Original subtitles

Rip Digman, the man once known

as the greatest archaeologist in the world.

They say no one knows more about the past,

but has it ever occurred to you

that instead of digging up history,

you may soon become it?

Oh, I know I'll perish someday,

but let's just say that tonight, death isn't in the cards.

All right, let me just pop on my readers

and see what I got here.

I wish you had just learned how to play poker, Rip,

so we didn't have to come up with this scheme.

Just tell him what to do, Agatha!

Sorry for yelling, but I'm more nervous than Andy Sachs

on her first day at Runway magazine.

Rip,

you have the better hand.

- I'm all in. - A bold move.

The only way I can call is by betting this, Satan's Compass.

Legend has it that it can

- guide you to the Antichrist. - Huh. You don't say.

That's so wild. I had, like, zero clue

it was in your possession.

But I guess the bauble would cover your bet,

so I will allow it.

Do you know why they call me The Scar, Mr. Digman?

Because of the scar on your face?

No, because my favorite character

in The Lion King is Scar.

- But he's pure evil! - Precisely.

And just as he showed Mufasa no mercy,

I shall show none to you as well.

A straight. A flush?

Um, okay, you sound like a toilet right now.

Well, I win. It was fun. Bye.

What's this? You cheated!

What? I've never seen this fast loris before in my life.

Oh, now you wear your birthday present?

Fleety, you piece of shit!

- Get them! - Hyah! Deck of cards!

Nice of you to drop in. Did you get the Compass?

Does the pope shit in my mouth?

Ew. Rip, does he?

Uh... no.

You know what? Just drive!

Saltine, you're headed towards a red light!

Not with my newest cool invention:

glasses that make the color red look green.

- Put 'em on. - Okay, uh...

Whoa! It's green! Go!

I got to borrow these next time I watch that awful movie,

Red Shrek.

It's okay! My glasses made your sign look green!

I accept that explanation.

The harbor's straight ahead! We're almost at Swooper's plane!

Damn it, he grabbed the Compass.

After him!

Throw you?

But that's too dangerous.

All right, fine, you courageous little psycho.

Fleety!

Hyah, whip and yank.

Gotcha.

Now to head back to the harbor.

It might be a little late for that.

But that's the only way to Swooper.

No, it's not. Turn left.

Swooper, take off!

But, Rip, you're not on board.

I said take off!

Okay, Saltitties, you know what to do.

Rip, we talked about this.

You absolutely cannot call me that.

But I said you can call me Riptitties to make it fair.

I don't have any interest in calling you that.

Fine, you fucking prude.

I'm sorry. Don't report me to HR.

Don't fucking sue me. I really mean it, I'm sorry.

I was just trying to be funny.

I'm a fucking dinosaur, Saltine!

You got to understand how hard it is to unlearn this shit.

Oh, my God, shut up!

And hold on to your Riptitties.

Looks like we are back on our bullshit.

Hyah!

It's been three weeks since the Antichrist and Uncle Christ

possessed the bodies of Bella Torres

and Quail Eegan's father.

And in that time, their assaults on humanity

have only grown more horrifying.

- Feel the zap. - Please, no.

I haven't had my java yet.

In fact, their global body count

has reached a history-making high.

The Guinness World Record for most people slain

by a demonic duo goes to the Uncle and Antichrist.

It sickens me that I have to sing them

the official Guinness congratulations song.

♪ You rock the house ♪ Ugh.

♪ You're better than all the...♪ -

But just when it seemed all hope was lost,

some was found when their weakness

was discovered.

Ow, it burns!

Why am I not surprised this is happening on a Monday?

Yes, it seems holy water renders them

temporarily powerless.

All right, let's get to work.

As you know, I want nothing more

than to slay my demon wife Bella,

but we can't kill her until we find her.

Saltine, any luck figuring out how Satan's Compass works?

Not yet. Its powers are ancient and mysterious.

- We must proceed cautiously. - Here, let me just shake it.

Careful, Rip. We don't know how it works.

Guys. Stop fighting, you two.

Whoa!

- Quit moving it. - I'm not.

It's moving on its own. Wait a minute.

It's a planchette!

I can't believe this whole time it was a planchette,

which is the name for the pointer you use

with a Ouija board.

- We know what a planchette is. - I know. I'm telling Fleety.

What the hell is going on in here?

Good Lord, is that some sort of planchette?

Agatha, quick, unfurl a map of the world!

- The Earth world? - Yes!

Unfurling.

Look. That must be where the Antichrist and Uncle Christ

- are hiding. - Hey, Saltine.

Remember when you were mad at me for grabbing it,

but then that's what solved it?

Do you remember?

Saltine? Saltine?

'Member?

You remember?

You remember, Saltine?

Hey, what is it, mate?

I thought you'd be excited for your first day

at your new secret society.

I thought it seemed cool at first,

but I'm always getting invited to fancy clubs like this.

They're filled with people who only want my money.

I haven't a friend in the world.

That's not true. I'm your friend.

- I pay you a lot of money. - True, yeah.

But what about Buddy-Bot? He's your friend.

I would even say that we are besties.

I programmed him to be my friend.

That doesn't count.

So I don't have free will.

That's world-shattering.

I used to think woe is other people,

but no, woe is me.

God, a sad rich person is really fucking annoying.

Agreed.

Quail Eegan.

Welcome to the Council.

Hi, Billy Themet, head of The Met.

Let's just cut to the chase.

- How much do you want? - Want?

Oh, Quail, you misunderstand.

The Council is an assemblage

of elite museum owners like yourself.

Everyone here is already a billionaire.

So you don't want anything from me?

No, no, no, you're here because you're one of us.

Let me show you around.

♪ Here is our golf course and pickleball court ♪

♪ And right over there's where we hunt man for sport ♪

Good luck finding me.

♪ We know that life can be stressful at times ♪

♪ So we've got a fixer to cover your crimes ♪

What did you rascals get up to this week?

- Blackmail. - Murder.

- Treason. - I'm on it.

♪ And here's something that I'd like to relay ♪

♪ The Watingos play for us every day ♪

The Watingos? I've never heard of them.

They're the greatest band in the world,

and we've never allowed normal people to hear them.

♪ Oh, baby, baby, I love that purple dress.♪

Thank you very much.

Wow. They're fucking amazing.

♪ And lastly some news that's sure to delight ♪

♪ We have a huge Eyes Wide Shut style masked orgy ♪

♪ Every night! ♪

Wow, they even have well-positioned mannequins

to avoid an NC-17 rating.

Well, feel free to join in.

After all, you're one of us now, friend.

Friend?

I mean, thanks, friend.

You sure you can do this, Rip?

Because if it's too much for you,

I'll gladly slice Bella's head off.

Uh, and claim all the glory for yourself?

Nice try.

Trust me, I know she's the Antichrist now

and there's no Bella left.

I will not hesitate to decapitate.

Towards doing what's right shall I gravitate.

Do not dubitate, Saltine.

For even if 'twould agitate

and make mine heart palpitate,

and though the demon may jactitate

and vagitate-- that's a real word--

she cannot imitate, she with whom I used to cohabitate.

And whence slain, the ghoul's corpse shall crepitate,

and the celebratory ale we drink shall be nippitate--

also a real word-- and that's no crap-itate--

not a real word but should be, and I submitted it to Webster's.

Stay tuned on that one.

Look. There.

Okay, Swooper, hit 'em with the holy water.

- Now, Rip! Finish them off! - Gladly.

Time to send you back to hell.

All right, you got me. I can't do it.

- Mwah. - Oh, no.

What are you thinking, Rip?

You're keeping the Uncle Christ and Antichrist alive?

Do you know how risky that is?

Au contraire. As long as they're hooked up

to these holy water IVs, they're completely powerless.

Which means it's the perfect time

for us to chop their heads off.

I vote against that.

Not sure if I get a vote, but that's my vote if I do.

Oh, shut up.

Your logic is flawless, Saltine, but I can't just kill her.

I know Bella's alive in there somewhere.

Isn't that right, my pudding cup?

All right, well, admittedly, that's not great,

but I've been doing some research.

To the microfiche!

According to a contested translation

of the Rituale Romanum,

you can only exorcise an Antichrist

by bringing them to the site

of their human host's happiest memory.

Thusly, if I just take Bella to where she had

her happiest memory, the Antichrist will disappear.

And what if something goes wrong and they escape?

I'm on Saltine's side.

We should slice their heads off.

I'm on it.

No, no, wait!

Just give me a chance to track down

Bella's happiest memory.

If she's still possessed in, say,

a year, you can cut her head off.

Fine, but you only get one week.

Wha... A mere pauper's fortnight?

That's nary a score of days.

- Going once... - Sold. Goddamn it!

Remember this place, my sweet?

It's where we first met.

Ow!

My many apologies.

Why don't you watch where you're throwing that thing, you...

fucking asshole

piece of shit fuck face.

Isn't that your happiest memory, Bella?

Meeting me here?

Okay, guess that wasn't it.

Then how about...

The site of our greatest honor.

Rip and Bella, for discovering

the horrific and sickening truth about Johnny Appleseed,

I present you with this key to the White House.

I've never been happier.

At least as of the time that this is taking place.

It's possible that between now and my death

I will have a happier moment.

Uh, honey, it will never matter what your happiest memory is.

Stop telling me when it happens.

Oh, why the hell did I say that to her?

All right, where to next? Oh, I've got it!

The arena where Bella hit a half-court shot

during halftime to win a Toyota Tundra.

Hey, it's our old pal Blueberry.

Remember that, dear?

Holy crap!

That was like a full hairy spider

that came out of her mouth!

Never thought I would miss the barf,

but here we are.

No matter. We still have six days.

I'll travel to the ends of the Earth, if need be!

♪ Come on now. ♪

Not now, Blueberry.

Ooh. Ow.

All right, all right,

all right, all right, everyone.

I call this meeting of the Council to order.

First, I want to welcome Quail, our newest member.

Thank you. When I was first invited to join the Council,

I was skeptical.

But I'm having the time of my life.

Well, you should know, the Council is more

than just a fun hang.

We are the heads of the world's greatest museums.

The Louvre. The Egyptian Museum.

The American History Museum.

The U2 Museum in Dublin.

Wow. Do you have one of The Edge's guitars?

No, we don't, that's a good idea.

I'm gonna write that down.

And we're always looking for ways

to increase our bottom lines.

So we've made a deal with the pope.

He wants to exorcise the Antichrist

and the Uncle Christ in a live television special.

Wow. So I could get my dad back?

Yes, but only if we can deliver the Antichrist

and the Uncle Christ to the pope.

In exchange, he has promised to send

the Sistine Chapel ceiling on a worldwide tour

- of our museums. - Ooh, très bon.

The Sistine Chapel ceiling?

That's the biggest attraction on Earth.

But the issue is that we're merely humble billionaires.

We have no idea how to track down

these demonic fugitives.

Guys, my whole thing is invading people's privacy!

I'll find them before our next orgy.

Rocket boots, activate.

Ow, my fucking head.

Cornelia, huh? I think I'll swipe right.

How'd it go?

We went everywhere I could think of and nothing worked.

I guess the translation was just wrong.

It's not possible to exorcise the Antichrist.

Maybe.

Or maybe Bella's happiest memory wasn't some major event.

It was just some random little moment you could never guess,

where she was with the people she loved,

doing what she loved,

and all was right with the world.

That is so cheesy, Swooper.

Get your brain waxed, butt-cheese.

Well, I thought it was nice.

Well, that's it.

It has been a pauper's fortnight.

I'll do the deed myself.

As the saying goes, a man should kill his own wife.

You are a wonderful person.

I'm gonna just take a sec to say goodbye in private.

I'll be right here if you need anything.

Thanks, Saltine. That means a lot.

Okay, chopping her head off now.

Marie Antoinette much?

Whoops!

It flew across the room and landed in my toilet.

Party foul!

- Man, I really wish I'd put down some tarp first.

There's blood and offal everywhere.

But I'm going through with it, no doubt about that.

Okay, time to move on to the Uncle Christ.

Yowie, that must have been the femoral artery.

I look like Carrie right now.

And there goes his head.

Right into Fleety's litter box.

Yow! I slipped in the blood and sprained my coccyx.

Quail, what are you doing here?

I'm here for the Uncle and Antichrist. Step aside.

You're too late, sweetie.

Rip's already chopped their heads off.

And then he slipped in their blood

- and sprained his coccyx. - Papa!

Rip? You were tricking us?

What-what the hell is Quail doing here?

I'm taking the Anti- and Uncle Christ.

How did you even know we have them?

One of your "friends" sold you out.

Blueberry! How could you?

- Gentlemen. - No!

I won't let you have my Bella!

I wasn't expecting you to let me.

I'm just gonna do it.

I belong to no man.

Now die!

Okay, powers aren't totally back yet.

Shoot her!

Bella, no!

Well, this place is trashed.

I knew I should've gotten headquarters insurance.

But the premium is so high.

You know what I mean, Quail?

Okay, obviously this is a bit of a setback,

but we can still track down the Antichrist

- using the planchette. - Bad news.

It's as busted as a nut.

Oh, that's a bummer, but I do love how you said it.

Okay, I guess we'll just have to find her another way.

And then... heads will roll.

Rip, you're clearly not capable of killing the Antichrist.

When we find her, just leave the beheading part to me.

I'll make sure her head... is dead.

- Yeah, Saltine! - You're so awesome.

Oh, dip. Looks like the pope found another option.

Live from Vatican Square Garden,

it's the Uncle Christ Exorcism Special.

Man, I can't believe my dad's gonna be back soon.

I hope he's just as withholding as ever.

Featuring six hours of Latin hymns

and a performance by the Vatican City Dancers.

Ah, man. No jazz?

Along with three hours of avant-garde jazz.

Spoke too soon.

Now please welcome your host,

His Holiness the Pope.

This just in.

The president has been kidnapped by the Antichrist.

Sources say that, as a result,

the president's daughter is sad.

Here's footage of the abduction.

Yes, it looks like Rip Digman is at fault for all of this.

Damn it!

That's my b-b-b-bad.

Like that song "Bad to the Bone"?

What does that even mean, anyways?

We have a message from the Antichrist.

Take a look.

My demand is simple.

Stop the exorcism and release the Uncle Christ.

Otherwise the president will die.

Wait a minute. Behind her. Is that...

Corpus floraria.

Now, as you may have heard,

the Antichrist is holding

the president of the United States hostage

and she's demanding I cancel this exorcism.

But, uh, I don't negotiate with terrorists.

So the time has come to exorcise the Uncle Christ.

And there's only one way to exorcise a demon.

You got to exe-cute him.

- ♪ Come on now. ♪ - Wait, what? -Oh, shit.

Tell that old Beelzebum he's next.

Pope attack.

Papa!

Did you guys know about this?

- We did, yeah. - Do you hate us?

It looks like you're getting mad.

See, this is why we didn't tell you.

This is unbelievable.

Damn it.

Time to die.

Yeehaw!

Bombs away!

Finally, six years of sleepaway archery camp

for girls who got their periods late pays off! -

- No! - Hyah, whip and yank!

All right, Saltine. Pope option's out,

so there's only one thing left to do.

I'm sorry, Bella.

I wish I could have saved you.

What are you doing? Kill her!

I... I can't. What if there's a reason

the Antichrist came here to the place where Bella died?

What do you mean?

You think Bella might actually still be in there?

I do. And we should keep searching for her happy memory.

We've got plenty of holy water.

Well, hell, you know I'm game.

Yeah! This is great!

- Oh, no, it's one of those birds.

Do not peck the bag...

No! Not again!

What is the deal with the birds in this geographical region?!

Oh, God, there's no time

to get another IV of holy water

before this one runs out!

You idiots. I can't believe you're my constituents.

Run for it, Rip. If you survive,

you can still find a way to bring Bella back.

Don't worry about us.

No. I've put too many people through hell

because I couldn't accept the truth,

but the fact is, Bella died many moons ago.

Now let's finish this once and for all.

Oh, and one more thing.

Bella always said that after she died,

she wanted to be... cremated.

No! I changed my mind!

Begone, foul demon!

I want an open casket...!

It's beautiful.

And yet not so beautiful as you, love of my life,

keeper and tender-to of my loins.

Have you seen Red Shrek? It's-- Quail!

How... are you?

Are you mad at us still?

You're such a baddie.

Like, please don't be mad.

When I joined the Council, I was so happy

because I'd finally found my people.

But there was always one problem.

Even though we were alike in so many ways,

I worried that none of you...

...were quite as duplicitous as me.

But by tricking me into finding my own father

so you could decapitate him,

you guys proved that you're exactly as devious as I am.

- Bring it in. - Get over here,

- you little scamp. - You rock, Quail.

I have found my people!

Guys, look! The president's daughter is...

smiling!

Yes! Yes!

Hey, Rip. I'm really sorry for your loss.

- I know it must be tough. - Thank you, Saltine.

It's... pretty bad. But you know what?

Ultimately, it's for the best.

I've been wallowing in grief for too long, but no more.

It's time to live the life Bella would have wanted me to live.

And rededicate myself to archaeology!

I love that!

I'm talking about unraveling mummies. -Yes!

I'm talking about yoinking vases

made by a certain little dynasty

that goes by the name of,

oh, I don't know, ever hear of fuckin' Ming?

Slay, Rip, slay!

And I'm talking about having a full-blown partner again.

It ain't gonna be easy, but, Saltine,

I'm gonna train you to become a full-on muh-fuckin' arky!

Oh, hell yeah! You know I'm all about that!

Here, give me that whip. Hyah, whip!

Hyah, whip! Ow, my goggles.

Okay. Love the enthusiasm.

Maybe let's start without the whip, though.

- Hyah, whip! - Mm-hmm. Again.

Hyah, whip!

- Little weak. - Hyah, whip!

- Not good. - Hyah, whip!

Yeah, your wrist is all over the road.

Chirp.

♪ MTV. ♪