American Gods (2017–…): Season 3, Episode 4 - Episode #3.4 - full transcript
We are Blood Death
and this is dedicated to the All-Father.
Resurrecting a god isn't
as easy as you'd think.
What about this?
The gris-gris Samedi gave me.
Would this work on him?
Blood... infused with love.
Two drops.
The reality that
I am acknowledging
is that this place
sucks donkey dick.
Judge Trakes appointed me
Miss Wells' conservator.
Hello, darling.
Your wife's capacity...
-Oh!
...may be diminished,
but her portfolio is robust.
-Distract.
Misdirect.
Make them give a fuck about
what we say is important.
Come find me, Shadow Moon.
The Founders believed
in a creator
who endowed every individual
with equality and freedom.
America was conceived
around that truth
and the Declaration
was an oath to that creator.
A solemn promise
that this new government
would ensure the divine rights
of its citizens.
Life, liberty,
and a shot at happiness.
But the new government
was overrun with debt.
Furious debate roiled
the Continental Congress:
God-given rights
versus materialism.
Commerce carried the day
and the young country
was on its way to becoming
the richest corporation
in history.
In the process,
America betrayed its oath
to the creator.
Economic growth was spurred
by the whip
and remained in the hands
of the slave masters
and their investors.
The wealth generated
by King Cotton was everywhere.
The nation now prayed
at the altar of commerce.
But the spirit did not abandon
those who had been enslaved,
who brought their African gods, the Orishas,
with them
to the New World.
I call upon the Orishas,
of the land of the ancestors.
Show the people
that I is not me!
I is we!
And we is power.
You are my beloved.
I am Oshun.
I will uphold you
in your courage
to carry life forward.
I am Yemoja, the water.
When the burden is too great,
you rest in my arms.
I am Aye,
the earth beneath you.
You bleed upon me
and I bleed upon you.
The time will come
when we rise together as one.
Justice does not sleep.
Righteousness comes
from the hand of the divine.
The power of the master
diminishes.
Those of us who have
been enslaved
are the sole force
raised from the dust.
May the optimism of tomorrow
be your foundation for today
and I is we,
and we is power,
and we are powerless
if we just become nothing
but you and they.
May peace be in your hearts
and may Orishas lead your way.
With the blessing
of the One Love...
We shall overcome.
We shall overcome!
We shall overcome!
What'd you do to her?
Hm?
I said, what the fuck
did you do to her?
Nothing.
I am here because of what
that bitch did to me!
-I don't believe you.
-There's a phone--
No, wait, wait, wait, wait,
wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!
What the hell
is wrong with you?
I told you:
Bilquis fucked me up.
I need her to unfuck whatever
it is that she did to me.
No, no, wait, stop.
Stop, stop, stop, stop!
Stop! Just stop it!
I think I might have figured
out what went down here.
So talk. Fast.
The last person that Bilquis
hooked up with here
was... Bill Sanders.
The Bill Sanders.
If you are going to lie,
make it believable.
I'm telling you.
He was here.
Billionaire philanthropist, tech guru,
and founder of Levitech Computing Systems
was meeting Bilquis
here on the low.
But homegirl has a way
of making people... disappear,
from time to time.
He never left,
which is why...
...his phone is still here.
Still doesn't explain
where Bilquis is.
You asked me what happened.
I am enlightening you.
Gimme the phone.
What?
No, no, no, no, no, no.
I am coming with you.
I don't think so.
Give me the fucking phone.
I told you, I need Bilquis.
You fucking dipshit!
Whatever she did to you,
you probably deserved it.
I'll find her on my own.
You have 17 unheard
messages. First message...
Hi, Dad. Hope you're
getting my messages.
Is everything okay?
Call me. Please.
Alexandra Sanders.
Bill Sanders'
eldest daughter.
Assistant professor at Columbia
according to Sanders' contacts.
Now, she has left
10 voicemails,
each one more desperate
than the last.
If Sanders had
a security detail,
so do the heirs who
sprang from his loins.
Yeah.
We lean on one of his
daughter's body men,
they'll give us Bilquis.
Gold star for Nancy Drew.
That's for lynching me,
peckerwood.
I already apologized
for that.
Apology not accepted.
Not now.
Not ever.
I am not alone.
I choose to believe that.
I have to believe that.
I am not alone.
I am not alone.
I choose to believe that.
I have to believe that.
I am not alone.
Sanders was a regular.
Been seeing her once a week for over a year now.
The question is,
who's she working for?
Your great-great-grandmother?
Oh yeah, she was a personage.
She was the first black woman
lawyer in Louisiana.
Mm-hmm.
There's lots to learn here.
Hey, Damon.
Where you at?
Damon?
Come on over here before
I kick your poo butt.
Papa!
Papa!
Papa! Papa!
Pst. I don't suppose you've
got a smoke on you, do ya?
Oh, I wish.
Three-pack-a-day girl
over here.
When I got throat cancer, my doctor said I had
-to change my lifestyle.
-Hm...
So I switched to menthol.
Hm! Nice.
Um, so, once we've jumped
through all of the hoops,
do you know when the fuck
we finally get outta here?
One of death's
great mysteries.
I wouldn't spend
a whole lotta time
trying to figure it out
if I were you.
Or you'll end up like that
sorry son-of-a-bitch.
This guy?
I died summer of '93.
He was like that then.
Nothing's changed since.
Yikes.
Attention. Those with red cards,
please make your way
to the designated area...
Oop, oop!
No.
Red card holders only.
You haven't by any chance
seen a guy in here:
super tall,
red hair, big mouth,
bad attitude,
Irish-ish?
I don't believe so.
But I'm not much
of a people watcher.
Oh, you would remember this guy
if you saw him, trust me.
He's pretty hard to miss.
So, you're into
the bad boys, are you?
Oh no, ew.
No, that's not what
it was like at all.
Oh, no.
You were just
talking like...
...maybe he's
someone special.
Oh!
No, no, no!
Uh...
Actually, he... is
the guy who killed me.
Yup.
Attention.
Those with red cards,
please make your way
to the designated area
at this time.
This Hutchinson pinhead thinks
he can get one over on me.
Ha. I've forgotten
more about long cons
than he'll ever know.
Hacked into
his business accounts.
Conservator, my ass.
He's a vampire.
Preying on the elderly
and infirm.
Never mind defaming
the Eleusinian mysteries.
-Okay.
Hello, Cayman Islands.
Bingo.
Man, this guy's
got it all figured out.
Offshore accounts,
money being siphoned from
the client trusts into...
Firewall won't
let me see where.
If you want proof of the
stringing-him-up-by-the-balls
variety,
I'm gonna need access
to his computer,
like the actual hard drive.
A crafty pinhead, he is.
Fine.
A home office
B-and-E it is then.
Perhaps a father and son
two-hander. Ha-ha.
Game on.
Now, where's that waitress?
I am fucking starving!
All right.
There's the daughter's driver.
And the follow car.
See?
Aren't you glad
you brought me along?
It's alright, buddy.
Little detour.
Well, Gilbert, the excitement
appears to be concluded
and this poor man's remains
are about to be given
to the furnace,
so let's clean it up
real good in here.
Poor fella.
That is no way for a soul
to be leaving this world.
Someone oughta be
holding a high thought
for that child of God.
Knock yourself out, Gilbert.
Great. Great!
A brick!
And no bars.
Whatever you're looking for,
you won't find it in that.
We like our phones
empty and dumb.
Like you two idiots.
Where is she?
Burner phones.
Disposable.
Untraceable.
I know wireless
isn't your jam,
but... it'll keep us
under the radar.
We'll be so off the grid
not even the assholes
at the NSA
will be able to track us,
and they track everybody,
just 'cause.
I don't think phone numbers
actually have that many digits.
21, to be exact.
Three is a very important
number in Norse mythology,
signifying royalty.
Seven is of equal stature,
representing completeness.
Do the math.
Three times seven is...
Got it.
Hello?
It's for you.
That's a secure line.
Well, apparently not,
dickhead.
Now, shut the fuck up.
Hello?
Shadow?
Yeah.
Your father would like a word.
Hello, my boy.
Okay, I am kind of
in the middle of something.
I need you for a job
up here in Massachusetts.
Should take about
three hours to drive up?
Not happening.
Okay...
we'll talk after
I find Bilquis.
No luck?
Looks like we'll have to find
another way to rescue my bride.
There's no reason for this
to turn adversarial.
So, just give us the location
of where she's being held,
you get to go about
your business.
Who are you guys?
Okay, here is
the deal, shithead.
You are going to tell us
what we need to know,
or we are going to peel
your fucking skin off
with fucking kerosene.
You dig?
Kerosene?
Seriously?
I'm gonna need you
to dial it back
to about a two.
I'll handle this.
You really have no idea
who you're dealing with.
You ever hear of
the alien agenda? No?
'Cause you are so far
out of your league,
you don't even know
what game you're playing.
You need to start talkin'
or you're gonna start
to see some shit
that you really
can't unsee.
What's that stuff
spraying out of his head?
You know what?
Give him a taste.
Ever been probed, Mark?
You know, grabbed up by the Greys, Tall Whites,
you never remember
a thing, but...
...his kind.
Yeah, that shit
you never forget...
...no matter
how hard you try.
We'll be starting with
the reproductive system.
No, no, no!
Wait, wait, wait, wait!
She's in Hoboken!
She's being held, um...
...in a building
behind the, uh,
behind the lumber supply!
Let's go.
We're behind schedule on the
initial components for SHARD.
-Why?
-It's not our fault.
We're ready to alpha test
baseline algorithms.
Is that the sound of you
covering your anus?
There's a problem with our
software suppliers, Levitech.
What kind of problem?
Total chaos in the boardroom.
They're doing their best
to keep it under wraps,
but we did some digging
and William Sanders is MIA.
Investors catch wind, the Dow craters.
How exactly does
one of the most
powerful men on the planet
go missing?
In a Manhattan call-girl's
apartment, apparently.
As to how, I wouldn't want to speculate.
-As far as contingency--
-Get the fuck out.
Okay.
Show me Levitech Server
Farm Number 37.
Hoboken, New Jersey.
Oh, for fuck's sake.
I should've known.
Crazy fucking bitch.
Somebody's handsome.
Peaceful rest.
Dear child...
could you please hum
more quietly?
Do you, do you know what
song this is? It's like...
Anybody? Does anybody
know what this song is?
Please? It's like:
Somebody please tell me
what this fucking song is.
It's Schwieger's
Requiem of Balder.
-What are you doing here?
-Coffee.
No one in the back
ever makes a fresh pot.
Can you please tell me
what this song is
that was playing in
the background all the time
when I was a kid
in the movie thing?
It must mean something.
-Like what?
-I don't know.
-You're the Purgatory guy.
-Guide.
-I'm the Purgatory guide.
-Okay, good.
If you weren't such
a know-it-all, and maybe
you'd hung around
a little while longer,
you might've found out more.
-Like what?
-You have a powerful destiny.
Whatever the fuck that means.
It means you attract
powerful enemies.
Well, yeah. I mean,
I was killed by a war god.
It's a pretty fucking
powerful enemy.
-Okay.
-Okay, well,
what does it have to do
with the song?
I have no idea.
Well, is it like, uh,
his theme song or something?
Like a war god fight song?
Did anybody else see that?
Hi.
Hi.
There was
a kink in the...
...hose. And then...
Where did you...
Where did you come from?
Um, Purgatory?
Uh...
-You must be cold.
-Yeah.
Yeah.
Shit.
I'm alive.
Yes, ma'am.
I believe you are.
-Is this mine?
-No.
Or maybe.
I can't really tell.
I... think it's from the body
that was here.
Oh. Tall guy? Red hair?
-Yeah.
-Oh, that's Sweeney.
Um, do you happen
to know where he went?
Took him away.
Little while ago.
What was left of him anyway.
They're cremating the remains.
Okay, so he's dead.
Like, actually dead.
Completely dead.
And it's my fault.
Huh.
No, no, no.
I didn't kill him. Heh.
Just, um...
Just couldn't bring him
back to life,
which I should've
been able to do.
But I didn't.
It's a long story.
Well, I wouldn't be too hard on yourself.
Like the book says,
there's a time to be born
and there's a time to die.
Right. But just because
somebody wrote it in a book
-doesn't mean it's true.
-Fair enough.
I guess I'm just someone who's inclined to believe that wherever he is,
that's where
he's supposed to be.
Watch it,
you fucking moron.
-I'm a fucking moron?
-Fuck yeah, you are.
This is a home invasion
with no specific intention
of terrorizing
the inhabitants,
although I wouldn't mind
if the bloodless milksop
of a husband gets
dirtied up a little, huh?
He just needs to see
his world crumble
and I just...
need his computer.
-What the fuck
is wrong with you?
-This.
You listening?
Yeah.
-Mm?
-Yeah. You got it.
You'll have it in 24 hours.
-Good.
-But brother, I need a favor.
Well, say it.
Every time that shit-stain
Johan comes in here,
he causes a problem.
I want that fucking ape
out of here
or he bleeds.
I'll handle it.
So, what's his story?
Legend.
He rode a '61 Flathead
up Whiteface Mountain
in the blizzard of '78.
100-mile-an-hour winds,
sheet ice three feet thick.
Come on, bring it!
Bring it! Bring it!
No one else since
has even come close.
Auditioning new bandmates,
Johan?
They say it ain't possible.
With Wednesday,
rules just don't apply.
Gentlemen!
Come on, come on!
This is all a... a big
misunderstanding,
isn't it, Johan?
You didn't mean
any harm, did you?
-No.
-No, he means no harm.
Anyway, as far as I know,
isn't it true that
the party doesn't start
unless a little blood
has been spilled, huh?
That's better.
Come on.
Come on, Johan!
Innkeeper, drinks
all around, huh?
Oh, yeah!
Try not to kill
the help, my boy. Huh?
Their adulation sustains us.
I sometimes forget
the rules, okay?
I understand.
You're still grieving
your bandmates.
They were my... brothers,
my family.
And I will find whoever fucking killed them,
and I will skin them alive.
Did you kill them?
No, I... Why would you
ask me that? No!
Oh, my gentle, sweet,
blood-drinking fire-bear.
The facts are these:
you frequently
do go ape-shit,
and in such states,
do not remember
what fell deeds you do.
It could've been
an accident.
Anyone could kill that band.
-Many want to.
But, remember, huh?
We need...
all the disciples that
your music can gather.
So, you must form a new band.
I did not kill them!
Listen to me.
Go the fuck home.
Sleep it off.
And then, do what
I fucking tell you.
Okay?
Yes, All-Father.
I cry to my god,
but his throne is empty!
To the god in whose name
we stand tall!
Hail Odin!
Familiar faces.
I have a close
strategic partnership
with Levitech,
and I agreed
that you could
accept worship
from Mr. Sanders
with the provision
that you did not
facilitate his sacrifice.
What transpires between
my worshippers and I
is none of your concern.
Let's... turn a page
on the past, then.
You and me.
New god... to old goddess.
If you fully commit
to the new gods,
your example will persuade
many in the old alliance
to reject this war
looming over us all!
Wednesday can't go into battle by himself.
It's always
the same speech with you.
I'm sorry.
Our technology will...
revolutionize
man's relationship
with the divine.
New gods and old gods
will have a direct interface
with the minds of our worshippers.
I don't believe you.
You're not getting
out of here.
Unless Bill Sanders miraculously appears
and clears up this misunderstanding.
We both know that
is not going to happen.
I am trying
to save your life.
I'm not alone.
I... I have love.
Haven't you come to the end?
I have love.
I have love.
I hope it's not too painful.
Next steps?
If she still refuses
to give up Sanders' whereabouts,
we can't risk her becoming
an intelligence asset
to someone else.
Pressed Rat and Warthog have
closed down their shop.
They didn't want to,
'twas all they had got.
Selling atonal apples,
amplified heat,
and Pressed Rat's collection
of dog legs and feet.
-Hey!
-Stop!
Get out of the way, asshole!
Disgusting
dirty old man!
Nice cock, asshole!
Daddy's calling.
- Hello?
-Oh, Shadow, thank God.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.
Y-you all right?
I'm fine, but some whack-job
berserker named Johan
blew up the biker bar
while your dad was inside.
-Is he...
-Sadly, they left...
-He's fine.
-...telling no one good-bye.
He's not fine.
He's okay physically,
but his head is a mess.
...Warthog a striped tie.
We're checking him
into a hospital now.
It's like a...
a special hospital.
A nuthouse.
It's about fucking time,
though, really, right?
-This is serious!
All right, all right,
all right...
-Are you okay?
-More or less, but...
Okay, well, listen, listen.
I, um...
I-I've got a situation
on my hands here, but...
I know you and your dad
have beef,
but I've never seen him
like this.
You need to come.
-Please.
-Yo!
Tank's full.
Look, um, he's safe
right now, yeah?
Yeah, I guess, once
they get him into a straitjacket
or something.
Do whatever you can.
Make sure he's safe.
-We'll talk tomorrow.
-I really think you should...
I-I gotta go. Okay? Uh, we'll
talk as soon as I can. Bye.
A monkey shat in my pants.
Everything's gonna be okay.
You are exquisite.
A jewel.
Your chocolate skin.
-Your hypnotic gaze.
-Yes.
Tell me more.
Mysterious.
Exotic.
You tempt me, you devour me.
You wicked beauty.
I have to have you,
to be inside you.
-Be inside you.
- Worship me!
You were made for me,
my goddess.
You were made for me.
Be silent!
I am not what you say.
I was not made for you.
I was before Shiva,
I was before Aphrodite,
before the word.
I am not alone!
I knew and was known.
I was...
My name was...
My name was...
Who are you?
I know you as you know me.
I... is we.
Oshun.
Look at yourself.
See your sweet, true self.
See the truth in who you are.
And who you have always been.
I am not alone.
You are my beloved.
I will uphold you
in your courage
as you carry life forward.
You are not
who they say you are.
You are whoever
you want to be.
I am she who has always been.
I think we broke her.
Oops.
Oh, my God.
Hmm. Tasting.
What a concept.
You know, this ain't exactly
according to regulations.
So, this is him?
Yes, ma'am.
All of him somehow
fits in here.
You know, I hope
you don't find me
too forward, but, um,
meeting someone like you
kinda gives a man faith.
In what, I...
can't exactly say.
Yeah, me neither.
You know, I think
it comes down to just
believing in somethin'
we can't see
'cause we know it's there.
That's what keeps us going.
Maybe so.
Well, thank you.
I'm-I'm gonna,
I'm gonna get going.
Where to, if you
don't mind me asking?
I'm not exactly
sure yet but, um...
I've gotta go see a man
about a song.
-Well, good luck.
-You too.
Señorita.
He say this is where we turn.
You go more norte, si?
Uh, si.
Norte,I think.
Okay.
Señorita, tengo cuidado.
You too. Thanks.
Hey!
Hey!
You're not going north
by any chance, are you?
Sure as hell am.
-Where you headed?
-Cairo, Illinois?
Hop in.
and this is dedicated to the All-Father.
Resurrecting a god isn't
as easy as you'd think.
What about this?
The gris-gris Samedi gave me.
Would this work on him?
Blood... infused with love.
Two drops.
The reality that
I am acknowledging
is that this place
sucks donkey dick.
Judge Trakes appointed me
Miss Wells' conservator.
Hello, darling.
Your wife's capacity...
-Oh!
...may be diminished,
but her portfolio is robust.
-Distract.
Misdirect.
Make them give a fuck about
what we say is important.
Come find me, Shadow Moon.
The Founders believed
in a creator
who endowed every individual
with equality and freedom.
America was conceived
around that truth
and the Declaration
was an oath to that creator.
A solemn promise
that this new government
would ensure the divine rights
of its citizens.
Life, liberty,
and a shot at happiness.
But the new government
was overrun with debt.
Furious debate roiled
the Continental Congress:
God-given rights
versus materialism.
Commerce carried the day
and the young country
was on its way to becoming
the richest corporation
in history.
In the process,
America betrayed its oath
to the creator.
Economic growth was spurred
by the whip
and remained in the hands
of the slave masters
and their investors.
The wealth generated
by King Cotton was everywhere.
The nation now prayed
at the altar of commerce.
But the spirit did not abandon
those who had been enslaved,
who brought their African gods, the Orishas,
with them
to the New World.
I call upon the Orishas,
of the land of the ancestors.
Show the people
that I is not me!
I is we!
And we is power.
You are my beloved.
I am Oshun.
I will uphold you
in your courage
to carry life forward.
I am Yemoja, the water.
When the burden is too great,
you rest in my arms.
I am Aye,
the earth beneath you.
You bleed upon me
and I bleed upon you.
The time will come
when we rise together as one.
Justice does not sleep.
Righteousness comes
from the hand of the divine.
The power of the master
diminishes.
Those of us who have
been enslaved
are the sole force
raised from the dust.
May the optimism of tomorrow
be your foundation for today
and I is we,
and we is power,
and we are powerless
if we just become nothing
but you and they.
May peace be in your hearts
and may Orishas lead your way.
With the blessing
of the One Love...
We shall overcome.
We shall overcome!
We shall overcome!
What'd you do to her?
Hm?
I said, what the fuck
did you do to her?
Nothing.
I am here because of what
that bitch did to me!
-I don't believe you.
-There's a phone--
No, wait, wait, wait, wait,
wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!
What the hell
is wrong with you?
I told you:
Bilquis fucked me up.
I need her to unfuck whatever
it is that she did to me.
No, no, wait, stop.
Stop, stop, stop, stop!
Stop! Just stop it!
I think I might have figured
out what went down here.
So talk. Fast.
The last person that Bilquis
hooked up with here
was... Bill Sanders.
The Bill Sanders.
If you are going to lie,
make it believable.
I'm telling you.
He was here.
Billionaire philanthropist, tech guru,
and founder of Levitech Computing Systems
was meeting Bilquis
here on the low.
But homegirl has a way
of making people... disappear,
from time to time.
He never left,
which is why...
...his phone is still here.
Still doesn't explain
where Bilquis is.
You asked me what happened.
I am enlightening you.
Gimme the phone.
What?
No, no, no, no, no, no.
I am coming with you.
I don't think so.
Give me the fucking phone.
I told you, I need Bilquis.
You fucking dipshit!
Whatever she did to you,
you probably deserved it.
I'll find her on my own.
You have 17 unheard
messages. First message...
Hi, Dad. Hope you're
getting my messages.
Is everything okay?
Call me. Please.
Alexandra Sanders.
Bill Sanders'
eldest daughter.
Assistant professor at Columbia
according to Sanders' contacts.
Now, she has left
10 voicemails,
each one more desperate
than the last.
If Sanders had
a security detail,
so do the heirs who
sprang from his loins.
Yeah.
We lean on one of his
daughter's body men,
they'll give us Bilquis.
Gold star for Nancy Drew.
That's for lynching me,
peckerwood.
I already apologized
for that.
Apology not accepted.
Not now.
Not ever.
I am not alone.
I choose to believe that.
I have to believe that.
I am not alone.
I am not alone.
I choose to believe that.
I have to believe that.
I am not alone.
Sanders was a regular.
Been seeing her once a week for over a year now.
The question is,
who's she working for?
Your great-great-grandmother?
Oh yeah, she was a personage.
She was the first black woman
lawyer in Louisiana.
Mm-hmm.
There's lots to learn here.
Hey, Damon.
Where you at?
Damon?
Come on over here before
I kick your poo butt.
Papa!
Papa!
Papa! Papa!
Pst. I don't suppose you've
got a smoke on you, do ya?
Oh, I wish.
Three-pack-a-day girl
over here.
When I got throat cancer, my doctor said I had
-to change my lifestyle.
-Hm...
So I switched to menthol.
Hm! Nice.
Um, so, once we've jumped
through all of the hoops,
do you know when the fuck
we finally get outta here?
One of death's
great mysteries.
I wouldn't spend
a whole lotta time
trying to figure it out
if I were you.
Or you'll end up like that
sorry son-of-a-bitch.
This guy?
I died summer of '93.
He was like that then.
Nothing's changed since.
Yikes.
Attention. Those with red cards,
please make your way
to the designated area...
Oop, oop!
No.
Red card holders only.
You haven't by any chance
seen a guy in here:
super tall,
red hair, big mouth,
bad attitude,
Irish-ish?
I don't believe so.
But I'm not much
of a people watcher.
Oh, you would remember this guy
if you saw him, trust me.
He's pretty hard to miss.
So, you're into
the bad boys, are you?
Oh no, ew.
No, that's not what
it was like at all.
Oh, no.
You were just
talking like...
...maybe he's
someone special.
Oh!
No, no, no!
Uh...
Actually, he... is
the guy who killed me.
Yup.
Attention.
Those with red cards,
please make your way
to the designated area
at this time.
This Hutchinson pinhead thinks
he can get one over on me.
Ha. I've forgotten
more about long cons
than he'll ever know.
Hacked into
his business accounts.
Conservator, my ass.
He's a vampire.
Preying on the elderly
and infirm.
Never mind defaming
the Eleusinian mysteries.
-Okay.
Hello, Cayman Islands.
Bingo.
Man, this guy's
got it all figured out.
Offshore accounts,
money being siphoned from
the client trusts into...
Firewall won't
let me see where.
If you want proof of the
stringing-him-up-by-the-balls
variety,
I'm gonna need access
to his computer,
like the actual hard drive.
A crafty pinhead, he is.
Fine.
A home office
B-and-E it is then.
Perhaps a father and son
two-hander. Ha-ha.
Game on.
Now, where's that waitress?
I am fucking starving!
All right.
There's the daughter's driver.
And the follow car.
See?
Aren't you glad
you brought me along?
It's alright, buddy.
Little detour.
Well, Gilbert, the excitement
appears to be concluded
and this poor man's remains
are about to be given
to the furnace,
so let's clean it up
real good in here.
Poor fella.
That is no way for a soul
to be leaving this world.
Someone oughta be
holding a high thought
for that child of God.
Knock yourself out, Gilbert.
Great. Great!
A brick!
And no bars.
Whatever you're looking for,
you won't find it in that.
We like our phones
empty and dumb.
Like you two idiots.
Where is she?
Burner phones.
Disposable.
Untraceable.
I know wireless
isn't your jam,
but... it'll keep us
under the radar.
We'll be so off the grid
not even the assholes
at the NSA
will be able to track us,
and they track everybody,
just 'cause.
I don't think phone numbers
actually have that many digits.
21, to be exact.
Three is a very important
number in Norse mythology,
signifying royalty.
Seven is of equal stature,
representing completeness.
Do the math.
Three times seven is...
Got it.
Hello?
It's for you.
That's a secure line.
Well, apparently not,
dickhead.
Now, shut the fuck up.
Hello?
Shadow?
Yeah.
Your father would like a word.
Hello, my boy.
Okay, I am kind of
in the middle of something.
I need you for a job
up here in Massachusetts.
Should take about
three hours to drive up?
Not happening.
Okay...
we'll talk after
I find Bilquis.
No luck?
Looks like we'll have to find
another way to rescue my bride.
There's no reason for this
to turn adversarial.
So, just give us the location
of where she's being held,
you get to go about
your business.
Who are you guys?
Okay, here is
the deal, shithead.
You are going to tell us
what we need to know,
or we are going to peel
your fucking skin off
with fucking kerosene.
You dig?
Kerosene?
Seriously?
I'm gonna need you
to dial it back
to about a two.
I'll handle this.
You really have no idea
who you're dealing with.
You ever hear of
the alien agenda? No?
'Cause you are so far
out of your league,
you don't even know
what game you're playing.
You need to start talkin'
or you're gonna start
to see some shit
that you really
can't unsee.
What's that stuff
spraying out of his head?
You know what?
Give him a taste.
Ever been probed, Mark?
You know, grabbed up by the Greys, Tall Whites,
you never remember
a thing, but...
...his kind.
Yeah, that shit
you never forget...
...no matter
how hard you try.
We'll be starting with
the reproductive system.
No, no, no!
Wait, wait, wait, wait!
She's in Hoboken!
She's being held, um...
...in a building
behind the, uh,
behind the lumber supply!
Let's go.
We're behind schedule on the
initial components for SHARD.
-Why?
-It's not our fault.
We're ready to alpha test
baseline algorithms.
Is that the sound of you
covering your anus?
There's a problem with our
software suppliers, Levitech.
What kind of problem?
Total chaos in the boardroom.
They're doing their best
to keep it under wraps,
but we did some digging
and William Sanders is MIA.
Investors catch wind, the Dow craters.
How exactly does
one of the most
powerful men on the planet
go missing?
In a Manhattan call-girl's
apartment, apparently.
As to how, I wouldn't want to speculate.
-As far as contingency--
-Get the fuck out.
Okay.
Show me Levitech Server
Farm Number 37.
Hoboken, New Jersey.
Oh, for fuck's sake.
I should've known.
Crazy fucking bitch.
Somebody's handsome.
Peaceful rest.
Dear child...
could you please hum
more quietly?
Do you, do you know what
song this is? It's like...
Anybody? Does anybody
know what this song is?
Please? It's like:
Somebody please tell me
what this fucking song is.
It's Schwieger's
Requiem of Balder.
-What are you doing here?
-Coffee.
No one in the back
ever makes a fresh pot.
Can you please tell me
what this song is
that was playing in
the background all the time
when I was a kid
in the movie thing?
It must mean something.
-Like what?
-I don't know.
-You're the Purgatory guy.
-Guide.
-I'm the Purgatory guide.
-Okay, good.
If you weren't such
a know-it-all, and maybe
you'd hung around
a little while longer,
you might've found out more.
-Like what?
-You have a powerful destiny.
Whatever the fuck that means.
It means you attract
powerful enemies.
Well, yeah. I mean,
I was killed by a war god.
It's a pretty fucking
powerful enemy.
-Okay.
-Okay, well,
what does it have to do
with the song?
I have no idea.
Well, is it like, uh,
his theme song or something?
Like a war god fight song?
Did anybody else see that?
Hi.
Hi.
There was
a kink in the...
...hose. And then...
Where did you...
Where did you come from?
Um, Purgatory?
Uh...
-You must be cold.
-Yeah.
Yeah.
Shit.
I'm alive.
Yes, ma'am.
I believe you are.
-Is this mine?
-No.
Or maybe.
I can't really tell.
I... think it's from the body
that was here.
Oh. Tall guy? Red hair?
-Yeah.
-Oh, that's Sweeney.
Um, do you happen
to know where he went?
Took him away.
Little while ago.
What was left of him anyway.
They're cremating the remains.
Okay, so he's dead.
Like, actually dead.
Completely dead.
And it's my fault.
Huh.
No, no, no.
I didn't kill him. Heh.
Just, um...
Just couldn't bring him
back to life,
which I should've
been able to do.
But I didn't.
It's a long story.
Well, I wouldn't be too hard on yourself.
Like the book says,
there's a time to be born
and there's a time to die.
Right. But just because
somebody wrote it in a book
-doesn't mean it's true.
-Fair enough.
I guess I'm just someone who's inclined to believe that wherever he is,
that's where
he's supposed to be.
Watch it,
you fucking moron.
-I'm a fucking moron?
-Fuck yeah, you are.
This is a home invasion
with no specific intention
of terrorizing
the inhabitants,
although I wouldn't mind
if the bloodless milksop
of a husband gets
dirtied up a little, huh?
He just needs to see
his world crumble
and I just...
need his computer.
-What the fuck
is wrong with you?
-This.
You listening?
Yeah.
-Mm?
-Yeah. You got it.
You'll have it in 24 hours.
-Good.
-But brother, I need a favor.
Well, say it.
Every time that shit-stain
Johan comes in here,
he causes a problem.
I want that fucking ape
out of here
or he bleeds.
I'll handle it.
So, what's his story?
Legend.
He rode a '61 Flathead
up Whiteface Mountain
in the blizzard of '78.
100-mile-an-hour winds,
sheet ice three feet thick.
Come on, bring it!
Bring it! Bring it!
No one else since
has even come close.
Auditioning new bandmates,
Johan?
They say it ain't possible.
With Wednesday,
rules just don't apply.
Gentlemen!
Come on, come on!
This is all a... a big
misunderstanding,
isn't it, Johan?
You didn't mean
any harm, did you?
-No.
-No, he means no harm.
Anyway, as far as I know,
isn't it true that
the party doesn't start
unless a little blood
has been spilled, huh?
That's better.
Come on.
Come on, Johan!
Innkeeper, drinks
all around, huh?
Oh, yeah!
Try not to kill
the help, my boy. Huh?
Their adulation sustains us.
I sometimes forget
the rules, okay?
I understand.
You're still grieving
your bandmates.
They were my... brothers,
my family.
And I will find whoever fucking killed them,
and I will skin them alive.
Did you kill them?
No, I... Why would you
ask me that? No!
Oh, my gentle, sweet,
blood-drinking fire-bear.
The facts are these:
you frequently
do go ape-shit,
and in such states,
do not remember
what fell deeds you do.
It could've been
an accident.
Anyone could kill that band.
-Many want to.
But, remember, huh?
We need...
all the disciples that
your music can gather.
So, you must form a new band.
I did not kill them!
Listen to me.
Go the fuck home.
Sleep it off.
And then, do what
I fucking tell you.
Okay?
Yes, All-Father.
I cry to my god,
but his throne is empty!
To the god in whose name
we stand tall!
Hail Odin!
Familiar faces.
I have a close
strategic partnership
with Levitech,
and I agreed
that you could
accept worship
from Mr. Sanders
with the provision
that you did not
facilitate his sacrifice.
What transpires between
my worshippers and I
is none of your concern.
Let's... turn a page
on the past, then.
You and me.
New god... to old goddess.
If you fully commit
to the new gods,
your example will persuade
many in the old alliance
to reject this war
looming over us all!
Wednesday can't go into battle by himself.
It's always
the same speech with you.
I'm sorry.
Our technology will...
revolutionize
man's relationship
with the divine.
New gods and old gods
will have a direct interface
with the minds of our worshippers.
I don't believe you.
You're not getting
out of here.
Unless Bill Sanders miraculously appears
and clears up this misunderstanding.
We both know that
is not going to happen.
I am trying
to save your life.
I'm not alone.
I... I have love.
Haven't you come to the end?
I have love.
I have love.
I hope it's not too painful.
Next steps?
If she still refuses
to give up Sanders' whereabouts,
we can't risk her becoming
an intelligence asset
to someone else.
Pressed Rat and Warthog have
closed down their shop.
They didn't want to,
'twas all they had got.
Selling atonal apples,
amplified heat,
and Pressed Rat's collection
of dog legs and feet.
-Hey!
-Stop!
Get out of the way, asshole!
Disgusting
dirty old man!
Nice cock, asshole!
Daddy's calling.
- Hello?
-Oh, Shadow, thank God.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.
Y-you all right?
I'm fine, but some whack-job
berserker named Johan
blew up the biker bar
while your dad was inside.
-Is he...
-Sadly, they left...
-He's fine.
-...telling no one good-bye.
He's not fine.
He's okay physically,
but his head is a mess.
...Warthog a striped tie.
We're checking him
into a hospital now.
It's like a...
a special hospital.
A nuthouse.
It's about fucking time,
though, really, right?
-This is serious!
All right, all right,
all right...
-Are you okay?
-More or less, but...
Okay, well, listen, listen.
I, um...
I-I've got a situation
on my hands here, but...
I know you and your dad
have beef,
but I've never seen him
like this.
You need to come.
-Please.
-Yo!
Tank's full.
Look, um, he's safe
right now, yeah?
Yeah, I guess, once
they get him into a straitjacket
or something.
Do whatever you can.
Make sure he's safe.
-We'll talk tomorrow.
-I really think you should...
I-I gotta go. Okay? Uh, we'll
talk as soon as I can. Bye.
A monkey shat in my pants.
Everything's gonna be okay.
You are exquisite.
A jewel.
Your chocolate skin.
-Your hypnotic gaze.
-Yes.
Tell me more.
Mysterious.
Exotic.
You tempt me, you devour me.
You wicked beauty.
I have to have you,
to be inside you.
-Be inside you.
- Worship me!
You were made for me,
my goddess.
You were made for me.
Be silent!
I am not what you say.
I was not made for you.
I was before Shiva,
I was before Aphrodite,
before the word.
I am not alone!
I knew and was known.
I was...
My name was...
My name was...
Who are you?
I know you as you know me.
I... is we.
Oshun.
Look at yourself.
See your sweet, true self.
See the truth in who you are.
And who you have always been.
I am not alone.
You are my beloved.
I will uphold you
in your courage
as you carry life forward.
You are not
who they say you are.
You are whoever
you want to be.
I am she who has always been.
I think we broke her.
Oops.
Oh, my God.
Hmm. Tasting.
What a concept.
You know, this ain't exactly
according to regulations.
So, this is him?
Yes, ma'am.
All of him somehow
fits in here.
You know, I hope
you don't find me
too forward, but, um,
meeting someone like you
kinda gives a man faith.
In what, I...
can't exactly say.
Yeah, me neither.
You know, I think
it comes down to just
believing in somethin'
we can't see
'cause we know it's there.
That's what keeps us going.
Maybe so.
Well, thank you.
I'm-I'm gonna,
I'm gonna get going.
Where to, if you
don't mind me asking?
I'm not exactly
sure yet but, um...
I've gotta go see a man
about a song.
-Well, good luck.
-You too.
Señorita.
He say this is where we turn.
You go more norte, si?
Uh, si.
Norte,I think.
Okay.
Señorita, tengo cuidado.
You too. Thanks.
Hey!
Hey!
You're not going north
by any chance, are you?
Sure as hell am.
-Where you headed?
-Cairo, Illinois?
Hop in.