The Umbrella Academy

Are you okay?

Uh-huh.

Your stomach! Somebody help!

On the 12th hour of the first day of October 1989,

16 women around the world gave birth.

This was unusual only in the fact

that none of these women had been pregnant when the day first began.

Sir Reginald Hargreeves, eccentric billionaire and adventurer,

resolved to locate and adopt as many of the children as possible.

Extraordinary.

How much do you want for it? Surely you don't want to keep it.

How much do you want for him?

You lay one finger on my grandson, I slice you in half!

Excellent! I like a spirited negotiator.

Love you, Marcus!

Hey, next round's on Christopher!

I said no pepperoni. No pepperoni, dumbass!

-You said no mushrooms. - I speak English!

So does my son.

We speak American, asshole.

You are an American asshole.

Let go of me! Let go!

Get outta my store! Get out of here!

This better be pepperoni.

This isn't your home.

What are you talking about? This is the Umbrella Academy.

Wrong again.

This… is the Sparrow Academy.

Dad, who the hell are these assholes?

Shit.

Ben.

Is that really you?

And who are the weirdos on the balcony?

They are the Sparrows.

My children.

I'm sorry. What do you mean, your children?

That's not possible, old man.

Of course it is! I think I'd know, wouldn't I?

Everybody else can see Ben, right?

Cute hat, Sundance.

They call themselves the Umbrella Academy,

a group of scheming, perfidious malcontents

who accosted me in the fall of 1963

when I was away on business in Dallas.

Be warned, they claim to be my spawn.

Claim? Look, Five, what the hell is going on?

I don't know yet, but it's concerning.

-Is he telling the truth? -Not the part about us being perfidious.

No, we're amateur-fidious, at best.

But we are his children. This is our house.

Yeah, yeah. We, uh… We grew up here.

- "Yeah, we grew up here." -

I kind of think we would have noticed you.

Hi. I'm Luther.

Okay. None of you belong here.

Oh! Well, then.

I guess we'll just pack our bags and move out.

- -You slay me, Chris.

I wasn't expecting company.

This is the best I could do on short--

Short… Short notice.

Mom.

Mom? She's a robot, you perv.

-It's not a robot. -Hey, don't you call him that.

-Or what? -Come closer and find out.

-Luther! Guys, chill! - Think I'm afraid?

-Stand down, Ben. -Look at that! She's got a voice!

How about I hide that big Rubik's Cube up your ass?

-Enough! -

I don't know what circus you escaped from

or how you got past our security,

but we're done here.

You got 30 seconds to get out of our house.

And if we don't?

Then we'll have to settle this the old-fashioned way.

Agreed.

Protecting our honor, bro.

Oh shit! We're really good at this!

- -

You got 30 seconds to get out of our house.

- And if we don't? -

Then we'll have to settle this the old-fashioned way.

Look, we just fought a literal army.

Okay? This doesn't need to get ugly.

Let's all just calm down, and let's talk.

Psst. Ben-er-ino.

You look so much better alive than you do dead.

Am I right?

Except that haircut.

-What the hell did you just say? -Come on, come on.

Stop with all the hostility, Mr. Grumpy Pants.

Oh wow. Nice scar.

Muy macho.

Shut your mouth!

You shut your mouth and just hug your brother--

- -Hey! What the hell?

-You didn't have to do that! -Oh, I'm pretty sure I did!

-He did. - Get back!

- Luther, hey! -Back off!

["No More Heroes" by The Stranglers playing]

Oh shit!

Bad touch, Luther! Bad touch!

Sorry.