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Ten, nine...
...eight, seven...
...six, five...
...four...
...three, two...
...one!
Here goes.
Bravo, Mr. Van der Veer!
- Yes, Mr. Van der Veer? - We'll go to the penthouse.
Stop by Battery Park.
Roger, routing change. Penthouse, ETA: 0615.
What will Van der Veer do at the Battery at 6:00 a.m.?
- Visit his ancestors. - Whatever he wants.
Roger, Manhattan arrival. All clear, Romulus.
You've got sector five read-out on three.
Chris?
Darling?
Chris!
You scared me!
Darling!
- Did you miss me? - Yes.
Pauline!
Forget it, kid.
Oh, good. Put him on.
Good morning, it's Warren. We got a problem.
- You're up early. - Yeah.
Well, there's a nightmare down in the Battery.
Three bodies. Mutilation, possible sexual assault...
...some dismemberment. Maybe even cannibalism.
I'd love to see it, but I've...
I'm late for Mass and I got a heavy golf date.
Oh, you'll see it, Dewey.
It's very weird and it's very strange, just like you. So, it's back to work.
- I'm leaving now. Are you in Staten Island? - Yeah.
- Get your ass over there as fast as you can. - How?
Fly!
- How are you? - Fine.
Food.
- How can you eat that crap? - It settles my stomach.
Well?
Nothing. I didn't find anything aft, either.
So?
So, what?
So, who got killed? The governor?
Somebody bigger. Christopher Van der Veer.
Megabucks.
Heir to the fortune, maybe even the presidency.
So much for heirs.
His bodyguard. His wife is over there.
- Witnesses? - lf seagulls could talk, sure.
- Kidnapping? - No sign of a struggle.
Take a look around. See if you can sniff out anything.
Does this mean I'm back on the job?
- You're a detective, aren't you? - I'll try and remember that.
- It's a good thing to happen on a Sunday. - How long...
Oh, Christ!
- Let me handle this. - I always do.
Commissioner. Mr. Mayor.
You handled that nicely.
This is just wonderful! God knows what's next.
- Where's the damn coroner? - We haven't located him yet.
I want him here! Van der Veer was my friend.
You've got your best man here already.
Any more film, John?
Warren, what the hell happened?
It wasn't robbery. Their money and jewelry weren't touched.
There was some cocaine.
Party favors. But more than that...
Two factors have the potential to make this international, Mr. Mayor.
Executions and terrorism.
Makes a bombing seem like child's play.
Excuse me.
Dewey Wilson?
Homicide, kidnapping and results. I'm sorry, I don't know you.
Jonathan Ross, Bureau Chief of Executive Security.
His firm's responsible for some of the top executives in the world.
They have resources we don't have.
No matter how sophisticated technology gets, there's no guarantee.
God, it stinks down here.
Severely inflicted wounds...
Dew! The old jogging trip?
The six month's annual bionic, shed-the-twenty-pounds marathon resolve.
Sound mind, sound body.
You got to get into chemicals. They keep you going.
Your body'll malfunction on you one way or another.
Yeah. Tell me about it.
Wanna peek?
Something to tell your grandchildren about.
Took his brain. What the hell do you suppose they did with it?
Maybe they dribbled it down Wall Street.
I got a hand in a baggie.
It belongs to that guy over there. Had a gun in it.
SR says he didn't even get a shot off. How's that for fast?
Fraternity ring?
Pentagram and a goat. Voodoo.
Yeah?
Now, ain't this a shame?
Bizarre, man. It almost severed her head.
- It was instantaneous? - Instantaneous?
You seen a chicken run around with its head cut off?
Hey, nobody ever thinks about the head.
During the French Revolution, when they chopped heads off...
...they'd pick them out the basket and look them in the face.
Most went out right away, in shock.
Every fifth head or so was alive. Wide awake...
...eyes blinking, mouth trying to say something.
Yeah, sure.
The brain can live without oxygen for more than a minute.
That's a long time, buddy boy.
How'd you like to see your own body and know you're dead?
Give me a nice death in bed.
Preferably with a partner.
You can take her away now.
Hey, careful with her...
...head.
Well, let's see what happened to my man.
Two bullet holes upside the head!
See! You shouldn't have been fucking with that bitch.
You going to push, man? I'm working by myself today, right?
Ain't nobody working but me. Shit!
- Another hot Saturday night. - I heard that.
- What's today's special? - Tennis shoes and jock straps.
A lot of joggers are going out of business.
You check out that dude yet?
Dew!
Weird shit happening here, man. Give us a few more minutes.
How's it going, Captain?
Why do I always have to get the hard ones?
There's nothing there. There's nothing there!
Hey, Dew!
The Chief will tell him what we got. Severance of the jugular and carotids...
...destruction of the esophagus.
Lethal trauma on the throats, resulting in...
But what's really interesting is what we haven't got.
There's not a trace of metal.
You know how every piece of metal, no matter how sharp or smooth...
...will leave a residue when it cuts.
It could be as finite as dust. Soft x-ray should pick it up.
Nothing!
And nothing softer could have ripped and ravaged like this.
Some plastic weapon?
Synthetics.
I don't think there's any way I could check that.
You know, Dew, you could use a haircut. Want to lie down?
Not till it's my turn.
How's it going?
Identification?
- My face. - I need credentials.
All that separates you from a guard dog is a brain.
All right, Captain.
Good dog!
- Hey, Dewey. What's happening? - Hi, Captain.
- What's this? - ME's report.
Oh, yeah? What's with the morgue?
No answers to a lot of questions.
- Is that it? - That's it.
What's the matter with you? You bored?
I'm thinking. You're just not used to the expression.
Dungeman? Did you find out what they were doing there?
Anniversary party with 100 of their closest friends.
We know! We're checking the guest list.
Big party at the family compound.
It breaks up at 5:00 a.m. They head back to their penthouse.
A little pearl gift...
...a little booze, a little drugs. They decide to boogie.
They were married there.
- How do you know that? - I asked.
- You really are thinking. - It's better than the Sunday crossword.
Maybe.
- Any Jack the Rippers out there? - No psychos missing from the loony bins.
If it is the Ripper, the ME can't find a trace of any weapon.
What?
Who knows?
The Filipinos remove organs with their hands.
- That driver was a Haitian, right? - Yeah.
One tough son of a bitch. Worth three normals.
Ex-Papa Doc Secret Police. Ton Ton Macoute.
Van der Veer had a big liquor import business in the islands.
How that Haitian gets jumped beats the shit out of me.
You check the voodoo angle?
Voodoo? There's 80 goddamn sects in Manhattan alone.
Come here, I want to show you something. The meat and potatoes.
- Business and political enemies. - Fuchek, what do you got?
Business enemies he ain't got. Just one big corporate family.
Political, well, there's the action.
The family's got interests on every continent.
Funding a government overthrow.
Putting a mine in some holy ground. Moving a town.
A real friend of the Third World.
International terrorism, huh?
- You got quadrant four secured already? - Yes, I do.
- Punch me up 20 on this. - Roger, 20.
Got a demo run faction.
File facts negative so far. Unknown radical connections.
Wait, wait. Give me the stats on 20.
- Well, hello! That's Van der Veer's niece. - Have the police pick her up.
Give me 20.
Somewhere in the world, every other day...
...a corporate executive is kidnapped or assassinated...
...netting ransoms in excess of $1 billion...
...and forcing the expenditure of $50 million in corporate security measures.
Transnational terrorism would rival their victims in profit if you guys...
I want her.
...sophisticated Joseph Richmond, central chemical plant manager in Columbia.
Yeah?
Good morning.
Hi! Good morning. Come in. Sit down.
I was reading the response you got on that Psychology of Violence report.
- That must be very gratifying. - Yes, it is.
Good.
I'm teaming you up with Dewey Wilson on the Van der Veer case.
I didn't know he was back. I thought he retired. Disabled. Mental?
He had a lot of family problems. He started to drink a little too much. He...
Police work piled up on him. He's a good man. You'll like him.
Okay, fine.
We also had a little break this morning. Van der Veer's niece was picked up.
She's Weather underground. I want you to chat her up.
Put her on your machine. Maybe we'll get lucky.
So what's new on the international mutilation front? Run down the list.
Well, kneecappings, Red Brigade, Italy.
Slashed Achilles tendons, eyes gouged out, ears cut off...
...Red Army faction.
Let's see, PFLP, Carlos, Baader, Tuperamos...
...Fifth Estate, a few decapitations.
The Uno Mondo. They slash off the male genitalia.
The cock and balls. They stuff them in their victim's mouth.
- You ever seen anybody killed? - Pardon me?
Somebody's insides on a wall? Hold your nose.
So, who collects brains?
It's probably a symbol.
Miss Rensselaer probably went to Radcliffe...
...and took a course in symbolism.
- What is your full name? - Cicely Marie Rensselaer.
- What city are we in? - That's a good question.
- Well, what city? - We're in New York, aren't we?
We're in New York.
What are you watching?
She is an urban guerrilla fighting the just war...
...against all us fascist swine.
And she is a chain-jerked...
...pussy of an amoral society. Well, that's what she's just been called.
What is this crap? Am I on some kind of a lie detector?
You know that would be illegal.
Yeah, the whole room's a lie detector. This is a high-end infrared imager.
Well, you were always a good kid...
The register's heat changes in the 8 to 12 micron range.
Thermo-graphic systems equipment, voice analyzers.
Computers and recorders are back there.
Micro-frequency levels indicate psychological stress.
These things should be monitoring Congress and the White House.
Country would grind to a halt.
This stuff's all remote. Covert. You don't hook them up with...
...a bandage on the arm and a sweat meter.
One death is a tragedy. A million is a statistic. You tell me about our wars.
Tell me about three deaths.
Three deaths?
Well?
She's hiding something.
Did you, or anyone you know, participate in the murder of Christopher Van der Veer?
That's one startled kid.
Are you aware of any information...
...about the murder of Christopher and Pauline Van der Veer?
It wasn't a murder, Rebecca.
- It wasn't a murder, Rebecca. - It was an execution.
Jesus Christ!
It was an execution.
It wasn't a murder, Rebecca. It was an execution.
She's lying. She knows nothing about the murders.
Got you. Urban guerilla. Till your goddamn trust fund runs out.
- You're sure she's lying? - Absolutely.
- Great! Now where does that leave us? - Like this just didn't happen.
I got to get straight. What'll you give me for it?
No Hustler pinups!
I don't think this has anything to do with terrorism.
What does it have to do with?
- Paranoia. - Paranoia?
Your people want it to be political. It justifies your existence.
She was a logical suspect.
What weapon did that?
Why hasn't anybody called the press? Especially for such a beautiful job.
They all don't right away.
You wanna a shot?
- Have you got any ice? - Only in my heart.
"God, guns and guts...
"...made America. Let's keep all three."
Why are you a cop?
Oh, I like to kill. It's a habit I picked up and it's...
It's hard to shake.
Killed anyone lately?
Well, I tried to kill a rabbit this morning, but it went down a hole.
What do you make of that?
Well, something sexual, I suppose.
Good night, Dewey.
Good night, Rebecca.
- Where are you staying? - A company apartment.
Got a ride?
- You asking? - Yeah.
No.
You want one?
Not tonight.
Stop! Stop!
Jesus Christ!
Over here! Come over here!
- Come on, man, hurry! - Come on, let's go take a look.
Cesspool! Look at this sewer!
Jesus Christ! Didn't expect that kind of work in here.
How many houses did the Van der Veers have?
Locust Valley, Long Island, the Bahamas...
...Johannesburg, Rome, San Francisco...
...and this little pied-ā-terre.
Peter Van der Veer.
And old John Joachim, himself.
He even looks like God! Except his hands are in his pockets.
They'd better be! He's got about four dead presidents in them.
Mrs. Van der Veer painted this?
- It's such a disturbing picture! - It sure disturbs me.
- She was asking for help. - With her art lessons.
It's not me.
- Got a phone I could use? - On the desk.
What's this?
Mr. Van der Veer's real estate project. Ground breaking ceremony was Saturday.
- Whittington. - Dew.
They found some body parts in the South Bronx.
- What's the South Bronx got to do... - This is hot, man! Meet me at Baldy's.
I'll be right there.
We've got hair files on every race running, plus your basic sub-flavors.
Facial, axillary, chest, pubic.
They're all different. All identifiable.
The one on the left came off the Bronx kidney.
The one on the right was found on Pauline Van der Veer.
Identical.
A hair is like a fingerprint.
And those two came from the same source.
What are they?
Captain, they don't match anything I have. All I know is they ain't human.
And in New York?
South Bronx and Wall Street. What's the connection?
They're both dead.
- Thanks, Baldy. - Thank you.
- See you, Baldy. - Keep combing it.
My God!
- I haven't been in a church in years. - Lost your faith?
No. I got married in one.
Is he still around?
Not anymore.
I was an altar boy once.
An old nun ran the show. Used to beat the shit out of me.
- Take a look inside? - No, thanks.
- What was that? - What?
That sound! Like a baby!
There! Inside!
"The devil on one shoulder, an angel on the other."
- What? - Let's get out of here!
Did you hear that?
Wind.
I haven't been to a place like this since school.
You really know how to treat a woman, Wilson.
This isn't a date, Neff.
What do you think it was?
Kids.
Junkies.
Hallucinations. I don't know.
Have you killed anyone?
Well, I wounded someone.
I shot a rookie in the leg, cleaning my gun in the locker room second week in uniform.
Have you?
Why don't you ask how many?
Thank you.
You sure it wasn't a snake? You know, New Yorkers just ape-shit about snakes.
You see, you don't have to walk them. Cobras, pythons, boas, rattlers.
You got more snakes in the Apple than in the Amazon.
The Medical Examiner sends us dozens to identify.
They're coming up out of the toilets, biting people on the ass.
Course, snakes don't have hairs. You people got something with hairs.
Yes. Any idea what it is?
It's a carnivore. You got yourself some kind of meat-eater. A bear.
A cat. Something like that.
Nature works. We don't. The basic unit's flawed.
Someday, you'll have to blow away like an ash anyway, right?
Tilt, gone.
Goodbye diet dog food!
The hair on the left was found in Manhattan.
The hair on the right, in the South Bronx.
- Canis lupus. - Canis lupus?
Yeah. You want to meet him?
Wake up, boy. We got friends for lunch. Come on. Down, boy.
- Those were wolf hairs? - You bet!
I can't quite place the subspecies.
They were 40-odd, but it's lupine.
Any wild around New York?
No. I wish. We wiped them out around the turn of the century in the east.
They went the way of the Indians. The Genocide Express.
There used to be millions. Now just a few in the Rockies.
- What are you trying to pin on the big bad? - A murder case.
What? A hitman in a fur coat?
Hairs were found on the victim.
With all the psychos in New York...
...you're trying to pin this on an endangered species?
Could a wolf do that?
You're serious?
No way. These aren't animal wounds.
- Could you train a wolf? - Then it wouldn't be a wolf.
Absolutely not.
People kill people. Wolves don't kill people. That's a myth.
And they're too smart. They're like Indians.
Wolves and Indians evolved and were destroyed simultaneously.
Their societies are practically one and the same.
They're tribal. They look out for their own.
They don't overpopulate, and they're superb hunters.
- Do you know anything about NAM? - As in Viet?
As in Native American Movement. Broken Elbow, Wounded Knee?
Very little. They haven't been active in our area.
I doubt Indians have anything to do with this.
Eddie Holt.
- Who's he? - The Crazy Horse of the '70s.
The only one of our local militants left alive...
...who's not making money off of Levi commercials.
I arrested him and his friends before they blew up Federal Hall.
The $24 deed was in there?
He did four years for manslaughter. Killed an Apple.
What's an Apple?
A conservative Indian. Red on the outside, white inside.
He's been out about six months.
Why would he kill Van der Veer?
Maybe they want Manhattan back. Van der Veer owned a hell of a chunk of it.
Motivation's your department.
- Where is he now? - On the steel.
What's that?
High steel. The Indians build most of the bridges and skyscrapers.
- You're looking for Eddie? - Yeah.
- He's up there. - Can you bring him down?
I will. In about four hours.
You want to talk to him? Go on up.
You want to wait, the bar's over there.
- Where are the stairs? - There aren't any.
So you guys do have a head for heights.
Just like we're born alcoholics, huh?
You want to be a hero, you get yourself a hero's job.
- Keeping out of trouble up here, Eddie? - Best I can. I got a good job and good pay.
Parlez-vous politics on the side?
Politics?
You live in the past as much as I do.
Little smoking, little drinking. That's about it.
You keep in touch?
With what? The guy next door, your mother, what?
- Mother Nature. - Sure.
I can swim like a fish and I fuck like a bunny.
- I can shift with the best of them. - Shift?
Shape-shifting. We do it for kicks.
- Oh, yeah? - Turn ourselves into a different animal.
- One night a salmon, next night a deer. - Or a wolf?
Sure.
Or an eagle.
Come on, Dewey. Just flap your arms and jump. It's easy.
Go on. It's all in the head.
That'd be murder.
- You wouldn't kill anyone else, would you? - That's what they pay you to find out.
He works for us.
- Eddie Holt works for ESS? - Indirectly.
He was installing communication equipment for us.
But what's really interesting is that he was on the bridge...
...when the Van der Veer's crossed Sunday morning.
He showed up at about 5:00 a.m., drunk or stoned...
...or maybe it was an act.
Strange bird. He's always up on those bridges.
The guards thought nothing of it.
They watch him through night-viewing devices.
He just sits up there.
Talking to ancestors.
- He didn't come any nearer to the Battery? - Not that anybody saw.
Maybe they didn't recognize him.
Don't do that kind of shit, man!
So you ghouls do get the creeps down here.
What's he have to say?
No, it's what Ferguson will say. He's on his way down.
These Bronx parts are mighty interesting.
They come from eight different people, and each one of them...
Now stand by, every fucking piece is diseased.
Cirrhotic liver, cancerous lung, diseased heart...
Hospital garbage.
A heart, liver, you can't live without them. Why take them out?
So, mutilation...
Well, that's what I'm thinking, too, until Sayad here shows me his card.
Look at this.
Those faint striation patterns on his throat...
...and on his wrists, and on those parts. They're all identical.
They're all alike.
Not cuts.
Tears.
- You mean, like teeth? - Very sharp teeth.
Something out there might be eating people.
- But not eating those. - Right. Right.
Right. They're not eating these. And how do they know they're diseased?
It took me 24 hours with all this shit I got to work with here to find that out.
- Must be smart. - Damn smart.
It's a predator.
One with two feet and a warped brain. Homo sapiens. The worst in the lot.
Cannibalism? People eating people?
Come on, Fergie, those aren't human teeth marks.
Fergie, come on around here, man. And look at these striations in the scope.
Now that's off his wrist. That's from the throat.
- Is it an animal? - Maybe.
Well, it ain't human.
Shape-shifting.
The body's just a physical expression of the soul.
The soul can shift the body into any shape it wants.
Kind of survival of the shiftiest.
- What is that shit? - Reality is just a state of mind.
You change the mind, you can change the...
Fergie! Please!
The striations, man, in the scope.
I just got here. Give me time.
What are you, double-parked or something?
- What else you got? - Well, I got my Bronx liver.
You done a phosphoresus on this?
I missed dinner for this. You want to order a pizza?
No, man, I feel like some ribs.
Dewey, I told you, man.
It's all in the head.
When a wolf pack confronts a moose, their eyes lock.
If the moose stands its ground, the wolves will pass.
If he runs, this tells the wolf he's ready to die.
Jaw pressure: 1,500 pounds per square inch.
Pulverizing bones as big as baseball bats.
Auditory range: 100,000 cycles.
Bat sonar down to earth tremors.
Visual acuity: 20 over 1.2 at 0.5 lumens, starlight.
Range: 100 millimicrons ultraviolet to 2,000 millimicrons infrared.
Heat vision.
Maximum speed: 40 miles per hour.
Yeah, hello, I want to report a fire.
64th Street and Fifth Avenue.
I don't know the number. The building's in blazes. You can't miss it.
It's at 64th Street and Fifth Avenue.
Yeah.
Oh, yeah. I'm Peter. Peter Wolf.
I knew you were here.
Oh, my God!
What is it?
Is it Eddie Holt?
It's all very weird, Dew. And it ain't just New York.
I started out with just Newark and Philly...
...cross-referencing spare parts rooms with their ME reports.
Dew! We got verification on our M.O.!
New Orleans came up with a hair! A goddamn Canis lupis hair.
On a diseased human liver.
And I'm checking other cities.
Do you realize how many people disappear?
Vanish every year without a trace?
I think I know where they're going.
No, man, no.
I don't know, between me and Fergie, last I spoke to him...
...we can't come up with anything that's got the capacity to do all this.
Have you seen Professor Ferguson?
Okay. Solid, solid.
Fergie never went home last night. His mother called up. Freaked out!
What is this?
Maybe we should put out an All Points on him.
- Victim or suspect? - Fergie?
No, man. I know Fergie for five years.
He's weird, but he ain't that weird.
Maybe we should show this to the Commissioner.
Show what? How 'bout some corroboration?
You get slammed into a psychiatric review board...
You know, man, this is... And you can't eat just one.
Right, Doc? Can't eat just one?
- Stand by. - Should see him right now.
Do you know the group Götterdämmerung?
Absolutely. The first connection that I had with Hans Meyer...
...who founded the group, was eight years ago at the Sorbonne.
We've been operating in the States for the past year and a half.
You could say we've harassed the boys who are calling the shots.
- Like the Van der Veers? - Yes. Like the Van der Veers.
- Harass might include assassination? - Absolutely.
Give me a replay on that.
Harass might include assassination?
Absolutely.
Notify Warren and the FBI.
Listen, I hate violence, Dew. But if violence comes...
...l'm ready. I'm a dead shot and a karate expert.
My whole body's a weapon.
I'm not even going to ask.
Ross and the Feds have got a big play.
- We're invited. You don't need a tie. - Don't like parties.
You and Whittington stay here and play with hairs and dead derelicts.
There's a connection.
To Van der Veer? That's a big jump from the South Bronx to Wall Street.
On Sunday mornings, folks like to dress up and go downtown to eat.
Do they? Why didn't they eat Van der Veer?
- He's got to taste better than a junkie. - I don't know.
But do you know how many people disappear daily?
- Hey! Twenty-eight years. - Right, you know. Hundreds.
Nobody gives a shit until it's somebody who'll be missed.
So?
So the APB on Ferguson is coming up goose eggs.
- Who? - Dr. Ferguson.
Listen, what the fuck have you got?
Nothing...
...yet!
- Whit, you take that building over there. - Yeah.
- That'll be a good place. - All right.
Go to the third floor and look for the church.
You should see the church from that side, okay?
- Yeah, all right. - Rig up your mike and I'll be in touch.
Asshole.
Whit, where are you?
Check the light.
Black moon over Manhattan.
I'll tell you, Dew, I'm starting to feel a little foolish out here.
Ain't going to bag no game tonight, man. They're too smart for you, babe.
Probably eating in town tonight. A little white meat, little stuffing...
...brandy, cigars...
They're here.
"They're here."
Hey, where are you going? What the hell are you doing, man?
I'll just take a look.
See you around.
You gonna check the tower?
So? Anything?
Dew? What's going on?
Fucking birds!
Does that thing have a basement?
Getting a little excited, Dew?
Pants getting wet yet?
Goddamn it, Whittington!
1-12-83. Apprehension of terrorist group Götterdämmerung.
Alleged suspects of the Van der Veer slaying.
12:00.
The subjects were defeated with light resistance.
Look at that.
Punch up the arrest.
Check with the boss. See how much time we have before releasing this to the news.
It's not wolves. It's Wolfen.
For 20,000 years, Wilson, 10 times your fucking Christian era...
...the Skins and the wolves, great hunting nations, lived together.
Nature in balance. Then the slaughter came.
The smartest ones...
...they went underground.
Into the new wilderness. Your cities.
Into the great slum areas, the graveyard of your fucking species.
These great hunters became your scavengers.
Your garbage, your abandoned people became their new meat animal.
- But they're only... - Animals? Are you sure, Wilson?
They might be gods.
In their eyes...
...you are the savage.
You got your technology, but you lost.
You lost your senses.
They can see two looks away. They can hear clouds pass overhead.
In their world, there can be no lies, no crime.
No need for detectives.
- They are brothers. - No! They are other nations.
Their world is older.
More finished, more complete.
- They kill. - The sick, the abandoned.
- Those who will not be missed. - More than that.
They kill to survive. They kill to protect.
- Family? - Man kills for less.
But in the end, it is all for hunting ground.
You've seen them, haven't you?
You don't have the eyes of the hunter.
You have the eyes of the dead.
Shit, man! This is all just Indian jive.
We've been watching too many cowboy movies.
Don't even think about believing any of this shit.
It's the 20th century.
We've got it all figured out.
Family.
Hunting.
Territory.
Terrorism.
Terror.
Ground breaking.
Ground breaking ceremony.
In the largest urban renewal project since the early '70s...
...construction on Van der Veer Tower, the luxury condominium complex...
...started today.
It marks the beginning of the rebirth of this city.
They kill to protect their hunting ground.
...South Bronx with a silver shovel...
...surrounded by notable personalities of the tri-state area.
Twenty-eight acres of deserted rubble will be...
Mr. Van der Veer's real estate project. Ground breaking ceremony was Saturday.
Hunting ground.
Sorry, Dewey, I couldn't resist. There's your wolf.
- What's this? - It's your wolf hair.
We found it when the Götterdämmerung group was captured.
Their terrorist motto, "The end of the world by wolves."
We had an informer. We'll get a confession.
Come on, Dewey, let's get out of here.
Dewey, what happened?
Come on, Dewey. Car's over here.
I'll be god-fucking-damned!
Don't do it!
Don't even think.
348 Stock Exchange.
Shit!
Are you sure, Wilson? They might be gods.
Their senses transport them inside of your mind.
The smartest ones, they went underground.
Hunter and prey.
- Nature in balance. - In their world, there can be no lies...
...no crimes. - No need for detectives.
In their eyes, you are the savage.
Dewey!
...eight, seven...
...six, five...
...four...
...three, two...
...one!
No shooting!
No!
What the hell happened up here?
Terrorists.
Götterdämmerung?
Yeah.
Götterdämmerung.
In arrogance, man knows nothing of what exists.
There exists on earth, such as we dare not imagine.
Life as certain as our death.
Life that will prey on us as we prey on this earth.
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