All language subtitles for Angel.S05E06.The.Cautionary.Tale.of.Numero.Cinco.720p.HULU.WEB-DL.AAC2.0.H.264-FFG_track3_[eng]

This is Henderson.
South-side basement door's open.

I'm gonna check it out.

Whoa!
Geez, Carlos, thanks
for the heart attack.

Right back at ya.
I had to swap out
that septic pipe.

Well, on behalf of
a grateful nation--

Henderson again.
Mystery solved.

What happened?
Found a crazed plumber.

- Carlos!

No! No! No!

Wolfram and Hart.

Wolfram and Hart.
How may I direct your call?

Uh, okay.
Uh, professional opinion?

Sexy soccer mama
or brainy beauty?

You're an aging sexpot,
celebrating a decade
of turning 29.

You got two little rug rats
that aren't that little,

a husband who thinks that
the extras' trailer
is a buffet table,

and gravity ain't
doin' you any favors.

So, "Happy birthday, Sexy Mama,"
or-- Fred.

Fred, sweetie,
you're sort of like a woman.

Oh, that's
not a compliment.

Well, I mean,
more so than El Cid here.

I need some insight.
You're an aging--

I heard. Don't send a card.
Don't mention her birthday.
Send a bunch of flowers...

just because she's special
and perfect and eternally
blah-dee-blah.

Staring me right in the face. Genius.

And I'm a lot like a woman.

You're all woman.
You're every woman.

You're Wonder Woman!

- Is that blood?
- Yeah, but it's okay.
It's yours.

Hmm.
And how is that okay?

Demon law
requires blood signatures
on all legal documents.

Your Herbie Hancock here
locks and loads these docs.

Then I take 'em into court
and fire away.

Locks and loads.
Got it.

As C.E.O. and president
of Wolfram and Hart,

you just bankrupted a company
that dumps raw demon waste
into Santa Monica Bay,

banished a clan
of pyro warlocks
into a hell dimension,

and started a foster care
program for kids...

whose parents have been
killed by vampires.

- Not bad for a day's pay.
- Yeah.

Great.

Look, I know legal weasels
and business deals...

aren't as heroic to you
as rescuing young honeys
from tumescent trolls,

but I love what we do.

Tumescent trolls?

Went a little
Johnnie Cochran on you.
For the first time in my life,

I can't wait to get to work
in the morning.

You've always had
your special powers.
Now I have mine.

Isn't that special?
We all have special powers.

Anybody wanna trade?
I'll swap you two-for-one.

Walking through walls,
picking up mugs...

in exchange for--
I don't know.

- How about me not bein' dead?
- How about you not being here?

If wishes were horses.

You okay?
Yeah, fine.

Like you said,
not bad for a day's pay.

I know you hate workin' here,
what with the bureaucracy,

and the fact that most of
our employees want us dead.

But in-house attacks
are down 30% this week.

And we've done more good here
in a month than Angel
Investigations did in a year.

I know. I'm just--
I don't know,
just feelin' a bit, uh--

- Squishy?
- Disconnected.

Are you serious?
Here you are, finally living
a piece of the high life.

New clothes, new cars,
my old tumble
fetchin' you tasty snacks.

And what's your gripe?
"I feel disconnected."

You wanna feel disconnected,
try bein' a bloody ghost
for a bit.

Try bobbin' around with
no touch or taste or smell.

Not many fates worse than that,
I'd wager.

Okay, maybe that.

I know what you're sayin'
about the disconnect.
Much as I love the legalese,

gotta admit, I miss mixin' it up
sometimes, you know?

Miss gettin' my hands dirty.
Then you'll
be interested in this.

Three people found
with their hearts cut out
in East Los Angeles,

all within the last
couple of hours.

Police are on it, but
my sense is it's more demonic
than some murderous nut-job.

So we're rulin' out
demonic nut-jobs then, are we?

We should check it out.

Yo, you missed one.

I'll get it. Wait.

Wait.

Hold up for a second.

I really hate this place.

What happened?
The mail guy threw me.

What?
Number Five?

He did this?
Isn't he like
a hundred years old?

Kind of hard to tell
with the mask.

Angel was attacked.
Lock it down. One of ours.
Mail guy, Number Five.

Why did he attack you?

Tried to give him the mail.
Security's on it.

We'll find him.
Look, this is just a-a thing.

Maybe I, you know,
startled him or somethin'.

I'm not takin' chances.
This is Wolfram and Hart.
You have enemies everywhere.

Hey, Fred, did ya hear?

Angel attacked
the old mail guy.

- What?
- Not Number Five?

- You didn't hurt him?
- No! I-- He attacked me.

We should find him. Absolutely.

Wanna buy him a pint.
Bloody made my day.

Gunn.
Good. Great.

Security found him.
They're escortin' him
off the premises.

You do want to fire
his masked ass, don't you?

- Well, I don't--
- I think it's best.

Look, really, I'm fine.
Let's just get back to the bod--

Holy tornado, it's true.

Yeah, it was amazing.
Angel went right off
on the mail guy.

Oh, this must've been
one major smackdown.

There was no smacking.

That's not the hubbub
I'm hearin', honey buns.

Word on the Web has you
sucker punching Grandpa Moses.

- The Web?
- Don't sweat it, sweetie pie.

I've got my flack-catcher
spinnin' this into P.R. gold.

And once the word spreads that
you beat up an innocent old man,
well, the truly terrible...

will think twice before
goin' toe-to-toe
with our Avenging Angel.

Yes. The geriatric community
will be soiling their nappies...

when they hear
you're on the case.

Bravo.
I didn't beat anybody up, okay?

So let's just focus
on what's important,
like Wes's bodies.

- Wesley has bodies?
- Someone found three bodies.

Four. Another one
was just found in a church
after an All Souls' mass.

- "All Souls"?
- Prayers for the departed.

You should know that,
being departed and all.

Tonight was a special service.
It's the Mexican
Day of the Dead.

Still not sure why
Blondie Ghost tagged along.

Not much choice really,
is there?

Can't drink, smoke,
diddle my willy.

Doesn't leave much to do other
than watch you blokes stumble
around playin' Agatha Christie.

Yeah, remind me again how
you ended up in the front seat.

Called shotgun, mate.

Oh.

I thought we were doing
a weapons check.

Nothin' wrong with that.
We may need these bad boys...

if we're goin' up against
some Mexican Day of the Dead
heart-suckin' monster.

Angel, the church
we're looking for
is about half a mile--

Always was a bit
of a drama queen.

Too late.

So you, what, heard a scream?

He smelled the blood.

Nothing grabs a vamp's attention
like the ruby red.

Notice no matter
how uptown we go,

we always wind up
at some stanky hole
in the middle of the night?

Angel.

His heart's missing.

Looks like it was cut out
with some sort of crude knife.

Based on
these blood spatters,

I'd say it was still beating
when it was removed.

Blood's fresh.
This just happened.

So whatever did this
might still be close.
How close?

I'd say 10, 11 feet.

How you like that, Sparky?
Okay, so next time
I hold on to the ax.

Not that way, you git!

Now focus.

Bloody useless.

We shot it, chopped it,
hacked it and whacked it.

Only souvenir we got
was the gunk on this blade.

Thought you might do some tests. Sure.

Maybe hematological,

cellular Rh enzymes.

Obviously, a full SMA-20.

Obviously.
Give me a shout when
you know somethin', okay?

Some demonoid entropy patterning
couldn't hurt.

If you're trying to find out
what this thing's made of,
it's gonna take a while.

Couldn't care less.
I'm just trying
to put as much distance...

between myself and
General Grumpypants
as my ghost leash allows.

He just gets like that sometimes.

Not easy being a champion.
You know that.

- Really don't.
- Come on.

You saved the world,
sacrificed yourself,
closed a Hellmouth--

Didn't do much, really.

I just stood there.
Let the fire come.

Nothin' real heroic about that.

Well, you did save my life.

Well, when you say it
like that--

Cross-reference the weapons list
against both Aztec
and Incan artifacts.

Sir.

Less reptilian,
and the mouth was larger.

Think predatory bird
meets demonic gladiator.

Xiochimayan Codex.

How we doin'?
Based on the creature's
appearance and weaponry,

I'm focusing my team
on pre-Hispanic texts.

Specifically,
Meso-American.

Good.

We're not there yet,
but I'm confident.

Yeah, I can see that.

You'll find it.

Then we'll figure out
a way to stop it.

Then-Then I'll stop it,
'cause that's what we do.

I'll be in my office.

I wasn't aware that you could
read Cuauhtitlan pictograms.

Who, me?
Nah, I was just--

Is this one of those books
on prophecies?
No, it's a source book.

Each one ties into
a discipline...

within the Wolfram and Hart archives.

This one's linked
to historical narratives.

That's the one dedicated
to prophecies.

So you could look up that, uh,
"San-shoes" thingamabob.

You know, the prophecy
that says that Angel
gets to be a real boy again.

Shanshu prophecy. Yes.

Uh, though it's a bit
more complicated than that.

Complicated?

It tells of an epic,
apocalyptic battle,

and a vampire with a soul
who plays a major role
in that battle.

And there is a suggestion
that the vampire
will get to live again.

When you say
"plays a major role
in an apocalyptic battle,"

you mean like, um, heroically
closing a Hellmouth that was
about to destroy the world?

The text isn't specific
about the battle.

But it's specific about the name
of the vampire with a soul?

No. I imagine
it could be any vampire
with a soul...

who isn't a ghost.

It's a bunch of nonsense.

It's a bedtime story
to get vampires to play nice.

Says you. No.

Says Angel.

Yeah. Tall, dark and dreary
told me...

he doesn't believe
in that Shanshu bugaboo.

Says it's a sucker's game.

Sir?

That's it. Good.
Print it out.

It's an Aztec demon
named Tezcatcatl.

We don't know a lot about it
yet. Our codex is missing
several key pictographs.

What we do know is that
it's been here before,

50 years ago to the day.

- Day of the Dead.
- Yes, though
that may be a coincidence.

I'll know better once
we determine why it's here
in L.A. or what it wants.

Wolfram and Hart has
a brief record of what happened.

According to this,
Tezcatcatl rose
in the same place,

East Los Angeles,
killed over a dozen people
before it was finally defeated.

- Defeated?
- Yes, by five heroes.

Brothers. They were
the champions of that time.

They destroyed the demon?
Yes, but at quite a price.

The brothers were all killed--
all but one.

Not to be Captain Obvious,

but either the brothers
didn't really finish
the demon off,

or it's figured out
a way to come back
from wherever they sent it.

Either way,
best of luck, mate.

You said one of
the brothers survived.
Is he still alive?

- Yes.
- Okay, then.

I'll talk to him.
I'm sure he'll wanna help.
We have his number?

As a matter of fact, we do.

Hi.

Stop doing that.

Perhaps I wasn't clear
in our last conversation.

What conversation?
You threw me through a window.

I heard you speaking.
You were going to drag me into
your quest for the Aztec demon.

No, I wasn't.
I was gonna give you some mail.

Oh. Sorry.

Now I'm dragging you back in.

I need your help.

You and your brothers
beat this Aztec warrior thing
first time around,

and I need to know how.
I'm sorry.

In case you haven't noticed,
I have retired from that life.

Wearing that mask
doesn't exactly hide your past.

It reminds me that only a fool
would want to be a champion.

Fool?
Is that what you think
of your brothers?

Never disrespect the memory
of my brothers.

They were honorable men.

Luchadores.
Mexican wrestlers.

The greatest that ever lived.

Together, we were known
as Los Hermanos Numeros.

The Number Brothers?

Huh.

Boy, you guys had no problem
gettin' past the whole
irony thing, now, did you?

It was a different time--

one that no longer exists.

¡Uno! ¡Dos!

We were great warriors
in the ring.

Great heroes.

Children worshipped us.

Women loved us.

Men wanted to be us.

In all the years we fought,
we never lost, never quit,

never compromised.

We were the best.

But not all our battles
were in the ring.

¡Hermanos!

You need to understand,
we were more
than just luchadores.

No one else cared about
Mexicans or Chicanos,

so we protected our own.

The five of us
were always joined,
always connected.

And when necessary,
we came together as a fist.

We fought monsters
and gangsters, vampiros.

We were heroes.

We protected the weak,
and we helped the helpless.

I know a little something
about that.

We spent every
waking hour together.

We fought hard,
we played hard.

Brothers in the truest sense.

Never jealous, never bickering.
♪

Those were the happiest days
of my life.

Wait a second.
So you guys always wore
your masks?

What you are failing to see,
my friend,

is that we had to be
ever vigilant,

ready for action
at a moment's notice.

Sí.

Sí. ¡Hermanos!

The devil has built a robot.

¡Ándale!

Surely you have heard
about our great victory
over the devil's robot.

Sorry.

Nobody remembers
the good stuff.

Tell me about
the Aztec warrior.

What can I say about a demon
who killed the people
that mattered most to me?

You can start by saying
how you killed it back.

I don't know.
Can't remember.

- Can't remember or don't care?
- Do not misunderstand me.

After my brothers were killed,
I tried to carry on,

tried to help people.

But after a while,
the phone stopped ringing,
the people went away.

Until one night,
when a man walked in.

He said his company could use
a young man with my abilities.

Wolfram and Hart.

I needed a job.
They needed muscle.

I knew that Wolfram and Hart
was everything
my brothers despised.

But what did I care?
Nothing mattered...

after I buried them
behind San Gregorio.

Every year on
El Día de Los Muertos,

I prepare this altar for them.

And every year
they never come,

never visit,

because I am not worthy.

But it does not matter anymore,
not after this year.

I should have died
with my brothers.

But you didn't.
You got stuck with
the hard part-- the carrying on.

No wonder your brothers' spirits
never come to visit.

Listen to yourself.
You've quit.

Tell me,
why'd you stop caring?

It was not hard.
I will show you.

This is how
my brothers are remembered--
what their good deeds earned.

They sacrificed their lives
as heroes, and it is
played out as a farce.

Maybe you expect
too much from people.

Is it too much to expect them
to remember their past?

To honor those
that fought and died?

My brothers are dead,
and Tezcatcatl is back
to kill again.

Why did we bother?
What difference did we make?

You made a difference
to the lives you saved.

And you did it because
it was the right thing to do.

Nobody asks us
to go out and fight,
put our lives on the line.

We do it because we can,

because we know how.

We do it whether people
remember us or not,

in spite of the fact that
there's no shiny reward
at the end of the day...

other than
the work itself.

I think some part of you
still knows that,

still believes
in being a hero.

I'd forgotten that Aztec culture
was so violent.

Yeah, 'cause our culture's
so at peace.

All right.
But by and large,
we don't eat our victims.

You got that file on the lady
from the All Souls' mass?

She's the most puzzling.

The demon passed by
over 20 people...

so he could attack her.

I know.
We need to find its M.O. so
Angel can guess its next move.

Does Angel seem
all right to you?
Yeah.

You know, still adjusting
to corporate life, I guess.
Bit of a disconnect.

Disconnect?
His word, not mine.

But he's still doin'
his hero thing.

Wait a minute.

Didn't you say the homeless guy
in the alley was a vet?

- Yeah. Gulf War.
- And somethin' about
a Bronze Star?

Bronze Star.

Lady in the church
worked with gangs.
This dude-- a fireman.

Saved his crew in a fire.

That's the thread.
That's the M.O.?

It's taking the hearts
of heroes.

So much
for my stirring speech.

So you think this demon
is eatin' the hearts
of heroes, huh?

It's an interesting theory, and
I can see where your research
might seem to support that.

But your theory kind of
fell apart in the field.

Angel, I know you've been
through a horrible ordeal,
and I'm not trying to--

The reason why I know
this Aztec demon is not eating
the hearts of heroes...

is... he didn't take mine.

Am I honestly
supposed to believe that
it had no problem...

sticking a sword in my stomach,
but then decided,
"Oh, wait.

His heart's
not heroic enough"?

I don't think so.

I understand
you're feeling rejected.

But this Aztec warrior,
it wants the hearts
for sustenance.

- It wants it for the meat,
not the metaphor.
- What are you saying?

As meat goes,
your heart's a dried-up hunk
of gnarly-ass beef jerky.

Yeah, but stick a piece
of wood in it,
and I still die.

Must mean something.

Could we get back
to figuring out
how to kill this demon...

rather than figuring out
why it didn't kill you?

Okay, before oldNumero Cinco
bolted on the bus,

did he drop any details
about how he and his brothers
defeated this Aztec thing?

Wes, did you ever hear that
the devil built a robot?

El Diablo Robotico.
Why?

Nobody ever tells me anything.

I'm gonna go check
with my guys in Contracts.

Gunn,
this should take precedence. Relax.

It's warrior-related.
I got to thinking.

If this Aztec demon
got to come back
after 50 years,

maybe it made some kind
of supernatural deal
with something.

And if there's a deal,
might be a contract.

Angel, what Gunn said
about your heart--
the dried-up bit--

I don't think
that's the problem.

- But you do see a problem.
- It's the work.

Oh, yeah.
The 18-hour days,

the constant slaying of evil,
and the being shish-kebabed
to a Chevy.

I didn't say
you weren't working.

I'm just saying your heart's
not in the work.

Well, yeah, you know,
I've been feeling
a little bit, uh--

Disconnected.
Yes, I've heard.

But I think it's
more serious than that.

You blame your melancholy
on your new position.

But I don't think it's about
the type of work.

I think it's because
you've lost hope that
the work has meaning.

Of course it has meaning.
We save people's lives.

I'm not talking about them.
I'm talking about you.

It's lost meaning
for you.

Spike says you no longer believe
in the Shanshu prophecy.

Of course not.
Prophecies are nonsense.
You know that.

Oh, come on, Wes.

After everything we've seen
in the past couple of years?

"The father will kill the son."

What are you talking about?

Look, we're gettin'
the work done.

As long as I keep doin'
what I do,
it doesn't matter...

if I believe in the Shanshu
or any other prophecy.

I'm sorry, Angel,
but nothing matters more.

Hope.
It's the only thing
that will sustain you--

that will keep you
from ending up
like Number Five.

Yeah?
It's Fred.

She's got something.

So it's eating the hearts
of heroes, and their blood
is what keeps it alive.

Yeah, but it does
more than that.

It acts like a kind
of supercharged rocket fuel.

- Makes it, you know--
- Nigh invulnerable.

Oh, I could kill it.
I mean, ghostiness
to the contrary.

Come on, lads.
Everything has
an Achilles' heel.

- And you just happen to know
this creature's Achilles' heel?
- I'll wager it's the heart.

You see that in the science?

No, luv, in the poetry.

We're dealing with
a mythic creature here.

A kill-or-be-killed
kind of creature.

If I was gonna kill something
that was tryin'
to take my heart,

I'd try to bloody well
take its heart first.

You'd be doin' the right thing.
That'd stop it
for the time being.

Time being?
Yeah. He's kind of got
a get-out-of-jail-free card.

- It's in his contract.
- Contract?

Figure of speech.
Curse, hex, any shady,
supernatural deal,

Wolfram and Hart
has a record of it.

Tezcatcatl was
one of the Aztecs'
most powerful warriors.

He forged a mystical talisman
that would harness...

the power of their sun god,
make him supernova powerful.

But he got found out.
Was sentenced to die...

on the Aztec version
of Day of the Dead.
So he made a mystical deal.

Yeah, it was
pretty clever, really.
He had their shaman...

put a curse on him
to return from the dead
every 50 years.

Been doin' it for centuries.
Usually that'd be a bad thing.

But in his case,
it brings him back so he can
keep searching for the talisman.

Any idea what happened
to the talisman?

It was given to a great hero
in charge of protecting it.

Which gets passed down
through the generations.

So each time this demon returns,
it's searchin'
for that talisman.

And if it finds it,
the demon becomes
sun-god powerful,

and you sods become
a series of hearty snacks.

Is there a drawing of it?

All I know is that it's gold,
about the size of a quarter,

and has the sun and
some other spooky
mumbo jumbo carved into it.

Oh, see?
Drama queen.

Tezcatcatl.

Come.
I wait for you.

Won't work, you know.

You want the Aztec warrior
to come...

to kill you so you can be
with your brothers.

But he won't.

He will be here.
I summoned him.

Maybe.
But he won't kill you or me.

Missing the secret ingredient.
Now, give me the talisman and
I'll leave you to your misery.

I don't have it.

- Where is it?
- You are one strange man,
Señor Angel.

I'm not the one in a mask
standing in a cemetery
in the middle of the night.

No.
But you will be.

You want this thing
to punch your ticket, fine.

But I'm not gonna
let it get the talisman.

Say you stop it. Then what?
In 50 years it's back,
and nothing has changed.

Give it to me!
You were right about Tezcatcatl
not wanting to kill me--

that I am not a hero.

So I had to find a way
to fool him...
to make myself worthy.

I swallowed the talisman.
If he wants it, he will
have to cut it out of me.

You want your talisman?

Don't you remember?

I'm the hombre
who destroyed you last time.

Come on.

It's in here.

Come and get it.

That's it.

Again.

Not gonna make it
that easy for you.

We already did
this little dance, remember?

If you're looking for heroes,
you're wasting your time.

- No!

About time
I taught you somethin'.

¡Mis hermanos!

¡Ándale!

Amigo. ¡Ándale!

We're tryin' to kill it,
not pin it.

Okay, pinning works.

Hey.

Mis hermanos,
they came back.

Because you're worthy.
You proved it.

Maybe.

But still, the demon
did not want my heart.

He didn't want mine either.
Of course not.

Who would want that dried-up
walnut of a dead thing?

Coffee.

Coffee?
You want coffee?

Estúpido.
The talisman, it's in--

I may not be a hero,
but I am not a fool.

See if you can
put this someplace safe.

Angel, are you okay?
I know you've been feeling--

I'm fine.

Got the job done.
That's what's important.

Been a long day.

See you guys in the morning.

So, Number Five, he jumped in
and helped at the end?

He died a hero.

Shanshu prophecy,
English translation.

Grr! Arrgh!