Original subtitles

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!

Twist! 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, Chapel...

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 already.

- 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.

Affairs? 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, Twitch.

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. - Extortion.

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.

Now.

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 stopped.

They think they've got the guy.

Come on. Come on, people! Let's roll!

- What's going on? Is 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.

Cyan!

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...

You go to your mommy now.

She'll take care of you.

You're gonna be all right now.

Thank you.

Look. There's the little girl.

Hold your fire. It's the kid.

You all right, honey?

I want my mommy.

Cyan.

Mommy!

Thank you. Thank you, God.

Daddy.

Honey...

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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