Special thanks to Michael Sacal a.k.a Man of the Atom (MOTA) for transcribing this! Thanks to OCR software!
Special Thanks to R. Burgoyne for scans of the art!
Unpublished Script
FATALE #0
"Who is Like Unto the Beast"
Pages 1 & 2
(Art by J. G. Jones)
Fatale

Title "Who Is Like Unto the Beast" Part I

Credits Created by Broadway Comics
Written by Janet Jackson, Joseph A. James, Jim Shooter, Pauline Weiss

Cast of Characters

Donna, Fatale's mother, at age 16
J. P. Fitzgerald ("Fitz"), a rich industrialist and cult member
Donny, a retarded 14-year-old boy
Duke, Fitz' Man Friday, a former Green Beret
Ms. Ogun, another daughter of the beast and Fatale's half sister
Reynolds and Smith, Ogun's former and future chiefs of staff

FATALE and all characters herein are trademark and copyright © 1995 Broadway Comics. All Rights reserved.


Page 1 3/14/95

Panel 1 1/6 flapjack

A 1970 Plymouth Duster is coming towards the camera. All we see is the highway, woods, car approaching, headlights blazing.

Caption: Route 222, outside of Reading, Pennsylvania.
December 23, 1971. 11:35PM.

Panel 2 1/6 flapjack

The car has just passed the camera, taillights going away, a swirl of leaves in its wake. We can see a sign that says "Kutztown 29 miles" and an old-style gas station with lights on in front of them, way in the distance. Car is not quite as far away as it was in panel l.

Panel 3 2/3 page

Inside the car. There is a 16-year-old girl, Donna, in the passenger seat, and a 50-year-old man, J. P. Fitzpatrick, at the wheel. Shoot 3/4 past the girl.

She's wearing his large trenchcoat. Underneath, she's got on a scanty, diaphanous ceremonial outfit. He's wearing a turtleneck and a sport coat. They're both kind of ruffled up. She used to have a fancy hairdo, but it's falling down, jewelry in her hair, trenchcoat so large and loose we can see a bit of the ceremonial outfit underneath, jewels around her neck. She's an incredibly beautiful girl who has sustained a shot to the head... black eye, swollen. He's got a lot of dried blood on his shirt and a cut above his eye. He's been very quiet, because he's been busy thinking.

Fitz: You know, you're a very brave little girl. How old are you, seventeen?

Donna: Sixteen.



Page 2 3/17

Panel 1 1/3 page horizontal

The car is approaching gas station, in the middle distance. Some plaid-clad guys are standing by their pickup, which has a gunrack. Shoot as if from the back seat from behind Fitz.

Fitz: You’ve held up pretty well through all of this. I think we're safe for the moment.

Panel 2 1/9 page

Fitz is leaning forward a bit, now looking at gas station guys, who are looking at his car. We can clearly see the pickup's gun rack, which holds several rifles or shotguns. Shoot from 3/4 behind him.

Fitz: We probably lost them at the bus station in Dayton.

Panel 3 1/3 page

Fitz reaches for a gun, which is lying on the seat between them. He just places his hand on it, ready to pick it up, but doesn't pick it up. Silent. Shoot from straight on side, so we see the truck and rednecks through Fitz' window. The car is passing the gas station. The guys are looking straight at him.

Panel 4 1/9 page

Straight on shot of Fitz; we can see the gas station behind them now. His hand has returned to the steering wheel.

Fitz: There's not much time to talk. I know you must be exhausted, Donna, but there are some things that are important for you to know.

Panel 5 1/9 page

Focus on Donna. We can see a bit of Fitz. He's cropped, so we see a bit of his arm and shoulder, gun on the seat. She has her head down, but her eyes are open, looking up. It's that "Oh my god, what is going to become of me" expression.

Fitz: We're going to a little house in the hills. I own it, but it can't be traced back to me. You'll be safe there.

Panel 6 1/9 page

Shoot from just outside of his window. He's looking straight ahead, resolutely. She's looking at him, supplicatively.

Donna: Can't you just take me home, Mister Fitzgerald?

Fitz: No… if you surface anywhere, they'll kill you in minutes.

Panel 7 1/9 page

Close up of her face starts to scrunch up to cry, as if every time she thinks about this tears pour out.

Donna: Why? Who are those people?

Fitz [op]: Bunch of humanitarians...


CONTINUE...