Are you ready to venture into the great beyond?
Dammit.
Agent Blake...
the deputy director is gonna send you down to Tulsa
to take lead on an investigation.
Chief of police got hung.
Folks assume the Seventh Kalvary did it.
Who are you?
I'm the one who strung your chief of police up.
You're under arrest.
The goddamn Seventh Kalvary's where the war's at,
and I won't be leavin' until it's won.
Run!
Men who end up hanging from trees
with secret compartments in their closets
tend to think of themselves as good guys,
and those who protect them think they're good guys, too.
Ooh.
- Synced and corrected by VitoSilans - -- www.Addic7ed.com --
_
Who on Earth could that be?
Hi.
Are you the Clarks?
Yes.
You're Lady Trieu.
I sure am.
May I come in?
Yeah, sure.
So, what have you heard about me?
Oh, uh, not much.
Come on.
You're the billionaire building the big clock down the road.
You've been in Tulsa a year, but nobody ever sees you
because you don't come out.
Actually, I'm a trillionaire,
what I'm building down the road is much more than a big clock,
and I do come out,
but only when it's important.
Fortunately,
for the next three minutes, you two
are the most important people in the world.
I want your house right now.
What?
This house... I want it.
Oh, and also the 40 acres it sits on.
It's not for sale.
Right, I get it.
It's been in your family for generations.
Legacy's a big deal.
What was I...?
Legacy.
Legacy isn't in land.
It's in blood,
passed to us from our ancestors,
and by us to our children.
You two have no children, so when you die, your legacy dies with you.
You'll be... extinct.
Well, hold on just a minute here...
You don't have a minute. Please, don't interrupt.
We're getting to the good stuff.
I got rich
making advanced pharma and biomedical tech.
Among my holdings are thousands of clinics,
one being Sooner Fertility Partners,
right here in Tulsa.
Ten years ago, you two went there and tried to get pregnant.
- What? - But you did not get pregnant
because when they harvested your eggs, Mrs. Clark,
you were told they were nonviable.
Know what I say to that?
I say bullshit!
Katy, Jon...
I'm not here to offer you money for your land.
I'm here to offer you legacy.
I'm here to offer you a child.
- Get out of our house. - Honey...
No. She comes here in the middle of the night,
and tells us she can just make us a baby after all... No.
No. Leave! Right now!
I'm so sorry.
I think you misunderstood me.
I'm not going to make you a baby.
I already did.
In anticipation of our negotiation,
I took the liberty of creating your son.
And he is yours, biologically.
Oh, sweet Jesus.
I've placed five million dollars in an account.
That should cover your relocation cost, and, you know,
baby food, college education, etc.
You have 30 seconds to decide.
Would you like to hold him?
- Jon... - Hey.
Hey...
He's got your eyes.
Got your eyes.
Ten seconds or I'll have no other choice
but to destroy the baby.
Guys, I'm joking.
I'll find a loving home for him.
He'll just never know where he came from.
Jon! Jon!
Here.
What is that?
That...
is mine.
_
- _ - Hi. You've reached the Milk & Hanoi Bakery,
where we let Saigons be Saigons.
Go ahead and leave a message and we'll call you back.
Hello, Will.
You recently submitted your DNA
at the Greenwood Center for Cultural Heritage.
We have good news.
A new branch of your family tree has been identified.
Your ancestors await.
- Please visit us... - Oh, oh, oh!
Ow. Shit. Shit!
Fuck!
...for entrusting your legacy
to the Greenwood Center for Cultural Heritage,
where the answer to life's mysteries
is life's histories.
Squad.
This is Night. Did y'all get a...
silent alarm at the Greenwood Cultural Center?
Negative. We're not getting anything here. What's up?
I'm on site.
Someone broke the glass on the side door.
I'm gonna check the premises. If you get an alarm trip, it's just me.
Copy that. Want us to send a car?
No, I got this. Night out.
May 31st, 1921,
it started like any other day
for the Greenwood Avenue Volunteer Fire Department.
Hello.
I'm United States Treasury Secretary
Henry Louis Gates Jr.
What's your name?
Angela Abar.
Hello, Angela. What can I help you with today?
I need to see my family tree.
Fantastic. Just give me a moment
to encode your acorn.
Good news!
There's currently no wait in the Greenhouse.
Please proceed there to plant your acorn.
As my relatives were being gunned down in the street,
as they were dragged...
_
Welcome, Angela Abar,
to your family tree.
A new branch on your father's side is now available.
If you would like to grow this branch, please tap your father,
Marcus Abar.
These are your paternal grandparents.
June Abar is in our archive.
Will is not yet identified.
Please key his icon for more information.
With 99.947 certainty,
Will is your grandfather.
Will's genetic profile directly matches
two individuals in our ancestral database.
Based on an archival photograph,
the Center can render them now.
Angela, would you like to meet your great grandparents?
Yeah. Okay.
Obie Williams was born in Louisiana in 1891.
He enlisted in the US Army and fought against the Germans
in France in World War I.
He returned to Tulsa a hero, and reunited
with his childhood sweetheart, Ruth Robeson.
Obie and Ruth had one son, but his name was lost
in the fires that consumed Greenwood's records.
He does, however,
appear in one archival photo with his parents.
Tragically, the entire family was killed
in the massacre of 1921.
May they rest in peace.
You're not dead.
You disappeared.
A hundred years from now, you're gonna roll back into Tulsa
and blow my life up.
And then disappear again.
You said you wanted me to know where I came from.
Now I know.
So, wherever you are...
leave me the fuck alone.
This is your car?
Yeah.
Dispatch, this is Night.
Stolen vehicle recovered on Greenwood Avenue,
100 block. I need a tow.
Dispatch : Copy that. We'll send a rig.
They take anything?
Doesn't look like it.
It fell out of the sky.
- What? - Your car.
It fell out of the sky.
You're kidding?
I don't kid about things falling out of the sky.
Angela.
Well, it looks like you got things under control here, so...
I'll just leave you to it.
Cool costume.
Thanks.
Hi.
Rosie and Emma in your bed?
Mm-hmm.
Can I crash here?
Okay.
Where were you?
I had to stay at the cemetery a while.
The police needed to ask me a lot of questions.
Are your sisters okay?
I think so.
I didn't see that man get shot in the head.
But you did.
When the bomb started beeping,
and then you saved everybody...
were you scared?
Yeah, I was scared.
Still am, a little.
It fell out of the sky?
That's what she said.
- The FBI agent? - Yes, the FBI agent.
What was she doing there in the middle of the night?
I didn't ask her.
What were you doing there in the middle of the night?
Breaking into the cultural center.
Why?
Because I'm not acting rationally right now, Calvin.
- Yes, he is! - He isn't.
ROSIE, EMMA: He is, too!
- He is not. - Yes, he is!
Whoa, whoa. What's, What's going on?
Topher said that Uncle Judd
didn't go to Heaven when he blowed up!
Sweetheart, um...
Heaven is...
pretend.
So, where is he then?
Well...
Before Uncle Judd was born, he was nowhere.
Didn't exist.
Then he was a baby,
then he was a child, then he was an adult.
Then he died.
Now he's nowhere, again.
Nowhere?
What? It's the truth.
Okay, who wants waffles?
- Me! - Me!
Yeah?
It's Angela.
Howdy.
Sorry about the mess.
Been a couple weeks since the last squid-fall.
When the sirens stopped, I knew it wasn't the big one, so...
I grabbed my camera, hustled on up there
before any could dissolve.
Poor bastards rain down on us from another dimension,
probably just as confused as we are.
Thirty seconds of life, and they spend all of it dying.
You're fucking weird.
And you are adequately self-aware
to recognize the hypocrisy of that remark.
So...
what can I do you for?
What are these?
Don't know.
I was hoping you could ask your ex.
We have a lab down at the precinct.
Your ex has a lab that's not at the precinct.
And she is indeed my ex.
You told me it was amicable.
Where'd they come from?
Does it matter?
Only if it relates
to the murder of our beloved chief of police.
You know he was a racist?
He was a white man in Oklahoma.
He hid it in his closet.
You reckon he was Kavalry?
You reckon he was?
Looks like we have ourselves a reckoning.
This is old school.
Crawford's granddaddy was a lawman.
Maybe it's just a keepsake.
Can you hold onto it for me?
So, the FBI lady won't find it?
So the FBI lady won't find it.
I suppose you don't want me to tell her about these, either?
Be careful of that one.
She is extremely weird.
The fuck?
Hey! Police!
Hey!
Stop!
The fuck?!
Can't fool a fly with shit.
- Hello there. - Hey.
Gentlemen.
You saved my life.
Angela, right?
Oh.
Am I not supposed to know who you are?
I'm sorry.
- For what? - The funeral yesterday.
I should've known I have a target on my back.
If I wasn't there, it wouldn't have happened.
You're right.
Try not to get kidnapped next time.
I'll do that.
You have a nice day, Detective.
You, too, Senator.
Do you know any vigilantes that wear a belt like this?
Tall, skinny, head-to-toe spandex?
- What'd he do? - He ran.
Ew! What the fuck is this?
Some kind of oil. Guy squirted it
all over himself, and slid into a sewer grate.
He have any, uh, lettuce or watch batteries on him?
Was he wearing a Rorschach and saying,
"Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock?"
- No. - Oh.
Okay.
Then, new boss probably isn't going to give shit about...
lube man.
New boss?
Come in.
You moved into Crawford's office?
Uh-huh. Is that problematic?
Only if you want everybody out there to hate you.
Have a lead on your stolen car.
- Oh? - Yeah. Uh, we dusted it.
Lots of prints. Yours, your kids,
but there was another set of prints.
Mystery prints.
I mean, it could be anybody who'd been in your car.
You know, friend or whatever.
But you don't strike me as the kind of person who...
has friends?
Anyway, they didn't match any known perps,
so I sent 'em to Quantico, ran 'em through our database and...
they got a hit.
Someone named...
William...
Reeves.
- Ring a bell? - No.
Apparently, he was a cop in New York City
in the '40s and '50s.
Retired young.
Fell off the grid.
- A cop? - By my math,
he has to be... over a hundred years old by now.
And do you know how 100-year- olds tend to get around, Angela?
Wheelchairs.
Don't you knock?
Oh...
- I just... - What is it, Petey?
No shit? Ooh.
Perfect timing.
Another lead on your car.
Mind if I ask you
why the FBI even gives a shit about my car?
Well, it got stolen right after Crawford was murdered
and returned the night of his funeral.
Now, that could be a coincidence,
but, however, I think...
we're talking about a thermodynamic miracle.
A what?
A thermodynamic miracle.
It's the sciencey version of, uh,
"It's all connected, man."
My ex used to talk about them, when he wasn't
distracted by fucking quarks.
He sounds like a lot of fun.
Yeah, well, he's no Cal.
- Excuse me? - Cal, your husband.
I saw him today. We had a nice chat.
You went to my house?
Yeah. It's very nice.
You guys met in Vietnam, huh?
You have family there?
No. My parents died when I was little.
Oh, an orphan.
That makes sense.
How so?
Well,
people who wear masks are driven by trauma.
They're obsessed with justice
because of some injustice they suffered,
usually when they were kids.
Ergo, the mask. It hides the pain.
I wear the mask to protect myself.
Right. From the pain.
So...
did nuns murder your parents?
Or were you raised by nuns
after your parents were murdered?
Uh, no judgment.
I used to dress up and fight bad guys, too.
Oh, really?
And what was your trauma?
Petey, go ahead. Tell her.
Uh, what?
Petey's kind of an expert on me and all the yahoos
I used to run around with.
Go ahead, tell Sister Night about my trauma.
- Really? - Absolutely!
There are no secrets in this car.
Okay.
Agent Blake's parents were
the Comedian and Silk Spectre.
They were both in the Minutemen.
Minutemen, like the TV show?
That show is garbage.
It's the... Mm-mm.
It's full of historical inaccuracies.
In the real world,
the Comedian sexually assaulted Silk Spectre,
back in the '40s.
Agent Blake didn't find out till
much, much later.
He... her dad tried to rape her mom.
Well...
I'm so glad we got this time to know each other better.
We're here.
You might wanna...
protect yourself.
How many of these things you people have?
Just these six.
What's the range on them?
100 kilometers, give or take.
So, it's possible to, say,
fly one out of here and...
vwoot... pick up a car in downtown Greenwood?
Why would we do that?
You mind giving me a list of everybody who was here
last night who knows how to fly these things?
Sorry. I'm not authorized...
I'll take it from here, Selma.
Hello. My name is Bian.
I'd be happy to provide you with the information you requested.
Traditionally, my mother relegates
interactions with the authorities to underlings,
but in this case, she'd like to invite you
to have tea in her vivarium.
May I show you the way?
Ooh-la-la. Please do.
So sorry. Ladies only.
I'll, uh, wait in the car.
The Colossus of Rhodes was swallowed by the sea.
The Lighthouse at Alexandria, toppled by earthquakes.
Not one of them built to last.
So, you're building the Eighth Wonder of the World?
No.
The First Wonder of the New World.
A thousand miles from the nearest ocean,
fortified and impervious to seismic activity,
and anything short of a direct nuclear blast.
What does it do?
It tells time.
Agent Blake.
Detective Night.
Please, come in.
- I'm Lady Trieu. - Nice to meet you.
I'm sorry about the humidity.
We have to get it just right for the plants.
On her deathbed, my mother made me promise
I would never leave Vietnam, so I found a loophole.
Now, Vietnam never leaves me.
Small world.
Detective Night here is from Vietnam as well.
Really?
What a coincidence.
At least a thermodynamic miracle.
So, I understand you think
a piece of our equipment was used to steal a vehicle?
Well, actually, we found the car.
Whoever took it dropped it right back where they stole it from.
Oh.
That's odd.
It is odd.
May I ask who the car belonged to?
- Well actually, that's irrelevant... - It's mine.
So, this is personal?
Your daughter said that she would give us a list
of everybody who knows how to fly one of those things.
Of course. Bian.
If there is anything else we can do to help,
don't hesitate to ask.
And please accept my condolences
on the passing of your chief.
We never met personally,
but I hear he was a great man.
Thanks.
There's an expression about grief I remember
from when I was little.
_
I remember one from when I was little, too.
_
I haven't heard that one.
It's quite beautiful.
Holy shit!
Is that Adrian Veidt?
Indeed it is.
A truly great man.
So much of my success grew from the seed
of his inspiration.
And you bought his company right after he disappeared.
That, too.
Why'd you have them make him so... old?
Because he is old.
In my culture,
our elders are revered.
Well, yeah, but this is America, sweetheart, and...
he looks like shit.
What have we got here?
Aw, jeez...
? Do you feel me? ?
? Reggae, reggae, reggae ?
? Do you feel? ?
? Listen to me now ?
Happy birthday.
Welcome to the manor.
I am your master.
You are still a few hours away...
from gaining the ability to speak,
but by now, you should be able
to understand.
Do you know what you are?
No...
Of course you don't.
You are flaws in this thoughtless design.
For while I may be your master,
I am most definitely not your maker.
I would never have...
burdened such pathetic creatures...
...with the gift of life.
For to be alive,
you have to have purpose,
and you have none.
Except... to serve.
Well, I apologize for the mess.
Hmm.
I had a rough night.
I don't need it yet.
Not yet.
Excellent!
So, are we loaded, Mr. Philips?
Ready, Master!
On my mark, Ms. Crookshanks!
Three, two,
one,
away!
Phenomenal!
Let's reload, Mr. Philips, shall we?
Four years.
Four years since I was sent here.
In the beginning, I thought it was a paradise.
But it's not.
It's a prison.
So...
with your help,
with your lives,
with your...
broken, mangled old bodies,
one way or another,
I will escape this godforsaken place.
To your merits, Ms. Crookshanks!
- Are we loaded, Mr. Philips? - Yes, sir.
On my mark, Ms. Crookshanks!
Three,
two, one,
away!
What are you reading?
Things Fall Apart.
Okonkwo hangs himself in the end.
Thanks for the warning.
I'm trying to pick a fight.
I noticed.
When were you gonna tell me that the woman
from the FBI came by and talked to you?
The woman from the FBI came by, talked to me.
She wanted to know who called the house
the night Judd got killed.
Guess she must've checked the phone records.
So, what'd you say?
I told her you and I were having sex
in the closet when the phone rang.
You answered, but...
I didn't know who you were talking to.
Then you handed me a gun and left.
I didn't see you all night long,
and the next morning, you came back and told me
your grandfather murdered our friend, which was...
confusing because...
you never told me you had a grandfather.
You didn't say any of that.
No, Angela.
I lied.
And you hate lying.
I do.
She knew that we met in Vietnam.
Did you...
tell her about your accident?
It didn't come up.
Good.
I think she wants to help you.
Why?
It's just a feeling I have. Maybe she knows how to find him.
The old man.
I can find him all by myself.
Okay.
Meet you in the closet.
Mom?
What's wrong?
I had a nightmare.
Tell me.
I was in a village.
Men came...
and burned it.
And then they made us walk.
I was walking for so long.
Mom...
my feet still hurt.
Good.
Will you walk me back to bed?
No, my love.
Okay.
Good night, Mr. Reeves.
Good night, young lady.
Where were we?
You're worried.
I'm not worried.
I'm concerned.
What's the difference?
The pills, they're passive-aggressive exposition.
If you want her to know who you are, just tell her.
She's not gonna listen.
She has to experience things by herself.
- It's still too cute by half. - Oh yeah?
Is that why you're doing the same thing to your daughter?
It's entirely different.
Mm-hmm.
And this...
is the source of my concern.
When family's involved, judgment gets cloudy,
feet get cold,
deals get broken.
You're not in.
My feet are just fine.
How much longer?
Three days.
Angela's family...
That is true.
I betrayed her.
And in three days,
she'll know what I have done,
and she'll hate me for it.
And you're concerned about...
whether I am in.
Well, I am in.
All the way.
Tick-tock.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
Hey, mirror guy.
I know you know it's Looking Glass.
We can't see who they are, but we can see where they are.
You find this church, maybe we find the Kalvary.
Hands.
We know there are other dimensions than this one.
But this is the dimension where we live.
And we will not live in fear.
Ready, Mr. Phillips?
We are all in a tunnel,
and every tunnel ends.
It ends with light.