Every hellspawn, all the way back to the primordial past
has lost their struggle with the darkness.
Don't give in to the demons.
You hear me, soldier? Don't let the demons take you.
When you pulled that trigger...
You made Hell take notice.
Spawn was born on that day.
We were partners, Jess.
From the day we met, my job was to whack you.
-Who gave the order? -It was Wynn.
I killed him.
Confessions of a fruitcake. Probably nothing.
Check the alleys for another body.
Detectives Burke and Williams, I'm Lisa Wu, Washington Post.
You're investigating the murders
commited in the alleys off 42nd street. -No comment, lady.
Have you found the guns used in the murders?
Get away from me.
A hellspawn can be free of the curse.
How can you know that?
Because I am free.
We've all seen faces that make us turn our heads.
People with scars or bad burns.
What if it went beyond that?
What if someone had a face so ugly and hideous
that even they couldn't bear the sight of themselves?
That's what happened to Al Simmons,
now trapped in a burnt body that's not even his own,
returning for a lover now lost.
He remembers the way his wife used to touch him,
caress his face, kiss his lips.
He might as well be trapped in a stony tomb,
coldness seeping into the bone,
all alone, suffocating in the total darkness.
How does one find humanity in an alley?
How does one regain one's soul in an abandoned church?
For this newest hellspawn
this alley is a waystation, his special purgatory.
In sickness and in health, until death do you part.
He lurks here in the shadows
amid this human debris
waiting just inside the portal from hell.
But this is not his domain.
His domain is that burned skin
his shell of necroplasm
and the scarlet shroud which hovers around him
protecting him and possessing him at the same time.
I'm sorry I made you stay here again, honey.
Where is the old man? Why isn't he here?
I... I don't know.
He's a ghost... like you. He just appears.
What's happening... to your face?
-He's laughing at me! -It's okay, man. It's okay.
It's just the church bells.
Come on, it's Sunday morning.
Stop them!
Leave me alone!
I am still alive.
Did you think you could strike a deal with Malebolgia and then renege?
This is a graveyard. I can feel the death.
Yes.
Look around you.
These artifacts are all that remain from hellspawns of the past.
They were cursed... like you.
This is their shrine, a reminder of what may be your fate.
Maybe you're a crazy old bum.
What do they call you?
I have had many names.
This time they call me Cogliostro.
-How long have you been hiding here? -Hiding?
I've been here for many years.
You see, I'm the night curator of antiquities.
This is how I have kept these relics safe
while I waited for you.
-Waited? -In every age, a hellspawn is sent.
I tried to guide them as I've tried to guide you, but they are lost souls.
I am not them.
This is your tomb.
What deal did you strike with him?
It was the time of knighthood, the times of mist.
After the endless battles and the slaughter of innocents
it was I who was sent by Malebolgia to collect the souls
and ride with them in the air and night
the ride of the dead, but never to die.
There was no honor in that, not for a knight.
My honor had been taken from me.
I turned away from killing.
The black arts drew me.
I struggled with the evil inside and used sorcery to free myself.
In that time... I was known as Merlin.
If you are the Black Knight, then I want answers.
Your flesh repels against you.
The shroud attacks you.
You wallow in self-pity. You're lost.
I don't want to hear any more talk. You claim to be some kind of wizard.
Show me what this goddamn shroud is good for.
-No. -You will, old man.
This is not the alley, hellspawn.
I make the rules. You are in my domain.
They may have taken your honor, but they stole my life.
I came back for Wanda, but she sees me as a monster.
Do you wish to find the answers?
What are you prepared to do?
I'm going to get my life back.
If you won't help me, I'll find the answers somewhere else.
One of your officers filed a report on a cop killed in the alleys.
Jason, you're a busy man.
Why are you spending time reading our New York City police reports?
Chief Banks, if I didn't feel you served a purpose for me
I wouldn't have gotten you nominated for police commissioner
and we wouldn't be having this conversation.
Mr. Wynn, I didn't mean to imply...
The report was written by an officer named Max Williams.
Twitch. Smart cop. Thorough.
His partner is Sam Burke, meat and potatoes guy.
Your smart cop describes the shooting
of one of your best officers killed in the alleys.
"The dying man's last words on earth were >>red cloak<<."
Find the man in the red cloak.
Don't move in on him until you call me.
Consider it done.
Damn thing's no good. The sights are off or something.
Yes, sir.
Worthless piece of shit. It's jammed.
Fortunately.
I can usually shoot the dick off a squirrel from here.
Look at this junk, stupid gun.
Your lack of aim is surely the gun's fault, sir.
Lack of aim? What, Twitch, you think you can do better?
Twitch, you lost your sense of humor.
You're too serious. You've got to learn to lighten up.
Let's just see now.
Lucky son of a bitch.
Give me that gun.
Burke, I thought they weren’t going to let you back on the range
after that incident last week.
I've been cleared of that. It was the guy's fault. He should have ducked.
You are in disadvantage, Burke. Your gut keeps you too far from the target.
Twitch, I think the chief just cracked a joke.
This is your report on one of ours that was killed in the alleys.
We closed that case. It was our collar. That cop was killed by a crazy priest.
Before he died, that cop said there were two of them.
That leads me to believe the priest had a playmate.
He also said something about a red cloak.
I remember.
That's a detail I shouldn't have missed, Chief.
Get me a perp, even if you have to eat, sleep and breathe those alleys.
And I don't care how much shit you step in.
You should feel right at home there, Burke.
Check it out.
You're missing the point, Lisa. I don't want you to have fun in New York.
I want you to have a lonely, exhausting trip...
which indicates to me you're writing a story that will spill a lot of ink.
Let's cut the bullshit.
If I wasn't the best, you wouldn't have sent me.
You got a thing for these psychos, Lisa. You always manage to get close to them.
Yeah, well, my job is to hunt them down.
-They all give off the same scent. -What scent is that?
Evil.
-Hey, Lisa. -Yeah?
You're spooky. Now tell me what you have.
This guy wears a red cloak.
Hey, he's no joke.
He murders people.
I'm gonna find him and deliver to you his head on a platter.
Like dolls' eyes.
Fourth time with this zombie, we don't have shit.
The guy has no prints, no name.
As soon as he starts in about "the dead guy's back," I'm gone.
I can't do a fifth dance with this twisted sister.
Nice digs. Good thing you're gettin' some R&R.
A wallflower, huh?
You see this?
This is a forensic report that says that your DNA matches
the cells found underneath the nails of a dead bum.
We also have witnesses that say you killed this less fortunate fellow.
We found this nearby.
He's dead.
I saw him burnt to a crisp.
-But he's back. -That's it. I'm gone. Come on, Twitch.
Who's back from the dead?
He looked at me with those green eyes.
That cloak, it reached out and touched me like it was alive.
Did you say "cloak"?
He's gonna drag me back to Hell.
Tell me, who's come from Hell?
Simmons.
Al Simmons.
-What the hell are you doin'? -Just checking some details, sir.
-How's the chili dog? -Kinda light on the onions.
That may signal a slight improvement in air quality.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. What a comedian. I'm gonna grab a soda.
You came in looking for me. Why?
Shall we have a seat?
You wrote some articles for The Washington Post
about a soldier named Al Simmons.
That's old news, Detective. Why the interest?
I was just wondering if you could offer me anything that was too....
sensitive to put in print.
-Like? -You tell me.
Member of a special ops group.
Saved the president a few years back.
But you already knew all that before you came in the door.
I'm like you. I do my homework.
You know what, Twitch? I like you.
You're a good cop and I'm a good reporter...
and I know a fluff job when I hear it, so let's cut the bullshit.
You tell me something, I'll tell you something.
Ladies first.
I wasn't allowed to print the fact that Simmons was burned alive on a mission
that the NSC says didn't happen.
Your turn.
I'm working the alley murders.
Looking for a guy with a red cloak.
I have a perp down at Bellevue that got a good look at this guy in the alley.
Says he has a burned face.
Now you tell me Al Simmons was burned alive.
Coincidences do happen.
I don't believe in coincidences.
Thank you for your time, Ms. Wu.
I see the way you look when you talk about Al.
You really loved him.
-He was my husband. -No.
I mean, he was the one.
-Is this going to show up in the paper? -This is just you and me.
What you said before about Al?
You're right. He was that one.
Just hearing his voice excited me.
When he touched me...
After he died I ached for him.
For months I'd sleep with his shirt or his robe.
Anything that smelled like him.
Mommy, where are you? Mom? Mommy!
-Mommy's in here, sweet girl. -There you are.
Ah, you're a pretty lady.
I remember you.
I've never seen her take to someone so quickly.
You have a way with her.
-Is she Al's child? -No.
Al couldn't give us a child.
What's happening with the NSC and Terry?
He lost his job. Come on, Cyan. I'm glad he's not there.
-Up, Mommy. -We're a lot better off now.
Hmm. Jason Wynn will topple off the mountain.
It is just a matter of time.
We almost lost everything, and I still can't get Terry to talk about it.
He stays away for days at a time.
Maybe he's protecting you.
Sometimes the truth is brutal.
It's driving us apart. Something's wrong.
-But he won't let me inside. -Maybe you haven't grieved Al's death.
Do you sometimes feel that he's still with you?
You've seen him, haven't you? The creature.
Twice.
I've seen what he's capable of, and I haven't told anyone.
You know who it is, don't you?
He spoke my name.
There was something in his voice.
I think you should go now.
If you can hear me, Al...
I know you're with me.
I feel it.
Wanda.
I'm hungry, Mama.
I ask you to step out where I can see you....
very respectfully.
I warned the last cop not to come into my alley.
Are you threatening me?
-What would you do about it? -I'd shoot you between the eyes.
Did you kill him? The police officer?
You've got some hard bark on you for a little guy.
No, I didn't kill him.
Murders have occurred in this alley. One victim was a homeless man.
We have a suspect who wears a skull face... a ritual of some kind.
Chapel. I left him alive for you.
This man you call Chapel...
We have him locked away. He's quite completely insane.
So, naturally, when he described you we didn't believe it.
You believed it. You're here.
He claims you're Al Simmons...
a soldier who was burned alive five years ago.
What do you think?
I think you somehow survived a government cover-up.
You're closer than you think.
Can you get me closer?
You wanna be a knight in shining armor?
Go play cops and robbers. Forget all about this.
I wouldn't want to see your body dumped in my alley.
Confirm Chapel's involvement.
Chapel was just a puppet. The NSC was pulling the strings.
Who's the puppet master?
What difference does it make? Do you think you can stop them, little man?
I can do my best.
You were a soldier once, a hero to your country.
What happened to your code of honor?
When you play with matches...
you can get burned.
Don't come down to these alleys again.
One of your officers has accessed some of my files, Chief Banks.
-Why? -I don't know anything about it.
The only guy here capable of doing that would be Twitch... Officer Williams.
You asked about him before. He's working on the killings in the alley.
Find out what he knows.
And after I get the information from Officer Williams?
I understand that New York's finest who are killed in the line of duty...
are given quite a hero's burial.
Just tell me where to send the flowers, Chief Banks.
I spoke with a red-cloaked man here in this place.
I believe he's still somewhere in these alleys.
I'm gonna take a look around.
This goes all the way up to a high official in the NSC.
And who would this official be?
The only man who could make decisions at this level is Jason Wynn.
My instinct is that the suspect we have down at Bellevue
is one of his assassins.
That's quite a story, Twitch. Sounds like you have a very solid lead.
You've done well, Officer. The department is proud of you.
Thank you, sir.
Officer downl Get a goddamn ambulance down here!
Jesus, he's bleedin' hard from his head! Officer down!
Do you hear me, goddamn it? Twitch is down!