Prophecy, The: Forsaken (2005)

[bunniefuu]

(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 b*llet. 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 su1c1de.

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 k*ll 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 g*n, right? If I got lucky with the k*ll shot, there'd be a dozen more on us in seconds.

What's the k*ll 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 k*lled 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 w*apon of mass destruction every bit as devastating as any nuclear b*mb.

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 m*rder, 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 v*olence 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 "k*ll"?

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 k*ll 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 k*ll 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 k*ll 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 k*ll 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 f*cking 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 sh**t 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 sh*ts.

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 sh**t 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.

sh**t the girl and take the book.

sh**t the girl and take the book.

sh**t 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!