Spawn Script - Dialogue Transcript

Voila! Finally, the Spawn script is here for all you quotes spouting fans of the Todd McFarlane movie.  This script is a transcript that was painstakingly transcribed using the screenplay and/or viewings of Spawn. I know, I know, I still need to get the cast names in there and I'll be eternally tweaking it, so if you have any corrections, feel free to drop me a line. You won't hurt my feelings. Honest.

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Spawn Script





Four hundred years have passed.



Once again,

it is time for a new warrior...



to emerge from the darkness.



Throughout time,

the battlefields have changed...



but the prize

has always remained the same:



the human soul.



Look, take out your press l.D.

I want them to see we're legit.



This is some ugly shit

we're talking about, Bennett.



We get verifiable information...



and we got the byline

of the decade.



I know.



- This way.

- We're screwed if he doesn't show.



Relax. He's a good source.

Now do me a favor. Take a Valium.



You're making me crazy.

Mr. Stevens?



I'm Dave Bennett.



This is Kenny Hayes.



We spoke on the phone.



Looks like your meeting's

been cut short.






God in heaven!



God ain't here, boy.



I'll take the message.



Now, do I look like I'm

in the mood to run a marathon?



Do l?



Okay, asshole. Next question.

Who else knows?



I'm waiting for your answer,

smart boy.




I didn't tell anybody else.



Don't lie to me, smart boy.

Don't piss me off with that crap.



Each warrior is born as a clean slate,

knowing nothing.



The only instincts...



which they can act upon

are drawn from their past.






He see no evil, hear no evil,

speak no evil.




Let's do this thing and go.



Don't do this.

You don't have to.



I won't say anything.

I swear.




I got a family.






And for their sakes,

I hope decent life insurance.



Let him go.






What the hell are you?



- Stay back.

- You don't want to do that.



Help me!



I love you, Al.



Oh, no!

I came back for you!



Where are you?



Hell does not allow its warrior children

to roam unchecked.



And so each is given

their proper escort.



Oh, man, I love it.



Especially the jerk

with his head on backwards.



That is sweet!



Check his shorts.

Bet they're brimming over.



I so enjoy

the shameful details.



Now, this is very tasty.



I mean, you look at him.



You look at you.



You're a matched set!



What do you think, Spawn?






Yeah. As in Hellspawn.



Hey, it's what you are, baby.



So get used to it.



How did I do this?



Instinct, sweetheart.



You're a killer.



Born and bred.



You see violence, you act.



It's a gift.

That's why he picked you.




I can't remember anything.



What's wrong with me?



Too long under the tanning booth,

by the look of it.






is me?



What's happened?

Who am l?



Hey, Bobby.

I think he's coming around.






Jesus Christ on a crutch!

What the hell is that?



I don't know.



But he might need help.

Hey, mister, are you okay?



You've been screaming and moaning

for ten minutes.




She'll know who I am.



Maybe you should lie down or something,

you know?



Sleep it off.

I know how I get.



Too much Thunderbird

and I'm dancing naked in Times Square.



She's my wife.






Are you crazy, Gareb? You saw

what he did to those poor bastards!



Probably speeding on PCP or something.



Maybe you need a little hair

of the dog--



Get away from me.



I was just trying to help.




I don't want your help.



What you want and need

aren't the same.



This place is a refuge

from the maelstrom.



Get out of my way, old man.



You don't remember.

It doesn't matter.



It's what you learn now

that's important.



I just want to go home.



Now move, or be moved.



Listen. We all want to go home,

my friend...



but it's war getting there.



Mason. Mafia dirtbag piece of shit.



He never looked better.



Sir, I don't think the CSU...



is going to appreciate you sprinkling

doughnut crumbs onto the deceased.



I hate early morning.



Nothing human up at this hour.



No, sir.

Just us civil servants.



And dead mob scumbags.



Nicely put, sir.



Tony Twist's gonna need serious drugs

when he finds out.



These three bozos

were his best hitters.



So, one of these things

is not like the others.



What's his story?



David Bennett, journalist

with the Washington Post.



Same as the one at the alley's

far end.



Except Bennett's won a Pulitzer

for his investigative piece...



on the congressional scandal

three years ago.



Hey, if it ain't on ESPN,

I couldn't give a shit.



No, sir.



Okay. So we got two dead reporters

from Washington.



Three dead hitters for Tony Twist.

What about the other stiff?



Homeless. No l.D. yet.



His prints came up nil.



Probably just an alley mushroom.

Popped up at the wrong time.



Another verbal ace, sir.



- Twitch?

- Sir?



Find me a connection

between all these toe tags.



But first, find me something

with chocolate sprinkles.



Two dozen, sir?



Half that.

You know I'm on a diet.



That's your best friend.



Here's to AI Simmons...



the best friend a poor, number-crunching

jerk like me could have.






- Wait, honey!

- Daddy!



Someone wants to say good-bye.



- Bye-bye, Daddy.

- See you later, sweetness.



Perhaps you can do that with me

later, mister.



- Bye-bye, sweetie.

- Bye-bye.






Okay, Cyan.

Let's get you off to day care.



As they tear away each new layer...



there's always

an agonizing price to pay.



How long has it been?



Where have I been?



Goddamn it!

What's happened to me?



It's Hell's plan...



to keep the new recruits confused...



hoping to discourage the warriors

of any personal mission.



Oh, please!



Don't tell me you're getting

all bent out of shape over a woman.



Okay, so she was the love of your life

and the only thing that mattered...



in this whole disgusting,

putrid little universe.



Okay? So now your former best friend,

compadre, amigo...



is putting it to her

on a regular basis.



Okay. So she wanted kids...



and you were obviously firing blanks.



Want a lick?

It's rocky road.



- Get away from me.

- You can't blame her.



After all, you've been dead

almost five years.



- You're lying.

- If I'm lying, I'm dying...



which would be kind of redundant.



Anyway, Spawn, your former self...



meaning one hell-bent-for-leather,

kick-ass, take-no-prisoners...



government assassin

by the name of AI Simmons...



is dead.



It's not true.



Sure, it is,

and you know it.



Hey, tough guy.

Where do you think you're going?



The best is yet to come.



Don't you want to know where you've

been? You did ask, so you must.



Look! Back off!



Before I permanently introduce your face

to your colon.



You know, you're kind of cute...



when you get all indignant like that.



You got nowhere to go, Spawn.



Don't you want to know where you been?

I'll give you a hint.



Where do you think someone

who slaughtered people for a living...



would end up after he's dead?






You came back for her, Spawn.



You came back for Wanda.

She's got a life now.



She's got a child

you couldn't give her...



and a husband

who's still wearing his face.



What do you got, char baby?



Not me. I'm me.



Goddamn it. I'm not dead.

I'm not here.



The new spawns each try to deny

what they've become...



hoping that a small spark of truth...



will awaken them

from their nightmare.



With this ring, I thee wed.



Oh, God!



My God. Why?



How did this happen to me?



You made a deal,

you stupid son of a bitch.



You made a deal with Malebolgia.



You cut a deal for your soul.



The deal was you'd see Wanda

and then become Hellspawn...



a ranking officer in the devil's army.



Well, now you've seen her.



Time to pay the piper.



Get off me!



Now, cast from Hell...



the warriors cross paths

with their own demons in human form.



You scumbag, douche bag-eating,




cock-sucking, shit,

motherfucking frig!



I'll take your fucking head

and chop it off!



Calm down, Tony.



Just tell me what went wrong.



What went wrong...



is somebody

took three of my best guys...



and threw them into what must have been

a walking wood chipper.



This was supposed to be

a simple gig, Wynn!



What the hell are you trying to pull

on me, huh?



I mean, we're talking about

my best hit men...



getting mercilessly whacked

over here.



How do I deal with this?



They were ambushed, snipered? What?



They're now wearing

their goddamn heads on backwards.



Their bones got pretzeled by somebody

who knows how to do it right.



I see.



Yeah. I see too.



I see you asking me to do you a favor...



and my cleaning crew gets taken out

by some asshole...



who thinks he's the Terminator.



I'm sensing an accusation here, Tony.



All I'm saying is

this smells like the work...



of a goddamn

government-trained assassin.



And that just happens to be

your stock in trade.



It wasn't any of mine.



And if I were you,

I'd be very careful...



about the next time I made such strong

implications without the facts.



So what about the journalists?



- In tomorrow's obits.

- Good.



Yeah, for you.

This shit's cost me big-time.



You'll be amply compensated

for your loss.



Let me know what you find out

about this mystery assassin.



I'll send you his liver

and maybe a couple of fingers.



- Hello?

- The newsman has been dealt with.



- Who did you use?

- Mafia elements. Nothing traceable.



Good. Thank you.



- And, as we discussed--

- The appropriations are in place.



As of now you've got unlimited credit

with the Department of Defense.



I appreciate that, Senator.



Believe me, it was worth it.



I'll feel free to call if there are

any further complications.



Of course, but tell me, how long

do you intend to cover for him?



As long as I have to.



He's a child killer.



Look, we've been through this before.

You don't have a son...



Iet alone one you can't

give your name to.



So what he does is my problem,




These journalists won't be the last.

You can't keep this quiet forever.



Yes, I can. You see,

the dead keep their secrets.



Okay, man.

What'd I do, huh?



Shut up and get your ass

on the ground now.



What'd I do, man?



Well, if it isn't Officer Hector

from lnternal Affairs!



Word is you told the captain

we're skimming off the top.



Listen, if you can't keep your mouth

shut, we'll shut it for you.



What kind of shit is--



Why is it that people with authority

abuse their power?



A word of advice, Officer.






That's it, Spawn.

Let yourself go.



Get pissed.

Do some damage.



Don't take shit from nobody.



And, oh, yeah,

the big boy downstairs.



'Cause this is the way the world ends.



Not with a bang,

but with a lot of blood...



and torn flesh and broken bones.



And I just love it.



And so the game has begun again.



After     years,

a new warrior takes center stage...



preparing for the great battle.



And with him comes pain, death...



and the vile stench of brimstone.



And for my sister.

Quit shoving!



I was here first.



Shut up!



It's the ice cream guys!

Let's go!



Come on, you guys!



- There he is!

- We're coming!



- Do you have Drumsticks?

- What about Creamsicles?



Hell has many demons in training.



This one is known as Billy Kincaid.



Images of love and hate...



torture them all at first.



It is the way of things

for each new warrior.



There is no respite

from the inner pain.



My God. Not another one.



Another one?

What do you mean?



Kids get dumped here.

Never had a chance. Horrible, isn't it?



She has a little girl now.



- Who?

- She wanted children.



She went to doctors,

but it was me all along.



You know,

not wanting to pry or nothing...



but some of us were kind of curious.



You know, wondering

just what the hell are you?



Somebody who doesn't

want to be bothered.



That's what I told them.



When he wants to talk,

he'll talk. Right?



- Don't hold your breath.

- Look, mister.



Figure you're hanging around

these alleys for a reason.



Maybe you just want some company.



I've got nowhere else to go,

that's all.



Could be you need a friend.



All I need is Wanda,

but I can't have her.



- Not like this.

- Why not?



You ask stupid questions.



I've seen lots worse.



I used to work for a mortician.



That makes me feel better.



Get outta here.



You know, folks around here

don't look or smell so nice...



but we're good people.



We share what we've got.

You're welcome to it.



With each new Hellspawn...



there's always the question:



How long, if at all,

can they hang onto their humanity?



Some last longer than others.



He kills a bunch of guys,

leaves for a while...



comes back and camps down here

in Rat City.



He looks like something out of goddamn

Stephen King, for Christ's sake.



Nobody invited him.

This is our place.



Need to kick his ugly ass out of here.



What's he doing, Gareb?

You talked to him, right?



- This is our place.

- Damn right.



Bogey's a stinking freak.



- He's got problems.

- Yeah.



- Did you see his face?

- Christ!



No, I'm serious.

He's, I don't know, troubled.



Really screwed up.



Ain't we all?

Thing is, he's dangerous.



I mean, we can't sleep

with that thing down here.



We don't know what he is,

what he wants. Nothing!



If you ask me, don't need

to borrow any more problems.



Life's shitty enough.



It's the truth.

Get his ass outta here.



What are we, perfect?

Just kick him out. Is that it?



He's sitting by himself

in the heart of Rat City.



Where's he supposed to go

from there? Potter's Field?



The guy looks like a goddamn vampire!



Yeah, Bobby. What did you look like

when you first crawled in here?



You want him to stay, fine.

You go right ahead.



But when you wake up in a pool of blood

with your head on backwards...



don't come crying to me.



Maybe we can scrape together

some food for him.



He's not some goddamn pet

you get to keep!



Think about it, man.



Gareb, you dumb son of a bitch.



Yo! Look out!



Get outta here!



All right, you alley pukes.



Who's gonna stay alive by telling me

what I want to know?



You know who whacked Tony's boys,




Please. I don't.



Buzz. Too late.



Okay. Who's our next

happy contestant?



The double jeopardy answer is:

the person...



who took out three

very dapper ltalian men...



whilst they were about the business

of their esteemed employer.



You look like a couple of smart turds

with big eyes.



Give me the question I'm looking for

and win your lives. Oh!



And just so you know...



the loser gets parting gifts

made out of Teflon...



and I ain't talking cookware.



I'll even help you out

in case you don't watch game shows.



Okay. It goes like this.



- Who is--

- About to take your head off.



All right, game boy.

This is what you're gonna do.



Stay alive long enough

to give your boss--



- What's his name?

- Tony.



Tell Tony to keep his goons

out of these alleys.



As of now, they're out of bounds.



You're gonna give him my message.



'Cause as far as I know,

I'm already dead.



Which means I'm waiting

for your sorry ass in the afterlife.



What'd I tell you, huh?

He's something, ain't he?



Name is Bobby.









Meet Al.



New warriors often find allies...



among those damned

by society.



For a while it gives them

a sense of security.



But they couldn't be more wrong.










Is he still alive?



Did he say who did it?



I don't give a shit

if he needs a doctor!



Find out who whacked my men,

or you're gonna need a priest!



Yeah, it's Tony.



I'm calling in my marker.



Don't give me that shit.

You owe me.



Send him. Today! Right now!



By the time I hang up this phone,

he better be over the Atlantic.



Damn it.



Let me guess.

The first day on the pro bono case.



- Is it that obvious?

- It's the only time you get frazzled.



I'm just going over the case files




- The subject matter--

- What is it?



Kyle Watson, a child killer.



Indicted on four counts.

Two of them, little girls.



Can't you pass on this one?



And give the partners something

to whine about?



No. I can handle it.



Gonna have your asses up

on so many goddamn charges...



your great-grandchildren

will be answering subpoenas!



I'm a United States senator!



Now, you don't break into my room

and snatch me off a woman!



You don't throw me in a helicopter

to New York in the frigging night!



Sorry for the inconvenience,




I trust we didn't interrupt anything

deeply personal.



But I thought this needed

a face-to-face.



Jesus. Wynn.



What the hell is this all about?



It's about us, Senator.

Our relationship.



I hear you're going to take a pass

on the presidential race.



How do you know that?

I've barely told my wife!



I wanna put you in the White House,




Yeah. Right. Exactly how many skeletons

do I have in my closet?



Per our arrangement, I've been holding

the key to that closet for some time--



gouging the eyes out of anyone

who so much as looks in its direction.



- You're serious.

- Always.



All right. Say I run.



What do you get out of it?



A friend in a very high place.



To be honest, I never wanted

the Oval Office.



I'm content fighting battles

from the senate floor.



Maybe a Speaker of the House.



Sorry. Not good enough.



In other words,

you're not asking me.



And if I refuse?



I see a closet opening.

Your own Pandora's box.



You could do that, but then

I'd have to call the president...



about a certain international tea party

you're throwing with DOD ordnance.



The scandal would make Watergate

and lran Contra...



seem like a mild fart

on Capitol Hill.



Look, McMillan,

you get something straight right now.



This isn't just about you and me.



Last time I checked,

you had friends and family.



I can make them suffer too.

But more importantly...



who's going to protect your bastard son

Billy from New York's finest?



I hear the cons on Riker's

despise child killers.



Raped one last year

with a band saw.



We're in bed together, Senator.

We have been for quite a while.



So relax, bend over...



and enjoy it.



and enjoy it.



What the hell's it about this alley,




- The atmosphere.

- What do we know?



More of Tony Twist's crew.



Right. Troubleshooters.



Guys sent in to settle scores.



Precisely, sir.



Looks like they got settled instead.



No reporters this time.



Perhaps he was allowed to leave.



Sending a message to big Tony.



Twist doesn't like

getting spanked this hard.



There's gonna be a war down here...



unless we can figure out

what's going on.



What about those reporters?



Nothing yet, sir. Rumor has it

they were tracking someone high up.



A major scandal.

But that's all so far.



- But there is one unusual element.

- What?



The dead homeless man

from the previous killings.



The mushroom.



His name's Jeff Stevens.



Former technical head

of SpecCom Cellular.



So why's he driving Dumpsters

on our beat?



Seems he was listening in

on some very high level conversations.



I gotta figure

Stevens heard something huge...



hoped to trade off his indictment

for what he was sitting on...



and use the news boys

as middle men.



Astute, as always, sir.



Now, breakfast.



I have a map of the local color, sir.

Do you prefer grease or sugar?



Both. I'm feeling tense.



Burke, that fat bastard.



Yeah, he's gonna give a shit

about this case.




When does he land?



Good. Pick him up the second he

touches down and bring him to my office.



You want justice done right,

you gotta buy it yourself.



Ah, I'll be honest.



I figured you for a rumor.



You know, ex-CIA killer

turned ruthless mercenary.



Little more than a skeleton

on a respirator for almost three years.



I mean, please!



The pain was cleansing.



How'd you come back from there?



The rumors you've heard about me

are all true.



You got no conscience...



no soul, when it comes to killing.



What I've got

is a hungry bank account.



Right now someone's paying me

top dollar on your behalf.



So what seems to be the problem?



You keep up with current events?



Only where death is concerned.



Your men have had a bad week.



Yeah. Well, I want the piece of shit




Bring me his bones in one bag

and his organs in another, okay?



Of course.

But I'll be keeping the heart myself.



- For what?

- Dinner.



Such sweet folks, those homeless.



They will take anybody in...



including a freak like you,




Hey. Maybe you'll

meet a nice homeless woman...



and raise a bunch of homeless kids.



Wouldn't that just be keen?



What the hell do you want?



Right to the point.

I really like that.



Because it's not what the hell

do I want...



it's what does Hell

want to do with you.



Care to know what that is?

No? Okay.



Here it is.

It is time to get real. Got it?



Hey. A deal's a deal,

and Malebolgia, my boss and yours...



delivered on his end.



You got to see your wife.



Dear, sweet, tasty Wanda.



I gotta say, Spawnie,

baby's got back.



You're about two seconds

from wearing that smile around your ass.



Yeah, kiss me first.

All right? Anyway...



it's business now, big boy.



You got the uniform and the attitude,

so let's get to it.



To what?



You're a Hellspawn.

The Earth is ready to burn.



You're the guy with the match...



and I'm here to make sure

you do the job right.



Look, I don't have time for this.

I got my own problems.



You don't just turn your back

on your obligations.



You think you're too good

to be a Hellspawn?



You should be down on your knees

thanking Malebolgia...



for the privilege of being

a ranking officer in this Hell's Army.



You should be down

on your knees thanking me...



for not killing you where you stand.



Yeah, right.



I don't think you know

who you're dealing with.



But it's time you found out.



Listen, fat boy.



I've had just about enough!



Yeah, baby!

Right there!



That's how Daddy likes it!



You'll feel some pain.



- But I know you can hear me.

- Get out of my head!



It's how us children of hell




through telepathy.



So begins your training.



What are you?



A creature far superior to humans.



A true native of Hell.



Something no spawn will ever be.



Fool. You can't rely on weapons.



That's not why he chose you.



There's something in you...



that Malebolgia senses--

something evil.



There are rules to follow.

It's my task to make sure you do.



Consider this a friendly reminder.



Get with the fucking program.



You spawn have never been worthy.



I'll be back for you.



And when I come, you better

be ready to rock and roll.



This is the farewell bash

for humanity.



And you,

you're bringing the party favors.



Oh, and a word to the wise.



Laying there all twisted up like that

is no good for your back.



That was pathetic...



but not altogether unexpected.



Your powers are finite.

Use them sparingly.



What am I into here?



- What do you think?

- I think it's insane!



Am I dead or am I alive?

What am l?



You're going to have to trust yourself

for the answers.



If you know what the hell's going on,

old man...



I'd suggest you tell me straight.



There's a war on

between Heaven and Hell...



and you are on the front lines.



- What war?

- The only war.



Earth is the battlefield.



Human souls, the prize.



Just the way it's always been.



You're nuts, you know that?






You have to pay attention

to the world you're in.



You might think you're doing good,

taking out the bad element.



But you just can't go around killing

without a little forethought.



There are repercussions

you can't even imagine.



Stop tap dancing around the issue

and spit it out.



I wish it were that easy.



All I'm trying to say is...



you've still got a choice.



What kind of choice?



If I told you, it wouldn't matter.



Just find out.

Then make the right choice.



But don't wait too long. The sands

are always running against you.



How am I supposed to find out?



How, indeed?



Please! I didn't see nothing!



Shut up.



I'm looking for someone

who very recently...



killed a handful of greasy wise guys.



Are you aware of such a person?



Don't kill me, please.

I'm not worth it.



I'm less than nothing.

I keep to myself!



Are you aware of such a person?



Yeah! I've seen him.



Scary guy. He's been hanging around

down in Rat City.



Deep alley.



Nobody goes back there.

It's a pit.



You're sure this is the person

who killed my employer's men?



Yeah. Ripped them apart.



He seemed to enjoy it a little,

you know?



- I do know.

- Can I go?



In a moment.

First I need to borrow something.



They all pick a place to call home.



In most instances,

those places have a hidden power.



For this warrior...



the alleys are no different.



He is drawn back again and again...



and doesn't know why.



It's Rollo.



"Hero. Midnight.

Be waiting."



What the hell does that mean?



Look at the shit

you brought us, man.



- I hope you're happy.

- It was horrible!



We couldn't stop him.



Just watch as he tore him apart.



Just one?



Yeah. He was a big son of a bitch.



Had weapons and other crap

coming out of his arms!



And this eye!



Glowing red, like blood.



He was looking for the person

who whacked some big shot's hit man.



- Even when he told him, he killed him!

- What are we gonna do?



It's exactly   :   midnight

in Nairobi.



Tell me you're not the guy

who took out Tony's men.



Tell me it's somebody

with some balls...



and not some no-talent asshole

with a faggy outfit.



When threatened,

Spawn resorts to what he knows:



his ingrained instinct to survive.



Though the uniform

will often protect him...



a spawn is not invincible.



Each battle drains his strength...



propelling him

toward the inevitable:



his final descent into Hell.



Oh, what a mess.






Don't waste your breath.



Trying to hide

from emotional torment...



new warriors always

seek their old ways first.



This latest spawn

is no exception.



A killer in need of his tools.






Welcome home, Al.



Nice to see you again.



This is the Central lntelligence Agency

security shift commander.



You have entered a restricted

ordnance storage facility.



Come out hands high,

or we will open fire.



Go hot when you have

target acquisition.






The first teleportation

is the worst...



coming as unexpectedly...



as having the host's uniform

save them in the first place.



If he's dead, just leave him.

Probably better off.



Cops, fire trucks,

dead bodies everywhere!



Hey, Al. You okay?



Just need a second.



Come back to do some more damage?

We ain't got enough dead and wounded?



Hey, come on, Bobby!

Can't you see he's laid up?



He ain't the only one!

Seen the north alley lately?



Looks like frigging Beirut.



Look at him now. Man's got more guns

than the National Guard.



What are you, some kind of psycho?



I'm just protecting myself.



Oh, yeah?

Who's gonna protect us from you?



- What the hell are you looking at?

- You.



You're starting to sound like

the outside.



Well, I can get your thermals back up

and your full UV specs...



but you're going to experience

red shift in your fast-scan.



This is patchwork at best.



Can I use the eye?

Yes or no?



Yes, but no extended night vision

or close-up reading.



Knock, knock.



I want someone monitoring the phones

all day.



If Overkill doesn't call,

I want him found and brought to me.



What is this shit? I hire people,

they get killed, they disappear.



Find out what my horoscope

is for this month.



- Overkill.

- Son of a bitch.



That he was.



But then again, so are you.



What the fuck!



Who are you?

What do you want?



Anything at all.



I want you to stay out of the alleys,




Your business there is done.




Whatever wild hair you had up your ass

about that place is officially plucked.



You. You slaughtered my men.



I'll let you in on a little secret.



They were doing bad things.



But relax.

I'm through killing your men.



Next time...



if I see one of your brain dead thugs

so much as spit in those alleys...



I'm gonna come back and pay you

a little visit, Tony.



And believe me,

it won't be as pleasant...



as the visit

I paid your hired cyborg.



So here's how it goes.



As of now, you work for me...



and your job is very simple.



Give me my space.




All I want

is a little peace and quiet.



- Got it, fat boy?

- Yes.



- Say it.

- I work for you...



and you want peace and quiet.



- And who am l?

- I don't know.



That's right.

You don't know.



Let that little mystery

keep you up at night.






Faced with the stark reality

that every battle can't be won...



the Hellspawns then crave

an emotional refuge...



to soothe their physical pain.



- Good morning.

- Good morning.



Morning, Donna.

Messages? Coffee, please.



You're an angel.



Now give me the bad news.



Two depositions out at Riker's

on your pro bono rotation.



One is Kyle Watson.



- Sorry. I couldn't put it off.

- It's okay.



Even an accused child killer

needs a good defense, right?



Well, not too good.

This guy's supposed to be a monster.



They found the last three little girls

without any fingers and-- Oh.



- Wanda.

- Forget it.



This whole thing just bothers me.



- Anyway, when's my next one?

-  :  .



- See if you can move it to County.

- Okay.



Hey, don't you

just love pro bono work?



Funny. Get out.



All right, Mr. Watson.



My name is Wanda Blake,

and I'll be taking over your defense.



We're gonna need some general

information during these proceedings...



and I'll be recording this.



You're gonna have to slow it down

for him, ma'am.



You see, Kyle, he's a bit slow.



His daddy used to beat him

something awful...



and the doctors say

that it did something...



to his synapse and whatnot.



But he does understand why he's here.



I didn't do nothing.



I been a good boy.

I been very good.



Kyle, you're accused

of murdering eight children.



You have a history

of deviant and abusive behavior.



Well, that's all over and done with,




Kyle's been on his medicine now

for two-and-one-half years.



I been a good boy.

I don't hurt nobody no more.



I can't and I won't.

I got pills now, every day.



According to his records, the pills

are castrators. They keep him impotent.



I can't diddle myself no more

or nothing.



I'm a good boy.



Kyle, you were given a toxicology test

when you were arrested. Correct?



The police tested you for drugs?






I'm no doctor,

but based on what I've heard...



this castrator drug

has a cumulative effect...



and takes up to two months to work

its way out of the user's system.



What are you saying?



Well, looking at the crime lab reports

on the children...



they were all sexually assaulted.



Then again, the police found conclusive

evidence in Kyle's room...



on his clothes, in his car...



blood and tissue matches, semen matches,

DNA prelims are positive.



With this solid a case against Kyle,

the best I can do...



is try to keep him off death row.



Don't let them kill my baby.

Please, ma'am.



I already done lost my husband

and my little girl.



Poor Kylie here's all I got left.






Look at me.



Did you hurt any of those children?



I don't hurt nobody.



I'm a good boy.



The media spokesperson for the

New York City Police Department...



had no comment concerning

the inexplicable upswing in violence...



in a specific low income area

of lower Manhattan.



Asked to possibly reopen

the Kyle Watson child killer case...



in light of what was termed

a blatant oversight by the police...



defense attorney Wanda Blake

is responsible for this revelation.



If I see that news footage

one more time--



But you look so good.



Someone buried that toxicology report

on purpose.



Planted evidence. I just hope

I'm doing the right thing.



Don't worry. If you screw up,

we can always move.



Stop it, you!



When are you coming to bed?



As soon as I solve this puzzle.



What is it?



Monthly check of CIA ordnance catalogs.

Code numbers don't match.



Just doesn't make sense.



- Wanna know what makes sense?

- What?



I'll have to show you.



I love you, Wanda.






Shake it, don't break it!



Having a good time, I trust?



Yeah. Whatever.



You really should learn

how to relax, Chapel.



Blood helps me relax.

Got any for me?



A weapons shipment

going to North Korea.



You accompany them

with our compliments.






Wait nine hours.



Then obliterate the shipment

and give them a bloody nose.



- Who takes the fall?

- Peruvian terrorists.



After that I'll have something for you

closer to home.



When's the hop?



Tomorrow morning.

Usual pickup and delivery.



- What?

- I don't like downtime. You know that.



So get a hobby.



- Come on, baby!

- Shake it, don't break it!



You're coming with me.



Hey, asshole.



You got a fucking problem?



No, Al!



Hey, Chapel.

We're partners, right?



Al, I'm sorry!



Sorry! Al!



In local news,

it looks like police...



are gonna cut child killer

Kyle Watson loose after all.



Thanks to his attorney Wanda Blake,

independent investigators have found...



that evidence may actually

have been planted. Wow.



Somebody check if those cops

ever worked for the L.A.P.D.



Okay. And now...



back to our all big-band sounds.



Golden lads and girls

all must...



as chimney sweepers,

come to dust.



Oh, yeah.

Who says I ain't cultured?



Billy Shakespeare,

meet Billy Kincaid.



Both great artists...



whose works will live on forever.



He waits, as they all do...



for a sign, a warning...



something to set events

in motion.



Few warriors realize that

the battle between Heaven and Hell...



is constant, ongoing...



incident after incident...



part of an unending chain.



The domino principle.



That's what scientists

call it.



One thing happens that triggers

another and another and another.



And in the end

all will be revealed...



no matter how wonderful...



or hideous the result.



Mr. Twist, I just want to say

you can count on me.



Whatever it is you need,

you got.



Right now I need you to shut up

and listen. This is important.



- You listenin'?

- Yeah, Mr. Twist.



You're flying to Rome in an hour.

Go straight to the man.



- You know who I'm talking about?

- Yes, Mr. Twist.



You prostrate yourself before him.




You tell him, in no uncertain terms,

that we are very, very sorry...



about what happened to Overkill.



We screwed up. We will pay

for his repair. You got that?



Yes, Mr. Twist.



You're speaking for me on this,




Beg his forgiveness.

Get on your knees.



Kiss his ass, his balls, whatever

he needs for this to be all right.



I understand.



Our tits are in a fucking wringer.

We don't need trouble from Rome.



Tell him we'll fix it all

on our end.



Don't worry.

I got it covered.



Get going.



I can't believe this crap's

been going on without me.



Hey, sweetie,

didn't I see you in a magazine?



Got a boyfriend, beaver treat?



Somebody to lick away

your day?



I can do that for you.



Want me to show you?



Yeah. Show me.



It's a big city girl day

in the neighborhood.



You a big city girl, baby?



Good hunting's

where you find it.



"Hunting"? We got ourselves

some kind of sports babe.



- Sorry about this.

- Oh, don't apologize, baby.



It's all our fault.



But it's gonna be fun...



for us.



I don't think so.



Look who it is.



What's she doing here?



- Angela.

- Hey, you can't--



I know she's in,

and she's gonna see me.



How dare you burst

into my office like this?



Why wasn't I called

about the Hellspawn?



What are you talking about?



You've had me

taken out of the loop.



Angela. Really.



Save it, Gabrielle.

He's mine.



You're not the only hunter

in the universe, Angela.



I've taken out

the last two Hellspawns...



and I want this one.



You realize it's this kind of behavior

that makes it difficult to trust you.



There's one thing I do well--




A lot of people don't like that,

including you, but that won't stop me.



Go through the proper channels.



Those channels lead to you.



I'm here.

I'm talking to you, Ambassador.



- What about the permit?

- Denied.



How long will you have it in for me?

A century?



- Two?

- Follow appropriate protocol.



Maybe I'll reconsider.



Just try and keep me

out of this.



Good-bye, Angela.



Hey! Let the little guys

have some.



Always pullin' for the underdog,

eh, Wanda?



You know me.

So, what do you got?



- You got it?

- I had to grease more palms...



than you'll find at a peep show,

but yeah, I got it.



I've still got friends on the force,

but this shit's like Ebola.



Nobody wants nothing

to do with it.



Not here.



I don't mean

to sound paranoid...



but what you got there

is big.



How big, Max?



Raw evidence from the last kid--

Uncut, unedited--



and a latent print off the little girl's

eyeball, clear as Christmas.



An actual fingerprint?



- Thumb from the left hand of your perp.

- Not Watson's.



No. This print

belongs to your killer.



I was right.



Kyle Watson took the fall

for those child murders.



This proves it.



Save the champagne

and cheese doodles.



This son of a bitch was purposely

misfiled, vaulted and buried.



Are we talking about a conspiracy

inside the police?



I think maybe

it goes beyond that.



Someone's covering

this sick bastard's ass with Kevlar.



- Someone with a lot of muscle.

- Who?



I don't wanna know,

and neither should you.



- Watch your back, Wanda.

- Thanks, Max. I owe you.



You'll get my consultation fee.



Max, you're amazing.



Why are you following her?



I'm talking to you, dirtbag.



Not a healthy idea.



I want answers now!



Starting with your boss's name.



Go on. I'm listening.



I just wanted

those code numbers.



I'm not interested

in code numbers, Terry.



We lost a large number of weapons

from that ordnance annex a week ago.



Yes, I know, but--



I want an analysis

from your department...



telling me

who could've done this.



They had the son of a bitch cornered,

and somehow he got away...



weapons and all.



- Impossible!

- Incredible.



I haven't seen a maneuver like that

since AI Simmons.



I don't wanna have to explain

this screw-up to the president.



It may have been

an inside job, sir.



What are you talking about?



Well, sir, I've been running

some cataloging reports on my own...



and I caught some code discrepancies

in our weapons storage files.



- Go on.

- I did some checking.



Someone might be diverting weapons

shipments to other delivery sites...



then changing the info

in the computer.



- You have any proof of this?

- It's all here in my report.



Who else have you talked to

about this?



No one, sir.



- I wanted to come straight to you.

- Excellent.



I'm glad you did.



As of right now, Terry,

your job is to track down...



every instance of these discrepancies

in the weapons shipment files.



I need verification and evidence if I'm

going into this with an investigation.



- Yes, sir.

- Keep me informed.



I just want to go on record

and say I hope I'm wrong.



I hope this is just

some horrible mix-up.



I'll second that.

Thank you, Terry.



Goddamned Boy Scout.



Last thing I need is him turning heads

by talking to someone.



Fortunately, Terry's a loyal puppet.



He always works in the best interests

of his employer.



Let him find all the loose ends.



We'll tie them up later.



Right now, I need to find

those weapons...



somehow keep us on our timetable.



Recovered images

from Overkill's internal camera.



Rome will want Tony's fat ass

for this.



Nothing like a home video

of your own evisceration.



- I thought you were dead.

- I am.



You've got some balls

coming here, hero.



What the hell is that?



And what's it doing

with my weapons?



Who's laughing now?



Darkness is all around you,




We both know it.



We both feel it.



It's closing in on you.



Heaven on one side,

Hell on the other...



and they're both gunning

for your scorched ass.



Oh, it's so nice being wanted.



Dickhead puts a gun in his mouth

and blows his brains out.



Homicide, my ass.






Some very twisted individuals

in our nation's capital, sir.



Why they're willing to express

such intimate, often sexual thoughts...



over a cell phone,

I'll never know.



I'll tell you why, Twitch.

People are friggin' morons.



How much more?



Mr. Stevens had a very extensive

library of pirated conversations.



There's perhaps

another    or    hours, at least.



Christ, we ain't

got that kind of time.



Chief's all over this

"alley death spree" shit.



At least there haven't been

any more killings, sir.



Yeah. What?



That's supposed to make me

feel better?



It's the friggin' calm

before the friggin' monsoon.



Quite right, sir.



Street buzz had Overkill in town,

which should have meant a bloodbath...



but nobody's seen him in a week

and nobody saw him leave.



He's hard to miss, sir.






It's weird crap,

this whole business.



I hate loose ends, Twitch.

They piss me off.



On the national front...



outspoken Republican senator

Scott McMillan...



has unexpectedly thrown his hat

into the presidential ring.



The American people want someone

to step into the White House...



and put an end to overinflated,




tax-and-spend government.



Our nation needs someone

on the front lines...



who isn't afraid to give the government

the housecleaning it's needed...



for a very long time...



and I am that someone.



This guy's got them eating

out of his undies.



Did you look at this file?



Of course I did.



This photographer

is from Washington, D.C., sir.



This jerk-off worked

for the Post?



No, sir.



Take a look at line   

under his l.D. and fingerprint report.



Well, shit on me

and call me a sundae.



Mr. Humboldt here works

for the U.S. government.



A pool photographer

for the House of Representatives.



Weirder and weirder.



Guy falls out of a tree,

breaks his arm...



then blows his brains out.



For what?



Actually, the report states

Humboldt's arm was broken...



by assailant

or assailants unknown.



Yeah, yeah, whatever.



Why can't these D.C. assholes

die in their own goddamn town?



- Very inconsiderate of them, sir.

- Shut up, Twitch.



Just find out if this jerk's connected

to Stevens or these reporters or both...



and order me a hoagie.



What the fuck is this?



No one can know I'm here.



- You don't bust in and fuck with me!

- Shut up, Tony.



What do you know about the creature

on that video you sent me?






Just that he's

one lethal son of a bitch.



Anyone who can whack out




I need it found,

but I can't do it directly.



Forget it!

He told me stay out of his way.



Believe me, that's exactly

what I'm gonna do.



This isn't a request.



You find him,

then you contact me.



And maybe I can help you

deal with your ltalian situation.



- What's this?

- A package from Rome.



My people intercepted it

from your people.



- You having my guys followed?

- I keep tabs on all my friends.



Be honored. Enjoy.






Your client's negligence killed

two children in that fire.



Your security cameras

verify it.



Kelly, the bad press alone

is worth the million you're offering.



Look, Kelly, I gotta go.

Yes, right now.



More money. That's what I want

to close this case.



"More money."

The lawyer's motto.



I pulled the civil case on the

Reinhardt chemical fire two months ago.



- I'm trying to settle it.

- I remember that one.



The two kids in the storeroom.

What a way to go. Brutal.



Yeah, well,

the Reinhardt family is poor.



They want to take the first offer.



Something tells me

you're not gonna bite.



Forget it. They had to use

dental records to identify them.



You know, Wanda,

money won't bring them dead kids back.



Yeah, I know.



So, did you get it?



Yeah, and I had to call in

some serious favors.



These government guys protect this

high-tech shit like it's their balls.



But before I give this to you...



you gotta promise me

you won't do something stupid.



I pay, you bring. That's our deal.

But I appreciate the concern.



- So, what do we have here?

- Some heavy duty shit, that's what.



I'm worried about you, Wanda.



That's sweet, but I'm a big girl

and I need that disk, please.



Here you go.

But remember what I said.



What's your plan?



I'm gonna try to access the government's

database to find out who framed Watson.



Don't be crazy. You don't wanna

go messing with these guys.



Someone with power is protecting

a child killer. I need to find out who.



You got Watson off.



Why go on some crusade

to find this guy?



Because money

doesn't bring dead kids back.



We'll never be apart.




Oh, what a perfect day.



You make me so happy.



I love you so much, Al.



AI was never enough

for a woman like you, Wanda.



His death was the best thing

that could've happened.



You're probably right.






Wait! Wait, it's me!




Remember me? Gareb.

You don't wanna kill me, right?



- Gareb?

- Yeah.



Can I breathe now?



Another nightmare, huh?



I get them real bad sometimes...



remembering when my folks

put me in the hospital.



Said I was, you know,

touched in the head.



I thought some downtime would help,

give me a chance to sort things out.



Seems like the more I think,

the worse the nightmares get...



and I can't shut it off.



You hungry?



I got a good deal

on a half-loaf of bread.



Only a week old.



Still got some plastic wrap

around it.



Go away, Gareb.



You know, you shouldn't sit down here

alone all the time.



It ain't healthy.



I'm not worried

about my health.



I've got to figure things out.



Maybe you need to quit

all this figuring...



and just do something.



Of course,

what do I know, right?



I'm just a bum

with half a loaf of moldy bread...



and nobody to share it with

except my buddies...



Jack Daniels and Jim Beam.



You have a friend there, Spawn.

Listen to him.



Beat it, old man.

I'm in no mood.



Moments of wisdom are few

for the new warriors.



They come from

unexpected sources.



But always...



warriors feel events

churning around them...



spiraling, closing in.



Some sit and wait too long.



Others listen

to their instincts...



and prepare.



Warriors can feel forces

massing against them.



The agonizing wait for battle

becomes a way of life...



turning and twisting

their dark souls...



feeding intense rage that boils

deep in every Hellspawn--



a rage at the unfairness

of their plight...



and a feeling,

still deeper...



that they've earned it.



All units respond to kidnap,

Madison and   rd Street.



Who is this freak?



Witnesses figure him for some kind

of whacked-out street preacher.



Could be that child killer

Homicide's been hunting.



Whoever the bastard is, he's dead.

He just doesn't know it yet.



Suspect holding

possible kidnap victim.



Got that right.



Did I say

I was gonna kill anybody?



No, I never said that.



Now, I may have done that...



but I never said

I was gonna kill anybody.



See, saying and doing...



are two very different things.



Don't you think?



You wouldn't just be saying that

'cause I got this grenade in my hand.



This guy's nuts.



- Fuck.

- He's gonna kill him.



Killing kids.

That's about catching the innocence.



Life, death, good, evil.

It's all right here.



Windows to the soul, boys.



Take a peek.

See the party?



You should have told them--

no sirens!



Oh, shit.



Holy shit!



What, no applause?



No appreciation.



What is this world

coming to?



You know something?



I hate that!



If you like those hands,

put them in your pockets.



Just get them out of my face!






I know you can't hear me,

but I don't give a shit.



Get your puny ass

out here now!



Oh. Somebody else

wanna play?



How's about a game of catch?



Come on.

What do you say?



Let's go, kid.



Guess the rats would rather

play with themselves.



Officers down. Suspect

fleeing southbound through alley.



Requesting help.



Shit! There, man!

We got him!



Radio for backup,

then swing around the south end.



Suspect sighted. Officer in pursuit.

Request immediate backup.



All units, stand by. Officers requesting

backup for kidnap suspect.



We got this asshole.




at Madison and   rd Street.



Bottoms up, big guy.



Jesus God.



Officer down!

Repeat! Officer down!



Requesting help.

Officer down, Madison and   rd Street.



Six-Adam-   come in.

What's your location?



Oh, Al.



I love you, Wanda.



Maybe it's time we start thinking

about having a real family.









Holy Christ!



Come on,

you worthless cocksucker!



Tried to blow me up,

you son of a bitch!



I'll kill ya.

Come on!



- Where is he?

- What you talking about? Where's who?



Listen, asshole,

I'm not in the fucking mood.



A preacher dragging a boy.



I can't help you.



I didn't see any--



I swear to God,

I don't know nothing.






I told you I want

some goddamn answers right now!



Is this how

you protect and serve?






I clocked him.

I know it.



Back off, shit face.

I'll do your pal.



Who made you God, little man?



Not that gun.

Not that uniform. Nothing.



You wanna scare people, fine.

I need a scarecrow.



You're gonna be

my personal message board.



I want everyone to see what happens

when they come here uninvited.



Now, isn't this

a delicious little situation.



You know, people really should

finish what they start.



But fair is fair.

That's American.



This bill is controversial because

it's not concerned with the bottom line.



It's concerned with the family,

which is the backbone of this country.



We must take a stand.



If successful,

it will enable us to thrive...



as the greatest country

in the world.



Thank you.



- Senator--

- One more question--



Are you saying you will vote

for the family relief bill today...



in spite of resistance

from Capitol Hill?



You heard my speech.



I'm not here to fight the Senate.

I'm here to help America.



- Senator, one more question--

- Thanks, everyone.



Now let's get some real food.



Ignoring my calls

is not a smart idea.



Running for president isn't

like working at the post office.



I have obligations.



Listen to me very carefully,




Your every step, every thought, every

breath is to be cleared through me.






You've compromised

both our positions.






That bill has several amendments tacked

to it that work against my interests.



I'll get them severed.



That way

I can preserve my stance.



Unlike me,

you don't have that kind of power.



These cutbacks are locked in,

so the entire bill must fail.



I'll have to pull in some favors

to negate your vote...



and save you from looking

like a fool.



Screw up again, Scottie,

and your political career is over.




where will you be dining?



Shut up and drive.



Kidnap suspect last seen

Madison and   rd.



Jesus, what a mess.



When did a threat from a

grenade-toting psycho get treated...



Iike a typical purse-snatching?



Who dropped the ball on this?



Makes it look like a bunch of L.A. cops.

What you got, Twitch?



Grenade fragments

and a big hole, sir.



Give me something

I can work with.



This is the same alley where we found

the body of that reporter Stevens.



I know. Them dead kids

were dropped in this area too.



- Seems to be a popular spot.

- But is it a coincidence?



Stevens' taped conversations

seem to suggest a connection...



between Washington

and a child killer.



They're making

these things smaller.



Sir, I really need

to get back to those tapes.



Later, Twitch. This so-called preacher

might be our child killer.



I want him before the feds smell

a headline and take us out of the loop.






Oh, my God.



Get him outta there.



Stay out...



his alleys.



- Two of 'em.

- What about the preacher?



Red cloak.



Red what?



I think he said "cloak," sir.



What's that got to do

with the damn preacher?



Christ! Medics!

Get over here!



Twitch, radio headquarters. Tell them

SWAT's gonna hold a six-block radius.



We're gonna pinch this area

until I find that fucking lunatic.



Retrieving those weapons

has become critical.



The slightest delay

can shift political balances.



Terry to see you, sir.



Terry. Come in.



Sir, my investigation of the weapons

shipment hasn't turned up anything.



The only good news is, no other

shipments are currently missing.



What about

the weapons we've lost?



Well, sir, without a lead we're still

shooting in the dark, so to speak.



I suspect a Chinese terrorist group

or the Cali cartel.



Both are linked to recent espionage

attacks on European armories.



I'll have full statistical

readouts tomorrow.



Good work.

Leave this on my desk.



We'll discuss this further

after I read it.



I don't like hiding

in goddamn closets.



Well, you're not supposed to be

in the country, Chapel.



Isn't that the guy

who married AI Simmons' wife?



As I was saying, we have to

carefully position ourselves--



He should thank me for freeing up

a nice piece of ass like Wanda.



Let's focus.



The guns. That's what this is about.

Nothing else.



Not worried

about the Boy Scout?



Terry's being monitored,

just like everyone else.



Someone's got your weapons.



There's a leak somewhere.

I need it plugged.



Just let me know when

and where.



I want this mission executed

with precision and finesse.



You saying I'm sloppy?



Overzealous, like our

little South American project.



Not my fault those people

don't know how to duck.



This time

it's on American soil.



The rules are different.

Cover your tracks.



Yeah. Yeah.

Just call the ball...



so I can get out

of your fucking closet.



Now what?



- Wynn, we've got a problem.

- I'm listening.



Internal data monitoring

in D.C. suggests...



someone's been hacking into the files

of several politicians...



including me.



Don't worry.

I sanitized your political record.



Personal information,

family history.



I'm scared shitless.

I can't take my mind off it.



The Kyle Watson situation

got out of control.



That lawyer, Wanda Blake?



It must be her. One of my guys

got knocked off trailing her.



I'd assumed she'd drop her investigation

once her client got off.



She's got some ex-cop

digging into deep evidence files.



He's got enough connections

in the department...



to turn up

some very ugly shit.



So, what am I supposed to do?



Stay calm.

Run for president.



I'll take care of the rest.



Is everyone useless around here?



Trouble in paradise?



Wanda Blake's

stirring up trouble.



- Maybe Terry's rubbing off on her.

- Time is short.



First, let's get you

on target.



I want you to find

that thing in the alley.



I have a specialist

who will deal with it.



Second, I need

a pickup and delivery.



A child.

Nothing serious.



- Someone will contact you with details.

- Got it.



Kim, call Senator McMillan

and tell him...



the problem we discussed

is being resolved.



Twist will find this freak.



Then you're on.



Get the guns first,

then ask your questions.



And remember-- finesse.



Got it. Like kidnapping

your employee's baby.



- A detail.

- I always did like working for you.



Oh, my God.



- Holy shit.

- Jesus, Al.



What'd you do to him?



What happened here?



Who moved him?

I want answers!



Come on, Al.

None of us would touch him.



- We know you'd--

- None of you know anything about me!



Out of my way.



Give them a chance,

or leave them alone.



Get out of my way.



You're saving them one minute,

then spitting on them the next.



Make up your mind, Spawn.



Are you going to do what's right...



or sit on your ass and brood?



That little boy earlier today--

he's still with that psychopath.



You could've done something,

but you didn't.



- Why?

- He didn't ask for help.



- He's mute.

- His problem, not mine.



Look, you can't push people

out of the way...



Iooking for

your personal space...



and expect them

not to push back.



You kill hit men,

the Mob comes.



You stick a cop on the wall,

the police come.



These bums,

they're just innocent bystanders...



caught in the middle

of your storm.



- Whatever.

- You have a purpose, Spawn...



whether you want

to believe it or not.



The sooner you accept it,

the better off you'll be.



I love ice cream



- Hello, Billy.

- How do you know my name?



- I'm a fan.

- A what?



A fan.



- Been admiring your work for some time.

- Why?



I just love to see the children's faces

when you're with them.



You like kids.

Don't you, Billy?



Me too.



But I'm a clown.

I'm supposed to.



Hey. You wanna go

to a party?



- When?

- Later tonight, across town.



It'll be a real scream.



I promise.



The investigation has now officially

turned into a full-scale manhunt.



Very few details

have been released.



We have confirmation that at least one

officer has been killed at this point.



Also, the Senate has narrowly defeated

the federal relief taxation bills...




by Senator McMillan...



who received much opposition

from Republicans and Democrats.



McMillan, who's running for president...



has been unavailable

for comment.



Ready, Cyan?



Great catch, honey!



Good job.



Come on, honey.

Mommy has to go inside.



Yes, this is she.



Yes, I know Max Kivala.



Oh, God, no.



Not Max.



When? How?



Yes, he worked for me.

When did this happen?



No, you don't have a right to know

what we were working on.



His wife?

Yes, I know her.



Let her tell me that.

I don't trust--



Cyan? Cyan.



Cyan, where are you, honey?



Hellspawns begin to take sides

in their own minds.



Right, wrong.

Moral, immoral.



Good, evil.



None are ever sure

where they will fall.



What you doing with the heaters?



Lots of unfriendly traffic

flowing through here.



So, that's it now?

It's become an eye for an eye.



The government taught me how to fight,

how to kill. That's all I got left.



If you don't have the stomach for it,

get the hell outta here.



All units, a report of a child

kidnapping on the south side of Queens.




approximately four years old.



Answers to the name of Cyan.

Units are rolling.



- Cyan?

- You know her?



What are you gonna do?



You gonna help

get the kid back?



Attention, assholes.



This is the police.



Drop all weapons. Come out

with your hands over your heads.



Twitch, where the hell

have you been?



We got this cop-killing, kidnapping

bastard cornered. He ain't getting away.



Hold your fire!



Preacher, just let the boy go

and no one has to get hurt here.



Oh, yes, someone does.



He's armed!



Don't be a fool.

Calm down.



Don't do anything stupid.

Give me the grenade.



I promise you,

you and the boy will be protected.






It's okay.

It's still got a pin.



Everything's fine.



Well, not quite.



Nobody move!



Do you have him?



Drop him.



Goddamn it.



Nice shot.



Holy shit.



- Holy shit!

- Oh, my God! Move! Move!



- Move!

- Go!



Finally, having chosen a side...



and released

of some inner guilt...



the warrior is now free

to pursue his personal mission...






God help those in his path.



Glad to be out of that skin.



Ooh, that was tight,

especially in the crotch.



Move from this spot

and you'll be sorry, girlie.



Hello, little girl.



Do you like tutti-frutti?



Is it real?



It's grade-A.

I got a reputation to keep.



Do you want the shit

or not?



I'll have to check

with the man first.



If you can't make a decision yourself,

don't worry about coming back.



Eat me, baldy.



You know the Mouth?



Goddamn it, this hurts.



Yeah, that's me.



A little girl was kidnapped yesterday.

Cyan Fitzgerald.



Who took her?



Okay, Mouth, speak.



Who took her?



Okay! Okay!




Tony fucking Twist!



Christ. What the hell happened?

We're gone maybe five minutes.



Deke! Vinny!



Holy shit.



Jesus fucking Christ!



He has the girl.



Hey. Shit face.



He had a dirty mouth...



and so do you.



Come on, honey.

It's time to dance.



Get me Tony. Now!



Is that right?



Well, you tell the honorable senator

from Bumfuck...



I want to be able to count

on his endorsement...



or he can count on his drug addiction

making the front page...



of every major paper

in the country.



Y'all take care now.



Where the hell are we?

I said the Waldorf, not the waterfront.



What the hell is this?



Hey, goddamn it!



For God's sake, what now?



Something is amiss, Senator.

Something is not right with the world.



Do you know

what that might be?



My heart can't take much more

of this cloak-and-dagger bullshit.



Someone has sent

your prodigal son...



on a decidedly untimely rampage.



My son?



Little bastard Billy.

He's fucking up my plans.



What are you saying?



Did you send Billy

after Wanda Blake's child?



Absolutely not.



- All right.

- What happened?



How did he get her?



If it wasn't me,

then who--



There are forces at work here,




shadow players who have decided

to remain nameless for the time being.



Someone's playing your game.



We'll see.



I'll get your lost weapons

and hunt down this soldier killer.



Just remember,

the clock's ticking.



Don't worry.



This won't take long.



Look, let's run it down again.



We've been through this




- What are you doing to find Cyan?

- Humor me, please, Mr. Fitzgerald.



I need to make sure

nothing's missed.



- What about gambling debts?

- None.




A jealous lover?



Somebody you screwed in a business deal?

Friends? Ex-partners?



Easy. We're just trying

to get at the truth.



What about your jobs?



You work for the government.

Your wife is an attorney.



Okay, what about that?



Oh, God.



The Watson case.



My case.

They took her.



They killed Max and took her.



My baby. It's all my fault.

If anything happens--



Find Cyan, Detective.



Find out who took

our little girl.



Get the plane ready.

I gotta get outta town.



The boys are on their way,

and now Wynn will be on my ass...



'cause you lost the kid!



Shut up, goddamn it!

Get it done!



I warned you,

you fat piece of shit.



- Let me explain!

- Where's the little girl?



- I'm trying to tell you!

- Where is she?



Somebody took her from us!



- Address?

- I don't know!



Some freak in an ice cream truck!

Somebody must've tipped him off!



Please don't hurt me!

I'm telling you the truth!



I swear on my mother's life!



I swear I didn't know.

Not at first anyway.



He's my flesh and blood.

He's done bad things. Who hasn't?



God forgive me, I had to protect him.

It required some serious arm-twisting.



I hate these friggin' reports.



You oughta be doing this shit,




I hate typing up

these five-fives.



If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

It's not like I had a choice.



Made a few calls--



Aw, shit. Goddamn it.



- It's not that big a deal.

- Sir, I've got it.



The alley murders. Stevens.

The whole ball of wax.



-Don't keep me in suspense. Spit it out.




Stevens recorded a cellular phone call

between an unknown individual...



and Senator Scott McMillan.



- McMillan?

- Yes, sir.



McMillan, as it turns out,

has an illegitimate son...



who happens to enjoy

dismembering little children.



Oh, man. McMillan's been

covering for this sick bastard.



Way ahead of me, as always.



Stevens planned to sell his story

to the Washington Post.



An attempt to blackmail McMillan

obviously failed...



putting Stevens' life in danger.



Stevens goes underground long enough to

benefit from the media merry-go-round.



McMillan finds him, gets some wise guys

to kill him along with the reporters.



In a nutshell, sir.



So our preacher wasn't

the child killer after all.



No, sir, he wasn't.



So you were right. So what?

You got a name on this pus bag?



Yes, sir.

His name is Billy Kincaid.



Great work, Twitch.



Thank you, sir.



- Your praise makes it all worthwhile.

- Yeah, whatever.



But now it's time to get busy

with what I'm good at.



I want every officer

briefed on this thing pronto.



This guy's ass is gonna be mine,

dead or alive. You got me?



Time to have that ice cream.



Such a pretty one.



Do you like the music?



I like the music very much.



Would you like to dance?



Just you and me.



But first...



I scream, you scream



We all scream for ice cream



Chocolate pecan

and strawberry whirls.



Very good.



Move away from the child.






Do this right,

and no one gets hurt.



Now God be with you, gentlemen,

and kick ass. Out.



You're on fire!



Son of a bitch!



Come on, damn it!

Let's move!



All units,

suspect is headed south on Van Buren.



Vehicle is

a white panel truck.



Ice cream design

on both sides.



Suspect considered armed

and extremely dangerous.



I want this fucking psycho




They think they've got the guy.



Come on. Come on, people!

Let's roll!



- What's going on? ls it my daughter?

- Maybe.



Units are in pursuit

of a potential suspect.



- Oh, my God.

- What about Cyan?



- We don't know yet.

- We're going with you.



And so he grabs the girl--



I can't take this.



He grabs her, and then--



And the house blows up!



Who's that on top of the truck?

An accomplice?



No idea, sir.



If he's in the way, he's history.

Am I clear?



Crystal clear, sir.



It's not even his kid!



Come here, you fat bastard!



This is bullshit! I want a blockade

all around this piss hole!



Nobody in or out.



And for Christ's sake,

let's get it right this time.



Let her go.



For some warriors...



the answer is crystallized

in an instant.



Their instincts point them

only one way.



The truth becomes undeniable...



and apocalyptic.






This is all coming together

so nicely.



Remember, there's no room for pussies

in Satan's army.



You don't belong here.



Help, Daddy!



Kill him.



Kill him!



What the fuck?



Hey, you assholes.



That wasn't in the goddamn script.



You don't realize what's at stake here.

Get with the fucking program.



Get up,

you worthless sack of shit.



I want my ice cream.



Sorry, asshole.

We're all out of ice cream.



Good help

is so goddamn hard to find.



He made a fucking deal.



The boss won't be happy

when he hears about this.



You really fucked yourself

this time.



This ain't over, Spawn.



You made a fucking deal.



I want my mommy.






You go to your mommy now.



She'll take care of you.



You're gonna be

all right now.



Thank you.




There's the little girl.



Hold your fire.

It's the kid.



You all right, honey?



I want my mommy.









Thank you.

Thank you, God.









where'd you get this?



He gave it to me, Mommy.



Who, sweetheart?



The sad man.



For all Hellspawns...



a time comes

when the stage is set.



All sides have been chosen.



The world and its rules

have been defined...



and the real war,

in all its apocalyptic horror...



is finally ready to begin.


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