Original subtitles

- Ah! - Ooh!

Ah!

We got you, you son of a bi-- shit!

Finch is here too.

My bugs!

You fools!

This Christmas, your precious malls

will crumble under me -- The Humbuglar!

Fat chance, Humbuglar.

And next time, maybe pick a name

that doesn't sound like "The Hamburglar."

- Who's that? - Who's... Bro, read a book.

Eat a Big Mac.

Then he'd just be "the Hamburglar."

Enough talk, more ruined Christmas!

In 11 seconds!

11 seconds?

You son of a bitch! Ah!

Humbug-deez nuts.

No! No!

Humbuglar!

Tell my story!

Shit! He crashed into the mall.

11 seconds because he knew that's how long

it would take us to stop him or...

Who cares, O'Doyle?

He just fell on all those Black Friday shoppers.

We wish you a Merry Christmas

My God. Where the hell is everyone?

Mnh-mnh-mnh.

Maybe everyone caught on to how much

Christmas sucks m'dick.

What? Christmas is the best.

It's the one time where everyone can feel the magic of childhood.

Even if your childhood was erased.

It's a festival of lies, Banks.

Holy Finch on a hot tin roof.

It's Christmas spirit.

It's reached critical depletion levels.

Christmas spirit?

That's not like a real thing, though.

How pedestrian.

No, it certainly is a real thing.

It's a limited resource

fueled by interpersonal contact.

Before computers, there was spirit everywhere.

You'd go to the store,

see other shoppers all bundled up,

witness the wonder in children's eyes.

But thanks to phones and tech and pandemics,

now it's just...

Just tell me what's happening.

The death of Christmas as we know it.

- Okay... - No, I'm serious.

Once we drop below 10% spiritonium saturation,

- it can never recover. - Fuck that.

Christmas is not dying on this president's watch.

Uh, you're right, because you have moi.

Finch has got just the fix.

Uh, what about this splattered monster corpse?

Oh, I got it covered.

Just bought a large body bag.

Should be here between 2:00 and 5:00.

- Same day. Nice. - Not helping.

I hope you're ready, because behind this door --

It's the synthetic super-soldiers

you built to fight the Grasshopper King.

What? How did you know?

Because you took me to this door last time,

and the answer is still no, dingus.

I'm not releasing a bunch of Bladerunners on America.

They're super elite with a fully programmable AI.

The joy of Christmas will be real to them, sir.

Okay...

Banks, no offense to your robo brain,

but these fake military bots can suck a D.

Yeah, if we have to engage in this magical bullshit,

we should at least use real people.

People are the problem.

They don't believe.

This was Christmas spirit 30 years ago,

and this is today.

We have until December 25th

to spread a super-human amount

of actual, quantifiable spirit.

Man, I wish there was a battalion of super-humans

around here somewhere who could do that.

Oh, my God, I'm actually, like,

legit worried about Christmas, you guys.

If we do this, I want failsafes on failsafes.

- Yes! - Wait, sir.

Geo trackers, remote detonators,

bombs where their dicks should be.

- Okay. Unnecessary. - Go on.

We need to be able to pull their plug at any moment.

Oh, I always have a dick bomb gun handy.

But these are military bots.

I'll need time to build them

a new Christmas spirit algorithm.

Why reinvent the wheel, Finch?

If we want true Christmas programming,

we need to go to professionals.

Welcome to Hallmark.

Can I get you guys anything?

Hot cocoa, scarves, gingerbread?

I mean, it's 8 a.m.

Never a bad time for gingerbread.

Mmm. Fresh ginger.

Sorry. Where are my manners?

Ed Carol, Head of Hallmark.

Hey, has anyone ever told you you look like Santa?

Oh...

Uh, well...

I guess I have put on a little weight,

and I've been graying on the sides.

Uh-- anyway, uh,

come on, come on, walk with me.

Are you crazy, Banks?

Yeah, asking a guy if he's Santa

is like asking a woman if she's pregnant.

Come on, I can't be the only one thinking it.

You were. Honestly, I'm disgusted.

Thanks for squeezing us in on such short notice.

Well, it wasn't that hard.

Usually this is our busy season,

but lately, it's been kind of dead.

That's because Christmas is dying, Ed.

What?

You heard the man. Christmas is shitting the bed.

Well, what exactly do you want from Hallmark?

We've got synthetic people ready to deploy like spores

to spread cheer.

But their AI needs programming.

True Christmas spirit programming.

You want to see it? The big holly-jolly?

There she is. Pretty, ain't she?

- Woah. - Holy shit.

- What am I looking at? - You invented this?

Oh, no, no, no.

The prototype was created by Jebediah Hallmark.

He was hanging Christmas lights

and got electrocuted by a faulty bulb.

When he woke up, he had a vision.

- Of this. - Lava lamp noodles?

The Christmanthium core.

Its generative algorithm can create an almost magical amount

of ideas, characters, storylines.

All with one goal --

to make the world love Christmas.

I brought thumb drives.

I must admit,

I'm hesitant to let our proprietary algorithm

out of this building.

Look, I get it.

But we've got total control of these Synths.

We can remote detonate their dick areas at any moment.

I vote for that.

Way unnecessary, but yeah, arm hud is locked and loaded.

All right,

but this data must be destroyed after use.

The programming will terminate at midnight on Christmas Eve.

Amen, brother.

Why don't you come to the White House on Christmas Eve?

We can watch them terminate together.

You've got yourself a deal, Mr. Curtis.

All right, my babies. Here comes the spirit train.

Eee!

Synth Cindy, love the hat.

Ooh, and yes to the vest, Marcus.

Hot cocoa. Hot cocoa. Hot cocoa.

And one for Finch because I fucking deserve it.

All right, Greyson, go time.

- Mhm-hmm. - What's it doing?

Scanning the vicinity for maximum cheer scenarios.

Mhm.

- Ah! - Oh, my God, what the fuck!

Watch where you're going, asshole.

Oh, no, no, no! I'm so sorry.

I have the most important meeting of my life

in 20 minutes.

I'm supposed to be selling these unstainable yellow shirts,

and now I look like a liar!

God damn it. This is a mess.

- Abort! - No, sir, watch.

Here. Take this.

What? I can't wear this. That's impossible.

Sometimes a little impossible is just what we need.

Sorry. My grandpa used to say that.

Wait, I kind of love that. Can I use that in my meeting?

Are you kidding? It's the least my clumsy butt could do.

Good luck, and, hey -- Merry Christmas.

Merry Christmas.

- Damn, she just red-lined. - I felt it, too.

I mean, I do want one of those unstainable shirts.

All right, Finchy. Full deployment.

- All right, game time. - Whoo!

Get me eyes on those geo trackers.

Way ahead of you, boss. Uh, just ignore the blue dots.

Those are places I masturbated.

How are we looking with Cindy in Boston?

And perfect.

Woah!

Pretty, right? Just my way of giving the sidewalk a hug.

Dad, could we give our sidewalk a hug?

Uh, I don't know, I guess?

- Let me order some lights. - Why?

The store is selling some right there.

All right. Fine.

Little turd thinks he knows everything.

Reminds me of someone else I know.

Dayum. Cindy bringing the merry.

I want to decorate with her.

That little kid runs their house.

Punch me in on Giselle in San Diego.

What? My first snow?

In all my life as a cowboy turned beach bum,

I've always wanted to do this.

- Ahhh! - No, no, don't eat that!

It's just ground up paint chips.

I ate that.

Oh. We all felt that, right?

Sir, check out Chad in Washington.

The spiritonium levels are off the charts.

No, no, a chainsaw.

You guys gotta come down and see this.

I swear, he's gonna cut off his hand or something.

Five hot cocoas, please.

My friends are coming down

in case this guy cuts off his hand.

I told my friends the same thing.

- Merry Christmas. - Merry Christmas.

Finchy baby, you done did it.

I did done do it, didn't I?

- What? - Whoo!

Best Christmas ever!

Well, it's officially Christmas Eve.

And of course, the big story is that feeling in the air.

Malls are full, divorce is down,

and people are roasting chestnuts together everywhere.

Where the hell are all these chestnuts coming from?

There's so much joy you almost forget

Curtis is taxing our cum.

Either way, we are so back, baby.

Merry Christmas, step-sis.

Merry Christmas, step-sis.

So what are you bringing to Mom's house tonight?

Her favorite -- my dad.

Congratulations, Greyson. Thank you for your service.

Service is what it's all about.

That's why I sold my law firm

to start a free snowman-making school for children.

The secret is in the carrot nose.

Amazing, soldier.

And you -- Cindy, right?

- Mm-hmm. - Thank you.

My grandma, who was a war nurse,

and that's how she met her husband,

she always said

"The best thing you can give is yourself."

- Wise words. - Here.

It's the least I could give.

What a fine carrot.

Oh, hot cocoa bar!

Pretty specific exchange about that carrot.

Sir, just want you to know we've got a very robust team

standing by to clean up the synth bodies.

Right, and, uh, what was the deal with that again?

Their programming will terminate at midnight, remember?

You and Ed were, like, high-fiving about it.

Well, shit, that kind of sucks.

You could always tell them they're gonna die.

It'll probably make them go rogue and attack us.

Then we'll have no choice but to defend ourselves

and take them out.

Right, then it wouldn't be our fault.

You really get it, O'Doyle.

Your pitch is victim-blaming?

Dumb. We should just talk to Ed.

He's such a sweetie.

Never a bad time for gingerbread, huh, pal?

Now you're catching on.

Congratulations, Mr. President.

I gotta say, I can feel the spirit.

Couldn't have done it without your programming, Ed.

Look, I, uh, I was wondering

if there was a way that we could keep the Synths alive.

A deal's a deal, Mr. President.

You're not gonna fuck me, are you?

What? No.

We're just saying,

it kind of feels un-Christmas-like

to kill them after they saved the holiday.

We had an agreement.

I'm here to make sure it gets done.

Right. No, I, uh, I get it.

Thanks, Ed.

I wasn't expecting him to be such a hard-ass.

I know, right?

He kind of turned awesome at the end.

All right, time to play Ghost of Christmas Future.

A toast.

I just wanted to say how thankful I am for you Synths.

You not only saved Christmas,

you boosted the economy and made the magic real again.

And of course, I'd be remiss if I didn't say

you will all self-destruct at midnight.

That's great, sir.

What? No, I'm saying you'll die.

Your programming will terminate.

Sir, I love giving.

I'm just happy my life can culminate in an act of service.

The best thing you can give is yourself.

Hear, hear. A fitting final mission.

- I love these guys. - Merry Christmas!

Thanks for letting us die.

Well said.

If you'll excuse me for a moment.

Listen, guys, if this is about

the pink stain in the library,

no, it wasn't me,

and also, no, it won't wash out.

I can't do it. I can't let those soldiers die.

They're all so selfless and pure.

We have to trick Ed into thinking they're dead

and get them out of here.

Sir, even if we could trick Ed

and fake their death -- which we absolutely can --

the Synths are still gonna love Christmas after Christmas.

Yeah, people will murder them just for that.

Not if we put them in a place with a base level

of cheer, gratitude, and giving that lasts all year.

I'm talking, of course, about Canada.

Plus, it's chilly. Perfect scarf weather.

Hey. Yeah, they'll blend right in.

It's like taking a dragon back to dinosaur times.

It doesn't really belong there,

but the dinosaurs aren't gonna notice.

Wait, guys, is this our first team hoodwink?

Hoodwinked!

Fa la la la la, la la la, hey!

You hotties want another public domain song?

Public domain! Public domain!

Finch puck, make daddy proud.

Huh?

Wh-What the hell happened?

It's only 11 p.m.

Oh, no! Those are my friends!

Ah, shit! Sorry, guys. That's on me.

Daylight Savings Time.

- What? - Yeah, I hate it.

All my tech is set to spring forward,

because Finch don't fall back.

I'll make you fall back, you son of a --

Hey, don't blame me.

I'm not the one running a government

that fucks with our clocks twice a year.

So they've terminated?

Oh, yeah. And if it's any consolation,

it was extremely painful for them.

Sorry, Ed, I didn't mean to cut the party short.

No, no, no, don't apologize.

As long as it's done, I'm a happy man.

All right, well, that's a wrap.

Let's get these synthetic flesh sacks back into cold storage.

Also, give it up for our clean-up crew,

working on Christmas Eve.

Merry Christmas, everyone. God bless you all.

Oh, my God, Banks, do you have to hit every pothole?

I keep telling you to put money into infrastructure.

Finch, how are we looking back there?

Just erased their termination time.

These babies are jailbroken and ready to fly free.

Also, I wasn't lying about Daylight Savings Time.

I hate it. You all should be ashamed.

Where are we?

Is this Synth heaven? Is it just a bus?

Bus? Yes. Heaven, who's to say?

But I thought we were gonna die.

Not on my watch.

Your war-nurse grandma was right.

The best thing you could give is yourself.

And, soldier, you still have a lot more to give.

We're taking you to Canada.

- What? - Canada?

The one on top?

Banks! The potholes!

It's not potholes.

Oh, fuck, it's Ed!

You made a deal with Hallmark.

Our data must be eliminated.

This guy really loves Hallmark.

Just get us to the plane.

Jesus, he's a sideswiper?

Sideswipe him back.

Ahh!

Dear God, right into that Lots O' Oil truck.

I didn't wanna kill the guy.

Just for the legal record, I said to sideswipe,

but you chose to do it.

Still kind of feel bad, though.

Um, sir.

You should feel bad.

You've all been very naughty.

I said it.

I said Ed looked like Santa

and you guys shamed me.

Also, holy shit, he's Santa.

Santa is real.

Hello, Andre.

Rho. Francis. Kenny.

- Ed. - Call me Santa.

Ed's my undercover boss name.

What? Why are you working at Hallmark?

As their Chrismanthium technology grew,

so did my interest in it.

I couldn't let just anyone have that power.

So I took over.

- Santa? - Santa!

- Santa Claus! - Oh, it's a Christmas miracle.

Sorry, Cindy.

We're all out of miracles this year.

They are the miracle, dipshit.

You don't get it.

If they're walking around all year with Christmas spirit,

it's not magical, it's not special,

and that puts me out of Christmas.

It seems like what you're saying, Santa --

thank you for being here, by the way --

is that you want to retain full control over Christmas,

which I'm sorry to say, doesn't sound very giving.

Sounds like you're being...naughty?

Wow, I've never thought about it like that.

- Ah! - Greyson!

The fuck, Santa?

- Get them into the plane. - Yes, sir.

If he wants the Synths,

he's gonna have to go through me.

Sir, puck him up.

I never should have made that deal with you, Santa.

I didn't care about Christmas.

I just didn't want to go down as the president who killed it.

Yeah, okay.

Ho, ha, ha, ha!

Oh, shit! Reindeemons! Run! Run!

Oh, man, we just started running.

Swapping to carrot-tipped.

Wait, don't they love carrots?

Exactly.

Holy fuck, that's not in the song.

Oh, wait. Is coal like garlic for Santas?

Seriously, you didn't notice back at the office?

You've got yourself a deal, Mr. Curtis.

Sir, look, I got the office train set up with real coal.

Uh...okay.

Huh. I didn't think anything of it.

Coal channels the energy from evil children

back to my patron, Pudersno.

I spread the rock in exchange for my powers,

but the very touch of it burns my soul.

Maybe talk longer next time.

Ah! My soul!

Pudersno! Save me!

Shit, I'm out of c-tip.

Merry Christmas?

Hey! Hey!

Come build a snowman, you soulless bastard!

- Chekhov's carrot. - Cindy! What are you doing?

Get them to Canada!

And when those deer get me, blow them to hell!

Oh, fuck. These guys are incredible.

Shit. You heard her.

Go! Go, go!

Grandma!

I'm coming!

That all you got, Santa?

Ha, ha, ha, ha.

Oh, man.

Rudolph?

You son of a...

Who's bright now, bitch?

Rudolph!

Rudy, no!

Talk to me.

Oh, come on, buddy, you're my best and brightest.

I-I don't even like the other ones.

I'm gonna make you pay.

You son of a...

What? No!

No.

No!

- You all right, sir? - I mean, I almost got gored

by a cybernetic demon deer, but --

Wait, what are you guys doing?

Deactivating their dick bombs.

It's our last element of control over them.

They're finally free.

- Merry Christmas. - Here, here.

A Christmas miracle.

Guess we won't be needing this anytime soon.

I'll just put it down here.

They still love Christmas?

Even after Santa tried to murder them? Twice?

I mean, I'm pretty bummed,

but I'm not gonna let that asshole

control my love for Christmas.

- That belongs to me. - And me.

And m-- nope, sorry.

Got swept up in the moment.

Don't love it. Respect it? Maybe.

- That's the spirit. - Don't push it, Giselle.

Uh, sir, we got an ice storm.

Came out of nowhere.

Ha, ha, ha.

Uh-oh.

Everyone hold on!

You think you can outrun me?

I am notoriously mobile.

- Ahh! - Sir, I got it.

You crazy-ass warlock.

Oh, shit! What the fuck, man?

You killed Rudolph and Donner and Blitzen.

You killed Greyson and Cindy and Steve.

None of them matter.

They matter to us.

- Woah, Banks! - Holy shit, Banks.

God damn this hood and its blindspots!

I just injected your spine with a dick bomb.

You kill the Synths or any of us,

that shit will auto-trigger

and blow your jolly ass to hell.

Please, I'm immortal.

Oh, warlocks can regrow heads?

You might want to check with your DM.

It's Christmas.

I set a timer on my phone

and it uses a watch alarm sound.

You gonna go deliver presents,

or is Hallmark gonna be looking for a new CEO?

You always were a naughty child, Rho.

Stockings filled with coal.

Wait, you -- you visited me as a kid?

You were in my house?

Wait, where did I live? Who were my parents?

Ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ho!

Ho ho ho ho ho ho ho!

Probably not going to get much info about my parents

after the dick bomb thing, huh?

I'd guess no.

Honestly, that's what you get for trying

to squeeze canonical stuff into this mission.

This is Canada?

Well, this is a field in Canada.

We couldn't land at an airport

because we're kind of doing an illegal border crossing.

But hey, the Canadian PM owes me

for letting him copy my NATO homework.

Thanks for putting your life on the line to save ours.

We put your life on the line first.

I guess some lies are worth protecting.

Do not quote me on that.

Montreal is about a mile that way.

Spread out. Blend in.

Also, please don't go Bladerunner

and come after your creator

and crush my head.

Is that what happens in the movie?

Maybe we need to expand our programming data

beyond Christmas.

- No, no, no. - Just stick to being you.

- Okay. - Oh, good. Yeah.

Whatever.

And hey, nice work, soldiers.

Canada is lucky to have you.

- Merry Christmas. - Merry Christmas, sir.

Topher, after swapping bodies

with that snowman, I finally get it.

I don't need New York or my high profile dentist job.

I just need you for Christmas and for always.

Mm.

Way to settle.

Hey, guys. Merry Christmas.

Merry Christmas, sir.

I'm still bleeding under my bandages,

but I'm happy to be spending it with you both.

And I guess you too, Finch.

Although, to be clear,

you're only part of this sentimental moment

because you were randomly on this mission.

Fine by me.

Actually, can we get another round?

It's 7 a.m. on Christmas.

Yeah, you're right. Make it a triple-double.

Heavy on the pink stuff.

Really keeping that spirit alive, huh?

Oh, I'm fully empty inside.

- I'll drink to that. - I don't want to die alone.

Ha, we're fine.

It's the greatest time of year

For everyone else

I miss picking out my own tree

I still love my ex-wife

Take those feelings

Swallow them down and sing

And from all of us here at Six News,

we want to wish you a happy and healthy New Year.

I'm Carolyn Gladyssmer.

And I'm Mika Gladyssmer.

We may be stepsisters,

but we are fully related to your news.

And cut! We're clear.

Hey, what are you doing after work?

You want to braid my hair?

Carolyn, on the air. Not out here.

Then on the air next time, do you want to braid my hair?

Good girl, Boo Boo.

Did you get any of that?