- Synced and corrected by VitoSilans - ... www.Addic7ed.com ...
Ready for a story about superheroes?
Ugh. More TV superheroes.
Just what the world needs.
Be honest, have you hung yourself yet?
Or what if I told you
this was actually a story about super-zeroes?
Losers, achingly pathetic meta-human goose eggs.
How about it?
Ready to feel better about your own miserable lives for the next hour or so?
Follow me.
Our story begins,
as such stories do, with a visit to a Nazi.
I'm sorry. Cobbler.
Mr. Morden.
Yes. Yes, you must be Sturmbanhfuhrer Von Fuchs.
Martinez.
- Sorry? - Senor Martinez.
Who?
The village cobbler.
Oh.
Oh!
Von Fuchs was renowned for his theoretical experimentation,
offering certain enhancements for a price.
A price Mr. Morden was more than willing to pay.
Oh, I forgot.
Mr. Morden, that's me.
Well, it was me.
A third-rate bad guy,
a nameless henchman, a real...
Nobody.
I forked over a king's ransom to that demented genius.
And if I knew what he had planned for me,
I would have paid double.
Can you hear me, Mr. Morden?
Yes.
Are you ready, Mr. Morden?
Ready.
Repeat after me, please.
- The... - The...
- mind... - mind...
- is... - is...
- the... - the...
- limit. - Limit.
Again.
The mind is the limit.
Again.
The mind is the limit!
Funky...
And now to the 1980s.
Somewhere in this abomination of gauche and blow,
is a pale white ass pumping up and down.
The ass of a hero.
No, not that ass.
No.
Uh-uh.
Giselle?
Giselle!
There it is.
Mmm. Smells like hero to me.
Who's the fox?
You are!
Giselle!
Who's the fox?
Oh, my God.
Giselle.
Clara is crying.
Really? Looks fine to me.
She's fine, honey. You can't be so scared of her.
Behold, the bottom rung of marriage.
Contempt.
How are you doing, Bump?
What?
How the hell did you get Kate to agree to her?
You're a dirty old man.
You know what? It's called trust.
Thought you would have known that by wife number three.
Crash and die, babe.
I love you too, honey.
- Get to center, big fella. - Little snug in here.
Yeah, how about you cry about that back in the box.
Whoo! Whoa!
You see that?
Oh. Hey, there.
- What? - Uh, nothing, Cliff.
We racing here, Bump?
Hell, yeah.
What the fuck?
- You're fucking my wife? - Cliff, I swear to God, no!
Oh, yes, he is.
And guess what I never have to say when I'm banging big ol' Bump?
- Don't! - "Is it in yet?"
No!
Whoa!
I don't know what happened to us.
I'm going to be better.
I don't know what happened to us.
I'm going to be better.
Trainwreck's ready!
Do you think she even knows who we are?
Baby Clara, your daddy's gonna be
a big-time race car driver one day.
No.
I meant do you think she knows how much I love you?
Cliff. Cliff, wake up.
Fudge.
Three electrical values drive welding principles.
The amount of current or amperage in a current...
Cliff. Cliff Steele.
My name's Dr. Niles Caulder.
Would you please nod your head if you can understand me?
I'm not sure you ever really loved me, Tom.
You know what my father used to say
about smooth talkers like you?
Everything before the "but" is baloney.
I want you to...
remember what it felt like
to move your head.
Picture it in your mind.
Now, I want you
to move your head.
Good.
Very good.
You've been in a terrible accident, Cliff.
Much of your body was rendered beyond repair.
But we are getting there.
I promise you, we're close.
Rest.
Buh.
Bird.
Fla.
Flew.
Fuck.
- Flew. - Fuck.
1995?
Yes.
Fuck. Nineteen ninety-fucking-five?
Up-uh.
My wife. Where...
Where's my wife?
Cliff, this might be difficult to process.
The world thinks you died in 1988.
I'm not dead.
And getting stronger every day.
You motherfucker! What did you do to me?
- How about we take a break? - No, wait...
Chief's a good man.
Big heart. Little odd, maybe a little vague.
But it comes from a good place.
Me, I'll always tell you the truth.
The Chief told you the world assumes you're dead.
Did he tell you that's because
the only part of you he was able to save was your brain?
No.
Which means we need to talk about expectations.
What you really, really want.
- I wanna go home. - And then,
we need to take those expectations,
we need to give them a gentle pat
and flush them into the ocean.
What... What's that?
Oh, my God. No!
I... No. No, wait, what's that?
I told you he wasn't ready.
Everyone deserves the truth.
You don't look like the person you used to be.
There's no getting around that.
But...
We found you some clothes.
Hopefully, you'll see you're still very much you.
Sure.
So, what is this place?
My home.
A safe place for you,
others like you,
to heal.
Where's my wife?
What do you remember, Cliff?
- Fuck you, Cliff! Fuck you! - What the fuck am I supposed to...
Mommy!
Just tell me she's moved on.
It's been seven years.
She thinks I'm dead.
She's moved on.
I would have.
I can't hold a memory.
Everything's fractured. Everything's bad.
You're experiencing something called dissociative memory.
It'll all come back.
The bad and the good.
We'll get you on your feet.
You'll start feeling like yourself soon enough.
Cliff Steele, Larry Trainor.
I thought he might help you with your recovery.
And Larry gave Cliff the grand tour.
Wheeling him around like a couple of pony kegs
through this home, we'll come to know as...
Doom Manor.
I thought you might like some air.
I can't feel the air.
Sucks to be you.
Hey, what was it like getting buried in a pyramid with your cat?
Yeah, a sense of humor helps here.
So you'll work on that.
So what's your story?
I flew airplanes.
Flew airplanes?
Please. Larry Trainor was an American god.
Air Force aviator test pilot
shortlisted for the Mercury space program.
An Atomic Age sex machine.
How's my X-15?
Hmm.
Let's see. We've got 57,000 pounds force of thrust.
Mach 6,
like riding a rocket ship between your thighs.
She's a beast.
If you get a chance today, look up in the sky.
You'll see NASA's very own rocket plane,
the X-15 soaring into the heavens.
Five seconds, zero-zero-eight.
Roger.
Two, one. Launch.
We got a good light here, Larry.
Check your alpha and your heading.
A pilot doesn't reach Larry's status
by leaving anything to chance.
He was prepared for everything.
Decompression.
Very sensitive.
Harsh environment,
mechanical malfunction.
The one thing Trainor didn't count on...
Sweet mother of God.
...was a stoway.
Hold on, there's something up here.
You're breaking up, Larry. Say again. Repeat.
Hold on.
Larry, do you read? Let's pull it up.
Put some G on it, Larry.
Larry! Larry, do you read?
Larry, come in.
He's not responding.
What man possessed of what grit
could survive such a fall?
Or was our golden boy
newly possessed of something else?
Larry crawled from the wreckage that day,
forever changed,
in ways that would take him decades
to even begin to understand.
It is so important what you're doing, Cliff.
But you know, there's always tomorrow.
What's Drinky's deal?
Who? Rita?
She was an actress.
She prefers the light here in the evening.
Looking terrific today, Rita.
Hmm?
Oh, fuck me.
Sometimes it helps to picture a place you'd like to go.
How about up the freakin' steps?
Why go up the steps at all?
I can't walk!
I can't feel! I can't eat,
I can't smell, can't shit. I can't fuck
and I'd like to be able to do one fucking thing for myself
when I kiss you and the other fucking monster here
the sweet fuck goodbye.
Hi, Daddy.
Seeing your daughter, that's good.
That means your memories are coming back.
Maybe she's just the inspiration you need.
Has anyone ever left this place?
Some have.
Some come and go.
Others like Larry and Rita prefer to stay.
Rita has her knitting.
Larry, his horticulture.
But to be perfectly honest, those who leave
find it's often more difficult for the world out there
to accept who they've become than they do.
In better news,
I can see no mechanical reason
why you shouldn't be able to walk.
Keep going, Cliff.
You're nearly there.
Aren't you supposed to be not walking?
Yeah.
And?
I'm remembering.
You used to do this?
Yeah.
Around and around. That's it?
Yeah.
You were in the movies?
Pictures.
Lovely Rita.
Queen of '50s cinema.
Some critics called her the poor man's Deborah Kerr,
some critics called her the rich man's Yvette Vickers.
Critics. What do they know?
They're gonna hate this show.
And action!
"Dearest Mother, today was a fine hunt in the bush.
Tom took down a kudu whose horns will look magnificent."
Sorry.
"Whose horns will look..."
Rita. Please. He's the best focus puller in Africa.
Ugh. He's an eyesore, Charles. A real liability.
What if we cover up the arm?
- A different set of clothes. - Get rid of him.
But the crew, they adore him.
So put his name on the marquee.
Now, Rita, you're gonna step onto this gangplank here.
The crocodile will turn up there.
You'll scream bloody murder.
And Joe'll blast 'er to Betsy.
You think you can handle it?
Of course.
It's fine.
It's totally fine.
Great.
Turn over. Let's go.
Ready, Rita?
And action.
Now up the gangplank, Rita.
There you go.
Like it's a lovely day. And you're...
Why are you just standing there? Help her!
Help her!
I'm fine. I'm totally fine.
Towel.
What?
What is wrong with you? You've never gone for a swim?
Towel!
What are you staring at?
And away she ran.
Monstrous Rita.
Eventually finding her way to the only place
she would ever feel safe and unjudged.
Sitting next to a brain...
Consuming the first of what would be three rotisserie chickens.
One step.
So I don't gut myself.
Daddy.
I used to hold my daughter's hands
when she was learning to walk.
And she always wanted to go up the steps.
Always wanted to go up.
Even after she could do it,
after I'd given her the tools, you know,
she'd just stand there every time,
wanting me to help her.
And I would get so pissed.
"Just walk up the goddamn steps, okay?"
So, walk up the goddamn steps.
One more, Daddy.
- There you go, baby girl. - You did it, Daddy!
Yeah!
My family thinks I died in a car crash seven years ago.
My daughter's probably grown up without a father.
My wife's probably moved on.
But they deserve to know.
And they can decide what to do with it.
Thank you for everything you've done.
But this...
isn't me.
I'm thrilled beyond belief for you, that you're walking,
that you finally feel like you.
All I wanted was to give you a gentle place to land.
A second chance.
And I appreciate that.
I think you're ready to listen to this.
It's the phone message I used to recreate your voice.
I think it'll help you...
understand how your brain's been altering your memories
to help you cope.
I don't know what happened to us.
I'm going to be better.
I don't know what happened to us.
I'm going to be better.
Whoa!
Whoo!
Yeah! That's how you get it done, son.
I don't know what happened to us.
I'm going to be better.
- I know it's late. - Hello?
Hey.
Hi.
I don't know if you even care how sorry I am.
Go on.
Who wants pancakes?
Cliff!
No!
You're okay.
No. Kate!
Oh, God. No.
Clara. What happened to Clara?
I'm afraid you were the only survivor.
No! No, no!
No, no!
No, no, no!
No!
I can't feel pain.
No matter how hard I hit,
where I hit, what I hit,
I can't feel pain.
That's mighty shitty of you, Doc.
And the years passed.
And it's all so depressing. I just can't.
That's a new building next to the police station.
What's it say?
Library.
Your handwriting is an abomination.
- Robot fingers. - Mmm-hmm.
Daddy, I'm home!
Oh, goodie. She's back.
- Rita. - Comes and goes as she pleases,
like she owns the place.
Who?
Who indeed.
Meet Jane. Some people call her Crazy Jane.
Sixty-four personas, each with its own special power.
Ha-ha!
For example, here comes Silvia.
Spooky voice, a bit moody.
I'm not sleepy.
I want to speak to Jane.
And watch now. Here comes Hammerhead.
This one's kind of an asshole.
Except Jane's not here, you sissy little bitch.
She's in a mood.
Which one of her is in a mood?
What the fuck?
- Is that... - Hammerhead, this is Cliff.
Is he a toy?
Hammerhead!
- Are you a toy? - Yeah.
Heard you the first time. Are you a raving douche?
Hello, Hammerhead. Good to see you.
Fuck off and die, Rita.
Ooh.
This your pad, big guy?
Your man cave?
Where the magic happens?
Come on. Show me what you got.
What kind of man stuff you got in here?
Cars.
Yeah.
Little toy cars for a little toy man.
I bet it gets real wild in there.
In the wee-wee hours of the night,
when you think no one's watching...
Anyone ever tell you to shut your fucking hole?
Or what?
Little toybot does what?
Jane.
Cliff.
The Robotman.
Hammerhead told me you met.
She tell you she grabbed my junk?
Hammerhead doesn't kiss and tell.
How long you been busting the Chief's balls?
Long before you got here.
Seven days.
You know how it is when you meet the Chief.
Best day of my life.
It wasn't all Hammerhead's fault last night.
Next week's my daughter's birthday.
Pretty much the 30th year
straight that I haven't been with her.
I'm a little on edge, I guess.
And so it was.
After a brief misunderstanding
in which junk was grabbed,
Robotman met Jane.
And all was right and all was good.
For now.
It's getting dark.
Jane?
No.
I'm the Hangman's Daughter.
Okay.
Do you rember what it felt like?
What?
To be normal.
Like them.
Sometimes I try to rember.
Sometimes I hope I still will be.
I don't even know what to hope for.
My painting's ruined.
Everything's gone wrong.
Come in out of the rain.
- Why don't you get back here? - Why should I?
All you ever do is talk about the war.
And life in Dumb Manor proceeded accordingly.
So much so, the Chief felt comfortable enough
to resume his occasional travels.
I won't be gone long.
But there are mysterious things in this world
that bear keeping an eye on.
So go, I must.
So, we understand each other.
Bring a condom.
And you, behave.
I'll be back in a few days.
Bye, Dad.
Indifferent as they seemed,
it did occur to each and every one,
it had been a long time since all four
were in the house without Dear Father.
Why, they could do anything.
Anything at all.
Groan.
Ugh.
Wait.
Honk, honk.
Oh?
Is that my bus?
What on earth are you doing?
What are we doing?
We're going into town.
After the Chief explicitly asked us not to.
This is your most reckless scheme yet, Jane.
Crazy Jane.
I'm in.
Shocking.
Larry?
Um, does it matter to any of you
that the Chief thinks we're not ready?
No.
- Rita? - Don't be ridiculous.
Oh, come on.
There's a whole world out there waiting to be seen.
That hasn't seen you in 60 years.
I see what you're doing.
Playing my ego.
I won't be played.
Okay.
Happy knitting.
- Larry. - Don't.
Larry.
Don't say a word.
You look nice.
Of course I do.
Don't wait up.
Which one of you has any money?
Be with you in a second, hon.
- You okay? - All good.
Almost there.
I don't get it.
You said it was your daughter's birthday.
Oh.
There is nothing, nothing like a malted.
Am I right?
You know, this is crazy.
You even talk like her, you know that?
Who?
Rita Farr.
Actress from the '50s.
My dad made me watch all her movies.
Made you?
She must have been the only actress that I was ever, like,
"You know what? I could hang with her."
I mean, she was cool and sexy,
but a broad, too.
I mean, Three Guns To Santa Fe?
El Paso. Three Guns To El Paso.
Okay, so you do know her.
I don't know.
Mostly, I loved her,
'cause it meant I get to spend extra time with my dad.
It was a tough time in our lives,
but Rita Farr, she got us through.
Sit.
Tell me.
About my dad?
No.
One day a year, I had one job.
Buy the present.
It was my favorite day.
The accident was a few days before her birthday,
and I was so angry by then,
at myself, my wife,
I couldn't see past my own bullshit, and then I forgot.
You forgot to buy your daughter a birthday present?
I was busy.
Fucking the nanny.
You idiot.
Yeah.
And now I'm totally stressed.
Oh! Oh, God.
I would so fuck that joint up.
Except it's mine, so fuck off.
Anything?
Pardon me.
Would you mind if I ordered a drink?
What'll it be?
I want a beer.
And then there was that African picture.
Forbidden Congo.
Forbidden dookie.
Oh, come on.
I heard she fell ill.
They replaced her mid-picture.
- She was a drunk. - No.
And then, there was that whole porn thing.
The what?
Rita Farr?
Oh, trust me. My dad had duffel bags full of the stuff.
Your father said Rita Farr was doing porn?
Full on.
How pissed do you think the Chief would be
knowing we were out here being gawked at?
I honestly don't give a fuck.
Nope. Not buying it.
What?
I think you care a lot about what he thinks.
You don't know me.
You need him like the rest of us do.
Hey, I hate to say it, but I need him,
to get my life back, or whatever that looks like.
If you want your life back, why don't you just call her?
Who?
Your daughter.
My daughter's dead.
- According to? - My daughter's dead.
Oh.
Because you can confirm that?
Multiple sources?
It's all over the Internet, man!
Your shitty driving.
Wife, Kate, decapitated.
Daughter, Clara, sole survivor.
Shut up, Jane.
There are three Clara Steeles in the United States.
My daughter's dead.
Let's find out.
No!
Asshole!
Larry knew they were staring at him,
and, yes, it bothered him,
but not for reasons one might think.
The truth is, Larry Trainor had felt like a monster
long before he ever was one.
We got a good light here, Larry.
Hold on. There's something up here.
Larry, Larry, do you read?
Larry, come in.
He's alive!
Get a medic!
Larry.
And the sadder truth was,
he'd finally become what he had once felt like only inside.
No.
Sure you don't want any dessert?
Just the check, please.
Hey!
Is there a problem, ma'am?
No, officer.
The only problem I see is you, pig.
Oh, here we go.
No. Not now.
Officers, my friend here is maybe a little depressed,
maybe a little high.
But she takes it all back.
Take it back, Hammerhead.
Which one of you motherfuckers wants me to jerk a knot in your ass?
Fuck me.
What the hell is that?
Rita.
Oh, God. Rita.
No.
No, no, no, no.
Rita!
Can you hear me?
Rita!
Rita! Fucking bitch.
Get a grip on yourself.
No, no, no, no!
What the hell.
What do we do?
No, we're not doin' that!
What do we do? What do we do?
What do we do? What do we do? What do we do?
Get back. Get back.
Uh, uh...
Um... Oh!
I wanna go home.
We can do that.
In local news today,
the fifth annual dog parade benefitting...
Look at them.
Staring into the boob tube,
moping on the day's destruction,
utterly clueless to the danger
their little field trip had brought to their door.
Apparently, it was some sort of giant blob run amok,
until what some witnesses described as a "robot man"
created this barrier made of...
Well, made of Main Street, Bill.
Daddy's home.
I warned you not to leave.
I begged you.
You have no idea what you've done.
It wasn't that bad.
"Bad" doesn't begin to describe
what befell Cloverton today, Bill.
Thank you, Wendy.
It's always uncomfortable, isn't it,
when Daddy gets scared?
As well, he should be.
Niles Caulder should be shitting his pants.
He knows what's coming.
He'd be a fool not to.
You don't spend decades tap dancing on hornets' nests,
and not expect to be stung.
Niles Caulder had enemies.
Enemies he could no longer hide from.
Whether you realize it or not,
your actions...
Your actions have consequences,
and those consequences are coming to this house,
to the town.
Of that, there's no doubt.
You really think we're in danger, Chief?
That we need to pick up and run?
That's what you really, really think?
As far away as possible,
as soon as we can.
What happens to the town?
The town is not my main concern.
So, the town gets screwed?
You've done quite enough to this town,
thank you.
This is bullshit.
Don't you start with me.
You and I both know
this field trip was for little more than your own amusement.
So, now she's the bad guy?
Okay, let's talk about you, Chief.
You told me my daughter was dead!
I was trying to protect you.
By lying?
I'm trying to protect you now.
Do you honestly think she would have accepted you?
Did I get a chance to try?
She lost her mother, her father.
I don't know if she would have accepted me.
You robbed me of that chance.
What am I to her now?
I'm nothing.
I'm a monster.
I assure you, there are many monsters in this world,
and none of them,
not a one, is you.
I've tried so hard to shield you.
And I know what I'm asking you.
To leave the safest place you've ever known,
to step out into the world that would rather ignore you,
shun you,
belittle you.
But if you stay here,
if we die now,
then this magical experiment,
this you,
my life accomplishments,
all,
it will just...
It will...
Or we don't abandon the town.
We protect them from these so-called enemies.
We fight.
We could.
But we'd be doomed.
What are we now?
I'm going to go with the Chief.
Agreed.
Fuck it.
Shotgun.
Hmm.
Hey, for the record,
the town can kiss my ass.
But that doesn't mean Cliff should go in there alone.
It's over, Jane. Let it go.
Okay, except I vote we turn around.
- No. - Rita?
I can't promise I won't, you know, be disgusting.
But, yes.
Larry?
Larry's a yes.
Whoo!
This is wrong.
Might be.
Probably is.
We'll be back.
And there they go,
our four lovable losers,
banding together to become the superhero fighting force
no one saw coming except everybody.
But fear not.
There's a way out of this dreck.
Follow me.
It's fine.
It's totally fine.
Paraguay.
Yes, Niles.
Paraguay.
Always, Paraguay.
Morden.
Sure.
But not.
I mean, I haven't been Mr. Morden since...
No! Help me.
_
I've been admiring your friends, Niles,
those freaks of yours for quite some time.
Don't you dare hurt them.
Hurt them? No.
That wouldn't be any fun.
No.
That would be quite the same old story, wouldn't it?
I think we're gonna do something different this time.
You were right in one respect, however.
They are quite doomed.
What the fuck?
- Synced and corrected by VitoSilans - ... www.Addic7ed.com ...