Nandor has disappeared.
Nandor?
No one has seen or heard from him in weeks.
Well, not since Gizmo fired him.
Nandor?
Gave him the old heave-ho from his janitor job.
The blade of the proverbial guillotine has dropped,
and the blood of Nandor's broken dreams
has pooled at Gizmo's oddly-shaped feet.
So, yeah, we've tried just about
everything to find Nandor. Set traps...
Nandor?
... checked the vents, hung posters.
We have even yelled his name very loudly into the wind.
Nandor!
- Shut the fuck up! - Piss off!
You shut the fuck up.
That broody little bitch is missing.
The dude is gone.
And we can't find the fucker anywhere.
Five dollars seems like a lot.
Hey.
Ugh. I can't even look at you. Ugh.
- Any update on Nandor? - Not since you fired him.
- From the job he loved. - What a coincidence.
You have a lot of guts coming in here, you little floating traitor.
Floating away with your little bitch ways.
- Hello. Yes? - Nandor has been located.
It's the Baron, and he knows where Nandor is.
Don't tell him about the reward money.
I thought we might have a bite of lunch while we talk.
Let us see what we have here. Some punch, some jellied blood and, uh...
And, yes, the Sire prepared the finger foods.
My compliments to the chef.
Again, like I mentioned in my email, I don't eat blood,
so maybe just a crescent roll or...
Sire?
Would you play that tape of Nandor, please?
This was recorded by a vampire monitoring the Ether.
Enemies abound. And only I can defeat them.
I used to think ghouls were just the spirits of the dead.
But now I know they walk among the living too.
Oh, dear.
Up and down Wall Street, with their suits and their ties
and their build-your-own-salad bowls.
I watched a snail crawl across the edge of one of those things you use to shave.
- What's it called? - Razor.
- Not a knife. - He's thinking razor.
- What are those things called? - Enough.
A sharpie? No, that's not it...
Well, yikes.
Indeed.
Ugh. He used to be one of the most promising vampires in this New World.
Well, I wouldn't go that far.
But now... he is unrecognizable. Dangerous.
Dangerous, you say?
Yes. We are hearing reports of increasingly erratic behavior.
- Mmm. - Nandor is drawing attention.
Too much attention.
- And attention puts all vampires at risk. - Understood.
He must be stopped.
So, Nandor's here?
Yes, we traced Nandor's dispatches to that location.
Go to New Hampshire.
Retrieve Nandor
and with haste.
Okay, so we made it to New Hampshire.
The dossier said that Nandor is hiding here at the Hancock and Sons Factory.
I mean, it was the factory until you and your Cannon Capital cronies
stripped it down for parts.
Actually, a leveraged buyout is a pretty neat way for a failing business
to reinvent itself for the future...
- Shut up, Guillermo. - Shut up, Gizmo.
Okay.
What the hell happened here?
Stay close, my darling.
Hey, look, what if the H, A and N were missing?
- Get it? Cock and Sons. - No.
Oh. Smells like slow death in here.
- Malaria. - Nightmares.
Little dusty.
- My, my, my, my... - Nan-man, are-are you here?
Nan-man?
There is no "Nan-man" here.
There is only Nandor the Relentless.
Warrior.
Leader.
So, Na-Nandor, have you been here the whole time since you were, um...
Fired?
Yes, I have.
And, uh, why?
Vampire-only explanations. That means not you, Guillermo.
Okay.
When one is burned,
one feels most at home amongst the ashes,
which is why I came here to the husk of the Hancock and Sons factory
amongst others that had been discarded by Cannon Capital Strategies.
But what I found...
oh, what I found...
A bunch of preppy crap?
- "Preppy essentials." - Hmm.
And no. I found soldiers.
Many of the humans left when the jobs did.
Those that remained, they needed... they craved a leader.
A warrior. A commander. And they became my army.
And, uh, where is this army?
- In the field. Awaiting our next strike. - Huh.
Which reminds me, I have a war council meeting now.
You may walk with me, if you must.
Oh. Mind the shirt pins. They're fucking everywhere.
So, Nandor, this army you have raised. What is the, uh, end game?
To conquer. To take the battle, town by town,
from here to the very steps of Cannon Capital itself.
Right. But, um, why?
So that Cannon Capital will rue the day
they cast out their greatest warrior.
Ah! We are here.
Good evening, comrades.
- Fuck my old boots. - Good gravy.
- Uh. So this is your war council? - Yes.
- And who are these chaps? - My reserves.
- And what about them? - My concubines.
- Shit. - Huh.
Now, look, I really need to get on with my strategy session,
unless you have any more questions?
- I do. - No.
Are you okay?
What is he still doing here?
- Well, I drove... - You are the enemy.
An errand boy sent by greengrocers to spy on me.
- Leave. - I'm not the enemy. Tell him.
- See ya later. - Bugger off.
Okay. I will be out here.
Well, it looks like you've had
quite the exciting time here, Nandor.
No one can deny that.
But what say we go home now
before you freak the fuck out of anyone else?
This is my home.
The battlefield.
- Okay. - Hmm.
What is that, Major Briggs? A maneuver from the east?
Perhaps...
I think it's safe to assume he's gone absolutely mad.
Yeah, I don't like using this word, but he is crazy.
Oy! No. You do not get to use that word, you tweed demon.
He's like this because of you.
- But, yes, he is absolutely crazy. - Yeah.
Well, we can't just leave him here like this.
Unless...
Can we?
No, we cannot. He's a danger to himself.
How about we sit him down and say,
"Hey, you're nuts. Stop it. Stop being nuts."
I see someone is well-versed in psychology.
Well, let's just grab him by the
neck and yank him out of this hell box.
We can't. To extract Nandor by force
would be like waking a sleepwalker.
- So, what, then? - There is only one solution.
We role-play the scenario that Nandor has concocted in his mind.
In time, our presence will shine a light on the holes in his fantasy,
and he can follow that light back to reality.
So Shutter Island rules, so to speak.
"We are the hollow men."
Uh. It's worth a shot.
All right.
Okay. I'm in.
Excellent. Fuck off.
- What? - You need to go now.
- Why? - 'Cause he believes you are the enemy.
- I'm not the enemy. - What're you still doing here?
- Bye, bitch. - Okay.
Bye-bye, bitch.
Keep walking, bitch.
Stop calling me bitch.
Sorry, bitch.
Nandor?
Bit busy.
Your army, we'd like to enlist.
- Sir. - What?
If you wish to be in my army,
then you will all address me as "sir."
- Okay, I'm out. - Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Yes, sir.
Good. So, basic training begins now.
Cannon Capital nemeedooni.
- You are clay. - No.
Soft, weak, goopy.
- But I am here to mold you... - Yes, sir!
- ... to make you strong, to shape you. - Whoo.
Cannon Capital chalqoozeh.
I joined the Royal Navy a few years ago,
for the sea, the sun and mainly the sex.
But what I'm finding here is just a lot of marching...
- That's it. - - ... push-ups for no reason...
30,001, 30,002.
... and no one's offered me anything that looks like a medal.
What the fuck? Shave your own head.
Okay. On your marks. Get set. Crawl, worms.
That's it.
I did not realize being in Nandor's fake army would involve
so much of doing what Nandor says.
You call that crawling?
He's very lucky that I have that rule about not killing the demented.
Sure, Nandor's military delusions are a strange little brew.
A dash of memories from his time in Al Quolanudar
and a sprinkle of war movies he's seen over the years.
But heck if I don't wanna take another sip.
Well, maggots.
You have trained and trained well.
Especially you, Colin Robinson.
You are very violent.
Oorah, sir!
Alexa, please pause the music.
- Okay. - Thank you.
Alexa is my director of internal comms.
Okay. So, on to your assignments.
- Laszlo Cravensworth. - Yeah.
- Intelligence. - Obviously.
- Nadja of Antipaxos. - Hmm.
- Signal corps. - What is that?
Never mind. Who gives a shit.
Colin Robinson.
- Come on, logistics. Come on, logistics. - Logistics.
Yes! Yes.
Now, listen up. Tonight is a proud night.
Together we will take back the honor, the power,
the respect that Cannon Capital have so cruelly tried to take away.
Okay. So this is a pit of shit.
Can we not just make Nandor think that this stupid imaginary battle
has happened already?
- And how do we do that? - I know. Shoot me.
It's not a real gun, Colin Robinson.
It's a decorative firearm from the outdoorsman section.
All right, then. Whack me with it. Hard.
All right.
Oh.
- Again. Harder though. - Really?
Yes.
Oh.
How is this going to help with the Nandor thing?
What Nandor thing?
Hold on. I think I've got it.
I've thought of a way that Nandor will think that the war is won.
A ruse de guerre
that will make the Trojan Horse look like a witless child's papier-mâché.
Fuck, I'm good.
Now all I need is the adequate supplies from this shit-forsaken town.
Wait. You guys can leave,
but I don't want Nandor to think I'm a deserter.
I ain't no deserter.
You live a thousand years,
and you think you know what betrayal is,
what horror is.
Awaiting further orders, sir.
But then in a single instant,
you find out you haven't the slightest idea
what man is truly capable of.
Oh, man. That sounds rough out there, Nandor.
Listen, I've gotta move on to the next caller,
but did you wanna request a song?
Yes, I would like to request "Scarborough Fair" by Simon & Garfunkel.
No. Let's limit the public broadcast.
The brass back home are getting a little squirrelly.
But to whom am I supposed to orate?
Well, me, you big lummox.
All right.
Now, you were saying something about the horror.
You know what, my darling?
It feels like an eternity since we've had some time alone.
Oh. It does. It does. So what is the plan, my dark lover?
Well, you'll see. You'll see.
I'll see?
Yes. What's the problem, my darling?
I'm hearing a lot of this "you'll see" these days.
I'm hearing "you'll see" about the plan to fix Nandor's melted brain.
I'm hearing "you'll see" about the sex doll monster thing
that you're creating in the basement.
Well, the sex doll monster thing...
not a sex doll... is part of the grand plan.
Which is?
Complex scientific experiments that I don't think you'll understand.
Oh, so you're calling me stupid.
Well, of course not. That's a stupid thing to say.
- No. Whoa, whoa. No. - Piss off.
Nadja, what I meant to say was something
with the identical sentiment that wouldn't piss you off.
- Well, it did! - Shit.
In my empire, Colin Robinson, we will be free.
Free from liars,
from the cowards who say you are not a good culture fit.
Yeah, I dig that, sir. I hear that.
Hey.
I thought I said this person was not welcome here.
You sure did, sir.
Yeah, I know, but if I keep charging my
phone in the car, it'll kill the battery,
so I'm just looking for an outlet.
Don't mean to disrupt your whole "war thing."
War thing? This is a war. No winky fingers.
Okay, enough.
Private Robinson, would you give us a moment?
You got it.
- Traitor. - What did you say to me?
I'm sorry. I'm done playing along with this fantasy.
I'm not the enemy, and you know that.
You're just pissed.
You're pissed that I'm killing it at Cannon.
You're pissed that... that you weren't a good culture fit.
Lieutenant Alexa, tell this piece of shit to leave.
Now playing "Leave" by JoJo.
Wait for the chorus.
Well, I'm not the only one kept in the dark
by their lover's extracurricular activities.
So you admit you keep me in the dark.
Well, no more than you keep me in the dark.
I haven't got a fucking clue what you get up to at Cannon Capital.
Laszlo, there is nothing to tell.
It is a job. You show up, you pretend to do shit, and then you go home.
Why the fuck would you wanna do that?
Because it is better than sitting at home and twiddling with my tits
while you are downstairs locked up
in the basement with your meat parts!
All right, all right. All right, my darling.
I think I know what's going on here. Give me your hand.
I need to apologize.
I'm listening.
Clearly, the reason for you being so overemotional
is because it is your time of the month.
The dead do not menstruate!
Fuck me.
Bloody hell, darling.
Oops.
* Get out right now *
* It's the end of you and me *
I can't believe you're blowing this one little setback
- so out of proportion. - I was humiliated!
Do you even know what loyalty is, Guillermo?
Do I know what loyalty is?
Uh. Yeah, I was blindly loyal to you for 15 years.
Until you got rid of me.
I never got rid of you.
I protected you
even through all the fuckups, and the time you forgot to buy glitter,
and the, "I wanna be a vampire.
No, actually, I don't want to be a vampire."
The time you nearly killed the Baron twice!
Through all that shit,
I was loyal.
I may have done a lot of things, Guillermo,
but I never got rid of you.
Do you think I felt good firing you? I didn't wanna fire you.
But that's how things are in the real world, the human world.
I had to do it.
I used to be a human before I was a vampire, in case you forgot.
I never betrayed my friends, my comrades in arms. Never.
Maybe some of the wives, but you know, it was a different time.
I'm sorry. I didn't...
I didn't know that the janitor job was so important to you.
Well, it was. It was my purpose.
My purpose used to be raising you to become a great vampire.
Until you pussed out and found a new master in Jordan.
Jordan is not my master...
and he doesn't own me. And I'm not there at his...
Hi, Jordan. Yeah, I can talk.
No, I'm not busy.
Uh. That should be in your inbox.
I could actually bump it. The bump master.
Yeah.
- Fireworks. - What?
You were angry at me for not telling
you what we're out here looking for.
It's fireworks.
And I didn't tell you because, again,
I wanted to be the hero that swoops down and saves the day.
Laszlo, I do not need you to always be the hero.
My darling, you are the funniest, most clever, sweetest
and most beautiful woman in the world.
Not just Staten Island, the world.
And I'm not even mentioning the ten out of ten pussy. You deserve the best.
That is so sweet.
Hmm.
- Laszlo. - Yeah?
I think I may have found your fireworks.
Really? Where?
There, in this shop just here across the street
with the rows and rows of fireworks in the window
and the sign that says, "Fireworks, fireworks."
Well, that's perfect.
How did I miss that, my darling?
- I don't know. - Right.
You just let your husband take care of this. Stand back.
No wonder no one buys newspapers anymore.
- Toss it again. - Okay.
Open!
- Shall we? - Yes.
Uh-huh.
Okay. Well, I'll just cc Lisa. You got it. Bye.
I, too, was once cc'd.
You know, I do know what
it feels like to lose your purpose.
I used to wanna be a vampire so bad
it guided every choice I made.
I mean, don't get me wrong. I'm happy I'm a human again, but it was hard.
It was hard waking up every day with that not being the goal,
to be a vampire.
Well, I am already a vampire, so that only sort of applies.
Right. Well, the point is, I think I found a new purpose.
You will too, somewhere.
But maybe right now our purposes
are taking us in different directions,
and that's okay.
Perhaps you are right, Guillermo.
I am a warrior, but maybe this is not my fight.
You don't just talk to Nandor, man.
You know, you listen, you dig.
- I'm a little man. Just a little man. - Yes, I know you are.
- But he's a great man. - Nandor, we have news from the front line.
Guess what?
Your troops have executed your battle plan perfectly.
The enemy have been lured into a trap.
There are casualties. We expect more.
You know, we can all stand down, because he's decided to come home.
- What? - What?
- He what? - What is the fucking point?
Yes, I, um... After careful consideration, I've come to the realization
that perhaps I was looking for battles where none need exist.
- You don't say? - I think it's best for everyone
if I just come home.
Plus, you know, I miss my coffin. I miss my favorite sword.
There's nothing like...
Oh. What the fuck is that?
- Oh. No, it's not. - It's an attack. We're under attack.
Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes!
- Nandor. - Laszlo, we were done with this.
- Fuck. - Wait. Nandor, wait.
Wait, Nandor.
- Lay low. They may try to flank us. - Hit the deck!
No, Nandor, it's a bloody ruse.
It's not real, you idiot.
Make it stop. I can't take it.
Somebody help me frag myself.
Get a hold of yourself, man.
The fighting seems to be situated by the
Shipley Dollar Barn on Piedmont Street.
It's no good, my darling. He's still too bloody crackers.
Well, isn't it a good thing then that I have a plan B?
Ah. Silver chains.
- Get out of that. Stand back. - Hey! Release me. Mutiny!
Get in there. You brought it on yourself, Nandor.
Nice work, my darling.
Shotgun.
Okay, guys, I forgive you.
It was the heat of battle, and you panicked and you made a mutiny.
- Shush. - Untie me.
- It's the coppers. - It is. Shit.
- Great. - Floor it.
No. I don't wanna make a bad situation worse.
What's your problem? Put your foot down, you prick.
Okay, I'm just gonna pull over.
- Useless. - I wasn't even speeding.
Just everyone be cool, and I'll do all the talking.
Gizmo, there's a fucking vampire hog-tied in the trunk.
- Hello. - Oh, yeah.
Hello, Mr. Officer.
What seems to be the problem,
apart from the fact that my large wet bosom won't stop sloshing around?
You, uh, got a left taillight out there, son.
Yeah, I've been meaning to get that fixed. Sorry about that, Officer.
It's all right. I'll take care of this.
I say, Officer,
you know, you remind me of a cross between a young Paul Newman
and a man I'm about to fuck.
- Get out of the car. All of you. - Yeah. Absolutely.
- Hands are going over... - Colin, you need to wake up.
- ... my head. - We gotta get out.
What are you doing?
We are regular human travelers.
There is nothing out of the ordinary here.
So you have nothing to be concerned about.
What the...
Whoa. What the fuck is that?
- Who are they? - Uh...
Well, that's nothing out of the ordinary, regular human.
What do you mean? They're coming straight for us.
What is happening?
- Gizmo, you talk to them. - What? Wh... No.
- Go handcuff yourself to a tree. - Yes, ma'am.
Wait, so Nandor's army is... It's real?
Wait. So he wasn't crazy?
He is not. He...
- Shit. He'll... - Unchain me.
- Unchain me! - Sir, yes, sir!
Just grab it with both hands and yank it.
Watch the hair.
- There you go. - Yes. That's it.
Well, yeah. Of course the mannequins were just for practice.
Wait, all this time you thought my army was just a bunch of mannequins?
The fuck?
- At ease. - Yes, sir.
Are they hypnotized?
No, I'm just a really fucking good general.
Yeah, you are.
- Sir. - Major Briggs.
- You're leaving? - Yes.
I am leaving the field of operations.
My fate is calling me in a different direction.
What?
South on the I-93 towards the Verrazano Bridge.
We may even cut through Jersey if there is traffic.
General, what do we do now?
Good question, O'Hara. You will do what you must always do.
You will go forth and follow your purpose.
What is your purpose?
Fuck if I know.
Be it continuing the fight or, you know,
finding new jobs.
- Where? - Somewhere.
Any more questions?
Is there anything, like, more specific? Like an actual thing we could do?
Um.
- Burn down a Walmart or some shit? - Yeah!
- No. No, don't do that. No. - Ooh. Ooh. I've got it.
What is that nearby college that sends
most of its graduates to Wall Street?
- Dartmouth? - Yes. Dartmouth.
Cry havoc and unleash the dogs of war on those nerds!
Yeah!
You heard the man.
- Mount up. We ride for Hanover! - Ride for Hanover!
This is insane.
Get those nerds. Get those nerds. Get those nerds.
Wait for me.
- You're gonna need logistics support. - Not you, Colin Robinson.
- Oorah! Oorah, you idiots. - Shit.
Come on! Let me...
Shit.
Still got it.
Go get him and put him in the trunk.
- Synced and corrected by naFraC - - www.addic7ed.com -