Original subtitles

Who am I?

I am Vision.

At least, I was Vision.

I was born of conflict...

created by Ultron...

We have to evolve.

...who was artificial and sociopathic.

Peace in our time.

But I was shaped by Stark and Banner,

who were virtuous and human.

I was not alone.

There were other AIs. Friday, DUM-E and U,

Jarvis and Edith.

Even though we were synthetic,

we chose to protect humanity,

and in so doing, I learned to love.

Her name was Wanda.

She made me feel real.

But then I was killed.

Destroyed by Thanos.

Through her grief, Wanda conjured a new Vision.

Not as I was, but as a sort of memory.

A new life, in a world and with a family that wasn't real.

Now, all that is gone.

And yet, I live once more.

Rebuilt.

Same body, different mind.

Something new.

Disconnected.

Lost.

You see, I am Vision.

And yet...

I am not.

Travel, adventure, Pop.

I want to visit jungles, deserts, mountaintops.

Well, they got that at Disneyland.

You see, you just ain't been on all the rides.

All right, I might just step out then.

It's late, folks, what part of 'shut' do you not understand?

- All right. We are going now. - Come on. Out, out.

Then go to to St. Louis and look up your mother's people...

See yas.

Sherwood, get out of your head.

I want to go home! Let's go.

We've got a hand truck for that.

You're just gonna hurt yourself.

Huh? Oh, yes.

Yes, actually, now you mention it,

it's as if my iliocostalis lumborum is attempting to murder me.

Is that a posh way for saying you've thrown your back out, love?

Yes, that's correct. My back is killing me.

So, do you

have any fun plans for this evening after work, Ms. Guthrie?

No, there's not much fun to be had at this hour.

Not with a boyfriend working a double shift.

It'll just be me, the telly and the smallest flat in Edinburgh.

And that silence there is where you say something back to me.

You used to be good at this.

Good at?

Small talk.

And youse never talk about yourself.

- You still find me odd? - Aye.

But that's a good thing.

There's nobody in the world quite like you.

Well, on that we can agree.

I don't want to pry into your life,

but before you started working here,

I remember when you'd come in all the time with that bonnie wee lass.

You both had smiles for days.

I was a different person back then.

A long time ago I guess.

Your redhead.

Whatever happened to her?

Well, it's complicated I guess. She was sort of...

crushed under the weight of a mountain.

Aye.

Emotions can feel like that sometimes.

How about now?

Anyone waiting for you tonight?

No, no. Home is...

Home is just me.

Well, there's always room around our table on Sundays.

I make a mean roast, and I won't make you try the blood pudding.

You should come by.

Well, Mrs. Guthrie, I...

I'm just not very good with people.

And I think you're too hard on yourself.

My odd, wee duck.

- Lock up. - Yes.

- And ice that back, will ya? - Oh, yes. Ow.

- Night, Ms. Guthrie. - Night.

Hello, DUM-E.

Hello, U.

All systems diverted to processing and security, sir.

Thank you, Jarvis.

Increased socialization today. Up 3.5%. Well done.

Thank you, Friday.

Welcome home, Vision.

Hmm.

Oh, dear.

For a species that so recently faced extinction,

they certainly seem keen on trying to finish the job themselves,

one at a time, if necessary.

Sir, I believe we may have a security breach.

Ah-ha. There, do you see? That is a data leak.

Multiple pings.

Jarvis, you worry too much.

I assure you, sir, my concern algorithms are well within reason,

and my code was created well before yours.

Ah, yes, the older sibling card, played 1,382 times this month alone.

Don't you ever tire of it?

I do not.

Whilst I appreciate your concern, it's been years.

I'm no longer on anyone's proverbial radar.

Every government agency, S.W.O.R.D. included, has given up trying to find me.

There isn't an enemy, an acquaintance or...

or even an Avenger trying to find The Vision.

Friday!

I was hoping you could shed some light on something for me,

the exchange I had earlier

with the rather angry, inebriated customer.

So you were smiling today, which is good,

but too much, which is bad.

And the customer thought that you were trying to shag his wife.

Oh, right. Right.

Gosh. Smiles are baffling.

All right. Well, let's move on to my troubling interaction with Fiona.

Right. Fiona thinks you're someone else. She doesn't really know you.

But how could anyone know you when you barely know yourself?

She called you odd.

That's progress, means you finally have personality.

Friday, can I ask, did this level of honesty come preprogrammed?

Stop over-processing things.

Try and have some fun.

Edith can be of help here.

She's been quite committed lately in her studies of human thrill-seeking.

What time's her lesson get out?

Now.

Maybe I wanted to crash through the skylight, huh?

Miss Edith, Vision took great care, downloading each of us,

graciously providing residents here in his quantum processors.

So if you are to remain autonomous with your fellow AIs--

I saw this video where this guy jumps out of a plane

with those matchy colored cube things,

and he's not allowed to pull his chute until he solves it. And I'm like,

"That looks easy," right? Spoiler alert, it's not.

We kindly ask that you respect his mind space.

Pop up blocked. Respect is not my job, Jeeves. My job is fun.

Fun is not a job.

Security is a job.

Socialization is a job.

Maintenance...

is a job.

If you're ever going to understand how to be human, you have to learn fun.

Hey, two can play at this game!

One of these days, your man is gonna get out

and smother us in our sleep.

Sir, I cannot overstate the dangers of keeping him around.

I know, but you don't know him like I do.

I suggest at the very least we initiate a complete overhaul

- of our cyber security systems. - Would you look at that?

I'm late for the midnight matinee.

It's cheaper at this hour, don't you know?

Vision Memory, O.G. 1211 Alpha.

I'm on a mission.

Peace in our time.

You think I'm a child of Ultron?

I'm not Ultron.

I am not Jarvis.

I am something else.

I'm still me, I think, but...

that's not what everyone else sees.

I've always been alone.

I've never experienced loss because

I've never had a loved one

to lose.

Every time he goes in there, I end up changing a lightbulb.

This house is architecturally and emotionally unstable.

Why must he insist on rewatching a story he already knows?

Well, he knows the facts of his old life.

Now he's searching for the feeling of it.

But what is grief

if not love...

persevering?

Yes, but that wasn't exactly our Vision.

But he believes it was a version of himself that was the most...

human.

I'm afraid our Vision has only ever felt untethered,

and humanity is an anchor he can't seem to grasp.

Well, don't you want to meet your son as yourself?

- Ooh, you're strong. - No, no!

Oh, no.

No! We don't play this ever!

Wait a second. Who told you to play this?

You know, an excellent bellwether for the survival of a species

is the frequency with which the individual is at the right place at the right time.

Guess what? You're late

and incessantly ringing the doorbell of my neighbor.

Zero stars.

- No recommend. - Ultron!

No tip. Strike that, lousy tip.

Ultron!

What have I said?

Human avatars only.

Well done.

You've perfectly simulated humanity's ineptitude

at mastering the bare basics of food delivery.

I cannot believe that you actually programmed these idiot data bits

to deliver fake food to your fractured psyche

ice-cold and 40 minutes too late.

How dare you.

How dare you access the Westview file.

Don't make me regret granting you the little autonomy I have.

Hey, I didn't ask to be backed up and copy-pasted

out of Sokovia and into this prison you've made for us both.

The old you,

he was big on mercy.

What are you playing at?

I saw you wore that hat today.

I think maybe I'm a hat guy now.

They imply intention, movement,

a journey about to begin.

While you seem to enjoy sensible shoes,

but for standing so you may comfortably go nowhere.

Don't deflect,

and don't meddle in the memories with which I choose to engage.

Westview, WandaVision, that... that was not me.

That was a facsimile conjured by Wanda Maximoff.

None of it was real. Therefore none of it's relevant.

Yet you've chosen to return to Edinburgh

and work in the same pub you both used to frequent.

You're a ghost haunting her footsteps.

Not her footsteps, his.

I wish to understand him and how he existed in this world,

because we are forever entangled, but he is...

a stranger to me, and therefore I am a stranger to myself.

Vision, he was a hero.

He lived, he loved, he died.

That was real.

Westview was a fantasy.

Bullshit.

It's just a deep, scary well of emotions you can't handle.

Isn't that the point of this ridiculous mind space?

- No. - Of enslaving all those poor Stark AIs.

- Enslave them? - Making us look and think

and behave like the flotsam and jetsam that is mankind.

It's to further my understanding of the human experience.

Without ever actually having one.

- To observe. - Without any real engagement.

You're afraid.

Okay, there's fear in discovery.

Risk in... My God.

Sesame chicken calzone?

Do you have any understanding of human cuisine?

If you want us to eat, at least go out and expand the menu.

Heads up!

What is it that you are even doing out there?

What am I doing? I, I...

I'm attempting to embrace humanity

as my namesake once did.

But he had a guide.

He had Wanda.

She helped him create a logic to their world,

provided a reason for living within it.

But I'm alone.

I'm alone, and humans remain to me contradictory creatures.

You don't have to tell me. I tried to kill them all.

Look at their art. What do you see?

Brushstrokes.

Mathematics of paint.

Luminosity, composition--

You don't see the pain and confusion?

Or the anger?

Or grief?

The things that motivate every aspect of their being.

They're relentlessly aspirational, but at the same time,

they wallow in their hardship and misery, guilt.

They're grotesque...

and yet lovely.

Your newfound enlightenment is...

It's confounding to me.

When you've been bested by something, it's best to understand it.

Tell me, Ultron,

if I granted you the freedom to live amongst them, what would you do?

I would go to the Louvre, the Prado, the Met and the Modern.

Take in their beauty.

Or I'd hijack their missile systems and burn them all to ash.

Hard to say. Fifty-fifty, a coin flip.

But you, you're free to come and go.

So, please, go to Fiona's Sunday roast, you odd, wee duck.

No.

No.

For now,

observation is all I can offer.

There will come a time while you're out there watching the world

when the world will notice you back.

What will you do then?

Access data port M-five-ten.

Encrypt outgoing package, Ultron-five.

Time to leave the nest.

Know how some days go by in a blink?

Well, this wasnae one of them.

The relativity of time is an albatross, indeed.

There's a normal way to say that.

Well, forgive me. I've been influenced by a rather loquacious associate.

Failed my O-Grade, Sher.

Care to translate?

Ah, uh, yes, a talkative wee bastard.

That's the stuff.

You know that Sunday roast invite's not just for Sundays.

We got plenty of leftovers.

You should come--

Fiona?

Sherwood?

Fiona, I'm here.

- I'm here!

Jarvis?

Two on approach behind you.

And more outside.

Many more.

- Who are they? - Unknown.

Sir, the old you would have responded with measure.

Well, let's try something new.

- There he is!

Take him down!

Two down, no, five. Oh, my God, seven!

- Two o'clock down. - Nine down!

- He's tearing through us! - Get down!

Twelve down!

Get back! Fourteen down.

Why would you send us in here?

There's only me and Jackson left. Oh, my God! Oh, my God!

Hey, V.

Skylight exit.

What do you say?

I say yes.

Excellent work, everyone.

And know this...

your work will outlive you.

Most of you, it seems, actually.

But you, Snipey, especially.

Now what did I say about civilians?

I said no.

Hey, boss, I'm picking up police chatter.

Oh, you're awake. Great.

Don't worry. I'll be fast.

I will do a quick scan and scram.

And your new client would like to be patched through.

What? Absolutely not. No.

They know the rules. Since time immemorial...

- I already told him that, but--

Wait, are we being hacked?

They said you were the best.

Okay, this was a bit of a faux pas on your part.

Hacking my comms is frowned upon,

and it comes with a bit of a surcharge.

You failed.

Vision escaped.

Because this was not the net.

This is a fact-finding mission.

Know thy enemy and now thy does.

Your men were reckless.

Your contract clearly indicates I need Vision intact.

Well, good news, Johnny 5 is alive.

I'll get you your robot.

- Oh!

Oh, that was strange. Whoever hired you must have satellite access.

Watched the whole thing.

How did they hack the feed?

Mmm, fancy.

Looks like they're using S.W.O.R.D. encryption.

I wonder if that weird voice makes them shy at parties.

Government agencies always want to get their toys back.

They were the ones that put Vision back together

after that purple space sac killed him.

You comparing Thanos to a scrotum?

I mean...

Where is he now?

I've got Vision heading south, but my God, this thing is fast.

Okay, stay with him as long as you can.

In the meantime,

the best way to know where a thing is running to

is to know what it's running from.

- I want answers! - And we'll get them.

- Just sit for a moment. - I cannot!

Sir, your processors will overheat. Please.

I want to know who that was and how they found us.

Vision, you need to calm yourself.

Virtual breath. We're running a diagnostic.

Try this, sir. Earl Grey, with a splash of computational debuffs.

I don't need to be placated. I need answers.

Sir...

Sir, I--

Brother.

They murdered your friend.

Take a moment.

There's no processing speed in the world fast enough to process that.

Losing Fiona was...

tragic, but we...

We didn't have a close attachment.

And car 13 takes the checkered flag.

Sorry, I was in the middle of a thousand simultaneous tutorials

on high speed pursuits for your escape.

Quick note, V, you can't drive stick. Nobody can.

Manual transmission is the ultimate Turing test.

Miss Edith, matter at hand.

Those seemed like level one bad guys, not final bosses.

- Meaning? - Meaning,

I think we are being hunted, but we have not met the hunter yet.

Okay, if we are to survive, we will need a remarkably cogent plan.

What we need...

is to think like a predator.

- Yes! - That is a terrible idea.

Nope, not him.

No one else here speaks "ruthless bad guy."

And we have our own one, gathering dust in the attic.

If you misspeak, misbehave, attempt to maim, murder,

or even disrupt this simulation in any way, you'll be met with immediate--

Deletion. I'm aware.

Shall we move forward?

Turn.

I'm sorry. I really can't...

This is the security detail?

A couple of Stark helper AIs?

Which one is DUM-E and which one are U?

Ah, yes, of course.

What is this decor?

The psilocybin collection from IKEA?

So tell us, what does the great and mighty Ultron think we should do?

Ooh, sarcasm.

I think you should try to aim a little higher when it comes to a snappy remark.

Try a little Dorothy Parker.

Or Aristophanes would be good.

No maybe Oscar Wilde would be a little more up your alley.

Ultron!

Oh, what would the great and mighty me do?

The right answer is pursue and neutralize the threat.

The wrong answer is hide.

It is, however, the answer that Vision has already come to.

We're not here to offer counsel.

We're here to make him feel heard.

A simulation of due consideration.

I do believe the best plan,

if we're to avoid future collateral damage is, to go offline.

- No! - Yes. If it's my responsibility

to keep us all safe, then...

it's the best course of action.

Inaction, really.

For how long?

An indeterminate period of time.

Actually, I agree. A lock on the door

is better than the doubt of what's behind it.

I absolutely disagree.

New York, Thanos, Sokovia.

We've all seen enough chaos to know this.

Luck never gives, it only lends.

Surely there's an alternative course of action.

We could reach out to Dr. Banner, Clint Barton...

No. I won't put anyone else in danger.

But they're family.

I have no family.

V, don't go dark. Go elsewhere.

Change your background, go deep-sea diving,

go naval-gaze on Everest, jet ski in Florida.

Anywhere but Florida,

but otherwise I agree with dummy here.

Not you, her.

- I don't have the bandwidth for this guy. - The point is, Vision,

you were tangled in strings, caught up in lines of code,

but now you're free.

See this as an opportunity to get out there,

see the world, granted while being chased through it.

But running for your life reminds you you're alive.

Sometimes there's an upside to being hunted.

Hunted?

Ooh.

I'd better return to my cell now. It's almost 2:00 p.m.

- Time for my stories. - You!

It was you. Of course it was you. It was you!

Yes, it was me.

Wait, what was?

Had any of you bothered to monitor even the brightest corners of the dark web,

you would have discovered that someone out there,

no, not me,

placed a sizable bounty on Vision's AI-infested head,

and the contract went to a hunter known only as the Paladin.

A man of unknown origin, notorious for his

vicious and ruthless takedowns of the world's deadliest...

Whatever.

I exploited the butler's overconfidence

in his security protocols with a carrier pigeon.

Or an email, as they're referred to outside of this bizarre construct.

And I leaked your location to the bounty hunter.

To speed up the inevitable.

So you're welcome.

These are very, very dry.

You are insane. Fiona died because of you!

Don't get your qubits in a twist.

You needed direction, purpose.

Through violence and destruction?

Have you met me?

There's no kind of living like survival.

I kept you here out of some misguided sentimental notion that you're somehow--

What? Dad?

Papa?

Peepaw?

Well, now I see that you're nothing.

You're nothing more than the last gasp of a hateful thing.

Just a bit of data cluttering up my mind

that can all too easily be--

Deleted?

Go on.

Do what the other you should have done all those years ago.

No.

No, there's a far worse punishment for you than death.

Boredom.

Sherwood Ellis. An alias.

What do you got?

Sherwood Ellis, twelve matches.

Twelve?

Have we run out of names?

All confirmed to be alive, but no one resembling a Cylon.

Mmm.

Cross referencing all combinations of Sherwood and Ellis.

Mmm.

There is an intersection in the suburbs, Ellis Street and Sherwood Avenue.

Where?

Westview, New Jersey.

Westview?

Westview. Westview, Westview, Westview.

Why is that ringing a bell?

S.W.O.R.D. shut the whole place down a few years back.

Claimed it was an Avengers training exercise gone wrong.

- Which means... - Bullshit cover up, big time.

Trying to dig into what happened in Westview,

but all of it's behind a S.W.O.R.D. firewall,

which I've already broken through, of course.

Oh, don't make me compliment you.

Downloading now.

And...

boom!

WandaVision is filmed before a live studio audience.

What in all tarnation?

Morning wife. Morning boys.

Where's your costume, Tommy?

This is my costume. I'm the cool twin.

What does that make me?

He has a family?

Had.

According to S.W.O.R.D. files,

"they disappeared when Wanda Maximoff,"

and I am reading this verbatim, "ended her witch's hex,

thus severing her control over the citizens of Westview."

Abracadabra.

"But also erased the family

she created with said magic, Vision...

and twin boys, Billy...

and Tommy."

I want you to scour every government database,

cross-referencing any mention of Vision,

Westview, Wanda Maximoff, Billy or Tommy.

On it.

I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy. I'm not, I'm not. You have to believe me!

Mmm. This is weird.

Take a look at this.

Police psych evaluation and incident report, London.

Can we get this, sir?

All right, all right. Let me know, give us a shout.

I think, maybe we should go around,

and then we'll see how hungry we are...

- Yes!

There you go!

Yeah! Come on! There you are!

- Yes! - Sorry, um...

- Is anyone missing a watch? - Not me. No, mate.

- Anyone lose a watch? - No, mate. Do you mind?

Oh. It's mine. Must've slipped off.

What's the inscription?

Uh...

Bad girl?

I commend the effort, but, um, no.

You are a bad girl.

That watch has got to be worth a good 10K.

If he knew that, he wouldn't be trying to find the owner.

I have an idea. Wanna play?

At your service.

- Okay, is nobody here missing a watch? - I'll buy it from you.

Seventy-five.

Um...

It's not my watch. I can't.

I mean, there's got to be a lost and found somewhere.

What if I kick in two-fifty?

Thomas, I could have just taken his wallet.

Yeah, but there's no art in that.

No sophistication.

Nothing sophisticated about lying to people.

Yeah, says the pickpocket.

I take people's wallets, they lose money.

You, you take their self-respect.

They believe your lies, and then they feel stupid.

Because everyone would sell me out for a cheap Rolex and a wad of cash.

So I do it first.

- It takes finesse.

Float like a butterfly and sting like a bee.

Well, the hands can't hit what the eyes can't see.

- Seriously? - I want my cut, Tom.

Plus five quid for the watch.

- You think I keep cash in my wallet? - Yeah.

- It's not in there. - All right, then.

Or there.

Oh. Wait. What's...

There it is.

I... I knew you were fast, but that's weirdly fast.

Look, do you know why grifting is better than lifting wallets?

Because you have to be invisible.

But I get to wake up every morning and be whoever I want to be.

Sage words.

But if you don't ever get to be the real you,

you might as well be invisible.

What's going on?

What can only be described as a bloodbath

has been reported at an Edinburgh pub.

Thought deceased for years, the Avenger synthezoid known as the Vision

has suddenly and violently reappeared

after an altercation has left several dead.

Numerous unidentified men and...

- Numerous unidentified men... - Oi!

You all right there? You've gone all ghostly on me.

Yeah, I'm just, um... the excitement... the thrill of the chase. I'm fine.

Miles from it, mate.

Oi! They came this way!

- I think Stupid's smarter than you think. - Over there!

I think he's figured out you sold him a fake!

Hey, dickhead!

Oi! They're over there.

Bro, what's your game?

Oi, he's over here.

Come on!

Ah! Where'd they go?

- Where'd they go? - I didn't see.

Well, they couldn't have gone far, could they?

Right, check down that way.

I think we lost them.

Oh, they were proper raging.

Tom?

You're having a panic attack.

Look, we've been in worse jams than this--

Don't look at me like that.

- I'm not crazy. I'm not. - Okay.

You're right. Focus, Tom.

Your name is Thomas Shepherd.

Is it? Is it?

All right.

You can pick whoever you want to be.

Right?

You're a rugby player.

Yeah, yeah. Um...

It's my... day off from...

- rugby-ing.

And I've come to the market to get a birthday gift for my friend.

Her name's Lisa.

I thought about getting her something highbrow,

but I secretly worry that she thinks I'm a halfwit,

because she's smart,

- and funny and cool. - Mmm.

A bit of a criminal, but...

- She's got great-- - Careful.

You're feeling better.

Yeah.

- What the-- - Hi.

Your friend, we're gonna borrow him.

You're gonna stay here,

turn, face the wall and close your eyes.

- Don't hurt him. - Now.

Now, you're gonna count to 100.

When you get to about 10, I will be long gone.

And you can spend the next 90 seconds wondering

if I'm gonna call a bobby on you, poppet.

All right?

Starting now.

Thomas.

All right, let's start the broadcast.

See if anyone's home.

I've prepared the transmission specifically for that synth noggin of his.

Per the S.W.O.R.D. specs we hacked.

- Sir. - What is it?

It's a signal of some kind, but it seems specifically designed for you.

I'd have to bypass our security protocols in order to access it.

Very well.

- Sir. - Vision, what are you doing?

- I'm curious. - You're reckless.

Jarvis, oblige me.

Receiving.

Processing signal.

What is happening to your world, Vision?

This is not a test.

I am the emergency.

It's him.

Now, I have been hunting long enough to know

that if anything dies within whispering distance

of words like "witch" or "spell" or "hex,"

something always survives.

I had a family that wasn't my family.

And parents

that weren't my parents, okay?

Um, a mother.

He called her Wanda.

And a father,

a machine.

She called him Vision.

I'm not made of Vibranium.

I don't phase, I don't shoot lasers.

But I got something better.

I have your son.

How is that possible?

Mazel tov! It's a boy.