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(recalling) That's Hanratty, Hoskins, Bank, Boyle and Kahn...

Catching the eyes of Bud Fox once again wandering to her.

The digital clock by the big board counter clicks to am -- four minutes until the market opens. Bud takes a deep breath, tosses the newspaper away and struts into the office -- fuck it -- it's a new day.

(pause, she looks like she forgot something) WORRIED MAN (V. Brokers mill by their desks, gulping coffee, scanning the papers, the quotrons. Past CHARLIE CUSHING, on the phone, a handsome chunk of man with rugged good looks and Ivy League mannerisms. CHARLIE ...still looking for the right 18 year old wife, how you doing, pal? CHARLIE (used to it) ...takes years of genetics, pal, and a Yale education... BUD I gotta feeling we're going to make a killing today, Marv.

He slips off his overcoat, flicks some lint off his Paul Stuart 0 suit, and enters the main trading room. I came here one day, I sat down, and look at me now. Bud reaches his trading desk, whips open his briefcase and pulls out a computer print-out of last night's homework.

Bud moves past the functional reception area, past CAROLYN, a cheerful young black girl. BUD Great Carolyn, doing any better would be a sin...

That's right, they're selling all over the place...

(confused at all the phone lights) We gotta lot of lights here! BUD (on phone) Jack, take 50 Gulf, with a 3/8 top, forget the hundred. We hear the relentless clatter of the board ticker, and the drone of disembodied voices, blarihg market information out of squawk boxes. Bud waves Marvin away, answers his caller, trying to keep cool, worried how as he sees Lynch, the office manager, coming over. Sure it's gone down a little bit, but you got the tip from your printer, I didn't... Towering landmark structures nearly blot out the dreary grey flannel sky. SUBWAY PLATFORM - EARLY MORNING We hear the ROAR of the trains pulling out of the station. Bud, stuffing the newspaper into his coat, jams in. ELEVATOR - MORNING Blank faces stare ahead, each lost in private thoughts, Bud again mouthing the thought, "stupid schmuck", his eyes catching a blond executive who quickly flicks her eyes away. The elevator tension is over, but the killer grind continues. JACKSON, STEINEM INVESTMENT HOUSE - DAY Credits continue to run. LOU MANNHEIM, strolls in, a dignified looking older broker in his late 60's, wearing an old brown brim hat with button down white shirt, narrow tie, very much a picture from another era... but obviously ailing in the legs and breath department. We see him peering from behind the glass partition in hit office; tall, balding with a perpetual worried look on his face. (looking in Bud and Marv's direction) Especially you rookies.