. I need it, Colin — my secret superhero lair — my sanctum sanctorum. A place to train, to install top-secret crime-fighting equipment...to retreat when the burden of my great secret begins to weigh on me.

            (a beat; then, more casually:)

Besides, I can use a little more room. I've been sleeping in half a bunkbed all my life.

 

                        COLIN

I was going to ask about that.

 

                        ERIC

My parents were planning to have a second child, but they didn't get around to it. My father just never had time.

 

COLIN makes a slightly quizzical face at this revelation.

 

                        ERIC (Cont.)

Anyway, I have you to thank for the idea, Colin. And to show my appreciation...

            (a thoughtful pause)

No. I won't tell you 'til it's ready. But trust me — you will be repaid beyond your wildest dreams. I'm going to change your life.

 

ERIC beams with self-satisfaction. COLIN smiles nervously.

 

                        COLIN

Y'know, Eric, when a man who's won eight million pounds says something like that, the other person should feel more comfortable than I feel right now...

 

We CUT TO:

EXT. — ERIC'S HOUSE, FRONT PORCH — NEXT MORNING

MUM, HELEN and ERIC finish loading suitcases in HELEN's car.

 

                        ERIC

Have a good time, ladies. Send me a postcard.

                       

                        MUM

I will, dear.

            (suddenly realizing)

I've never posted anything to here before. I'd better write down the address.

 

                        HELEN

            (starting engine)

I'm going to take your mum to see Izzy Oliver at the Palais. He's such a scream! He does this one act with hamsters and airhoses...God, I almost wet meself.

            (shakes her head in fond memory)

But he's a bit blue, Mo. You're going to be shocked!

 

                        MUM

I certainly hope so.

 

They begin to pull away. MUM frantically rolls down car window.

 

                        MUM (Cont.)

Eric! Windows...!

 

ERIC waves and smiles. As their car disappears, a panel truck pulls into the driveway in its place. Its sign reads: "BATCHER BROS. — 'We Slave — U Save!'"

 

A short, dumpy MAN (NED) and short dumpy WOMAN (FRIEDA), both dressed in grimy coveralls and billed caps, get out and approach ERIC.

 

                        NED

You Mister Worby? We're the Batcher Brothers — I'm Ned, this's Frieda.

                        ERIC

            (to FRIEDA)

But...you're a woman — aren't you?

 

                        FRIEDA

Thanks for noticing.

 

                        NED

Well, "Batcher Brother and Sister"? Doesn't sound right, does it?

 

                        FRIEDA

Or at least that's what he always says. Easier to humour him.

 

                        NED

So, we're getting started on your...

            (pulls out plans, squints)

"Crime-fighting lair". You're sure about that? We could do you a pool, you know. Or a nice gazebo.

 

                        FRIEDA

A gazebo's lovely in the summertime. Can't sit in a crime-fighting lair sharing a cool drink with your mates, can you?

 

                        NED

Unless there's a wet bar. We're good with those, too. Your mates would be dead impressed.

 

                        ERIC

I don't want to share this with my mates. This is secret, remember? You agreed to secrecy when I accepted your bid.

 

                        NED

Oh, secret, definitely. We even added on a secrecy charge, just as a, wotzit, earnest of good intentions — didn't we, Frieda?

 

                       

                        FRIEDA

Pay your bill on time, our lips are sealed.

 

                        NED

Well, then. Are we tearing down the house, or have you got that taken care of?

 

                        ERIC

I don't want the house torn down. This is supposed to go under the house. Underground. An underground crime-fighting lair.

                        NED

Oh, right. Did we get the charge for underground work in there, Frieda?

 

                        FRIEDA

One of us did.

            (to ERIC)

Helpless as a child, he is. Shouldn't be allowed out on his own.

 

                        NED

Right then. Let's get to work.

 

They saunter past ERIC into the house, tracking mud. NED begins tapping walls authoritatively. ERIC watches with some unease as we DISSOLVE TO:

 

EXT. — ERIC'S HOUSE, FRONT GARDEN — AFTERNOON, EIGHT HOURS LATER

The garden is hideously dug up, with holes and piles of soil everywhere. NED and FRIEDA are deep in one of them as COLIN walks up the path in his work clothes. ERIC is sitting on the porch surrounded by an immense pile of building materials.

 

                        COLIN

            (looking around)

How's it going?

 

                        ERIC

            (defensively)

Fine, fine.

                        COLIN

Hmmm. Well, missed you at work today.

 

                        ERIC

I'll be back in on Monday. I just thought I should...supervise.

 

                        NED

            (popping up)

I think we've stumbled on an ancient wotzit burial site, Mister Worby. Celtic, innit? We'll have to get the Interior Ministry in on this.

 

                        FRIEDA

It's just a rock, Ned.

 

                        NED

Oh?

            (a beat; then, to ERIC:)

No worries, we got it sorted!

 

COLIN has been watching this, but now sees SCREEL on sidewalk, interviewing two female OAPs. SCREEL is looking tired.

 

ANGLE ON: SCREEL AND OAPS

Over his shoulder, we see ERIC's garden, full of holes.

 

                        OAP 1

...And he always seemed like such a nice, quiet boy. I had no idea this would turn out to be a House of Horrors.

 

                        OAP 2

It's not that bad. They've ruined the geraniums, though.

 

                        OAP 1

It's shocking to think they could have found all those bodies — and on our street!

 

                        OAP 2

There aren't any bodies, Dorothy. I told you — they're just building an extension.

 

                        OAP 1

Oh.

            (a beat)

Well, who would ever dream that such a nice, quiet young man would do that to the geraniums...?

 

COLIN approaches SCREEL. ERIC argues fruitlessly with BATCHER BROS in the background.

 

                        COLIN

Well, well. Mister Screel.

 

                        SCREEL

            (turning from OAPs)

Ah, you again. This fellow Worby's a friend of yours? All this expensive work. He seems to have experienced a...sudden windfall.

 

                        COLIN

Are you still on about that jackpot? Get a life, pal. Can't a person build a...a...

            (he worriedly realizes; calling:)

Eric? This tabloid reporter wants to know what innocent thing you're building here.

 

ERIC and BATCHER BROS answer almost simultaneously:

 

                        ERIC

Nothing!

 

                        NED

A pool!

 

                        FRIEDA

A gazebo!

 

                        COLIN

There you go. Perfectly innocent. Now why don't you go chase an ambulance or something? This is private property.

 

COLIN stalks away, back up the path.

 

                        SCREEL

            (calling after; a bit ragged)

I'm not asking for much! There's money in it! Give Fleet Street a chance to help!

 

                        COLIN

            (to ERIC)

That reporter's interested in you now, Eric. That's not good. He's trying real hard to find out who won the jackpot...

 

ERIC's attention is distracted as NED scrambles hurriedly out of the hole (where Frieda remains), very alarmed.

 

                        NED

Gas leak! Gas leak! Evacuate the area!

 

                        FRIEDA

You stepped on your butane lighter, you big ninny.

 

                        NED

            (after a beat)

It's under control, Mister Worby. Don't you worry.

 

He retreats to the hole. ERIC and COLIN watch, ERIC with an expression of growing doom.

 

                        ERIC

I have to keep an important appointment, Colin. Keep an eye on them, will you — I need to slip out quietly.

 

                        FRIEDA

            (calling to ERIC)

Are you sure you wouldn't be happier with a gazebo?

 

We CUT TO:

INT. — SIDCUP POLICE STATION — DAY, ONE HALF-HOUR LATER

ERIC — dressed as THE CLOAK and carrying a huge ELECTRIC TORCH wound with duct tape — is being escorted out of a back office by an Asian POLICE WOMAN.

 

                        POLICE WOMAN

            (gently but firmly)

...We appreciate your civic spirit, Mister...Cloak, was it?  But we simply don't feel that installing your Cloak Signal is in our best interests.

 

                        ERIC

But it's easy to use! Look!

 

He turns on the flashlight, which has been masked so it projects a ragged letter "C". The POLICE WOMAN winces as she gets it full in the eyes. ERIC at last finds a wall.

 

                        ERIC

"C" for "Cloak"! You'd just need to shine it on a building or something. I'd be there in moments — well, longer if I was already in bed or something — to help you protect Sidcup from crime!

 

                        POLICE WOMAN

It's a...generous offer. We'll let you know if we change our minds. Perhaps you should talk to your family GP or some other responsible medical person about this?

 

                        ERIC

            (confused)

But doctors don't fight crime.

 

We CUT TO:

EXT. — FRONT OF POLICE STATION — DAY, MINUTES LATER        ERIC is walking dejectedly out the door. Nearby, BENNY is spray-painting graffiti on the police station wall — "POLEES R WAKERS" in large scrawling letters. ERIC sees him.

 

                        ERIC

Hey! What are you doing?

 

                        BENNY

            (looking up)

Wrestler man. What's up?

 

                        ERIC

I am not a wrestler. I'm a superhero. Why are you writing on the police station wall?

                       

                        BENNY

            (shrugs)

It's a territory thing.

 

ERIC takes the spray can from him.

 

                        ERIC

I'm disappointed in you, son. I thought we had you reformed...

            (he stares at graffiti)

What does this mean? "Wakers?" Is it supposed to be "walkers"? That's nothing to criticise them for — the Bobby treading his Beat is a grand English tradition...

 

BENNY has gone wide-eyed, looking over ERIC's shoulder. While ERIC is still babbling, BENNY turns and bolts. ERIC realizes the boy has gone, turns to look for him, and discovers the POLICE WOMAN standing in the doorway, staring at ERIC and the spray-paint. ERIC stares back, then at the can, slowly realizing, as we CUT TO:

 

EXT. — HIGH STREET — ONE HOUR LATER

COLIN and ERIC are walking down the street, ERIC still in his CLOAK costume and looks very dejected.

 

                        ERIC

I appreciate you bailing me out, Colin. It's very embarrassing.

 

                        COLIN

I know you're good for it, man. Listen, I need to...

 

                        ERIC

That boy is just pleading for some moral guidance. From what I know, he has a bad home situation...mother dying, family starving, and who knows what kind of peer pressure on him to smoke cigarettes and tell off-color jokes. But there's good under it all.

                       

                        COLIN

I'm sure. Listen, that reporter is...

 

ERIC is patting his costume pockets, looking for something, paying very little attention.

 

                        ERIC

Drat! I've lost my Cloak Signal. I must have left it at the police station. Well, it was only a prototype.

            (stops to consider)

Maybe that was why they turned me down — not large enough.

            (dreaming now)

Maybe I need something with real candlepower...something on wheels...

            (he finds what he was searching for)

Ah, there they are. Excuse me a moment.

 

He suddenly veers aside and steps into a phone box.

 

                        COLIN

I can't talk to you if you're going to keep taking off your clothes all the time.

 

                        ERIC

            (from inside phone box)

I'm not taking off my clothes, Colin. But this does make me nostalgic for my beginnings as a crime fighter. I remember that night so well...

 

                        COLIN

Yeah, way back...when was it? Six days ago?

            (as ERIC emerges)

What were you doing in there?

 

                        ERIC

            (handing cards to COLIN)

Putting these up. I've decided that if I'm going to turn the tide against evil, I have to take a modern approach.

 

                        COLIN

            (reading aloud)

"Give crime a bad time. Call The Cloak at..." Oh, man, is that your number?

 

                        ERIC

It's for the phone I'm having installed in my crime-fighting lair. With "call waiting", so no crime will go unpunished. I ordered an answering machine, too, in case I'm eating dinner. And wait 'til you see the posters I'm having made...

 

                        COLIN

Eric, I've been trying to talk to you, but you're not listening. That reporter I've been telling you about? He's really interested in you. He thinks you're the mystery lottery winner, and he's waving money around trying to get people to grass on you.

 

                        ERIC

            (unconcerned)

No one knows I won except you, Colin, and I know you'd never tell.

 

                        COLIN

Half of Sidcup knows, man! You can't just deposit eight million pounds in a local bank and not have anyone talk about it!

 

                        ERIC

            (thoughtful)

You may be right — perhaps I should have spread it around a few different places. I just wanted to be sure of getting that free toaster. Mum has a bit of a problem with toast...

 

                        COLIN

Stop! Listen to me! If that man Screel decides to go with the story, your life is going to be a living hell. You'll be in every paper in the country. You'll have people camped on your doorstep and every scrounger in the world following you around.

            (a beat)

You gotta keep a low profile, man, at least until the next lottery draw tomorrow night. After that, they'll be after someone else. Hear me? Just don't do anything stupid in the next 24 hours.

 

ERIC, meanwhile, is slipping his cards under windshields of parked cars. COLIN sighs.

 

                        COLIN (Cont.)

What are you gonna do with all that money?

 

                        ERIC

            (serenely)

Make the world a better place to live in, Colin. Trust me.

 

We CUT TO:

INT. — ERIC'S BEDROOM — NIGHT

ERIC is sleeping in his bunkbed, tossing and turning. A FIGURE is standing at the base of the ladder. ERIC's eyes open and widen. The figure is TRIUMPHANT MAN.

                        ERIC

Triumphant Man!

 

                        T-MAN

Hello, Eddy.

 

                        ERIC

Eric. What are you doing here?

 

                        T-MAN

I think I'm a manifestation of your inner conflicts. Either that or I was flying past on my way to battle The Sinister Scorpion and I saw your light on. How are you doing?

 

                        ERIC

            (sitting up)

I've been better. This superhero thing is more difficult than it looks.

 

                        T-MAN

Not for me.

 

                        ERIC

Well, that's because you're different — a pro. I mean, just for instance, I've got this reporter following me around and I need to get rid of him. What would you do?

 

                        T-MAN

Well, you could try giving him a signal brooch. My girlfriend Mary Maidenhead is a reporter, and I gave her a signal brooch. She just loves that thing, buzzes me all the time. Kidnapped by criminals? Buzz, buzz. Attacked by monsters? Buzz, buzz. Stuck in traffic? Buzz.

            (a beat)

Actually, I'm getting kind of sick of it.

 

                        ERIC

I don't think a signal brooch would quite do the trick...

                        T-MAN

Have you tried pulling his face off?

 

                        ERIC

Huh?