Original subtitles

- We're under attack!

- Run, run, run, run!

Come on, Brendan, get up! Get up!

- Anyone not dead, fall back!

- Quist, come on!

Head for that building!

Run, run, run!

Move it!

- MAN: Move, move, move!

- Clear!

- Doc, Rivers, cover those windows.

Quist, cover our tail with Doc.

- Stay low. Watch for a second wave.

- Doc, anyone out there?

- Negative. Nothing moving over here.

- Looks like we lost 'em.

Stay sharp, people.

- Cap, what about Glenn and Denards?

Shouldn't we go back? Or at least--

- CAPTAIN: Glenn and Denards are dead, Rivers.

We're all that's left of B Company.

We're on our own.

- Tell you what.

This whole freaking mission has been

a goddamn shit sandwich since Normandy.

We got Krauts to the left.

Freaking minefields to the right.

How you gonna get us out of this one, Talby?

- Captain Talby. - Whatever, wiseass.

- I'm thinking about it. - Really?

That makes me feel a whole lot better...Captain.

What the hell is this place supposed to be anyway?

- It appears to have been a local police station.

- Looks like they had some trouble, too.

- Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

- What the fuck happened here?

Jesus.

- Ooh!

Dear God.

Hey, we got a man down.

We got a couple of 'em.

Oh, would you look at this shit on my boot, man?

So sorry, sir. I'm so sorry. I just--

- You goddamn baby.

What the fuck's the matter with you?

- Leave him be, Quist.

- This piss tank just yacked all over my foot.

- And I said leave him be.

Stop being an asshole for two seconds.

- Oh, I'm being the asshole?

- No, Bugs Bunny's the asshole.

Of course you are.

- Gentlemen, this is the last thing we need right now.

- Hail Mary full of grace.

- What happened here?

- Captain, his throat's slashed.

He can't talk.

- He's dead.

- Boo fucking hoo.

Hey, Rivers, you wanna light a candle for him?

- Hans.

You foolish, foolish boy.

How could my...only son...

allow this?

You have dishonored the Schmelzgerat name.

But I will find these American dogs

responsible for this.

And they--

they will suffer...greatly.

- Sir?

What are we gonna do?

- We got a map here.

- Hail Mary full of grace, the Lord is with thee.

Bless--

- Village of 10 kilometers.

- We're near Le Monge.

- Yeah, yeah, yeah, hey, that's our rally point.

Alright, we make it there, our asses our saved. We gotta go.

- Hell ya. Prepare to move out.

- WOMAN:

- Jesus!

- Jesus, man.

- You shot a civilian, Rivers.

- She grabbed me.

I didn't know anybody was in there.

- I'm--I'm so sorry, ma'am.

I didn't mean--

- Captain, she'll bleed out if I don't get in there soon.

- Find the keys. They must be around here somewhere.

- Whoa, whoa, whoa, Cap, Cap, listen to me.

Every goddamn wienerschnitzel in this whole goddamn

German army would have heard that shot.

- Ah! - We gotta am-scray now.

- You wanna get out of here, find the keys.

- I can't find them.

I--I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

- Sorry.

They're in the jail!

- Oh my God.

- Get those keys, Rivers.

- I can't. They're too far.

- Here.

Snag 'em with this.

- WOMAN:

- Listen, Talby.

Listen to me, we're good as dead if we stay here,

and you know it.

- WOMAN:

- Button your lip, Sergeant, or I'll button it for real.

- WOMAN:

- I got 'em!

I got 'em!

No!

- No! no! No! - It's okay.

- Help me hold her down!

- WOMAN:

- Christ, she's strong.

Doc, what is she saying?

- "Don't kill me. Go away, I think."

- She might also be saying, "Go away or I'll kill you."

- Kill us? - This is crazy, man.

She's gonna give away our position.

- Fuck this!

- Quist, put that gun away!

- I don't think so, Tommy.

Either way I'm getting killed over some fog bitch.

- No!

- Ah!

You guys are all a bunch of goddamn lunatics!

- What happened to you, Quist?

You used to be someone I could trust.

War changes a man.

- Bastard!

- Sorry, boys.

- Come back here, Quist!

- Can't risk a bullet in the back.

- Quist!

Quist!

- CAPTAIN: Quist!

Shit!

- Captain, what are we gonna do?

- I'll get us out of here, Rivers, come hell or high water.

I promise.

- Captain, come here.

- She not gonna make it, Doc?

- My God.

What are you?

- "I locked myself in this cage."

- I cannot die.

- The curse make me do so many bad things.

- I kill people.

- Kill--

- --children.

- No more death.

- No more killing.

- Please just let me die.

- Loup garou!

- Lugaroo?

- Loup garou.

It means...wolf man.

- Or wolf woman.

- She wasn't trying to grab me before.

She wanted my cross.

- "Please just let me die."

- It's silver.

- MAN ON LOUDSPEAKER: Attention, American soldiers!

We know you are inside.

My men have the building surrounded.

- Perfect timing.

- I will be, as you Americans like to say, to the point.

One of you...killed...

my only son today,

who causes all of you will die!

But I am a man of honor, and so I offer you a choice.

If...you come out now unarmed and accept your fate,

your death will be quick and painless.

But if you force me to risk the lives of my men...

to expel your filthy hides...

you will die in unimaginable...

agony.

I await your response.

- Damn.

- Here, ma'am, take it.

It'll do you more good than it did us.

- Hold up.

- But before you die, we need you to do something for us.

- This is Captain Lawrence Talby

of the United Stated Army.

And I've considered your offer.

- What is your answer,

Captain Talby of the United States Army?

- CAPTAIN: Let me be to the point!

If you want our filthy hides...

come in here and get 'em!

- Good.

That is good.

We are going in.

Attack at sundown.

- Hurry, let her do it.

- Deploy smoke grenades.

- Thank you.

You...

- I don't feel any different.

- What if it ain't gonna work on us?

- Captain?

- Captain?

- I promised I'd get you out of here.

Come hell or high water.

- My God, wolf man.

- Fire!

- Ah! Ah! Ah!

- You filthy dog!

- Hello, Sergeant.

- Talby.

- I thought you'd never wake up.

- Ssshh.

- Doc and Rivers wish they could've been here, but they're,

um, grabbing a bite to eat with some Germans.

So it's just you...and me.

- Talby, I'm so sorry--I'm so sorry about

what happened back there.

I was scared.

Talby! Talby!

You're--you're--you're not the kind of guy

that would hurt a defenseless asshole like me.

- It's like you said, Sergeant.

War changes a man.

- CLARK: My name is Clark Wilson.

And I gotta say, there's some pretty weird shit going on.

Now, I usually consider myself a guy who has his shit together,

because most of the time, well--I'll get into that later.

But in this case, this is all a bit out of the ordinary,

I gotta say.

I can hear you.

I got a big fucking gun here!

But I don't want to get too ahead of myself,

so let me start over.

You know how they say nobody walks in L.A.?

Well, I'm the guy who walks in L.A.

Like I said before, my name is Clark Wilson.

I have what you might call a passion for found objects.

You know, everyday things that have been lost, thrown away,

or abandoned.

Take this lock for instance.

This used to be new once.

It had a purpose.

It was useful once.

And now it's been forsaken.

Kinda like me, if you wanna get right down to it.

Now, I had this friend once who had this dog.

Now, he claimed that if you fed this dog some weed

in a rolling paper,

it would poop out a perfectly rolled joint.

Now, I never saw the dog do it.

And I never really believed that story.

But...actually, come to think of it,

you're probably not gonna believe this story either.

- CLARK: The last thing I expected that night

was to get the finger...for real.

It was verification that the whole world was flipping me off.

"Hey, fuck you, loser."

Or maybe...just maybe,

it was the other way around.

I guess I'm just your average, ordinary, so-called citizen.

Mortgage sucks.

Job prospects suck.

Abandoned by my so-called family three years ago.

Anyway, I got this house when Samantha divorced me.

I got the crap house, the shit mortgage,

the lamentable car,

and a career in web design.

Which is a cute way of saying I'm mostly unemployed.

I hang on.

I telecommute.

Well, that's what I tell people.

I tell them I tele--you know what?

Never mind.

Armadillo? No.

Raccoon?

No.

Is it a possum?

Uh, no.

- Fuck!

Ugh! Goddamn it.

- Wow.

That's noteworthy.

You, my friend, are a keeper.

- WOMAN ON PHONE: This is a call from a debt collector.

This call may be recorded for quality assurance.

Your account is important to us.

- Why don't you just fucking die?

Die, die, die, you fucking vampires!

Sorry.

I'm not normally this...um, agro.

It's just--I mean, come on.

You hate them, too, right?

Those anonymous people, who aren't even really people.

Don't you just wish you could make them suffer?

Suffer the way they've made you suffer?

Anyway, the instant family from hell, right?

Had reached its sell-by date.

Samantha eventually needed someone who could do more

than get things off a high shelf,

fetch her tampons,

run out to the store at 3:00AM

to buy those pretentious little cigarettes.

Her idiot son, Ricky, stole my car and tried to hock it.

Her daughter once offered me a blowjob to keep quiet

about her meth habit and the fact that

her latest fiancée was doing time for murder.

But, hey, it's the American dream, right?

Domestic bliss.

Sam used to say, "It's the way it's supposed to be."

No, it's not.

Blogs? Seriously?

What year is this, Blurserno? 2006?

- BLURSERNO ON PHONE: They're clients, Clark.

They're digitally challenged.

It's work, for fuck's sake.

- It's donkey work.

I'm not doing it.

- BLURSERNO ON PHONE: It's donkey work that pays.

- Let me call you back.

- Goddamn it.

- Holy hell.

- CLARK: And within 24 hours, I had myself a whole arm.

The suspense was killing me.

I'm beginning to think maybe I need to call a grownup.

What would an adult do?

- Maybe I should call a museum.

Or a mad scientist.

Or maybe, just maybe...

I can wait a little while longer.

- CLARK: This wasn't like misplacing a set of keys.

This was the first time something I had salvaged,

something I had saved...

abandoned me.

- Fuckers.

- I can hear you.

- I've got a big fucking gun here!

- CLARK: What the holy hell?

- That's--that's a heart.

- Yeah, what?

I mean, hi.

Can I help you?

- Mr. Wilson?

Clark Wilson?

- Yeah, that's me, alright.

- Sorry to disturb you at this hour.

I'm Detective Moseley.

This is Detective Walsh.

We have ourselves a situation.

Samantha Brown Demara was your ex-wife, correct?

- Was?

- There was a disturbance at her condo...earlier today.

Samantha Brown Demara--

- Ooh, that went on for like 20 more minutes.

But you get the gist of it.

All I can say is, thank God they didn't have search warrant.

- DETECTIVE: --she actually passed away.

- Oh, dear God, no.

No. Not my Samantha.

Not my beautiful Samantha.

Tell me you're lying.

Tell me she's okay.

Please, tell me she's not--

- DETECTIVE: Do you need us to call anybody for you?

Bitch didn't even have any contacts,

that's how much everyone hated her.

Well, except her ex-husband. Me.

And of course, no one could find her kids--the unholy spawn.

Anyway, inquiries have been initiated,

I would be kept informed.

Hooray. Three cheers for me.

But I was scared.

I needed to sort this the fuck out.

They're gonna come back.

You'll see.

They'll want pictures.

They always want pictures.

More questions.

"Where were you on the night of?"

They'll be excuses, alibis, lies.

Pictures.

Where's that picture?

I must have shot that.

Little shits.

- Ah!

- Hi.

- What are you?

Do you need to go outside?

Right, right, right.

If you need to go outside, you'll go outside.

I'm just gonna take a little picture, alright?

- They'll be just a little flash.

Don't be scared.

- So what do I call you?

Bob? You like that?

- Bob.

Well, alright then.

- Now, let's not go tearing anyone else's heart out tonight.

- There, so much better.

- CLARK: Turns out, that Bob likes long,

four multi-arc television dramas.

You know, soap opera writ large.

- CLARK: The kind of story that never actually ends.

- And popcorn.

He really likes popcorn.

- How much you wanna bet that's the police

with just a few more questions?

Yeah? - WOMAN ON PHONE: This is a call

from a debt collector.

This call may be recorded-- - Fuck off, you Nazi bitch!

Fuck off and leave me alone!

- Oh, no.

No, no, no, no, I wasn't yelling at you, no.

- CLARK: Yeah, see, it's okay.

- CLARK: I threw that away last night, didn't I?

Bob's little offering to me.

You know how to fetch, don't you?

Oh, Christ.

- Forget locks and doors.

Bob wants to go out, he goes out.

- Hey, goddamn it!

- Hey, fuck you, asshole!

- Well, fuck you too you fuckity fuck-fuck!

- Asshole.

- So Bob went out last night,

and he brought back the truck balls.

And he brought back the guy's real balls as well.

I had to look up testicles to find out what they were made of.

Basically fibrous tissue.

Not nearly as tough, I assumed, as a heart muscle.

- CLARK: And then Bob just disappeared.

- CLARK: Ever had your child kidnapped?

No?

Ever look out into the yard to see that your favorite pet

isn't there all of the sudden?

This was a lot like that.

Bob!

- Bob?

Bob!

- Bob's back.

- Bob.

- He always naps after one of his little excursions.

- I didn't recognize this one at first.

That is a tongue.

He knew.

Somehow Bob knew who and where.

- WOMAN ON PHONE: This is a call from a debt collector.

This call may be recorded for quality assurance.

Your account is important to us.

- CLARK: It was her--the Nazi bitch.

Even though--God, where was she?

Did Bob fly all the way to a call center in Texas?

Georgia?

India?

- CLARK: And, naturally, just like I said,

the nice police persons came back for the pictures

of Samantha's kids--Shannon and Ricky.

- Shannon and Ricky, who now just as naturally

cannot be found.

Because guess who got there first?

I promise, uh, look, I've just got so much work on right now.

How 'bout if I call you--

- You, uh--you got something on your shirt.

- Oh yeah.

Uh, that's just a red sauce.

You know, Bolognese.

'Cause Bob had opted for another one of his day trips

or night flights.

Bob!

- Bob.

- What?

- BOB:

- That's terrific, Bob.

That's just great.

- Now, if I take those all the way across town

and drop them in the ocean,

you're just gonna bring them right back here,

aren't you?

- You little shit.

Just great.

- I couldn't kill Bob or get rid of him.

I-I-I couldn't even hurt him.

And why would I?

All he wanted was to eliminate anyone who hurt me.

Isn't that love?

I didn't do those things.

Bob did those things.

Like I told you before, all I did was find this finger.

And this finger grew into this little critter called Bob.

And like I told you before, I already knew

you weren't going to believe this story.

- How many people annoy you?

Do you really ever run out of candidates?

The loudmouth ahead of you in line in the market.

The lunatic on the street who wants your cigarettes,

your spare change, enough of your time to tell you

his entire life tragedy.

The bartender who ignores you.

The lover who decides you're not attractive enough,

smart enough,

or rich enough.

Jehovah's Witnesses.

But he will come.

I'll hear him scratching right up here.

It's just a matter of time.

You know Bob.

If wants to come in, he'll come in.

Bob loves me.

- BOB:

- Bob loves me.