CULT “Pilot” by Rockne S. Q'Bannon THE KAPLAN-STAHLER-GUMER-BRAUN AGENCY LITERARY & TALENT AGENCY 8383 WILSHIRE BOULEVARD, SUTTE 923 BEVERLY HILLS, CALIFORNIA 90211-2408 (323) 653-4483 © 2005, Created Universe TV. All rights reserved. This material is the exclusive property of Created Universe TV, and is intended solely for the use of its personnel. Distribution to unauthorized persons or reproduction, in whole or part, without the written consent of Created Universe TV, is strictly prohibited.

DO NOT WATCH THIS

ACT ONE EXT. MUSEUM OF MODERN ART - MORNING 10 a.m. School buses line the curb. GUARDS unlock the front doors. Swarms of FIFTH GRADERS push and shove. A few adult ART LOVERS shuffle in with them. EXT. COURTYARD - GREEK PAVILION - MORNING TEACHERS beckon their individual classes in different directions. A& cluster of 11-YEAR~OLD BQYS whisper, GIGGLE at one of the faded marble statues -- a female nude, its arms long ago lost. One BOY'S VOICE pops-- BOY Yeah, well, at least she can still use her mouth... TEACHER This way gentlemen. The boys scurry off. Elderly MILT JACOBSTEIN and the wheelchair-bound MRS. JACOBSTEIN stop before this statue. JACOBSTEIN Interesting. Definitely Helenistic, Mid fourth century. What's it say? Mrs. J. studies her museum guide inches from her nose. MRS. JACOBSTEIN It's not listed. JACOBSTEIN It's gotta be listed. MRS. JACOBSTEIN I don't see it in the guide. JACOBSTEIN ({snatches the guide) You can't see anything without your glasses. MRS. JACOBSTEIN I'm wearing my glasses. Where are your glasses? JACOBSTEIN I only need them to read. MRS. JACOBSTEIN What do you think you're doing right now, genius?

JACOBSTEIN (guide even closer to his nose) It's not in the guide. MRS. JACOBSTEIN Brilliant. JACOBSTEIN that? He's pointing to the stub of the statue's missing right arm. A TRICKLE OF RED. Stark against the marble. MRS. JACOBSTEIN Funny. It looks like... rivulet starts. Being secreted by the marble. It drips onto the alabaster right foot -- which has a couple of chipped and missing toes. Jacobstein leans closer, notices: a slight jagged protrusion poking from the stub of the arm. That's where the red is dripping from. His breath catches. JACOBSTEIN That's... bone. He looks at the statue again. The stunning detail of the face and torso suddenly suggesting something else entirely. Mrs. Jacobstein SCREAMS. CUT TO: BLACK SCREEN Moments, then-- INT. THE BOX Absolute minimal light -- makes the image impressionistic. We're inside a coffin-sized box. A pretty young WOMAN and her 3-year-old SON, nude, intertwined. Skin glistening with sweat. Shallow breaths. Sobbing. Terrified. INT. COLLINS' APARTMENT - MORNING Eyes fly open. BOBBY COLLINS, 30, is twisted on top of his sheets. Alone. The cell phone on the pillow beside him is vibrating/BUZZING. That's what woke him from his nightmare. A blessing. Needs a moment, then flips open the phone--

COLLINS Yeah? (listens; his expression shifts -- bad news) I'll be there in twenty. He sits up. Takes a moment to get his bearings. There's a GAUZE BANDAGE taped to his left forearm. He rises. Starts toward the bathroom. Glances at the bedroom window. Pause. Then he moves to it, cocks his body slightly to the side, pinches open the curtains just enough to take a candid look-- OUT THE WINDOW: NEIGHBORS gardening, MAILMAN on rounds, MOTHERS jogging with strollers. Totally benign. Collins isn't so sure. He scans the scene. His focus falls on a BOY and a GIRL, college-age, seated on the lawn across the street. Chatting. Nothing special about them. . Then suddenly the girl looks directly up at Collins' window. Collins freezes. She's staring right at him. Moment, then she looks away. Could have been a coincidence. But from Collins' expression: maybe not. OUT THE WINDOW: the Boy and Girl get casually to their feet, stroll away. Collins watches them. them. Even after they've disappeared from sight, he keeps staring. CUT TO: EXT. MUSEUM OF MODERN ART - DAY A crime scene now. Jumpy with police cars, forensic vans, a coroner's wagon, TV news trucks. ONLOOKERS jockey behind police tape. ' Collins -- sports coat, crummy tie, detective's badge-on-a- rope ~~- ducks under the tape. He passes a couple of other DETECTIVES who eye him, whisper, as he crosses. He ignores them. Making a beeline to-- EXT. COURTYARD - GREEK PAVILION - DAY The statue -- being taken from its pedestal: There's an unpleasant give of softness to the "marble" under the CORONER WORKERS' gloved hands. They lay it on a body-lift. Collins looks at the artful realism of the body paint. Impeccable. A CSU EXAMINER supervises the body transport--

CSU EXAMINER Amazing job. Looks centuries old. COLLINS Even painted the eyes. (beat) How long? CSU EXAMINER Probably been here since last night. COLLINS What about museum security? CSU EXAMINER Kinda screwed up, didn't they... The other two Detectives, RICE and OSHMA, sidle over. RICE You think this is one of yours, Collins? OSHMA He thinks they're all one of his. The whole world's in the Archie Sweet cult now, didn't know? RICE Collins, quick -- look behind you! They're everywhere! They laugh. Collins ignores them. Not really... but he tries. CUT TO: INT. AUTOPSY ROOM - DAY CLOSE - a scalpel slices into the marble-painted skin. A thin rebar-like steel rod is exposed beneath. WIDER. Collins paces while the M.E. works. The M.E. has seen it all in this job. But this... M.E. Kept it erect on the pedestal by reinforcing key bone structure with... looks like rebar. 1 think we'll find the body paint is covering probably dozens of incisions in the torso, limbs... (beat) I've been doing this eleven years. No contest. This is the sickest thing I've ever seen.

Collins meets the M.E.'s eyes. The M.E. knows what Collins is after. M.E. You want to know for certain it's the same perp. (beat) You're gonna be breathing down my neck until I confirm it. {looks body up and down, looks at Collins) It's the same guy. COLLINS You sure? M.E. I'1l1l be done here in four hours. You can wait. But I'll be telling you the same thing then. {beat) It's him. Collins' expression hardens. He starts for the door. M.E. What makes you think this guy is one just keeps heading for the door. M.E. {concerned) You're not going to talk to him. This causes Collins' pace to slow minutely. M.E. You know what happened last time you talked to him. Collins pauses at the door. He knows damn well what happened. Beat. He goes. CUT TO: EXT. INTERSTATE HIGHWAY - DAY Collins' unmarked car among mid-day highway traffic. INT. COLLINS' CAR - DAY Collinsg drives. Windows open, wind ruffles. No radio. Just his thoughts. His eyes flick to the rearview mirror. 4 Start to look away, then something

POV - REARVIEW MIRROR ... a Ford Torino, dulled original lime paint, still powerful despite being over 30 years old. Sun glare keeps him from seeing who's inside. Collins changes lanes. POV - REARVIEW MIRROR ... long moment, then the Torino changes lanes. Stays behind him. No way of telling if this was intentional or not. Suddenly -- Collins darts back into the other lane. Hits his breaks to slow. HORNS HONK behind him. Collins snaps around to peer into the Torino as it can't help but pass him-- The Torino guns forward. Collins doesn't see who's inside. Still no telling if any of this was intentional. HOLD on Collins. CUT TO: EXT. MAXTMUM SECURITY PRISON - ESTABLISHING - DAY INT. H BLOCK ~ WALKWAY - DAY Highest security block. CAT CALLS and debris thrown from cells as Collins is escorted past -- walking in the center of five big-shouldered PRISON GUARDS. Collins hates being escorted like this. But not-so-deep down, it makes him feel safer. Not safe. But safer. [ INT. ARCHIE'S CELL DAY CLOSE SHOTS -- POSTERS: Aerosmith, Alice Cooper, Van Halen, REO Speedwagon, Styx... a '70s rock retrospective. CLOSE SHOT - A BOOKSHELF: sloppy stacks of Mad Magazines, at least . a hundred of them. Rolling Stone. Plus the Bible. Plus the Koran. Plus The Best of Far Side. Plus Mein Kampf. WIDER -- Archie Sweet's prison cell. His home for the last 27 years. Lots of personalization that helps define Archie. Hit his prime in the mid-1970s; post-hippie, pre-disco. What probably defines him best: the double set of bars between him and the walkway outside. Specially made for Archie. "Schools by Mr. Cooper BLASTS from a CD changer. Collins appears outside the double bars. A FIGURE steps into f.g., his back to us -- grey ponytail held by a beaded band. Our first thought: aging hippie.

Collins can't completely mask the chill that runs through him upon seeing this man. REVERSE SHOT -- ARCHIE SWEET, 55. Our first look at him. He's a teddy bear. The kindest blue eyes, gentle smile. Like a dream father Ray Bradbury thirty years ago... So why the double set of bars? Collins signals the Guards to step away. They do so reluctantly. A BUZZ as the door in the outer set of bars unlocks. Collins enters the four-foot wide No Man's Land between inmer and outer bars. The door BUZZES locked behind him. Collins can't help but stiffen slightly as the door seals. Archie reaches over, switches OFF the music. Moment, then -- from a completely stationary position Archie suddenly springs forward, jutting his arm through the inner bars, toward Collins. A gnarled hand with horn-hard nails instantly five inches from Collins' nose. ARCHIE Bobby, so good to see you again, man! (beat) And so soon. Collins looks at the hand and fingers before his face. Bearing several arcane tattoos. Collins hates this man as much as one man can hate another. Tries to maintain. Archie lowers his hand for a handshake. Collins doesn't move. Moment more, then Archie withdraws his hand. ARCHIE The social graces are always the first to go... COLLINS Archie... we need to talk about "him". R ARCHIE I understand you had a bit of a problem when you left last time. (beat) Mind if I have a look? Moment. Collins knows what he needs to do if he wants Archie to talk. Collins raises his left sleeve, showing the gauze on his arm. Archie shakes his head. ARCHIE Doesn't loock like much at all really. (MORE)

ARCHIE (CONT'D) (looks up, eye contact) I bet it could‘ve been much worse. The subtlest threat we'll ever hear. Collins locks eyes with him. ARCHIE Problem with wounds like that. Sometimes they take extra long to heal. (beat) That happened over ten days ago. i And you still need a bandage. Imagine that... Archie smiles like he somehow knows why it's taking so long to heal. COLLINS ARCHIE I know... you're here to talk about "him". Our friend. The Artist... {beat) I wish the press could show a little more imagination with names... COLLINS They simply called you The Un-Human. ARCHIE See what I mean... Un-Human. Wwhat kind of word is that anyway? Inhuman, I know. But Un-Human... Collins remains silent. He isn't going to get caught up in Archie's banter. Archie knows when Collins gets like this. He shrugs. ARCHIE So, I take it our friend has unveiled something new? A new work? COLLINS You know he has. (beat) He's doing it for you. Archie studies Collins. ARCHIE What was it this time? Another landscape rendered in viscera? A (MORE)

ARCHIE (CONT'D) sonata composed of recorded victims'’ screams...? COLLINS A statue. Female nude. Painted... sculpted... to look like the Venus de Milo. Archie processes this... ARCHIE Venus. Sculpted? You mean like -~ with the arms missing? Collins studies Archie. How could he know this so quickly, unless... Archie actually LAUGHS out loud. Such deep appreciation. ARCHIE Brilliant! COLLINS I know he's one of yours, Archie. ARCHIE My followers -- what's left of them -- are all nearly pensioners, like myself. I've been behind bars almost twenty-eight years. (beat) I can't harm a fly... Collins just stares. Tortured eyes trying to slice their way into Archie's soul. Aarchie is in complete control... COLLINS This wouldn't be one of your original followers. We're talking about the new breed. The ones on the internet. Like those here in prison-- ARCHIE You mean the ones who attacked you last time you visited me...? He indicates Collins' arm. Then... ARCHIE The ones who buried your wife and son. Buried them in that awful-- Archie taps his own left forearm. Collins doesn't want to look. Knows already what is there. But he can't help himself. There on Archie's left forearm is a simple tattoo of A BOX. Collins labors to control his rage.

10. ARCHIE - Can I help it if my people have chosen to single you out? After all, you chose to single me out... trying to connect me with those savage Harris County murders just because they had a certain -- delicious -- ritualistic flair to them... Collins looks Archie square in the eye (something few people can do for more than a few seconds). COLLINS If you want to keep your current privileges... like your music, like your occasional internet access... you will help me. Archie's intense gaze never breaks from Collins. Moments, then... ARCHIE Ms. De Milo. Check her left arm. The stub of her left arm. If I'm correct, you'll find the cut slightly more -- precise. He took more time with it. ’ (beat) He wants the left arm. the left arm. For something else he's working on., His piéce de rédsistance. Collins absorbs this. Archie cocks his head, by way of explanation-~- ARCHIE’ I do so enjoy my internet. And he turns back into his cell, moves away. Collins quickly signal the Guards. The outer door BUZZES open. Without turning around-- ARCHIE Take care of that arm of yours, Bobby. .. Collins pushes out into the walkway. INT. H BLOCK - WALKWAY -~ MOMENTS LATER Collins, surrounded by the Guards, is walking fast past the CATCALLS and thrown debris. He's on his cell phone, urgent--

11. COLLINS Her left arm! That's right! Compare the amputations! Just do it! He starts to put his phone away -- and feels something. He looks at his left hand. BLOOD is dripping from beneath his cuff. He pushes up his sleeve. The gauze is soaked through with blood. For some reason, the wound has opened wide again. CLOSE - COLLINS ... his head spins, back down the walkway. Looking back toward Archie's cell. HOLD. And as we HOLD, suddenly something truly bizarre and completely incongruous happens. We HEAR appreciative LAUGHTER and PEOPLES' VOICES CALLING OUT: "Whoa!" "Go, "Not my Bobby!" “Archie put the hex on him!" “Mommy, I need a Band-Aid -- And WE SLOWLY PULL AWAY FROM COLLINS... TQO REVEAL... A 50~INCH PLASMA TV Strange as this sounds, Collins is now on the TV. What the hell is happening? We PAN OFF the TV to reveal WE are actually in-- AN UPSCALE DOWNTOWN BAR A full house tonight -- YOUNG EXECUTIVES, THIRTY-SOMETHING LAWYERS, SECRETARIES, ASSISTANTS... Everybody drinking, watching the SHOW playing on the bar's 50-inch TV, talking back to the screen. Total party atmosphere. A banner reads: "CULT" NIGHT at Henri's. Every Monday Nite. Be Here -- Or Bleed! On the TV: Collins is pacing intensely, in an emotion-fueled YELLING MATCH with his Lieutenant (LT. COXX). and it begins to sink in... Everything we've just been watching with Collins -- is a television series called "CULT". ) INT. A SUBURBAN HOME - NIGHT Another TV. The show playing here, as well. A COUPLE OF TEENS draped on the sofa, watching... INT. AN OFFICE BUILDING LOBBY - NIGHT Two SECURITY GUARDS watch on a small TV... INT. A DORM COMMUNITY ROOM ~ NIGHT Clusters of COLLEGE STUDENTS around the two dorm TVs -- both playing the show. Other STUDENTS walk past in b.g., shoot

12. them a RASPBERRY. The SHOW WATCHERS yell at them to “Shut the fuck upt!" INT. A BEDROOM - PENTHOUSE APARTMENT - NIGHT A COUPLE screwing under satin sheets, TV light flickering across them as "CULT" is left on, the SOUND turned low (but not off)... INT. A TEENAGER'S ROOM - NIGHT The show playing on a desk-top TV. A 14-YEAR-OLD BOY at his keyboard, signed in to the official, network-administered web51te, one eye on the show while 51multaneously participating in a LIVE CHAT about the show. INT. AN INTERNET CAFE - NIGHT The show plays on a wall-mounted TV. Rows of TWENTY- SOMETHINGS drink coffee and hunch at computers... other one is on a website... either the off1c1a1 site, or one of the hundreds of favored fan-created sites... INT. VARIOUS PLACES - HOMES, CONDOS, APARTMENTS - NIGHT We SEE TiVos... and DVD recorders . and VCRs. Red RECORDING lights on all. SPLIT SCREEN The images multiply, HONEYCOMBING OUR SCREEN. People watching... recorders running... Until literally hundreds of images of the "CULT" experience £ill OUR SCREEN. HOLD, then-- "EXT. NATE'S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT A common stucco two-story. Like the poster for The Exorcist, there's a second story window that's lit. Only here it's flicking with TV light... INT. NATE'S APARTMENT - NIGHT CLOSE ON TV: the SHOW is just ending. Collins has just received some shocking news. The credit comes up: EXECUTIVE PRODUCER STEVEN RAE NATE SEFTON, 22, stares at the TV. Stares. Eyes wide. Completely terrified by something he's just not crying or whimpering, but he's so full of fear, it's as if his body is imploding.

13. A pencil hangs suspended in his hand, the pad on his desk is - covered in scribbled notes, computations, frantically copied symbols. .. He sees something in the closing credits and his BREATH catches. He spins to the pad, adds this to some decoding he's been doing on the pad. And-- His pencil drops. He stares at the pad. We have never seen a young man this frightened in our lives. His hand darts out for his cell phone, dials with shaking fingers. NATE (intoc cell phone) It's me! I've got it! Yes ~- from the damn show! (quaking breath) I know what it means... And-- A LOUD KNOCK at his door. STARTLING. Almost wood-splintering HARD. Nate's eyes flash toward the door. The cell phone drops. And he begins TREMBLING. His eyes flick from the pad to the door. Another LOUD KNOCK, EVEN HARDER. PUSH IN on him. Into his eyes, and... FADE TO: EXT. A BILLBOARD - MORNING A billboard for "CULT". Monday nights at 10pm. Jagged madman lettering. Creepy, under-your-skin graphics. And a banner haphazardly plastered across the corner: Do Not Watch This (hard to tell if this is part of the show's advertising campaign, or something somebody else has actually slapped on there...). PAN. The billboard is on Sumnset Boulevard. More billboards for more movies and TV shows up and down the street. The "CULT" billboard blends with the others, disappearing in the melange. .. PAN CONTINUES to the north, toward the homes and apartments dotting the mountainside... EXT. SUN-MAR APARTMENTS - MORNING ANGLE -- There's the "CULT" billboard down on the boulevard, seen from this different perspective. PULL BACK:

14. Poolside at the Sun-Mar. Just above Sunset. Last renovated - in 1970. But among the very coolest place to live in L.A. Young ACTORS/ACTRESSES wearing dental floss lounge around the pool; young FILMMAKERS in XX-L t-shirts dangle their pale feet into the pool. Everybody with a cell. Everybody except... JEFF SEFTON, 26. 1In faded retro Dewey Webber tank and baggies. Vacuuming the pool. Maui Jim sunglasses that cost him a day's wages. Zinc across his nose. BELLAH, 40, the apartment manager, steps out holding her Atkins strawberry shake can with a flexi-straw -- deep red lipstick on the tip. She moves up beside Jeff, admires his work. BELLAH You do good work. Jeff, isn't it? JEFF (nods, easy going, comfortable with himself) Only a few hundred in the city who can do as well... BELLAH _ Much better than Frankie. You're two-thirds done and you've only been here forty-five minutes. Frankie's work looks like crap and he's here most of the day. A JESSICA ALBA CLONE swims past doing laps, thonged ass cheeks glistening above the waterline. JEFF Can't understand {looks out-over the tenants) Everybody here an actor or filmmaker...? BELLAH Wannabe. You gotta say wannabe. The last non-actor we had living here was Shannen Doherty. (beat) That's my joke. JEFF (nods in appreciation without laughing) Good one. wWhen he's not looking, Bellah checks him up and down...

15. BELLAH - You know, if you're available, I might be able to talk the owners into making a switch. JEFF I'm just here 'cause Frankie took his girlfriend out to the Morongo for the week. I don't usually come over the hill. BELLAH leper colony) You work in the valley? JEFF Born and raised. Tarzana. She gives him a look. "What a waste..." BELLAH Every man should aspire to better things... This seems to hit a nerve with Jeff. Only a split second, nearly subliminal. But the reaction is definitely there. JEFF I'm not sure cleaning pools in a different location exactly qualifies as aspiring to better things... Now his cell rings -- breaking the moment. His RING TONE: Beach Boy's "Help Me Rhonda". He cocks his head to Bellah, Excuse me. Bellah nods vaguely, already knows he's a lost cause, wanders off. Jeff flips open his phone-- JEFF ? TONS OF STATIC. JEFF Hello? NATE {(over phone) Jeff-- JEFF Nate? STATIC. A HIGH-PITCHED NOISE, LIKE A Shot-glass IN A GARBAGE DISPOSAL. Jeff holds the phone away from his ear.

16. JEFF whoa! Bro, this connection sucks. Try calling me NATE Jeff! warn you----- Jeff starts to pick up on a tone in Nate's voice. But with that crazy static, it's hard to really tell-- JEFF Nate. I can't understand what you're saying. You're gonna have to-- NATE ANNIE URBAN- JEFF What? Nate-- One last deafening GROUND Shot-glass BLAST -- and the connection terminates. Jeff stands there. Hunh...? What was that? He hits an auto-dial. Busy. Hits it again. Busy. Stares at his phone. No fucking clue. EXT. STREET - QUTSIDE SUN-MAR APARTMENTS -~ DAY (LATER) Jeff reloads the pool gear into his sun-faded Toyota pick- up. Peeling letters on the door: HO SIK PAK'S POOL SERVICES. He tries the phone again. Still busy. Knows what he's going to have to do... JEFF Dammit . He climbs in... CUT TO: EXT. NATE'S APARTMENT BUILDING ~ EVENING Jeff bops up the front walk from his truck, sucking on a Big Gulp. EXT, COURTYARD - NATE'S APARTMENT BUILDING - EVENING Jeff moves to Nate's door. #29. KNOCKS:. No answer. Jeff finds the emergency key he keeps on his key ring. Starts to use it. But the door's unlocked. Jeff frowns. Pushes open the door.

17. JEFF Bro~- ? INT. NATE'S APARTMENT - EVENING Jeff enters. JEFF Nate...? The TV is still on. We notice that "CULT" is playing as Jeff moves past the TV. He checks the kitchenette, eases open the bedroom door. Nobody home. Frowns. He spots something at Nate's desk. Moves over and picks up -- Nate's cell phone. Still here. Jeff doesn't know if this means anything or not. The desk chair -- a tall-backed creme-colored cloth chair ~- is facing away from Jeff and the desk. Jeff absently leans his hand on it. Thinking. He doesn't notice it yet, but we do: THE PRESSURE OF HIS HAND IS CAUSING SOMETHING TO SEEP FROM THE BACK OF CHAIR. BLOOD. Now Jeff feels the wet-sticky on his hand. Looks. And jumps. He looks at the blood covering his palm. Holy fucking shit!! He looks at the back of the chair. Blood is blossoming from the spot where he touched it. Jeff, his heart in his throat, doesn't want to look. But.... He touches the edge of the chair, eases it arocund... and. There's no one in the chair. However -- THE ENTIRE FRONT OF THE CHAIR IS SATURATED WITH BLOOD. 1In a vague human shape, as if someone had been sitting there and lost, well... all of their blood. CLOSE ON JEFF -- sucking air, eyes pinned wide. On the TV in the deep b.g. behind him: "CULT" plays... END OF ACT ONE

18. ACT TWO A PAIR OF STUDIO LIGHTS Being rolled along. WIDEN-~ EXT. STUDIO LOT -~ MORNING The lights are being rolled toward an open soundstage door. Lots of CREW and CAST wandering in and out of the stage. A young production assistant, CHLOE YARROW, 23, smart-cute, struggles with a cardboard box brimming with packages and thick envelopes. She reaches the "CULT" makeup traller, juggles the box up the stairs-- INT. MAKEUP TRAILER - MORNING MATTHEW LOGAN sits in the #1 chair, tissues in the collar of his t-shirt, as he's made up. Matthéw is the actor who plays Collins. Right now he's in his own clothes, and his hair is fell-outta-bed disheveled. He's reading Hollywood Reporter. In the next chair over is ROGER HOOKS who plays Archie Sweet. He's in full makeup and prison-jumpsuit costume already... but wears incongruous black-rimmed glasses and has an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. He also reads Reporter. MATTHEW (reading) ...with numbers lingering uncomfortably in the low teens for the third week in a row." Dammit. ROGER What do they want from us. ' MATTHEW Bigger numbers. ROGER We're holding our audience. MATTHEW Our insanely rabid audience. Rabidly insane audience... enters, struggling with the box. Matthew glances over. Nobody moves a muscle to help her. She manages to make it to the makeup counter, half drops it. MATTHEW Speak of the devil. {MORE)

19. MATTHEW (CONT'D) (eyes box) More booty from our admiring fans? CHLQE It's all I could carry. There's more in the office. Roger rises, moves over, starts picking through it. ROGER In a single day's mail. See. Our fans are wonderful, passionate, loval... . {then, quick, to Chloe) Have you checked all this? CHLOE Yes. No animal parts, no sick . Polaroids, no anthrax... MATTHEW You took out anything with a phone number, right? My manager and my lawyer both said I can't even look at-- . CHL.OE All phone numbers obliterated. A 2ND A.D. sticks her head in-- 2ND A.D. Gentlemen. Set call. Five minute warning. The actors hear her, ignore her -~ just keep fishing through the box. Chloe squeezes past the 2nd A.D. EXT. STUDIO LOT ~ MORNING Chloe steps back into the morning sun. She spots the show's Executive Producer/Showrunner GARY FISHER, 45, walking toward the soundstage. She bites her lip, considers whether she should approach. Chloe isn't retiring. She makes a beeline-- CHLOE Mr. Fisher... He's. flipping through a print-out of the overnights. . Distracted. Chloe falls into step with him. It takes him a moment to toss her a look; can't quite place her. CHLOE Chloe. Yarrow. Production assistant?

FISHER Right. You're new. CHLOE Well, I've been here about five weeks now. .. Fisher's still looking at the anemic overnights... FISHER Uh-huh. So how's it working out for you? CHLOE Fine, good. Do you have a minute? He so doesn't have a minute for a P.A. who will certainly want to talk about herself. But... he forces himself to focus on her... FISHER You're the one who interviewed for the researcher job... CHLOE But I got P.A. instead. Happens, I understand that. (fast) It's just I've got my M.A. in Information Sciences but I also did some interdisciplinary work in Psychopathology which I thought made me a pretty candldate for the kind of. (beat) But that's not what I want to... (takes a sobering breath) One of my jobs on the show is dealing with the fan mail. FISHER I know. Our fans send some pretty creepy stuff. If you'd rather not-- CHLOE It's not that. Although some of the stuff is... (moment) No, it's... I've been surfing the websites. On my own time, of course. Not the official ones, but the ones the fans put up. And--

21. FISHER Yeah. Pretty amazing some of them, huh? Our fans are obsessed. Po-ssessed. If only there were a few million more of them... CHLOE Their numbers are definitely growing. FISHER ~~ Your lips to God's ear -- CHLOE And most of the websites are amazing... and cool and fun. But it's... the other ones... FISHER What other ones? CHLOE The ones you find if vou follow certain links... the ones that make it hard for you to get into... Fisher immediately stiffens. This isn't something you talk about. .. ) FISHER Any show -- Seventh Heaven -~ has it's share of... of extremely passionate fans... CHLOE But a show like this-- FISHER If you're not comfortable working here... . CHLOE {fast) It's not that. Not that at all. It's just... (doesn't know how to say it) There's a level of... of connection to this show... by some people. Don't you find it all a little... (beat) ...scary?

22. FISHER (defensive, on his way pissed) Some of our fans like to pretend they're Archie Sweet followers. Big deal. 1It's like Trekkies dressing up like... like Data... CHLOE Some of it's centered around the Archie Sweet character, but there's this entire other... sub-culture... that's developing around the show. And it's not just about Archie Sweet. (beat) It's something else. Fisher starts looking at her like maybe she's the one who's a little meshugah. Or, worse, a potential problem-maker . CHLOE I mean, I know -- it's just a TV show. and they're just people who But... (beat) I thought, if you wanted me to, I could dig into it a little more. Find out something about who's creating these sites, who's visiting them. Not that I'd ever think they were dangerous or anything, you know, but they are pretty freaky some of them, and I was thinking if you wanted to know I'd be glad to... Fisher just continues to stare. Chloe reads his look. Knows she's stepped into a pile of shit here. CHLOE Right. You're right. Never mind. Craziness. I don't want you to think I'm... She shifts gears -- fast. Takes a breath--~ CHLOE Forget I mentioned it. Really. Forget it. (beat) Green revisions! wanted me to tell you the green revisions are gonna be distributed by this morning. Moment as he regards her. Then--

23. FISHER (bullshit) I appreciate your attention to the show. All aspects of the show. Really. {pause) Let me have a look at the greens before they go out. CHLOE Always. And he moves off. Chloe is pissed at herself. She may've really blown it with the Exec Producer. But beneath the job- worries, there's still a whole other level of uneasiness that she just can't seem to shake... CUT TO: EXT. KRISTIN BRANNON'S HOUSE -~ ESTABLISHING - DAY ’ Nice suburban home. A picket fence. Really. KRISTIN'S BEDROOM - DAY CLOSE ON TV... where a recording of last night's episode of “CULT" plays. A HAND is in f.g., scribbling notes into an already-full notebook. Same kind of arcane figuring, computations, frantically copied symbols as we saw at Nate's last night... KRISTIN BRANNON, 17, in cheerleader uniform, is hunched over her desk, seeing "clues" in the TV images that we don't see. She works with an intensity she's never applied to anything else in her life (certainly not school work). KRISTIN'S MOM (0.S5.) (calling from downstairs) Kristin! Joey and I are in the car! I'm backing down the driveway! I'm driving away! I suggest .you move it, young lady! Kristin finishes a note. Snaps off the TV, starts to race out, grabbing her bookbag. But she drops it. Books spill. As she hurries to shove them back in, we get a fleeting glimpse: U.S. History, Algebra II/Trig, Mein Kampf, Elements of Style... KRISTIN'S MOM (0.S.) As Kristin bends, her jeans creep down and the small of her back is exposed. Between the sacral dimples: a BOX TATTOO, identical to the one on Archie Sweet's arm in the TV series.

24. Bookbag in hand, she races out the door. - CUT TO: EXT. NATE'S APARTMENT BUILDING - DAY One PD BLACK-AND-WHITE, one UNMARKED SEDAN, one CSU VAN. INT. NATE'S APARTMENT - DAY Two UNIFORMED COPS, one DETECTIVE, and two FORENSICS WORKERS. Not a big turn out. Jeff watches, deer in the headlights, as a forensics guy takes a sample of the blood soaking the chair. A dead-on-her-feet detective, ROSE 45 questions Jeff-- SAKELIK You sure he was calllng you from his cell phone? She holds up the cell phone now sealed in an Evidenc¢e bag. JEFF He only has a cell. SAKELIK Could have called from a friend's. Or a payphone. Mind if we trace the call off your ce11° Jeff shakes his head -- of course not. There's a extra level to Jeff's anxiety, like there’'s something about Nate missing that he isn't telling. Sakelik studies him, her cop radar twitching. SAKELIK We'll need your consent. JEFF will help. (can't stop looking at bloody chair) will you know if the blood is... Sakelik keeps an eye on him, on his demeanor. SAKELIK We 11 check it against other DNA in the place -~ toothbrush, hair off his pillow. You and your brother get along? She says it so quick, it throws Jeff. As intended.

JEFF What? Yeah. Of course. (beat) I didn't see him much lately. SAKELIK Where do you live? JEFF Tarzana. SAKELIK What's that -- about seven, eight minutes away? . Jeff nods. Too distracted to pick up on the inference. SAKELIK Parents? . JEFF (beat) Both gone. SAKELIK Living someplace else gone or deceased gone? : JEFF Sorry. Deceased. SAKELIK So just you two boys? Jeff nods. SAKELIK Did Nate have a girlfriend? Boyfriend? On this question, Jeff blinks. Hesitating a nanosecond. . JEFF Nobody special. that he told me about. The second detective, MICHAELSON, 35, calls over from the TV. It's still playing "CULT". MICHAELSON Was this on when you came in? 25.

26, JEFF (hadn't noticed the TV before) Yeah, I... I didn’t turn it on, so it must've been. MICHAELSON (checking TivVo atop the V) Playing something he recorded. Got it set to keep repeating. He looks at what's playing. Shrugs. Doesn't recognize it. FORENSICS GUY #2 (0.8.) whoa. .. Jeff and ‘sakelik look over. Forensics Guy #2 has switched on Nate's computer. The screen scrolls DOS commands, -then FLICKERS, then scrolls some more, then FLASHES blank. 4 FORENSICS GUY #2 Guy's hard drive is completely f;ied. Jeff just stares. Head swimming. Sakelik watches him. Across the room, Detective Michaelson stands, arms folded, watching the TV. Despite himself, he's suddenly kinda caught up in what he's watching. CUT TO: EXT. TOPANGA CANYON - DAY The winding road among the lush greenery. Someone steps into F.G. CLOSE-UP: Bobby Collins. He's just exited his unmarked car parked on the shoulder. He moves down a rutted dirt driveway hidden by foliage. EXT. DAKOTA'S COMPOUND - DAY Collins approaches a trio of old, different-sized trailers plopped in this dusty clearing, concealed from the street. Emaciated vegetable gardens, heaps of trash, rusted-out cars. Maybe a dozen RESIDENTS -- Archie Sweet's followers -- mill around, aged 17-60, dressed in tie-dye and frayed jeans. Dirty KIDS play, a few naked TODDLERS run around, dogs. Collins, completely out of place in his spdrts coat, moves among the wary residents. They know him. He stops before a 20-year-old GIRL breastfeeding a dirty baby~-

27. COLLINS Where's Dakota? She squints up at him, shielding her eyes. GIRL Pig. Collins shakes his head. Like stepping into a time machine. He continues over toward the largest trailer. INT. DAKOTA'S TRAILER -~ DAY Cluttered, filthy. HEAR flies BUZZING. A 50—yeafi:old COUPLE, the man shirtless, sit half-reclined on a ratty sofa watching a TV with coat hanger rabbit ears. Collins doesn't even bother to ask, just starts toward the back. Pushes through the beads-- IN THE BACK Computers. Powerful new Dells. Eight of them. Set up on blond Ikea tables. This bedroom is still pretty nasty, but at least we feel like wé're back in the twenty-first century. FOLLOWERS (mostly younger) sit at the computers. They're on the internet, in chat rooms, typing away... ARNOLD "DRKOTA" WEINSTEIN, 60, sits on a stool in the corner, half-glasses, flipping through a printout. Wearing some sort of Indian-inspired buckskin shirt over his paunch. He glances up, gentle reaction upon seeing Collins. Smiles. DAKOTA The prodigal returns. Or something... COLLINS You've doubled your computers. DAKOTA Gotta keep in touch with the brethren. COLLINS And recruit new ones. DAKOTA No recruitment necessary. They contact us. COLLINS (eyeing computers) How many countries now...? DAKOTA Truth, we've lost count. (MORE)

28. DAKOTA (CONT'D) {sliding off stool to join Collins) Ever heard of Svalbard? Sounds like the kind of place with maybe one computer in the whole country. But somebody from there reached out to us just this morning... Collins watches the Followers' fingers flying over the keys, communicating with so many... EXT. DAKOTA'S COMPOUND - DAY Dakota and Collins walk the compound. Kids kick up dust around them. Dakota sips a from the blue bottle. COLLINS don't you fix this place up some? - You've certainly got the cash from all the money these people send you. DAKOTA It's called tithing. BAnd we like it this way. It's faithful to the Original Ranch. COLLINS Where Archie planned the murder sprees. .. DAKOTA (nostalgic grin) Summer of '75. Archie Sweet's Rolling Mayhem Tour... {beat) Those weren't sprees, they were object lessons. Vital for the times. Designed by Archie to reveal the defenselessness of the common man. COLLINS So he and six of his followers spent five weeks driving through Arizona, New Mexico, and California slaughtering at random. DAKOTA Time Magazine put him on the cover. Remember the caption? COLLINS I was six months old... he knows) "Our Loss of

29. DAKOTA (juiced) Our Loss of frickin Innocence! Exactamundo! Precisely the lesson he was trying to teach and it ends up on the cover of (beat) And the world did change. There was a loss of innocence after that. He shakes his head, laughs, still overwhelmed by the magnitude of power of the man. COLLINS Problem is... he's still trying to teach the same lesson. Using the disenfranchised, the vulnerable of ‘an entirely new generation... DAKOTA The guy's still got the chops, what can I tell ya... But, of course, as you know, we get a hint of somebody doing anything criminal in Archie's name, we pass it right along to you. Pronto. Collins studies him. DAKOTA Look, if this is about your wife and kid again-- COLLINS (fast, to get off that subject) No. We've got a new one, Dakota taps the bottle to his lip. DAKOTA The Artist? Collins studies Dakota, trying to gauge his awareness. DAKOTA Read about him on Smoking Gun. (beat) Nasty fellow. But not one of ours. (beat) Definitely not one of ours.

30. COLLINS Want to know what I think? I think everything The Artist is doing is so extreme, so colorful -- it's all just camouflage, misdirection... hoping to distract us from something else. Some next event that Archie has in the works... Dakota maintains the steady gaze of someone definitely hiding something. Moment, then. DAKOTA I, of course, have no idea what that could be. But... you know how Archie loves his events. Haven't had a really good one in some time... COLLINS I'm coming back with a warrant to check your computers. DAKOTA As you've done so often in the past Mi casa es su casa. {shrugs) Funny just how good some of the kids we have around here are with computers. .. He drains the rest of his water. Motions to Collins' left arm with the bottle--~ DAKOTA Oh, hey, by the way -- how's the arm? HOLD on Collins. CUT TO: EXT. 4TH STREET - SANTA MONICA - DAY Condo row, overlooking the ocean in the distance. Jeff's pick-up parked at the curb. Jeff moves up the path. He looks up at the building, clearly apprehensive. Someone is just coming out the condo front door; Jeff hurries to squeeze through before the door closes. INT. CONDO HALLWAY - DAY Jeff KNOCKS on a door. #292. He HEARS a WOMAN's agltated VOICE from inside. She's emotional, YELLING. Jeff KNOCKS louder. Moment, then--

31. MERRIAM (through door) Who is it? Who's out there? JEFF Merriam. It's me... (hesitant) Jeff. Silence. Long, long moment. Then the door opens an inch. MERRIAM, 22, dark-haired, very pretty. Except right now her eyes are red-rimmed from crying, and from abject -- fear,. JEFF Merriam...? . MERRIAM My God. Jeff. - What are you-- I can't-- Not now. I can't-- JEFF Have you seen Nate? MERRIAM {instant panic) Why? JEFF Something's happened. He's missing... And Merriam GASPS. True, soul-deep dread. She stumbles away from the door. Jeff eases open the door. INT. MERRIAM'S CONDQ - DAY Nicely appointed. Somebody's got money. Merriam paces the room, trying desperately to think. JEFF Merriam... what's the matter? What-- MERRIAM Nate... my God... Nate... Jeff still carries. that mysterious extra anxiety about Nate's disappearance. .. JEFF For chrissakes. Do you know something? Is Nate all right? Have you=- And Merriam rushes toward Jeff. At first it looks threatening but she throws herself against him, into his arms. Tears. From the way she clings to him, it's clear that this isn't the first time she’s been in his arms. Jeff pauses, then

32. slowly closes his arms around her. There's still electricity for him. . JEFF Merriam. This is very important. Do you know where Nate is? Merriam shakes her head against his chest. JEFF In his apartment... there was blood... Merriam jerks away from him, eyes wide. JEFF {quickly) We don't know if it's Nate's-- Merriam's mind is racing. She seems to know for a MERRIAM It's not his blood... wouldn't be... JEFF (frowns) How do you know it's not hig-- (beat) What are you and Nate mixed up in? Merriam is pacing again. Like someone trying to figure a way out of a trap. JEFF Look, I know you and I haven't been exactly... not since you and Nate... but you've got to talk to me. MERRIAM {to herself) It's that goddamn show... JEFF Show? What show? MERRIAM (still to herself) He said he'd gotten the Box again... idiot... you're only supposed to have it once... There's a NOISE outside in the hall. Probably just somebody walking past. Merriam freezes. Eyes riveted to the door. Jeff sees the panic in her eyes. JEFF What Box? Merriam--

33. MERRIAM We never knew... never knew... {beat) Never knew the scale of it all... JEFF You're not making any sense. Merriam, do you know where Nate is? If you know anything -- whatever's wrong -- we'll-- Merriam looks at him: This is so far beyond anything we can do. Long moment... then it's like she's made a decision about something. With real intensity, she locks him square in the eye and says-- ) MERRIAM Well, hey... these things just snap right off. Jeff just stares. Has he just gone officially mad? What did she just say? MERRIAM "Well, hey... these things just snap right off"! Repeat it! If you want a chance of understanding what's really going on, you'll have to know that phrase! Say it!! : Another NOISE outside the door. Merriam is reaching maximum panic level. JEFF I don't understand what you‘re saying. Merriam, please -- just, just sit. You've got to calm down. You've got to tell me what the hell is happening-- Merriam's hand has found its way into a drawer. She pulls out a .9mm semi-automatic. MERRIAM {sobs) Well, hey... these things just snap right off... And she puts the barrel to her cheek and pulls the trigger. CLOSE -~ JEFF absolutely slammed. The CRACK of the single shot still reverberating around him... END OF ACT TwO

34. ACT THREE INT. STARBUCKS -~ NIGHT Busy tonight, as always. Customers chatting, some doing schoolwork, others writing screenplays on laptops. AMY YOST, 21, very cute, collects her books, while on her cell phone-- AMY Denise, Denise -~ will you please stop. I don't care how cute he is, I don't have time right now. BARISTA {calls out) Amy! Venti no foam, two sugar latte! AMY Conversation closed. Say g'night, Denise. G'night Denise. Amy hangs up, picks up her latte .for the .road. BARISTA See you tomorrow? AMY Every night until I get this thesis done. . She bounces toward the door. We HOLD on a young man, FAHEY, 30, casually sipping his Venti Cap. Totally blends in with the crowd. His eyes follow Amy as she exits. If anybody even notices, it looks like a young guy checking out a very cute girl. Nothing more... As he takes another sip, his sleeve rides up slightly. And there on his forearm: A BOX TATTOO just like Archie Sweet's. TO: EXT. THE STRAND - VENICE - NIGHT (90 MINUTES LATER) Cute Amy now jogs.along in warm-ups and t-shirt. Another jogger passes her. 1It's Fahey... FAHEY Amy? Amy slows, turns, lowers her Mp3 player headphones .

35. FAHEY Amy, right? (off her look) You. don't remember me, do you? Amy doesn't. She tries to place him. She's a cautious girl. Doesn't move closer. He doesn't move, either. FAHEY Robert. Robert Killian. That seminar, at the college, last Spring. There was a bunch of us. (beat) We all went for coffee afterwards. Sound perfectly plausible. But she still can't place him. AMY I'm really sorry. "Robert" did you say? FAHEY Yeah. Your friend, Donna, no, not Donna... Denise... she introduced us. I think she thought we'd hit it off or something. The reference to matchmaker Denise sure rings true. FAHEY ("remembering") You were a latte. No foam... uh, two sugars... AMY That's my drink. You've got quite the memory... FAHEY That's me. Great memory for faces and coffee... Fahey takes an easy step toward her, smiling gently. Her guard isn't completely down yet... but she doesn't retreat, either. We see the glint behind Fahey's eyes. Gotcha. INT. H-2 HUMMER - NIGHT (5 MINUTES LATER) The back doors fly open and something bulky is hurled inside. Fahey climbs in, slams.the doors behind him. The bulky" was Amy... dazed, bleeding from her eyebrow and one ear. She lies on the cargo area floor, hands bound, trying to open her eyes. She focuses on Fahey... then on the walls around her, which are padded with sound insulating egg crate.

36. AMY Whaa... puh... wh... Then her eyes focus on a beautiful rack of tools attached to one wall. Cutting tools. Shiny steel. Her eyes widen, brimming will tears of terror. But nothing compared to when her gaze shifts to what hangs beside the tools. Human skins. Leathery, dried, puckered. The sockets where eyes, noses, mouths once resided now gaping... appearing to stare down at her in the near total darkness. Amy begins to SCREAM. Fahey couldn't care less. He climbs over into the driver's seat, fires her up. EXT. DARK STREET - NIGHT We hear nothing of Amy's screams. Only the power of the engine as the Hummer glides effortlessly away. CUT TO: INT. PRODUCTION OFFICES - STUDIO LOT - LATE AFTERNOON CLOSE on a PHOTO taped to a wall. A behind-the-scenes PRODUCTION STILL from the scene we just saw -- Fahey and Amy in the back of the Hummer. Only in the photo they're both laughing in good-natured hysterics. The Panaflex is visible in the f.g. of the photo, as well as some of the CREW MEMBERS. WIDER. We're in the ASSISTANTS' BULLPEN of the "CULT" production offices. Crazy-busy, as always. . More similar photos from- other locations £ill this wall. Also on display: -a few of the more gruesome. props from the.show. Including one of those leathery human skins, only here it's wearing a "CULT" crew baseball cap and has an unlit cigarette hanging from its mouth socket. In b.g., a PRODUCTION SECRETARY reads Far Side Gallery #5 (deep b.g., we don't make any special point of it). - Chloe, our P.A., stands at a big worktable, collating colored pages into stacks of scripts. Nobody's helping her. Across the way, the door to the WRITERS ROOM opens. Exec Producer Gary Fisher walks out with Network Sr. VP of Current KYLE SEGAL, 32-- SEGAL - It's all about numbers, my friend. Only the numbers.