🎬 PART 2 — OPENING SCENE
[INT. JOKER'S ABANDONED HIDEOUT – NIGHT]
A cold silence. Dust in the air. Guns on the table. Men playing cards, drinking, laughing like idiots.
MAX sits with his legs up, flipping a knife, acting like he owns the place.
STEVE leans on a wall, calm but alert.
The door creaks.
Not loud.
Not dramatic.
Just enough to make every head SNAP toward it.
Quinnzel steps inside.
No voice.
No smirk.
Just that flat, dead expression that screams:
"I dare someone to breathe wrong."
She's in a black long top tank , black jeans, boots hitting the floor like gunshots.
Her hair hangs messy around her face—
a shadow under her eyes giving her the exact look of a psychopath who didn't come to talk.
She came to own the room.
Her aura?
Colder than Gotham's winter.
The whole crew goes silent.
Even the loud ones.
Then—
BANG.
She slams the door shut behind her.
The sound hits like a bullet.
Everyone freezes.
A low, cruel chuckle leaks from her throat.
QUINNZEL🖤🩸🔥
"Poor souls… lookin' like cheap dogs waiting for their owner to throw scraps.
What a shame."
Not a single person moves.
She walks toward the center table like she owns the oxygen in the room—
sits on the edge of it, relaxed, deadly calm.
Max sits across from her.
Speechless.
He leans back, trying to hide the shake in his voice with fake ego.
MAX
"So what brings the princess here, huh?
Got lost on your way to the salon?"
Quinnzel smirks.
Then drops the dagger:
QUINNZEL🩸🖤🔥
"Funny.
You always look like that, Max—
throwin' your dorky little jokes around."
She leans forward, lowering her voice—
"Don't forget I can slap you in front of your whole crew
and put you under my heels… master."
The crew explodes:
"OOOOOOOOH—!!"
Max's eyes widen.
He's never seen this Quinnzel.
She scans the room, cold and mocking.
QUINNZEL🩸🖤🔥
"Tell me…
did your chicken Romy feed you well?
Take care of your weak, dead bodies?
Hm?"
She tilts her head.
"No.
You need someone who chooses power over money.
Someone who will soon own Gotham—
and every soul in it."
She taps her chest.
"Someone like…
me."
Silence.
Then the room erupts with laughter.
Ugly, hysterical, stupid laughter.
Max stands, laughing so hard he nearly chokes.
MAX
"You— YOU?? Our boss?! HAHAAHAHA—"
STEVE😎
"WHAT KIND OF SICK JOKE IS THIS?!"
Another idiot wheezes:
CREW MEMBER
"Look at her! I was scared to say hi— she cries like a bab—"
BANG.
He drops dead.
BANG. BANG.
Two more fall.
Three bodies hit the floor before anyone understands what happened.
Silence.
The heaviest silence of their lives.
Max stares at her—
And for the first time ever?
He's scared.
Quinnzel steps to him.
Presses the gun to his forehead.
Her voice is raw, deadly, ice-cold:
QUINNZEL🩸🖤🔥
"And how about now, bitch?
Is this enough…
or do you want more?"
No one blinks.
No breath.
No sound.
She lowers the gun.
QUINNZEL🩸🖤🔥
"My deal is simple.
I'm not asking you to work for me mother f***s"
She leans in.
"I'm telling you…"
Pause.
Smile.
"…that I'm your boss now."
She steps over a corpse like it's trash.
QUINNZEL🩸🖤🔥
"One of you idiots will say, 'But we already have a boss.'"
She glances toward the door.
"No.
Not anymore."
Her voice gets lower.
More dangerous.
"He holds expensive guns.
But inside?
He's a trembling little dog."
She motions to the men—
"Look at yourselves.
I walked in,
took three souls in one second,
stood in the middle of you—
and you froze like pins."
She smirks.
"And you call yourselves assassins?
Cute bedtime story."
She turns away, tossing her gun onto the table in front of Max.
QUINNZEL🩸🖤🔥
"I don't want your answer now."
Walking toward the door—
"At 1 AM tomorrow …
Ace Chemicals…"
She turns her head, smirk slicing across her face.
"Think about it."
Giving one last teasing smirk from her shoulder to max .....
She exits.
Door shuts.
Silence.
The moment she leaves—
everyone lets out the breath they didn't know they were holding.
Steve speaks first, voice shaking.
STEVE😎
"Can someone… slap me?
Tell me this shit ain't real?!"
Max stares at the door.
His voice is shaking too.
MAX
"…It's real.
But she ain't walkin' out of this alive."
The crew nods grimly.
_________
[INT. JOKER'S BAR – PRIVATE OFFICE – NIGHT]
Neon lights flicker. Smoke floats in the air.
JOKER lounges lazily on his velvet chair, swirling whiskey.
ROMAN SIONIS sits across from him, laughing smugly.
Roman (boasting, tipsy)💰💵💎
You should've seen her, J. I mean—burying her was… messy, yeah—but cute, really.
She woke up still alive, running around like a confused puppy.
Hhhh. Pathetic girl. She can't do anything. She's nothing.
Joker stops swirling his drink.
His eyes freeze.
Face goes blank.
A sudden silence drops like a knife.
Roman raises a brow, confused.
Joker slowly stands up.
Joker (quiet, deadly) Come with me.
Roman chokes on his wine—literally almost spits it out.
Roman 💰💵💎
W–what?? Where?
Joker doesn't answer.
He snaps his fingers.
Two guards appear immediately and begin opening doors.
One door.
Another.
Another.
Each hallway gets darker.
Colder.
Quieter.
Roman starts sweating.
Finally—they reach the LAST door.
A heavy metal one.
The CHEMICAL ROOM door.
(Yes—the same one Harley jumped into in Suicide Squad.)
Joker steps inside first.
It's pitch black.
He lifts one hand—
A signal.
A faint dim light switches on above.
Roman's face changes instantly.
His soul LEAVES his body.
Because hanging from the ceiling…
ARE HUNDREDS OF DEAD BODIES.
Upside down.
Swinging softly.
Blood dripping, echoing like water on stone.
Horror-silent.
Nightmarishly real.
Roman drops his glasses.
His hands shake uncontrollably.
Roman (shaking, voice breaking)💰💵💎 W–who…
Who did… this?
Joker steps beside him.
Face expressionless.
Then he smirks—
slow, evil, amused.
Joker (whispering in his ear)🤡🃏🟢
You wanna know who did this?
Roman can't speak.
He nods weakly.
Joker grins wider.
Joker 🤡🃏🟢
This…
is the monster you just summoned, Roman.
He steps closer to the bodies—
Joker🤡🃏🟢
The same woman you buried alive.
The little "cute" girl you thought was harmless.
He turns to Roman.
Joker🤡🃏🟢
Quinnzel.
Roman REACTS like lightning hit his spine.
Roman (quivering) 💎💵💰
N–no…
No, that's impossible…
She—she can't—
Joker (interrupts, sharp) 🤡🃏🟢
Oh, she can.
Joker's voice goes cold enough to freeze blood.
Joker 🤡🃏🟢
And she's not done.
Suddenly—
A CREAK.
Both men whip their heads toward the darkness.
A shadow moves.
Heel steps echo.
Slow.
Deadly.
Like a corpse walking.
Then—
QUINNZEL APPEARS.
Not planned.
Not invited.
Not expected.
Her face half-lit, half-shadow.
Blood splattered on her cheek.
Eyes empty.
Breathing slow.
She looks like DEATH wearing lipstick.
Roman collapses backward, scrambling on the floor.
Joker LAUGHS softly, delighted like a child watching fireworks.
Quinnzel steps forward—
Just one step—
And the whole room seems to inhale at once.
The heavy metal door creaks open again.
But this time…
the air changes.
Heels click against the concrete floor—
slow, confident, deadly.
A silhouette steps out from the darkness.
She is not the muddy, broken girl Roman buried.
She is not the trembling angel Harley described.
She is reborn.
QUINNZEL
Wrapped in a long black mafia coat that sways like a shadow.
Black razor-sharp eyeliner.
Hair slicked, elegant, dangerous.
Black shades resting low on her nose.
Heels hitting the floor like gunshots.
She stops in front of them—
Roman on the ground, Joker smirking like a proud devil.
Quinnzel tilts her head, lips curling into a deadly smirk.
QUINNZEL🩸🖤🔥
Greetings, my dear friends.
Long time… no see.
Roman tries to stand but his knees REFUSE.
He looks like a puppet with broken strings.
Quinnzel studies him—
slow… amused… cruel.
Then she takes off her shades, sliding them down her nose with two fingers.
Her eyes—
cold as a grave.
Sharp as broken glass.
She LAUGHS.
A loud, hysterical, evil laugh that echoes around the room.
QUINNZEL🔥🩸🖤
Hahahahaha!
Oh, Roman…
Why do you look like the cat swallowed your tongue?
She bends a little, tapping her heel on the ground beside his shaking hand.
QUINNZEL🩸🖤🔥
What?
No hello?
No "welcome back from the dead, darling"?
She straightens again—
flips her shades in her hand.
Turns her gaze to Joker with a knowing smirk.
QUINNZEL🩸🖤🔥
Ah…
So you showed him my dead dolls, Master?
Joker grins wickedly, proud like a teacher watching his favorite student destroy the whole class.
QUINNZEL🩸🖤🔥
(whispers, ice-cold)
I hope you liked my collection…
I worked sooo hard on it.
Roman's lip trembles.
He doesn't dare look up—
but he does.
And the moment his eyes meet hers—
he realizes:
The girl he buried is gone.
The woman standing here?
Is his nightmare.
Quinnzel turns and starts walking toward the door she came from, her back to them now.
Hands slip into the pockets of her long black coat.
A slow, cruel smirk curves on her lips.
She speaks without turning around.
QUINNZEL🩸🖤🔥
All those years…
trying to find peace in my life…
only to realize I was trapped between two drunk idiots—
one drowning in dollars,
the other drowning in madness.
She stops.
Slowly turns back toward them.
Her eyes are cold.
Satisfied.
JOKER🤡🃏🟢
(voice sharp, offended, ego wounded)
After everything I did—
this is my fault now?
Did you forget who pulled you out of your misery?
Who taught you how to walk again?
Quinnzel chuckles softly.
Not impressed.
Not afraid.
QUINNZEL🩸🖤🔥
Oh don't flatter yourself, Master.
Has no one ever told you…
the student always outgrows the teacher?
She steps closer, eyes locked on him.
QUINNZEL🩸🖤🔥
And I really thought Harley was exaggerating
when she said you were the smartest psycho in Arkham.
Guess she was being generous.
Joker's smile twitches.
Just a flicker—but his jaw tightens.
Harley's name lands harder than a blade.
ROMAN💰💵💎
(voice shaking, sharp, furious)
WHY ARE YOU HERE, QUINNZEL?!
His eyes lock on her—wide, panicked—
as if his mind refuses to accept that this is the same woman
he used to wake up beside every morning.
Quinnzel doesn't answer right away.
She walks along the banister instead, fingertips gliding over it, slow… casual… deliberate.
Like she owns the room.
She stops. Turns.
A smile—confident. Controlled. Dangerous.
QUINNZEL🩸🖤🔥
I came to answer the question you asked
the night you left me.
She lifts her hands slightly, palms open, proud.
QUINNZEL🩸🖤🔥
"You're alive?"
She tilts her head.
🩸🖤🔥QUINNZEL
Well—
I am.
Alive. Breathing.
Her voice drops. Smooth. Cold.
QUINNZEL🩸🖤🔥
And just because I stayed silent…
because I opened the door and let you walk out…
doesn't mean I let you go.
She steps closer.
QUINNZEL🩸🖤🔥
I'm going to live in your dreams, Roman.
Every night.
Killing you.
Burning what's left—
with my own hands.
Roman's knees almost give.
Fear crawls up his spine.
QUINNZEL🩸🖤🔥(calm. icy.)
I'll make you suffer.
Gasping. Begging.
A slow, wicked smile.
QUINNZEL🩸🖤🔥
…but not before I take what's mine.
The door behind Joker and Roman opens.
They turn sharply.
The guards stand there—but something's wrong. Scratches slash across their faces.
Dark blue bruises stain shoulders, ribs, legs. Like they fought hell… and barely crawled out. Yet they stand perfectly balanced.
Guns in hand.
Not looking at Joker.
Not looking at Roman.
Only Quinnzel.
ROMAN💰💵💎
(snapping, desperate)
Thank God!
Shoot her!
Kill that damn woman—NOW!
Nothing.
No salute.
No "Yes, boss."
Not even a glance.
Silence.
The men move—side by side—perfectly in sync.
Boots echo as they walk past Roman. Past Joker. Toward Quinnzel.
She smirks.
A quiet chuckle slips out.
She already knows.
She knows exactly why they're bruised.
Why they're bleeding.
They stop in front of her.
Then—
Weapons clatter to the floor at her feet.
Pistols. Rifles. Dropped. Surrendered.
And one by one—
They kneel.
The room freezes.
Roman's jaw drops.
Joker's eyebrows lift slowly, disbelief flickering across his face.
Who makes killers kneel?
What kind of monster breaks monsters like this?
Only one.
Quinnzel doesn't move.
She just looks down at them—
queenly. Untouchable.
Blood, silence, power.
Roman doesn't breathe.
His mouth opens, but no sound comes out.
His eyes flick between the kneeling men… and Quinnzel.
ROMAN💰💵💎
(hoarse. cracking.)
What…
what did you do to them…?
His confidence collapses in real time.
The king of Gotham suddenly looks very, very small.
He takes a step back.
ROMAN💰💵💎
You were supposed to be mine…
Joker, on the other hand—
He smiles.
Not wide.
Not playful.
Interested.
Slow applause. One. Two. Three claps.
JOKER🤡🃏🟢
Well…
that's new.
He tilts his head, eyes glittering.
JOKER🤡🃏🟢
Harley always did have…
terrible taste in men.
His gaze locks on Quinnzel.
JOKER🤡🃏🟢
But you?(A grin curls)
JOKER🤡🃏🟢
Oh, sweetheart—
you didn't survive.
You evolved.
Heavy boots hit the floor.
Once.
Twice.
Slow. Deliberate.
Every head turns toward the door.
Even the men who knelt rise smoothly and step behind Quinnzel—
not afraid.
Not confused.
Guarding.
A shadow stretches across the floor before the man appears.
Black figure. Broad shoulders. Dust clinging to muscle and skin.
Blood streaking from a cut near his temple.
Max.
Less broken than the others.
Still standing.
Still breathing.
Roman exhales like he's drowning.
ROMAN💰💵💎
Max—Max, for God's sake—
don't tell me you've lost your mind too.
Finish her. I'll pay you ten times—ten times what you already took!
Max doesn't even blink.
His eyes never leave Quinnzel.
Not Roman.
Not Joker.
Just her.
Quinnzel's lips curve wider.
Not impressed.
Not surprised.
That smile says everything:
This isn't a choice. It's a verdict.
Max steps forward.
Roman flinches when Max stops in front of him—
receives a slow, disgusted glance—
then Max walks past him like he's nothing.
He stops before Quinnzel
And kneels.
The room breaks.
Max takes her hand.
Kisses it—deep, reverent.
Quinnzel lifts her chin slightly, eyebrows arching, smirk untouched.
She allows it.
Max stands, face hard, jaw tight—fear flickering beneath control.
He moves to her side, joining the others.
Roman can't speak.
Joker doesn't smile anymore.
Quinnzel finally looks at them.
Really looks.
And in that moment—
the king of Gotham
and the monster beside him
have never looked so small.
ROMAN💰💵💎
W–what the hell does that mean?!
Quinnzel's smile doesn't fade.
It sharpens.
QUINNZEL🩸🖤🔥
It means…
you're both finished to me.
She snaps her fingers.
CLICK.
Steel curtains slam down.
Windows seal shut.
Fire races along the walls—alive, hungry—turning the room into a furnace.
QUINNZEL🩸🖤🔥
But don't worry.
I'll let you live.
She tilts her head, amused!
QUINNZEL (CONT'D)🩸🖤🔥
Living's worse.
You'll wake up every day knowing I could end you…
and chose not to.
Above them—
CLICK. CLICK.
Guns drop into view, barrels aimed straight at their heads.
Roman lets out a strangled noise and instinctively clings to Joker, shaking.
Joker raises his hands slowly—eyes wide, thrilled, terrified.
QUINNZEL🩸🖤🔥
Boys—
take these expired threats out of my sight.
She leans in, voice sweet… dangerous.
QUINNZEL (CONT'D)🩸🖤🔥
Before I decide they'd look cute in my dead collection.
[EXT. ACE CHEMICALS – NIGHT]
The doors explode open.
Roman and Joker are thrown out like trash—skidding across concrete.
The doors remain open just long enough for Quinnzel to step into the light.
She waves.
QUINNZEL🩸🖤🔥
Bye-bye, puddins.
See ya around.
She laughs—loud, wild, victorious.
The doors slam shut.
Roman groans, crawling on the ground, desperately feeling around.
ROMAN💰💵💎
My—my glasses—!
Joker?
He's laughing.
Hard.
Uncontrolled.
Like he just witnessed the most beautiful nightmare of his life.
[INT. ACE CHEMICALS – CONTINUOUS]
Quinnzel stands at the edge, looking down at the chemicals below.
Fire reflects in her eyes.
QUINNZEL🩸🖤🔥
This place needs to feel more like hell.
She turns to her men.
QUINNZEL (CONT'D)🩸🖤🔥
More fire.
More guns.
Make it untouchable.
Her laughter echoes through the factory.
The lights dim.
[SCREEN : FADE TO BLACK.]
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