PAGE TWENTY TWO
Tight shot on KINGPIN as he looks out of a window that runs floor to ceiling. It’s night outside, the lights of New York City blinking back at Fisk’s grim face. He’s wearing his usual white coat and purple trouser combo, but he’s older and wearier with lines around his eyes.
CAPTION(KINGPIN): Did you really expect to play this game forever, Wilson?
From Kingpin’s POV looking out at the city. It’s like a beautiful toy city laid out before us, lights blinking back, traffic, pedestrians-- the ‘City That Never Sleeps’ playset.
CAPTION(KINGPIN): Look at what you amassed, what you control.
Back on KINGPIN. He smiles to himself.
CAPTION(KINGPIN): You are legend.
Wide panel. We pull out to show that KINGPIN is all alone in a magnificent looking penthouse. He stands with his back to us surveying the city through floor to ceiling glass that runs down the entirety of one side of the penthouse.
The rest of the room is all stark, cold minimalism. There’s a desk and chair in here but that’s about it. They look classic and beautiful. There’s no-one here. No lackeys, no henchmen, no super assassins. Just Fisk.
CAPTION(KINGPIN): You will be remembered.
Back to a tight shot on KINGPIN. He looks down at the floor. Something is working behind those eyes-- fear, doubt, maybe even regret.
Fixed panel. The moment is gone. He looks back up, surveying his domain once more.
Inset panel on the left of Panel 8. A close up of KINGPIn as he grabs his infamous CANE from its resting place against the glass beside him.
CAPTION(KINGPIN): It’s time.
Wide. Extreme close up on the bottom half of KINGPIN’s face, a wide, shark-like smile spread breaking out.
CAPTION(KINGPIN): I wonder which one of them it will be.