"What sort of warrior is this who battled once and fell?
And now retreats forever. Half alive, half hovering in limbo.
Waiting for the scavengers to swoop
And feast on his necrotic flesh.
The Valkyries, those choosers of the slain.
Regret their dead and mourn the sick spent shell.
That they let live instead."
In our last session you told me that you liked taking pictures.
What kind of things do you like taking pictures of?
Nature.
Wildlife.
Can't be much of that in the city?
Do you ever take pictures of ravens?
- No. - Why not?
You know why.
Talk me through it again.
Talking doesn't help.
The more you talk about your memories the less power they have over you.
Sit.
I write poetry
sometimes.
But you've never written about Afghanistan?
There's nothing poetic about war.
The poetry is in the pity.
I'm going to make a deal with you.
A friend of mine owns a place in the Highlands.
An artist's retreat.
It's going to be empty all month.
You spend some time there.
And by the time you're back I'll have found you somewhere permanent.
If you want things to get better you're going to have to make some effort.
You know what the alternative is.
I'm not going back to that shithole. - It's a good facility.
Look I've seen people recover from this, but never by ignoring the problem.
You go down that road
well, it's not a good road.
Here's the address and the key.
I got you this.
On one condition.
You keep a diary. Pictures, poems, whatever.
Keep track of what you're doing and more importantly what you're feeling.
Hello?
Oh, no.
Fuck.
Fuck!
Sort it out.
Sort it out. Sort it out.
It's all in here!
Sort it out!
"Oh, little bird.
You never saw it coming.
The enemy intangible, but fierce.
The windowpane as solid as the palisade
to fragile bodies, delicately made.
You did not ask for life. You knew not deat's portent.
And yet both uninvited came.
And wreaked their wonders and their terrors both on your frail form.
Now, nothing but a shell.
Shocked, into dust."
Oh.
Sorry about that... buddy.
I couldn't let you do it.
What are you talking about?
We're talking about the birds and the bees.
Or just the birds if you please.
This isn't happening... this isn't happening... you're not real.
Man up, Andrew.
You're not real!
Open your eyes!
While you still have them.
What do you mean?
You know what we mean.
They didn't spare us that day.
They saved us for last.
This makes no sense.
Sense... sense?
Sense, is so subjective.
And these...
these are no ordinary birds.
Do you know what they said to me?
They said the flesh tastes sweeter when the spirit is dead.
Isn't that dreadful Andrew?
Isn't that just terrible?
They're waiting.
They're waiting until we are...
I have to get out of here, I have to get out of here!
- Back to the city. - Aye, go.
Go where you like.
But they will follow us.
They'll follow.
Just like they followed us here.
They're waiting.
They're waiting in the trees.
Take their picture and they'll finish us Lickety split.
Angela.
Fuck... I'm seeing things.
You're in a new environment, it's to be expected.
I don't think you'd expect to see what I thought I'd seen.
What did you see exactly?
My double, my evil twin.
I had a conversation with it.
I just want to be away. I want out.
You know and I know that what you're seeing isn't real...
Have you been writing?
- Some. - Well keep it up...
Take everything out your head and put it on the page.
"Mars, the God of war rejoices
in the acrid redness
of this hell on Earth.
Where earthly joys are echoes of whispers.
Where humanity is... bestial.
Debased by duty.
Here is dust and blood, rust and crimson.
Elements entwining in a Devi's pact
to steaming moats of mud around the leaking dead.
The spewed lava of the living, pooling stagnant in the sand.
What glory is here?
What pride?
What do we prove by fighting?
What do we win by losing everything worth having?
Our blood, our limbs, our minds
our innocence, our faith in some benevolent design.
Our pasts are trampled into scorched earth.
Our futures blighted with the burden of living
after so much death."
And we were doing so well.
You're not real. - Oh, yes. You've been talking to Angela.
Good old Angela.
Ah, she means well, bless her.
But she's never been to war has she?
She's never had to watch as her friend's arm
her friend's leg, her friend's head has blown fifty feet in the air.
She's never had to sit there watching them writhe with a gushing stump
wondering when it'll be our turn.
But I'll tell you something.
It's our turn now.
And we better be ready, soldier.
I want you to go.
We can't leave.
We have to prepare.
For what?
For battle.
No offense, Andrew
but we're not going to kill them with poems.
Eh, especially not any of your's.
No, we're going to need axes, we're going to need guns.
We're going to need to get our head out the sand and get ready to fight.
Fight - fight - fight
fight - fight - fight - fight!
The war is over.
Oh no, it's not.
It isn't over
because they won't be happy until they get their sharp, black beaks
in our soft white eyes.
Stop it!
Hey, if you don't believe me, take a look at your photos.
You'll see them.
Hi, this is Angela.
Hi, hi Angela.
Sorry I can't come to the phone just now
but if you leave a message I'll get back to you after the beep.
Angela, it's Andrew.
Look, I'm in trouble I need...
I need help!
You need to man up gorgeous.
That's what you need.
Believe me now?
Horrible things aren't they?
Half bird, half man.
Monstrous.
And so hungry.
Ravenous even.
Get it? Ravenous. Ravens.
Ravenous ravens.
I must be raven mad!
They're here!
Just take their picture. Get it over with.
I don't want to die.
You will before the night is out.
Hello.
- Hello? - Hello, Angela?
Angela, Angela... angel...
Am I your angel Andrew?
I don't understand.
Or am I one of those things?
You've been good to me.
Have I? Or have I sent you to your death?
I don't understand.
Annihilation breeds hopelessness...
Hopelessness breeds ripeness...
You have walked the forked path...
now join us in the desolate plane where we wait to feast...
The poetry is in the pain...
is in the pain... is in the pain...
I can eat birds. I like birds.
I've always liked birds.
I'll fucking eat a bird.
Come on!
You!
You're a fucking bird.
Come on.
I don't want it.
It's over. All right? That's it finished.
I don't want it any more. I can't take it any more.
Stop doing it, I don't want it. I don't like it.
I don't want to, please leave me alone. Leave me alone, leave me alone.
Leave me alone.
"Putrified inside, the flesh decays
and juicy white eyes see nothing.
Wallow in the open, weakling.
Whine where they can find you.
With claws and beaks and hungry tongues.
Seeking your sweet syrup.
Succumb to your disease.
Fester no longer, give yourself to the horde.
You are best served cold and empty.
They say that they were full then
to the brim.
But they are ready for their third course now."
I wasn't hiding, I was spying.
Scouting them out, looking for their weaknesses. Aye, sure.
But did you find any?
No.
They're even more powerful than we thought.
Do you know what they did?
They turned into ravens and flew right out the window.
Who are they? What do they want?
They're scavengers, lost servants of a dead God.
They stalk the desolate plane
feeding on those doomed to walk the forked path.
They suckle from the foul fluids that flow invisible
from the wounds of lost soldiers.
Lured by the stench of despair
they leech away those last shallow pools of life
and feast on the hopeless meat that's left.
They taste you first, to see if you're ripe so to speak.
We should surrender.
Get it over with.
- What? No, we... - Chicken
Surely a coward would surrender.
A brave warrior faces death when it is his time.
Well, it's not my time.
Did you like my poem? - No, it was amateurish.
Just end it. Do it.
We can't take any more of this.
Come on!
Great way to spend New Year, eh? - Always a let down.
- Here. - Whisky?
- Aye. - Good man.
Cheers!
Happy New Year Burnsie.
And here come the fireworks.
♪ Should auld acquaintance be forgot ♪
♪ And never brought to mind. ♪
♪ Should auld acquaintence be forgot ♪
♪ For the days of auld lang syne. ♪
Why did you join up?
Young, stupid, skint... join the army.
Do you like it?
Fuck no! You?
If I had the balls I'd have shot myself in the foot and fucked off months ago.
Aye?
I'll do it.
Put that thing away you might hurt yourself.
Alright, you got me. Good one.
You can't go yet.
You're not ready.
When you're ready, they'll come.
"To those I leave behind once more, the man I used to be died long ago.
I know that you've mourned for him already.
And so this second death of mine, requires no grieving.
I'm sorry father, for my weakness.
Mother, for my distance.
Laura, I apologise that I misled you.
Tricked you into thinking I would not be changed by war.
In truth, it didn't change me.
It devoured me.
And spat me out a ghost, made only to haunt you.
I've had enough of limbo
and will linger no longer at the fringes of existence.
Remember me as I was before. Forget the shell that I am.
And please, don't mourn me
because I am already dead."
Help!
No, no!
Help.
They're coming for you.
You can't let them. Spare yourself!
Oh, Jesus!
Maybe... maybe I can stop them.
Do it.
Quickly, they're almost here!
Do it.
Murder us, like you murdered them.
- Or I will. - No.
It wasn't my fault.
- Our dear murdered friends. - There was nothing I could have done.
Please, end it.
End it now, please!
Please!
You can go now.
"I am my own worst enemy
afraid to live, and frightened yet to die.
And so, I must defend myself
against myself.
Until my time is nigh.
To lose but limbs and bones, I never lately use.
A walking bomb, that should explode at once
but I refuse."
Say cheese.
No!
This is what we were trained for.
This is what we were born to do.
They think they can get me, but they can't get me.
I'm a solider, I'm a man. A deadly fucking force.
Come on!
Bring them in boys!
Move!
On your fucking knees!
This isn't what...
Come on!
What's the fucking big deal?
They're just sacks of meat!
Christ!
What the fuck is this?
- This is what we do!
Kill them!
What's wrong with you soldier? Come on!
Kill them! Come on!
Pull the trigger soldier!
Shoot! Kill him!
Kill him! End it!
Do it! Now!
I won't. I can't.
I'll do it.
If that's what you want.
But it's not going to be pretty. - No, no, stop!
It's him, or it's you.
What's it to be?
Sure?
You'll do it? Good man.
Good man!
You're up!
Die!
Who are you?
My eye!
They stole my fucking eye!
You!
- You stole my eye! - No, no!
The ravens are coming!
No!
Craig!
You motherfucker!
Craig.
Craig!
Andrew.
Lee!
Craig.
You're going to be fine.
Please, please...
Man, I've got you. Everything's fine.
Andrew.
Please help.
Mate... we're going to be fine.
They'll have us out of here in no time.
Andrew.
Andrew!
Craig!
Subtitles by Michael Brewster