American Horror Story

Can I help you?

I'm here to visit the founders

of this venerable institution...

Mr. Mutt Nutter

and Mr. Jeff Pfister.

The fine security staff downstairs were kind enough

to give me directions to the correct floor.

The floor is the only thing you have correct.

You do not have an appointment, nor are you carrying a package,

so you don't have any business here.

Quite right.

Your employers are fortunate to have someone

with your skills guarding their privacy.

I don't respond to flattery.

Nor can you recognize sarcasm.

You need to turn around and go back the way you came.

Mm. You need to take me to your employers. Now.

You might as well ask me to explain your hair.

How did you get past security without an appointment?

I did something like this.

My hair is an eternal mystery, never to be fully understood.

Purple is for royalty, dear, not middle management.

Did you put us in Outpost number Two?

Well, I thought if we had to do any last-minute troubleshooting,

all the brains should be in one place.

So while the world is burning,

Johansson and Lawrence and Theron are in the Bahamas...

and we're in West Virginia with Professor Michio Kaku.

He's a brilliant guy.

So was Einstein, but if it's between him

and Marilyn Monroe, fuck the theory of relativity.

I told ya, bro, genetically superior caste,

necessary but boring.

Well, who's gonna be in Outpost Three?

'Cause Langdon wants his robot there.

What? He wants the Battle Axe 9000 in Three?

Yeah, not only that, but he wants us to wipe her SSD

so she doesn't remember he's the Antichrist.

Well, he's the one with the triple sixes, not us.

It's his show.

What a show it's going to be.

Who the fuck are you?!

Hey, how'd you get past Ms. Venable?

These little symbols are Outposts for the survivors

of this little holocaust you're so gleefully anticipating.

It's not little, lady.

Yeah. Seven billion dead

in the first ten minutes... starting with you.

Outpost Three... Where's it located?

It's some place called the Hawthorne School.

He donated it 'cause it's underground, naturally shielded.

I see.

Mr. St. Pierre Vanderbilt

will try to purchase four tickets

for himself and his family.

You'll accept his offer

and secure him a place at Outpost Three.

Is that clearly understood?

Mm-mmm. There are no spots left.

Make sure there are.

Planning the end of the world

over a box of hot wings.

I suppose I must get to the most unpleasant part of my visit.

- What's that? - The part where I have to leave

before killing you both.

Good day.

Improved By: FidelPerez Sub Upload Date: November 19, 2018

A thousand nuclear bombs?

How can we stop that?

We can't.

Michael's already too powerful.

He can counteract anything we hope to try.

God, I finally find my place in the world,

and now it's all gonna end.

I am not ready to die.

Oh, not to make it all about me.

Actually, it is all about you now.

Your father will be purchasing tickets for you and your family

to inhabit one of the Cooperative's Outposts.

Coco is the plan?

The calorie counter's gonna save humanity?

No. Mallory is.

Coco is going to secure her place at the bunker.

We have one chance to use Tempus Infinituum.

And we can't risk trying it until Mallory is ready.

The only place where we know you'll survive

is under Michael's nose.

In one of his bunkers.

He can smell a witch a mile away

like some kind of evil truffle pig.

He'll kill her before she can do anything.

That's why we're going to place them both under

an identity spell.

You'll forget that you're witches.

You'll forget everything you ever knew about yourselves.

The spell will give you new identities,

new personalities.

Your job will be to demean Mallory.

Make her doubt herself in order to suppress her natural powers,

so that no one can detect her magic.

We've modeled your new personality after Madison.

No. No, there must be another way.

Consider it an upgrade.

Will my family still remember that I'm a witch?

Your family won't be joining you.

We have to eliminate all variables that might expose you.

But can we just put them under a spell, too?

Until the Apocalypse comes, yes.

But it would be too risky

to have them in the bunker with you.

We'll make sure they're out of the country,

and too far from the Outposts to make it to safety in time.

My parents are good people and my brother is kind.

They deserve it so much more than I do.

I don't think I can be responsible

for the lives of seven billion people.

Yes, you can.

And when the time comes, you will.

How will I knew when that time is if I'm under a spell?

Your powers will emerge when they are ready.

After you cast the spell...

will we remember you?

Not until the spell is broken.

And by then, we all might be piles of ash.

So this is good-bye.

Gather around, witches.

And so it falls to us

to save mankind from itself.

And yes, some of us will die,

but you two will live.

So the Coven will live on.

So the world will live on.

- You ready? No.

How could I be mean to you?

You've taught me everything I know.

You saved my life.

You are my best friend, Mallory,

and I am so sorry

for whatever comes out of my mouth on the other side.

It's okay.

- I know you won't mean it. - (LAUGHING)

And spell or no spell, I'd never let anything bad happen to you.

If the world's gonna end, at least we'll be together.

Okay. (SNIFFS)

Please sit.

Memoria unda temporis est,

memoria unda

temporis est,

memoria unda

temporis est,

memoria unda

temporis est,

memoria unda

temporis est.

Hello! Driver lady, can you please

put the windows up?

God, I've asked her, like, ten times,

and she keeps ignoring me.

You're gonna have to just push lunch.

It's gonna take him at least two hours

to fix this Phil Spector "trial wig" look.

We only booked for an hour. Please don't make me

call them again, Coco. Mr. Gallant

is the most exclusive stylist in Beverly Hills.

I had to grovel just to get this appointment.

Jesus, Mallory, I really can't do both of our jobs.

Are you okay? God.

All right, ladies, we're here.

Don't forget to rate me five stars. Please.

Jesus Christ.

Okay... Coco, yes?

Hi. Welcome, bubbeleh.

- Thank you. Mwa. Mwa. - Hi.

I'm always thrilled to meet my newest muse.

I'm gonna need you to clear your afternoon.

- Have you seen my head? Ugh! - Oh, honey,

a thousand apologies, but my afternoon is spoken for,

and I never cancel on long-time clients.

Okay, well...

charge me double,

and consider yourself on retainer.

So, who do we have to blame for this?

My crosshairs are on

the literal worst Uber driver in SoCal.

- Bitch. - (SIGHS HEAVILY)

I'm not gonna lie, she did a number on you, but...

it's nothing my avocado-based moisturizing milk can't fix.

But I'm sorry, Coco, I'm just not gonna be able

to work my magic with this little church mouse

- hovering over your shoulder. - (COCO SIGHS)

That's my assistant, Mallory.

Who should be out getting me

my hazelnut macchiato at exactly 120 degrees.

Sorry, Coco. My bad. Ten minutes, ten minutes.

- Okay. - (MOUTHS "MY GOD")

So, what are we thinking... Are we thinking bangs,

- maybe something asymmetrical? - I don't even care,

as long as I don't look like a tornado survivor.

- (MR. GALLANT LAUGHS) - You shouldn't even be here.

Excuse me?