You want to kill Wednesday.
We want to help you do that.
Then sign me the fuck up.
Godspeed.
Do you really have to kill this dude?
Yes, I do.
Take the coin and you can't miss.
Do you know what this song is? It's like, "Ba-ba, ba-ba..."
I wonder if you can help me...
...about something called
Artifact Number 1.
My grandfather had a hen.
Always laid eggs with two yolks.
Not one. Not three.
Two.
Every other day, there they were.
Two perfect yolks.
We named that hen Deuce.
Paw-Paw won him in a card game.
You ate two of those eggs in the morning,
you could go all day without another morsel.
I'm grateful for our time together,
short as it was.
Don't you worry yourself about me.
I'm past the caring.
My time on this earth is done.
And you have work to do.
Shadow Moon.
He's strong.
But I still fret about him.
This damn icebox is working my last nerve!
Let me help you.
Help is what Shadow needs
to steer him in the right direction.
He's a special one, all right.
Trouble is, he knows it now.
But that ain't your never-mind.
What you need to do is find The Other.
His soulmate.
Convince him he ain't no solo act.
Yes, indeed.
That tall order falls to you.
In 1918,
the Coast Geodetic Survey,
using a cardboard cut-out balanced on a pin,
determined the geographic center of America to be
2.6 miles north of Lebanon, Kansas,
on Johnny Grib's hog farm.
Johnny Grib didn't share his neighbors' eagerness
to cash in on his sudden fame,
so they erected a monument a half mile away.
They also built a motel for the tourists
who were sure to visit the center of America.
Only, the tourists didn't come.
Nobody did.
Because we are standing at ground zero
of the least sacred place in America.
If the House on the Rock
is a place of spiritual power,
this, uh, is a soulless void.
A wasteland Gods fear and men avoid.
The perfect spot to conduct diplomacy
between enemies of the divine persuasion.
Ah.
Faithful to the last.
They always stay close to their master.
They're with me now.
Synced & corrected by -robtor- www.addic7ed.com
So if this is a DMZ where nothing violent goes down,
why didn't Wednesday just have his peace talks here?
I mean, he'd be alive,
and we wouldn't be in dirt-road Kansas.
The thought of being powerless was no doubt...
unappealing to your father.
And neither was he constrained by logic or reason.
Thank God you're here.
Hey.
Oh, it was like a bad dream.
Wednesday told the creepy guy
with the hat to go fuck himself.
We were just walking out to the car
when some 5-foot rage bitch
with some ancient spear steps out
and straight harpoons the old man.
Laura?
You know her?
It's my ex-wife.
When were you planning on telling me?
One shock at a time.
Who the fuck are you?
You don't recognize the instrument of your survival?
Mr. World?
From time to time, I, uh,
see the reflection in the mirror and...
I need change.
Okay.
Well, you can put lipstick on a weasel, but it is what it is.
Why did you bring me to this shitbox
full of Gods who want me dead?
And what about Doyle? Can you find him?
Your collaborator is outside of the scope of our agreement.
We brought you here for your protection and safety,
as agreed, because no god can harm you here.
But... you must be patient.
We will return Wednesday's remains
at midnight to his associates
and arrange for your safety of passage.
Okay. Well, I'm gonna want to weigh in on the particulars.
No, you can't be there.
If there was any thought of collusion
between you and us from the Old Gods,
it could ignite a war.
Y-you don't think they're gonna figure that out
with me being in your custody?
Oh, we-we'll tell them that we uh, tortured you,
and when you didn't talk,
we understood that you were not an agent provocateur.
We guaranteed your safety of passage.
And you think they're actually gonna agree to that?
What other choice do they have?
You said that no one can harm me here?
Great.
'Cause this room smells like ass
so I'm gonna go find a fuckin' candy machine.
Uh, one more thing.
Shadow Moon's here, and it's not entirely clear
that he's under the same prohibition as the others.
Stay here.
I want my fuckin' tennis ball!
Well, you fellas have our last two rooms.
The last time the motel was full was...
Never?
Some government men are here for an important meeting.
Cletus, our dishwasher,
thinks they might be... ...the Illuminati.
Rented the whole east wing
and the dining room.
No, no, no, no. No.
Not until midnight.
It's our tradition.
Out of my way.
Hey.
He wanted an old Norse death ritual.
And we wanna honor his request, right?
It's called respect.
And that is something
that he won't get from our enemies.
Don't you understand?
They don't wanna honor him; They wanna shame us.
Well, I'm supposed to sit vigil for him so...
You're supposed to do what?
It's part of our arrangement.
Sir?
Thanks.
What?
Read the sign.
I'm sorry.
Do you mind?
Thank you.
Wow.
I believe our rooms are this way.
Hey. Can you believe this idiot
thinks that he will sit the vaka for Votan?
Oh.
Vigil for a Norse God requires
being bound upon Yggdrasil,
the World Tree, as Odin once did.
Okay.
For 9 days and 9 nights.
An endurance test for a God,
a death sentence for a mortal.
Yeah.
Well, Wednesday said that if I walk with him,
greatness would be mine.
Maybe this is what he meant.
Uh-huh.
Shadow.
Shadow Moon.
- Come with us. - We need you, Shadow.
- Come along. - Shadow.
He requested extra towels.
He could be a bastard, but he was a good boss.
He was a selfish dick.
He might have believed his intentions were noble,
but he never did anything that wasn't in his own self-interest.
But... he did care for you, though.
It's not a side most people get to see.
He cared about you too, you know.
Showed it by murdering my wife?
That puta with the spear?
She seemed pretty goddamn alive to me.
Yeah.
She's the stubborn type.
I, uh,
and my associates
would be remiss if we did not acknowledge,
with respect, the foundations
laid by the Old Gods.
Get to the fuckin' point.
What do you want from us?
We are gathered here in this place
of godlessness...
...to deliver this body
to eternity in accordance with...
Norse ritual.
In return, we just want peace.
We do not want
this unfortunate death
to ignite violence or war.
Then give us the murderous cow who did this.
The malefactor,
Laura Moon,
is a mortal acting
on a personal vendetta against a God!
We know this cannot stand!
We are in agreement!
But we have vowed
to abide by Norse custom wherein,
if my memory serves me correctly,
it is the duty of the son...
to avenge the father's death.
It is true.
If ancient protocols are to be observed,
it is you who would have to avenge Wednesday's murder.
Yeah, he means you have to bash her head in
until brain dribble through her eyes.
All right.
Give her to me.
Where is the cow?
Oh shit.
Where is the cow?
Where the hell is she?
Where the hell is she, huh?
Three lifetimes; I'm still trusting
the wrong fucking people.
This motherfucker is just as guilty as I am.
He recruited me in order to kill Wednesday
without starting a war.
Well, what else would you expect her to say?
Fuck off. How could I get the spear
from Sweeney's hoard without a God's help?
How could I possibly know the exact time and place
to find Wednesday if he didn't tell me?
- She's telling the truth. - Yeah.
You talk of peace?
Respect?
While you hide behind a mortal female, huh?
You mudák.
Remember where we are.
I'll take care of this.
Let us bury our dead,
mourn our losses, and discuss our options.
Aye.
Believe what you will.
But peace is to the benefit
of your side, not ours.
Think about it.
By the time that you would gather your armies,
SHARD will be in completion,
and the Old Gods will be de-indexed,
erased,
and forgotten.
Once we deliver Wednesday's remains to the Tree,
I strongly suggest you move past this.
Get on with your life.
And do not look back.
Noted.
Hey, listen.
Since we can't do it here,
there's a field just in the back, across the street.
It's a good place to die.
Now, hit straight on the forehead
for a quick and clean.
If you hit the neck, it will be slow and painful.
I recommend the neck.
I'll wait in the car.
The fuckin' smell on that guy.
Bad tuna on a smoke break.
Listen.
I didn't do this for purely selfish reasons.
Oh, bullshit.
Okay, fine.
But, Shadow, you're free now.
No more of his compacts or schemes
or war-fuckin' murder.
Okay, you can go after what you've always wanted:
A white picket fence,
wifey giving you a couple kids
instead of blowing your friends.
I...
Don't you fuckin' dare
tell me that you killed him to make my life better.
You have no idea who I am, what I want.
I know that you don't owe him shit.
What did he ever do for you
except make your life fuckin' miserable?
He gave me a purpose.
To be a better leader than he ever could've been.
- A leader? - Mm-hmm.
Of what?
Change.
Before humanity goes down the tubes.
Okay.
So...
Are you saying that you're a God now?
I'm sayin' I have a destiny.
And I need to follow it wherever it takes me.
Cool.
Cool, so you've lost your fuckin' mind.
Right.
Just kill me now because you finally have a chance
to unfuck your life, and what do you do?
You drink Wednesday's Kool-Aid?
He says, "All aboard,"
you jump on the fuckin' crazy train?
Just put me out of my misery so I don't have to watch.
Fine.
Hey, where are you going?
What, y-you don't believe
I'm capable of doing great things,
so, you know what? This-here's your life.
Okay? Miserable, lonely.
Enjoy.
You didn't corner the fuckin' market
on destiny, you know?
I have been through nine gates of hell since I saw you last.
And I have gained a little insight too.
Good luck with that.
Congratulations!
You're officially on the way to becoming your old man!
- Let's go. - What, you're leaving her?
You're not gonna finish the job?
I am Wednesday's last living son,
so what happens to his assassin
is my prerogative.
Yeah?
Well, he can see you right now
and your disrespect.
Shame on you.
I'm sitting vigil for the old motherfucker.
Let's go.
This fuckin' place.
Thank Gods I found you.
Who the fuck's this?
The Norns.
They tend to the World Tree and Urd's Well,
whose water nourishes said tree.
We've been waiting for you,
Shadow Moon, son of Odin.
We must prepare.
Please tell me there's not a gimp involved.
I don't want to stipulate to that.
This is my first vigil.
If you're not man enough
to execute your father's murderer,
you don't deserve to sit at his vaka.
Wasn't your call.
Well, you better hope to die because if you don't,
I'll take care of it.
The water of time will wash away your past
and prepare you for your future.
You know about this stuff, right?
Am I making the right decision?
Have you changed your mind?
No.
Are you trying to consume raw data?
That is so messed up.
What's in the sub-basement?
Artifact 1?
There is no sub-basement in this building.
I just wanna help you.
Hmm...
I know that you are lying.
Yeah.
You think if I could hack my way out of that thing,
I wouldn't know how to reprogram it?
Well, I've done my part for your vaka, Votan.
It's not the burial you deserve, but it is something.
You, you could have just walked away,
but you choose the suffering of a fool's death.
Huh?
You understand there is no turning back
once you're on the tree.
I get the rules, Ibis.
Hey.
What does it matter if you break your promise
to the old man, huh?
He's dead.
I don't really have a choice.
I-I survive this, I become something more.
Or I stay and Czernobog hammers me in the face.
Or we find a way out.
We can do like, a... a number 38 or 41 or 50.
I don't know. Just...
Just don't get on the tree, fuck's sake.
You have nothing to prove.
I'll see you in nine days.
Don't fight it.
It makes the pain worse.
All this... for a fucking rock?
Is it everything you hoped it would be?
Yeah.
You!
Yeah.
What the fuck is this thing?
That's your totem.
You have no idea how vital you are to everything.
You are perhaps the most powerful of us all.
The embodiment
of human innovation,
which makes you the bridge
from the Old Gods to the New.
Why don't I know any of that?
Every time there's an evolution in human technology,
you evolve along with it,
and forget who you really are.
Being that you never have your mnemonic of your totem,
you forget your origin.
SHARD is... progress.
There is no progress without you.
What the fuck?
Who are you?
People say this
is the age of technology.
They're wrong.
This is the age of manipulation.
Trickery is what I do best.
Who the fuck are you?
Oh, come on.
It's easy. Come on.
There's a trick to it.
You should do it before you die.
You do it or you die.
When you cannot see your way,
the night sky will guide you.
We've been awaiting your arrival, Shadow.
This the destiny you were talkin' about?
Take it from me, Puppy.
You're dying.
I can do this.
Water...
Water.
Okay. Enough.
Enough.
Cashew?
No?
I love 'em.
Native to Brazil, but grow like motherfuckers in Florida.
He was also a liar,
a cheat, and a con man,
capable of deception and great cruelty.
You, uh, you might want to buckle up, huh?
Could get a little bumpy.
And they've got these cover-your-ass
seatbelt signs lit up
so you can't sue 'em.
Not that dead men can sue anyway.
Oh, please tell me death
isn't being on a plane with you.
Well, technically, we are somewhere in between.
No.
No, no, no, no. This isn't happening.
Something that was planned even before you were born.
A blood sacrifice by a son?
Wow, that's powerful enough
to restore me to all my former glory.
Odin, the All-Father. All powerful, once again.
Attention passenger Moon:
What did Wednesday ever do for you
except make your life miserable?
Now, earning your love proved
a little trickier than I anticipated,
so I appealed to your godly ambition.
If I'm your son, I am a God.
Ah.
Jury's still out on that, son,
but you're definitely a chip off the old block.
- No, no, no. - Hmm!
We both crave power.
The only difference is, I'm not ashamed of it.
You needed a martyr.
Now you're getting it, huh?
Uh-huh.
Oh, this...
...is where I get off.
- Thank you, son. - Wednesday!
Wednesday!
Father.
Is he...
Yes.
Is this the death
of the Old Gods?
Or something much worse.
-CREDITS-