**The camera fades up onto a city skyline. Dark clouds gather as thunder cracks through the early morning sky**



**Jack Cain sits on an old beach chair on a deserted rooftop. A large, fat cigar hangs from his lips. In one hand he holds a silenced M1911A pistol. A series of objects sits on the roof edge around 10 feet away. One is a whiskey bottle, then a small mirror, then a shot glass, and finally a gold ring**

Heard what you had to say Doc. Must be bad stuck inside the head of that crackpot Cadryn. Used to be a nice guy. Hadda lotta time for him, but ever since he decided to be some Joker knock-off, we slowly sorta drifted apart, y'know?

Maybe you could help us mend that rift, if counsellin' is your thing?

Although how you'll do that in his body, Christ only knows. All I know is that you're stuck in some place I'd never wanna be. I mean, is it your hand... that wipes... after... on second though, I don't wanna know, you keep that to yourself - I don't think any medical help will remedy that.

But what I am intrigued about is what the Hell is gonna happen in that ring on Saturday? Is it gonna be you turnin' up? Or is it gonna be Heath Ledger's livelier cousin?

I dunno? I'm genuinely confused. I mean, how can I draw a target on somethin' if I don't know if it's a real class act or some loon with a jester fetish?

**Cain takes aim at the whiskey bottle and shatters it with one shot**

Hittin' targets ain't hard Doc - it's pretty easy when you know what to do - it's why you're doin' it. That's the hard part. Why do you do what you do? Why do you try and instill fear into these people? Why do you wipe Cadryn's ass?

I like the idea of you bein' the dark cloud Doc. I really do. It's nice that you have some weather analogy to fall back on when you don't, but the problem with bein' a cloud Doc? You're just a small part of the bigger picture. When you're small Doc, you have little consequence.

**Cain takes aim at the small mirror, and again shatters it with one shot**

The smaller you are Doc, the harder you are to hit - that is one positive. You're a much more difficult target. You're a complicated goal. Requires skill. Precision. Concentration.

It's one thing being a cloud Doc, but clouds don't really cause any trouble. Clouds on their own, just pass by. They look nasty for a while, but soon, they're on their merry way, and everything gets back to normal.

But a storm? That's a whole different ball game.

A storm is the bigger picture Doc. A storm is what clouds aspire to be.

**Cain now aims at the shot glass, and again destroys it with his first attempt**

A storm can crush a cloud. A storm absorbs what's good about a cloud, wrings it out, dilutes it's essence and then leaves it to fade away.

But more importantly, a storm is timeless. Endless. A storm endures. A storm can keep going as long as it wants. It moves on when it feels it's right. And a storm doesn't just deal with one target. A storm is a deluge. A torrent, it can sweep away homes, earth, people. It can destroy anything it wants because it's a sheer force of nature.

Think about that Doc.

Think about it.

You really wanna be the cloud?

The cloud is insignificant. Trivial. The cloud tries it's best. But it's never enough. Titjob back at the bar? She was a cloud. Just like you.

And look at her now.

She's one with nature. All that's left is a fading memory.

A memento.

**Cain targets the ring**

But those last vestiges of life can be snuffed out pretty easily Doc.

**Cain fires, obliterating the ring and leaving a scorch mark on the granite edging**

It can all go away in a second.

Doctors like you? They take the pain away, don't they? They make it disappear?

I can make your pain go away.

I can make you go away.

Like a storm enveloping a cloud Doc.

Eventually, it's all gonna go away.