American Horror Story (2011–…): Season 8, Episode 9 - Fire and Reign - full transcript

As Michael puts a spell on Cordelia he continues toward world annihilation, starting with the witches and warlocks. Queenie and Zoe look for answers with the Voodoo Queen. Madison takes an unexpected trip to an old friend's house.

Think it's ready for bullets.

Oh, 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.


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?
- Uh...

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?

- Oh, 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.


She'll calm down;
She always does.

She just gave me
a great fucking idea.

A way through all of our Antichrist issues.

Synced & corrected by MaxPayne
== ==

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.

Uh, 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.

Oh, come on, you can't be
that surprised to see me.

Fuck no, you were prophesized,

Up yours.

I told Cordelia
what I was gonna do to all of you.

I have deaths to avenge.


How the fuck are you here?!

I was built for this.


Oh, 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.


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.


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.


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.


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.
- Uh-uh.

They're very smart,
not to mention good-looking.

Okay. We'll go.

Yeah! Boom!


Buffett, Clinton...

Oh, 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.



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?

Hmm? If magic wasn't enough
to bring about the end-times...

Uh, 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?

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.

Oh, 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.

Oh, my poor girls.

She's there.

Something's happened.

Oh, 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?

Oh, shit.


- 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...


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, 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.

Oh, 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.



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.

malum minatur, ut nobis.

Repellendum malum minatur, ut nobis.

Nyet, nyet.

Repellendum, rep...

Repellendum, rep...



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.

Repellendum malum minatur,
ut nobis.

Repellendum malum minatur,
ut nobis.

Repellendum malum minatur,
ut nobis.

Repellendum malum minatur,
ut nobis.

Repellendum malum minatur,
ut nobis.

I'm gonna try and create
a way out of here. Come on.


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.


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.

Oh, 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.

Oh, my.

- Are you trying to frighten me?
- No.

We're trying to save you.


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 for 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.


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.


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."