All language subtitles for American.Horror.Story.S08E01.HDTV.x264-SVA

Fini. How much do you love?

Am I the first one to get this cut?

Because I'm working on becoming
an Instagram influencer,

and I refuse to show my full ass crack,

so my hairstyle has to be on point.

Who cares how many followers
you have? You're a billionaire.

That's my father's money.

I need to make something of myself.

You did. You're the next Chris McMillan.

Mm.

Take a sip so we can post.

Cold-pressed juice is
trending super hard right now.

You're gonna get, like,
10,000 likes in ten minutes.

Are you trying

to fucking poison me?

This tastes like turtle shit.

You're supposed to be my
personal assistant, Mallory.

Do you even know me?

Could you just go

and get me a macchiato

so I can rinse this
taste out of my mouth?

Are the Kardashians filming out there?

- What the fuck?
- No.

It's bullshit. It's a hoax.
It's like that time in Hawaii.

They're gonna text in, like,
a minute with a retraction.

Oh. Hi, Daddy.

How's Hong Kong?

- Coco, listen to me.
- Oh, you know what?

We have a terrible connection.

- I'll call you after I'm done...
- Just shut up and listen.

The missile alert is real.

In less than an hour,

Los Angeles is going
to be an empty crater.

Wait, Daddy, you're scaring me.

You can still be safe.

There are four spots reserved

for our family, but your mother
and brother are here with me,

and we're not going to make it.

A car is coming.

It'll take you to Santa Monica Airport.

A private jet is waiting, so go. So go.

- Now.
- What are you talking about?

Your mother and I love you very much.

Wish we could be together
again, but it's too late.

Just try to be happy, baby.

Oh, my God.

That's the only thing that matters.

No! No, no, no!

Wait, was that real?

We got to go, Coco.

Come on. Come on.

- Come on, Coco.
- Okay.

Widespread panic is being reported

in major cities around the country.

We can now confirm that
a ballistic missile alert

was texted to public
approximately 3:00 p.m.

Pacific Standard Time.

The Pentagon has not
yet released a statement

and there has been no
word from the White House.

Babe, are you seeing this?

- Brock, where are you?
- What do you mean? I'm at work.

I just heard a fucking amazing pitch.

Free Willy as a six-part limited series.

It's kind of genius.

Brock, I love you. I don't
want to live without you.

Get to Santa Monica Airport.

- There's a plane waiting for us.
- What?

Coco?

WBN can now confirm

Hong Kong, London, numerous
sites in the Baltics

and Moscow have all
been hit and destroyed

by nuclear ICBMs.

This is it, ladies and gentlemen.

I can't believe we actually did it.

We have just been notified to evacuate.

I'm not gonna make it home.

So if my children are watching this...

...Daddy loves you very much.

Ugh. Esmeralda, the
champagne's burnt again.

You left it in the freezer too long.

Where are you going?

You know I pay you for a ten-hour day.

I have to go home, Mrs. Evie.

It's the end of the world.

Nana, I've been trying to call you.

When he ran MGM,

your grandfather... God rest his soul...

Would never return calls
until the following day.

All of the stars and all of the agents

would have to go and see him in person

if they wanted to get...

What are you doing?

The government sent a warning.

- Missiles are coming.
- So is global warming. Well.

It's probably fake news.

- I'm gonna call Donald.
- No. This is real, Grandma.

People are going to die today.

Let's have some burnt champagne.

Look, I can't get ahold of anyone.

My mom's going straight to voice mail.

- I got to go home, Coco.
- No.

No, no, no, no, no. You
need to stay here with me.

Okay? You can take my brother's ticket.

Mallory, you know I'm
helpless without you.

I'm worse than Elton John.

I don't even know how
to work a dishwasher

or open a door.

Besides, after the bomb drops,

there won't be anything to go home to.

Okay.

Why aren't we moving?!

- Oh, my God!
- Jesus Christ.

- Oh, my God!
- People are committing suicide

to avoid the blast.

Coco!

Coco, wait!

What are you doing here?

I overheard your dad.
There's four spots.

Room for all of us.

This is my Nana Evie.

- How do you do?
- No, I don't.

What are you doing?
Brock is gonna be here.

He's not gonna make it.
It's chaos out there.

Jesus, what happened to your hair?

What are you talking about?

Okay, fine. Just get on the plane.

- Okay.
- Okay? Mwah, mwah.

- Brock, where are you?
- No, look,

I'm coming. I'm in the
worst traffic nightmare ever.

Okay, do whatever you have to do.

- Just get here. Hurry!
- All right, look.

I'm running.

I will be there in ten. Wait for me.

This doesn't look good.

Oh, my God. Brock, they're coming.

People are coming for the plane.

Coco!

It's now or never.

Brock, do you remember
the contract that we had

- with each other?
- No, no, no. Don't go there, babe.

Uh, at any time,

we can unilaterally release each other

from our monogamous obligations.

You are now free to see other people.

No, no, no, Coco!

Do not leave me in fucking Santa Monica.

Go!

Get on the plane now.

Holy shit.

You bitch!

Where are we going?

Didn't your dad tell you?

I'll find out.

- There's nobody there.
- What?!

No stewardess? Oh.

I guess I won't be ordering
the fresh-cut fruit, huh?

- Synced and corrected by VitoSilans -
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Where the hell is Dad? It's almost 3:00.

I want him to be here when we find out.

_

Whatever happens,

you just worked your
butt off for three years.

I did.

Now, if they can't see
how wonderful you are,

you know what? It's their loss.

Yeah.

You're destined for great things, Timmy.

- It's 3:00.
- All right, all right.

- Let's check. Come on. Come on, come on.
- Oh.

I got in.

- I knew it.
- I got in!

I knew it.

Oh, yes!

- Congratulations.
- Oh, thank God.

UCLA!

UCLA! UCLA!

UCLA! UCLA!

UCLA.

Yeah, I'm buzzing, too.

- Dad, you missed it.
- Honey?

- Haven't you been watching the news?
- No.

What's going on?

It's World War III.

- What?
- Hong Kong,

London, numerous sites in the Baltics

and Moscow have all
been hit and destroyed

by nuclear ICBMs.

- He's not serious, right?
- No.

- This is it, ladies and gentlemen.
- No.

I can't believe we actually did it.

We have just been notified to evacuate.

What?

- I'm not gonna make it home.
- No.

So if my children are watching this,

Daddy lo...

Well, I mean, there has
to be someplace we can go.

There's got to be
somebody's, uh, basement

or someplace that we can go.

- Something. No.
- I don't know.

- I don't know. I don't know.
- We have to go somewhere.

- What is... what is this?
- Get back.

What's going on?

Timothy Campbell?

- Yeah.
- You need to come with us now.

Who are you?

Your son has been selected
by The Cooperative.

We have a location prepared
for him where he'll be safe.

- What do you mean "selected"?
- Your son's

exceptional genetic makeup
makes him a prime candidate.

Prime candidate to do what?

Survive.

How do you know my genetic makeup?

You submitted your DNA
to an ancestry Web site.

You have to believe me, sir.

We're the only chance your
son has to live through this.

What about my family?

We're only here for you.

Then I'm not going.

We can't accept that.

- What?
- No, no. No!

- No! Ed. No.
- Dad? Dad?

- No. No.
- Get off me! Dad, do something!

Don't let 'em take me!

Say good-bye to your
brother and your mother.

No. No.

No, no. If you can take Timothy,

then why don't you take Edward, too?

- They're not identical.
- No.

Come on.

No. No!

- No! No.
- You have to go.

You have to tell me
where I am. I have rights.

No, you don't.

You'll be safe here.

Hey!

- Hey!
- Calm down.

It's okay.

I'm Emily.

Timothy.

How long have you been here?

I don't know.

Two guys dressed in black

woke me from a dead
sleep, put me in a car

and brought me to this room.

They tell you the same
thing they told me?

Found you on some ancestry Web site?

They didn't tell me shit.

Didn't have to. They found me in jail.

I got arrested for protesting on campus.

They got your blood tests from
your doctor or whatever. Yeah.

Ran it through a database.

There's something in
your DNA that they want.

My family.

This isn't happening. It's not...

This isn't... It's not real.

It's not. It's not. It's not.

I think they're okay.
They're okay. They're okay.

_

We're taking you to an outpost equipped

for long-term habitation.

It's one of ten around the world,

each constructed in
minimal fallout zones.

Are there other people there?

Others like you, and those who
can afford to purchase a ticket.

Rich people.

- Of course.
- The money they paid

helped finance this operation.

Put these on.

Sorry.

Please. It wasn't her fault.

Please. We won't do
it again. We promise.

Please!

Oh, my God.

I am Wilhemina Venable.

Welcome to Outpost Three.

This is a fallout shelter?

It is now.

For many years, it served
as an exclusive boys' school.

What kind of boys'
school is subterranean?

The Cooperative, to whom we
owe our eternal gratitude,

took ownership and converted it

once they realized what was coming.

The end?

No. The beginning.

The Cooperative has plans
far beyond the temporary

cleansing fire of the bomb.

The Cooperative is not made
up of nations or armies.

It's a collection of
the dozen greatest minds

mankind has to offer.

The visionaries.

They weren't visionary enough

to think we might be able
to use some generators?

It may be seem to you a
regression, Mr. Campbell,

our way of life here,

but you'd be dead wrong.

Technology is what destroyed the world.

Social media gave people
the illusion they were equal.

Now that's all been swept away.

The natural order will restore itself.

I'll show you to your rooms.

As Purples, you will each be
furnished with a private suite.

What's a "Purple"?

The elite.

The worthy.

Those chosen to survive.

I'm supposed to wear this shit?

In The Outpost, everyone
knows their place.

The Purples wear purple,

the Grays, gray.

Who are the Grays?

Grays are our worker ants.

Still a necessary component

of any functioning society.

The Grays are here to serve.

And grateful for the opportunity.

The alternative being nuclear winter,

cancer, death.

So what are you?

I am neither.

Rather, I am the strong
right arm of The Cooperative.

Think of me as their face.

So you're not a Purple?

The house rules are simple.

You will refer to me
only as "Ms. Venable."

You may never leave the building.

If you wander

out onto the grounds, you
will not be allowed back in

due to the danger of
radiation contamination.

You will take your chances

with the canker pus
monsters beyond the gates.

And no unauthorized
copulation of any kind,

under any circumstances, no exceptions.

What? You're joking.

Ask the two Grays you saw
on the way in if it's a joke.

You'll find the evening wear
on the left side of the armoire.

We dress for dinner.

Cocktails in the music
room at 6:30. Be prompt.

There's no excuse for tardiness
when there's nothing else to do.

Beware... Timothy.

This song... The same one every night.

Oh, here we go.

Where is it even coming from?

And why do we have to listen to it?

What are we missing here?

About 99% of the world's population.

Would've been better
off dying with them.

Speak for yourself, darling.

Wouldn't have to drink
this, whatever this is.

It's mineral water.

You get a chance to talk to Venable?

No, she creeps me out.

It's not fair that they get
to be Purples and not me.

Okay, he refused to touch my hair

if he was a Gray, and
she's been to the Oscars,

and was best friends with Natalie Wood,

so fucking get some perspective.

It just plays over and
over, 24 hours a day.

It's like Satan's Spotify playlist.

Oh.

Well, well, well.

New blood.

Come in. Don't be shy.

You're Dinah Stevens.

My mother used to watch your show.

She said you beat the
pants off Oprah any day.

Bless her heart... A million of her

and I wouldn't have been
replaced by that telenovela.

Um, what's happening out there?

- It's all gone.
- Everything.

Dinner is served.

It's all we get.

Don't be too disappointed.

Darling, you don't know
what disappointment is

until you've slept with Yul Brynner.

I want to die.

The cube on your plate contains
every vitamin our body needs...

...or so they tell us.

I'm still hungry.

I am so tired of the hunger.

Fuck this bullshit!

With all the thought
that went into this place,

they don't have a single bag
of Pirate's Booty in the pantry?

For a hundred million dollars a ticket,

I expect goddamn Gordon Ramsay

in the kitchen cooking us real food!

Oh.

I'm going to be very clear

so there will be no misunderstanding.

We have enough nutrition
for the next 18 months.

And if our situation doesn't improve,

you can count on less and less.

Situation? What is our situation?

We had a perimeter alert this morning.

Something penetrated the grounds.

Ah, God.

Ah, shit.

It was a carrier pigeon,

delivering a message
from our benefactors.

Wait. A pigeon?

Can we eat it?

It was contaminated by the fallout.

Can we boil it?

"There are no more governments.

Only rotting mounds of corpses,

too many to bury.

Starving people kill
for a piece of bread.

Three outposts have been overrun.

We are the last vestiges

of civilized life on the planet.

Be vigilant."

Everything we know is gone.

In two weeks?

That's all it took?

It was always fragile.

They made you think
the system was a rock.

It was a water balloon.

One prick of the needle and...

...that's all it took.

We will only survive

if we follow the rules.

There's a problem.

We've detected a spike

in the background radiation,
centered in this room.

It's them; they just
came from the outside.

No, no. We were checked when
we got here. We're clean!

No, we went through decontamination.

We were cleared.

Place your hands on the table.

And don't move.

Radioactive contamination

is a grave risk to our entire community.

The clean rule is there
to protect all of us.

A single stray gamma particle

can cause skin lesions.

Your DNA breaks apart,
your body disintegrates.

You'll wish you died in the blast.

But someone here decided

that their individual
needs were more important.

Someone went outside.

Touched something dirty.

It makes me sick to think this person

was selfish enough to
risk contaminating all...

No. No, no, no no, no. That's a mistake,

because the only thing
I've touched is Coco's hair.

She's clean. You're dirty.

No. This is impossible!

That machine is wrong. Ow!

This is outrageous. Stop! Please stop.

- Bring him back!
- Evie!

- No way. No. No way.
- No!

- Get your hands off me!
- No!

Take them

- to the decontamination room.
- No...

No.

Oh, no.

Clean.

Dirty.

Please, please. No.

I can't go through that spray again.

You won't have to.

Yes?

It's me. Are you decent?

Never more so.

Well?

Ravishing might be too strong a word,

but this one certainly becomes you.

Don't you agree?

If anyone sees us...

We're the only ones who matter.

How did you manage it?

Stu and the Geiger counter?

Easy.

Set the sensitivity to ten,

you can make anyone
sound like Chernobyl.

It was lovely work.

And a pleasure.

It's strangely satisfying, isn't it?

Dispensing punishment?

I love their faces...

that stupid "can't believe
this is happening to me"

look they get.

I'm not embarrassed to
say, it gives me a tingle.

I wonder what The Cooperative
would say about all of this,

making up our own rules,
terrorizing the guests.

You're still uncomfortable with this

and that gives me pause.

I'm military.

My dad killed so many
Viet-Cong he lost count.

Killing is in my DNA.

But I still respect
the chain of command.

The Cooperative's paid my
bills for a lot of years.

Just hard for me to pretend
they're not my boss anymore.

Forget The Cooperative.

It's only us.

How could he be contaminated?

Stu never went outside. He
was with me most of the time.

Well, people do strange things
when they're stuck inside 24/7.

I've started masturbating
with my off hand.

Are you saying he deserved this?

I'm saying Stu was boring,

and using up our food,

and that lesions won't
work with my complexion.

Fuck you!

I hope they come for you next.

Nobody's coming for anyone.

Not unless you break the rules.

This is a difficult time for everyone.

As a small consolation,
we have a special treat.

No cubes tonight?

Enjoy the bonne bouche.

Don't get used to it.

You think bribing us with a hot meal's

just gonna make everything okay?

Oh, my God.

I think my mouth had an orgasm.

Andre, we're not trying to bribe anyone,

but there is something
we all need to understand.

There is no "us" and "them."
We are in this together.

No individual is greater than the group.

We did what we had to do.

This is quite simply a tragedy.

Where have you been
hiding the fresh meat?

We have resources...
for special occasions.

I've never tasted anything like it.

It's chicken.

That's not a chicken bone.

Tell me this doesn't look like a finger.

Oh, Jesus Christ.

Oh, this stew is Stu!

Mallory, come here and stick
your finger down my throat!

For heavens sakes, don't be ridiculous.

There are lines that
can never be crossed.

Not eating people is of the first rank.

I don't care what it is.

It's absolutely divine.

And it's full of fiber.

I'm going to finish every drop.

You're a monster.

How could you keep eating?
You knew what it was.

It was chicken, Andre.

Delicious white-meat chicken.

You're a cannibal.

- You're all cannibals!
- Think about it.

She ate it, too.

Stu was contaminated.

Why would Venable eat irradiated meat?

That's right.

Why would she feed us poison?

The whole reason she is
here is to keep us alive.

But where's his body, then?

I want to see it. I want to see Stu!

Shut up! Shut up!

Just listen.

- I don't hear anything.
- Exactly.

The song stopped.

It's been the same song
for two straight weeks.

Why would they suddenly change it?

♪ Hold on ♪

♪ Through the night ♪

Don't you get it?! It's a message!

Aah!

♪ Let's keep on
looking for the light ♪

The Cooperative is trying
to tell us something!

They're saying, "Hang
on. We're coming for you."

- We're gonna be rescued.
- Oh.

Yes, The Cooperative is coming for us.

Halle-fucking-lujah!

Mallory...

_

Maybe it's time to eat somebody.

Or just, like, an arm.

He was right about the song.

There was a morning after.

It just looked exactly
like the previous morning.

We weren't rescued,
and no one ever came.

But nuclear winter came,

and it finished off anything
the bombs had left alive.

The world got colder,

deadlier.

But even in all of this death,

something was born.

Like everything in this place,

we had to ration one kiss
per week, just to be safe.

And though we couldn't be together

in every way that we wanted,

it was enough to keep
us from dying inside,

like everyone else around us.

I have an announcement.

This will be our last breakfast.

We're cutting back to one meal a day.

You can't be serious.

An effective dieting technique.

Yeah, so is starving to death!

How are we supposed to
survive on half a cube?

It's not optimal, but
also not impossible.

Either way, we have no choice.

Not if we want to keep eating at all.

I fucking can't do this anymore!

We don't know

how strong we are until
we have to face adversity.

This could be an opportunity
for all of us to grow.

Finish that bumper sticker shit
you used to say on your show,

and I'm strong enough to
shove this fork in your neck!

Oh, calm down.

What is the point

of all of this? Starving,

killing each other, getting shot?

All we're doing is waiting
around to find out how we die.

I say we take our chances outside.

She's right. We have to get out of here.

Nobody's going anywhere.

What are you gonna do?!

Shoot us all? Huh?!

What are you gonna do?

Perimeter alert. There's been a breach.

I need to speak to Ms. Venable.

Yes, sir, Mr. Langdon.

Tend to the animals.

Wilhemina Venable.

I'm in charge here.

Of course you are.

You don't sound like you believe me.

Why wouldn't I?

Seems like you've done a wonderful job.

The walls are still standing.

Your people are alive and healthy.

Which is...

quite a feat...

...considering.

Considering?

That three more Outposts
have been overrun,

and the remaining three
won't last through the year.

Why are you here?

Because it's only a matter of time

before the same thing happens to you.

The good news is,
there's another facility,

a sanctuary.

This one's completely impregnable

and stocked with enough
supplies to last a decade.

You're here to take us there.

Hmm.

I've been assigned to
evaluate the people here

and select the ones
most worthy of survival.

I could take all of
you... or none of you.

Those who make it live.

Those who don't...

...end up like my horses.

- Synced and corrected by VitoSilans -
-- www.Addic7ed.com --