Note: Since I'm spilling out all my great movie ideas, here's another one:
By day, he's a data entry clerk at an Import/Export company, mindlessly typing away invoices and the like. He stares out the window waiting for the night, waiting for his transformation. When the sun sets, our mild-mannered clerk stands practically naked in front his mirror, the room darkened. He slips on a pair of black slacks and then a pair of polished wingtips. He pulls on a white undershirt and over that, a powder blue dress shirt. He slowly buttons it up and then tucks it in. He leaves the the top button undone, because he slips on the black necktie. Double Windsor, like his father taught him. He snugs it around his neck and he reaches into the secret compartment in his desk drawer and he removes a silver shield. A bit of moonlight catches it and we see it's a badge. A badge he forged by his own hand, issued by no law enforcement agency, local, state or federal. He places it on his chest and we now see him in full dress: Cop Man! He slips the black stick into its holder and loads his 9 millimeter handgun. He smirks at his reflection and he growls, "the beat is on." He grabs his citation ticket-book and heads for the door. Before he leaves, he grabs the cap hanging on the rack, it's black peaks and smooth valleys forming something like a crown on his head.
He hops into his Crown Vic, purchased at a police auction, no less. He has no lights, he has no markings, but the cage remains in the backseat and in the dashboard, a police scanner. He tunes it and he hears his calling: "we've got shhhhhhhh a report of some unruly, uh shhhhhhhh teenagers out around Maple Street shhhhhhhh." He speeds away toward trouble, like a mad mariner into an awaiting storm.
In the alleys you can hear the click click click of the wingtips against the old brick and the concrete. He happens upon a bunch of no-good teenagers and they sass him. He waves his baton and they all scatter, but one--The Ring Leader. The villain snarls and he says, "who are you?" Our hero growls back, "I'm...Cop Man."
Outside of the The Ring Leader's parents' house, he hangs upside down, tied up, with a note: "your son was violating curfew. Please make a better effort to watch him in the future. Thank you."
The parents shake their head, the dog pees on the porch, and in the demented mind of The Ring Leader, a million demons scream out for vengeance. They scream, "egg his car good!"
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"Do you know how fast you were going," he says to the frightened Speedstar. He shakes his head, the beads of sweat trickling down his red face. Our hero leans in and he says, "not fast enough. But more accurately, 78 miles per hour in an area restricted to 45." His fingers slip deftly into his belt and he withdraws a citation ticket-book and he stares down at Speedstar as he writes. He rips the ticket out of the book and he hands it to him; "this is a warning. Don't let me catch you going too fast again. Be safe out there." And like that, Cop Man had disappeared again into the night, only the waning rumble of his Crown Vic audible. Shaking and still sweating, Speedstar pulled away and proceeded home at a safe and reasonable speed, mumbling, "who...who was that?"
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"Where'd he get the badge," the recruit says to the Chief. The Chief shakes his head, telling the recruit, "some say he made it himself. Some say he bought it at a costume shop-- say he's a loon, more costume than cop."
"You think it's true," the recruit asks. The Chief smiles and responds, "which part?"
The recruit falls silent and stares at his feet, searching for the courage to say, if only meekly, "all of it."
The Chief looks at the recruit and he looks down at the crime report, at the decline in shoplifting, in loitering, in graffiti and vandalism, in speeding and he says to the recruit, "I dunno, recruit, maybe we're the ones just playing dress up."
