Episódio III: Sem Descanso
(Episode III: No Rest, No Peace)

DIÁLOGOS (ORIGINAIS)

Rolo:
Please, I didn't see nothin'!
Overtkill:
Shut up! I'm looking for someone who, very recently, killed a handful of greasy wise guys. Are you aware of such a person?
Rolo:
Don't, don't kill me, please. I'm, I'm not worth it. I'm nothin', I'm less than nothin'. I keep to myself...
Overtkill:
Are you aware of such a person?
Rolo:
Yeah, yeah, yeahhhh. I-I-I've seen him. Scary guy. H-h-he's been hangin' around, down in Rat City. Nobody goes back there, it's a pit!
Overtkill:
You're sure this is the person who killed my employer's men?
Rolo:
Yeah, ripped 'em apart, he seemed to enjoy it a little, ya know?
Overtkill:
I do know.
Rolo:
C-c-can I go?
Overtkill:
In a moment. First I need to borrow something.

Cogliostro:
They all pick a place to call home. In a most instances, those places have a hidden power. For this warrior, the alleys are no different. He is drawn back again and again, and doesn't know why.
Bobby:
Hero, midnight, be waiting. What the hell does it mean? Look at the shit you brought us, man! Oh, I hope you're happy.
Gareb:
It was horrible. We couldn't stop him, just watch as he torn, him apart.
Spawn:
Just one?
Bobby:
Yeah. He was a big sonovabitch. Had like, weapons and other crap comin' out of his arms and, and his eye...
Gareb:
Glowing red, like blood.
Bobby:
He was lookin' for the person whacked some big shot's hitmen. Even when he told 'em everything, he still killed him!
Gareb:
What are we gonna do?
Overtkill:
It's exactly twelve midnight, in Nairobi. Tell you're not the guy who took out Tony's men. Tell me it's somebody with some balls, and not some no-talent asshole in a faggy outfit.
Cogliostro:
When threatened, Spawn resorts to what he knows, his ingrained instinct to survive. Though the uniform will often proctect him, a Spawn is not invincible. Each battle drains his strength, propelling toward the inevitable, his final decent into Hell.
Bobby:
Eck, what a mess
Gareb:
Al? Al, Al...
Bobby:
Hey, don't waste your breath.

Cogliostro:
Trying to hide from emotional torment, new warriors always seek their old ways first. This latest Spawn is no exception. A killer, in seek of his tools.
Spawn:
Welcome home, Al. Nice no see you again.
CIA Comander:
This is the CIA Security Shift Commander, you have entered a restricted ordnance storage facillity. Come out, hands high, or we will open fire.
CIA Security Leader:
Team, this is Papa, go hot as soon as you have target acquisition.
CIA Comander:
Fire!

Cogliostro:
The first teleportation is the worst, coming as unexpectedly as having the host's uniform save them in the first place.
Bobby:
If he's dead, just leave him. Probably better off. Cops, fire, trucks, dead bodies everywhere...
Gareb:
Hey, Al... you okay?
Spawn:
Just need a second.
Bobby:
Come back to do some more damage? We ain't got enough dead and wounded?
Gareb:
Hey, come on, Bobby. Can't you see he's laid up?
Bobby:
He ain't the only one! Seen the north alley lately? It looks like friggin' beirut. And look at him now... man's got more guns than the National Guard! What are you, some kinda psycho?
Spawn:
I'm just protecting myself.
Bobby:
Oh, yeah? Who's gonna protect us from you? What the hell you lookin' at?
Cogliostro:
You. You're starting to sound like the outside.

Fuller:
Well, I can get your thermals back up and your full UV specs, but you're going to experience significant red shift in your fast-scan. This patchwork at best.
Overtkill:
Can I use the eye, yes or no?
Fuller:
Yes, but no extended night vision or close-up reading.
Spawn:
Knock, knock.

Tony Twist:
I want someone monitorin' the phones all day. If Overtkill doesn't call, I want him found and brought to me. What is this shit? I hire people, they get killed, they disappear. Find out what my horoscope is for this month.
Thug:
Overtkill!
Tony Twist:
Sonovabitch!
Spawn:
That he was. But then again... so are you.
Tony Twist:
What the fuck? Who are you? What do you want? Anything, anything at all.
Spawn:
I want you to stay out of the alleys, Tony. Your business there is done, understand? Whatever wild hair you had up your ass about that place is officially plucked.
Tony Twist:
You! You slaughtered my men.
Spawn:
I'll tell you a little secret. They were doing bad things But relax, I'm through killing your men. Next time, if I see one of your brain-dead thugs so much as spit in the direction of those alleys, I'm gonna come back and pay you a little visit, Tony. And believe me, it won't be as pleasant as the visit I paid your hired cyborg. So here's now it goes, as of now you work for me and your job is very simple: give my space. Understand? All I want is a little peace and quiet. Got it fat-boy?
Tony Twist:
Yes.
Spawn:
Say it.
Tony Twist:
I work for you and you want peace and quiet.
Spawn:
And who am I?
Tony Twist:
I don't know.
Spawn:
That's right. You don't know. Let this little mystery keep you up at night.
Tony Twist:
Fuck!

Cogliostro:
Faced with the stark reality that every battle can't be won, the Hellspawns then crave an emotional refuge to soothe their physical pain.

Receptionist:
Good morning.
Wanda Blake:
Good morning. Morning Donna. Messages, coffee, please. You're an angel. Now, give me the bad news.
Donna:
Two depositions out of Riker's on your pro bono rotation. One is Kyle Watson. Sorry, I couldn't put it off.
Wanda Blake:
It's okay. Even an accused child-killer needs a good defense, right?
Donna:
Now, not too good. This guy is supposed to be a real monster. They found the last three girls without any fingers and... Oh, Wanda.
Wanda Blake:
Forget it. This whole thing just bothers me. Anyway, when's my next one?
Donna:
Three-thirty.
Wanda Blake:
See if you can move that one to County.
Donna:
Okay. Hey, don't you just love pro bono work?
Wanda Blake:
Funny... get out.

Wanda Blake:
Alright, Mr. Watson, my name is Wanda Blake and I'll be taking over your defense. We're gonna need some general information during these proceedings and I'll be recordind this as we going along.
Mona Watson:
Well now, you-you gonna have to slow it down for him, ma'am. Y-you see, Kyle here's a bit slow. His daddy used to beat him somethin' awful and the doctors say that it did somethin' to his, uh, snaps and whatnot.
Wanda Blake:
But he does undestand why he's here.
Kyle Watson:
I didn't do nothin'. I been a good boy. I've been very good.
Wanda Blake:
Kyle, you're accused of murdering eight children. You have a history of deviant and abusive behavior.
Mona Watson:
Well, tha-tha-that's all over and done with, ma'am. Kyle's been on his medicine now for two and one half years.
Kyle Watson:
I been a good boy. I don't hurt nobody no more. I can't and I won't. I got pills now. Everyday.
Wanda Blake:
According to his medical records, the pills are castrators. They keep him impotent.
Kyle Watson:
I can't diddle myself no more or nothin'. I'm good boy.
Wanda Blake:
Kyle, you were given a toxicology test when you were arrested, correct? The police tested you for drugs?
Kyle Watson:
Uh-huh.
Wanda Blake:
I'm no doctor, but based on what I've heard, this castrator drug has accumulative effect and takes up to two months to work it's way out of the user's system.
Mona Watson:
What are you sayn'?
Wanda Blake:
Well, looking at the crime-lab reports on the children, they were all sexually assaulted. But then again the police found conclusive evidence in Kyle's room, on his clothes, in his car, blood and tissue matches, semen matches, DNA prelims are positive... With this solid a case against Kyle, the best I can do is try to keep him off death row.
Mona Watson:
Oh, don't let'em kill my baby, please ma'am. I already done lost my husband and my little girl. Now poor Kyle here's about all l've go left.
Wanda Blake:
Kyle, look at me. Did you hurt any of those children?
Kyle Watson:
I don't hurt nobody. I'm a good boy.

Anchorwoman:
The media spokesperson for the New York City Police Department had no comment concernig the inexplicable upswising in violence in a specific low income area of lower Manhattan. Asked to possibly reopen the Kyle Watson child-killer case in the light of what was termed "a blatant oversight by the police", defense attorney Wanda Blake is responsible for this latest revelation.
Wanda Blake:
If I see that news footage one more time...
Terry Fitzgerald:
But you look so good.
Wanda Blake:
Someone buried that toxicology report on purpose... planted evidence... I just hope I'm doin' the right thing.
Terry Fitzgerald:
Don't worry. If you screw up, we can always move.
Wanda Blake:
Stop it, you... When are you comin' to bed?
Terry Fitzgerald:
As soon as I solve this puzzle.
Wanda Blake:
What is it?
Terry Fitzgerald:
Monthly housekeeping check of CIA Ordnance Catalogues. Code numbers don't match. It just doesn't make sense.
Wanda Blake:
Wanna know what makes sense?
Terry Fitzgerald:
What?
Wanda Blake:
I'll have to show you.
Spawn:
I love you, Wanda.

Crowd:
Ohhhh, baby! Do it, honey! Yeah! Alright, baby! Whooo-hooo!
Jess Chapel:
Yeah?
Jason Wynn:
Having a good time, I trust.
Jess Chapel:
Yeah, whatever.
Jason Wynn:
You really should learn how to relax, Chapel.
Jess Chapel:
Blood helps me to relax. Got any for me?
Jason Wynn:
A weapons shipment going to North Korea. You accompany with our compliments.
Jess Chapel:
And?
Jason Wynn:
Wait nine hours, then obliterate the shipment and give me then a bloddy nose.
Jess Chapel:
Who takes the fall?
Jason Wynn:
Peruvian terrorists. After that, I'll have something for you closer to home.
Jess Chapel:
When's the hop?
Jason Wynn:
Tomorrow morning. Usual pick up and delivery. What?
Jess Chapel:
I don't like a lot of down time, you know that.
Jason Wynn:
So get a hobby.
Jess Chapel:
You're coming with me.
Boyfriend:
Hey, asshole! You gotta a fuckin' problem?

Jess Chapel:
No, Al... No...
Al Simmons:
Hey Chapel, we're partners, right?
Jess Chapel:
Alllllll, I'm sorrrrrryyyyy! Sorrrrry, Alllll! Sorry...

Deejay:
And in local news, it looks like police are gonna cut child-killer Kyle Watson loose after all. Thanks to his attorney, Wanda Blake, independent investigators have found that evidence in the case may actually have been planted. Wow! Somebody check and see if those cops ever worked for the L.A.P.D. Okay, and now, back to our big band sounds...
Clown:
"Golden lads and girls all must, as chimney-sweepers, come to dust!" Oh, yeah! Who says I ain't cultured? Billy Shakespeare, meet Billy Kincaid. Both great artists whose works will live forever...