INT. GOTHAM CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT – WAR ROOM – NIGHT
Fluorescent lights buzz overhead.
A big messy room. Coffee cups everywhere. Empty donut boxes.
A screen on the wall shows crime scene photos — blood, fire, bodies.
Detectives talk over each other.
Everyone's tired. Everyone's annoyed.
At the center of it all stands Renee Montoya,
arms crossed, jaw tight.
A YOUNG COP clicks through photos on the screen.
YOUNG COP👮♂️🚔
Okay—so this happened last night.
Warehouse on 9th and Kane. No survivors. No witnesses.
Another COP scoffs.
COP #1🚔👮♂️
Another gang hit. Same crap, different night.
Renee snaps her head toward him.
RENEE🚔👮♀️
No.
This wasn't a gang hit.
She points at the screen.
RENEE (CONT'D)🚔👮♀️
This was planned.
Timed. Clean. Personal.
The room quiets a little.
Another detective, older, sarcastic, leans back in his chair.
COP #2👮♂️🚔
You saying this is Harley Quinn again?
A few cops roll their eyes.
COP #3👮♂️🚔
Please. Harley's loud.
Explosions, glitter, screaming, stupid costumes.
Renee doesn't smile.
RENEE🚔👮♀️
And that's exactly why this isn't her.
She taps the table.
RENEE (CONT'D)🚔👮♀️
Harley wants attention.
This?
This wanted control.
Silence.
The young cop switches slides.
A new photo appears.
A burned symbol. A signature.
YOUNG COP👮♂️🚔
There's more.
This symbol showed up at three other scenes this month.
COP #1👮♂️🚔
So what, now she's got a partner?
Renee exhales slowly.
RENEE🚔👮♀️
Not a partner.
She looks at the screen like it might bite her.
RENEE (CONT'D)🚔👮♀️
A new player.
Another cop laughs.
COP #2👮♂️🚔
C'mon, Montoya.
You're telling me some new psycho walks into Gotham
and suddenly takes down crews Roman Sionis couldn't touch?
Renee steps closer to him.
RENEE🚔👮♀️
I'm telling you...
Roman Sionis didn't touch them because they weren't his.
The room shifts. Uneasy.
COP #3👮♂️🚔
So who the hell is she?
Renee hesitates.
Just a second.
Then—
RENEE🚔👮♀️
Her name's Quinnzel.
Some cops blink.
COP #1👮♂️🚔
Quinnzel... like—
(wait, confused)
Like Harley?
Renee shakes her head.
RENEE🚔👮♀️
No.
Harley Quinn is chaos.
She points to the screen again.
RENEE (CONT'D)🚔👮♀️
This woman?
She's intentional.
The room goes quiet again.
YOUNG COP👮♂️🚔
So... what are we saying here?
That she's untouchable?
Renee straightens.
RENEE👮♀️🚔
No.
She locks eyes with everyone.
RENEE (CONT'D)👮♀️🚔
I'm saying she's not easy.
But nobody in this city is impossible.
A beat.
COP #2👮♂️🚔
And if she comes after Roman Sionis?
Renee doesn't answer immediately.
She looks back at the photos.
Burned walls.
Bodies.
Fire.
RENEE👮♀️🚔
Then Gotham's about to get a lot louder.
The screen FLICKS OFF.
CUT TO BLACK.
INT. ROMAN SIONIS' PRIVATE OFFICE – NIGHT
Gold.
Glass.
Velvet.
The kind of office that smells like money and fear.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlook Gotham, glowing like it belongs to him.
A crystal decanter sits on the desk. Roman pours himself a drink — slow, dramatic.
Roman Sionis smirks at his reflection in the glass.
His phone rings.
UNKNOWN CALLER
Roman answers without checking.
ROMAN 💎💰
(smug)
You're calling late, Governor.
That means you either want something...
or you're already nervous.
A pause.
We hear the voice through the phone — calm, polished, fake-friendly.
GOTHAM GOVERNOR (V.O.)🕴
Let's just say I'm... curious.
I heard Gotham has a new jewel.
Roman smiles wider.
ROMAN💎💰
Oh, she's not a jewel.
She's a crown.
He walks toward the window, drink in hand.
ROMAN (CONT'D)💰💎
Five stars. Gold imported from three countries.
Security tighter than Arkham on lockdown.
He chuckles.
ROMAN💎💰
And every single room booked by people
who'd rather die than stay poor.
The Governor hums, impressed.
GOTHAM GOVERNOR (V.O.)🕴
I'd like a tour.
In person.
Roman raises a brow.
ROMAN💎💰
Careful, Governor.
People start talking when you show interest in my toys.
A beat.
GOTHAM GOVERNOR (V.O.)🕴
Tomorrow night.
I want to see it shine.
Roman's smile turns sharp.
ROMAN💎💰
Tomorrow night it is.
He lowers his voice, silky and dangerous.
ROMAN (CONT'D)💎💰
I'll make sure Gotham behaves.
The call ends.
Roman exhales slowly, satisfied.
He takes a sip of his drink.
Then—
ROMAN💎💰
Zsasz.
From the shadows, a figure steps forward.
Scars.
Smile.
Eyes that enjoy pain way too much.
Victor Zsasz
ZSASZ 🔪
You called, boss?
Roman turns, annoyed already.
ROMAN💎💰
Why do you always stand like that?
You look like a homeless ghost.
Zsasz grins wider.
ZSASZ🔪
Keeps people uncomfortable.
Roman rolls his eyes.
ROMAN💎💰
I've got a very important guest tomorrow.
Very rich. Very powerful.
And very annoying.
He gestures at himself.
ROMAN (CONT'D)💎💰
Which means I need to look perfect.
Zsasz tilts his head.
ZSASZ🔪
So... murder or fashion?
Roman glares.
ROMAN💎💰
Suit, you idiot.
He walks to his closet, opening it — rows of luxury suits.
ROMAN (CONT'D)💎💰
Get me the white one.
The expensive one.
Zsasz nods.
ZSASZ🔪
The rich bitch suit?
Roman points at him sharply.
ROMAN💎💰
Exactly.
The one that screams
"I own this city and your life is rented."
Zsasz chuckles softly.
ZSASZ🔪
Should I bring a weapon...
or just my smile?
Roman smirks, pouring another drink.
ROMAN💎💰
Bring both.
You never know who might want to ruin my night.
Zsasz steps back into the shadows.
ZSASZ🔪
As you wish, Mr. Sionis.
Roman turns back to the window, looking at Gotham.
His reflection stares back — confident, untouchable.
ROMAN💎💰
(low, pleased)
Tomorrow...
Gotham bows.
He raises his glass.
INT. GOLDEN CROWN HOTEL – NIGHT
Soft jazz music floats through the air.
Crystal chandeliers glow like stars trapped indoors.
Gold everywhere. Marble floors. Mirrors polished so clean they reflect lies.
The Golden Crown Hotel breathes luxury.
Guests move slowly, confidently —
people who never check prices.
Men in tailored suits laugh quietly, checking watches worth more than cars.
Women in silk dresses glide past, heels clicking like metronomes of power.
At the front desk—
A receptionist smiles professionally, fingers flying across the keyboard.
RECEPTIONIST
Welcome back, sir.
Your penthouse is ready.
The man nods, already on his phone.
MAN IN SUIT
(into phone)
No, no—Dubai can wait.
Gotham is hotter tonight.
Laughter.
Nearby, a group of men exchange envelopes.
No words. Just nods.
Old money. Dirty money. The kind that doesn't ask permission.
At the bar—
Whiskey pours.
Ice clinks.
A woman raises her glass.
WOMAN
To Gotham.
Where money buys silence.
Glasses clink.
In the lobby—
Security guards stand relaxed.
Too relaxed.
One checks his phone.
Another yawns.
Outside the hotel—
Traffic flows.
Cars stop at lights.
Pedestrians walk, unaware.
Everything is normal.
Too normal.
CUT TO: INT. HOTEL – UPPER FLOORS
Elevator doors slide open.
A man steps out, adjusting his tie.
He checks his reflection in the mirror.
Smiles.
Behind him, a cleaning cart rolls past.
No one notices the red light blinking beneath the cart.
[CUT TO: INT. HOTEL LOBBY -CONTINUOUS]
The jazz music swells slightly.
A bellboy laughs at a joke from a guest.
A child runs ahead of their parents, spinning once on the marble floor.
Time slows.
Then—
CLICK.
One sound.
Sharp.
Small.
Like a finger pressing a button.
BOOOOOOOOOM.
The world RIPS OPEN.
Fire erupts from the center of the hotel like a monster waking up hungry.
Glass explodes outward in a screaming wave.
The chandelier SHATTERS mid-air.
Walls fold.
Ceilings collapse.
Screams tear through the smoke.
Cars outside are FLUNG sideways like toys.
Windows on nearby buildings shatter instantly.
People are thrown through the air.
Fire.
Steel.
Glass.
Blood.
The jazz music cuts off violently — replaced by chaos.
[EXT. GOLDEN CROWN HOTEL – NIGHT]
A massive fireball devours the building.
The shockwave knocks people off their feet blocks away.
Cars crash into each other.
Sirens begin screaming in the distance.
People run — some on fire.
Some bleeding.
Some frozen in horror.
A woman crawls across the street, screaming for help.
A man pulls another from beneath debris — too late.
The hotel burns.
Not collapses.
Burns.
Like it was meant to die this way.
[WIDE SHOT]:
Gotham's skyline reflects the flames.
This is not an accident.
Not a gas leak.
Not a mistake.
This is a message.
The biggest explosion Gotham has ever seen.
And somewhere above it all—
Someone is watching.
[EXT. ROMAN SIONIS' CLUB / OFFICE – NIGHT]
Gold lights. Velvet ropes. Bass thumping through the pavement.
Roman Sionis' private club glows like a jewel in the dark.
Outside the entrance—
ROMAN SIONIS sits casually on a leather bench, legs crossed, dressed in an immaculate, expensive suit.
Gold rings. Watch shining. Hair perfect.
He checks his reflection in the dark window.
Smirks.
Two bodyguards stand nearby.
ZSASZ leans against a pillar, knife in hand, casually cleaning under his nails.
Roman exhales, annoyed.
ROMAN💎💰
Where the hell is my car?
I don't wait.
People wait for me.
Zsasz glances at his watch.
ZSASZ🔪
Traffic's messy tonight.
Something big goin' on downtown.
Roman rolls his eyes.
ROMAN💎💰
There's always something "big."
That's Gotham.
Relax.
His phone BUZZES.
He looks at the screen.
GOTHAM GOVERNOR.
Roman's smile widens instantly.
He answers, standing up straight.
ROMAN💎💰
(laughing, smooth)
Governor!
Hope you're enjoying the city.
The Governor's voice comes through calm... too calm.
GOVERNOR (PHONE)🕴
Roman...
I think you should do me a favor.
Roman adjusts his cufflinks.
ROMAN💎💰
Anything.
You wanna move the meeting earlier?
The hotel's a masterpiece, you'll—
A pause.
Then—
GOVERNOR (PHONE)🕴
No.
I want you to look behind you.
Roman frowns slightly.
ROMAN💎💰
Behind me?
He chuckles.
ROMAN💎💰
You know I don't like jokes.
Silence on the line.
Roman slowly turns his head.
HIS POV:
In the distance—
five... six streets away—
HELL.
A wall of fire rises into the sky.
Black smoke coils upward like a living thing.
The glow paints the city orange and red.
Buildings disappear behind flames.
The hotel.
His hotel.
Being eaten alive.
Roman's smile dies.
His breath catches.
ROMAN💎💰
...What.
The bass from the club feels far away now.
Muted. Drowning.
The Governor's voice returns, low and cold.
GOVERNOR (PHONE)🕴
That's your five-star dream, Roman.
Roman's hand starts to shake.
ROMAN💎💰
No—
No, no, no, no—
The fire ROARS louder, like it knows his name.
People scream in the distance.
Sirens begin to wail.
Roman's voice cracks.
ROMAN
That's impossible.
Security was perfect.
Perfect!
The Governor sighs.
GOVERNOR (PHONE)🕴
You made powerful enemies.
And one of them...
is very creative.
The call ENDS.
Roman lowers the phone slowly.
His face drains of color.
Zsasz straightens, finally serious.
ZSASZ🔪
Boss...?
Roman suddenly SPINS toward him.
ROMAN💎💰
WHERE IS MY DAMN CAR?!
His voice explodes, sharp and unhinged, ripping through the night.
ROMAN💎💰
GET IT HERE—
NOW!
MOVE!
Zsasz stiffens, immediately signaling the guards.
Roman takes a step forward—then another—his eyes locked on the fire swallowing the skyline.
His lips part.
Nothing comes out.
The glow reflects in his eyes, red and alive.
His hands start to shake.
Then—
he laughs.
Not loud.
Not confident.
A broken, breathless sound that doesn't even convince him.
ROMAN💎💰
(shaky laugh)
This... this is a joke.
He swallows hard.
ROMAN💎💰
Someone's tryin' to scare me.
His jaw tightens, teeth grinding.
ROMAN💎💰
(realizing)
Someone thinks they can touch my city.
His fists clench, knuckles whitening.
ROMAN💎💰
(low, unsettled)
No...
No, no, no...
A black car SCREECHES to a stop in front of him.
The door swings open.
Roman hesitates—just for a split second—then gets inside, still staring at the flames like they might blink first.
ROMAN💎💰
(quiet, shaken)
Find out who did this.
The car peels off.
Behind them—
Gotham burns.
And Roman Sionis has no idea
what kind of monster just reached for him.
EXT. ROOFTOP – NIGHT]
The city screams below.
Sirens overlap.
Glass rains down the streets.
Fire roars through the remains of the hotel, climbing higher and higher—
like Gotham itself is being devoured.
Above it all—
Silence.
A tall building nearby.
Wind cutting through the night.
And there she is.
Quinnzel stands at the very edge of the rooftop.
One finger rests on a small red button in her hand.
Not pressing it.
Just... touching it.
She wears a black tank top, simple—
almost insulting in how calm it looks against the chaos.
A colored vest drapes over her shoulders, catching the firelight—
reds, golds, shadows dancing across the fabric like living flames.
Her hair moves freely in the wind.
Wild. Untamed. Perfectly hers.
She watches the fire below like it's art.
And then—
She laughs.
Not loud at first.
A soft breath of amusement.
Then louder.
A rich, satisfied laugh that spills out of her chest,
echoing into the night like a confession Gotham wasn't ready to hear.
QUINNZEL🔥🖤🩸
(low, amused)
Hah...
She tilts her head, eyes glowing with reflected flames.
QUINNZEL🔥🖤🩸
Look at that...
Her thumb traces the edge of the button.
Not nervous.
Not rushed.
In control.
She leans forward slightly, resting her weight on one hip—
a woman posed like a queen surveying her kingdom.
The fire answers her presence.
It crackles louder.
Explodes brighter.
Her smile widens.
QUINNZEL🔥🖤🩸
(smooth, almost tender)
All that gold...
All that ego...
She exhales slowly.
QUINNZEL🔥🖤🩸
Burns just the same.
The wind lifts her vest, framing her like a dark angel carved out of smoke and heat.
She closes her eyes for half a second—
breathing it in.
Not fear.
Not regret.
Relief.
Then she opens them.
Sharp. Focused. Alive.
QUINNZEL🔥🖤🩸
This is what power feels like.
She finally presses the button.
CLICK.
Nothing explodes now.
Nothing dramatic.
Because the damage is already done.
She lowers her hand, firelight painting her face in gold and red.
A diva wrapped in darkness.
Feminine. Fearless. Untouchable.
EXT. GOTHAM STREET – NIGHT]
Sirens tear through the night.
Red. Blue. Red. Blue.
Police cars screech to a halt blocks away from the burning hotel—
too far to help,
too close to deny what just happened.
The fire is unreal.
A tower of flame twisting into the sky,
black smoke rolling like a storm cloud swallowing Gotham whole.
People scream.
Phones are raised.
Some cry.
Some run.
Some just stare.
Renee Montoya steps out of the first squad car.
She freezes.
Not because she's scared—
but because her brain can't process it yet.
RENEE MONTOYA👮♀️🚔
(flat, stunned)
...What the hell.
Behind her, cops spill out of cars, tripping over each other, shouting orders that don't matter.
COP #1👮♂️🚔
Is— is that the Sionis hotel?!
COP #2👮♂️🚔
Jesus Christ, that thing was five stars—
COP #3👮♂️🚔
How the hell did this even—
Renee lifts a hand.
RENEE MONTOYA👮♀️🚔
Enough.
Everybody shut up.
She stares at the inferno, jaw tight, eyes sharp.
RENEE MONTOYA👮♀️🚔
This wasn't an accident.
No one argues.
Because accidents don't look like this.
Suddenly—
A black luxury car pushes through the chaos, horn blaring, forcing cops to jump aside.
It stops hard.
The door flies open.
Roman Sionis steps out.
Perfect suit.
Perfect hair.
Perfect mask.
And then—
He looks up.
The fire reflects in his glasses.
For one second—
just one—
His face breaks.
Not anger.
Not rage.
Pure, raw disbelief.
ROMAN💎💰
(whispering)
...No.
He takes a step forward.
Then another.
Each step slower than the last.
The sound around him fades—
sirens muffled, voices distant.
All he can see is the hotel.
His hotel.
His symbol.
His power.
Gone.
The heat hits him.
The smell.
The noise.
And something inside him cracks.
His knees buckle.
Roman Sionis—
king of Gotham's underworld—
falls to his knees in the street.
A few cops exchange shocked looks.
RENEE MONTOYA👮♀️🚔
(low, to herself)
Well... damn.
Roman doesn't hear her.
He can't.
His hands tremble as they press against the pavement.
ROMAN💎💰
(shattered, breathless)
No... no, no, no—
Above them—
Far above—
On a nearby rooftop—
Quinnzel watches.
She leans casually against the edge, boots inches from nothing.
Her laughter spills out freely now—
rich, wild, unapologetic.
She tilts her head, amused by the sight below.
QUINNZEL🔥🖤🩸
(laughing)
Ohhh...and look at that.
She reaches down and picks up a whiskey bottle resting beside her.
Unscrews it.
Takes a long, slow drink.
Firelight dances in her eyes as she swallows.
She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, still laughing, breathless with joy.
QUINNZEL🔥🖤🩸
(to herself)
On your knees, Romy?
She looks down at him—
small, broken, surrounded by flashing lights and useless men.
Her smile sharpens.
She raises the bottle slightly—
a silent toast.
To the fire.
To the fall.
To the beginning.
She takes another drink.
The flames roar higher.
And for the first time—
Gotham doesn't look at Roman Sionis.
Gotham looks up.
[INT. HARLEY'S APARTMENT – NIGHT]
The TV is loud.
Too loud.
Some dumb, colorful show is playing—bright lights, fake laughs, stupid jokes.
Harley is sprawled on the couch upside down, legs over the armrest, eating cereal straight outta the box.
Cassandra sits on the floor, focused, judging the TV like it personally offended her.
HARLEY💅🫦💄
(laughing)
Okay but listen—if that guy trips one more time I'm suing the writers for emotional damage—
Suddenly—
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
The screen glitches.
The show cuts.
A NEWS ALERT slams onto the screen.
Harley groans.
HARLEY💅🫦💄
Oh c'mon!
I was invested!
This better be an alien invasion or I swear—
The camera shows fire.
Black smoke.
Sirens.
A building collapsing in flames.
NEWS ANCHOR (V.O.)📺
—breaking news in downtown Gotham.
An explosion has completely destroyed the Sionis Grand Hotel—
HARLEY💅🫦💄
(pauses mid-bite)
...Huh.
She squints.
HARLEY💅🫦💄
Electrical short circuit, right?
Told ya Cass, Gotham wiring is—
The camera cuts.
Live footage.
Roman Sionis.
On his knees.
In the street.
Surrounded by cops.
Broken.
Small.
The cereal slips from Harley's hand.
It hits the floor.
No sound comes out of her mouth.
Her smile dies instantly—like someone turned off a switch.
Cassandra looks at Harley.
CASSANDRA🦩
...Harley?
Harley doesn't blink.
Doesn't breathe.
Her eyes are glued to the screen.
HARLEY💅🫦💄
(very quiet)
...Oh.
She knows.
The apartment door opens.
Slow.
Confident.
The sound of heels.
Keys jingle—
then clatter as they're tossed onto the table.
Quinnzel steps in.
Calm.
Collected.
Untouched.
She stops beside the couch, eyes on the TV.
Doesn't say a word.
Just watches Roman burn.
A slow smirk curves on her lips.
QUINNZEL🔥🖤🩸
(casual, sassy)
I'm back.
Harley finally turns her head.
Her voice comes out wrong.
HARLEY💅🫦💄
...Y—you...
(tries to laugh, fails)
You didn't... right?
Quinnzel glances at her.
Then back at the TV.
Then—
She smiles wider.
QUINNZEL🔥🖤🩸
Yeah.
I did.
A soft, dangerous laugh slips from her throat.
She turns away, walking toward the hallway.
QUINNZEL🔥🖤🩸
Sweet dreams, Gotham.
She opens her bedroom door.
Steps inside.
And slams it shut.
Silence crashes into the room.
Cassandra's mouth is open.
She looks from the door... to the TV... back to Harley.
CASSANDRA🦩
...That was her.
Harley doesn't answer.
She slowly sits upright.
Her hands shake.
Not funny now.
Not chaotic.
Just scared.
HARLEY💅🫦💄
(whispering)
...That's not Quinnzel.
She swallows hard.
HARLEY💅🫦💄
That's...
(that word hurts)
...someone else.
The TV keeps playing.
Roman crying.
Fire raging.
And behind a closed door down the hall—
something in Quinnzel laughs.
CUT TO BLACK.
🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥