Advertise your product or brand here contact www.OpenSubtitles.org today
Think it's ready for bullets.
Boy.
My head hurts when you get all existential and shit.
This morning the Wi-Fi shuts down for no reason.
Took me forever to get it back up.
Then I waited five minutes for my coffee.
Five minutes!
But you got through it, bro.
You faced it head on and you came out the other side.
I'm proud of you.
On the way home,
I'm in the left lane at the intersection.
I missed the left turn arrow, but then the light
turns from arrow to green.
The car in front of me just sits there.
Doesn't pull into the intersection.
The driver doesn't get that a green light means
you can make a fucking left-hand turn
if there's no oncoming traffic,
even without a fucking left-hand turn arrow.
He doesn't move.
The driver needs the fucking arrow.
People have to be pointed in the exact fucking direction.
When did everyone become so fucking stupid?!
I don't know. Maybe they weren't so smart to begin with.
Nothing works.
All of this just needs to end.
The worst part is,
I just realized,
I hate this fucking coffee.
This coffee tastes like burnt asshole.
Why is this called signature roast?
Who is signing for this shit?
Okay, dude.
It's not about the coffee, bro. It's about Michael.
Don't even bring him up.
Our little lost Antichrist.
Show some respect, bro. He's the son of Satan.
Well, Satan might want to get a paternity test.
We've only been waiting for this dude our whole lives
to put an end to all this bullshit.
Give us a world that's worth the hate.
And what does he say when he gets here?
"I don't know what I'm supposed to do."
Cut him some slack, okay?
Even Jesus needed time to figure shit out.
That's why he went to the desert, bro.
The freaking desert? You're saying that's where Michael is?
- The freaking desert? - No.
I don't know where the fuck he is.
I'm just saying, maybe he needs time
to get his head together, you know?
- Maybe he's looking for a sign. - A sign?
All the guy needs to do is look around.
The world is a raging clusterfuck.
And we need to burn this motherfucker to the ground!
Wipe the slate clean and start over.
This time do it right.
You asked me to remind you
about the Cooperative meeting next week.
Right.
This is the reminder.
Consider us duly reminded. Thanks, Ms. Venable.
Anything else?
You promised to give me more agency in day-to-day matters.
This would be a good opportunity.
What is this Cooperative?
You heard of movers and shakers?
These are the people that make them shake and move.
That visitor you had last week.
Is he a member?
Not exactly.
There must be a part I can play here.
With The Cooperative.
Trust us, that's not your domain, Ms. Venable.
But, for our flight, could you get us those stewardesses
we had last time? From Mile High Escorts?
- Shit, yes. - Yeah.
Do I need to remind you that I was the first person
you hired when this company was operating
out of the back of a van?
I have given you everything I have.
Every second of every day.
I've sacrificed any semblance of a personal life.
Friendships. Family. I don't even have a decent hobby.
Ms. Venable, there's an old saying.
"If you aren't where you want to be,
just look in the mirror."
Are you actually referring
- to my disability? - No.
Your scoliosis isn't the problem, Ms. Venable.
It's the chip on your shoulder.
But we still love you.
Mile High Escorts, please.
Make your own arrangements. I'm done here.
Whatever.
She'll calm down; She always does.
She just gave me a great fucking idea.
A way through all of our Antichrist issues.
Synced and corrected by VitoSilans - www.Addic7ed.com...
You're pushing too hard.
I don't get it; I used to be able to do this.
You're exhausting yourself, dear.
Try to relax. Don't force it.
Witchcraft is an art.
But our powers only develop as fast as our cerebellum allows.
So just give it time.
That's all we're saying.
What if we don't have time?
Michael told you he was coming to kill us all.
We'll be fine as long as we stay here, in this house.
I put all of Robichaux under the protection of an aura shield.
Every witch will be safe,
but any human, demon, or other will find it impossible
to step through our front door.
We can't always control
the energies around us.
Negative emotions, sickness,
toxic people, unwanted spirits.
These things are unavoidable.
Like the clap at Plato's Retreat.
But the Guardian's Chalice
is our first line of defense against all of that.
A bear trap for bad juju.
You just stash one in or around a space
you want to protect...
And even that's not gonna be enough.
Not without this dope-ass mantra to recite before.
That's gonna put all of the power into these jars of junk.
Everyone repeat after me. We'll do it together.
Any unwanted spirits and negative energy,
you must leave now.
Any evil presences, leave this space.
Only light and healing energy is allowed in here...
Negative energies,
you must leave now.
Evil presences, leave this space.
Only light and healing energy is allowed here.
Clearly that mantra's bullshit.
Come on, you can't be that surprised to see me.
Fuck no, you were prophesized, darling.
Up yours.
I told Cordelia what I was gonna do to all of you.
I have deaths to avenge.
Mead?!
How the fuck are you here?!
I was built for this.
Shit!
God. It's him.
We need to leave before Michael finds his way up here.
- No, we need to stop him. - We have to keep you safe.
I don't understand; Our sisters are dying.
There is nothing you can do to help; You are not ready.
He is going to kill you,
and I can't let that happen.
So... we good?
Better than good.
I'll put in a word with my father.
Satan just greenlit your talk show for 13 episodes.
We failed.
Again.
The witches we actually wanted to kill got away.
Cordelia fucked with me and my people, and for that,
all I wanted was to watch her die, but instead...
You're angry, and I understand,
but this is still a victory.
And besides, your destiny is to end the world
with a rain of fire.
Killing those witches ain't gonna do that.
You were the one who said the way to end the world
was with magic.
You said either the witches and warlocks stood behind us
or we kill them.
Well, that was our plan before,
maybe we need to change course.
What does that even mean?
- This guy's a fucking mess. - Yeah.
Don't even get me started on his hair.
Why don't we just focus on getting him to end the world?
Okay. Yeah. Tell him to burn this motherfucker to the ground.
Yeah.
It's time to burn the sucker down,
and you don't need magic for that.
And besides, when you end the world,
you end the witches.
Come on.
Michael, think bigger.
I... I have actually been thinking
about some other possible avenues.
See, that's great. Like what?
Maybe I could run for president.
Okay.
Yeah, that could be problematic for a lot of reasons.
You look barely old enough to rent a car.
Sure, but I could start out as an ambassador
and then I'd become
one of the president's most trusted advisors.
What the fuck is he talking about?
I think I know, and it's not good.
Michael, this sounds like the plot
of The Omen III.
Is this where you're getting your ideas?
Well, I don't know where else to look.
It's not like there's a bunch of reference material
on how to be the Antichrist.
Aw, dude!
Relax! I got this.
Sometimes you have to bring in the big guns to take it home.
Whatever.
Okay. We could go to the guys who
brought me back to you. Maybe they have the answers.
Really? They seem like a bunch of coked out nerds to me.
Rude.
They're very smart, not to mention good-looking.
Okay. We'll go.
Yeah! Boom!
Putin,
Buffett, Clinton...
Bill, not Hillary.
- Kim Pyong So... - General Kim.
Dude controls all the nuclear weapons in North Korea.
I don't get it, how are all these people connected?
That's a list of 100 members
of the world's most powerful organization,
called... The Cooperative.
Yeah, except no one in The Cooperative
would ever admit to being in The Cooperative.
Also, "The Cooperative" is a code name.
The real name... is the Illuminati.
And, actually, this list doesn't exist. Bye, list.
You guys are in the Illuminati?
Well, I mean, were that group to exist, yeah,
you might find some familiar names
on the roster at number 69.
69.
Yeah!
The point is,
The Cooperative controls the money, the arts, the armies,
the thoughts, everything. They run the fucking world.
And everyone in The Cooperative
has sold their soul... to the Devil,
which means that you control The Cooperative.
Daddy set you up, bro.
They've been waiting for the Antichrist. You just tell them
what you want and when you want it, and they have to do it.
They're basically, like, your army, dude.
Wh-What am I supposed to do with them?
If magic wasn't enough to bring about the end-times...
No, no, no, no.
You don't need magic to destroy the world, bro,
not when you have science.
And humanity. People suck.
They're selfish and short-sighted.
All anyone cares about is immediate gratification.
And that's why everything happens.
One shitty self-serving act at a time.
You multiply one bad impulse by seven billion people,
you get global warming.
- You get mass extinction. - Yes.
- You definitely get genocide. - Yes, yes.
I mean, it's sheer numbers, bro.
Math is way more powerful than magic.
We are totally ready to give the middle finger
to the world and restart mankind.
It's the prophecy, bro.
You will reign for a thousand years of fire. It's in the book.
- I... - It's in the good book.
You read this book? Revelations.
You read it?
What's next?
Okay, so Dead Hand is a Russian nuclear defense system
set up for mutual assured destruction.
In the event that a nuclear attack is detected,
counter missiles will be launched
automatically, even if all the commanders on the ground
are dead.
With the people we know in positions of power,
all you need for Armageddon, bro,
are three people in the right places,
pushing the right buttons.
Will it be enough to kill the witches?
Yeah. I mean, definitely.
- Ideally. - Yeah.
All you got to do is talk to them.
God. Are we even safe here?
The Swamp Witch's shack may be a grimy shit hole,
but it's definitely secluded.
The only other person that knows
it's here is dear Misty,
and she's off gallivanting with Stevie.
My poor girls.
She's there.
Something's happened.
God.
It's us, Delia. You're safe now.
I saw them. I saw them, but I couldn't feel them.
I couldn't feel their souls, there was nothing.
I couldn't bring them back. Why couldn't I bring them back?
Shit.
What?
- Um... - What is it?
When we went to the house where Michael was born,
we found out he could do this thing.
After he kills someone,
he can... erase their soul.
He can, like,
burn their soul, so there's nothing left.
They don't go anywhere, they're not ghosts.
They're just...
gone.
How could you keep this from me?
You put all of us in danger!
I told you he was the Antichrist!
- What more did you need to know? - This will do no good.
We can't turn on each other now.
None of this will bring back our girls.
They're gone, Delia.
They're gone.
No.
No, please,
there must be something we can do.
Maybe there is.
Tempus Infinituum.
We don't teach it to our students
because it's considered a myth.
There has never been a confirmed case of a witch
who has it.
A girl imbued with this gift
is said to have the power to change past events,
alter history.
Are you saying this bitch can travel through time?
It sounds preposterous, I know.
I myself dismissed it as mere legend,
until our young Supreme found a road-killed deer
and did not merely bring it back to life,
she reversed the flow of time, returning it to its youth.
If you were able to do this,
you can go back and save our coven.
I'd do anything to bring back our sisters.
There's a catch.
Not only are there no documented cases
of a witch successfully executing this power,
but the tales of those who tried all end in death.
February 1913,
St. Petersburg.
The tricentennial celebration of a Russia
united under the Romanovs.
A family that, to my mind,
marked the historical height of grandeur.
There were feasts, operas.
Fireworks lit up the night sky.
To be a fly on the wall of the Winter Palace
when Olga danced the polonaise with Prince Saltykov.
Five years later,
the history of the world changed forever.
_
Anastasia.
_
Maria. Tatiana.
_
That night, the czar's youngest daughter
tried to stop it with a protection spell.
As it turns out, little Anastasia was one of us.
A witch.
Repellendum malum minatur, ut nobis.
Repellendum malum minatur, ut nobis. Repellendum...
Nyet, nyet.
Repellendum, rep...
Repellendum, rep... Repellendum...
Papa!
Mama!
Her power was not great enough to defy her fate.
Perhaps yours is.
You want to send me a hundred years into the past
to thwart the Bolshevik Revolution?
We need a dry run...
A way to test your power without the possibility
that Michael will learn of it.
He's too powerful.
Besides, the Bolsheviks had already won, dear.
Young Anastasia's survival will be proof of your success.
Hold it close.
Bear with me, dear.
This is an unfortunate case of the blind leading the blind.
Which I'm sure is of no comfort,
considering the risk of failure is death, but here we are.
Close your eyes. Take a deep breath.
Let my voice guide you.
In order to achieve this feat,
you must place yourself in a different state of mind,
so shed your ego, disengage from this realm.
Focus your energy on the jewel.
Use it to place yourself in that night.
See the cellar.
Balneum infinitum.
Dona salui conductus.
Balneum infinitum.
Dona salui conductus.
Balneum infinitum. Dona salui conductus.
It's working.
_
Shh. I'm here to help you.
Do you understand me?
These men are going to kill you and your family.
I know what you're trying to do, but you can't do it alone.
Here, take my hands.
- Don't you want to live? - Yes.
You're gonna live, okay?
_
- Repellendum malum minatur, ut nobis. - Nyet.
Repellendum malum minatur, ut nobis.
I'm gonna try and create a way out of here. Come on.
_
No!
No! No! No!
I have to go back! I have to go.
- Shh. Look at me. - I have to go. I have to go back.
You're here.
You are with us.
- You are safe. It's me. It's me. - I have to go back.
Keep breathing. Keep breathing.
Shh. It's okay.
She almost died, Myrtle.
The damn spell didn't even work.
But it did, Delia.
She was able to go back and pierce the veil.
If she can do that, she can do what's needed.
Our powers are tied.
Mallory will never really be ready until I'm gone.
We're not ready to let you go.
I can't stop thinking about my mother.
I've spent so much of my life
running in the opposite direction of Fiona.
God, I hated her.
For never thinking beyond her own selfish desires,
even when our coven was in danger.
But now here I am...
and I'm not ready to let go either.
We all die, petal.
Some of us make rather a habit of it.
I feel I've made so many bad decisions,
so many wrong turns.
I don't trust myself to know what's right anymore.
You would tell me...
if I've become her.
Just the fact that you're asking me this gives you the answer.
Fiona never questioned anything.
She never took the time
to ponder the impact of her actions.
Never gave a passing thought about those she hurt...
All just... petty obstacles in her path
to her base wants and desires.
My dear Delia,
you are not your mother,
you'll never be your mother,
and the truth is,
even if Fiona walked this earth for a thousand years,
she would be but a flicker, pale in the shadows,
while you light up the sky like a fiery conflagration.
We must invoke the Sacred Taking.
Let my powers pour into her.
It will accelerate the process.
I die so she can be born.
Don't be daft.
The coven needs you.
What coven?
Everyone is dead.
Michael is coming and there's nothing we can do to stop him.
We don't need to stop him.
We simply need to buy some time.
Back in the dungeon again.
I had hoped to avoid the fetid aroma of pubescent warlocks
the rest of my life.
I never thought we'd see the day
when we come to ask for help from men.
It might have been easier if you allowed me to kill myself.
Delia, don't even joke.
John Henry and Behold are potent allies.
Together we can slow Michael down
and give Mallory time to develop her powers.
Hello?
Weren't they expecting us?
You'll be glad to know
I've made arrangements with Mile High Escorts.
Roxy and Cricket will be reporting
to the G5 for your flight.
We can't accept your resignation.
I wasn't giving you a choice.
I can't work here anymore.
Well, that we can agree on.
You can't work for a company
if the company isn't going to be there.
Or most of the planet.
What are you talking about?
The world is ending, Ms. Venable.
In the next year or two...
It is all gonna be gone.
No more company.
No more Roxy and Cricket.
No more anything.
My.
- Are you trying to frighten me? - No.
We're trying to save you.
Okay.
But then why do you two know about it?
Maybe you should have a seat.
Ms. Venable,
have you heard of the Illuminati?
I remember seeing some silly show on The History Channel
about some secret group
that supposedly controlled the world.
It's not silly; It's fo' reals.
They had a little name change recently
for reasons of branding and whatnot.
- The Cooperative. - Sounds better, right?
The Cooperative is on top of this whole end-time situation.
And we have a plan.
We are going to be building these Outposts for people.
The right people, so that we can ride it out.
"Outposts."
Yeah, they're like these little sanctuaries.
But see, there's no one overseeing them.
They need someone in charge.
So, we were thinking that because you have been
so good about keeping us out of trouble...
that you would make a great Administrator.
You would be clear to pick and choose
how you want to run the show.
You're saying I could devise my own rules.
Who's gonna stop you?
You want to make people say the Pledge of Allegiance
in their underwear every morning?
Knock yourself out.
Ms. Venable, you wouldn't have to answer
to anybody about anything.
This place is so strange.
Why would the world's wealthiest 0.1%
choose to wear so much flannel and Patagonia?
They think true power lies in not flaunting theirs.
Idiots.
Well, I just hope I can pry them away from their horseback riding
and hot yoga long enough to convince them to help me.
You got to be kidding me.
I'm just... I'm nervous.
Against all the odds, you found your way to this place
and to the brink of fulfilling your destiny.
And those people in there are quaking
in their overpriced boots because they know they're
about to come face-to-face with true greatness.
You're the one they're waiting for.
They've all pledged their souls
to your father and to serving you.
And they're starving for you to show them the way.
It's time for you to do
what you were put on this earth to do Destroy it.
Esteemed members of The Cooperative.
World leaders, tech giants.
Media moguls and cultural influencers.
The rumors you've heard are true My name is Michael Langdon
and I am the Antichrist.
Humanity is at a crossroads.
The world as it is today...
The poverty, the hunger, the greed and war...
It's no longer sustainable.
The time has come to wipe the slate clean.
Friends, it's time for the apocalypse.
I understand your trepidation.
But let me remind you that you are here
because of the gifts bestowed upon you by my father.
In return, you gave him your immortal souls.
He owns you.
Therefore, I own you.
We speak with one voice and my demands are his.
Now, as you'll see from the handy guide
provided by my associate, I do not intend
to leave you and your families to die.
When fire rains down on the unwashed masses,
you and your families will be safely squirreled away
in a network of luxury fallout shelters.
You already have the resources.
You just bought land on New Zealand's South Island.
You own half of Bora Bora.
The bunker underneath your ranch in Texas
could easily fit 20 people.
With a little construction and some retrofitting,
these sites will make the perfect outposts
to ride out the end of the world.
And with the admission price of $100 million,
only the worthy will gain admission.
Turn to page six, section one.
"Outpost Construction."
Synced and corrected by VitoSilans - www.Addic7ed.com...
Support us and become VIP member to remove all ads from www.OpenSubtitles.org