Hellraiser: Deader

[Voices whispering]

[Siren wailing]

[Flies buzzing]

MAN ON RADIO:

Good morning, London.

It's another brilliant

overcast day today.

[Engine turns over,

alarm beeping in distance]

[Whimpering]

[Indistinct whispering]

[Fly buzzing]

MAN:

You want any of this?

No, thanks.

[Tape rewinds, clicks]

I got what I need.

Thanks for making me

look good, guys.

Again.

Sh*t.

Amy Klein, nice of you

to join the meeting.

So, what about the story, then?

WOMAN:
I couldn't get

a verification on it.

Oh. You're kidding?

We'll send someone up.

Thanks again for your

contribution, Klein.

WOMAN:

Great job, Amy.

Thanks.

Hey, Klein.

Nice reporting.

How about you

show me what you learned?

You want me to show you

what I learned?

Right here?

Right now?

Maybe later.

Maybe not.

Hey, Amy.

Good morning.

It's half past four.

Charles, Amy's here.

Bye.

I detect that unique

and ubiquitous combination

of nicotine and patchouli oil

that can only signal the arrival

of the delightful and

world-famous Amy Klein.

Eat me, Charles.

You know, it's exactly that

lack of respect for authority

that got you fired

from the "New York Post."

I wasrt fired.

I was reassigned.

Of course.

Lucky for you,

I opened my doors when I heard

that you'd become available.

And, by the way, I don't recall

ever being thanked properly

for this reassignment.

I seem to remember a similar

reassignment for you, Charles.

Well, look on the bright side.

We're back in the trenches

together, just like old times.

Don't get sentimental on me.

If this is about me being late

with my follow-up story,

I've got it all right here.

I was just about to...

It's not about your story.

Though I'm sure you're working

your usual insightful magic

on what will prove to be

yet another eye-opening expos.

I expect nothing

but brilliance in 5,000 words.

Or less.

But this, my dear...

is better.

What, then?

We're being sued again?

Somebody mailed us this thing

about two weeks ago.

What is it?

Porn or something?

Something.

Amy, with your encyclopedic

knowledge of skankology,

have you ever heard of Deaders?

Yeah, me.

I owe two months' salary

on my credit cards.

No, not "debtors."

Deaders.

D-e-a-d-e-r-s.

No, Charles, I've

never heard of Deaders.

Watch the tape.

MARLA:
This is something

you must see for yourself.

Don't be frightened.

Fear is where you go to learn.

That's Anna.

She isn't ready yet.

I don't think she's

learned the truth yet from him.

Winter.

This is where Katia will commit

herself for you to see.

It won't be pretty.

I'm Marla.

Official dead activist.

Hi, me.

MAN:

There she is.

MARLA:

And I have to show you this.

Don't be frightened.

MAN:

She's here.

MARLA:

I don't like this part.

Shh.

Do you become one of us

of your own free will?

Yes.

Good.

Are you afraid?

Yes.

Good.

Fear is the place

we go to learn.

[Voices murmuring]

Say it for me.

My skin isn't real.

My eyes aren't real.

My bones, my heart,

my veins, and nerves,

and flesh, and meat aren't real.

[Crying]

Go on.

[Voices murmuring]

I'm not...

real.

I'm not real.

I'm not...

[Sobs]

Holy sh*t, Charles.

Just keep watching.

I am not real.

I'm not real.

I'm not real.

I'm not real.

I'm not real.

I am not real.

[Sobbing]

I'm not real.

[Gasps]

Oh, my God.

Did you call the police on this?

Just watch.

[Inaling]

[Gasping]

[Breathing heavily]

This is sick.

[Breathing heavily]

[Breathing slows]

[Gasps, coughs]

Tell me this is some kind

of special effect.

[Indistinct whispering]

I'm alive.

I'm okay.

I'm okay.

What the f***?

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