Are you sure you know the difference between good and evil?
As you race around trying to put food on the table
or pass your exams or make love,
are you confident that you could distinguish
the forces of light from the forces of evil?
I am Todd McFarlane, creator of "Spawn",
and to me there is nothing-- nothing out there in life
that is all black or all white.
Good always has a germ of evil inside it,
and evil just a touch of good.
Take Spawn--
an assassin in life, hell's own soldier in death--
not exactly boy scout material.
But if you consider he made his choices for love--
the love of his country and the love of his wife--
well, you begin to see he is a little like you and me--
just another poor schmo walking on the razor's edge,
all hell pushing one way and heaven pushing the other,
and him stuck in the middle, trying not to get cut.
What's happened? Who am I?
My God. How did this happen to me?
You made a deal with Malebolgia.
You see Wanda and then become Hellspawn.
So get used to it. You see violence, you act.
What the hell are you?
Somebody took three of my best guys
and threw them into what must've been a walking wood chipper.
Let me know what you find out about this mystery assassin.
You came back for her, Spawn.
You came back for Wanda.
Wanda... - You got nowhere to go, Spawn.
And now, "Spawn"-- so turn off your lights.
And, for my sister...
Quit shoving-- I was here first!
Shut up!
It's the ice cream guy! Let's go, let's go!
All right, you guys, come on!
There he is!
All right!
Do you have drumsticks?
What about creamsicles?
Hell has many demons in training.
This one is known as Billy Kincaid.
Images of love and hate
torture them all at first.
It is the way of things for each new warrior.
There is no respite from the inner pain.
My God, not another one.
Another one? What do you mean?
Kids get dumped here.
Never had a chance. Horrible, isn t it?
She has a little girl now.
Who?
She wanted children.
She went to doctors,
but it was me all along.
Well, you know,
not wanting to pry or nothing,
but some of us were kind of curious--
you know, wondering just what the hell are you?
Somebody who doesn't want to be bothered.
That's what I told them.
I said, "When he wants to talk, he ll talk," right?
Don't hold your breath.
Look, mister, I figure you're hanging around these alleys for a reason.
Maybe you just want some company.
I've got nowhere else to go, that's all.
Could be you need a friend.
All I need is Wanda.
But I can't have her-- not like this.
Why not?
You ask stupid questions.
I've seen lots worse.
Used to work for a mortician.
That makes me feel better.
Get out of here.
You know, folks around here don't look or smell so nice,
but we're good people.
We share what we got.
You're welcome to it.
With each new Hellspawn,
there's always the question:
how long, if at all,
can they hang on to their humanity?
Some last longer than others.
He kills a bunch of guys, leaves for a while,
comes back and camps down here in Rat City.
He looks like something outta goddamn Stephen King,
for Christ's sake.
Nobody invited him. This is our place.
Need to kick his ugly ass outta here.
What's he doing, Gareb? You talked to him, right?
This is our place.
Damn right. He is a stinkin' freak!
- He's got problems. - Yeah, did you see his face? Christ!
No, no, I m serious.
He is-- I don t know-- troubled, you know?
Really sorta screwed up.
Ain't we all?
Thing is, he is dangerous.
We can't sleep with that thing down here.
We don't know what he is, what he wants, nothing.
You ask me, don't need to borrow any more problems.
Life is shitty enough as it is.
It is the truth. Get his ass the hell out of here.
What are we, perfect? Just kick him out, Bobby, is that it?
He is sitting down there by himself in the heart of Rat City.
Where is he supposed to go from there, Potter's Field?
The guy looks like a goddamn vampire.
Yeah, Bobby, and what did you look like when you first crawled in here?
You want him to stay? Fine. You go right ahead.
But when you wake up in a pool of blood
with your head on backwards,
don't come crying to me.
Hey, maybe we can scrape together some food for him.
He is not some goddamn pet you get to keep.
Think about it, man.
Gareb, you dumb son of a bitch.
Yo, look out!
Get outta here!
All right, you alley pukes,
who is gonna win the prize and stay alive
by telling me what I want to know?
You know who whacked Tony's boys, right?
Please... I don't...
Bzzt-- too late.
Okay, who's our next peppy contestant?
The double jeopardy answer is:
the person who took out three very dapper Italian men
whilst they were about the business of their esteemed employer.
You look like a couple of smart turds with big eyes.
Give me the question I m looking for and win your lives.
Oh, and just so you know,
the loser gets parting gifts made out of teflon,
and I ain't talking cookware.
I'll even help you out in case
you don't watch game shows.
Okay, it goes like this:
Who is--
About to take your head off?
No!
All right, gameboy, this is what you're gonna do:
stay alive long enough to give your boss--
what's his name?
T-t-Tony.
You're gonna tell Tony to keep his goons out of these alleys.
As of now they're out of bounds.
You're gonna give him my message.
Cause guess what--
as far as I know, I'm already dead,
which means...
I'm waiting for your sorry ass in the afterlife.
What'd I tell ya, huh?
He's somethin', ain't he?
Name is Bobby.
Al.
Everybody,
meet Al.
New warriors often find allies
among those damned by society.
For a while,
it gives them a sense of security.
But they couldn't be more wrong.
Hello.
What?
When?
Is he still alive?
Did he say who did it?
I don't give a shit if he needs a doctor!
Find out who whacked my men or you're gonna need a priest!
Yeah yeah, it's Tony.
I'm calling in my marker.
Hey, don't give me that shit. You owe me.
Send them. Today! Right now!
By the time I hang up this phone
he better be over the Atlantic.
Damn it.
Let me guess: your first day on the pro bono case.
Is it that obvious?
It is the only time you get frazzled.
I am just going over the case files today.
The subject matter...
- What is it? - Kyle Watson, a child killer,
indicted on four counts-- two of them little girls.
Ugh, can't you pass on this one?
And give the partners something to whine about?
No, I can handle it.
Gonna have your asses up on so many goddamn charges
your great-grandchildren will be answering subpoenas!
I am a United States senator!
You don't break into my hotel room and snatch me off a woman,
and you don't throw me in a friggin' helicopter like a piece of meat
and fly me to New York in the middle of the friggin' night!
Sorry for the inconvenience, senator.
I trust we didn't interrupt anything deeply personal,
but I thought this needed a face-to-face.
Jesus, Wynn,
what the hell's this all about?
It is about us, senator, our relationship.
I hear you're going to take a pass
on the presidential race.
How do you know that?
I barely told my wife.
I want to put you in the White House, senator.
Yeah, right.
And exactly how many skeletons do I have in my closet?
Per our arrangement,
I've been holding the key to that closet for some time,
gouging the eyes out of anyone
who so much as looks in its direction.
- You're serious. - Always.
All right, say I run.
What do you get out of it?
A friend in a very high place.
To be honest, I never wanted the Oval Office.
I'm content fighting battles from the Senate floor.
Maybe as speaker of the House...
Sorry, not good enough.
In other words, you're not asking me.
And if I refuse?
I see a closet door swinging open--
your own personal Pandora's box.
You could do that, but then I'd have to call the president--
let him know about a certain international tea party
you're throwing with D.o.D. ordnance.
The scandal would make Watergate and Iran Contra
seem like a mild fart on Capitol Hill.
Look, McMillan, you get something straight right now--
this isn't just about you and me.
Last time I checked, you had friends and family.
I can make them suffer, too.
But more importantly, who's going to protect
your little bastard son Billy from New York's finest?
I hear the cons on Riker's despise child killers--
raped one last year with a band saw.
We're in bed together, senator.
We have been for quite a while.
So relax,
bend over,
and enjoy it.
What the hell is it about this alley, Twitch?
The atmosphere?
What do we know?
More of Tony Twist's crew.
Right. Troubleshooters,
guys sent in to settle scores.
Precisely, sir.
Well, looks like they got settled instead.
No reporters this time.
Perhaps he was allowed to leave.
Sending a message to Big Tony.
Twist doesn't like getting spanked this hard.
if we ain't careful, there's gonna be a war down here
unless we can figure out what the hell's going on.
- What about those reporters? - Nothing yet, sir.
Rumor has it they were tracking someone high up,
a major scandal. But that's all so far.
- But there is one unusual element. - What?
The dead homeless man from the previous killings.
The mushroom.
His name's Jeff Stephens,
former technical head of Spec-Com Cellular.
So why does he turn up driving dumpsters on our beat?
sSeems he was listening in
on some very high-level conversations.
I gotta figure Stephens heard something huge,
hoped to trade off his indictment for what he was sitting on,
and used the newsboys as middlemen.
Astute as always, sir.
Now, breakfast.
I have a map of the local color, sir.
Do you prefer grease or sugar?
Both-- I'm feelin' tense.
Burke, that fat bastard.
Yeah, he's gonna give a shit about this case.
Yeah.
When does he land?
Good. Pick him up the second he touches down
and bring him into my office.
You want justice done right, you gotta buy it yourself.
I'll be honest--
I figured you for a rumor.
You know, ex-CIA killer- turned-ruthless-mercenary,
little more than a skeleton on a respirator
for almost three years-- I mean, please!
The pain was cleansing.
How'd you come back from that?
The rumors you've heard about me
are all true.
That you've got no conscience,
no soul when it comes to killing.
What I've got is a hungry bank account,
and right now someone's paying me top dollar
on your behalf.
So what seems to be the problem?
You, uh, keep up with current events?
Only where death is concerned.
Your men have had a bad week.
Yeah, well, I want the piece of shit responsible.
Bring me his bones in one bag and his organs in another, okay?
Of course, but I'll be keeping the heart for myself.
- For what? - Dinner.
Such sweet folks, those homeless.
They will take anybody in,
including a freak like you, Spawn.
Hey, maybe you'll meet a nice homeless woman
and raise a bunch of homeless kids.
Wouldn't that just be keen?
What the hell do you want?
Right to the point. I like that, I really do.
Because it's not "What the hell do I want?"
It is "What does Hell want to do with you?"
Care to know what that is?
No?
Okay, here it is:
It is time to get real. Got it?
Hey, a deal is a deal,
and Malebolgia, my boss and yours,
delivered on his end.
You got to see your wife--
dear, sweet, tasty Wanda.
I gotta say, Spawn...
Baby's got back.
You're about two seconds from wearing that smile around your ass.
Yeah yeah, kiss me first, all right?
Anyway, it's business now, big boy.
Tou got the uniform and the attitude, so let's get to it.
To what?
You're a Hellspawn.
The Earth is ready to burn,
you're the guy with the match,
and I'm here to make sure you do the job right.
Look, I don't have time for this.
I got my own problems.
You don't just turn your back on your obligations.
What? You think you're too good to be a Hellspawn?
You should be down on your knees thanking Malebolgia
for the privilege of being a ranking officer
in this Hell's army.
You should be down on your knees
thanking me for not killing you where you stand.
Yeah, right.
I don't think you know who you're dealing with.
But it's time you found out.
Listen, fat boy, I've had just about enough--
Yeah, baby!
Right there-- ooh, that's how daddy likes it!
That's so good!
You'll feel some pain...
But I know you can hear me.
- Get out of my head! - No.
It's how us children of Hell communicate--
through telepathy.
So begins your training.
What are you?
A creature far superior
to humans--
a true native of Hell.
Something no Spawn will ever be.
Fool!
You can't rely on weapons.
That's not why he chose you.
There's something in you
the Malebolgia senses-- something evil.
There are rules to follow.
It's my task to make sure you do.
Consider this a friendly reminder:
Get with the fucking program.
You Spawn have never been worthy.
I'll be back for ya, baby, and when I come,
you better be ready to rock and roll.
This is the farewell bash for humanity,
and you-- you're bringing the party favors.
Oh, and a word to the wise--
laying there all twisted up like that is no good for your back.
That was pathetic...
But not altogether unexpected.
Your powers are finite. Use them sparingly.
What am I into here?
What do you think?
I think it's insane.
Am I dead or am I alive? What am I?
You're going to have to trust yourself for the answers.
If you know what the hell's going on, old man,
I'd suggest you tell me straight.
There's a war on between Heaven and Hell
and you are on the front lines.
- What war? - The only war.
Earth is the battlefield,
human souls the prize.
Just the way it's always been.
You're nuts, you know that?
Look, you have to pay attention
to the world you're in.
You might think you're doing good taking out the bad element.
But you just can't go around killing without a little forethought.
There are repercussions you can't even imagine.
Stop tap dancing around the issue and spit it out.
I wish it were that easy.
All I'm trying to say is
you've still got a choice.
What kind of choice?
If I told you, it wouldn't matter.
Just find out. Then make the right choice.
But don't wait too long.
The sands are always running against you.
How am I supposed to find out?
How, indeed.