Original subtitles

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 I.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!

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 I?

Okay, asshole. Next question. Who else knows?

I'm waiting for your answer, smart boy.

Nobody. 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.

So?

He see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil.

Good. Let's do this thing and go.

Don't do this. You don't have to.

I won't say anything. I swear.

Please. I got a family.

Kids.

And for their sakes, I hope decent life insurance.

Let him go.

Jesus!

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?

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.

Who? I can't remember anything.

What's wrong with me?

Too long under the tanning booth, by the look of it.

Where...

is me?

What's happened? Who am I?

Hey, Bobby. I think he's coming around.

Wanda.

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.

Wanda. 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.

Wanda.

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. Okay?

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 I.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 Al Simmons...

the best friend a poor, number-crunching jerk like me could have.

Dad!

- 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.

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 Al 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?

Hmm?

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, motherfucking...

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...

let alone one you can't give your name to.

So what he does is my problem, understand?

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 Internal 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.

Retire.

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 400 years, a new warrior takes center stage...

preparing for the great battle.

And with him comes pain, death...

and the vile stench of brimstone.

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