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!