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I'm trying to help you out.

- What?

- I don't care if they catch you,

but I can't let them confiscate

my servers, you idiot.

- It makes me sick.

- But...

But right now, I have to save

your ass. The kid saw your face.

You mean Nick? Nick's dead.

Nick's alive, you fool.

Nick...

but... but...

Move, you dumbshit! Go after

him and shoot him for good.

- Hurry!

- Sh*t!

I have a lock on the police position.

I'll let you know when they're close.

- Then... you're alive.

- Of course I'm alive.

You botched the job. You can't

even shoot someone in the back.

I was coming from an operation.

I was wearing a bulletproof vest, genius.

The saddest part is if you'd

looked closely at your recordings,

you would've realized.

Go ahead. Take a look.

Don't worry. He isn't going anywhere.

Look for the moment

right after you shot me.

Look at me. Look closely.

- You heard me.

- I didn't know who the f*** you were.

But yes, I heard you

say something out loud.

"Now, I can make jillgoddardcaught.com

the most popular website of all time."

And that was my only clue.

As soon as I recovered, I checked

out that website and its owner.

Nick Chambers.

But he was just some poor kid

jerking off with a normal laptop.

So, in order to find you,

I did what I've done

many times before.

Play a role. Change my face.

I became Nick Chambers.

- Son of a b*tch.

- What? Don't shoot him!

What's wrong?

Don't you get the real reason I

have you leave the warehouse?

- You really don't see it.

- See what?

That kid you're looking

at doesn't know a thing.

- He's been asleep all day.

- What?

Since I nabbed him at a gas

station on his way from L.A.

- Wait a second!

- He's been in the trunk the whole time.

What the f*** is this?

He's not the one you've been

playing with all night. I am.

- What?

- Look at your screen.

- But...

- Hi, Chord.

Well. It seems you're not the only one

driving around with someone in the trunk.

How can it be?

This is the real Nick Chambers.

Don't worry, he's OK.

I stole his identity and his computer

so I could find out who you were.

And find a way to hunt you down.

And now what you're watching

here is time-delayed.

I got the idea to use video

with time delay from you.

By the time you see this,

I might already be saving her.

This recording was the only

way I could thank you.

Thank you, Chord.

By the way...

this CD is mine. The band is called

"Suicide" and they are awesome.

F***!

- Over here!

- Yes!

F***! F***, F***!

Jesus Christ!

Please, open the door.

Jill. Please, you've got

to believe me. Jill.

You... you... you need me!

It's over.

My God.

All of my favorite movies,

music, books...

My equipment.

Don't worry.

I can get us out of here.

Not right now, of course, but...

we can wait for them to...

You want one?

At this point, the producers of

"Dark Sky:
The Third Wave,"

the actress' latest premiere,

have announced they will make an

official statement in the next few hours.

I owe you an apology.

I've been tracking that

madman all this time and...

I had no idea of what

he was really up to.

I didn't know you were in danger,

that he was going to hurt you.

By the time I realized, I...

I didn't have enough time to react.

I think I could have prevented it.

I could have prevented

everything that he...

everything he...

Sorry.

Who the f*** are you?

What?

I'm...

nobody.

What are you going

to do after all of this?

Disappear. Actually, I'd very much

appreciate it if you didn't mention me.

- What's in it for me?

- What?

What do I get out of it if I

don't tell anyone about you?

While the Internet is

recovering from the attack,

tickets for "Dark Sky:

The Third Wave," the film,

are being sold at a

record-setting pace.

It is a tragedy, a real tragedy.

But now, I think the best way to

honor her is to enjoy her work.

She was in the prime of her life,

of her career. She loved this movie.

She was so enthusiastic about

her work. I can't believe it.

I'd like to as well.

You'd like to what?

Disappear.

Sure. For how long?

Long enough.

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