All language subtitles for Scintilla.2014.720p.WEBRip.x264.AAC-[YTS.MX]

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(music)

(old-style music)

(thudding)

(metal scraping)

¶ Don't wake me ¶

¶ I'm dreaming ¶

¶ Dreaming of being with you ¶

¶ Don't... ¶

¶ Don't wake me ¶

¶ I'm dreaming ¶

¶ Dreaming of being... ¶¶

(distant screaming)

(gunfire)

(distant gunfire)

(distant gunfire)

(bird cawing)

(man): Jim. Jim, it's a job.

It's a job, Jim.

(men screaming)

It's Harris.

Jim.

Jim.

We've got a gig, Jim.

We're gonna get you out. Yeah?

Pay the general,
no firing squad,

Gulf Stream at the airport.

Hostiles, minimal.
Local assets on the surface.

Once inside the underground
facility, nothing.

- Why me?
- You're a specialist,

Mr. Powell.

We don't want to start a war.
We want discretion and speed.

- We take out the scientist--
- "Take out"?

- The research Dr. Irvine
is involved in

is at a very advanced stage.
We need to strike immediately

before the work is complete
and Dr. Irvine disappears.

You'll be escorting
Dr. Healy here

into the facility.
She knows the research,

and will direct you
in what to take.

She'll be in charge.

- I've put the team
back together.

The old team, yeah?
Your team.

They're ready to go.

- Who's this?
- Spencer, meet Powell.

Spencer is company security.
He's with me.

- No surprises.
No passengers on this gig.

- He's part of the deal.

- What do you mean,
he's part of the deal?

Is he part of the deal, Doug?

- He works for the company.

(bird cawing)
(distant gunfire)

- You okay, boss?

- Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine.

It's just been a while.
I'm okay.

- Shit.

Mines.

- Boss, bike tracks.

They seem to go straight
through the minefield.

- Recent?

- Looks like a regular route.
New and old tracks.

But we're taking
a hell of a risk.

- Okay, Mason. Give it a go.

Stay in the tracks.
- Should we go around?

- No. We're on a tight schedule.

Your schedule.

Everyone off the path.
Now! Now!

- Fuck it.

- Shhh.

Shhh.

Spencer.

Put it away.

(Steinmann breathing raggedly)
Shhh.

It's a perimeter patrol.

Probably does this route
two or three times a day.

(Steinmann): Chechens.

Terrorists, paid goons.

They're killers, murderers,
rapists.

The usual.
(distant voices and gunfire)

This used to be
Soviet army barracks.

Twenty-five miles around here
in every direction

was ethnically cleansed.

The poor guys in the cages
are dissidents,

rebels, civilians, you name it.

- The facility?
- Underneath.

Cold War bunker system.
Not much info on it.

You'll need to ask her
about that.

The militia leader,
El Dictator there,

likes to douse the prisoners
in oil and set them alight.

Hobby of his.

(distant voices)

- It's time.

- Williams, come in.

Are you in position?
- For fuck's sake.

Uh, you could say that.

- Proceed, and good luck.

- Let me do the talking, Harris.
I'll get us in.

- I bet you weren't expecting
this welcoming committee.

- Looks like a raiding party
coming back.

- Look at that one.
He should be at school.

(neighing)

- Ah...

- Jesus Christ.

- Okay,
this is the main militia base.

(shouting and gunfire)

(woman exclaiming in fear)

(gunfire)

- Looks like dissidents
brought in for questioning.

- Shit. Here we go.

(gunshot)
(woman screaming)

(rifle cocking)

- In position. I can take
the two on the right of the car.

- See you.
I have three-four this side.

- It didn't sound like Russian.
Fuck.

That definitely isn't Russian.

- Local dialect.
They're not Russians.

They're Uzbeks.

- Jesus Christ, Harris.
What the...?

Harris, for fuck's sake.

- Corry, you seeing this?
- I'm seeing it.

- What the fuck are you doing,
Harris?

- Vodka.
Harris has been drinking again.

Steinmann, Corry,

get ready, make it clean.
- Wait.

- Bugger.

- We're in.

(typing)

Stand by, everyone. Stand by.

Where the fuck did you learn
to talk like that?

- I'm not just a pretty face,
me, you know.

- Bingo. I've got it.

Be at the north wall
in 12 minutes.

The north wall is clear.

I repeat,
the north wall is clear.

- Which part?

- Shmitovsky Prospekt.

(speaking Russian)

And you?

- What's wrong with our system?

- Just replacing several cables
and a couple of blown fuses.

- And turned that monitor off.
- This monitor?

Yeah, yeah, I was just checking
the ATP cables.

You want it back on?

(inhaling)

- Don't smell Russian.
- He's not Russian.

He's a fucking Georgian liar.

I think he might be trying
to get into your knickers.

And I can't say I blame him.

Drink?

- What is so important
that they send two engineers

to check our shitty cameras?

- I think she likes you. Hmm?

Corry, they're in.
Meet me at the rendezvous.

(Russian chatter)

(woman whimpering)

- So what do we do, boss?
Do we cut her down?

- If we set her free,
they'll find her.

Take her with us,
she'll slow us down.

Either way,
they'll know we were here.

- We can't take her with us,
not down there.

- We can't leave her like this,
now she's seen us.

- She's not gonna say much.

(gunfire)

(groaning)

- No, they're all pissed up
with the radio blaring.

Some Azerbaijani funk.
Never heard a thing.

- Doug, lights!

- Powell, she's dead.

One of the shots caught her.

- Great. Now what?

- They won't be looking
for anyone else now.

Crime of passion.

Horny fucker. We go?

- Let's go. Go.

Doug, go back to Williams.
Keep the engineering act going.

Let's go.

Drunk as skunks out there.
Some terrible fucking singing.

(indistinct radio chatter)

(distant voices)

(woman speaking Russian
over PA system)

(Powell): Healy,
how do we find the facility?

- We had an operative
infiltrate it six weeks ago.

The facility
is half a mile underground.

It's this way.

(Russian chatter)

(clattering)

They don't use these tunnels
anymore.

We go down.

- Down.

What's down here?

- This part of the bunker
goes back to the 1950s.

Offices, infirmary and canteens
for Soviet troops.

Who knows what else.

- Great.
Sounds like a maze of tunnels.

- Yeah, it's a maze.

- What d'you reckon
happened here?

- Execution.
See the marks on the wall?

Their hands are tied
behind their backs.

- Maybe.

So why's this one
still got his AK?

- Looks like he was trying to
stop something getting in here.

- It happened a long time ago.

Could be related
to the civil war.

Revenge killings, executions.
- Healy!

Corry.

- No, not an explosive.

Radio transmitter.

We trip that,
it sends a signal... somewhere.

- This is recent.

Seems like the good doctor s
expecting visitors.

(Harris groaning)
- Harris?

Harris!

Come see this now.

- For fuck's sake, Williams.

(beeping)

(sighing)

Williams,
I can't see a fucking thing.

- Alright, just keep watching.

(soldier mumbling)

- They've got company.

- Someone's following them.

- Jim. Come in, Jim.

(radio static)

Jim, come in.

Can't reach them.

Gone too deep.

Stay here.

I wouldn't touch the rest
of his stew, by the way.

- Steinmann, what is it?

Are we being followed?

- If we are, they're good,
they're very good.

- Is it contaminated?

- Well...
I wouldn't go drinking it.

(panting softly)

(creature screeching)
- Ah!!

(Powell): You okay? Corry?

Corry? You okay?

Clear?
(Steinmann): Clear?

- Clear.

- What happened?
- Somebody was here.

- Did you see him?
- Yeah.

Come up behind me.

Christ, they were quiet.

I think I winged him.

(Mason): Can't see anything.

There's no blood.

- Sure there was somebody?
- Yes, fucking sure.

- So what do we do, boss?
Go after 'em?

- I say we hunt them down.

- It's like a maze down here.
We could be searching for days.

They attacked in darkness,

so they know
the layout of the place.

We could hit an ambush,
tripwires.

We keep moving.

We stay sharp.

(Russian chatter)

- You okay?

- Yeah, yeah.

Yeah, yeah.

I'm just sick of these
fucking tunnels, that's all.

Don't you find it hot?

- No, no,
it's fucking freezing down here.

- Oh, fuck.

(whimpering)

- Corry, hurry up.

(crying)

- What are you doing?

- Just checking the monitors.

- You seem very interested
in monitors.

I'd like you to meet Gregory.

I have high hopes for Gregory.

I think he will make
an excellent soldier.

- Yeah, I'm sure he will.

- Despite his obvious drawbacks.

- Such as?

- Gregory is from the mountains

and his Russian is rudimentary.

He only speaks local dialects
and, of course, Georgian,

as his family are from there.

I forgot...

you are from Georgia yourself,
are you not?

- Tbilisi.

I'm from Tbilisi.

It's a lovely place.

(panting)

(coughing)

(hissing)

- Gas. Gas! Gas.

(coughing)

Gas! Move!

(creature screeching)

Move!
(coughing)

Move! Let's go! Move!
(screeching)

- You don't bring a syringe
to a gunfight.

- Keep moving!

Move! Move! Get on!

Move! Move! Move!

Let's go.

- Jesus.

(cock cocking)

(screeching)

(coughing)

- This is it.

The lab is here.

(beep)

(distant screaming)

- The medical facility?
- This way.

This way.

(Harris panting)

(beeping)

- Still a killer, Jim, eh?

Still a killer.

- It's okay. It's a clean exit.

- Don't wake me up.

Don't wake me up.

Dreaming...

- Let's find Irvine.

(lullaby-type music)

(woman moaning)

(moaning)

(moaning)

(moaning)

(opera music)

(beeping)

(woman sobbing)

- I suspected it was you.

- Down. Down.

(woman crying out)

- Pre-eclampsia, type 19.

I'm trying to control it
with magnesium sulphate.

- Help me get her over there.
Help me.

(woman moaning)

- Could I get up, please?
This is uncomfortable.

I had to risk it.

- I warned you
this would happen.

- Who's the girl?

- Specimen A. Ali. A for Ali.
- Specimen?

She's the specimen you wanted?
- One of two.

- So you're just going
to steal them?

- And yourself too, apparently.
- No.

Not me.
She just wants me dead.

- One of my men is missing.

- It's easily done.

Miles of tunnels, steps,
no lights.

- Yeah, and a few
syringe-waving lunatics.

- Oh...

They alright?
- Yeah, they're fine.

They tried to fucking kill us,
but they're doing really well.

- Two of them are dead.
Who are they?

I sense this is some kind
of fucking game

between the two of you
and I'm not laughing.

Who are they?!

- War orphans. I found them
wandering the tunnels, starving.

I train them, they assist me.

And they're also useful
as a deterrent.

They scare those men upstairs
from getting too curious.

- What's in the syringes?

- Used to be loads of biological
agents stored in the tunnels,

Soviet bio-warfare stuff.
It's an unpleasant cocktail.

Not advisable to get dosed.

- How long has she got,
Mathesis?

- Your timing is perfect, Lyla,
as always. Hours.

(moaning)

- We can't leave.
The girl is due to give birth.

- Mason, keep your gun on her.

Steinmann. Steinmann.

Sit down. You look like shit.
(Ali crying out)

Healy, a word.

Now.

Move.

- It's okay.

(beeping)
(Ali moaning)

- You were the operative
who was here six weeks ago,

weren't you?
So what happened?

Lovers' tiff?

- We disagreed.
- She's your boss.

- We were both employed--
- She was the lead scientist,

and you were under her.

We're leaving in 30 minutes.

- We can't take the girl.
The move will kill her.

- And I can't risk Williams
being crucified by that mob

and our only escape route
cut off!

- I'm in charge down here,
Powell. We stay.

- And I don't like
being lied to.

You have 30 minutes.
Figure it out.

(beeping)

(Ali moaning)

My employers were very clear

that I ask no questions
about you or your work.

My employers, however,
neglected to inform me

about certain pertinent facts

concerning this little jaunt
of ours, which means...

that I have a missing operative,
I have a half-gassed crew,

and I have an old friend
in the next room

with a bullet wound
in his stomach.

So...

Why don't you tell me
what all the fuss is about?

(moaning)

- The old Soviet Union
kept many secrets.

They spent a lot of money
on all the sciences,

particularly if they felt
that branch of science

could be weaponized.

For any young scientist,

this was a lure.

I was a young
Cambridge graduate

and I was approached
with an astonishing proposal.

The Russians
were and are experts

at the hard sciences,
but genetics,

well, the UK, Switzerland,
the USA, naturally,

had left the Russians behind.

But they had their own program.

This vast country is littered

with the craters
of meteorite strikes.

Some are famous,
like the 1908 Tunguska event.

Some hit this planet
millions of years ago.

Throughout the Cold War,

Soviet scientists
explored each site,

looking for anything

that might help them
against their Western enemies,

anything that might lead
to something handy,

like the atom bomb,
for example.

No, it's not that.
This is the Scintilla Project.

It's why they approached me.

This is a 2.4-billion-year-old
meteorite

buried in permafrost
for at least 70 million years.

When this hit the Earth,

dinosaurs were still
romping around.

What the Soviet scientists
discovered

was organic material
inside this rock:

cells, DNA, genetics.

They needed
a world expert in genetics

to be able to extract the DNA
and to be able to use it.

I was approached for the job.

- And they promised you
vast riches.

- Lord, no. Anyway,
it wouldn't have interested me.

They offered me
something better.

Complete freedom
to work on this

without being constrained
by any rules.

- Laws.

- Yes, if you like, laws.

- What Mathesis discovered--
- Shhh now.

Why don't I show you?

- Why all the kids' toys
and the blackboard?

- The specimens
need to be educated

so I can assess their growth,

compare them
to normal children.

- Children?

That girl's 16 or 17, isn't she?

- She's five.

Goethe.

He can't speak,
but can just about understand

basic commands
like a chimpanzee.

He looks normal,
other than the eyes

and the breathing spiracle
in his neck.

He can breathe in our atmosphere
for brief periods of time,

but in here I can adapt the mix

to make it more comfortable
for him.

I'm still checking
his respiratory system, nerves.

He has grown so quickly.

- How old?

- Goethe is also five.

- What the fuck?

- Let's talk outside.

(coughing)
- You okay?

- What's wrong
with her breathing?

- Your fucking gas.

Thanks.

- What the fuck is he?

- Half human,

and half is that DNA
from the meteorite.

- Half?

- I needed the human base
to fill in the gaps in the DNA.

The offspring of the girl will
be a second-generation subject,

more alien than Goethe or Ali.

Purer, brighter, hopefully.

- Goethe.

You had to call him Goethe,
didn't you?

Not Joe or Tom.

- You really
don't understand this.

- I'm not paid
to understand this.

I'm paid to do a job,
to honour my clients' needs.

- Do you think her plan involves
you and your band of merry men

swanning out of here

with your pockets full of cash?

(distorted electronic voice)

(Ali moaning)

(Healy): The progress
of the subjects is remarkable.

In four short years,

they have almost reached
full height

and we have not yet
experienced the usual
discrepancies.

The boy shows no signs
of intelligence yet,

but Mathesis is most excited
about the girl

and her breeding
possibilities.

Mathesis's ambition
continues to grow.

After years of disappointment,

it is like she is rushing
through this headlong.

I am concerned.

- Argh!

(beep)

- He failed even the simplest
sight-recognition tests.

The two subjects
are a year old today.

As these two
look like surviving,

I've given them names:
Goethe and Ali.

Their eyes are still
very sensitive to light

and we have difficulty getting
the atmosphere mix right,

so they have been
in some discomfort breathing,

especially at night.

They ignore our presence,
but seem to have an instinct

and understanding
of one another.

The girl displays
maternal instincts

as a normal human child might.

The boy is... distant.

I cannot yet work out
what he is thinking,

if he is thinking at all.

Today I set the children

a hand-eye brain-coordination
and exploration test

with some simple toys.

The results, as last time,
are disappointing.

Goethe has managed
to put together

only a few of the pieces.

He shows little aptitude
or interest.

The girl, Ali, shows even less
invention or interest.

I will MRI-scan them both
to try and determine

the cause of this apathy,
but I have a growing fear

that they are just slow-witted
specimens.

(door opening)

(beep)

(Ali moaning)
- You need to get in there now.

No, not you. Her.

- Nothing is working.
I can't stop the pain.

We're gonna lose her.

- No. No, we can--

- I warned you.
Her physiology is too different,

too unknown.
You should've tested more.

(Ali groaning, then crying out)

(screaming)

Mathesis, you'll kill her.

You can't.
She'll bleed internally.

- She already is bleeding.
For hours.

I've been monitoring her.

She's not going to survive
the birth,

but I at least have a chance

of saving the offspring.
- You knew.

(Ali screaming)
- It was all I could do.

(Ali screaming)

- Is she dying?

- Get out.

- Is she dying?

- She's dying.
- Can you save her?

- It's not a case of saving her.

She's brought the child
to full term despite everything.

- Can you save her?
- No.

- Can you stop the pain?
- I have tried.

Normal opiate analgesic drugs
don't work.

I've tried everything.
(screaming)

- So she's gonna die in agony.
- Look, just get out.

I don't have time
for a medical lesson.

She's in pain.
There's not much I can do.

You and I need to prepare
for a Caesarean section.

- Without drugs?

- Yes, unfortunately,
without drugs.

- I'm sorry.
(flatlining)

- Have you any idea
of the billions of dollars

of research you've just--
(screaming)

- You fucking bitch!!!
- Calm it! Calm!

That's enough. Enough.

- You can still do the C-section
and save the foetus.

- Her physiology means
the foetus dies when she does.

It's too late.

(coughing)

- Take a minute, okay? Calm.

Calm. Calm.

(creatures roaring)

They're still out there.

You okay?
- Yeah.

- You sure? Okay.

(creatures screeching)

Time to go, folks.

I'm gonna need
help moving Harris.

Maybe we can find something
to give him

to help him make it to the top
and outta here.

- I'm not leaving.
- You are leaving.

- I've lived here 17 years.
I'm not leaving now.

Either here or out there,
I'm dead already,

so I prefer you leave me here
or finish it now.

- The company's orders
are to take the research,

the specimens,
destroy the facility,

including Dr. Irvine.

- You want me to kill her?

Why wait to tell me now?

- Everything that we learnt
about you

said you could be stubborn,
reluctant.

- But why kill her?

- She's a liability
to my company.

We can't trust her.

- I'm not an assassin.

- Come on, you kill people
for money, for fuck's sake.

- Granted.

And yes, you're right,
I am stubborn.

And no,

today I won't be killing
any scientists.

Now, I want us all to move.
Now. Right now!

- There's a £2 million bonus
for each of you if you do this.

- I'm sorry,
your sister, she's dead.

Mm.

(Goethe grunting)

- Dr. Irvine, you can help us
by calling off your mole rats.

We're leaving. Now.

- I'm sorry, she isn't coming.

- Mason, disarm her.

(groaning)

(groaning)

- Mason, no.

- Don't give me those fake
father fucking bullshit eyes.

It's good old Mason.

Good old loyal fucking Mason!

He'll be there
to have your back.

He'll do
all the fucking killing!

No more loyal fucking Mason.

- What did they offer you?
- How much did they offer me?

- What the fuck
did they offer you?!

They offered me the car,
they offered me the big house,

they offered me the holiday
in fucking Honolulu.

What do you think
they offered me?

Money.
They offered me money, Jim,

and they offered me respect.

That's what they offered me.

You tell him.

- Head of internal security.

(Powell laughing)

(panting)

- They're gonna
fucking kill you, mate.

They're gonna fucking put a gun
to the back of your head

and blow your pathetic
little fucking brains out.

(groaning)

- By the way, Harris...

he planned all this.

He said he needed the money.
He said you would see sense.

- Lyla.

- You tried to kill me,
Mathesis.

Spencer,

wait until we've left.

Don't shoot!

- Goethe,
what are you doing out?

- Goethe, remember me?

You were my special little boy,
remember?

- I doubt he has the capacity
to feel anything.

(whimpering)

- Mason, grab him out, please.
- I'll get him.

Goethe,

I've asked you nicely.

Could you please
go back to your room?

- Oh, no.

Steinmann? Steinmann?

Can you hear me?
Steinmann. Are you okay?

Steinmann.

- No, don't move her.

Both her leg and arm
are badly fractured.

I'm gonna need supplies
from medical.

- Stay with her.

Stay with our girl.

You too, move.

- Steinmann.

It's gonna be okay.

Steinmann, it's Mason.
Are you okay?

(door opening)

- What was the shooting, Jim?

- It's nothing.
Steinmann got hurt.

- Are we under a new regime?

- No. Brief insurrection.

Dealt with.

- I fucked it up, didn't I?

(sighing)

- I'll get you home, Doug, okay?

- I'm sorry, Jim.
I let you down.

- I said...

I'll get you home.
Let's go.

- Fuck.

Fuck.

- Irvine is dead,
we have no more conflict,

We need to get her out of here,
or she's going to die.

- We need to kill that boy,
or we're all dead.

We'll clear the way.

You get Harris and Steinmann
ready for transport, okay?

- Jim--
- Shut up.

(gun cocking)
Let's go.

(breathing raggedly)

- Come on up.

(moaning)

(clicking)

- What's that?

- Morphine.

There.

Don't worry, it won't be long.

(gunfire)

- Oh...

What...

What was... What was that?

That's not morphine.
- Shhh-shhh.

Shhh.

(coughing)

(door opening)

- How's Steinmann?

- She didn't make it.

- I didn't suppose she would.

You tidying up?

They'll hear the shots,
you know.

- Shhh. Now,
it'll all be over in a second.

- Oops.

(explosion)

- I'll go check.

(alarm sounding)

(Powell): Dead mole rats.

No heads.

- I think our philosopher friend
came this way.

- I'd agree with you.

- Jim? Jim!

They're gone. They've all gone.

Harris, Steinmann and Healy,
they're all dead.

- You sure?
- Yes, I'm sure.

(panting)

- Harris and Steinmann?
- Something must've got them.

It's like a fucking war zone
down there.

Looks like the medical facility
got fragged.

- Fuck!

Are you certain?
- Yes, I'm fucking certain.

- Fuck it, that blows this gig.
I'll hitch a ride out with you.

I'm not getting paid anymore
anyway.

There's an elevator this way.

- What are you talking about?
What elevator?

- It was Healy's escape route.
It's the main access shaft.

Only to be used
if shit hits the fan.

The shit's hit the fucking fan.
Let's go.

This is bullshit, man.

I could've been
in fucking South Africa.

I'm stuck down
in some shitty hole with mercs,

aliens running around
everywhere.

Fucking bollocks.

Fuck, I'm not even
fucking getting paid.

(alarm sounding)

(Russian-speaking
electronic elevator voice)

(ding)

(electronic elevator voice)
(ding)

(alarm sounding)

(electronic elevator voice)
(ding)

(alarm sounding)

Don't know about you two,

but I'm not keen on meeting
our head-blowing-off friend.

- That's someone else's
problem now.

- Yeah, totally.

If we get the drop on him,
I'll take him,

even though
I'm not getting paid.

But I'm not going
looking for him,

especially with that device
of his.

- Shit.
(screaming)

(electronic elevator voice)

Christ on a bike.

It's Corry.

- It's that syringe shit.

(distant gunfire)

(gunfire)

- Powell!

(groaning)

- Is he alright?
- He's conscious.

Christ, Williams.
What have they done to you?

You okay?
- They don't like Georgians.

I did not know that.

- Crap gun.

Crap day.

- Who are they firing at?

- Where are Steinmann
and Harris?

- They're gone.

- What the fuck
are they firing at?

(laughing)

(man screaming)

- Shit.
- Ah!!!

- Okay. Okay.

Okay, boss,
you've got one shot at this.

You take him
straight after he takes me.

- No.
- Shut up.

What are you waiting for?
Come on.

Come on, then!

(clicking and beeping)

iPhone batteries.

They always let you down,
don't they?

(bird cawing)

(cawing)

(electronic voice): Go ahead.

Shoot me.

(raven flying away)

(old-style music):
¶ Visions like these ¶

¶ In my heart ¶

¶ There is no sadness ¶

¶ And all the world ¶

¶ Though great it seem ¶

¶ I would not give ¶

¶ My one sweet ¶

¶ Dream ¶

(Powell singing along)
¶ Don't wake me ¶

¶ I am dreaming ¶

¶ Dreaming of one I love ¶

¶ Dreaming... ¶

¶ Dreaming ¶

¶ Don't wake me up ¶

¶ I am dreaming ¶

¶ Where skies are blue ¶

¶ Above ¶¶

(announcement): Platform 3

for the 15:03
South West Trains service

to Guildford via Cobham and
Stoke D'Abernon.

(music)

(distant sirens)

(music)

(heavy-metal music)

¶ You're like lambs
to the slaughter ¶

¶ Stand in line
and wait your turn ¶

¶ I am the destroyer ¶

¶ This thing you quickly learn ¶

¶ Have no fear
and come with me ¶

¶ Enter my reality ¶

¶ I am your hybrid curse ¶

¶ This is my universe ¶

¶ No rest for the wicked ¶

¶ No rest
till the work is done ¶

¶ No rest for the wicked ¶

¶ No peace
for the chosen ones ¶

¶ Take your chance
and start to run ¶

¶ This game of death
has just begun ¶

¶ If you die I still exist ¶

¶ This will be your nemesis ¶

¶ No rest for the wicked ¶

¶ No rest
till the work is done ¶

¶ No rest for the wicked ¶

¶ No peace
for the chosen ones ¶

(guitar solo)

¶ Welcome to my sacrifice ¶

¶ Have you come
to spend the night ¶

¶ Have no fear
and come with me ¶

¶ Enter my reality ¶

¶ In this place
where darkness dwells ¶

¶ You will face
your private hells ¶

¶ In my labyrinth of fire ¶

¶ I will build
your funeral pyre ¶

¶ No rest for the wicked ¶

¶ No rest
till the work is done ¶

¶ No rest for the wicked ¶

¶ No peace
for the chosen ones ¶¶

Subtitling: CNST, Montreal