Original subtitles

♪♪

There's rioting breaking out throughout the city.

Fires continue to burn everywhere.

Troops are shooting people.

My God, I... I don't know why.

There's a woman dying in front of me, and no one's helping her.

There are conflicting reports about who or what started the chaos.

Will someone tell me what's happening?

This is madness.

What is this world coming to?

You know the rules, Doctor

Mr. Samuels, Dr. Adelson has arrived.

There's been no change.

I told you, it will take time.

You're out of time, Doctor.

I'll do nothing more for you

until I see some progress.

Get him out of here.

You agreed to the arrangements.

The Senate subcommittee

must approve our use of the communication satellite.

Until your serum performs,

you'll get nothing.

♪♪

Let's go!

- Hey! - Hey, what are you doing?

Who the hell are you?

Marc Traynor, Midtown Herald.

Police, Kincaid.

- Give me that camera. - Police.

Look, man, I'm just trying to do my job.

Maureen.

Maureen, wake up.

Maureen... Maureen, come on.

Wake up. Come on. You gotta see this.

Come on.

What is it?

- You won't believe it. - Mmm.

If he does manage to get it published, it could help us.

How long can we hold out by ourselves?

It could also get us killed.

We tried contacting the government.

Every time we've run into a brick wall. We can't trust them.

Yeah, and everyone else is either tuned out or doesn't care.

That's gonna change if this newspaper makes headlines out of this.

Everyone and their brothers are gonna be out hunting aliens

and killing each other instead.

Well, you can be certain of one thing.

The aliens will be hunting all of us.

Better find this guy before it hits the morning edition.

What are you gonna tell him?

I'm gonna tell him as little as possible.

Look at this.

You almost got killed for these?

Uh-huh.

What the hell is this?

What the hell is this?

This is only

the greatest story since the tearing down of the Berlin Wall.

Maureen, these are aliens.

The real thing.

I mean,

forget your tabloid stuff.

Finally,

I get a break.

And who the hell are you?

What is it you expect me to do?

Stop the presses? What do you think this is?

Look, I saw this thing get shot,

and then it started spewing this green stuff,

and then it began to disintegrate.

- Look here. - Yeah. So what?

Maybe it was just a military robot or a security cyborg that got loose.

What is this here, Robby? This is Marc you're talking to.

This is no cyborg.

This was a real living, breathing thing.

It tried to kill me, for God's sake. And then these two guys appeared.

- Well, who are they? - I don't know.

It all came down in a matter of seconds, and the cops came, and I bailed out.

Listen, buddy boy.

This is a newspaper. We deal in facts.

Every rag in the country runs phony stores on aliens.

Nobody cares anymore.

Listen to me, Rob. This is the real thing.

Yeah.

Well, all I see here is a bunch of green stuff,

two guys that look like everyone else in the quadrant,

and a reporter looking to make a name for himself.

Now, if you came in here with an alien on your arm,

that'd be a different story.

This is page 1 stuff, damn it.

Look, if you don't want it, I'll take it to somebody else...

Somebody who knows a real story when he sees it.

Hey, don't talk to me about news, buddy boy.

I nearly had my ass shot off half a dozen times getting news.

You need more than a handful of pictures as proof.

You got my word, Robby.

That should be proof enough.

I'll think about it.

What interference?

In your words, the assassination couldn't fail,

and now we have more photographs, more witnesses.

I don't want to hear any more excuses.

Just find him and kill him.

Who is he?

A reporter.

He's been observed near three of our operations.

You didn't tell me.

You were busy.

I instructed Salo to eliminate him.

What about the serum?

He didn't respond to the injection.

Mr. Samuels won't cooperate with us

until there's been a dramatic change in his condition.

Why? What's wrong?

He's dying of old age.

There's been a rapid deterioration of his vital organs.

Here.

I took another blood sample.

He must live.

With his wealth and power,

he can protect our identity

and connect us to their government.

There's been a slight miscalculation.

It will take time to match the serum to his blood type and cell structure.

Miscalculation?

I see.

Well, if Salo can take care of the reporter,

and if we can make Mr. Samuels sufficiently dependent on us,

perhaps we'll survive this place.

Take a look at these.

What am I looking at?

One of my reporters came in with them.

He thinks they're aliens.

What?

Extraterrestrials.

Who is this guy?

Name's Marc Traynor.

What did you tell him?

Well, I told him we'd need a lot more than a few photographs.

But, uh, look at this.

If it's true, this is the first real proof we've seen.

You believe he's on to something?

Could be.

He says he nearly got killed getting them. And if it's true...

Then we've got an exclusive, don't we?

Big stuff. How do you want to proceed?

Well, you're right. We need more than these.

And, uh, we want to make sure it's not some scam

to advance his own career.

See what you can come up with.

You bet.

Marc?

Yeah.

Where have you been?

Trying to talk some sense into Rob Nunn. Ha.

Whatever he does,

these are my insurance.

They're gonna get us out of this hole.

This whole thing is starting to scare me.

Until this is cleared up,

we will suspend all outside operations.

We need this.

Time is running out.

The serum is ready.

Eternal youth.

For that, he will pay any price.

Remember, Mr. Samuels,

it's a treatment, not a cure.

Look! Look!

I'm not telling you anything. I don't know who the hell you are.

I told you, we're investigators.

Look, we need to find Marc Traynor quick. It's a personal matter.

You're his boss. Can't you tell us what he's working on?

Yeah, I can tell you what he's working on.

I've seen you guys before in Marc's pictures.

You're the two who nearly got him killed.

Now that we know who the players are, what do you really want?

It was the other way around.

We didn't almost get him killed. Your reporter was the target,

and while we were saving his ass, he was photographing us.

You still haven't answered my question. What do you want?

We want the film he shot. You can't print those pictures.

I can't?

You ever heard of freedom of information?

Yeah.

But I never let it interfere with my staying alive.

We print the news here.

Our readers have a right to know what's going on in this town.

Now get outta here before I have you thrown out.

Yes, I understand.

Yes, Rob. Come in.

We've got a hot story here. I can smell it.

Traynor's on to something.

These two guys were just here asking about him.

They say who they were?

Yeah. John Wolf and Harry Porter, investigators.

I don't think so.

They were asking questions about Marc, fishing for information.

Who knows about this?

You, me, Marc, and probably his girlfriend Maureen.

Look, I think we should run this story.

No. No. Trust me on this. Not a word to anyone.

What is it this time, Bebe, the military?

Don't ask questions. Just do what I tell you.

All right, Mrs. Gardner. You're the boss.

Yes, I am.

Leave those there.

You handled it very well.

I'm being treated like some two-bit go between.

I don't like having words put in my mouth from Mr. Samuels.

I want to know what's going on here, Ed.

My father founded this paper, and I'm still in charge.

Sure you are.

But this newspaper is part of Samuels Publishing, isn't it?

You're an employee now, Bebe,

and you can be replaced.

Mr. Samuels becomes displeased with people sometimes.

Why doesn't he do his own dirty work?

You just do your job and keep a lid on this thing,

and make sure I get the negatives and the other prints from this Mr. Traynor.

It's gonna raise some questions,

and I'm sure Mr. Traynor has a set of his own.

Relax.

It'll all blow over, and you'll be back in business as usual.

Good night.

Marc.

Marc?

Get in there.

Now, we need some answers.

Rob... Rob, have you seen Marc?

No. No. Now calm down. What's wrong?

- Somebody tried to kill him. - What?

They shot at him right in front of our building.

I saw it. And then they chased him, but I haven't see him.

- Have you called the police? - Yes, I've called the police!

They said they'd get somebody on it, but that could be next week.

Rob, what's going on?

This has got something to do with that story, doesn't it?

I don't know. I don't know.

Rob, they're trying to kill Marc over this.

Do you understand? You have to do something!

What the hell can I do?

I thought you were his friend.

Maureen...

I want some straight answers.

Someone just tried to make another hit on Traynor.

This time, right in front of his girlfriend.

Now, who have you told about this story?

No one. He's, uh... He's gotten himself into something he shouldn't have.

This guy is a damn good reporter,

and this was a damn good newspaper.

Now we're burying stories. What the hell's happened?

You used to stand for something, Bebe. Have you forgotten?

I still do, Rob. It's just that times have changed.

Well, that's not good enough, Mrs. Gardner.

I'm through. I quit.

Rob, please...

Aw, save it. I've had enough lies for one day.

- Who the hell are you guys? - We're with the government.

Yeah? Which one?

Traynor, these guys are trying to kill you,

and they won't stop until they get what they want.

Now, what do you think is going on here?

I don't think, man.

I know.

They're here. Aliens, right?

Do you still have those photographs?

He's asking you politely.

You know who they are, don't you?

Look, we've been on this story a hell of a lot longer than you have.

We can't afford to have our faces plastered over the daily newspaper.

Hey, man, this isn't a game!

Anyone who finds out about them usually ends up dead.

Maureen.

- I gotta get to a phone. - Stay there.

Come on. Aw, hell.

Yeah. Uh, honey,

when you get this message,

get out of the apartment, all right?

Uh, uh, don't go to the office,

and... and don't talk to anyone.

I'll meet you... Where?

Uh, go to where we had our first date.

Stay there. I'll come to you.

I love you.

Okay, you want the photos?

You got them. Let's go.

- Sit down, Mr. Malcolm. - No, thank you.

You're looking very well, Mr. Samuels.

Well, I have you to thank for that.

But then, you didn't come here to flatter me, did you?

That's fine, Jennings.

As you know,

one of our robot experiments...

A rather sophisticated cyborg unit...

Malfunctioned and was unfortunately captured on film.

As yet, we haven't found the reporter who took the pictures,

but I assume you're helping us with that.

I have kept your experiment out of my paper, Mr. Malcolm.

No small gesture even for me.

My own people are wondering what's going on.

And we're living up to our end of things, aren't we?

Yes, of course you are, and I'm grateful.

But anymore of this kind of carelessness,

and I may not be able to protect you.

Our arrangement is simple.

You use your influence with your friends in government on our behalf,

and we'll keep you young.

At the slightest hint

of exposure or scandal,

my friends will become difficult.

I won't be able to...

I'm sure you'll be able to do all you can to prevent that.

I know how pleased you are with the serum.

We are partners, Mr. Malcolm,

I do hope for a very long time.

Hmm.

Marc?

You here?

Yeah. Uh, honey,

when you get this message, get out of the apartment, all right?

Uh, uh, don't go to the office,

and... and don't talk to anyone.

I'll meet you... Where?

Uh, go to where we had our first date.

Stay there. I'll come to you.

I love you.

Maureen?

I should've listened to her.

We can't stay here.

Hey, they could be back for him.

Okay.

Come on, Marc. We gotta get out of here.

It doesn't matter.

Marc, where are the negatives?

Who gives a damn about the negatives?

We do.

Marc, we can stop them, but we need your help.

Now, don't give up, not when you're so damn close.

Don't let him win, man.

I don't like this arrangement.

Samuels is no fool.

He's healthy and we still don't have the negatives.

It's your fault.

Now, we've become dependent on him.

And he on us.

As long as we provide what he wants.

It's the human way.

Marc, this is important. Does anyone else know about those photos?

What?

Rob Nunn... do you trust him?

I don't trust anyone.

What if this Nunn guy was a clone or an alien?

Who knows how deep it could go?

Or how high.

Maybe it wasn't Nunn who killed the story.

Maybe it was someone above him.

I could try and find out the chain of command.

I want to pay a visit to Nunn again.

Is he capable of murder?

I am.

What is this, Jennings, some kind of joke?

I, uh, don't understand, sir.

Cyborgs don't disintegrate like this.

The metal and circuits...

What have you got me into?

I thought Dr. Adelson and Mr. Malcolm

were from the Defense Department, just as you did.

You brought them in here.

Look at these.

That's not human.

This reporter was right.

Aliens?

And why have they cured you?

We don't know any such thing.

Who knows what this stuff is

or what it's doing to me?

I want this arrangement ended now.

But, Mr. Samuels, your own doctors have assured you

that your body is returning to perfect health.

- I don't know, Jennings. - Well, just look at yourself, sir.

You look like a much younger man.

You must feel it.

Yes. Yes.

But what's their game?

Put these in the safe.

I hate to be without bargaining tools.

Yes, sir.

Where are you going, Rob?

I quit.

You know about Maureen, Rob?

Hmm?

No.

She's been murdered.

Oh, no.

When I saw her this morning, she was looking for you.

My God, Marc, I'm sorry.

What do you know about it, huh?

Tell me!

They got my negatives, Robby.

This is about my story, and you know it.

Now, damn you! Tell me who's behind the cover-up.

- Answer me! - Look, I don't know.

I swear. I'd tell you if I did.

They'll look at you, too.

You can't hide from them.

Is that why you quit?

Because they started playing a little rough?

Hey, I'm not a kid anymore.

This job's all I have. I don't have anything else.

I just couldn't take the lies,

the lost files, the excuses anymore.

How'd it start?

Who's behind it?

I... I don't know.

At first, it was just little things and then...

anything too sensitive about the government

or private businesses got squashed.

By whose orders?

What does it matter? It's all money and conglomerates.

It's not news.

It's Bebe Gardner, isn't it?

- Thanks. - Let it go, Marc.

I'm telling you like a friend.

I want to find these bastards, Robby.

And I'm going to print the truth

so the whole world knows about him.

The Gardner family founded Midtown Herald in 1940.

What else?

Herald's the last surviving newspaper in the state,

and I promise you it is not because of their sports section.

Check the business index for that. Who's the big money behind them?

Who fronted for them, etc., etc.?

Must be some high-placed connection,

somebody who would be able to buy a congressional committee.

- There can't be too many of those. - Hold it, here it is.

Gardner Publishing was purchased by Samuel's Publishing

and W.R. Samuels.

That's it.

- Who are you? - I work for you, Mrs. Gardner.

My name's Marc Traynor.

The woman I live with's been murdered.

Someone strangled her to death.

You did that, Mrs. Gardner! You killed her!

No, no, I had nothing to do with that.

You're lying. And you take it easy!

Where did your orders come from?

What I want to know is how could you collaborate with them?

I wanted to save the newspaper.

And to do that, you had to sell it?

Oh. So they get complete editorial control.

But I am not responsible for what happened to your girlfriend.

Then who is responsible?

- Who's they? - I can't tell you. They'll kill me.

Yeah, but if you don't tell us,

- I'll kill you... - Back off!

All right, I'll tell you.

I need to get a file first.

I'll show you who they are.

I need your help.

Come on, man! Snap out of it!

Grab the chair.

Through there on 3.

1, 2... go.

- Where's Marc? - Down there.

- Did you see anyone? - No.

- Check the offices. - Yeah.

They're not going to give up.

Neither are we.

W.R. Samuels... Did you know he owns this paper?

Samuels?

That's who she was afraid of, Kincaid.

I bet you that's the file she was going to get us.

You see, everybody who knew anything about my photographs is dead, right?

Maureen, Rob, Bebe.

Yeah, but the trouble is getting to him.

I don't think so. He used to be pretty big in the society pages.

Samuels... here it is.

- And there's a map of the property. - Bring it.

Come on. Let's go.

What is this made of?

Are your scientists having a problem identifying it?

They tell me they're various masking enzymes

with which they're unfamiliar.

If you knew what it was,

you wouldn't need us.

That's true, Mr. Malcolm.

Give him the photographs.

See, we know what you are...

Not the particulars, of course, but enough.

I never doubted you'd discover it.

- The negatives, please. - Ah.

For those, we negotiate a new deal.

I get the formula,

you get the photographer's negatives.

An interesting proposition.

And one I would consider,

except you've misjudged your position.

- Really? - I want the negatives.

You can either give them to me now

and we continue our relationship,

or I'll withhold the serum

and you'll die.

And the photographs will appear

in every one of my papers.

They're my insurance policy

for your continued deliveries.

As I said,

I misjudged you, Mr. Samuels.

I didn't realize your life had so little meaning for you.

To relinquish your empire

and allow it to fall into other hands...

Very well.

It's your choice.

Don't take that.

Jennings, the negatives.

A wise decision.

Hands in the air, please,

and stand up.

Jennings, what the hell are you doing?

I mean you, sir.

What are you doing, Jennings?

For God's sake!

I've worked for you for 43 years,

you greedy old bastard.

I realized you would die one day,

and I'd end up on a pension or welfare or worse.

We changed that with this, didn't we?

Yes.

Suddenly, I had an alternative.

But how will you guarantee that you can deliver it?

He can't.

- You must deal with me. - You've been a recluse

for the entire seven years of your illness.

No one has seen you but your doctors and me.

The physicians are on huge retainers.

- They won't say anything. - You conducted all his business.

Yeah. I make the contacts, I take the meetings,

I negotiate the deals and sign the checks.

Using his name.

It's very simple, really.

Mr. W.R. Samuels could be dead.

And no one would ever know.

Sir.

The new deal is this.

You make serum for me,

I ensure political favors for you.

The way I see it, I'm really doing you a favor.

But unlike my previous employer,

I don't want to live forever...

Just long enough to enjoy myself.

I think we can come to a satisfactory arrangement.

Go around back.

So, Mr. Malcolm,

do we have a deal?

Of course.

Your negatives, Mr. Malcolm.

Thank you. It's been a pleasure,

Mr. Jennings.

To a long and prosperous relationship.

I want to talk to Samuels.

Ah, you're the reporter, aren't you?

Yes, hello, Officer. This is Mr. Jennings. We have intruders in this...

- Hey! - Put the phone down.

You have exactly 55 seconds.

Where is Samuels?

No one sees Mr. Samuels.

- What about the negatives? - What negatives?

Let's take him with us. I'll get an answer out of him.

I'm afraid not.

Let's get out of here.

Right now... come on!

You won't get away with this! I'll find out the truth!

We do what we must, young man.

We do what we must.

I bet we have as many human enemies now as we do alien.

They're not working alone anymore.

We walk into one setup after another.

They're gaining in strength

and we have nowhere to go.

Samuels... a man with his power.

Think of his connections.

He can buy anyone.

Your serum... there's more than enough

for you and your friends, Senator.

This man's interference in our operations

is becoming more frequent...

A pest we can do without.

Hop in the back.