All language subtitles for felidae.1994.DVD.720HD

If you really want to hear my tale,

then you must first get used to the fact
that it's not a pleasant story to hear.

Oh, pardon. Allow me; Francis.

I belong to a species which is
easily overlooked by humans.

Here it is, our new home.

Okay, Francis. Come on out.

The thing I hate most in life is moving.

But Gustav, my life partner,
usually takes no consideration.

He's a studied archaeologist,
specialising in Egyptian divinities,

but earns our feed by writing trashy novels.

Whenever he runs out of ideas, he moves.

He thinks it helps.

Boy, is this heavy!
Now where's the key?

Ah, there.

Heavenly! Just needs a little renovating.

Come on, Francis! Or do I have
to carry you over the threshold?

The musty stench hit
me like a sledgehammer.

Quick as a flash, I realised that
this unpleasant odour did not rise

from the foundation of the building,
but crept down from the upper floors.

It was an odour bouquet of pharmaceuticals,
veterinary practice, and toxic waste!

And I should've never set paw in the place.

Francis, isn't it beautiful?

This will be a blast!
Renovating, rehabilitating, modernising...

Ah, there's still a lot of work in here!

Where should the books go?

Yes, ah, here! That's a good spot.

And the litter box? Yes, let's see.

Oh, it's lovely here.

Look, Francis. Old stucco!

Ah, the china, where to put that...?

What I saw there was,
so to speak, my welcoming gift.

There he lay, a black brother,
all limbs stretched out.

Only he wasn't sleeping.

Can opener.

Can opener?

What do you mean?

Well, it was the damned
can openers. They did it!

They gave little Sascha
a special valve in the neck!

You mean humans?

Did you see it?

Shit, no! But who does something
like that but a fucking can opener,

who good for nothing more than
opening our cans for us! Shit, yeah.

This is already the fourth cold sack.

You mean this is already the fourth corpse?

Guess you're new here, eh?

You moving into that garbage dump?

Nice place.

I always go there to piss!

No. It wasn't a can opener.
His neck is completely lacerated.

What do you call yourself, smartass?

Francis.

That's all I need! Archie.

- Cheers!
- Cheers, Archie!

Isn't this great? Honestly now.

Fantastic. This atmosphere!
I was fascinated from the beginning!

Really!

A doctor's office?

Would explain the chemical smell.

Don't you think that parquet is
a bit much for me, Archie?

But parquet is the least you can do, Gustav!
The absolute 'must'!

Carpet is only used by the homeless
for a bed underlay in the pedestrian zone!

As young rebels,
we still have our golden ideals,

even if we don't own a penthouse apartment.

But if we find out later that we've not
become rebel icons, what's left?

The parquet-fetishist was
Archibald Philip Purpur,

called Archie, and professional trendsetter.
- So until next time, Archie.

The only friend of my
poor can opener Gustav.

Besides me, of course.

I know it's a difficult time for you, Francis.
But I've brought you your favourite music -

Mahler's 'Resurrection Symphony'.

Sleep well.

Who are you?

Where are you?

Come here, my little one.

Just come here and see what a
nice thing I have here for you.

Are you looking for your old peeing spot?
It's been pissed on itself.

Home decor is here.

Cold sack?

How the devil - yes. Cold sack!

Let me guess. It's a guy, right?

Like the other four bodies.

Shit, yeah! How the hell did you know that?

Well, it's just a guess.

This time, in any case, it was good old
Deep Purple who went to kingdom come.

His neck looks as if somebody
was testing out a new ice pick.

One question.

Was Deep Purple castrated?

Purple? Castrated? Man!

Purple was beyond such sultry activities.

He was about as old as Methuselah,
but he looked even older than that.

Is that all you have to say?

These departures are
slowly getting on my balls!

Where's Deep Purple's body now?
Can you lead me there?

Why not?

Hey! What do you call yourself, smartass?

Blaubart! And I've delighted more
chicks in my time than Henry the Eighth!

The longer I trotted behind this proud
invalid and had to look at all his misery,

the more insistently I asked myself of
what or whom he had become a victim.

- Dead end!
- Dead end!

Please! We had them.
The typical nasty loafers.

Oh dear shit, Hermann and Hermann!

Don't tell me you want to rave to me again
about the advantages of your castration.

But I do believe you, boys.

Without the balls,
one carries a lot less weight.

Kong, why do you still put up
with these bang-bitches?

Blaubart, old house cripple!

I can see your adventures in the gay scene
have brought you some success!

The little one behind you
is indeed a fine specimen.

Is he teaching you how they do it?

He'd like to show you personally!
He has the ideal position for you!

I see that you're looking for trouble!
Okay, you can have it.

But I assume you're more
interested in my friend Francis.

In that case, you need to know that I will
not stand by to watch an unfair fight!

So, how do you want it, old bastard?

I'm shitting myself with fear, buddy.

And as for you, sweetie,
you can bet your life on it

that we'll be having an interesting
conversation in private

in the not-too-distant future
that you won't soon forget.

So, until then, pretty ones!

Hey, Blaubart.
- Yeah?

I'm afraid you're slowly
betraying your own principles.

You don't say.
And why, if I may ask?

Well, you told him I was your friend.

In my opinion, the last minutes
of his life ran as follows:

The murderer bit Purple several times
in the neck while he was outside.

That's demonstrated by the
traces of blood in the garden.

Purple still tried to drag
himself into the garage.

Remarkable for his age.

Didn't you say that Purple was
beyond such sultry activities?

You mean sex, right?

Yes! Even the old Purple was in
heat when the killer caught him!

The most striking feature of this
series of murders is the sexuality.

The killer himself is in heat
and has some unusual views

on the competitive behaviour in the area.

Or he has something against
reproduction in general.

In my day, it was called plugging!

And I still say that it was a
goddamn can opener! Shit, yeah!

We mustn't deceive ourselves.
The bloody hole is a bite wound.

Anyway, it's probably time I learned about
this unfortunate area and its inhabitants.

And you are going to help me, Blaubart.

Oh, will I, Mr. Inspector?

Well, tomorrow, I'll
introduce you to someone.

You're actually not the only smartass
in our foggy London for idiots.

The sound came directly
from the first floor.

It surprised me that Gustav hadn't
been woken by the noise long ago.

Hallelejah, Claudandus is at peace!

Damn irrepressible curiosity!

Follow God's work! Deliver us!

My God, where did I just land?

After only a slight punishment
he received great blessings

because God had tested him
and found him worthy of it!

In the name of Brother Claudandus!
In the name of Brother Claudandus,

who sacrificed himself
for us and became God!

Claudandus, o holy Claudandus!

Hear our pain, hear our voices,
hear our prayer!

Accept our sacrifices! Yes!

Accept our sacrifices!

His end was regarded as a misfortune
and his departure from us as annihilation.

But he is at peace!

Hallelujah!
- Hallelujah!

In the name of Brother Claudandus,
who now dwells among the immortals!

He shall judge the people
and rule over nations!

Those who trust in him,
shall then know the truth!

Grace and mercy shall be bestowed
upon his elect! Deliver us!

Truly this activity was beyond 'The Aristocats'.

O Claudandus,
thou son of pain and light!

Our wounds are full of blood,
as once your wounds were full of blood.

Hear -

There's somebody up there!

What are you idiots waiting for?

Go, go.
Go, go! Up!

Bring him here!

Go, grab him!

Heavens!

Frankenstein's laboratory!
Or much, much worse.

What did it all mean?

Go, spread out!
We need to surround him!

I can smell him.

He must be here somewhere.

He was here.
But where is he now?

You're new, right?

Yes, correct.

My name is Francis.

Friend or foe?

Friend! Forever friend!

A friend who has fallen from Heaven.

Well, not from Heaven -
through the skylight.

On the run from some crazies
of the Claudandus sect.

That sounds like those idiots.

Is it already light outside?

But can't you see that for -

You're blind!

I'm not blind.

I just can't see.

Do you go outside sometimes?
- No.

But still, not a single day has gone by where
I haven't wished to see this wicked world once.

I'm sorry.

Why? There are worse things in life.

One can endure anything -
except perhaps living in a dog kennel.

Have you always been like this?

I mean...
- Been blind?

Yes. From birth.

But it's strange, there are also pictures.

Images in my head.

What are these images?

I see many people gathered around me.

They're so big and bright.

One of the men leans
over me and smiles at me.

He suddenly has something
shiny in his hand and it hurts.

And I fall asleep.

You were not blind from birth.

Some human has done
something terrible to you.

Shall I tell you something?

The nicest creatures I know are people.

Who else would keep a blind runt like me?

May I ask you an unusual question?

Felicitas.

During the nights of the past few weeks,
have you heard any unusual...

You mean the death cries?

Heavens, you're the first witness I've met!

But why are you so interested?

Well, after all, it concerns murder.

Murder? Sounds pretty dramatic.

I think these are just excessive rivalries.

And why do you think that?

The death cries all came from males who
were on the way to some alluring Madonna.

Suddenly, they were joined by someone
that they seemed to know very well.

Did this someone speak
to these future corpses?

Yes. But I could not understand precisely.

But his tone of voice was so urgent,
laden with significance,

as if he wanted to convince
his interlocutors of something.

And later?

And then they uttered the death cry.

What do you know about
this Claudandus sect?

I only know they worship
a martyr named Claudandus,

who supposedly lived in this area in the past,
tormented and tortured by humans.

Tortured...

Why'd you run off?

We just wanted to chat with you.

In which three hundred and sixty volts
ought to loosen my tongue, huh?

Felicitas, I'll be back.

But first I have to discuss
something with him up there!

On the one hand, you came to me so
that I'd do something about the murders,

but on the other hand you concealed
from me what was essential, Blaubart.

Beg your pardon?

It's only a pasttime! A thrill!
This whole Claudandus thing.

Not so important.
- Not so important?!

It's been around for years.

Joker was the first to disseminate
the teachings of Claudandus.

Over the years he's found
more and more followers.

This is the venerable master of ceremonies
with the shrunken head charm, right?

Yes. But the thing is really harmless, Francis.

No one knows who Claudandus really was.

Perhaps he never existed.

May I now?
- Yeah, yeah, come, eat.

And then take me to the genius
of which you told me.

For a can opener, your can opener's
cooking is really first-class!

I checked the dictionary.
"Claudandus" is Latin, and means

"One that must or should be closed."

There's some clue in that.

I can't imagine.

You think?

I think non-stop.
Surprised you, huh?

Well, I've also read
a book once at some point.

Blaubart was here!

Very impressive.

Are we in the house of an
art professor or a pimp?

Shit, I don't know exactly.

I think the guy who owns this joint does
something with science or parapsychology.

Devil knows.

Welcome, dear friends!

I've been wondering where you were.

Blaubart told me -
- Okay, this smart -

This guy here is Francis and the
smart aleck over there is Pascal.

Francis? Francis...

It is my pleasure and an
honour to meet you, Francis.

May I offer you both a bite to eat?

Thank you, but we've already eaten.

Well, I personally have no
objection against a snack.

You know the way to the kitchen.

Frankly, I never would've dreamed that
even one of us could operate a computer.

In my own modest way,
I've been trying to discover

the cruel butcher in our area
by means of the computer.

Do you know what this word means?

As far as I know, it's the
scientific term for our type, the feline.

Evolution has produced an
astonishing variety of living creatures.

But none compel more respect
and admiration than the Felidae.

But what does your list include, Pascal?

All the residents of our district.
Name, age, gender, race, health...

Which reminds me that I
still need to enter you too.

Interesting.
- Isn't it?

Especially if it can help to solve a murder.

Did you know that all of the
victims at the time of their -

Yes. They were all after some female in heat.

I have an idea.

Order the computer to find
out the races of the victims.

Simple enough.

All five are not particularly distinguished
representatives of Felidae.

Strange.

All the victims are male, in heat,
and European Shorthair.

No, not all.

Because I haven't had time
yet to enter the sixth victim.

What sixth victim?

Felicitas?

Yes. Felicitas as well, unfortunately.

No, Pascal! That's impossible!

I was speaking with her an hour ago.

Somebody told me, however,
just before you and Blaubart arrived.

And her eyes were open.

As if, even in the face of death,
she had desired nothing more than to see.

Life goes on, Francis.

Where did you get that nonsense from?

From the book you've read?

I was only thinking.

Whoever has Felicitas on his
conscience will have to pay for it.

Can you hear me, neck-biter?!

You will pay for this!

We'll get you, shit-head!

No matter what Pascal says,

Felicitas had to die because
she was a witness.

All along, we've been shadowed.

This isn't a rampaging madman.

He goes forth coldly on schedule.

The solution to the riddle is really very simple.

Felidae!

Evolution has produced an
astonishing variety of living creatures.

But none compel more respect
and admiration than the Felidae.

Do not forget the case of Claudandus.

He is the key!

And hop... hop... hop!

Experiments on plant hybrids!
Experiments on plant hybrids!

Hey, you. Did you sleep well?

Cats would have to. Eat...

sleep...

eat, sleep, yes...

Great spirits have their own little hobbies
of disconnecting from their working mind.

I did what I always do to get a clear head
and a needed distraction from the stress.

Rat hunt!

There they were! Always busy!

Always funny! Always sociable!

Patiently waiting for the
D- Day of their takeover.

The laboratory is a dream.

Pharmarox has spared no expense.

My assistants are Ziebold and Gray.

I know that my tissue adhesive
will revolutionise medicine.

The first attempt failed.

Instead of sticking, the mixture
completely corroded the flesh.

I need to reduce the
concentration of maleic acid.

It is simply contrary to logic.

Just this morning, this handsome
lad came running up to me.

He is now our mascot.

I'll start a new attempt immediately.

I fear the nameless stray
will have to have faith in this.

A miracle happened.
It worked right away!

The young stray has probably proven
an invaluable service to science.

He will be known as
Claudandus throughout histor-

We had to take apart Claudandus again.

Some factor in his gene structure ensures

that his body will absorb the
soup without any problems.

He is a mutation.

They have reduced our funding.

But I am Professor Preterius!

Experimental animal deficiency?

No problem.

Yes, just go, Mr. Ziebold!

Sacrifice!

Science requires sacrifice!

Thanks to my sophisticated
breeding program,

some of the females have provided supply.

Are you still able to produce
offspring, Claudandus?

What I have in mind has
never existed before.

A unique breed of cats!

A super race!

Yes, Claudandus spoke with me!

Fascinating, is it not?

Absolutely no humour in the animal.

Did he not say I should let him out of
the cage and prepare to fight him?

Was that it?

I must save Claudandus!

Did I not promise you that we'd
still have a conversation in private?

What do you want to talk to me about?

About silent stalking?

This is really funny.

Don't you think we should turn
our attention to serious matters?

Oh yeah, yeah, you've got it, brother.

A monster is about here.
Won't you help me search for this madman?

You don't need to look for him any more.

You? And why did you kill?

Well, why?

Well, because those guys all risked a lip.

You're a huge bastard,
but your motive isn't convincing.

You'll soon realise how convincing I am.

Is that fair?

No.

Just leave him to me!

No, not that!

The little one ran out of breath.

Probably sucked on too much junk food.

Yes, I'm out of breath.

But apparently I'm not the only one.

What nonsense are you talking?

Solitaire!

What have they done to you?

My God, what have they done to you?

My poor Solitaire!

Who was she?

Solitaire was the boss's favourite doll.

And that, which was in her
was probably from him too.

I'll kill him! I'll make mincemeat out of him!

I'll tear his balls off and
stuff them in his mouth!

What heartless creature was it?

Who? WHO? Dammit!

You... you were not there.
The time was too short...

But who then? Who then?!

God help you!

You rascal!

Any idea where the waddler's
disappeared to, smartass?

With this lousy weather, I don't even
know where my own home has gone to.

He's definitely further, Boss.

But only three gardens remain
and then it's the end of the line.

Then we'll grab him.
- Yeah, yeah!

Yeah! Let's go!

I'd had enough of this nightmare!

The murder of Kong's beloved Solitaire
had my theories about the murders

destroyed in one fell swoop.

And now, I was stuck,
who knows how deep, in this hell hole!

I've been wondering where you were.

Shit, I'm too old for slides!

Shh! Not so loud.

Not so loud? Not so LOUD?

I head Kong wailing like
a muezzin in delirium,

saw the poor Solitaire,
and followed you over the walls.

Where are we?

No idea.

Catacombs.

Not so loud.

Oh, shit! A mass grave!

A fucking -
- Do you smell it?

Disgusting!

The stench of decay.

Kong was right.
The waddler is the killer.

But I see neither Sascha,
nor Deep Purple, or Feli...

Do no harm to the Guardian of the Dead.

Certainly, the Guardian of the Dead
has broken the sacred rule.

For this he will have to pay bitterly.

Do you always have an early Mass
before you go at someone's neck?

What's your name, my friend?

They call me Jesaja.

Did you do all this pigheadedness?

I mean, do you have all these skeletons
killed and then transported here?

Oh, no, stranger. The dead come to me.

Which are sent by the Prophet.

If you ask me, he's an ordinary nutcase.

Where are you from, Jesaja?

And how on earth did you come
to be in this terrible place?

Once there was the land of
dreams where I was born.

In dreamland was also the Prophet,
who finally brought us salvation.

God heard the prayers of the Prophet.

And when the day exploded into light,
the dreamland also exploded,

and the tormented fled
headlong in all directions.

What happened to the Prophet?

He ascended into heaven.
Father Joker told me.

The leader of the Claudandis sect?

He called this temple his
home since primeval times.

And he carried me here and
cared for me from then on.

But then he left me to proclaim
the word of the Prophet.

And how did Father Joker justify
this pretty bone collection here?

Oh, no. As Father Joker
and I lived here together,

the dead had not yet dwelt among us.

One day, however,
after Father Joker had gone,

I heard a rumbling in one of the shafts.

When I arrived at the exit hole,
I saw a dead sister had flown from it.

And suddenly, I heard the voice of the Lord.

And what did his voice say?

That I had been chosen to take up the
service of the Guardian of the Dead.

But now everything has changed.

The Prophet no longer speaks with me,
nor has he recently sent the dead

to the realm of the dead.

He had forgotten me.

So you were up tonight personally
to keep a look for the dead, right?

Have you noticed anything
in particular about the dead?

I mean, were they, for example,
in heat amogst themselves?

So it was, Brother.

But strangely disfigured folks
also came down to the temple.

And pregnant?
- Many.

So many, Brother.

Cod natural. Cod cooked.

Cod lightly fried.

Cod in mayonnaise -

Cod! Have you not realised
what we've just learned?

Mayonnaise...
- There aren't seven murder victims to mourn,

but hundreds.

The killing spree goes back many years.

Up until the closure of the laboratory.
- Indeed.

Earlier you asked a very wise
question in the mortuary temple.

Namely.

Why were the bodies of Sascha,
Deep Purple, Solitaire and...

Felicitas not in the temple?

Perhaps he's like me, the murderer!

Because I gradually can't
be bothered any more!

I'm hungry, I'm tired, and I long for cod!

"I'm hungry, I'm tired, I long for cod!" My God!

The old Joker is the only one who knows
anything about the Prophet Claudandus.

Ironically, the guy who operates
this electroshock cult.

What did you say back then?
It was a pastime, a thrill?

Something like that.

Sometimes it seems to me as if this
circus of a sect served a specific purpose.

As if it were a preparation for
something really special, unimaginable!

Such as cod?

I have found you at last!

Of course, dear Francis.

I am the Prophet,
I am the man and the beast,

and I am Felidae!

Come with us, Francis.

Everything that ever was and will be
no longer has any meaning, Francis.

Come with us.
- Come with us!

You'll find something better
than death everywhere!

Come with us on the long, wonderful journey.

And what will we find?
- Everything we have lost, Francis.

Who are you?
Which race do you belong to?

Race! What an antiquated
and insulting term.

I'm not associated with any race.
Your mistress is the way she is.

You mean your race is new?
- Not new, but old.

Or better said, old and new - and different!

Figure it out for yourself, Francis.

How do you know my name?

A little bird twittered it to me.

And what's your name?

My name wouldn't mean much to you.

But don't worry about it.

Everything will clarify itself one day...

and all will end well.

Trust me...

Do I at least know the girl?

I hope you know her.

Because she could bring us a little
closer to the resolution of the case.

Case?
Resolution?

Don't tell me that you're still interested.

Judging by the unbearable stench,
did you all day... reduplicate?

My God!

Yes, yes, you're right, old friend.

To work. Firstly now,
where is Joker currently at?

He's probably sitting at home and
preparing for his next Bible class.

Where's his home?
- Quite away from the district.

His can opener has a shop for
porcelain and precious glass.

Okay, I'm going to pay a
visit to Pascal in a moment.

While I do that, you march over to Joker
and tell him that me and Pascal wish to

speak to him about the murders.

Do you really think the old Joker is the killer?

Don't forget what we learned from Jesaja.

Joker is deep - and I mean
very deep - within this.

The question is whether I can unmask him.

Before I forget, I have made the
acquaintance of a lady this morning

whose race is completely alien to me.

Her fur is sand coloured,
her eyes are a glowing yellow -

I know that bunch.
- Are they so numerous?

Shit, yeah! Seems to be a breed
that's particularly high on the stands.

This whole area is full of
those inflated pompouses.

But with this breed, the can openers
are pissing their own pants.

What do you mean?
- They aren't like us!

Well, somehow I have the impression
that with them during the whole

damned breeding process,
domestication has fallen by the wayside.

These new ones, they're wilder,
more repellent, even more dangerous.

Like predators?
- Yeah.

My compliments.

I've lived in this district for years Francis
and haven't even registered a fraction

of the horrific things you've
found out so quickly.

Great work.

Have you saved brothers
and sisters who suddenly,

for whatever reason,
left the district?

Of course.
- Can we check with this list how many have

disappeared for not apparent reason,
and when exactly?

Why did the murderer no longer entrust
probably his last seven victims to Jesaja,

the good Guardian of the Dead?
- That's an important point, Francis.

Because it's an indication that our
friend is beginning to make mistakes.

I can't imagine that such a prodigy of horror
would be able to make even a single mistake.

Perhaps he wants to call
our attention to something.

That's good!
- No, this isn't good at all.

For we have no idea what he
wants to draw our attention to.

He wants to draw our attention
to himself and his work -

Alas, the average intelligence of the area's
residents is so shamefully low that no-one

could come to comprehend his subtle signs.
- Well then, maybe he wants to draw

the attention of only a very
specific brother to his life's work.

That I call good!
- Why?

Because for the first time you
speak of a life's work, Francis.

Don't you get it? He deliberately
sets out to be seen through!

The guy's very strange.
He's like a puzzle - no.

He is the puzzle and is waiting
only for the one who solves it.

Joker's either been in a hurry
or he's had it with the stomach.

Joker. For me, a prime suspect.

Could be right.

He witnessed the drama in Preterius's
laboratory and saw his chance

to buid a martyr religion
around Claudandus's suffering.

That's possible.

Tell me more about the
lady you met earlier today.

Well, she wasn't like the others.
- Professor Preterius's killer race?

Why not?
- Unlikely. You're forgetting the evolution.

A new breed can also arise by chance.
- Really?

You think that my wild lady and her fellow
kind are the product of natural selection?

You're right as always, Pascal.
- Don't be so modest, Francis.

You are the true smartass.
- Could I possibly contribute something too?

Where's Joker?
- Not there. Disappeared.

What does "disappeared" mean?

"Disappeared" means disappeared.

Do you want a snack first
before you continue?

My owner Ziebold has prepared fresh liver.

Fresh liver!
- Get to the point, Blaubart!

A horror house, where Joker lives!

I combed through it from the bottom
to the top, but found nothing.

Joker's been murdered -
- No, vanished.

He knew you were close to
catching him and took off.

No, no! I refuse to accept
such a cheap solution.

Calm down, calm down.
First thing tomorrow we'll draw up a list

of possible survivors from the
laboratory of Professor Preterius.

You better be careful, smartass.

How do you mean?

The neck-biter will want to take
wicked revenge against the one

who screwed up his tour. Shit, yeah!

Yeah. Pascal is in danger too.
He also knows too much.

According to what you've found out,
the killer only attacks those

who want to educate themselves sexually.
But good old Pascal is neutered.

And moreover - well, he won't
last much longer anyway.

Why not?
- He has cancer. Colon cancer, I think.

The doctor's given him only
slightly longer than half a year.

Dear friends! We thank you that so many
of you have accepted our invitation.

I hope we get offered something, gramps!
Otherwise, someone'll have to pay vigorously

for my having missed my
favourite film on television!

Kong, you idiotic rhinoceros!
If you had only a shred of decency,

you would at least pretend that
you're mourning for your Solitaire!

I'll catch that neck-biter
sooner or later anyway.

You won't get anyone at all, you fool!

Do you think this guy will someday knock
on your door and beg your forgiveness?

Surely a guy can still crack a joke -
- Kong!

The problem is that our homicidal
friend has no sense of humour!

Francis and I have been
sitting at the computer.

We assume with certainty that the
murderer has not seven of us,

but believe it or not,
four hundred and fifty on his conscience.

These murders - these murders
are most likely in connection

with the ghastly secrets of the
laboratory of Professor Preterius.

Crimes of which some of you were victims of,
without remembering it today.

That's enough! Have you
ever fancied why some of us

amble throughout the
neighbourhood like a total wreck?

Calm yourselves down!
Let the wiseass continue!

Maybe he'll present us with the murderer.

Unfortunately, I cannot present you
with the murderer at the moment.

But perhaps with the truth.

A number of you dear friends pay
homage to the dead Claudandus

who suffered the worst torment in
Professor Preterius's torture lab -

He isn't dead!

What do you know about Claudandus?

Why do you think he's not dead?

Well, because great-
grandfather told me about it.

And who is your great-grandfather?

Father Joker.

He told me that Claudandus had
challenged the monster to a fight

in the end and actually killed him.

Dear friends! The only one who
knows what Claudandus looks like

and could lead us to him is Joker.

But Joker is dead -
- Gone!

If you ask me, Joker has assumed the
identity of the Prophet. Claudandus is dead.

No one woud've survived such torture.
But Joker is alive and on the run!

Thanks to brother Francis,
his sinister plans were thwarted.

Bravo!
- Bravo!

I've told you already that I searched
Joker's place from the bottom to the top!

Exactly! From bottom to top!

You had no way of seeing
on top of the shelves!

And what now?

Well then, it simply must
be done the hard way!

My God! It had been an execution.

And Joker had been in agreement with it!

But what was so incredibly important at stake
that Joker had to sacrifice himself for it?

Claudandus! He had survived!

Now that Joker's dead,
we have no prime suspect any more.

Right. The whole thing is as puzzling
as ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics.

Blaubart, I just came to a crazy idea!

Crazy! A word that could often
describe your state of mind!

Genetics.

The genetics!

"The laws of inheritance were first discovered
by the Jesuit priest Gregor Johann Mendel."

We're being bred back!
- We're being what?

Why did I never ask myself
which females the murder victims

wanted to mate with?
I should've listened to my dreams

right from the outset.
My first nightmare,

the man without a face,
that was, of course, Preterius!

Earwitness Felicitas's key words:

But I could not understand precisely.

But his tone of voice was so urgent,
laden with significance,

as if he wanted to convince
his interlocutors of something.

The murderer is not
a madman running amok!

He wanted to persuade the poor
Sascha and Purple not to mate with

my sharp terrace lady or her fellow women!
For as she said, "We are not new, but old!"

You mean the new super
cronies of the district?

Exactly!

There. Look.
- What? Is it her?

No. It's the motif.

If we bred back to our original form.

Among the wild, proud Felidae!

"Gregor Johann Mendel
and his theory of heredity.

Major work:
Experiments on plant hybrids... "

Experiments on plant hybrids!

And who reveres Gregor Johann Mendel
and has his portrait hanging in his study?

Who was it Preterius employed
as an assistant in the laboratory?

Well, who?
- Ziebold!

Who the hell is Ziebold?
- Fresh liver! Ring any bells?

Fresh liver... let me think.
- No time to think. Come on!

Okay, you take this entrance.
I'll climb up the tree directly into the study.

Blaubart was here.

The password, dammit!

Come on, come on, think!
Think! The damn password!

"Number 287: Pascha;

June 18,1986; circa 0:30;

tried to copulate with Trabian.

All art of persuasion in vain. "

Now I understood it!
He had to ensure the following:

The females selected for breeding purposes
had to encounter the appropriate male!

And if a foreign animal
wanted to butt in, well, then -

Do you know everything now, dear Francis?

Yes, Claudandus. There are only a
few more gaps in my knowledge.

Perhaps you'd like to fill them in.
- I'll tell you a story of humans and animals.

A true story.
Yes, I am Claudandus.

I was in that lab,
I survived those tortures.

When Preterius finally snapped,
I spoke to him!

You spoke with him?!
- Yes. And he let me out of the cage.

And I sunk my fangs deep into his throat.

Then, I found Ziebold.

Through him, I learned the
Mendelian theory of genetics

and suddenly, I knew how I could
turn the wheels of history back again.

The only one who helped me was Joker.

He was responsible for the
dissemination of the ideology,

and I, for the scientific side of the project.

After the first breeding successes,
the program expanded rapidly.

I had to kill, Francis. I had too.

To preserve the racial
purity of my great-Felidae.

I will die soon. That's why
I've lured you onto my track,

so that you will become my successor.
The leader of this wonderful, mighty Felidae!

And why did Joker have to believe in it?
- I had no other choice.

He would have betrayed
everything under pressure.

Now I really do know everything.
But I wish I had never learned it.

Oh no, Francis...

You live your ordinary little day
and at night you sleep your carefree,

ordinary little sleep full of
peaceful, stupid dreams.

And I...

have brought you nightmares.
Or perhaps not?

The world is a hell, Francis!
And the culmination of all this

ugliness in the universe is Man!

I tell you, my friend,
we're cut from no other cloth.

You are the true human being!
You think like them, you act like them!

Tell me, what kind of a role have you
intended for the other animal species?

None at all. They're stupid
and submit to their own fate.

But there are good people,
Pascal or Claudandus or Felidae

or whoever you are -
- No, no, no! There are no good people!

They're all the same!

Animals are good human beings
and human beings are evil animals.

I will fight you any way I can!

And I'll start with the deletion of this
unspeakable program. I'm sorry.

You have no idea just how
sorry I am to do this, Francis...

So much darkness in the world...

So much darkness.

I became angry, Francis...

but I once too, was...

good.

He lost his innocence...

as has Man...

Even murderers die, and with them
the mysterious stories

that have kept us in suspense for some time.

And so, farewell from your devoted
little Francis and an intimate salute

to all the smartasses of the world.

Do not give up believing in a world
where animals and humans

can live together in harmony.

Of course, even types that
are smarter than the latter.

For example: Felidae!