The Night Flier

1-0-1-Bravo-Lima, come in. Over.

I can't have you sittin' in the middle of my runway, hoss. Respond. Over.

This is Buck Kendall tryin' ya again, 1-0-1-Bravo-Lima.

You gotta move it, and I mean now, not later.

Why do all the weird ones have to fly at night?

You don't want to move?

I'll move you myself.

Okay, hoss, let's roll it off on the grass.

Curtains?

Hey, buddy!

You in there, friend?

Good Lord.

What happened in here?

Oh, Jesus...

save me.

Now ma'am, when these aliens were examining you...

was there any penetration involved?

A 14-year-old tennis star shouldn't do heroin. It'll mess up her backhand.

Hey, look, frontal nudity, back-al nudity, side-al nudity-

Shit, he's famous enough. We'll print whatever you got.

You're damn right. What time?

Tattoo? Yeah, he do.

Was he naked?

- Let me see that. - Hey!

Give that back.

Where's my picture? Where's my goddamn dead baby?

I told you, Libby, don't fuck with my stuff.

I told you before, Dees, don't fuck with me. Morrison cut your dead baby.

You got a problem with that, hotshot? Take it up with him.

Let me tell you what "Inside View" is, Ms. Blair.

It's a microscope-- a cultural microscope--

focusing in on the collective unconscious of the American populace.

What we do here at "Inside View," Katherine, is identify and define...

the cultural archetype of the American mind.

Now read that list back to me, the stories I want you looking for.

"Alien abductions.

Amusing animal stories. Attacks on the handicapped."

Only if it has a twist, some kind of kinky sex in there or something.

"Battered wives.

Bizarre body functions.

- Breast surgery horror stories." - That's always good.

"C. Celebrities: addicted, perverted...

dying, dead."

And back from the dead.

"Demonic possession."

Merton, just because you don't have any balls doesn't mean you can cut mine off.

Morning, Richard.

Do you know what I had to do to get that picture?

Any idea how cold those slabs are?

This emotionally unstable individual is Richard Dees, our senior reporter.

Katherine Blair.

- Hi. - It's very nice to meet you.

He spout off about all that "collective unconsciousness" crap yet?

We'll finish this later.

Sure. No problem.

Thank you for everything. I won't let you down.

- Welcome to "Inside View." - Thanks. It was nice meeting you.

What about my picture?

We love your pictures. In the future, keep the victims over two years old.

Sit down. I gotta show you something.

Sorry. I forgot my purse.

Thank you.

- So what do you think of Katherine? - Another Jimmy Olsen.

She doesn't have much experience, but she's sharp. Good instincts. Great ass.

Did you mention to her why the position opened up?

No. I wanted to hire her, not scare her away.

There's no reason she needs to know anything about Dottie. Anyway, look.

- Your assignment. - What?

I thought I was doing Nina Briggs. She's down to 75 pounds.

- She won't be around very long. - She can stay or go. Who cares?

A country star with AIDS. That's way too soft a story for you.

Besides, this is much more up your alley. This is gonna be a big one.

People will wanna read about this guy.

There's nothing here.

A man who thinks he's more than a man...

flies into desolate airports in the middle of the night...

and kills whatever poor schmuck happens to be around...

drains the body of the blood...

then he flies away in search of his next victim.

He calls himself Dwight Renfield.

Dwight is the first name of an actor named Dwight Fry...

who played the role of Renfield, the bug-eating lunatic...

in the 1931 version of "Dracula."

That's not a story?

The guy's a movie fan. So what? Vampires are a dime a dozen in the tabs.

The next time the psycho goes out, they'll nail him.

Yeah? Why?

They've got the make of his plane and the tail number.

Would you rob banks with the same car every time?

No one's caught him yet.

Look, put that pilot license and plane of yours to some use.

You're good with the hicks.

- You're the best. - Thank you.

You need this one. Take my word on it.

Your work has been lacking lately.

You haven't hit the front pages in months, and this is front-page material.

This is a waste of space, is what it is.

- It's a waste of my time. - I'll run it with our without you.

It's gonna be a screamer, I guarantee.

Why not give it to "Jimmy"?

Something nice and juicy for her to sink her teeth into.

Fucking prick.

"Lacking," my ass.

Oh, shit.

I'm Katherine Blair. We met this morning in Mr. Morrison's office. Remember me?

I remember you, Jimmy.

As in "Olsen."

- Mind if I join you? - Do I have a choice?

- So. - What an exciting first day this was.

I already got my first assignment:

a psycho pilot who thinks he's a vampire.

Yeah, I know. I already pissed on it--

I passed on it. Why are you here?

I doubt that you followed me just to shoot the shit.

- I didn't follow you. I was just-- - It doesn't matter.

You're here now. What do you want?

Well, okay.

I was hoping you'd give me the inside view of "Inside View."

Who better to learn from than the paper's star reporter?

Maybe you could share your philosophy with me.

- My philosophy? - Your secret for staying on top.

I'd love to hear it. That is, if you have one.

Here it is. You'd better take notes.

Never believe what you publish...

and never publish what you believe.

Did I talk too fast?

Well, I guess I was just expecting...

something more from someone who thinks of himself as--

As a what?

Well, a real reporter.

Let me ask you, what the fuck do you know about being a real reporter?

- Goddamnit! - Sorry. I didn't mean to offend you.

- Let's start over. - Why?

I already know your story. I heard it a million times.

You come from Lockport, Rockport, Bridgeport...

Eugene, Oregon, or some goddamn place.

You tried to get into Columbia or Yale...

but you ended up at Illinois State, didn't you?

Then you interned for "The Examiner" or "The Patriot." What? Help me, please.

-"The Herald." - Exactly. That's right.

You covered everything from cake sales to dog shows to class reunions.

That got a little mundane.

So you came to us for a little more spice.

- The money-- Stop me if I'm wrong here. - What are you getting at?

You've been here before.

And you'll be here again. The faces change, but the end is always the same.

You won't last.

- Maybe I'll surprise you. - Maybe you will.

Maybe you'll stick around for a while, end up just like Dottie.

What are you talking about?

You want my inside view of "Inside View?"

All right. I'll give it to you.

And it ain't about no fucking philosophy, honey. Believe me.

"Inside View" is an illustration of the insane.

It's a diary of the deranged and dangerously sick.

Kindergarten teachers setting fire to their students...

because they think these five year olds are plotting their executions.

Satanic biker cults slaughtering hitchhikers. Here's the fun part.

After talking to these crazy people all day, every single day...

sometimes their stories can get to you...

creep in like some kind of fucking cancer, and pretty soon...

all this shit starts making sense.

That's what happened with Dottie Walsh.

Areal go-getter, just like you. She started to believe in the unbelievable.

Not more than a year after Dottie was hired...

she was dead.

Went home one night and took a bath with a dry-cleaning bag around her head.

Bye-bye, Dottie.

Hello, Jimmy.

Made for a killer headline, though.

I'm sorry I bothered you.

- That's okay. - I thought we could be friends, but--

- Yeah, well. - I guess I was wrong.

Listen, I don't have friends.

I've got my camera, my plane and my stories. That's all I want.

That's all I need. So if you want a friend, buy a dog.

No hard feelings.

No! Help me!

Oh, Jesus, help!

Oh, God! Oh, please help me!

What's so goddamn important?

Our batty friend has struck again.

- Is that so? - Last night.

Duffrey, Maryland, a little pissant town 60 miles outside of Washington.

Got clean away, too.

You shouldn't let it bother you.

After all, this is a young man's business-- or young woman's.

That's right. Katherine found it.

She tapped into a network of local law enforcement agencies on her computer.

Searched through a hundred murder wires to find one that fit our bad boy's M.O.

Had the information waiting on my desk when I walked in the door.

Now that is ambition.

Give me the file.

Should I say I was wrong?

That you might have been wrong. That would do. You know I'm a pussycat.

I might have been wrong. Happy?

How very large hearted of you to admit it.

First this guy, Claire Bowie, up in Maine...

then Buck Kendall in New York.

And now Ray and Ellen Sarch in Maryland.