All language subtitles for The Prophecy 5 - Forsaken (2005 - 720p BluRay)_ENG

(door opens)

(metal scraping)

(continues in Romanian)

(ethereal whispering)

Oh!

(thunderclap)

(man groans)

- Father Constantin?
- (distant laughter)

Oh, God.

(man) The last chapter of the
Bible is called Revelations.

It promises the end of
life as we know it.

If that's the case, you
might want to ask yourself:

Is that really
such a good thing?

Oh, my God.

(ethereal voices)

(man) Did you see that, Dylan?

It's begun.

He's already made
the first move.

You see how he took a life,
without even lifting a finger?

That's genius. Vintage Satan.

It's all about keeping
your hands clean.

That's why we're such
a good match, Dylan

I have to keep up appearances.

And you don't care
how dirty you get.

Using the semi-auto
this time, are we?

Any objections?

(man) I thought you said it
had a nasty pull to the left.

- I won't miss. Trust me.
- Good. Because this one's important.

- (Dylan) They're all important, aren't they?
- (man) No. This one more than usual.

And remember, it has to be
one clean shot to the head.

- After all, she's not your average monkey.
- It will be.

(man) You've memorized
her morning routine.

She wakes at 6:45, puts
on the coffee at 6:50

and showers at 6:53.

She soaps herself from the toes up -
which is a little strange, actually,

because, when you think about it, most
people lather from the neck down.

(man) A man who
relishes his work.

At 7:10, coffee cup in hand,
she stands by her window

and tosses breadcrumbs
to the pigeons,

and cries over the little girl
who never deserved to die.

(man) One bullet. Aren't we
being a bit overconfident?

I told you. I won't miss.

(man) No.

No. You don't wanna do that.

Eleven murders topped
off by a suicide.

Believe me, Dylan. You are
holding a nonstop ticket

to a place you definitely
do not wanna go.

I can pull some strings, Dylan. Save
you from a whole world of hurt.

All you have to do is this one
last job, and it'll be over.

I promise.

Oh, I mean, I really,
really promise this time.

Good. I knew you'd
see it my way.

As always.

(sighs)

Was it something I said?

Come back.

Come back.

We had a deal. Remember?

That's it. Yes, that's better.

Short, quick breaths.

Attaboy.

Now you're going to do exactly
what I tell you, Dylan.

You know why? Because you just had a brief
glimpse of the place you're headed,

and it wasn't pretty, was it?

I didn't think so.

Now. Let's get down to
business, shall we?

She'll be soaping up soon.

Feeling better? OK.

Away from the window.

Sit down.

Not there. There.

Hands on lap.

Whatever you're looking for,
you won't find it if I'm dead.

I work for a boss who prefers to
extract secrets from corpses.

They tend not to lie so much.

All right. This is how
it works, Allison.

I'm here to kill you.
It's that simple.

I don't know what you're hiding, or why.
I never do.

This is purely a job, an assignment.
Understand?

- Understand?!
- Yes.

For some reason...

I get the feeling
you're different.

Like this is all a mistake.

Not that it ever mattered
before, but it does.

Somehow it does. It does matter.
And I don't know why.

It comes down to this. I need you to
tell me why you're meant to live.

And I need to know right now.

You can't ask me to
justify my life to you.

It's a life. That
should be enough.

It's not enough! Understand?
It's not enough.

Not if you know...

what's waiting for me
on the other side.

On the other side.

I've been entrusted
with something.

What?

It's a responsibility.

And that's all I can tell you.

Get up.

- Where are we going?
- Just walk.

- Who hired you?
- Calls himself Stark.

Except he tells me that's
not his real name.

Man or angel?

- Man or angel?
- Get in.

- Who does he work for?
- I'm not sure.

- None too choosy about your employers.
- I didn't apply for the job.

(clock chiming)

Where is it, Allison?

Hm?

(grunts)

(sniffing)

So simple-minded.

- Get out.
- Ow!

Don't take it out on me just 'cause
you finally had a fit of conscience.

We don't have time
to play enemies.

(speaks Romanian)

- I just need a few things.
- (woman) What are you doing here?

I'm talking to you!

You! What are you doing here?
Huh?

The blond wig, where is it?

The blond wig? You can't just
come in here and take my things.

- Get the hell out of here. Now!
- Da, da, da.

Now! Before I call the police.
Now, Dylan!

(woman continues yelling)

All right, I'll be
out in a minute.

(yelling continues in Romanian)

Looks like the latest one.

What are we doing here?

Will you shut up?!

- What are you doing?
- Still waiting on the wig.

Waiting on the wig?
This make you happy?

Are you happy?

Happy's got nothing to do with it.
Trust me.

And who is your new whore?

Alison, Gabrielle.
Gabrielle, Allison.

Hi.

You look a mess.

You're a real charmer.

What?

- (Allison) They're just Gypsies.
- (Dylan) No, they're not.

- Then who are they?
- Thrones.

- How do you know?
- Gut.

Run!

- You still have your gun, right?
- If I got lucky with the kill shot,

there'd be a dozen
more on us in seconds.

- What's the kill shot on an angel?
- Right through the third eye.

- Third eye?
- The one you use to see God.

- Is he?
- Can't tell.

Go this way.

- What do we do now?
- Change.

First, put on lots of perfume.
As much as you can stand.

And take at least
ten of these pills.

- Why?
- They hunt by taste and smell.

The pills are iron. They'll
change the taste of your blood.

The perfume - most
definitely not you.

Do you think they can
be fooled this easily?

To them we're all monkeys.
We all look alike.

What about the thrones?
Do they work for Stark?

Yep.

I guess I'm a little rusty
on my celestial hierarchy.

You have thrones and powers.
They're heaven's grunts.

Thick, slow-witted, totally
lacking free will.

Not a big threat if you
see them coming first.

Same goes for your
dominions and virtues.

The cherubs? Don't let that
Hallmark shit fool you.

They'll rip your heart out
first and bless you later.

Now, your archs and seraphs.
They're the real deal.

They claim to take their
orders straight from the top.

- Stark?
- Seraph. All the way.

Shit!

All right.

- Now what?
- This is where we part.

- What are you gonna do?
- I'm gonna try and mix it up.

- You're gonna try to find an angel?
- Read your Bible.

Jacob wrestled an angel
for one whole night.

- I'd settle for a good 20 seconds.
- 20 seconds?

That's your head start.
Now get going.

That way.

Hey.

- What's your name?
- Dylan.

It's a book, Dylan.

A very special book.

It better be.

Stark wants to see you.
And the girl.

(sniffing)

(shouts in Romanian)

Have a nice day.

You really let me down, Dylan.

But I blame myself,

because I never told you why
this job is so important.

So.

Let me put this in terms that
a monkey could understand.

The girl that you saved is
going to trigger a genocide,

the likes of which the
world has never seen.

And that, my friend, is going to
cause devastating consequences.

Not just for her, but
for your entire kind.

You should have killed her
when you had the chance.

But it's not too
late to make amends.

(Romanian) Wait here. I'll
be just a few minutes.

- (breaking glass)
- (baby cries)

Hello?

It's Allison.

I need to talk to you.

I know you're here.

(man) You look remarkably
stylish for a marked woman.

(echoing) How are we
sleeping these nights?

Sleep's not real big on
my to-do list right now.

Demagogues, martyrs, schizophrenics,
they all tend to run toward insomnia.

Tell me, then. What do you want?

I want to know who's
after me and why.

You'd ask the devil himself to
explain the politics of that?

Who better?

You have in your
possession a book.

It will not only foretell the
coming of the Antichrist,

but in a matter of hours it
will identify him by name.

Now that, Allison, makes you the courier
of a weapon of mass destruction

every bit as devastating
as any nuclear bomb.

And just as your
world governments

fear a nuclear device falling
into the hands of savages,

so there are powerful
interests in heaven

who regard you and that
book with the same concern.

The politics of angels, you see, are not
so very different from those of men.

Both have rules to follow,
codes of conduct, laws.

Both, for example, have
constraints regarding murder,

and ways to get around
those constraints.

Hired assassins.

But it would seem the preferred
option is no longer in play.

You have, in the parlance of the
CIA, "turned their chief asset."

Your new friend,

Dylan.

(sniffing)

So our angel, whosoever he is,

has no choice but to perform
this sordid task himself.

Go to ground, so to speak.

- I have a weakness for these things.
- Maybe it's the angel food cake.

God forbid.

I need you to help me.

Are you sure?

You helped me the last time.

I protected you from one of my own
for my own reasons. That's all.

- I thought...
- A word of advice.

Don't ever assume you
know my motives.

Ever.

Allison.

Did you know that
"revelation" and "apocalypse"

are the same word
in Ancient Greek?

Yes.

Good.

Hey!

(sighs)

Shit.

God!

(recites prayer in Romanian)

(prayer continues)

(priest chanting)

I have a message
for you, Allison.

(chanting continues)

(chanting continues)

Aagh!

Are we clear now?

Why don't you just take her out yourself?
You already got your hands dirty.

(Stark) Because she's in a place
where violence would be unsavory.

Now, if your stomach
should fail you again,

simply escort her off of church
grounds and we'll handle the rest.

Why me? Why do I
have to do this?

Isn't it obvious?
She trusts you now.

(thunderclap)

Oh, God.

(girl whispering)

(girl whispers) I'm cold.

(whimpering)

(thunderclap)

(girl whispers) I'm cold.

So cold.

(glass shatters)

(Allison) Hello?

Hello?

Is anybody here?

(speaks in Romanian)

(Romanian)

(Romanian)

I died for you, Allison...

so you could use my
funeral to escape them.

Now I have to wait
in the cold ground

because the bad angels
don't want us in heaven.

- Why?
- They hate us.

They want heaven for themselves.

That's why they need the book.

Don't give it to them, even
if they tear you apart.

Wait.

Don't go.

(birds squawking)

(door creaks)

(man) Allison.

Dylan?

Oh, God. I'm so scared.

You're hurt.

- I'll be all right.
- Your hand...

it's so cold.

How'd you find me, Dylan?

They told me you were here.

If they want me, they'll get me.

I mean, they're not gonna stop.

Ever.

- Are they?
- No.

No.

Glad we got that out of the way.

I was surprised to hear you
mention the Bible back there.

When?

When you were talking about
Jacob fighting the angel.

I'm no expert, but I guess you don't
find too many hit men quoting scripture.

I wasn't always a hit man.

I was a grad student in theology.
University of Chicago.

Three months from a PhD.

You studied theology?

Do you even know whose
side you're on?

Or if what you're
doing is right?

I don't know.

I mean, I...

I think this is where
faith comes in.

I have a book that alleges
to be the word of God,

and I've been chosen
to protect it.

Do I really have to know why?

I think you always need to know why,
no matter who's doing the asking.

- Time to go.
- But aren't we safer in here?

By morning there'll be hundreds.

Just how long do you plan to hold out?
Centuries?

- Well, how do we get past them?
- My car's just outside the gate.

- When you hear it start up, come running.
- But...

(engine starts)

(thunderclap)

Dylan!

Dylan! Dylan!

Dylan!

Dylan!

(screams) Dylan!

No! Dylan!

(Allison screams)

Dylan!

Why?

(Stark) Welcome to oblivion.

I thought you might like a sneak preview
before you take up permanent residence.

Don't forget. I'm
an angel, Allison.

A seraphim.

I'm on your side.

Come on!

Tell me Armageddon isn't just about
the worst idea God ever came up with.

All that death and damnation
because of one little Antichrist.

Even your friend Dylan
finally came around to...

reason.

All I want is the last
page of the lexicon.

- Why do you want it so badly?
- Because, in three hours' time,

the name of the child who will
trigger Armageddon will be revealed.

We can stop that
from coming to pass.

"Stop"? As in "kill"?

One child's life
versus billions.

You do the math.

Hey.

Uh...

You got some kind of
stuff dripping there.

Cranial fluid would be my guess.

You don't think you ought
to see somebody about that?

You got somebody in mind?

It's your life, buddy.

No, it's not.

You know what I think, Stark?

I think you've got a problem.

You know what it is?

Please... enlighten me.

You hate the fact that your
boss put me up to this.

You'd love to kill me. You'd really
get off on ripping me apart.

But you're afraid.

Afraid?

Afraid to have my
blood on your hands.

It's one thing to let one of
your human lackeys do it.

There's plenty of
deniability there, right?

But someone of your stature?
A seraphim?

God's right hand? I mean, how's that
gonna look at the next board meeting?

(Stark yells)

I don't have to kill you myself.

I could whisper a
simple suggestion

and have you step in front
of a speeding subway train.

I could force a neighbor to hurl
you down a flight of stairs.

I could put a baby in your belly that would
rip its way out of your womb in three days.

Then why don't you?

Because you can't.

Because there's something
different about me, isn't there?

Something that you can't handle.

You're right about
almost everything else,

except I will kill
you if I have to.

Let's hope it doesn't come
to that, for both our sakes.

It's a nightmare.

A crazy dream.

Any minute you're gonna
wake up, Allison.

You're gonna wake up and this
whole thing is gonna be over.

Careful, Allison.

People might think you're crazy.

I love this park.

Perverts and lunatics everywhere.
I'm like a kid in a candy store.

(Allison) Something tells me you're not
out here trawling for new recruits.

Who knows? Maybe I'm
trawling for you.

I trust you got my message?
The one from the little girl?

(Allison) You didn't
have to kill her.

She was going to die anyway.
Eventually.

I need to know
whose side I'm on.

I would think a person of faith
never has to ask that question.

I'm asking now.

You're a Jesuit scholar.

And so close to your
doctorate, too.

Let's see if it's all
been worth the effort.

What was the title of
your dissertation again?

The Role of Warfare
in Modern Religion.

Ah. A subject very
dear to my heart.

So... let's go straight
to a personal favorite.

Armageddon.

Doomsday, as you call it.

- Stark wants to prevent it.
- Yes, but why?

I'm asking myself
the same question.

Think. What follows Armageddon?

The restoration of the
faithful to God's side.

So why would certain angels
not want to see that happen?

Oh, come on, Allison.

God gave you the gift of reason.
Use it.

- Jealousy.
- Of whom?

Jealousy of those humans
who survive Armageddon.

Jealous that they'll
be the chosen ones,

the ones to restore humanity,
the ones most loved by God.

Loved even more than
the angels themselves.

So Stark's not interested in saving
the lives of billions of people.

- He just wants us all...
- Doing what you do best.

Degrading yourselves in
the eyes of your Lord.

- So that just leaves you, doesn't it?
- Mm.

- What's your agenda?
- Oh, I think you know what I want.

Of course. You want Armageddon.

You get to snatch up whoever
doesn't make the final cut.

A billion corrupt new souls
dancing on my doorstep.

Hell looks to be a very busy
place in the next few years.

So by protecting the lexicon, I'm
doing the devil's work. Aren't I?

Sometimes the interests of heaven and
hell are not so very different, Allison.

Get used to it.

I'm still on my lunch break.

Which lasts how long, precisely?

A couple of days, or until I fall
apart - whichever comes first.

The girl has proven to be more...
difficult to crack than I anticipated.

Sweating her didn't do the trick, huh?
What a surprise.

Now I need one small
favor from you.

And then you can go ahead

and take that nice, long dirt nap
that you've been pining for.

What do you want
from me, Stark, huh?

I just fucking
betrayed her for you.

But you love that, don't you?
Watching what we do to each other.

It's the only way you can still
feel superior, isn't it?

This shit don't even
make me drunk anymore.

Think back.

You watched her get up, shower,
feed the pigeons. Then what?

I don't know. She'd leave for an
hour or two, usually around noon.

- To go where?
- Park.

- Which one, specifically?
- Does it matter?

(Stark) Yeah, a dog never wanders
far from where it buried its bone.

Same with people. She'll check her hiding
spot daily to make sure it's still secure.

(Romanian)

(man) You're not through yet.
It's time to fight back, Allison.

(groans)

(Stark) This one's vacant.

No.

(Stark) Owner died last year.
Nasty fall.

- (Dylan) Was that your doing?
- I don't do accidents.

She's been here.

Open it.

Faster.

- You try it with no feeling in your fingertips.
- I don't do grunt work.

(moans)

"And in the last days, the earth
beast shall become known."

"His name is Mykael Paun

and he shall bear four
distinct marks upon his face."

(door creaks)

(creaking)

(sniffs)

You can't hide from me, Allison.

(sniffs)

I can smell you.

(sniffs)

(moans)

Just the last page, Allison.

That's all I want.

Don't play games
with me, Allison.

(yells)

Agh!

He's here, you know.

The child that will one day destroy
your world is right here -

in this city.

We are so close.

All we need is the book
to find out who he is,

then this can all be over.

- It's about time, Dylan.
- Dylan. What did he do to you?

(Stark) It's what
he did to himself.

Do you still wonder, Allison,
why you were chosen,

and for what purpose?

I mean, taking your cues from Satan,
that's a bit risky, isn't it?

Come on over here, Dylan. You
might find this interesting.

Here we have this
delicate young thing

who, for some inexplicable reason,
seems to have a very hard time dying.

Look at yourself, Allison.

Don't you find it a wee bit odd
that you're still standing,

after all you've been through?

You are familiar with
the term "nephilim"?

No.

- I can't be...
- Child.

Born of an angel in a woman - half
of each, but belonging to neither.

It's an incredibly
lonely existence.

- Isn't it, Allison?
- You're lying.

You were sired by an
angel named Simon

who believed that you'd make
an ideal guardian of the book.

- I don't believe you.
- Think about it.

The resilience of an angel and
the resourcefulness of a monkey.

You know, I have to admit, there
is a perverse logic to it.

You were bred as a tool of certain
parties in interest in heaven.

Nothing more, Allison.
Just a tool.

You know when I told you to
shoot her in the head, Dylan?

I had my reasons. It's the
only way she can die.

Short of ripping out her heart, of course.
That would be messy.

So go ahead. Do the honors.

Go ahead. Right in
the sweet spot.

And then it's done. You're
off the hook. Finito.

Promise?

You have my word on it.
Swear to God.

Don't do it. Whatever
he's told you is a lie.

He doesn't call the shots.

And what about you? Are
you a lying nephilim?

Hm?

Look inside that shapeless
thing that you call a soul

and show us the truth, please.

Come on, Dylan.

You save a few billion lives, and you
spare yourself the fiery depths of hell.

If you act right now, I'll even throw
in a nice shiny gold merit badge.

Now, what's not to like here?

You've defied him once, Dylan.

There must have been a reason.

Aagh!

Right. You're gonna shoot me now?
Human sentiment!

That's really precious. That's
really, really precious, Dylan.

(Allison) We have to
protect the book.

It's ours to protect. We
just have to believe, Dylan.

It's not up to us to
second-guess God.

All we have to do is believe.
That's it.

Shoot the girl and
take the book.

Shoot the girl and
take the book.

Shoot the girl and
take the book!

How much simpler do
I have to make it?!

All right! I get it.

One easy shot in the head.

No!

(screams)

No!

(exasperated screaming)

(wailing)

(gasps)

Simon.

You can't imagine what
lies in store for you.

And to think of all the
good times I'll be missing.

(woman) Mykael!

Mykael!

Ripped by: SkyFury