Original subtitles

You think it's ready for bullets? Oh, boy.

My head hurts when you get all existential and shit.

This morning, the Wi-Fi shuts down for no reason.

Took me forever to get it back up.

Then I waited five minutes for my coffee.

Five minutes!

But you got through it, bro.

You faced it head-on, and you came out the other side.

I'm proud of you.

On the way home, I'm in the left lane at the intersection.

I miss the left turn arrow, but then the light turns from arrow to green.

The car in front of me just sits there.

Doesn't pull into the intersection.

The driver doesn't get that a green light means you can make a fucking left

-hand turn if there's no oncoming traffic, even without a fucking left

-hand turn arrow.

He doesn't move. The driver needs the fucking arrow. People have to be pointed

in the exact fucking direction.

When did everyone become so fucking stupid?

I don't know. Maybe they weren't so smart to begin with.

Nothing works.

All of this just needs to end.

The worst part is, I just realized I hate this fucking coffee. This coffee

tastes like burnt asshole.

Why is this called Signature Roast? Who is signing for this shit?

Okay, dude.

It's not about the coffee, bro. It's about Michael.

Don't even bring him up.

Our little lost antichrist.

Show some respect, bro.

He's the son of Satan.

Well, Satan might want to get a paternity test.

We've only been waiting for this dude our whole lives to put an end to all

this bullshit.

Give us a world that's worth the hate.

What does he say when he gets here?

I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Cut him some slack, okay? Even Jesus

needed time to figure shit out. That's why he went to the desert, bro. The

freaking desert? You're saying that's where Michael is? The freaking desert?

No. I don't know where the fuck he is.

I'm just saying, maybe he needs time to get his head together, you know? Maybe

he's looking for a sign. A sign?

All the guy needs to do is look around.

The world is a raging clusterfuck.

And we need to burn this motherfucker to the ground!

Wipe that slate clean and start over. This time, do it right.

You asked me to remind you about the cooperative meeting next week.

Right.

This is the reminder.

Consider us duly reminded.

Thanks, Miss Vettable.

Anything else?

You promised to give me more agency in day-to-day matters.

This would be a good opportunity. What is this cooperative?

You heard of movers and shakers?

These are the people who make them shake and move. That visitor you had last

week, is he a member?

Not exactly.

There must be a part I can play here with the cooperative.

Trust us, that's not your domain, Miss Venable.

But for our flight, could you get us those stewardesses we had last time?

From my high escorts? Oh, shit, yes. Do I need to remind you that I was the

first person you hired when this company was operating out of the back of a van?

I have given you everything I have every second of every day.

I've sacrificed any semblance of a personal life, friendships, family. I

don't even have a decent hobby.

Miss Venable, there's an old saying. If you aren't where you want to be, just

look in the mirror.

Are you actually referring to my disability?

No. Your scoliosis isn't the problem, Miss Venable. It's the chip on your

shoulder. But we still love you.

My high escorts, please.

Make your own arrangements.

I'm done here.

Whatever. She'll calm down. She always does.

She just gave me a great fucking idea.

a way through all of our Antichrist issues.

Thank you.

Thank you.

You're pushing too hard.

I don't get it. I used to be able to do this.

You're exhausting yourself, dear.

Try to relax.

Don't force it.

Witchcraft is an art, but our powers only develop as fast as our cerebellum

allows.

So just give it time.

That's all we're saying. What if we don't have time?

Michael told you he was coming to kill us all. We'll be fine as long as we stay

here, in this house.

I put all of Robichaux under the protection of an aura shield.

Every witch will be safe.

But any human, demon, or other will find it impossible to step through our front

door.

We can't always control the energies around us. Negative emotions, sickness,

toxic people, unwanted spirits. These things are unavoidable. Like the clap of

Plato's retreat.

But the Guardian's Chalice is our first line of defense against all of that. A

bear trap for bad juju. You just stash one in or around a space you want to

protect. And even that's not going to be enough?

Not without this dope-ass mantra to recite before.

That's going to put all of the power into these jars of junk.

Everyone repeat after me.

We'll do it together.

Any unwanted spirits and negative energy, you must be now.

Any evil presence that reaches great, only light and healing

energy is allowed in.

Excuse me.

Excuse me.

Excuse me.

And healing energy is allowed here.

Clearly that mantra's bullshit.

Oh, come on. You can't be that surprised to see me. Fuck no. You will prophesize,

darling.

Up yours.

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

I have deaths to avenge.

I was built for this.

Oh god.

It's him.

We need to leave before Michael finds his way up here. No, we need to stop

him. We have to keep you safe. I don't understand. Our sisters are dying.

There is nothing you can do to help. You are not ready.

He is going to kill you, and I can't let that happen.

So, we good?

I'll put in a word with my father.

Satan just greenlit your talk show for 13 episodes.

We failed. Again.

The witches we actually wanted to kill got away.

Cordelia fucked with me and my people, and for that all I wanted was to watch

her die, but instead... You're angry, and I understand.

But this is still a victory.

And besides, your destiny is to end the world with a rain of fire.

Killing those witches ain't gonna do that.

You were the one who said the way to end the world was with magic.

You said either the witches and warlocks stood behind us or we killed them.

Well, that was our plan before. Maybe we need to change course.

What does that even mean?

This guy's a fucking mess.

Yeah.

Don't even get me started on his hair.

Why don't we just focus on getting him to end the world?

Okay. Yeah.

Tell him to burn this motherfucker to the ground.

Yeah.

It's time to burn the sucker down.

And you don't need magic for that.

And besides, when you end the world, you end the witches.

Come on, Michael. Think bigger.

I have actually been thinking about some other possible avenues.

See? That's great.

Like what?

Maybe I could run for president.

Okay.

That could be problematic for a lot of reasons.

You look barely old enough to rent a car. Sure, but I could... start out as

an ambassador, and then I'd become one of the president's most trusted

advisors.

What the fuck is he talking about?

I think I know.

And it's not good.

Michael, this sounds like the plot of the Omen 3. Is this where you're getting

your ideas?

Well, I don't know where else to look.

It's not like there's a bunch of reference material on how to be the

Antichrist.

Dude! Relax!

I got this.

Sometimes I have to bring in the big guns to take it home.

Whatever.

Okay. We could go to the guys who brought me back to you.

Maybe they have the answers.

Really, they seem like a bunch of coked-out nerds to me.

Rude. Uh-uh. They're very smart.

Not to mention good-looking.

Yeah!

Boom!

Putin, Buffett, Clinton.

Oh, Bill, not Hillary.

Mm-hmm.

Kim Pyong-so. General Kim. Dude controls all the nuclear weapons in North Korea.

I don't get it. How are all these people connected? That's a list of 100 members

of the world's most powerful organization called the Cooperative.

Yeah, except no one in the cooperative would ever admit to being in the

cooperative. Also, the cooperative is a code name. The real name is the

Illuminati. And actually, this list doesn't exist.

Bye, list!

You guys are in the Illuminati. Well, I mean, were that group to exist, yeah,

you might find some familiar names on the roster at number 69.

Yeah!

The point is... The cooperative controls the money, the arts, the armies, the

thoughts, everything.

They run the fucking world.

And everyone in the cooperative has sold their soul to the devil.

Which means that you control the cooperative.

Daddy sets you up, bro. They've been waiting for the Antichrist. You just

tell them what you want and when you want it, and they have to do it.

They're basically like your army, dude.

What am I supposed to do with them?

If magic wasn't enough to bring about the end times... No, no, no. You don't

need magic to destroy the world, bro. Not when you have science.

And humanity.

People suck.

They're selfish and short-sighted. All anyone cares about is immediate

gratification.

And that's how everything happens. One shitty self-serving act at a time. You

multiply one bad impulse by seven billion people, you get global warming.

You get mass extinction. You definitely get genocide.

I mean, it's sheer numbers, bro. Math is way more powerful than magic.

We are totally ready to give the middle finger to the world and restart mankind.

It's the prophecy, bro.

You will reign for a thousand years of fire. It's in the book.

It's in the good book.

You read this book?

Revelations.

You read it?

What's next?

Okay, so Dead Hand is a Russian nuclear defense system set up for mutual assured

destruction. In the event that a nuclear attack is detected, counter missiles

will be launched automatically, even if all the commanders on the ground are

dead. With the people we know in positions of power, all you need for

Armageddon, bro, are three people in the right places pushing the right buttons.

Will it be enough to kill the witches?

I mean definitely yeah, all you gotta do is talk to them

We

even safe here the swamp which is Shaq maybe a grimy shithole, but it's

definitely secluded The only other person that knows it's here is dear

Misty and she's off gallivanting with Stevie.

Oh my poor girls She's there

It's us, Tia. We're safe now.

I saw them.

I saw them, but I couldn't feel them.

I couldn't bring them back. Why couldn't I bring them back?

Oh, shit.

What?

When we went to the house where Michael was born, we found out he could do this

thing.

After he kills someone, he can erase their soul.

He can, like...

burn their souls so there's nothing left. They don't go anywhere. They're

not ghosts. They're just... gone.

How can you keep this from me?

You put all of us in danger. I told you he was the Antichrist. What more did you

need to know? This will do no good.

We can't turn on each other now.

None of this will bring back our girls.

They're gone.

There must be something we can do.

Maybe there is.

Lempus infinitum.

We don't teach it to our students because it's considered a myth.

There has never been a confirmed case of a witch who has it.

A girl imbued with this gift.

is said to have the power to change past events, alter history.

Are you saying this bitch can travel through time?

It sounds preposterous, I know. I myself dismissed it as mere legend.

Until our young Supreme found a roadkill deer and did not merely bring it back to

life. She reversed the flow of time, returning it to its youth.

If you are able to do this, you can go back and save our coven.

I'd do anything to bring back our sisters.

There's a catch.

Not only are there no documented cases of a witch successfully executing this

power, but the tales of those who tried all end in death.

February 1913.

St. Petersburg.

The tricentennial celebration of a Russia united under the Romanovs.

A family that, to my mind, marked the historical height of grandeur. There

were feasts, operas.

Fireworks lit up the night sky.

Oh, to be a fly on the wall of the Winter Palace when Olga danced the

Polonaise with Prince Sodyakov.

Five years later, the history of the world changed forever.

Dad,

what happened?

Everything will be fine, baby.

Everything will be fine.

It's just...

Ekaterinburg is still at war.

We're being transferred out of here for now. Don't go out of danger. Where are

they transferring us?

Down.

Down, into the basement.

Where it's safe.

Anastasia, wake up your sister, please.

Anastasia.

Anastasia!

Do what I asked you to do, please.

Okay.

Get dressed quickly. What?

Okay.

Tatyana, wake up. Get dressed quickly.

At night, the Tsar's youngest daughter tried to stop it with a protection

spell.

As it turns out, little Anastasia was one of us.

A witch.

Our power was not great enough to defy our fate.

Perhaps yours is.

You want to send me a hundred years into the past to thwart the Bolshevik

revolution? We need a dry run.

A way to test your power without the possibility that Michael will learn of

it. He's too powerful.

Besides, the Bolsheviks had already won, dear.

Young Anastasia's survival will be proof of your success.

Bear with me, dear.

This is an unfortunate case of the blind leading the blind, which I'm sure is of

no comfort considering the risk of failure is death.

But here we are.

Close your eyes.

Take a deep breath.

Let my voice guide you.

In order to achieve this feat, you must place yourself in a different state of

mind. So shed your ego.

Disengage from this realm.

Focus your energy on the jewel.

Use it to place yourself in that night.

See the cellar.

It's working.

I'm here to help you.

Do you understand me?

These men are going to kill you and your family.

I know what you're trying to do, but you can't do it alone here.

Take my hands.

Don't you want to live?

Yes. Look, I'm okay.

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

No!

No!

No!

I have to go back!

I have to go back! I have to go back!

I have to go back! I have to go back! I have to go back! I have to go back!

I have to go back! I have to go back! I have to go back! I have to go back! I

have to go back! I have to go back! I have to go back! I have to go back! I

have to go back! I have to go back! I have to go back!

You're here.

You are with us.

You are safe.

She almost died, Myrtle. The damn spell didn't even work.

But it did, Julia. She was able to go back and pierce the veil.

If she can do that, she can do what's needed.

Our powers are tied.

Mallory will never really be ready until I'm gone.

We're not ready to let you go.

I can't stop thinking about my mother.

I've spent so much of my life running in the opposite direction.

Of Fiona.

God, I hated her.

For never thinking beyond her own selfish desires.

Even when our coven was in danger.

But now, here I am.

And I'm not ready to let go, either.

We all die, Penn.

Some of us make rather a habit of it.

I feel I've made so many bad decisions.

So many wrong turns.

I don't trust myself to know what's right anymore.

You would tell me?

If I've become her?

Just the fact that you're asking me this gives you the answer.

Fiona never questioned anything.

She never took the time to ponder the impact of her actions.

Never gave a passing thought about those she hurt.

All just petty obstacles in her path to her base wants and

desires.

My dear Delia, you're not your mother.

You'll never be your mother.

And the truth is, even if Fiona walked this earth for a thousand years, she

would be but a flicker, pale in the shadows.

While you light up the sky like a... Fiery conflagration.

We must invoke the sacred taking.

Let my powers pour into her. It will accelerate the process.

I die so she can be born.

Don't be daft.

The coven needs you. What coven?

Everyone is dead.

Michael is coming and there's nothing we can do to stop him. We don't need to

stop him. We simply need to buy some time.

Back in the dungeon again.

I had hoped to avoid the fetid aroma of pubescent warlocks for the rest of my

life. I never thought we'd see the day when we'd come to ask for help from men.

Might have been easier if you allowed me to kill myself.

Dear, don't even show them.

John Henry and Behold are potent allies.

Together we can slow Michael down and give Mallory time to develop her powers.

Hello?

Were they expecting us?

You'll be glad to know I've made arrangements with mile-high escorts Roxy

and cricket will be reporting to the g5 for your flight

We can't accept your resignation. Oh, I wasn't giving you a choice

I Can't work here anymore.

Well that we can agree on You can't work for a company if the company isn't going

to be there or most of the planet What are you talking about the world is

ending, Miss Venable.

In the next year or two, it is all gonna be gone.

No more company.

No more Roxy and Cricket.

No more anything.

Oh, my.

Are you trying to frighten me?

No. We're trying to save you.

Okay.

But then why do you two know about it?

Maybe you should have a seat.

Miss Venable, have you heard of the Illuminati?

I remember seeing some silly show on the History Channel about some secret group

that supposedly controlled the world.

It's not silly. It's for reals.

Had a little name change recently for reasons of branding and whatnot.

The Cooperative.

Sounds better, right?

The cooperative is on top of this whole end time situation.

And we have a plan.

We are going to be building these outposts for people. The right people.

So that we can ride it out.

Outposts? Yeah, they're like these little sanctuaries.

But see, there's no one overseeing. They need someone in charge.

So, we were thinking that because...

You have been so good about keeping us out of trouble that

you would make a great administrator.

You would be clear to pick and choose how you want to run the show.

You're saying I could devise my own rules.

Who's going to stop you?

You want to make people say the Pledge of Allegiance in their underwear every

morning? Knock yourself out.

Miss Venable, you wouldn't have to answer to anybody about anything.

This place is so strange.

Why would the world's wealthiest 0.1% choose to wear so much flannel in

Patagonia?

They think true power lies in not flaunting theirs.

Idiots.

Well, I just hope I can pry them away from their horseback riding and hot yoga

long enough to convince them to help me.

You've got to be kidding me.

I'm just... I'm nervous.

Against all the odds, you found your way to this place and to the brink of

fulfilling your destiny.

And those people in there are quaking in their overpriced boots because they know

they're about to come face to face with true greatness.

You're the one they're waiting for.

They've all pledged their souls to your father and to serving you.

And they're starving for you to show them the way.

It's time for you to do what you were put on this earth to do.

Destroy it.

Esteemed members of the cooperative, world leaders, tech

giants, media moguls, and cultural influencers, the

rumors you've heard are true.

My name is Michael Langdon, and I am the Antichrist.

Humanity is at a crossroads.

The world as it is today, the poverty, the hunger, the greed and war,

it's no longer sustainable.

The time has come to wipe the slate clean.

Friends, it's time for the apocalypse.

I understand your trepidation.

But let me remind you that you are here because of the gifts bestowed upon you

by my father. In return, you gave him your immortal souls.

He owns you.

Therefore, I own you.

We speak with one voice, and my demands are his.

Now, as you'll see from the handy guide provided by my associate, I do not

intend to leave you and your families to die.

When fire rains down on the unwashed masses, you and your families will be

safely squirreled away in a network of luxury fallout shelters.

You already have the resources.

You just bought land on New Zealand's South Island.

You own half of Bora Bora.

The bunker underneath your ranch in Texas could easily fit 20 people.

With a little construction and some retrofitting, these sites will make the

perfect outposts to ride out the end of the world.

And with the admission price of a hundred million dollars, only the worthy

will gain admission.

Turn to page six, section one.

Outpost construction.