I'm...
Not the monster I used to be...
I admit that.
I'm tired.
I'm weaker.
I'm losing my memory...
And I can't sleep.
Still, these friends of yours...
well, they're dead now.
I tore all three of them to pieces...
and tossed the whole mess off the cliffs out back.
Let the vultures fight over what's left.
This is ridiculous.
I try to withdraw...
I retire...
I hide...
but still you find me out...
even in my dreams...
polluting my solitude...
filling the air itself with your unending and pointless noise.
Go ahead, kill me!
Try it!
Try to be offended by my mere existence...
you stupid fucking morons!
But don't send these flattering lackeys...
with their cameras and their tape recorders.
Callous and shortsighted henchmen...
talking to me like I was a goddamn child.
Shit!
The time it takes to kill these idiots is...
it's depressing.
I can't go on like this.
If you won't come and kill me...
well, then I'll have to kill you.
Every last one of you.
Yes. You win.
Or it shall be.
I am awake again and put upon.
And then, well...
Silence.
Unless...
Fuck!
Fuck off!
Newsroom. Please hold.
Margaret, that's Associated Press on line five.
Thank you.
You're late.
I'm twenty minutes early.
Yeah, well, so what. Here. Go make some coffee.
There's a world of bad news out there...
ladies and gentlemen, a world of bad news.
All we need to do is get our hands on the worst of it...
the very worst news possible.
Fred, what do you got on the national scene?
Federal government's still on strike.
Old.
The nation's already forgotten...
the government's on strike. They're not impressed.
Has the president shot himself yet?
Rumors are unsubstantiated.
Well, substantiate them.
Domestic terrorist activities are up 60%...
in the past two weeks.
Interesting.
A little ahead of the curve though...
isn't it, Tom?
How many dead?
Hundreds.
Sad, but not catastrophic.
Judy, what about international?
Genocide in eastern Europe. Economic collapse in Japan.
The Middle East, of course.
Bootleg nuclear arms being sold by the Russian mafia...
to both Pakistan and India.
Climatic irregularities continue.
It's snowing in Johannesburg.
This is all last week's news. It's filler.
Random facts to pad out the end of a show.
What do we have here in town?
What's happening down at city hall?
The mayor has sold lower Manhattan...
to a major Hollywood studio.
OK. Sure.
That will fill air time till at least tomorrow afternoon.
Maybe by then the president will have done something drastic.
Have there been protests?
Violent demonstrations in all five boroughs.
OK. Cop an attitude about it...
but not one we can't change tomorrow.
Come down hard on the mayor.
Careful, Boss.
Same Hollywood studio owns this television network.
So stupid!
Why?
Sorry.
What is it, Beatrice?
A clue has surfaced...
as to the disappearance of our TV crew in Iceland.
What TV crew?
We sent them there two months ago...
to investigate the legend of a monster said to exist...
beneath an abandoned U.S. missile silo...
near an isolated northern village.
The local authorities searched for them but found nothing.
What turned up?
A tape from the sound recordist.
One of our envelopes. Look.
What's on it?
Someone claiming to have killed them.
Killed who?
Our crew.
Really?
Tell me more, Beatrice.
The cameraman was my fiance.
Really?
Oh, God. I'm sorry.
Nevertheless, I think we should follow this up.
This has got potential.
We need to do these human interest pieces...
from time to time.
Can it be me?
Can what be you?
Can I be the one to go investigate...
the disappearance of the TV crew?
You?
God, Beatrice, I mean,
who'll make the coffee in the morning?
I went to college. I studied journalism.
Look, you're very young. This could be dangerous.
Three young men have gone missing out there already.