INT. PADDY'S PUB — DAY
(The bar is dead. A single fly is living its best life.)
FRANK(behind the bar, counting a wad of dirty bills like it's a religion)
I'm telling you, the problem with this country is there's no respect for cash.
DEE(at the bar on her phone, scrolling)
The problem with this country is that you're allowed to vote.
MAC(shadowboxing in the mirror, shirtless, oiled for no reason)
I'm developing my combat instincts.
The world is soft now. People need a hard man to restore order.
DENNIS(polishing a glass, radiant contempt)
Mac, you are not a hard man. You are a wet ham in a sleeveless hoodie.
(The front door FLIES open.)
CHARLIE(BURSTS IN, breathless, holding the notebook like it's radioactive)
Guys! Guys! I got a cursed book!
DEE(without looking up)
Shut up, Charlie.
CHARLIE(barreling to Frank, urgent)
Frank—Frank, I got a rules book from Cricket!
FRANK(eyes lighting up, immediate predator)
Rules book?
Rules are money, Charlie. Rules are what you use to screw people.
DENNIS(snapping his head up)
Why did Cricket give you anything?
Cricket doesn't give. Cricket leaks.
CHARLIE(slapping the notebook on the bar)
He said he's done with drugs again. And then he gave me this.
And then a demon appeared and I screamed.
(Beat.)
MAC(stopping mid-punch, intrigued)
A demon?
DEE(finally looks up)
A demon demon? Or like… a Cricket demon.
DENNIS(flat)
Charlie, you scream at parking meters. You scream at wind.
CHARLIE(defensive)
This was a different scream, Dennis. This was a medical scream.
FRANK(already flipping through the notebook, squinting)
What is this, like… Japanese?
DENNIS(immediately)
No.
FRANK(reading with full confidence, zero accuracy)
"Rules for… Death… Note."
Death Note. That's a pretty good product name.
DEE(leans in, suddenly invested)
Death Note?
That sounds… like an album title. Like a concept.
MAC(serious, reverent)
Death Note…
That sounds like an artifact. Like a relic.
DENNIS(annoyed)
It sounds like a lawsuit.
CHARLIE(pointing at the pages)
Yeah, it's got like a billion rules, man. Look—look—there's like…
"If you write a name…"
And then it gets all… squiggly.
DENNIS(leaning in, recoiling slightly)
Okay—hold on.
(Dennis reaches for the notebook… stops inches away like the cover is wet.)
DENNIS(disgusted)
No. No, I'm not touching that.
DEE
Why.
DENNIS
Because Cricket held it, Dee.
And Cricket is… biologically wrong.
(Dennis grabs a BAR RAG like he's handling a dead rat. He uses it to pinch the cover and flip pages without skin contact.)
DENNIS(scanning, careful)
Okay—hold on.
This is English.
CHARLIE(offended)
No it's not. It's demon.
DENNIS(reading, still using the rag like a hazmat suit)
"The human whose name is written in this notebook shall—"
Okay. Alright. So it's a prank.
DEE(eyes widening)
Wait—wait—read it. Read it out loud. That's like… spooky.
DENNIS(continuing, annoyed)
"—shall die."
There. Happy? It's a stupid goth notebook.
MAC(immediate, energized)
A cursed object.
FRANK(excited)
A collectible.
DEE(intrigued)
A brand.
CHARLIE(genuinely scared now)
No, dude—see? That's what I'm saying. It's evil. We gotta get rid of it.
DENNIS(still "holding" it with the rag, already claiming ownership)
We're not "getting rid" of anything.
If it's real—big "if"—then it's a tool.
And tools require management.
MAC(leaning in, intense)
Dennis… if this is real, we have a moral responsibility.
DENNIS(deadpan)
Mac, you don't even have a moral responsibility to wear deodorant.
DEE(reaching for the notebook)
Give it to me. If it's a cursed notebook, I should be the one to hold it.
I have the most "mysterious energy."
DENNIS(pulls it back instantly—still ragged)
You have "tries too hard at brunch" energy.
FRANK(jabbing a finger at the cover)
Can we sell it?
CHARLIE(panicking)
No! You can't sell a murder book, Frank!
FRANK(shrugs)
People sell murder stuff all the time. Murder sells.
(Charlie squints behind Dennis. His face shifts.)
CHARLIE(quietly, to himself)
He's back.
DEE
Who's back.
CHARLIE(pointing, shaking)
The demon guy.
DENNIS(not looking, dismissive)
There is no demon guy.
CHARLIE(louder, pointing harder)
He's literally right there, Dennis. He's floatin'. He's got… bones.
MAC(turns, scanning the empty air)
Where.
DEE(stands, squints at nothing)
Charlie, if you're doing one of your "gaslight the room" things, I swear to God—
FRANK(already annoyed at the rag situation)
Alright, let me see this—
(Frank grabs the notebook bare-handed out of Dennis's rag grip with greasy confidence.)
DENNIS(instinctive)
NO—FRANK—!
(The second Frank touches it—)
FRANK(freezes, eyes widening)
Oh.
Oh, Jesus Christ.
DEE(immediate)
What.
FRANK(pointing now, terrified and furious at the empty air)
Okay—so there is a demon guy.
DENNIS(snaps)
What?
MAC(spinning, excited)
You see him?!
FRANK(to the empty air, defensive)
Hey—hey—listen—
I don't know what you heard, okay?
I don't know what Cricket told you—
But I don't owe Japan anything!
DEE(confused)
Why would you owe Japan—
FRANK
I got history! I got international history!
(Dennis, irritated, reaches out to snatch the notebook back—forgetting his own germ policy for one hot second.)
The rag slips. Dennis's HAND touches the cover.
Dennis stops.
His eyes slowly widen.
DENNIS(quiet, horrified)
…Oh my God.
(He looks up.)
DENNIS(now seeing Ryuk, furious reflexively)
Okay. Great.
Now I can see him too.
RYUK(hovering behind the bar like this is a DMV, sighing)
You're… all touching it now?
(Mac, immediately, touches the notebook too—like he's "securing" it. Dee, instinctively, grabs it as well because she can't not insert herself.)
MAC(crosses himself reflexively, staring up at Ryuk)
Oh my God.
CHARLIE(awestruck, whispering)
He talks.
DEE(backing up, finally clocking the size of the problem)
No no no—this is insane—this is like a mascot from hell.
DENNIS(steps forward like he's about to complain about steak)
Alright. Hi.
Who are you.
And who is your supervisor.
RYUK(blinks slowly, unbothered)
My… supervisor.
DENNIS
Yes. The head demon. The head sorcerer. The head… whatever.
I need to speak to authority.
RYUK(dead)
No.
CHARLIE(to Ryuk, hopeful)
Can you bless the bar?
RYUK(looks around, unimpressed)
This place already feels… dead.
FRANK(clutching the notebook, whispering to Dennis)
Dennis… we could charge people to use it.
DEE(immediately)
We could charge people to not use it. Like insurance.
MAC(angry)
No! No—this is a holy item. This is like… an exorcism tool.
DENNIS(already in manager mode, calm but intense)
Okay. Great.
So the notebook is real. The demon is real.
Now we need to understand the customer experience.
CHARLIE(worried)
The customer is… death?
DENNIS
Charlie, shut up.
(Dennis flips pages now with his bare hand, fully committed, scanning.)
DENNIS(reading)
"Write the name… visualize the face…"
Okay. So it's a service portal.
This is just a complaint system with extra steps.
DEE(eyes shining, evil idea forming)
So… hypothetically… if someone is ruining your life… you could… write them—
MAC(cuts her off, finger up)
No. We do justice. Not petty revenge.
DEE
All revenge is justice, Mac. That's like… the whole point.
FRANK(tapping the cover)
Let's test it.
CHARLIE(immediate)
NO—!
DENNIS(smooth, decisive)
Yes.
We test it on someone who objectively deserves it.
Someone nobody will miss. Someone already in the system.
MAC(nodding, intense)
A criminal.
DEE(leaning in)
A rival.
FRANK(smiling)
A debtor.
CHARLIE(horrified)
A guy that's mean to cats?
DENNIS(eyes cold)
We're not doing "cat crimes," Charlie.
RYUK(hovering, bored)
You're all… like this?
DENNIS(to Ryuk, snapping)
Don't judge me.
You're literally death-adjacent.
RYUK(shrugs)
Fair.
DENNIS(claps once, managerial)
Alright.
We're doing a test. Controlled environment. No emotions. No chaos.
(Beat. Everyone stares at him.)
DEE
Dennis… you are emotion and chaos.
DENNIS
I'm curated emotion and chaos.
SMASH TO BLACK.